Chapter 2: Who Is Watching the Mind?
A mailman was delivering letters on a new route in the heavily Irish south side of Boston. At one house there was such a racket from an argument going on inside that he was afraid to approach. Suddenly a little boy appeared on the porch. “What is all the noise about, sonny?” the mailman asked.
“It is my parents fighting,” answered the boy. “They are always fighting.”
The mailman glanced at his letters. “What is your father’s name?” he asked.
“That’s just what they’re always fighting about,” said the boy.
Now there is no way.and it is good that it should remain a mystery. Let people fight about it. Let people think about it.
And the towel did well, it landed on the floor. If it had landed on somebody’s head I would not have believed it, because godliness never descends on anybody’s head. It would have been absolutely wrong. It did well. It descended on the floor, the empty floor. Whosoever is as humble as the floor, only on him does godliness descend.
Enough for today.