Both words and pictures…anything that makes it natural, anything. You can take, for instance, this story I told in one of my books. This very dear friend of mine—I haven’t seen her in years now, she’s an artist—and when her father was killed she was left unschooled, untrained to do anything, and found herself in San Diego. She was in San Francisco when her father was killed, and she and her mother and brother moved towards the south. She got a job as a waitress, that’s all that she could do. It was Christmas Eve and her father had been gone; and she was very close to the father. And this is the night now where all families should be united and there is no father…the first Christmas she’d ever had without her father. On this rainy, cold night on Christmas Eve in San Diego, coming home on the streetcar, an open streetcar, to conceal her tears she stuck her face in the rain as the rain was coming down to mingle the rain with her tears so no one would know she was crying. And there she closed her eyes to the obvious and assumed that she was holding the rail of a ship and she was coming into this South Pacific island. She could actually see, as she described it in her own way, the bone in the lady’s mouth. A ship is always called a lady or a tramp, but this was a lady, and a bone would be the waves breaking against the bow of the ship. So, she saw this in her mind’s eye that she was holding the rail. In just a little while she was notified by this legal firm in Chicago that they had just received notice of the death of an aunt of hers in Switzerland. Before she left for Switzerland, she went to this legal firm and left a will. As she did not return to this country, $3,000 should be paid to her niece, Dora B. So Dora got her $3,000 in cash, and within a matter of days she was on that ship and off to this South Pacific island. She came in at night, the stars were brilliant. She described the whole thing to me in her letter how it happened. As she came in, here she could see this wave against the bow of the ship and the salt of the sea driven by the wind on her face…everything as she had imagined it while she was on a streetcar in San Diego. So she gave it reality. You must give reality to the imaginal act and then let it work. What could you do after pregnancy? Nothing! Just let it work. Any attempt to interfere with it will produce, well, in this case, mental miscarriage. You do nothing but let the child be born, and at the appointed hour it’s going to come into the world. Everything has its own appointed hour; it ripens and it flowers. If it seems to us slow, then wait; for it is sure and it will not be late. Goodnight.253 ¶46