Then he said, “I wonder if the ladies and gentlemen who come to the meetings have taught their children and grandchildren this art of revision. I taught it to my son who is now seven, but I told it to him when he was five. He had quite a serious accident and he bled profusely. Naturally I was concerned. I called the doctor and explained to him exactly what was happening, how he was bleeding. But first I told my son to go over the entire scene but not to bring in the scene where he was injured or hurt, for he was crying. And so, ‘If you omit that, well then, you have not a thing to cry about.’ So he went over the scene and he stopped crying. The doctor said to just wash it, put bandages on it but make them loose, and send him right back out to play again. So, he said, “I did and there was no crying and it quickly stopped bleeding. From then on…after all, boys are boys and they play and as they play they get hurt. Well, since that day he simply stops no matter what happens to him and he revises the scene omitting the injured part.” “Now,” he said, “my wife plays tennis and she really smashed that ankle of hers; it was a severe break. And so she revised it, I revised it, and when the doctor took it, he only put a rubber, not a cast, just a rubber over it, and she could continue her housework. She didn’t play tennis for awhile, but she did all the normal things. The doctor was amazed that she could stand on it, that the thing healed so rapidly and so perfectly by a complete revision.”844 ¶22