Volume 6, Issue 1, page 4

a single blanket for use when he finds
it necessary to sleep-out.

In his childhood and youth, John was
in constant communication with countless
telepaths all over, and found that they
were mostly persons with physical handicaps that kept them from the normal busy
work-world. He determined that his job in
life was to help them and to unite them
in a functioning group. The reason for
this urge was simple enough: John was not
handicapped except for lack of speech,
which could easily be made up for by carrying a pencil and notepad.

As the first and only one of their
isolated numbers who traveled, he became
accepted as their leader. Together, they
decided to call their group "The Guardians". Of the best of these in terms of
telepathic ability and mental capacity,
John personally visited and tested the
ones fitted to be Teachers. Others are
just called Guardians. Those like myself
who have a yen for this sort of thing, or
read avidly about it, or at times of
stress and danger even send out telepathic thoughts unconsciously, are prospects
to contact and are called "Seekers", even
if unaware of their undeveloped talents
in this field of communication.

John's major job is to contact these
Seekers, explain the whole picture to
them, tell them how to open their minds
to receive, and the advantages to be derived from becoming telepaths. All in the
group "keep their eyes open" for such
Seekers in their own bailiwicks, and save
up this data until John gets to their
neck of the woods. Then they tell John:
"A 'Seeker is going to be driving on U.S.
101 Tuesday morning on his way to 'Frisco
to spend Christmas on a ship. If you get
out in the open past Santa Barbara where
you are now, we'll see that he picks you
up." And so, all unknowingly, I stop for

You can believe as much of this as you
wish. I am not trying to sell you a"bill
of goods". I must admit that I have been
a bit critical toward anything that sounds
as wild-eyed as this, and questioned John
unmercifully. Frankly, I don't know how
much validity there is to any of this --
but I'll never be satisfied until I have
investigated the ramifications involved.

One factor I consider convincing: As
we were driving back to L.A. from 'Frisco
after Christmas, John said we would meet
a Seeker enroute. Each time we'd approach
a hitch-hiker, I'd ask John if this were
him. "Forget it: I'll tell you when," he
said. And the "when" turned out to be in
some town at dusk in a crowded area.
"Get in the lane next the curb... slow
down in front of that cafe... there's the
fellow just coming out the door... stop
here for him," John directed.

I felt silly. There was no evidence
this person even wanted a ride. But John
Opening of the
little White Tulip
URING the great Fall, a little
tulip was dug up from the big bed
and cast upon the compost heap.
She felt insulted, forsaken, and
brooded the whole winter thru at
such injustice.

However, with the coming of the warm
days of Spring, she felt the urge to send
up some leaves, a stem, and a bud. As she
emerged into the warm air, she looked
about, and listened to the soft breezes,
nodding her head in agreement.
"Before you start unfolding," said the
first breeze, "watch the yellow bud; it
knows how to unfold and when."
"Not the yellow bud, " contradicted a
second breeze. "Watch the red one that's
just unfolding."
"No! " shouted a great blaring trumpet
vine. "The only one to really watch is the
one with the fringed lips; isn't that a
riot of colors? It knows all the answers.
It is called the parrot tulip."
Confused at the divergent instructions,
the little bulb strained and strained to
both listen and watch in all directions.,
bobbing her head this way and that, trying to hear what each of the other twolips was saying. And as her confusion increased, she did nothing about her own

One morning, hands plucked all the
fully-bloomed "masters" in the big bed,
and the little tulip felt truly lost. No
one to watch, no one to advise her. She
hung her head in despair, and the day was
gray, and the night of her day was very
dark, indeed.

Next morning, with no one to watch nor
voices to tempt her, the little tulip
lifted her head toward the rising sun. As
the warm rays beamed down upon her, she
opened her own arms to receive them. Her
joy was boundless, and her white petals
shone with radiance.

Because of her glowing beauty, other
small two-lips started whispering: "The
way to learn to unfold is to watch the
beautiful white tulip." But the white tulip had learned her lesson well. To the
others, she sent her whispers on the soft,
spring breeze: "You already know how to
unfold. Don't strain to hear what other
two-lips are murmuring. Just turn your
head to the sun, the beautiful sun that
shines on all two-lips alike, and let unfold what is already within you."
Our forefathers dunked tea in the harbor as a tax protest, while the taxer sat
in safety on his throne. Today, maybe we
should dunk Congress -- and save the tea.

APRIL, 1959