Jason does as his instructor – the giant Angel Jigjag in the colorful caftan – directs him and closes his eyes. He sits cross-legged in loose clothing on the great cliff, in a circle with other souls who have passed over due to sudden, violent deaths. His open palms rest on his knees; his thumbs touch his second fingers. He lets his jaw go slack. The sound of “ommm” from his lips blends in with all the other “ommms”.
ommmommmsIn a while, he can’t distinguish his voice from anyone else’s. One moment, they all seem like they come from him. In the next, he senses they’re swirling independently in the center of the group, coming from no one. It’s a calming, wondrous feeling.
He breathes in and breathes out as he has been taught to do. Stretching upright, he scans his body with his thoughts,
