About one year ago, my wife, Debbie, decided to take her niece, Kim, who was visiting from the northeast, on a drive to the coast of Southern California. Besides doing some shopping, they also planned to spread 
some ashes, the remains of Kim’s mother who had died months earlier, upon the waves of Laguna Beach. Linda was my wife’s elder sister. She was found alone at her home, unconscious due to a sudden stroke. She died a few days later.
The drive along the coast highway took them through a series of picturesque, beach communities. The mood was peaceful, the journey relaxing as well as scenic. At one point, though, they found themselves waiting at an intersection for a stoplight to change. The cross street to the right was an immediate climb up a steep hill and to the left a short descent leading down to the beach. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
They were stopped in the right hand lane next to one car to their immediate left and another in an adjacent left turn lane. As soon as the traffic light changed from red to green, both of the cars to the left of Debbie and Kim proceeded into the intersection. But Debbie’s car would not move forward. No matter how hard she pressed on the accelerator, the car wouldn’t budge. Something was preventing it from moving forward.
All at once, a large, black SUV appeared, barreling into the intersection downhill from the right. The driver of the SUV never slowed, appearing to have either been distracted or lost the ability to brake. The SUV struck the side of the car that had been waiting beside Debbie and Kim, forcing it sideways to then smash into the car waiting to make its left turn. As they witness the trauma of the accident unfold before them, their car was released, and Debbie and Kim were allowed to proceed on their way.
My wife drives a small, economy car, most of which lies well below the bumper of a typical SUV. If they had been allowed to continue unhindered, Kim would have most certainly lost her life, as the SUV would have struck her at eye level first. As they drove way, both Debbie and Kim knew immediately that the power guiding their lives had revealed itself to them directly.
Afterward, while perusing the boutiques of Laguna Beach, Debbie and Kim met a woman who ran a tiny shop downtown. She introduced herself and then shocked both of them by informing them that they were there to spread ashes at the beach! Taken aback by such a surprising comment, they both thought to themselves, How did she know? How did she know? When I heard this, I knew I needed to find out more.
Months later, I went to meet the woman who ran the tiny shop. I really wanted to find out what she could tell me about me! But I found nothing unusual about her and instead went away considering the day to be quite uneventful. I forgot all about her until a week later when I noticed a small business card sitting on the counter in our kitchen. It was a card my wife had taken from the tiny shop owned by the mysterious woman.
The night before I found the business card, and after struggling for many months, I had finally come up with the book’s title, The Primal Contradiction. And as I looked down at the business card, I realized the name on the card was derived from the same words I had chosen for my title. The mysterious woman from Laguna Beach was the one who actually gave me the title for my book.
sensation, quite personal to every one of us. And although we can more or less agree that happiness has a positive effect on the quality of our lives, we have widely varying experiences from which we draw our memories and interpretations of what it truly means to each of us.
with one another. By joining with others in this way, the very essence of our existence has a tremendously positive impact on us all. We bond together in the presence of the divine. Extending ourselves in this way, we create an energy exchange that is far greater than what one person could ever accomplish alone.
know today and that we are merely given a taste of what happiness really is. Thinking that we are alone simply because we are isolated from others may seem perfectly normal to us. We are often taught that this is absolutely so—that we are distinctly different, separated from each other because of our individuality. But what if this claim is only a half-truth?
myself with fear, knowing I would be losing control over my mind for the duration of the night. Never in my life would I know fear so intimately and be consumed by it so frequently in such a short amount of time. And after several hours of experiencing more of the same castigation that was dealt to me the night before, I became desperate to bring the ordeal to an end. I just couldn’t go on with it anymore.
It was at this point, after several hours of verbal and nonverbal bashing that Mark finally voiced one concern for me. He blurted out, “It’s okay, Danny … you just did something when you were really stoned.” In the next moment, my mind was forced to return over and over to the image of precisely what he was referring to. I had no defense whatsoever. He could see in perfect detail everything I hated about myself. After driving only a couple blocks more, I had to park the car. My vision had turned dark. I couldn’t see any longer and was becoming hyperventilated, about to lose consciousness. I pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped. The sensation of fainting continued as my awareness slipped away. I let go of the steering wheel and slumped over.
pproximately thirteen years prior to beginning 
writer. Finding someone who would consider taking on a new author was described as being nearly impossible. But I began sending letters to literary agents anyway, perhaps a hundred or more over the next few months. Not one recipient showed any interest. The majority did not reply.
Daniel St. Clair 