Previously:

It was time for the 'devil’s advocate' to rear his ugly head. “So, how do we know some humans didn't make your nine circles in that grain field? You have no real proof, and there were some guys who proved they made them.”

A believer chimed in. “Oh, like they are hopping on a private jet with their little flat boards and rope and making them all over the world. Did you know they are sighted all over the world? And they are becoming more complicated, something scientists have to use a computer for to figure out the equations they indicate.”

“Well, maybe there's a club of them.” When he wouldn't let up, I knew it was time to change the topic, to drip a drop of nitroglycerin into the mix. ************

“On another subject, are any of you making plans to go with your harpist friend to the G…Glastonbury T..Tor?” I had suddenly developed a stutter? What was that about?”

There were almost as many different reactions as there were people sitting there. There could be quite a discussion if all nine of us participated. I watched the facial expressions and body movements to spot any reactions similar to Cordelia and mine. Right off, I noticed five were fidgeting in their chairs. 

They would be my intended targets. Not surprising, two of them were actually Karin and Caren. I had sensed a connection, the first I met them. I had had an odd reaction, as we were sitting calmly reflecting upon this whole experience when Caren said, “I feel like we are in a monastery here, it is so peaceful.”

I was immediately agitated and anxious. I tried to regain the calm, but kept hearing her word 'monastery'...'monastery'...'monastery'. Here we were facing each other with questions of things unknown and yet somehow eminent.

I decided to remind Caren what she had said, to find out if any others were in agreement. She stumbled in her answer. “I…I guess…I guess I've had different thoughts about that as we get nearer our trip to Glastonbury. I don't know why, but it has put me on edge.”

Three others simultaneously agreed, “Yes, me too.” “What’s that all about?” Karin was twirling a lock of her hair. 

“I don't know. Maybe it's the hike up that steep hill the harpists want to take with their harps.” I wasn't certain if they even knew that possible plan. 

“What a hike, to schlep their precious harps all the way up there.” A new participant, Evelyn, volunteered extra information. “Has anyone seen pictures of the millions of steps to get to the top of that hill they call the Tor?”

Liz chimed in saying, “Eeek, I get creeped out just seeing that Tor looming in the background when I watched some concerts from England. I don't want to research any part of it.”

I was noting Liz expressed repulsion, as Jill agreed. “I get a heavy feeling when I think of that place, and I haven’t even been there yet.” 

“Well, this should be interesting. We’ll have to have 'each other's six', as they say during fighter pilot action on TV shows or movies. I used to try spelling six-letter words that might fit in the six blanks. Most words were too short. I've got your back, your butt, your life. Too few letters.

“Then I figured it out. It wasn't about words. It was about numbers on a clock. It means directly 'behind you', where six is on a clock, that is, if everyone knows what a face clock is. The meaning of that phrase is a very important commitment. So let's have each other's back.”

The others, who remained neutral, including the blowhard, Bob, listened with interest. As a show of support, they entered their fists into our circle and joined in our chant to each other as we raised our arms. “I've got your six.” 

For some strange reason, I was comforted with that brief ritual. The tension in the group had decreased exceedingly. With perfect timing, the class was letting out. As we separated, there were more enthusiastic, “We'll see you tomorrow's than usual. 

We were bonding. Maybe more feedback would come out tomorrow. I was getting some kind of picture, but it was still slickly blurred.

“Hey.” Cordelia greeted me with such enthusiasm, I knew we were going somewhere for supper.

I thought it would be fun to surprise her with my surmise. “So, where are we going tonight?”

“Did your group talk about it already, bummer. I wanted the pleasure of springing it on you. It's going to be so fun, don't you think?”

I was having a déjà vu moment from when I was in total darkness.  I had struggled with similar questions on the phone with Cordelia, back home. Where were we going? What would we be doing?  And why was she so animated? As with the last time, when I turned down the phone volume too low, and now when I acted like I knew everything, I had to make an admonition.

“Cordelia, slow down, I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just trying to second-guess you, and it backfired badly.”

“Oh, I figured someone in your group had heard our group's plans. We want to go to a restaurant where they do Karaoke. Wouldn't that be cool?”

“Don't you and your harpist friends get enough music every day? Wouldn't this be over-kill?”

Cordelia began her explanation pensively. “Our harp playing is spiritual and reflective. It's about healing.” Then she ramped it up. “But Karaoke is jammin' man, pure outright rockin'.”

She had me there. I absolutely love Karaoke.  I had a favorite song I sang that took the house down. It is by Four Non-Blonds called 'What's Up?' It mentions several struggles I've had, leading to my 'feeling a little peculiar' but there is an even more meaningful part. I really ham it up when I get to the questioning of 'what's going on?' I shake my pleading hand and look upward and sing with authority 'hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?' as if I am demanding an answer. Little did I know I would be doing this very thing within a couple of days.

Cordelia tapped me on the shoulder. “So, what do you think? Huh? Should we go? Shall we join them.” By now, she was dancing around, clinging to my arm.

When she heard my 'yes' she broke into 'Mustang Sally', possibly her Karaoke choice. That was going to be good. I couldn't wait.