2:52 a.m. So tonight I'm going to talk about other journals and the magic that can arise from the experiences we share. Ok? Those of you who don't keep online journals will not have any problem following along. I promise.

First, there's this haunting picture. Once again I saw something I liked, ran for the camera, got too excited and mostly got a blur. Or ... maybe not. I really like this one. I've not touched it in Photoshop or fancied it up in any way -- it's just accidentally sad and strange and moody.

Sometimes we can feel so incredibly alone and so starkly reduced to a black and white silhouette against the vast unthinkable sky. It's how my friend Catherine must be feeling these days as she prepares to make a giant leap into a new phase of health.

She's got a lot of bitter pills to swallow.

Living your life online. It takes away an entire dimension. It flattens reality. Paradoxically, the screen feels as if it has depth; email seems to generate actual warmth. People look at the monitor and then walk across their deep-pile carpet and step into the sunlight and they think ... not about the scent in the air or the texture of the room, but about the people in the computer.

The people in the computer.

Today, a lot of those people were talking about the burden and the thrill and the nature of writing. What do you tell, what do you suppress? Details! Which ones do the job and which ones muck up the works? How do you learn how to write?

How do you learn how to live?

It's exactly the same for both tasks.

You've got to slow down and focus.

Once you do, a different picture emerges. A much clearer picture. The job become manageable; patterns are revealed. You figure out what steps to take. You learn what's possible and what it's going to cost you. Ah. It's beginning to make sense.

Go slow. Go slower. Go. even. slower. Learn to think about things one at a time. If you're prone to headaches, you need this lesson more than any other. If you want to learn how to be successful, to go like the wind, to accomplish miracles ... you must first learn how to do things completely and fully ... one ... at ... a ... time. It's easier than it looks.

If you're leaning over to tie your shoe, tie your shoe. Don't tie your shoe and worry about knots at the same time. The worry waits -- you don't have to carry it everywhere with you. Pour the coffee. Smell the coffee. Feel the steam. Loose yourself in the one little thing. Pick up the worry again when you're good and ready.

Take this roof job, in progress. It's like any job we have to do. There are tools and there are props and ladders and conveyer belts and bucket brigades and relay teams and many many steps to take ...

... but most important, there are friends.

You may be alone with your thoughts, but there are always other people out there. In here. In the computer.

People trying to help each other.

This afternoon those guys were merely flesh and blood people on the roof across the street from my house. This evening, as I think about them and look at them, they have become images and icons and concepts and ideas. They have almost become people in the computer.

But not quite.

The real people in the computer are people of pure thought. People who are mainlining friendships that bypass the traffic jams and the expensive furniture and the sticky bread and butter details. Individuals capable of conducting themselves via pure thought.

And think about this: the only thing faster than the speed of light is the idea of the speed of light.

So, if you're reading these words online, you are one of us. If you have a mind, you have magic powers.

Slow down and enjoy this precious nanosecond. When you're up on the roof, you don't have to worry. You're not going to fall.

The only way off is to fly.