As human beings, storytelling is not only one of our favorite forms of entertainment, it's also a critical part of how we learn. This universal trait goes back to the very dawn of civilization, and transcends all divisions of time, place and culture. We've been telling each other stories forever, and the probability is that it will be with us far into the future. Actually, a joke came out a few years ago that illustrates the point. A perfect computer had been created that had immediate access to all human knowledge and could answer complex questions in a user-friendly way. The first question it was asked was, "How does our intelligence actually work?" and it quickly responded, "Well, let me tell you a story about it." So, from the caveman to the computer, it seems like past is prologue. Anyway, like everyone else, I've been fascinated with stories all my life, and at one point I found myself making a key career decision that was based on their inherent power. I was a Political Science major at American University in Washington, DC. It was my Junior year and I was one of two students who had been chosen to serve as an intern in the office of a United States Congressman. Instead of attending my usual classes, I worked on Capitol Hill four days a week, six hours a day for three and a half months. As you can imagine, it was a pretty exciting environment and I gained a tremendous amount of first-hand experience. But after getting such an up close look at what really goes on up there, when it was finally over, I decided to change my major from Political Science to Literature.           I'm sure I was oversimplifying it at the time, but it seemed to me that the whole place was running on an intoxicating mixture of ego and greed, spiked with a major dose of good, old-fashioned lust for power. It was the late sixties, my generation seemed to be coming alive with a quest for a greater life, and I didn't see how anything truly transformative was going to come from the world of that masquerade ball, which smelled like it was set up somewhere between a swamp and a cesspool. It seemed like literature held a much greater potential to foster the nobler essences of the human spirit so I decided to start focusing my attention there, and have been deeply involved in it ever since. One of the most unexpected and amazing stories I've ever worked on revolved around the deeply spiritual side of Abraham Lincoln. Although I had been a long-time fan of Lincoln, I had never been exposed to this side of him. I found it absolutely fascinating and decided to construct a dramatic story based on it. I thought it would make a great book and maybe even a movie someday.  I know… it's not a very novel idea.           Now, this is all kind of a roundabout way of introducing you to the next five episodes of the Stop Making Yourself Miserable podcast in which I am going to present two key chapters from that proposed book which is titled – "The Better Angels – Lincoln, the Psychic and the Spy."  The jacket-cover blurb for it is: "During the Civil War, a young woman who is a gifted psychic, secretly channels for the Lincolns and becomes part of a private, White House inner circle. By chance, she meets a daring Union spy and as their romance begins to blossom, they unexpectedly discover a sinister plot to kill the President. They secretly join forces in a desperate attempt to thwart it." Based on actual facts, it's a multi-layered story filled with history, intrigue and all mixed with a sense of the metaphysical which was extremely popular at the time. But at its root, it's a truly enthralling love story. In the excerpts that follow, the two main characters, who are the love interests of the story, meet each other for the first time. Annie Franklin is the 19-year-old talented psychic, and Charles Keane is the dashing, 27-year-old Union spy.   I think it you'll find the story well worth the ride, so let's begin with a little background. It is mid-December, 1862, a bitter time for the Union army. The gruesome battle of Fredericksburg, Virginia had just been fought, with two hundred thousand American soldiers gripped in a truly ferocious battle. It had been a major defeat for the Union, with a staggering 13,000 of their soldiers killed, including two generals, and another 10,000 left badly injured.    Not only was the Union army suddenly and seriously demoralized, its field hospitals were also utterly overwhelmed. Unable to properly care for all of the wounded, the government is now allowing the worst cases to return home for care. Annie Franklin's brother, Daniel, is lying in an enormous field hospital, very close to death. She has made the trip from her home in Connecticut to Washington DC to obtain a furlough for him and is staying at the home of some family friends in Georgetown.  She had visited Daniel at the hospital grounds two days earlier and had gotten the necessary release letter from an army doctor.  Now, all she needs to do is deliver it to the War Department, and the furlough will be issued.           Annie approaches the large office building in the nation's capital. Things have gone smoothly so far and now, she fully expects to bring Daniel home within days.  *        *        *             The War Department was located in a large annex building, not too far from the White House, and it took Annie almost an hour to make the trip from Georgetown. It was open to the public from 10 am to 3 pm daily, and although she had gotten there at 9:30, the place was already nearly a madhouse, packed with hundreds of people, fervently trying to get their various personal missions accomplished.            She had the name of Captain Ernest Lee, an assistant to the Under Secretary of War, who was in charge of logistics for the wounded at Fredericksburg. After wading through the tumult, she finally found Capt. Lee's office on the second floor, in a distant corner of the building. When she arrived, she was given a number and told to wait her turn. There seemed to be about 20 people in front of her.           She sat down on a bench, clutching the letter she had brought from an army surgeon stating that Daniel's condition was serious enough to warrant a furlough, and recommending it be issued immediately. Finally, after not moving for over two hours, she was ushered in to meet Captain Lee.           "Hello, Miss," he said officiously. "Sorry for the wait, but as you can see, we are really busting at the seams here."           There was a lit cigar in the ashtray on his desk giving off a thin, steady stream of smoke, filling the air with a rancid yellow haze. He sat down at his desk, picked up the cigar and took a few puffs. Annie stifled a cough, but unphased, the captain kept puffing away.           "So, what brings you here today?" he asked, his bloodshot eyes staring out at her over a pair of dark brown bags that hung under them.            "Sir, my brother is with the Connecticut regiment and he has been wounded," Annie stammered, "badly wounded. I went to visit him yesterday. He doesn't seem to be healing right and -"           "I see," Lee interrupted. "Sorry to be curt, Miss, but as you can tell, we are really backed up here. This whole thing is completely out of hand. Terrible battle, just terrible. A complete disaster." He paused for a moment. "So, let me ask you, were you able to you get a letter from a doctor?"           "Oh yes," Annie brightened up. "Oh yes indeed, I -"           "Let me see it if you don't mind," he interrupted.           Annie handed him the letter. He put on a pair of wire spectacles and puffed on his cigar as he read it carefully. He looked like he was in his late forties, with a large mustache, offset by a stubbly growth of hair. It wasn't an actual beard.  He just hadn't shaved for a few days. After a few moments, he put the paper in a pile and looked up at her.           "Well, Miss, uh, Franklin, is it? I assume you have the same last name as your brother?"           "Yes sir," Annie said.           "It looks to me like everything is pretty much in order here," he said and smiled. "I just have to pass this through a set of approvals and then get the actual furlough issued. I should be able to have it finished by the end of the day tomorrow. Why don't you stop by here at around about four o'clock in the afternoon and I should have everything ready for you."           "Oh, thank you, sir, that's so wonderful," Annie sighed with relief. "But are you sure it will be alright for me to come then? I was told that they don't let the public in here after three."           "Oh no, that's just a general rule for people bringing new business. Don't worry about it. Four will be fine for you. If anyone stops you, just tell them you have an appointment with Captain Lee. They'll understand. It will be fine," he said, waving her out of the office. He pulled out a new paper and called for the next person to enter.           "Thank you, Captain. Thank you so much," Annie shouted back to him as she walked away. He never looked up or acknowledged her at all. He was already on to the next case.  *        *        *   "Well, that wasn't too bad," Annie thought to herself on the ride back to Georgetown. "It was a long wait, and it took a lot of patience, but the captain was kind and he said I can pick up the furlough tomorrow. Thank God, Daniel and I will finally be on our way home."           As the carriage made a turn, they passed the White House, and she started thinking about all of the psychic messages she had gotten over the last few months, saying that it was urgent for her to travel to Washington and meet with President Lincoln. The readings said that there was certain critical information that had to be delivered to him immediately, which could alter the course of the war and change history itself. She had been promised that all would go well if she just went to see him. But she had deep resistance to the idea. Interest in Spiritualism, with its emphasis on channelings through mediums, had swept through the country like wildfire since the early 1850s and there were large Spiritualist newspapers in every major city in America. But a legion of charlatans had sprung up as well, and it had gotten worse since the war had intensified, with grieving relatives willing to pay anything to contact their departed loved ones. It was easy pickings and phony quacks trying to cash in seemed to be popping up everywhere. And now, the spirit guides she channeled were telling her that she had to go present herself to Mr. Lincoln. She had been a sickly child and had very little schooling, so the idea of an uneducated nineteen-year-old girl who could barely read or write, telling the President that she had important information for him, seemed completely preposterous. She kept refusing to go, sure that she would be dismissed as some kind of lunatic. But at the end of a recent reading, she had been told that it was so important Lincoln receive this particular information that somehow, some way, she would be brought in to meet him face to face, regardless of what she thought.  As the White House disappeared from view, she put the idea of trying to see him out of her mind, for the thousandth time. She had come to Washington to take care of Daniel. That was her focus and it finally seemed to be going well.           When she got to the Harrison's front door, she stood outside for a moment and looked around at the stately Georgetown neighborhood. She had never seen anything like it. Actually, she had never been more than 30 miles from her home before. Now, suddenly she was in the nation's capital and the trip had opened her up to an entirely different world. But as stimulating as it was, she still couldn't wait to leave. Seeing all the poor, wounded soldiers in the field hospital had been devastating, and she just wanted to get Daniel out of there and back home, safe and sound. She took a breath and looked around optimistically. After delivering the doctor's letter to the officer at the War Department who looked at it with an approving eye, it seemed like she had real hope that Daniel's life could be saved. With that, this part of the story comes to a close, to be continued. But as the saying goes, "Strap on your seatbelt. It's going to be a bumpy ride..." And that's the end of this episode. As always, keep your eyes, mind, and heart opened, and let's get together in the next one.

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