"Are you sure," asked the Wabbit, "that this is you?" The Space Traveller looked very sorry for himself. "Not really," he replied. "I shifted so many times." The Wabbit frowned. "Perhaps some time on your own would help you remember." The Traveller looked around. "Is there no-one here but me?" "Well," said the Wabbit, "there are some tiny voles who emerge from caverns and dance in the light of the moons." "I'll look out for them," sighed the Traveller. "When do they come?" "Thursdays," nodded the Wabbit. He glanced up. "I have to be off. My team is waiting." Now the Traveller looked anxious. "How long must I remain here?" "Until I remember to come back," said the Wabbit. "Then I pray earnestly for your safety and well being," said the Traveller. The Wabbit smiled to himself, since he had no intention of leaving the Traveller for any length of time. He made a mental note to pick him up after two weeks, but chose to say nothing. "You could try mindfulness," suggested the Wabbit, "that may help you find yourself." "How does it work?" asked the Traveller. "Be aware of the present," said the Wabbit, "and without judgement, accept your feelings, thoughts and sensations. The Traveller thought for a second. "I think I'll wait for the voles."