Every now and then, but not very often, I bump into a few tourists with whom I have an engaging conversation, which usually starts with the history of Motovun. When they notice my American accent, they wish to know a bit more about my past. “Ah,” I usually smile and wave my hand dismissively, “too long a story!” Often enough, they want to know more, and I proceed with my story. As I have noticed time and again, I go through the key steps in my life along the lines of my brief chronology (“Ranko Bon: Chronology,” December 9, 2017). Birth, schooling, marriages, children, teaching and research, retirement… But there are two items in my chronology that I never hint at, let alone mention point blank: yoga and liberation. Although I have written a great deal about the twain, and although my writings have been in the public domain for quite a long time, it would not even cross my mind to open my mouth about them. Why? Am I shy? Or am I ever-so-slightly embarrassed by my stealthy spiritual life? None of the above, of course. Simply put, I am aware of the fact that those who could possibly benefit from my experiences on the path to liberation are so few and far between that it is highly improbable, if not also impossible, that I will ever meet them in person. What if I am wrong in my judgement, though? Just to be sure that I am not too tough on my fellow humans, I regale all those I feel are close enough spiritually with my visiting cards that contain only two items: my permanent electronic-mail address as an MIT alumnus and the address of my Residua website on the World Wide Web (“Time to Come Out,” September 14, 2003). So far, no-one who has received my cards over a bit more than two decades has contacted me in connection with yoga and liberation. If they have ever visited my site, it has never crossed their minds to search for anything of this ilk. My stealthy spiritual life will thus continue until I leave this mortal coil. Alleluia!