The story is told of a woman who feels that something is missing in her life.  She has heard that there is a wise yogi, a spiritual virtuoso, who lives and radiates holiness on the top of a mountain in a remote part of India.  She is told that this yogi holds court, and that people from all over the world make a pilgrimage to see him.  It’s not easy.  You fly to India.   Then you take a three-day drive on crowded and unpaved roads.  Then you climb the mountain, and it is steep.  When you get to the top of the mountain, you wait your turn.  There is a long line of seekers ahead of you.  And here is the catch.  The yogi is so in demand, there are so many people to see him, and he is reputed to be so smart, he just intuits things from a few words, that you can only say eight words to him.  This woman, in search of something, desperate to find it,  flies to India; takes the three-day drive on crowded and unpaved roads; climbs to the top of the mountain; waits her turn among the many seekers who have come to sit at the feet of the great yogi.  At long last, after all that,  she faces the wise yogi and says her eight words:  Come home, Sheldon, it’s time to come home.