Fate and Destiny Pt. 01

About this time several members of the church ministry committee asked me to do a sermon or two on sin. They felt the subject hadn't been addressed recently, and were pressing for a return to some of the basics. Thus, two Sundays later I talked about sin – its Biblical definition meaning to miss the mark. I talked about who set the mark, drawing a distinction between where God might set it and where an ego might set it – specifically someone that felt they knew better than God. Of course, at issue was whether the Bible was an authoritative source on the subject. I kicked this around a little in the sermon, knowing that part of the congregation thought the book the inspired and literal work of God, and others the writings of wise men with weaknesses and opinions just as we'd find in any group today. I left my audience with thoughts about their own definition of what constituted sin, raising the issue of faithlessness to their own inner truth and being. I expressed doubt about being immediately punished except by their own hand, yet raised the issue of karma that they carried from life to life – if they believed in reincarnation and rebirth.

I thought the talk was one of my better speeches. Many in the congregation came up and praised my efforts to cover the broad subject in the thirty minutes I usually devoted to a sermon. I felt a little hypocritical talking about sin, when I knew that in some eyes I had violated various vows in my relationship, as well as conducted shadowy business practices. I'd even alluded to some of the latter points in my talk.

On the flight out the following Tuesday afternoon I thought of where I set my own mark – marks to miss if I was to sin. What was the word that represented making the mark or not sinning? I pondered some unanswered questions from my talk on Sunday. Could you be powerful and be a success without sinning? If you made money did that automatically make you a sinner? Could you have a relationship outside your marriage without committing a sin? Or break the law? Or have evil thoughts?

I continued to brood on the subject all the way to Houston where I had to check-in with one of the Menthen Oil subsidiaries and then hop a flight to Denver to see a new Triax acquisition. I liked the word 'brood;' it so aptly described my quiet times alone – I didn't pray or meditate or contemplate – I brooded over things. I worried about what they meant to me, to people I knew, to my congregation, and to my business associates.

I knew from counseling and private conversations that my colleagues and contemporaries worried about themselves – their economic security, their family situation, their infidelities to self and to spouse, their physical health, along with aging parents, children, paying bills, image and reputation, and their jobs and careers. Did people brood over these the same way I did over the issues in my life? Some of these problems were in my worry space, and others weren't. What made these things to brood over was that there could be dramatic downsides to each issue: loss of job or fortune, loss of control, loss of love, and ill health and even death, to list a few. Brooding meant I considered all the downsides – from my shadow side – and then figured out how to keep them at bay in my own life, and how to help others mired down in that space.

The underlying assumption was that I had a complete list of the issues and the downsides that might result. Later, I would find the notes from that trip and realize I hadn't even come close to creating a complete list.

Uneven Ground

"One knows less about one's own destiny than
about anything else on earth."
Gabrielle Roy

The night after Laura first appeared in my office with her husband I barely slept. What sleep I did achieve involved some convoluted dreams around Laura. I hadn't been so affected by a patient or someone I met in ages. Gary was not a factor in my dreams. With Laura, I could remember ever pore of her beautiful face, the turn of her nose, the curl of the hair behind her ears, and the way she carried herself or moved her head or body. I savored a couple of mannerisms I'd memorized during their counseling session, a session where I'd focused most of my mental attention on her rather than her husband. To compensate I'd seemed to aim most of my remarks and questions to Gary first, but my concentration was elsewhere.

As I reflected on the hour we'd spent together I realized so much more than I'd initially thought when I recalled glances, facial expressions, and body language from the hour visit. There were thousands of questions I wanted to ask her about how she felt about something or whether she liked something. Towards dawn the dreams became more intimate and sexual, an odd mixture of love, affection, and raw lust blended together in some twisting kaleidoscope image.

The rest of my week was busy, yet Laura occupied my thoughts constantly, particularly when I was alone and could fully concentrate my thinking on her. The weekend passed with agonizingly slow speed. I had one focal point that my life moved toward: the appointment at 4:30 p.m. on the following Monday afternoon with Gary and Laura Wayne. She would be there!

That Monday time dragged by so slowly. I was ready for the couple fifteen minutes early. I left the door open so I would hear them come into the waiting room. As usual for that late-in-the-day time slot, the secretary-receptionist Pearl had hired for me had left for the day. When I heard the pair come into the office, I went out and greeted them, inviting them into my office and discussion circle. I held the door for them.

As Laura walked by I inhaled her essence, a faint trace of some ultra feminine scent that suggested beauty, freshness, health, and sexuality. She glanced up into my eyes for only a second and smiled coyly. She held the glance for a fraction of second longer than might be expected. In that instant we connected again – a penetrating look only a millisecond long that again locked us in some chemistry of personal attraction. My heart nearly stopped. I followed her into the room shutting the door to the reception area. I also guessed from that glance that like I, she'd thought of little else but the two of us for the prior week.

I watched Laura's form from the rear for the first time in serious study. She was wearing snug jeans that were both prim and revealing, and an expensive crossover silk blouse that suggested cleavage, without revealing too much. Also with the heels she wore, she looked professional and attractive. I took about a thousand mental photographs in those first few seconds we were together.

I physically wanted her. I wanted her mind and soul and spirit and in every other way, if that were possible. My inner being sought her inner being. I didn't care about the mundane things the physical world might allow or disallow about a relationship. I was way beyond laws and convention. I wanted it to be what I wanted.

Despite my preoccupation and thoughts, I started the session as we sat in the same triangle we'd sat in the week prior, only this time the 'his and her' chairs were more directly facing each other to facilitate face to face dialog with me to the side as more of a discussion catalyst. I commented, "We'll have a few extra minutes if we start now. Did you two continue to talk about some of the lists we made last week? What's been going on in your lives and how do you feel a week after we met?" I forced myself to look back and forth between the two of them.

Gary started the discussion for a change, a point that wasn't lost on me since he'd been hesitant to take the initiative a week earlier. I tried to focus on him as he spoke, overriding my desire to just absorb Laura with my eyes for the entire hour.

He said, "If we've made any progress, it's invisible. We've talked more, but we're still dancing around some issues that hold both or us back. I feel I'd like to be more open and communicative, but I can't because something inside me stops me from opening up."

Laura jumped in, "I feel the same way. I don't know what my inner core wants. Does it want me to still be married? How much give and take should I allow? Can I have personal secrets? Am I allowed to still have feelings and emotions about things I don't talk about?"

I took her last question and turned it back on the two of them: "Do you both have emotions that you hide from each other?"

Laura stated flatly, "Yes, I get scared. What if I ended up alone? How would I survive? Would I ever find love again, and how would I make enough to live?"

Gary asked her in a surprised tone, "Do you think I'll abandon you? I wouldn't. I'm committed to see this relationship work – aren't you?"

Laura reached over and touched his hand, "Oh, Gary. I don't know. I'm all torn up inside about this. I feel like there are multiple Lauras: one me will see it through and learn to cope, and another me wants to cut and run, and yet another me can't move without clarity and understanding about what's going on and why."

Gary started getting defensive and angry; I could see the color rise in his neck. He started to speak but I stopped him. "Before you go on, Gary, would you just validate what you heard Laura say. Don't editorialize, just repeat back to her in your own voice as much of what she said using her exact words as best you can recall."

Gary absorbed my instructions and the normal color returned to his face and neck. He turned to Laura, "I hear that you are confused. You face choices and seem to feel you have to choose between sticking with our marriage, opting out of it, or something in-between I guess, some decision that you need more information about."

I turned to Laura and said, "Is that correct?"

"Yes."

I turned to Gary and said encouragingly, "Now, you can ask her your own questions or make your own statements."

He didn't look at me – or at Laura either, and haltingly asked her, "You mean you're really looking for something better ... better than our marriage. Are we that far gone?"

She spoke softly, almost inaudibly, "No, we're not that far gone. I still love you, but this just isn't what I thought it would be. Maybe I have a distorted idea of what marriage should be like. There was never a manual that came with it. I feel it's a struggle to ... I don't feel love around you any more." She paused and looked up at him, "We just co-exist in the house, each doing our thing. Our conversations are not about 'us,' they're always about someone else or something else or some issue in the outside world. What happened tous?" Laura's eyes teared up just before she stopped talking.

I turned to Gary and said in a positive tone, "Before you comment on her statement, repeat it back in words as close to hers as you can." Inside I ached for Laura; she was obviously torn in ways I was yet to understand about her marriage. I wanted to do whatever I could to make her feel better, to heal her feelings, to bring love to her.

Gary spoke, doing a good job of paraphrasing her words. He then took a large in-take of breath as he prepared to comment, instead of defensive words he said, "I agree, except I've given up making it a struggle. I've gotten content to just come and go, and let our relationship lie there and be what it is. I don't even try to put value judgments on it – not good, not bad, it just 'is.' So, when you want to talk about 'us,' well that calls for recognition of the relationship, and I've sort of stopped doing that – I just accept it. So what we talk about, at least from my point of view, is all the other stuff going on around us. I thought there was love there."

I probed, "And how does that make you feel?"

There was a long silence in the room before Gary spoke. My initial concern that Laura would jump in and fill his space went down as I glanced at her and realized she was going to give him time to comment. He finally said, "In a way it's sad, but I don't know what else we'd talk about. You can't keep evaluating your relationship every day, can you – isn't that like pulling up something you planted by the roots to examine whether it's doing OK and then sticking it back in the ground? I think of words like mature or ripe or stable or sedate or staid to apply to our marriage. That's where we are."

I turned to Laura and asked her to repeat what she'd heard Gary say. I avoided looking deep into her eyes. She did a credible job, and so I invited her to comment or question his words. She spoke, "We're not on the same page about our marriage. Your description is probably accurate, but I'd like to use words like exciting, enticing, sexual, daring, physical, emotional, ..." She paused in her list and then shifted gears to a different topic in responding to Gary's statement, "And there's so much to talk about that would draw us deeper into each other – go to a play or movie and talk about what we see or feel; share views on a book; share our sexual fantasies; role play situations with each other – even erotic ones; travel to controversial places and talk about what impresses us or how it makes us feel; interact with people that make us think and question who we are and how we work, or why we're here. I can go on and on with ideas. You've heard some of these already, it's what I've been talking about for the last five years."

This time Gary knew what to do. He jumped in and repeated her statement, seeking Laura's acknowledgment that he'd heard her correctly. The two of them were in dialogue. I stayed relatively quiet, only interjecting a comment or probe here and there to keep one or the other of them from hiding from the other, and to keep things on track. We went on for over an hour, and then I explained I had to end the unusually long session to accommodate another appointment. There wasn't another appointment, but under the law of diminishing returns, we'd gotten about as far in the hour as we could. They needed to reflect and think about the session.

As I broke into their dialogue about their marriage, I urged them to continue this type of interaction after they left the office. I gave them some suggestions about the echoing technique and how to keep it adding value to them. I told them that according to plan I would meet separately with them in a week, Gary for an hour followed by Laura, and then we'd meet again a week later with them as a couple. While there'd been some tense moments in the hour, now there was actually a positive and optimistic feeling.

The three of us stood. Gary smiled, shook my hand, and turned towards the door as he put his coat on. Laura came close to me, smiled, and gave me what started as a polite social hug, allowing me to give her a polite kiss on the cheek. Apparently that wasn't sufficient for she turned her head and kissed me tenderly on my lips. The kiss lingered and her hug intensified, and then it was over as suddenly as it began. As we pulled apart, she thanked me for my time and sincere efforts on their behalf. Gary had not turned back towards us during our kiss, but as he turned, he too expressed his thanks, helped Laura with her coat, and the pair departed.

I am rarely incoherent, but for a full minute following Laura's kiss, I was speechless. As the pair left and the door shut, I stood there looking blankly at the door. My heartbeat must have doubled. I was flushed, and my brain felt like a grenade had gone off inside it – a very nice grenade that showered every lobe of my brain with thoughts of Laura. For a while, the thoughts were hard to string together coherently. I felt love and lust. I wanted to hold her to me, showering her with love and kisses. Did she feel even a hint of what I felt? I had a hunch she did.

I was in dangerous territory. I recalled admonitions from several of my doctoral professors about getting involved with patients, particularly in a physical relationship. Yet I had a set of beliefs that transcended such mundane advice: I believed in soul mates, and in relationships defined and planned in other times and dimensions – in the spiritual world – the world of souls and boundless energy. I thought Laura and I had met in this non-physical sphere, and agreed to meet in this world and time.

I was so inspired and mired in thoughts of love that Sunday I talked about love as my sermon topic even though Valentine's Day was five months away. I had to gather my wits when I saw that Laura – Gary and Laura actually – were now in the congregation. Guardedly, I would look at her when I delivered some precious gem about the subject. I would have loved to stand atop the pulpit and tell her how much I was falling in love with her.

Instead, however, I delivered a rather traditional and well-received sermon that received an ego-boosting amount of praise as I stood in the receiving line after the services. Even Margaret made some nice comments about the remarks and how I tied it in to the events going on that September.

Sunday afternoon we did a rare thing for just an afternoon; Margaret and I drove up to Kennebunkport and took the sloop out for the afternoon. If I couldn't have Laura, I thought I'd take a short sail with my wife. By Maine sailing standards it was a perfect day: crystal clear, twenty-knot wind, and temperatures in the sixties. The yacht club tender gave us a ride out to the boat with a promise to await our arrival back at our mooring around six o'clock. By two-thirty, we were underway.

As we sailed out towards open ocean, I thought how so many activities in our lives give us raw sexual excitement. Sailing in a strong wind was one of these for me. Flying anything ranked up there too, but flying the Gulfstream IV in nasty weather might top the list. I'd felt it in meditation, getting a massage, enjoying a two-hundred-year-old port, attending a Verdi opera in Milan, during a rare opportunity to drive a Formula I race car around a track outside of Wiesbaden, and walking the beach totally alone in Thailand one day. I knew there were others in my life if I'd thought about it longer.

The sloop was keeled over twenty plus degrees in the stiff breeze on the northeast track we were on. We were only doing about six or seven knots, top speed for this hull. Margaret sat in the cockpit quietly reading. I studied her. She'd become matronly over the years we'd been married, partly due to having three children and partly due to the good life we enjoyed. She was dignified yet could be aloof even to me.

I had to acknowledge my own paunch too. The trim figure I'd had twenty years earlier was long gone, the victim of too many dinners at expensive restaurants and an affection for wine and bourbon. Why on earth would a thirty-something beauty even consider a friendship with me let alone some kind of romance? I allowed myself to brood over my unattractive body and age. I also thought about the risk a deep relationship would have at this point in my career, albeit briefly. I'd already dismissed my dreaming as nothing more than the delirious wishes of a late middle-aged man. While I had become infatuated with her, she no doubt looked at me as though I was a father figure – probably one less judgmental and available compared to her own father who she said lived in Florida as I recalled.

I turned the boat to another tack. Margaret looked up as the boom swing above her head and gave me a smile. I got things stabilized again and my thoughts wandered back to Laura. What bothered me was the kiss, our parting kiss after the second marriage counseling session. I couldn't be misreading the passion and tenderness that she communicated could I? After some further thought I decided I had inadequate information about her to make an evaluation. Oh well, we had another session the next day and I'd find out more.

We came about in the boat again and headed to port. Margaret again adjusted her position with a broad smile to me of happiness and contentment. The wind gave us a long reach for part of our course back, right into the setting sun. For some reason having the sun in my eyes made me think of Icarus, the Greek god that flew too close to sun which melted his wings of wax. Later our track took us back into the safety of the harbor and eventually our drive back home.