Love Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw (snow like ashes TXT) 📕

was starting to feel a little uneasyabout where this conversation led.

She paused for a long time before replying,perhaps intuiting my feelings.

"I think it is a fundamental psychological needof everyone to be known, recognized, and understood. People usevarious shields to prevent this, for instance, my friend, the onewho got dumped, has all kinds of ways to ward off attempts to knowwho she is. Being known starts with trust, which she has little of,now.

"Oh, I have a good example of malevulnerability. In Herondus' weekends, he makes opportunities forthe people in those first few rows to get help with personalproblems. At the weekend I went to, there was a young man who saidhe was in love with a woman but somehow didn't feel quite rightabout marrying her. He wanted to know what he should do. Herondusstarted questioning him, like an attorney, in cross-examination.Every answer led to another insightful question. It became apparentto the audience that the man had irrelevant opinions andassumptions that were stopping him. Herondus made jokes, notmalicious ones, of many of his answers to illustrate the man'serror in thinking. Eventually, they got to the crux of the matter:the man had a big case of puppy love for his teenage baby sitterwhen he was eight. One day, after months of great rapport, whichthe man interpreted as love, the babysitter arrived very upset.When the boy tried to get his usual attention, the baby sitterlocked him in the closet for two hours while she cried. The boythought it was his fault she was unhappy, and felt shame for it,and decided to never to trust any one with his loveagain.

"After the man had this revelation he was happyagain and thanked Herondus. Then, Herondus gave a little lecture tothe whole audience about the issues in the man's problem and howthey might pertain to our lives.

"The man had to be willing to be vulnerable toask a question and then go through the public embarrassment in thedialog that followed. He had to trust Herondus to guide him to theanswer of his most pressing life question. He had to be willing toknow himself, no matter what might be found, and to be known by theaudience."

"I can see how that works," I said. "But, beingvulnerable isn't really about being willing to be embarrassed in across-examination, is it?"

"No, it’s more a matter of going to the depths.My friend who got dumped has to keep everything superficial. Shewill only dip her big toe into a relationship. Being vulnerable islike being willing to wade into a relationship up to your waistwith the possibility of going all-in, over your head."

She laughed and added, “Maybe you could give mea soaring metaphor. We are going to the desert, not thebeach."

"OK," I replied, pausing for a moment. "Somepower plane pilots take glider lessons only long enough toget Gliders added to theirpilot's license. Then, they never go gliding or soaringagain.

"Some people take lessons, get their pilot'slicense, and then only come out for a few days of flying around theairport, never getting out of landing range.

"Others, like me, I guess, make soaring a lifepassion. We are willing to take our chances flying great distancesover barren lands, sometimes ending up far from the airfield, or ona dry lake bed or somewhere."

She laughed and added, "Even riskingconversations with Mason jars. You have the idea."

My turning off the freeway to get gasinterrupted us.

After our stop, when she got back in the carcarrying two cups of coffee, she had her impish grin that suggestedshe was up to something.

"It's cold and the clouds look like rain. Arewe really going soaring or is this some kind of trick?"

I laughed and said, "No, this is good waveweather."

"I'd better see this wave or else I'll neverbelieve anything you say again. This had better not be some versionof 'come up to my place and I'll show you my etchings.' Here, Ihave a treat for you."

She reached into her jacket pocket and producedtwo Snickers bars. She unwrapped the end of one and handed it tome. "Try this," She said.

"Oh, no thanks, I'm not much onsweets."

"How long has it been since you have had aSnickers bar?"

"I can't remember the last time I hadone."

"Be vulnerable and try it. Trust me, they aregood. There is little risk in eating a Snickers bar. Go for it!Trust me!"

I took a bite and said, "Actually, this ispretty good."

She unwrapped her bar. took a bite, and anexpression of great pleasure came over her face. "Some times, Iwould do anything for a Snickers bar."

"I'll bear that in mind."

She laughed and gave me an expression of mockscorn, unbuckled her seat belt and slid over next to me and said,"Are we almost there, yet?"

After about a minute of silence while shesubtly snuggled up to me, she said. "I know a fun game to pass thetime. You concentrate on a picture of something and I'll try totell you what it is. See if I can make a mental shortcut betweenus"

She paused and seemed to be sensing that I wasa little uncomfortable with psychic stuff.

"Be vulnerable. Give it a try. Startnow."

I quietly stared down the road.

After about twenty seconds she said, "It lookslike something red, a red spot, and it's bouncing up and down, kindof like a yo-yo. What were you picturing?"

She saw the shocked expression on my face andsaid, "Come on, don't cheat, tell me."

"I was watching the red taillight on the car infront of us. It is moving up and down because the road is notperfectly level. That's amazing! Can you read my mind?"

"No, that is a kind of game my brother and Iinvented, for when we were kids, on trips with my parents. All Ican get is vague images. I think I have an intuition about how youare feeling about things when we talk. For instance, right now youare a little upset, not with me, but with the idea that I canperceive what you are seeing."

"You’re right about that. I understand about8-D shortcuts and all that on an intellectual level, but it isagainst the scientific belief system ingrained in me by all myprevious education and professional experience. I