

### Manifesting Consciousness

A Personal Journey Through The Awakening Process

### Travis S. Dumont

Revised by:

Deniece Dumont

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Travis S. Dumont

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by The Awakening Workshop LLC

TheAwakeningWorkshop.com

Cover design by: AbsoluteCovers.com

Cover photo taken by: Travis S. Dumont

Cover photo of: Cathedral Rock, Sedona AZ

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

ISBN 978-0-9912857-1-6

# Dedication:

Glory be to God

&

The Expansion of Human Consciousness

#  Contents

Forward

Preface

Ego Identity

The Gift

Reality Bites

Playing With Fire

A Simple Choice

What Now?

The Pit

Breaking All the Rules

Back to Reality

New Eyes

Love's Truth

Heaven on Earth

About the Author

# Forward

The primary intention for writing this book is to share my personal experiences and insights in an effort to assist others, as well as myself, to embrace and cultivate self-awareness, Universal truth, and joy. Sharing my personal story allows the reader to see and experience how the awakening process can actually unfold in real life, providing a unique opportunity to understand the subtle and sometimes dramatic changes that take place on the journey towards enlightenment.

I have made every effort to tell my story as accurately as possible, keeping to the facts of any situation I chose to relate. Because this book is autobiographical in nature it naturally depicts information about people in my life such as family members, friends, and past romantic relationships. Although this information is included, it is merely added in an effort to illuminate what my own mindset was in any given situation, along with the corresponding changes that accompanied awakening. In no instance was there any malicious intent towards anyone in any way. It is my hope that through an honest account of interaction with the people in my life, I can demonstrate in greater detail the human dynamic, social conditioning, personality types and even the purpose those relationships have had in my life. The inclusion of certain stories, merely illustrates the transformation that has taken place within me, through relating my reactions to what I perceived to be dire circumstances. Therefore, each personal story within these pages is pivotal in portraying how it contributed to my own personal growth in some form or another.

Every person I've had interaction with has been for my great benefit and I harbor no ill will towards anyone introduced here. I have excluded real names, out of a deep respect for all who have been my Divine teachers. I believe I've been sent nothing but angels, and everyone who has played a role in my life has profoundly affected my ability to see myself as a Spiritual being. I wish to express immense gratitude for each person who has taken part in my journey towards happiness, peace, joy, and love.

# Preface

What follows is a personal account of the way in which consciousness appeared in my life and how it has changed my perception of the world. As I continue my own passage towards enlightenment, I felt compelled to reach for a pen and share my story as an example to compare, validate, argue, refute, relate to, or glean insight from.

Ultimately, awakening is a solo journey. No other individual can do the work for us or give us the secret location of the elusive happiness we all seek. Only through searching deep within ourselves, can we find the answers for our own salvation. However, the significant fact that there are no new experiences, unique thoughts, or exclusive feelings, has come to light during my journey. The circumstances and details of our lives will likely differ, but at our core we are the same. As I tell my story, it may be discovered that the human race shares the same pain, stress, anxiety, heartbreak, joy, and confusion. Walking in my footsteps, you may connect to some of the ways in which you and I are similar, leading to validation for the way you feel about your own life.

Nothing in our physical world is real. My thoughts, experiences, and possessions, have nothing to do with who I really am. I am a spiritual being, having a physical experience. Most of what I was taught during my early years was not much more than personal opinion. Each individual has their own path, so the challenge is to become aware of "who" you really are so that you can consciously walk that path and not blindly follow the direction others have placed before you. In the end, the only thing we take with us is the understanding that comes from the life we have lived.

For thirty years I obligingly did what the ego and our society required of me, bringing me mostly misery, pain, isolation, and disappointment. Just at the point of falling into complete ruin and utter despair, I realized there must be a considerable flaw in my well-wrought plan. I was doing everything necessary to be a responsible, productive person and believed it would eventually bring me the peace and joy I so desperately desired, but any semblance of happiness had continued to elude me.

My first marriage was approaching the nine-year mark. I had a beautiful, three-year-old son. I was quickly building equity with a fifteen-year mortgage on our first home. I had a 401k-retirement plan. I owned my own remodeling business and was working towards real estate investment. My credit rating was golden, and I believed that I had all the answers for success. I felt sure that if I stuck to my plan, all my dreams would come true. There was just one tiny problem, I HATED MY LIFE!! And worse than that was the nagging realization that I felt trapped in a situation, I had put so much time and effort into, that I couldn't bare the thought of changing it.

When I was a child I had a premonition, that by the age of thirty I would be wildly successful, which to my young mind meant I would become a millionaire. The experience was so impactful that it remains vivid in my memory to this day. I was determined from that tender age to accomplish that dream, because something in that version of my future left me looking happy and content.

I didn't have a million dollars in the bank by my thirtieth birthday, nor was I even close, but I did feel I was headed in the right direction and was well on my way toward realizing the "American Dream." Considering the excellent progress I had made, I wondered why I wasn't happy or at least somewhat satisfied with my present achievements. I'd been doing everything I could to produce a happy life, but to no avail. What I was experiencing was intense inner turmoil that I couldn't explain, but as I celebrated my thirtieth birthday the answers to my questions would begin to reveal themselves. I didn't know it yet, but I was about to receive the best gift of my adult life and it had nothing to do with money or material goods.

Some years after that fateful day, my life held little resemblance to the life I had back then. My golden credit rating was shot. My marriage had ended. I was allowed no contact with my only child. My 401K, was depleted. I had no savings. I was residing in my second wife's ex-husband's house. I owed over forty thousand dollars in unpaid child support, which resulted in the suspension of my driver's license. I'd accrued thousands of dollars in credit card dept. I had few possessions. I'd had minimal contact with extended family members, and in most cases the world would have seen my life as a complete failure, or at the very least, a cautionary tale. In truth, I would have agreed with this assessment if I hadn't been the one living the story.

Since then I have come to see how these circumstances have been perfect for my spiritual growth. Through taking responsibility for all of my unconscious, ego-driven choices, I empowered myself to make the changes that would result in greater freedom from the chains that keep the human heart bound to resistance and misery. Now, at forty-six years of age, my life continues to blossom as I embrace each fresh emergence of truth, broadening my understanding of why we are compelled to behave the way we do. With deeper self-awareness, I am left feeling happy and at peace for the majority of the time. The pain, misery, and isolation I once felt, has virtually vanished allowing the space for a new state of being to surface.

I am a common man with ordinary struggles and challenges, who is going through an extraordinary transformation! Emerging consciousness has helped me to see, understand, and experience everything in a new light, causing my life to take unpredicted turns and leading to controversial choices that have struck great fear into the hearts of the unconscious. However, I don't see these new choices as being better or worse than the one's I used to make, just different and more aligned with spirit. In the following chapters I detail those pivotal, life-altering moments, along with the insights and challenges that accompanied them.

I want to make it clear, that this is not a "how-to manual" or a "guide book" for spiritual students. It is merely a personal account of awakening as it has unfolded in my own life. The insights and opinions expressed in this book come from my personal experience and perceptions. I have no interest in convincing anyone of anything, nor do I expect anyone to share my understandings. Each of us has our own perfect path to follow and only "God" knows what that will be.

Throughout, I spoke to reflect the relative mindset I had when a particular event took place. In other words, I tried to accurately tell the story from what I understood to be true at the time, in order to show how one's life can be turned upside down, as his perceptions change. I strive to show how my experience of life was altered as consciousness continued to increase and I became clearer.

Ultimately, mine is a love story, as I began to see a different man in the mirror. Instead of the broken, damaged, unworthy individual I thought I was, a new man was reflected back to me. By clearing away the illusions and misconceptions I had about myself, I exposed the beautiful, loving, confident, compassionate, accepting person who had been there all along.

Inside every human there is an enlightened being waiting to be discovered, which has merely been covered over by attaching to unhealthy thoughts created by social conditioning and the construct of the ego. As we break through this superficial, illusory layer, we reconnect with our true spiritual selves, leaving us free to experience our lives here on Earth as a heavenly paradise filled with love and beauty, rather than the hellish nightmare so many of us trudge through on a daily basis. This is the reality the ego has blinded us to, and this reality is accessible to everyone, no matter what their circumstances may suggest. Mankind's search for happiness is intrinsic to our nature, and the experience of "Heaven on Earth" is not only possible, it is our God given right as human beings.

**Chapter One**

### Ego Identity

The Creation of Insecurities, Shame, and Fear

My awakening process has been a long, arduous journey. As a young boy I heard stories in church about prophets in the bible who spoke to God and had visions of the future. These great men were visited by heavenly angels and personally instructed by Deity, where to go, what to say and what to do in the service of God. I remember magical stories of how people were instantly transformed into somebody entirely different. The way I understood the spiritual path was that it was a magnificent journey free from pain, fear and doubt. No worries or problems would ever have had a chance of infiltrating your spiritual armor and you'd find yourself in a state that was carefree and somewhat like skipping happily through fields of daisies. Maybe my idea was naïve, but I really thought that if one chose to follow God, everything in life would magically drop at your feet. Although that sounds wonderful, it hasn't been the reality of my experience at all. In fact, my life has proven to be quite the opposite, most especially my early years.

As awakening began to materialize, the dawning took me from an unconscious dreamlike state, to a shocking and nightmarish look at my life as it really was. While fully unconscious I thought I was completely in charge of everything in my life, but as I began to awaken, that unstable illusion of control started to slip away, as I desperately clung to the security of the daydream! When I finally raised my head up out of the sand and started to look around, my delusions began to dissipate and the perception I had of my life changed from a sunny field of flowers, into something a kin to smoke rising from a war torn battlefield! This wasn't my idea of how awakening was supposed to work. Wasn't waking up to the truth supposed to make life better in some way, happier or at least easier? Instead, I was waking up to a seemingly endless pile of mud that contained horrific truths and harsh realities about my life's circumstances. This wasn't a carefree place at all, this was a place that was dark and frightening but I knew the only way to change it was to face it head on and start the hard work of taking responsibility for everything that had led me down that road in the first place.

Given this understanding, one might ask the question, "Why would anyone want to wake up?" The answer is simply that most people don't. As soon as the slightest bit of reality begins to seep in, most people immediately retreat from consciousness by distracting themselves in any way they can. Many of the everyday activities in our lives are established for this very purpose. Of course we aren't aware that we are scrambling away from awareness at every turn. We have convinced ourselves that we are taking care of our responsibilities, after all, there are things in life that need attention, but the fact remains that so much of what we engage in works as a distraction and has little to do with being responsible. We are unconsciously running from one thing to the next, jumping through every hoop the ego lays before us in an attempt at keeping our illusions alive.

The purpose of the ego, and the only way it can survive, is to keep our attention focused on anything but reality, most of which is negative. Most of us have experienced someone who complains incessantly, or only sees what is wrong or bad about a given situation, that would be the ego at work. We have all personally experienced the ego at play within our own lives, but the question is; do we realize it's the ego or are we so unaware that we are unable to separate ourselves from it?

Throughout history there have been relatively few enlightened beings on the planet, clearly awakening has not been a widely chosen path. Fortunately, I believe that is all destined to change. We don't even need to be aware of this change because it is taking place with, or without our conscious participation. Conscious participation merely speeds up the process in our individual lives. The truth is that each of us is heading towards enlightenment because there is no other possible destination. Overcoming the ego is the primary purpose to our lives on earth. As we become conscious we may realize that the intention of physical existence is transcendence, and when that can be accomplished, life as we know it will come to an end, and something new will have the space to emerge in its place.

Everything physical, including our bodies, has a finite existence, so everything physical or solid will eventually come to an end and turn to dust. You can't take any of it with you and yet we act as if it's all there is. This is what Jesus meant when he said, "store up your treasures in heaven," because all treasures of love, peace, and joy born of rising consciousness are everlasting, nothing physical has the power to survive death. Some things bring us pleasure for a moment, but pleasure is short lived and lacks any real substance and is void of any true benefit. When the pleasure fades, as it inevitably will, the subsequent loss leads us to seek the next physical pleasure, and we continue the cycle as we perpetually attempt to find happiness in a place where it can't be found.

True joy is a state of being that does not have its source in the physical world. Only when we remember the Divinity of who we are, do we experience the joy that we all search for. The longing will never be satisfied until we turn our search inward. The awakening process is worth the initial discomfort because the rewards far-out-weigh the pain, and each physical pleasure pales by comparison, to the glory of finding what you've been looking for all along.

Of course most people simply aren't ready to consciously choose the path to awakening, but for those who are, buckle your seat belts because you're in for a wild ride! The awakening that is taking place on our planet at this time is what Christian religion would call the "second coming of Christ" or in other words "the coming of Christ consciousness". I don't find a literal interpretation in this passage in the bible. I see a metaphorical representation that Christ's message will come again and we will be saved because the truth will rise within us and set us free.

Over the years, the intellect of mankind has greatly surpassed our level of consciousness, putting us in a precarious position since we clearly have the technology to destroy ourselves. Consequently, if our consciousness doesn't rise up to meet our intelligence, it may lead us to our own demise.

Unconsciousness is responsible for all the atrocities that have taken place in human history. We like to say that it's hatred or jealousy or any number of other dark attributes but awareness heals them all. Genocide, prejudice, war, starvation and murder have been prevalent as far back as our history will take us, and are all byproducts of unconscious living. Hatred cannot exist where consciousness resides because it brings with it the awareness that we are one, and you may be less likely to hate a part of your own blessed self. We will eventually realize that peace and joy are not brought about in such ways; war and hatred only create death, destruction, and division. To engage in such behavior only reinforces and strengthens the ego's presence in our lives because the ego feeds on fear and separation. As we become conscious, we will find life affirming ways to address our concerns, without conflict and destruction. Until that time comes, we must accept this behavior in others and, "forgive them for they know not what they do." Most of us are simply not conscious of the consequences our actions carry.

Every crime against humanity that has ever been committed has taken place only because we didn't know any better. If we knew another way, we would have chosen it. Everything from minor offenses such as lying and bullying, to the annihilation of entire races and cultures, occur because we think it's the best way, or the only way to address our differences. Through consciousness we are shown the insanity of that belief. I trust that we now have enough experience to reevaluate and discover alternative ways to achieve what we say we want. Once we are able to achieve that, a new standard will begin to emerge, a standard that reflects our true nature and not the one the "ego" has created. One that is free from fear, one that promotes life and celebrates our differences, instead of destroying life and striving to crush what is unique.

The majority of the population, to differing degrees, unconsciously let the ego run the show and operate from a place of fear and illusion. It's what we know and is the reason the acquisition of material wealth has become so important to us. The ego tells us that we are primarily physical beings and that we should value anything that would promote us as such. In fact, we place so much importance in the physical that we have learned to completely identify ourselves with it. Our bodies, cars, jobs, homes, children, neighborhoods, countries, religions, money, spouses and education, are just a few of the things we rely on to validate ourselves. We believe we are our jobs and that what we produce determines our worth, and as a result, this misguided belief becomes the cause of pain and suffering. You can't possibly produce enough to prove value in one's self because even if you have always been a great producer, everything physical eventually changes and falls away. Nothing tangible is permanent. The ego puts so much effort into trying to convince us of the value in the physical because if it didn't, we would never believe something so ludicrous.

As we transcend the ego and the belief in the significance of the physical, it ceases to have power over us. The ego wants us to believe that the more we have, the better we are. The importance of more money, more control, and ultimately more power, is an illusion. We think that when we acquire things, we will be happy. However, the reality is that after the initial contentment and novelty wear off, we are typically more miserable and most desperately search for the next acquisition to relieve our anxiety. Misery is caused by the attachment to acquisitions and the resulting disappointment when we find they do not hold the key to lasting contentment. If we change our awareness around the concept of acquiring more, we can finally "be in the world and not of it."

For thirty years the ego was in control of my life and it was my identity. I believed with every fiber of my being that to be successful and happy one had to have material wealth and power. After all, that's the American way, isn't it? It's certainly what I was led to believe and until my thirtieth birthday it was my religion, and my goal.

Unfortunately, as I reached the age of thirty, although I'd enjoyed some success, any semblance of happiness had still eluded me. Furthermore, I was haunted by an unexplainable experience that I'd had as a young child. Around the age of twelve, a quiet knowing completely consumed me, and somehow I just knew that by the time I reached the age of thirty I would be enormously successful! As a twelve-year-old boy growing up on welfare, I interpreted success as monetary, and from that day forward I lived every day believing that I would someday become a millionaire. The experience was so powerful and I believed it so fully that I couldn't keep it to myself and was compelled to reveal my secret to my identical twin brother and a couple of our closest friends. To my surprise, my brother and my friends were all quite entertained by how susceptible I was and mocked me relentlessly for my gullibility, but even their cruel ridicule couldn't dismiss my unwavering belief, and I spent the next eighteen years determined to see the dream come true.

My mother alone raised me because my parents were divorced when I was two and my father moved to a different state and was virtually non-existent in my rearing. After being diagnosed with cancer, my mother was too sick to work and was forced to depend on government assistance to make ends meet. Her cancer led to her having a major surgery that she never seemed to fully recover from. She healed physically but it seemed to rob her of her zest for life. Even after her health was restored she suffered from depression and turned to food for comfort. Because her weight significantly increased, in addition to other medical problems such as epilepsy and narcolepsy, she spent the majority of her days lying on the living room sofa leaving my brother and I to see to many of the household duties. In many ways, we were left much to our own devises from a very early age.

Having little adult supervision, coupled with our natural precocious nature, equaled independent children who learned about life without the benefit of mature wisdom or temperance. It wasn't an easy life but having little else to compare it to, I acknowledged the reality of the situation and even felt fairly good about the state of our lives right up until the time I started school.

Before she fell ill and couldn't work, my mother, in an attempt to give us a better start in life, moved us to a wealthy suburb of Seattle, Washington. She felt we could get a better education in a wealthier school district, which may have been true, but my brother and I stood out in the new school, not in a good way. There was a gaping financial disparity between us and our peers, which made it blatantly obvious that we were the underprivileged, neglected kids and would remain so from the first day we darkened the door of grade school, all the way through our high school years. There was little our mother could do to help us improve the image, so I did the best I could to accept my lot in life. Unfortunately, sometimes children can be cruel and my brother and I became easy targets for torment and ridicule.

The first pivotal, life-altering moment in my life, came outside of school when my brother and I were waiting in line at the grocery store with our meager selection, while our mother waited outside in the car. As a very young child, going to the store alone was already a difficult responsibility and as we thumbed through our food stamps to pay the debt, I over heard two older ladies behind us commenting about our circumstance. One of them said loudly, "Those kids are going to grow up to be welfare bums just like their mother!" I was shocked by the judgment and even more by the venom in her voice and as I turned to look at them, my eyes met the one that had spoken and her facial expression said it all! I had never seen such disgust and revulsion in the eyes of an adult before, and it confused me because I didn't understand how someone could detest me so much when she didn't even know me. I was just eight years old, naive, innocent and impressionable and they were looking at me as if I were the lowest scum of the human race! I was embarrassed to use food stamps in the first place and utterly humiliated when we miscalculated and needed assistance from the cashier to help us decide what to put back, yet it's difficult to even express the shame I felt when I was the object of that kind of negative scorn. I frantically looked away, keeping my eyes on the floor, wishing at that moment to find a hole I could crawl into. I tried to keep my composure, but the longer I stood there, the harder it became to contain my emotions, and eventually hot tears burst free and began to roll down my cheeks. When the cashier finally finished the transaction, I hastily grabbed the receipt from her, scooped up my goods, and raced for the exit!

The experience left quite an impression on me. At first I just wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened, but as feelings of overwhelming humiliation bombarded my tiny being, a new belief was born. For the first time in my life I understood that other people were _better_ than we were. I already knew that most people had more money, but after that day I realized there was more to it than that. Clearly, we were damaged merchandise and shame became my constant companion. Now that I knew that other people were better than us, I finally understood the look on my mother's face anytime we were away from the protection of our home. It was the same one I now saw staring back at me from the mirror. No wonder she rarely wanted to come into the store with us and preferred to wait outside in the parking lot. She was ashamed of who she was, and now, so was I.

I was enormously troubled by the experience and I spent most of my childhood trying to prove to myself that those ladies were wrong about me. It actually worked for a period of time, prodding me to keep my grades up, but when puberty hit, my low self-esteem would begin to take control of my life. I had unhealthy thoughts like, "I'm just kidding myself, everyone knows I'm no good" and, "those ladies were clearly right about me." Over the years I saw countless examples that validated their opinion and to escape the horrible feelings of self-loathing, I began using drugs and alcohol. Whatever I could do to avoid my pain, I did. I was a misfit in every way and with each passing year it became more and more evident to me that I wasn't good enough. My attitude got so bad that during my last two years of high school I had numerous encounters with the police and school authorities.

My mother's influence had taught me how to live in shame and fear. It wasn't her fault, but it was part of the example she had set for her children and we tend to learn what we live. There was hardly a time in our house when all the doors and windows weren't locked and the blinds weren't drawn, causing the effect of living in a darkened cave. And her fear of everyone from neighbors and family members, to strangers and people in authority, taught me that almost everyone out there was the bad guy and I had to protect myself from them.

My mother's experience with men wasn't positive either and consequently neither was her attitude toward them. She inadvertently taught me that men were the lesser sex and that women should always be placed on a pedestal, no matter the circumstance. She often advised me to tell my future wife that the dinner she had prepared was wonderful, even if it wasn't to my liking, and that I should always treat her like a queen, no matter how she treated me. In short, I should revere all women, even at the expense of my own self-worth. I felt like her advice was retribution for every bad relationship my mother had ever gone through. As a consequence, I learned to put women's feelings ahead of my own, even if I had to lie to do it. Clearly the message was that girls were better than boys and since my mother was the only parental figure in my life, her perspective was the one I readily adopted.

One of the many things I respected about my mother and took a lesson from was her strong relationship with God. She spoke to Him as if she were talking to any ordinary person. That included raising her voice and even some arguing, depending on how she was feeling at the time. But it was her negotiating with Him that was really interesting. Whenever we got close to the end of the month and our money and food stamps had run out, she would promise God that she would make certain changes if He would help us out until we received next months check. Surprisingly, something always came through whenever we needed it and whether she kept her side of the bargain or not, it taught me that the miraculous truly can happen! Seeing the way God always took care of us gave me a bit of courage when my own life got particularly rough.

I was a terribly shy child and adolescent. I flush beet red with little to no provocation. I have a naturally ruddy complexion to begin with, so whenever I exert myself or feel the slightest bit of embarrassment, my face turns bright red! When I was a teenager, if anyone ever mentioned how red I was getting, I would get even more embarrassed and my face would practically turn purple, making it difficult to speak to girls or be put in the spotlight for any reason. Being painfully shy and having incredibly poor self-worth, kept me from going on a single date during high school. I desperately needed a new setting where I could re-define myself and shake off the years of feeling like a substandard human. I wanted a new identity and eventually, a girlfriend, so leaving my comfort zone for a fresh start seemed like a good solution to finding both.

Three days after narrowly graduating from high school, due to drug and alcohol use and the resulting decline in my grades, I moved away from home. It was time to leave everything in my past, including my brother, my friends, and my mother, and look to new horizons.

When I moved out without him, it was difficult for my identical twin brother. I made sure he knew he was always welcome to visit me, but he seemed to feel that I had abandoned him. His resulting anger drove him to aggressive behavior towards me. Once when he came up on a visit, some of my new friends mistook him for me. He didn't correct their confusion and proceeded to rudely insult them in my name. When I saw my friends the next day, one of the girls slapped me across the face, and the remaining friends that had encountered my brother, refused to speak to me until I was able to prove that there had been a misunderstanding. My brother refused to tell me exactly what he had said to any of them but he thought it was hilarious to have landed me in such a predicament. He didn't understand that his attitude only validated my reasons for leaving without him in the first place, and our relationship became more and more strained as a result. The longer I was away from home, the better I felt and no matter how hard things got, I promised myself that I would never move back.

Most people think that identical twins grow up exceptionally close and remain so all their lives, but for us that wasn't the case, at least not for me. Growing up, we did everything together, but I was always aware that we were vastly different. When we were very young, my mother reports that my brother and I were so close that we had our own language. We also did the typical twin things like finishing each other's sentences, but this largely had to do with our being together so much, not with being precisely alike. We spent all of our time together and had all of the physical similarities that identical twins share, but on the inside we couldn't have been more different. Having been born an identical twin gives me a unique perspective on the controversy between "nature vs. nurture." While our surroundings affect us in many profound ways, I can clearly see that both my brother and I were born with different attributes, and face daily challenges in our own individual ways.

Separating myself from my circle of friends and my brother was a dramatic change for me. In a town on the eastern side of Washington State, far from my friends and family, I had the opportunity to re-invent myself. I was no longer obligated to be the shy, underprivileged, socially inept kid. In this new environment, I could become whom ever I pleased, and I was determined to be anyone other than my "old" self.

Soon after my arrival, I began working at a nightclub for minors, where I became a live DJ, and it wasn't long before I had more exposure and popularity than I knew what to do with! The endless stream of girl's who wanted to date me was overwhelming for an inexperienced nineteen year old, and I suddenly found myself in vastly unfamiliar territory, with no idea how to navigate all the unexpected attention. I had been somewhat successful in hiding the old, awkward me, so to them I was the new "it" guy, the DJ at a trendy hangout, hailing from the capital city of Seattle. It was like becoming a superstar overnight, but I was struggling to keep up the flimsy façade. At the onset I did a reasonable job, but as soon as any relationship with a girlfriend got past the kissing stage, I found I was in big trouble.

With all the girls swarming around me I had multiple opportunities to try my hand at sex and with such a target-rich environment, I hoped at least one attempt would end in success. My roommates teased me relentlessly because rather than being a love-them-and-leave-them kind of guy, I was infinitely more interested in a full-fledged relationship. However, my inability to sustain an erection long enough to loose my virginity, meant that most of my relationships (if you could call them that), were short lived. I had a long string of girlfriends but when I couldn't back-up the image they had of me, I was either too embarrassed to keep it going, or they were no longer interested in me.

The very idea of having sex with anyone made all my fears and insecurities come rushing to the surface. Unfortunately, since I had played the game so well in convincing everyone that I was the sophisticated man from the big city, no one knew that I was a social misfit or inexperienced with the opposite sex. Unlike most of the guys I knew, I wasn't in the least comfortable with anything of a sexual nature. In fact, I was so terrified by anything to do with the subject, that I began to do whatever I could to avoid it completely. My sexual insecurities developed at an early age and once again my mother had unknowingly played a major role.

At a tender age in my physical development, my mother had sent my brother and I to our grandfather's house for an overnight visit. We did this on occasion, but on this particular visit something exceedingly strange happened! I was just a young child but still wanted my privacy, so when it came time to change out of my clothes for bed, I found it most odd that my grandfather wouldn't leave the room. This made me uncomfortable and I tried to position myself away from his line of sight, but he kept moving around the room so he would have a good view of my private area. Each time I turned away, he repositioned himself, and I finally had no choice but to disrobe in front of him.

The incident genuinely upset me and the minute I got home I anxiously told my mother what had happened. Seeing the distress on my face, she admitted that she already knew what had happened and had asked her father to look at our genitals to see if they were adequately sized. She defended her participation in the event by explaining that my father had an especially small penis. She even felt it important to share unfortunate details of their sexual history and explained that she was concerned I had inherited his inadequacy. I sat there listening to her story in a state of complete horror and disbelief! Was she actually telling me this? All I could hope for at this point was that the narrative would end soon and I would be allowed to escape the torture of listening to her reasoning. She concluded by telling me that my grandpa had gotten a look at my penis and he thought it looked fine but because I was still so young, he couldn't be sure. I guess this last part was supposed to reassure me, but I walked away from the conversation feeling inadequate, deformed, and completely ashamed of my body. I knew she was just trying to console me, but my interpretation of the event was deeply disturbing.

My mother had other concerns with my physical appearance that she did her best to help me with, including but not limited to, how she had taped my ears back and my navel down when I was a baby so that my ears wouldn't be so pointy and my navel wouldn't protrude. She also backed up her position by sighting, what she thought were valid examples of how her friends used to call me "baby Spock" after the television series Star Trek. Once again, I think her purpose behind telling me these stories was to comfort me and promote open communication, and while they ended up fostering fear and insecurity, they weren't near as devastating as the "penis incident." That particular event felt like an attack on my manhood and it ripped my newly developing self-image apart! The only obvious way my young mind could cope with the problem was never to let anyone see my inadequacy, especially not a girl! Of course this would present quite a quandary when it came to achieving a healthy sex life.

Naturally, I wasn't able to hide from my insecurities for the rest of my life and when I met my first real girlfriend at the age of twenty, she found a way to break down my walls and infiltrate my insane little world of apprehension. Through her loving kindness and patience, I eventually came to trust that she wouldn't hurt me. She seemed to love me for who I was on the inside and made it clear to me that I could relax and take all the time I needed in the physical department. Her attitude alone was enough to ease my mind. She taught me that a meaningful relationship isn't built on sex alone, and that if two people really love each other, they can help one another through their insecurities.

As my timid apprehension eased up, my life became more fun and carefree, and eventually the two of us moved in together. I actually felt that I might have met the woman I would spend the rest of my life with and for the first time, I let go of my trepidation and settled in to enjoy my newfound happiness. What I didn't realize at the time was that she didn't share my carefree attitude. She had moved to that small town to escape troubles of her own, namely an abusive boyfriend. After being together for approximately a year, I came home from work one day to find that without even a hint spoken, she had vanished without leaving a trace, had cleared out all of her belongings and disappeared! To my surprise, the note that was tacked to the wall, written in someone else's handwriting, explained that she had returned to her hometown and back to her, afore mentioned, abusive boyfriend!

The hardest part about the whole incident was that she never gave me the opportunity to speak with her about it. Once she was gone, she refused to take my calls or speak with me no matter what lengths I went to.

Without any explanation directly from her about the situation, my mind created all sorts of appalling stories about how she had never loved me and how I was never good enough. I was so heart broken, that for the first time in my life I seriously considered suicide. Giving consideration to such a desperate act scarred me to the point that I quit my job, as a manager trainee for a national electronics company, and even though I had vowed never to return, I headed home with my tail tucked between my legs. Full of self-loathing at the thought that my girlfriend preferred an abusive partner to a relationship with me, I was forced back to where I could find support from a familiar environment, to fight my way through the despondency.

It might sound a bit ridiculous, but nothing was quite the same for me after my break-up with my first love. The wind had been stripped from my sails and the pain left me numb to everything and everyone around me. Every emotional wall she had helped to break down was back with a vengeance, and sturdier than ever! For a brief moment I had stolen a glance into a life free from insecurities and fear. It was a wonderful, happy time but oh so short-lived. Being at a loss for what to do next, I desperately turned to others for advice. Maybe someone else knew the way to find happiness because it was clear to me that I couldn't find it on my own. Unfortunately, I stopped listening to my own heart and set out on an ill-fated course to seek happiness through following the ways of the world.

The first thing I needed if I wanted to get anywhere in this search, was an education. My big plan was to join the Army where I could earn money for schooling. For just two years of service, I could earn adequate funds for a college education and if I was lucky, could travel to exciting new places, as seen in the military's provocative advertizing. Plus, I would be trained to use the most advanced military equipment to date, and be amply prepared to get a job anywhere of my choosing when my tour of duty was over! Clearly, I was only too eager to buy every morsel of hype the recruiter was selling.

As I was pondering my future career in the military, I met and began dating a persistent young girl with a wild mane of auburn hair. She was over a foot shorter than me and we had little in common but she was relentless at seeking my attention! She wasn't the least bit shy; in fact, I would go so far as to say she was somewhat aggressive in nature, which was quite attractive to me because I was the opposite around most people. Confidence was not a quality I possessed in great quantity. Her energy seemed boundless, and her pursuit of me unyielding, as she wined and dined me until I finally relented and offered her a place in my life. After my last relationship fiasco, I swore I would never again allow myself to be hurt that severely and I kept this new girl at a safe distance. I appreciated her resolute effort and dedication to our relationship, but that wasn't enough to keep me from my plans for a future in the military. We would soon become a couple, each of us swearing loyalty to the other, but something was still missing between us that kept me from sincerely committing my whole heart.

There was only one thing I was truly committed to and that was creating a better life. I didn't feel there were many options for someone with my background, which made the military seem like a viable choice. I had come back to stay with my mother right after my break-up, but being accustomed to a certain level of freedom, I felt a bit suffocated by her rules. I eventually moved in with a friend but the arrangement was only temporary, so I became effectively homeless. The military provided the most likely avenue for solving my problems, but I hadn't realized what I was actually getting myself into. I was aware that it might be more difficult than the recruiter had alluded to, but I was willing to work hard and felt I could handle whatever they threw at me. My real illusion was that I naively believed that the next two years would be fun and exciting. However, it didn't take long before reality came crashing down.

I was not in the least, the military type, having always been more sensitive and less rough and tumble than the majority of my friends, and nothing in my life thus far, had come close to preparing me for what I was about to experience! The "macho" world I encountered when I arrived at basic training wasn't at all within my comfort zone, and I wondered how I would ever survive it. After I signed my name to the dotted line, I felt trapped by the commitment and obligated to make the best of it.

As training commenced, I realized that if our country called on me to perform my duties, it was possible I would actually have to cause harm to another human being. I understood the realities of combat but it hadn't really hit me until I was deeply ensconced in preparing to be a soldier. I suspected that I would never be able to pull the trigger even if the situation called for it. Chances were I wouldn't be required to defend my country since we weren't at war, but I knew I would never be a dependable fighting machine, and began to feel I had made a terrible mistake!

If you failed to pull your own weight or play the game correctly, everybody in your platoon condemned you, especially the drill sergeants, so I did my best to figure things out and keep up. The recruits who fell behind were subject to extreme torment that included "blanket parties," in which the members of his platoon were pressured to take turns pummeling the sleeping recruit using several bars of soap inside a pillowcase. The idea was that this method would cause the least amount of visible damage, such as bruising or bleeding, so little evidence of the harsh lesson would be left behind. Thankfully, I never had to participate in such an event.

I was pretty good at convincing everyone that I was part of the team by keeping my mouth shut, my head down and pushing myself vigorously to excel in the training exercises. I did so well in fact, that I passed my physical training test weeks before it was required. I only had to hold out until graduation and I would have at least survived basic training. As the weeks passed, I did what I could to keep thoughts of actually killing someone at bay, but I was still tormented whenever my mind wasn't occupied with something more pressing. By this time, I was certain I didn't belong in the military, but I was at a loss for what to do about it and the stress of my blunder weighed on me day and night. That's when God stepped in!

During the last few weeks of basic training, I had made several requests to see a doctor because I was having excruciating pain in both my knees, but to no avail. Every time I tried to explain that I thought I needed a doctor's attention, I was barraged with insults about my perceived weakness. I was told that I needed to suck it up and take it like a man or face further retribution. Desperate, I resorted to borrowing prescription pain medication from another recruit, just to make it through the rigorous exercises we engaged in on a daily basis. Then one morning I woke to find that I was struggling to breathe. My throat had swollen to almost shut, making my condition an emergency, so the drill sergeants had no choice but to send me for immediate medical care.

When I reached the hospital, the doctor examining me casually asked if I had suffered any other injuries during what he knew to be a physically demanding training. With relief, I finally had the opportunity to report the pain in my knees to someone who was concerned and could perhaps do something about it. The doctor had me drink some type of radiation fluid, which would show up as light spots on an x-ray if there were any serious bone or cartilage damage. When the x-rays came back, the doctor was shocked to see that there were no dark areas visible around the joints and that both my knees appeared on the film as 100-watt light bulbs, to which he said, "Congratulations, you have just earned yourself a ticket home. Your military career is officially over." He also told me that due to the lack of cartilage, if I had taken one more long run, the bones in my knees may have potentially caught on each other and shattered! As for my throat condition, he didn't know what it was but it miraculously cleared up on its own the very next morning.

The doctor advised me to visit the VA hospital as soon as I arrived home to insure I would get a final settlement for my injuries. I was being medically discharged, which entitled me to all of my military benefits, including a final injury settlement that could provide income for the rest of my life.

Once released from the hospital, I was sent back to the barracks to wait with a handful of other injured recruits, for our discharge papers. The fact that we were leaving the Army was just one more excuse to ramp up the ridicule, and I spent my final weeks enduring contempt from some of the more cruel drill sergeants, as well as the regular recruits.

Toward the end of my stay I was awakened in the middle of the night, along with the other men awaiting discharge, and made to climb down an ice-cold metal fire escape, in only our underwear. Then we were ordered to stand at attention in freezing temperatures and a foot of snow. The particular drill sergeant responsible for this cruel stunt seemed convinced that all our injuries had been fabricated in an attempt to free ourselves from the binding grasp of the conditions we were to weak to bear.

Fortunately, there were officers in the army that were exceptionally kind as well. One day when I was making the approximately two-mile trek across the base to the military hospital for a follow-up visit, the Captain of our Company was driving by in his bright yellow Mustang convertible and noticed that I was hobbling along on crutches, so he stopped to offer me a ride. His unexpected kindness wasn't exactly typical of my experience, but I was grateful for his help and it somehow made the rest of my time in the military a bit more bearable.

After what seemed like a never-ending wait for orders, I finally received my walking papers and was sent packing. By the time I limped off the bus in my hometown, I'd left everything that had held any association to the military behind, including the crutches that were to assist with my injured knees. I wanted nothing more to do with the organization, so I never checked in at the VA hospital, and I never filed a claim, sacrificing any and all benefits I may have been entitled to. The one positive was that I was filled with an intense gratitude to God for saving me from what I had been ill equipped to manage. As it turned out, I was automatically paid forty percent of my regular wages for the remainder of my two-year service agreement and that was more than enough for me.

My short stint in the military taught me many things, but most profoundly I gained a solemn respect for the men and women that serve our country in the armed forces. I would never have known how much commitment it requires, if not for the time I spent in basic training. I want to be clear that while my experience there was difficult, to say the least, I am grateful for the people who are willing to put there lives on the line to protect the freedoms we all enjoy.

My military experience, made any other job appear easy, compared to what I had faced there. I was so glad to be free, that I couldn't wait to get on with my life and on with my pursuit of "The American Dream." Humbled and beaten down, I was prepared to settle for less than I may have otherwise accepted and fell back into a relationship with the only girl who was awaiting my return. I didn't recognize it at the time, but I had compromised all of my highest expectations for the future, most poignantly, my idea of what a loving relationship could be like. I decided that there was never going to be another girl like my first love, and any job I took would be better than the military. So I made peace with the decision to be with the feisty red head and I pressed on to find the best job I could attain without a college education.

My girlfriend had written to me religiously while I was away, and as far as I knew she had been loyal to our commitment. In anticipation of my arrival home, she surprised me with a motel room for our reunion. Needless to say, it was quite a treat after five long, dry months of military life. But just as we were getting started, I began to feel suspicious and asked her if she had been faithful to me while I was away. She told me "yes," but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something I was being kept in the dark about. I asked her again if she'd been seeing anyone else, but she emphatically denied it! Her strong response, and my desperate need to believe her, influenced me to set aside my concern and my better judgment, and carry on with our plans for the evening. But as you may have guessed, that was not to be the end of it.

I soon discovered symptoms in myself that would send us both to the doctor! I can't begin to describe the anxiety coursing through me as I pondered our predicament. Although there was evidence to the contrary, my girlfriend was still vehemently denying any other partners.

When our health made it clear that there was no other alternative, she finally came clean and admitted to seeing someone else in my absence. Not only had she strayed, it also seemed she had no qualms about lying to me about something so fundamentally important. This meant I had to face the fact that she had little regard for my well-being, or her own integrity for that matter.

After buckets of tears and large quantities of pitiful begging and pleading, she convinced me not to end our relationship. At the time, I wasn't sure why I made the choice to stay with her. But now I see that it goes to my low self-esteem. I didn't think I deserved anything more. It was easier to move forward in this relationship than to try to start a new one with someone else and risk it being even worse, so we put it behind us.

Several months later we were planning our wedding. We were complete opposites but somehow I felt bound to try to build a life with her, and we married "for better or worse." On the day of our wedding, just after the ceremony ended, her parents approached me as if to offer congratulations and said, "We hope you have better luck with her than we did." The remark was a bit unsettling so soon after our nuptials, but I laughed it off, confident I could do better than they had.

Few, in my circle of friends or family, supported my marriage. My new wife's long history of violent behavior was common knowledge among people we knew and her explosive temper had contributed to her inability to retain lasting friendships. Her father had kicked her out of the house when she was just a junior in high school and the relationship between her and her parents remained toxic. Yet despite the dysfunction, I felt that she had the potential to be a good partner and I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with her and build our dreams together.

From day one, our marriage was a struggle! We didn't seem to agree on much of anything. As the years passed, we eventually settled into a groove that made life tolerable. She called the shots, and I did my best to meet her expectations. It was your classic dictatorship. The relationship ran along somewhat smoothly, as long as I didn't challenge anything she said, or object to anything she demanded of me. The routine was to immediately drop anything I was doing, in favor of performing the duties she appointed for me, to her exacting standard.

Despite the difficulties, our relationship seemed to produce most of the chief things I wanted from life. After a relatively short time together we had acquired our own home, which was rapidly building equity on a fifteen-year mortgage. I had a remodeling business of my own and I was actively studying real estate law and real estate investment in order to expand our financial future. So in general, my life looked pretty good on the surface. However, on the inside my life was far less than satisfying, and if I'm being completely honest, it was a total nightmare!

Nothing was going the way I had expected it to. I thought that if I became financially successful I would be happy or at least, somewhat satisfied, but as my material success increased, the state of my being plummeted. Eventually, I became so desperate to find an answer to my misery that I finally resorted to drastic measures. Powerless and vulnerable, I gave in to the misguided idea that many couples resort to in order to improve a bad marriage; we decided to start a family. I thought perhaps this would be something to bring my wife and I closer together and give us a much-needed common interest, because finding common ground was something that never came easily for us. Unfortunately, my desperate attempt was doomed to failure even before its very conception.

We stopped using birth control and waited the appropriate allotment of time to allow the drug to clear her system. The season was summer, and we had a camping trip planned at a secluded spot in a densely wooded area near a pristine, crystal-clear river. After we unpacked our gear and set up the tent, with full knowledge of what was looming, I snuck off into the woods alone to relax, by means of a small stash of marijuana I'd brought with me. Since ceasing birth control, my anxiety levels had been off the charts and I was frantically trying to find a way to calm down. If my wife had known I was even in possession of the drug she would've been irate and she certainly wouldn't have condoned me using it, under any circumstance. She was already in "super mom" mode and admirably, wouldn't even put an aspirin into her bloodstream. I hadn't touched anything stronger than a beer in years, but I couldn't seem to control my nerves and since there wasn't actually a baby yet, I didn't see the harm.

After I finished my covert operation, I washed my face and brushed my teeth so that I wouldn't be suspect, and returned to camp. I was headed for my lawn chair, which sat next to the river that ran past our campsite, to relax and warm myself in the sun, when she grabbed me and pulled me toward the tent. I knew it was inevitable, but I was surprised it had come so soon! Suddenly, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I refused her advances, she would certainly suspect something was wrong and I didn't want to be questioned, but if I went into the tent with her, I believed I would be risking the health of a possible baby, because of the drugs. I tried to nonchalantly suggest that I just wanted to sit in the sun, but she had spoken, and no casual suggestion to the contrary was going to stand in her way. Since I didn't want to ruin the vacation by admitting that I was high, I took the "low road" once again, and followed her into the tent. My only hope was that she wouldn't conceive that day.

The experience affected me more than I realized, because I didn't agree to physical intimacy again until I was sure the marijuana had completely cleared my system, and I never pulled a stunt like that again. Unfortunately, it was too late. We were expecting, and we knew exactly when it had happened since our escapades were so infrequent. For the next eight months I anxiously counted the days to the time when I would know for sure whether or not my reckless behavior would end up haunting me for the rest of my life. The thought of my child being born with some type of birth defect or other health issue due to my actions, made me sick to my stomach. On the up side, my guilt made me one of the most supportive husbands that a pregnant wife could ever wish for! I read all the books, went to all the classes, and prayed everyday that our baby would turn out healthy. Ironically, it wouldn't be my reckless actions that would harm our baby.

If I had to write a mission statement for my wife, I would say she believed in these few simple principals. The first was "Survival of the fittest," the second "do as I say," and the third "I can do anything I set my mind to." She lived her life by these principles and I have to admit, it was part of the reason I was attracted to her. Her will seemed to be made of iron and she could accomplish nearly any goal she set for herself. For instance, when she was really motivated she quit drinking cold turkey without help from anyone and she had been sober now for almost seven years, which was extremely impressive. I believe this fortitude to be one of the reasons I imagined she would be a good partner. I felt the strength of her will could help me achieve my goals, as well as her own. What I didn't realize was that her goals would come at the expense of most of mine.

She was a determined fighter and wanted to win no matter the cost, even if that meant jeopardizing her own child's safety in order to achieve what she wanted. She had taken very good care of herself during her pregnancy, which included eating well and exercising. She even continued her running regimen until the last few weeks before her due date. She wanted to be the most, fit mother ever, and she had her sights set on natural childbirth. She didn't want to use drugs, even excluding the option of having an epidural administered, and she was adamantly against cesarean section. Unfortunately, she's petite and her body wasn't designed for easy pregnancy or delivery. She had narrow hips and a small pelvic bone, which we were cautioned would make giving birth difficult.

When the time came, after thirteen agonizing hours of labor, she finally managed to get the job done, but her determination had come at a cost. During labor our son's heart rate fell critically low several times. It was my job to monitor the baby's heart and alert the midwife whenever it slowed below a certain critical point. The delivery was a difficult process for both mother and child, and because he was forced through a birth canal that was too small, our newborn came with a broken collarbone. The doctor, standing by in case of an emergency c-section, kept pleading with us to reconsider our decision to have our baby naturally, and kept trying to help us understand that we were taking too big a risk. I was convinced, and joined him in his plea, but my wife wouldn't hear of it. It seemed she had set a nonnegotiable goal for herself and was determined to have her son naturally even if it killed one, or both of them!

When it was all over, I had many mixed emotions about the experience. On the one hand, I wanted my wife to do what she felt was best and I supported her decision to give birth naturally, but on the other hand, I was disappointed that she could be so reckless with our son's health as well as her own! I couldn't decide if her behavior was heroic or just irresponsible. Ultimately, I decided to believe it was valiant.

Unfortunately, our beautiful new son didn't have the bonding effect on the marriage I had hoped for, and after four more grueling years together I realized that having a child might not be enough to save our marriage. In fact, it was that protective parental instinct in me that would eventually contribute to the demise of our relationship.

At just twenty-nine years of age, after being married for nine years, I had accomplished most of the goals I had set for myself. I wasn't a millionaire by any means, but I felt I had everything in place to get there and it appeared my childhood premonition was relatively close at hand. I was actively pursuing real estate properties to invest in, and had come close on several occasions to making my first deal. My credit rating was golden and I had nearly one hundred thousand dollars in unsecured credit lines. I could also borrow against our own home's equity for additional funds if they were needed for my business venture. My son was a healthy, happy child, and overall it should have been a great milestone in my life, but as my thirtieth birthday approached I became increasingly stressed about my inability to find fulfillment. I had done what society had taught me in order to achieve happiness, but happiness was still far beyond my reach. It made me wonder if my childhood friends had been right, that my premonition had been nothing more than a mere self-indulgent, childhood delusion.

I thought that having money and possessions was what success and happiness were all about. Once you accomplished these things, life should be amazing! Isn't that what we are all taught? Many of my goals had been achieved but the contentment wasn't there to support the belief. In fact, I was so miserable at this point, that for the second time in my life, I didn't care whether I lived or died. If it weren't for my son, I don't know what I might have chosen. Finally, I was compelled to ask myself what had gone so terribly wrong in my life that I could end up feeling this way again.

My wife was planning my thirtieth birthday party and my only request was that we didn't do karaoke, because I didn't like the attention, but of course she rarely considered what I wanted. When we arrived at the surprise destination you can only imagine how delighted I was to see that my party was being held at a karaoke bar and grill. I was already distressed about my life, and this blatant disregard for my desires only escalated my discontent!

Sitting in the parking lot, I was suddenly consumed by the memory of every time she had done something completely contrary to my wishes. The list was overwhelming and I was disgusted by her behavior. The more I recalled, the more I despised her very existence! I looked at her as if I had never seen her before, and wondered who this woman sitting next to me was. Why had I dedicated most of my adult life to her? Why had I married her in the first place? She could see I was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, so she pleaded with me stay and reminded me that our friends were already inside waiting for us. She knew I wouldn't cause a scene in front of them and she was right, so as usual, I discounted my own feelings and agreed to enter the establishment.

Once inside, I greeted our friends and thanked them for coming, but it was difficult for me to be pleasant because I was in such a foul mood. After finishing dinner, it was time for the singing portion of the evening to begin. I had been swallowing my woes in a continuous consumption of alcohol and was trying to put aside my anger the best I could with little success. I tried to remember that this was my birthday and I should be enjoying myself, but no matter what I did, I couldn't snap out of the funk I was in. All I could think about was how my life was a total disappointment! I had wasted a decade pursuing a plan that hadn't produced any of the results I truly wanted, and I felt like a total failure!

As my mood began to spiral out of control, my childhood premonition kept popping up in my head. I just kept thinking that this was the day I turned thirty and it was supposed to be the best day of my life, but instead, it was turning out to be my worst! Considering how my life had started as a poor, chubby, shy, loser on welfare, with apparently an inadequate penis, no social skills, and a huge inferiority complex, I should be feeling pretty good about myself about now, but that wasn't the case. I was living "the dream" but the question was whose dream was it? At this point, I hated everything, so even though I'd had some successes in my life, I still felt like my life was in complete collapse. I despised who I had become and only my son made me feel like I had anything worth living for. The problem with that was, I didn't have much of a say in how he was being raised. My life was an unmitigated catastrophe and the entire world had gone dark with no end to its blackness. Where had I gone wrong? I had lived by the rules of society, so why hadn't I achieved the rewards that were supposed to come with it? As I sat amidst the chaos of drinking, laughing, boisterous shouting, and overall celebratory atmosphere, I began to withdraw into myself. Depression took over as I lost my battle to keep my attitude from plummeting and I began to desperately plead for God's help to make it through this dark night!

**Chapter Two**

### The Gift

I prayed for the night to end, so the charade would be over and I could be released from my torment. Throughout the evening my focus continued being drawn to my wife. In my dark state of mind, I watched her carry on in her usual fashion, blaring her overly boisterous, and what I judged to be ingenuous laughter, yet oblivious to the reaction of others around her. As long as she was feeding her need for being the center of attention, she was ecstatic! Rather than gazing lovingly at my darling wife, I was glaring at her with an edge of disgust, and was sickened by her self-absorbed display of narcissism. I found myself wondering how she could keep up the outrageous pretense, and was baffled as to whether or not she were even capable of feeling anything for anyone other than herself. It was crystal clear, in my current frame of mind that she was in her own little world, playing to her audience with no regard for me, or my feelings.

As I read what I've just written, I see so clearly that although I am being completely honest about my feelings on that fateful night, every cruel word or thought was a total projection on my part. If I take each sentence and replace my wife with my own name, I see how perfectly it fits. For instance, I was the one living a pretense and I was the one who was self-absorbed and narcissistic. I was certainly the one who didn't care about anyone else's feelings, but I couldn't see it at the time. I was filled with anger at the injustice of my life, and was looking for someone to blame it on.

I felt betrayed, not only by my wife, but by everyone. My anger reached its fevered pitch when it occurred to me that I'd even been let down by God! I was a good person, so why had he forsaken me? As far as my marriage was concerned, I had done everything I could, from counseling to having a child, in order to make our marriage work, and nothing had made the slightest improvement. If I could've come up with any other solution, I would have been willing to try almost anything, but I had exhausted all of the options I could possibly think of and I could see nothing but a bleak, desolate future unfolding before me.

I used to believe that you could do anything you put your mind to, as long as you had the fortitude to put in the work, but in that moment I started to realize that no amount of effort would make this a happy marriage. I had wasted a decade of my life in this marriage, banging my head against a brick wall for no payoff whatsoever. My blood ran cold, as I considered the possibility I'd been chasing a dream that had absolutely no chance of being realized.

An hour or so passed and the anger burning within me began to deteriorate, sinking into something that felt more like hopelessness. My rage had burned down until all that remained was a heap of dark, heavy ash with nothing left for me to do but give in to the apathy swirling around my being. Turning numb to every emotion was more than the dulling effect of the alcohol I'd consumed. Rather than being overwhelmed by frustration, my body seemed void of feeling altogether. I had never quite experienced this lack of emotion before; a lifeless empty space lay where my heart had once been. The organ within my chest was turning hard, leaden and immovable like a cold, dense stone. At that moment a strange power rained down upon me and began to take on an impervious quality, causing me to suspect that my wife would no longer have the ability to affect me in any way, let alone control my actions.

It began to dawn that my life was my own, and I had some grave choices to make. Would I accept that this relationship was as good as it gets and continue on, keeping my family in tact? Or, should I cut and run, leaving my wife behind to work out what I felt was her own twisted humanity. Neither option seemed appealing. And what about our son? I couldn't leave him behind to fend for himself. Just a toddler, he would need someone to ground this family and offer him some sense of security, so how could I possibly leave? Yet the idea of staying, and enduring the destitution that our life had become, didn't bring peace to my mind.

Despite all these new questions, one thing was quite certain; the childhood premonition that I would become a millionaire by thirty was nothing more than a crazy delusion, a child's fantasy created to escape a difficult childhood. Time had run out on that dream, and there was no success story happening here. Besides, who even cares about being a millionaire if you are miserably unhappy? What would be the point?

With each passing moment I felt the will to live draining from my body. The thought of an entire life wasted, weighing heavily on my mind, despondency looming as I sat thinking that I was confined in a clever snare with no escape in sight. Just at the point when menacing doom threatened to overwhelm me completely and I knew I could take no more, something unexpected happened! A friend of ours mounted the stage.

Deniece and her husband had been two of our closest friends for the past couple of years. They had a daughter who was just six months younger than our son and the two children made perfect playmates. My wife spent a lot of her free time in the company of her friend with the toddlers in tow. My wife had always been someone who needed to stay occupied and busied herself with almost daily outings. She took, whom she referred to as her best friend, everywhere with her, from the zoo and the beach, to hikes in the woods.

She was so persistent in occupying as much of her friend's time as she could, that Deniece actually felt the need to deem one day a week as "laundry day" so that she could stay home and tend to other things, and perhaps, take a much needed break from such a determined friend. The problem was, my wife did not react well to other people's boundaries, and would show up on her friend's doorstep specifically on laundry day with the car gassed up, a lunch packed, an outing planned, then plead with Deniece to join her until she gave in.

Her overbearing manor was simply part of her personality, and from her own description she managed her friendships in this fashion. Her intensions were good, but she often smothered people until they could no longer bear the intrusion and had to break off the friendship in order to reclaim their lives in some way. However, this particular friendship was unique in that our children were playmates. I acted as a buffer when I could to prevent fallout between them because I enjoyed Deniece's company too. In fact, Deniece and I had more in common than she and my wife did. The children gave my wife a reason to spend time with her friend but Deniece and I usually didn't need an excuse. The two of us loved to chat, and since we shared a similar outlook on life, it was easy for us to connect whenever the opportunity arose.

In addition to the time the ladies spent together, the four of us, which included Deniece's husband, bowled on the same team together every Sunday evening. Most nights after the mixed doubles league, smelling of smoke from the bowling alley and eager for the pleasant social contact to carry on, we would meet back at our place for a relaxing soak in the hot tub. We could often be found deep into the night, sometimes even into the wee hours of the next morning, still marinating as we reasoned away the woes of the prior week.

I knew that both Deniece and her husband enjoyed singing because we had heard the story of how they'd met. He was running a karaoke machine at a nightclub as a side business, and Deniece fell for him when she heard him sing for the first time. Since they had a shared interest, singing was a connection for them from the start, and when he took a job transfer out of state, they decided to get married and move to Washington State together.

As surprising as it was, in all the time the four of us had been friends, I had never heard either of them sing. Missing this opportunity was undoubtedly my own fault because I didn't enjoy karaoke, and given my discomfort being in the spotlight, I certainly didn't want to be coerced into getting up to sing for strangers.

I gulped down the last of my drink as the music began to play and I watched as Deniece stepped to the microphone. As she did, she seemed to transform into an entirely different person! Unlike me, she looked very comfortable on stage and as the beginning beats of the music began she opened her lips and began to sing. What I was hearing, was the voice of an angel! I sat in stunned disbelief as I watched our friend seize the audience's full attention. She was sexy and charismatic, moving seductively to the music, smiling and flashing her beautiful blue eyes. My limbs began to tingle as I listened to her voice and watched her hips sway. She was smoothly and confidently reeling me in, while capturing the rest of the crowd in the process. Could this be the same friend I had known for nearly two years? Until that moment, she had simply been my wife's friend and the mother of three children. I will admit that I had noticed she was attractive in a nonthreatening way, and she had always been kind, but this was something altogether different. The woman on stage was dynamic, talented, and magnetic! In an instant she had become appealing in a way that I hadn't expected, and I realized that although I'd considered her a friend, I hadn't actually recognized her at all!

As she performed, her presence reverberated deep inside my chest, crashing through my misery, straight through to my heart, making me forget about my life and all its problems. I experienced a sudden release of frustration and rage that had accompanied me into the building, and I almost completely forgot that I had a wife seated right next to me. I had become lost in the unexpected experience of beauty I witnessed on that tiny stage in that smoke filled room, where time slowed as astonishment registered. For a brief moment I even forgot where I was, my vision turning fuzzy at the edges and my focus narrowing to a fine point immediately before me. It certainly wasn't just her voice I was responding to, nor her confidence or beauty, it was something much more, something so captivating that it had me mesmerized.

When the miraculous moment came to an end, the audience that filled the smallish venue to capacity erupted in thunderous applause! Loud, enthusiastic whistling echoed as she began her descent walking directly over to where we were seated. I took satisfaction in having everyone watch her take a seat at our table. My mood had dramatically improved; my brain firing off sparks of hope at the prospect of a new attitude filling my being from head to toe. I became aware that something in me had changed, and although I couldn't imagine the far-reaching effect it would have, I was never to be the same again.

After that night, a new lightness began to gather over me. It was as if a heavy cloud had lifted, releasing a torrent of information that saturated every cell of my body. For the first time in my life, I started to see the world in a new and brighter way! I began to see that I wasn't bound to my current situation. My life wasn't a trap and things could be different if I wanted them to be. I realized that I wasn't the helpless victim I had imagined myself to be, and that my wife wasn't forcing me to stay in this marriage. I had the freedom of choice. She also didn't make me feel or behave the way I did. I chose my feelings and behavior, and it was my choice to play the role of the subservient husband. I did what she wanted because _I_ thought it was the best way to keep our relationship from falling apart, and I didn't want it to end for my own selfish reasons. I realized that staying in this marriage had been easier for me, and I was using the "trapped excuse" to save myself having to face the fear of being alone, or the fear of chocking up another failure to my credit. My unbearable circumstances, were not a punishment from God, they were just the consequences of the choices that had been made. I also saw how I had created an illusion to deal with those consequences, and I was the one that had kept my head buried in the sand for all those years. As these realizations began to dawn, I experienced less despondency, but more trepidation and excitement as an underlying current of relief and possibility ran beneath every aspect of my life.

Suddenly, I remembered there had been signs as to what my wife was like from the minute I first met her. I'd also suspected right from the start, that we didn't have much in common. I'd always been a guy who craved intimacy and warmth from a partner and my wife had done her best to provide that in the beginning, but it was always an effort for her and even the attempt took a sharp nosedive when the newness of our infatuation wore off. The stories she told of a violent past should have been my next clue to the way in which she would manage our relationship, but I chose to see it as a challenge and arrogantly thought I could tame the savage beast within her. Many had warned me, including her parents with those cryptic words on our wedding day. How could I have been so blind? Is it any wonder she was never much help to me in achieving my goals, how could I have expected her to be? We had completely different value systems and different ways of achieving what we wanted. Even when she did go along with one of my proposals, we weren't a team working together towards a common goal, because we had entirely different motivations. No one was at fault, we were both simply doing the best we could, but we clearly weren't a good fit.

I began to realize that everything about my life, and most especially my marriage, had been a lie. I had lied to myself in order to keep it going and to avoid facing the harsh truth that might require action on my part. Nothing was what I thought it was. I had been so desperate to make my life work that I had settled for something I wasn't sure I wanted. Whenever our relationship got bad, I simply pretended that everything was fine and made up an excuse for all that was negative. I saw my world, as I wanted to see it, not as it actually was. When I first met my wife there was some small part of me that knew she wasn't the woman of my dreams. In fact, she wasn't even close, but because she was willing, I wanted to press her into that mold no matter how much exertion it took and without regard for what it would do to her. I saw everything in my life in the same way, assuming I could take any raw material and if I worked hard enough, I could bend it to my will somehow and make it what I wanted it to be. Even down to the house I lived in, it was a rectangular shaped box, devoid of any real charm or character, and I realized I never would have chosen it had I believed that I was worthy of better. I was beginning to see that this delusional thinking would never actually fulfill my true desires.

One of the most difficult realizations was when I recognized my true motivation for bringing a child into the world. My reasons were so selfish and manipulative. I saw how I'd added an innocent child to a dysfunctional, divided relationship, expecting him to take on the onus of healing it. There are many reasons for having a child, many of which are not exactly altruistic, but agreeing to bare a child with the intension that it will bring healing to a situation that you cannot restore yourself, seems like one of the worst.

Even my business was a farce. I never saw myself as a home remodeler. I didn't really enjoy the highly physical labor that much; to say nothing of the continued damage I was doing to the cartilage in my knees. The idea of an occupation in construction was handed to me because my brother and his friend had started the venture and it seemed an easy way to get the ball rolling towards making my fortune in real estate investment. I believed it could secure my financial future, but I never saw it as my calling.

My life had sunk to the bottom of the deepest, darkest pit in hell, with no one but myself to blame. I had convinced myself that I knew where I was headed and how I would get there, but now I realized that I didn't have even the most remote understanding of what I was doing. It sounds simplistic, even to me, but for whatever reason when Deniece sang that night, it triggered within me a major shift in my understanding, opening up a small window into my miserable world, letting a bright ray of light shine through, illuminating the disorder I had fostered. Maybe she was the representation of something new, of something free and confident, something that I could one day become if I changed course. The consciousness born in that one moment began exposing my whole life, for what it really was. My friend wasn't the cause, she was merely the instrument used by God to get my attention.

Finally the dark cloud that had blanketed my life was beginning to dissipate, as new awareness pushed it away. I didn't know exactly what happened to me that night but I did know that absolutely everything was distinctly different. Looking back, I see that special evening was the first instant I became aware of the awakening process, although I hadn't named it yet. Before that flash of insight, my confusion had me jumping from one fantasy to another, never keeping to any one particular thing because I had nothing to anchor my longing or my desires. I never stopped long enough to question the belief that when I achieved my physical goals, I would finally be satisfied and happy. All I concerned myself with, was spending every waking moment trying to attain those impossible goals and therefore prove myself worthy as a human being. Occasionally I accomplished a goal, but I never realized the fulfillment I felt sure would be waiting for me when I did.

Between blindly running to escape my past, and a desperate striving to validate myself through dreams of the future, I had entered a confusing and psychotic world of complete insanity! All I concerned myself with was the acquisition of the "American Dream" and I'd driven myself to utter despair in the process. I believed that if I could accomplish my lofty aspirations, I would finally love and respect myself and my life would be the perfect example for others to follow. Peace, joy, and happiness would be my reward, and my life would be a success! I believed this utterly, without hesitation or question. Unfortunately, nothing could have been further from the truth.

Just when I was forced to discredit the belief that I would become a millionaire by the time I was thirty, the true gift I saw in my childhood premonition presented itself. Rather than anything as insignificant or fleeting as monetary gain, it was something much richer and far more substantial! A day that started with such misery, but ended with the promise of joy. It embodied so much beauty and power that tears spring to my eyes whenever I think back on it. The power of God's grace is a gift for which I shall be forever grateful. The gift I received that night was the gift of emerging consciousness and nothing of this world could be greater than beginning to see the hand of God in all that exists! No amount of money or possessions could possibly have had the effect on the direction of my life that new awareness has had. It has been more impactful and rewarding than I could've previously imagined!

For the first time in my life, I felt a true sense of empowerment. I realized that I did have the freedom to choose how I would live. I could listen to my heart and follow it; walking the path that God would have me walk. I no longer had to linger, confined in the inconceivable narrative going on in my head. I somehow knew that although I hadn't found contentment thus far, it was not only a definite possibility if I changed my thinking; it was most assuredly a probability. I knew I could have everything I wanted if only I would actively listen for inspiration and be willing to follow that divine revelation, instead of my small-minded ego. I had awakened to the knowledge that my entire life had been a byproduct of unconscious living and therefore didn't reflect my true nature. I didn't fully recognize my true nature just yet, but the yearning had been born, and I was eager for the first time to be still and await the promptings of the spirit!

**Chapter Three**

### Reality Bites

On that momentous night, a switch had been flipped and there was no turning back. As each new day dawned, it moved me farther and farther from a time when I'd so easily ignored anything too painful, to a time when stark new realities about my life bubbled up in my awareness everyday. With each new truth came the ominous challenge of taking my responsibility in it. Not only did I have to accept the actual reality of the circumstances, I had to assess my accountability, and see the resulting consequences. It was disheartening to recognize what a mess, I knew I'd had a hand in creating. The higher the pile grew, the more I was tempted to forget the whole business and go back to the comfort of my unconscious life, but some unseen force kept me bearing down on the difference between what I believed to be true, and what was ultimately authentic. I was driven to see reality, whatever that turned out to be. So whether the effect was devastating or exhilarating, I pressed on.

I felt so overwhelmed by what seemed to be a never-ending personal attack on my psyche, that sometimes I couldn't bear the discovery of one more speck of truth. But when I did finally begin to understand the particular concept I was working on, it would occur to me that I was indeed still breathing, and no worse for the wear. In fact, as I exposed the truth, I found that I was always better off. As painful as this process was, feeling a bit lighter with each reality faced, I kept going back for more. The consequences, of the unconscious choices I had made, were sometimes overtly challenging to accept because I was compelled to look at the damaging results of my own actions. After I found my way clear to accepting liability, I would experience a brief moment of welcomed peace before I was beset with the next round of discovery. The process was agonizing, to say the least. It seemed as if every choice I had made throughout my life, was being replayed over and over again in my mind, until I was able to see the truth of it. I saw how each choice lead to the next and how they created the current circumstances of my life. I noticed how I had dismissed my genuine feelings many times along the way, in favor of keeping the peace, or in order to get the approval I'd so desperately wanted from others. I still had little idea how to best change my situation, but at least I was beginning to realize what I didn't want anymore. What I knew for sure was that I didn't want to live a life consumed by my own confusing deceptions.

I examined each of my choices and sought the suppressed feelings that lay deep beneath the surface. I tried to determine if the choice had been made in light of what I thought I should do, as a result of some ego-based belief, or because it was in alignment with what was true for me in the most profound reaches' inherent to my soul. What I noticed was that few choices were made without the affect of, what I consider to be, outside sources such as; family members, teachers, friends, other adults, my wife, brother, or even the evening news, church doctrine or governmental guidelines. All of these sources give sway to producing our individual belief systems that become our dogma. Ultimately, it didn't matter where the motivation had originated, all that really mattered was that I'd found my truth by connecting to how I really felt about the issues and the people in my life, and set my overturned world straight again by coming inline with my spirit, one concept at a time. Any of my sacredly held beliefs that didn't coincide with the actuality I discovered through having an open heart, were cast aside as I realized that they were merely concepts that had propagated the ego's illusions.

Some of my more difficult recognitions were the hurtful and naïve choices I had made concerning my wife. The thought that I had dragged her into a life that wasn't genuine for me anymore, and that ending it would cause her pain, made me dizzy with guilt. Even on a physical level she and I weren't a very good match. For instance, I'm six-foot, four-inches tall and she is barely over five foot. We look absurd standing side by side, and our height disparity made other things we did together problematic. She's a total tomboy and I'd always been attracted to explicitly feminine women. She's athletic and runs regularly to stay in shape, and plays soccer on a league as a social outlet, neither of which am I interested in. She's aggressive and quick-tempered, not to mention, frequently demanding and even controlling, with an eye on winning. I enjoy intimacy and autonomy and do what I can to avoid conflict and competition. As I looked at all of these differences, I had a need to solve the question of why I had been attracted to her in the first place, and the answer was beginning to become clear.

Everything I had experienced up to this point in my life had led me to believe that I was a looser who didn't deserve anything especially good for myself. I didn't really believe I was lovable, but I wanted someone else to prove me wrong by loving me unconditionally. I thought if I could find someone who loved me enough I would feel safe and sheltered. I wanted security and to be taken care of, and this fiery little redhead seemed like just the person who could give me what I thought I needed. I realized I wanted to hand the reigns over to my partner's seemingly capable hands and let her take charge of my life. Her unrelenting pursuit of me at the beginning of our relationship had convinced me that she was committed and loyal to our union, so I felt sure she would always be there for me. My only other real love interest, had left me high and dry with no explanation, but I believed this woman would stay with me for the long haul. I thought if we put the work in, our union would grow into the relationship of my dreams. When I met her, she was such a go-getter that I thought her dictator-type personality would prove a useful asset to me, if I married her and made her part of my team. Unfortunately, I hadn't realized that dictators don't team up with anybody; they prefer to dominate and sometimes oppress. I also hadn't realized how I would feel when my teammate's tactics were turned against me.

Before we were married, I felt that whatever problems we'd had, or disagreements we were engaged in, would eventually work themselves out given enough time, effort and commitment. When people tried to warn me that marriage was a lot of hard work, I wasn't overly concerned because I knew I had the determination and fortitude to work hard, given how much I wanted the perfect marriage. But all these years later, I was beginning to see things a bit differently. What I had learned was that no amount of stamina or hard work would make, just any relationship, turn out the way you wanted. It seemed as if nothing I did, upon my wife's request or of my own accord, ever really pleased her. Ultimately, I know that can't be strictly true because she had to be somewhat pleased some of the time, but overall she seemed unhappy or dissatisfied, either with me personally, or something I had done. I also began to see that she was simply who she was, and no amount of effort on my part was ever going to change her. I saw the arrogance in thinking I'd ever had a right to try to change her in the first place! Compromising, had only delayed what seemed to be inevitable. We were two very different individuals and neither of us would be happy until we started living the way we each wanted, without interference from the other.

All we had to show for nine agonizing years of marriage was a beautiful little boy who was caught in the middle of a totally dysfunctional relationship, which hardly seemed fair to him. We had discussed divorce three times prior to having him, yet we still went ahead with conceiving a child, in hopes of rescuing our relationship. What the hell were we thinking? Did we really believe that bringing a baby into our home would spin a tumultuous situation into a peaceful conclusion? I can't really speak for my wife but I suspect that she sensed I was dissatisfied with our marriage and she may have thought that having a son with me would keep me around.

Sometimes, as I looked back on the ludicrous choices I'd made and the insanity of my reasoning, I could do nothing more than laugh until tears rolled down my cheeks. I had been so naïve. However, laughter would quickly turn to suffocating pain at the thought of the effect it may have had on our precious son. I even started to worry that I might be incapable of making sound choices. This thought reinforced what I had always felt about myself deep down in the recesses of my fearful being, that I was a loser, unworthy of love or even the slightest act of kindness. Wallowing in this belief had always been the main obstacle to any sustained happiness in my life.

For years I had scrambled around trying to prove that this wasn't true, and I went to great lengths to get others to see my worth. Anytime I started a new job, I had to be the best employee ever and would nearly work my fingers to the bone trying to attain that status, but each time I bent over backwards to gain outside approval, it would backfire and I would end up feeling worse because I never got the reassurance I was looking for, which reinforced the belief in my all-encompassing unworthiness. Of course my wife unwittingly did a good job of fortifying my negative beliefs about myself by giving me unsolicited advice whenever I shared my fears, suggesting that whatever was wrong, I must be solely at fault because to her mind, it wasn't possible that she could've been in any way responsible. She was always generous with "constructive" criticism. Now, I understand that sometimes she was right (although it's never necessary to be so harsh), but overall I believe she was just projecting her own fear. Even today, the greatest challenge the ego presents me with is the feeling that I'm not good enough, life isn't fair and everything is too hard, all propagated by one of the ego's favorite tools; the victim archetype.

I spent the nine months following my birthday, processing the choices I had made, during which time I began to develop an interest in human behavior from a clinical standpoint. I knew very little about the topic, but was compelled to explore it further. I found myself questioning my own behavior along with the behavior of others, not the least of which was my wife. I wanted to know what made me tick, what made her tick, and how we had gotten ourselves into such a mess. I also wondered why, given the same set of circumstances, we instinctively behaved so differently. That's when Deniece introduced a book about personality types into our lives.

Taylor Hartman is the author of the book entitled _The Color Code_. It was the first book, in what would be a long line of reading material regarding the human condition. In it he describes four basic personality types, categorizes them by color, and explains what they represent and the ways in which each of the colors relate to one another. The first step in the learning process is to take a personality test to determine which type or "color" you are. As simple as this may seem, it proved to be much more difficult than one might expect.

My wife and I each began to fill in the multiple-choice questions. They were fairly simple and straightforward; as a parent, friend or co-worker, you are asked to choose the answer that best suits you. Maybe you are decisive and definitive or do you wait to hear the opinion of your boss before you put in your two cents? Perhaps you make a timid suggestion, easily conceding the point if no one agrees, or do you simply state what should be done in a commanding way because you know you are right. (These statements don't come directly from the book they just give an idea of what the test is like.) I didn't have much trouble with the test myself, because the majority of the questions and answers seemed clear. We both agreed that I'd chosen the answer that most closely represented what I might do in the hypothetical scenarios, but my wife had a terrible time! She seemed confused and found it nearly impossible to answer the questions truthfully. It seemed she instinctually suspected that it wouldn't serve her to be too forthcoming in most cases. Either that, or she actually didn't know herself at all. I wasn't having much success in convincing her that her answers were in complete opposition to my experience of her. So in order to have accurate test results, we enlisted the help of a mutual friend, someone who had known us both very well for many years. But even with his input she refused to answer the questions with overall candor. However, she did answer enough questions accurately to determine her probable personality type.

In short, the book defines four color-coded personality types and fits each person into one of the categories as follows; "Red" personalities are the movers and shakers, the author describes them as competitive, dominantly wielding their power and with no real need for emotional intimacy. "Blue" personalities are autonomous, selfless and courteous, have a need to be understood and crave intimacy. "White" personalities keep a low profile, keep the peace, have to be coaxed into talking, and don't need intimacy. "Yellow" personalities play hard, like to have fun and want to be at the center of the popular crowd, and they do have some need for intimacy. This is certainly an incredibly condensed overview of the personality types and their respective colors, there are many other factors that contribute to how a person might behave under a particular set of circumstances but I found this basic information so compelling in learning about myself and others, and paramount to my personal growth, that I am bound to relate its effect on me. (Any future reference to personality types in this book will typically use Taylor Hartman's color code description.)

Not included in Hartman's book, yet just as telling, is that within each of the four colors there is the distinction of either an adult or childlike role. This additional tidbit is integral in explaining differences within the same personality type. For instance, every "child" type, no matter what color he fits, is more prone to certain behaviors such as people pleasing or openly seeking approval, being adventurous and more submissive. Every "adult" type, regardless of their classification, is more likely to be more critical and parental, or naturally take a leadership role in their relationships, and they are typically more responsible and grounded. Until discovering this aspect, it was hard for me to understand why people within the same personality type act so differently sometimes. But once the child or adult role is added to the equation, it becomes much clearer and easier to decipher personalities more accurately. I play the child role within my own personality type and my wife plays the adult within hers. The adult and child roles seem to attract one another and in most cases I have noticed that the majority of long-term couples have both roles represented within their relationship. When the roles are the same, child-child or adult-adult, without regard to color, the relationship doesn't typically last as long or at the very least, isn't as functional. This was the case with my first girlfriend, we were both blues but we were also both playing a child's role, as a result, our relationship only lasted about a year. We got along fairly well but lacked the balance of having the opposite role within the relationship.

Hartman's book explains in detail, the many aspects of each personality type. We discovered, after some hand wringing and frustration, that my wife was a "red" and I was a "blue." It was difficult all the way through the process for my wife to recognize her own character traits, and she was defensive at being labeled a "red." Her chief dispute was that she felt she had been coerced into answering the questions differently than she would have on her own. I could plainly see her discomfort, but I stood my ground and reminded her, that I believed the answers were accurate whether she was happy with the results or not. She seemed to have an aversion to being a "red" because we had recently heard Deniece describe her unhappy past marriage, including some unflattering details about her ex-husband who was also a "red" personality. My wife seemed uncomfortable being lumped into the same category with him, and may have been fearful of loosing her friendship with Deniece if she shared her ex-husband's worrisome personality type. As for me, I simply wanted to know the truth, and if there were any chance this information could do anything, by way of helping us solve our marital problems, I was game to continue our instruction.

As we continued reading, delving deeper into each personality type, it became completely clear to me that we had been correct in our first assumption, that I was indeed a "blue" and my wife was certainly a "red" because the in-depth descriptions fit each of us to a "T." Her mantra being, "just do what I say and we'll get along just fine," mine on the other hand would be, "just tell me you love me and I'll follow you to the ends of the earth." Power and leadership motivate her, and I'm motivated by intimacy. She was beginning to accept the truth about her personality traits with the reassurance that no personality type is better or worse than another, they're simply differing ways that each of us navigate our lives, and there is need for everyone's attributes in a productive and balanced world.

Then we got to the section of the book that described the ways in which each of the colors interact with one another within relationships, romantically or otherwise. This information is what ignited my desire to understand human behavior because of its practical applications. For instance, maybe you're having a difficult time trying to understand a boss, a co-worker, a friend or family member, read this book and you may suddenly have new insights into what motivates people to behave as they do. The impact this section had on me would forever change the way I looked at the world, and my relationships! This was especially true when it described how my wife and I would relate to each other. Hartman titled this section "Blood, Sweat, & Tears." I got chills down my spine just reading the title! It was as if the author knew us both personally. We quickly discovered that many of our needs and desires were in exact opposition to the other's ability to fulfill them. As we continued through the section, I had one light bulb moment after another, with every word that seeped into my consciousness, breaking open and setting bare the mysteries of our difficult union. He even admits that, of all the personality combinations, this is the one that must work the hardest for successful compatibility. I was in a partnership of "oil and water" and although the book gives a multitude of suggestions to work towards harmony, I had my doubts.

When we finished reading the brief, yet ever so enlightening ten-page section, you could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. After all, what more was there to say? We recognized the truth we had just consumed, and it was both distressing and unnerving information for two people who claimed to want to make their marriage work. So we sat there in unsettled silence, as we each quietly and separately processed the revelations. The blood had run from my wife's face, she looked as if someone she held dear had suddenly died! She seemed petrified by the undeniable truth that had just focused a brilliant spotlight on the obstacles impeding our progress as a couple. I, on the other hand, wasn't quite as distraught because there was a sense of long awaited validation in what we had just learned about ourselves. For the first time, I felt a comfort in knowing that there was a reason our relationship was what it was. I wasn't crazy after all! This uncomplicated, down-to-earth, clear-cut, pop-psychology book had answered so many of my questions, and I couldn't help but feel a colossal sense of relief that the truth had finally been exposed. It was no longer a mystery that we found it difficult to work most anything out and find common ground between us. It became clear that a lot of our issues were simply innate to our differing personalities, and the result of the relationship we were participating in. Unfortunately, none of these elements were likely to change.

Once the information made itself at home within our respective psyches, my wife began a new campaign. She demanded that she was not a "red" after all, nor had she ever been, and that I was superimposing my own negative and prejudiced view of her onto the situation in order to be right! (A projection, if I ever heard one.) Ironically, even Hartman singles out "reds" as having the most difficult time acknowledging their weaknesses, which further validated who my wife was. Part of what can fool people about personality types is that most of us have no trouble putting on an act for brief intervals when we first meet new people and that makes it difficult to determine what's genuine, and what's not. Especially at the beginning of a romance where we all tend to put our best foot forward, and later when we feel safe, we let our "real" nature surface. My wife's "facade" was that of the outgoing, funny, friendly, gregarious person, who would never appear to demand anything from anyone. She staged this persona when she wanted to impress somebody or win his or her approval, but the often-used performance was only ever temporary.

With each day's dawning, came fresh revelations about our relationship and who we were as individuals. Unfortunately, with each discovery I lost hope that I would ever be able to meet her expectations and I found myself withdrawing more and more from the prospect that my wife would ever come to meet mine, and in turn, I withdrew from her presence altogether. It wasn't that I was angry with her; I just needed some emotional space to reflect on how I felt, without any interference. Besides, the information we had learned about our respective personalities didn't change anything; it only de-personalized our problems, helping me to focus on what was actually happening. The challenge for both of us, was accepting the truth of what we had learned. This led me to become a quiet observer of everything from my own thoughts and feelings to all that was going on around me. My wife, being as we now knew very different from me, took another approach.

She had lost control, and she was understandably upset since her normally talkative husband had nothing much to say to her, or anyone else for that matter. She tried to broach the subject with me occasionally, with what felt more like nagging than concern, needless to say, I did not respond well to her feeble attempts. I also began to grasp that on my end, communication with my wife had been an attempt to manipulate her into understanding me, but the need to be understood had been satisfied by an unseen author that had dropped into my awareness through no power of my own, and I no longer knew or cared if she understood me or not.

After learning my own personality type and that of my wife, I now wanted to know everyone else's, beginning with my immediate family and friends. I was a man possessed! Once this new information was introduced, I couldn't get enough and I spent my time categorizing everyone I had any relation to. It was like being given a super power, the gift of x-ray vision! I had this incredible tool to guide me into the motivations that made people behave the way they do. Until that time, many things had eluded my awareness, but that was all destined to change. The more I studied and practiced, the more I understood, and I got increasingly accurate with each personality I distinguished. As I was mastering this new art, I instinctively knew that I would use this new gift in all aspects of my life to simplify and expedite everything I chose to engage in. It had opened a door to unsullied understanding about people from all walks of life and I couldn't see a reason not to use it. My eyes had been opened to something fresh, new and valuable, and I was definitely eager to see where it would take me.

Eventually, I began to compare notes with Deniece since she was one of the only other people I knew who had read the book. It helped that we understood each other, which was no great surprise since she was a "blue" personality as well. Whenever we had a different personality designated for the same person, we would discuss it in depth until we reached the same conclusion. Our shared insights accelerated the learning process and we both gained a broader perspective on the subject by considering each other's point of view.

The only real downside to this new project was that we ended up becoming a bit biased about "red" personality types. As we discovered where all our friends, family and acquaintances fell in relation to the categories, the "reds" in the mix were the one's who we felt, had undoubtedly caused us the most pain, and we began to view them as the bad guys. Since Deniece and I shared the same personality type, we tended to have many of the same reactions to "reds." As I said before, "reds" and "blues" typically don't have the most peaceful relationships. "Reds" can be quite demanding and competitive and they seem to value winning above camaraderie, and since "blues" are intimacy-based and are similarly strong willed, the two outlooks don't gel in every situation and will most often end up in disharmony.

On Sunday evenings after bowling, our foursome continued to retire to the hot tub, where Deniece continued to tell stories of her unresolved relationship with her ex-husband, which seemed to be one of her most passionate topics of discussion. She really had some fascinating stories about their marriage and I could read between the lines to the pain that she had never put to rest. She clearly harbored old resentment towards him and it made me wonder why, after being divorced for five years, she hadn't worked through more of it. Her current husband was a "white" personality, and although he was willing to listen to her for hours on end, his passive nature and desire for peace made him little help in working through her strong negative feelings.

I soon discovered how similar her relationship with her ex-husband was, to the one I currently had with my wife. In fact, some of her stories were so similar to what I had gone through and hit so close to home, that I squirmed in my seat as she steamrolled over us with the retelling. Trapped in the hot tub listening to her, I was so uncomfortable that I often wished she would just stop talking! But once she got started she only continued to gain momentum, and I begrudgingly listened, as I sunk deeper and deeper beneath the bubbling sanctuary, until only the top of my head, from my nose up, breached the water's surface. Since my wife was sitting right next to me, I feared that the narrative might trigger a reaction in her when she recognized her own actions being played out by the main character in Deniece's story, but to my amazement, it never did! She simply sat unmoved, and seemingly oblivious to the exacting similarities. This perplexed me a little because I didn't know if my wife recognized the parallel and just didn't want to acknowledge it, or if she was really so obtuse that she couldn't identify with it at all. In either case, her lack of awareness concerned me, and I suspected she simply wasn't interested in facing the problems in our relationship, and instead chose to bury her head in the sand. In my estimation, this had always been at the root of our marital issues. She never seemed to understand what the real problems were. After all, how can you confront issues if you don't welcome their reality?

Although Deniece's stories made me uncomfortable, I did feel a kinship with her through the knowledge that I wasn't the only one who had experienced the same resentments and frustrations during our respective marriages. Unfortunately though, Deniece and her ex-husband never found a way to heal their marriage and had ended their dissatisfaction through divorce after giving it ten years of their lives, so I had nothing from her example to grasp hold of as a fragile thread of hope for my own.

As my withdrawal from my wife continued to increase, so did my affection for Deniece by the same increment. I was interested to know everything about her relationship with her ex-husband, in the hopes that I might glean some helpful advice in healing my own unsatisfying marriage. To my despair, I learned that they rarely worked through any major problems to any kind of successful conclusion. Similar to my wife and I, whenever they disagreed they would argue until one or both of them got tired of fighting and then the issue was dropped out of pure fatigue or the far worse reason of apathy. That was an example of a typical argument at our house, except the disagreement usually ended in my giving in to my wife's demands or to her point of view. Since our issues rarely got resolved, they resurfaced over and over again and the ensuing argument would reappear as if we had never faced any of it before, creating a perpetual round of misery, frustration and disharmony.

Because I didn't know how else to address the state of my marriage, I ended up attempting to simply tolerate my wife's demands and her controlling demeanor. I wanted to bring peace into a tumultuous situation, but in the process I felt like I was allowing myself to be abused. On many occasions she treated me, and everyone else around her, in a way that I would now consider extremely poor, which distressed me as I noticed each and every small detail of her habitual behavior. It seemed to me that she tried to manipulate and control everything and everyone in her life! Thankfully, by this time she wasn't able to compel me to play her game the way I had in the past. Being stricken insensitive to her antics, through a heart that had turned to stone, I had just the space I needed to negate my automatic, repetitious reaction to her attempt at manipulation. As long as I managed to stay aloof and objective, she found it hard to find my buttons, let alone push them.

Yet there was one avenue left to her for getting under my skin and reaching my coolly beating heart, something I could not ignore regardless of how I tried to remain composed behind the wall I had erected around my emotions. As she felt her world spinning out of control, her anger escalated, and sometimes she chose to take it out on the most innocent and helpless of victims in her reach, our three-year-old son! She could treat me with as little respect as she could muster, and I found ways to cope with it or excuse her actions, but when it came to our child I found myself growing extremely uncomfortable with her less than warm or maternal interaction with him. In the past I hadn't noticed the little things, but now that my blinders were beginning to fall away, I saw it all! From subtle voice inflections to her blatant disregard for his feelings, everything was in view. He was in her care all day, everyday, always available whenever she had excess negative energy to expel. She seldom seemed to give the poor kid a break! And just like her approach with me, she seemed to find fault with much of his behavior. Was he such a reflection of her that she couldn't separate her own self-image from our little boy, and felt compelled to achieve perfection through him? Or was she simply unable to stop herself from taking out her frustration at me, on him? Or was it something else altogether? I didn't know and I didn't really care, all I wanted was to spare him.

Her relationship with our own child wasn't the only time I had watched her treat children severely. For a number of years she had been a nanny, and I'd witnessed several inappropriate outbursts. I also suspected that what I was aware of was only the tip of the iceberg. She was drawn to caring for children with special needs, primarily because the pay was better, but I always wondered if it also served to keep her safe from having her willful treatment of these youngsters reported because they didn't have the capacity to tell anyone. I may never know the answer for sure, I don't even want to know, but I naively believed that she would never treat her own child the same way. You might wonder why I didn't do or say anything about her actions toward the children she cared for. I've often asked myself the same question. It must have been because I didn't want to believe anything so dire about her, so I always found some excuse or justification to dismiss her behavior. After all, this was the woman I had married and vowed to spend the rest of my life with, so how could I be with her if I knew she was mistreating someone, especially a child? I questioned her about it on occasion, but whenever I did, I always accepted whatever explanation she gave, then turned a blind eye and stayed safely in the impression that she was a good childcare provider. On the up side, she was one of the few people I knew that had enough energy and determination to manage these children and all their challenges. Perhaps she ought to have been given an award for her efforts, considering the circumstances. How quickly the mind can turn a situation around.

She is an intelligent woman, and she was able to hide her shadow side fairly well. Truth be told, I think she hid it from herself as well, but I was beginning to piece all the little details together and the big picture was finally becoming clear. I noticed how rough she was when she grabbed our son by the arm and how she cursed at him under her breathe. I also saw how she sometimes scolded him, even when he wasn't doing anything wrong. My heart went out to him and I began keeping him closer to me whenever I was around, but I couldn't do anything to buffer the situation when I wasn't there.

Sometimes I would try to talk to her about her frustrations with children and occasionally, if I were gentle enough, she would be candid with me for a moment and admit to being frustrated. She told me there had been times that she had in fact, acted less than rationally toward one of her charges. She even admitted once to being so overwhelmed, that she had leveled an open handed blow to our own son before she even realized what she was doing. Although I was extremely concerned, I also felt compassion for her to some degree and hoped that since she was acknowledging her behavior and seemed to feel some regret, that she could address the issue. But the more bits of truth I uncovered, the more I questioned her ability to alter her behavior. I believe at times she was honestly asking for advice, but I was ill equipped to deal with the problem and the only advice I could give her, was simply not to do it! I suggested that if she couldn't come to grips with her annoyance she should quit her job, but I knew that solution would do little to help the dynamic in our own home.

The parents she worked for always thought she was the best nanny there ever was! They only saw what most people did, that she was an energetic, funny, friendly person who seemed the perfect choice to care for their children. I feared in truth, she was a frustrated, insecure, impatient person who sometimes let her aggravation be expressed as cruelty. Like a bully, she pretended to be tough, confident and in control, but now I believe that was just a façade to cover up how fearful she was.

It had never made sense to me that she had periodically accused me of having affairs with other women, with absolutely no grounds whatsoever, but it was beginning to. At the onset of the accusation I would look at her as if she were crazy, but I came to believe that she really must have been that insecure. Ironically, she was the one who had been unfaithful during the early years of our relationship. Maybe because she was capable of infidelity she feared that I would make the same choice. Was she merely projecting what she had already done? That is a question only she can answer. Clearly it wasn't personal, since her accusations came from left field, having nothing to do with any actual circumstances. One thing was certain about these accusations, she didn't understand who I was at all.

I'd had multiple opportunities to step outside my marriage. An attractive younger woman I'd worked closely with in a retail paint store, frequently invited me to see how she'd decorated her apartment, but the thought of having an affair was so far from my mind, that I was completely oblivious to her overtures. Once I recognized what she was suggesting, I turned away from her in embarrassment, with never a thought of acting on her invitation. When my shy reaction didn't slow her down, I finally told her outright that I would never accept her invitation.

Another time, my wife and I went to dinner with another couple, friends of ours from the neighborhood, and after the meal the woman ran her bare foot up my pant leg under the table. I was so shocked by her daring advance; I nearly jumped out of my skin! But the truth was, I simply wasn't interested. In fact, becoming involved with another woman couldn't be further from my mind, and as a result, I rarely recognized when someone was flirting with me until it was utterly blatant.

My first love interest, who broke my heart and left without saying a word, eventually called me after I was married, wanting to reconnect. Though at one time I would have done anything to speak with her, that time had passed and I had moved on. I barely spoke with her, just long enough to ask her, out of respect for my marriage, not to call again. I was strongly committed to my wife or I would have ended the relationship long before we were married, so an affair was totally out of the question. I was much more intent on finding ways to better my marriage, not make it worse.

That's something I've always liked about myself. When I choose to do something, I typically do it all the way! I rarely just dip a toe in to test the water; I naively leap in, body and soul, and hope for the best. And while I had done a lot of compromising in my marriage, I'm really more of an all-or-nothing kind of person. So as long as I had the slightest hope of making my marriage work, I was committed to doing so. The problem was, we both expected the other to react the same as we would. To this end, we were always disappointed, but now that I had a better understanding of what was happening between us, maybe we could find a new way to work out our differences. I could forgive what had happened in the past, we just needed to learn how to respect one another's dissimilarities, and begin to work together as a team for the good of our son and a better future for our marriage.

I assumed that changes in my behavior would be met with extreme resistance. I had been an obedient, subservient husband for many years, and to turn my back on my self-imposed role, would surely upset the apple cart, and threaten what fragile harmony existed between us. So how do you change your life when the people around you expect you to react in a certain way? That is the million-dollar question! It wasn't possible for me to change my wife, so if anything were ever going to change between us or be improved in any way, I would be the one responsible to do the changing. My concern was that I had already tried many things over the years to renovate our relationship, and I was at a complete loss for what to try next. The only option that occurred to me was to continue quietly observing the situation until I figured out what direction to take. But the longer I stayed silent, the more desperate and confused my wife became. No matter what she tried or how nice she was, I could not be compelled to respond in the usual way. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate her efforts, I was just becoming a different person and the old responses didn't feel authentic to me anymore. When I had an answer for her query, it had become incredibly honest and very direct; I just didn't feel the need to expound. And because she was worried, she repeatedly asked me what was wrong with me or why I was so quiet, and my only response was, "I'm fine honey. I'm just doing a little soul searching."

Before long, my brusque reactions brought her anxiety to a boiling point, and that's when the ride really got wild!

**Chapter Four**

### Playing With Fire

We had never, to this point in our relationship, experienced anything even remotely close to what my wife and I were going through. We had been a couple for almost eleven years, married for nine, and never once had I been in a "mood" like the one that was settling over me now. There was nothing that would soften my resolve, and I couldn't be reached through my outer shell of determination. In the past, our issues had been resolved because I was committed to making our relationship functional and I put that objective above anything else, including my own happiness, but not anymore. I still wanted to keep my marriage intact and running smoothly, but I no longer saw my way ahead, because the options had been tried and everything had failed. I couldn't compel myself to keep pushing forward without any positive outcomes. I realized that simply doing whatever my wife wanted, as I had done so often throughout our marriage, hadn't actually accomplished anything. All I was doing was postponing the inevitable. Finally, through this subtle truth, I came to see that there was little I could do to put the majority of our issues to rest. Consequently, I didn't feel there was much left to talk about, and in turn, there wasn't much for us to argue about either. Conflict had been the only constant in our relationship, and in the absence of disagreement, there was little left to occupy us except an uneasy silence that served to make my wife understandably anxious.

She began a persistent interrogation, but I couldn't offer her much relief. I only had more uncertainty of my own, which couldn't be helped. A curtain of awkward silence had been drawn between my wife and I, and yet whenever I ran into her best friend, I felt no hesitation to open up. When I heard Deniece was coming by because she had plans with my wife, I hung around the house so I wouldn't miss an opportunity to see her. If they went on a children's outing, I asked permission to tag along. If they were going into Seattle, I offered to drive. I jumped at any opportunity I was afforded to spend time with Deniece. Communication was free flowing between us, and whenever we were in the same vicinity we found ourselves endlessly discussing any number of subjects. Deniece was as willing and eager a participant as I was, for those stolen moments of harmony. But I found it interesting that my wife hardly seemed to notice, and she never mentioned it. She seemed happy just to have me along for the ride, and feeling cheerful to boot. I believe it saved her the discomfort of having intimate conversations with me, preferring to pass that responsibility off to her friend. Instead, she spent those outings soaking up the pleasant relief provided by my involvement in her life, and she happily entertained the youngsters while Deniece and I indulged in a sort of communion with one another.

My familiar association with Deniece came very naturally to me. As an identical twin, my brother and I could finish each other's sentences and I've always valued close personal relationships, though it had been quite some time since I'd felt the comfort of that kind of intimacy. We understood one another on a level I'd never experienced before, and the flow of energy between us was effortless and spontaneous. After discovering we were the same personality type, I think we were both interested to experience interaction with another "blue" since it was new to both of us. It didn't take long for us to realize how similar we were, and it made me feel a bit nervous and over exposed when I saw how well she seemed to understand me. At times, we were able to communicate what we were feeling with just a quick look or a subtle facial expression. It was as if we could read each other's minds. Whenever I was trying to communicate with my wife, I felt we were having two completely separate conversations. We just didn't connect on that level, we never had, and I suspected that we never would.

Not only was communication between my wife and I extremely difficult, it was shallow as well. There was rarely enough depth in our interaction to satisfy me, and whenever we approached real intimacy, she became very uncomfortable. When I brought up an issue that I was passionate about, she would typically do whatever it took to avoid the subject until it faded away. Serious topics seemed to frighten and intimidate her, and she never relished talking through important problems. I believe she simply wanted to remain under the illusion that everything was fine.

My wife and I seldom saw things eye-to-eye, so it was no surprise that I took so much delight in my newfound friend! I finally had someone in my life that understood me, someone I could really talk to. I had forgotten (or maybe I'd never known) that a man and woman could even have such a warm and supportive connection, and I longed to bask in the brilliance of our association whenever I had the chance.

My wife finally took notice of how much Deniece and I enjoyed each other's company, and she began initiating an invitation to join them on their excursions. At first, her motivation wasn't clear but then I began to notice that she was flaunting me in front of her friend, uncharacteristically flopping down on my lap and throwing her arms around my neck when Deniece was present. It occurred to me that my wife took advantage of the opportunity to show-off, while sending the message that her marriage was strong and secure. Secondly, whenever Deniece and I were together we were both pleasant and enjoyable to be with, which served to make my wife's life easier. Looking back, I believe her biggest fear was losing either of us, so using Deniece to keep me around, and vice-versa, seemed like an obvious solution. She could spend as much time with her friend as she liked, and as an added bonus, I was much more amiable and agreeable as well. She let Deniece do the talking and then she collected the spoils without having to apply much effort. It was a win-win situation for her, keeping both her husband and her best friend involved, attentive, and happy.

Deniece became so well acquainted with me that my wife began a regular routine of asking her for advice on how to cope with my moods. Whenever I conducted myself in a manner my wife didn't like, she went to the woman who appeared to have a handle on me, and asked her what to do about it. However, Deniece would often be confused by my wife's complaints. One week she'd protest, "he works too much, he's never home with his family." Then, when I had finished a job and had lag time in my schedule, the grievance turned to, "He's not working enough, how can I get him to keep working?" but her preferred criticisms typically centered on my weight. She never seemed to be satisfied with my appearance and while I'm the first to admit that during our marriage I was a bit chubby, mention of my weight felt like a cold-hearted personal attack. Deniece reports that when my wife shared her dissatisfaction with me, she found herself wondering why our lives had turned out the way they had. Everything seemed backwards. My wife was married to a man she didn't appreciate, and Deniece secretly wished she had a man more like me.

Ironically, my wife went to Deniece to complain about me, and then she came to me, to complain about Deniece. My reactions to my wife's complaints about Deniece couldn't have been very satisfying either, because I found it difficult to take her side. I simply didn't understand her objections. To the contrary, her criticisms about Deniece only appeared to be attributes. Surprisingly, when I refused to take up her cause against Deniece and told her that I wished she would assume some of her traits, instead of offending my wife, my suggestion actually gave her a new idea.

Upon arriving home from work one night, I let myself into the house to find an exceptionally atypical situation. The lights were off except for some candles that were flickering in the living room, and I could just hear the quiet strains of soft music playing in the background. When I first entered, the atmosphere was so surreal that I wondered if I had stumbled into the wrong house. Just as I was recovering my bearings my wife appeared, clad in some surprisingly sexy lingerie, the likes of which I had never seen before! This really took me off guard, as I had never known her to be comfortable with anything lacy, frilly, feminine, and especially not transparent. The few items of lingerie she owned, other than her everyday under garments, had been gifts from me, and I'd always been very mindful that they be ultra conservative to insure that she would wear them. I couldn't imagine that she had purchased these items herself. She would have been embarrassed just walking through the door of a lingerie store, and you wouldn't have found this particular outfit in an ordinary clothing retailer, this was strictly specialty shop fare!

Imagine my astonishment when I took in the entire ensemble, it came complete with a corset, garters, thigh-high stockings, and even gloves that ran the full length of her arms! I wondered at the occasion, but quickly dismissed the thought, choosing instead to go with the flow. She moved to the coffee table, poured us each a glass of sparkling apple cider (alcohol being off limits for her), and told me to sit down and get comfortable. I followed her instructions but couldn't contain my curiosity, and broached the subject of where the lingerie had come from. She hesitated, not wanting to answer at first, but when pressed, she told me it belonged to Deniece! As I struggled to keep my composure, I was bombarded with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was glad to see her making an effort to do something of this nature because I had tried to encourage it in the past, but on the other, I was shocked to see her using attire she'd borrowed from Deniece to set the mood for an intimate encounter with me!! What could she possibly be thinking? Did she assume that I wouldn't ask where it had come from? And if I did realize whom it belonged to, wouldn't that be a little awkward? She must not have understood that if I knew Deniece had worn the garment, it would be difficult, if not impossible, not to picture her in it! As usual, I never quite understood her thought process, but in that moment, I certainly wasn't going to object.

When the planned festivities were over, my wife acted as though the evening had been a great success! After all, her emotionally distant husband had made love to her with enthusiasm. Maybe she even thought I would revert back to the husband I'd been before this whole "silent thing" had happened, and things would return to some semblance of normalcy. Whatever the case, she was clearly pleased with herself and I must agree the stunt definitely warranted my attention, but I suspected that she had no idea where my mind had actually been. Never before had I imagined myself being with another woman during physical intimacy with my wife, but that night a line was crossed.

A few weeks later, I was in for another shock when my wife played her next card. Despite her attempt at a romantic evening, I had tallied up an additional issue over it and had remained emotionally withdrawn from her. And because she seemed to find it next to impossible just to sit and earnestly discuss our problems with genuine concern, she had an alternative plan. Early one morning when I was headed off to work, I walked out of our bedroom and down the hall to find Deniece and her youngest daughter waiting in the living room. This struck me as peculiar because it was barely after dawn and I hadn't expected to be entertaining company quite so early. Confused, I took my wife by the hand and marched her back to the bedroom for an explanation. She informed me that she had asked Deniece to accompany me to work while she stayed home with the children. For the life of me I couldn't figure out what she was up to. Why on earth would Deniece want to go to work with me? She said she thought that Deniece could help me with whatever I had on the agenda and that I might like to have her along for the ride. I told her that I wasn't even going to a job-site that day and that I was only running errands, but since Deniece had already agreed to go and was standing in my living room, I figured she might as well tag along.

We left the house together and awkwardly climbed into the truck. Before I even started the engine, I asked if she understood why my wife had wanted her to come to work with me. Deniece was embarrassed that I hadn't been aware she was coming, and told me that my wife was worried about me. She further explained, that since my wife was having a hard time understanding what I was going through and why I'd been so quiet, she wanted Deniece to try and help figure out what was wrong. She hoped that since Deniece understood me, I might open up and tell her what I was thinking. Of course she was to report back to my wife, making the circle complete. It was all becoming apparent, my wife had actually recruited Deniece to help accomplish a feat that she couldn't seem to do for herself. I shook my head to clear the disbelief that she would consider this a sound strategy. First off, it's pretty ridiculous to think I would confess any of my marital problems to a friend with whom I didn't want to air my dirty laundry, and second, it seemed so disrespectful to send a friend to gather "Intel" without my knowledge or consent. My mind was bombarded with questions. Why does she avoid finding out for herself what's wrong in our marriage? Instead, she prefers to assign someone else to do, what ought to be her responsibility. Didn't she understand that Deniece wouldn't be capable of fixing our problems? If we can't even do that for ourselves, what's the point of bringing a third party into the mix? Ironically, those few questions I posed to Deniece in the truck were the last mention I made of my wife or our marital problems. I didn't want to invite a black cloud to hover over our day together.

After we finished all the things on my "to do list," it was mid day and I decided we needed to eat. It wasn't surprising that I would take Deniece to lunch, but what was interesting, was the fact that I took her to my wife's favorite Italian restaurant! Looking back, I realize that we may have ended up there out of unconscious retaliation. Even though I was having a splendid time, I was still a bit angry that my wife wouldn't face me directly. She would casually ask me what was wrong, but never approached me with a sincere desire to know. All I really wanted was for her to be willing to genuinely talk to me, and be committed to working out the problems in our dysfunctional marriage. I short, I wanted her support, it was as simple as that.

As Deniece and I went into the restaurant and were seated, I was aware of the delicious feeling that I was doing something subtly forbidden. The atmosphere was laid back and faintly romantic, and I was somewhat uncomfortable, having gone there with another woman. I felt it was a betrayal in some way, but I pushed the feeling aside with the justification that the least I could do was treat Deniece to a meal, but secretly I felt that my wife deserved some consequence for sending her with me in the first place. If you play with fire, you're liable to get burned.

At first I attempted to pretend that this was an ordinary business lunch, but I was only fooling myself. This lunch was far from commonplace, and we were only moments into our meal before the occasion took hold of me. As I gazed into her vivid blue eyes, I was becoming aware of an inner beauty that had previously been hidden from view. I saw compassion and sensitivity radiating from her countenance, which combined with her external beauty, sense of style, and quiet wisdom, made this woman the type of person I had only dreamed about! She was the entire package, and I became suddenly breathless at the thought that she had willingly agreed to come to lunch with me. She'd always shown me kindness and understanding, but this was so much more! Surprisingly, she seemed to share my affection. The experience was very intense, and I somehow knew how fortunate I was just to be in the glow of her presence. The hour we shared over salad and pasta, felt like a gift from the angels, prepared expressly for me.

I had been at this same restaurant many times with my wife, but had never felt this way before. With my wife, the mood was always festive, but devoid of any warmth. Whenever I was out with her, I would find myself noticing other couples who were clearly in love, enjoying each other's company, while I sat desperately wishing we could be like them. It made me wonder what was wrong with us and why our relationship wasn't like that. We typically had little depth or substance to our conversations, and I couldn't remember a time when we spoke of anything other than the superficial details of daily life. Our conversations centered on physical things like food, the neighbors, the weather or our next vacation. She had a tendency to show off when we were in public, by talking loudly and laughing exuberantly, always cutting her eyes at the strangers around us to ensure she had their attention. She didn't fully enjoy spending time with me, and our dinner dates were mainly for the purpose of purchasing and devouring a meal while sharing a much-needed activity together.

Deniece on the other hand, was quite the opposite. You could sit quietly with her for long periods and never feel awkward, or talk endlessly about anything that came up and it was as natural as breath. The conversations were always heart-felt, authentic, substantial and honest. She was so open, that I never felt uncomfortable asking her anything I wanted to know. No matter how personal the conversation got, she was never hesitant to share herself. Having a meal with her was all about sharing an intimate experience, and lunch ended up being far more than just an excuse to spend time together.

While I hungrily soaked up her company, I was suddenly snapped out of my trance by the awareness that I was enjoying myself far too much! As I sat trying to pull my emotions back, a picture formed in my mind of the two of us being one of those romantic couples I'd been so envious of, and I had to remind myself that this wasn't my wife sitting across the table from me, it was in fact, her best friend! A faint, but unmistakable fear settled over me as I realized I was in big trouble. Regrettably, I was a man dying of thirst, and when he sees water he drinks it in. Not only did I want my thirst quenched, I needed it! It had been so many years since I'd felt even vaguely this way that I had forgotten what it could be like.

The experience immediately woke me up to the fact that I had settled for something far less than satisfying in my current relationship. I hadn't been swept away like this since I'd been nineteen, and it had never been to this degree of intensity. Not only was I fearful of my rapidly increasing feelings for Deniece, I was secretly terrified that she wouldn't return them.

Wait a minute! How could I be thinking about the feelings I was having for someone other than my wife, and why did it matter what Deniece was feeling? The last thing my marriage needed right now was for me to have inappropriate feelings for another woman. I also valued my friendship with Deniece, and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. Deniece was the only person who seemed to understand me, and I very much wanted to keep our friendship intact. I also didn't have any desire to ruin her marriage, so I knew I had to get my emotions under control before I risked destroying both our lives, as well as the lives of our spouses!

I must have felt a bit guilty from the day's events because on my way home I stopped at the florist for a bouquet of flowers for my wife. When I arrived home I gave her the flowers but had little to say in regards to my activities that day. She asked me how it had gone and I simply told her "it was fine." Of course I came clean about taking Deniece to lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant, just to torture her a little. I could see it bothered her a bit, but she swiftly swept it under the rug. After all, she really couldn't say much when it was her idea to send her friend to work with me in the first place. I noticed that she seemed to be anticipating a better explanation of the day's events, but I had nothing more to say, so I turned and left the room without further comment, and returned to being my distant self. Once again, my wife's scheming had given me a lot to think about; not the least of which was a new burning sensation in my chest about a woman who was supposed to be, only a friend.

My business was in an upswing. In fact, it was going so well that I needed to hire extra help for a large interior paint job I was about to start. Deniece had already completed a Faux finish paint job for a client of mine, so when my wife suggested I hire her friend again for our next big job, it wasn't much of a stretch. I agreed it was a decent idea, strictly based on her work performance at the last job.

Over the years, I had needed help from time to time and whenever I'd asked my wife, she'd always declined. I'd always wanted her to be more interested in my business, and more than that, I wanted her to be interested in me, but to no avail. However, despite her disinterest in me, or my business, I found it fascinating that she was encouraging me to involve Deniece once again. Female painters were a rarity, so I was eager to see what she was capable of on a regular work crew. Since I thought of her as a lady, I wondered if she was strong enough to keep pace with the men.

On the first day of the project, my questions were answered. I had hired both Deniece and my lead worker's brother; I wanted to see which one, if any, would remain for the rest of the job. It was a grueling ten-hour day with only a short break for lunch. During the quick meal I asked Deniece how she was feeling and she said she was doing great! The brother on the other hand, left to get something to eat and never returned, without a word to anyone. I wasn't disappointed to see him go because he'd had a hard time staying on task, unlike Deniece who'd worked harder than I'd expected. Not only did she have a great work ethic, she was also a very skilled painter! No matter how fast or how long we worked, she never once complained or fell behind. I was rather impressed! By the end of the day, I was extremely tired and I was accustomed to hard manual labor, so Deniece must have been utterly exhausted, yet you would never have known it. Accordingly, there was no doubt in my mind that she had earned the position!

The next week during bowling I couldn't keep from talking about how well she had done and how impressed I was with her! I knew that kind of stamina goes well beyond physical strength. To work that long and that hard requires mind over matter. As I kept going on about her, my comments must have whipped up my wife's jealousy because the next time I needed help, she was the first to volunteer.

It was an exterior paint job this time and I got my wife started by having her paint the trim around one of the windows. That one window frame took her all day to finish, and when the day was over, she refused to return with me the next day, and vowed she would never paint with me again! I had to laugh because someone had finally bested my ultra competitive wife. She was relatively humble about her inability to complete the task and made sure that everyone knew that Deniece would be the one joining the paint crew in the future. I was taken aback by her rare display of humility but I knew in reality it had more to do with the fact that she didn't want to get stuck helping me paint in the baking sun again, or to be put in a position that she was unfamiliar with and lacked confidence in.

Working closely with Deniece gave me a chance to get to know her a bit better. When she was no longer in her characteristic "mommy role" I had the opportunity to see her as an independent individual with thoughts and feelings uniquely her own. She promptly fit right in and before long she was just one of the guys. And as men on a job-site often do, one day we found the subject of conversation turning a little risqué, and the stories being told, speckled with racy details. Men say things on a construction site that they would never want to repeat in mixed company. The conversation went sufficiently deep and the next thing you know, we each took a turn telling a taboo story from our sexual histories. While the details of the stories will remain unwritten out of respect for the participants, what I will say is this; as Deniece told her story my previous wholesome image of her began to collapse! I was aware that she had been raised in Utah in the LDS religion so my impression of her was squeaky clean, not to mention a bit asexual. But on this particular afternoon I was beginning to see her in a whole new light!

At the end of our workday, after we had dropped Deniece off at home, my lead worker and best friend at the time sounded a warning that I had better tread very carefully around her. He could see how well we were getting along, and probably recognized the way my whole countenance changed, whenever she walked into the room. He was simply being a good friend, but I squirmed a little in my seat at the realization that I had been so transparent. I hastily assured him that there was nothing to worry about and reminded him that Deniece was a close friend of my wife's, and that she had been the one to suggest I hire her. He couldn't deny that Deniece had been a good choice on the grounds that she had been a hard worker and proficient at the tasks she'd been assigned, but he stood his ground repeating that she could equal trouble for me.

I felt comfortable to talk to Deniece about almost anything, and I had no fear of being harshly judged, no matter what deep secrets I revealed to her. In fact, her attitude toward most everything that I unearthed, encouraged me to open up even further and divulge who I really was. I've never felt quite so at ease to express my inner most thoughts and feelings, and she provided a safe space for me to expose my soft underbelly. I wasn't worried about spending time with her; on the contrary, I looked forward to being with her and the relief it would bring from the constant anxiety and confusion I felt at home. So whenever I needed help on a paint job, if she was available, Deniece was my go-to person. Since guarding myself from her wasn't required like it most certainly was with my wife, we became even closer, having long, intimate conversations over sack lunches and on the ride to and from our job-sites. Despite my friend's affable admonition, I was loosing the battle to remain on neutral ground, and my heart continued to tip in her favor.

Whenever I worked with Deniece, my wife always pressed me as to how my day had gone. I'm certain she was hoping that the extra time spent with our genial, good-natured friend would begin to change my demeanor at home, but as of yet, that still hadn't happened. Eventually, I realized that because my feelings for Deniece were becoming so strong, I would need to confess them to my wife, only I couldn't put my finger on just how to go about it. Not to worry, it had been so heavily on my mind, that it simply popped out before I knew what I had done!

I arrived home from work one evening, blurting out that Deniece and I had exchanged stories and I found myself feeling somewhat aroused, "oops!" I mean, attracted to her. You've just got to love those Freudian slip-ups. The use of that one word "aroused" had taken my innocuous, self-admitted interest in Deniece and raised it to a whole new level! That was definitely not my deliberate intention. Looking back, I realize that what I unconsciously wanted was to shock my wife into reality. I wanted her to acknowledge the trouble in our marriage, in hopes that she would face facts and actually be willing to do the serious work it would take to get our marriage back on track. After my clumsy revelation, she pounced on me and barked, "what do you mean aroused?" I couldn't tell her the truth, that what I'd said wasn't a bad characterization of my feelings, so I kept my answer brief and vague. I swiftly backpedaled, assuring her that I hadn't meant to say aroused, just that I thought she was attractive. To my astonishment, she let the subject drop without another word! I was astounded! What must she be thinking? How could she just ignore what had just inadvertently spilled from my mouth? She was painfully aware of how much I enjoyed Deniece's company so when I admitted to being attracted to her, not to mention aroused by her, I would have thought she might have something more to say, but she didn't, and we quickly moved on to other, less incriminating subject matter.

What I didn't know at the time was that my wife approached Deniece the next day armed with the information. She told her exactly what I'd said just to see what Deniece's reaction would be. Deniece was caught off guard to learn my comments to my wife, and assured her that she had nothing to worry about. She said that she was happily married, and while she enjoyed my company, she was not in pursuit of her friend's husband.

When Deniece felt the need to tell her husband that our relationship was becoming more than a simple friendship, she was a bit more direct about it. She told him that she thought I was beginning to care for her in a way that he might not be comfortable with, and that she was having second thoughts about continuing to work with me. His response was not exactly what she expected either. He told her that he knew she'd be just fine and that he was confident she could handle the situation. He must have felt that he was being supportive and trusting, or maybe he was enjoying the extra income, either way, she was surprised at how nonchalantly he'd taken the news. She shrugged in response and found herself waiting the next morning to be picked up for work as usual. She enjoyed spending time with a man who understood her, so if her husband didn't have any objections, she wouldn't bother to worry too much about it either.

That was typical of their relationship. There wasn't much that ever rocked the boat where their marriage was concerned, in general, it was smooth sailing and while not too exciting, remained calm and steady. Her husband wasn't overly talkative, and they almost never fought. When his wife was upset with him, it rarely got a rise out of him. Occasionally, she became so frustrated that she would give up hope of having him engage and sequester herself in the bedroom to have a good pout. She desperately hoped that he would realize she had run out of options and eventually come up to talk to her about it. This tactic rarely worked because he recognized the attempt at manipulation, and wasn't compliant to being pressured into intimacy, something he didn't have a need for. That was the blessing and the curse about his personality type. He didn't pry into her business so she was free to do whatever she wanted, but he also didn't have much interest in intimate or emotional communication. I know now that neither Deniece nor I had the intimacy with our partners that we so desperately craved, and I'm certain that it contributed to our desire to spend time with one another. Whenever we were together it was like a salve to the wounded soul of one who yearned for understanding.

Delving into the study of personality had made it clear that the need for intimacy was innate within "blue" personalities and neither my wife nor Deniece's husband were motivated by intimacy. To make matters worse, we also discovered most of our values were in opposition to what our partners valued. We didn't even enjoy the same kinds of recreation. Bowling was initially something that our spouses had wanted to do and we'd agreed to join in, just for the opportunity to be with them, but eventually that all changed when the four of us began bowling on the same team. Deniece and I discovered a better reason to go to the bowling alley, and as long as the other was there, we were more than happy to tag along for our spouse's recreational pastimes.

### ~

Deniece was about to turn thirty-five and her husband was taking her to a Mariner's baseball game and out to a trendy restaurant in Seattle for her birthday. I'm not sure that baseball was really her thing, but Deniece, who was quick to dismiss her own needs in favor of the preferences of others, was happy to accommodate her husband's leisure pursuits in an effort to enrich their marriage. Like her husband, my wife was also a devoted Mariners fan so I had gone to many games for exactly the same reason. Her husband called and invited us to help him mark the occasion, as it would be more of a celebration if there were a foursome.

We arrived early at the stadium, the two teams still engaged in their warm up exercises. Her husband was soon fully engrossed, so the remaining three of us chatted, while he watched the players practice. My wife was her usual boisterous, and to my eyes, obnoxious-self, so I sat back and allowed her to dominate the conversation; she almost always felt a need to hold the floor whenever we were with friends. The conversation turned to, it being a birthday celebration, and out of nowhere my wife suggested that since it was a special day I should give Deniece a birthday kiss! I was caught so completely off guard by her suggestion that it flustered me, and I quickly refused with a nervous laugh. But she was determined to flagrantly flaunt her husband in front of a friend that clearly enjoyed his company and she turned up the pressure, insisting that I give Deniece a birthday kiss since it was an anticipated tradition. Deniece looked up at me with a mischievous smile as if calling my wife's bluff and said, "Don't worry, I won't bite." In an instant every nerve ending in my body was firing simultaneously, my heart pounding at the very thought! I was already having a difficult time managing my feelings for Deniece, and if I kissed her it would only make matters worse! I also worried that if I crossed that line I might not ever want to come back, but when I saw Deniece agree, my resolve quickly melted. My wife, who was sitting between us, clutched us both by the back of the neck and pushed us together while leaning in at the same time to be included in the kiss, but I hardly noticed she was there.

Time stopped! All thought vanished as my lips pressed against Deniece's, and everything else around me suddenly disappeared. It was as if the master volume in the stadium were being tuned down, every other thing was nonexistent; the fans, the noise, my wife's lips on my cheek, even Deniece's husband, all melted away for that brief but electrifying moment! The energy emanating from the fleeting touch of our lips was nothing short of spectacular!! Her lips were soft and warm and ever so delicately moist, just the way I had imagined them to be. I was grateful that I was already seated or I may have fallen over and exposed my scantily hidden feelings for her with light-headedness! Afterwards, I sat in stunned silence while I savored the breathtaking event. When I again dared to lift my eyes to meet hers, I could plainly see that I wasn't alone in the dramatic impression the kiss had left on me. Curiously, Deniece had a look on her face as if she had a secret that she wanted to share, but she couldn't divulge the mystery until we were alone together.

When it gradually dawned on me that we were not alone, I glanced over to see if Deniece's husband had been a witness to the earth-shattering event that had just taken place. There he was, still seated, eyes forward, watching the players, completely oblivious to anything that had happened. I couldn't believe that I'd just participated in such an amazing, transcendent occurrence with his wife, as he sat quietly beside her utterly unaware of anything but baseball. It's a crazy world!

I remember thinking that if I ever had the opportunity to kiss Deniece again I hoped it wouldn't be in the presence of my wife or her husband. I imagined taking her into my arms and kissing her the way I really wanted to. Uh-oh! Just as I feared, I had crossed that line and now I didn't want to go back.

I couldn't sit still after the chaos of the game began and I offered to make a trip to the snack bar for drinks. I took everyone's order and rushed out. As soon as I was in line at the concession stand I turned to find that Deniece had followed me. She took one look at me and said, "If we ever do that again, I hope we won't have an audience." It seemed she was feeling almost exactly the way I was, but I wasn't altogether certain that either of us were prepared to take it any further.

I'm not sure how I ever settled down enough to watch the rest of the game but somehow I got through it, and afterwards, we went to the previously selected restaurant. Deniece's husband ordered a mixed drink in a special souvenir glass which cost as much as his entrée. Deniece was always conscious of their spending, maybe a bit too cautious, and his breach of restraint upset her! At first she didn't say much about it, but as dinner progressed, she kept returning to the topic. She is carefully frugal and she simply couldn't get past spending money on what she thought was a ridiculous glass, without a good reason. So she finally asked him directly why he had ordered the drink, and he responded by saying he had enjoyed collecting souvenir glasses when he was a boy and he wanted to have it. His explanation didn't appease her because he wasn't a young boy anymore and he no longer had a glass collection. I'm really not entirely sure of all the reasoning behind why she was troubled by the price of the glass, maybe their spending was lopsided or maybe she was upset because it was her birthday, whatever the reason, her irritation lingered.

When we finished eating, the women excused themselves to visit the ladies room. I had been trying to lighten the mood, so when they left the table I saw my opportunity. I thought if I bought dinner for everyone it would ease the tension between Deniece and her husband. I fully intended to pay, but I was taken aback by how quickly and willingly Deniece's husband handed me the check, almost as if he had been expecting me to pay all along. The transaction was already complete when the ladies returned, so although Deniece protested, sighting the fact that they had invited us, she wasn't able to stop it from happening.

It was the end of May and the weather was agreeable so after dinner we went for a stroll down Seattle's waterfront. We had all left the awkward events at the restaurant behind and not one of us wanted the evening to end. As we walked, we spotted an intriguing establishment and heard music drifting out to the street. Suspecting there would be an opportunity for dancing, we made our way inside. There were few people inside and even fewer people dancing, but we threw caution to the wind and took to the dance floor. The song was a ballad and both couples began to sway to the music, but before we even made it through one dance my wife began to complain about how hard it was to be my partner because I was so tall, it made her neck hurt and she had to stop and massage it. I wasn't a fan of her complaint but I knew how she felt, always having to hunch over whenever we danced. I don't remember responding to her grievance, but I do remember wishing that Deniece had been my partner, because purely from a physical standpoint, I knew we would be a much better fit, devoid of sore necks and aching backs. But who was I kidding; it was obviously much more than that! The energy between Deniece and I had changed, and I openly wanted to hold her close to me, put my face in her hair, breathe her into my lungs and dance the night away!

Over the next couple of months I found myself using any excuse to be at her side, no matter how absurd. I was like an addict who was desperate for a fix that could only be satisfied by contact with a kindred sprit who was rapidly capturing my heart. Meanwhile, I became increasingly detached from my marriage, forgetting the fierce loyalty I'd once had. With each passing day, I awoke to a stronger realization that I no longer wanted to be in a marriage to a stranger who seemed as unfamiliar with love as she was with her husband's need for it!

### ~

My wife's parents had immigrated here from Germany and Austria. They came by way of Canada after the war and all of their relatives remained in Europe. Her maternal grandmother was unwell and had never had the opportunity to meet our son. Her parents were going for a month-long visit, and offered to provide airline tickets for both my wife and son to come along. As for me, travel to Europe was expensive so I was to stay behind and have a much-needed break from the confusing pressure my mind was under. Maybe a rare extended time spent apart would help me realize that there was still hope for our marriage. Don't they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder?

The trip was just a few short weeks away, and before my wife left, our relationship continued to disintegrate, spiraling into one of our most violent arguments to date. She seemed to be feeling the pressure to get our marriage on track before she left me on my own, and she was particularly aggressive, demanding that I tell her what was wrong with me. I really believe that if she had ever initiated a conversation with heart-felt interest or showing the slightest bit of genuine concern, I would have opened up to her, but subject to her usual antagonistic approach, I had little to say. I had been trying to communicate with her for nearly the entire duration of our relationship with little, to no success, and I was pretty much finished trying. I simply wanted her to leave me alone to figure things out for myself, but she kept forcefully insisting that I bend to her will until I finally exploded! Like a dam breaking, I unleashed every last awful grievance that had aggravated me over the years, all the things I felt had caused irreparable damage to our relationship. She had opened "Pandora's box" and she would rue the day she'd lifted the lid! If she really wanted to know what was on my mind, I had lost the will to spare her feelings and was determined to get each sordid detail off my chest, whether she welcomed it at this point or not!

Years of pent up frustrations boiled to the surface, as I blasted her with every unguarded thought that came to mind! Naturally, she jumped to her own defense and shouted back her excuses for each round I fired, which only escalated my anger. But the worst assault she levied was the complete and unequivocal denial of events that had indisputably taken place! In the heat of the moment, with our rage rapidly escalating out of control, I had a brief dawning of clarity when I realized that I needed to remove myself as quickly as possible, and let the situation cool before either of us did something we would later regret.

When she recognized that I was moving to the door, she grabbed my truck keys before I could reach them and pitched them into the densely treed area that bordered the back of our property. I ran into the woods and feverishly searched, but it was dark out and while I was not about to give up hope of finding them, it was a daunting prospect. If it's possible, I was even more infuriated at her childish stunt, and I shouted at the top of my lungs for her to go away and leave me alone! My desperate search continued as I clawed through the undergrowth feeling for the hard metal that would release me from this hell. I'm relatively certain I'd never been so upset before, and I think she feared that if I left, I might never return. As I scoured the forest floor, she pleaded with me not to go, but to stay and work it out. At this I let my voice drop, and warned her as menacingly as I could to get away from me before something worse happened! So she turned and bounded through the house, dove into her car and pealed away. A few moments after she had gone, the phone rang and to no great amazement, it was Deniece on the other end of the line.

A low chuckle escaped my throat when I realized that my wife had once again gone back to her friend to have her problems solved. What an ineffective avenue through which to talk to your own husband. I realize of course, that I wasn't being in the least bit cooperative, but to go to Deniece and include her in this base turn of events when all she would've had to do is be honest, humble, and forthcoming, was yet another one of her feeble attempts at manipulating the situation to avoid responsibility. If it weren't for the fact that disrespecting Deniece seemed repugnant to me, I probably would have immediately hung up the phone, but out of courtesy I listened to what she had to say. Besides, I suspected that my wife would be listening in on the conversation, so I spoke to Deniece as if we were alone but began to recount each painful grievance one by one just to send the point home to my wife. When Deniece began to play the helpful mediator, I stopped being polite and told her in no uncertain terms that I was in no mood to be placated or appeased, and if she wanted me to stay on the line, it would be exclusively on my terms! I ignored her questions and continued my list of everything in my marriage that I was so deeply dissatisfied with. Occasionally, she tried to interrupt my tirade with softening comments meant to ease my fury, but I refused to listen, I didn't want my view of events sugar-coated in any way.

I'd listened to Deniece talk on and on about her ex-husband and I knew she thoroughly understood my every disappointment. Some of her own experiences had been the very same, in feeling and deed. She knew, in humiliating detail, what I was going through, and I couldn't bear to hear her down play that hard won knowledge, in my current state of mind. I was ready and finally willing to admit to her, and for the first time to myself, how I really felt about my wife and our marriage. There would never be a more perfect opportunity to lay all my feelings out on the table, not only for my wife, who I knew was listening, but also to the woman, who I felt understood me, and my situation, better than anyone else on earth. Before this point, Deniece had hardly heard anything specific from me about my marital issues or my extreme discontent, but on this night I wanted her to hear everything. My rant included an especially satisfying portion where I told her that my wife was a controlling, manipulative, abusive, dictator, whose time in office had finally come to an end!

After my angry outburst had burned through the wee hours of the morning, all the while still in search of my keys, they finally appeared and with their discovery came a smoldering calm. Wisely, Deniece hadn't tried to dispute any statement I had made, and her lack of objection was also an invitation to composure. I felt a cleansing had taken place, that I had exorcised the poison from my body. I had needed for years; to expel many of those suppressed emotions for all the things that had been left unspoken. The other unexpected, yet therapeutic aspect, was that for the first time there had been a third party present to act as a witness, and support my wife and I through that dark night. I wouldn't say I was exactly tranquil but I'd settled enough that I relented and allowed my wife to come home.

In the days that followed, nothing much changed between my wife and I. After our cleansing episode I found myself right back in the same predicament I'd been in before the argument had occurred. I was just as silent and distant as ever because my wife was still adamant that she wasn't responsible for any of the discontent in our marriage. To her mind, she had never done anything wrong or even the slightest bit questionable and she seemed to interpret it as weakness in her character to admit anything to the contrary, and weakness in mine that I was experiencing discontentment at all.

A week before my wife and son left for Europe I was starting a sizeable exterior paint job, consisting of an enormous main house, a large barn and several out buildings, which prompted me to ask Deniece for help with the workload. I directed the main crew to work on the house, while Deniece and I painted the barn together; the arrangement was deliberate. This was the most extensive job she had worked on and it would be physically demanding, as it was mid-summer and the temperatures were soaring, but as I'd come to expect, she rose to the occasion.

Deniece and I distracted ourselves from the hard work and heat by chatting as we painted. Typically, we weren't alone on a jobsite, which kept most of the conversation somewhat restrained, so as to be suitable for anyone who happened to be within earshot. But since the night my wife and I'd had our blowout, I kept no secrets from Deniece. I had been doing a lot of soul searching and it had become clear to me that my wife would never entertain suggestions on how we might heal the fissures in our marriage; the situation had become hopeless. Deniece could tell that I had been harboring a lot of pain recently, so she was very sensitive to whatever I wanted to share about it. Having nothing to lose, I began spilling my guts to her about everything in my life, only this time I wasn't angry. Painting the barn, far from the rest of the crew, I took the opportunity to ask her questions about my marital problems and hoped to have her enlighten me on what to do about them. I especially wanted to know what she had done in similar situations with her ex-husband. I desperately needed any advice she could give me on how to repair my relationship and keep my sanity.

No question was off limits or too personal. I could ask her anything and she would always give me an honest, direct answer, even if it weren't good news. Since she knew my marriage situation, I hoped she would have some helpful insights for me. Ironically, I could make more progress in a few days of talking with Deniece than I had in almost twelve years of trying to communicate with my wife! It was like having my own therapist; except she had personal experience with everything I had ever been through! Unfortunately, she didn't have any easy solutions for my problems.

After talking about my marriage and my past for the first day or two, the conversation began to move in another direction. I began describing for her what I saw as my ideal future. My wife had made it easy for me to see what I no longer wanted, and that in turn, was helping me to focus on what I did want. I shared everything with Deniece; I held nothing back. My hopes, my dreams, my goals and even my idea of the perfect partner and the ideal marriage; things I had never shared with anyone before, came flowing out of me with a great surge of excitement and joy! It came as a great relief to finally remember what I'd originally wanted from life, and it was a dream in itself to share the depths of my soul with I a woman that I had come to know as a beautiful person, both inside and out. I told Deniece that I was preparing to end my marriage, that I was about to embark on a journey to fulfill my dreams; I vowed that I would never again be with anyone that did not share my values. Then I took a deep breath and told her; that what I wanted most, was for her to be the woman at my side.

As I was describing how the future looked in my perfect world, I looked over at Deniece and was startled to see she was crying! I asked her what was wrong and she told me she was fine but that the description of my perfect world was very similar to hers, especially the part where I described the ideal relationship. She had known I was talking about her even before I had proposed my plan. She said it was like I had tapped into her heart and was saying all the things she had always dreamed about! As I continued my description of the perfect life, she felt like I was offering her the opportunity to make her own dreams come true. But after a long pause in her explanation and a few more tears, she came to the part where she declined my offer. She said she couldn't leave her husband, that she loved him and that he needed her. She went on to say, that she would forever be envious of the woman who would end up living out our dreams in her place.

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, it was all I could do to remain standing, and it took additional effort to feign nonchalance. The heaviness in my chest made it hard to draw breath, as the disappointment descended on me. I knew it had been a long shot but I had hoped she would at least have been willing to consider my request. My only consolation was the sorrow in her eyes as she spoke; I knew she had been profoundly affected by our relationship. Then I told her that even if she couldn't be the one, I would find the right woman and I would use her example as a guide. What I did not say, because I didn't want to scare her, was that no other woman would do.

At the end of the day I dropped her off and went home lugging a very heavy heart. As one might imagine, I was consumed with all that had passed between Deniece and I that day, but I couldn't see a way to get what I wanted without causing traumatic injury to everyone involved, in the process. I had foolishly let my heart lead me down a path that seemed doomed to bring me only pain and disappointment. Despite the crushing blow, Deniece had opened my eyes to a whole new understanding of personal relationships, and what I knew for certain, was that I would never compromise my dreams or settle for anything less, ever again.

**Chapter Five**

### A Simple Choice

It was nearing the end of the week and the end of our job, which meant my time alone with Deniece, was almost over. When I finished on Friday afternoon, I would drive my family to my wife's parent's waterfront, island home, for a final weekend together before they all left for Europe.

Weekends at her parent's place had always been relaxing and fun, and one of the few places we were able to find some peace and harmony. The time spent there always felt like a break from our regular strife-congested life. The property went right down to the ocean's edge, and the beach and surrounding landscape was stunningly beautiful! It provided a tranquil atmosphere where we could let go of life's daily struggles, and at least pretend to enjoy one another's company. There was always ample time for leisurely walks on the beach, playing cards, kite flying and scores of other recreational activities. Her mother was an accomplished cook and a gracious host so spending time in her home was like visiting a charming bed and breakfast where someone else attended to all your needs.

Even though my wife had been adopted as an infant, she was definitely her father's daughter. Not only did they share the same personality type, mannerisms, and need for control, they also shared many of the same philosophies about life. I shared a closer bond with her mother and we often stayed behind while my wife and her father were out engaging in other, more vigorous hobbies. I trusted and relied on my mother-in-law enough to allow myself to vent some of the frustrations in my marriage and I found comfort in the fact that she often did the same. On more than one occasion, she revealed that she had seriously considered leaving her husband, but she'd always had second thoughts because she was unsure how she would financially support herself without his help. She felt the only viable option was to stay and do her best to tolerate his idiosyncrasies. They had been married for many years and had immigrated to the United States together. He had become her security and she seemed to have accepted that his demeanor was her cross to bear. Now that I have perspective, I realize that they were the perfect couple, he took the reigns, and she preferred to take a back seat.

I appreciated my visits to the island, but I was dreading the next rapidly approaching trip! The thought of being stuck there with my wife made me feel anxious and claustrophobic. And with her father there, I was afraid I would be pressured into being social. The last thing I wanted was the two of them ganging up on me, compelling me to explain why I had been so withdrawn. I would do my best to avoid the topic and hope neither of them pressed the issue. At least I still had a couple more days on the job to clear my head and gather my wits before I would have to face the in-laws.

Over the last few days my mind kept returning to Deniece. In my eyes, she was the entire package! She was a fantastic friend, a great listener, a hard worker, a loving mother, and to top it all off she was tall, blonde and beautiful with the most expressive, intensely blue eyes I'd ever seen! It was obvious I was facing a serious dilemma! I still hadn't figured out how I would end my marriage and I was falling deeply in love with a woman that would never be mine. As if I didn't have enough problems with my marriage as it was, I felt like I was going from the frying pan into the fire. I was in an already difficult situation, and it was quickly becoming an unbearable one. I started thinking I might be losing my mind. Logic was telling me to quit pursuing Deniece but my heart was telling me exactly the opposite, and my heart was winning the battle! It was like being pulled by a team of wild horses that were impossible to restrain! And for the first time in my life I felt like a puppet with little control over my own actions. I knew she was my wife's best friend, and her husband was my friend too, so why couldn't I stop myself? I cherished those relationships, so how could I do anything to mar them? Not to mention what this might do to our children. Pursuing Deniece would create havoc in all our lives, and certainly change the dynamic in all my primary relationships, so it was paramount that I find a way to leave her alone.

By the end of the second to the last day on the job, I realized that I had no choice but to accept that Deniece and I couldn't be together. I felt we needed to discuss it and stopped at a nearby park on the way home, eager to figure out a way to put the matter to rest. The problem was, every time I tried to talk about curbing my feelings, I would look into her eyes, my resolve would melt, and my heart would make me say something entirely different. We held hands as we strolled along a trail that overlooked the Puget Sound, and tried to make sense of our situation. An affair was definitely out of the question, and being together outright, didn't seem possible. We tried to sort it through but we could find no practical solutions, so we had little choice but to leave it at that, and return home.

It was Friday, and the paint job was ending. We had officially reached our last day together. The length of time we might be apart was indefinite because I didn't have another large job scheduled and I didn't know when I would be able to use the excuse of having her work with me again. I desperately tried to ignore the fact that my heart was being torn in two! The last few days I'd spent with Deniece had been some of the best days of my life! I had completely opened myself up to her and had shared some of my innermost feelings. Life doesn't get any better than that in my estimation. In opening myself to her so brazenly, I felt closer to her than I thought was humanly possible. How did this woman have such a hold on me? I don't exactly know what made me do what I did next, but I had nothing more to lose, nor did I have the will to resist.

While we were driving home from our last day together, I looked over at her and said that I was in love with her! She could see how serious I was and she asked, "Why on earth would you be even remotely interested in a woman who has three children, each by a different husband? I've been married three times, and I'm only thirty-five. Most people would view that as a pretty poor track record." With an incredulous look on my face I replied, "Deniece, you just don't get it. I don't see your marriages and divorces as a sign of weakness, I see them as a sign of strength!" She was stunned as she took in what I had said, and wondered aloud what would make me feel that way. I explained, "To leave a relationship when you know it's not working, especially when you have children to think about, takes a lot of courage. To me, the weaker choice would have been to stay confined in the wrong marriage and be miserable, all the while, setting the wrong example for your kids."

As I spoke, tears streamed down her face. She explained the emotion by saying that she recognized her own strength, but had never known anyone else who could see it that way. She said she had always known deep in her heart that she would hear a man speak those words to her someday. She had even expected to hear it in the past from other men she had known, but had always been disappointed. She was overwhelmed that she had actually found the man, who recognized the truth about her!

Even though I knew she was unable to leave her husband at that time, I felt in my heart she would find the courage eventually. Her current husband's attributes were precisely what she needed in the beginning of their relationship, but now that she had done the initial healing from her previous marriage, she needed a partner that could help her finish the job, someone who could face the pain with her and help her transcend it. She needed to be in a partnership of equals; the type of relationship that had evaded her up to now, and deep down, Deniece knew it as well. She needed a different partner but leaving her husband would be difficult because he wasn't unkind to her. The guilt she would feel if she left him would be crushing, to say the least! He was like a big teddy bear, so I understood why she would have a hard time leaving him, especially since she still loved him, and didn't want to cause him pain.

We talked about maybe finding a way to be together in the future, perhaps after she finished raising her children, but then we realized it would be well over a decade before that was accomplished. At the very least, she needed to wait until her two older children graduated from high school before she could make such a disruptive move, but that was still several years away. We found the options unappealing, and were at a loss for what could be done to remedy our longing. She was tentative concerning how, or if we could arrange our lives in such a way as to cause the least amount of damage to those we loved and still find a way to have our own needs met.

I wasn't tentative at all about being with Deniece or ending my marriage. It was obvious that my wife would never change, and barring a miracle, our marriage would end. The more aware I became of this truth, the more certain I was that divorce was the only solution. I knew it would be messy, so the best strategy I could come up with was to move out while my wife was in Europe. I didn't know when or if Deniece would actually be able to leave her husband, but after the short drive home that Friday night, I felt encouraged that there was a slight chance we might be together someday.

All of my wife's recent stunts over the past months since my birthday had thrust me in a new direction. At first I just wanted to find a way to save my marriage, but as the weeks turned into months, I began to see the situation for what it really was, and mending my marriage seemed progressively remote, but more importantly, it didn't seem beneficial for either of us. For eleven years I had tried to be the man she wanted me to be, but I eventually realized that all I had accomplished in the process, was losing myself. And now that my desire for life was returning, my bearing had dramatically changed. I was becoming another man with a fresh point of reference and different values, and my wife didn't fit that new posture.

The most difficult realization for me at the time was that if my marriage died, it was also the death of a dream. I had hoped I would marry and live happily ever after, but the end of my marriage would mark the end of an illusion that I had harbored for many years. I had to face the reality that there were things I would never have the power to change. For instance, I couldn't compel my partner to be someone different than who she inherently is, nor can I be someone different from who I am. And if I accept the truth that each of us is doing the best we can and that we simply are who we are, then my options are to stay and resign myself to a life with someone to whom I am not well suited, or leave my marriage to be with a person who shares my outlook, leaving my wife free to find a more compatible partner as well. The choice didn't appear to be a choice at all, there was only one path to take, and I knew one thing without a shadow of doubt, when my wife returned from Europe I would no longer be living in our house, and my marriage would effectively be over!

After Deniece and I had said all we were capable of saying, I dropped her off and headed for home to gather my family and leave for the island. The dreaded last day of the job had arrived sooner than I was prepared for, but at least I was left with a whisper of hope for my future.

Because of my relationship with Deniece, I'd realized that there was still some hope no matter how slight, for a happy life. Even if the two of us weren't meant to be together, she had shown me that there were women in the world that I could build a better life with. I had sampled a small crumb of happiness in our brief but powerful friendship and I could no longer deny its existence. It was comforting to realize that a loving and generous relationship was, in point of fact, a possibility. I had almost given up on the idea during my marriage, but I'd stumbled upon a restored faith in love. For most of my life, I'd felt like an outcast, always being misunderstood, but now I felt that at least one person understood me and somehow it made the state of my life a little easier to swallow.

### ~

The energy between my wife and I was stiff with tension. I knew our marriage was over, but I didn't exactly know how the details would play out. I had made, what turned out to be a simple choice, or actually the choice had simply made itself and all that was left, was to bring it into fruition. I was beginning to be painfully aware that it had been coming for quite some time. For years I had been slowly dying on the vine, but I was just too buried in the mud to realize it. If it hadn't been for my son, I may have ended it years before, but I'd desperately clung to our family, wanting to keep it in tact, for his sake, as well as my own. Divorce seemed like such an ugly reality, especially for children and I wasn't looking forward to how it would affect him. In the end, even my son wasn't enough of an incentive to keep this façade going any longer. As a matter of fact, I suspected life might actually be better for him once our marriage ended.

Our son had been extra irritable on the long drive to his grandparent's house. He didn't want to stay in his car seat and he was whining and cranky. When we arrived at the ferry that would take us across to the island we were met by several long lines of cars waiting to board. Normally we would let our son out of his car seat while we waited, but this time I told him he could get out just as soon as he stopped whining, which soon proved to be a mistake. Being made to stay strapped in his seat upset him even further, as he'd expected to be released. It was past his bedtime, which didn't help his mood, and the long drive had clearly been more than he could endure unscathed. When his crying reached a climactic pitch and I realized he wasn't going to be able to calm himself without being comforted, I relented, and removed him from his seat. The minute he reached my lap he began to calm down. I began to sooth him and stroke his hair. I wrapped my arms around him and he curled up against my chest, sucking his thumb, and snuggling his favorite blanket.

Unfortunately, my decision to give in didn't go over well with his mother. She felt that I needed to be consistent to my word and put him back in the car seat until he stopped crying on his own. When I didn't agree, she demanded that I put him back anyway. I was incredulous, and directly refused to follow her command. Leaving him in the car seat had only escalated the problem to the point where he had completely lost control, crying hysterically. It seemed obvious, that he needed to be rescued from his own overwhelming emotions and fatigue, but my wife saw it differently. I understood the principle of not giving into your child at their every whim or whenever they cry, but this situation seemed different. We were both aware that he was extremely tired and neither of us should have been surprised that he might work himself up, far past his ability to listen to reason.

After seeing how distraught he had been, and with his dramatic change in disposition when I let him crawl into my lap, I wasn't willing to put him back in his car seat and invite the cycle to repeat itself. My wife continued to insist that I put him back because she felt I needed to follow through on his _so-called_ punishment! I argued that since I was the one who had originally told him that he had to stay in his seat, I should be allowed to determine if it was appropriate for him to get out. Needless to say, he remained in my lap.

There was an eerie silence in the car while I was continuing to stand my ground, and I could see by the look on my wife's face, that I had committed the unpardonable! I had rarely challenged her authority, and she didn't appreciate my breach of the unspoken rule. Now that I had, I could see that I was in for quite a battle! I had crossed a line with her, and she shot a simmering look at me and began to scream at the top of her lungs, demanding that I put him back in his car seat this very instant! When I again refused to comply, she raged at me to stop telling her how to parent her own son. I wasn't even sure what she meant, wasn't he "our" son? I guess, when push came to shove, she didn't consider him my son at all. Over and over again she insisted that I put him back, but no matter how many times she screamed at me, I couldn't bring myself to bend to her outrageous demand.

In desperation, I finally asked her to stop shouting in front of our son, and that was the final straw. She went into an uncontrollable fit of rage, which not only affected the pitch of her voice, but also sent her body flailing into a crazed frenzy. She began to violently kick the dashboard with a force I didn't know she was capable of, sending a soda in a plastic cup exploding into the air, spraying all three of us with the sticky liquid. She screamed hysterically and pumped her arms through the air, all the while, demanding at the top of her lungs, my compliance! At this point, we had the attention of every person in any car within earshot, but being utterly consumed by her fury, she didn't seem to notice. She had completely lost the ability of restraint, and I knew I had to do something to get the situation under control. So in my most stern voice I said she either needed to calm down immediately, or get out of the truck and finish her tirade elsewhere! I had never been so direct with her before, and to my surprise, she bailed out of the truck, forcefully slamming the door behind her.

For someone who hasn't been involved in this type of relationship, it might be hard to understand that what I had just done had shaken the very foundation on which our relationship was built. My wife was the self-appointed ruler, and I was supposed to have been her obedient, subservient subject. Switching roles, refusal to comply, and telling her what she needed to do, was completely unacceptable in her regime. It was high treason on my part, and I knew the penalty for such an act of defiance would be perilously severe, to say the least!

She didn't return to the truck until the ferry docked at the terminal and the lines of parked cars were beginning to move. When she got back in, she refused to look in my direction or utter a single word. After driving the truck onto the ferry and turning off the engine, I told her that I was taking our son to look out over the railing on the upper deck, something we did regularly. With her arms crossed over her chest, she didn't even glance at me remaining silent as if I hadn't spoken, and stayed behind.

I found a quiet place to sit down when we reached the top deck because I wanted to comfort my son after what he had just witnessed. I didn't know what to say to him, but the last thing I wanted to do was make the event more traumatic. I tried to diffuse the situation by telling him not to worry, that mommy was just angry with me, but that everything would be all right. Then he looked up at me and said, "I want a new mommy. Daddy, can we get a new mommy?" I was stunned that he could be so distressed to say such a thing, but I quickly assured him that his mommy would always be his mommy, and that she loved him very much. I told him that she hadn't meant to yell and that she was sorry and so was I. Then I asked him if he knew that I loved him, and he said "yes." He was only three and a half years old, but I felt compelled to tell him that no matter what happened between his mother and me, I loved him with my whole heart and always would!

Our son had never witnessed such a bitter fight between us, yet he seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation. After our talk we sat silently together, him snuggled into my chest, sucking his thumb while I stroked his hair. Tears pooling in my eyes and then spilling over as I tried to get my emotions under control. I kept my devastation hidden from him as best I could, and we remained still and somewhat calm for the remainder of the ride across the channel.

When we got back in the truck, my wife and I didn't speak to one another for the remainder of the drive. Our son quickly dropped into a deep sleep, exhausted from the emotional upheaval. The tension grew more ominous between she and I, as the silence grew denser by the minute. When I pulled into her parent's driveway, I finally spoke, saying that I thought we needed to talk, and I asked her if she would come back out after she'd put our son in his bed. She gave a noncommittal grunt as she got out, and I waited in the truck wondering if she would return. It was well after midnight by that time, and the house was dark, as her parents were already asleep. This would be the best opportunity we would have to talk in private, before anyone else got involved.

She came back to the truck and immediately launched into an attack, criticizing me for the way I'd handled the situation with her son! Typically, my reaction would have been to start defending myself, but a steely calm had descended upon me this night, and her assault had little effect. When she failed to get the expected reaction from me, she started insulting me and making false accusations, but her bitter words continued to fall on deaf ears. I was through playing ridiculous games that never seemed to get us anywhere, and I refused to be distracted from the truth. In the past she had always been able to put me on the defensive and in doing so, distract me completely from my own perception of a given event. Instead of directly stating from my point of view, what I felt the problems needing to be addressed were, I would be busy debating her view of events, which most often cast me in an unfavorable light. No wonder I didn't feel heard or understood, since I rarely spoke my truth in a calm and concise way.

In a firm yet controlled voice I told her that she would be required to listen to my breakdown of the events that had transpired this evening. I began to explain that I had something to contribute when it came to raising our son. As soon as she heard the first sign of something she didn't like, she jumped out of the truck letting the words; "we can finish talking about this in the morning" trail after her. This was one of her usual tactics to postpone the argument until a later time when typically, my resolve would be softened or in the best-case scenario for her, I would forget the dispute all together and she wouldn't have to discuss it at all. I had come to expect this reaction, and most of the time it worked well for her, but not this time!

I insisted that she get back in the truck and finish talking to me. Once again, she could see that I meant business so she reluctantly, and under duress, climbed back into the truck. I continued to explain that it was time for some things in our marriage to change; that I would no longer accept her unilateral decisions on how our son was to be raised, or disciplined. I was his father, and I was entitled to have at least fifty percent input in his rearing! As I spoke I could see that she was struggling and in a state of utter discomfort at our role reversal, she could no longer bear to have her authority usurped, and for the second time in less than five minutes she bolted, this time giving me the excuse that it was late and she was really tired, and we would have to finish talking in the morning. She must have taken me for a complete idiot to think I would fall for the "I'm tired" routine again. She hadn't yet realized that I was no longer susceptible to her evasion tactics or worn out excuses.

I jumped out of the truck and sternly informed her, that if she didn't come back this instant and finish our discussion, it was over between us! I was so tired of playing the "avoidance" game. We never seemed to bring an argument to any kind of satisfactory resolution, and I was determined to bring this one full circle, or be done with the whole mess entirely!

Once again, she took a deep breath and walked back toward the truck, and as I watched her get back in, I instinctively knew that this moment was our last chance to face the imbalance in our dysfunctional relationship. I knew that if we didn't put our cards on the table, and honestly admit what was really happening, we had no chance of changing what was no longer working for me.

I began to tell her, in no uncertain terms, what needed to change if we were going to have a chance at saving our marriage. That was all it took, she was just a blur leaping from the truck, as if the seat had been on fire, and stormed into the house, this time not pausing long enough to offer an excuse. I calmly got out, went around to the rear of the truck and removed her luggage, placing it just inside the front door. In the dim light inside the house I could see she was already on the phone, and as I turned to leave, I heard her say to the person on the other end of the line, "I think Travis is going to leave me!" I caught her attention just long enough to tell her I was leaving her, and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind me as I went. I got in my truck, started the engine and eased it into gear.

When I approached the end of the long dirt driveway, it suddenly occurred to me that if I turned left it would take me back to the ferry which probably wouldn't be running at this time of night, but if I turned right I could drive off the island by going over a bridge at the other end. It was a lot farther, but if the ferry terminal were closed, I would have to turn around and go that direction anyway. Adrenaline was surging through my veins, and I knew I had to make a decision fast! I decided that I didn't want to chance missing the last ferry, and if my wife tried to follow me, I didn't want to be trapped waiting for a ferry that would never come, so I turned the truck north and headed towards the bridge that would lead me to my freedom. The time for negotiating had now passed, and we would both have to accept the consequences of our choices.

I didn't pick up the cell phone when I got her call. She left a message telling me she had dragged her father out of bed and they had driven to the ferry looking for me. She begged me to come back, assuring me that she was now willing to talk. I was so grateful that I had been prompted to turn right instead of left! There was no doubt in my mind that I was being guided by an unseen power. I felt fairly confident that she wouldn't try to follow me the way of the bridge because the hour was late, and she'd already lost time traveling to the dock. I figured she would go back to her parent's house for the night, and in the morning borrow a car from her father and come after me. This would give me the time I needed to plan my next move. She spent her time on the phone calling me continuously, leaving one message after another. Since I had no intension of picking up the phone, I eventually turned it off altogether so I wouldn't be bombarded by her pathetic pleas. I badly needed some peace and quiet after what we'd just been through, to consider the options.

Once I was relatively sure that she wouldn't be leaving the island that night, I was able to relax a bit and breathe a sigh of relief! But it wasn't long before the reality of what had just happened began to set in. Had I actually just left my wife? I couldn't believe I had really done it!! I thought it was a courageous move on my part, and I was elated by the strength of my choice! An overpowering sense of freedom and excitement filled my entire being! I felt as if I had just been paroled from many years in prison, and I was free at last! I knew that my wife would try to convince me to change my mind, but at this point I didn't really care. I had cleared the first huge hurdle, and for me there was no turning back.

The long, four-hour drive home flew by, and when I reached the edge of town, instead of going directly to our house, I drove to a park and fell asleep in the cab of my truck. The last thing I wanted was for my wife to show up and disturb my fitful slumber. I was exhausted from the events of the past twenty-four hours and I needed sleep to clear my head. If my wife got up early enough, it was feasible that she could be arriving home at any moment, due to taking the ferry the short way. I needed to rejuvenate before facing the next round I felt sure was coming down the pike.

The sun had risen by the time I woke up, so I started the truck and I drove straight to our house. On the way, I turned on the phone only to find numerous messages filled with one tearful plea after another, begging for my forgiveness and beseeching me to return to the island, for now she was indeed ready to talk! She apologized over and over again; she was sorry for everything, and of course admitted she had been wrong. It's fascinating to me that when I had been in the position of asking her to talk to me, she had not been the least bit interested, but when the opportunity had passed and she realized that I was in fact serious about leaving, she was ever so willing. But I recognized the game, and I knew that as soon as she felt she had the upper hand again we would be right back where we'd started, as that had always been the case in the past. I knew she was only "sorry" because she had been backed into a corner. I didn't feel she was truly sorry for anything. She may have been sorry that her tactics hadn't worked, but her apology seemed like nothing more than an attempt to regain control of the situation. I'd been through this with her too many times to ignore what I knew to be true.

As I sat in the driveway in front of my house, listening to the last of her messages, I began to feel that maybe I needed to call just to let her know I was home safely and bring some kind of resolution to the argument. But as soon as she answered the phone, she began the same barrage of begging and pleading, and still wouldn't listen to a single thing I had to say. She simply wanted what she wanted, for me to return to the island so that she could leave for Europe without my threats in the air between us, and nothing more.

At that precise moment I saw a car pull around the corner and head straight toward my house. Because it was very early and we lived on a dead-end street with little traffic, this approaching vehicle peaked my interest. I quickly noticed the car belonged to Deniece and as she parked and emerged from the driver's side, I remember thinking that I was about to be rescued by an angel. I'll never forget how she looked as she strode toward me; I swear I could actually see a light emanating all around her, and a flood of relief washed over me. The second she appeared, I interrupted my wife's pleas and gave her the excuse that I would call her back once I went inside the house.

Deniece walked directly to the passenger side of my truck and got in. The first thing she said was that she had been the recipient of my wife's hysterical midnight call. She told me she had been up most of the night wondering what had happened and had lied to her husband, using the pretense that they needed milk for their daughter, so she could come and find me so early in the morning. She wasn't a good liar and sensed that he hadn't believed her story, so she suspected he would come looking for her and asked if we could go somewhere else to talk, without the risk of being discovered.

She followed me in her own car to a secluded neighborhood lake. We parked, and she got into my truck. She was anxious to know the details of last night's events, so I told her, blow by blow, what had happened. I explained I hadn't planned to leave my wife before she went to Europe, but it felt as if it had been completely out of my control; as if my leaving had happened of it's own. And now that it had finally taken place, I was never going back!

Then our discussion turned to her and I, and what chance we had of spending our lives together. I distinctly remember a moment when everything went completely still. It all became clear, and in a split second I became so focused that I was ready to lay myself bare and face my fear of rejection once again. There was a long moment when there was no sound, I grasped her by the shoulders, looked her directly in the eye, took a deep breath, and simply asked her to leave her husband and come with me. The suggestion of the impossible was the only solution for the predicament we were in. I suggested we go home and inform our respective spouses of our feelings, and leave together that very day. I remember explaining that we were free to do whatever we wanted. No one was forcing either of us to stay in our marriages, and I told her I knew that she wasn't happy at home.

Deniece said that she wanted to find a way for us to be together, but if I could just wait for six months to give her the time she would need to extricate herself from her marriage, it might work out. Then, before I even had a chance to reply, she changed her story and shortened the timeline. We should wait only a week so that she might let her husband down easy. Once she had admitted that she wanted to make a life with me, I knew there was no turning back; it wouldn't be possible to remain apart. And if she felt anything for me, remotely as strong as I felt for her, every day spent with her husband would seem like a betrayal to our relationship. I could see what her heart desperately wanted, but I could also see her struggle. I had compassion for the fact that she didn't want to cause her husband pain, but I was driven by the understanding that the longer we dragged it out, the harder it would be for everyone involved. So I stated my case; explaining that it wouldn't matter if we waited six years, six months, six days or six minutes. It wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't be any easier for anyone. I was willing to face whatever consequences came our way, if we could only face them together.

After my emotional plea, to my shock and amazement Deniece looked over at me, and without much hesitation, uttered two little words that would forever change the course of my life, "I'm in." I couldn't believe my ears! Such a simple, two-word statement was all it took to let me know that she was willing to change her whole life for me. With those two words, my entire life was made!

Before we left the truck that day, we had made plans, and within the hour she would tell her husband and I would tell my wife that we were leaving together. Her husband, as it happened, was home from work that week so Deniece would have no need to arrange care for their daughter. We would each go home and quickly pack a bag, then meet at the Park-N-Ride. After which, we would drive to the airport and take the first flight we could get, to wherever it was going.

Adrenaline surged through my body as I tried to contain the intensity of what we were about to do! I called my lead worker first to make arrangements with him to run the business in my absence. I gave him the two-minute abridged version of what was happening, and said I'd see him when I got back. Then I called my wife. She answered the phone and before she could give me any more of her sob stories I abruptly stated, "I want a divorce, and I want you to know I am in love with Deniece. She is divorcing her husband, and we are leaving together today." The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening while she allowed the reality of what was happening to sink in. She suddenly and sharply broke the silence by screeching into the receiver, "OH MY GOD!! OH MY GOD!! I pushed you two together!!" I said goodbye and calmly hung up the phone. I'm sure every time she had arranged for her friend to spend time with her husband came crashing back into her memory with disturbing detail. It couldn't have been easy to realize her own hand in throwing Deniece and I together, but I was somewhat glad that she recognized her own small responsibility in it, even if she returned to denial as soon as she gathered her wits.

I threw some clothes in a suitcase and quickly drove straight to the Park-N-Ride. When I got there, I was instantly anxious because I couldn't see Deniece anywhere! Was she having trouble telling her husband? Had she changed her mind? Was she backing out? I didn't have any idea what I would do if she didn't show up, but just before panic really set in I spotted her car pulling into the lot. She parked her car next to mine and we simultaneously leaped out and ran to each other's embrace!

She looked a bit frazzled as well, and told me that she had already been at the Park-N-Ride, and after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, which in reality was probably more like two minutes, she couldn't contain her anxiety and decided to come find me. As soon as she left the Park-N-Ride, she passed my truck coming toward our meeting place but couldn't catch my attention, so she turned around at the next intersection and returned as quickly as she could. It's as if we were both given the exact same experience of feeling the anxiety that the other was not there. It was an opportunity for each of us to test our commitment to this wildly unorthodox decision. I apologized for my delay and told her that I had to make arrangements for my business and that's what had slowed me up. I asked her how her husband had taken the news. She said she told him exactly what we had planned to say, and he fell to one knee as he held his face in his hands without saying a word, then she quickly packed a bag and left! She was surprised at how readily he had allowed her to walk out the door. Appeased by our brief recaps, I put her bags in the back of the truck and we commenced our drive to the airport.

It's at least a forty-five minute trip on a good traffic day, but we both experienced the most incredible time warp! Due to the excess adrenaline pumping through our veins, what should have taken the better part of an hour, felt like less than ten minutes. It seemed like we had barely pulled on to the highway when it was already time to exit at the airport. Once inside the terminal, we flipped a coin to choose an airline, then we checked to see what flights were leaving within the hour. San Diego, CA would be our place of refuge. I held my breath as I waited for the agent to give me a price for two round trip tickets purchased at the counter. Going to the airport on a whim is a romantic notion, but the pricing is quite different from ordering tickets via the Internet ahead of time. I was a bit stunned to hear the total, but there was no turning back now and I shrugged as I handed the reservation agent my credit card.

Once we had boarded the plane and the flight was underway, the gentleman sitting across the isle from us struck up a conversation, and before long we had excitedly spilled the details of our thrilling escapade! He was none too supportive of our plight. He looked down his nose at us, as if we had no idea what we were in for, like we were a couple of naïve children that were unaware that the hammer was about to drop. He talked about the poor chance we had of making a lasting relationship since we'd started out the way we had. He went on to give percentages of how many first marriages break up, then the percentages on second and third marriages. According to him, we didn't stand a chance, but his pessimism did little to dampen our enthusiasm. We understood his warnings but we also knew that our relationship was being built on something more substantial than what appeared on the surface, if anything his negativity made me want to prove him wrong all the more. Unfortunately, his words were like a bad omen, and we soon found that it wouldn't be as easy as skipping carelessly into the sunset.

When we arrived in San Diego we realized, to our surprise, that it happened to be the Fourth of July. The city was filled to its limit with tourists, and finding a place to stay was going to be difficult, if not nearly impossible. On the up side, we chuckled to ourselves as we realized that we had gained our own personal independence on the most appropriate of holidays.

We drove from one hotel to the next, but there were no vacancies to be found. It was still too early in the evening to ascertain if there would be cancellations, but no one was optimistic. Finally we stopped at a convenience store and asked a local gentleman for advice, he told us about an area that was a little sketchy, but off the beaten path, and said we might have better luck there. He wasn't exaggerating about the neighborhood, but we did manage to find a motel with an available room.

The room was not overly sanitary and reeked a bit of cheap pine cleaner that wasn't quite strong enough to hide the subtle underlying odor of stale cigarette smoke and soiled surfaces. If not for the fact that we were exhausted, and had no more appealing options, we would have left immediately, but given the circumstances, we were grateful for shelter and happily accepted the room as it was. This wasn't at all how I had pictured our first night together and I promised myself that we would leave first thing in the morning, but for now we would have to make the best of it, and try not to let the state of the room get us down.

As we prepared for bed, the reality of our situation began to set in hard. I wondered how Deniece was holding up and as I considered how she must have been feeling, my insecurities started to bubble to the surface. Dark questions filled my mind, and I couldn't get past my own fear. What if Deniece thinks she has made a mistake? What if she starts to believe that I'm not good enough? Will she think I'm inadequate? What will happen if she changes her mind? Will she leave me and go back to her husband? My mind raced with one terrifying question after another, and before long I was so bogged down by fear and insecurity, that when it came time to climb into bed next to the woman of my dreams and share in the long awaited intimacy I was so looking forward to, it simply wasn't possible. I openly admitted that I was nervous. My mind was racing and I thought that the best thing we could do is just try to get some much-needed rest.

Deniece had been doing her best to abide our circumstances so far, but my overwhelming attack of insecurity was the final straw that pushed her over the edge and as a reaction to the reality that I was letting my fear get the best of me, she began giving in to her own doubts. She soon became riddled with guilt and feared she had made a mistake! What had we been thinking? How could we possibly believe we could make this work? In the days that followed, her guilt would get the best of her to the point that she wouldn't be able to eat, and she became physically ill. The sicker she got, the worse I felt. I tried to stay positive and tell myself that everything would work out, but my insecurities and inability to perform, seemed to have started a Domino effect that had us spiraling down to the seventh circle of Hell!! And the motel where we spent that first fateful night together, would forever after be referred to as "Motel Hell."

Somehow we made it through the night without falling completely apart at the seams, but by morning we were both a complete wreck! I knew physical exertion might clear my mind so I dropped and did a set of push-ups. Afterwards, I felt good enough to face the day, but I certainly wasn't near one hundred percent. When I gathered the courage to look at Deniece, her face made it abundantly clear that she was struggling more than I was. I felt like I had failed her, and was plagued with the belief that I had ruined both of our lives! I escaped into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror at my own face starring back at me with a naked look of unreserved fear! As I gazed deeply into my own eyes, the one thought that came to my mind was to remove myself and my best friend from this dreadful motel room as soon as was humanly possible! So I took a deep breath, pulled myself together, and went to face Deniece. I told her we needed to leave this dismal place immediately, and suggested we go find something to eat. She whole-heartedly agreed, and we began to gather our things.

I looked out the window of our motel room as I was packing my bag and in the light of day, I could see that we truly had landed in Hell! The surrounding area wasn't much more than a slum; it was run down and littered with garbage and graffiti. The buildings appeared to be filthy and the entire area lacked any beauty whatsoever. We were on the second floor and as I looked out the window I let my gaze fall straight down to the ground and I was surprised to find an inspiring sight! In the midst of all this squalor, growing up through a crack in the pavement, were two of the most beautiful, brightly colored roses I had ever seen! It was not a full rose bush, just two straggly, singular stems topped with the magnificent blooms! I saw symbolism in the two stunning flowers amidst a total wasteland; they represented Deniece and I. I called her to the window immediately, in hopes that the gift would have a similar effect on her. I explained the symbolism and said, "We're going to be just fine. We just need to get out of here."

No sooner had we found a better place to stay for the following night, than a new problem reared its ugly head. When I attempted to pay for the room the hotel clerk informed me that my credit card had been denied! I immediately gave her another card, only to discover that it was denied as well! My palms began to sweat as the realization that my wife had cancelled all of my credit cards, landed. I asked the clerk to hold the room for us and promised we would return shortly with some other form of payment. Luckily, as soon as we left the lobby, it dawned on me that my wife hadn't been a signer on my business account. So we went to a debit machine and were able to withdraw the daily two hundred dollar limit, just enough to cover the cost of the room and buy food if we were mindful of what we purchased. At that moment I was swallowed up in a powerful gratitude for the fact that my wife had never wanted to be involved in my business, and was therefore unable to access that account. If she were able, I'm sure she would have drained it as well, even though it was a customer's deposit money.

Now that we finally had a decent place to stay, my focus switched to helping Deniece feel better. Her nerves had made it difficult for her to eat or drink, so I made a quick stop at a market to get her a sports drink with electrolytes for hydration and some croissants that might be easy on her stomach. All she could manage was a few nibbles at a time and just a sip to wash it down. Deniece was sick with guilt, and I wasn't quite sure what I could do to help her. After a couple of days with no change, she was beginning to look pale and gaunt from lack of hydration and nutrition. She was clearly getting worse and out of desperation, I asked her if I could take her to the hospital, but she adamantly refused.

Her quickly declining health, made Deniece finally give into her fears, and she told me that it was time for her to call her husband and ask him if she could come home. Extremely concerned about her condition, I offered no resistance but was visibly distressed. I couldn't bear to listen to their conversation so I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Once again, I found myself standing in front of the mirror on the edge of the abyss, desperately clinging to my sanity! My worst fear had come to pass! I loved her so much that my need to be with her took a back seat to her well-being. I couldn't stand to see her suffering, so if she couldn't go through with this, I would be devastated, but mainly, I just wanted her to be well. I stood there looking at myself, asking God what I should do, but no answers were forthcoming, so amidst my descent into utter despondency I dragged myself into the shower and watched as my dreams chased the pooling water down the drain!

I began to cry uncontrollably, as I haven't done since I was a child; the hot water from the shower, failing to give me any comfort. I couldn't believe that after being so close to achieving a life with the most amazing woman in the world, I was about to lose her! This wasn't how this story was supposed to end! We were supposed to be together and everything would turn out perfectly! How could this be happening? As I continued to wallow in my murky mire of self-pity, it began to transform into anger and I directed that anger at God by silently shouting; "HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME? Wasn't it enough that I had to be in a miserable marriage for all those years? Haven't I paid enough for my mistakes? Am I being punished for wanting more for myself? What the hell did I do to deserve this? Why would you bring Deniece into my life only to snatch her away again? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!!!!!"

Suddenly, and without warning, my mind went completely silent. What happened next, might apply be described as a waking dream. In just a few short moments, my entire life flashed before my eyes! It was like watching a movie without the sound, being played at an ultra fast speed. I saw my past, from the earliest time even before I could remember, all the way to the present moment. Then to my surprise, the vision continued into the future and revealed the remainder of my life. The scenes from my future played out so rapidly that my mind couldn't keep up, but there was also an accompanying feeling that encompassed me. Most of the specific details were foggy but what I was certain of was that everything in my life would work out perfectly, and that every wish for my life would be fulfilled to a higher degree than I could fathom. I was shown how every event in my life had led me to this moment, and that everything would come together in the end. Most importantly, I was left with an overpowering sense of complete peace; a peace that I'd never known to that point in my life. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the experience was over. It left me with a surreal vision of my future and I knew beyond my natural capacity to know things, that despite all that was currently happening, there was nothing at all to fear. All the terror and overwhelming insecurity had vanished in the blink of an eye and had been replaced by a confident, peaceful certainty that everything would work out to the benefit of everyone involved. In fact, not a single thing was out of order in the Universe and I knew it with every fiber of my being!

When I walked out of the bathroom, Deniece immediately noticed that something had dramatically changed in me. She could see that I was completely calm and relaxed. The change struck her as odd, considering just a few short minutes ago I had been totally out of my mind with worry and fear! Seeing the drastic change in my demeanor provoked her to ask me what had happened. I told her I really wasn't sure, but that something strange had occurred while I was in the shower. I was shown that everything would be all right, and that I supported her decision to go back to her husband if she needed to. She was astounded by my sudden change of attitude, and was curious to know more. I told her that all I wanted was for her to do whatever she felt she needed to, in order to take care of herself, and I would help her in any way I could. I didn't want her to concern herself over me because I was fine. She could see by looking at my countenance that I meant what I was saying, and it baffled her that I wasn't concerned if she went back to her husband. I was so dramatically different that she knew something must have actually happened to me, and she believed I was telling the truth.

We made a decision to go to the airport first thing in the morning and see if we could trade our tickets for an earlier flight home. This, coupled with her resolve to return to her husband, and my new and improved attitude, instantly helped Deniece begin to feel better! With the pressure off, we began to discuss in detail, the experience I'd had in the shower. Deniece learned as a child in church, stories about people having visions and we wondered if that's what had happened to me. Honestly, it didn't matter, I was just grateful to have felt the peace that it brought me, and was eager to get on with my life because I'd been assured that it would turn out well.

We were sitting on the bed together discussing it, when I began having another strange and wonderful experience! Once again, I started witnessing the events of my life as if they were happening directly in front of me. However, this time, instead of it being a silent movie at high speed, I felt like I was living the experience in real time while I was watching. I had all of my senses in the experience, including the ability to know what others in the vision thought and felt. Although it played out in real time, it skipped around, and focused in on points of interest. I was watching future events, but I got the impression that I had a choice in how it all worked out. The strangest part, was that it felt as if the person watching was different from the one in the vision, but they were both clearly me. What horrified the _present_ me as I watched events unfold, didn't bother the other _me_ in my mind. It was like I was witnessing the person who I could one day become. What was so impactful to me in the moment was that the man in the vision didn't seem to be bothered or upset by things that were happening, things that would surely disturb me in the present. In fact, he only had feelings of love, gratitude, and acceptance throughout all that I was shown.

During the vision I gave Deniece a play-by-play of the events as I witnessed them. What I saw went against every thought I currently held about my future, and it challenged my closed mind to consider the possibility that it might actually come true! I was shown things that made my blood run cold, and I'm certain that I was given help in understanding and accepting the horror of the incomprehensible. Other parts seemed glorious beyond what I could imagine! When the experience was over we both sat there in a state of stunned wonder. Looking back on it now, I see that I was given a glimpse of what could be, and what I was shown, radically changed my life and its direction! It's important to note that the events haven't played out exactly as I expected because my mind interfered and misinterpreted some of what I was shown. My small, ego driven mind couldn't wrap itself around how certain things would unfold, given the beliefs that I held about the workings of life at the time. However, through hindsight, I am able to see that things have happened just the way I had been shown, and the symbolism was extremely accurate! I don't know if all of what I saw will come to pass, and it doesn't matter, either way I consider the experience a great gift that has profoundly affected me for the good. It also seems that I was shown a future that had only become possible through the decision Deniece and I made to spend our lives together.

We took our time the next day making our way to the airport. For the first time since we'd arrived we were actually feeling calm and confident! We spotted a charming restaurant, and with Deniece's decision to return to her husband, she regained her constitution enough to stop and enjoy a hearty meal with me. We were inspired next to stop by the waterfront for a pleasant stroll in the ocean breeze. After returning our rental car we took the shuttle to the airport and located the ticket counter to exchange our tickets. They wanted to accommodate us but all the flights that day were over booked. As the young man helping us searched for the next available flight, we revealed a bit of our story, adding how hard the trip had been on us. He must have been sympathetic to our plight because not only did he book us on a flight the next afternoon, he set us up in a very nice hotel, where the flight crews typically stayed, and he even convinced the hotel to offer us their discounted rate! There was a free shuttle to the hotel, and compared to the other places we had stayed, it was as if we had landed in paradise!

We were both feeling so much better that we decided to unwind and lay in the sun at the hotel's pool. It was a beautiful sunny day in Southern California, and the cool clear water felt amazingly refreshing and metaphorically cleansing! Everything was working out beautifully, as if some hidden benefactor had orchestrated a special gift for us. It was turning out to be our best day together since we'd left the state of Washington. Now that our return home had been arranged, we were finally able to relax, and ironically began to feel close to each other again.

After our swim we went back to the room. Although my mind remained set on divorce, I felt it was time to give my wife a call. I wanted to find out what I could expect when I returned, if she was still planning to leave for Europe, and to discuss the particulars of moving out. She wouldn't have left for Austria yet, and would presumably still be at her parent's house, so I called her there. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I knew I had to face the music eventually, and this was as good a time as any.

My wife seemed relieved to hear that Deniece was planning to return to her husband but the information also seemed to embolden her. She arrogantly acted as if she had known all along what would happen, and her smug attitude made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end! She must have felt she was back in control because she asked me to tell Deniece to leave the room while we talked. I complied, partly out of habit and partly because I wanted to placate her enough to keep the conversation to a dull roar. Deniece graciously agreed and sequestered herself in the bathroom. I spoke into the receiver, slowly and clearly, stating in no uncertain terms, that I still wanted a divorce, to which she responded by telling me, she had changed all the locks at our house. She also haughtily informed me, that of course she was still planning to go to Europe and that we could work things out between us upon her return. I laughed under my breath as I realized that even after all that had happened, she'd never even considered postponing her trip, though I was relieved to hear that she wouldn't be there when I got home. In striving towards honesty, my parting words assured her that there was no chance we would ever be working things out!

When I hung up and Deniece came out, she didn't feel particularly good about being remanded to the bathroom, and said she wouldn't be sent away so easily the next time. I realized that I wouldn't have asked her to leave of my own accord, and I promised myself that I wouldn't be so quick to do whatever I was told in the future. I apologized for disrespecting her and our union, and vowed I wouldn't be so easily manipulated again.

Everything about my phone call with the woman I now considered my Ex-wife, only validated my reasons for leaving. Even the very sound of her voice reminded me that I had made the right choice. And regardless of what my future held, I wouldn't be returning to my dysfunctional and unbalanced marriage!

With the call out of the way, the time we had spent relaxing at the pool, and our plan to return home being confirmed, the pressure had finally been released, and Deniece and I settled down and began to talk. We didn't necessarily speak of serious issues we just enjoyed the communion that had always been available to us. The closeness between us returned, and the desire to be together surfaced again as our last evening together progressed. While neither of us expected it, we became physically intimate as well. That experience will live forever in my memory; it was the most unique and meaningful sexual encounter of my entire life up to that point! Although Deniece was still technically going back to her husband, I secretly felt it was only temporary and she must have felt the same way or she wouldn't have been willing to engage to such a depth. Our time together that night felt like the perfect moment to be open and honest. I had never previously been so vulnerable in the presence of another person; it made the experience authentic and genuine. Surprisingly, there was no guilt, and we both fell asleep in the after glow of love, understanding and hope.

We awoke the next morning, had a late breakfast and headed for the airport. As we boarded the plane we were astonished to be lead by the flight attendant to oversized luxurious first-class leather seats. Our friend from the ticket counter on the previous afternoon, for no additional charge, had upgraded our tickets, and we watched the sunset hand in hand stretched out in our comfy accommodations. We had fallen back into an easy rapport as we made our way back to an uncertain reception.

By the time I was to deliver Deniece to her home she had once again found her strength and felt the desire to stay with me, but her husband was expecting her and she felt she had to return and discuss her plans with him. She asked if I would come in and support her through it. I agreed, but when I walked into their home to find her husband waiting for us, it was awkward to say the least! The three of us sat down together as she struggled to explain why she needed to end their marriage. I could see she was having trouble causing him pain, so in an attempt to help her I jumped in and ended up doing most of the talking. Eventually, I began to realize that Deniece wouldn't be able to go through with it. She needed her husband's approval to alleviate her own guilt, but he wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. Finally, he looked at me and played his only card, "It looks like she has made her decision, and its time for you to leave." I was again devastated that she couldn't hold fast to her hearts desire, but I had seen this look on her face before, and I knew if she had come with me that night her guilt would have eaten her alive. I made one final plea for her to leave with me, but she was powerless to her own guilt and fear, forcing me to walk away.

Although I was disappointed that Deniece had stayed with her husband, I couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that she would one day gather her strength, enough to follow her heart and become my partner, but unbeknownst to me, my conviction would soon be put to the test.

Leaving my marriage was the most significant choice of my life! It wasn't easy, but I knew it was right. I also felt sure the situation would get much worse before it got better, but at least it was heading in the right direction. Ironically, life had come down to one simple choice to either "get busy living, or get busy dying," and my spirit chose to live!

**Chapter Six**

### What Now?

When I arrived home I found that my ex-wife had been true to her word and had changed the locks. I never understood the impulse to do something like that, maybe it was just revenge, but my belongings were inside and I was going in, one way or another. After several minutes of assessing my options, I eventually managed to work a window in the back of the house off its track and wiggle my way through. Although she'd secured the house, she must have known I would be able to get inside because every room was littered with little yellow sticky notes. Each time I opened a cupboard, closet or drawer there was another note saying she loved me, missed me, or some other sweet message. I suspect the notes were intended to endear her to me, but they had the opposite effect. The _love_ notes felt insincere, and with each one I found, my distaste for her increased. Only on rare occasion, had she conveyed any of those notions to me, and I suspected the only reason she was saying them now was because she had lost control of me. Her desperation was clear, but in my mind she was the same person, detached and uncaring, up to the same old manipulations.

During the phone call from San Diego she had promised, unsolicited, a whole laundry list of actions she knew I'd always wanted from her over the course of our marriage, as a last ditch effort to regain my loyalty. However, I didn't feel she had the slightest interest in following through with any of her vows. It was painfully telling how well she recalled all the requests I'd made throughout the years we'd been together. At the time, my words always seemed to fall on deaf ears; she also played dumb, acting as if she didn't understand why I would make such requests, but it appears that she was well aware of what we needed to work on, and just preferred evasion to change. When I realized how accurate her recall was, I felt foolish, like I'd been the butt of a practical joke.

For a couple of days I hid behind closed doors fretting over my circumstances, feeling a bit like a looser and a failure. I had waged war against a ruthless woman that I was no longer interested in, and simultaneously failed to hold onto the woman I was crazy about! Deniece didn't even call me in the days that followed our return, and my depression continued to intensify. But as I sunk deeper into despair, a bright thought kept rising out of the darkness; it would suddenly occur to me that I was free! Free from a life with my ex-wife, free to do whatever I pleased! Free to live wherever I wanted. Free to choose what I would do for a living, and free to begin my life again. Most importantly, I was free to begin living my dreams, maybe the first of which could be real estate investment.

When I mentioned to a friend that I wanted to find a distressed property to renovate and sell, he told me that his mother worked for a mortgage company, and she had a house in a nearby small town that was going into foreclosure. Since his mother had been trying to convince him to buy it, I figured it was worth taking a look at. They wanted a buyer to assume the original loan and pay ten thousand dollars in back taxes and unpaid mortgage payments. The house was a major fixer upper, but the price was right, and looked to be the perfect first investment property. It was large and had plenty of room for Deniece and her three children if she ever found her way back to me, but either way, I needed to be out of my house before my ex-wife returned from Europe. It was in a neighboring community so I would be far enough away to give me a little breathing room, yet be readily available to my son. The house was currently uninhabitable, but I felt I could get it livable in short order. Ironically, I happened to have a ten thousand dollar deposit from a new client, so I wrote a check to the mortgage company and bought the house.

While trying to put my life in order, I couldn't keep my mind off Deniece. I wondered what was happening in her marriage, and why I hadn't heard from her. I tried to call her several times, but all I ever got was the answering machine. I'd left messages with no response, so I had to assume that she was avoiding me because she was busy trying to repair her marriage. I continued to torture myself with fantasies of a time when she might be at my side, and my only comfort was a nightgown that had mistakenly been left in my luggage from our trip. I folded it over my pillow at night, and her scent relaxed me enough, to lull me to sleep after each long day without her.

Roughly a week passed, since the dreadful night I'd left Deniece on her doorstep, before she finally called me back. Hearing her voice on the other end of the line was music to my ears! I was relieved to learn that she didn't call me because she hadn't received my messages. It turns out, after we returned from San Diego, she had left town again.

I listened to her story unfold in an embarrassed silence, as I learned that my ex-wife was the primary reason Deniece had been away from home. Apparently she had gone far and wide on a campaign to discredit Deniece and had called Deniece's parents, her children, her best friend, and even her ex-husband, all of whom were in Utah.

Early the next morning after our return, Deniece awoke to the phone ringing. It was her ex-husband calling to inform her that since she had finally "gone off the deep end," her children wouldn't be returning home after their summer vacation, and would be staying on to attend school in Utah. Deniece was flabbergasted, and couldn't imagine how word had traveled so fast! He explained that my ex-wife had called him from Europe to deliver the news. Upon hearing this, Deniece and her husband immediately jumped in the car to embark on an emergency trip to Utah. She needed to ensure that her children were all right.

We were aware there would be consequences for leaving our marriages, but Deniece was shocked to find that her children had been dragged into the situation before she'd had a chance to speak with them herself. She never believed my ex-wife capable of stooping to involve blameless children in her crusade against us. We both rapidly learned that we were dealing with a woman scorned, who had little regard for the casualties of the innocent.

They drove straight through, and when they arrived in Utah, went directly to her ex-husband's house, hoping to locate her children. Deniece was met at the door with more than a little hostility and judgment by her children's stepmother. It seemed her ex-husband's second wife had found something to solidify her position as morally superior to her imagined rival, and took the opportunity to treat her with distain. She was first allowed to see her daughter and later the same day she found her son. The panic of the volatile situation began to subside, but the damage had already been done. Her son, who was fifteen at the time, chose to stay in Utah and attend school there. Deniece felt he was old enough to know his own mind, so she reluctantly supported his decision. Her daughter, being younger, agreed to come home when summer vacation was over.

My ex-wife, in her need for revenge, must not have realized that through her retaliatory actions, she had inadvertently sealed her own fate. Had there been the slightest chance that Deniece would think better of her decision to be with me and resume her marriage with her husband, it had been weakened by the fact that all of her friends and family were made privy to the details of our escapade. It would have been much easier to slip back into some kind of normal life with her husband, if knowledge of our trip had been kept from everyone outside the immediate circle of the four parties involved. Ultimately, I suspect it would not have made a difference, because in the end the heart wants what the heart wants.

While in her hometown, Deniece was taken by her best friend to see a psychic, in hopes that it might clarify her impending decisions. She found the reading fascinating and some of the information was obviously accurate, but parts of the reading only served to make her predicament more confusing. The psychic told Deniece that she had two marriages, but one of them wasn't a real marriage. Deniece interpreted this to mean that her husband was her real marriage since they were _actually_ married. Next the psychic told her that the man she had a true connection with, had a very close bond with her son as well. This also pointed toward her current husband because he was the only one of us who had spent any extended time with her son; I hardly knew him. It all made sense so far, but the next part was confusing. The psychic asked Deniece if she was doing some remodeling on their home, because she could see her participating in a major renovation. Deniece told her that their home was only a few years old and wasn't in need of an update, so she couldn't imagine doing any major repairs in the near future. The psychic then told her specifically that she saw her on the roof of her home with a hammer in her hand, maybe replacing shingles. This particular prediction seemed like a complete miss, as their roof was nowhere near in need of repair.

Business in Utah concluded, and they commenced the trek back to Washington. During the drive, something peculiar happened. As was typical, her husband was driving the car, so Deniece, who was sitting in the passenger seat, drifted off to sleep. As she slept she dreamt that she was indeed riding in the car returning to Washington from Utah, but instead of her husband at the wheel, I was the one driving her home. Then she startled awake, and was actually astonished to find her husband in the drivers seat, instead of me! Each time she dozed off the same vivid dream would repeat, and as they got closer to Washington, the dream became increasingly realistic! Each time she woke up she was even more surprised to see her husband seated next to her. She had the same dream time and time again, but she kept it to herself. Every mile they drove brought them closer to Washington, and the closer she came, the more anxious she got! By the time they arrived, she was practically frantic to talk to me, and as they pulled into their driveway after the fourteen-hour drive she leapt from the car and ran for the phone!

Once she'd explained her whereabouts, we agreed to meet in person. We needed to talk and we wanted to do it face to face. I collected her from the front step of her house, where she had been impatiently awaiting my arrival, and we drove to a quiet place nearby for a private conversation. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes! I was relieved to see her, but tentative about what she might say. She apologized for not letting me know where she had been, but even as she apologized, I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't prepared to fall into my arms. She explained that she desperately wanted to be with me but she felt a responsibility to her husband and children. She said she was confused and didn't know what the future held for us. She loved me, but she loved her husband too. That's when I looked at her and asked, "What do you want? If no one else mattered, what would you choose?" It was a simple question that she couldn't seem to answer. She just couldn't get past the insurmountable guilt she felt. Overcome with emotion, she cried while I held her. Then, as we continued to talk, the same feeling of calm and peace I had experienced in San Diego returned to me in full force! I was flooded with the absolute knowledge that everything would work out, and I told her I was confident that no matter what happened, it would all be fine.

I proceeded to tell her that I knew we would be great together, and felt it would happen someday. I said I would wait for her, but that I wouldn't wait forever. If she could never find the courage to leave her husband, eventually I would have to move on with my life without her. I explained that knowing her made me realize that she's the kind of partner I wanted and would eventually have, even if it meant being with someone else. But even as I spoke the words, I didn't truly believe them. I knew somehow that we would be together; I just couldn't bear putting her under that pressure.

In the morning, Deniece awakened to the sound of the phone. She answered it just as her husband was stepping into the shower. It was a friend of the family from her hometown, a woman her mother had known for years, yet she was not someone who had ever called Deniece before. The word had spread, she'd heard what was happening in Deniece's life, and wanted to lend her support. Deniece explained the situation from her perspective, and assured the caller that she had been confused and was going to do her best to make her marriage work. The caller listened patiently as the story was told but just as the conversation ran its course she finally spoke her mind, saying, "Oh honey, you're not out of the woods yet." Something in the woman's comment sent bells ringing in Deniece's head, and by the time her husband's shower was over, so was their marriage! That one small comment helped Deniece find her true north, and along with it, her steadfast resolve to do whatever it took to change her life!

### ~

The house I had purchased was still uninhabitable, so a few days after Deniece's husband moved into an apartment on the other side of town, I moved into their home. I remember feeling like my prayers had been answered, as I was finally with the partner of my dreams! Life could begin moving forward as we created our future together. Unlike my ex-wife, Deniece wanted to participate in everything I did. She wanted to build the business together, raise our children together, and even invest in real estate together! Everything seemed perfect and it was all falling into place, which led me to believe that no obstacle could stand in the way of our happiness!

Our first priority was to get the new house into shape so that I could move my personal belongings out of my old place before the lady of the house returned, so I enlisted the help of my crew leader. We practically gutted the place! We tore out the entire kitchen, vaulted the ceilings, added skylights, and installed French doors. The rest of the place got the standard upgrades and improvements, including new flooring and fixtures. Outside, the deck had to be replaced along with the landscaping and the _previously predicted_ roofing. It wasn't until Deniece found herself sitting on the roof with a hammer in her hand before we realized that what the psychic had told her was exactly accurate, just as many of the other confusing predictions would reveal themselves to be.

Just days before my ex-wife's return I was able to remove my clothing and several other personal items from my old house and drop them in the construction zone. We were unable to move in, as we were having septic system failure, but we were relatively close to giving Deniece's house back to her ex-husband. We weren't too particular, and willing to "camp" in the unfinished house, but we needed to have working plumbing, electricity and heat, in order to move Deniece's young daughter in.

During the time we were busy working on the renovation, my ex-wife was creating quite a bit of chaos! She was on the warpath, and even though she was half a world away, she'd managed to do quite a bit of damage. She'd called every person who would listen and rallied support for her plight against us. We heard from many of our loved ones, that they would have offered her even more support if she hadn't been so persistent and aggressive in her tactics. Her toxic campaign forced many to focus on finding a way to rid themselves of her negativity, having to insist that they wanted no further involvement. Many of our friends and family members were amazed that she'd had the audacity to continue to call them. She even called people from Deniece's circle that had no idea who she was. Most people had compassion, but her need for vengeance overshadowed their willingness to take up her cause.

More than one of my family members ended up sending her substantial monetary support after hearing her sad story. She told them that I had cleared out the entire house of her belongings as well as my own, and left her destitute, with a mountain of unpaid bills. They may have given her money to ease their minds, but when I heard the news I felt a little betrayed by their actions, because her story simply wasn't true. I was hurt to think that they believed I would steal her things and leave her penniless.

Conversely, rather than shouting our version of events from the rooftops, Deniece and I rarely spoke to anyone on the subject, unless they questioned us. With the separation happening as it had, we noticed that most people had made up their minds about our situation already, and it was never worth trying to convince them otherwise. What had happened was simply too difficult for most people to understand. It went against their grain and opposed their belief systems. Most people looked at our situation as a scandalous affair that would never last. I was the evil seducer in Deniece's circle, and she was the evil seductress in mine.

Not only did my ex-wife call a myriad of other people, she also called me. She made call after call from a foreign country with no regard to how much it was costing. And because she was on the other side of the world, most of her calls came in the middle of the night, which didn't seem to concern her. Deniece awoke to one of her midnight calls when she specifically wanted to talk to her former friend. She adopted a sweet, meek demeanor as she explained that she deserved a chance to make it right with her husband, knowing she would never be able to get her marriage back on track with Deniece in the way. She knew Deniece was a reasonable person, who respected the sanctity of marriage, so she asked Deniece to back off from me. She begged her to refuse to see me, and reminded her that if she didn't leave me alone, Deniece would loose _their_ friendship forever. That seemed a weak threat since we all knew that the friendship was over the instant we revealed how we felt about each other.

Deniece accommodated my ex-wife by listening with compassion and after she had spoken her piece, Deniece reminded her that even if she backed away she couldn't control what I would do. Instantly, as my ex-wife realized she wouldn't be successful in manipulating Deniece, her furious manner returned with a vengeance, and she slammed the receiver down with an angry crash! That would be the last attempt my ex-wife would ever make at civility, except for brief moments when in the company of a third party she wanted to impress.

We felt relatively safe staying at Deniece's house, but as the time of my ex-wife's return drew near (I was unaware of the exact date), I had the overwhelming urge to lock the front door one evening before we went upstairs to bed, something we rarely did. The next morning we were lying in bed just about to rise, when chaos broke loose on the ground floor as a thunderous banging shook the entire house! We immediately rose, dressed and ran down the stairs, hoping to discover the source of the tremendous ruckus, only to find my ex-wife pounding on the front door, demanding to be let in!

Deniece had reached the front entrance before me and was refusing to open the door. When I came up behind her, I asked my ex-wife to calm down, and told her that we couldn't let her in, considering her current state of agitation. When she saw that neither of us was willing to open the door, her rage took on new intensity, and she began trying to break through the tall, narrow window adjacent to the front door, kicking it with all her might! As she stomped with the flat of her foot, I was shocked that it didn't immediately come crashing in, but it held, and as soon as I recovered my bearings, I instructed Deniece to go for the phone and call the police. I warned my ex-wife through the window that the police were being notified and would soon be on their way. She completely ignored my warning and continued to violently kick the window causing the whole house to shudder, ordering me again and again at the top of her voice to open the door and let her in. There was a vacant, wild look about her, as if she weren't present in her body, and I was not about to turn her loose inside the house of my own free will. As her fury overwhelmed her, she began to run circles on the lawn a few feet from the door, throwing her hands in the air and screaming obscenities. When she first moved away I was afraid she might be going around the house and called out to Deniece to make sure that the back door was secured, but after her frenzied spin in the yard she came back and resumed the brutal kicking. Back and forth she went, only pausing just long enough to furiously scream at me to let her in!

My ex-wife had completely lost control of her senses; her face was beat red, and her eyes were wild with rage! Every time she started up kicking the window again I was sure the glass would shatter, and I feared if she didn't stop she might really hurt herself. I continued to try to get her to hear that the police were on their way and that she needed to calm down. One of my pleas evidently made it's way through her wall of intense fury because she eventually threw her arms in the air, stomped angrily to the street, jumped into her car and raced away.

We were relieved that she'd gone, but wondered what the police would think when they arrived to find nothing happening. Would they even believe us? I would just have to tell them what happened and send them off to find her, but just as the police car pulled up, my ex-wife came wheeling around the corner, sprang from her car and rushed over to the officers, clearly wanting to be heard first. Deniece and I waited patiently within the safety of the house and watched from the entryway. As my ex-wife screeched at the officers, apparently telling her side of the story, she was frantically pacing in the street throwing her arms in the air, clenching her fists, and screaming vicious profanities. She didn't seem to be addressing anyone in particular as her crazed rant continued. It was astonishing to watch her carry on without the slightest wherewithal to temper her tirade in the presence of the two officers, but she didn't seem to have the ability to curb the storm. Every time she would look toward the house and catch a glimpse of Deniece and I standing in the open doorway, she would launch into a fresh round of furious insanity!

Finally, after she'd had sufficient time to cool down ever so slightly, one of the officers stayed with her, presumably to keep her under control, and the other came to the door to have us explain our version of the morning's events. We explained what had occurred, and gave him a brief history of our situation. He said that if she had broken the window, they would have been obligated to arrest her and take her to jail, but since she wasn't actually able to brake into the house or cause any real damage to the property, they would be forced to let her go with a warning. He had a warning for us as well, he explained that she was extremely upset and that he and his partner had been ineffective in bringing her to her senses; he strongly suggested that we keep the house locked at all times and that we go to the courthouse that very day to file a restraining order against her, hinting that given the furious state she was in, we could easily be in further danger.

One thing that still baffles me to this day, is how that window by the front door, stayed in tact! The entire house quivered at the force of her vehement blows, and if she had been able to get inside, what manner of vicious attack did she have planned for us? She once told me a story of when she'd caught one of her boyfriends in bed with another girl. She threatened the girl and frightened her so severely that she jumped out the window without stopping to put her clothes on. When she finally caught up to the girl days later, she violently beat her as punishment for her indiscretion. What would she have done in this case, given the fact that I was her husband and Deniece had been a friend? The only logical reason I could see that the window withstood the pummeling, was that it was only around twelve inches wide; it must have been narrow enough to survive the pressure. Truth be told, I believe we had a little help from above in keeping the window from breaking, not to mention, it never occurred to her that a larger window may have been easier to shatter.

A restraining order seemed like an ineffectual way of curbing her anger. It wouldn't prevent her from attacking us; it only provided recourse after the fact. Our solution to the problem was to move into the new house; approximately twenty minutes drive from our current neighborhood, in order to put some distance between us. She wouldn't have the address, and perhaps the time it would take her to attain it, would give her a chance to calm herself. Even though the septic system wasn't working properly, we had a lot of the major projects finished, so we moved in early and would continue to work while we lived there. My ex-wife's actions had convinced me that we could live more peacefully, camping in a construction zone, than staying a stone's throw from her house.

Summer was over, and Deniece's older daughter had come back from Utah to live with us in the partially completed house. We also had her youngest daughter with us, except for the weekends she stayed with her father, but Deniece was struggling with the apparent loss of her oldest child and only son. He was born when she was only nineteen and since his babyhood, had always played the role of a much needed love interest in her life, so it was difficult for her to accept the void. We were allowed my son on alternate weekends and tried to make his experience as normal and peaceful as possible.

Early one morning just after bringing my son back to our home, I casually told him that I loved him. He looked up at me with questioning eyes and heartbreakingly asked, "You do?" I couldn't imagine what he had been told to be surprised to hear me express my love for him, but I didn't question him, fearing it would bring attention to a volatile situation. I simply continued to reassure him every chance I got. Unfortunately, his sad question became quite commonplace. And there were other more subtle issues we were beginning to notice during his visits.

Once, he came with a sling on his arm, explaining that his mommy said he had to keep it on all the time, even though his arm didn't hurt. We watched as he played and saw there was absolutely nothing wrong with his arm. Eventually, we convinced him that it would be okay to take the sling off. Another time, we noticed that he was running to the bathroom to urinate every twenty minutes or so, but after the first day his symptoms miraculously cleared up. When I asked his mother if she had noticed this behavior, she told me she'd taken him to the doctor. She said his symptoms were psychosomatic, caused by the contention in our family, inferring that because I'd left her, I was the cause of his ailments.

But the worst by far was when the weekend was winding down and he began to sense that it wouldn't be long before he would be returned to his mother's care. He would come right out and ask, "Can I stay here and live with you daddy?" Those moments were downright heart wrenching, but I knew there was nothing to be done about it. I desperately wanted him to be happy, so I would kneel down to his level, look him in the eye, and explain that his mother loved him and that everything would be fine, even though I wasn't sure I believed it myself at the time.

Having little to do with our son, yet still an interesting case study, was that my ex-wife was particularly sweet on one of our drop-offs. Her demeanor struck me as strange but I went along, always willing to accept any scrap of kindness from her. She leaned forward to hand me the backpack we used to shuffle our son's clothing back and forth, suggesting that there was something inside she wanted me to see. But as I reached for it, she pulled it back and sternly said, "But you CAN'T keep it! You have to give it back!" She had used her most saccharine voice when revealing the surprise, but had reverted to reality when assuring me that it was _NOT,_ in any way, a gift! After I'd sworn to return the item, she released the pack into my safe keeping and left. You can imagine my curiosity when I opened the latch and pulled down the zipper, only to discover a small photo album filled with pictures of her and I, in happier times. The images were of the two of us hiking, playing at the beach, spending holidays together, and the birth of our son. A clear attempt at manipulating my emotions, but it fell so completely flat that I was even a bit embarrassed for her. I shared the photos with Deniece, and we smiled over her need to have the album back since I was sure she had multiples of all the shots, but I gladly returned it the next day, without comment.

Life became a constant struggle at that time, with being consistently dragged into court for anything my ex-wife could dream up, and our remodeling costs accumulating much faster than we had anticipated. The pressure was intense and it wasn't long before we were all fighting amongst ourselves. Deniece and her oldest daughter had a blowout that resulted in her daughter going back to live with her father in Utah to finish up the school year. And I was no picnic either! With all the demands on Deniece and I, we had some pretty major arguments of our own.

Any psychologist will tell you that you should only take on one major life change at a time, but we had several on our plate all at once! We were going through not just one, but two divorces, we had just moved to a new house in a new town, we were remodeling our home, and we had two small children to care for as well. We were dealing with one extraordinarily angry ex-spouse and we were trying to build a new relationship with each other! Thank God Deniece's ex-husband was being civil or our entire situation may have ended in spontaneous combustion!

Deniece continued to have some difficulty with the perceived loss of not only her son, but now her oldest daughter as well. In answer to her distress, I believe we were sent a Divine lifeline. Much like what had happened to me in San Diego, I was able to see tidbits of our future in my mind's eye. I was awake and alert when the experience began, and I quietly related everything I was seeing to Deniece as it appeared to me. I was shown a scene in which I was clearly able to see her son helping me mount a basketball standard into concrete, and had the feeling that he would be back with us when the event took place, which was a great comfort to his mother. However, there was no concrete around the house where we currently lived, so I assumed that we would eventually pour a slab large enough for a ball court. I was not given a clear view of the house itself, but was shown dappled sunlight shining through almost a grove of trees very near the dwelling and had the distinct impression that we lived there. Again, there was not a single tree within the property line at the house where we currently lived.

Even with all the things to do and the stress of our new challenges, something had changed in me, and a new way of being in a relationship was born. In the past, I did what I thought I had to do to make my relationships work, including the occasional white lie, exaggeration, and the withholding of certain bits of information. Because I didn't think myself worthy of anything good, I couldn't possibly be forthcoming about who I was, but this time around I felt compelled to be completely honest. It was imperative for me that I tell Deniece everything! Both of us had been exposed to religion during our upbringing, (Deniece totally ensconced in hers), and were fully aware of the principles taught: honesty, integrity, humility, faith etc. However, neither of us had ever really practiced those principles to their fullest potential in our previous relationships. Even though Deniece and I were no longer involved in organized religion, we were strongly motivated to build our relationship established in those values.

Every time I caught myself saying something that wasn't quite true, I would stop in mid sentence and admit, "That was a lie," and having eradicated the falsehood, would correct the statement so that it was true for me. I also felt compelled to share all my thoughts and feelings with Deniece, even if I were embarrassed or uncomfortable to speak it aloud. I instinctively knew this relationship was exceptional, and I was determined to build it on a stable and meaningful foundation. Part of the reason I was able to accomplish the task, was that Deniece mirrored back the same honesty, integrity and openness, and received my naked revelations with compassion and understanding. Her unconditional honesty and compassion kept me from slipping back into my old habitual behavior of lies, omission, and exaggeration.

### ~

Despite our best efforts to repair the septic system, (me in the back yard, buried in a hole the size of a Mack truck, covered in mud, with a shovel in my hand), we discovered that it needed a complete rebuild by professionals and would cost far more than our limited budget would allow, more than half what we had paid for the house in the first place. It was the straw that broke the camels back, and in the end, would become the deal breaker. We no longer had the funds at our disposal for the repairs, nor did we have the available credit, but worst of all, without a working septic system the house was uninhabitable. I had refinanced the house half way through the project to fund it's completion, but the money had been spent and that left us facing some serious financial decisions! We couldn't stay where the drains were barely working for much longer, but we weren't sure how we were going to solve our housing needs!

Settling my divorce wasn't going any better. We met with the judge, who had been assigned to our case, for a pre-settlement hearing. She told us that if we took the case to court she would award everything she could to the wife, including alimony. I was shocked by the judge's attitude; I hadn't expected her to be so one-sided. Later I realized she was likely trying to encourage us to work out a settlement on our own, without having to waste the court's time or our money. After her shocking and curt advice, she released us for a short break to consult with our attorneys. When I asked him what he thought, he informed me that we had drawn a man-eater for our judge, and that we were better off trying to settle out of court. I never wanted to take our divorce to that depth anyway. If I'd had my druthers, we would have parted friends, co-parenting our son for his best benefit, but that had been more difficult than I'd anticipated. Right then and there, I dismissed my attorney, explaining that I would no longer be requiring his services and I proceeded to give my ex-wife everything she wanted.

In the final settlement I gave her the house and almost every item inside it. She, in turn, even refused to give me personal items such as my own family heirlooms, pictures and keepsakes that had been given to me before our marriage. In addition, I gave her our SUV that we owned free and clear. She was awarded child support, which was miscalculated in the absence of records for two winter quarters of business that would have greatly reduced the monthly figure. And I paid spousal support until our settlement was finally reached.

What I did take with me was my hot tub because I was still in dept for it, a very limited selection of work equipment (that I had been able to remove from the house before she had returned from Europe), and a retirement account in my name from a previous employer, worth roughly two thousand dollars. In a nutshell, she got everything she wanted, except the pleasure of my company. Even though there was a huge disparity in the distribution of assets, I felt that I still managed to come out on top.

Later, one of our mutual friends told me that she had been spreading a slew of false rumors, and people who knew us both thought I was crazy for giving her everything. I tried to explain that even though I was in a tough financial situation, ultimately, possessions didn't matter to me near as much as my freedom. I also wanted to do whatever I could, to address my son's needs in the process. I hoped this settlement might help his mother let go of some of her bitterness and resentment towards me, so that we might build a better relationship in which to parent him.

Meanwhile, the bottom was about to fall out of our house project! We had completely run out of liquid assets, winter was upon us and business was exceptionally slow, which left little money coming in. We were doing everything we could to stay afloat, but when the septic system failed completely, and we had no way to finance a new one, I had to face reality. I was going to lose the house! During the remodel I had discovered that the finance company I bought the house from, knew about the septic system problems before I purchased it, and hadn't disclosed the information to me (which isn't legal). When I refinanced the place to complete the remaining work, I'd used that same company and they were adamant about asking if the septic system had been repaired or replaced. I had done some major repairs to it myself and thought it was good to go, but time would show us that the repairs had been inadequate to solve the problems, so I found it somewhat poetic that the original mortgage company got the house back, but with a larger mortgage on it.

Losing the house was just the beginning of my financial ruin. I had an accident and broke my ankle in four places, leaving me unable to work. Then, like a line of Domino's falling, one thing led to another and before it was all over, I had lost the house, my business, my work truck, my golden credit, and the rest of my monetary assets. I had been stripped of my sound financial identity, and had become a destitute loser! For some reason I didn't declare bankruptcy; I couldn't see the point. My credit was going down anyway, and to be honest, I couldn't afford the fee to have the bankruptcy documents filed.

I've often wondered why I fell into such financial degradation. With careful observation, I see that I had been under the illusion that the only thing out of place in my life was my previous marriage. I believed that all I needed to do, to make a success of my life, was to simply delete my ex-wife from the equation, and slip Deniece into the slot that was left behind. I didn't consider that my goals and desire for worldly gain might need to be looked at as well. Neither construction, nor real estate investment, had ever been my true calling, but without a college education, it seemed a likely avenue to accomplish what I thought I wanted. With the loss of the house, truck, credit, etc., I could no longer rely on what I owned or what I had accomplished, to validate myself. I had to begin the long arduous climb to the summit of self-love, and that journey would ultimately take me in a completely different direction, changing the course of my life forever.

After we came to the realization that we would loose the house, we didn't know where to turn. Deniece's ex-husband had moved back into their house, so that wasn't an option. Needing to find a place quick, we began our search in a charming town forty-five minutes south. We found a small, but affordable home, and began negotiating the rent with the owner, who was three states away. We weren't completely satisfied, but were willing to make sacrifices to have a roof over our heads. Meanwhile, we went to the downtown area and stopped at an appealing little bistro for a sandwich, while we waited for the owner to return our call. As we discussed rental options, we were approached by a woman who had a bungalow in the historic district she wanted to rent, but hadn't yet put it on the market. We were taken aback by her unsolicited offer, and after we finished lunch, she took us to see the home. The house was a small, adorable, craftsman style, surrounded by many leafy trees that let the sunlight filter through. We had found the home where Deniece's son and I would eventually retrieve his freestanding basketball standard from their old house, and mount it in concrete over the driveway.

Life continued to be a consistent series of court appearances, with my ex-wife dragging us through litigation for imagined infractions, as she was determined to make us sorry for what we had done to her. The exchanges of our son had become an opportunity for her to act out her frustrations toward both Deniece and I, so I stopped having Deniece come with me to pick up my son, as it seemed only to infuriate her further.

On one particular exchange, I had gone to her house to pick up our son, and noticed the garage door had been left open. As I approached the house and scanned the interior of the garage, I noticed she still had more of the work equipment she had denied having. The judge specifically ordered her to relinquish my equipment but she said she no longer had it, and had thrown it away. I assumed she sold it and kept the proceeds out of spite, but to my surprise, it was just sitting there in her garage in plain sight! When she came out of the house with our son in tow, I casually asked her if I could get my nail gun back. My request, and the fact that she'd been caught red handed, flustered her and she immediately shouted that it was no longer mine and I couldn't have it. I calmly reminded her that the judge had ordered her to return all of my work equipment, but she wouldn't hear it and adamantly refused to give me even one item! Losing a nail gun, and a collection of other tools, didn't make much difference to my situation, and with apathy in my voice I said, "whatever" and turned away from her, picking up our son and preceding down the driveway toward my truck.

As I stood outside the truck, leaning in over the driver's seat to buckle my son into the car seat secured in the back, I suddenly felt a massive blow to my lower legs by a solid, heavy object, over and over again in rapid succession!! BANG! BANG! BANG! The pain was excruciating! Led by instinct, I turned to face the source of the pain, that's when I realized that my ex-wife was slamming the truck door on my legs as hard as she could!

As the heavy door struck my body, the intense force made it fly back at her, and each time she would immediately slam it back into me with all her strength, crushing me again! It was happening so fast that the best I could do was put my hand against the window to protect myself from the onslaught of crushing blows, but my hand slid on the glass jamming my fingers into the window frame! She was in a fierce rage, and I quickly realized that she was attempting to seriously hurt me! Survival instincts kicked in, and I got hold of the door so I was finally able to step out from behind it. As soon as I was clear of the door, she ran at me at full speed and leaped up on me, wrapping her legs around my waist, viciously trying to gouge my eyes out with her fingers. I was able to twist my head just out of her reach, and when she failed at her attempt to blind me, like an animal, she came at me with her teeth! It seemed she wanted to leave me disfigured, and was sadistically trying to bite a chunk out of my face!! Somehow I was able to push her off me, and in an attempt to restrain her, I grabbed her by the biceps when she came at me again, but once her arms were rendered harmless, she began brutally kicking me in the groin!

I needed to find a way to restrain her entire body but I didn't want to hurt her, so with great effort I struggled to back her off the concrete driveway and onto the protection of the grass while she continued to kick, scream, and flail violently. By this point, my adrenaline was really pumping, and I was beyond feeling much pain. What mainly concerned me, was preventing her from doing major bodily harm to either one of us. She'd been an avid soccer player and runner, so her kicks packed a powerful punch, and I was forced to endure the impact of her blows until I could safely restrain her on the ground. After sustaining multiple kicks to the groin, the pain was starting to get the better of me. My grip on her loosened slightly, and she was able to get one arm free and began punching me in the face with all her rage and strength, causing me to release the other arm. She ripped my t-shirt through the neckline and half way down the front, as she violently clawed at my neck and chest. I eventually reestablished my hold on her arms, and pinned her down. Just as I regained control, the young boy that lived next door came outside, and I hollered for him to go back inside and call the police! The boy disappeared into his house and came back led by his mother. As soon as my ex-wife, who had been fighting and screaming with no end in sight, saw her neighbor, she immediately went limp and began to act as if she were the one under attack. The woman began to yell at me, "Get the hell off her, you bastard!" I was in no mood for this charade, and insisted that she go back in her house and call the police immediately! I was afraid to let my ex-wife up until reinforcements arrived, for fear of suffering further bodily damage.

Once the police arrived, my ex-wife took on the persona of the perfect angel, but even the officers weren't convinced by her act. It was quite clear to everyone present, which one of us had suffered the beating. She didn't have a mark on her and I was battered, torn, and bloody. We were separated, her to the doorstep at the entrance of the house, me, alongside my truck, and each given the chance to tell our side of the story. To my amazement, she was actually somewhat truthful! Pictures were taken of my bruises, the swelling around both my eyes, and the bloody scratch marks on my neck and across my chest under the torn t-shirt. Then I was asked if I intended to press charges. The question proved to be harder to answer than one would expect. Our child, whom she hadn't stopped to consider before launching into her attack, was crying hysterically in the truck and I worried that to witness his mother being handcuffed and dragged off to jail, would not be in his best interest.

After a ruthless assault, it's hard to understand why I might have hesitated, but something inside me was whispering not to do it. Because I wasn't immediately cooperating, the officers began to loose their patience, and took matters into their own hands. I was informed that when the police are called on an assault, and it's discovered a strike from a closed fist had been delivered, someone has to be taken to jail. They didn't want to put in the work of filling out a report if I wasn't going to follow through with charges, so they threatened to take us both in because she had red marks on her upper arms where I had restrained her. Since I didn't want both of my son's parents in jail, I thanked the officers for responding, and asked them not to take further action.

Incidentally, my ex-wife took our son in the house with her when it was all over, and I was forced to forfeit, yet another visitation. I say "another" because there had been many lost visitations to this point and there would be many more to come, most of which had been the result of her plotting. For example, my son was to spend father's day with me, but that morning when I went to pick him up no one was home. His mother kept him away for the better part of the day, using the excuse that the judge hadn't stipulated an exact time she was to surrender her son, so she felt she was entitled to set the time herself, and thought it best to take her son to church before she relinquished him to me. After waiting several hours, I returned home without seeing my son at all that day. In short, she took away my visitations anyway she could. In addition, there had been numerous times she initiated verbal arguments when I went to pick him up, and my son and I spent most of our time together recovering from the emotional upheaval it caused.

I hadn't filed a restraining order against her when she tried to kick Deniece's window in, but after the second physical show of force, I was beginning to realize that it might be the prudent thing to do. The next day when I went to the courthouse to fill out the paperwork, I asked to see the police report from the day before. It was reluctantly retrieved, and soon I realized why. As I read, I was shocked to see that it had been completely altered! Neither of our original statements were included in the file, nor were the pictures that they had taken of my ripped shirt or bloody scratches. The report explained only that there had been a heated argument between us, but that we had been able to settle it ourselves, so no action had been required on their part. I stared at the report in total disbelief, but then I remembered what the officer had told me about how they would have been compelled to take someone to jail. I had wanted to have an accurate record of the incident to ensure the restraining order, but it turned out to be unnecessary.

When the time came to finalize the restraining order, my ex-wife had been served a summons to appear before the judge, and we were both present. I assumed she had come to put up a fight, but when the judge asked her if she had any objections to the order, she simply said "no." So the judge signed the documents that made the restraining order against her official. We were in and out of the courtroom in no time flat. A spectator stopped me on my way out and said, "Wow you're lucky! These things never go that easily!" It was odd that she hadn't put up a fight, but her true motivations for not resisting the restraining order, would soon come to light.

Just a few days later, when I went to pick up our son for our regularly scheduled visitation, I found her refusing through the locked door, to allow me to see him. Then, right on queue, she promptly called the police and reported that her ex-husband was at her door, and he shouldn't be there because there was a restraining order in effect. Strategically, she omitted the small detail that the order had been issued against her! Check, one more visitation lost. I learned through our divorce (and really I'd always known), that she was a master of omission, always leaving out the most incriminating details from whatever point she was trying to convey.

I was forced to attend two different court dates, just to get that little stunt cleared up. The first was just for pleading guilty or not, and the second was to explain the circumstances. Of course, when they verified that the restraining order was in fact, against her, they dropped the charges immediately. I was then advised to have a third party present whenever I went to an exchange, adding more inconvenience. Taking Deniece would have been the easy choice, but we both felt it would upset my ex-wife further, if that were even possible. So each time I had a visitation, I had to arrange for my brother to come with me. This was the kind of tedious punishment my life had become. Going to court time and time again for anything she could accuse me of, most of which was a complete fabrication, and a waste of time for everyone.

Very early on, during the time we were still living in Deniece's house, I remember winning in court some insignificant point that my ex was apposed to, and returned home to find a message from her on our answering machine. I suppose she was angry about failing to get her way, so she called to expel her venom and when she didn't get an answer, she left the most menacing message I've ever heard! She literally growled into the receiver, "You'll be sorry! You think you can mess with me? You have no idea who you're dealing with! I'm going to make your life a living hell!" and then her voice raised several decibels as she sent the message home, "Are you ready? Are you READY? ARE YOU READY?!!!" The answering machine was the old fashioned kind with an actual miniature cassette tape. I kept the tape, although I'm not sure why, perhaps I wanted irrefutable evidence of what she was capable of.

The lengths to which she would go, never failed to astonish me! She appeared never to tire of the battle. Keeping the fight alive seemed to feed her in some way. I could always detect the distinct pleasure she took in making my life as difficult as she could. She had to know I wanted peace between us, but she would stop at nothing to prevent that from happening. I suppose she was only keeping the cryptic promise she had made in that bone-chilling message. There was virtually no end to her scheming and plotting, and she used any tactic at her disposal to get what she wanted, including her own son. In fact, he became her most preferred tool!

This was an eye opening, yet trying time in my life. Like a double-edged sword, on the one side, I had to recognize and accept the painful reality of our situation; on the other, was the cutting realization of my own responsibility in the creation of my misery. I knew she was ruthless, and would go to great lengths to get what she wanted, but who knew she would want to keep my son from me? During the first weeks of our separation, when she still mistakenly held the hope that I would recover my senses and return to our marriage, she wrote me a tender letter, admitting that I had always been a good father and randomly promising me that she would never take my son from me no matter what happened between us. It was as if she was unconsciously denying, that keeping him from me would become her precise intension.

Deniece and I continued our study of human behavior, and we came across an enlightening book titled _People of the Lie_ by M. Scott Peck. What he described in his book fit our experience with my ex-wife to a "T," and our understanding of her base motivations grew. For the first time, I felt I had a true understanding of the affliction of narcissism. Scott Peck explained that narcissism was unrelenting in its plight and people who were extreme narcissists would typically defend their stories to their death. He basically described the affliction of narcissism as being the equivalent of human evil. At the time, I couldn't have agreed with him more and felt my ex-wife's example represented the classic case. I have since come to see that what we call "evil" is nothing more than unconsciousness.

After countless court appearances, even the judge became frustrated and finally ordered us to work out our problems in mediation. We spent weeks hashing out a very in-depth parenting plan that addressed how we would care for our son. Everything in it seemed like common sense to me but my ex-wife struggled with a lot of it because her motivations were directed somewhere other than at the best interest of our child. She also wanted to dictate everything that would be done in my household, out of her view. The mediator tried to explain to her that most of her demands were not within her control. From my perspective, one of the benefits of divorce was the freedom it granted me to raise my son as I saw fit, as least for the limited time that I would have him under my roof. But my ex-wife couldn't fathom giving up control over him or me, even after the divorce was final.

We detailed a plan that laid out the most basic rules that divorced parents should follow. We were even required by the state to take a class on "how to parent through divorce," which pointed out all the things you shouldn't involve the children in, and the damage it could do if you failed to heed the advice. Most of it was common sense. However, after she had taken the class, it only seemed to ramp up her behavior, as if it had given her additional ideas on how to create chaos. The entire situation started to become quite ridiculous, sometimes even comical if you can bring yourself to laugh at the absurd. She was the type of person who would commonly break the rules of decent behavior, which had become shockingly evident to me over the last several months, as I had a birds-eye view of her shenanigans. Watching the film during the class, concerning what you should never do or say, was like watching a reenactment of everything my ex had said and done on a somewhat regular basis. She clearly didn't consider her son's well being a priority, so working out a parenting plan in mediation with her had been a fascinating project, providing me with even greater insight into how her mind operated.

As we neared the completion of our parenting plan, both she and the mediator seemed quite pleased with what had been accomplished. As for me, I was becoming more and more skeptical. I had to admit that the complexity and inner workings of the plan were very impressive, and every issue we'd had, was lined out and addressed in thorough detail! However, I recognized that the plan had one major flaw.

Our final day of the appointed mediation arrived. I sat calmly and watched both of them sign the document. However, when they passed it across the table for me to sign, I found that I was hesitant. During the last twenty-four hours I had come to some eye-opening conclusions. It was obvious to me that my ex-wife wouldn't abide by anything in the agreement. She rarely followed what the judge had ordered before, so why would this be any different? Every word out of her mouth seemed to have a deceptive edge, and it also seemed, her sole motivation for agreeing to the written parenting plan was to acquire more legal binding documentation that would allow for additional loopholes. She knew I would naturally follow good parenting procedures, but having so many detailed rules in writing, would give her more ammunition to use against me, grey areas she could exploit. I suspected she would use this plan to twist each new rule, in order to manipulate her intense need for revenge.

As I held the pen in my hand, suspended above the stack of paper, in a flash I realized what needed to happen. I raised my head and looked up at both of them saying, "I'm not going to sign this" and slowly pushed the packet back to the center of the table. I wish I could have preserved their faces in a photograph at that moment! Both of them sitting in stunned silence, as they tried to process what was happening. They knew by the look on my face that I was serious, the previous triumphant mood quickly turning to feelings of confusion and betrayal. My ex-wife looked to the mediator for guidance but there was none to be had. The mediator knew that I couldn't be forced to sign the document. After letting the two of them settle with the state of things for a moment, I began to explain myself. I said I was happy with the plan and that I would keep to everything we had agreed to, but I wasn't willing to make a binding legal agreement of something I knew the second party had no intention of following, and moreover, would give her additional fodder with which to drag me into court. I went on to say that in our particular case, I thought it was much better to keep things as simple as possible, so as far as a legal document goes, we should stick to the original parenting plan, the one that she was currently refusing to follow.

When I finished speaking, there was absolute silence in the office. The first movement was from my ex-wife when she looked up at me and caught sight of the barely detectable "Mona Lisa" grin on my face, and she recognized from the look in my eye, that I knew exactly what she had been up to. Her face flushed red as she politely stood from her chair and calmly excused herself, striding briskly out through the door that would release her from the cramped room. Approximately thirty seconds later, we were startled to hear a loud, thunderous banging coming from the ladies room located across the hall. It sounded as if the entire building were coming down around us! The mediator was shocked, and because it was after hours, and we were the only three people in the building, she couldn't figure out what was causing all the commotion. Keeping my voice calm I explained, "That would be my ex-wife destroying the bathroom." With a look of disbelief, the mediator said, "That's not possible! What are you talking about?" But just after the uproar came to a stop, she reappeared, obviously flushed, wild eyes darting, but trying to conceal her rage with a strained composure. A satisfied smile planted itself on my face, as the mediator glanced toward me with her own look of confused acceptance. I shrugged and said, "I told you." My ex-wife was clearly flustered as she asked the mediator to make me sign the paperwork, to which the mediator again informed her that this was in fact, a voluntary action and that I couldn't be compelled to sign. Seeing that there was little hope of securing the mediator's help in manipulating me to sign, she hurriedly grabbed her things and stormed from the office.

The experience had given me a bit of satisfaction because my ex-wife had been putting on her funny, friendly persona for the duration of our meetings with the mediator, and I was content that she had finally unveiled her true colors. After she left, I finished explaining to the mediator what I understood about our circumstances and how a true meeting of the minds would never have been possible in our case. Although the mediator was disappointed that we hadn't reached an agreement that could be sent to the court as a fulfillment of her job requirement, she seemed to hear the truth in my words, and even began to accept that I might be right. That would be the last time we would ever visit the mediator.

After having embarrassed my ex-wife in mediation, she was reinvigorated and doubled her efforts to draw blood! Nothing I did seemed to change her demeanor towards Deniece or me, even when we were being genuinely kind. She still hated both of us with a white-hot passion, beyond anything I have ever known, and never under any circumstances, slowed in her harassment. Even when she started seeing other men, it didn't soften her attitude towards us. Deniece was the evil woman that had seduced her husband away from her, and I was quickly becoming her worst nightmare in exposing her true nature. We had to be stopped, and destroyed in the process! Nothing would ever be enough to repair the damage she seemed to feel we had done to her.

I had been divorced for roughly a year before having my first "light bulb" moment about a better way to interact with my ex-wife. She had dragged me in and out of court more times than I could count, and as another court appearance loomed, an interesting truth suddenly dawned on me. I realized that she was never going to stop fighting, ever! As long as she had breath in her body, she would fight. During our marriage, she was happiest when there was a battle raging, competition being the chief draw for her towards team sports. And since she seemed dissatisfied with everything and everyone in her life, she always had plenty to fight about. I realized it wasn't the fight, itself, that made her happy; it was the feeling of control, or the subsequent loss of control when there wasn't a battle to be fought and won. Winning was the primary directive, and once she gained the victory, she was able to feel superior and in control. Every time I did what she wanted, I reinforced that feeling of control for her, especially if she could get me to do something that I didn't want to do. It seemed to be the reason she could never quite be satisfied or pleased. She didn't really care what I actually did; she just wanted to be in charge. Likewise, it didn't matter what was given to her in the divorce; it was the _act_ of acquisition that she needed. And whenever she lacked a reason for combat, she simply conjured something up.

So the million-dollar question begs, "If I can never do anything to please her, why am I still trying?" As I pondered this question, one very simple, yet profound answer presented itself to me. Stop trying! As long as I kept jumping through all of her hoops, I was participating in the game. She gave little consideration to what would be best for our son, and she couldn't possibly have given much thought to doing the right thing, her sole concern was winning! (I have since come to understand that the need for control is driven by fear and when one thinks he is in control, the fear seems to dissipate for a time.)

I saw that I was living the story in the Bible of two women who were fighting over the same child. Each claimed to be the mother, but wise King Solomon knew how to discover who was telling the truth. He brought the two women together and said that he would cut the child in half so that they could each have a piece of him. Fearing for her child's life, the real mother agreed to give the child to the other woman. Because her love was stronger than her attachment, it was much better that the baby be lost to her forever than to cause him to lose his life. The king knew that the true mother wouldn't want her own child to be killed for the sake of winning the argument, and awarded the child to the mother.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a wise King Solomon to settle our dispute. I love my son dearly and I couldn't stand to see him caught in the middle of a fierce battle between his parents. Especially in light of the way she used my love for him against us both. So I had to do the only thing I thought a loving parent could do. Rather than see my son torn apart by the conflict, I would walk away from the fight and agree to leave him in his mother's care, to do whatever she saw fit.

As the old saying goes "it takes two to tango," and I wasn't going to dance anymore. She wouldn't be able to fight with someone who was unwilling to resist. And by refusing to fight, she would have no one left with whom to struggle, which might bring a semblance of peace to all our lives. Unfortunately, I knew I was taking the risk of giving up one of the things I loved most, my only child.

I met with her a few days later during an exchange and I told her that we needed to talk, which she cautiously agreed to. At that moment I could only feel compassion for her because I understood what she was creating for herself by living her life in such a way. She had already lost her husband and best friend, who would be next? I realized that she couldn't help being who she was, anymore than I could help being who I was, and we had very different ideas about how to get what we wanted from life. For the first time in years, I felt like I understood her. She was just doing what she thought was best, so how could I fault her for that. I even began to feel love for her again. I wanted all of us to be happy and I knew that it couldn't happen the way things were going so I told her, "I'm not going to fight with you anymore, I won't go to court with you again, and I support you in doing whatever you see fit." Then I told her I loved her, and I left. I was served a new summons to appear in court the very next morning. I did not attend.

When one party fails to appear in court, the other party is automatically awarded everything they are seeking, and she began to win all of the judgments. By refusing to participate in the court system, I lost their help in enforcing my visitation. The matter of visitation was left entirely to her discretion. Her absolute power to control whoever saw our son, extended to my family as well. The only way anyone could see him, was if she allowed it. She used her power against me and made my extended family members promise never to mention me to our son, as if she thought she could erase me as his father. They were warned that if they ever said a single word relating to me, they would be cut off from him immediately, and never have the opportunity to see him again. They had to follow her exacting instructions to the letter, or face the bitter consequences. Our son, being their only grand child, made it especially difficult for my parent's to decide whether to comply or not.

I haven't laid eyes on my son since that fateful evening when I gave my ex-wife unilateral power to choose whatever she felt was best. Not being able to see my son has been the greatest hardship I have ever had to endure in the entirety of my life, and many times I wondered if I could survive the pain of our separation. I still felt I had done what was best for him, and that kept me going when thoughts of him seemed too much to bear. Being separated from my son was like having a piece of my heart ripped from my chest and I prayed daily for the strength to endure his loss! Whenever I felt weak and doubts about my decision began to creep up, I would remind myself that being without him was better than the damage he would surely have suffered from the constant, venomous conflict that forcing his mother to let us see one another had caused. Fighting only created misery and confusion for him, and I couldn't bear to watch that any longer. The tremendous pain I felt was transcended through my immense love for him.

I no longer feel his overwhelming loss in the same way. I have accepted that at this time he is not physically a part of my life, but look forward to a time when we might build a different kind of relationship.

### ~

The stories told throughout this chapter, were related in an effort to portray the great lengths the "ego" would go to, to get what it wants. Freedom lies in one's ability to surrender from the physical, and my ex-wife provided me the most profound opportunities to do this, and for that I am truly grateful. My ability to remain unattached has grown tremendously as a direct result of the circumstances she helped to create.

It was clear that my ex-wife had drawn her line, and in my son's absence, I wanted to put some distance between her and I, some sort of fresh start where I might discover hope again. We toyed with the idea of moving to Utah to Deniece's hometown, but the consideration brought up another difficult choice. Her older kids were already in Utah, but how could we take her youngest daughter from her father? She was his only child and Deniece didn't feel it was fair to deny him the opportunity of taking some part in her rearing. She had raised her two other children for the most part, and he should be allowed that experience as well. We asked him what he would prefer and he said that he wanted to keep her in Washington. As her mother, Deniece had the choice to keep her daughter or allow her to stay, but taking her from her father didn't seem like the right thing to do. So she made one of the most difficult decisions of her life, and left her daughter with her ex-husband! Her act of love and compassion only validated what I felt for her, and her ability to put another's needs ahead of her own, would only continue to expand my love and admiration for this amazing woman.

Deniece's capacity to love astounds me, and voluntarily leaving one of her children at such a tender age, is a testament to how far reaching that love is! She knew her ex-husband loved his daughter, but he didn't have the same standards when it came to child rearing. Fortunately, our relationship with him had become stable and good, so Deniece felt she could stay in touch enough to help out when she was needed. In addition, she felt they should have the house, so she signed a "quit claim deed" and gave up her interest in it. Watching her make these difficult choices proved her strength and I marveled at her wisdom! She didn't think with her head, she thought with her heart, and despite what she was giving up, she felt strongly that it was the right thing to do. Needless to say, she took some negative judgment from some members of her extended family. They thought she was being irresponsible and lightly giving up her children for the love of a man.

Moving to Utah from Washington, we felt like we had finally shed the last remaining shreds of our old lives. We had left nearly everything. My first marriage, Deniece's marriage, my only child, Deniece's three children, our houses, my business, my good credit, my real estate investment dreams, and even her car and my work truck (returned for voluntarily repossession). But maybe the most important thing we left behind, was all that we'd once believed. Our slate had been wiped clean, and we were wide open to discovering something new! All we had to guide us was what we felt in our hearts. At every turn in the road our minds might tell us that we were making grave mistakes, but fortunately our hearts knew differently, and our hearts were winning the day. Something deep inside us gave us the courage to continue, even when everything seemed to be stacked against us. Clearly, we were being led by an unseen power that was greater than ourselves.

**Chapter Seven**

### The Pit

First and foremost I was elated to finally be free of my ex-wife and her scheming, on the other hand, I was now in uncharted territory and really had no idea what to do next. I was flying by the seat of my pants, and although life with my ex-wife had been a wretched existence, in some ways it was preferable to limbo, at least I had come to know what to expect during my first marriage. Now I would have to stare down the fear of the great unknown, and I was filled with anxiety! My entire life plan had been derailed and I could no longer see my way ahead. I was at the lowest point in my life, and was hanging on by a very thin thread. Deniece and I were living on the last of the money I had made from selling my business equipment, along with a fairly substantial tax return from the close of that business, but that wouldn't last long, and I needed to figure out what I was going to do for a living. My education had halted when I graduated from high school and remodeling was the only trade I knew how to do. My options were limited and I struggled to find a way to eke out a living.

I fell into a depression over the loss of my son and I didn't even have my business to make me feel like a contributing human being. My self-worth issues began to rise like a thick black mist covering my entire existence. I can't adequately describe the darkness and despondency I felt when I began to believe that I would never be able to rebound into anything close to a normal life. I felt my thirty-one years on earth had been a total waste of time and effort, and I could see nothing in my immediate future that looked any better. Before we lost the house, I consoled myself with the dream that I would someday become a real estate investor, a kind of mogul with money to spare, but now I wondered if I could even find a way to support myself, let alone my new wife. Yes, Deniece had become my wife before we left Washington, but just because we were married, didn't make it a settled matter.

Once my divorce had become final, Deniece had assumed that we would get married. We already lived together and had made a commitment to each other, so marriage seemed like the next natural step. But after my difficult first marriage I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to get married again. I felt one hundred percent committed to Deniece from the first day she agreed to be my partner, probably even before that, so why on earth did we need a document from the government to seal our agreement? I couldn't imagine why Deniece wasn't able to see it my way, but she didn't! She had been raised in the Mormon culture and felt it was extremely important for us to be formally married. She also felt that if we truly loved each other, then marriage was the ultimate expression of our commitment to one another. Deniece wondered why I had reservations because I had readily agreed to marry my first wife, but now that I professed to have found the true love of my life in her, I wouldn't trust that marriage was the right step for us? She argued that when a couple was married, other people have a different level of respect for that union. She had a good point, but after a horrible marriage and subsequent worse divorce, I had little faith in the concept of marriage. This left Deniece wondering, why she was being punished for my past issues with the institution of marriage. My pain and associated fears skewed my ability to see things clearly, and feeling pressured, I responded with increased resistance.

For a time, Deniece would let the argument go but it always reared its ugly head again because we hadn't resolved the matter. The question of marriage became the first major issue between us and it would become a source of great contention. It was an emotionally charged subject for both of us and neither of us felt we could compromise our position. I was aware that I was being stubborn but I felt that her position was rigid as well. The worst part of taking up opposite points on the matter was that we were both left feeling hurt. I felt misunderstood and she felt unloved. Ironically, I had some romantic notions about making her my wife, but couldn't get past feeling that if she didn't understand where I was coming from, it was some kind of betrayal.

Ultimately, Deniece had a good line of reasoning that finally softened my resolve. She said that even though marriage wouldn't change the way we felt about each other, it did state to the world that we were in a committed relationship. I had to agree with her on this. In fact, I agreed with her on most of what she was saying, I suppose I just needed time to heal and get my bearings back.

Before long, my defensive walls came down and I began following my heart, not my fears. Soon after, we were married at the courthouse by a justice of the peace, but unfortunately, some damage to our relationship had already been done. The time it took, and the reasoning I'd used, had taken its toll on Deniece and the residue of our disagreement followed us to our new life in Utah.

The ego is a funny thing because when life is hard, the ego wants to blame your problems on something or someone else. Life was really difficult for me at that time, and my argument with Deniece over marriage still haunted me a bit, not so much the idea of marriage itself, but that I didn't feel fully supported or understood. Deniece wasn't free of her negativity around what my attitude had been either. Apparently, we still had some work to do on that issue, and many others.

To cope with my fears and anxieties I turned to living in a fantasy world. I had no idea how to deal with my situation, so I threw my hands in the air and let God take the reigns, giving Him all the responsibility for everything in my life. In my opinion, He had gotten me into this mess, so He could get me out. Unfortunately, I took this defeatist idea to the extreme, and began waiting for God to miraculously save me, and until He did, I was content to do nothing at all. In other words, I had given up altogether!

My new mindset created serious concerns for Deniece; I think she actually began to doubt my mental stability, and she repeatedly pleaded with me to listen to reason and be rational about the state of our situation. She told me she understood that my life had been turned upside down, that I was heading in an entirely new direction, and she knew how upsetting that could be, but in the meantime, I needed to keep functioning. That meant finding work, even if it wasn't exactly what I wanted.

We were living in a cheap motel that rented rooms by the month, and Deniece wasn't willing to be homeless for the rest of her life. The other people who lived as our neighbors, in the dilapidated rooms, were the lowest dregs of society, and it wasn't easy being counted among them. There were always people fighting and getting drunk, and the police had to intervene almost every weekend. We had landed in a place where people had been reduced to mere survival; there was no actual living to be had in that awful place. Naturally, it wasn't long before the stress of our situation came to a boiling point!

I knew she was right, but I couldn't seem to find the motivation to do anything about it. I was waiting for something great to magically happen, to make up for everything I had lost. I didn't even have a concept formed, of what I wanted to appear before me. I guess I just wanted a way out. I couldn't have gone through Hell, just to end up flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant. There had to be something better than that in my future, or what was the point of it all? Deniece begged me to snap out of my fantasy, assuring me that if I faced my fear and started some kind of forward motion, something good would come of it, but I couldn't hear it. In fact, I started to resent her for pushing me into something that I felt I wasn't ready for. Although I didn't recognize it at the time, I had, to a certain extent, lost the will to live, so nothing looked good to me, nothing was bright, hopeful or promising. Ironically, I had come here to find hope, but when I arrived, I only found darkness, depression and no desire to do anything.

Because I had no actual income, I reduced my child support payment to twenty-five dollars a month, and as my payments fell into arrears, the pressure of my situation continued to build! Deniece wouldn't let up in her attempt to reach me through my thick, dark fog and continued to feel that we had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. I knew we couldn't stay in this roach motel forever, and since God hadn't rescued me, I decided that we should leave Utah, and find yet another new place to start our life. My answer to all the pressure Deniece was dishing out, and all the confusion I felt, would be an ill-conceived road trip where we would blindly stumble upon the answers we needed. My plan, if you could call it that, was yet another way to postpone the process of getting on with my life. Against her better judgment, Deniece agreed to join me on my odyssey. We rented a minivan that we could sleep in to save money, and we were on our way, but to where?

My idea was to head south through Arizona because I had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, after which we would stop by my father's house just outside of Phoenix. I wanted my father and his wife to meet my new wife, and have a chance to explain the details of my recent divorce. I was excited to visit the Grand Canyon, as it had been a lifelong desire, but as we gazed down at the magnificent view, trouble had already begun to brew between us. The tension brought on by our crazy journey was beginning to bring up real doubts for Deniece. I tried to assure her that everything would be fine, but we both knew we were in serious trouble, and as we put more miles behind us, the mood between us became ever darker. I became increasingly desperate, and she grew increasingly distant. Instead of talking to her about how I was feeling, I just kept pretending there wasn't a problem, which only escalated her fears! She was well aware that I was scrambling to run from my anxiety, and the fact that I wouldn't talk about it made her fear she had made a terrible mistake!

We continued on through Texas, eventually turning east and following the gulf coast all the way to Florida. The entire way, Deniece kept hoping that I would come to my senses so things between us could improve. Looking back, I see I was driving because I was running from everything! Running from myself, running from God, running from life, running from my responsibilities, and most importantly I was running from reality! Of course, I refused to see that at the time. I just wanted to go as far as I could in a week's time, and figured if I drove nine hundred to a thousand miles per day, we could cover the length of the nation before the week was over.

As each day passed, the tension continued to mount. Only the distraction of focusing on the road while driving from state to state, kept us occupied enough to keep the simmering fear and anger at bay. It had been blistering hot and the humidity all along the southern border of the country, made the conditions almost unbearable! Each night as we retired to the back of the stuffy van to try to get some desperately-needed rest, we were unable to keep the windows open to catch any breeze that there may have been, because of the bugs and mosquitoes on high alert that there were humans in the vicinity to feast upon. Needless to say, the sleeping arrangements were less than adequate and there wasn't much pleasantry in the air between Deniece and I. We were both doing what we could to make the best of an uncomfortable, insane trip, but for the most part, misery and discontent had been our primary traveling companions.

Finally, we reached the east coast, and found a place to take a walk on the pure white sand of a Florida beach, but even a walk through the clear aqua sea, couldn't ease the tension. We were half way through our trip and we hadn't found anywhere along the way that felt like a place we could make a home together.

We didn't linger long, and next we headed north along the Atlantic coast through the Carolina's, and then back toward the setting sun, toward home. It was late one night at the tail end of the week when we reached Colorado. We drove until we reached the edge of the Rocky Mountains, and continued up a winding road to find a suitable place to spend the night. Far back in a canyon, tucked behind a peak on a dirt road in the pitch dark, was where Deniece finally broke down. Our journey was almost at an end, and this ill-conceived outrageous plan of mine, hadn't produced anything beneficial. She felt we had to make some concrete decisions on how to better our lives, and if we failed to do that, she didn't think she would be able to continue our relationship. She told me I was living in a fantasy, and that I needed to face reality before it drove her away. I could see she was serious, but avoided the issue by telling her that as soon as the trip was over, I would get a job in Utah if we didn't find a better place to settle. She wasn't completely satisfied with my answer, but she didn't push the subject further.

As the sun rose in the sky, up over the mountain peaks the following morning, the world began to take on a new brightness as we discovered all that we hadn't been able to see in the blackness of the previous night. The sun shown brilliant on the earth, that early morning in Colorado! Everything as far as the eye could see, was showing off its beauty in the glow of daylight. We followed the same steep, winding road we had come up on, as we dropped back out of the canyon and into the city of Boulder. We had crossed this country all the way to the east coast and back and had yet to see a city where we felt we would want to settle, until we stumbled upon this beautiful little mountain town.

Boulder was nestled right at the base of the mountains, and it was so charming that it seemed a bit surreal. The city as a whole was breathtaking, but as we drove through the historic district in the center of town, we were seduced by the charm of the neighborhood. Full of unique character, no two houses were the same, and each one was quainter than the last. Boulder creek runs right through the middle of the city, and we hopped out of the van to stroll down a path that ran along side the swiftly moving water. We saw people having a good time everywhere we looked, and because I'd built my own kayak in shop class during high school, I especially enjoyed watching the kayakers in the challenging current!

By the time we finished our walk we were in much better spirits. We felt a kind of connection to the area, like when you pick up a book you feel you should read, and knew we could make a life there. We were so impressed by what the city had to offer, that we picked up a newspaper to peruse the housing market. We found that rents were well above anything we were used to and decided we would have to be more established in order to live there. Boulder wouldn't be our next home, but we would not soon forget the impact the city had on us; I had the distinct impression that Boulder would figure into our future someday.

With heavy hearts, we left the picturesque city of our dreams, and prepared to drive through the night in order to reach Utah the next morning. On the eight-hour drive, Deniece tried several times to start a conversation about what our plans might be, but I wasn't interested in the grounded subject matter, so we settled into a tense silence with no sound but the dull roar of the engine and tires rolling down the pavement.

We had checked out of our one room, hellhole before we left on our wild escapade and consequently had no home to return to, so we ended up at her parent's house. My refusal to talk out our problems during the drive, had given Deniece ample time to consider her options, and within twenty-four hours of the time we returned from the road trip, she had explained that she was no longer willing to sit by and watch as I allowed my life to spiral down the drain, while refusing to lift a finger to stop it. She also wasn't willing to sacrifice her own life, just to keep up the insane charade. She said our marriage wasn't working for her on any level, that she was miserable, and she wanted me to leave. She said maybe I'd been right; getting married hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Our relationship had been so difficult, with no hope of change in sight, that she literally couldn't go on with it. Living in my distorted fantasy, made it impossible for me to see just how bad things really were. My life was slipping through my fingers, yet I was blinded by my insanity. I was waiting for some miracle from God, but in reality I was ignoring any help that was being offered.

Deniece reminded me of a story where a man had been trapped on the roof of his house to escape flood waters that had swept in and covered the surrounding area. He prayed for help, and felt certain that God would rescue him, but when a boat came, he refused to get in because he was waiting for God. I understood the story, and saw how it related to what we were going through. A fleet of rescue boats had been sent to pluck me from danger, but I was refusing to accept their help. In fact, Deniece was the boat that had thrown me a line time and time again. She had been patiently trying to get me off the roof for months, while I blamed her for giving up on us. My failure to engage in life had been a betrayal of her, and of our relationship, but she wasn't about to go down with the ship! I begged her to give our relationship one more try, promising that I would snap out of it and take charge of my life, but it was too late, she was sorry, but she had made up her mind.

Asking me to leave hadn't been an easy thing for her to do, and she had faced me with compassion, but she felt she hadn't been a good influence on me, and she needed to save herself. Her words cut through my fantasy with profound simplicity, and I was suddenly able to see the destruction my current way of thinking had caused. As hard as it was to accept my responsibility, I couldn't deny the fact that she was right! Clearly I was in need of a wake up call, and God had arranged a major one! I stayed at her parent's house for a few more days while I formulated a plan of action, where to go, and what to do with myself.

I had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I was at a loss for what to do next. Harboring deep-seated pain, I was forced to find a new living situation as quickly as I could. I finally came to the conclusion that if I would no longer have the opportunity to be with Deniece, there was nothing left for me in Utah. I made the uneasy decision to go back to Washington because it was the only place I had the comfort of familiarity. I called my mother and she graciously invited me to stay with her until I got back on my feet. I love my mom and was grateful, but I couldn't stay with her forever. On the upside, if I went back to Washington, at least I could try to see my son. It had been close to two years since the night I had asked my ex-wife for a divorce and maybe enough time had passed that her anger would have subsided. And now that Deniece wasn't in my life, there might be a chance she would be willing to let me see my son.

In one of the visions I'd had, I watched my son and Deniece's daughter walk away from us hand in hand, and I felt an accompanying sadness with their loss. I have an actual snapshot of the two of them, taken from behind, as they ran into the surf during one of our outings to the beach. The photo has always reminded me of what I was shown, and I've kept it on display in my home for all these years. Originally, I had misinterpreted the vision of them walking away to mean that they would both be taken from us through death. At the time, I just couldn't imagine any other way for them to be apart from us, but now I realize that it just meant that they wouldn't be a part of our daily lives. My heart still ached for my son, and my mind returned to him with a vengeance now that my life was in turmoil. I suppose I needed the comfort that seeing him might provide.

I bought a used van for very little money, which would take me back to Washington, and I thought it might come in handy if I started up my construction business again. So I loaded up my belongings, bid farewell to Deniece and her family, and hit the road. Unfortunately, the old van had mechanical problems right off the bat. It kept over heating, and I had to have the radiator flushed before I even made it out of Utah. I continued to have problems with it throughout the trip, but I did finally manage to get back to Washington. When I arrived, I took it to a garage to have the cooling system repaired.

Since the onset of my relationship with Deniece, my mother hadn't been too supportive. She was sure that Deniece was an adulteress and the sole cause of my failing marriage. She had never really liked my ex-wife either, but she seemed at least to accept her. Just after Deniece and I had become a couple, but before we were married, my mother called to speak to me. However, when Deniece answered the phone, my mother counseled her that to have me living in her house before my divorce was officially final, was committing adultery. Deniece quickly answered by stating; she could count the number of men she had slept with on one hand, and at thirty-five years of age, she didn't need any advice about her sex life. Deniece always tells it like it is, and my family members, especially my mother, weren't accustomed to someone who was so sure of themselves.

The next time my mother challenged her, was when we had invited my mother and her husband down to our home for lunch. We were married by then and I felt it was a good time for all of us to get acquainted. My mother loved clam chowder, so Deniece spent the morning simmering a pot of homemade chowder and preparing for their visit. When they arrived, my mother came to the door alone, while her husband waited in the van. She told us she wasn't hungry, as they had stopped for lunch on their way. We were confused, as we understood the meal to be the purpose of their visit, but we tried to remain gracious hosts. Before long, the conversation turned to our living arrangement, it was clear she still blamed Deniece for the demise of my first marriage. My mother quickly became irrational and argumentative, so I escorted her to the door, and told her I thought it was time for her to leave. I'd never done anything like that before, but her harsh words, once spoken, could not be taken back, and I felt I was doing her a service by ending the visit. As a parting gift, my mother turned to Deniece and said, "It's just easier for me to hate you."

I'd had limited contact with her since that visit, but neither Deniece or I held a grudge about it, and when I showed up on her doorstep in Washington, she seemed genuinely happy to see me. Perhaps she was secretly glad that my marriage to Deniece was over.

The first thing on my agenda was to call my ex-wife. I told her I was back in Washington and that I wanted to make arrangements to start seeing my son again. In seconds, I realized she hadn't calmed down one iota, and she cruelly informed me that I would never see my son again! I tried to remain calm while I pleaded with her to realize that our son had a right to see his father as much as I had a right to see him. I explained how it couldn't possibly be in his best interest to keep us apart, but she was unwilling to discuss it. She shouted that if I'd wanted to see him, I shouldn't have left her, and that I didn't deserve to see him anymore. When I asked if I could at least speak to him over the phone, she vehemently refused! As I realized that there was nothing I could do to change her mind, I calmly said to her, "you are some piece of work," and hung up the phone. Things were exactly the way I had left them months before. In fact, they seemed worse than ever! One of her excuses was that I was behind on my child support, but I felt her motivations were mostly about revenge.

The next day I was outside in my mom's back yard when a man came to the door trying to serve me court papers. I was amazed to find that as soon as my ex-wife knew I was back in the State, she immediately jumped at the chance to take me back to court! She'd had a perfect opportunity to talk things through on the phone, but she wasn't interested in any kind of a workable arrangement. She wanted the fight, and thrived on keeping the situation in complete disaccord.

My mother answered the door, and because she hadn't seen me for most of the morning, and since my van was not parked outside, she told the man I wasn't there and that he would have to come back another time. Moments later, when I came strolling through the back door, she was startled to see me and explained that she thought I'd gone somewhere. Then, she proceeded to tell me that there had been someone at the door looking to serve me a summons to appear in court. We laughed when we realized that she had forgotten that my van was still in the shop, and that I'd been in the backyard all along. Clearly I wasn't supposed to be served that day.

I spent the rest of that day and night thinking about my situation. My mind was filled with options, but there was really only one that appealed to me. After my phone call with my ex-wife, and seeing how she was already trying to drag me back into court, I began to wonder why I had ever come back. I wasn't going to be allowed to see my son, and I certainly wasn't going to go to court again, so what was I doing here? I fervently prayed for guidance, and by dawn of the next morning, it was clear what I needed to do.

There was nothing left for me in Washington, and being there again made me acutely aware of that fact. The man serving court papers at my mother's front door had cut through my confusion, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt what I wanted. More than anything else, I wanted to be with Deniece! I realized that coming back to Washington had been a ridiculous idea! How could I have thought any good would come of it? Deniece was what I wanted virtually from the day I had laid eyes on her, and although she didn't want to see me, I knew that if I got my life together, I would have a chance to win her back. It was an intense light bulb moment, as everything she had been trying to tell me, was suddenly crystal clear! Faith without works is dead! I had to move forward with life no matter how I was feeling, or how frightened I was. So what if I couldn't see my son, and so what if I was in financial ruin, and all my dreams of being a real estate tycoon were busted, who cares? I had to pick myself up by my bootstraps, and move willingly ahead. Deniece had been desperately trying to teach me this one simple concept, but until I came back to Washington, I just didn't get it. I realized that she had stuck with me as long as she could, but couldn't destroy her own life while waiting for me. I was finally clear, and I understood her desperation. How could I have missed something so simple?

I had to return to Utah as fast as I could get there, because that's where my wife was, and I knew that she held the key to my happiness. What an idiot I'd been! I'd actually agreed to leave the best thing that had ever happened to me, the one I had fought for, the one I loved. And for what, just so I could hold on to my fear? Had I really valued keeping my head buried in the sand over being truly happy? At least I knew now, what I wanted, and where to go to get it. My plan was to go back to Utah and find a job, get an apartment, and prove to Deniece that she hadn't made a mistake in marrying me, and I wouldn't give up until she agreed to have me back!!

As soon as I saw my mother that morning, I let her in on my plan and asked for her help. She was kind enough to pay for the repairs on the van and even loaded me up with supplies to help me set up house once I returned to Utah. Then I called and let Deniece know what I was planning to do. She took the news in stride, but I sensed that it had taken her off guard. She was sure that because I had returned to Washington, I wouldn't be coming back. I did find it fascinating though, that even when she believed our relationship to be over, she didn't return to her ex-husband, and she hadn't filed for a divorce.

I later found that during our separation, she had been preparing to file for divorce and had even gone to the local courthouse to get the paperwork that would enable her to register the complaint, but never actually filled them out or turned them in. As it happened, she was sitting at the kitchen table with the papers in front of her, when a lifelong friend of her mother's stopped by. Her mother hadn't been home, so the friend, seeing that Deniece looked strained and unhappy, asked her what was bothering her. Deniece briefly explained our precarious circumstances and shared that she was uncertain about which direction to take with ending our marriage. She loved me, and could see through my rough exterior to the man that I had the potential to become, but could not bear to sit by and watch me waste my life.

The friend began to relate her own story to Deniece, telling her that she had been in a strikingly similar situation. She too had been dissatisfied and confused during the early years of her second marriage. She too knew that she loved her husband, but it had been a struggle to help him to find his way. She too had serious doubts as to the strength of their union, and had wondered if they would ultimately make a success of their marriage. She even contemplated divorce. She said she had stuck with him for some unknown reason, and was so grateful she had, because he had really grown and blossomed, turning their relationship into the one she had always dreamed of! She ended with the advice that if Deniece wasn't certain, she should hold off on the divorce until she was sure, adding breezily that she could always go through with it later if things didn't work out.

Deniece tells me that the advice from a woman she had known and respected all her life, was just what she needed, and that once again she had been sent an angel in the flesh to guide her through a dark time in her life. After their talk, she was relieved and put the divorce to rest, and has never seriously considered it again. But she didn't rush back into my arms immediately, because she wanted to give me a chance to stand on my resolve, and to pull myself up without her interference or influence. She also needed time to see that I wanted more for myself than just a dream world.

I wouldn't be able to easily find work in the small town where Deniece and her family lived, so I set my sights on the metropolitan area two hours further north in the vicinity of Provo, where I hoped to begin the process of rebuilding my life. Unfortunately, because of my less than stellar credit score, Deniece's parents were obliged to give me a reference so that I could secure an apartment. It was a small one-bedroom place, built on the same plot of land with the landlord's house, and offered one parking space in the driveway shared with the owners. The apartment was clean and affordable, so I paid the deposit, loaded our furniture from a storage unit into my van, said "goodbye" to my wife and her parents, drove the two hours to my new home, moved in, and set about looking for employment.

I was still especially interested in continuing to study human behavior and spirituality, so I kept that in mind during my job search. Then it struck me, what better place to provide that opportunity than a bookstore? If I could find a position, I would have unlimited access to any book that inspired me. I might even be eligible for an employee discount! I applied at a major chain store and was eagerly offered a position, due to start in a few days.

I needed dress clothes to begin my new job, so I found a discount apparel store in Provo. As I was shuffling through the clothing racks, I glanced up and saw a woman a few isles away, standing with her back to me. Her hair was fine and golden, draping over her shoulders, and my heart filled with warmth and longing because she reminded me so much of Deniece, and as she turned around my heart skipped a beat because I found my own dear wife looking back at me. She and her mother had come to the city for a day of shopping. What an incredible coincidence! I couldn't believe it, not only were they in the same city on the same day, but they were in the same store at the same time! Furthermore, this wasn't the kind of store I would typically be found in.

I was nervous to approach her, I wasn't entirely certain of the reception I would receive, but I gathered myself and stepped over to say "Hello." I had no reason for being anxious, they were as surprised to see me, as I had been to see them, but she smiled warmly and readily hugged back when I offered open arms. I explained why I was there and told her I had landed a new job. Deniece seemed pleased to see me, and genuinely happy about my new job, but once the encounter was over we both went about our respective business for the day, me buying work attire and her spending the day with her mother. Despite everything that had happened between us, we still loved each other, and always felt the hand of God in our relationship. As had become the norm, this chance meeting had been much more than a coincidence.

Synchronicity was becoming a common occurrence in my life. God was playing a part in everything I did, and I was starting to become more and more aware of it. There were authors that really helped open my eyes to this kind of phenomenon. First there was Betty Eadie, with her book _Embraced by the Light_. In it she describes dying, going to Heaven, then having the chance to return and report of her experience. Her book is a beautiful portrayal of the afterlife! Deniece and I read it together before we left Washington. We began it one evening, and stayed up late into the night because we couldn't put it down until we had finished it. Then there was my favorite author at the time, Neale Donald Walsh and his book series, _Conversations with God_. These books begin with a dialogue between God and the author, where many surprising and wonderful truths about life are revealed! Most of the concepts written about in the series were strange and new at my first introduction, but ultimately transformative, and now I realize how beautifully simple they are.

These books and many other experiences were challenging my traditional views on religion, and the concept of "right and wrong," along with the types of relationships that are possible with God. In fact, it was my newly developing relationship with the Divine that was helping to pull me out of the pit I was in. Confused and depressed, I was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to life than just the physical, or what we can see and touch. This helped me see new paths and directions that at one time would have seemed undesirable or impossible to me. It didn't matter if my son was physically with me or not, and it didn't matter if Deniece came back either. It also didn't matter if I was a contractor or a real estate investor; all that mattered was having the courage to follow my heart. If I could do that, I knew God would show me the way, and happiness would be my reward.

Despite my new relationship with God, I was still a bit of a rebel. I had a rather large chip on my shoulder, and when given the opportunity, my ego loved to stir things up. Consequently, my new Mormon co-workers proved an irresistible target for me. I loved sharing my new understandings with them, which always brought on a good debate! Most piously religious people are passionate about their beliefs, and when something comes up that doesn't align with what they understand, they tend to become quite emotional. Deniece had filled me in on some of the fundamentals of the Mormon religion, and I was opened minded about the doctrine. There are many similarities between religions if you look at them symbolically, and a video series by Joseph Campbell helped me understand the mythology behind many of them. Geography, culture and the specific time in history, constitute most of the differences between beliefs, otherwise, the mythology behind the dogma is very similar.

When I asked my co-workers questions, they typically had very few answers to give me. Even the simplest questions would be met with responses like; "I'll have to ask my Bishop about that" or "that's one of God's mysteries." It seemed to me that they weren't thinking freely, or maybe they hadn't stopped long enough to ask those questions for themselves. They were, however, intent on telling me about their religious beliefs but couldn't tell me much about their own perspectives on life, and they didn't seem open to hearing much of anything I had to say, especially if it contradicted what they believed. Ironically, I'm accepting of religion and was fascinated to hear whatever they had to say, but most of the people I worked with had a hard time hearing my understandings and seemed very threatened by many of the insights I shared. The worst part was, they didn't seem open or accepting of me at all, which begged the question, "Doesn't this undermine the basic fundamentals of Christianity?"

Eventually, I noticed the central motivation for tolerating my questions, was to open a door to my conversion into their way of thinking, and into their church. Most organized religion puts a high value on bringing new souls into the fold, but churches that send missionaries out to convert new members, put an even higher value on fellowshipping non-members into their ranks. On several occasions, scare tactics were used to convince me to fall in, like telling me that I wouldn't be able to get into the "Celestial Kingdom" if I didn't convert to Mormonism. In other words, I wouldn't be going to the highest potential heaven. I was also told that my wife, who had once been a member but no longer considered herself a Mormon, was going to Hell! To their credit, many of them were well learned concerning the rules of their religion, but it didn't seem like a lot of them conducted their lives with true kindness, wholehearted tolerance for another's way to find God, or a deep longing to know the truth no matter what the consequences.

I was continuing to discover that most religions have rules that create fear and exclusivity. Men create these rules, and if contemplated with an open mind, seem ridiculous and have little to do with God or spirituality. Creating fear is popular among most organized religion, if you break the rules or leave the church; the belief is that you won't end up in Heaven. Of course many religions have their own set of rules, and some teach that their respective rules are the only right ones. It's not surprising that we are all so fearful and confused in relation to the subject. In short, I was discovering that religion creates fear so that people will be obedient, dependent, and separate from others, which is the opposite of how I experience reality to be. Spirituality unifies, dispels fear, and creates freedom. A concept held up against this standard asks; does the concept unite or divide, does it create freedom or does it limit, and does the concept incite joy or create fear and shame, the answer will indicate if it holds true or not.

I don't mean to single out any one religion; I'm merely relating my experiences at that particular time in Utah. Actually, I felt pretty much the same way about most organized religions. I'd had experience with many religions during my formative years, and was starting to see the similarities. At their core, they all have universal truth in them, but as soon as you add the organizational part, that's where many begin to go off track for me. If we could see religion symbolically rather than literally, the similarities would be evident and we would see commonality instead of division. As for me, I wanted to break down the religious walls that have separated us for thousands of years, and find the common link that connects us all. I believe religion serves a vital purpose in our society and I also recognize its dogmatic limitations.

### ~

At the bookstore I had the opportunity to meet authors, and guide a book club. The book club was a very enlightening experience and study of human behavior, as the subject matter I introduced was quite edgy for such a conservative area. Although I had worked many events where authors came into the store to lecture and sign books, the highlight was when I met Betty Eadie. Since I was already a fan, I was a bit intimidated. I had imagined that someone who had written such a beautiful, best selling account of her experience in Heaven, would somehow be set above ordinary people, but she was a grounded lovely person. She was kind, personable, and down to earth, but with no more wisdom than any of the rest of us. She was an ordinary person, who had an extraordinary experience. This encounter made me realize that we are all capable of receiving Divine intervention, and what we do with those insights is entirely up to us.

Over the months I was separated from Deniece, I took every chance I got to make the trip down to her hometown to spend time with her. She was tentative at first, and continued to assure me that we were no longer a couple. She was happy for me that I seemed to be making strides in my life and complimented my efforts, but she'd made a decision, and wasn't yet willing to throw caution to the wind, and come home with me. I didn't push her, but I knew that we were meant to be together, and I just kept showing up with the belief that someday she wouldn't be able to deny what already seemed certain to me. My visits made her parents somewhat uncomfortable, believing that they were well rid of me, but they respectfully supported their daughter's right to choose her own life, and were always kind when I appeared.

I continued to do well, and my wife eventually began to recognize a real change in me, which softened her resolve. She seemed to be genuinely happy to see me as my visits became longer and more frequent. Eventually, she set aside her fear and moved into my apartment. I can't begin to express the joy this brought me, and I was grateful to God and to her, for the second chance I'd been given.

Deniece was my best friend, lover, counselor, spiritual guide, and my greatest teacher! Together, we had all the pieces we needed to make a remarkable team! I was so thankful that when I finally pulled myself out of the dark, she was still there waiting for me. I am a truly blessed man!

We moved to a bigger apartment that had an incredible view of the mountain range just blocks from our front door. But we were not to stay there long, as life would continue to rush ahead, preparing us for the next scary, yet pivotal and exciting step in our journey together.

**Chapter Eight**

### Breaking All the Rules

Deniece and I were moving in the right direction, back together, and both working to catch up on our finances. We didn't have much, but between the two of us, we made just enough to cover our expenses. My old van was still running and we had purchased an inexpensive car for Deniece so we could both get to work. Money was tight, but we were managing to squeak by and slowly re-establish ourselves when a new challenge arose.

I wasn't making much more than minimum wage at the bookstore, and Deniece had taken a job at a cosmetics counter in a department store at the local mall. We were just beginning to see the light of day financially, when child support came calling. I received my paycheck at the regular time, but when I opened it, I noticed it was for substantially less than I had earned. When I took a closer look, I found that child support services had garnished half my pay! When I called them to explain that I wasn't in a position to have that much taken out, they told me that there was nothing they could do. I further explained that I would be unable to keep my job if they garnished that much, but if they would negotiate a smaller amount in the meantime, I would be able to pay more in a few months once I caught up a bit. I also asked them if the support amount could be reduced to meet my current income level, but they informed me that the father couldn't have the amount reviewed by the courts for at least two years after it had been originally set. I explained that I felt it had been set too high in the first place, but there was nothing they could do for me.

This turn of events left me no choice but to change jobs and although I had enjoyed my time at the bookstore, I found myself at a home improvement warehouse where I could earn a higher wage in the paint department. At that point, my ex-wife was the only one who had the power to negotiate the amount of the child support payments, and I knew she wasn't about to lower it, so I didn't even ask. Not having a college education had limited what I could do to earn a living wage. I was grateful that I had experience in remodeling that would qualify me for a job where I earned a few extra dollars an hour. But by the time it was reduced by fifty percent, we could barely pay our monthly bills.

Deniece was making a decent wage at the cosmetics counter, but with both of us working retail we rarely saw one another, and began to wonder what other options we had. After being in Utah for approximately a year, I really wanted a change of scenery, and maybe a little lifestyle change as well. Even if you weren't a Mormon, you still had to endure some of their rules. For instance, one Sunday afternoon I was preparing to watch football and I went to the grocery store to buy a beer for the game, but when I got there, I found that an entire portion of the refrigerated section was blocked off with plywood, and a note saying, "No alcohol sold on Sundays." That just didn't make sense to me; you could buy all the beer you wanted Saturday night, but come Sunday morning you were simply out of luck. It seems like a small thing, but it speaks volumes about how organized religion attempts to legislate morality. Where was the separation of church and state that we Americans are supposed to enjoy?

### ~

One of Deniece's co-workers was looking into a job as a flight attendant and Deniece joined her on an open call. She thought it might be a fun job and went to two or three interviews with different airlines. She also went to call backs in Chicago and Atlanta. It started to become clear that if she were hired, we would have to relocate to New York City because that's where new flight attendants were being sent. After awhile, we began to adjust to the idea of living in New York. However, the call never came. Even though Deniece was disappointed, she already had a job she enjoyed and we were comfortable, if not completely satisfied. I was really looking forward to a change of pace, but we didn't have a good reason to move anywhere. That's when God stepped in.

Deniece got fired! She had returned some cosmetics she had won in a contest at the store without a manager's approval and that was grounds for dismissal. She had never been fired from a job, and she took the news pretty hard, crying for the better part of a week. She had always been so conscientious, completely honest and straight as an arrow, so her loss of employment through breaking store policy came as quite a shock to her. She was aware that she shouldn't return gratis, and was ashamed that she had tested the line of what she knew to be right. But to be honest, I wasn't all that upset. As a matter of fact, I felt that the turn of events had been a blessing that would free us up to change our circumstances (God works in mysterious ways). The way I saw it, we were free to go anywhere we wanted, nothing was anchoring us to that particular spot anymore, and the rest of my plan began to fall into place.

I'm not exactly certain why the idea appealed to me, but I tried to convince her that we should consider moving to New York, and if she wanted, pursue the airlines after we arrived. I didn't know how I had managed to persuade her, but after she lost her job she seemed less attached to the area, and readily agreed to the move. When she saw my surprise at her acceptance of my adventurous plan, a story began to unfold. Deniece related a time when she had been in junior high school where the class watched a filmstrip depicting New York City. There were masses of people crowding the sidewalks, flowing briskly in every direction, and somehow she felt drawn to the chaos on the screen. Sitting quietly in the semi-darkness, Deniece suddenly knew that she would one day be a part of that crowd, not in any anonymous metropolitan city, but specifically in New York. Later, while living in her hometown and attending her ten-year class reunion, she remembers feeling that something was out of place, that she shouldn't have been the one still living there, while most of her high school friends had grown up and moved away. Her recollection explained why it had taken so little convincing, and without the slightest solid reason for uprooting and moving clear across the country, Deniece was in.

We bought a four by eight foot trailer for three hundred dollars, and built walls on it to hold everything we would take with us. Between the trailer and van, we would be able to bring most of the necessities. To pay for the trailer and some of the moving expenses, we held a huge yard sale and got rid of everything we couldn't bring. We gathered our belongings and divided them into what we would take and what we would sell, and presented our unwanted goods at a yard sale early one Sunday morning. As our first customer came to pay for her selection, she remarked that we had guts to do a yard sale on Sunday, it hadn't occurred to me that Mormons didn't hold yard sales on the Sabbath, but I held out hope they would attend one. Before the morning wore into warm rosy hues, my worries were put to rest, as the customers were as abundant as we could manage! Since there were no other sales being held that day, we had cornered the market! We virtually sold everything we had set out to rid ourselves of including furniture, décor items, kayaks, sports equipment and stunt kites, just to name a few.

I had made a large sign that read, "New York or Bust" and fixed it across the windshield of our van and parked it in front of the house to let people know where the sale was. People were generally amused by the sign, and even wished us luck as they left with their treasures. Our little, inappropriately planned sale, was so successful that we made more than we had expected and felt sure that together with what we had already set aside, we would have enough to fund the trip to New York. We were both a bit nervous at the prospect of the lengthy road trip, and the subsequent need to find living arrangements, but fear would not stand in our way as we anxiously prepared to embark on the journey that would lead us into uncharted territory!

Naturally, most of our family members thought we had lost our minds, some even trying to convince us not to go, but we were both adults and although we didn't have a solid explanation for why we were going, we couldn't be reasoned with. We were trusting that God would wrap us in his loving care and we had faith that we were doing what was right for us.

The idea of moving to New York had been a daring one. Exploring a new way of life that held little resemblance to anything Deniece or I had ever experienced, bordered on the absurd. Since neither of us had been there before, we really had little idea what awaited us. And what if we found ourselves in trouble? We wouldn't have the security of friends or family to fall back on. While we didn't know it at the time, having no one to rely on, while scary, turned out to be one of the greatest blessings of our stay there. This adventure would be a stripping down of everything we thought we knew about life, love, and relationship. We would be required to release our control of life, and trust in God. It also meant we would really have to learn to trust each other as well.

My biggest concern, as our departure drew near, was the van. I wasn't sure that it had what it would take to carry us so many miles from home, but I was willing to put it to the test. We bought and equipped the small trailer with plywood sides and a back gate of sorts that could be locked, but the top was left opened. We packed the van and trailer past capacity with our belongings, our mattress working as a cap to top off the open trailer, and covered that with a waterproof tarp. We tied up loose ends, said our goodbyes, and we were off.

Carrying the weight of everything we owned, all the way to the east coast, proved to be as hard on the van as I had feared. If we were traveling on level ground the van could barely reach speeds of around sixty miles per hour, but whenever we approached any kind of an incline or came up against a head wind, our speed would drop dramatically, sometimes to less than thirty miles per hour. I discovered that if I stayed within several feet of the back bumper of a semi, the truck would pull us along in its draft. It was a dangerous practice, but if we were going to make it to the other side of the country with our engine in tact, and in less than a month, I had to be willing to take the risk. Each day we drove until we were exhausted, then we would search for the least expensive motel we could find and stay the night. The quicker we arrived at our destination, the more we saved on accommodations, hopefully leaving some funds for a deposit on an apartment.

We only had two problems along the way. One was a wheel bearing on the van and the other was a flat tire on the trailer. We discovered the bearing when we began to smell something burning and noticed smoke coming from the wheel. We pulled off in a conveniently located town, where we soon found an auto parts store no more than a mile from the freeway. I'd never changed a wheel bearing before but I had taken auto mechanics in high school and was willing to give it a shot. Besides, we didn't want to wait for a mechanic, nor could we afford one. I ordered the part I needed and settled in to wait for its arrival at a reasonably priced hotel near the freeway. When the part came, I set about trying to remove the old wheel bearing. That's when the real struggle began! The wheel bearing had over heated welding itself to the axel, leaving me at a loss for what to do to get it off. I worked for hours trying to budge it loose with no luck, and just when I was about to throw my hands in the air in complete frustration, a gentleman walked across the parking lot and asked me if I needed any help. He and his wife had been watching me from the window of their room, which had a perfect view of the spot where my van was parked. I explained the problem I was having, and he assured me that since he had been an auto mechanic for most of his life he could handle the job, but before he was even finished speaking, I was eagerly handing him the wrench.

In no time he had the old bearing removed and helped me replace it with the new one. I'm quite certain that I would never have been able to repair the wheel on my own. I was overcome with gratitude, and thanked him profusely for coming to my rescue! After hearing our story, he and his wife were concerned that the van might present additional problems before we reached the end of our trip, and they even offered us money as a contingency fund, but we couldn't accept. Their unsolicited, and extremely appreciated help with the wheel bearing was already more than enough to ask of them. We were preparing to get back on the road early the next morning, when I spotted them in the parking lot loading up for departure as well. As it turned out, they were headed in the same direction, so they insisted on following us for several miles just to make sure the wheel was functioning properly.

Meeting those kind and generous people, who had been so willing to help, was just one example of how blessed we were throughout the whole of the trip. One could have seen the worn out bearing as an indication that we were _not_ being taken care of, but the overwhelming evidence to the contrary is more than enough to convince me of the hand of God in our lives. I have since come to see that each of us is always being held in God's loving care; having our needs taken care of before we even become aware that there is a need. When I think I need something that I can't find a solution to, I later realize that it wasn't a "need" at all, and that I'm better off without it. And if I actually do need something, it miraculously appears, and the timing is always perfect (even if the ego doesn't see it that way).

### ~

I will never forget the day I got my first glimpse of the Manhattan skyline, the date was October seventh, my birthday. My hands began to tingle on the steering wheel as the cityscape burst into view! From a distance the buildings had a surreal quality, as if I were looking through mist, or something you might see on a movie screen. The sight took my breath away and it seemed incredible that I was actually gazing at one of the greatest cities on earth! I felt gratitude at having made the arduous journey with my best friend and partner at my side, and couldn't have conjured up a better birthday gift.

After taking the George Washington Bridge across Manhattan, we made our way to Brooklyn, and began our search for somewhere to hang our hats. We quickly became aware that it wouldn't be as easy as looking in the paper and calling to make an appointment, so we crossed back into New Jersey via the Verrazano Bridge, and found a room for the night, a room that would become our home for a full week's time.

The next morning we got an early start and made another run at the newspaper, but calling on offerings from the paper wasn't getting us anywhere. So we unhitched the trailer, leaving it unattended at the mercy of the honor system, and drove to Brooklyn to see if we could find an agent. We chose Brooklyn because we didn't think we could afford a place in Manhattan. After speaking with several realtors, we finally met one who seemed willing to take us on. Being new in town, with no current employment and a very limited budget, most agents had passed us over. Our agent said she would ask around, and call if she found anything that fit our criteria.

Back at the motel that evening, our prospects seemed a bit bleak and we were both beginning to allow feelings of despair to seep in. Finding an apartment was proving to be a discouraging process and Deniece was beginning to doubt the sanity of moving so far from home with so little prior planning. The next morning, the desk clerk at our temporary home noticed that we were struggling and asked us if we were all right. We related a bit of our circumstances, and he suggested we take a break from our stressful search and take the train into the city, because if we hadn't been there on foot, we hadn't truly experienced it yet.

We followed his sage advice, and boarded the train to Manhattan that very morning. I was glad we were planning to be pedestrians because I couldn't imagine driving the van in all that madness and congestion, and finding a place to park, " _forget about it."_ As we made our way deeper into the city center, the commotion grew increasingly chaotic. The train spit us out beneath Madison Square Garden on 34th street. Once we disembarked and climbed the stairs to street level, the chaos was overwhelming! The people, noise, traffic, buildings, flashing signs and quick pace, were dizzying and just trying to find space on the sidewalk to push your way through was like nothing I'd ever experienced before! I remember standing in one spot unable to move until I was able to take it all in. I felt as though I was on another planet where everything was completely foreign to me, but one thing was certain, the energy of the city was electrifying!

After catching our breath for a few moments, I noticed something odd; I realized that I couldn't tell which direction I was heading. The buildings were tall and consuming to the point that you couldn't see the sun, and I was so disoriented that I had to keep a sharp eye on street signs just to keep my bearings. Without knowing the landmarks, it was difficult to navigate the city. It occurred to me that the "Empire State Building" might be a good place to start. Once someone pointed us in the right direction, we soon spotted the peak soaring high above the surrounding buildings. We kept our eyes focused on the spire, and headed in that direction. When we reached the building, it brought up emotions that I wasn't aware were hiding inside me, I was in awe that a building of that magnitude was in existence, and I couldn't wait to go inside and take the trek to the top!

As I stood at the pinnacle of what felt like the entire world, peering down at the great city, I could see all of Manhattan including Central Park, Times Square, and even the Statue of Liberty off in the distance! As discouraging as the search for an apartment had been, we were now being taken in by the magic of our surroundings, and we stood with our arms around one another and breathed it all in. Being on top of the world, or at least the city, we began to have some idea of the lay of the land, and we planned our next stop to what appeared to be the center of this strange new universe.

Times Square was abuzz with energy and excitement! There was so much to see, from flashing signs to street performers and of course, massive crowds of people from all walks of life. While we were standing on the street in Times Square, a long white stretch limousine, the big SUV kind, pulled up next to us, and a man jumped out and offered us free tickets to the taping of a popular talk show. When we accepted, he told us that the show was about to start and the limousine was our ride, so we climbed in with about a dozen others and were whisked to the studio. We were led in past a line of people that had formed outside the back entrance, and ushered to front row seats. If this was an example of what life in the city would be like, I was excited to become a part of it! By the end of the day we were exhausted, both body and soul, but at the same time infused with vitality and enthusiasm.

When we arrived back at our motel room we were excited to see the little red light flashing on the phone, indicating that we had a message. Our agent had good news; she had found a couple of options for our consideration. Perhaps we might finally have a place to live. The next morning our agent issued a disclaimer, warning us that she had not previewed the apartments so we would just have to wait and see what was in-store for us. As we entered the basement apartment, we understood the reason for the warning; it was dark, dingy, tiny and dismal. The walls were lined with bedding on the floor, as if a dozen people were trying to survive in the miserable shelter. The kitchen (if you could call it that), nor the bathroom, appeared to be fully functional, but were being used anyway and the smell was indescribable! Not a great start to our search for a home. The second place wasn't much better, and the agent agreed that neither of them were suitable, but assured us that she would keep trying.

That evening I could see the stress written all over my wife's face. I tried to keep a positive attitude, but as the days passed and our funds dwindled, the situation was becoming increasingly critical! When we were both about to give up all hope of ever finding anything suitable, the phone rang. Our agent had a friend, who was also an agent, and he had an apartment available in the same house where he himself lived. She said it was very small, but the house was newer. Also, the landlord was a good man and it was right within our budget. Of course we were delighted to hear the news, and were willing to take just about anything that was at all habitable, so we agreed to a time to meet at the apartment and took down directions.

When we finally found the place, we discovered it was deep on the far side of Queens, not too far from JFK International Airport. The new agent took one look at us and must have thought we were easy prey because he instantly raised the rent by fifty dollars per month, which would raise his fee as well. We were incensed at his brazenness, but we were desperate and homeless, so we took a look anyway. It was one of two basement apartments where he was in the process of moving from one to the other. The apartment he was leaving consisted of three very small rooms; a bedroom, the main living area that included the kitchen, and a bathroom. The living area had barely enough room for a small dining table that sat next to the tiny kitchen area, and that was it! The one small window in the entire apartment, sat above the dining area, providing just a hint of natural light. The bedroom was so small that our queen-sized bed touched the walls on three sides. Squeezed in the bathroom were only the necessities, and it wasn't clean. The place smelled like the bachelor this agent was, but we knew that while it wasn't the most glamorous place we had ever seen, we could make it work. It would take almost all of our money to secure our new home; first month's rent, last month's rent, a security deposit of an additional months rent, and the realtor's fee, which amounted to another month's rent. We passed the money to him, and after he assured us that he would have his things moved out, made arrangements to move in the next day.

As we got back into the van and began our trek back for our last night in the motel, I noticed that Deniece was quietly sobbing. I was concerned, and asked her what was wrong. Her tears were partly tears of relief, and partly because she was trying to accept the idea of living in such a small, dark space. But she reassured me that she knew we had found our new home, and that overall, she was glad.

To make matters worse, only moments after we entered the highway we saw flashing lights from a police vehicle behind us. Once we pulled to the side of the road, the officer informed us that this particular highway did not accommodate commercial vehicles. We tried to explain that our van wasn't for business, but the officer said since it didn't have a window in the back, it didn't qualify as a non-commercial vehicle, and therefore couldn't travel on this particular highway. After a heroic attempt at trying to convince her that we had just arrived in the area from the other side of the country, and were not aware of the local regulations, the officer let the beam of her flashlight fall behind the seats of the van, and saw it was filled to capacity with household items. This convinced her that our story was true, and she let us off with a warning, but instructed us to exit the main highway immediately. We did as we had been instructed, but it meant driving back to our motel using only side streets. To this day, I will never know how we made it back in the dark, with no map, and only a vague idea of which direction to head.

Our new landlord was a kind Columbian man who lived on the main floor of the house with his young adult son. We instantly felt a fondness for them, and felt validated that we had indeed landed in the right spot! One major benefit of taking that tiny dark apartment was that it connected to the laundry room of the main house, and we were allowed to use it whenever we wished. Laundry facilities were a coveted convenience in a New York apartment, so we felt extremely blessed!

We had little money left and knew we needed to find work as soon as possible. We bought a little extra time by selling the van and trailer, quickly realizing that having any kind of vehicle in this place was a liability, and public transportation was easy and accessible once you learned the ropes. It was a big step to give up the van because having a car gives you a sense of security and freedom; knowing you can go anywhere you want in a moments notice. But in truth, I felt more "free" without it, un-tethered from my traditional convenience.

Deniece took a position selling cosmetics for a major department store on fifth avenue in Manhattan and I went to work for a pressure washing company in Queens. The day she started her job we literally spent twelve of our last twenty dollars on the transit pass that would take her into the city. Dangling in the unknown without the slightest assurance you will have your needs met, leaves you with a vulnerable feeling. Neither of us would receive a paycheck for at least two weeks but nothing more could be done, so I put the last eight dollars in my pocket and turned it over to God. My unstable experiences as a child, when we worried if we would have enough to eat through the end of the month, helped me to have faith that God would provide all that we needed, because He always had.

Deniece became a pro at navigating public transportation, while commuting two hours each way, first taking a bus to the subway, then changing trains twice. I learned to drive a commercial van while plotting courses through the congested, narrow streets of Queens. Survival meant living outside our comfort zones, far from anything familiar or secure, and we pushed ourselves to adapt. We continued to live close to the bone, but it was something we had become accustomed to.

Living in New York was a massive adjustment! The culture was vastly different from what I was used to, and the lifestyle was wildly fast paced! Priorities were colossally dissimilar than in the Northwest where most people went to school, got married and started a family while their careers slowly developed. In New York, school and career came first, and then after they were well established, people began to think about marriage and kids. I can't tell you how many people we met, in their mid thirties to late forties, who were just beginning to think about marriage and kids. Once a sophisticated woman living on the East Coast reaches the age where having a child was either a now or never proposition, it became a race to the alter or directly into parenthood before time ran out on her biological clock. Some of the women I became acquainted with, had become obsessed with finding a man who would father their children, and I questioned how male candidates might feel being put under that much pressure. It didn't seem like the best way to start a relationship.

One of the most wonderful things about New York is that you never run out of things to do! You have to live there awhile to really get a true grasp of the place because there's just so much to see and experience, and you would never be able to do it all on a vacation or a short visit. The tourist attractions don't begin to encapsulate what New York is all about. I hadn't come here to make my fortune or become famous, I had come here just for the experience. Of course this made me an oddity and an exception, in a city where everyone is chasing _the dream,_ but it left me more time to discover all sorts of things off the beaten path.

My favorite places in New York were Central Park and Coney Island. Central Park in my opinion is the best-kept secret in the city! I say that because while it is obviously well known, my boss at the pressure washing company was born in Queens and had worked in Manhattan most of her adult life, but fearing it was unsafe, had never been more than a few steps past the edge of the park. Out of everything to see and do, it was by far my favorite place to spend my free time, and I spent countless hours walking the many trails, discovering all sorts of hidden treasures! For instance, in the middle of this huge concrete city, was a cornucopia of abundant wildlife. I saw everything from raccoons and turtles to a wide array of birds including swans, owls, hawks, and eagles just to mention a few. There's even a zoo inside the park. I felt like I could lose myself on the trails that wound through wooded areas, but then the trail would pop you out at a beautiful lake and you could see the massive skyscrapers rising up above the treetops. But the best part by far, were the people! Different nationalities, cultures, personalities, gay, straight, poor, wealthy, roller skaters, ice skaters, drug dealers, homeless etc. were all present there. I could sit on a park bench all day just watching them, and it made me realize that even with all our differences, at our core we are all basically the same.

Coney Island was my escape from the hustle and bustle of the city. Even though I could find private places in the park to enjoy a little peace and quiet, Coney Island was the place I went when I really wanted to get away from all the noise and chaos. I would take off my shoes and walk in the sand as waves crashed at my feet. The sound of the sea, along with the constant breeze and beautiful views, would melt away even my most stubborn anxieties. I have always loved the water, especially the ocean because that enormous, magnificent body of water makes my problems seem trivial and insignificant, helping me put things back into perspective. Whenever I was feeling overwhelmed by life or the city, I could take a quick subway ride, and in no time be standing on a beautiful beach with the wind in my hair and the sand forcing it's way between my toes!

I love stunt kites, and there is nothing better than a steady ocean breeze to fly one. The theme park at Coney Island had been deserted for years so there were never crowds, and it made for a peaceful solitary place to take in a sunset. The surrounding area, between the subway station and the beach, was run down and a bit rough, but there was a dilapidated charm to the neighborhood.

Contrary to popular opinion, I found New York to be safe, friendly and inviting, it wasn't nearly as dangerous as I'd been led to believe. There were always people around wherever I went, at all times of day and night. In fact, I felt safer on the streets of New York, with all it's activity and life, than many of the smaller isolated towns I've lived in. And most of the people I met, seemed helpful and kind.

Our worst encounter with crime came when we were going to a discount store in the Rockaway Beach area of Queens. We took the subway to the end of the line and then had to walk a few blocks through a rough area to catch a bus for the last leg of the trip. After getting off the train, we headed down the street but as we rounded the corner, we literally had to step around the body of a man who had just been shot not a minute or two earlier. It had happened so recently that no one had even gathered around the body, and the police hadn't arrived yet. That experience was a little surreal, to see someone lying dead on the street with his head in a puddle of blood, but we kept our cool, and continued on our way without further incident.

There was an unspoken etiquette on public transit that everyone typically followed. Even if you were packed together like sardines, you didn't do more than glance at the people around you. It's almost humorous to watch hundreds of people squeezed in a small space, trying not to look directly at each other. If your eyes met with another's, you quickly looked away.

Ironically, it's much easier to remain anonymous in a large city than secluded in a small town. No one knew who we were or where we came from, and it was just as likely that someone you met spoke a foreign language, as apposed to English. You could be surrounded by millions of people but there was still the possibility of feeling lonely. My guess is that the fear of loneliness pushes people to gravitate to what they know and they end up creating their own mini subcultures. There was Chinatown, Little Italy, Greek, Jewish, Indian, Irish, Russian and Latino neighborhoods, and I'm sure many more. In the span of just one block, an area could completely change from one type to another. It felt as though you were traveling the world without ever having to leave Manhattan. The sights, sounds, smells, and speech immediately let you know that you were in a different neighborhood. New York is an entire world unto itself, where the word "diverse," barely scratches the surface.

One typical morning, as I got into my company van for work, I started the engine and the radio blared to life. There was a serious sounding voice that reported a plane had just crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings! I instinctively raised my head and looked towards the western sky in time to see a threatening plume of smoke rising above the city, as I continued straining to hear a better explanation from the announcer on the radio. It was the morning of September 11th. The first trade center building had already been hit and was on fire, and the radio spokesperson informed listeners that they were closing down the city to any incoming traffic. Quickly, I ran back into the house where Deniece was getting ready for work and shouted, "You're not going to work today!" I explained what I had heard on the radio as I raced to the small television set that sat on our bedroom dresser.

We sat at the foot of our bed in silence as we watched the second plane careen into the other tower. I was stunned, and couldn't believe what I was witnessing! Was this really happening? The longer we watched the events unfold, the more solidly the reality set in! When the first building fell to the ground, we gasped as that enormous building disappeared from sight and was soon followed by the second. We sat glued to the television set for most of the day, and watched with the rest of the nation as our idea of life in this country was skewed forever.

The very next morning, the trains and busses began to run once again and Deniece went back to work, business as usual. It hadn't been twenty-four hours since the attack and people were returning to their jobs in the city. Many people were traumatized by the disaster and the energy of the city had dramatically changed, but most had the wherewithal to go on living their lives as though they understood they didn't really have any other choice. I heard people talking about being paralyzed by fear, not being able to bring themselves to get on the subway for fear that terrorists would blow it up, and people who wanted to leave the city because they were consumed by panic that something horrible would happen again. I was aware of the significance of the tragedy but I wasn't as terribly affected. I had a tremendous feeling of compassion for the people who had experienced personal loss but I wasn't afraid to board a train or continue going into the city. I instinctively understood that everything happens as it's supposed to. Of course this wasn't a concept that was appropriate to share, given the current situation. As I continue to live by that principle, I have come to see that everything in life happens for a reason and is for our growth. At every moment, each event, no matter how painful or devastating, has purpose for each person involved, whether it's in a minor way or a central one.

As I have looked back on my life, I can see that every challenge or struggle, no matter how difficult, was a blessing each and every time without exception. I believe personal growth is the chief reason to be born a human. This life provides countless opportunities to become self-aware and self-realized. Every moment of every day we live, the Divine whispers to us, and if we choose distraction over attention, we will get some kind of wake up call. I believe the longer we ignore this subtle guidance, the more progressive and severe the message becomes until we give it, and life our attention. Every attempt at securing our attention is born of great love! Once this is realized, despite its challenges, life doesn't seem as difficult because you see it's happening _for_ you.

I hold the belief that mistakes are not ultimately possible. In fact, our perceived mistakes or shortcomings can be our greatest opportunities and our biggest assets! The struggle comes up when we resist "what is." When you refuse to accept things just as they are, you set up conflict in your own mind, and that causes internal pain. At one time, I fought with and resisted everything I didn't agree with, but somewhere along the way I began to see that no matter how upset I got or how far I ran, the events didn't change. You can't change the past, nor can you predict the future, therefore, the present moment is all you have to work with. Staying "present" empowers you to change your life, and accepting the present moment for how it presents itself, brings peace and clarity to every situation and every experience!

Seeing how quickly ones life can end, made me want to move forward with mine. We had come here to live in Manhattan, and for over two years we had paid our dues living in Queens. I wanted to finish what we had come here for, and move into the city as soon as possible!

We loved our landlord but it was time for us to move on and I began the huge undertaking of trying to find an apartment in the city. This was a difficult and surprisingly competitive process! Every time I went to an open house, there were at least twenty other anxious people waiting to be let in. Typically, I would see someone filling out a rental application right there on the spot, and I wondered how I would ever be chosen or approved (given my credit history), over the more qualified applicants. Occasionally, a bidding war would break out and the rent would skyrocket! Most of the people looking were young professionals, and even "I" would have rented to them over me. The process was discouraging to say the least, but I kept at it. Overtime, my expectations lessoned, and I was willing to look at almost anything. Most of the preliminary legwork was done while Deniece was at work.

It took a few months before I started to narrow down our search and it was clear that we really wanted to be on the upper west side, preferably close to Deniece's work. As for me, I wanted to be as close to Central Park as I could possibly get. I thought the only way we would be able to afford something in that part of town, was if it were run down. This limited our options to some pretty nasty looking places, but I knew we could fix it up if it had the right "bones." We had a budget that we wanted to stick to but we soon realized that it wasn't going to be enough. After doubling our price range, the options began to open up a bit.

Deniece's son had come to visit us in Queens and of course we took him into Manhattan to see the sights, as he had never been there. We disembarked the train at the Museum Of Natural History on 81st street and Central Park West, and discovered a bustling little neighborhood filled with great restaurants, interesting people and desirable shops. Heading away from Central Park were beautiful tree lined streets and most of the apartments were in fantastic, prewar Brownstones dripping with character! They were appealing because of their handsome architectural details, but we knew we could never afford to live there. Then during my search, I answered an ad for an apartment one block up on 82nd street. I couldn't believe there was actually something in that neighborhood that was in our budget! It was only half a block from the park and I wondered what kind of building it would be in. When I did a preliminary walk-by, I saw, much to my excitement, that it was in a brownstone and I realized that it was a mere ten blocks from Deniece's job! If we were to live there she would be able to walk to work. What a difference it would make going from a two hour commute, to a leisurely ten-minute stroll. The moment I laid eyes on the building I was instantly in love, and immediately called the agent to make arrangements to see inside. This time, before I went inside, I would wait until my wife would be able to come with me.

The owner lived in San Francisco, so we met with his friend who was managing the apartment for him. When we approached the building, which was one of the few that had a bowed window in front, we wondered with excitement which apartment was available. When these brownstones were originally built they were single-family dwellings, but most of them had since been divided into several apartments each. As we climbed the flight of stairs to the entrance of the building, I remember hoping that it would be the first apartment closest to the entrance. I loved that it was above the street level but close enough to see the activity. That apartment also had the incredible bowed window that was topped with intricate stained glass. We walked into the main hallway and were immediately impressed by the beautiful woodwork and the ten-foot-tall double doors that led to the apartment on the main floor. To our delight, the agent was opening the grand doors, as this was indeed the apartment being offered!

The first thing we noticed when we went in was an elaborate fireplace and mantel set off by a rather large built-in mirror. Then our eyes were pulled all the way up to the height of the fourteen-foot ceiling. The place had an odd layout, long and narrow and it had a sleeping loft above the bathroom and kitchen that was accessed by a steep ladder. The apartment had originally been the Parlor of the home where the residents may have entertained guests, which would explain the grand woodwork and classic detailing. The front windows provided a view down the street towards the park. It was explained that the building was an historic site, so even though the windows were old and in need of some repair, they couldn't be replaced for reasons of historic preservation. The apartment was small, but much larger that our current living arrangement. In the sleeping loft, there was only four and a half feet of clearance before your head would hit the ceiling, and it had no railing around the perimeter, so caution was called for, but the floor space was larger than most of the "sleeping nests" that I had encountered on my exhaustive search. The loft would be different from anything we had ever experienced and a challenge to get used to, but overall we were enchanted by the chance to live in true "New York" fashion.

We wanted the apartment so we told the gentleman we would take it, but we were nervous about what my credit report might reveal. We filled out some preliminary paperwork and put down a deposit right then and there. We were also made aware that there was someone else interested in the place, but the agent seemed to like us and strongly recommended us to the owner. Although we'd been anxious about my credit, he never made mention of running a report. I'm sure it must be standard procedure to check out a prospective renter by means of a credit report, but he must have felt secure that we were people who could be trusted. The apartment was in need of repair, and he learned we were remodelers, which may have helped persuade his decision. Whatever the reason, the apartment was meant to be ours and when something is meant to be, nothing can stand in its way! We were given keys and a date for move-in that very night. Despite all the odds, we would become official Manhattan residents at last!

The only moving truck available, could be picked up on Saturday night and had to be returned by noon on Sunday because there was another reservation, which meant we had a very limited timeframe in which to move all our belongings from the old place into the new one. We loaded everything up Saturday night with the help of our neighbor. Between the three of us, we were able to heft the heavy items up the narrow basement stairs and into the truck, but we had no idea how we would hoist our armoire back off the truck and into the new apartment without assistance. We knew we couldn't do it alone, but would have nobody available to help us at 6:00am the next morning, once we reached the city.

The sun was just beginning to rise as we made our way over the bridge that would take us to whatever awaited us in Manhattan. By the time we pulled up in front of the brownstone that would become our home for the next year and a half, a fine drizzle had begun to fall. The street was deserted and finding a solution for the heavy lifting would present challenge. We had no choice but to begin unloading our things, starting with the small items we could manage on our own, and pray for help with the rest.

Just as we had begun our task, a man appeared out of nowhere, and unsolicited, offered to help us, explaining that he wouldn't expect payment in cash, but rather, in exchange for his services he needed milk for his baby who was waiting at home. Could this be true? At 6:00 am on a Sunday morning, in the rain, with no one else in sight, help had magically come into existence just when we were in desperate need of it? Needless to say, I readily took him up on his offer, and in just under two hours, the three of us unloaded every item. It even looked as if I might be able to return the truck early. I felt so grateful to have received his generous help, that instead of milk, I gave him all the cash I had in my pocket, which amounted to just over forty dollars. He eagerly thanked me and left, never to be seen again. It seems like a small thing, but it never is; without fail, God always finds a way to give us what we need. The timing is always perfect, and I marveled at the synchronicity and orchestration of God's influence in my life!

After settling in, we quickly went to work remodeling the place. In New York, if someone wants to improve their apartment, they typically pay for everything themselves. The apartments are rented "as is" and very few landlords are willing to pay for any improvements. This was the case with ours, but it meant we were free to do as we wished.

We painted every wall and moved on to the woodwork where we discovered our first big surprise! The old, bowed windows were hiding a secret cache! After removing the bulky metal security gate from the large front window, I started removing the multiple layers of old paint and discovered that there were wooden shutters behind the side panels of the painted casings! Each shutter folded back into the woodwork disguising itself as part of the elaborate window frame. It took hours of cutting and scraping to finally free all of the shutters but when I was done, it was well worth the effort! Other inhabitants of the building took notice because the shutters could be seen easily from the stoop, and one of them said, "Oh how beautiful, you had new shutters installed!" Everything in the apartment seemed to come to life, as we made the needed repairs, restoring it to its original beauty.

Next was the kitchen remodel. We didn't have the money to replace the old laminate cabinets so we got some special primer that would stick well and painted them white. We added some new hardware and when we were finished they looked like high-end custom cabinets. Then we tiled the counter tops and made a custom backsplash, using small stones and shells that we had collected out on Rockaway Beach. We also threw in a few small starfish and some beach glass to make it feel special. Between being led to an affordable apartment, and our ability to make it the best it could be on a shoestring, living in Manhattan was not only possible but pleasant as well.

Now that I was living in Manhattan, I wanted to work there too and took a job in "visual display" for a popular furniture and décor store. It was a fun job that gave me the chance to improve my skill with design. I rode the bus to work, and when I didn't have a time restraint, walked home through Central Park. I only worked there for about six months and then I started up my remodeling business again. Eventually, Deniece quit her job and came to work with me.

I look back on this time with such fondness! We began our days by stepping around the corner to get a freshly grilled egg sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then we would walk down our tree-lined street into Central Park and seek out our favorite secluded spot on a huge rock next to the lake, and eat our breakfast. While we ate, we fed the birds and turtles with bits of crust. Afterwards, we would take a brisk hour-long walk through the park, go home, load up our rolling tool bins, and walk a couple of blocks to our job-site. Most of our clients lived within a six-block radius and whenever we had a lot of supplies to pick up, we simply rented a vehicle, went shopping in Queens, and delivered the supplies to the sight. There was a car rental agency conveniently located a block away. When we needed to do laundry, we put our clothes in a big bag, loaded it onto one of our rolling carts, and walked down the street to the coin-operated laundromat. We also used our cart for groceries whenever we needed more than we could carry in our arms. We never ordered cable, so we had no TV to distract us. Other than the occasional rented movie, we spent most of our time together outside the apartment. It was a simple life and one I thoroughly enjoyed!

Remodeling allowed us to see inside all types of fascinating buildings and quirky apartments; it also gave us an up close and personal look at the people who lived in them. We worked for a friend who was an actress on a soap opera, she then referred us to another actor who worked on the same show and lived in the same building. His character was the young gorgeous stud that attracted all the women, but in reality, he was in a romantic partnership with another man. We met many new friends and were invited to parties and events through the connections we made from our work.

Deniece's oldest daughter came to stay with us for three months after she graduated from high school. She got herself a part-time job in a boutique and learned how to get there on public transportation. We were proud of her for jumping into city living so courageously. It was quite a change from her more sheltered life in Utah. She slept each night on an air mattress in the middle of our living room, which kept things nice and cozy. She even found the local branch of the LDS Church, and attended regularly. She was a delight to share our close quarters with, respectful, kind and courteous. We loved having her be a part of our New York experience.

Not everything in New York was pleasant or easy. Deniece and I did a massive amount of self-discovery during that time, which can be very painful. But being so far from loved ones compelled us to rely on each other. We were forced, because in such tight quarters there is nowhere to run and hide, to face our problems head on. There were times throughout our years there when we both had doubts about why we were there and why we were together. That's when Deniece's life-long best friend introduced us to a book by Byron Katie and what she calls, "The Work." Doing "The Work" on our stressful thoughts and the negative judgments we had about each other, led us both to the discovery that all of our negative judgments are in fact projections, which you overlay onto someone or something else. After investigating these negative thoughts, one ultimately discovers that they aren't true. This simple understanding has impacted my life so profoundly that I barely recognize my "old" self.

Those years were also the time we were blessed by the work of Dr. David R. Hawkins. His tremendous body of work primarily deals with the subject of "consciousness." For anyone interested in inner peace he calls his teaching, "Devotional Non-duality." His work is life altering and clinical in nature, but is not for the spiritually faint of heart. There is much to be said for the benefit of the science of Kinesiology and his instruction on that subject. When we acquired our first of his books _Power Vs. Force_ , we took it to the Great Lawn in Central Park where we shared a blanket as my wife read aloud to me. His teachings were shocking, yet comforting at the same time.

We also had the opportunity, through The Learning Annex in New York City, to see these two great spiritual teachers in person and listen as they spoke. Reading their books had been extraordinarily impactful, but seeing them in person, and looking into Dr. Hawkins' eyes as he took my hand in his, was an extra special blessing, one that I shall never forget! We were able to be in their presence and feel their energy and disposition; in person these two individuals radiate an energy that I have never felt before or since! I could feel true peace, joy and love emanating through them. Now when I plug in one of their many CD's, I can see the light in their eyes and imagine their faces as I listen to the recordings. They have each had such profound impact on me that I will forever be grateful for their influence in my life. I can rarely be found without one of their books close at hand.

We had been living in New York for approximately four years and had just finished two large jobs, one in Hoboken and one for the people who lived directly beneath us in the same brownstone, when a change was brewing. The monthly bills were paid and we found ourselves sitting on several thousand dollars. That was an unusual instance because it seemed we never had more money than we absolutely needed, which led us to ask ourselves, "Why do we have it, and what are we meant to do with it?"

Deniece's last husband had just ended an engagement to a woman who had been less than supportive toward their young daughter. In fact, she had even begun to make it difficult for Deniece to be involved with her daughter at all, so we were relieved to find out that she was out of the picture. Deniece suggested that the time might be right to return to Washington because she had an instinct that her daughter needed her. When I last left Washington, I vowed I would never live there again. I felt I'd already put in my time under the grey skies and drizzle, and didn't relish the idea. But if this journey was teaching me anything, it was to follow my heart, and I knew we needed to return. However, the decision came with a feeling of foreboding!

I knew it meant I would be facing more of my issues with my ex-wife, and the rest of my extended family. Returning to Washington meant big changes were once again on the horizon, and most of those would be nestled around facing my own demons. I knew we had spent our time here healing and preparing ourselves for the difficult road ahead, but the thought of returning still made me a bit nervous! I didn't have any idea what lay ahead, but I was willing to find out.

In New York we had found great love. Love for ourselves, love for each other, and the all-encompassing love that can be felt for every living thing. We had grown close because we had faced many of our fears together including the most frightening one, that of the unknown! Now it was time to move on again, and put our new understandings to the test. Life cycles come and go, and this one had run its course. We were getting much better at feeling these energy changes, and needed less encouragement to recognize or act on them. We saw there was a natural flow to life, and if we didn't resist it, it would lovingly take us exactly where we needed to go. Resistance causes change to be difficult. However, change is certain, and one way or the other, whether you go kicking and screaming or if you welcome it with open arms, you will experience it.

**Chapter Nine**

### Back to Reality

We were on our way back to face the music. We needed to clean up the messes we had left behind and a few new ones that had cropped up while we had been away. We purchased a used van for our trip home. It was much newer than the last one, so we hoped we wouldn't have any mechanical problems with it. We also found a much nicer, fully enclosed trailer that came complete with inside lights and a retractable vent on top for airflow. The larger trailer would enable us to pack it three quarters full with our belongings and throw our mattress on top so we could sleep inside. It was a tight fit, you could barely roll over in the space between the mattress and the top of the trailer but we managed to sleep, exhausted from the prolonged days of driving.

Before we were even settled into the long journey, on only the second day of the trip, the rear end went out on the van, which subsequently burned up the back brakes. The repairs were costly and we had to stay in a hotel for a couple of nights, adding unexpected expense. When we got to Utah the alternator and battery went dead and by the time we arrived in Oregon the engine was toast! Once we'd made all the necessary repairs, we had over twelve thousand dollars invested in a van that was barely worth one forth that figure. As soon as the transmission started to have problems, we traded it in on a used, late model economy car. We were glad to be rid of it forever, but we were left with a credit card bill that would haunt us for several years.

We moved into a small bungalow in Portland Oregon, less than an hours drive from where Deniece's ex-husband and their daughter were living. By a strange and intriguing twist of fate my mother had moved to the same small town several years earlier, making nearness to family, decidedly convenient. We chose Portland because after living in Manhattan we weren't sure if we were ready for small town life, and for it's close proximity.

We began by trying to start up our remodeling business but quickly realized that it wasn't as easy as it had been in the past to find clients. We littered several neighborhoods with flyers and didn't get a single call for our advertising efforts. We also discovered that Portland had an exorbitant number of requirements in order to get licensed to do construction, and the costs were more than we'd expected as well. But we had learned not to oppose what life served up so we took the path of least resistance and found regular jobs. Deniece went back to the cosmetics counter and I went back to a home improvement warehouse.

We didn't enjoy having to start our new life off with a mountain of debt but somehow it felt like we were making up for the years when we hadn't owned a vehicle; all the money we hadn't spent on repairs, maintenance, gas, insurance, and car payments had all come back to us in one lump sum! In addition to that, we were also paying high-risk insurance rates because we hadn't purchased insurance in several years. It didn't matter to the insurance company that we hadn't owned a car in New York and didn't need insurance, only that we'd had a lapse in coverage, and as a consequence, we were required to pay inflated rates for two years! Needless to say, my feelings for the insurance industry weren't too warm and fuzzy. A vehicle was a necessity in this region of the country, so we were compelled to take our lumps.

Deniece worked downtown so she took the train leaving the car for my trek to the outskirts. As I had come to expect, whenever I worked for somebody else, my wages were garnished for fifty percent of my pay, making it difficult to cover our monthly expenses. Deniece usually contributed the bulk of our monthly income and paid the majority of our bills and I was very grateful that I had her help. Had I been living on my own, I don't know how I would have made ends meet.

It was well over the two-year limit since my child support had originally been set so I was within my rights to petition the court to have my payments reduced, but I remained unwilling to involve the court even if there was a chance it could benefit me financially. I had strong feelings about how the court system can usurp an individual's power, making it seem that the full responsibility for decisions wouldn't rest solely on the two parties involved, and I wanted all the responsibility of my situation to stay with my ex-wife and me. If she wanted to rely on the court for every move she made and use it to justify her behavior, that was her business, but I was aware of how problematic empowering a third party had been in our case.

In my situation, the court always seemed to do more harm than good. My ex-wife had actively distorted the court's decisions and used them as an excuse for her own actions. This released her from any real responsibility, while she conveniently forgot that she was the one who had petitioned the court in the first place. She acted as if, she had been forced by the court into doing whatever detrimental activity she was engaged in. While the judges and attorneys did the best they could, the system is far more focused on the law, than on what will serve the highest good of the parties involved. They really didn't understand our situation; they only seemed interested in getting the case off the docket as quickly as possible. So I continued to allow my ex-wife to make her choices without interference from me. I was comforted by the thought that regardless of what else happened, she would be responsible for her own choices. My feelings were clear around this issue but I still harbored some confusion and had many unanswered questions. Fortunately, the universe was about to answer some of them, but I would take steps in a new and _questionable_ direction.

Shortly after arriving in Portland I called the case officer in charge of my child support, to report my new address and give him the particulars about my current employment. The information was required by WSSR (Washington State Support Registry) every time something changed in my living situation, but days after informing them, I learned that my New York driver's license had been suspended. I immediately contacted my case officer again and he explained that there had been a mix-up. The entire four years in New York, I'd continued sending child support payments to Washington State, but unbeknownst to me they had just sent my case to New York, so when I sent my payment to Washington, as usual, I didn't receive credit for it. Consequently, New York issued a suspension of my driver's license because they assumed I hadn't made a payment.

I definitely needed a driver's license in order to get to work, not to mention earn the money to pay my child support. To clear the matter up, I was given a name and instructed to call the person in charge of my case in New York, but after repeated failed attempts to contact him, my new case officer had to work with New York State in order to clear the issue up. Eventually, I was issued a license in Portland after driving on a revoked license for weeks.

Then I was informed by WSSR that since the company I was currently working for offered health insurance benefits, I was also required to purchase the available insurance for my estranged son. I explained that I couldn't afford to carry health insurance on myself so I wasn't taking advantage of any kind of coverage through my employer. He informed me in no uncertain terms, that I was required to purchase it. I worried about it for a while because I didn't intend to buy health insurance and wondered if they could deduct it from my pay without my consent. I never purchased health insurance, and I don't know what actions were taken, but I never heard another word about it. After five years of being kept from seeing my son and more than five years with the dysfunctional child support system, my frustration was beginning to get the best of me.

I had ended my toxic relationship, walked away from the support of the courts, and now I was ready to be finished with WSSR and child support altogether. If I stopped paying child support I would subject myself to whatever the law could throw at me. I knew they could revoke any licensing the State had jurisdiction over, which included a driver's license and/or business license, and I also knew that I could be kept from getting a passport. They had the right to seize any funds that I kept in a bank account, confiscate any of my assets and even throw me in jail if they chose. However, I was past the point of caring. I understood the consequences, and I was no longer trapped by fear. I had been freed by my anger and wasn't going to pay one more nickel of child support until my ex-wife chose to work with me to raise our child together! I knew to the depth of my soul that the very best thing I had to offer my son was my love, my time, and my involvement. What my ex-wife and WSSR were engaged in felt like extortion, "taxation without representation" and I wasn't willing to participate anymore.

Even when the judge had ordered her to allow me visitation time with my son, she couldn't be forced to let us see each other. Morality can't be legislated. I hadn't seen my son in over five years and it was clear that wasn't going to change. If she didn't want my involvement, I wouldn't be involved in any way. I have always been willing to cooperate and find balance in any agreement, but I felt I was alone in that endeavor.

I found it strikingly out of balance the way our family court system placed money as a higher priority than anything else. Money is important, but the interaction of a loving parent is worth far more than any amount of money! My ex-wife committed all sorts of atrocities during our divorce, but the courts only seemed concerned about the money and keeping the peace.

As it turned out, it was a blessing that we hadn't jumped through all the hoops required to start a business in Portland because being issued a business license wouldn't have been likely. We'd been there less than a year when we started to realize that we needed to be much closer to Deniece's daughter. Living at that distance just wasn't conducive to serving a viable function in her life. It was evident that she needed her mother's influence on a daily basis. She had come to visit us, but our contact wasn't nearly regular enough to help restructure her life and we all recognized it. So we quit our jobs, left Portland, and moved closer to her daughter.

Deniece's ex-husband offered us the use of the travel trailer parked in his driveway, as a temporary place to stay while we searched for an apartment somewhere in the near vicinity. We quickly noticed the condition of the main house was far less than satisfactory and Deniece feared that unless it was addressed, she couldn't abide her daughter living there any longer. Deferred maintenance, and upkeep done to a bachelor's standard, wasn't making the grade. We would have to find a way to clean up the house or find our place and move her daughter in with us. The very night we landed we jumped full steam ahead into the clean up, starting in her daughter's bedroom, burrowing through the stuffed closet and laundering everything the cat had used as his litter box. Eventually, we worked our way through the entire house, shampooing carpets, replacing furniture that was no longer fit for use, scrubbing bathrooms and painting most of the surfaces in the house including the kitchen cabinetry, retiring to the trailer each evening to sleep.

As we became more involved, Deniece could see how much her daughter needed her, physically as well as mentally. We had looked at a few places to rent, but she felt that moving across town would virtually put us in the same position as before. Deniece knew she needed to be with her child every day, but she also thought it would be damaging for her daughter to be separated from her father. He had been the only constant in their daughter's life, and she got her sense of security from him.

One night we all sat down together to discuss what we thought would be best for their daughter. The mutual decision was for us to move into the house, literally setting our bed up in the family room. The house had desperately needed some TLC, but far more important than that, a little girl would have her mother back in her life on an on going basis. Although I got along well with Deniece's ex-husband, sometimes I found it difficult to be myself in the confines of our new situation. I struggled with the way he did things and the loss of privacy. Deniece and her ex had their daughter to help motivate them to attempt this unorthodox situation, but I was unsure of my place in our communal living arrangement. Just being Deniece's husband didn't seem like enough.

Once we were settled, it was time to let WSSR know of my new whereabouts, but I didn't do it, and I stopped sending payments altogether. I was anticipating immediate action against me, especially since I'd come back to the state of Washington. I'm sure they knew where I lived because the postal service and the IRS had my address, but I didn't hear anything from them. Tax time would come and they would seize our combined tax returns, but those were the only funds they received from me.

I had run businesses in Washington for years, so it seemed quite natural to re-open the business, but this time we opened it in Deniece's name. Our car was already in her name and when we opened bank accounts we put those in her name as well, feeling relatively safe that any other assets would be secure. We threw fliers and pounded the pavement to get the business up and running, but our first jobs came from the neighbors. I knew it took hard work, determination and selling skills to start a business, but it also had to be God's will. I'd been learning that concept over the years, but was discovering just how true it was! I also came to understand that I wasn't the one charge. There is a larger plan in place, and I'm just a character living out that predestined plan on the stage of life.

One afternoon on the way home from a job-site, we stopped by the bank to deposit a check from one of our clients. When we got the receipt back from the teller it said our previous balance had been one cent! I knew we had over one thousand dollars in the account because I kept fairly close tabs on our finances. To our shocked insistence that there must have been some kind of mistake, we received the information that our account had been "swept" by WSSR. I was shaken by the news but quickly accepted the situation, since I had vowed to take responsibility for whatever consequences followed my actions. I even found reason to be grateful because I had just made a car payment and soon found that it had cleared before the account was emptied. The account was only in Deniece's name, but I was listed as a signer so that I could access funds and information. That was all they needed to secure access to the funds. Now that we understood the rules, we marched directly into the bank and had my name removed to prevent it from happening again.

The next month the account was swept again! It was the same account number so WSSR hadn't bothered to check that the account had been changed. After some dispute, research ensued and the money was returned. We closed the account and opened a new one just to be on the safe side. As long as I was willing to show no personal income, have any possessions or a credit card, WSSR couldn't take anything more from me, and the one-sided arrangement with my ex-wife came to an abrupt halt.

### ~

I must admit it was difficult to be back under the grey skies of western Washington. The seemingly never-ending days of drizzle were less than inspiring. The rain made going for a walk, or any other outdoor activity less enjoyable. The only relief was the few weeks of sunshine during mid-summer when I could get out on the river in my kayak. Whenever I needed a break from my unconventional life, I would find peace and tranquility on the river, weather permitting.

Deniece spent the next couple of years focused on helping her daughter get caught up in school, helping her with homework in the afternoon and reading to her every night before bed. Everyone in the house managed to work together, despite our differences. We even found ways to make our differences work to everyone's advantage. We each had something vital to contribute and together we began to gel into a solid team.

Whenever it seemed like the communal living arrangement was more than I could bear, something inside would remind me that if I refused to work it out, I would be squandering a golden opportunity! Instinctively, I knew I had to transcend whatever problems I was having, and that if I couldn't be happy there, I wouldn't be happy anywhere. This knowledge kept me involved no matter how difficult it became at times. Neighbors who were close enough to know of our situation said that they could never do what we were doing, but they had to agree that it seemed to be working for us.

Three more years had come and gone and we were still managing to live in this strange collective environment. Deniece's daughter was twelve by then, and in the sixth grade. Deniece and I began to assume that we would probably continue living in this situation until their daughter graduated from high school in six more years, which seemed daunting, but as long as it continued to have a positive effect on her, I was willing. The company that Deniece's ex-husband worked for had a contract that didn't expire until then, so we had no reason to believe we would move from the area, even though living in that town always felt temporary.

Deniece's ex-husband came home from work one day and said he had an announcement to make. We gathered together for a family meeting, which was our practice when someone had something important to say, and he told us that his company's contract was ending early, and he was going to have to look for an open position in another city. His company had positions all over the country, so the options were abundant and I anxiously wondered where God would send us next!

That's when I remembered the road trip we had taken a decade ago, and the beautiful city of Boulder Colorado. When we had passed through Boulder, the place just seemed to glow! We had felt then that we would live there someday, but the opportunity had not as of yet, presented itself.

He looked at jobs all over the country, but the only one I was interested in was a position that was in the process of being created, just outside of Boulder. The reality was, that there was no actual employment available yet, only a slim possibility. His current job was quickly coming to an end and he needed to make a decision soon. Their daughter was on summer break from school and we were hoping to relocate before the new school year started.

He had put the house on the market, which wasn't going well due to a major decline in real estate prices. Deniece and I had the house clean, in good repair and staged well, but as prices continued to drop, we couldn't reduce the price fast enough to entice buyers. As the weeks passed, anxiety grew to rule the day. I felt so strongly about where we would end up that I wouldn't entertain the idea of living anywhere else. Deniece and her ex-husband tried to persuade me to remain opened minded, but I simply couldn't help how I felt about it. I'm sure I drove the two of them to the brink of insanity with my unwillingness to consider other options. They were afraid I would be overly disappointed if Colorado wasn't where we landed, and they were probably correct. I simply couldn't imagine moving anywhere else.

He had feelers out in several other places and was waiting to hear back but as the weeks passed we realized that even if he found the right position immediately, there wouldn't be enough time to get their daughter settled before school began for fall semester. When he finally got a call, it was from the most unlikely of sources, the company in Colorado! Out of all the choices that were on the table, Colorado was the biggest long shot. They still didn't have a solid contract yet, but they were interested in him for the position they were trying to create and wanted him to interview. As soon as I heard the news, I felt certain that we would be moving to Colorado. None of the other opportunities had come to fruition, so the fact that he was being flown out for an interview, solidified my belief that it would somehow workout.

I had already searched real estate websites for houses and even formed a relationship, exchanging e-mails with a realtor in the area. So when Deniece's ex-husband flew out for his interview, Deniece and I jumped in the car. He was going to get a job and we were going to find a house.

We left a day early so that we would arrive on the same day. We had only two days to search for a place to live, and we were determined to give it our best effort! I had assembled an extensive list of homes from what I could ascertain on the Internet, that we were anxious to see. Their daughter had chosen her favorite and although she hadn't come along, she had cast her vote.

The first afternoon that we rolled into town we had a chance to drive by some of the properties on the list and preview them before meeting our real estate agent the next morning. Right off the bat we discovered that what you find on a computer screen, doesn't necessarily stand true to life. All the statistics were correct, but as for the neighborhoods or the condition of the homes, we had to see them in person to have an actual idea if the listing could work for us. Consequently, we were able to scratch several houses off our list in no time. Her ex-husband went to his meetings and Deniece and I spent the entire day looking at one house after another, without much success.

By afternoon on the final day, we were down to the last house on the list, which happened to be one of my top three picks and our daughter's first choice, but it was one of the smaller houses and I wasn't certain it would meet the needs of all who would live there. When we pulled up to the curb we were told that the price had dropped by a fairly substantial sum because the house was going into foreclosure. This meant if we were interested and chose to make an offer, we would be dealing with the bank rather than an individual owner.

When Deniece walked into the house she knew immediately that this was the one. It needed a fair bit of cosmetic upgrading but the layout had a good flow and just enough room for the four of us to live comfortably. One of the reasons it was still available was because the master bedroom was similar in size to the other three bedrooms and didn't have a separate bathroom suite attached. There were two bedrooms on the main floor that shared a small bath and there were two bedrooms in the basement that shared a small bath, which didn't make the grade for most people. However, it worked perfectly for our situation! Her ex-husband could have the downstairs for his bedroom and office with his own bathroom, and there was also a good-sized family room on that level to be used as his "man cave." The rest of us would live upstairs. With a little sweat equity we could see that the house would be ideal, but my favorite part was the location because it was within walking distance to a park with the only lake in town and they were all connected by cement walking trails. Deniece and I would be able to take our morning walks without having to drive anywhere, which really appealed to me. The road in front of our house was lined with street lamps and the house was south facing which meant less snow shoveling in the wintertime. The ceilings on the main floor were vaulted and the house had an abundance of windows, making it feel even more spacious and bright!

We knew we had found the house for us and when Deniece's ex-husband's final meeting was finished, he had just enough time to see it before he had to make a run for the airport and catch his flight home. He recognized the home as well, and since the price was right, he made an offer on the spot and left for the airport.

Back in Washington, he negotiated with the bank and an agreement was reached. He had purchased a house in a city, where there wasn't an official job yet. And to make the situation even more precarious, our house in Washington hadn't sold and his current job was about to come to an end. We had only one month to sell the house, pack up our things and arrive in Colorado to make the closing date. Just days before we left for Colorado, he heard that the contract had been officially signed, creating the new position. He literally accepted the position over the phone, on the road somewhere between Washington and Colorado. On the downside, he had a double mortgage for the first few months until the Washington house finally sold.

The whole experience had been an extreme test of faith, and while it had the potential to be overwhelmingly stressful, I felt sure we were on the right track, which alleviated most of my worry. Logically speaking, everything happened out of its proper order, but nobody felt we were making a mistake. We were guided through every step of the process, and grateful for the comfort and support the Divine had provided us. Each element of the move fell into place just at the right moment, orchestrated perfectly by the best conductor there is; the same one who conducts all of our lives, at all times. If we would only allow ourselves to see the grace of God at work, we would be able to release our fears and bask in the glory His love provides.

Like most other changes, moving to Colorado meant a new stage in my life. Another step in the awakening process was beginning to emerge. I had a vague idea that I would begin to embrace who I was meant to be, or who I had been all along, but simply hadn't realized. Instead of just talking the talk, it was time to begin walking the walk. I felt the time had come to break free from the social confines and forge my own path. I had seen brief glimpses of what that could be like, but I had continued to operate from a comfort zone of sorts. Now I felt I needed to give up the security of living by what I knew and face life with God at the reigns. I was beginning to suspect that I'd never been in control, that being in control had always been my own illusion.

After working in the physically taxing business of construction full time for the last three years, I felt I needed to make some changes. My knees, along with the rest of my body, were feeling the abuse that accompanies hard labor. Between the military and the remodeling I did off and on for twenty years, it was time to consider a new occupation. My idea was to concentrate more on home staging, consulting, and decorating. Then if we wanted to take on the occasional paint job, we could. This seemed like the perfect solution to my concerns.

We got settled into our new home, enrolled Deniece's daughter in school and began the renovations. We also immediately got to work promoting our business. We handed out fliers and business cards, and went to real estate offices and gave presentations about our home staging ideas. We even offered free initial consultations to anyone interested in having us stage their home. We felt good about our efforts and everyone responded positively to our campaign, but we received no calls for work. Weeks turned into months and still there was no business. Deniece went to Utah during our first holiday season, working in her best friend's boutique to earn some extra money. I went back to Washington before the house sold because there had been damage caused by a windstorm. I made the repairs myself and earned the insurance payout. However, after a few months of pounding the pavement, it had become clear that our efforts weren't going to pay off. We had never been so focused on trying to get a business started before, but we were finally forced to accept that God had other plans for us.

I knew there were big changes on the horizon and I was starting to realize that for over twenty years I had relied on my remodeling business to save me, and now it was time for me to let it go completely! Deep down I always knew that I was never cut out to be a construction worker but it paid the bills and had given me freedom to live my life on my own terms.

Deniece accepted a position with the same cosmetic company she had worked for in New York, only this time around she would work in management, and since her ex-husband was paying the mortgage, her wages would cover our monthly expenses. I continued to work on updating the house, but there was something else I knew I needed to do.

Since the day Deniece and I first met, we had been preparing ourselves for what was about to come next. In fact, we had been preparing for this part of our journey all our lives, but the past twelve years had been the most intense! From the countless spiritual books we had read, to learning how to follow our hearts no matter how crazy that seemed at times, we had come to see ourselves, and the world, in a totally different way. We had learned to take responsibility for our own pain and had learned how to clear it away by realizing the truth behind it. We recognized the insanity of the ego and had learned of the peace that came when it was no longer running our lives. The time had come to let go of everything the "world" and the "ego" had taught us, and move forward without fear. It was time for me to face my inner demons head on and expose my underbelly to the world. To conquer these personal demons, I needed to be willing to put my entire life under the microscope for everyone to see and judge, and face whatever response came my way. In sharing my personal story I am taking the next step in transcending the ego by transforming weaknesses into strengths.

As a chronic victim, everything in this world seemed to be a threat to my very survival, so writing a chronicle that I would surely be personally persecuted for, was a terrifying proposition. However, if I realize the truth that nothing "out there" has the ability to harm me, this could be a fantastic opportunity for my growth. If I truly love myself, no one can shake my resolve or cause me to crumble under their judgments or criticisms. Understanding that the fearful story I have about myself, is not who I really am, can help me transcend the fear and pain associated with my illusions. And in turn, I can reinforce the spiritual concepts that are being uncovered in my life.

As I have awakened, I continue the discovery of my true essence. By removing the misconceptions that the ego would have me believe, I am able to experience a sense of profound peace and joy. When I remain unattached to the physical in all its forms, I am no longer bound by it. Then I am free to glean understanding, or experience pleasure from the physical without becoming personally affected or attached to it. I am first and foremost, a "spiritual being" who happens to have come to earth, and resides in a "physical body" of flesh and bone.

I have "non-personal" physical experiences that wouldn't be available to me in any other way and are designed precisely to help me awaken. I have come to see that everything that happens to me is really happening "for" me and for my benefit in some way, even the most difficult or harsh experiences. In fact, the most difficult experiences are the biggest blessings and have the most beneficial impact on my life.

My ultimate goal is not to conquer this world but to understand it and transcend my attachment to it in the process. I recognize that I've been bogged down by the drama that the ego produces whenever I believe its' story. Awakening means I am no longer fully controlled by the world and its creations, I'm simply a part of it. When I am able to see the truth, I can use the world and its constructs for their intended purpose, which is self-awareness. This allows me to discover my role and see how it intertwines with the world. I can see that we are all one, and we are all here for the same purpose, this leaves no one as my enemy, but instead, my savior. Everyone I meet has a role in helping me in my journey to awaken, just as I may play that role in yours.

Realizing this connection brings the spiritual realm into existence for me. To be in spirit, means I'm one with everything, which leaves nothing to compete with and consequently nothing to fear. Without fear, life can change from one of struggle, to one of peace. Heaven may be thought of as a destination but I experience it as a state of being, and it can be realized here and now. Consciousness is the key that unlocks that door. The life of Jesus Christ is an example of conscious living. When we consider the "second coming of Christ," I understand that means the coming of Christ's consciousness, not his physical return to Earth. If we think we will literally see him returning in the flesh, this is confusion.

The world that we inhabit is coming to and end. Not by physically destroying itself (although that could happen), but as we awaken and become more conscious. As this happens our current experience of life will cease to exist and a new standard will begin to emerge its place. Instead of fear based and life destroying practices, those of us who are becoming conscious will begin to live the "Golden Rule" and do unto others as we would have done unto us. We will start to support life in all its forms, because we realize that we are only supporting ourselves. To destroy something or someone else only translates to destroying ourselves. Then life becomes about "servitude" rather than the quest to become better or more dominant. After all, how can you dominate yourself? In this understanding it isn't possible to compete for anything. Possessions would come and go freely because hoarding wouldn't make sense. We would be at peace with all that is and the external fighting and violence would cease to exist. Justice and revenge would seem ridiculous because like the old adage advises, "If you wish to take revenge, dig two graves." "Survival of the fittest," would be something left to the animal world, not the human race. We would store up our treasures in Heaven instead of here on Earth because spiritual treasures are the only ones that are real and unchanging.

When these understandings are realized on a massive scale, fear will begin to diminish and love will emerge in its place. Christ isn't going to come down on a white horse waving his sword to save us. Instead, you will save yourself by becoming conscious and living his example. Once consciousness emerges, "every knee will bend and every tongue confess that Jesus is the Christ" (this isn't just a religious statement, and it isn't confined to Christianity). When consciousness emerges, you don't have to be convinced who Jesus, or any other great master is. You instinctively understand what their lives represent, and you are naturally drawn to follow their example. Darkness cannot exist in the presence of light and unconsciousness cannot exist in the presence of awareness. Consciousness dissolves the illusions that the ego has created. Awakening is taking place on a larger scale than ever before and it will eventually permeate its way into everything.

So I am sharing my personal journey with you, because it is time. Over the last decade I have tried to write this book many times because I was shown that I would, but no matter what I did, I couldn't make it appear before it was supposed to. It didn't emerge until it was ready (actually, until I was ready). This time I felt compelled to write, and the book practically wrote itself, I merely followed the inspiration that came through me. I was given the outline as clearly as if it had been written on a slip of paper and handed to me. It was laid out in my mind in such a way that I knew exactly what the chapter titles were to be. My dear wife has edited and revised the body of this book, turning my scratch into something digestible, but the main elements provided me have never changed.

I am an ordinary man with ordinary problems who has experienced extraordinary changes! Not because of anything I have done or achieved or because I am in any way special, but merely as a consequence of my inherent role. The writing of this book does not make me a writer, I simply wrote because I was inspired to do so. And since you are reading it now, you were meant to find it.

As this story flows through me and onto these pages I feel overwhelmingly blessed to be the vehicle for its manifestation. And if this book in any way serves the expansion of consciousness or the greater good, I am grateful to play my part.

I also feel blessed that Deniece and her ex-husband support the household so that the majority of my time can be spent working on this project and our associated website "The Awakening Workshop." If not for our shared living arrangement these opportunities would never have come to fruition. Writing does not come easily for me and it has been an arduous process. Maybe the fact that I'm not a polished writer will help demonstrate that the book is more important than its cover. We all have a story to tell which is more important than how it looks. Each and every person I've met has taught me the lessons I needed to learn. I can see how everything in my life has led me to this particular moment and it inspires me to live as authentically and consciously as I can, without fear, reservation or resistance, and in love.

**Chapter Ten**

### New Eyes

The past chapters have given you a brief glance at the beginning of the awakening process as seen through my eyes. There were no bushes that spontaneously burst into flame and nobody walked on water, yet a transformation has occurred that will forever change the way I view the world and live my life. Not by magic but by the slow steady process of challenging ones fears and illusions. On the surface, my life continues to look a bit disastrous, but that no longer concerns me. All that really matters is that my veil is being lifted, and as a result I am able to see things much clearer. I can be a conscious participant in my own evolution and spiritual growth. I didn't _cause_ myself to begin to awaken, as the fruit ripened, it fell from the tree and I became aware of the awakening process happening within me. Through no actions of my own, my life path turned from unconscious living, to a journey of increasing awareness. I believe clearing up our confusion, discovering truth, and eventually finding lasting peace, is our highest purpose here on Earth. At times I tried to resist the process, but ultimately I realized it was upon me whether I liked it or not. When I resisted, I only caused myself pain and made life more difficult, for others as well as myself.

Some may think my life has been a series of coincidences and that I have superimposed meaning into everyday occurrences or that I am delusional, and I understand that, but having experienced it, I know differently.

Awakening can be rather messy and quite confusing; at least it was for me, especially in the beginning. Undoing the brainwashing and poor habits that are formed early in life, requires a bit of blind faith. Throughout childhood and early adulthood, we establish our ego identity through social conditioning, parental guidance, teachers, friends and a myriad of other influences. In my particular case, this resulted in my seeing the world and everything in it as a threat, including most of the people I came in contact with, making me painfully shy and withdrawn from all but the most basic of social activities. I spent three decades searching outside myself for relief from my anxiety, fear, pain, and insecurities, only to discover it was not to be found out there. There were moments of satisfaction and pleasure but they were always short lived and lacked any real substance or depth.

As I released control of my life, giving it over to God, I discovered the peace and tranquility that came with the understanding that I was being held in the security of His divine love. I was able to relax and peacefully flow with the current of life, basking in its splendor! I know this blessing because I have glimpsed life beyond the physical, and I'm beginning to understand our real purpose on earth. I still have a long road ahead (which is never ending) but now, rather than only suffering, I find mostly joy in the journey.

In sharing this story I hope to help dissolve preconceived notions about the awakening process. The first of which is realizing that it is not out of reach for ordinary human beings to awaken to the joy that we all have access to, beneath the struggle and pain that is so common among the masses. In addition, one's physical achievements can't possibly give a head start or a leg up on finding the elusive happiness we're all searching for. No matter what your place in the world is, or what you have accomplished in your life, consciousness can enter; bringing with it the sublime joy that is every person's divine right. In fact, awareness is descending upon us whether or not we recognize it.

The operating system of the world at large, as well as our individual way of doing things, is upside down and backwards from what I have found to be the ultimate truth of our spiritual nature. We think we are a free people, but we have enslaved ourselves to an identity and a physical world that ultimately isn't real. Thus, we have placed our happiness in an illusion that will never be realized. This illusion merely gives us the opportunity to see beyond to the truth that is always waiting behind the facade. We are here to transcend the confines of the physical so that we will re-connect with divinity, which is our true essence. Only then will we experience the happiness and joy that emerges from within. Meanwhile, fear, suffering, misery and struggle will be primary to our earthly experience.

Our true nature is _love_ , yet many of us do not realize this. The next time you see someone participate in an act of unkindness, try to see through the fear that is producing the behavior. Cruelty is only confusion and an attempt at self-preservation. If you are able to see the person as doing the best he can, that is the first breath of compassion.

There is nothing we have to do in order to achieve enlightenment because we are already enlightened beings beneath the layers of confusion. Peeling away our artificial exterior eventually uncovers our core, uniting us to our true source of power that comes from the Divine or the Oneness of all that is. As we continue to remove the blocks, the recognition of the Divine Source occurs, making it possible for our true essence to shine forth.

I anticipate a rocky period as people become conscious because those who aren't ready to awaken will cling to their long held beliefs and the way they have traditionally conducted their affairs. When you consider that the majority of human beings on this planet are unconscious, one can imagine the discord that emerging consciousness might bring. However, the energy from even one highly conscious person can dramatically affect the world, counter balancing enormous amounts of negativity. For instance, Jesus, The Buddha, Krishna, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, and the like, have impacted the world single handedly and their examples continue to have a lasting effect long after they have passed from the earth. There have been many such individuals who have walked our planet, but never before in history has awakening taken place on such a large scale. Those who are not actively becoming conscious will find it difficult if not nearly impossible to continue operating as they once did. As unconsciousness is replaced by clarity and understanding, what we value as a society will change, and previously accepted practices will no longer be supported.

One of my most cherished spiritual teachers is Dr. David R. Hawkins, briefly mentioned in chapter eight. He's one of my favorites partially due to the fact that he was one of the most conscious beings alive on the planet during my lifetime (he passed in October, 2012). His work continues to be the most profound material I have had the blessing of coming in contact with. It primarily addresses the subject matter of "consciousness" and he uses a technique called kinesiology to determine truth from falsehood. Kinesiology, although it has been in practice since the 1970's, is revolutionary in that it allows us to determine truth without being misled by the mind and the ego. Although his work is vast, he used kinesiology to create a "scale of consciousness." The scale measures from one to a thousand, one thousand being the highest level of consciousness possible for human beings. This scale allows us to test the consciousness level of anything on the planet and can be used to calibrate the level of truth in anything including, but not limited to, People, Places, Books, Intentions or Decisions. This is done by using "muscle testing" to investigate any subject matter and see where it lands on the scale. The calibration process bypasses the mind and the ego, and it allows the participant to determine unbiased truth. Before the use of kinesiology it was difficult for us to discern truth from falsehood because the mind typically has a position or an opinion based on what it thinks and this bias interferes with truth in it's purest form. With the use of kinesiology even in blind tests, almost anything can be accurately calibrated and its consciousness level determined. There are many books on kinesiology, but for the best overall resource I suggest you read Dr. David R. Hawkins book _Power vs. Force_ to learn how he has applied kinesiology to his own work. I only briefly mention it here because this information has been profoundly transformational in my life!

This work is important because it's our level of consciousness that primarily determines the pool of choices we have at our disposal. In other words, sometimes when I hold judgment about what someone has done, I'm projecting that he had the capacity to have chosen differently, but as a person rises in consciousness new and higher choices open up to him. Understanding this helps to excite our compassion toward others. If we truly understand this concept, we instinctively know that everyone is always doing the best they can, and if we held this belief, it would inevitably decrease our negative judgment, in turn easing our own suffering.

When I first began to awaken, I believed that our personalities were the primary factor in determining our choices, but through extensive study and experience with personality types, I realized that this didn't answer all of my questions concerning why people behave the way they do. Since then I have come to understand, through asking the difficult questions, our personality types simply create the style with which our choices play out. The most important factor involved in human behavior is one's individual level of consciousness. Where someone lands on the scale determines most of his or her choices. But there is another factor involved, our individual path or script. Each of us has come to this earth to play a part. I am merely playing a role in this production called life. I believe this role has been determined by karmic inheritance derived from past lives and spiritual objective, and is the next step in my evolutionary process.

What I'm experiencing in this lifetime is exactly what I need to take the next step towards enlightenment. The particular circumstances of my life are perfectly designed for this purpose. Thus, everyone is doing exactly what he or she is supposed to be doing even if it appears to be negative or counter productive. Most of us at some point will have to _touch the flame_ before we understand what it is to be burned. It is easy to see the perfection in beauty, but having this understanding shows me the perfection in all things, even what is perceived as decidedly not beautiful.

I recently had a phone conversation with my brother when he reminded me of how angry I was toward "red" personality types. He may have been holding on to that memory because he is a "red" personality himself. I recognized the truth in his comment because there had been a time when I was very angry. Fresh off my divorce, I was hurt and confused, and since my ex-wife is also a "red," I basically projected that all "reds" were to blame for my problems. This line of thinking escalated to the point where I blamed them for the disharmony in the entire world, and I hadn't been discrete about that opinion. So twelve years later I found my brother asking me if I still hated him. At first I had to chuckle to myself because I see things so differently now, but then I realized how much pain my brother must still be in to have carried that belief for all these years. My compassion kicked in and I started by admitting, "Let me be perfectly clear, I didn't just hate 'reds', I despised them. I thought that they were evil incarnate and the world would be a much better place if they were wiped off the face of the planet!!" I went on to explain; "Of course I have a better understanding now and I don't feel that way anymore. I have come to see that one's personality type is just the style they use to navigate life so it doesn't really mean much. It's our level of consciousness that determines our choices." I took responsibility for being so angry and apologized for carelessly letting that anger skewer my judgment. I love my brother very much and I always have, the ego simply projected its frustration, blaming others instead of accepting my own responsibility for my state of mind.

The fact is, I have learned as much from my relationships with unconscious people as I have from those who are conscious, probably more. All of the people in my life have taught me so much about myself and have been integral in my awakening process. One experience isn't better than another, but the painful ones seem to have more impact. That being said, my relationship with Deniece has been the most rewarding because she most closely mirrors my own life path, level of consciousness, and a shared personality type. However, being in a spiritual partnership with Deniece has also been one of the most difficult parts of my journey. Going through life with someone that continuously reflects yourself back to you, keeps me constantly aware of what I need to work on. Nothing seems to escape her awareness since she knows me inside and out and it's nearly impossible for the ego to rear its head without her pointing it out. She also intimately understands the direction of my spiritual journey since she is headed up the same road. My alignment with her helps each of us to stay on track and if ever we slip, the other is there to cushion the fall. Our union has been a great benefit to both our lives. We are truly blessed to have one another, and understand how rare our union is.

When Deniece is clear and the ego is out of the way, her words resonate deep within me and I feel the clarity and truth behind them. The same is true when I say something to her in a clear state. This Universal language speaks to anyone who has ears to hear and it doesn't care about your age, the color of your skin, your gender, or even what your intelligence level is. In fact, intelligence has little to do with consciousness. For instance, some of the most depraved criminal minds carry high IQ's, but since their consciousness level is very low, their choices are primitive and made primarily from the ego. In other words, their choices are made from fear. If I had to choose, I would prefer higher consciousness to intelligence every time.

Over the years, I have wondered why I never had much worldly success. The longest I've ever held the same job was about three years. It wasn't because I lacked the skills or that I didn't put forth the effort. In fact, I've typically excelled at whatever I've tried. For me, the problem was that the job didn't hold my interest. After working a particular job for any length of time, I would eventually discover the inner workings of the company, and become disillusioned by the way business was being conducted. With any new job, at first you find yourself believing the hype the employer tells you about their business ethics and their company goals, only to discover later that they didn't always mean what they said or they had no idea how to accomplish those goals. Good work ethics and integrity are somewhat rare in the business world and frankly, in the types of jobs I was qualified for, those qualities were fewer and farther between. That's why I always found myself working my own business again and again, where I had a bit more ability to work by my own standards. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that _all_ my clients displayed traits that I admired, but at least I could choose whom I would work with. However, having honesty and integrity sometimes meant it was hard to be competitive and my business practices didn't always translate into dollars. Most clients couldn't tell the difference between me, and a wolf in sheep's clothing, so I've had to compete with contractors who didn't have a problem lying to clients. Integrity and hard honest work only paid off once the job was completed in the form of referral work, which is what has kept me from starving.

I believed I had the skills and the experience to excel at flipping real estate, but that never came to fruition either. I watched as friends of mine had amazing properties fall into their laps at under-market-value prices. They would do a fairly poor job renovating the property and still manage to sell for a good profit. At times, I felt that it was unfair that I never got those same breaks but then I started to take a closer look at the situation. One couple sold a house "as is" for more than it was worth and when the buyers realized their mistake and wanted to change their minds, my friend forced the sale because of the way the contract had been written. This is just one example, but had I engaged in such business practices, I realize I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that I'd profited from unethical behavior or by taking advantage of another's mistake.

While success in the world would have been nice, neither my wife nor I, ever really had a strong desire for it. What I really wanted was simply to find the right woman and settle down to a quiet life of peace and happiness. As it turns out, truth seeking and self-awareness have been the driving forces in my life, not the acquisition of money, and for this I will always be grateful.

### ~

Until we take responsibility for our choices, we remain powerless to change anything. The mind is confused by the deceptions created by the ego and consequently doesn't know how to create happiness. Truth can only emerge within us as a direct consequence of getting the mind and ego out of the way. Universal truth manifests directly from the Divine as a result of surrendering what we think we know. Byron Katie calls this state "the don't know mind." Buddhists refer to this state as "emptiness" and consider it the ultimate state of being, humans can achieve. Our thoughts clog our spiritual filter and prevent us from being fully aware. Fortunately, anyone can experience true peace and happiness, even if it is only for an instant by completely focusing on the present moment. This state of awareness is what Eckhart Tolle calls "living in the now." The more we practice this, the longer we are able to remain in that peaceful state.

Looking around, it's not hard to see what the ego would have us put our energy towards, the accumulation of physical wealth and power. Most of us don't take a job because we feel inspired to do so, we take it for the money and for what that money can do for us. The opposite is also a trap when we think that what we do for a living isn't good enough, and that we should do something more important to help mankind. Unfortunately, this means very few people actually do what they love, or love what they do. Imagine for a moment if money was no longer the primary factor in that decision. What would happen if people made choices based on what they love versus what the mind dictates is appropriate or necessary? Of course vanity and power, play a role in this as well, and eliminating those motivations would also make a difference. However, if we lived by a standard that was based on equality, one might ask the question, "What would drive us to excel?" If we couldn't be better than another, which is currently a chief motivator in the way we live, how could we feel good about ourselves? Having more money and power makes us feel superior which momentarily suppresses the fear that we aren't good enough, or that we won't survive.

What if there was nothing to win or gain from feeling superior? Then what would we do? Perhaps we would be open to another way of living that might actually provide what we say we want. If we truly desire peace, acquisition and conquest is not the answer. If we want joy and happiness we will have to turn our search inward instead of reaping the spoils of the outward search. Competition only creates more separation in our lives, and feeling separate is at the root of our unhappiness and disappointment. If there was another way to get what we want, isn't it worth taking a look at? To continue doing the same thing over and over again, expecting it to magically work out differently, isn't very productive when it continues to produce the same pain and misery. For example, to stay with an abusive spouse, likely means you will continue being abused. But leaving opens the door for another type of experience. However, leaving means facing the unknown, which most of us fear more than our current state of hell.

The emergence of consciousness is the first step in seeing what's going on. Then, if you don't push that awareness away and if you are willing to take responsibility for your current circumstances, new alternatives will be available to you. Taking _full_ responsibility is the tricky part because it can be painful. That pain can also turn to guilt as the ego slips in the back door. It doesn't matter if you are the victim or the perpetrator of a painful experience, both are fear based and can be equally stuck in the ego. Understanding this will start to dissolve the illusion of either role, but it requires questioning your thoughts on a regular basis. Ultimately, you didn't do anything wrong because you simply didn't know any better, yet the mind would convince us otherwise.

The best source we have found to help challenge our destructive thoughts, is the work of Byron Katie, also briefly mentioned in chapter eight. Her book _Loving What Is_ provides a very practical tool in challenging our thoughts, doing what she calls "The Work." As Byron Katie would say, "thoughts aren't personal they only become a problem when we believe them." This simple yet ground breaking work can be transformational if applied to your daily life and it has helped me enormously throughout my journey. Most of her book is based on actual examples from real people, and it's interesting to notice that we all seem to share the same stressful thoughts. The first thing you'll want to do is fill out what she calls, "the judge your neighbor worksheet" (which can be downloaded for free on her website). Then she has you ask yourself four simple questions about each statement and turn each statement around, finally seeing that what you think about another is as true or truer about yourself, after which you do the work on yourself to ultimately realize the stressful thoughts aren't true at all. The insight that comes from this can be mind blowing (pun intended), and you can begin to see how we create all of our own pain and misery by believing the thoughts that drift through our minds. The best source for "The Work" is Byron Katie herself, so there is no need to go into great depth here, but for those seeking the truth and willing to look to yourself for the answers, I highly recommend any of her books.

Just being exposed to material of such high caliber can have a life altering effect! I also read inspirational material to validate what I'm becoming conscious of, and to hear truth spoken from another perspective. There are always bits that I don't completely grasp, as if it is too much for my mind to take in, but what seems too complex at first exposure sometimes becomes simple and clear to me when I'm ready to hear the truth and the timing is right. Ironically, every book I highly value, has found its way to me just at the right moment in my life, when I needed the answer to some particular dilemma I happened to be going through. The Divine always provides us with exactly what we need at the exact moment we need it.

For most of us, the process of awakening happens slowly as we work to peel away the layers of confusion until our true nature is eventually revealed. At times, I am impatient and have wished it would happen more quickly, but I know ultimately, that this slow undoing of our habitual conditioning is very practical and quite effective. Slowly undoing belief systems, has given me more time to process information and adjust to the changes as they come about. Otherwise, change can feel brutal and become too much to endure, and if we aren't really prepared for a realization, it doesn't stick and we simply slip back to our old way of thinking and into old habits.

Every experience in life has been orchestrated to help you awaken. Everything, including the way you look, the place you were born, your personality, the parents you have, and the circumstances you live in, provide the platform to help you in this sacred endeavor. Each of us is on a journey towards consciousness. I know this because I've never met a person who didn't want to be happy. Even when someone is suicidal, they're only focused on trying to escape the misery and believe they cannot find happiness in this life.

As you begin to become conscious you tend to make the same choices that you've always made (especially at first), but your perspective changes the context behind why those choices are happening. When my world began to change it felt at first like everyone was against me. People, who already knew who I was and had past experience with me, seemed to struggle with the new direction my life had taken. I believe it was hard to imagine me any other way than the "Travis" they were used to.

Some of the most important people in our society are unconscious. Government leaders, religious leaders, celebrities, and even the most successful business people you know, can be unconsciousness. And when that unconsciousness meets with clarity, the source of that clarity can be seen as a threat if it challenges their perception of the world. At first I naively believed that others would want to know what I was beginning to understand, and I relayed that information unsolicited. However, I quickly found that almost no one really wanted to know what I was discovering about how to be happy, because it entails taking responsibility for your own actions and misery, and people prefer to blame their unhappiness on outside forces. Most of us prefer to stay safe and warm within our comfort zones, nurturing our discontent.

Having unconscious leaders in our country and around the world is a huge contributing factor to the current fear based practices our world operates under. I'm not so naïve or idealistic to think that a highly conscious leader will solve all of our problems or make everyone happy, but it could certainly begin to alter our inefficient way of doing things. When enough world leaders become conscious, it will tip the scale, and war will no longer be the primary answer to our disputes and differences. Peaceful resolutions could become the norm, and countries wanting to engage in destructive policies would have to do it without the involvement, including trade and economic support, of any who didn't support the ruin. This might mean we would have to make some sacrifices, but for me, it would be worth it. This is what Gandhi understood when he took on the British Empire. And on a much smaller scale, it's what I have learned through my involvement with my ex-wife.

I believe having this level of commitment to a peaceful resolve, would have a stronger effect on other countries than to threaten them with war. No killing, no annihilation, just the complete withdrawal of any participation with them. To withdraw economic support of the world's largest consumers would also drastically decrease the funds available with which to engage in war against us or anyone else.

Gandhi was the embodiment of peaceful resistance. He knew that if the British couldn't get the cooperation they wanted from the Indian people, they would eventually agree to disengage. He didn't treat anyone with disrespect. Peaceful, non-violent resistance is all that was needed. He was able to maintain that state of peace within himself because he was highly conscious, or in other words, he was able to see through the stories that cause one to blame and hate. He didn't have harsh feelings towards the British; he simply wasn't willing to be ruled by them. I feel much the same when it comes to my involvement in any controlling or dictatorship type of relationship.

The day I told my ex-wife that I would no longer fight with her or continue going to court, was the beginning of my peaceful resistance. I'm sure she thought I was just giving up, and in a manner, I was. I understood that I no longer wanted to compel her into something she didn't want to do, nor was I going to do what she wanted if it didn't resonate with me simply to keep the peace. I realized it didn't serve her, or the greater good to try to force her to be someone that she wasn't. I have come to want for her only what she wants for herself, and I want her to have the freedom to walk her walk and be all that she can be, without my interference. I desire for her only what I would have for myself and I have come to see that she has the right to raise her child in the way she see's fit. That is the example she will teach our son and if it is God's will, I will provide my example. No more compromises, and no more standing in each other's way. And unless we find a peaceful way to work together, because I'm open to that, I'm content to go our separate ways.

I feel as a society, we have become blinded and numb to things we don't want to believe. This failure to see reality typically results in our unconscious participation in it. Seeing the truth hasn't always been easy, and dealing with those truths has been harder still, but the rewards for doing so have been immense! Choosing the high road doesn't mean you will receive physical rewards; in fact, you might even get crucified for it! The reward for choosing reality is the reward you give yourself, which is inner peace, the peace that will help you face any challenges that you may encounter along your journey.

In my dealings with the family court system, I noticed that in my situation, it primarily promoted my ex-wife's war and the further disintegration of our relationship. Dealing with divorce is hard enough on all the parties involved, and once I handed my power over to the court system, it immediately made the situation far worse! At first I naively believed that the court could help me get what I wanted from my ex-wife, but in reality it only got in the way and proved to be a perfect play ground for a scorned woman to further promote her need for revenge. If she had actually wanted to find a peaceful resolution, maybe the system would have worked for us, but that was not to be. She wanted to be in control, so she used the court system, lawyers, family members and even mediation, to manipulate more control. And whenever one of those entities didn't give her what she wanted, they were simply discarded without further consideration.

A dictator wants total control because the ego tells them that this will get them what they want. And what they want is to alleviate the fear of not having control. No matter how many "honey do" lists I completed during my marriage, it was never enough to please my ex-wife because it wasn't about the chores themselves, instead, I believe it was about coercing me into what she wanted. Her response, whenever I finished a project, was typically either that I'd done it wrong or I hadn't done it fast enough. Her complaint wasn't based in reality. I'm not even sure _she_ understood why she was complaining. Her criticism maintained her illusion of control by keeping me jumping through hoops. In a way she succeeded, because with every hoop I jumped through I lost respect for myself, which in turn led to handing even more of my power over to her, and that was never her fault because I handed it over willingly. However, the moment I started to value my own opinion and began telling her "no," I began to take my power back and the black cloud that had followed me throughout our marriage began to dissipate. The night I left her at her parent's house was the first time in eleven years that I truly felt empowered and free, but if I'd had the strength, I could have taken my power back within the marriage. If I had, I suspect she would have eventually left me because she wouldn't be getting her needs met.

As our divorce proceeded, I had many opportunities to put my new convictions to the test. Every attempt she made to regain control of the situation was squashed as I refused the manipulation. For example, in mediation when I remained clear and kept my emotions in check while refusing to sign the new parenting plan; that was a refusal to hand over my power. (Of course it infuriated her and she would redouble her efforts to regain control and make me pay for my disobedience.) I quickly discovered there was little the family court system could do to help me. Much like the restraining order I had against her, which was just a piece of paper and couldn't do anything to protect me or compel her to behave in a civil manner. I watched as she defied almost everything the courts ordered her to do, while she innocently professed to respect the rulings. I realize now, since she believed the story that I had wronged her, how she might want to seek revenge, and was simply doing the best she could.

I discovered, once I got divorced, I no longer had a voice in the manner in which my family would live financially. When I was married to my ex-wife and work was slow, we could change our living habits and tighten our belts to make it through a lean patch. But after the divorce, unless there was cooperation between the parties the courts would have to be included in the mix and we no longer had a say in the matter. Of course the flip side to this was that they could try to force my ex-wife to let me see my son, but at what cost? I played that game for over a year and realized that seeing my son under those traumatic conditions wasn't beneficial to anyone, especially him. After giving her almost everything she wanted, except my return to the marriage, in an attempt to foster rational behavior, I realized that what she really wanted, I couldn't give her. Ultimately, _I_ was the one trying to manipulate _her_. She wanted control, and no amount of money or possessions or even kindness, would pacify that. Yet by peacefully resisting any involvement in her campaign, I have managed to find a solution that allows me to live in peace without participating in something that grates against my spirit.

I deal with my father's decision in the same way (who incidentally, is the only one of my immediate family members allowed to see my son). I support his decision to see my son and adhere to my ex-wife's condition of never speaking my name in my son's presence, but I do not participate. According to my father, he agrees to her terms because he feels his grandson needs to know his grandfather, but for me this would be too high a price to pay. I'm not willing to lie, or condone such destructive behavior. Having said that, it seems my father sees it differently, and who knows, perhaps he is right. I'm certain it's right for him because that's the choice he's making.

When we follow the whims of the ego, we live in insanity. I think we are so accustomed to living this way, that we don't even recognize it. In fact, insanity seems to be considered normal behavior and clarity is typically deemed insane. This backward programming begins from the time we are born. It's the "Human Condition" and part of the mud we must wade through in order to build up our inner strength.

When I left my ex-wife I thought my days of struggling in the mud were over because I'd blamed all of my misery on her. It was true to the extent that I wouldn't be facing the same frustrating issues I'd grappled with during my marriage, but I still had a sizeable mess to clean up, the mess that accumulates from thirty years of unconscious choices, having nothing to do with my ex-wife. The most difficult hurdle to overcome, was realizing that all the people in my life who'd caused me pain, hadn't actually been responsible for causing me pain. In reality, only I had the power to cause myself pain. They simply did what they thought was best. But believing that they were all just doing the best they could, didn't instantly push all of my hurt feelings aside. I had so much pain, from believing that my friends and family had treated me poorly, that I didn't instantly find a way to make peace with it.

True forgiveness comes only when we realize, that what we think happened didn't actually happen, and that ultimately there is nothing to forgive. True forgiveness is realizing that the person, whom you think is responsible for hurting you, really isn't. For instance, let's say I'm angry because my business associate is late for an important appointment and I feel disrespected. In order to be offended by another's actions I must take something they have said or done, personally. There could be any number of reasons he was late, traffic, parking, a previous engagement running long or maybe it's much closer to the bone and he simply didn't consider our appointment as important as I did. But why is that a personal assault? It merely means that we aren't on the same page and I can either try to explain the significance I feel or I can decide to work with someone else who shares my ideals. Thinking that someone has wronged you on purpose in some way, is nothing more than confusion. People only make choices based on what they think best serves them, it typically has little to do with anyone else. In addition, if there are transgressions that you have been unable to forgive yourself for, it will directly affect your ability to forgive others.

I have always been my own worst enemy, but now I see I can also be my own best friend! For years I beat myself up over choices I'd made, because I was viewing them through the eyes of the ego. I still did this even after I began to awaken, and I especially struggled with the issue of child support and what my relationship should be with my son. One particular incident pushed me in the direction of further unconsciousness because it flared up my ego's need for fairness.

I had prepared a large parcel to be sent to my son for Christmas one year. Since my ex-wife remarried, sold our house, moved, and kept her new address from me, I sent the gifts to her parent's house. My thought was if her parents were aware of the package, it would be harder for her to keep the gift from my son. Not long after it arrived, I received a phone call from her new husband (I'd made sure she had access to my address and phone number). As he spoke, I imagined his wife sitting next to him, prompting what was said. His tone was business-like, and he said that they wanted me to stop sending things because it upset and confused _their_ son. My initial response was to sarcastically agree that I was sure it was _him_ who was upset. I had a fairly good idea of what my ex-wife had likely told her husband about me. I had no doubt there was some truth in what he was saying, but a young child receiving gifts in the mail wasn't the problem and we both knew it. So I asked him what he personally thought about me sending presents. He explained that he didn't feel I had earned the right to have any contact with my son because I had never paid any child support nor had I ever made an attempt to see him. He further informed me that he considered me merely a sperm donor, (the exact same accusation my ex-wife had flung at me during mediation). I chuckled under my breath as I realized how little he actually knew about the situation. I told him that I had paid thousands of dollars in child support, which he could verify by calling the Washington State Support Registry. I also told him that I had given my ex-wife all the equity in the house we owned together along with almost every possession in it, including our SUV that was the only vehicle we owned outright. I went on to explain that I desperately wanted to be involved in my son's life but my ex-wife hadn't allowed me to see him or even speak with him on the phone, and I was only abiding her wishes by not calling. When I finished my disclosure, there was a moment of silence on the line, as if he were searching for a response. I suspect most of my revelation had taken him by surprise, and he was trying to regain his balance. I couldn't imagine my ex-wife taking any responsibility for the current circumstance, she would likely tell him only the version of events that was self-serving.

He finally broke his silence, and with anger and frustration in his voice he directed me not to send anything else because regardless of what had happened between us during our divorce, my involvement disrupted their household. To which I replied, "No matter what you or my ex-wife do to separate me from my son, I will always love him and he will always love me, and I will always be his father, and he, my son." I finished my moment of clarity by saying "I don't believe my son is upset because he is receiving Christmas presents from me. We both know where the problem really lies." That's when he hung up on me.

That phone conversation was very enlightening for me, and it was the push I needed to finish what I had already started. After hearing how my packages had disrupted their household I realized that I didn't really want to be party to that. By sending presents I was causing them stress and it kept me engaged in the battle. I knew my ex-wife didn't want me to send them, and I now knew her husband didn't want that either, so I would once again, abide their request. I began to search my motives and I found that I knew sending things to my son through his grandparents, would threaten my ex-wife's story about me and in all honesty, there was part of me that took a bit of evil pleasure in it. But that was no longer what I wanted, and after that phone call, I never sent another thing. When I look back now, I find myself feeling gratitude for that call because I made decisions after he contacted me that would ultimately lead to clarity on the issue of child support.

When I moved back to Washington State, I was harboring resentment for being kept from my son and stopped paying child support altogether. It seemed easy to justify because if my ex-wife wanted me completely out of our son's life, then I determined it would include financial support as well. I'd also heard through the grapevine that my son wasn't even using my last name, and although I was unaware if it had been changed legally, it was another blow. I felt at the time that if she wanted anything from me, from this point on, she would have to come to me on equal ground and work out a mutually beneficial agreement, which I felt would never happen. I had given her everything she had requested, except I had decided that she couldn't have her cake and eat it too, which meant no more financial support. This had been a seemingly simple resolution to a difficult situation. However, I hadn't achieved complete clarity about the situation and I was eventually going to receive a harsh lesson to provide me that clarity!

That lesson came when my son had just turned sixteen and the police came knocking at my door. They had come to serve me papers to appear in court for Contempt charges for failure to pay child support. These charges were serious, and if I was found guilty or plead guilty, I could easily end up in jail or even prison if they chose to pursue it as a felony. I had to do some serious soul searching on the issue and I would come to one of my most important "light bulb" moments!

I had justified my position to stop paying child support, by believing that in doing so I would be supporting or participating in my ex-wife's campaign. The reality was that I was simply failing to take care of my responsibilities. Whatever his mother chose to do in our situation, no matter how unhealthy or vengeful it seemed, had no bearing on the fact that I still had a responsibility to take care of my son financially. I finally saw the light that he was my child and that meant I needed to help support him. After all, isn't that what "love" would do? During the time I wasn't paying child support I viewed it as my ex-wife's punishment for taking away any contact I had with my son, but in reality all I was doing was keeping myself trapped in one more ego-based belief system. Instead of focusing on being a responsible parent, my focus was revenge, moral superiority, justice, fairness, and fear, justified by my misguided story that participating in anyway, somehow constituted support for her cause. This new realization helped me clean up one more major blockage in my life, and as a consequence, it lifted an enormous weight that had been holding me back!

When I began to send support again, I actually discovered a freedom I hadn't felt in years! This weight, I had been unknowingly carrying around, caused me to feel insecure and guilty and I was taking out my self-inflicted frustration on those I was closest to. I was unconsciously projecting my lack of responsibility on everyone around me, making me petty, argumentative and judgmental towards those I loved most.

After becoming clear about the situation and seeing it through new eyes, I have a "new found" sense of peace and a much larger capacity for compassion toward others. I can literally say that my ex-wife's choice to involve W.S.S.R. for child support enforcement was one of the most abundant gifts she ever gave me!

If I had one hope, while I don't expect it, I hope that someday my ex-wife can find it in her heart to forgive me for all of the hardships I put her and our son through, and if she does, I hope that someday she might make another choice and include me in their lives. But even if she never does, I love her and our son with all my heart, and I understand and have new compassion for her plight. I know now that she was only doing what she felt was best, and her choices have only blessed my life with clarity, so how can I fault her or condemn her in any way? I have achieved true forgiveness for her because I see that there is nothing to forgive. I have her and God to thank for that powerful lesson.

After the fateful day the police officer showed up on my doorstep, my life could now open up, as I was finally free at last! Financially, my life is moving forward, now that my unhealthy thinking is no longer holding me back. In fact, all aspects of my life, especially my relationships, have begun to flourish! I see everything in a new light and the view from where I'm sitting, is truly inspiring! I have come to see that all of my toughest obstacles, along with my most intimidating insecurities, are actually some of my grandest blessings and greatest strengths. It's true alchemy when the heavy lead of ones' life can be turned into gold through understanding.

Now I clearly see my way forward, no mountain appears too high to climb, and no obstacle is too large to conquer! I am no longer a victim to what happens in life. Life is not happening to me it is happening _for_ me, which was a difficult concept to accept at first. Knowing that everything is for my growth makes life so much easier to face. Every time a difficult challenge comes along, all I need do is remember this one simple concept and life doesn't seem so bad. I've been sent nothing but Angels to assist me on my journey.

**Chapter Eleven**

### Love's Truth

I have had many teachers in my life, all helping me along my journey toward awakening. Some lessons were painful and some were joyous, but all of them helped me discover who I am. Two of my most valued teachers are my son and my wife. In this physical world, I have had no "better" teachers than these two people and no better, real life examples for showing me how to live, or helping me to stay focused on the lofty goal of higher consciousness. My wife is constantly exhibiting traits of the person I want to become, and my son gives me reason to keep striving to be someone he could be proud of. When I gaze across the table at my lovely wife or when I think of my precious son, I want to be a better man.

At just three years of age, my son showed evidence of being an old soul. His ability to think for himself and come to his own conclusions always astonished me! He also demonstrated amazing strength under difficult circumstances. His mother's abundant energy, led to perpetual activity. They were always heading off to the zoo, out for a hike, or a trip to the playground, but he developed ways of getting his much needed down time. I watched, as he stood up to his mother whenever she became "too" active or demanding for a young developing boy. He challenged her by doing what we called, "going on strike." He would stay in his bedroom and play quietly with his toys for hours, sometimes for days on end, becoming much less talkative and sometimes refusing to come out of his room, even for meals. He wasn't unpleasant or disagreeable in any way and seemed perfectly happy, he just didn't want to leave his room.

His mother was typically caught off guard by this particular feat and she struggled to find some way to address it, but nothing she tried could compel him to alter his resolve, leaving her frustrated and at a loss! People in general, did not appose my ex-wife in such ways, but from such a tender young age, he was able to do what I never managed during nine years of marriage. It was curious that she didn't seem to understand what he was up to, it was clear to me that he just needed some time to himself. My advise to her had been to simply let him alone for awhile. As long as he was safe and happy, I couldn't see the harm, and while she tried to allow him breathing room, delivering his meals to the bedroom, she invariably became impatient and drove herself a bit crazy until he gave up his post. During these standoff's, after I came home from work, I'd go in to see how he was doing. He would welcome me in and we would begin to talk and play, it seemed clear that he wasn't on strike against everyone. His mother was driven to stay busy and was too intense at times, and I was always impressed with his solution of peaceful, nonviolent resistance.

His integrity was equally amazing! One afternoon he and Deniece's daughter were caught playing in an area of the back yard where they were strictly forbidden to go because there was a large pile of construction debris, which posed a hazardous safety threat. They were in big trouble and they knew it! Deniece's daughter had always been more daring and precocious and was typically the one who instigated this kind of activity, so we automatically assumed that he had followed her lead into the restricted zone. But as her mother and I began to question her about it, my son interrupted the inquisition to confess that he had suggested they explore the backyard. If he had kept quiet, someone else would have taken the blame, but he couldn't bear to see his best playmate in hot water for _his_ actions, and his conscience wouldn't rest until the truth came to light. I was inspired by his need for honesty, knowing full well that there would be consequences for disregarding the rules. He was only four at the time and his interest in the truth and concern for his friend, were genuinely heart warming!

During the first year after the dissolution of his family, my son came to our house for visitations, and occasionally he would be visibly upset about something that couldn't be coaxed out of him. We suspected he was upset about something concerning the divorce, which would explain why he was unwilling to discuss it, and we felt it best not to push him for answers. It never took long before he became comfortable enough to begin a purposeful line of questioning, each question correlating to one specific subject but never revealing his exact problem. He would intently listen to whatever the answer might be, asking subsequent questions if he needed clarity. Then becoming quietly introspective, he came to his own conclusion. In those moments, I found myself wishing that I could read his mind to fully understand his motivations, but I trusted him to find his own answers and find peace with the conundrum. Soon he would be off playing without a care in the world. His ability to flesh out his own quandary, without complaining or adding to the drama, was admirable. First he heard his mother's opinion and when he questioned what she'd told him, he wanted to hear what I had to say before coming to his own conclusion. I hadn't been aware before then, that four year olds had the capacity to do that. And for that matter, not many adults have such reasoning skills. He always seemed wise beyond his years and there was a lot his example would teach me in navigating life.

He was passionate about many things and he cared about the people around him. When his mother and I were still married, I would arrive home from work and he loved to lie on my chest while we watched television or read a book together. After being on the go with his mother all day, he needed this quiet time as much as I did, and together we would soothe each other's woes. However, those tender moments together seemed to make his mother uncomfortable, and she would badger us to get up and do something, but we both just wanted to stay and wind down. When we couldn't be convinced to budge, she would sometimes run the vacuum around us and under our feet, determined to disturb us, making the excuse that it needed to be done and she hadn't had time earlier. Peace and quiet were not my ex-wife's strong suit. She didn't know how to be calm and relaxed. She was forceful about most everything including her love; she rarely waited for it to happen naturally. She also acted as if love and affection were things to be competed for, so being a witness to her husband and son wanting nothing more than to cuddle on the couch, had a tendency to flare up insecurities. I knew there would be a price to pay for our refusal to abandon our ritual but that wasn't enough to make me want to forgo our special time together.

To be the best father I can be, I have learned to love everybody, including my son's mother. I support her right as a human being to live her life the way she sees fit and I respect that she is the mother of my only son. That choice hasn't always been easy, as I understand that she has allowed her anger to cloud her judgment at times. Leaving my son to be raised without my day-to-day influence has also been a challenge, but I believe that God orchestrates everything in life for the highest good of every person, without exception.

There is a plan for everyone and we all have to trudge through the mud in life. As it turns out, the mud is a great blessing! It is no accident that my ex-wife and I are parents together and we both love our son dearly. The way our lives have played out is no mistake; had I been meant to play a more involved role in my son's life, I would have, and if we are meant to rekindle a relationship when he comes of age, we will. It has been difficult for me to think of my son living with his mother, knowing the anger she holds towards me, and suspecting the discontent that could possibly arise between them, but he must wade through the mud that has been lovingly prepared for him by Divinity. While I have missed watching my son grow up, I can also see the positive influence of not being with him on a daily basis and I'm certain that it is the same for each of the parties involved.

Giving up the fight and agreeing to leave my son in the sole care of his mother, was devastating at first but I felt compelled to follow what the heart told me was right. Following heartfelt inspiration has become commonplace in my life and after being deprived of my son, all else has paled by comparison. Through my search for happiness I have found self-love, increasing my ability to love others, including my son and his mother. At the tail end of my marriage, I wanted to die in order to escape a miserable existence that I wasn't sure how to free myself from. Now I want to live and have the opportunity to love, experience joy, and fulfill my destiny.

I was forced to ignore what others wanted from me in order to find myself and begin to realize the avenue to a happier existence. The loss of being with my son came with many dark tearful nights, but then I realized we could never actually be separated. We may not physically be together, yet our connection still remains intact. I feel blessed that even without his physical presence I have had the opportunity to become the best father I can be. I try to live the example that no matter how difficult a situation is and how unbearable we think the consequences are, it is still better to live free than to compromise what you know is right for yourself. Even at the risk of death, I hope to be able to live my truth!

First I freed myself from my marriage, now my challenge is freeing myself from the world, which means freeing myself from the mind and the ego. Freedom is a state of being and is not affected by one's physical circumstances. Through having the courage to follow my heart and let God be my guide, I am slowly tearing down the prison that has confined me. This seemingly impenetrable fortress that the ego has created, cannot hold up when it is faced with truth and light. It takes strength to tear down the walls, but it's a strength that has nothing to do with fighting or competing. True power comes from within, and it is mandatory when awakening to the realities of life, some of which can seem harsh or even unimaginable! Awakening requires unclenched fists, the laying down of defenses, and taking a posture of open arms with upturned palms. If I can pass anything on to my son, I would like it to be the example of living a life free from fear, basking in the joy that freedom brings.

### ~

Deniece began learning that truth early on in life. She grew up as a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints, more commonly known as _Mormons_ and soon realized that living free from fear did not always go hand in hand with religion. It hadn't yet been a year since she had graduated high school, when she found herself pregnant and unmarried, sitting unfavorably within the religious culture in which she was ensconced. It was suggested by one ward leader that she give her baby up for adoption through church channels, but her parents supported her in keeping her child and she ended up marrying instead. The marriage didn't last the year and she came home to her parents with an infant, and a reputation. She had chalked up two strikes against her, a pregnancy out of wedlock and a divorce, and was quickly becoming a cautionary tale within certain circles in her hometown. She was kindly considered somewhat of a "lost soul" until she eventually regained favor by marrying a man who had recently returned home from a two-year mission for the church and was in good standing. He made an honest woman of her by marrying her in the temple and eventually adopting her son. She had a second child with her new husband, a beautiful daughter with blue eyes and hair like corn silk.

For ten years she played by the rules and seemingly had everything any woman could want. No one noticed her pain because on the surface, her life appeared idealistic. She had a good husband who ran his family's business and made a good living. She had a nice home where she was raising two beautiful children. She attended church meetings every Sunday with her ideal family and had become part of the fold. Because of his family business, her husband was prominent in their small town, and if you hadn't known otherwise, you never would have suspected her misery. She tried to do what she had been taught and be a good wife and mother, but little by little she lost herself, slowly dying on the vine with the passing years.

Although her husband provided for all her financial needs, she didn't feel there was an honest intimacy between them, so the partnership was failing to meet her emotional needs. He was a mover and a shaker, building a profitable business, but not a rewarding marriage for a woman who wanted to be warmly valued. She felt her role in their relationship was incidental.

After ten years of marriage and a two-week stay in mental-health hospital for clinical depression, she needed to make a change. She would have to ignore the expectations of everyone around her, including her own family, and leave the comfort and stability of her less than satisfying life. With two kids in tow, she turned her back on her marriage, financial stability, the church, the anti-depressants that had been prescribed, and all that was familiar in order to follow her heart and at least have a chance at creating a life that felt more authentic to her.

Within just a few months of being on her own, she met and married her third husband. He was easy going and seemed to accept her without reservation, which was just what the doctor ordered after her last tumultuous relationship. He was kind, and life was peaceful as they settled into a marriage together in Washington State. The union produced a child, because while Deniece already had two, her new husband didn't have any children of his own until their daughter was born.

Her husband wasn't demanding, he was quiet and unassuming but there was something missing from their marriage. They lived their lives as two separate individuals, coming together for the incidentals and details of life and family, but had little in common. They didn't seem to connect or challenge each other; it was almost as if he were just another member of the family, less like an intimate partner and more like one of the children, and consequently, her life became stagnate. When she looks back on that marriage, she feels that it offered her the time and the calm environment conducive to healing from her last relationship, not to mention a daughter that would have a large role in so many of the critical events that followed.

If it weren't for her youngest daughter, Deniece would never have become friends with my ex-wife and she and I would never have formed a relationship. Nor would Deniece and I have moved in with her ex-husband, if we hadn't felt it was the best solution to raising their daughter. But our living arrangement has provided many opportunities for growth, including the chance to pursue our purpose and write this book. In many ways, both Deniece's daughter and my son have been pivotal in the major directional changes our lives have taken.

There was little forward progress for Deniece during this brief marriage because these years had been reserved for healing. It was a time to restore her equilibrium and remember what she had originally wanted from her life. So after five years together, it was time once again, to move on.

My relationship with Deniece began as a friendship; she was simply an acquaintance of my wife's. The two of us had a fundamental commonality, we were both dissatisfied with our lives and were searching for fulfillment, but more than anything else, we just wanted to be happy, regardless of what it took. At first we barely took notice of one another, but once we began to see each other on a regular basis, I was attracted to who she was as a person. I recognized her goodness and noticed that everything she did and said seemed to come from a place of kindness. She was a genuine person, always stating her opinions directly but without a need for agreement from anyone. It's fair to say that I respected her before I loved her. And through respect grew admiration and finally romantic feelings, along with a desire to be in her presence as much as possible. I knew from fairly early on that we would be an incredible duo! And I wasn't the only one.

While married to my ex-wife, Deniece had accompanied us on a trip to Seattle where two strangers on the street mistook Deniece and I as a couple. My wife was inside a children's shop looking for games to keep our son occupied during their upcoming flight to Europe, Deniece and I were outside, each pushing a child in a stroller. We were chatting and trying to entertain the kids, when two women walking down the sidewalk stopped to let the kids pet their dogs. Out of the blue, one of them suddenly looked up at Deniece and said, "You two make a really great looking couple!!" Deniece laughed and told them that she would tell my wife they thought so. To that the woman replied, "Ah that's too bad... What a shame, you two should be together." The encounter was brief but it left a fairly large impact on both of us. (Indecently, I don't remember either of us mentioning the encounter to my wife.)

Once we became a couple, we heard that sort of comment somewhat regularly, validating what we already knew. We do make a great couple, mostly because neither of us wants anything more than to see our partner happy. We both recognize that the relationship isn't common and have learned to treat it with reverence.

Deniece emanates an incredible strength, which was needed to go on the wild rollercoaster ride, that has been my life. Had she not been through similar struggles and pain, we might not have stayed together. She knew through her own experience, exactly what I was going through in my marriage, and her understanding helped our relationship remain on solid ground. She has offered me compassion and validation in the midst of chaos, and through her experience, has helped me see the realities of my first marriage. I have done the same for her, helping her work through her painful past relationships. It just helps to know that you are supported and not alone in your pain. We also share the same personality type, making our common ground ample and satisfying. Infusing our relationship with richness, she is the adult, and I play the child role. Her sensible and responsible approach has been the perfect match to balance my adventurous spirit.

As soon as we came together, I found myself unable to lie to her even if it was only a slight exaggeration. I had to tell her everything I was thinking; some of it not quite necessary and occasionally I have embarrassed myself. However, I was compelled to foster this relationship with complete openness and honesty. I also shared all of my dreams and aspirations so she learned what to expect from me. I was determined that our union wouldn't be like my last relationship, built on half-truths, compromises and submissiveness. Our relationship had to be the union of two equal individuals, joined in a common purpose, taking on life's challenges as we worked toward our goals, with no secrets. In the beginning, we didn't have a concrete idea of what those goals were, beyond the desire to be together and the longing to be happy. But as the years have past and happiness ensued, our goals have blossomed and we now have a stronger sense of purpose.

Seeing your partner's faults, is much easier than recognizing one's own shortcomings, but being a couple with a strong yearning for the truth, we embraced our imperfections as they rose to the surface. Sometimes the reality of your own weakness is difficult to look at, but we have been committed to facing the truth. She calls attention to the ego in me when it rears its childish head, and I do the same for her. At times, it was completely overwhelming to face the never-ending onslaught of issues the ego had created. In the beginning, we may have only had a few moments of peace after facing a flaw, before the ego would flare up again and the next opportunity for growth would be upon us.

This process of clearing fear and insecurities has been the most difficult practice I have ever participated in, however, it has also been the most rewarding! My previous marriage was a walk in the park compared to being in a relationship with Deniece, because she never lets the ego get away with a thing. We rarely let anything that needed attention slide. And unlike my last marriage, we don't blame each other for how we are feeling; we do our best to take responsibility for our own state of mind because we recognize that the other doesn't actually have the power to make us feel bad.

My lowest point was during our separation, but I see now that it had to happen because it was too painful for me to face my life and I clearly needed the incentive to help me move forward. I've always been grateful that we weren't kept apart for long. We were drawn to each other and we both somehow knew if we were to allow this relationship to dwindle and die, we would be squandering an amazing opportunity! We knew this was our chance to achieve something that most people only dream of. Not only were we awakening, we were also building a real relationship based on love, honesty, and a mutual respect.

In New York, Deniece had a break through moment about our relationship struggles. My sometimes stubborn and misguided thoughts use to drive her crazy, and no matter how many times she tried to share her insight into the situation, I would continue to see things from my distorted point of view. She could see that I was making myself miserable and taking it out on her, but there was little she could do about it. Finally, she had an epiphany, realizing that it was impossible to save me from myself. I had to be allowed to believe my story until I was ready to give it up, because that's what I was going to do anyway. By detaching from the need to help me see the truth and trusting that I would find my own way to clarity, she was able to find peace and stop seeing me as someone needing to be fixed. I didn't personally realize this insight until many years later, when we were living in Colorado, and had my own epiphany around the very same concept. The realization consisted of seeing the actions of others as impersonal. I didn't understand it until I had lived with Deniece's ex-husband and her daughter for a number of years. Now I have learned that when other people do things that don't coincide with my perception of life, I can peacefully and proactively react to the situation because it isn't personal. I can also remain unattached to the outcome of any set of circumstances, or whether or not I am understood. Ultimately, this guides me to act from a loving and compassionate foundation, rather than being defensive or unkind.

Deniece is the most loving person I have ever known personally, but that doesn't mean she is always easy to be with. Love tells the truth, even when the truth is painful. Love is direct and love says goodbye if necessary. Love puts itself first and love can watch a person's life become a train wreck without interfering if that help isn't welcomed. Love stays rooted in reality during a conversation, even when it is being attacked, because love doesn't fall for the ego's attempts at gaining the upper hand. Love sees past the ego into the truth of the other. Love is not possessive or jealous. Love is open and all encompassing.

Deniece embodies unconditional love. It's ironic however, that even though she would never knowingly harm anyone, she doesn't completely escape attack, herself. Just being who she is can be perceived as a threat, even to the ego in me! This is because she has the ability to turn your world upside down with just a few simple words. In fact, even her mere presence and demeanor can be enough to send some people running from the room! Her existence can threaten people because she's living proof that another way of living is possible. She exudes confidence, which can be perceived as arrogance in the minds of the fearful. She lives what most people can only imagine. So no matter how kind she is, she can threaten your sacredly held beliefs and shake you to your core!

As you experience her way of life, you begin to question your own and this causes most people to be defensive because the ego would have us believe that our way is the best way. When our belief systems are challenged, it can bring up fear because we secretly realize that we might not have all the answers, if our life isn't producing the things we say we want. Which begs the question, "If my way isn't producing what I want, then what will?" To realize the answer, one must first realize the illusion that has kept mankind imprisoned for thousands of years, the belief that this physical existence is all there is.

Some of us are so ingrained in the physical, that it becomes our entire focus and we will do almost anything in order to protect it! We believe the illusion so completely, that we have become dependent upon it and it has become our identity. What I admire about Deniece, is that she doesn't put much energy into the physical pleasures of life, and yet she seems to experience such joy from the simplest things, like a morning walk with her husband, a cup of French Vanilla Cappuccino, a trip to the nursery to buy a plant for the flower garden, the sunshine, the rain, the freshly cleaned laundry, doing the dishes or even going to work. And she doesn't let others intimidate or discourage her from living the way she wants. She doesn't seem to have a sense of obligation, and you won't always find her doing what you would expect, because her behavior isn't dictated by what's socially acceptable. The word "should" doesn't seem to play much of a role in her life. She's guided by something much deeper, and she follows her sense of what's right, even when it defies logic or understanding.

Deniece is the grounding force in my life whenever I get off track. I think partially due to her penchant for motherhood. She hasn't raised her children in the traditional sense, because she sees the context of a situation, instead of the immediate goal of getting your child to do what you want. She didn't want to raise children that made choices for fear of punishment. She wants them to think for themselves and make choices by following their own hearts. She sets this example for them and for me, everyday, with every choice she makes and in everything she says and does. She is the living, breathing example, of what love would do. This comes naturally for her, where for me, I have to ask myself the question, "What would love do here?" in order to keep myself focused at times.

Watching her example, I continue to glean numerous insights on the reality of how life works. Likewise, watching me helps her to stretch herself and make choices that are out of her comfort zone. Living "outside the box" has meant making choices that haven't always been popular. I take the leap of faith forward, and she brings me back down to Earth. That might explain why it feels we've been on the fast track toward clarity ever since we've been together. We have moved forward quickly because we embrace each other's strengths while stretching ourselves to do things that don't come as easily. It would be easy for me to blast off into the stratosphere with some of my ideas and it would be easy for Deniece to stay grounded, always playing it safe, but together we make a perfect team that is well balanced and doesn't go to either extreme for long. Forging ahead at a dizzying pace, we have become more and more self-aware, and in turn, more contented and happy. Spiritual growth has occupied most of our time and energy, yet we've always managed to have a roof over our heads, and the bills paid. Simply said, life has become a spiritual practice with little need for religion, meditation or traditional prayer. When life itself becomes the practice that brings you nearer to Deity, I call that contemplation, a way of always keeping the _goal_ in mind. Through contemplation, life becomes simple and rich with meaning, and the heart is continuously filled with love and gratitude.

The way my wife and I relate to one another has changed over the course of our relationship, especially when it comes to fighting. In the early years we had not developed the skills to "fight fair," which left us with a lot to clean up after an argument. As time went on, we learned more effective ways to be heard and to get our points across without personally attacking the other. Now we can spend more time directly on the issue at hand. Building the foundation of our relationship in this manner has made open and direct communication possible. Being able to be vulnerable involves trusting each other so that you can share your innermost fears and insecurities, which then allows us to address them, making our relationship deeper and more satisfying.

Growth is still a constant in my life, but I have overcome many of my ego attachments so now I can focus my energy on the present moment, rather than dwelling on the past. This allows me to concentrate on core issues instead of dealing with the seemingly endless, superficial ones. I have realized that when I took my anger out on Deniece, it had very little to do with her or even the current circumstance. Instead, it had more to do with my past and the pain I was still holding. But now that I have cleared most of those painful feelings, the ego has a harder time distracting me, making my life much more productive, not to mention, easier.

Even when we make love now, it's a much different experience than when our union was new. Nothing is forced or expected in any way. We don't have to schedule it because it always happens quite naturally. Now that the ego isn't so heavily involved in our lives, we can simply go with the flow that allows us to tap into the energy of the moment. For instance, as long as we don't have an agenda, we have noticed that the energy between us is typically shared, which consistently keeps us on the same page. In my previous relationships, sex seemed to lose its luster as the romantic feelings that came with a new relationship started to fade. With Deniece, my sex life has only deepened and improved over the years.

Contrary to popular opinion, relationships are not designed for the purpose of receiving love from your partner. We think that finding someone that agrees to love us will finally bring us the happiness we want, but I realize that while happiness may be a byproduct of my marriage, the true purpose of all relationship is self-awareness. While this reality may not be as appealing as the romantic notion of someone else being responsible for your happiness, once you accept it, you will enjoy more peace because you aren't expecting marriage to be something it can never be. You will be free to embrace the individual growth that will take place within your partnership, and in the meantime, continue to develop a deeper love for your partner than you previously thought possible. My relationship with Deniece has been the most profound gift from God that I've ever been sent, and I could die today a happy man, knowing how blessed I am to have had her in my life!

For the past several years, I haven't spent as much exclusive time with Deniece as I was able to in the beginning of our marriage. Between jobs and our communal living situation, we don't have as many opportunities to have "alone time" together. It has been good for me to experience time on my own because it has helped me realize that I can function without her help and still realize peace and happiness in the process. Now those circumstances are changing, and while the situation is great as it is, we're entering a phase where we get to spend more time together, which has escalated my feelings for her. At times, I only have to look at her and tears will begin to well as the intense love I feel bubbles to the surface! It's a wonderful feeling to love so much. Not only is she highly conscious and very wise, she is also extremely loving and beautiful! I wonder sometimes how she can so consistently love every person she comes in contact with. I've always felt that God designed her specifically for me and she exceeds everything I could have ever wished for in a friend, lover, teacher, and partner!

When two individuals move forward, working in sync with one another, synergy is created; producing more strength than one person can muster on their own. Like the bible says, "Where two or more are gathered in His name," together we create more movement towards spiritual growth. Even after sixteen years of marriage (the longest for either of us), we still enjoy simply being together, and I would rather spend an afternoon alone with my wife, than anyone else on earth.

Ultimately, this path is a solo journey, yet I have been blessed to be walking beside someone that I love and respect, someone who is also awakening. Could there be any greater gift? Each of us is given the tools we need to successfully complete what we came here to achieve, and for me, Deniece has been fantastic help in this endeavor. Not only has she been pivotal in challenging the ego, she has also been my example for how love actually looks. She has proven to be one of my best guides and a tremendous source of wisdom, truth and light!

### ~

While I love my son and my wife with all my heart, what I'm speaking of when I profess my love for another is "personal love," but there is a love far greater. This is the kind of love that God has for all that exists, and every human being has the capacity to love in such a way. This love is non-personal and unattached; it doesn't have an agenda and only wants what will bring joy to all of life.

Unconditional love begins with unconditional acceptance. For some people it is easy to freely profess love for family, friends, pets, strangers, things, places or activities where the word "love" is used often and generously, but where we get stuck, is unconditional love of one's self and for all that is. If I cannot find genuine love for myself, the love I have for others, is a fraud. Much of the time, when we are giving advice or interfering in another's life using the excuse that we are acting in love, it's nothing more than manipulation masquerading as love. I have recognized this pretense in myself, in the way I have loved in the past, and from my experience, this kind of love is a universal falsehood. I wasn't able to truly love my first wife or anyone else for that matter, until I learned to truly love myself. I had to be willing to see all of what the world would see as my mistakes and my flaws, and accept wholeheartedly that I was doing the best I could at any given time. Once the unconditional love takes hold, I'm no longer able to see things or people as flawed; everything takes on the glow of perfection, including my own brilliant self.

When you have found unconditional love within yourself, you will experience a sense of wellbeing and peace as you participate in the life happening around you. Everyone has experienced this feeling because it's already alive within us all. For example, you are strolling through your favorite nature spot, the sun is shining, the temperature is perfect, you are alone or you have a loved one with you and all is right with the world. There is a peaceful feeling of pure bliss. The feeling is unspoken because what is there to be said about it? If someone does speak, it is welcomed not resisted because nothing can break the perfection of the moment. Imagine living in that space for the majority of the time and you have stumbled upon unconditional love!

Recognize the love you feel for everything and everyone, not just things you prefer. When you can see, what on the surface appears to be intolerable, murder, rape, torture, genocide, etc. with unconditional love and acceptance, you understand what I'm talking about. I'm not saying you condone or participate in such behavior, but that you realize you don't know what needs to be experienced in this world, only God and the people involved have that privilege. Can you honestly know what another needs for their growth? For instance, when you see a homeless drug addict lying on the sidewalk and you think, "that's a shame," your thought is resistance to what is, and it blocks the love from coming up. If you don't have an opinion about the person, you are free to simply love him with no need to save him, help him, or contact the authorities to have him removed from view. You may choose to act out of kindness, but you realize there is no real need. Projecting negative judgments on others creates a block to realizing unconditional love. When resistance and negative judgments are surrendered, unlimited love will abound.

Experiencing unconditional love for all that "is," is something you do for yourself because it brings with it so much joy. Another great benefit is that you can relax and let go of all your opinions and misconceptions about others, leaving you ample time and energy for other more productive activities. As I'm enjoying life in all of its forms, someone may infiltrate my bliss with negativity and I feel my ego answer the call. When that happens, I try to notice those moments so that I can consciously watch the ego at work, and if I'm lucky, the very act of watching diminishes its power and frequency.

Unconditional love is a way of being in the world and will change your experience of life, from one of struggle and discontent, to one of joy and peace. I know this to be true because I have experienced both extremes during my lifetime. When you are able to find the beauty in _all_ things, you can be sure that you have discovered unconditional love! When unconditional love is present within you and you can feel it radiating out toward all that exists, you will have made your way to the most profound unending joy.

**Chapter Twelve**

### Heaven on Earth

Heaven is a state of being that can be experienced in this lifetime and is not limited to what can be achieved after death. The same holds true for Hell. And "Hell" is what most of us experience the majority of the time. Life can either be your biggest nightmare or your loveliest dream, dependant upon ones level of consciousness. It has been my experience that the truth has set me free from the egoistical illusions that have been the sole cause of my pain and struggle. I will forever be a committed seeker of truth for the simple sake of truth itself, and for the sake of alleviating my suffering. My perception of the world directly correlates to my state of being, and until I see the perfection and Divinity in all things, I limit the quality of my experience and prevent myself from reaching the highest degree of happiness that can be enjoyed as a human being.

Twice in my life I have had close friends that were unable to endure the hell they were experiencing in their lives, and felt the only alternative was to escape through suicide. The first time it happened, I was an insecure teenager witnessing my young friend's depression without recognizing what was happening until it was too late. I sat silently by and watched as the adults in his life tried to make sense of the inexplicable tragedy, by explaining it away as an accident, even though I knew differently.

As an adult, I still had no idea that my friend was contemplating taking his own life, although in hindsight, I could see the signs were all there. After his passing, telling statements he had made began to creep back into my mind and I realized he had been planning his flight from this life for quite some time.

This time I didn't keep quiet. Since I was older and had experienced real dissatisfaction in my own life, I had a better understanding of what he must have been going through, and despite my intense fear of public speaking, I felt compelled to speak my truth at his service. I spoke of the problems that each of us has, and how we can either face them during our lives or once we have passed from this realm. If my friend were here today he might tell us that suicide is not the answer to our struggles and that emotional suffering cannot be avoided simply by ending your earthly life. Perhaps he only increased the number of issues that will need to be faced by diverting, rather than healing them and by adding the act of suicide to his pile.

I believe the size of our "accumulated pile" directly affects the quality of our life experience, and if you are in "hell" during your lifetime, you will be in "hell" after this life is over. Likewise, if you experience life as a little piece of heaven, you are likely to remain in that state once your life comes to an end. Our happiness is dependant on our ability to accept each painful truth as it arises and transform the suffering through understanding. My goal in life is to consciously rid myself of, as much of my "accumulated pile" as I can, because the pile dims my vision of heaven and keeps me separate from the joy that is innate within me. But the pile is ultimately a blessing because it is our suffering that pushes us to find an answer. As a byproduct of my goal, I have begun to know peace, love, gratitude and joy in my daily life, and my overall experience has become more and more heavenly.

Becoming more conscious has allowed me to face more resistant issues, and as I do, I become ever nearer to transcending the ego. For me, the process is symbolic of floating down a river. We can either swim against the current of life or learn how to flow with it. When we swim against the current we still travel downstream but we exhaust ourselves with our struggle to resist the process. In my experience, this resistance is Hell! The more unconscious I was, the more I resisted, always wanting my circumstances to be different than they were; wanting more money, wanting to control people and situations, wanting people to appreciate me or love me more or irritate me less. When I stopped resisting, I began to see how everything in life was perfect and my resistance to it wasn't necessary or beneficial. My resistance never once, produced anything of value.

Once I realized that my resistance didn't serve me, I began to embrace an inner "yes" to anything that came up and recognized that all _is_ as it "should" be. As a consequence, I began to float effortlessly, enjoying wherever the stream of life takes me. Of course the ego flares up from time to time, bringing on the resistance and defiance, but I find it easier to realize the truth so the episodes don't last as long and they don't consume me like they once did.

As I learn to challenge stressful thoughts, I become a more peaceful observer of life while I casually cruise downstream. Struggle has begun to diminish because I realize that everything I need has already been provided me. Just as the water of the river wraps around me, supporting the weight of my body, I am equally supported in all aspects of my life. In fact, I have always had this support, I just wasn't aware of it for the first thirty years. Even the destination that I am floating towards has become less important, and my attention has turned towards the journey itself. I'm floating towards consciousness, where I continue to discover the answers to all of my questions, because the solutions already reside within me.

Challenging my thoughts and insecurities, has lifted a vast heaviness from my shoulders, and as that weight is being removed, I'm finding that I have increased strength to make unpopular choices. I appreciate the direction my life has taken and how my state of being has changed along the way. I have also reached a point in my development where I am inspired to share the insights I have gleaned throughout this process. Not to save anyone, because that's not possible, but to reinforce those spiritual truths within myself by talking about what I continue to discover.

When I realized that the physical body I inhabit is not who I really am, it brought new meaning to the words, "be in the world, but not of it." I am an infinite spiritual being having a finite physical experience and since this physical experience will end, it couldn't possibly be who I ultimately am. Understanding this has helped me to hand the reigns over to God and trust that whatever comes my way is the best thing for my development, no matter how it may appear on the surface. I can't stop the flow of the river nor can I stop the flow of life, and even if I could I wouldn't want to, after seeing the amazing opportunities for growth it has to offer. As I learn to trust that God has never left my side, and has always provided me with exactly what I need to experience, I can see that He is lovingly guiding me exactly where I need to go. His undying love and support has taught me to love and trust myself through connection to the Source, more than I thought possible!

During my journey I have come to see how powerful my thoughts, words and actions really are. I notice the dramatic impact my thoughts have on the energy that surrounds me, and on the people I'm with, more effect than I once realized or was afraid to admit. The effect, can either be life affirming, or it can inhibit the flow of growth; the choice is mine. For instance, if I remain present when I am being attacked and choose not to attack back, I have a better chance of bringing the situation into harmony, but if I allow the ego to carry me away, the opposite result will ensue. What thoughts, words and actions will I be responsible for, and what kind of energy am I inviting into the world? When there is negative energy, we can always use the excuse that the other guy started it, but what I must concern myself with, is how can I transform it.

Whatever we expose ourselves to, can also have a profound affect on us. When I was young, I only concerned myself with getting along and fitting in, and it didn't matter what company I kept. Now I find myself shying away from spending time with people who aren't uplifting to my spirit. I find I'm too weak to endure constant negative energy, while continuing to enjoy an optimistic outlook. Everyone follows a path of darkness or of light, most of us experience a little of both. We are all able to discern the difference because we innately know by how it feels, what side of the spectrum we are on. One path is not better than another because both are simply a different side of the same coin and can each be transformational. The difference is the quality of life that each has to offer and the happiness and joy that can be realized along the way.

I was once drawn towards the darker elements of life because the ego was in control, which translated into an experience of fear, blame, isolation, and misery. By keeping me focused on the past or future, the ego was able to run wild and create all types of stories and misconceptions without any checks or balances from the reality of the present moment. The past is only a memory and the future doesn't exist, so being in the present moment provides the platform to consciously challenge the stressful thoughts created by the mind. Anything that causes pain is a misconception. I have spent a lot of energy worrying about my future and I have tortured myself relentlessly over my past, both of which kept me stuck in a powerless state. I learned to ask myself, "Am I okay in this moment?" Try to block all the stories of past and future then ask yourself if you're okay, right now, in this moment. If you go deep enough, you will find that nothing is ever really problematic in the present moment. You are breathing and everything is fine. This is a difficult concept for some, because we are so attached to the stories we believe about our circumstances. We might admit, "Everything is fine, but..." As soon as the "but" enters the picture, you can know for sure the resistance has come up and that the ego is speaking, and the point is to catch the ego at work. Once misconceptions are exposed to the light of truth, they cease to control us and that is the moment freedom is born.

After becoming aware of the benefit to staying grounded in the present, the question still emerged, "Why hadn't I become conscious earlier in my life?" Which in turn led to the question, "Was it my idea to awaken or did the inspiration come from somewhere else?" Or in other words, did I choose to awaken or was I being awakened? Over the past decade my experiences would lead me to believe that the latter seems truer. If this is the case, I wonder where my responsibility lie's? I've come to see that I'm only responsible for my attachment to thoughts, (whether I believe them or not). The responsibility for the thought's origin belongs elsewhere; they come and go without my permission but my reaction is what I should concern myself with.

I believe the human race is finally emerging from the dark ages and into the light of consciousness. It is an age that will most likely split apart the very fabric of our society, turning everything upside down, as consciousness arises and points out the insanity in the way mankind currently functions. As this transformation takes place, a total restructuring of our current operating system will likely occur. As a people, we are now mainly motivated by fear and lack, and as those motivations change to love and abundance, the life we have come to know will cease to exist. I have no illusions that this restructuring will be difficult and will put our convictions to the test, but what awaits us on the other side of this shift, is peace.

Addressing issues in my relationship with my ex-wife seems to correspond to issues we face globally; the scale is the only difference. Before leaving my marriage I exhausted every option I could think of to save the partnership, until I finally reached the point where I realized it was not within my power to change my ex-wife or create harmony. The situation had to become so painful that I would be willing to consider a solution that seemed impossible, or at the very least, much too difficult. The solution was there, provided I was willing to give up everything I held most dear, in my case that turned out to be my security, my dream of "forever together," and the loss (at least physically) of my son. It was not an easy choice to make but sometimes I feel I didn't make a choice at all, that choices make themselves. I believe our world has finally reached a similar point in its evolution and may now be ready for some difficult choices. An indicator that change is at hand is the level of insanity that I witness everyday on the evening news. Fear and misery have reached epic proportions and it has become easier to see how dysfunctional and absurd our beliefs have become. We seem to be very near rock bottom and have nothing more to lose by entertaining a solution that seems to contradict everything we _think_ we know.

Because we are easily misled by the ego and its desires, tools like kinesiology that bypass the mind, could benefit us in restructuring our world. As I continue to become more conscious, I align myself more and more with spirit and I am guided from that source, which automatically produces the best choices for me, but when confronting challenges that the mind is unable to find answers for, I can turn to a source that taps in to universal energy and gives me the answers that will most benefit me and the rest of mankind, that of kinesiology.

Listening to my heart instead of my head has produced solutions to some of my most distressing problems. For instance, in my first marriage my mind told me that I had to fight to get what I wanted, which only led to more pain and separation, but my heart told me there was another way. If I wanted to experience togetherness and joy, I had to walk away from the fight, refusing to participate in the conflict. Through leaving, I discovered that I felt closer to my ex-wife than I ever did while I was living with her. Physical separation supported each of our individual paths, and it allowed both of us to stand and walk that path without direct opposition from the other. I realized that separation from my ex-wife and my son couldn't prevent me from loving them. In fact, by way of following my heart, I discovered real love through learning to respect and love myself. Only through loving myself can I actually love another, and as a consequence, I feel like I'm finally able to love my ex-wife unconditionally. When we first met I loved an illusion of who she was, not the real person. I selfishly loved what I thought she could do for me and then wanted to blame her when she didn't measure up to my fantasy. I now realize how unfair and self-centered that was.

As I look back on my own life, I see how the once innocent, loving boy slowly altered over the years, becoming a terrified, suspicious, insecure man, hitting his fearful climax when he turned thirty. With God's help I began the journey to the ultimate transformation! Involvement with my son put the first fissure in my fear based delusional bubble, because the parental instinct to protect my child broke through and let a small ray of light penetrate my dark and dismal world. After Deniece entered the picture, that small fracture burst wide open and consciousness engulfed me like a massive flood of bright light! Through her, God brought me truth and wisdom, illuminating everything within view and dissolving the misconceptions and lies that I'd told myself for decades.

Deniece has sometimes appeared as a dangerous risk to me, because she threatened my victim persona by challenging every fear based story I held. Fortunately, she had the innate ability to see the real man behind the stories, driving her to continue to challenge them. The walls I'd built to protect my stories were sturdy, sound and formidable, and as a result, I resisted her attempts to penetrate, with all my might, but my efforts ultimately went in vain because I couldn't stop or dismiss the truth that she brought forth. As I've said before, she is direct in her manor of communication and eventually her loving patience and authenticity won me over, my walls weakening, until they finally crumbled and washed away as if they had been nothing more than a fortress of sand. I had been sent a partner that knew exactly how to permeate my insanity and break through to the clarity that had always been there.

Her example has shown me what love and true compassion really look like played out in the human form. Her integrity and incredible strength inspire me to face my own fears, and as I do, I begin to discover who I am and I learn to love the man behind the fearful exterior. At times I have been cruel to her when she was brave enough to challenge my position. She has experienced the full wrath of the ego, as it fought desperately for its survival, and if it hadn't been for the fact that I eventually took responsibility for each of those attacks, I'm sure she would've had the strength to end our relationship. But after defending myself against her clarity, I was always able to see what I'd done, which was a humbling ordeal that didn't come to a conclusion until I could see the whole truth she had been championing in the first place. The ego has a way of masterfully keeping you believing that you are right, even when your argument is ridiculously absurd, but that's how determined the ego can be and how doggedly it can keep you sidetracked. One of the few times I let the ego get the best of me and I refused to see the truth, it caused our separation, which I now see as incredible strength on my wife's part.

When she sent me packing, I was left in a dismal and directionless state. I had been stripped of everything including my identity. Unsure of where my new life would take me, I was paralyzed by fear and remained stuck, doing nothing at all. I simply couldn't put one foot in front of another and move forward. My attitude went beyond what my wife considered sane behavior and she felt she had no other choice than to save herself by means of leaving me behind!

At that time my life was like a sinking ship, and because she was so strong, Deniece accepted the harsh reality that she might have to add a fourth divorce to her résumé. I have compassion for my dear wife as I look back at what I put her through, but my overwhelming feeling is one of gratitude, first for leaving me, allowing me the chance to find the truth for myself, and second for coming back and giving me the chance to begin anew with courage to evaluate my true desires and begin the climb that would lead me out of my self-imposed despair.

This very challenging time in our relationship was cloaked in Divine intervention and I was lovingly guided back to my wife and the relationship that would facilitate the sanding away of my rough edges, exposing the real "Self" behind the stubborn facade. We were able to make it through a seemingly impossible situation and I realize how blessed I've been. Of course there have been many more challenges along the way, so many in fact, that I can't relate them all, but we have laid a foundation that is strong enough to withstand the storms that will come in any long-term relationship. We are living the relationship we'd both been searching for; the one that comforts you and supports you, the one that makes you feel loved and safe, the one you always knew existed but could never put your finger on. I am experiencing a marriage that feels like a reward for all of my suffering through past relationships and all the seeking for the right person to spend your life with. It hasn't always been easy; it has taken commitment and fortitude and above all, grace.

There really are no mistakes and no coincidences. Every person and experience in my life has been sent here for one reason, to help me become conscious. Even my ex-wife's choice to keep my son away from me has been an indirect benefit in my life and provided me with one of the most important lessons to help me transcend the physical. If it had been in my best interest to have my son in my life, then we would have been together, just as I realize it's in my best interest to be living in this communal situation with Deniece's ex-husband and her daughter. Our "out of the box" living arrangement offers abundant opportunities for growth because everything I need to work on is mirrored back to me through them. It's challenging, and everyday you have to check your ego at the door, but just as I knew how important it was to stay with Deniece, I also know how important it is to be here in this unconventional family for a time.

Most of my struggles come up when I don't see the purpose in our differences or the ego decides that those differences are somehow a threat. However, I've discovered the key to reaping the benefit from this situation is to stay out of everyone's business but my own, and remain unattached from what happens because that allows me to see the Divinity in all our lives. When I am successful at staying in my own business, I truly recognize the benefits my loved ones bring to my life, both spiritual and physical, because I'm not clouded by my negative judgments. Being unattached, doesn't mean that I'm uninvolved, it simply means that the outcome of any situation isn't my concern and everything is happening for some greater cause than I might be able to see. My choices are perfect for me, just as their choices are perfect for them, and through this experience I have learned that even a young, teenaged step-daughter can have profound things to teach me, if I am humble enough to pay attention.

Deniece's ex-husband, as you might imagine, offers even more challenges for me since the ego can have a field day trying to prove I'm superior or inferior to him. It tries to convince me that his choices should be different, but when I bask in the delicious world of superiority or inferiority, I'm blinded from the truth of who he really is and what blessings he is offering my life. Each of us has something different to bring to the table and if I'm giving life my full attention, I can see that both their examples can help me become more balanced through incorporating their strengths into my well of options.

Many truths have been hidden from me by the ego, but as the veil lifts, I see how all of the elements work together harmoniously to create this beautiful living arrangement, as well as every other blessing I've ever been given! God uses everything to guide us on our paths and there is Divine purpose in everything, what we perceive as good and even what we perceive as bad. When I realize this truth I find myself residing in a peaceful, fearless state because I know that everyone and everything is here to support me. This state of being is the closest example of who I really am and what I can experience everyday, if I choose it. All I have to do is clear away the illusions and it emerges as a natural byproduct of my true nature.

The God I believe in doesn't punish us, judge us, condemn us, or expect anything from us. God is merely the process that makes everything possible. God is Love, and all of creation is a manifestation of that love. This realization takes me out of a Hell-like state of being, and into a Heaven-like state where nothing is good or evil, it simply is. Heaven takes us away from this world of relativity, to the realm where all of us are energetically connected and therefore duality and separateness doesn't exist. In that state, it's not me against them, because how can I be pitted against a part of myself? Since nothing is separate, nothing can conflict with me or compete against me. Being different or separate is merely an illusion created by the ego, designed to help us survive in the physical world. Believing we are separate and unique allows us to reside in a world where fear and illusion can dominate our experience and convince us that we are alone and inferior or superior, giving the ego something to feed on.

Everything and everyone including Hitler, is cut from the same cloth. To condemn anything or anyone is to condemn one's self. Hitler wasn't better or worse than anyone else and his role was perfect in helping us to understand and experience the depths of Hell on Earth. His example shows us how not to live, if what we want to experience is peace, happiness, and unity. Consequently, the wisdom that came from his example has not been surpassed. I wish I could say that we were evolved beyond needing such experiences again, but since genocide continues to the present day, its clear we're not. What I can determine from this is that we must still have things to understand. If we are honest with ourselves, there isn't anyone alive who hasn't been so angry that they wished the person you thought responsible for your misery, dead. The only difference between an evil dictator and myself is the action taken, but eliminating people or things that threaten us doesn't produce peace. Only through embracing the things we fear most and understanding them, can we empower ourselves to dissolve the illusions that create the fear in the first place. Hitler's existence had Divine purpose even though his choices were destructive beyond imagination! His plight was one of extreme unconsciousness but one that any of us could participate in given the right set of circumstances. That's what makes it such a powerful example, because any of us are capable of atrocities, just as any of us are capable of living the example set by Jesus or The Buddha.

Many people are ready to hear truth even though it's not always easy to wrap our minds around. Our evolving consciousness may be the reason some large conglomerate companies, who have been so successful in the past, are no longer viable. What used to be acceptable behavior in the business world is beginning to change. Companies have come under massive scrutiny as a result of our increased consciousness and the ineffectiveness of their destructive business practices has been recognizable. Sometimes the only way to evolve is letting a corrupt business, driven by greed, fail, and accept the consequence of the loss. Throwing government subsidies at this kind of crisis may only promote the greed at the root of the problem. Change can make life difficult for some, but in the long run something new, and perhaps more effective, has been given the space to emerge.

As I watch the wave of recession, I see how we are assuming a position to possibly accept another way. Consider rising gas prices. The higher they go, the more motivated we are to look at fuel alternatives. The same concept applies to our economy. The more difficult things get, the more we are willing to consider solutions that might otherwise be overlooked. Necessity is the mother of invention, and when we can't afford to put gas in our cars, viable alternative fuel sources will not only be discovered, but will also be profitable. It took me eleven years with my ex-wife, before the situation got dire enough for me to open my eyes to something new. If it hadn't, I might still be stuck in the same circumstance going through the same miserable motions over and over again, and that wouldn't be of benefit to either of us. In a worst-case scenario, I might not be here at all, because I may have given up on life altogether.

I believe we make it hard to accept new ways of addressing our concerns by thinking it's too difficult, or even impossible to change. Awakening to the Divinity that already exists within us, has been portrayed as insurmountable or miraculous, placing it on a pedestal. We essentially believe that it can only happen to a rare few and is out of reach for the common man. Organized religion has played a major role in the development of this misconception, and in truth, religion may become less important as consciousness emerges and people begin to realize that they don't need the element of organization to guide them to what they already possess. But religion remains an important avenue in providing security, a sense of community, and a place where one can find goodness, kindness, and truth.

Ironically, awakening is simple despite the widely accepted belief to the contrary, and is available to anyone who truly seeks it, but I have noticed, within myself and in watching others, that most humans want it both ways. We say we want to know the truth but we don't want to admit that we wish to add a disclaimer to our seeking, "as long as the truth won't be painful." We claim to be dedicated seekers but we would like to remain within our comfort zones. Like the friend who asks for your advice but doesn't want you to tell him anything he doesn't really want to hear. The truth is already within you just waiting to emerge, making you your own authority as long as your motivation is an honest desire to know truth, only for the sake of truth itself, without regard for how it might alter your life or direct your Destiny.

So if you really want to know, ask yourself questions without a preconceived notion or any motivation other than the search for truth, and the answers will come. Take responsibility for all of your choices and for the state of your life. As your consciousness increases, don't be afraid to make choices that run contrary to widely accepted mainstream thinking. As you do, you may start to realize that what you have been taught to believe is not necessarily true for you anymore. New understandings will begin to emerge that may change the way you see your life and the world around you. It's that simple, but remember, the answers will only emerge, as you are open enough to hold them.

### ~

I have given a brief history of my life, which in reality can't fully describe or explain my choices. To understand fully, you would've had to walk in my shoes. Fortunately, it doesn't matter if you understand my life, all that matters, is that you understand your own. That being said, the life I've led has helped me to understand the basics of human behavior including how personalities, consciousness levels, and our particular life paths, help all of us to become conscious. These experiences have provided me with countless opportunities to awaken to the infinite Spiritual realm and my own Divine nature. Every life path is wrought with the same opportunity, personalized to your own exacting needs. Our only challenge is to recognize this fine occasion, and the opportunity for growth whenever it arises.

To awaken to who and what I truly am, is the driving force that helps me to look beyond what I can see, touch or hear, in the physical domain. There's no way to know for sure what spirituality is, nor is there any way to prove that we are more than this physical body we all have. Many spiritual teachers, enlightened beings, and prophets have talked about realms beyond this one, but how can it be proven? What I have come to realize is that I don't have to prove anything. I have come to see that there are Universal Truths that can't be explained by physical means. Nevertheless, they still exist and seem to have more relevance to my life than anything provable does. For example, think of someone you love, then, ask yourself if you can prove that you love the person, or if love even exists. You can cite examples of times when you behaved in a loving way toward them, but does that prove the existence of love itself? And yet, if you experience love, you know!

Growing up as a kid on public assistance, who didn't feel he fit in, set the tone for my life and left me feeling like a loser and a chronic victim. As a result, I rebelled against society and fear ruled my days. But now I can see how all of it was absolutely necessary in helping me transcend those beliefs, eventually realizing that none of those circumstances had anything to do with my true nature. Because I held those misconceptions for thirty years, I developed habits and beliefs that directly affected my choices and kept me bound to a delusional existence where pain, misery, isolation and death, resided. I ran around trying to please everyone, and in doing so, I fed the ego and strengthened the stories it told.

My wife has suggested, that when I struggle to know what to do, I ask myself the question, "What would I do if nobody else's opinion mattered?" Ironically, I posed a form of this same question to her when we were first together. The question is subtly profound and clears away the need for approval, helping me to find my direction. As a consequence of denying my own feelings, I lost respect for myself and I sunk deeper into a pit of self-loathing and self-pity. To escape this self-perpetuating trap, I started listening to my inner voice, and started challenging the beliefs and labels I had placed on myself.

As I sit at my computer typing away, my life continues to be one that looks less than successful on paper and few people understand or fully approve of the choices I have made, but I'm beginning to see this as a good thing, and my new mantra no matter what anyone says about me is, "Thanks, I'm just lucky that way." You're so fat! "I know I'm lucky that way." You're too thin! "I'm just lucky that way." You think you're better than everyone else! "I'm lucky that way." You're a real looser! "I'm just lucky that way." Even if I don't say it out loud, I can repeat the response in my mind and it helps me to realize the blessing in anything.

Having few worldly accomplishments has given me many opportunities to transcend the opinion of others and the stigma that is attached. Realizing that nothing in this physical world has any bearing on who I truly am is fundamental, in transcending it. For instance, if I believe I'm a loser, then I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe someone's better than me, or that I'm better than them, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm inadequate because I think my penis is too small, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm stupid because I don't have a formal education, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm a failure at relationships because I got divorced, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm a bad father because I don't see my son, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm a dead-beat dad because I've had trouble paying child support, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm not successful because I don't have much money or business success, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe my credit score determines my worth, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm weak because I refuse to fight, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe I'm crazy for following my heart when it goes against society's expectations, I'm stuck in a lie. If I believe anything in the physical is real or lasting, I'm stuck in a lie. These have been many of the roadblocks that have kept me from knowing the truth and loving myself. Without this love how can I trust or even hear the inspiration that comes from within?

Being clear and open-minded is the most conducive way for inspiration to emerge. When I don't trust myself, even if inspiration does emerge, it's immediately altered or dismissed because my mind can't make sense of it. By letting go of what the mind thinks and what the ego wants, inspiration and understanding can flow naturally as a result of being aligned with Spirit. It's not about ignoring what others have to say, in fact, it's about being open, which allows you to really hear another. If what I hear aligns with my inner voice, the mind will expand to incorporate that information. Then, by remaining unattached, positions don't set in and allow the ego to slip in the back door. Extremism can occur when a position becomes an obsession, indicating that the ego is once again in full bloom. No matter how well I think I understand something, I still don't know if it's in my best interest. That's why it's important for me to turn it over to God, and trust that whatever unfolds is for my highest good.

When I'm free from the mind and the ego, I draw my inspiration from a different source. In fact, it emerges on its own when I'm open to it. When I haven't understood all I need to know in a particular experience, typically I will continue to have that experience again and again. The details might be altered somewhat and it may seem like a new experience, but at the core I'm re-living the same circumstance until I see another way. One thing is certain, change is inevitable, and by remaining open to it, I can freely roll with those changes as they come along. Whatever I need to experience for my growth, will emerge no matter what form it takes or who the principal players are. What I think I need or want, rarely has much to do with what actually benefits me, so I have learned to trust that whatever comes my way has a silver lining, even if I can't see it immediately.

In loving myself, I find that I'm becoming impervious to outside influences. No matter what seems to happen "out there," little can take away my peace and happiness. All my life experiences have helped me realize this, but none have impacted me more than the experience of being without my son. At first the pain of his loss was so unbearable, that at times I wondered if I could actually endure it. But as the days turned into weeks and months became years, I realized that pain was a byproduct of believing thoughts that weren't true. As I began to see the purpose of our separation, I realized I didn't need him physically in my life to be happy. I also realized that I could love him just as much as I did when he was in my presence, and I could still set a good example for him as a father by living my best life. No matter what our relationship consists of, it is perfect just the way it is, and if it changes, that will be perfect too.

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The stories told in this book were for the purpose of exampling human behavior and the problems and pain we create for ourselves through unconsciousness. For instance, experiences from my childhood, that seem to put my mother in a negative light, aren't negative for me at all. And I can say the same for my ex-wife. The struggle that was born from some of my experiences, were the highest blessings I've ever received. It has been somewhat difficult to write such a revealing account of my life, especially when it directed, what seems to be, negative attention on others. It has never been my intention to hurt anyone. I love my mother, my ex-wife, my brother, my father, and everyone else who has played a role in my life. The darker aspects contained within these pages have been selected to demonstrate how I sometimes misinterpreted situations, thereby, causing myself pain. I recognize how integral each character in my awakening has been, that without these beautiful people in my life, I would never have been able to wake up. I have nothing but the deepest love and gratitude for each of these participants who agreed to be my teachers.

In the end, this story is about my transformation from conflict and misery, to peace and joy. The way in which I perceive the world always determines my state of being. The tricky part is being able to see the insanity of the world, and paradoxically realize its perfection. If the ego flares up, the situation can look hopeless, but fortunately, the consciousness that allows me to see the world clearly is the same awareness that helps me understand the purpose behind it. And as my consciousness increases, I'm beginning to see beauty and the Divinity of all things, increasing the peace and joy I experience.

I have found, all that is required to enjoy a happy and peaceful life, is a desire to be the best I can be. Every time I reach a crossroad and a decision presents itself, I simply take a moment to consider which is the higher road, and if I have the courage to take it, all will be well. Interestingly enough, even if I don't follow the highest path there is much to be gleaned from that experience as well.

"Those who have ears to hear will hear, and those who have eyes to see will see." Once you see truth it's difficult, if not impossible, to deny. Everyone you come in contact with, and everything that happens to you, will become your teacher and ultimately your friend as you realize it's all here to support you. You will no longer need to control everything in your life as the realization that "God" is running the show, begins to dawn. You can then relax in the comfort of knowing that you were never really in control to begin with. Understanding the true purpose behind the profound gift of struggle, will free you from the confines and deceptions of the mind and the ego, laying bare the beautiful, magnificent, loving, innocent being, you've always been. Eventually, striving can be transcended altogether, lifting you to a state of constant peace, joy, bliss and ecstasy that is "Heaven on Earth." This is my prayer for us all.

# About the Author

Travis Dumont resides happily in Boulder County in the beautiful state of Colorado with Deniece, his loving wife and spiritual partner of sixteen years. Together, they work to manage their information-based website _The Awakening Workshop_ , dedicated to the expansion of human consciousness and the development of self-awareness. This website was created to increase their own understanding, and assist others in transcending the ego by offering validation and support through the sharing of insights gleaned on their personal journey towards enlightenment.

