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A Series of Approximations

Another excerpt from the book. I’m getting there slowly, but since I have clients — well you know the drill.

Tom Allen’s cliff house above Pfeiffer Beach in Big Sur was full of wonders and oddities and one of the reasons Jax liked to visit even though there were no typical kid things to do. This weekend—this birthday of Jax was different. All three of them were in a state of transition. Jax was leaving the single digits of childhood, Sara had begun a year of metamorphosis unsure if she would emerge a butterfly, and Tom had stepped out onto the rocky edge of madness. The essence of all that could be seen as transformative, but it was as unstable as the water below.

Life on the cliff could be pure and simple—private beach, waterfall, walks in the Redwoods, panoramic view of the Pacific, and it was at one time. When she first met Tom five years ago, he was dynamic and vital with the fresh thoughts of a man empowered by new discoveries.

His wide smile against the handsome and tanned face was an anesthetic to Sara—calming her anxieties. At first they were lovers and hours would pass gently as he was as slow and intricate in lovemaking as he was in map-making. Every line was drawn with care—every movement of his hand was a work of art. He would stroke her hair softly for hours in front of the fireplace as they lay in each other’s arms.

Slowly over next year, the relationship grew into a mosaic—a composite of fragile ideas that sometimes bordered on panic. They felt the world like the unwinding of a great labyrinth.

Journal entry –  There were no choices on our path. We imagined ourselves in the middle of a glorious tangle, with a string in our hands that is the beginning of a great labyrinth. As we move, it spirals and transforms into something unrecognizable—yet it feels like a treasure we want to hold to our bodies. We needed a map we could touch to lead us and saw the spiral as both the way in and the way out of the darkness.