The Renewal of Joyce Carlton Ch. 01

A few minutes passed, and Ray asked slowly, carefully articulating each question, "Who are you? Who do you want to be? Are you willing to pay the price?" He watched me as he spoke to be sure I heard him. I nodded acceptance of the questions.

"When do you want my answers?" I asked.

"Tomorrow - Friday afternoon. Don't think about it; just give me the first things that come to you. I will pick you up at one o'clock. Bring walking shoes," he said. I nodded in acceptance of our 'date,' and that I'd have to take a vacation day. Since I never did anything personal, I had eight weeks of vacation time saved up; it'd be unique to use one of my saved days.

We continued to sit in silence until near darkness overtook us again. Ray again ended our time together by standing. He helped me up; shook out his towel then walked me to my car. As we walked I asked, "When I first arrived -- yesterday and again today - how did you know I was behind you?"

I could see just enough of his face in the light from the parking lot to see his enigmatic smile. He said nothing as he walked away into the night.

*

I thought a lot about his three questions as well as his advice to not judge myself so severely. Somehow, I found humor in the paradox to not judge myself yet to define the present 'me' and the desired 'me,' the gap, and then consider the cost to change in terms still unspecified. That morning, I took a fresh notebook and started a journal, almost a diary, and started to make lists in it about whom I was and whom I wanted to be.

Friday at one o'clock I was sitting on the porch steps of my condo. I had my journal in hand and my Nikes in a plastic grocery store bag. I was wearing my dark slacks and another white shirt with my black men's tie shoes, about what I would have worn to the office.

Ray pulled up exactly at one in a vintage silver Porsche 944. I was impressed -- I'd never been in a Porsche before. I started to walk around to get in the car; however, Ray got out and came around the car and opened the door for me. After I was seated, he carefully shut the car door.. I was nervous since this almost felt like a 'date,' and I hadn't been on a 'date' since a junior high school sock hop. All morning, I'd anguished over the few entries I'd made in the journal. There was nothing profound, but it was what I thought I was or wanted to be.

Ray was more conversational than in any of our prior meetings. "We're going to go down to Myakka State Park. Have you ever been?"

I shook my head "No".

"They have some interesting trails down there and on one of them, they have a high tower where you can climb above the tree canopy. You can see a hundred miles in every direction. I thought we could walk around down there and find a nice place to talk. If you're interested, there's also a neat boat trip where they take you out on the river for an hour or so and show you a hundred or so alligators -- some are really big."

I smiled at his idea to show approval and then realized, "Oh my God, this is a 'date' -- I don't do dates!" My stomach did a few lurches and burbles to let me know that it was crunch time. I would have to talk, in conversation, being witty and smart, with a male. I cursed several times under my breath.

As we rode I studied Ray. He was a trim, dark haired, muscular man in his late-thirties. He had a sexy dark stubble that day. He was wearing a black t-shirt and tan shorts. The only jewelry he had on, was a multi-function watch; I noticed it was Breitling. He had tan loafers on as well that almost matched the faded baseball cap he was wearing. He wore aviator sunglasses than totally hid his eyes; however, he did turn his head to look at me often. He was studying me again.

"Did you work on the questions I asked you?" Ray said to me after a few moments of silence.

"Sort of," I replied. "They're not easy to answer. I couldn't even answer who I am now. I think outsiders can answer better than I can."

"Did the questions force you to think about yourself?"

"Yes," I answered, "But it's embarrassing. Somehow it feels wrong, like I'm conceited, or something. Vain. Selfish."

Ray asked, "Do you want to reach out to others -- be more social? I feel that that's one of your 'Would-Like-to-Be' traits."

"Yes, it is."

"You can't share yourself with others if you don't love who you are. How can you expect others to love you, if you don't love yourself? There's a difference between being selfish and being self-centered so that you know yourself -- your needs, wants, ideas, feelings, emotions, and thoughts. In the former, you take and don't give. In the latter, you seek to understand yourself so that you can give to and share yourself with others." Ray looked over at me to see whether I was absorbing what he was saying.

I thought a long time then ventured a thought; "Do you think I've been selfish by not sharing myself with other people - by being socially remote? I have a hard time committing to myself as well as others."

"Yes" was Ray's initial curt reply. "Good that you see the larger impact of whom you've been. Have you ever heard of the Law of Circulation?"

"No," I answered, "What's that?"

"What goes around comes around. What you sow so shall ye reap. What you give, you get. If you give friendship and love, that's what you'll get in return: If you give rejection and icy coldness to the world, guess what you'll get in return?"

The words hit me hard. I said, "I was called the 'Ice Queen' by several people in college."

Ray went on in such a low voice that I strained to listen, "If you don't commit to others, you can't expect them to commit to you. Commitment is not an ownership issue. You don't have to give yourself away when you commit to someone. You do have to do what you say you'll do. Integrity is probably a better word."

I asked, "Isn't commitment also all about exclusivity in a relationship?"

Ray responded, "That's one of society's definitions. You don't need to abide by that if you don't want to. What if you loved several people simultaneously? Would you pick one and tell the others to get lost? What if you found someone else that you loved?"

"You mean ..." I stammered lost in thought for a moment as the impact of what he said sunk in.

Ray volunteered, "I had a relationship for several years with two women that I loved deeply -- and still do. I am totally committed to both of them. We lived together, loved together, and it was rewarding for all of us. We grew and matured together. Stacy had to move to the west coast to grow and follow her bliss. I still live with Kim. You'll meet her sooner than you think."

I sat quietly horrified. I was on a date with an attached guy.

Ray smirked at me. "You're wondering why I'm with you when I have a partner. When I saw you at the party, I instantly knew that I was to help you. I am attracted to you by some cosmic force; I don't love Kim or Stacy any the less. There's no other message in our relationship right now except for words you've unilaterally chosen to use for it. If you think this is a 'date,' note that I never called it that; right now I have other motivations, specifically to help you get self-centered and be more the person you can be. Also, the primary purpose of my getting you out is to get you moving, to change the scenery in your life -- to take you out of your comfort zone. We'll talk about that at the State Park; now alligators and boat, or hike and canopy climb?" I opted for the hike.

I was quiet, and Ray left me alone to think as we drove out into the Florida countryside. My brain spun circles around the fact that he was in a relationship, but then I realized he'd really not 'hit' on me at all; instead, he was trying to help me change and improve myself. I had some long moments, as usual, when my thoughts were about how inadequate I was and how it was doubtful that I could change in any meaningful way. I was doomed to be a single, lonely, nerdy woman the rest of my life, skilled in technology but shunning all relationships. I'd die lonely and never loved.

Twenty minutes later, he turned into the entrance to the State Park, paid our admission fee, and drove through to the first large parking area. He parked the car and pulled a small backpack from the back of the car. He'd brought water and some snacks. I put my journal in the backpack, and we both changed our shoes.

We walked about two miles through a series of different climes, including Savannah grass and tropical rain forest. As we crossed a footbridge over a small tributary to the Myakka River, we stopped and observed two large alligators basking in the hot sun. We were only thirty or forty feet from them. We hiked another mile and entered a large stand of palms of different varieties, many towering above us. We came to the Canopy Walk, two large towers several hundred feet apart with a narrow catwalk suspended between them about five stories above the ground. We climbed about sixty feet up the first tower then walked across the narrow swaying footbridge cutting through the middle of the tree canopy; Ray even got me to laugh and jest with him as we walked. On the other side of the catwalk, we climbed another sixty or so feet to the top of that tower, bringing us well above the canopy of palms. Placards around the catwalk and towers described the ecology of the area and what we were seeing. We could see both the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean through the haze.

There was a small bench at the tower top -- an observation area. Since no one was around, Ray sat and gestured for me to join him. He opened the knapsack and handed me my journal.

"Now, my friend, who are you?" Ray asked. He sat back as though to bask in the sun and closed his eyes, yet I could tell he was about to hang on my every word. I opened to the first page of notes I'd made in the journal.

I started, "I am Joyce Carlton, age thirty, the only offspring of Paul and Ruth Carlton, now residents of Amelia Island, Florida. I am an unattractive dishwater blond, five-foot four inches tall, and weigh about 130 pounds." I felt very self-conscious talking about myself and looked to see the expression on Ray's face. He was stoic and expressionless.

I went on, "I grew up outside Philadelphia in a town called Chad's Ford. Dad was an engineer. Mom worked part-time as dentist's assistant. They were strict in raising me. I had a natural inclination towards computers, particularly since my Dad introduced me to them at an early age. I studied them at Ohio State. I've built them, taken them apart, fixed them, programmed them eight ways from Sunday, and I can make them do things that amaze many people."

I paused and took a deep breath ready to continue. Ray held up his hand and asked again, "Whoare you?"

I hesitated and then went on. "I have a five-year old car and a two bedroom condo. I live alone and expect to the rest of my life. I've never been in love or even gone steady -- maybe I'm unlovable. I'm a social failure. If I didn't work such long hours, I'd have a dog. Instead, I have a ferret named Wesley. I can talk to Wesley. I make about $80,000 a year. I have a mortgage on my condo and a healthy bank account. I think I'd like to travel, but I haven't taken the time. I ..."

Ray interrupted, "You've told me your lineage, physical characteristics, your career, education, salary, lack of social life, pets, and some important possessions. You still haven't given me an inkling of whom you are."

I sat is silence. I stared at the other entries in my journal. They all dealt with my lifestyle, hobbies, and other possessions I have or had that I thought important. None of the responses answered Ray's question the way he was implying.

I looked up at him with what was no doubt a helpless look on my face.

Ray said supportively, "Answer that question without reference to your gender, profession, body characteristics, race, religion, roles you've played, accumulated knowledge, opinions, likes and dislikes, or things that have or haven't happened to you. Now, who are you?"

"I don't know ... I'll have to think about it," I stammered then added, "Can you be anyone without using at least some of those categories?"

"Oh, yes," Ray affirmed. He paused and asked, "Now, what did you write down about who you'd like to be?"

"Well," I began haltingly, "I already know that I'm not supposed to use all those categories but here's what I did write down. It'd be fun to be pretty or even considered beautiful. I want to be athletically fit and healthy; smart -- but I think I'm almost there now; not afraid of social situations -- like Jay and Sarah's party; witty and a quick thinker; and have many friends that are loving. I'd like to be loveable - maybe even have a lover -- or two." I laughed and blushed at my own comment then went on: "I want to be a good public speaker; compassionate and caring; independent -- I sort of am now; musical -- I've always wished I could play a musical instrument; spiritual -- not religious; a sharp dresser ... and that's where I ended. I didn't work on the gap and the cost to change."

Ray looked at me and smiled warmly.

"I know, I know," I stated as I languished in my guilt and self-centeredness. "All very superficial and I'll redo the list thinking about the categories I'm not supposed to use."

Ray stood and moved in front of me, pulling me up to him so we stood face to face. In a surprise move, he put his arms around me and his lips found mine. I didn't respond too well to his kiss, more from inexperience than unwillingness. I put my arms around him and kissed back in a second kiss. Then my brain kicked in with about twenty simultaneous thoughts; "Oh my God, whatare you doing? You just kissed a man, stupid. You aren't worthy; he'll hurt you; you have bad breath; your teeth need brushing; you have a blotchy nose; he's already got a girlfriend; he's two-timing her - or you; he's your mentor -- so what; what if he wants to go further; whatare you doing?" My brain stayed in overdrive for another kiss and then failed completely leaving me for a moment in stunned silence as we looked at each other in a nice way.

He held me at arms length and said, "There is nothing on your list that you can't become within a year. Nothing! Many things you can become just by coming down from this tower of isolation and lies that you've built for yourself."

"Huh," I said not quite understanding what he was saying. I sat down again as Ray walked to the corner of the tower then turned back to me.

"Well, let's take your list one at a time," Ray said as he took my notebook out of my shaking hands. I sat down again. He said, "First, you have 'pretty or beautiful' on your list. Don't you see that you already are? You're gorgeous. You have a trim curvy body that most women would pay a fortune to possess; you have a very attractive face; you could be a model -- in fact, I'd love to have you model for me some time just so I could have lots of photos of you."

My brain started to fry some more, injecting more thoughts of unworthiness into the mix. For a fleeting moment, I thought he's just lying to me, but then I decided to just try to listen to Ray and not to the negative voice in my head.

He looked up at me and then continued, "You want to be athletically fit. I don't know what your criteria for success here is, but you surely hiked the two miles from the car to the tower at a good clip, and I detected no hesitation climbing all the stairs to get way up here above the canopy. I'd just keep doing what you're doing, unless you have some goal like to run a marathon or something."

I nodded acceptance of his assessments and tried to turn off the deprecating voice that kept trying to break through my awareness of its negative messages.

He went on, "You want to be smarter. I already think you're brilliant. You hold a computer science degree from a tough university, and hold down a demanding job that requires creative and nimble thinking. Further, you're paid well. I don't see what the problem is here, other than limitations that you are probably putting on yourself." " "As for being deft in social situations, well all you need to do there is decide to be some way other than what you are. We'll come back to that. As for being 'witty and a quick thinking,' I think you have what it takes, just not the self-confidence to believe you are already that way. I know ways to build your self-confidence if you're willing to work at it."

Ray continued, "As for being a friend and lover and having lots of the same, well, all you have to do is give away what you think you don't have."

"How's that again?" I asked.

"To have friends, what do you have to give away?" Ray posited.

I thought a second and said in a low questioning voice, "Friendship?"

"RIGHT," he shouted across the top of the palm canopy with his arms outstretched. A heron that had been perched on a nearby palm flew away from us with a lazy flapping of wings. Ray studied me and asked further, "And to be loved and have lovers, what do you have to give away?"

"Love," I quickly responded.

"RIGHT," he yelled again into the sky. Then he turned to me and admonished, "You already have a huge amount of friendship and love locked up inside of you. Believe me, it's in there. All you have to do is start to give it away. The results will start to follow."

"I'm scared of being hurt," I said in retort.

"So go get hurt," Ray said bluntly. "You don't even know what it feels like. Further, you'll be surprised at how fast you can get over it, particularly if you don't pull back into your shell. That's where having friends comes in too: They help you get through the heartbreaks, remarkably though; you can have lots of relationships and never have a heartbreak. Relationships all ebb and flow; if you believe that they will, they'll all just keep getting better and better."

Ray paused as I digested his treatise, and then he continued after glancing at my list again: "You want to be a good public speaker -- I can help you move in that direction and I have some friends that would be glad to coach you in this area. You want to be caring and compassionate; again just start acting 'as if' you were already that way and you'll find you already are. Those words -- actingas if-- are important; they'll help you start to change. Underline those words in your journal later when you write some of this down. Now, if you give away caring and compassion, what do you get in return?"

"I know, I know," I said jumping up and down as I raised my hand to speak like an eager pupil, "Caring and compassion!"

"RIGHT," Ray yelled out across the treetops again. He looked at my journal again and asked, "Independent? You said you were almost that way now; what's standing in your way?"

I responded, "I just feel so unsure of myself, as if I have to check in with someone else before I can really make a decision -- even on what to eat or wear in the morning. I just feel that I should be asking someone else."

Ray asked, "I'm guessing this is because your parents made the decisions for you before you left home? If you practice making decisions, you'll find you get really good at them and the feeling of needing help will go away."

"Even in college, I had pretty dominant college roommates that didn't help me be courageous."

"So what do you think it takes to be independent?" Ray asked.

I thought for a moment and very tentatively answered, "Just believing that I already am? Acting that way?"

"RIGHT," echoed across the palm tops again. Ray looked at me for a minute then said, "The next item on your list is 'musical' -- so make an entirely independent decision about being musical."

I thought for a moment and said, "I will buy a piano keyboard and I will find a piano teacher and start to take lessons." I added, "I do this being independent in mind and spirit and without the need to seek approval from anyone else."