Who is that man??

Cathy had been feeling a bit out of control all week, which was very unusual for her. Her concentration at work, usually impeccable, was fuzzy, as that man kept coming into her thoughts. His handsome face, framed by that wild gray hair, and with those kind eyes that expressed laughter so easily, was almost becoming ingrained in her consciousness.

Now, as she sat in front of the computer preparing input files for a computer program that predicted ground motions from future earthquakes, she noticed a new sensation. It was an energy concentration of some kind at her navel, a buzzing that she could not quite ignore. Making sure none of her coworkers were around to see, she closed her eyes for a moment to see if she could get a better sense of what was happening there. With her inner sight she saw it--an energy cord coming out of her navel. It was made of golden Light, beautiful and intensely activated. Curious, she followed it out as far as she could perceive, and she found, with a start, that it was attached to HIM! To his navel! Was this new, or had it always been there, and she hadn't noticed it before? What did it mean?

She made another big effort to bring her attention back to the computer screen, and to continue her calculations. Luckily, this particular phase of the project didn't require intense concentration, because she had done similar earthquake analyses many times before. She hoped no one would notice her drop in productivity over the last few days--she rationalized to herself that her efficiency was usually very high, so a little distraction should not be noticed.

It was fortunate that she had the office mostly to herself, with only occasional interruptions from the others. It was solitary work, and she liked working as a seismologist in the small consulting company in Berkeley, across the bay from San Francisco.

She glanced out the window at the trees in the yard, which she could barely see from her desk. Consciously drawing their energy to her as she often did while working, she gave them her thanks as she felt their balm of life-force soothe her. The office was very functional and organized, which it had to be, cramped as it was into such a small space, but it was devoid of plants or colorful pictures on the walls, which would have enhanced the working environment for her. The walls were lined with shelves of books and scientific journals, leaving no room for frills.

The trees helped temporarily, but did not hold her attention for long. Besides the fact that her mental concentration wasn't up to her own high standards, she thought, it was distressing that anyone could have this kind of an effect on her. Especially someone she hardly knew. Who is that man??

It had all started with that hug. Last year she had attended a series of weekend workshops on building the Light body, after an intense seven-month course on tape called "Awakening Your Light Body," created by Sanaya Roman and Duane Packer. The course had been one of the most important steps she had taken on her spiritual path, and the seminars were also very transformative. Toward the end of the last one, HE had ended up sitting next to her, so they paired off for some of the meditation exercises.

They had casually hugged afterward--at least she had intended it to be casual--and she had immediately noted that she had never felt so at home with anyone before, including her husband. In the next instant, the resonance had started between them that jumped both their energy levels up several notches, taking her by surprise.

And THEN he had said, "I love you" with such meaning, as if it were coming from somewhere deep within him. And her own response had also surprised her: "We've been together before." What was she doing talking to someone she had just met that way? She still felt somewhat embarrassed by it, and now her cheeks flushed just from thinking about it. Quickly looking around the office to make sure no one was around to see this involuntary reaction to her thoughts, she shook her head and tried to focus on her work.

But that effort at controlling her mental wanderings didn't last for long. She found herself musing about how she had later reasoned that he probably said that kind of thing to all the people he meditates with, sort-of a casual "love ya" instead of Love with a capital "L." She had given him her phone number, because he suggested that maybe they could meditate together, but only after she had made it clear that there would have to be a group of others present. She needed to be proper about this, and not infringe on her loyalty to her husband.

She had thought about this man a lot for a couple of weeks after the seminar, but when months went by without a call, the memory had faded. She had thought it all a silly event blown out of proportion.

When he did finally call five months later, she had instantly recognized his voice. They had talked for an hour, the time going by very quickly as if they were old friends, finding out that they had many interests in common. It turned out he was a singer and songwriter, like herself, and they found that their paths up to now had been similar in many ways, too much so to be by chance, she thought. Their spiritual interests were uncannily alike.

After that call, they had met at a meditation group just last weekend, a group she had happened to be invited to for the first time--another coincidence. There they had barely talked at all, though she had felt his presence strongly throughout the meditation, so why was there this incredible pull to him? It was not something her rational, scientific mind could comprehend.

I am married, I am happily married, so what is happening here? She thought about her marriage of seven years, even as her fingers continued to work on the keyboard. At first, the personality differences and living styles between herself and her husband Mike had caused a bit of strife; he, so detail-oriented that he wanted to organize everything, and her, so oblivious to messes or organization around the house. But the differences had been settled, each changing habits to move more toward middle ground, and they had learned to live together in peace and love.

Then there was the larger issue she had been challenged with in living with him--he was what she called an "energy broadcaster," one who was very good at sending energy all over the vicinity but who often didn't know he was doing it. She was highly empathic and sensitive to energy, and, especially as a child, always seemed to have difficulty separating her energy from that of others around her. When Mike came home from work, the whole house was filled with whatever he was currently feeling, and if he was upset, she and her two sensitive sons would get upset, too.

Over the years, she had learned to differentiate her energy more effectively, so she could tell the difference between what he was feeling and what she was feeling, and now his energy broadcasts no longer affected her, unless she was unusually tired or in PMS. In fact, just a few months ago she had decided that she had finally mastered the art of maintaining her centeredness and emotional stability amidst the most unsettling of emotional dumping, not only from Mike but from others. She had worked hard at it, considering it a personal challenge, first learning how to shield her energy, and avoid the disturbance from others, and then later finding that she could simply become transparent to the energy, and nothing stuck; the energy just went right by and through without any effect on her.

This was a big lesson for her, and she was thankful to her husband for helping her learn it. Now they really enjoyed living together, and she accepted him and loved him just the way he was. She hoped that someday he would learn to use his energy more responsibly, to send it to useful, healing purposes, because she really felt he had a gift when it came to energy transmission. But she was finally at peace with him the way he was now.

There was only one thing about the marriage that kept nagging in the back of her mind, one thought which occasionally crept out, wanting attention. She really wanted to have a mate with whom she could share her spiritual experiences--someone on the same or a similar path to hers, who could appreciate and add to her spiritual growth. Her rich life in the "inner planes" and other dimensions, so much a part of her, was just as real and important to her as "normal" consciousness.

Mike was open to hearing her stories of new things she had learned or great experiences she had in meditation, but though he tried his best to listen, he would invariably start yawning, and tune out a bit. She knew this was just from a lack of understanding because he had not experienced anything similar, even though he meditated regularly. Maybe, she thought, it was simply this need of hers for a more spiritual mate that was making her feel so swayed by this new man.

I'm very loyal to my husband. She said it several times to herself, trying to chase away any more thoughts of the other man and the mysterious Golden Cord connecting her to him. She continued trying to concentrate on her work, using all her mental powers. This had to be conquered. She had to stay in control. Enough of these thoughts!

She blinked, bringing the computer screen more into focus and checking her work displayed there. The accuracy of the seismic calculations was very important, and the allowable margin for error was almost zero. A miscalculation of a very small amount in any of the parameters that had to be estimated to predict ground motions could mean millions of dollars in retrofitting cost, or worse--significant damage to structures in a large earthquake.

But one more thought successfully caught her attention before she could let it all go. A part of her wanted to go to the meditation and potluck dinner this weekend, but did she dare? She tried to convince herself that she was going for the group meditation, but she also knew that the man on the other end of the Golden Cord would be there. Michael was his name, same as her husband Mike's, except that Mike preferred the shorter, less formal version.

There was a certain excitement that fluttered her stomach when she thought about going, an irrational quickening that only the heart could explain, even as her mind tried to squelch it. Maybe if Mike wanted to come with her, it would be all right. Yes, she'd ask him. And if he didn't want to go--well, maybe it was fate.

Chapter 2

Copyright Antera 2003, all rights reserved. Written permission required to duplicate or quote. Song lyrics copyright Antera & Omaran, from the album "Twin Flames."