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What
Is Beauty
"Good."
she says and then asks, "Are you complete
with your questions."
"Yes,
at least for now," I reply.
"Then
for the next part of our journey,"
she emphasizes the word journey, "I’m
going to suggest another practice for you.”
"OK.”
“As
we travel, I invite you to become aware of as
many things as possible that, to you, are
beautiful.”
I
look at her and smile.
She instantly picked up my thought.
“Thank you, Stoney, and I invite you to
look outside the car also.
Notice the things out there that you see
along the way.”
“You
are an exquisite manifestation of beauty.”
“Thank
you again, Stoney.
Please be aware that the beauty you see
in me is also a reflection of your own beauty.
You will very soon get to look at as much
of my beauty as you want, as closely as you
want, and
for as long as you want.
For now, please focus on the things out
there that we pass on our journey.”
In
response to thoughts of looking at her naked, my
groin twinges with anticipation.
With both loving and lusting eyes, I look
at her for another moment, then take a deep
breath and turn my attention on the scenes as
they pass us by.
For the next thirty minutes we drive
mostly in silence.
I
speculate on the questions:
What is
beauty? and How will I recognize it when I see it? I look out through the windshield and see a snow-capped
distant mountain.
I am reminded of one of my peak
experiences with beauty.
Years
before, I briefly held a summer job in Mount
Baker National Forest in northern Washington.
The majesty of mother nature was at its
finest in those still-pristine, forest-covered
mountains where, even in mid-summer brilliant
white, snow-capped peaks dominated the
landscape.
Because
the base camp we worked from was at 3,000 feet
of elevation, the morning, clouds always seemed
to hang low overhead.
Early on one memorable, cloudy, and
overcast morning, several of us were loaded into
a van to be hauled off to a work site some miles
away.
The
van began its journey and soon we were moving
ever upward along a narrow mountain road.
Within minutes, we were completely
engulfed in the clouds. Because the road ahead was barely visible, the van
slowed to little more than a crawl.
As
we twist and turn along the curvy road, the fog
seemed to reach inside the van.
As I looked at my fellow passengers,
everyone seemed to be staring at nothing.
Nobody spoke. The silence was broken only by an alternation between
the groan of the engine and the squeal of the
brakes on the left rear wheel.
After
about half an hour, I noticed that the sky was
beginning to get brighter.
The man next to me, still gazing
mindlessly across the van, started tapping on
the hard hat which he held in his lap, as if he
were keeping time to a song that only he could
hear.
Suddenly,
we broke out above the clouds.
The sun was shining brightly in a clear,
deep blue sky.
Several, majestic snow-capped mountains
towered into the sky as if they were sitting on
top of the brilliant white clouds which formed a
breathtaking blanket stretching as far as the
eye could see.
The sight was so awesome I was completely
overwhelmed by its beauty.
The
man next to me kept staring at nothing and
tapping.
I glanced at the others.
Nobody else seems to have noticed that
God and Mother Nature had just given us a gift
of incredible, breath-taking beauty.
I yearned to cry out, “Stop the van.
Let me out,” but I was too shy.
I said nothing.
In less than two minutes, the road begins
to descend again, and all too soon, we were back
in the clouds.
Nobody else seems to have noticed
anything.
The man next to me kept gazing and
tapping.
Even
after all the intervening years, I
still carry a strong and vivid memory of that
brief gift of beauty.
With
a sigh of sadness, my focus comes back to the
mountain I am presently seeing through the
windshield.
I realize that the God who resides in my
heart just answered my questions:
What is
beauty?
and
How will
I recognize it when I see it?
I
turn to gaze upon Jazbell, and say to myself,
“What silly questions.”
I’m sitting beside one of God’s
greatest gifts of beauty.
I can’t imagine anyone not recognizing Jazbell, or Jazz as I've begun to call her, as
beautiful.
The
little voice inside me continues. “When you
are with someone you love, everything is
beautiful.”
At first, I’m taken aback by my own
words.
Who me?
In love? I realize that’s another silly question.
Although I dare not express it to her, I
acknowledge to myself that I am indeed very much
in love with Jazbell.
One
of the things I love about Jazz is that looking
at her reminds me of another peak experience —
one that occurred on my sixteenth birthday — a
peak experience that touched my soul to a depth
that far surpassed sun-lit mountaintops rising
out of the clouds. At that time, I was not only a virgin; I was also both
extremely sexually naive and madly in love with
a charming, young woman named Susan.
On the bright, sunny, Saturday morning of
my sixteenth birthday, Susan gave me a gift, the
memory of which, I treasure to this day. As
a birthday present, she gave herself to me
completely.
That
was the very first time I was ever with a
beautiful, completely naked woman.
I was totally awestruck by the beauty of
her womanly body.
Because I was madly in love with her,
sharing sex with her made the encounter a highly
ecstatic experience.
That day with Susan also made an
extremely powerful imprint on my sexual nature
and on my sexual preferences.
With
the memory of Susan’s gift and the sight of Jazbell
beside me, my loins start to
tingle.
I feel the tingling rising up my spine
like little fingers walking up my back. The hair on the back of my neck is standing out in
excitement.
My eyes are wide open.
I say to myself, “Mountains tops above
the clouds and beautiful women, what a
combination!”
I
start to twitch in my seat.
Jazbell glances at me.
She is immediately aware that something
is going on with me.
Then, she notices the rise in my
Levi’s.
Without a word she smiles, reaches over
and puts her hand on my knee and then slowly
moves her hand up the inside of my leg, over my
semi-erection, across my left hip and back to
the steering wheel.
“How nice.
Do you want to share your fantasy?”
“Well,
it’s not really a fantasy.
It’s more of a memory.”
“That’s
even better.
Am I going to hear about it?”
“Of
course.”
“Good!
I’m listening.”
As
I finish telling her about mountains rising
through the clouds, I notice an expression of
puzzlement on her face.
The moment I mentioned Susan and my 16th
birthday, the puzzled expression vanishes, and
she smiles.
I ask, “Your facial expression was a
big question mark.
Why?”
“I
was concerned for a moment that mountain tops
give you a hard-on.”
“I
do love mountain tops, but, no, they don’t
give me a hard-on; however, thoughts of both you
and Susan do.”
“I’m
pleased to hear that.
I’d like to hear the details of your
experience with Susan.”
End
of Chapter Twenty One --- To the Cabin
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