The Yoni Dance - Book 1 - Chapter 23 --- A Cabin Times Ten

Jazbell replies, “Then let me put it into words for you.

I acknowledge people. I appreciate them. I honor and respect each person for what he [or she] is — and for who he [or she] is. I avoid judging or condemning anyone and so when people are with me, they get the sense that it’s really OK for them to be themselves and say whatever they think. By honoring their actions and their creations, I validate them. This boosts their sense of self-worth, and, as a result, they feel good when they’re in my company.

I find this way of relating particularly effective when dealing with men who, because of the natural male orientation to action, want their creative capacity to be trusted and want their efforts to be appreciated and acknowledged.”

I ask, “But, what if someone’s being a jerk and doing something stupid?”

“At those times when someone else’s actions and self-expressions are different from what I prefer, I simply let what is be as it is. Sometimes, I tell them or show them how a different behavior could have been of greater benefit to both of us.”

“Are you saying you don’t complain or argue for what you want?”

“That’s exactly right! Do you remember the Law of Thought that Herbert talked about last week?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Well, if that law is correct, then bitching, complaining, and arguing will only get me more of what I’m bitching, complaining, and arguing about. So, short of violating someone else, whatever others do is okay by me. I may tell them that I prefer they do it elsewhere, but I honor everyone’s right to live their own lives.”

“Where did you learn all this stuff?”

“Intendr taught me this many years ago. Honoring and respecting others is simply The Universal Law of Allowing put into action. Herbert did an excellent job of explaining that law, also.”^23-1

“Yes, I understand it. It’s the remembering to put it into practice that I’m still working on.”

“Practice. Practice. Practice.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“OK, back to the topic of my pleasing men. Let me ask you a question, Stoney. When you came to my home this morning, you brought chocolate ice cream with you. Why?”

“Because I know you like chocolate ice cream, and I wanted to please you.”

“You also just paid for our lunch and dinner. Why?”

“I felt like I was being a man. I felt good doing it.”

“Thank you again for your generosity, and I want you to know that, in doing so, you just proved my case.”

“What do you mean?”

“I allow and encourage men to follow their natural instincts to do and to accomplish, —to follow their natural instincts to please, protect, and provide for their women. A woman’s happiness is a message to her man that he is a success and that he is loved. In making women happy, men are happy. “

“That’s a neat concept, but it sounds unrealistic. It also sounds rather manipulative, like women using men for their own personal gain.”

“Taken out of its spiritual framework, it’s unrealistic. This way of interrelating works only within the context which acknowledges that all humans are divine beings —that you and I are one — that what I do to you I also do to myself — that what I do for you, I also do for myself. Jesus touched on this idea when He said, ‘It is better to give than to receive.’ If we pursue this topic, we’ll be into a whole new elephant again, so. . .”

I cut her off with, “That’s another story for another time.“

She looks at me with a smile and continues. “As far as being manipulative, I’m sure this principle has been misused and some men have indeed been taken for a ride by some women. What I just described is, however, a true-to-real-life concept, and, when applied with love, serves both the men and the women. As you well know, most women give a great deal to the men they love, and in a very many cases, they are far more giving than their men. Unfortunately, in many cases, their love and care is neither acknowledged nor appreciated.”

I mull this over for a moment and then say, “So this is not about either gender being superior to the other.”

“Definitely not! What it is about is acknowledging and making the best possible use of masculine and feminine differences.”

“So, in your opinion, how should I treat a women so she’ll want to be in my presence?”

“With compassion and empathy. Take time to listen to her instead of jumping to the bottom line and offering a solution. Approach her with love and respect. Avoid treating her simply as a sex object.

Both genders give and receive equally well. They just do the giving and receiving differently, so what works when approaching one gender will fall flat if used on the other. ^23-2

“So what I’m hearing you say is that adjustments are required to accommodate the differences between masculine and feminine styles.”

“Definitely!”

“If I may be so masculine as to bottom line this, people, men included, like to be around you just because they feel good in your presence.”

“Yes. How do you feel when you are in my presence?”

I smile and say, “Jazbell, you never cease to amaze me.”

“Thank you, Stoney. Your pleasure is mine also.”

For the next 20 minutes we ride in silence. As we continue to rise in elevation, I become aware that the vegetation has changed. There are more evergreens and fewer broadleaf trees. The sky is a deeper blue. I occasionally glimpse snowcaps on distant mountain tops.

I become aware of one particular, brilliant white cloud that is directly ahead of us. Its shape, its brilliance and its shadows fascinate me. I focus my gaze on it. Soon I feel as if both the cloud and I are motionless while the highway and the trees are moving past us. The cloud just hangs there as if it were a brilliant white ship sailing on a deep blue sea.

The Last Mile:

The feeling of the car slowing down brings me back to my physical self. Jazbell slows and turns off the main highway onto a narrow, one-lane paved road. “One mile to go,” she says.

The canopy of trees closes over the road. I feel that I am entering deep into a magic forest. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Wait till you see the valley.”

I feel my level of excitement rising as we continue to drive through a forest of beautiful, tall, mostly-evergreen trees. The road, although smooth-surfaced and well-constructed, is full of twists and turns. Obviously, the trees were here long before the road, and the creator of the road did his best to honor their presence and preserve their beauty.

After traveling approximately one mile from the main road, I see an opening in the canopy ahead. A small clearing on the right soon comes into view. I see the cabin nestled at the rear of the clearing against a backdrop of evergreens. A lush, green garden of flowers and vegetables fills the area between the cabin and the road. The colors from the blooming flowers give the whole area an aura of beauty that reminds me of Jazbell.

As we approach a head pops up out of the garden. A woman waves to us and begins walking to greet us. As she nears, I can see that she’s a very handsome woman in her early fifties. She has that vibrant look and light step of one who lives close to nature.

My mind bubbles with questions but is soon derailed by the warm welcome we receive. “Jazbell, it’s so nice to see you again.” The two of them embrace in a long hug.

The woman releases Jazbell and turns to me with a broad smile. “And you must be Stoney? Welcome.” She reaches out and, before I realize what is happening, she embraces me in hug as though I were a returning friend.

I’m slightly taken aback by her warmth, her openness, and particularly by her unexpected embrace. When she releases me, I step back and look directly into her eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Stoney, this is Frederica. She and Eric live here and take care of the property.”

“Property? You mean there’s more? This isn’t Jim’s cabin?”

“Well, technically, it is, but our destination is still 200 yards up the road.”

Frederica and Jazbell chitchat for a moment while my mind goes off on its own. My head is again filled with questions. Frederica knew that I was coming, and, until two minutes ago, I didn’t even know that she existed. I seem to know almost nothing about what is unfolding for me on this day.

Although Jazbell had clearly told me to avoid putting expectations on this day, my natural tendency to do so has, several times, already today, prejudged the meaning of an experience. Each time, my judgment has been blown out of the water. And, so again, I resolve to just be here in the moment and flow with what comes.

“Stoney?” Lost in my thoughts, my ears hear, but I don’t respond because my mind is elsewhere.

“Stoney?” she says again.

The second call of my name pulls me back into my body. “Yes?”

“Come on, let’s go. Eric is preparing the cabin and will meet us there.”

We get back into the car and head for God knows what. I just look at Jazbell in amazement, vowing to just stay in the moment. As we approach our destination, the road opens into a fairly large clearing. A beautiful, three-story house awaits our arrival. “You call this a cabin? It looks more like a 7,000 square foot home to me.”

“For Jim it’s a cabin. It’s a getaway from his business and from city life.”

“What kind of business is he in that he can afford a cabin this grand?”

“Jim is the son of William and Sandra Johnson.”

“You mean the creators of the Star Vision books and films?”

“You’ve got it.”

“Then he’s also the brother of Jamie Catherine Johnson, the famous female astronaut.” ^23-3

“Right again.”

“Wow! Why didn’t you tell me?” Without giving her a chance to answer, I ask, “Do you know Jamie?”

“Yes.”

“Does she come here?”

“Occasionally.”

As I mentioned earlier, Jazbell and Jamie Johnson are the only two women I have ever met who appear to be more beautiful the closer I get to them. And now I find out that they know each other. What a coincidence! Or is it a coincidence?

As we approach Jim’s so-called cabin, the roadway we’re on intersects a very wide, paved driveway that appears to encircle the house. As we near the circle, I see a small, decorative sign with an arrow pointing to the left. The sign reads, “This way please.” Although I’m curious about the extra wide roadway and the sign, I take a deep breath and promise myself neither to pre-judge their significance nor to ask about them until the subject comes up naturally in the course of our conversation.

Jazbell turns to the left. I observe the house as we circle it. It’s obviously well designed and carefully located to take advantage of the natural sloping terrain that it’s on. Because of the unique design and terrain, the second story of the house is accessible from ground level on both the east and north side. On the west and south sides, ground level is at the first story.

We do a three-quarter, clockwise circle around the house and pull into a four-car, carport on the east side. “Well, we’re here.” Jazbell announces.

A Cabin Times Ten:

I’m still sitting in the car with my mouth hanging open, when Eric comes out of the door into the carport. Like Frederica, Eric, also appears to be in his early fifties. He’s a large and muscular man, yet it’s immediately apparent that he has a warmth and gentleness about him.

He opens the door for Jazbell and with a wide smile and a slight bow, says, “Ah, Miss Jazbell, welcome. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Thank you, Eric. I feel right at home already.”

He looks beyond Jazbell and addresses me. “And Mr. Stoney, a warm welcome to you also.”

“Thank you, Eric” I respond.

Eric returns his attention to Jazbell. “Everything is all ready for you. Is there anything I can carry in for either of you?”

Jazbell responds, “No, thanks”

Again he turns to me and says, “Stoney, I hope you enjoy your stay. If you need anything, please ask.” With that, he turns, leaves the carport, and walks briskly toward what I presume is his home with Frederica.

“At last,” I think to myself, “We’re here.”

Jazbell hops out of the car and says, “Come on, Stoney, I’ll show you around.”

I get the grand tour and am absolutely overwhelmed with what I see. Let me start where I am standing, by describing the carport. This area can easily accommodate four cars. The ceiling is about 12’ high with numerous fluorescent light fixtures built into it.

On the wall in front of me, the east wall of the house, I notice a table-like shelf. The shelf is attached to the wall to the immediate right of the door to the house. The shelf, 30 inches above the floor, is about seven feet long and two and one half feet wide. The wall over the table has a four-foot high doorframe extending the full length of the table. The frame is filled with what appears to be a door that rises up into the wall over the table. The door is, at the moment, closed.

I step up to the house end of the carport pull open the 48-inch-wide, house door from which Eric had entered into the carport. The door is heavy, hinged on the side away from the table, and apparently designed as part of a firewall between the carport area and the house. I’m surprised that the door opens with so little effort. Holding the door, bowing and smiling at Jazbell, I say, “My lady, I’m at your service.”

Jazbell smiles, passes through the door, grabs my arm, and then, with a playful tug, pulls me in behind her. I release the door and it closes automatically behind us. On the inside I see a second table-like shelf matching the one in the carport. Between the door and the frame over the shelf are two, lighted, push-button switches, one green and one yellow. I push the yellow button and the entry way lights go out. All I can see are the two buttons glowing in the dim light. I push the yellow button again and the lights go back on. I push the green button and the door over the shelf rises up into the wall above, exposing the carport.

Pointing to the table, I ask, “What’s that for?”

“Ease of moving things in or out of the house. Ever fumbled for your keys while holding a bag of groceries in the rain?”

I nodded and say, ”Yes.”

“Well, nobody ever does that around here.”

In addition to the shelf with its slide-up door, the entry room in which we’re standing contains a closet with racks and shelves for coats, rain gear, etc., another large interior door leading directly into the kitchen, an elevator door, and an open stairwell with short broad stairs leading both up and down.

As we enter the kitchen, I’m impressed with its large size, its commercial-quality equipment, and its carefully designed layout. The entire kitchen is immaculately clean. I stand there with my mouth open and say to Jazbell, “If this is a cabin, then I’m a polar bear.”

She just smiles and says, “Come on, polar bear, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

The entire house matches the kitchen in its superb quality, exquisite utility, artistic mastery, and practical layout. Beautiful, artistic creations grace every room. I’m impressed with their diversity, their style, and how well they complement each other. I’m also left with an overall impression of being in an expensive, and, at the same time, a very practical and comfortable home.

Everything has been well crafted with high quality materials. Everything seemed to fit perfectly with everything else. The art, the sculptures, the furnishings, the building itself, all seem to have come out of the ethers together as partners.

I am particularly impressed with a five-foot high and eight-foot wide oil painting over the living room, fireplace mantel. ^23-4 Jazbell invites me to take a few minutes to look closely at the picture. I stand a few feet away ad do as she suggests. The painting, magnetic in its visual appeal, has a three-dimensional feel about it. By the colors, the composition, and the visual effect it creates, it is obviously the work of a highly talented artist. The picture commands the entire living room area. Everything else within the room is subordinate to this picture.

The painting is of a Native American Indian chief in full ceremonial dress standing at the base of several large trees. He appears to be overseeing a beautiful river scene with a waterfall, meadow, and trees in the background and a deep blue sky with billowing, white clouds. One of the clouds has an uncanny resemblance to the cloud I was staring at just before we turned off the main road.

As I look at the painting I find myself being drawn right into it. A strange and very pleasant sensation overcomes me. I find myself staring at the painting, but, at the same time, I’m floating. It’s as if I am two people, one actively here in this physical body, and the other standing behind me witnessing myself as if I were simply an observer. The painting seems to come alive. It’s as if I have just stepped into the scene it depicts. The wind whistles in my ear and I hear the words, “You and I and the Earth are One. Whatever befalls the Earth, befalls the people on the Earth.”

I look around to see who’s speaking, but find no owner for that voice. My movement breaks my connection to the painting. I see Jazbell sitting on the couch watching me with a very mischievous look on her face. “Jazz, did you say something?”

“No.”

“I could swear I just heard a voice speaking to me.”

“What did you hear?”

“You and I and the Earth are One. Whatever befalls the Earth, befalls the people on the Earth.”

She smiles even more broadly and replies, “Look at the small, silver plaque on the frame at the bottom of the picture.”

I look and read the following words.”

“Whatever befalls the Earth, befalls the people on the Earth. Man did not weave the web of life. He is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.” Chief Seattle.

I’m taken aback by what I read. “This is too weird. I just heard those words spoken in my ear.”

“Oh, good. That’s a great, positive omen.”

“It is?”

“Yes. Do you like being here?”

“Very much, but what has my feeling comfortable here have to do with a positive omen?”

“That’s another, rather large bite of the Elephant. I’ll explain it to you later. For now, just consider yourself a welcomed guest in this house.”

End of Chapter Twenty Three --- A Cabin Times Ten

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