Jill came back after several minutes looking somewhat starry eyed.
“Are you alright?” He took her arm gently and pulled her to the side of the wide hallway. “What is it?”
“Oh, I’m fine. More than fine,” she said beaming. “She invited me to meet with her! Can you believe it?”
“I’m just concerned that …” He paused mid-sentence thinking “Now wait a minute.” If he expressed concern about the Walkers and her increasing devotion to TheProgram, what good could it really do? He’d already been down this road and it was just an argument waiting to happen. That much he had learned from TheProgram. Arguments with loved ones are traps set in place by shear circumstance; traps to be avoided. Was it a life or death situation? No. Could the circumstance cause irrepairable harm? Probably not. Then leave it alone. She’s smart and capable. Let her take care of it herself. He wasn’t the all-knowing god-like father figure he’d been when she was younger. After a moment’s reflection, he said, “Never mind; it’s nothing.”
“I’ll call you later and we’ll talk. And I think you’ve got an appointment, too, don’t you?”
“Good Lord!” He looked quickly at his watch. He demanded punctuality of himself and others. “You’re right. I should go. When do you see him next?”
“This afternoon. You aren’t going to be talking about me, are you?” She teased.
He laughed a bit, pleased that the moment had passed away and they were friends again. (To be friends with your children…)
(This leading to Gregory’s counseling session…)
————————————-
Gregory paused for a moment at the solid wood door and read the name plate: Dr. (uh-hem). He’d been coming to this office one or two times a week for over a year. He didn’t particularly like his visits, but he couldn’t deny that his recovery from near-death had been profound. He knocked and waited, expecting the Doctor’s thickly accented Eastern European reply. He was just about to knock again when, from behind, a voice, “Gregory! I’m so sorry I’m late! I was briefly detained.”
“No problem at all,” he said. “Just got here.”
The Doctor strode up with a briefcase in one hand and his other held at shoulder height forming the familiar “OK” hand gesture. Gregory paused for a moment and then, somewhat sheepishly, raised his hand briefly, almost as a wave, but with his thumb and forefinger forming a bit of an “O” as in “OK”. The doctor studied his client for half a second with a frustrated sigh, then opened the door and invited him in with a wave of his free hand. “Please take a seat and we’ll begin.”
The doctor took out a pad of paper and a file folder and began to review his notes on their previous meeting. The doctor’s desktop was large and empty but for a nameplate that read Dr. (uh-hem), Certified Moderator. They preferred the title Moderator to Counselor or Doctor, the theory being that clients such as Gregory would be less intimidated and more forthcoming with personal secrets in their recovery and development process. In Gregory’s case, the technique had been less than one hundred percent successful so far.
Without looking up from his notes, Mr. Uh-hem said, “You still aren’t comfortable with our greeting. (Why do you suppose that is?”) Shall we discuss that, or is there something else on your mind today?”
“No, it’s not that at all! I … sometimes I forget.”
“You say that because you think it is what I want to hear. Please, we’re all grown-ups here. There’s no need to patronize me.”
Belittling (reJill @ LuncheonLearn). As if Gregory’s behavior was childish. It was a technique intended to shame him into submission. He’d been molded into a obedient member of an institution before. But a fuzzy-faced eighteen-year old newly arrived in Boot Camp needing to learn survival skills prior to the Normandy Invasion is very different from a retired (Army Captain) of his advanced years. (His objectivity.)
Still looking at his notes, Mr. Uh-hem said, “The question I put to you at our last meeting was why you continue to resist the Program.”
Somewhat perturbed, Gregory replied, “You make it sound like I’m some sort of scoundrel. I’m not. I think I’ve been very clear on this subject. Just because I hesitate in one or two minor areas while embracing ninety-five percent or more of the Program hardly makes me a dissident.”
(i.e. discussion that he doesn’t want to lose his objectivity.)
Mr. Uh-hem sat back in his plush chair, removed his spectacles, and said with certainty, “Objectivity is an illusion. Of course we have free will to make our own decisions. But it isn’t the dominant force in our choices that we make it out to be. In all things, there exists a Triad of Circumstance that determines who we are and what we’re likely to do next. First, we are composed of genes that govern our race, height, physical attributes, and even our intellectual capacity and tendency to learn and excel in particular fields of endeavor. You are (genetically tied) to your Ukrainian parents and ancestors. There’s nothing you can do to alter or change that element of who you are.
“Secondly there is our own personal history that has brought us to this point in time. Your set of experiences is unique. No one else is like you – that would be impossible. Of course, many people were brought to America as children. Many of those grew up to join the armed forces, as you did. Those who were about your age, probably fought in World War Two. Many of those survived, came home to create a new life, had children, grew old, faced their mortality in sickness or accident, and came to what they believed to be their last moment in their short lives, just as you did. A few of those survived long enough to contemplate their circumstance and the predicament they found themselves in – that they had lived and would soon die, and nothing of consequence would remain.
“And then there are those brave few who drew upon some hidden strength and fortitude who, in similar desperate circumstances such as yours, were able to command that supreme force of sheer will to come back to life. These are the men who have managed to channel … (will, determination, etc.)…”
This was a recurring theme that had come up frequently over the past year. His first Moderator had introduced the concept while Gregory was still in the hospital. Something about the words and the situation, while somewhat self-evident, struck a chord and touched him deeply to give him pause. The discussion wasn’t simply about Gregory’s predicament with his injury and frailty, but with his entire life – what the Moderator called his Story So Far. The first two facets of his circumstance– his genetic context and his personal history from birth to the current moment in time – were unalterable. But his choices and decisions, what he did next, which path he chose, everything from this moment forward – was up to him. That was his free will. “Our free will is a pitifully small part of who we are, but it’s all we have to work with…”
(How free will can change history:
Who knows how many people have so much of the same background and experiences as you do? We all have our own personal history, and this plays a greater part in who we are and what we do than our genetic inheritance does.
But how many of them spent their careers with the lives of so many others in the palm of their hand? There’s nothing you can do to alter or change that element of who you are.
The doctor was not particularly warm and fuzzy. Their interactions were all about the business of the Program and Gregory’s part in it. But now the doctor stepped out from the formality of counselor and client, put his hand on Gregory’s shoulder, looked him straight in the eye and continued with, “There is only one Gregory. Never before and never again will there be another. There is exactly one, and only one opportunity on this green earth for you – Gregory – to make your mark and to play your unique and solitary part in the great transformation that is unfolding before us.
– How does Mr. Uh-hem inspire faith and confidence in something that Gregory is suspicious of? Perhaps by developing a cooperative plan; something like:
“… do this for a period of time – say six weeks, or four, or two, it doesn’t matter how long. Just trust me enough to help you learn to trust the physics and nature of what is possible. You’ve already done the impossible. You have proven that it can be done – the impossible. You survived an accident that the learned doctors said you could not recover from. I know you are proud of that achievement. What’s next? Is there anything more to this brief life of yours? I don’t believe that either of us think you are done with what you can achieve…”
—————————————–
Did you take the steps?
Of course!
Do you always take the stairs?
He took a breath. He could lie and say yes, but that wouldn’t serve his purposes. “No,” he confessed, trying to maintain his stoic pride while prepared to surrender it away. “Sometimes I need the extra time. Today I was with Jill and I didn’t want to trouble her.”
“You think Jill is so weak and feeble that she can’t take the stairs?”… “Each step you take up the stairs is that much more physical exertion. You are that much younger and healthier than you would have been had you not taken that step. You are living proof that age is not a barrier…
thermodynamics of ideas 