Suzaji’s Blog

As I read Adam’s latest letter, my feminine spirit soared. HE was thinking about the “powerful things” I’d said. He wanted to move back to Ojai! All his feelings had been pouring out since he connected with me.  Feelings!  I was miles ahead of the pack because I “understood his connection to Ojai.”

Friday morning when I got back from my walk with Honey and Nubio the phone message light was blinking.

  “Good morning Suza, this is Adam Johnson speaking .I just opened your email. OUCH!” Pause. “I’d like to talk to you about it, if you want to… I’m coming to Ojai this weekend if you’d like to meet somewhere…”

At the sound of his masculine voice I felt a flicker of weakness but I decided I really didn’t want to waste my time if he was conflicted about seeing me. So I wrote:

   Adam, I would like to clear the air.  I would like to continue consulting with you about environmental issues. I appreciate and admire your good qualities. But before we can work together I want to clear up the confusing and hurtful mixed messages I’ve gotten from you. 

  Going back to last Friday, I enjoyed our lunch and from your response I thought you did too.  Your e-mails prior to our meeting were warm and friendly and gave me the impression that you were attracted to the kind of person I am.

  Your e-mail immediately after our “meeting” left me feeling like I had done something wrong –so I called to clear up any misunderstanding. I also sent you a letter Saturday to help clear the air and to convey my feelings and observations. 

I received your letter describing your emotions about Ojai and me.  However, my intuition tells me there is more to this then what you are telling me.

  The tone of your Thanksgiving note signed with your first and last name does not make sense.

   If you have decided you are headed in the wrong directions with any feelings toward me I completely respect that. I would rather you are honest so I am not left wondering.

  Or maybe you already have a girl friend or several girlfriends and you realize that I have no interest in dating a man who is already involved with someone else. 

  Or you might have a lifelong pattern in your encounters/relationships with women and you realized that was not going to work with me.

  Or maybe none of the above. No reason is needed. There need be no further personal involvement or at least not at this time. We can have a nice friendship and working relationship made easy by the fact that you live in Santa Barbara.

  I  just want to be clear that if you do want to meet again where we can talk about all this it needs to be in a conscious way with mutual consideration, honesty and respect. 

   Suza

I showed Ann my letter. She said, “ I think it’s a good letter, Suza. Let’s see how he responds. “

Adam called again. “Thank you very much for your email and sharing your feelings… I want to know if we can get together for a visit…”

 I called him back. I said, “Good morning,” in my most cheerful voice. We talked about the weather and how cold it was. I said the soonest I could meet was Sunday afternoon. We agreed to meet 1pm at Krotona.

  I wrote in my journal:

I’m relieved he is communicating and hopefully we will continue to clear the air. The whole thing makes me nervous…that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’ve had a long break from….

On Saturday night there was this in my mailbox.

From:Adam1@gmail.com
To: sfrancina@aol.com
Sent: 11/27/2010 Subj: How was your day

 Dear Suza:

    I hope that you stay warm tonight…it is going to be cold again in the valley the news said.  I will think warm thoughts for you as I climb into bed.  Wish I was able to hold you and keep you warm.

    I have been able this past week to get a hold on my feelings…a big thank you for putting up with me and my actions.. You are a strong woman. And I have not been easy on you.

  I do miss you and look forward to visit with you tomorrow (Sunday).

  Hugs,

  Adam

 I had to do another reality check. I showed Ann his latest letter.

“Dear Lord, what do we make of this man? ”

I replied, “If I just keep a lid on sex, all will be well…”

To be continued, Chapter Four

“Forget about sex,” my eighty-year-old friend Ruth told me. “You’ll feel so free.” Well, I did forget about it… but still sex found me. — from my journal.

From my Journal, Friday, November 19th, 2010, I woke up at 4 am. My lunch “visit” at Farmer and the Cook with Adam was at 11:30 am. Five and a half hours to go.

Made my morning carrot and ginger root cocktail. I decided I better clean my writing hut in case Adam ended up stopping by. I made my bed, cleaned the toilet and sink…swept the patio…My daughter made fun of me. “Mom, are you trying to give the impression you are some sort of domestic goddess? ” Took Honey for a hike out back so I wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving her…fed my cats…10 am, took a shower…shaved my legs and arm pits..dried off… lavished the coconut skin trip all over my body, including neck and face….put on my make up… waited till 11 am to put on my crisp white shirt so Honey wouldn’t get it dirty…took off my glasses… put on my new contact lenses… reapplied my black eye liner… tweezed a few tiny hairs …reapplied my new berry lipstick…a few more dabs of make up… if you were spying on me you would think I was Cinderella getting ready for the ball to meet her prince. Locked Honey up in the hut…11:15 put on my helmet, hopped on my E bike and pedaled up hill…the weather was perfect …not too hot…I would arrive at Farmer and the Cook right on time.

Riding my bicycle put me at ease. I was 61—not 16. There was nothing to be nervous about. I’ve been married three times — first time when pregnant at age 18. I’ve basically been living on my own for eighteen years. This is just a bit of background so you get a glimpse of my psyche as I optimistically pedaled over to my fate at the Farmer.

I hopped off my bicycle a block away from the Farmer to remove my helmet, blow my nose and fluff up my hair. I straightened out my white shirt and black yoga pants. I checked my earings to make sure I hadn’t lost one. As I confidently walked my bike over to the bike rack in front of the Farmer I saw the door open and Adam headed in my direction. I liked that he was already here and that he came out to meet me. I was prepared for the reality of him having aged since I last saw him in the 70’s but, I told myself, what really mattered was his personality and character. Plus, as was clear from his Facebook messages and emails, he already really liked and appreciated me.

Adam had a big smile on his face as he looked me up and down. The first words out of his mouth were music to my feminine ears. “You look great. You look like I remember you…..” I smiled back at him and noticed how tall he was. Not overweight. He looked rugged — outdoorsy–and had a nice full head of hair.

“Heck, “ He said, “I’m five years younger than you but you look much younger than me. People will think I’m robbing the cradle!”

“Man, “ I thought, “What a charming fellow.”

I gave him a little hug by way of greeting and felt totally open and relaxed. After all that e-mailing back and forth, Adam already felt like an old friend.

Adam steadied my bike as I locked it and took the giant bag I’m in the habit of carrying. He held open the door and acted every bit the perfect gentleman. He right away made it clear that he was treating me to lunch which made me feel like maybe this was a real date.  This was a self-serve restaurant and,  fter he placed his order, he followed me to the salad and soup bar. When I was done he took my tray to the cashier and paid.

Before he sat down he made sure we had water, condiments  and utensils. Totally attentive and considerate. All the while smiling at me appreciatively. Already it felt great to finally have some male attention.

We made some light prattle and then I cut to the chase. I heard myself say, “ I want to tell you up front that there is one thing I require. And that is, complete honesty.”

(I thought to myself, “If you are married or in a relationship with another woman, do me a favor and tell me now so that I can bolt out the door soon as I finish my salad, before I fall in love with you…”)

Just to be sure I made myself clear I laughingly added, “Look, I haven’t seen you in thirty years. For all I know you’re married and have three kids.”

“Nope,” he assured me, “Never been married. No kids. How about you?”

“Married three times, “ I replied, “Two children. A son and a daughter…”

I quickly picked up that Adam was a talker. Not one of those stone faced guys where you have to dig in and try to extract a few words out of them. Just the opposite. Adam was unedited. He proceeded to tell me one of the most riveting childhood stories I’ve ever heard. He was raised in Ojai. Home schooled. His family owned hundreds of acres. He grew up riding horses and exploring nature. As he talked nonstop I felt like he was letting me in on all his family secrets. He explained how a few years ago he found out he had a sister….and, to make a long story short, after he met this sister who had the same biological mother and father  he had, he found out that many things he had been told, or rather not told while growing up, were  lies.

All the while that Adam was describing the saga of his birth parents,  the father who adopted him, his unusual childhood and all the adventures he’d had traveling the world, I was finding the sound of his male voice increasingly pleasant. I liked the way his eyes danced when he looked at me. I was dazzled to have the full attention of a man sitting two feet across from me.

When it came time to leave I suggested we go for a walk. We headed up the street and every few steps Adam paused to tell me the names of trees, flowers and birds…I was impressed and enchanted. And all the while he kept complimenting me. Telling me how pretty I was. I soaked it up.

Late afternoon we said good bye. It was clear that we hit it off and we parted with the implicit understanding we would see each other again soon. Or so I thought.

On the ride back to the riverbottom I stopped by to check on  my ninety year old parents. When I arrived home an hour later I checked my email and saw that Adam had already sent me a message. I scrolled down and clicked Adam1@gmail.com, smiling inwardly with anticipation. We’d had such a great time. He was obviously smitten with me. I imagined this would be an invitation to go out for dinner on Saturday night or maybe brunch or a hike on Sunday…

The subject line said, “Thanks for the meeting.”

Meeting? What meeting? I thought we’d been on a date. It seemed like a date… I opened the email:

Dear Suza:

Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit with me this afternoon. You have a wonderful spirit…you are a sensitive caring person and a beautiful woman. What a great combination.

I will be off of your radar screen for a few days. I need time to sort out my feelings about you. I am afraid the feelings I have developed towards you may be headed in the wrong direction.   — Adam

My heart sank.

Oh my God. What the hell did I do or say to make him think “the feelings I have developed towards you may be headed in the wrong direction.” My mind went into a spin.

I hit Reply. I typed fast:

From: sfrancina@aol.com

To: Adam1@gmail.com

Sent: Fri, Nov 19, 2010 5:54 pm

Subject: Re: Thanks for meeting

Adam, I will call you soon as find your number

I hit Send Now.

When I called his cell I got a recording. It wasn’t even his voice. Just an automated system. I hoped I had the right number and left a message for him to call. No one called back. A few minutes later I went through the phone book. A zillion Johnsons. I emailed again:

Dear Adam,

I called your cell phone twice and also called some other A. Johnson but got a wrong number. Please call me, even if it’s late.  — Suza

*******************

I called Adam’s cell once more and, to my great relief, he answered.
His voice sounded casual and relaxed. I could hear water running in the back ground.

Suddenly I felt self conscious. Maybe I shouldn’t have called. Maybe I was overreacting.

“Uh,” I said, “It’s me, Suza.”

“ Hi, what’s up?”

” I got your email. I just want to be sure I didn’t do anything…uh…or say anything…wrong…”

“Oh no. I had a great time.”

“What’s all that water running in the background?”

“Oh, I’m cleaning the fountain.”

I imagined him all alone in his garden, scooping leaves out of the water.  I gathered my wits. If I didn’t clear things up now I might not get another chance. So I blurted, “What did you mean by what you wrote in that email you sent me –about how you’re afraid your feelings are running in the wrong direction?”

There was static on his cell. The sound of water got louder. I could hear him doing something while he was talking. I was wishing he’d turn off the water, move away from the fountain and give me his full attention.

“Oh … You know…”

I can’t remember exactly what all Adam said plus he kept walking while talking and was hard to understand. But I remember feeling frantic to clear up any misunderstanding.

And here he was – totally nonchalant.

I felt confused. I doubted myself. I switched gears and kept the conversation light as I waited for him to say something about getting together on the weekend.

Nothing.

“We’ll talk soon, “ he said. “Bye…”

He sounded far away. Click.

I showed Ann his latest email. “Good Lord – what’s his problem? Is he a monk?” she asked. “And did you feel attracted to him? What an odd duck!”

*************

That night I had a hard time sleeping. It was raining. The kind of night where it would be cozy to have someone snuggle under the covers with you.

In the back of my mind was a vague awareness that my image of Adam was mostly based on what I’d seen on Facebook. I liked that image and grasped for things in real life to support it. Him not asking me for a second date after all that email anticipation and the buzz at our lunch didn’t compute.

Already I was obsessing.

Ann had given me strict orders not to call him again. “Do NOT call him. Let him call you. “

So after a restless night I turned on my laptop. I opened his last email and hit Reply. In my most cheerful, least desperate voice I wrote:

Good morning, Adam,  The rain is pounding on the roof. I woke up thinking about you and all the things you shared about yourself yesterday.

As I typed the lights started flickering. I clicked Save in case the power went out.   I don’t think you’re headed in the wrong direction . The way you reacted to me is great! It’s how a woman wants a man she likes to feel.

I thought to myself, all this time he’s been saying all this nice stuff about me. Maybe I better make sure that he knows I like him too. So I wrote:  I love how you are so deeply connected to nature and that you are also a force of nature, with strong feelings and currents running through you. I love that you are a passionate person, about the environment, the earth, and also passionate in your response to someone you are attracted to.

I paused.  Thank you for reassuring me last night when we spoke that I did nothing wrong.

Already I was groveling. Why didn’t I quit while I was ahead?  I enjoyed my time with you and want to see you again.

I thought it might be good to build his confidence. So I added:

You are a wonderfully intelligent person very knowledgeable about the outer world so I hope you can apply that beautiful intelligence that you have to yourself.

And then I really went out on a limb.  From my perspective…even though it was not your intention, you went from hot to cold with no middle ground.

I softened this by adding:  There is one thing I have learned in Life and that is that the unconscious is much more powerful than the conscious mind. And the unconscious is like this sponge of childhood impressions.

Big mistake. Already I was letting him off the hook due to his childhood. But I did not know that then and I continued full speed ahead:

Within the first few minutes of our meeting you revealed some deep things about yourself. You told me the story of your family — about how your mother married your father’s best friend and how they never told you that you had an older sister.

I believe that at some level we are all psychic, especially children…at some level growing up you must have sensed that the grown ups around you were not telling the truth. That they were hiding things from you. You grew up not knowing the truth. From what you told me I gather you had loving, caring parents but you were denied your birthright to know the truth.

You even mentioned that your mother probably continued her affair with your father after she married his friend.

I try to imagine your mother’s life. All the secrets she kept from you. How did she feel giving up her daughter to your father and his wife?

You told me the story of how you met your sister fifteen years ago, after your mother died. How she looked at you for the first time and said that you looked just like her/your father.

And how you looked at her and told her that she looked just like your/her mother.

And then I put on my therapist hat. I wrote:

My sense is that on a deep level this cover up is playing out over and over again in your relationships with women. The fact that all those years your biological father never acknowledged you when he visited your mom and the man who raised you is huge!

Next time we meet, if you are willing, I hope we can talk about all this some more.

And then I took off my therapist hat but I just didn’t know when to quit. I added.

I’ve have been to hell and back in my relationships. I was so unconscious and reckless! I had no self-love, no self-esteem. In my last marriage I put up with years of being lied to.

I wanted to make sure he got how wise and understanding I was. So I threw in: It has taken many years of reflection and digging deep to come to the place where I am now.

The human condition is complex and most people go to the grave never understanding what makes them tick.

Finally I was done with Round One of trying to save him:

That’s all I have to say, for now. The rain is so wonderful…I have all the doors and windows open. This morning Honey, Nubio (her black wolf husband who lives next door) and I will go to the river.  — Suza

I waited till 7 am to hit Send Now.

*************

Twelve hours later Adam sent the following reply:

My Dear Suza,  Yes, you are so right. This rain has been wonderful…cleansing, refreshing and renewing.

Suza, thank you so much for your helpful and thoughtful words in this mornings email. You said some powerful things for me to think about (as if i don’t have enough already).

To me you are “Ojai” and so many feelings and memories pour into me now that I have reconnected with you. I would like to take you to the hill my home sat on because you care and relate to the natural world and all my memories of growing up in Ojai.

I want to return to Ojai… I want to restart the business I had for so many years in the valley. I want to walk around the streets where people I knew once lived. I want to relive (or at least visualize) my 40 years of living in the valley.

All of my feelings about the Ojai Valley have been pouring out of me since I reconnected with you. Others tell me they understand my “Ojai” connection and feelings..but you have the depth and passion that we both share about the Ojai.  —Adam

Now that sounded more like the man I met on Facebook.

From my journal on April 10, 2011:  The more I write, the more the story loosens its grip on me… I can feel how writing, like yoga, frees me up. Someone asked me the other day, “Don’t you believe in moving forward?” There is no such thing as moving forward if the past has a death grip on our psyche…

Author Note – Disclaimer This is a true story, lifted from the pages of my journals, e-mails and memory. All of the names except the author’s have been changed to protect the innocent, or not so innocent, depending on your perspective. A few details were changed in order to respect the privacy of the people in the story.

Writing Yoga:

Fishing on Facebook

Chapter One: Rainbow Bridge

‎Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth. — Buddha

On April 3, 2011, I wrote in my journal: Yesterday I got so mad that I ran into Rainbow Bridge, and bought two slices of Raw Vegan Cheesecake, the only real treat on the Planet with no calories. And a bottle of Pacific Redwood Organic Red Mendocino Wine, the least expensive bottle on the shelf. While unlocking my bicycle, I overheard two women talking about how men in their age range (fifty to one-hundred) are now looking for women to support them. One said that the last man who left her hooked up with a woman who owns a lot of property in Northern California and she got him to marry her by putting his name on the deed.

I zoomed home on my bike, sat under a tree and slowly devoured the first piece of cake, labeled “Find your thrill on blueberry hill.” Right away I felt better. I decided to save the wine for a future emergency and fortified myself with a few more bites of the second piece, “Strawberry Fields Forever.” Then I went back inside my little apartment, laid down on my yoga bolster with the soles of my feet together in the Goddess Pose, and waited for my emotions to calm down.

I keep a journal by my yoga mat. As writing teacher Bruce Black points out in his book, Writing Yoga, a journal is another yoga prop—like a block, belt, bolster or blanket—to use in your yoga practice. In my yoga journal I scribble notes about everything, not just my yoga practice on the mat.

The first four letters of the word “journal,” are the same as the first four letters of the word “journey.” They spell jour, the French word for “day” or “daily.” Keeping a daily journal can help us in our internal journey and reminds us that all of life is our spiritual practice. And then, when things fall apart and the rug gets pulled out from under us, we can go back to our journals and gain new insights into our illusions.

Writing and yoga are tools for “peeling the onion.” The onion metaphor is often used to describe an enlightened approach to solving a problem or learning about our selves. By methodically peeling each layer of the onion, one eventually reaches the core.

The yogic journey guides us from the periphery–the body, to the center of our being–the soul. In yoga “peeling the onion, “ also refers to the various layers, the different levels or “sheaths” of a human being. The art of practicing yoga allows us to penetrate, or peel, the layers of our being– from our physical form– our known flesh-and-blood-food-fed body– to the more hidden and unknown subtle layers of our selves.

When I write, I can feel freedom coming. The circumstances of my life have not changed, but the doors of perception open. In that way, the practice of yoga and writing are intimately connected.

The great Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung said, “One does not become enlightened by imagining light but by making the darkness conscious.”

May we live like the lotus, at home in muddy water.

— Buddha

On November 19, 2010, I wrote: Today I dipped my toe into the muddy waters of relationships. I hardly know this man and already he is causing trouble and disturbing my tranquility. The only way I’m going survive seeing him and not drown in a pool of unconsciousness and all my primal sexual longing, hopes and projections, is to write about it everyday.

So here goes! It all began innocently with a Facebook email notification. The message said, “Adam Johnson wants to be friends with you on Facebook.”

Since the name was familiar, someone I knew back in the 1970’s, I clicked, “Confirm Friend Request.”

A few weeks later Adam sent me a Facebook message asking if I was the same Suza that wrote a column for Yoga Journalback in the 1970’s.

I was tempted to play a prank and say I wasn’t but I wrote back and said, “Yes, that was me.“

A few days went by. Late one night Adam sent me one of those annoying pop up messages. I hate those and almost “Unfriended” him. Just when you think the coast is clear, the whole world is asleep and finally you can write undisturbed, some night owl has the gall to try to engage you in conversation.

I typed back, “I don’t do pop up messages.”

Adam disappeared into cyberspace.

The next day Adam began clicking “Like,” and leaving comments on my “Status.”

Figuring he was a kindred spirit, I in turn clicked “Like” and started posting Comments on his Status.

I began to see that we had a lot in common. We were both community activists and protectors and lovers of nature and wildlife. I read his Comments on my News Feed.

We were getting quite cozy in cyberspace.

A few weeks later he sent a private Facebook message asking did I have time to meet for tea sometime. I said I honestly was too busy at the moment—but maybe next month.

At some point I got curious and checked Adam’s “Wall.” I clicked “Info.” From Ojai. Lives in Santa Barbara. Interested in women. It didn’t specify his “Relationship Status,” but I got the impression he was single. A note in the upper right margin claimed “You and Adam – 72 Mutual Friends.”

I checked his photo gallery. Saw that he had a beautiful home and fabulous garden. You could tell from the photographs and Comments about cooking, decorating for the holidays, gardening, books, movies, that here was a sensitive guy with a highly developed feminine side.

I routinely put links to my book excerpts, articles and editorials on my Facebook page. Adam began leaving helpful Comments supporting my views, asking lively questions and cheering me on. I could feel myself warming up to him. It felt like I had this great male mentor in the sky.

One day he wrote, “Lets keep in touch, in fact if you would like to email me directly my personal email address is: adam1@gmail.com. And then he added, “It would also be very enjoyable to meet up sometime, say over lunch at Farmer and the Cook to visit and catch up on things…”

This time I told him I was still very busy but might be free on a Friday in a few weeks.

*******************************

I did have a lot of meetings and workshops to attend but that was only half the reason for saying “ free in a few weeks.” Truth was, I needed time to get ready. From the looks of his Facebook page I figured he had coffee with a different woman every day but for me this was a big deal. I have many wonderful, supportive male friends but to the best of my recollection I’d not had a real date in over five years.

I was in the midst of a 21-day raw juice feast and had managed to shed about twenty of the forty pounds I gained in the five years post menopause. So I was already feeling pretty good about myself.

I joked with my daughter that I was gonna give myself a make-over. I called my optometrist and made a long over due appointment for an eye exam so I could order new contact lenses. I made an appointment for a hair cut and color conditioner. I made an appointment for a manicure and pedicure. I bought some apricot face scrub, a bottle of yummy smelling Coconut Skin Trip and some Tom’s peppermint mouthwash. A new tube of Aveda mineral tinted moisture creme. A redder berry shade of lipstick. I even bought a new pair of silver hoop earrings. All the things I should do for myself anyway but had let fall by the wayside.

I was living in a one-room guest house (I called it my “writing hut”) next door to my daughter in the river bottom (a rural area out in the boondocks) with my young Aussie rescue dog, “Honey,” and three old cats. My new book proposal had been rejected three times –not unusual but tough on cash flow. I’d sold over 100,000 copies of the last three yoga titles so I had my foot in the publishing door. But at the moment I was flat broke and on a downward spiral. My new book proposal sat abandoned in a storage unit while I scrambled to survive teaching yoga, writing for magazines and doing home health care for my elderly parents. Dating was a distant dream.

It had been so long since I’d had a date that I actually read one of the hundreds of articles on “what to wear on a first date after age 50.” Be yourself. Be comfortable. If you don’t plan to go to bed with him right away, don’t dress like a tart… So I planned what I would wear and took my favorite most flattering white blouse to the cleaners. I rummaged through my underwear drawer and found a black lace body suit thing that I had not worn in five years. I wanted to look somewhat professional with just a hint of flirty. I put aside my best black yoga pants. If I wore yoga pants I would feel like myself.

All the while Adam and I emailed back and forth almost daily. The line between Adam the environmental and wildlife activist and Adam, the man, (who I did not really know) became completely blurred. Anticipation was building. The personal and the political became one.

The e-mails that initially dealt with political issues and various causes became more personal. Adam mentioned many of the people we both knew. We had many mutual friends, all of which put me at ease. He shared light things about his past, like how he had taken a weekend Men’s Workshop with Robert Bly. We joked. I began to feel more and more at ease and looked forward to his messages. I missed them if I didn’t hear from him for a few days.

One day he wrote: ” I feel a very, very strong passion about protecting the earth and her creatures. My motto, “Show no mercy and take no prisoners” when it comes to fighting for wildlife before powerful bodies and big corporations. They don’t.”

When I read those last words I think I was a goner. He sounded so…passionate and manly!

So after about two months of emailing when Adam wrote, “You had mentioned that you are sometimes free on Fridays. Would you be available this Friday to meet for lunch at Farmer and the Cook?,” I was ready!

This time I told him without hesitation, “Yes, I am available this Friday.”

He emailed back, “If you ever want to contact me by phone, please feel free to do so at any time.” He gave me his cell number but I felt too gun-shy to call. Besides, I knew “The Rules.” Don’t call Him. Wait for Him to call you.

He also wrote: “Suza, I really admire you. You have such a deep emotional and spiritual strength about you. I like your passion for protection of our earth and her creatures. You have a depth to your soul that is hard to find in people in today’s crazy world. I am happy that you are Suza, a woman with great inner beauty and strength.”

But the best part was yet to come. He remembered how we had briefly met many years ago while working for the same newspaper. I loved it when he wrote, “ When we knew each other thirty years ago we were just kids. I am so happy now that we are older and that our spirits have reconnected.”

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “He sounds so wise and mature!”

I got way too excited about this casual Friday date and had to remind myself, “Relax, Suza, This is not a real date. Just a light lunch with someone you got acquainted with on Facebook.”

Knowing what a vivid imagination I have, I decided that I better do a reality check before I met Adam in person. I showed his recent emails to Ann, my close friend and confidant, who is like a sister to me.

“Wow!” she said as she read them, “What a good man.“

Two days before the lunch date, in the last paragraph of a long email about land use, wildlife corridors and other causes near and dear to my heart, Adam wrote:

“Seriously Suza…I have really enjoyed our “chatting” since I found you on Facebook. Since we had some connection in the past, I have always admired you as a writer, a yoga teacher, a lifelong protector of the Ojai Valley, a former Mayor and all you have done for the community, as well as your spirituality…I feel a deep attraction to you, because of who you are as a human being. I am really looking forward to our meeting on Friday and many more visits in the future.”

“Wow! I thought to myself. “He really likes me!”

I especially liked that he wrote, “many more visits in the future.”

I wrote back, “I really look forward to lunch with you on Friday…”

“Wow!” said Ann when I showed her Adam’s latest letters. “He so sees you and gets you! How nice is that? “

“And,” she added, “Those pictures of him on Facebook look so nice. If you don’t fall in love with him I’d like to meet him myself. But sounds like he’s already in love with you.”

To read  the next Chapter, go to the top of the page and click the link to Chapter Two that appears above the title  for Chapter One.

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