The next day, she came to me at work, tenderly and saddened. She felt around in my neck, and told me she was sorry. I asked her who taught her to go about it that way, and an image came to mind of an early lover. She felt broken, as if realizing that something had been twisted. I don't know that what was done to her was wrong. It was a way of bringing her in to the fullness of her power. But my immediate response: "I'm so sorry."
That wasn't what she expected. That night she came to me with a guide, who attempted to put us together again. But I was really hurt. Then she surprised me. She put her heart around my mind, wordless. I felt my wellness in the past, and reached out to bring it into the present.
This was the first of our moments of conceptual grace: an experience she created intuitively, that I apprehended and verbalized into understanding. There would be many more.
The experience was incredibly beautiful. I could feel her in my mind, and reached out for hers. My perspective was above and behind her as my fingers entered her cerebrum, moving slowly through the fibers of her mind. Love flowed from heart to hands, and she accepted my touch with equanimity. She was incredibly still. I pulled back, letting the tissues of her mind slip through my energy, until I encountered an obstacle. It was a dark spot. No energy moved through it. I paused, and caught it on my middle finger. As I moved back, she released more and more of these fibers onto my fingers, and I carried them back. When I reached the brain stem, they had coalesced as a clump, and I drew them down her spine and out through her coccyx. My hands closed around them, squeezing them to an undifferentiated point, which I pressed into the ground. Catching the spot with my mind as it enlarged and diluted, I dissolved it into infinity.
Whether grateful or simply abashed, she apologized again. My gentle retort bespoke the grace I had entered through her: "For what? Giving us the opportunity to learn to heal each other?"
This happened again and again and again. The power of our merging was the synthesis of her feminine power to merge context in past, present and future, and my masculine capacity to find the minimal transformative path to grace. She's hardly stupid (I reflected frequently on her as a "smart girl", until I realized that I was labeling myself, and switched to "smart lady"), and I'm at least moderately empathic, but it is in the intuitive integration of those two skills that we find our way out of trouble - often without discussion, or even any apprehension of effort or thought.
Our troubles always followed when we allowed others to convince us that we were being unrealistic about our relationship. As you might expect, over the next several years, one of our favorite songs was Anita Baker's Giving You the Best That I've Got.