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I wondered how Jennifer was feeling or thinking about what I had been saying. She seemed to be listening quite intently, but this didn't necessarily mean she felt any kind of resonance with my words or perspective.

Her opinions about me were beginning to be matters of concern to me. I hoped, perhaps even more than I was presently admitting to myself, that we would prove to be kindred spirits of the mind and heart.

My hopes, however, would not alter what I said to her. I would rather be rejected by someone for honest reasons than be accepted on the basis of superficial ties of compatibility that might come back to haunt me later in the relationship.

Returning to the final instalment of my response to Jennifer's original question, I said: "All of us seem to be caught in a catch-22 or double-bind. We were told, following Nuremberg, that we have a moral responsibility to resist all manner of evil, injustice and abuse. Yet, when we do this, we run the risk of getting punished, especially in the context of a social, political or legal atmosphere which is not yet prepared to acknowledge that what is being resisted is, in fact, evil, unjust or abusive.

"We are liable to punishment if we do act. We are liable to punishment if we don't act.

"I seem to recall Pavlov's dogs broke down under conditions in which they were required to make finer and finer discriminations in some given task. Increasingly, we may be pushing ourselves into a similar dilemma.

"We are being required to make finer and finer discriminations concerning judgements about when to actively resist, and when not to resist, injustice and evil. And, no matter what we do, we run the risk of punishment of one sort or another.

"One is left with a very uncomfortable feeling. If one acts, will one be next on the FBI's, quite frequently, arbitrary hit parade? On any given occasion, one simply can't be sure if the FBI will be acting out of propriety or pathology.

"On the other hand, if, out of fear, one does not act, will one be subject to later prosecution by some other form of judgement? This other form of judgement could range from our conscience, to a Nuremberg-like process, to future generations, to Divinity."

I sighed. "The propriety-or-pathology malady that afflicts the FBI is present in a lot, if not most, of our institutions. In fact, it is present in most human beings, including myself.

"I've flipped more than a few toggle switches in my life. One might even say that my going to Canada must have felt like the throwing of a toggle switch, or three, to quite a few people I knew, especially my family. Whether I could have, or should have, avoided throwing those switches is another matter.

"Sometimes, however, I wonder about the FBI agents who bothered, and intruded upon, my parents. I wonder if they ever asked themselves whether they could have, or should have, avoided flipping the switches of pain in relation to my parents.

"In my better, more charitable moments, I give the agents the benefit of the doubt. In my more cynical moments, I tend to believe such issues never crossed their minds.

"Unfortunately, as far as the FBI is concerned, I tend to be given to more moments of cynicism than of charity. Consequently, those agents, whoever they are, along with their colleagues, don't enjoy many benefits of the doubt from me."

During the last few minutes of my answer, I had been seeing, without watching, some of the activity on the street. As this activity made the transition in my awareness from background to foreground, I turned back to Jennifer, waiting to see what she might say.

Apparently, she believed I might say something else, for she remained silent. Or she might have been considering how to respond to what had been said but hadn't yet arrived at any sort of reply with which she felt comfortable. Or, she might be thinking about how to ask me to take her back to her house without embarrassing either me or herself.

The silence went on a bit longer. Consequently, in order to break whatever tension might be present, probably mostly in me, I made a rather pathetic attempt at an imitation: "Gg... bb...gg..bb...gg...bbb...that's all folks."

Jennifer laughed. "Do you do John Wayne, too?"

"I'm sure you have noticed," I admitted, "that I don't even really do Porky Pig."

"Yes, such an observation did drop by for a chat," she agreed, "but I didn't want to have to be the one who broke the news to you."

Jennifer looked at her watch, and I thought to myself: 'oh, no! she's going to suggest it's late, and she needs to get up early tomorrow.' I braced myself.

Having checked her watch, she looked over at me and said: "I'm afraid, David, we've missed your window of opportunity for jumping in the Charles.

However, if you can live with that disappointment, are you still willing to take a walk by the river?"

Feeling relieved, I replied: "I accept your kind invitation." Then, with dramatic tones, I proclaimed: "My moment of destiny with the inviting depths of the Charles can wait until tomorrow."

"Not likely," countered Jennifer, as she got out of the car.

"And, why not?" I huffed in mock annoyance.

When I had got out of the car, Jennifer pointed out: "Destiny awaits you in Washington. If you jumped into the Charles tomorrow night, the river would have no choice but to toss you back, like an undersized fish."

"There's always the Potomac River," I offered.

"Well, why don't you wait and see how things work out with your friend Ken and his family before making a final decision?" Jennifer counseled.

We began walking toward the river. The air had a very pleasant combination of warmth and coolness.

A trace of the smell of lilac wafted about. It would float by, then disappear, only to manifest itself again further on.

Snaking along the horizon was a last remnant of the sunset. Here and there, one could catch a glimpse of the fading colors of the sunset reflected from the surface of the river.

The sounds of the river were, as usual, soothing. I didn't understand the language, but the river seemed to have something to say to whomever would bother to listen.

Thoughts about my comments on the FBI drifted into and out of focus. The sounds, smells, sights and peace of the approaching night were providing stiff competition.

I hadn't taken a walk along the river in years. I was feeling a mixture of both happiness and sadness.

The happiness came from the pure enjoyment of being with Jennifer on a night like this. The sadness came from the regret of realizing all of the missed opportunities that, probably, had slipped past me, in years gone by- opportunities for walking along the river with someone I liked.

My mind had begun to explore the pros and cons of choices made and not made, when Jennifer spoke. The sounds of her voice, irrespective of their semantic content, were like a counterpoint to the melody of the night.

"David, at this point in time, I don't have much feed-back to give to you about what you said to me in the car. It's not exactly the sort of discussion which one can call enjoyable, but this is really a reflection of the seriousness of the issues being raised, and not a comment on your ideas, beliefs or values.

"I don't consider myself to be a very politically astute person. There are a lot of things about the history of political affairs, both domestic as well as international, that remain a mystery to me. You might even say that, in many respects, I'm sort of a politically-challenged human being.

"Consequently, I have few points of reference by which to gauge the degree of correctness or quality of your thoughts concerning the FBI. At the same time, your words have made me realize there are a number of things that I take for granted about the way the world works which may not necessarily be true.

"I don't know where, if anywhere, my realization is going to take me. Nonetheless, I want to express my gratitude to you for taking the time to answer my question in the way you did. If nothing else, there are some questions dancing around in my mind that were not there an hour ago.

"I consider such questions to be a kind of sacred gift or trust. I believe they come into our lives for a reason. I feel our responsibility is to try to determine their significance in relation to the reality of things.

"I've always believed in the importance of what I call the 'interrogative imperative'. I guess one might say this refers to the deep need within us to seek out the truth through, among other things, the posing of questions.

"Questions disturb our sleep. They upset us. They anger us. They embarrass us. They frustrate and perplex us. Yet, the right questions also can help us find out about who we are and what purposes, meanings and values may be entailed by that identity.

"Some of the questions that have arisen in me as a result of your answer are, I admit, potentially quite disturbing and upsetting. In time, I may come to agree with your assessment of things, and, then again, maybe I won't.

"In either case, my intention is not to shy away from the challenge that these questions are beginning to generate as they set down roots in my life. I'll let them continue to annoy me and irritate me until the personal and spiritual growth comes for which the questions are serving as seeds."

Quite a few people were taking advantage of the weather as well as the magnetic-like properties of the river and the adjacent strips of land running along both of its banks. Couples and small groups of people went past us in both directions. From time to time, the occasional singleton also strolled by.

Muffled, indecipherable sounds from a variety of conversations approached like on-coming tides and then ebbed away. Laughter sprinkled the night in seemingly random fashion.

There were some questions I had concerning Jennifer's life, both present and past. I doubted these questions were the kind that she would consider to be of the sacred variety, but they were of interest to me.

I cleared my throat and asked: "Aside from your clinical work, Jennifer, what else are you doing in a professional capacity? Are you teaching?"

"I'm on sabbatical," came the reply. "The leave started in January and runs through to the end of December. I'll begin teaching again next January."

"I'm consumed with jealousy," I pronounced. "My academic furlough is not due for another four years or so."
"What are you doing with your time away from the official duties?" I inquired.

Jennifer said: "In theory, I'm writing a book. In practice, I actually haven't started writing.

"I spent the first five to six months of the sabbatical completing my research. Right now, I'm trying to get sufficiently organized to create breathtakingly beautiful and insightful prose in the last six months of my leave.

"I've pretty much completed the research. So, for the last couple of weeks, I've been practicing various, hopefully aesthetically pleasing, poses with my hands, as if poised over a computer terminal."

"What's the book about?" I queried.

"Believe it or not, David, you've already previewed the book," she remarked.
I thought for a moment and made an interrogative declaration: "The abduction phenomenon?!"

"The very same," she confirmed.
"I don't know how other people will respond to the abduction material," I said, "but if their reaction is anything like mine, I believe your work will be quite well received."

"That's kind of you to say, David, but I have my doubts, especially with respect to many clinical circles as well as much of academia. More than one person has suggested to me that such a book may not be a good career move. They seem to feel the whole issue smacks of the tabloids and is not an appropriate topic for serious research and study."

I shook my head with a feeling of both sympathy toward, and empathy for, Jennifer's situation. Her experience with her book project was all too reminiscent of what goes on in many universities and colleges.

Partly out of the frustrations generated by my own encounters with the intellectual timidity of many academics, and partly as a general observation, I said: "Academia is supposed to be a marketplace for the free exchange of ideas. Regrettably, more often than not, this alleged bastion of intellectual freedom is more tightly regulated than its economic counterpart."

I began thinking about some of the many kinds of biases, pettiness, prejudice, narrowness and other unhealthy manifestations of ego which permeate so much of the life of a university or college campus. In conjunction with these thoughts, I said: "The amazing thing about all of this is that anything new, interesting and valuable ever gets introduced into academia, let alone survives."

The moon was still on the waxing side of its cycle, but it was approaching fullness. Light from the moon and the city had become wedded to the river's surface.

I returned to my biographical probing of Jennifer's life. "What subjects do you teach?" I asked.

"I help team-teach an introduction to psychology, plus I offer several courses on personality theory and abnormal psychology," Jennifer answered. "This coming spring the Department's going to let me run a trial course on transpersonal psychology.

"The Department probably will be monitoring the course fairly closely. I'm hoping, nonetheless, that I will be permitted to try and get the students thinking about some of the mystical dimensions of transpersonal psychology.

"I'm not interested in foisting any particular view of spirituality onto the students. However, among other things, I would like the students to come away from the course with a positive orientation toward some of the spiritual possibilities inherent in transpersonal psychology.

"I hope the students will come to see that altered states of consciousness are not necessarily a sub-category of abnormal psychology. I would like them to understand that altered states of consciousness may have something very fundamental to say about human potential.

"Issues of identity, meaning, interpretation, purpose, valuation, and methodology, all become important themes when one begins to explore transpersonal psychology. These are issues in which students ought to take an interest since such issues carry important implications for their personal lives."

I stopped and acted as if I were searching for something on or about Jennifer. She was both entertained and puzzled by my actions.

"Where is it?" I inquired. "It's got to be here somewhere."

"What, might I ask, is it that must be here?" she demanded with an accommodating bemusement.

"Why, the spring course catalogue, of course," I said. "You were reading from it just now, were you not?"

Jennifer laughed. "I suppose I did sound like that didn't I?" she admitted.

"Just kidding," I said. "Actually, the course sounds quite interesting."

We resumed walking. I briefly turned my attention to the pleasant way the multi-media atmosphere of the night was pressing against my senses.

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