Читать книгу: «Solstices», страница 2

'May I come in?'

'Oh sorry, yes, do come in, please.' Christiane stepped back to let Charlotte pass. She led Charlotte up a high staircase. Charlotte followed Christiane into a spacious and bright living room decorated in Scandinavian style. The big arched windows looked out onto the garden, with the park in the background. Charlotte had the impression of being surrounded by green. 'Beautiful!' she exclaimed.

Christiane nodded. 'Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?'

'If I could have a cup of green tea?'

While Christiane disappeared to prepare the tea, Charlotte stood in front of the window and tried to concentrate on her inner centre. She felt unsure of herself in these strange surroundings. Her old, well-known doubts rose up. What in God’s name did she think she was doing here? Did she seriously think that she could help this woman by laying on hands? This woman who was apparently completely uprooted. With determination, Charlotte pushed back the doubts. 'Doubts are the most serious obstacle on your way,' the voice of her Buddhist teacher suddenly seemed to speak to her. 'Every other obstacle has to be examined carefully, but self-questioning has to be extinguished at once.' She smiled when she remembered how she had tried to distinguish between the self-assessing questioning of her actions and the doubts she had of her abilities. 'Doubts are destructive, they make you unsure and afraid, they paralyse you, whereas self-critical questioning is combined with interest, excitement and the wish and desire to learn something new.'

Charlotte gulped. This feeling of insecurity in her stomach and the sudden lack of energy were doubts for sure. She fixed her gaze on the large oak outside in the park, focusing on the branches and the wide, spacious crown of the tree. Her eyes followed the smaller branches and twigs and spied the darkening evening sky between the leaves. Now Charlotte asked for calmness and energy, and allowed this energy to flow through her eyes and her body, down to her feet.

As the soles of her feet warmed, she felt a slight touch on her leg. She looked down to see a large Doberman bitch standing beside her, her dark eyes seeming to ask a silent question as she looked up at her. Charlotte put her hand gently to the bitch’s neck and carefully began to scratch her behind the ears. When she turned her gaze back to the old oak tree, the dog leaned against her, barely touching her. They stood like that for some time, until suddenly the dog tensed.

Charlotte dragged her eyes away from the oak and slowly turned round. Christiane stood in the doorframe, watching the dog with a mixture of astonishment and surprise. 'What a good guard dog!' she growled, with contempt in her voice. The dog cowered and slunk away, tail between legs.

'Why do you say that, in that tone?' Charlotte asked. 'You let me into the house. Why shouldn’t the dog be friendly with me?'

Christiane went to the low table and served the tea. She shrugged her shoulders. Suddenly Charlotte got it. Christiane was lonely – and jealous because the dog had leaned against Charlotte but didn’t do that to her owner. At the same time Christiane seemed to be watching her with a lot of curiosity. In her eyes, Charlotte could see traces of aggression, which now covered the insecurity and animated their previously lifeless expression.

Her voice sounded harsh as she said, 'First you seem to have bewitched my husband, and now my dog as well. Is it my turn now?'

Charlotte could still feel the power of the oak inside her as she answered calmly, 'I don’t bewitch anyone. I can leave any time you want.'

Christiane pursed her lips in disdain. 'Is that supposed to be a threat?'

Charlotte simply shrugged her shoulders, got up and went to the door. 'I’m sorry that you made tea for nothing.' She gave a small smile and left the room. In the entrance hall, the dog was waiting for her. She stopped for a moment and scratched the bitch’s ears. She wagged her tail in thanks and watched silently as Charlotte opened the front door, closed it softly behind her and walked to the gate, where she unlocked her bike.

At that moment the door flew open and Christiane came running out, breathless. 'Listen, I’m sorry, really, very sorry. I was way out of line. Please…'

Charlotte hesitated. What a spoiled cow! Who did this woman think she was?

'Please,' Christiane was almost whispering now. 'My heart is unbearably cold.' Her eyes swam with tears. 'I don’t know why I act like that.'

Sighing heavily, Charlotte once again locked her bike and together they went back into the house. For a while they drank their tea in silence. After some time, Christiane softly and hesitantly asked, 'What will happen now?'

Charlotte looked around the room before answering. 'For a start we could light one or two candles.' Christiane found some matches and lit the candles that seemed to have been standing there unused for a long time. They had obviously been for decoration only and had never been lit.

Charlotte brought an incense stick out of her bag, but Christiane frowned and said,

'Oh, don’t use that, please. This artificial stuff always gives me a migraine attack.'

Charlotte placed the incense stick in the candle holder near the candle and nodded.

'I’ll just leave it here, maybe you’ll feel like lighting it later on.'

Charlotte scanned the room. 'It would be best if you were to lie down on the chaise-longue over there and close your eyes.'

Instantly Christiane seemed to stiffen and Charlotte noticed that the idea of lying down and closing her eyes in the presence of a stranger seemed to frighten the other woman considerably.

'You don’t have to close your eyes if you don’t want to. Just look at something that will help you to relax, for example that large oak tree outside in the park.'

Christiane nodded her consent and Charlotte took the antique piano stool over to the chaise-longue. She sat down beside Christiane where she could comfortably touch her.

Christiane became increasingly nervous.

'Nothing bad will happen to you,' Charlotte said soothingly. 'If you can’t bear the touch of my hands, please tell me at once. If anything feels wrong or bothers you, just lift your hand and I’ll stop immediately.'

Christiane once again silently nodded her consent.

Charlotte now tried to let go of all tension and closed her eyes for a few minutes. 'Calm, calm, calm,' she thought with every breath she took. She noticed that Christiane’s anxiety and tension had infected her. In her thoughts she asked the goddess for help. Softly she murmured the mantra of the goddess. When she was calm inside and felt her feet connecting with the earth beneath her, she put her hands on Christiane’s solar plexus.

At first it was a shock to feel nothing but cold emptiness. She waited for the warmth that usually rose through her hands when she laid on hands, but nothing happened. After a while, she felt a soft, hesitant tingling. It could hardly be called warmth, but at least there was a slight reaction. She visualised warmth, love and sympathy as an orange-red ball in Christiane’s solar plexus. She managed to some extent, but it didn’t stay stable and it didn’t really shine. It seemed more of a promise, like the red morning sky at the horizon on a cloudy day.

When she was sure that she wasn't going to get a better result, Charlotte placed her hands around Christiane’s head, moulding them like a shell but avoiding actually touching her hair or her head. She visualised Christiane’s crown chakra to open, letting love, power, wisdom and sympathy stream in from the universe. She imagined it to enter Christiane’s body, flowing through it, enclosing her heart, loosening the cold, empty feeling in her belly into a warm, tickling, comfortable sensation, then continue to flow through her hips and her knees to her feet and so out again.

At first nothing happened but Charlotte refused to give in. Again and again she asked the goddess for help. For a moment, her own heart suddenly felt cold and Charlotte became afraid and considered abandoning the treatment.

Then she felt the dog at her back, her warm head pressed trustingly against her spine. Charlotte felt touched and very thankful. Her heart opened and instantly she could feel the energy starting to flow. Christiane sighed heavily, put her hands on her belly – but more astonished than afraid – then let her hands fall back as she settled back down again. She was a lot more relaxed now. It seemed as if she now felt free to accept the treatment. She still had her eyes open, but now they seemed to be looking at something in the distance instead of trying to find something to hold onto within the room.

Charlotte noticed that her hands seemed to move by themselves. Starting at Christiane’s head chakra, they moved to her throat chakra, heart, solar plexus, to her cold hands, back to her stomach, the cramped tendons in her hips, to her tensed thighs, her cold knees and the weak calves and finally to her feet. Charlotte then returned once again to the solar plexus, which now pulsed steadily and warmly, before she finished the treatment. That was it.

Charlotte walked over to the open fireplace in the corner and put her hands on the cold stone floor. She gave thanks to the goddess and asked the earth to absorb all foreign energy, everything that didn’t belong to herself. She concentrated on letting all the foreign energy flow into the floor. When she got up she looked at the clock on the wall and saw that she had been here almost two hours. Involuntarily, she sighed deeply. She felt thankful. Something had changed and there was a bit more love, sympathy and warmth in the world.

Then Christiane slowly sat up. Charlotte once again took her place on the stool next to her, put her hand gently on her shoulder and said, 'Just keep resting for a while longer.'

Christiane lay down again. 'What do I owe you?'

'Nothing,' answered Charlotte. 'I have a well-paid job at the moment, so I don’t need money. Healing, in my opinion, means passing on divine energy that was given to me. It goes against the grain to take money for something that I was given for free.'

Christiane looked at her in doubt and disbelief.

'It’s true,' she repeated. 'If I didn’t have any income, it would be a different kettle of fish altogether.'

'But I can’t accept it for free, just like that,' argued Christiane.

'Well, if you can’t then you could decide to use two hours, the amount of time I spent with you, to do some good deed, something that will bring healing and love into the world.'

'But how am I supposed to do that? What should I do? I can’t do anything like that.'

'Hmm. You could start by being tender and loving to your dog for two hours.'

Christiane frowned angrily. 'I really mean that,' Charlotte urged. 'It’s about opening your heart. You’ll feel a lot better if you do that and you’ll learn what you have to do to reach be healed. And your dog will feel a lot better, too.'

As if she wanted to prove Charlotte right, the Doberman now crossed over to them, sat down near Christiane and lightly touched her knee with her nose. She didn’t lean against Christiane, as she had done with Charlotte; it was more like a tentative question.

Christiane’s face smoothed out and she suddenly had tears in her eyes. 'Anona…', she whispered, and to Charlotte she said, 'She’s never done that before.' For a moment something like happiness shimmered in Christiane’s eyes and the dog swallowed. Woman and dog kept completely still.

But the moment passed. Christiane’s body jerked, her mouth turned down and her face became hard again. Quickly, Anona got up and fled to the corner of the room. Christiane snorted.

'Well, she can’t stand my presence very long, can she?'

'Practise,' Charlotte said softly. 'Practise opening you heart and Anona will not only put up with you, she'll come to love you.'

Christiane looked up at the word 'love'. Her eyes had such a searching and clueless expression, as if Christiane wasn’t familiar with the meaning of the word. She seemed confused and astonished and was searching for answers in Charlotte’s eyes.

Charlotte smiled and got up. 'I’ll go now. Just stay where you are, I’ll find my own way out.' She looked back before she left the room, to see Christiane sitting motionless on the chaise-longue, gazing at the old oak in the park, lost in thought. Anona was standing off to one side and seemed to be looking back and forth between Christiane and Charlotte, with a silent question in her eyes.

Samhain

31 October

Remembering our ancestors….New Year for witches and sorcerers……

∞ Transitions ∞

∞ going into the dark season ∞

∞ remembering the dead ∞

∞ looking deep into ourselves, deep into the earth ∞

If we aren’t able to shed our fear of death, we won’t be able to enjoy our life – that’s what we’ve been told. If we can’t lose our fear of death, we’ll waste most of our life running from old age, disease and death, and we won’t be able to live the life that was our original destination. Buddhist teachers recommend we contemplate death once a day. Otherwise, each day will be in vain, because we are caught in our illusions. Only by looking back from the point of death we will be able to understand how relative our reality. This knowledge opens the door to freedom, freedom of determination and narrow-mindedness.

At Samhain the veil between the worlds is very thin, only matched by that on Beltane. We can try to get in contact with our ancestors. By contacting them it might become easier to understand the inconceivability of death. By feeling the presence of our ancestors, we can overcome some of our fears. Even if the goddess might never answer our questions about why we have to suffer, fall ill, get old and die, we might perhaps be able to develop some kind of understanding, beyond all words and thoughts. Feeling the presence of our ancestors – those who have suffered, lived and loved before us – might inspire our awareness of an eternal life, might reassure us that this life is not in vain, and not without aim.

Suggestion for a ritual for Samhain: The best place for Samhain is a cave. We start our walk at dusk. If we are sure-footed we might go without a light, carefully, slowly, feeling our way through the darkness. Once we reach the cave, we sit down in silence and feel the earth surrounding us. The direction of Samhain is north, and the element of north is earth and the rocks which surround us.

Once everyone has settled down, we try to contact our ancestors. We remember them and honour them. We remember the losses of the current year, the illnesses, pain, disappointments, loss of loved ones or pets. Where are they now? Can we feel them beside us? If we feel like it, we can share our pain with those present in the cave. It is very important to speak thoughtfully and listen carefully, opening our heart and sending sympathy when others tell their tale. If we manage to share our mourning and our pain, this on its own will bring comfort and healing. When everyone who is willing to speak has spoken, we light the candles we brought along. Afterwards we place our gifts for the ancestors in the northern part of the cave and leave the cave in silence.

After the ritual we hold a feast with the food we have brought. If we decide to hold the feast outside, we light a warming fire.

Place of the ritual in the annual cycle: At the beginning of autumn we gave thanks for the harvest and for the abundance of that year. After Samhain, the dark season begins. Autumn is almost over and the days are short, cold and often very wet. It is the time for indoor activities, time to get some inner calm. In this dark time of the year, which is ahead now, we should consciously think about the darkness, retreat into ourselves, meet our fear head on, in order to be cleansed and able to light the light for the New Year at solstice.

During the following days Charlotte felt peaceful and filled with a quiet joy. She was thankful for meeting Christiane and for the fact that Christiane had healed a little. And she was really enjoying Cleo’s presence. She liked it very much when Cleo snuggled against her in the evenings, and softly stroked her face with her paw in the mornings when the alarm clock went off, as if to make sure Charlotte was awake. Often, when the cat cuddled against her, she felt her heart open and this alone caused parts of her to heal. Charlotte also had the impression that Cleo always settled down on parts of her body that were tense and where the energy flow was blocked or something seemed to be jammed. It was obvious to Charlotte that it was not only the warmth of the cat’s body that started to flow but also healing energy.

Also during those days Charlotte worked on some strenuous projects. She had published the announcement of the 'Origin and Function of Sexual Abuse in our Society' seminar series at Synergia. The text of the announcement alone had inspired heated discussions. The board of directors, who considered their company as progressive and a leader of society, had announced their participation and announced their attendance, without exception.

One night Charlotte went to bed late, dead tired from several days’ exhausting work. She slid into a terrible nightmare, which she wasn’t able to shake off. She felt herself breaking into a sweat, and helplessly tried to wake up, but she couldn’t free herself from being pulled into the nightmare. She saw herself standing, quite lost, in a yard she didn’t know. She felt as if she had been in shock for weeks. One part of her was sailing up there with the fluffy white clouds in the dark blue sky. That part seemed calm and relaxed, looking down on her, Sarah, as she stood there. The long black hair fell in long soft curls over her shoulders. Charlotte could see Sarah in her dream and at the same time she was Sarah.

Sarah held her face to the sun and asked herself why she felt so calm. Maybe she was already dead? At any rate, she didn’t have a mind of her own any more. She was at Hans’s mercy, for better or worse. She followed him mindlessly through the day, waiting for his orders. For example now, when Hans came out of the house and signalled her to come over. One short order, 'Sarah!' Sarah moved without hesitation or thinking, unable to act in any other way. For a moment she asked herself whether there was any deeper significance in this perverse game.

Hans marched towards the cellar and as Sarah followed him down the steps she watched his sun-tanned, strong neck. She knew that there was a man living in the cellar, or perhaps he was incarcerated there? She had seen him once from a distance. He probably wasn’t Jewish, but he had the aura of an intellectual person. She had been astonished to see what Hans was doing with him.

With a dominant gesture, Hans gave her to understand to wait in the first room of the cellar. Suddenly she knew by intuition what was going to happen. But she couldn’t feel sorry, nor could she feel compassion. She only felt burnt out, empty and cold. She didn’t even wonder why Hans enjoyed her being present in this. So she just waited in this warm, well-lit, grey cellar and felt nothing apart from a tiny shiver of fear. She didn’t hear anything either, but when she heard Hans’s boots on the cement floor, she knew that the other man was dead. Hans obviously hadn’t shot him, but must have chosen some silent way of killing him.

She didn’t have long to muse about these things, because now she was ordered to undress. Hans had a way of giving and enforcing out orders that suggested they were sensible – perhaps to some extent unpleasant, but for the good of everyone present. He indicated that she needed to be taught a lesson and came towards her with his fist extended. When confronted with her strength and her well-sculpted abdomen he shuddered. Then he started to punch her in the stomach. By combining muscle tensing and breathing, Sarah was able to avoid being injured but she could not avoid the pain. She suddenly had the image of the Amazon in her head, the one she had dreamed of the other night. By letting the images of this strong, well-trained woman flow by her inner eyes, she felt a new strength rising in her.

Hans became more and more irritated. He couldn’t comprehend this. His restricted way of thinking prevented him from understanding that this strength had its origin in another life, in another time. Even if he could not consciously comprehend that this breathing technique came from a matriarchal culture, he did feel something that for him was unbelievable. Confused, he stopped beating her.

While she hastily put her clothes back on, she could feel his glances and it chased anxious shivers down her back. He would punish her for her strength. When he got up she followed him out of the cellar. She kept her distance but stayed within ordering distance. Something had happened to her down in the cellar. She had been shocked out of her numbness. The pain and the tension in her stomach muscles seemed to have revived an important element in her.

Feelings of horror spread inside her. She suddenly became aware of the things Hans and his comrades were doing around her. While she was confined to the house most of the time, cleaning and serving, she was now absolutely certain that the men around her were playing with suffering, torture and death, a cruel, ghastly game with other people, Jewish people. She also suddenly realised that the insecurity that Hans had felt in the cellar, when her inner strength was revived out of the blue and became evident in trained muscles, would endanger her. It could even be her death sentence. If she wanted to survive she would have to act at once. The perverse game Hans had been playing with her had turned serious.

Charlotte woke the next morning with a dull grey fear in her heart. She was covered in sweat and felt she had to take immediate action to flee this dangerous situation. The thankful, secure feeling of the Beltane ritual was gone, along with the joy about her meeting with Christiane, and the experience of feeling the energy flow deblocked in a woman who was a complete stranger. Now only fear and a dull, terrible desperation filled her mind. Last night’s dream was clear in her mind and the memory of that led her once again to feel the horror she had experienced in her dream. It was rare for her to remember her dreams so vividly.

She tried hard to wake up completely and to shake off the dream. With a lot of effort she got up. The dream seemed to have pulled the ground out from underneath her feet. She took a hot shower until she felt warm. Then she sat down to meditate. Once she was relaxed, she became aware of the grey, dull void in her abdomen. She tried to send light, love and warmth into her belly and this seemed to ease the greyness a little, but she remained emotionally very unstable.

The days that followed exhausted her. She dragged herself through each day, feeling deeply unsettled. If she was scheduled to coach new groups during the day, she almost panicked in the morning, feeling totally incompetent. It was a surprise to her that the coaching sessions seemed to be successful, no doubt due to her routine. The days cost her a lot of strength and energy and she was always glad to retire in the evenings, thinking her bed a safe place to relax. But once there, the dreams tortured her: again and again, images of Sarah appeared in her dreams.

Christiane called her for two more treatments. Once they met for a long walk through the frosty autumnal forest. Anona ran around them happily. She was perfectly obedient and Charlotte could feel the beginning of a loving connection growing between owner and dog. The long walk relaxed Charlotte and they walked in silence most of the time, only interrupted by short dialogues about their respective jobs, the nature around them or several times about Anona. Christiane told Charlotte that she had started a Tai Chi course. To begin with she talked slowly and haltingly, but she soon became more animated telling about her experiences and the people she had met there. After the walk, Charlotte once again gave Christiane a treatment and she could feel that the energy in her now flowed more constantly and that her heart chakra seemed to be slowly warming up.

The next few weeks passed quietly for Charlotte, her projects and group mediations running smoothly. She didn’t have that much work and so she submitted herself with self-discipline to a very strict sports programme and meditations mornings and evenings. By keeping this routine up she came slowly back into her own. If not for those nightly dreams of Sarah, she would have said she felt very well. These dreams deeply unsettled her and she felt herself in a very unstable emotional balance.

Then one morning Charlotte once again awoke soaked in sweat and with a terrified trembling in her soul. Images of black leather boots, stamping brutally in step, burnt behind her eyelids and reverberated in her ears. She curled her body tightly but the soaking-wet nightie clung cold and wet to her body. The fear became dull and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Her troubled mind started to bombard her with worries about the work piling up on her desk and apprehension of her next presentation. She started to sweat again. Sighing – almost whimpering – she got up, took of the wet nightie, had a wash and rubbed herself warm with a towel before pulling on a warm and soft sweater. Then she lit a candle in the kitchen and made herself a cup of Pai Mu Tan tea.

The soft, hot taste in her mouth calmed her but once more the images of violence caused by people in uniform passed through her mind. She remembered women crying, children desperately sobbing, and men laughing cruelly. There was also one cutting and harsh woman's voice. But the images seemed to be slipping away, the sounds she remembered becoming diffuse. The more she tried to grasp them, the more her memory seemed to empty, until all that remained was a cold, torturing fear.

Charlotte shuddered. She lit an incense stick before the figurine of the dancing Shiva. Then she sat down in front of the white Tara in her meditation room and asked for inner peace. Cleo came in and climbed onto her lap and leaned against her belly. This small body managed to emit an astonishing amount of warmth and Cleo seemed to fill the cold empty void inside her with her warming purring. Charlotte sighed deeply, laid her hands on Cleo’s body, and closed her eyes. Although she did not really manage to concentrate, all of a sudden she felt the inner peace she had hoped for. Deep inside her there was still tension caused by fear, which made it impossible for her to concentrate fully and to let go, but nevertheless she felt peaceful enough to meet the day. Today was 31 October, Samhain, the darkest of the Celtic annual cycle feasts. As this feast was about accepting the darkness inside and outside, it was very important for Charlotte to celebrate with other women. She decided to join Barbara’s group, who always celebrated Samhain in a cave in the middle of the forest.

That evening the women gathered in the forest. There were a lot of them and Charlotte blended into the group, almost unnoticed. Despite greeting those she knew and embracing some of them, Charlotte realised that most of them wouldn’t remember her later. Her power totem in the east was the fox, whose abilities she could trust blindly. Due to the way he could blend into the shimmering twilight at the edge of the woods, she would be able to melt into the group almost unnoticed. She would be seen but wouldn’t be noticed.

When the women had all greeted each other, they started walking into the woods. Charlotte once again marvelled about all those women walking without hesitation into the pitch-black darkness on a very muddy path. They turned left in the woods and slowly started to climb down through the rustling leaves, step by step. Nobody spoke. A profound silence fell over the forest, broken only by the rustling footsteps and the occasional murmured warning of a slippery log, a big stone, or a dip in the path.

Once in front of the cave they came to a stop. Its entrance opened black and silent before them, like a huge dark throat. Charlotte shivered. Everyone filed into the cave and squatted on the floor, close together. Slowly but rhythmically, they began to beat the drums. At first it was subdued but soon the beating of the drums vibrated throughout the cave and filled it completely. The darkness was so complete that they couldn’t see each other’s faces. Darkness, a void, the bare, cold earth: only the rhythmic solace of the drums gave them hope.

Then the drums stopped. Silence. Nothing. The women kept silent too, everyone lost in her own thoughts. Samhain. Remembering those who had died this year. Thoughts about loss and mourning during the year. The void, darkness, coldness, winter, death. Seeking to honour and respect the ghosts and peers. Respect for new beginnings, which could only issue from death.

One after another the women started to talk now. Some spoke hesitatingly, several full of sorrow, others more loudly and decisively. A few managed only a subdued whispering. They spoke about their losses in the past year, of death and dying, illness and inner difficulties. They talked about growing old and old age, of fear, of their struggle to accept death, illness and age. Others talked about the hope of the promised new beginning. About their hope that the circle would fulfil itself, their struggle to understand that from pain could grow happiness, and from sorrow and suffering could grow life and joy. Often you could hear their doubts. The big question, why did it have to be like that? Why was it necessary to have disease, old age, sorrow, desperation?