Читать книгу: «Solstices», страница 3

It fell silent again in the cave. It seemed to Charlotte as if the goddess kept her silence about this eternal question, the one that hovers over mankind and was now also hovering above the women in the cave. The cave silently breathed blackness and dampness. Charlotte hadn’t shared anything about herself, had kept silent. She could still feel the fox inside her, watching out of sight. And her heart totem, the lynx, seemed to stand beside her, also very quiet and secretive. Charlotte snuggled against the stone walls of the cave, protected by her warm jacket so she didn’t feel the cold. She thought about her fears, about those frequently returning nightmares. Should she share those? She made contact with the earth beneath her and closed her eyes for a moment. In silence, the women began to leave the cave one by one. They would light a small fire on the hill above and share the food and goodies they had brought. That way, they would share their sorrows and console each other.

Charlotte stayed behind. Suddenly she was all alone in the dark cave. Total darkness and absolute silence surrounded her. From a small passage that led down into the deeper parts of the cave there was a cool draught. She felt fear rising in her and reaching for her heart, sensed how the endless darkness of the earth reached out for her and panic rose within her. She forced herself to breathe deeply.

'Calm, calm. Feel the earth under you. Feel the stability. Call the goddess.'

Suddenly Charlotte felt that there was another presence in the cave. Once again panic spread through her veins. She felt hands grabbing her. Something touched her cheek. Images of naked backs beaten bloody, of mass graves – grey in grey, everything that passed before her mind’s eye, only the rhythmic stamping leather boots were shining black. Then that face again. Sarah. Large, sad – no, empty – eyes. Resignation. Denial. Sarah. How did she know that this woman who kept turning up in her dreams was called Sarah? Cold shivers were running down her spine. She tried to grab Sarah and embrace her protectively, but she couldn’t reach her. Sarah only stared mutely, imploring and out of reach.

Charlotte suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in her abdomen. Then she understood. Sarah, this woman, was part of herself, a part that suffered terrible pain and profound sorrow. Was this woman a symbol for the suppressed pain in herself, or was she a former incarnation? Today was Samhain and that meant the line between the worlds was at its thinnest. It was possible that on this day energies from other times and other worlds could get through to her.

All of a sudden Charlotte heard the women singing as if from far away. One voice stood out clearly and the full sound allowed her to come back to reality. She managed to tear herself out of her frightened immobility. 'Please Goddess, help', she murmured. She repeated it once more, this time strong and clear, 'Goddess help me'. Now the cave seemed to receive her petition. She felt power, trust and a welcoming. In a low but clear voice she recited the mantra of the goddess:

Goddess, Mother of all being,

You, who are in everything that is.

Let me feel your power.

Let me recognise that I am part of nature, connected with all beings,

Nurture me with your gifts,

Purify, fortify and heal me.

Fill my heart with love, light and joy.

Take away my fear

And release me from envy and destruction.

May your almighty presence and power

Shine in me, through me and around me

In eternity.

Amen

While reciting the mantra of the goddess, she heard a whisper at her ear,

'Write, write down the story of Sarah'.

The whisper came only once, almost inaudible, but those words fell softly into her heart. She felt relieved. Of course, that was what she should do. She took a candle and an incense stick out of her bag. After lighting both she placed them before the holy stone of the goddess at the northern wall of the cave. Then she addressed all four cardinal points and thanked the four elements. Slowly she left the cave. On the hilltop she melted into the group of women unnoticed and shed her fox identity. Now she was able to celebrate, eat, laugh and talk. Later tonight she would begin to write. She would write down Sarah’s story. The first dream was clear in her mind. She would write it down tonight and let it be the start of the story.

Whenever Charlotte found time and space in the following weeks, she wrote about Sarah. Some of her dreams were very clear before her inner eyes: the cruel games Hans and his friends played with the people at their disposal; the scene in the cellar. Charlotte did not always understand every part of the dreams. She wrote down what she remembered. Sometimes the line between dream and narration dissolved. There were times when she could no longer say whether she was remembering a dream, or whether something inside her had begun to write, if the Sarah in her had started to document her story. Charlotte was relieved to find the dreams stopped coming once she started to write down the story. She was able to sleep through the nights, and to regain strength. On the whole she became calmer and more relaxed and once again found the courage and energy to heal.

Twice she went to see Christiane. It was astonishing to watch the changes in Christiane. Charlotte was aware that it was not her who healed. She could only trigger something that was hidden in people, something that was blocked. Sometimes she could push a little, give the first shove and a person suddenly managed to get going and to start healing.

That is what happened with Thomas. Thomas was a former colleague she used to meet for an occasional beer in the pub after work. One day she was told that he was in hospital following a kidney transplant. The transplant had been successful but he had been subjected to so many immunosuppressive injections that he had developed lymphatic cancer. She had already visited him once or twice and talked to him on the phone and was therefore well aware of the bad prognosis. She had spoken to him about laying on hands and meridian massage now and again, but he had always seemed sceptical. He didn’t give the impression of wanting to be treated and he had never actually asked her about it.

When she visited him in hospital she felt an indefinable fear of being helpless and unable to do anything, not even to talk to him about it. If she was quite honest with herself she was expecting to say her final goodbye. She went up to his floor, asked for his room number and noticed how reluctantly she walked towards his door. Thomas was alone in the room. He was tired and resigned, but happy to see her. The room smelled of medicine and hospital. Thomas was pale and his skin seemed to be bloated and greasy. Outside the sun was shining on the freshly fallen snow.

'Let’s go outside.' Thomas suggested.

'Of course, if that’s possible.' Charlotte was relieved because the atmosphere in the room was oppressive.

'Who should forbid me to leave the room?' Thomas asked sharply and Charlotte shrank back guiltily. They walked silently through the wintry grounds. Thomas bitterly complained that they had given him medication that they knew could cause cancer, but had told him that he had to take it anyway. That now he actually had cancer and couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was a guinea pig for the physicians. One male nurse had told him that the privately insured patients were given different medication. Charlotte kept silent. She felt his bitterness, but also his resignation and his fear.

They turned automatically into the park. Sun and snow had turned it into a fairyland. The snow crunched under their feet. A robin sang its winter song. A blackbird sat in a bush near the pond and sang its beautiful and sad song. All of a sudden, Charlotte could no longer accept that life was both immensely beautiful and at the same time cruel, painful and fear-inspiring. They watched a frozen leaf sailing to the ground, its edges covered in glimmering icicles.

'One of the nurses told me that last year a patient who had terminal illness got well by watching the leaves falling outside his window. All he did was watch the leaves falling.' Thomas halted pensively. 'Perhaps, if I just stand here and marvel at these icicles, don’t do anything else…' His voice was getting quieter and quieter. 'Do you think that’s possible?'

'Yes, I think that’s always possible,' agreed Charlotte and a tingling sensation went through her body. They were silent for some time, then Charlotte pushed herself to say, 'Thomas, I would like to treat you. I don’t know if it will make a difference, but it can’t do any damage. '

Now Thomas nodded. He didn’t say anything but he did nod.

'Let’s go to my flat. I had planned to ask you to accompany me there anyway. It isn’t far.'

When they reached the flat Thomas turned up the heating, made tea and watered his plants. After drinking their tea, Charlotte asked Thomas to lie down. She sat down by the bed and put her hands on his feet. Almost at once there was a strong current that seemed to suck at her until she was almost dizzy. Her teacher had warned her of this and made her promise that if she treated people with cancer she would only ever put her hands on their feet and only for as long as it felt okay. Charlotte didn’t know if this dizziness was 'feeling okay'. She concentrated on her crown chakra, opened it to the universe and asked for light, love and healing energy and with all her might send it through Thomas’s feet, his lymphatic lines and lymphatic nodes, which were both full of cancer, up to his head.

After fifteen minutes she felt she couldn’t take any more, she had to stop. She stroked down to his feet and finished in laying her hands on the stone floor. She concentrated on letting all the energy that didn’t belong to her flow into the floor. When she opened her eyes Thomas was looking at her. He smiled and there was a small light in his eyes. Charlotte swallowed and when she began to speak she didn’t know where the words came from, but it was her voice that said,

'Thomas, whether you live or die is not decided by the physicians in the hospital. Perhaps they can’t even influence at all whether you live or die. You and you alone decide to live or die. It is probably not your conscious ego that makes this decision, but certainly your inner self. You have to decide, you have to want to live and you have to fight for it.'

Thomas looked at her wide-eyed but the former doubts had vanished from his eyes.

'You must demand to be given the other medication, no matter how expensive it is. It’s your life that’s at stake. Refuse to take the medicine you’ve been given so far.'

'Yes,' Thomas answered, and continued with increasing enthusiasm, 'I’ll ask the young assistant physician again. He’s already talked to me about it. I think he wanted to change my medication anyway, but of course he wasn’t allowed to make that decision on his own.'

'But he will be able to tell you the correct name and the dose you ought to be given, which will enable you to make a definite demand!'

Suddenly there was an atmosphere of hope in the room. 'And what’s more, you should consult my own healer, Barbara. She’s taught me, and she’ll be able to help you and treat you better than I ever could. I think your disease is beyond my abilities. I can only give you what I’ve given you today. I can’t do any more.'

Thomas seemed to understand. He was going to stay in his flat for a while longer after Charlotte left. He wanted to enjoy the feelings he had experienced and to strengthen them before he returned to the hospital and its oppressive atmosphere.

'Call me if you need my support, and call Barbara first thing tomorrow morning.'

Charlotte left convinced that a miracle had just taken place. Her whole body was filled with a warm sensation and she felt a deep thankfulness. As she went back through the park, the blackbird was still singing. Charlotte knew that she had not healed Thomas, but she had triggered something in him. Now he would seek ways to get well and perhaps he would find healing. Suddenly she realised that perhaps his life had just been saved and a bright joyful laugh bubbled up in her throat.

Winter Solstice

21 December

Earth is sleeping

∞Darkness∞

∞We light a candle in the dark∞

∞to heal and to love∞

∞May love and healing grow, when the days become longer∞

Long nights, short days. The season of darkness. We fight the cold and hold our own against the damp darkness, cold rain or fog. Sometimes we can’t accept the fact that darkness is setting in sooner every day, and we are robbed of daylight. Society as a whole is subject to apparently pointless and aimless, stressful activity as if the end of the year marks the end of everything. Is this heightened activity perhaps some kind of way of escaping the darkness? We flood our towns with lights, decoration and music and keep wondering why the darkness still remains cold in us.

The winter solstice. This ritual is not about extinguishing darkness with light and candles, but about honouring the longest night and darkness, the darkness in us. Darkness is not simply void, cold and threatening. Darkness and night consist of many different dimensions, all of which are going to be looked into tonight. Only if there is darkness will there be light. From darkness we can gather hope, if we manage to feel the darkness and respect it. Based on this acceptance, we can now light a candle, a light for healing and love. The more we accept darkness, the more candles we will be able to light for ourselves and for others.

From this day onwards the light is coming back, and daylight will last a little longer every day. We cannot really notice it yet, we can’t see it, but we know the days are continually getting longer. Our healing can grow in just the same way, our love for all beings, if we feed it enough.

Ritual for winter solstice: We form a circle. The room is dark or we draw the curtains and darken the room once everyone has taken her place in the circle. The centre point is one large candle. Everyone has brought three candles, which have been arranged to form an inner circle. We start by meditating about darkness: darkness in nature, darkness in us. What does darkness feel like if we try to feel it? It is possible to conduct this first part outside in the dark. Then we return to the warm room.

Everyone now lights their three candles: the first for a place on earth that needs love and healing, the second will be dedicated to a person, an animal or a plant in need of healing and the third candle is lit for ourselves. If you like, you can name your wishes aloud. Finally the large candle is lit: May all living creatures of this earth find healing and love.

And again there has to be a festive meal and celebrations after the ritual…

Position of Solstice in the Annual Cycle: Samhain sent us into the season of darkness. We met and honoured our ancestors, but also suffering, illness and death. This day we have reached the mid-point of the dark season, and we honour darkness. If today we can bring love, joy and healing into our world with our candles, we are laying the foundations for the returning sun at Candlemas to give a bright light to our visions, which we will use to make plans and colour our future brightly.

The snow that brightened the days in mid-November quickly melted and Charlotte found it extremely difficult this year to cope with the long, dark days. This never-ending, cold rain! If it would at least start to snow! And winter had only just begun. It was difficult for Charlotte to pass on love and joy in these dark months of the year, when she was summoned to give healing treatments. She often used candles, hot-water bottles and incense sticks and she had to concentrate very hard in order to channel light and warmth from the universe and send it through her hands to the person she treated. Fortunately not many people called on her for help and she was convinced that this was no mere coincidence.

But the first seminar at Synergia on the topic of Sexual Abuse was scheduled for this dark and, for her, difficult time of the year. On the morning of the seminar she first felt terribly nervous, but when she was finally standing in front of approximately 100 participants she felt quite calm. She suddenly felt the power, calm and energy which she always felt when she followed her inner truth, and knew she was doing the right thing. She was aware that what she was doing now was very important and good.

She started with a short introduction, more or less repeating the text in the seminar invitation, along with some more background information. She had come to the conclusion that the facts that the participants already knew would give them some degree of security at the beginning. After reading the text, most had already discussed it with colleagues and so Charlotte was able to avoid the defence mechanisms generated by unknown facts.

She reported that patriarchal, dictatorial and/or abusive structures in general only work if a person is uprooted and bare of any self-confidence and self-esteem.

'The earlier children are robbed of their self-confidence, the more permanent this condition will be later in life as men and women. Only a person that has been deeply disconcerted and uprooted will let herself/himself be completely controlled, dominated, taken advantage of and abused. This applies for both men and women.'

Charlotte paused for a minute and glanced around the room. The faces before her showed tension but were full of concentration. She told them that, in her opinion, men were almost as prone to this as women, because boys usually had less opportunity to develop their own original emotions, spirituality and inner strength.

She was astonished to note that the head of Human Resources was nodding vigorously and had to repress a smile as she went on to explain that, later on, male energy tended to inflict pain on others and thus converted victim into abuser.

'In contrast to men, women are often able to find their ability of eternal renewal and their spirituality by bearing and giving birth to children. This may include the actual as well the possible ability and creativity.'

Charlotte registered many sceptical faces, but she refused to let herself be disconcerted.

'Women experience 'eternal' life through the life given to their children, in social engagements or in creating art. Men uprooted by the patriarchy feel their existence threatened by this ability and power that women have – the so-called birth-giving envy – and therefore try to subdue women by force. Apparently this urge to subdue women can become so strong that it has to be ritually repeated again and again, such as the continuous abuse of his own daughter (or teacher of a pupil, cleric of a child in his congregation). The abuse of boys can occur either as a kind of substitute activity (the young male body as the symbol of femininity) or it can become a ritual to destroy anything male that is different, softer, more emotional, more powerful and spiritual than is accepted in patriarchalism.'

At this point Charlotte paused and glanced around the room. Most faces were watching her with concentration, some trying to look neutral or even disinterested. In the very last row a woman Charlotte had never seen before smiled at her. Charlotte swallowed and continued, Now, seven hypotheses can be postulated about sexual abuse, and I would like to discuss these with you in this series of seminars starting today.' She turned around and switched on the projector to display the first hypothesis on the wall:

Hypothesis 1:

Sexual abuse of women and girls is an important tool of patriarchal society to subdue women in society.

 Sexual abuse suffered in childhood will generate a deep basic fear in women which causes them to be dependent on others, less mobile and on the whole more careful and shy. The trauma causes them to lose self-confidence and their connection to the earth. Therefore their 'foothold' or stand is figuratively and literally less stable and this automatically makes them succumb to everything stronger and male.

 The body language of a victim, of a subdued person (head held sideways, permanent smile, 'I don’t really mean it, don’t be angry with me, don’t hurt me') results in the fact that women/girls that have been abused are generally treated as lower members of the group.

The room went absolutely silent. Suddenly Charlotte felt unsettled. What was she going to do now? She had counted on enraged comments, sharp discussion, even contempt. But there was only silence. The directors of a multinational company were just sitting there, saying nothing.

Charlotte once again glanced around the room and hesitantly said, 'Well, I thought, perhaps we could…'

At this moment the woman sitting in the last row came to her rescue.

'May I make a suggestion?'

Charlotte nodded gratefully. The woman hurried along the centre aisle and stopped in the middle of the room.

'I suggest we form groups of five to discuss these hypotheses. Each group should try to decide whether they can basically agree with the hypothesis or whether they generally disagree, and give a short explanation of the reasons.'

With that she marched towards the first rows of chairs and organised the turning of chairs to form groups of five that could then start to discuss the hypothesis at hand.

The room was suddenly filled with the noise of chairs being dragged around. The tension had evaporated and everyone started to talk at once. Suddenly Muehlin appeared at Charlotte’s side and grumbled,

'I wasn’t informed that our colleague Ms Rottach was sharing the organisation of this seminar with you.'

Before Charlotte could even open her mouth to answer, the woman herself hurried across the room and called,

'Ah Muehlin, look there are only four people in that group over there. Would you please join them?'

She nudged the slightly surprised Muehlin towards the farthest corner of the room and turned to Charlotte.

'Rottach, Elisabeth Rottach. Glad to meet you at last, Ms Lesab.'

Charlotte smiled, 'My pleasure, and it’s Charlotte. You can’t imagine how glad I am to meet you. I haven’t got a clue who you are, but you saved me just now.'

'Oh, you’d have managed, but I’m always glad to be of assistance. The seminar has been super up to now. Excellent texts. Did you compose them yourself?'

Charlotte just about managed to nod in agreement before her co-worker rushed away again to join a discussion group herself.

While everyone was engaged in discussion Charlotte put up several flip charts. Half an hour later, when the discussion seemed less lively, she asked the different groups to come to the front and write down why they agreed or disagreed with the hypothesis. In the end, 16 out of 20 groups wrote their results on the flipcharts. Five had flatly rejected the hypothesis, saying it was 'not detailed enough, too farfetched, not in any way logical, not understandable.' Seven groups had actually accepted the hypothesis and took Charlotte by surprise with their reasons: 'seems logical, explains a lot, daring hypothesis but worth looking into, makes sense.' The remaining groups had written down 'indecision, perhaps', or 'we are not sure'.

Charlotte ended the seminar for the day. 'I would like to thank all of you for taking such an active part today. This is not about who is right or wrong, or whose opinion gets through. This seminar is simply about talking about abuse, to break the taboo status of this topic and to enable the participants of this seminar to form their own opinion.'

She was applauded a bit, but the room emptied fast even the directors left very quickly. While Charlotte was packing up she wondered if she would receive any feedback from the management. Probably everyone would have to consider what they had heard today. Once again, Elisabeth Rottach appeared beside her.

'You were wonderful, Charlotte. Congratulations, you have my respect. Such a difficult topic. Our directors are completely out of line again. First they burden you with such a difficult topic and then they disappear after the seminar without a word.'

She snorted, enraged, 'typical, absolutely typical! I had voted against you holding the seminar. I thought they should have hired someone from outside the firm. But you have managed very well. I don’t think it could have been done any better.'

Charlotte looked at her questioningly. 'Who..., where do you work?'

Elisabeth Rottach laughed. 'I’m the head of the staff council, located in Frankfurt. I only returned from a six-month stay in the United States a fortnight ago. That’s why we haven’t met before. I’ve been very keen to meet you! Well, I have to go now. If you need any help whatsoever, before, during or after the seminars, or any other time, please call me.' Charlotte thanked her and finally gathered the rest of her things together.

During the next few days there was no follow-up. Charlotte’s direct colleagues hadn’t been invited to the seminar as only the department heads had been sent. Charlotte told her colleagues about the seminar, but the directors kept their silence and so far she hadn’t got any feedback about whether they had liked or disliked the seminar.

She was looking forward to the winter solstice ritual. Christmas stirred up many difficult, painful or at least diffuse feelings from her childhood. She knew that many people felt like that and so she was looking forward to being with like-minded women to celebrate the feast of love and light in this dark season of the year. When the women of the annual cycle group celebrated the winter solstice on 21 December she was happy to take part. She enjoyed the warm atmosphere among the many women and for the first time in many weeks she really felt like herself again.

When it was her turn to light her three candles, the three good wishes came to mind at once. The candle for a place on earth that needed healing she lit for the oceans which were abused, polluted, maltreated and contaminated. The candle for another person who needed attention and healing was lit for Thomas. As she was about to light the candle for herself, she hesitated. She didn’t know what to say. What did she want to light a candle for? Her hands automatically went through the moves and when the candle caught she heard herself saying, 'For my inner child. I wish you healing, I wish you warm feelings, joy and love in life.' Suddenly she had tears in her eyes.

The women around her were silent. Then Barbara, who was leading the ritual, asked her, 'And how are you going to help her? How are you going to assist her?'

Charlotte was confused. She swallowed and shrugged her shoulders. She looked at the candle’s small flame. Yes, how? What could she do? Suddenly she knew. 'I’ll write down everything I remember. I’ll write down what I remember from childhood!'

Barbara nodded her agreement. That seemed to be the right thing to do. Suddenly Charlotte realised that writing down the Sarah dream hadn’t been enough. She would have to write down her own confusing and partly painful memories, too.

She used the Christmas holidays to sit down with her laptop and write about everything she remembered from her childhood. She wrote in the third person to avoid being overwhelmed by mourning, pain, rage and despair. At intervals she went for walks, went out for a meal with her friends or met in one of their places for a meal or a cup of tea and Christmas biscuits. Suddenly the darkness no longer bothered her. And by the time New Year’s Eve came she had written quite a bit. She reread it from the beginning. Perhaps she would now be able to leave some of the pain behind. That would be a good ending for the year.

Childhood

Charlotte was a quiet and obedient child. She liked to play alone and would wander through the meadows for hours lost in thought, sit at the small creek listening to the murmuring water, or walk through the small stretch of wood near her parents’ house. One of her favourite occupations was to sit and keep very quiet, and when she had managed to reach the land of silence, she would start to talk to animals.

She knew that it was something that you didn’t tell the adults, but she found it quite natural to talk to animals. She knew by intuition that she wasn’t strange or different, but that the others had lost something. The animals knew too. They knew how to distinguish between humans who understood and humans who didn’t understand.

Charlotte’s best friend at that time was Alfons. Alfons was a boxer dog with spit running out of his mouth, but she had quickly got used to that. She had also got used to his short, almost hard coat. Alfons loved to play in the big sand pit as much as she did. Of course he loved to dig up the damp sand where she had just built something. But they quickly came to an understanding, with areas for digging and areas for building. When Charlotte had to go home for lunch, Alfons accompanied her to the street corner. She made sure that he had safely crossed the road before she went in for lunch.

One day, Charlotte’s mother was in the kitchen making lunch. She asked Charlotte who she had been playing with that day. 'Oh, I was playing with Alfons. He’s my best friend.' Her mother was absent-minded and only wondered why someone would call his child Alfons. While she concentrated on her cooking she only half listened to Charlotte telling her that Alfons didn’t understand why he couldn’t chase the horses and why he shouldn’t kill a mouse. He had killed the mouse anyway and she had been angry with him for two days.