Читать книгу Solstices - Crisalis . - Страница 7

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?

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.