The Celestine Prophecy: An Adventure (26 page)

“The Manuscript says all this?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “and the point about the number of children is highly stressed.”

I felt confused. “Why is the number of children one has important?”

She glanced at me for an instant as she drove. “Because any one adult can only focus on and give attention to one child at a time. If there are too many children for the number of adults, then the adults become over-whelmed and unable to give enough energy. The children begin to compete with each other for the adult’s time.”

“Sibling rivalry,” I said.

“Yes, but the Manuscript says that this problem is more important than people think. Adults often glamorize the idea of large families and children growing up together. But children should learn the world from adults, not from other children. In too many cultures, children are running in gangs. The Manuscript says humans will slowly understand that they should not bring children into the world unless there is at least one adult committed to focus full attention, all of the time, on each child.” “But wait a minute,” I said. “In many situations both parents must work to survive. This denies them the right to have children.”

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “The Manuscript says humans will learn to extend their families beyond blood ties. So that someone else is able to provide one on one attention. All the energy does not have to come from the parents alone. In fact, it is better if it does not. But whoever cares for the children must provide this one on one attention.”

“Well,” I said, “you’ve done something right. Mareta certainly seems mature.”

Karla frowned and said, “Don’t tell me, tell her.”

“Oh, right.” I looked at the child. “You act very grown-up, Mareta.”

She looked away shyly for a moment, then said, “Thank you.” Karla hugged her warmly.

Karla looked at me proudly. “For the last two years I have been trying to relate to Mareta according to the Manuscript’s guidelines, haven’t I, Mareta?”

The child smiled and nodded.

“I have tried to give her energy and to always tell her the truth of every situation in language she can understand. When she asked the questions a young child asks, I treated them very seriously, avoiding the temptation of giving her a fanciful answer which is plainly for the entertainment of adults.”

I smiled. “Do you mean untruths like, ‘storks bring babies,’ that sort of thing?”

“Yes, but these cultural expressions aren’t so bad. Children figure these out quickly because they stay the same. Worse are the distortions created on the spot by adults just because they want to have a little fun, and because they believe the truth is too complicated for a child to comprehend. But this is not right; the truth can always be expressed at a child’s level of understanding. It just takes some thought.”

“What does the Manuscript say about this issue?”

“It says we should always find a way to tell a child the truth.”

Part of me resisted this idea. I was one who enjoyed kidding around with children.

“Don’t kids usually understand that adults are just playing?” I said. “All this seems to make them grow up too fast and take some of the fun out of childhood.”

She looked at me sternly. “Mareta is full of fun. We chase and tumble and play all the childhood fantasy games. The difference is that when we are fantasizing, she knows it.”

I nodded. She was right, of course.

“Mareta seems confident,” Karla continued, “because I was there for her. I gave her one on one attention when she needed-it. And if I wasn’t there, my sister, who lives next door, was there. She always had an adult to answer her questions, and because she has had this sincere attention, she has never felt she had to act out or show off. She has always had enough energy and that makes her assume she will continue to have enough, which makes the transition from receiving energy from adults to getting it from the universe—which we already talk about—much easier for her to grasp.”

I noticed the terrain outside. We were traveling through deep jungle now and though I couldn’t see it, I knew the sun was low in the afternoon sky.

“Can we get to Iquitos tonight?” I asked.

“No,” Karla said. “But we can stay at a house I know.”

“Near here?” I asked.

“Yes, it is the house of a friend. He works for the wildlife service.”

“He works for the government?”

“Some of the Amazon is a protected area. He is the local agent, but influential. His name is Juan Hinton. Do not worry. He believes in the Manuscript and they have never bothered him.”

By the time we arrived, the sky was completely dark. Around us the jungle was alive with night sounds, the air muggy. A large well-lit, wood frame house stood at the end of a clearing in the dense foliage. Nearby were two large buildings and several jeeps. Another vehicle was up on blocks and two men worked around lights underneath.

A thin Peruvian, dressed in expensive clothing, answered Karla’s knock and smiled at her until he noticed Marjorie, Mareta and myself waiting on the steps. His face turned nervous and displeased as he talked to her in Spanish. She said something pleadingly in return, but his mannerism and inflection indicated that he did not want us to stay.

Then, through the crack in the door, I noticed a lone female figure standing in the foyer. I moved a little to bring her face into view. It was Julia. As I looked, she turned her head and saw me, then quickly walked forward with a surprised look on her face. She touched the shoulder of the man at the door and said something quietly into his ear. The man nodded, then opened the door with a look of resignation. We all introduced ourselves as Hinton led the way into the den area. Julia looked at me and said, “We meet again.” She wore khaki pants with pockets on the legs and a bright red t-shirt.

“Yes we do,” I said.

A Peruvian servant stopped Hinton, and after talking for a minute, the two walked into another part of the house. Julia sat in a chair by a coffee table and motioned for the rest of us to sit on a couch across from her. Marjorie appeared panicked. She looked at me intensely. Karla also seemed to be aware of Marjorie’s distress. She walked over and took her by the hand. “Let’s get some hot tea,” she suggested.

As they walked away, Marjorie glanced back at me. I smiled and watched them until they turned the corner into the kitchen, then I turned to face Julia.

“So what do you think it means?” she asked.

“What does what mean?” I replied, still distracted.

“That we have run into each other again.”

“Oh…I don’t know.”

“How did you wind up with Karla and where are you going?”

“She saved us. Marjorie and I had been detained by Peruvian troops. When we escaped, she happened to be there to help us.”

Julia looked intense. “Tell me what occurred.”

I leaned back and told her the whole story, beginning at the point in which I had taken Father Carl’s truck and then all about the capture and our eventual escape.

“And Karla agreed to take you to Iquitos?” Julia asked.

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to go there?”

“That’s where Wil told Father Carl he was going. Wil apparently has a lead about the Ninth Insight. Also, Sebastian is there for some reason.”

Julia nodded. “Yes, Sebastian has a mission near there. It’s where he made his reputation, converting the Indians.”

“What about you?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

Julia told me that she too wanted to find the Ninth Insight, but that she had no leads. She had come to this house after thinking repeatedly of her old friend, Hinton.

I was hardly listening. Marjorie and Karla had walked out of the kitchen and were standing in the hall talking, cups of tea in their hands. Marjorie caught my eye but said nothing.

“Has she read much of the Manuscript?” Julia asked, nodding toward Marjorie.

“Just the Third Insight,” I said.

“We can probably get her out of Peru if that’s what she wants.”

I turned and looked at her. “How?”

“Rolando is leaving tomorrow for Brazil. We have some friends at the American Embassy there. They can get her back to the United States. We have helped other Americans this way.”

I looked at her and nodded tentatively. I realized I was having mixed feelings about what she had said. Part of me knew that leaving would be best for Marjorie. But another part wanted her to stay, to remain with me. I felt changed, energized, when she was around.

“I think I need to talk with her,” I finally said.

“Of course,” Julia replied. “We can talk later.”

I got up and walked toward her. Karla was heading back toward the kitchen. Marjorie stepped around the corner of the hall out of sight. When I walked up, she was leaning back against the wall.

I pulled Marjorie into my arms. My body pulsated.

“Feel that energy?” I asked, whispering into her ear.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. We have some kind of connection.”

I glanced around. No one could see us. We kissed passionately.

When I pulled back to look at her face, she looked different, stronger somehow, and I thought back to the day we had met at Viciente and to the conversation in the restaurant at Cula. I couldn’t believe the amount of energy I felt in her presence and when she touched me.

She held me tightly. “Since that day at Viciente,” she said, “I’ve wanted to be with you. I didn’t know what to think about it then, but the energy is wonderful. I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Karla walking up, smiling. She told us that dinner was ready so we made our way into the dining room and found a huge buffet of fresh fruits and vegetables and breads. Everyone served their plates and sat around a large table. After Mareta sang a blessing song we spent an hour and a half eating and talking casually. Hinton had lost his nervousness and he set a light-hearted mood which helped to ease the tension of our escape. Marjorie was talking freely and laughing. Sitting beside her filled me with warm love.

After dinner, Hinton took us back into the den where a custard dessert was served with a sweet liqueur. Marjorie and I sat on the couch and fell into a long conversation about our pasts and significant life experiences. We seemed to grow closer and closer. The only difficulty we discovered was that she lived on the west coast and I resided in the south. Later Marjorie dismissed the problem and laughed heartily.

“I can’t wait until we get back to the United States,” she said. “We’ll have so much fun traveling back and forth.”

I sat back and gave her a serious look. “Julia said she could arrange a way for you to go home now.”

“You mean both of us, don’t you?” she replied.

“No, I…I can’t go.”

“Why?” she asked, “I can’t leave without you. But I can’t stand to stay here any longer either. I’ll go crazy.”

“You’ll have to go on ahead. I’ll be able to leave soon.”

“No!” she said loudly. “I can’t stand that!”

Karla, who was walking back into the den from putting Mareta in bed, glanced toward us, then looked quickly away. Hinton and Julia were still talking, seemingly oblivious to Marjorie’s outburst.

“Please,” Marjorie said. “Let’s just go home.”

I looked away.

“Okay, fine!” she said. “Stay!” She stood and walked briskly toward the bedroom area.

My gut wrenched as I watched Marjorie walk away. The energy I had gained with her collapsed, and I suddenly felt weak and confused. I tried to shake it off. After all, I told myself, I hadn’t known her that long. On the other hand, I thought, maybe she was correct. Maybe I should just go home. What difference could I make here anyway? Back at home I could perhaps marshal some support for the Manuscript, and stay alive, as well. I stood up and started to follow her down the hall, but for some reason I sat back down. I couldn’t decide what to do.

“May I join you for a minute?” Karla was suddenly asking. I hadn’t noticed that she was standing beside the sofa.

“Sure,” I said.

She sat down and looked at me with regard. “I couldn’t help overhearing what is going on,” she said. “And I thought that before you made your decision, you might want to hear what the Eighth Insight says about addictions to people.”

“Yes, please, I want to know what that means.”

“When one first learns to be clear and to engage one’s evolution, any of us can be stopped, suddenly, by an addiction to another person.”

“You’re speaking of Marjorie and me, aren’t you?”

“Let me explain the process,” she said. “And you judge for yourself.”

“Okay.”

“First, let me say that I had a very hard time with this part of the insight. I don’t think I would have ever understood if I had not met Professor Reneau.”

“Reneau?!” I exclaimed. “I know him. We met when I was learning the Fourth Insight.”

“Well,” she said, “we met when we both had reached the Eighth Insight. He stayed at my house for several days.”

I nodded in amazement.

“He said that the idea of an addiction, as used in the Manuscript, explains why power struggles arise in romantic relationships. We’ve always wondered what causes the bliss and euphoria of love to end, to suddenly turn into conflict, and now we know. It is a result of the flow of energy between the individuals involved.

“When love first happens, the two individuals are giving each other energy unconsciously and both people feel buoyant and elated. That’s the incredible high we all call being “in love.” Unfortunately, once they expect this feeling to come from the other person, they cut themselves off from the energy in the universe and begin to rely even more on the energy from each other—only now there doesn’t seem to be enough and so they stop giving each other energy and fall back into their dramas in an attempt to control each other and force the other’s energy their way. At this point the relationship degenerates into the usual power struggle.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if checking whether I understood, then added, “Reneau told me that our susceptibility to this kind of addiction can be described psychologically, if that will help you understand?”