The Return (7 page)

"But I don't know how to meditate. Can you teach me now before I return?"

"I will teach you. But you must be taught again while you're in the physical body. You must be taught by a Master. That is very important. There is a new consciousness entering your society, new ideas. Many people call this New Age information. Much of it is useful. Much of it is confusing. The New Age movement speaks of many of the same things I speak of, but there are major differences between what I tell you and what you will find in most New Age books. I will go over these differences with you. Even if you don't remember them consciously while you're in the body, you will have a sense for what is true and that sense will guide you on your path. You will even write about the things I tell you now."

"1 can't imagine that a story about a dragon could bring out any profound truths."

"It all depends on the dragon, Shari. Listen attentively to these points.

Meditation is never an act of mood making. Pure silence, pure consciousness, the eternal side of your nature—it is beyond thought. You cannot talk yourself into it. It comes by grace and by grace alone. But what is grace? How do you make it come? That is where a Master is important. Many in The New Age movement are too anxious to throw off all authority. They say that no one can teach anything, that it is all inside the student. And that is true to a certain extent. On the other hand, to uncover what is inside you must bow at the feet of someone who has already discovered that great treasure. I use the word bow carefully. Because until a person is ready to humble himself and admit that he doesn't know, then he can learn nothing of value. It takes great humility to even approach a Master. These are things the New Age movement sometimes forgets."

"The whole eighteen years I was on Earth, I never saw a Master."

"This time you will. They will begin to appear in the world at this time. They teach techniques: meditation, certain kinds of breathing, physical exercises.

But a technique only points toward the goal. It is not the goal itself. It is like a branch on a tree at nighttime. You can say to a friend, 'Follow the way that branch points and you will see the most wonderful star.' The branch gives direction, but it is not the same as the star. The branch is made of wood, the star is pure energy. Or say you want to eat a bowl of cereal. To do that you need the technique of using a spoon: how to hold it, which end to put in the bowl, how it goes up and into your mouth. The spoon is crucial, but it is the cereal you want. The cereal is the grace. Grace flows from a Master. It has to flow because he embodies that divine love."

"I wish I had been on Earth with you in Egypt," I said.

"You were. You are. You are with me there as much as you are with me now."

I shook my head. "Let's stick to one time frame, please, or I just end up confused."

"If you wish. But sometimes a Master is purposely confusing. He destroys preconceived ideas and beliefs. Always, though, he gives an aspirant a spiritual practice. That is very necessary to do even though many on the physical plane don't think so. They say, 'The time is changing and all will be taken care of.'

They don't want to do any practice. And they are right, to a certain extent. The time is changing. That is why so many Wanderers are beginning to appear on Earth—to help prepare for this change. Mankind is entering a new age where spirituality will dominate. But many fear this change. They have heard about the disasters that are to come. Many so-called prophets say the majority of the world will be wiped out. That is not true. The world has an insurance policy. It has the Masters. There will be disasters, however, to shake things up a little. It can take a needle to remove a thorn. It can take a shaking of the Earth for people not to totally depend on the Earth, to make them look inside. You will write stories about the disasters as well. People will read them and understand that when things appear the darkest, it is a sign that dawn is near. You will write stories of enlightened dragons and aliens, and people will want to learn to meditate. Even though the coming dawn is inevitable, it is good to be awake to enjoy it. Meditation helps with that."

"I am never going to remember all this," I said. "I can't remember half of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter. I see your mind has begun to wander. That is all right—you are a Wanderer, after all." He paused. "You want to see Peter."

I nodded. I knew I could hide nothing from the Rishi. "I miss him."

"Where would you like to see him?"

"What do you mean?"

The Rishi knelt for a moment and picked a red flower that resembled a rose. He gestured to the serene landscape. "I told you, this is all a dream. What would you like to dream with Peter? It can be anything. It can even be that you don't know that it is a dream. Really, that is all human life is. Just a dream people choose to enter into so that they can learn something. But people take it so seriously and become afraid of their own creation. They even fear to wake up.

That is the one lesson humanity most needs to learn in the coming days. That there is no reason to be afraid. That things will work out for the best That God knows what she's doing."

"She?"

He tapped me on the head with his flower. "When I am with you, Shari, you are my God. What universe do you wish to create for you and Peter?"

I considered. Boy did I consider. "It can be anything?"

"Anything."

I blushed; I could feel the blood in my cheeks even though I was a ghost. "Can it be an R-rated creation?"

"Yes."

"I don't want you to watch."

"I won't watch."

I laughed. "You promise?"

"I promise." He chuckled. "I swear it, Shari."

I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. "Awesome. Let the creation begin.

Let there be light. Let

there be boys!"

I never knew I had such a dirty mind. Well, I may have suspected.

CHAPTER VI

JEAN RODRIGUES couldn't remember when she had last tied her little brother's shoes. Teddy sat above her on the kitchen table as she knelt at his feet and stared at her as if trying to remember the same thing. He was a cute four-year-old, with hair as long as a girl's and dimples. He touched the top of her head as she finished with his laces. She no longer wore her bandage, although she still suffered from a dull headache. But she couldn't complain; her ribs and knee were healed. She had been released from the hospital nine days earlier. She had just made it to her high school graduation the night before, and had been happy to be there. It was before nine on Saturday morning, two weeks after her fall.

"Is your head sore?" he asked.

She smiled and clasped his outstretched. hand.

"Now that you've touched it, Teddy, it's all better. Did you know you have magic hands?"

He blinked at her pronouncement and pulled his hands back to study them.

His eyes went wide. "What can they do?" he asked.

"They can give love. That is their special magic. Go give Mom a hug and then you go play. Here, I'll help you down."

Jean lifted Teddy from the table and he hurried over to the sofa where their mother lounged in front of the TV. Today was their mother's only day off. Teddy gave her the briefest of hugs before dashing out the door yelling something about showing the other kids his hands. They both laughed at him. Her mother shook her head.

"You'll have that boy trying to heal all the kids on the block, Jean," she said.

Jean sat beside her on the sofa. "Maybe he can," she said thoughtfully.

Her mother continued to smile. "I don't think anyone's sick around here at the moment."

"There's sick and there's sick," Jean muttered.

"What do you mean?"

Jean smiled quickly. "Nothing, just mumbling. Are you still worried about me being a candy striper? I won't go if it really upsets you."

"I think you're still too weak to be volunteering for a job that pays nothing."

"But if it did pay well, I would be strong enough?"

Her mother slapped her playfully on the arm with a magazine. "That's not what I mean and you know it You should rest while you have the chance. Why did you tell the nurses you were coming in anyway? Is it so that you can see Lenny? You can see him without working."

"I do want to be close to Lenny, that's true. But I volunteered because when I was in the hospital I saw a lot of patients who weren't getting any attention because the nurses are too overworked." Jean shrugged. "I don't want to sound like a saint. I just want to help out."

Her mother stared at her. "But you do sound different."

Jean started to deny it, but only nodded. "Carol said the same thing. But I don't feel any different since the accident, except for my constant headache."

Her mother continued to watch her. "I don't believe that. You seem freer in a way. You don't walk around like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"I never used to do that."

"Yes, you did. You were always triste. "

Jean shrugged again. "Well, maybe I had my reasons."

Her mother nodded. "Do you want to talk about

it?"

"About what?"

"You know. Your pregnancy."

Jean acted shocked. "Was I pregnant? God, those comas are amazing things.

Here I slept through an immaculate conception and a miscarriage all in the same two days."

"I was pregnant with you when I was your age," her mother said.

Jean quieted. "I know. I thought about that a lot."

"Before or after you had sex with Lenny?"

Jean looked over sharply. "Only after I failed the E.P.T."

"You took one of those? Where did you get one of those?"

"At the same drugstore where I bought the condoms that didn't work." Jean shook her head. "They're not hard to use. All you have to do is be able to pee in a tube." Jean paused. "Why are you asking me these questions, Mom? You must know Lenny doesn't stand a chance in hell of knocking me up again."

"I'm sorry what happened to him. You know I mean that. I'm sure he was a fine young man."

"He still is, Mama. Being crippled hasn't changed that. Not in my book."

Her mother touched her arm. "I'm going to say something harsh now, and you're not going to want to hear it. But I just want you to listen to me a second and think about it. I know Lenny is hurt and needs your help. You should go see him and help him in any way you can. But I think it would be a mistake for you not to see the facts for what they are. Lenny's going to be crippled for the rest of his life. At best he will be able to get around in a wheelchair. You can't let yourself get any more attached to him than you already are."

Jean spoke calmly. "Why not?"

"I just told you why. Because he's crippled for life. You can't be with a man like that. You'll spend all your time taking care of him."

A tear sprang into Jean's eye, but she managed to keep her expression flat. "I like taking care of people."

"No, you don't. You've never liked it before. You can't be with half a man."

Jean drew in a painful breath. "First you're worried that I was pregnant. Now you're worried I want to be with someone who can't get me pregnant. What's the deal, Mom?"

Her mother sighed. "Maybe this is not the time to talk about this. You go see him. Do what you can for him. We'll talk later."

Jean stood and looked down at her. "I'll feel the same later. I love him. I didn't know that before, even when I slept with him, but I know now. Maybe my love can't heal him. Maybe I just lied to Teddy and there isn't any magic in this world. But at least my love makes him whole in my eyes. Lenny is not half a man." She turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll wait outside for Carol. She's supposed to pick me up in a few minutes."

Her mother sounded sad. "I don't want to fight with you, Jean. I just want to protect you."

Jean paused at the door. "I know that. We're not fighting. We're just—arguing."

She opened the door.

"Have a nice day, Mama. I don't know when I'll be home."

While waiting for Carol, Jean reflected on why those close to her were saying she had changed. There was truth in their comments. Despite Lenny's serious injury and her own wounds, she did feel lighter. Each morning she woke up anxious to start the day. Why, even the sun was brighter, the sky bluer. It was as if she had refound a childhood innocence she couldn't remember ever having enjoyed. Plus her head was filled with strange ideas she had never had before. She kept thinking of the stars and planets, dreaming of ancient civilizations, imagining vast supernatural dramas. She had begun to jot down her thoughts in a notebook, although she had no idea what she would do with them.

"What did happen that night?" she wondered aloud.

Carol arrived a few minutes later. She was on her way to a date with the Russian guy who worked at McDonald's, the guy with the scarred face. Seemed the guy didn't have a car. Carol was dressed to kill and excitedly smoking a joint. She offered Jean a hit the moment Jean got in the car. Jean took the joint and threw it in the garbage can at the end of their driveway.

"Hey!" Carol protested. "I just rolled that."

"I don't want any."

"Well, excuse me. I want it. You could have just said no and handed it back."

Carol started to get out of the car. "I'm getting it."

Jean grabbed her arm and smiled. "I don't even want to have to smell it. Leave it in the can, porfavor. "

Carol looked at her as if she were an alien creature.

"You don't want to get loaded anymore? What'sgotten into you?"

Jean let go of Carol and gestured to the block. "You see this street? There's graffiti on every wall. There's garbage on every lawn. Paint is peeling from the houses. Dogs and children are running wild. This is my street, but your street is just as bad."

"So? We live on the crappy side of town. When you get rich and famous, you can move to Malibu."

"I don't want to move to Malibu. I want to stay in this neighborhood because this is where I grew up. I want to clean up this place. I have given it a lot of thought. But I can't clean this place up by myself and, besides, it will just get dirty again because the minds of too many people around here are dirty. I know we get screwed in school. We have the worst teachers and the ugliest buildings.