Between Now and Forever

by Margaret Duarte

  “I believe meditation can help ease our pain.” I eyed each student, searching for a point of entry. They sat around the tables poised in boneless, droop-lidded concentration, but at least I sensed no hopelessness or dejection as I had on our first day.

  “I’m in, Ms. V,” Jason said, straightening in his chair.

  My spirits lifted. “We can take a chunk of time, let’s say twenty minutes a day.”

  “Ms. Veil?”

  “Yes, Codi.”

  “What do you know about meditation? Are you an expert or something?”

  An expert? Jeez, I was an expert at nothing. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care and couldn’t try. “Not much and no.”

  “Then how?”

  “It doesn’t take a nuclear scientist to know how to sit cross-legged, take deep breaths, and say ‘Ummmm’,” Luke pointed out from his seat next to Jason.

  “Is it that simple?” Codi asked.

  “Yes and no,” I said.

  “You say that a lot, Ms. Veil,” Ethan mumbled.

  Jason’s fingers fluttering in the air as if he were conjuring up a portal to a parallel dimension. “It’s like there’s always a middle ground, a between.”

  “Thanks, Jason. It’s good to know I can count on you to sum things up.” He was not only likeable and funny but also able to grasp almost any concept and put it into words. The world needed people like him, and I hoped he’d find his place in it. “As I said, meditation isn’t hard to learn, but you can’t master it overnight either.”

  “Of course,” Codi muttered.

  “Meditation can help stabilize your emotions and teach you to depend on yourselves for fulfillment,” I said, focusing on Ethan. “It helps you recognize that you’re spiritual beings.” He flushed under my gaze, then looked up at what I knew to be his owl. His attachment to the ceramic figure disturbed me. Something about it felt wrong. Sure, I valued my totem, but this was different. Rather than serve as a helper, his owl appeared to fill him with dread. “Meditation helps you replace anger and fear with empathy and compassion for those in need.”

  Jason chuckled. “A tall order.”

  I gestured toward the wall of windows. The rain had stopped and the wind had stilled, leaving a cleansing calm. “We’re nearly cut off from the rest of the campus here, like being on our own private planet, reasonably safe from judgmental eyes and gossip.” And isolated and unprotected, but I kept that thought to myself.

  “What if meditation makes us lose control?” Codi asked.

  “I don’t think that’ll happen.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no.” Ethan was speaking up more and more. I couldn’t decide if this was good or bad.

  “We’re all here to help one another,” I said, “so no matter what, the experience should be positive for each one of us.”

  “How do you know?” Codi asked.

  I glanced at Ethan, his look a challenge, his smile a sneer. “I don’t.”

  Silence; and into the silence, I said, “Author Victor Davich defines meditation as ‘an opening to each moment with calm awareness.’”

  “I’m all for that,” Luke said. And so, our lesson began.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  GIGGLING AND WISE CRACKS aside, our daily meditation sessions went more or less according to plan. First, we concentrated on prepping our meditation muscles, so to speak. We began by sitting on beach towels—which work just fine in a pinch—then took whatever postures we could comfortably hold. Codi lay on her back, her trench coat wrapped around her Dracula style. Ethan crouched, head bowed over bent knees. The rest of us sat cross-legged in makeshift lotus positions as though sitting around a campfire.

  Next, we worked on our breathing, and yes, it was work. Being aware of one’s breath—the gaps between the exhalations and inhalations—without aiming for control isn’t easy. We concentrated on the doubts that popped up like weeds in our heads, beginning with Ethan’s. He raised his head just long enough to ask, “Is this a religion, because if so, you can get in real trouble, Ms. Veil.”

  After I assured him meditation was not a religion, Tessa asked, “Is it hypnotism?”

  “During meditation, you’ll feel relaxed, but that’s not the goal,” I said. “Remember Victor Davich’s definition, ‘It’s the art of opening to each moment with calm awareness.’”

  Luke, Nine of Diamonds, Mr. Total Recall, couldn’t resist contributing his reflection of the truth. “Seems like an escape from reality.”

  Then Jason added his two cents of wisdom. “Why not leave this nonsense to monks?”

  “I think it’s weird,” Codi said from her prostrate position on the floor.

  I understood their misgivings. I’d felt—and fought—them myself over the past eleven and a half months. So many misconceptions are generated by our rational, left-brain against anything intuitive and right-brained. One of my jobs as mentor, however, was to help six fidgety skeptics dissolve the walls that limited their ability to understand opposing views—and one way to do that was to help them overcome their resistance to meditation. “How about we at least give it a try? Let’s say two weeks. Then you can take it or leave it, no questions asked.”

  Jason eyed his peers. “Fair enough.”

  All nodded, except Ethan, his forehead still facing his knees.

  “Would you like to be excused from this exercise, Ethan?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, without raising his head.

  I sighed, at a loss for words. The votives flickered on the tables. Their wicks were running low. I would need to replace them soon. Flute music played in the background, Mary Youngblood’s poetry of the heart, its notes touching, haunting, persistent, like the wind rushing through the trees outside.

  “Let’s sit like flowers, our spines the stems, our heads the blossoms,” Jason suggested, which made me wonder if he’d been reading up on the subject.

  “Will we have a mantra?” Luke asked.

  That made two students more familiar with yoga than they were letting on. No surprise. From what I understood, more people on the planet meditated than not, and most people in the West had at least heard of the practice. “Sure, what do you suggest?”

  He closed his eyes and drew out the words, “Om ah hum.”

  Codi spoke up, eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest. “That’s so boring.”

  “Well I…I… How about saying, ‘L-let go, let God’?” Tessa’s stuttering had been going on for over a week now, ever since our trip to the Lick Observatory and Angelina’s supposed cure. Was there a connection?

  “Let’s think up our own,” Jason said.

  “Good idea.” Codi conceded.

  Jason grinned. “Well, I’ll be.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she said.

  ***

  Monday brought a new surprise.

  While rain poured outside and wind lashed at the classroom windows, we practiced Tibetan visualization. In other words, we focused our attention on something we wanted to realize for ourselves. Sitting on our towels in lotus positions, we started by visualizing our bodies and minds filled with total darkness, a blank slate.

  “Feel the sadness without becoming lost in it,” I murmured to help them navigate their meditation as it evolved.

  Ethan whimpered and Tessa began to cry, which had me shifting to the suggestion that we imagine a healing light coming from a source of power within, warm and joyful. In the brief silence that followed, Tessa gasped. “Angelina’s here.”

  My eyes shot open.

  The rest of the students kept their meditative poses.

  “She says she’s healed,” Tessa said, “but her parents won’t let her come back to school.”

  Healed or cured?

  Shawn’s sigh came from deep within, like the sigh that follows news of a miracle: The Virgin Mary appearing to the children of Fatima, or a woman lifting a car with her bare hands to save the child trapped underneath. “She says she’s going to b
e okay, Ms. Veil.”

  Codi looked pretty, with her long lashes against the olive skin not fully masked by layers of makeup. “She misses us.”

  “Luke. Jason. Do you hear her, too?” I’d seen and heard nothing. Had I lost my abilities, or were they being inconveniently selective?

  “Sure do, Ms. V,” Jason said.

  Luke’s eyes moved behind his closed lids as if he were watching a fast-action movie. “Yep.”

  Ethan still had his head down. He could have been sleeping for all I knew.

  “She says she likes the meditation we’re doing.” This from Tessa. Without a stutter. “She can talk to us without actually being here.”

  They’d found one way, at least, to direct their energy constructively, and I, as observer rather than participant, felt wowed to the bone.

  ***

  It was the kids’ turn to be wowed, the next day, by my sister.

  Veronica sat on the edge of a table facing the door as the students filed in, her hand raised in welcome. Three steps into the classroom, Codi jerked to a halt; Ethan bumped into her from behind; Jason peered over her shoulder; Tessa, Luke, and Shawn edged around her. But no one said a word.

  “I’m Veronica,” my sister said, her face set in what she referred to as her ‘resting bitch face.’ But there was nothing bitchy about the glint of compassion in her eyes. “Just so you don’t think I’m your teacher in disguise.”

  Jason, the first to recover, pressed forward, propelling Codi along. “You look like Cher, but younger.”

  “So I’ve heard.” She stretched out her legs. All gazes traveled to her black leather pants and spiked boots, which brought to mind my friend Anne’s comment on first meeting her. “She dresses like a vamp, for God’s sake.”

  Clothing that screamed “vamp” fit right in with Codi’s sense of style. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her trench coat and tilted her head with a look that said: You are beyond cool. “I like your outfit.”

  Veronica gave me a triumphant glance. “It’s what I wear when I’m undercover.”

  I managed not to laugh from my seat at the back of the room, my attempt—so far successful—at emulating a fly on the wall. Veronica was trying to protect me. Bringing an ex-undercover operative into the classroom was one thing, bringing in someone who dressed like a hooker on a regular basis was quite another. Dr. Matt hadn’t okayed Veronica and Ben as guest speakers, but he’d heard me mention them coming and hadn’t gotten back with a refusal. If questioned, I would point out that Veronica worked with the DEA, which should ease his concern about one or more of the Indigos being on the verge of experimenting with alcohol and drugs. My argument in Ben’s defense would be more in line with something else Dr. Matt had said about the Indigos before hiring me. “They’re way beyond what we’re teaching them in school. Yet they lack the keys to succeed. Which leads to confusion and restless impatience simmering just below the surface or, in a worst-case scenario, explosive anger and aggression.” What better key than the Medicine Wheel to lead my students to illumination and clarity rather than confusion and restless impatience, explosive anger and aggression?

  “Are you and Ms. Veil really twins?” Ethan asked, looking back and forth between us.

  Veronica focused on him with the precision of a laser. “Triplets, actually.”

  I thought Ethan would shy away from her piercing scrutiny, as he shied away from anything unfamiliar, but he seemed to expand under her intense blue gaze.

  Veronica grabbed a tissue from the box on my desk and handed it to him. “Got a cold?”

  He shook his head no but took the tissue and wiped his nose, anyway. I hadn’t noticed it was running.

  Tessa edged toward my sister as if she were an exotic bird that would fly away if disturbed. “Are you our teacher for the day?”

  “No, sweetie. Not today.”

  Tessa’s aura grayed. It was like watching a flower wilt from lack of sun and water. When Veronica was around, you wanted to become part of her, or at least, bask in the circle of her energy and strength. There are people who, through no conscious effort, draw the eye, the will, the soul. Such power can be dangerous if misused, but with Veronica, I wasn’t worried. She stood on the right side of the law and used her power only for good. She touched Tessa’s hand with the lightness of a butterfly. “All in good time, dear.”

  “That sounds like something Ms. Veil would say,” Tessa said, her tone petulant.

  Veronica winked at me before replying, “I learned this from my other sister.”

  “You mean Maya?” Tessa asked. “I like her.”

  Veronica, master of the poker face, rarely shows surprise, but the way her brows lifted and her hands formed into fists, she was displaying just that. Or maybe shock would be a better word. “Maya’s dead, honey.”

  “I know.”

  Veronica opened her mouth to say something, then closed it before giving me a wide-eyed stare. I shook my head and shrugged. Maybe now she would understand what I was dealing with here, a helplessness bordering on fear.

  “So, what’s up, Ms. V?” Jason asked, turning his attention to me.

  His yellow-brown gaze reminded me of Veronica’s blue one. They both had a way of slicing through me and demanding my full attention, an attention I gave freely, no questions asked, because to question requires self-confidence, determination, and mission, which I often lacked. Anyway, I was accustomed to playing second fiddle to my sister and enjoyed every minute.

  “Today, we’re going to spend time in the nature area, with Ben Gentle Bear Mendoza, Veronica’s fiancé,” I said. “He’ll introduce you to a circle of knowledge used as a form of meditation by the Native American.”

  “Cool,” Luke said.

  Jason walked up to the window and peered out. “It’s wet out there.” Codi, Luke, and Shawn joined him, exchanged glances, and shrugged. Only Tessa and Ethan remained at Veronica’s side, staring at her as if expecting her to conjure up a miracle. She smiled at Ethan, and to my surprise, he smiled back. He’s lonely, I thought, lonely and scared. It had taken Veronica only minutes to discover what I’d missed until now.

  “Let’s go outside and meet Ben, shall we?” Veronica suggested.

  Tessa and Ethan nodded, and I wondered if Veronica could pry herself loose from her new friends anytime soon. Then again, judging by the smile on her face, prying herself loose wasn’t one of her current priorities.

  ***

  In his own way, Ben was as striking as my sister. His thick black hair was pulled into a ponytail, his Paul Bunyan bulk covered only by a black T-shirt and Wrangler jeans. I zipped my parka to ward off the chill, but Ben didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the cold. He’d arranged a circular tarp over a patch of grass in the nature area. At our approach, he said, “Had to improvise, since the ground is soggy from yesterday’s rain.”

  My sneakers sank into the grass, absorbing its moisture. The musty scent of wet dirt and vegetation filled the air, reminding me of Anne’s backyard in Pacific Grove, where I’d discovered a labyrinth and all the mysteries it offered. I drew in the heavy earth scent with pleasure. “Ben. Meet my students.”

  One by one, they introduced themselves.

  “Ben will acquaint you with a meditation circle called The Medicine Wheel, where you can center your power and re-energize yourself spiritually.” I glanced at Ethan to see if my alluding to spirituality had bothered him, but he seemed perfectly content standing next to Veronica.

  “Did you bring your marker stones, Marjorie?” Ben asked.

  I reached into my pouch for my treasured stones. All rested inside, except the mouse totem. Ethan glanced at me, then looked away, his face flushed. Ben motioned for us to step onto the waterproofed cloth. The tarred hemp fiber stretched and groaned under our feet, causing startled birds to shoot from the trees in a loud screeching mass.

  “Today, I’ll show you how to set up a Medicine Wheel,” Ben said. “Then I’ll introduce
you to the four primary directions or paths to discovering your own truths.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  THE TEMPERATURE WAS A chill fifty-seven degrees, and the sun barely had enough strength to penetrate the clouds, yet we stood in the circle compliant and uncomplaining, expectation flooding our senses to the point of numbness to any discomfort.

  After taking my five stones, Ben said, “These are Ms. Veil’s personal markers. She spent hours searching for them. They had to feel right to her before she could accept them. They also had to be the right colors, white, yellow, red, and black, to represent the four primary races of mankind and green to mark the center.”

  I remembered the day Ben had directed me to find my markers. The air had been chilly and the sky overcast, hinting at showers, like today, except then we were in the north-eastern edge of the Los Padres National Forest instead of an overgrown nature area in the middle of a city. He’d cautioned that the stones I would be searching for would be my helpers in the Medicine Wheel, so I would have to choose them with care. Then he’d left me alone, on the edge of a mixed hardwood forest, surrounded by grassland and patches of flowering chaparral. I walked for close to an hour through tall grasses, picking up stone after stone, only to discard them, while using a massive oak tree and a compass to keep from getting lost. Funny, how the first stone I’d felt drawn to was white to represent the north, the direction of my present journey on the Medicine Wheel, a journey that had started in the direction of the east nearly twelve months ago. Ben now took that stone and placed it at the north point of the cloth circle. “North is the direction of the mind and of receiving.”

  After a short pause, he made a quarter turn to the right and put the yellow stone—clear as topaz, bright as a diamond—on the eastern edge of the circle. I’d found this stone by accident after watching a doe and her fawn shoot in and out of the underbrush near where I was sitting. It rested on a rockslide of pebbles that had gathered at my feet.