Between Now and Forever

by Margaret Duarte

  “East is the direction of spirit and of determining,” Ben said before taking another quarter turn and placing my red stone at the southern point of the circle. This stone had been my second find that day, a stone that looked like a turtle and changed from brick red to red-violet to magenta when I held it up to the sun. “South is the direction of emotion and giving.”

  Ben marked the western boundary of the circle with the black stone, my Apache Tear. “West is the direction of the body and of holding.” The Apache Tear had eluded my search in the Los Padres National Forest. I’d found it the next day at the Carmel Mission wedged in the knot of a pepper tree next to the gravesite of my Native American ancestor, Margarita Butron.

  Ben rose to his full height, towering over the six transfixed students grouped on the edge of the circular tarp, and closed his eyes. All was quiet, except for the tree branches creaking like arthritic fingers, birds chirping, traffic humming, and wind whispering a foreign yet familiar refrain. We stood cocooned in our own little world, surrounded by nature, and for now, nothing else mattered. “White is also the color of decisiveness and penetration,” Ben said, opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on the white stone marking the North.

  We did likewise, staring at the stone as if it were a priceless work of art.

  “Yellow is the color of optimism and stimulation,” Ben said, turning to concentrate on the stone marking the East this time.

  We changed our focus, stared in silence, and I regretted that I’d forbidden the chewing of gum. I could have used the taste of spearmint to displace the dryness in my throat. I’d met my sister, Veronica, for the first time during my journey through the eastern portion of the Medicine Wheel. Her cold blue eyes had looked at me as if I were her worst nightmare come to life.

  The scent of wet dirt and fermenting leaves reminded me of how I’d heard my birth mother crying during my first encounter with the Medicine Wheel. Though I hadn’t known it at the time, she’d been crying for Veronica, for Maya, and for me. Her voice had grown stronger and more frequent over the following weeks, and I’d longed for her to shut up, leave me alone, and stay dead.

  Now I missed her.

  Was she finally at peace, or had I just quit listening?

  “Red,” Ben said, then paused.

  I snapped back to attention and stared at the stone marking the South. An emotion I couldn’t name swelled in my chest as I remembered my time in Big Sur, how much I’d endured, how much I’d learned.

  “Red,” Ben repeated, the timbre of his voice so low it sounded like a drum roll coming from inside his chest, “is the color of energy, strength, and courage.”

  It had indeed taken energy, strength, and courage to seek out my dead mother and bury my past so I could step into my future. More courage than I’d called on in twenty-nine years.

  Ben picked up the stone that marked the West and held it up so it reflected the light like a black tear. “Black is the color of solidity and endurance.” During my journey in the western portion of the Medicine Wheel, I’d met my second sister Maya and was forced to embrace the pain of her death, which nearly decimated my world.

  The students’ stillness amazed me. Sure, Shawn, Ethan, and Tessa usually kept their comments to a minimum, but Jason, Luke, and Codi were not ones to keep silent for long. After motioning for them to take positions on the circumference of the Medicine Wheel, Ben placed the green stone in the center, the stone I’d found under a rippling stream of water, my little green frog. “Green marks the center, the place of the soul.” Ben took time to look each student in the eye, and not one of them looked away. “In the center of your Medicine Wheel, you take full responsibility for your life and take charge of your own destiny.”

  I shifted my feet, afraid the kids would become restless with this talk of endurance, responsibility, and destiny and misuse their powers as they had on my first and last day of substituting.

  Ben clapped his hands, a lightning crack—a tear. “But before you can do any work with your Medicine Wheel, you need to perform a cleansing called ‘smudging,’ sort of like washing your hands before a meal.”

  Veronica handed him a large seashell from outside the circle. He set it next to the green stone at the center, then lifted a smudge stick from the shell and lit it with a match. “You burn a bundle of herbs containing sage, cedar, and sweetgrass and use the smoke to clear away negative energies from your surroundings.” The herb bundle began to smolder, sending off a trail of writhing, curling smoke. “Smudging ensures that you’ll begin your meditation with a clean heart and a clear mind.”

  I pulled the scent of burning herbs through my nose and mouth; cold, wet, foreign, yet soothing, in a mind-numbing way.

  “It’s all symbolic, isn’t it?” Ethan asked. “Not religious.”

  Ben fanned the smoke throughout the circle and then smudged the four directions. “Native American spirituality contains no dogma.”

  Ethan turned and peered at Veronica standing outside the circle. She winked and waited for him to refocus on Ben before reverting her attention to Codi.

  If Ben was aware of Veronica’s keen interest in Codi, he didn’t show it. His concentration remained focused, like a scout leading his followers through tricky landscape and uneven trails. “The four stones represent the four directions, but also the four winds and the four seasons. Winter is represented by the direction of the cold north winds.” He motioned for us to sit at points around the circle facing north. “I understand your school mascot is the buffalo, totem of the north. The buffalo gave its all so others might live and therefore has much to teach us.

  “The North is also the direction of knowledge, and wisdom. I’m not talking about useless information, but wisdom, which is knowledge applied with love. How do you handle life’s challenges and emergencies? What is your philosophy of life? These are questions to think about and answer while meditating in the Medicine Wheel. In the North, you learn to turn ideas into action and bring desirable changes into your life.”

  Ben opened his eyes and smiled. Dear Lord, what a transformation. No wonder Veronica loved him. The kids must have been equally impressed, because they continued to sit without saying a word. I wondered if he had hypnotized them. Entranced more likely.

  “We are nearing the end of the third cycle of the North called ‘The Blustery Winds Time,’” he said. “Its totem is the wolf.”

  Jason jerked at the mention of wolf.

  “This is a time of rapid changes and anticipation, purification and renewal. I call it the ‘in-between time,’ where you can draw in energy and lessons and refine them before bursting forth into your new life, a time when your new story begins.”

  Did my students understand the significance of Ben’s words? So much applied to what I’d been trying to get across during our talks and meditative sessions. Would some of it take hold and send out roots? Likely, I would never know.

  “Now, rest your hands on your knees and close your eyes,” Ben said. Then instead of leading us through a meditation as I’d expected, he sat, closed his eyes, and took deep, steady breaths. He remained silent for at least ten minutes, yet the students made no sound. No restless shifting. No giggles. No wisecracks.

  “Face the death of who you think you are,” Ben said finally, jerking me out of a somnolent daze. “Throw out the garbage.”

  I heard sighs but didn’t open my eyes to identify the sources. I would allow my students the solitude of their thoughts.

  “Think about all the experiences you’ve had that science or accepted reality can’t explain,” Ben said. “What do they mean? Honor your own inner knowing.”

  “Holy crap,” Jason said, then relapsed into silence.

  In a voice so hypnotic I felt as if I were rising into the air, Ben said, “Then consider ways you can share your experiences with others.”

  Again silence, broken only by the inroads of nature and traffic and the occasional shouts of students still hanging around after scho
ol. We were at the door between worlds.

  Another ten minutes passed before Ben’s deep voice brought us back from our separate journeys. “Gifted Indigos, seers, and healers, embrace the center point within you with open hearts. Don’t be afraid of what you feel and see or have felt and seen. Don’t let the wounds of the past influence the present moment. Move forward.”

  I opened my eyes and marveled at the calm on the Indigos’ faces. No frowns, no smiles, no tears, only the appearance of heart-wrenching innocence—and surrender.

  I glanced at Ben, and he nodded. The session was over.

  ***

  Next afternoon was Veronica’s turn to face the class, but her message was to be less palatable than Ben’s. Whereas he had introduced them to a tool capable of turning them on without destroying their health, Veronica’s job was to discuss something capable of turning them on by destroying their health. Fortunately, she already had two adoring fans, and by the rapt look on Jason, Codi, Luke, and Shawn’s faces, she would soon have four more.

  “I need not tell you that drugs and alcohol are bad for you,” she began. “You’ve heard it before.”

  What about the barf bags? Had Veronica, during her short acquaintance with the kids, decided they didn’t need the lesson called Shock and Awe? Part of me was disappointed, the other part relieved.

  “And I need not tell you that drugs and underage drinking are illegal. You know that, too. So, does this mean I have nothing to say to you, that I’ll just head out of here for the DEA basic agent training program at Quantico? Of course not. I’m here to tell you that you are good.”

  She paused and rested her gaze on each student in such a loving way, you’d think she was shapeshifting into Granny Max. “You are a blessing, a mystery, and a wonder. Let no one tell you different. You don’t need to rebel, drop out, or turn to drugs to affirm your existence. You don’t need to hurt your precious bodies and minds with Snot balls, Uppers, or Pot. Anyone who tries to convince you otherwise is not your friend.”

  Veronica looked like she might cry. My cool, tough sister had a soft spot for animals and children. She glanced at Ben and me, positioned at the back of the room but no less enthralled than the students by her magnetic presence. “Ms. Veil, Ben, and I are here to help you through any difficulties you may have concerning alcohol and drugs. You don’t need warnings. You need someone who cares.” She looked at Ethan for what seemed a long time. “Any questions?”

  “Isn’t meth less harmful than crack?” Jason asked.

  Veronica shook her head, her eyes deep blue pools of sadness, as though she’d heard this question many times before. “Meth is often made from battery acid, drain cleaner, and antifreeze.” She paused to let her words sink in. “With meth, you stand a greater chance of suffering a heart attack, stroke, or brain damage than with crack. You can also get hooked the first time you use it. Meth leads to poor judgment, agitation, confusion, anxiety, and stealing. Some addicts become so desperate they’ll fry their own urine to extract the meth crystals.”

  “But grass is safe and better than cigarettes, right?” Jason said.

  Again, Veronica shook her head. “Early marijuana use lessens white matter in the brain, which can affect how the brain learns and functions.” She looked at Ethan and smiled. “It can also trigger panic attacks and paranoia.”

  “What about fake weed?” Luke asked. “It’s—”

  Veronica’s gaze struck Luke with the quick kick of a Taser. “Fake weed, like KZ and Spice, is made of herbs sprayed with synthetic chemicals that not only cause hallucinations, seizures, and addiction, but can also kill you.”

  Luke sat in red-faced silence.

  “Don’t let the easy availability and pretty packaging of synthetic marijuana fool you. Moon Rocks, Genie, Ninja, Panama Red Bull, and Voodoo Spice are catchy names for stupid.”

  Ethan’s knee bounced up and down. He glanced at the owl in the glass cabinet, then asked, “What about prescribed medication?”

  Veronica closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “Stuff you can get at the grocery store or from the medicine cabinet with innocent nicknames like Skittles, Cotton, and Skippy are not a safe way to get high. Hallucinations, seizures, coma, and death can result from accidental overdoses, especially when you down them with fruit-flavored, caffeinated drinks, which often contain alcohol. Prescribed medications are also addictive.”

  “So, what can make you feel better besides drugs?” Ethan asked.

  Veronica glanced at Ben. “You mean other than the Medicine Wheel?”

  Ethan nodded.

  “Service.”

  “Service?” Tessa said, as though she, of all people, were unfamiliar with the concept.

  “I can think of no greater happiness than helping your fellow man.”

  “Even if they don’t want your help?” Tessa asked.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of karma.”

  Tessa nodded.

  “True happiness kicks in when you quit thinking of yourself as separate from others and think of all as one. Pick a cause, any cause, that takes you outside of yourself. It’ll give you a high no drug can.”

  “Not always,” Codi blurted. “Sometimes helping others is not enough.” She rested her forehead on the table and stifled a sob.

  Veronica caught my eye and frowned. I shrugged, unable to offer help. I’d experienced Codi’s debilitating sadness at the Lick Observatory, and it had settled over me like a lead apron.

  Veronica stilled, and the students followed suit. Minutes passed, apparently no one in a hurry to continue. I glanced at Ben. He leaned against the wall next to me, observing the proceedings through hooded eyes. I become aware of the ticking clock, the beating of my heart. Veronica, Codi, are you okay?

  Codi sat up and her hand crept to head-level before dropping to the table. “So, what’s so bad about alcohol?” Her voice sounded pained, yet defiant.

  “The pain of addiction and recovery is beyond most people’s comprehension,” Veronica said. “I’ve seen it first hand in my personal and professional life, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

  Codi fingered the lapels of her trench coat and released a raspy breath.

  “If you are the victim of drugs or alcohol, don’t let guilt or depression take you down. Instead, get the hell out of the house and out of yourself. When helping others, you’ll forget about yourself. It works. I can vouch for it.”

  One last concentrated look at each student and Veronica closed her presentation. “And if that doesn’t work, be smart and reach out to people like Ms. Veil, Ben, and me. We’re only a phone call or text message away. I also have a nifty presentation called Shock and Awe I can share with you in case you need extra persuading. I don’t use it often because, to be quite honest, it makes me sick to my stomach each time I do.”

  Veronica caught my eye. Mission accomplished.

  For her anyway.

  Mine was about to begin.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  BEFORE VERONICA LEFT ON Thursday, she suggested it might be a good time for me to step aside for a while and let the kids show their stuff. I understood what she meant. I’d been trying to do just that—and failing. Dr. Matt wanted me to help them use their special talents to become who they truly were. The question was how?

  When I arrived at school the following Monday, I was no closer to an answer.

  “Okay, Maya,” I said as I stepped through the classroom door. “Help me out here.”

  I headed for the thermostat to turn up the heat. With the sun’s rays streaming through clouds and reflecting off buildings and streets, the outdoor temperature had felt almost warm, but inside it was downright chilly. I wondered, not for the first time, if it had been Maya’s suggestion to call this class First Light? Not half-bad compared to ‘after-school learning lab,’ but open to misinterpretation and hard to live up to. I sat on the floor facing the wall of windows and closed my eyes. “I’m waiting, Sis.”r />
  No sound from Maya. But a series of watercolor images flashed across my inner eyelids like templates in a PowerPoint presentation; evocative images meant to conjure strong emotional responses like the ones Maya had used to assist alcoholics and drug abusers on their road to recovery. I jumped to a stand, and by the time my six students arrived for class that afternoon, I’d purchased a deck of SoulCards from the downtown bookstore and formulated a plan.

  “Off to the nature area,” I said as the kids filed in. “We have some exploring to do.”

  No sooner had we stepped into spring’s exploding pinks and greens than Jason The Wolf Ardis balked. “Nah, we’ve done this already.”

  Shawn, Ethan, and Luke massed around him with conflicting expressions: puzzlement, detachment—yearning.

  Tessa, who had darted ahead with Codi, skidded to a halt, blonde locks flying like Medusa hair. “Jason, we don’t have to do anything.”

  “I saw some St John’s wort last time we were out here,” Luke said, eyeing his surroundings through fogged-up glasses. “And a cat.”

  “A cat?” Dr. Matt hadn’t mentioned any animals inhabiting the nature area, though it would be easy enough for one to bypass the aging chain-link fence.

  “Yeah, a Mackerel tabby with an M pattern on its forehead. It must be feral, because when I tried to catch it, it hissed at me.”

  Codi peered at him as if he’d just turned into Dexter’s Laboratory’s red-haired and bespectacled boy-genius. “You tried to catch a mutt cat full of diseases? That’s crazy, Luke.”

  Not crazy. I would have done the same. Actually, I did, with Gabriel, my backyard stray. He was also a Mackerel tabby with an M pattern on his forehead. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was him, but my home was two-and-a-half miles away.

  “Go,” I said, waving my arms as if shooing cattle. “Explore.”