Love & The Goddess

by Coen, Mary Elizabeth

  My thoughts returned to the present as the Healer took a suturing needle from the tray beside him and finished off by very quickly stitching the woman’s breast skin back together. Her white dress was barely blood-stained despite the wound having been deep enough to accommodate the Healer’s hand.

  As she was led away to the infirmary for a period of recovery, a middle-aged woman with grey hair came forward. When the Healer placed his hand on her back, she slid languidly into the chair. Taking a small knife, similar to a tiny penknife, none of which appeared to have been sterilised, the Healer proceeded with his left hand to pull back the skin around her right eye, while he rapidly scrapped the cornea of the eye with the tiny implement. A film of mucous appeared to lift from the eye, which he flicked off before wiping the knife on his white lab coat. He then repeated the same procedure with her left eye. Like the woman before her, she remained relaxed during and after the invasive surgery. An American man behind us was telling his neighbours that the eye operation was great not only for improvements in eyesight but for everything from insomnia to migraine. Having been married to a doctor, I found my scepticism regarding this claim difficult to overcome. “Would you do it?” Ella asked me.

  “No. I don’t have that kind of faith. I won’t go for the visible surgery. I’d prefer an invisible operation.”

  A man in his late twenties limped towards the podium, struggling on two crutches. Immediately, the Healer walked down to him, and roared something in Portuguese. The translator cried out, “Wake up all of you who do not believe! You need to see something? Then pay attention!” Taking the crutches, the Healer held the man’s hands, urging him to walk with him. The man took four steps and then the Healer let go of his hands. “Vir passear – come walk!”

  The man stumbled forward, one foot entangled in the other, and then like a young gosling found his feet and made two full steps … then three … four … and finally reached the wall. After a long, collective intake of breath from all in the room, Ella and I joined in the resounding applause. “Are you going to join the queue?” I asked Ella. She was always complaining of reflux and digestive upsets.

  “Nah, I’ll leave it a few days in case he forces those awful herbs on me. I don’t want to take them just yet because you can’t drink with them. I’m going outside for air. Are you all right here by yourself?” She disappeared in the direction of the door while I joined the queue behind a woman pushing her young son in a wheelchair.

  As I got closer to the Healer, I was gripped by a sudden terror. I expected that most sinister version of Mozart’s Dies Irae, the theme music from The Shining, to start up any minute. My hands were sweaty and shaking. In my head, I silently called on the Holy Spirit to protect me in case Aunt Marge’s superstitions proved true. Once I felt that connection to a source I trusted and believed in, I relaxed. The Holy Spirit had always been my number one when I needed a bit of help from the other side.

  When I arrived in front of the Healer, he took my hand in his, eyes piercing me with a warm intensity. I sensed a sudden change come over me – a lightness I hadn’t felt in years. My fears were evaporating and time was standing still. Tears ran down my cheeks as a huge surge of compassion and unconditional love – and something much, much greater – emanated from the man in front of me. Everything was happening in slow motion. I knew I was I experiencing something out of the ordinary – something which would be belittled by an effort to describe it or touch it in any tangible form. I would have difficulty explaining this to Ella, whereas I knew instinctively that James would understand.

  The Healer spoke to the translator, who told me that he had prescribed herbs along with three sessions on a crystal bed. My elated mood sank a little as I had been hoping for an invisible operation which supposedly has all the benefits of surgery without the trauma. Resigned, I went outside and made my way to the booking office to arrange appointments for crystal bed sessions in the days ahead.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After booking the crystal bed sessions, I went in search of the pharmacy which I discovered was a hatch on the side of an adjacent ashram building. Queuing behind nine other pilgrims, I quickly arrived to face the blue-clad attendants who worked swiftly in dispensing prescription herbs in capsule form. Just as I was leaving, I saw Ella cross the wide open space from the main building where she’d obviously been hanging around near the soup hatch.

  “Don’t take any of those herbs yet, Kate. We’ve been invited to a party this evening and they clash with alcohol.”

  “Where’s the party?” I asked suspiciously.

  “I have the address here.” She showed me a business card.

  “Adolfo Gomez. Who is he? Where did you meet him? You can’t possibly know anything about him.”

  “I met him while I was enjoying a bowl of soup at the café. He’s perfectly respectable! C’mon, let’s get some lunch and decide what we’re going to wear – we need to do something light-hearted.”

  There was no dissuading Ella from going to the party. Only she could find some frivolous diversion in a place of pilgrimage, whereas I wished to experience the possibility of a miracle or at the very least some inner transformation. After lunch I returned to the ashram and tried what they call “sitting in current”, the name given to meditating in the healer’s presence in any of three adjoining “current rooms”. I assumed that since I had been meditating regularly, it should be easy for me to do it here.

  Apparently not! The packed room, aired by just a couple of fans, was humid and sticky and I found it difficult to calm my thoughts and stay present. Beads of sweat formed on my brow and I shifted my posture in an effort to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench. My body still ached from the long plane and coach journey and the prospect of sitting still for two full hours was a daunting one. I was in mid-yawn when an angry mosquito began buzzing around my head. Unconsciously, I opened my eyes and waved my hands in an effort to shoo away the pest. “Keep your eyes closed and your hands on your lap.” A blue-coated assistant was addressing the crowd, but she had her eyes on me. In an effort to conform, I lasted fifteen minutes longer before gathering up my belongings to leave for the poussada. I vowed to try harder tomorrow.

  It was with great reluctance that I got ready to go out that evening, since I would have preferred to spend time writing in my journal before taking an early night. But there was no dissuading Ella, who called for me at eight to tell me our black cab was waiting. The driver took off at speed up the main street before turning down a side road with high white walls on either side.

  “It seems very quiet for a party. Are you sure you have the right night?” I asked as Ella paid the taxi driver and we got out on the silent street in front of what appeared to be a plain pebble-dash house. With its continuous high wall running along the side, it was difficult to make out its exact size or shape.

  “I fibbed. It’s a double date. Oh don’t be mad, Kate. Nothing serious – just a bit of male company. They’re fine. Virtual monks, if you ask me. Hey, you can even team up with the good-looking guy.”

  “Are you mad? They could be crazies!” I was about to turn away when the wrought-iron door opened wide.

  “Hello, ladies,” said one of the most fascinating-looking men I had ever met. Of indeterminable age, anywhere between thirty-five and fifty, his facial features were so strong and outrageously unusual, he qualified as both ugly and beautiful. Ebony black skin, wide nose, wide lips, cheekbones so sharp they could slice cheese. With huge expressive eyes and a charming smile, the effect was totally disarming. “We’ve been expecting you. Adolfo’s inside. I’m Nat.”

  Ella smiled at me and I felt as if I was compelled by a supernatural force to go along with whatever was about to unfold, despite wondering had I taken leave of my senses. As we followed Nat through the house, Ella nudged me, nodding at his trim torso visible through a black t-shirt over denim-clad snake hips. With his graceful, animal-like stride, he led us down the cool white stucco-plastered corridor into a large villa-
style living room. There he introduced me to Adolfo, a short, stocky man in his early fifties with an air of business and a whiff of Cuban cigars about him. Ella had told me on the way there that Adolfo was originally from Rio de Janeiro, but she hadn’t told me anything about this other man.

  “Where are you from Nat?” I asked, after we got over the initial pleasantries.

  “I grew up in LA with a Jamaican mother and a father who was half-Brazilian and half-American.”

  “And where did you two meet each other?”

  “I worked in LA for a while,” said Adolfo. “Our wives became best friends. I’m divorced now and back in Rio, and Nat’s lovely wife passed on two years ago. But we still get together, and I keep this place here for whenever I come to see the Healer, maybe twice a year. Would you like some wine, ladies, or something non-alcoholic?”

  Judging by the elaborate mosaic tiles on the floor, I guessed Adolfo was wealthy to afford a place like this merely for the odd visit. Not having started my herbs yet, I agreed to one glass of wine as I sank into the squishy tan leather sofa beside Nat. I wished Ella would stop winking. It was becoming very obvious. Soon the conversation was flowing along with the wine. I was on my second glass. The two men were interesting, both mellow and gentle in the way people who meditate regularly appear to be. Adolfo said he had become less hung up on making lots of money after he underwent a two-year battle with cancer, which had now been in remission for over seven years. Nat’s wife had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and Adolfo had suggested she visit the Healer, and stay in his house.

  Nat took up the story: “Lexie didn’t recover but she lived a year longer than any doctor predicted and she gained a great acceptance of death, for which we were both grateful. While she was ill, we visited the Healer four times and Lexie found an inner peace she’d never had in her life before. She was so devoted to him, she used to kiss his feet each time she came. She really loved the energy in the ashram and the village.”

  “This place is very peaceful and so is this house. The view is amazing.” Outside the window, a gentle breeze nudged graceful hibiscus trees to salsa in and out towards each other while displaying their dark green leaves and trumpet-shaped pink and purple flowers, as if intentionally attracting the large bumble bees that clustered around them.

  “You need to see the view from the balcony upstairs,” Nat said.

  “I’d love to. I could do with a bit of air.” Following Nat upstairs, I wondered why Ella and Adolfo hadn’t joined us. At the top of the stairs, Nat turned right into an open space, at the end of which stood a set of double French doors. These he slid sideways, before waving his hand for me to step through before him. I gasped as the most spectacular view stretched before my eyes. The chirping of crickets filled the air, scented with bougainvillea and pine. Tall trees forested the slopes of the untamed valley, while yuccas, cacti and vines flooded the garden below. As we stood there a flock of yellow butterflies fluttered within arm’s reach. “It’s wonderful,” I said. There was a long silence. Eventually, I dared ask, “Why do you come back here, now that your wife has passed on?”

  He said, picking a leaf from a mint plant on a tall wrought iron stand, “I have problems with addiction. That’s why I’ve come to see the Healer.”

  “Addiction to what?” It just slipped out before I realised how intrusive the question was. “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to tell me …” Hiding my confusion, I raised my glass to my mouth.

  Nat didn’t look like I was intruding. He turned, smiling softly. “I am a sex addict.”

  I swallowed my wine in a gulp, hastily averting my eyes to study a nearby jacaranda blossom. I could feel a hot blush turning my face bright red.

  He said, “It sounds worse than it is, Kate. I’m not a sexual deviant. I became very promiscuous after Lexie died and I used sex as a drug. Believe me, a lot of people have this addiction and will never own up to it. Someone addicted to porn, even if he or she has never had sex, could be classified as a sex addict. If you understand the nature of addiction you will know that addicts cannot bear to feel their feelings, finding emotions too raw, their wounds too deep to touch. Instead they act out with inappropriate behaviour to dull the pain, but their lives eventually spiral out of control.”

  “Sorry. It sounds so ...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I wanted to say perverted and realised how judgemental that would sound. After all, I didn’t really know anything about the nature of addictions.

  “Dangerous? No don’t worry. I assure you I’m not a rapist. And I try hard to practice celibacy because it’s essential for me. I’ve started a new relationship with a lovely girl. We’ve been dating for three months now and our relationship is celibate because I know now that if a relationship starts out being sexual, then my judgement gets clouded. I need it to work on the friendship and trust level first, which is difficult.”

  I was humbled by Nat’s frank admission and felt a surge of admiration for him as I watched him pick another leaf from the mint plant to chew in absent-minded fashion. “That’s what I always thought, partly because I was brought up as a Catholic, but also because it felt safe. Then what do I do? At an age when I should know better, I go to bed with a bollocks on the second date.” I winced. “Excuse me, that’s my new word for someone despicable.”

  “We all have to learn our own way of being in the world, Kate, and sometimes it’s through our mistakes we learn most of all.”

  “So … Meeting me tonight? Why did you agree to it?”

  “I love the company of women. That doesn’t mean I need to seduce every woman I meet. Don’t get me wrong. I’d still like to, but I’m learning restraint.”

  Listening to him talk like that, I was reminded of being told inappropriately at fourteen years of age by a woman I baby-sat for, that the reason she had had five children in six years was because “My husband, like all men, is sex mad.” Since then, throughout my teens, I’d feared the sexual urge was similar to the opening of Pandora’s box. It was easier for a virgin to be chaste but once tasted, sexual desire would be more difficult for either gender to control. “Good for you, Nat. I think I may be addicted to sleeping pills. I’ve been taking one every night for almost eighteen years. It doesn’t always manage to conk me out, but I haven’t been able to give them up.” I fell silent, taken aback at my own admission, then turned to look at his face for a reaction.

  “Balancing your chakras is important for handling addictions. You can meditate better once your chakras are open.” His tone was soft, the expression on his face kind.

  “How does that work?”

  “I can show you how, if you’d like to sit with me in the meditation room next door.”

  Glancing at my watch, I asked “How long will it take?”

  “Oh, just fifteen minutes.” He walked across the landing towards a door on the left and opened it, gesturing for me to enter. It was an unfurnished room, oak floor covered with two large intarsia patterned rugs and a scattering of large square cushions in shades of orange and green. Unlit candles were placed at intervals in front of the skirting board. Nat walked over to a docking system and turned on some relaxing music. Next I joined him in sitting down as he demonstrated the correct posture for sitting in half lotus with the help of a tiny cushion called a zafu. I copied his posture, sitting with my spine straight.

  “Now, relax your shoulders. Inhale slowly and deeply. Visualise a white light coming through your crown chakra. Relax and exhale.”

  After a few breaths I could feel myself melting into an easy peaceful bliss. Then Nat spoke softly. “Kate, your heart chakra is very blocked. May I adjust it for you? Just nod if you agree.” I nodded. Then I felt Nat’s firm hand resting flat on my upper back while his other hand seemed to make a small clockwise motion between my breasts. I told myself not to react even though my personal space was now being invaded and I could feel and smell Nat’s warm minted breath on my face. I’d read about healers and gurus adjusting people’s chakras, especially the hea
rt chakra which is supposedly concerned with allowing in the emotions of love, forgiveness and compassion. Then a flush of heat swept over me and I gasped in horror. Nat had begun massaging my left breast in a manner more octopus than spiritual. Opening my mouth to protest, I was suddenly silenced by Nat’s mouth on top of mine as he tried thrusting his tongue between my teeth. I bit hard. He gasped. Shoving him away, I jumped up. “Some reformed sex addict you are!”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I truly am. Please forgive me.”

  “Save your wretched apologies. They’re wasted on me.” I ran out of the room and down the stairs. I stormed into the open-plan living area where Ella and Adolfo were deep in discussion, examining packets of coffee spread out on the table in front of them. “C’mon Ella! I need to get out of here as fast as possible.”

  “What happened?” Adolfo took in my shocked expression, then clapped his two hands over his head in exasperation. “Don’t tell me Nat lost control. Oh my dear Kate, I have to tell you he has been so good for so long but this new girlfriend is driving him crazy. Celibacy has never been more difficult for him. Let me call you a taxi.”

  “It had better come quickly,” I said breathlessly.

  “Five minutes, ladies! You have to understand that celibacy is much more difficult for a man. I too practice. But Nat has a girlfriend he loves yet she keeps him waiting. FBS is a terrible affliction!”

  “Irritable Bowel Syndrome?” asked Ella, confused.

  “FBS! Full Balls Syndrome. It drives a man wild. We feel better with EBS; Empty Balls Syndrome. Nat is so desperate from waiting, he would nearly ride a sheep!”

  “Great, that’s really great!” I stormed. “I’m practically assaulted and now you tell me he’s so desperate I could have been a sheep. That’s just lovely.”

  Adolfo looked pleadingly at Ella. “I’m sorry I said the wrong thing to your friend … sometimes things get lost in translation. Really, Nat is not a bad guy and he will beat up on himself so much for this. We are all here for healing. Nat is here to cure his sex addiction.”