Better get this done, thought Katy, sitting at her desk and opening her leather briefcase. It was just gone 9 o’clock. She became absorbed in each case, her analytical mind pulling together all the pieces of the jigsaw until she could see the bigger picture from the details she’d gleaned. Writing a few well-chosen words at the end of each file enabled her to remember what ground had been covered, what she’d understood of the case, and which direction to take. She was totally absorbed, giving each one her undivided attention, turning over the details in her mind so she could see every angle. Everything neat and in its place, she filed the notes and locked them safely away before tackling her emails.
A weariness tugged at her as she pondered her clients and their heart-rending stories. Staying detached was important if she wanted to help them, but it was difficult at times. She shook off the melancholy that crept around her like a ghost but couldn’t shake off the analytical mind that continued to whir.
It was almost eleven o’clock when she went downstairs to say goodnight to Tilly and Freddie. Tilly would probably push her away as usual. Richard was snoring on the sofa in front of Newsnight, Jeremy Paxman’s voice rising into the darkness as he interviewed his prey. Gently taking the remote, she silenced him. Richard jolted himself awake. “I was listening to that!”
“You were asleep!”
He scowled at her. “I’m off to bed.”
Katy crept back to the study. It had been a long day. She had too much on her plate, but nobody seemed to care. Her thoughts turned to her homework from Terry: this was the only time she had to herself, the house quiet and everyone sleeping.
Pulling out the meditation stool, she sat upright, her hands resting in her lap, right palm holding the left and facing upwards, the thumbs lightly touching. Her eyes closed but her head wouldn’t stop. The point of meditating was to still the mind, but this was the only time she had to think about her life – when there were no demands, no interruptions, nothing to do.
Stop Katy! Don’t get attached to the thoughts. Acknowledge them, then let them go!
They tugged at her. There was so much to reflect upon: clients, children, life. There was no time to stop or contemplate, and no time for pleasure. Perhaps the monkey mind kept her busy so she couldn’t hear the whisper of her heart. Katy thought about Terry, then Richard. She considered Tilly, then Freddie. They could do what they wanted in their spare time. Spare time, huh! She wished she had some. It was all doing, doing, doing with no time for being!
Her mind turned to the couples counselling that she’d forced Richard into a couple of years ago: it hadn’t made any difference. He was stubborn, controlling and manipulative. Of course he was never going to let anyone in! She recalled him charming the pants off the woman, who’d fallen for his quick intellect.
The thoughts stopped for a brief moment. She’d made a mess of things but couldn’t work out where she’d gone wrong. She’d tried her best, done everything that was expected of her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Having fearlessly worked through her demons, she’d painstakingly rebuilt herself, and here she was, married, with two children, living in a desirable residence and excelling in a career she loved! She’d worked hard for her treasures, but they didn’t seem to be glittering. Be positive, she told herself, have gratitude. Focus on the breath. Cool in the nostrils as you breathe in. Warm as you breathe out. Relaxed awareness, expectant gratitude, following the breath, focusing on the Hara, three fingers width below the navel.
The restless thoughts began to subside. The breath became shallow and slow. Her shoulders dropped.
She’d been meditating almost every night for about nine years and it had become the most important practice in her life. She couldn’t imagine how she’d cope without it. Katy’s mind became still. Her whole being expanded outwards and upwards into nothingness and nowhere-ness. It felt as if the sun were shining on the inside. Warm, loving, radiant. She was the silent witness. Beyond the self: big and luminous. Peaceful and eternal.
Ooh! I’m not thinking. Bugger. That’s a thought.
Breath. Hara. Silence.
It felt as if she was being held. A loving presence was there, inside her, surrounding her. She wasn’t alone.
Focus. Breath.
She wondered if that might be God? Katy winced. God? But she wasn’t religious! Maybe Shiva, Source, The Divine, or even Yahweh like the U2 song? That sounded better. God wasn’t very cool, was He? Funny that. Even the spiritual people didn’t like using the ‘G’ word! It was very old-fashioned. She squirmed. Too many negative connotations.
He was omnipotent, wasn’t He? That meant all-powerful. Yes. Potent. Powerful. What were the other two? Omnipresent – everywhere at once – and omniscient; all-knowing. He knew everything. He’s a ‘know-all’, she thought, the corners of her lips curling upwards into a smile. I wonder if He’s really a She? But that would be Goddess!
Breathe. Hara.
She giggled. So, He knows I’m sitting here laughing at Him. He knows my life’s a mess and He probably knows why, because He knows everything! He’s got all the answers! And if He’s everywhere, it means He’s here with me right now! And He has the power to do anything! Or She has. Maybe She’s both – beyond gender.
Breathe, Katy. Breath. Focus on the Hara, and let go of the stupid thoughts!
She should hand her life over to God! He couldn’t screw it up any more than she had! She spent her life solving other people’s problems but couldn’t sort out her own! Maybe it took her mind off... She paused. Maybe being busy stopped her sinking. Stay positive! What was it they said? If you fake a smile you produce all the right neurotransmitters? Fake it till you make it!
Katy adopted a positive attitude. There was a solution to every problem. Damned if she could find it, though!
“I hand my life over to God!” It just came out, unexpectedly, as if someone had pushed an invisible button. Perhaps it was her true self, the one buried beneath domesticity and keeping up appearances!
Oh well, let’s see what happens, she thought, see if He does exist, if He really is omni-all those things!
Breathe. Hara. Silence.
Expanse. Stillness. No time. No thing.
A loving, distant Voice – a male voice – spoke softly, tenderly inside Katy’s head, as if just above and behind:
“The road is long and boring at times, but then a beautiful vista. It twists, turns and rises, and leads occasionally to dead ends. There are obstacles, and steep and jagged byways. It’s frustrating, but the challenges are there to strengthen you. It’s all there for the learning. You think you’ve taken a wrong turn or ended up in the wrong place, but the truth is, it’s just an experience. You created it from the choices you took. You’re growing. You can always let go and choose something different or respond differently. Everything happens for a reason. The soul has planned it – for your edification. That’s the purpose of the adventure you call life, this schoolhouse called Earth. You face and transcend the difficulties, empowering yourself as you go – else you’re stuck in the cul-de-sac you’ve chosen, pulling yourself in to hide in small, safe spaces. See through the illusion. Grow wise and detach from the turmoil. Advance through the maze of opportunities and learn to rise up! See the full panoply of possibility from a higher vantage point! For every steep hill there’s a breath-taking view. For every arduous step there’s an epiphany. For every sadness there’s a joy. For every fear there’s a strength. For every loss, there’s a gain. Most people stay in the comfort of their own cul-de-sac. What do you choose? Safety or the courage to take flight? Limited life or limitless light? You have free will.”
Chapter 2
October 2008
Sessions with Terry were going well. He’d given Katy tasks each week and she’d diligently applied herself, despite initial resistance and panic. She’d carved out ten minutes during the day, giving herself permission to do something other than client, business or domestic work. She’d started to read again, catch a program on Radio 4, or liste
n to a self-help CD. Sometimes she’d browse around John Lewis on the way into work, feeling guilty afterwards if she’d bought something. Some days were still too busy to find time out, but, on Terry’s recommendation, she was walking in the park for twenty minutes every other day. Yoga extended to an hour at least three times a week. She was eating fresh organic meals where possible and took supplements each morning. At the weekend, she began to pursue her own interests, diving deeper into spiritual teachings and meeting new people along the way. Her mood was shifting but she was still worn down, and now feeling guilty as well.
To the chattering classes of West London, Katy was becoming an anomaly. “She’s probably having a mid-life crisis,” she imagined them saying. “Look what she’s wearing now!” Katy was bored with the tribal uniform of Boden, White Stuff and Sweaty Betty. Never really liked it, she thought. It was like dressing up and pretending to be someone else. She’d taken to wearing chic little jackets from the high street chains, chunky ethnic jewelry and tailored trousers with sexy shoes. It was Richard who wanted to belong. It made him feel successful, donning ridiculously expensive sweatshirts and boating shoes, as if he’d gained access to some exclusive club.
The mothers in the book circle crowed as they played their obligatory game, gathering each month in plush sitting rooms designed to impress. Each host competed with the last, it seemed: costly Persian rugs, elegant sofas, centerpiece coffee tables replete with big, arty books. There might be an extravagant scented candle burning in a glass jar, sending out sickly fumes of Oud or Bergamot. Thick feather cushions plumped to perfection stood as sentries, daring you to sink into them. “The villa in Tuscany was simply, divine,” said one of the circle of ladies, taking a sip of cheap Chianti, “William and the children loved the pool and I have to tell you, the pool boy was—”
Someone interrupted, “Oh the spa at The Lensbury is an absolute must! There’s a gorgeous hunk running the gym next door. We went last week, you should try it, darling!”
“Really? It’s a bit of a schlep. We’re at the Hogarth.”
“This Chianti’s not bad, but I prefer Merlot. Sainsbury’s has a great Chilean one on offer at the mo.”
Katy didn’t like either very much. How could they show off their wealth then drink cheap plonk like this?
“Where did you go in Tuscany? We rented a superb house in one of the vineyards last year.”
Katy rolled her eyes and interjected before the woman had chance to answer. “Did anyone read the book?” They all looked at her blankly for a hesitant moment before continuing with their conversation. “A little place near Lucca. Did Harry get into Latymer? It really is the best of the local privates.” Katy sat in silence, watching the topic move from who had the most impressive holiday, to which was the best private school, to who had a booking at Nobu. She watched them scoff at the lower income families who couldn’t afford private education and had never been to The River Cafe. She hadn’t had time to read the book, and in any case, she didn’t much care about the latest fiction. She wanted to read Conversations with God or Power Versus Force – something that might enlighten her. She’d bought The Artist’s Way and The Art of Happiness, but they sat on the coffee table collecting dust while she battled with running the house, her practice, and the family. It was difficult enough juggling life without pursuing the mystical, but it was pulling her, and she wanted more.
“Lovely to see you all again,” she found herself saying, as if a small hidden part had suddenly plucked up the courage to step forward. “But I really do have to dash!” The lively banter stopped. “Sorry...” said Katy. “I’ve been busy and I’m tired. I’ll come back at some point, I’m sure.” She didn’t feel sure, but the words had left her mouth before she could sensor them.
“Oh! Such a shame, Katy, we were about to get going.”
“Bye, darling!”
“Send our love to the gorgeous Richard!”
A crescendo of chattering and laughter could be heard as she closed the front door behind her and walked into the crisp, clear evening. If they only knew the real Richard! Looking up at the night sky, she took a deep breath and noticed the stars seemed brighter than usual. A smile crept across her face as she walked home breathing in the cool of the night, her mind perfectly still, in awe of the expanse of velvet, inky blue above.
With the book circle and the gossiping mothers out of the picture, Katy was free to read what she pleased and connect with more open-minded people.
* * *
Tara was a friend of Shanti’s that she’d met at Alternatives in Piccadilly. Having been a nurse, she had a sensible, grounded approach to personal and spiritual development. She’d survived cervical cancer and against all odds, and the advice of her doctor, had managed to fall pregnant. Twice. She and her husband, Ben had taken a complementary approach and it had worked. Katy had got to know her when she’d recommended her colleague, Fran, for hypno-birthing. They sat now, with a few other friends, in the lived-in kitchen of Tara’s Streatham home, eating gluten-free cake and sipping yogi tea. The book circle seemed a million miles away.
“Tara! Tell Katy about your soul contract!” said one of the bright young things, sending her child out to the sandpit to play.
“Oh yes! You must!” said another.
Katy wasn’t listening. She was preoccupied with her own existential struggle and her need to fit in. I wish I’d worn something different, she thought, looking at the jeans and t-shirts. She loosened her silk scarf, slipping it covertly into her leather handbag.
“I went to see this amazing woman called Dinah,” said Tara, brushing a crumb from her mouth. “She’s up in North London – not far from Stoke Newington. She does soul contract readings! I think you’d like her.”
Katy smiled. “Mmm?” She watched the way Tara’s glossed lips moved as she spoke. It reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who. Perhaps it was a client? Her mind began its search, and along the way lost track of what Tara was saying. She had to forcibly bring her concentration back. It was second nature to act as if she was engrossed while actually thinking about something else. Maybe she’d learned it from her mother, or perhaps it was the sheer effort of staying present with clients that gave her the self-appointed right to switch off socially? Katy felt bad and made a mental note: listen properly to friends. Often, she’d be comparing what they said with her own views, wondering what others might think, and calculating what time to leave to avoid the traffic. Her mind was so distracted these days and her friends deserved more.
“...and I’m not joking, it was so accurate,” she heard Tara say.
“And it’ll give you the bigger picture.”
What bigger picture, thought Katy? “Oh, that sounds great!” she said, hoping Tara wouldn’t notice but it was obvious from her expression that Tara saw right through it. Katy blushed. “Sorry. I was miles away – too much going on in my head!”
Tara gave her an understanding smile. “No problem – been there, done it – ticked the box! Here, I’ll write down her details for you. Have a look at soul contracts on the internet, I think you’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” Katy smiled, still lost in her thoughts. If the content of a conversation fascinated her, she would be captivated and give it proper attention, but often she dismissed things with a healthy dose of common sense. The inner sceptic would mock silently in Richard’s voice, or was it Father’s? Difficult to tell. ‘What a load of rubbish,’ she could hear them say inside. The outer persona smiled and took the slip of paper with a polite, “Thank you.” Somewhere in the middle, the real Katy was caught between the two, like a rabbit in the headlights, fraught with indecision.
If a quirky idea or an offbeat book came across her path three times, Katy would take it as a sign that she should investigate further and ignore the inner critic. This was the first she’d heard of soul contracts. She made the right noises and forgot about it – until three days later, when she ran into Ben at Earl’s Court tube station. “Did Tara tell you
about the soul contract lady?” he said.
“Yes! She did!”
“Oh my God! It was amazing,” he said, his face animated, his hands gesticulating. “We had our relationship contract read as well, and it was all there in black and white!”
“In black and white?”
“Yes. You get a chart and a recording. Didn’t Tara tell you?”
The train timetable flickered as the information shifted. A platform change was announced over the Tannoy. “Yes, she did! She did indeed... That’s my train, I’ve got to dash! Sorry! Give my love to Tara and the kids!”
It would take another chance meeting three days later before the message hit home, this time from their mutual friend, Shanti Kapoor, Reiki Master, Healer, Yogi and manager of the Rainbow Emporium in Covent Garden. “Oh my God, Katy, you’ve got to have it done. I’m telling you, it’s amazing!”
Soul contracts: Katy had never heard of them until six days ago. Six months prior, she’d have dismissed them as ridiculous twaddle. Now, here she was, sitting at the top of the number 93 bus with Shanti, discussing the importance of a reading.
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