He called me on Christmas Day to “check in” on me. I thought I had been plopped back in the “normal student” pile, but it seems as though I was still “special.” My heart fluttered at the attention. I excused myself from my friends and retreated into my bedroom. I closed the door, sat on the floor, and listened intently. His voice sounded masculine, mature, protective. And I suddenly recognized that I felt tremendous affection for him.
He asked whether I had received the gift he had sent me. I walked toward the front door to look for it and noticed a small package on the floor under the bench in the entryway. I opened it. It was a DVD of Conan the Barbarian. I loved Arnold Schwarzenegger. I had learned to love him as a child, while watching his movies with my father.
Delighted by the gift, I thanked him profusely.
“Conan is one of Lakshmi’s Teacher’s many incarnations,” he said. “You can learn a lot by watching the movie.”
“Oh,” I replied, not sure if Conan had actually ever been a real person, but excited anyway about watching the movie.
I told Vishnu about having him in my thoughts, and he started to explain the occult to me.
He told me that occult meant “hidden” and that, because I was meditating and becoming so bright, “Dark Beings” were pushing themselves into my mind. They were “hidden” because they were not “in the physical realm,” but, energetically, they could and would hurt me. The brighter I became, the more I had to fear an “occult attack,” which would manifest as very dark mind states or extremely vivid nightmares.
I listened, but did not want to believe in “Dark Beings” messing with my mind. I wanted to ask questions, but he kept talking. He went on to explain that when someone thinks about you, there is an energetic line that goes from that person to you and that explains why you end up thinking of each other at the same time. Lakshmi had taught us the proper etiquette is to never focus on another person with our thoughts. Vishnu was adamant that he was not thinking about me. If he ended up in my thoughts, it was because Dark Beings were “posing as him” to “gain access to my mind.”
If I believed in Beings of Light assisting me on my path, I supposed I had to believe in Dark Beings, as well. I’m strong enough to handle them, I thought to myself. We chatted a bit more, and then I hung up and went back to my friends. I had a little glow in my heart. Vishnu had sent me a present. He knew I didn’t want to be with him romantically, and he still reached out to me on Christmas. I felt safe putting him back in the “father figure” category, knowing I was still loved, still singled out as worthy of receiving a Christmas gift and call from him, still “different” from the other students.
Two weeks after I returned from Colorado, the eight of us flew to Arizona. Vishnu called me the night before to tell me he was really looking forward to my visit and that my arriving in Arizona would make the state “sparkle with enchantment.”
Ugh, I thought to myself, the romantic overtones are back. I wanted to believe I had misinterpreted him. I wanted to talk it out with a girlfriend to get clear, but I couldn’t tell anyone. Vishnu had specifically told me not to. He said the energy surrounding our times together was so intense it would cause harm to anyone I discussed it with and that the energy would “back up” and harm me, as well. I believed him. I’m not even sure why. I think I had witnessed so much light and magic and intense energy in my interactions with Lakshmi that Vishnu’s warnings made sense to me.
I also knew I was one of the only students to ever interact with Vishnu and Lakshmi outside of the weekend classes, and I really believed I would be betraying them if I ever spoke about them to anyone else. I decided I would show up in Arizona and figure it out there.
The morning of our flight, Vishnu sent the eight of us an e-mail with strict instructions: We were told to rent three cars. I was to drive two of the other students, Seth and Lisa. Lisa was to be my copilot, and Seth was to sit behind her in the car.
Seth and Lisa, in fact, were the two students who kept cancelling on our beach outings. I wondered whether they were ever truly invited in the first place, but I never asked them. I was afraid of the answer.
Vishnu had given us a rental-car checklist. It took fifteen minutes to check everything off: tire pressure checked, oil full, mirrors adjusted, no dents, mileage noted, jack in the trunk, all lights working . . . The list went on and we all had to check all three cars. Then we had to drive in a caravan from the airport. Our first stop was at Whole Foods where each of us had to buy Lakshmi and the senior student an arrangement of flowers. This took forever, because eight of us showed up and asked one flower arranger to arrange sixteen complicated bouquets of flowers. By the time we were finished, we had only twenty minutes left to find our hotel, check in to our rooms, shower, and change for dinner.
When we arrived to the restaurant the hostess led us upstairs to a large and sad room that held nothing but our table for thirteen on a thin, stained, green carpet. There were a few sizeable windows, but otherwise the walls were bare. Awkwardly, we stood in a semi circle facing the door, unsure of what else to do.
We heard Vishnu in the hall moments before he and Lakshmi entered the room with Shiva, a shriveled older man with wild hair, oxygen hoses in his nose, and two younger, much younger, consorts by his side. Vishnu and Shiva approached our semicircle with Vishnu wheeling Shiva’s oxygen tank along side him as he introduced Shiva to each of us. When he got to me, he said, “Shiva, this is Renee” and then dropped Shiva’s oxygen tank, which hit the ground with a loud crash and strained the tubes in Shiva’s nose.
Lakshmi, Shiva, the consorts, and the other volunteers looked stunned. Vishnu flushed red, bent over to pick up the tank, and introduced Shiva to the next volunteer. As soon as all the introductions were done, we sat down around the table, Lakshmi on one end and Shiva on the other. I was told to sit next to Shiva and across from Vishnu. Shiva’s consorts sat on either side of Lakshmi. I noticed Shiva and his consorts all wore rings that looked like Lakshmi’s. All the other volunteers sat nervously in the center.
Dinner was weird. The restaurant was run-down, the food mediocre. Shiva and Lakshmi did most of the talking. At one point, Shiva looked at the necklace I was wearing, a string of hand-painted porcelain beads. With a strange expression, he said to me, “That’s an interesting necklace. Where did you get it?” He added, “It has some very . . . interesting energy.”
I told him it was my mother’s, and he made a face. “Should I take it off and put it in the far corner of the room?” I asked, horrified that I was wearing something harmful.
He said, “It may be better if you don’t wear it, but putting it in your purse is fine.”
Once I removed it, he quickly switched the subject to something more lighthearted. Sitting so close to him, I felt the same way I did next to Lakshmi: like I was being sandblasted with light, dissolving into bliss and peace and love and silence and God. He was an old man, with long, stringy hair, trembling and weak, but I was overwhelmed by the light I felt in his presence.
As we left the restaurant that night, Vishnu pulled me aside and said quickly, “You may want to get rid of all of your mother’s jewelry. We need to discuss this when we’re back home.”
The next night, the eight of us went back to Whole Foods to buy everything Lakshmi told us we needed for our special meditation event with her: Burrito Night. We met Lakshmi and Vishnu at a beautiful house—not Lakshmi’s house. They had rented this one for a few hours because none of the students could be allowed to know where Lakshmi lived. According to Vishnu, it would be “far too dangerous for her energetically” because we would hold the image of the house in our minds, and our impure energy would harm Lakshmi.
Burrito Night was a blast. The ten of us filled the small kitchen and divided cooking tasks among ourselves. Then we stood around a huge table in the dining room, chatting and laughing as we built our burritos. Everyone was in great spirits; we were all “totally baked.” Many of the volunteers, myself included, got caught staring at Laksh
mi in awe. She just smiled her charming, light-filled smile, and we would look away, embarrassed. We sprawled out in the chairs and on the floor to eat.
While the others were finishing their burritos, Vishnu and Lakshmi asked me to go outside with them for a moment. Suddenly, Lakshmi seemed upset. She told me that teaching the group took a huge toll on her and that Vishnu had suggested they bring in somebody to take over her tasks in running her company. With all the senior students and the new students, as well as the Power Trips and public seminars, Lakshmi had built a sizeable personal/professional development company.
“Vishnu suggested that this person be you,” she said. “I’m not thrilled with the idea. I love running my company, but my energy is diminishing, and I need help.”
She turned to look me in the eyes, grabbed both of my hands, and said, “We will have to trust each other.”
It was the first time I had ever touched her. Her hands felt like light: soft, as if they were not really hands but balls of energy. She seemed so vulnerable. I wanted to protect her. I would do anything for her. Of course I would help run her company.
When we returned to California, Vishnu and I made an appointment to go over the details of my new responsibilities—at his house. Vishnu and Lakshmi had led us to believe they always stayed at hotels. I myself booked the rooms for them—always two separate rooms—so I was surprised when he gave me an address that sounded like it belonged to a house. I wondered if Lakshmi would be there, and if I would see her today, too. Had they moved from Arizona to California? I drove up to the house and Vishnu was standing outside. I suspected I would not be invited in and I was not.
The morning of our meeting, he called to say, “I’m about to go for a hike. Would you like to join me? If so, bring beach clothing.” The hike was long and hot and very fast. I quickly regretted saying “yes,” although I’m not sure I had really been given an option; I had assumed we were going to discuss my new job while hiking. Instead he took off ahead of me in silence. As I walked behind him, struggling to keep up, he took his shirt off, and I cringed at his sweaty, pale skin and the rolls of fat above his volleyball shorts. He walked ahead of me with his left hand raised, making funny motions with his index finger. He wore a fanny pack. I began to think how odd Vishnu was, how repulsed I was by him. And then suddenly my thoughts switched to compassion. He seemed to be in great emotional pain, struggling with something, and trying so hard to become Enlightened like Lakshmi. I still could not figure out if he and Lakshmi were dating. The more I interacted with him, the more it seemed he was always alone.
Suddenly, as if he felt me thinking about him, he turned around and told me to do a karate kata that he had taught before the holidays. I felt completely caught off guard. I hadn’t thought about that kata for over a month. I wanted every position to be in perfect form, to show I was a good student, but I simply could not remember it all, especially with him staring at me. I did it poorly and I felt embarrassed: I suddenly felt small again, weak, vulnerable, flawed. I felt like a failure. He said nothing when I finished, just turned on his heel and continued hiking. I hurried along after him.
When we returned to his house, Vishnu told me we needed to get into the hot tub because we “cleared out a lot of energetic lines on the hike” and the hot tub would “make sure they left our bodies.” I wasn’t sure why, if we cleared out lines, we still needed them to leave our bodies, but I decided not to ask.
Vishnu opened the hot tub cover, removed his shoes, dropped his shirt and fanny pack in a pile on the ground, and crawled in, sweaty and sandy. I realized I was supposed to do the same. I had a blue bikini on under my hiking clothes and awkwardly peeled off my socks and shoes and then my t-shirt and shorts. I looked at the ground, pretending to focus on my balance as I removed my clothing. I couldn’t bear the idea of him watching me undress.
The hot tub was large enough for four to five people and I stayed curled in a ball in the corner, as far away as I could possibly get from him. This felt way too intimate. He leaned back and kept his eyes closed most of the time. The jets made a lot of noise. We were on the side of his house, halfway between the front sidewalk and the back yard; he had chosen a corner by the back yard so I was closer to the sidewalk and turned away from him, looking out onto the street, pretending to be fascinated by the cars and people that passed by. Eventually, he got out. I got out with him and stood awkwardly by the hot tub. He went inside and came out with two towels. Then he told me to follow him as he showed me to the guest shower. He told me to shower and change and meet him on the upper deck to discuss my new job.
I showered as quickly as I could, worried about keeping him waiting. Then I nervously climbed the stairs. I had to walk through a bedroom to get to the deck. I tried not to look around, but I could not help noticing that I was walking through Lakshmi’s bedroom. I could tell it was hers by the few items I saw. So they did live together, at least when she was in California. There was no sign that Vishnu shared the bedroom. I had noticed that he walked downstairs in the three-level house after he showed me to the guest shower. I tried not to look at any more of Lakshmi’s room as I walked through it to the deck. I did not want to “harm her with my attention.” I couldn’t believe I was being permitted to walk through her bedroom.
When I got outside, Vishnu was waiting on the deck dressed nicely, in dark jeans and a dress shirt. I was wearing the same sweaty clothing I had hiked in. He looked annoyed and asked if I had something nicer to change into.
“No,” I said. He had told me to come dressed in beach clothing, not in anything nicer. I had assumed we were going to hash out the details of my new job while hiking. Plus, the last time I showed up in business casual attire for a beach outing, he had told me to change. Again, I instantly felt criticized—small, flawed, and vulnerable.
We discussed the job; well, he talked and I listened. He said my life would change drastically, that I would no longer be able to come and go as I pleased. Most of my time would be spent with him and Lakshmi. He told me I would have a lot of responsibility, but he knew I could handle it. He was very clear that it would no longer be appropriate for me to spend as much time with the other students. He told me I would be his personal assistant and do “anything and everything that needs to be done,” that I would basically be on call for him 24/7. He said I would help with shopping and errands and cleaning and cooking when Lakshmi was in town, and that I would help him run her company. He was vague about time off and he never mentioned pay. His soliloquy lasted fifteen minutes, because he repeated himself often; he never asked if I had questions, and then he dismissed me.
“Go home and change,” he said. “We are going out to dinner to celebrate.”
I arrived at the restaurant in dark jeans, heels, and a maroon sweater. I did not see him near the front door so I looked past the hostess and noticed he was already seated. I approached his table slowly, nervously. He smiled at me and stood up and pulled out my chair, waiting for me to sit before gently pushing it back towards the table. He then immediately ordered two glasses of champagne and told me I was going to eat filet mignon because I needed to start eating meat if I was going to be working so closely with him and Lakshmi. Meat, he said, would ground me, would help me meditate better. I had been a vegetarian for over ten years, but I couldn’t imagine saying no.
Then he said, “Lakshmi and I have never done this.”
I didn’t understand. Never done what? Eat dinner together? Drink champagne together? Go out to restaurants? I could not figure out what he meant by the comment, but I was too nervous and intimidated to ask. He had set himself up as so far above me—not on Lakshmi’s level, but definitely very close. And I was terrified that, if I asked him about his relationship with Lakshmi, he would come right out and say he wanted to sleep with me. Shiva had two consorts. Maybe Vishnu could have two women, as well. I wanted so desperately to believe he had my best interests at heart, that he was looking out for me as a mentor and guide. I wanted to believe he loved Lakshmi, was d
evoted to her, and that I was brought into the picture to assist the two of them. I simply would not allow myself to believe differently. I choked down the meat and drank the champagne and decided tomorrow would take care of itself.
Chapter 10 Tango
I went from Portugal to Madrid by train and flew from Madrid directly to Los Angeles. As soon as I landed in California, it became clear I had made the right choice. My path unfolded quickly and easily. The girlfriend who picked me up at the airport agreed to let me stay with her until I got settled. The next day, I bought a used car and drove to every Arthur Murray dance studio along the coast between Los Angeles and Mexico. I was surprised to see that, while the instructors in each studio appeared to be decent ballroom dancers, none of them had been trained in classical dance. I reasoned that, with all my ballet, jazz, and modern dance training, I would be the best dancer in those studios within a month. I wanted to be with real dancers, trained in classical dance. If I was going to learn to compete in Latin-ballroom dance, I wanted to be trained by the best.
A few days later, I walked into a small studio near the beach; the studio from my vision in Portugal. In the center of the dance floor a man was teaching a woman the cha-cha. The studio was otherwise empty, but the energy in the room felt great. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the large wooden floor with natural light.
“Excuse me,” I said, interrupting them. “I am interested in applying for a job here. May I leave my resume? I want to become a professional Latin-ballroom dancer.”
He stopped dancing and walked toward me. “This is an independent studio,” he said. “Independent contractors teach here. We don’t ‘hire’ anyone. And I’m not the owner, anyway.”
However, while he was saying this, he extended his arm and took my resume. He scanned it and looked at me.
“You have an extensive background,” he said, “and you would be shorter than me in heels. Do you already have a partner?” he asked.
The Burn Zone Page 9