“Let’s have breakfast together in the morning,” he whispered as he kissed me goodnight. He pointed to a bench in the garden and said, “Meet me here at 7:00 a.m.”
In the morning, I got up and showered, meditated, and walked down to the bench. Vishnu was not there. I waited fifteen minutes. He did not show up. I walked into the restaurant. He was not there. My time to eat before we departed the hotel was quickly diminishing.
I figured Vishnu must have gotten held up helping Lakshmi or a student, so I sat down with Bruno at a table that gave me a view of the bench in the garden. Just as I was finishing breakfast, Vishnu walked in. He saw me and motioned for me to join him. I walked over, and he walked outside. I followed him.
He grabbed my arm roughly and said, “What is wrong with you? Where were you? Why were you eating with Bruno instead of me?” There was so much anger in his voice. I felt like a child being scolded and started to cry.
“I waited for you,” I said.
“You didn’t wait long enough.”
“I thought you got held up. I could see the bench from my table, and I never saw you there. I was planning to walk out the second I did,” I said.
“I was watching the bench, and I never saw you there,” he said. “The next time I tell you to meet me somewhere, you need to meet me. Don’t have breakfast with another man instead.”
He walked away. I was dumbfounded. No matter what I did, I simply could not please this man.
That day, we followed Lakshmi around Uluru. There was so much light coming off of it that I could barely feel my body. It was hot and dry; the sun scorched our skin. Lakshmi walked slowly, waddling side to side, like an old fat lady. I wondered why she walked so slowly. I worried about her health. On stage she had been radiating light, but up close she did not look well. She wore black cotton pants and a black tank top that hung low and covered her bottom. Her arms were turning pink, so I asked her if she needed sunblock.
“No, thank you,” she replied. She was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t see her eyes, but there was ice in her voice.
Her arms continued to burn. When we had completed a full circle of Uluru, we were allowed to climb it. I decided not to. I could feel the spirits of the Aboriginal elders pleading with us, Please do not climb our sacred site. Instead, I lay on my back on a bench in the shade, peering up at the sky. Waves of white light pulsed through my body, expanding me as far and wide as eternity Herself. I was incredibly confused about Vishnu, but too “baked” by Uluru to care.
When we returned to the hotel, Vishnu announced that he would be teaching karate in one hour. Almost all of us, close to one hundred students, showed up to the room forty-five minutes later and waited outside patiently. The doors were closed. Vishnu must have been running late. The minutes ticked by. We sat quietly. Finally, Vishnu opened the door from inside the room and spoke to James, one of the security guards. James turned to us and said fifteen of us could enter.
Vishnu was visibly upset and kept making mistakes: counting out of order, forgetting to do kicks on the left side after kicks on the right, telling us to do one combo of moves and then doing something different. After the warm-up, he walked to the door and admitted everyone else but told them they had to sit in seiza, a formal Japanese kneeling position, around the edge of the room. When their legs started falling asleep and they began fidgeting, Vishnu yelled at them to stop moving. This was mean—incredibly mean. Some of the students were sixty or older.
Finally, he stopped teaching the first group and told us to kneel, as well. He started screaming at us: “Every one of you was late! And not a single one of you brought me flowers! It is a sign of disrespect to not bring an offering for a Spiritual Teacher, much less to show up late for class. This is unacceptable! In a traditional dojo, your sensei could kill you on the spot for this kind of insolence. How dare you?”
The whole time, his fly was open.
I raised my hand timidly and said, “Sensei, all of these people were here early. They were waiting quietly outside the room.”
The other students looked incredibly relieved.
Vishnu grew quiet and turned slightly red. He said, “Well . . . you all are forgiven. You are invited to join class. But every single one of you should have brought me flowers.”
We responded in unison, “Osu, Sensei.”
As we left the room after class, many of the senior students thanked me. Vishnu called the volunteers aside and asked us why no one had told him earlier that everyone had shown up on time.
“Sensei, you are a bit intimidating,” Seth said.
“Well, someone needs to tell me in the future,” Vishnu replied, as if it were our fault. He dismissed us.
As I walked to my room, I hoped I would not have to be near Vishnu again for the rest of the trip.
At dinner, I was assigned a seat at Lakshmi’s table, to the right of Vishnu. My heart raced. I was so mad at Vishnu that I couldn’t look at him, and I was really nervous about being so close to Lakshmi. I barely spoke to either of them. I simply ate my food quietly and let the other students ask questions. At one point, feeling the need to say something, I looked at Lakshmi and said, “It is so good to have you back.”
“I never left,” she said. “I have always been here, always teaching you.” She had an edge to her voice, something dark below the surface. Up close, she looked like the magic had been sucked out of her. In her time away from us, she had gained weight and gotten soft. Her clothing was baggy, boarding on frumpy. I had a fleeting glimpse of her as a pudgy, white, privileged Jewish woman, not a god. It disappeared as fast as it arrived.
When dinner was over, I walked back to my room, desperate to have some time to myself. Vishnu called before I went to bed, to tell me Lakshmi had told him I had incredible etiquette around him, that she was very impressed. I guess my being pissed at him and ignoring him mimicked proper etiquette. I got off the phone as fast as he would allow.
The next day, as we were all learning to make Aboriginal art, Vishnu pulled me aside and had me walk with him to the back of the building.
He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “I’m becoming Enlightened. Renee, will you be there for me? Will you stand by my side? I need to know I can count on you.”
I was a bit baffled. To me, he seemed further from Enlightenment than anyone else in our group, but what did I know? Of course I would be there for him. Enlightenment was the most important thing in my life. I wanted it to happen to all of us so we could make the world a better place.
“Of course I’ll help you,” I said.
He hugged me and cried into my hair and told me he loved me. Then he pulled himself together and we walked back to join the rest of the group.
Lakshmi watched us as we entered the room. Her gaze lingered a bit too long. I quickly picked up my art and continued making little dots.
That night, Vishnu called me again, this time to tell me Lakshmi was having a meltdown. “She called me to her room and asked if Shiva told me to have a tantric relationship with you,” he said. “I told her no.”
My stomach sank. This entire time I thought she knew about us. This entire time, I thought she was relieved to know Vishnu had someone to take care of him and to love him. This entire time, I thought I was helping her. How could he lie to an Enlightened Being?
His lying about us confirmed something else for me: Vishnu and Lakshmi were in a relationship. Otherwise, why would he lie about us? I was angry, and I was so sad inside.
“I’m shocked,” I said. “I can’t sleep with you anymore until I’m sure Lakshmi not only knows but also approves of it. Once a woman trusts another woman, there is a sacred bond of trust that cannot be broken.”
I hung up the phone and curled into a ball and sobbed.
Then I went out to my patio to meditate. Instantly, I saw myself sitting in front of Uluru. I was on dry, cracked red mud, and there was no one else around. In my vision I surrendered totally, offering my spirit to Uluru and my body to the parche
d earth below me. I imagined leaving my body and allowing it to decompose, to feed and nourish the Outback. And then my heart chakra exploded into white light, and I saw that the love and grace I kept hoping for had to come from within my own heart and radiate out, not the other way around. I suddenly understood why all the senior students looked so dejected. They had been waiting twenty years to be blessed and Enlightened, never realizing it wouldn’t come from a Teacher; it had to come from within themselves.
I opened my eyes. The phone was ringing.
“Hello, Renee. It’s Lakshmi. Do you have a moment?”
Of course I had a moment. I loved her so much. My heart began thumping.
“Can you please come up to my room?” she asked.
Suddenly, I was terrified. What was she going to ask me?
When she answered the door, she hugged me. It felt like being hugged by light.
Her eyes looked red and swollen, like she’d been crying. She told me she had a gift for me and handed me a stuffed koala holding its baby in its arms.
I started crying. She asked why, and I said, “Because I want to be able to hold and protect you the way the larger koala is protecting the little one.”
“Well, we can take turns protecting each other.”
I stood there awkwardly, holding the child’s toy, until she said, “That’s all. I saw them in the gift shop and they told me I had to buy them for you. I hope you like them. They are very magical.”
I thanked her and went back to my room, wishing I had mustered up the confidence and strength to have talked to her about Vishnu.
The next day, we all flew back to Sydney. Lakshmi was lost in thought. She looked gray. I had never seen her look so depleted. I felt so sad for her. At last I understood what was going on. She wasn’t sick. She hadn’t been sick. She was heartbroken.
Chapter 15 Family
Vishnu flew with Lakshmi to Singapore and then to Germany and then to Arizona while I went home alone. Apparently, Shiva had told them these stops would help Lakshmi heal from the trip, that the occult would not be able to find them if they kept moving. Vishnu called me daily as they travelled and finally told Lakshmi about us when they reached Arizona. He told me she was devastated, that she dropped to the floor and sobbed at his feet. They spent a week discussing it, fighting about it.
“At times, she handles it like an Enlightened Being,” he said, “and at other times, she breaks down crying and tells me to lie to her and pretend I still love her.”
I was horrified. This was the antithesis of what I had imagined. I told him we had to stop seeing each other.
“Give me more time,” he said. I hung up the phone in agony. I wished I could talk to her about it, but spiritual etiquette dictated that I could not approach her; she had to approach me.
Two weeks later, my wish came true. They both flew to California. Vishnu called and said it was all arranged: Lakshmi would go for a walk on the beach with me, spend some time talking to me, give me her blessing, and then she and I would cook dinner for him at their house. Cook dinner for him? I thought. Why wouldn’t he and I cook dinner for her? I hung up the phone. I was even more confused.
Lakshmi and I walked side by side down the beach. Our conversation was strained. We were both upset. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, that I didn’t want to be Vishnu’s consort. But my courage to tell her anything vanished. I felt that she didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. I simply walked quietly by her side. I cannot recall anything she said to me. What I do remember is us sitting side by side in the sand at the end of our walk, waiting for Vishnu to meet us. Each time she thought he was approaching, she would put her arm around me, only to let go of the hug as soon as she realized the man approaching was not Vishnu. I could sense she really wanted him to see her handling it well. In a sense, I was in love with her, and she was in love with him, and he was in love with me. Talk about twisted.
Eventually, he came strolling down the beach, hands in his pockets, smug smile on his face, a man on top of the world, a man getting everything he ever wanted. Lakshmi and I stood up, and the three of us embraced. Then, on the beach under a cliff, they presented me with a ring—the dragon ring. It was gold. I noticed then that they had both changed their own rings from their left hands to their right. Lakshmi placed the ring on my right hand as well. She explained it was a Power Ring and that I could never be separate from it. Vishnu told me when I surfed, I should keep it tied to my bikini, and when I did karate, I had to keep it tied to my gi. There was only one time that I could—and should—take it off: when I pooped. Somehow, it would defile the ring if I kept it on then.
“We will be one big happy family,” she said. “The rings bind us together,” he added. Then we walked back to their house and Lakshmi and I cooked Vishnu dinner.
After we ate, I felt sick. I walked outside for fresh air and started vomiting violently into the bushes. Lakshmi looked very concerned, and Vishnu tried to “heal” me with his hugs and by running his hands over my body in order to “pull out lines of energy.” I felt afraid and unsure. I felt sad to the depths of my soul. I felt poisoned. I went home and vomited some more and cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, our life as a “family” began. I now did the shopping and errand running and cooking and cleaning for both of them. I did not sleep over; Vishnu decided it would be better to wait, to let Lakshmi get used to having me around first. I was grateful for the break. When she went back to Arizona, I would sleep over and have sex with him again. At times, he was caring and kind and I loved him; at other times he was selfish and narcissistic and treated me like a peon, and I hated him. This went on for months.
When summer rolled around again, the public events, which happened for three nights one week a month, began to take a toll on Lakshmi. According to Vishnu she broke down crying daily and begged him to stop sleeping with me, and while calling him from Arizona, she’d scream and throw the phone across the room, shattering it into pieces. Or if she were in California, she would scream and scream until Vishnu was worried the neighbors were going to call the cops. She asked him again to lie to her, to tell her he loved her.
Hearing this broke my heart. I suggested to Vishnu that I stay away from him completely. I didn’t want to be sleeping with him, anyway. I complained about it often to Lakshmi, so she knew; however, during these talks she always told me that being Vishnu’s consort was my Divine task, that it would make me change, make me sand down my ego, that it was right for all of us. Yet she hated us together. I would have gladly given up this task, and told him it was clearly time I resign from being his consort, but he wouldn’t let me.
He insisted it was my dharma to be his consort, that Lakshmi was just under occult attack and was really fine with the idea. The two of them began to fight more often. Vishnu called me daily to tell me about their arguments and ask for advice. Then Lakshmi started to call me daily to talk to me about Vishnu. I told her I couldn’t stand him. I told her I thought he was selfish and narcissistic and acted like a spoiled five-year-old. Lakshmi felt supported by this, grateful to discover he treated me badly, as well.
I was on Lakshmi’s side. When Vishnu called me I disclosed everything I said about him. Surprisingly, he took it well. He started crying. He said he needed to change. He told me to please be patient with him, that he would change. So I stayed.
Meanwhile, everything was ramping up for the students. We had more tasks, more assignments. Our meditation had increased steadily; we were now meditating an hour every morning and thirty minutes every night. Our tuition increased again, radically. I began paying $1200 a month. Those who paid more would be entitled more time with Lakshmi and would be more “empowered.” Vishnu continued teaching us karate.
I eventually arranged for him to teach at the dance studio where I used to teach classes. One evening, as we were getting ready for karate class, a man walked into the studio asking about dance lessons. I left Vishnu’s side and spoke to the man, handing him a schedule of
dance classes and explaining how to get started. When I turned around, Vishnu was fuming. He pulled me into the back room.
Then he exploded.
“Do you have any idea what a privilege it is to work for me?” he screamed. “Most of the students out there would kill to spend time with me!”
I asked him what he was talking about.
“You made a severe breach of etiquette by leaving my side to assist that man.”
I explained that I did it out of respect for the owners of the studio and for the man, that as a former teacher at that studio, I could not let him walk in and leave him unattended. Then I told Vishnu that if he wanted my respect he had to earn it. I walked out to join the rest of the students.
The next day, four dozen, magnificent long-stem white roses in an exquisite vase arrived at my house. From Vishnu. In a heartfelt card, he asked for my forgiveness. He called soon afterward and asked if he could come over and apologize. When I opened the front door, he dropped to his knees, grabbed onto my legs, looked up at me, and said, “I love you fiercely. Please forgive me.”
We had a long talk in my garden. I told him about my father, about how much I respected him. I told him he could not expect me to listen to him and follow him and call him a Teacher if he acted like a spoiled child. I said he had to walk the walk, not just talk the talk. At the end of the talk, we were closer, but I would never again be able to talk myself into loving him or looking up to him. It simply was not possible. I actually felt sorry for him.
November approached, and Vishnu insisted I spend Thanksgiving with him and Lakshmi in Arizona. I did not want to go.
“She won’t like it,” I said.
He insisted. “We’re family,” he said.
She called me and invited me. “We’re family, “she said.
I had to go.
I flew to Phoenix, rented a car, and drove to their home. I got lost on the way and arrived tired and travel-weary. I had never been to their house before. When I knocked, Vishnu answered. I went to hug him, and he pushed me away saying, “It’s patio time.”
The Burn Zone Page 14