A Brilliant Ride (19 page)

“Um, what’s with the diamond?”

“Oh! That’s not a diamond…you’re so silly…it’s an energizing crystal,” Phyllis blinked.

“It certainly looks like a giant diamond to me, Phyllis. Listen, I know my gems…”

“It raises one’s vibration,” she said, her eyes locked on the photo.

“Okay, so you’re saying this guy has the power to change my life,” I bit my lip.

“Oh yes. He’s worked
miracles
.”

“Um…how come I’ve never heard of him?” I handed the photo back.

“Oh, don’t be silly. He likes to keep a low profile. Only his most beloved devotees are privy to the inner workings of the Yamalamarama Center and the divine magic that goes on behind its sacred walls.”

“Okaaaaay, that sounds
intriguing
,” I mumbled, wondering if I could turn around and return my new yoga outfit.

“Come on! We better get a move on. We need to get downtown; we don’t want to be late.” She grabbed my arm.

On the way out, I caught sight of a gold tray holding what looked like tiny discs of colored glass. Within seconds, Aphrodite swished over and grabbed one with her silver and turquoise-jeweled fingers. “Oh, you simply must have one of these. It will increase your inner sight,” she squealed. “Here, try it on.” She carefully placed a small red stone on my forehead.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the nearby mirror and was horrified. “This is…..”

“Yesssss…just like the guru,” Phyllis yelped. “Oh, you’re gonna love it. It opens your third eye you know.”

“Sounds scary,” I mumbled. The thought of having a third eye was definitely unnerving. “Er…I think I’ve seen enough with two eyes.” I quickly pulled it off and headed for the door.

“As you please,” said Aphrodite in a solemn tone. “Wait! Before you leave you must think about protection!”

“Good thinking!” said Phyllis, bowing her head to Aphrodite.

Within seconds Aphrodite sprayed us with a concoction of frankincense and lavender, rang a brass bell, and recited her
prayer of protection
. “Go with love,” she sang as we headed for the door.

“Thanks a mill, Aph,” Phyllis called out. “We’ll be back!”

I had my doubts.

“Wow! Don’t you just love that place…” Phyllis crooned as we headed for the car.

As we headed
over to the Yamalamarama Center, I tried to convince myself yoga was a good thing. After all, Brilliant said I should try to find inner peace. He also said it was important to stretch the body and calm the mind. And yoga does seem to be quite the rage. I’m always seeing women, with their little rolled up mats, running into that new
Yoga Hut
they built downtown. Some of them even have private yoga instructors. I know a lady in town who has a group of women to her place every week for an hour of yoga followed by wine and cheese. The thing is…Brilliant never mentioned anything about a guru…

“Look, there it is!” Phyllis shouted, “The Yamalamarama Center!”

It was a very non-descript building with a banner running across the front that read, “Yamalamarama Meditation and Yoga Center.” There were people scurrying in and out of the door, some dressed in saris others dressed in yoga pants and flowing tops. I was glad I threw a tunic over my new purple yoga top. Phyllis decided on a pair of genie pants, a skin tight spaghetti strap top, a silk shawl, which she wrapped around her head, and gold sandals encrusted with hundreds of brightly colored stones.

“Come on!” Phyllis pushed through the door dragging me behind her. “Oh Pen, please hurry. We don’t want to be late. We want to get a good spot.” We slipped past a crowd of devotees, as Phyllis called them. They all had red dots on their foreheads and were pushing and elbowing their way in. “Oh look!” Phyllis squealed. “There’s room in the front.” She quickly pulled me to the front of the room, and I sprained my ankle.

“Ouch! Geeze, calm down,” I hobbled to keep up with her. There were little square pillows placed all around the floor. We took our place, sitting on two at the very front of the room. Phyllis instructed me to close my eyes and contemplate the guru.

“But, Phyllis, where is the guru?”

“He is everywhere,” Phyllis said in a strangely hushed voice.

At the front of the room, on a makeshift stage, was a large gold chair, sort of like a throne. On top of the chair was a large framed picture of the guru, Yamalamarama. Within minutes, the room was filled, and everyone began singing, clapping, and swaying back and forth, as they pointed to the picture of the man in the giant diaper. “Yama! Yama!” they screamed like banshees and swooned. “OM Yama! OM Yama!” A woman to
my left was hopping like a grasshopper, as her body contorted and seemed to spasm. Others yelped and growled.

“Phyllis, what is wrong with these people,” I asked, my eyes wide with terror.

“Oh that’s the divine energy,” she said plainly. “They’re having kriyas.
They’re so lucky
,” she stared at them dreamily.

“Lucky…this lady looks like she’s having a seizure.” I grabbed my cell and started dialing 911.

“Just stop. It’s the awakening of the
kundalini energy
! It’s moving through them like a great fire. It’s wonderful,” said Phyllis. “OM Yama, OM Yama,” she held my hand tightly.

“I think we should call for help,” I said, my eyes taking it all in. “Don’t drink any fruit punch, whatever you do…”

“Oh stop. Go with the flow, Pen. Just chant and stare at the picture of the guru.”

“
You mean Yamalamarama isn't actually coming to the retreat,” I asked, feeling ripped off.

“Oh no. We never know when he’s going to show up. It doesn't matter though
. He’s everywhere.
”

“He is? Where..?” My eyes wandered around the room.

A woman to my right tapped my shoulder “Yama is in India,” she whispered. “He’s at his temple teaching a class on
Nothingness
.” She took a small photo out of her sari. “Here is a picture of Swami Yama’s most gracious and blessed temple,” her eyes rolled back in her head, like she was hit with a blast of fairy dust.

Looking at the photo, I understood why Yama never left his gracious temple. “Um, looks like the Taj Mahal,” I handed the photo back. “Yamalamarama must charge a lot of dough for these retreats,” I said, pulling on my sleeve.

“Oh, it’s all donated. Everything is a gift for the guru. Everything is given freely with great love.” She held her heart. “There's a donation basket at the door.”

“What a racket,” I mumbled.

“What…what was that, Pen?” Phyllis perked up.

“Er…hack it…I can’t hack it…obviously, I‘m not ready to be enlightened,” I said and stood up. “Look Phyllis, my back is killing me, my ankle is swollen, my legs are
asleep, and quite frankly these people are scaring me. There’s a man over there roaring like a lion.”

“It’s the great fire,” she said flatly. “It can really…”

“Look, that’s it.” I cut her off. “I just want to go home and practice a few easy stretches on my little yoga mat. Nothing big, nothing contorted just a few easy stretches. That’s all Phyllis. And as far as meditation is concerned, I’m very happy to sit quietly and relax my mind, empty it of negative thoughts, that kind of thing. I don’t need to squawk like a chicken, contort my body or stare at a picture of Swami Yamalamarama. Let’s go home.”

“You know, Pen, what you need is a full week retreat at
Yama’s Ashram in the Himalayas…on the banks of the holy Ganga…it’ll literally turn you inside out.”

“Stop
. I’ve seen enough contortions…” My eyes locked on a woman twisted like a pretzel.

“You don’t know what you’re missing. Why don’t we make a reservation? If we hurry, we might even be able to make next week’s Emptiness Retreat!”

“Just out of curiosity…how much does this
empty
retreat cost?”

“Well…let me think…there’s the airfare, the ground transportation…and the signup fee…er, around $20,000…give or take.
But it’s well worth it
.”

“$20,000…per person!
”

“Oh Pen, stop. You can’t put a price tag on enlightenment. Think of what’s included: hours upon hours of yoga followed by hours upon hours of meditation, plus the enjoyment of basking in the guru’s presence…in total silence.”

“Total silence?”

“Oh yes. Once you enter the gates of the Yamalamarama Ashram you take an oath of silence. Your voice and shoes are left at the door.”

“Huh?”

“Yep. You’ll be stripped down to your core: barefoot, a simple burlap wrap to cover your nakedness, a thin bamboo sleeping mat on a freshly swept stone floor (of course you’re responsible for the sweeping), and a few bowls of rice…no cell phones and absolutely no alcohol.”

“No Pinot Grigio?”

“No…just meditation, yoga, chanting and rice. Oh…and a lot of sweeping. It’s a very simple existence, but it offers great transformation.”

“So let me get this straight. $20,000 gets me a bamboo mat, a burlap dress, a few bowls of rice, and I have to sweep?”

“
And wash dishes…
and toilets
. Oh it’s all so glorious.” Phyllis held her heart “Once you’re stripped of worldliness and your hands are raw from scrubbing, your soul will drink in the divine nectar of the guru. It’s all about nothingness.”

“Yes. And that’s exactly what I’ll be getting…nothing!”

“
Nothing is everything
,” Phyllis smiled, clutching the photo of Yamalamarama in his giant diaper…with his giant diamond.

Back home, I
wondered whether I should pack my new yoga mat. “I don’t think I’ll need it. Who needs yoga when you can just sit on the sand and feel yourself sway back and forth with the tide? What could be better than breathing in fresh sea air and relaxing your body and mind as you gaze out at the ever changing seascape? No, I won’t be bringing my new yoga stuff to the Cape.”

“Penelope.” I turned, and Brilliant was standing behind me. “The only thing you need to bring with you is love.” His sudden appearances were increasing. The fact that I accepted these visits as commonplace was most worrying. “The flow of love is powerful,” he continued. “Open up to this magical force. By opening your heart and mind to love, you instantly create a powerful positive energy that reflects outward touching others. And so it goes, link by link.” He twinkled before me. “Continue the flow of love.”

“You make it sound like I have the power to change things, situations and people. It’s not that easy.”

“It’s vitally important for each human being to know they hold the power to create change. You can all create. All that’s needed is vision and faith,” he beamed. “You need to be very clear about what it is you want out of life, Penelope. When you finally determine what that is, you’ll be able to embark on a wondrous journey. I’m here to educate, illuminate and guide you throu
gh your personal journey.”

“Is this trip to the beach house my journey?”

“It’s part of your path. You’ve embarked on an awakening of your inner self. Place is not important. What’s important is finding that which sparks the inner memory of who you are and what you’re capable of. If it takes a sojourn to the beach, then so be it. Have faith, Penelope; all will be illuminated.”

“
The recent homicide
of the tennis pro to the elite is still under investigation. Detectives confirmed earlier today, they are following up on promising leads but declined to make any other comments…” I stared at the television screen as a shiver shot up my spine. “Poor Todd, I still can’t wrap my mind around what happened.”

None of us could play tennis, we just couldn’t. The murder of that waiter was still under investigation, as well. Brilliant wouldn’t comment on any of it, making it all the more frustrating. “It will all come to light,” is all he would say.

It was making it hard to leave the girls. How can I leave with all this going on? Perhaps I should put it off for a while. Besides, the costume ball is coming up…I definitely don’t want to miss that. I was torn, but in the end I decided to stay put.

I decided to take a stroll in
town. After all, window shopping is always therapeutic.

The sky was bright, and the trees in Chatsdale had all changed color. Yellow, bright red and orange leaves cascaded in a dance of color, blanketing the street and sidewalk. There was a brisk wind, and it blew my hair back behind me like a streamer as I walked
down Main Street. I pulled my long sweater coat around me and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh autumn air. I had a list of items to pick up for Halloween and smiled at the thought of the children dressed up for the fun holiday. I was getting excited about the Regal Rock Costume Ball, as well. It’ll be a good diversion, I thought to myself. There’s been way too much drama in sleepy little Chatsdale.

The small village was a bustle of excitement. The shops were all decorated for Halloween and eager shoppers scurried in and out, their shopping bags brimming with goodies. “Click clap, click clap,” the heels of my suede boots echoed on the cobblestone sidewalk. As I neared Neilson’s bakery, the smell of warm popovers and pumpkin muffins filled me, tempting me to indulge. “Maybe just one,” I convinced myself and pushed into the aroma-filled shop. Each shelf was a joy for the senses. There were jellyrolls, muffins, popovers, cheesecakes, deep chocolate brownies, ginger cookies, sugar cookies, strudels, tarts and pies. It was difficult to choose. After taking it all in, my eyes wide with delight, I decided on a pumpkin spice muffin for myself and a pound of Halloween cookies for the girls. For Blossom, I picked out an apple turnover and for Sam, a cheese strudel. Simply divine, I thought, and placed the treats in my large leather tote. Happy with my bag of delights, I made my way out of the bakery and turned at Lake Street.