Waiting for Autumn (5 page)

“Just move her to where she feels most natural,” Hans repeated.

Almost as if someone were pushing the back of my shoulders, I began to guide her to the far side of the circle, safe and away from the rest of the people.

“Good,” said Hans. “Now the others.”

I was similarly guided to move my own representative next to Cheryl so that they were standing side by side and gently facing each other. I looked at the rest of the group, and the only person I could see was the drunk driver. Anger returned and filled my heart when I looked at him. Without thinking, I pushed him to the opposite end of the circle from Cheryl and turned him around so he was facing toward the outside of it. If he had to be there, I wasn’t going to let him be anywhere near Cheryl. He had done enough already, and he wasn’t going to do any more if I could help it.

“Okay, Scott, you’re done for now. From here on out, I just need you to watch and feel. It’s important for you to stay quiet. Are you ready?”

I nodded my head, and the lights seemed to dim, although I didn’t see anyone near the switch.

Hans walked up to my representative and asked, “How do you feel?”

“I feel angry at the drunk driver.”

He then walked to the drunk driver and repeated his question: “How do you feel?”

“Shame. Regret,” he said while starting to tear up. “I’m so sorry.”

Hans continued, “I want you to say to Scott: ‘I am sorry for taking Cheryl away from this world. It is my burden, and I alone will suffer the consequences.’”

Tears began to pool at the corners of his large mustache as the drunk driver repeated: “I am sorry for taking Cheryl away from this world. It is my burden, and I alone will suffer the consequences.”

I watched dumbfounded, and I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I was completely numb inside and out and sensed that I was going into shock. My emotions felt like they’d begun to short-circuit. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew I didn’t like it.

Hans walked back to my representative and said, “Tell the drunk driver: ‘I wronged you by taking on your burden. Cheryl’s death is not my responsibility. It is your burden to carry.’”

My representative spoke slowly and clearly: “I wronged you by taking on your burden. Cheryl’s death is not my responsibility. It is your burden to carry.”

After a brief pause, Hans continued, “Tell him: ‘I return your burden to you, and leave you in peace.’”

After an unusually long silence, my representative looked at me and then slowly returned her gaze to the drunk driver and whispered in a shaky voice, “I return your burden to you . . . and leave you in peace.”

The sobs of others surrounded me, and after my tears dried up, I felt like an emotional washrag that had just been wrung out. I instantly felt lighter as the guilt and anger in my heart began to dissipate. The constellation seemed to be working, and for the first time I was thankful to be there.

“Move at will,” Hans commanded the group, which brought my focus back to the representatives in the circle.

Everyone in the group began to move toward one another in the center of the circle, without comforting my representative. Several attempted to avoid her altogether, while the others acted like they didn’t see her, inevitably walking right into her, bumping her and literally spinning her around. Cheryl kept trying to get away from my representative, and every time my representative followed her, one of the others would run into her and nearly knock her down. This went on for almost three minutes and made me extremely uncomfortable.

“That’s enough,” Hans finally said. “Stop moving.”

I was relieved and hoped it was finally over.

Hans weaved between each of the people in the field and stopped in front of my representative and asked, “What do you feel?”

“I feel alone. Like nobody wants to be with me,” she replied.

Tears began streaming down my face again, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Through my emotional fog, I heard Hans continue: “That’s because you are supposed to be dead. You were supposed to die with Cheryl.”

I had thought that a million times, but thought that people in Hans’s position were obligated to make others feel good about living, not tell them they were supposed to be dead! I got really angry at him and wanted to get up and leave, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. In fact, my entire body wouldn’t move. I was frozen there. Stilled, and forced to listen to his abuse.

“Usually destiny works hand in hand with free choice, but on occasion one can overtake the other, as it did in your case. Probably because you have a developed sense of intuition, you were able to sense that getting in the car didn’t feel right.” Hans continued, and his words began to come clear: “But the universe is a finely tuned machine, made up of billions of living things, all predetermined to move on a particular path, weaving in and out, without interfering with each other. When someone dies, traditionally that path is freed up for another living being to travel on.”

My head started to spin again, and I wasn’t sure I was following him anymore. He then looked directly at me and continued speaking: “In your case, the universe expects you to be dead, and the paths you are walking on are interfering with the paths from other souls’ destinies. It’s as if an old side road has continued to be used after a new freeway has been built right through it. It’s very likely there will be run-ins because the side road is no longer supposed to be used.”

I started to understand.

“That’s why you feel so lonely, and why things have been so hard for you since Cheryl’s passing.”

I began to wonder if my recent string of bad luck had anything to do with what he was talking about. Before Cheryl’s death, I would always find a parking space right in front of whatever store I was going to, I never had to wait in line for more than a few minutes, and I had great friends who would do anything for me. And it was true that after Cheryl’s death, everything became much more difficult: I could never find any parking spaces, I would constantly be waiting in long lines for the simplest of things, and my friends nearly all abandoned me.

The more I thought about it, the more examples I came up with, like my recent habit of literally bumping into others when I was walking down the sidewalk. It was as if since Cheryl had died, most people couldn’t even see that I existed. Even coworkers I would see every day had trouble remembering my name.

Hans explained, “It’s also the reason why you’ve been holding on to Cheryl so intently, because you were destined to be with her through death. However, you’re not dead, and you need to be reintegrated with the living—and she needs to be allowed to move on.”

My head wouldn’t stop spinning. I had just been told that I was supposed to be dead, and I was preventing my fiancée from crossing to the other side because I’d been holding on to her after she passed. Although I thought Hans might be right, it was still disturbing, and I felt more confused than ever.

He turned his back to me and faced the circle once again. “Cheryl, tell Scott: ‘It was simply my time to go. I will see you again, although not for a while.’”

“It was simply my time to go. I will see you again, although not for a while,” Cheryl said to my representative.

“I love you, but you need to let me go,” Hans continued.

Cheryl repeated, “I love you, but you need to let me go.”

I gasped as tears caught in my throat. I was finding it hard to breathe, and the lights fell to blackness as Cheryl’s spirit finally moved away from me. My sadness flowed into relief, and for the first time since her death, I began to feel at peace with her passing.

“Because you’re no longer on your natural path, you haven’t been able to draw from the strength and support of your ancestors,” Hans told my representative. “Your ancestors are willing to help you integrate a new path alongside theirs so you will no longer feel alone.” He put his hands on the shoulders of my maternal grandfather and moved him to the left of my representative. He then guided my paternal grandfather to the right. My great-grandfather went to the left of my maternal grandfather, and the Cherokee nation to the opposite side.

Seeing my family surrounding me was extremely powerful. I felt loved and supported for the first time in years. With my ancestors flanking me like wings, I could imagine flying anywhere with their help.

Hans remained uncharacteristically quiet, and everyone within the circle looked nearly as wornout as I felt. Faces were streaked with mascara, and wads of crumpled tissue littered the floor.

“Good,” Hans finally said after a long silence. “Everyone in the field can return to their seats.”

The representatives inside the circle wandered back to their chairs and gradually returned to being a group of people I didn’t know. As they reclaimed their seats, pairs of concerned eyes turned to me as if to silently ask how I was doing.

Hans looked around as he addressed the entire group: “Everyone, close your eyes and once again breathe into your heart and exhale any energy from the field that remains inside you. It’s important to release the energy from inside your body before you leave this room.”

I followed his instructions and began to feel much lighter and more grounded than I had during the previous hour. It was finally over, and I felt an enormous sense of relief.

“What happened today in this constellation is a sacred bond between everyone who is here,” Hans continued, “and it’s important not to speak about it outside of this room. In fact, it will be most helpful for everyone”—and he looked right at me—“including you, Scott, if you try to forget what happened and allow the energy to work through you without letting your mind get in the way. I know it’s difficult, but we moved a lot of energy today, and it will be many years from now before it all settles.”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with that information, but I did feel a lot better and was grateful. If he meant that I would gradually heal over the course of the following years, then I was all for it.

“Okay, we’re done for now,” said Hans abruptly. “Let’s take a brief break and give Scott some time to settle in with his new support system.”

Martika handed me a glass of water and asked if I was okay. Everything was still in a fog, but I felt much better. And definitely more interested in living than I had since Cheryl had passed. I knew she was finally gone, and for the first time in years I was ready to live again.

“Come on,” said Martika. “Let me give you a ride home. I think you need to rest.”

Since I was feeling so sensitive, I didn’t leave my apartment for more than a week in order to recuperate. When I finally decided to get some fresh air, I had barely walked a block when I saw a girl in her early twenties with bright pink hair, a short skirt, and black-and-white striped socks skipping down the hill.

“Hello,” I greeted her, feeling more friendly than I usually did.

“Hi there, I’m Om,” she said in chipper voice while doing a little curtsy.

She laughed. “I’m so happy! It’s a beautiful day, and I’m going to kirtan, which always lifts my spirits.”

I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but her energy was infectious. I could see it emanate from her body and enter mine, where my soul eagerly received her happiness. It was an incredible demonstration of the power of good intentions, and who better to be around than someone like Om, who was utterly filled with positive energy.

“Are you going to kirtan, also?” she asked.

“I don’t know what that is.”

I didn’t have any plans for the day, and although I wasn’t familiar with what she was talking about, I could feel the excitement with her every breath. I also hadn’t seen any live music in a while, and a concert in the park seemed like a great idea.

“Let’s go,” I said, and we made our way down the hill.

We walked on the sidewalk that bordered the park, and after passing two wooden bridges that spanned the creek, the Japanese garden came into view on the opposite side of the street. We crossed, and walked by the narrow garden, which was filled with bamboo, red-leaf miniature oak trees, and a trickling stream that meandered down the hill through the rock work.

We then came to a large sloping expanse of lawn flanked by three giant sequoias. The trees were enormously majestic and seemed delighted with the crowd of people quietly setting up blankets at the bases of their trunks. I hadn’t seen so many people in the park before and was taken by the silence and peacefulness that accompanied their movements. Several were dressed in colorful, flowing fabrics; and a few were clad in nothing but white robes and turbans.

We found Om’s boyfriend, Garuda, after a few minutes of wandering through the crowd, and he seemed genuinely happy to meet me. His head was shaved, and he was wearing a long white robe and a strand of large wrinkled seeds around his neck. Om introduced me in a soft voice, and after our whispered pleasantries, we all sat down to share a large white blanket. They both continued to talk in whispers, and although I couldn’t hear everything they were saying, I could feel their energy welcoming me as a new friend. It was a sense of belonging I hadn’t felt before with people I’d just met, and I enjoyed the unconditional feeling of community.

Garuda had reserved a spot in the center of the lawn, and we had a great view of the stage, which was covered in a large gilded rectangle of handwoven fabric, with unusual-looking instruments situated among velvet pillows. The setting sun glistened on the instruments as the musicians emerged from the audience and took their positions.

The first sound came from a narrow cello-like instrument that sounded like a droning sitar floating through the air in a long, graceful ribbon. Garuda whispered the names of all the exotic instruments in my ear and explained that the first one was a tampura from India. After a few moments, an older-looking gentleman began to key the accordion-like instrument, called a harmonium. Then came the small silver tabla, a pair of drums that moved the audience to sway together in rhythm. And finally, a young Asian boy picked up an unassuming bamboo flute and began to make the most beautiful music I had ever heard. The notes flowed out of his hollowed instrument and floated over the audience right into my heart. I got chills with every long, drawn-out note that danced in and around a scale that was both foreign and familiar.

I had never heard music like that before, but it released something deep inside that had always been within me. His flute told a story of love and devotion, and tears of pure joy began to stream down my face. I had never cried for happiness before, but it felt so right that I decided it must be the best use of my tears.

The musicians let the flutist take the lead until an exotic-looking woman in a white robe and turban gracefully emerged from the audience and took her place in the center of the blanketed stage. She began to sing in a foreign language I didn’t recognize, and intuitively the entire audience repeated the verse with a single grand and powerful voice. The first time it happened, there was a wave of energy that swirled among the audience members before dissipating into the sky above. She repeated the verse, and again the audience followed, even more powerful than before.

Initially I was reluctant to lend my voice to the collective, but as I listened closely and realized that many were not technically in tune, I discovered that the voices all blended together in a beautiful fabric not unlike nature itself. As I became more familiar with the chants, I started mouthing the lyrics first and then sang them aloud with everyone else.

The simple lyrics were repeated with little variation for nearly a half hour before the first song was complete. Once it was over, the audience fell into silence and let the stillness wash over them until the musicians began to weave their melodic yarn once again. By the middle of the second song, I stood and closed my eyes and sang from the bottom of my soul, and with each verse, I felt gradually more connected with everyone in the park. The lines between our bodies began to blur; and we became one moving, breathing mass of energy. I felt that I was literally transcending time and space with every verse, and after a number of songs, I couldn’t feel my feet touching the grass anymore. My eyes could see that gravity was still employed, but my other senses weren’t convinced.

The kirtan lasted nearly four hours, and when it came to a close, I was in a daze and could barely make my way home with Om and Garuda. After a few blocks of walking in silence, Om looked up to the sky while hugging herself and said, “I am so blissed out.”

I followed her gaze, and although the stars were all shining, the moon was dark.

“It must be the new moon,” I said.

“A time for rebirth,” said Om as we turned onto my street.

“It certainly is.” I smiled at both of them and glided up the walkway to my apartment. “Thank you.”

“Namaste,” they said in unison while pressing their palms together in a prayer position and gently bowing their heads.

The dream took place in a small-town park I recognized as the one in Yreka where Cheryl and I used to spend a lot of time. It was a very special place for us, and we’d often walk through it at dusk during the height of summer when we first began dating. In the dream, I would begin by swinging on one particular swing on the far end of the swing set. It felt like I was waiting for someone or something, and after swinging for a short while, I would sense what seemed to be an energy portal that revealed itself immediately behind me. I never got close enough to touch it, but it began to grow until it was larger than the swing set itself.

At first I thought it was a symbolic dream that was allowing me to finally deal with Cheryl’s death, but with every night, it became more and more powerful, and the feeling I had during it began to permeate my waking hours. After the dream had occurred every night for several days in a row, it began to consume me, and I could barely distinguish whether I was awake or asleep. I was obsessed with the portal above the swing set, and it felt as if Yreka held the key to another dimension of my spiritual awakening.

I still hadn’t seen Robert since my soul retrieval, and it seemed like a good idea to check in with him while I was considering following my dreams to Yreka. The anger I felt toward him for abandoning me had dissipated, and I’d begun to come to terms with the fact that he was a free spirit who would float in and out of my life whenever the time was right. And on this day I sensed that the time was indeed right to see him again, and I was pretty sure I knew exactly where he would be.

I made my way to the Co-op and saw him sitting cross-legged with his back against his favorite tree, Puppy Don at his feet and a smaller-than-normal cardboard sign resting on his lap:

“Hi, Robert!”

“Wow, you look different,” Robert said while scanning me up and down. “How have your dreams been?”

“I figured as much. What do your dreams say?”

“They’ve been telling me to go to Yreka and swing on a swing set.” I tried to make light of it.

“It seems like a portal to another dimension.” I had never said it out loud before, and it sounded kind of corny. “Is that possible?”

“Of course it’s possible.”

“Why would I be dreaming that?”

“When people dream, a portion of their soul is free to leave the body and mingle with the collective unconscious. Sometimes it’s just for fun, like flying dreams. Other times it’s to retrieve ancient wisdom or power. Now that you have the guidance of your ancestors, they are helping you become stronger.”

“So do you think I should go?”

“I think so.”

“Did the dream give you a time?”

“Yes—this Friday.”

“Hmm, it sounds like the real deal. It’s probably some sort of vision quest for you.”

“What’s a vision quest?”

“It’s a Native American coming-of-age journey where adolescents are sent into the wilderness to overcome obstacles and glimpse a view of their future. And it sounds like Yreka might be your ‘wilderness.’ Does it scare you?”

“A little bit.”

“Good, it should. If you choose to do it, you need to go with an open heart and mind and not have any preconceived thoughts about what you’ll discover. Vision quests can be one of the most powerful experiences of a spiritual journey, and there’s no point in going unless you are completely present.”

“Okay.”

“It seems like your heart is now much more open than it has been. When we first met, you were closed up like a clamshell, and nothing could get in. Do you understand?”

I did feel a lot more open than before, and I never wanted to be closed off from the world again. “I think so,” I finally said aloud.

“I think you should go,” he said after a long pause. “How are you going to get there? Isn’t your car dead?”

I had been so caught up in the dream that I’d forgotten about the practical. “Oh yeah. A car.”

“I think Martika has an extra one she lets people from the constellation group use on occasion. Why don’t you see if you can borrow it.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Good luck, Scott. I hope you find what you’re looking for. You are at a very special place in your journey.”

“Thank you, Robert. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“I’m counting on it.”