Healing Across Time

"Are you really content to be here?" she whispered, touching his cheek with her fingertips.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I sit before you." He drew himself up so his back was straight, "I am a warrior. A warrior, who also knows the ways of the shaman." She heard pride in his voice, but she knew it was tempered by a humility only years of trial could bring. This was no young man boasting, but a man, sure of his strengths and his weaknesses.

"You search alone," she murmured, "with no comfort?"

"The Gods visit me," his face was suddenly illuminated by a joyful smile, "They bring me comfort."

She felt a blush spreading over her face like a young girl, as if inviting his advances. She felt responsible for him, even attracted by him. Maybe it was the warmth of the cave, or the stirrings of the ointment on her hand made her feel this way. Was this, too, part of the journey?

She cleared her throat, seeking to bring herself back to earth, "You need to remove your clothes. All who honour the Mother must come to her as if newly born into the world"

She stood up and brought the lamps closer to them, setting the lighted beeswax candles to complete a circle around them. He pulled the green deerskin gingerly over his head, trying to avoid his wound. Finally he slipped off his leggings, leaving only a breechclout tied around his waist and a small silver serpent with a sparkling eye hanging from his neck. The breechclout hid his manhood from her and she knew there would be no joining during this rite.

She returned to her spot on the blanket, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

"Does your side still hurt?"

"A little."

She shook her head sadly, "I can do no more for the wound at the moment..."

Would she have time in the future to complete the healing, she wondered? She feared to lose concentration to bring down more energy once she painted on the salve. It would not be safe, as she, too was likely to succumb to the effects of the ointment through the finger chosen for painting, She needed to conserve her energy to watch over him while he journeyed further.

His open smile warmed her. "I should thank you for all you have done already," he said, "it has healed a great deal since your touch."

She picked up a tiny jar and placed a small dab of oil first on centre of his brow and then on hers. "This is the spikenard oil; it will take you closer to the Goddess."

They both sat quietly for a moment, each becoming more aware of the energy centre opening like a large indigo lotus flower beginning to pulse with energy.

Once more she drew some salve onto her index finger and began to paint first his neck and then his chest. Her finger outlined intricate spiralling patterns, large curls travelling all over his upper chest and down across his arms.

"What do you feel?"

"There's a warm sensation in my chest." She continued down his legs, marking them with elaborate trails which ended under each foot. She took his hand and painted each finger with delicate fronds, dotting the centre of each palm where the energy pulsed. Then she leant forward and steadied his face by putting a finger underneath his chin. At first she avoided his eyes until she finished the pattern, but then she raised hers to meet his gaze and held it.

"Now where are you?"

"I'm here." The stiffness in his back was gone. He sat totally relaxed upon the blanket. The ointment was beginning to work.

She smiled at him, "You must have done this before. Do your people often use such ointment for rituals?"

His voice answered her from a long way away. "We pattern the bottom of our young peoples' feet, so they may understand and learn through the effects. It is my calling to stay present, open to the divine. I've had some strong draughts given to me over the years." None of them has been as strong as this, he wanted to add, but his tongue seemed stuck in his mouth and refused to move. The flames from the lamps and candles kept shifting in the corner of his sight. The only thing keeping him anchored to the world was the sight of her large brown eyes locked with his.

"You don't have to fight it, if you don't wish to. I will hold you." She took his hands and rubbed each palm with both her thumbs, whilst still holding his gaze. His moan alerted her as he slumped sideways into her waiting arms and she sat, cradling him against her as he moved forward into the spirit world.

Hours later, he opened his eyes once more. The candles were nothing more than smouldering wicks; the lamplight dim.

"Where did you go?" she asked, holding the water bottle to his lips. The moisture helped to bring him back into the cave. His face lit up as he searched her face with his eyes.

"I soared with eagles!" There was no keeping the excitement from his ragged voice. "One came and took me up to Father Sky, himself! We flew above the clouds at day break, drawing the sun upwards on his journey through the sky! O, Wahosi, if you could only have been there with me, such wonders I have seen!"

The woman closed her eyes, hot tears spilling down her weathered cheeks. He had named her! Now she remembered the reason for her journey, to find the name she would carry for the rest of her days and he had spoken it. Wahosi, she was "the woman who walks".

She felt a touch on her face and opened her eyes to find him looking up at her.

"Why do you weep?"

"You have brought me a great gift. I feel unworthy."

"Sssh" Now his finger paused at her lips. She felt his touch as benediction. "You have been blessed, we both have, not only by our gifts, but in the act of sharing. Neither of us would be here but for the other."

She closed her eyes, resting her head upon his.

The sound of the drum changed. From the slow, steady beat, it suddenly quickened, drawing her back into another world, another time.

"No!" she cried, but the words were torn from her lips as she was dragged from the cave and opened her eyes on a different world. The cave was gone, the soft darkness replaced by a brightening light. Claire was able to see rows of waking bodies lying on mats in the large room.

"Can you tell us where you have been?" Caroline's voice was soft and encouraging as one by one, people began to recount their tales.

"I was a bricklayer in ancient Egypt," said Louise, "I wore a blue tunic and I lived in a substantial house with my wife and family."

"I went back to ancient Britain," another woman spoke.

"I was there with you," her partner said, "We were lovers in another life." There were smiles and soft conversation as the group expressed their pleasure at the tale.

Claire sat and hugged her knees. She did not want to share her vivid memories. Why had she been torn away so soon? How could the Gods have been so cruel to her companion. She knew he had been thrust back into his original world, forever mourning the loss of his companion, his Wahosi, the women who made his journey with the sun a reality.

"I was a shaman in ancient times." A familiar voice broke through Claire's reverie. "I fell asleep in my house."

Claire sat up, her eyes searching across the room for the speaker.

"Suddenly, I found myself on the side of a mountain, following a Native American healer. I had an old wound in my side. She touched me and it was healed. We sat and watched the sunset and when it was gone, she led me into a cave....." his voice tailed off and someone sniggered.

"It wasn't like that!" Claire stood up. "They made light to bring Spring back to a darkened world."

"You were there as well?" Caroline was curious.

Claire nodded then sat down again, wanting to hide from the prying eyes around her. She felt confused, out of sorts and desperately alone. Caroline waited a moment to see if she would continue her tale, but then moved on to other travellers until everyone had a chance to tell their story.

"Are you coming, Claire?" Louise stood waiting by the door.

"I won't be a moment." Claire bundled up her coat, rug and pillow and made her way to the exit. The lights were bright now, preparing them for their journeys home to the real world.

"Wahosi?" Someone touched her arm. She looked up to see a man standing beside her. She'd not seen him before, but his eyes seemed to bore through her while the word he spoke sent shivers through her spine.

She didn't know what to say. The dream of her journey still clouded her thoughts.

"Claire, we need to go!" Louise was becoming impatient.

"I'm sorry, my friend's waiting to leave."

"We have to talk!"

She let her eyes flicker one last time across his features – the tousled hair, the stubbled chin. He was scribbling furiously on a small piece of card. On his little finger shone a ring in the shape of a snake with a tiny diamond twinkling in the artificial light. She knew that snake. The priest in the cave had worn it as a pendant. It hung around his neck as she drew flying ointment in swirling patterns around it. He thrust the card into her hand.

"Call me, please! We have to talk. I can't bear the emptiness a second time."

She nodded helplessly as she scurried out of the room after her friend, her fingers wrapped tightly around the tiny card.

Once in the car on their way home, Louise chattered happily about the evening's workshop. "I told you it would be good. Caroline always does such wonderful workshops. She makes everything so real. It was exiting to find myself in Egypt, but I didn't expect to be a man!"

Claire let her talk. She hoped Louise wouldn't ask her about her own experiences; they still seemed too raw, too new, too filled with emotions. She wanted to sit somewhere quietly; allowing events to wash over her again and think about what they meant.

"Where did you go?" Louise's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Me?" Claire played for time. "Oh it was very boring. It was nothing really, I just stayed at the bottom of a beech tree in autumn and kicked leaves around for a while."

"You said something about a festival of light?"

"Did I? I couldn't have been properly grounded. You know how spaced out I get sometimes if I don't drink water when I come back from these kind of journeys."

Louise drew up in front of Claire's front door. "Are you sure you're going to be all right? Do you want me to come in with you?"

"No, really, I'll be fine. I'm going to have a bath and go straight to bed."

"Well if you're sure..." Louise was anxious to get home to her husband and was pleased when Claire reassured her.

Claire opened her front door and put on the light. Smudge, came sauntering towards her, sniffing at the rug then winding himself around Claire's legs in an orgy of greeting.

Claire went towards the kitchen and put the kettle on for a soothing cup of tea. She felt in her pocket, drawing out the business card the man had given her.

Ford LandRover, Patrick Blayne, Project Manager, she read and a hastily scribbled number. Well, that doesn't tell me much about him, she mused. Without thinking, she reached for the phone and dialled the number.

"Hello?"

"Is that Patrick Blayne? My name's Claire Meddler, I was at the past life workshop earlier this evening."

"Claire, I'm so glad you called. Look, I know it's late, but can we talk?"

"Would you like some tea, I've just put the kettle on."

"You wouldn't mind if I came round now?"

"No. I need to talk as well."

"Bless you."

With the phone under one ear, Claire gave him directions while she made the tea. Luckily he wasn't too far away. Before she'd had time to think about the wisdom of her decision, the doorbell rang.

"Hello," He stood in the doorway shuffling from one foot to another like a schoolboy who'd been called in front of the headmaster. Claire took his coat and showed him into the living room.

"How do you like your tea?"

"Black, two sugars please."

He looked uncomfortable sitting on the edge of the sofa, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to be there. Claire brought in the drinks, together with some small sponge cakes she'd made at the weekend. She offered him one and he took it, peeling the paper off the underside with long, sensitive fingers.

Claire curled up in the armchair and sipped her tea. Her beating heart belied her calm exterior. Now she could see him in stronger light, there was no resemblance between him and the grey haired priest of her journey. He was younger, his brown hair neatly trimmed although streaks of grey around his temples suggested he might be older than she first thought. His skin was smooth with few laughter lines around his eyes. Indeed he frowned as he demolished the cake into small pieces, producing a mountain of crumbs, few of which found their way to his mouth.

"Look," he said, "maybe this is a mistake. I shouldn't be trespassing on your time like this. I expect I just imagined it all, people do say I have an over-active imagination."

Claire desperately sought for something to say, to reassure him, to tell him what she'd seen as well, but her mouth was dry and nothing came. His speech jarred on her ears. It was too fast, too clipped. She remembered the deep, languid tones of the priest as they traveled together. He put down the cake plate and wiped his fingers clean.

"It was silly, how could you know anything of what I saw? You probably had a totally different experience." For the first time he looked straight at her and she stared into the eyes of the priest. It gave her such a jolt, she almost dropped her mug and had to rush into the kitchen for a cloth to wipe up the spilt tea. She came back into the living room, gabbling apologies, but there was no-one there, only the pile of cake crumbs and a mug of black tea to show he had even existed.

Claire felt tears well up in her eyes, then brushed them angrily away. What kind of fool was she to invite a perfect stranger into her home? It had been a long day. The events of the evening were beginning to make her head throb. Quickly she cleared away the evidence and went to bed.

She fell asleep almost at once; her dreams full of memories of the dark-skinned woman. This time she was in a lush, green valley; smoke from tepees curling away into a cloudless blue sky. Children and dogs played together in the dirt, while women pounded corn or worked on hides with bone needles. The medicine woman worked with them in various tasks, but she seemed aloof, her mind not quite absorbed with the task. Often she would stop and stare into space for long periods.

The dream ended abruptly as the alarm catapulted Claire into another day. She showered quickly and dressed in her work clothes. A quick bite to eat, she was off to catch her usual train. Once there, she knew her mind would be taken up; she need not concern herself with the events of the previous night. After work, she went straight to a restaurant to meet friends for dinner. It was very late when she returned home.

There was a Range Rover parked in the driveway. As she turned her key in the front door, a figure emerged from the driving seat and came towards her. Claire wondered if she should scream or disappear inside the house. As he came nearer, she realised it was Patrick Blayne.

"Can I help you?" His face looked ashen; his clothes crumpled as if he'd lived in them since she last saw him.

"I'm really sorry. I wanted to apologise for last night. I've never been so rude to anyone before. I don't know what came over me."

"Don't worry, we were both fairly stressed by our experiences. Why don't you come in; we can try again. I'd like to tell you what I saw; see if it ties in with your dreaming."

Relief flooded his features; he nodded vigorously, holding the door as she led the way inside. Her shoulder bag touched him as she passed and she heard him gasp.

"What's the matter?"

"It's nothing, I was climbing last weekend and lost my footing. I fell against some rocks and bruised my ribs. There's nothing they can do with them except tell me to rest, breath deeply and try not to laugh." He smiled ruefully and his whole face changed.

"You poor thing, that must be so painful." She took off her coat and made her way into the living room.

"Would you like me to give you some healing for the pain?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm a spiritual healer, I work with energy helping the body to be able to find balance and help with healing whatever needs to be done. Some people find it really useful when they're in pain, or stressed out." She picked up her certificate from the piano and gave it to him.

"Very impressive," he said as he handed it back. "I had no idea healers really existed. I thought it was all part of my 'journey' from last night."

"I'm no-where near as powerful a healer as she was, "Claire grinned at him, "but I'll do what I can."

"What do you mean, as powerful as she was?" he spoke urgently, his hand almost gripping her arm. "What did you see? Please, tell me! It's driving me mad not knowing what happened last night."

Claire let her hand rest lightly over his. "It's ok, I don't mind. I wanted to tell you, but last night I couldn't find the words. Shall I make some tea and we can try again?"

He nodded, dropping his hand from hers and sinking down onto the sofa. He looked so tired and worn, she wondered what had happened to him since he'd disappeared. She went into the kitchen to boil the kettle and came back with some matches. He was so still on the sofa, he seemed to have dropped off to sleep. Claire moved quietly around him, lighting candles to provide a less threatening light and help them both to recall their memories more easily.

When the tea was brewed, she put the tray on the coffee table in front of him; sitting herself on a floor cushion opposite, leaning up against one of the armchairs.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes smiling at her. Claire wondered if he was referring to the room or herself. She'd changed out of her office suit and put on a moss coloured T-shirt and matching velvet skirt, her bare feet tucked up underneath her.

"Are you all right?" He looked at her for a moment; then gave a deep sigh and shook his head.

"I don't know." he admitted at last. "Since I left you last night, the whole world seems to have turned upside down." She pushed his mug of tea towards him. He picked it up and took a few tentative sips.

"Have you eaten?"

"I don't know."

"Can I get you something? A sandwich, some soup?"

"No, please, I'm ok, I just need to talk to someone who doesn't think I'm going off my head."

"Why would anyone think that?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about what I saw last night in the regression session. Every time I close my eyes I find myself back there. I don't understand what has happened. I've never done anything like this before. I didn't even want to be there last night, it was a dare from a friend in the office. I kept telling him past lives were a ridiculous fantasy put together by losers who couldn't cope with their own lives."

"And now?" Claire sipped her tea slowly, aching to hold him in her arms again, to show him that everything would be all right.

"Now I don't know anything any more."

"If you thought it was all fake, how do you think you had such a vivid experience last night?"

"I don't know. When the woman with the drum brought us back, I didn't want to return. I wanted to stay with the Medicine Woman in the cave. She felt more real to me than anyone I've ever met before. I wanted you to be that woman, to let me experience the bliss of riding the winds with the eagles. When you didn't speak, I knew you couldn't be her, that somehow I was still under the influence of the drum or something, so I left, before I made a total fool of myself.

"Last night, when I got home and fell asleep, I kept reliving parts of the shaman's life. He spent his whole life realising he'd lost the one person who really mattered to him. I tell you, that man was an arrogant so and so. He was so sure his actions were all he needed to be a good priest...and he was a good priest, but when he returned to his life, the loss of the Medicine Woman was almost more than he could bear. It was as if his soul was torn apart. It made him very humble. I think, as a consequence, it made him a better person. He lived a very long life and, I believe, was greatly revered by his people."