Unfamiliar holistic pathways

I came across a publication recently that invited me to join,

‘The greatest adventure into Self imaginable.'

With an introduction like that it could only be displayed in one of the fashionable earth-friendly bookshops appearing these days. Now I have to be honest here; it was the assistants who really caught my eye and enticed me in, being feminine, young, chic and smooth as you like, with antennae on automatic, homing onto expensive male merchandise of my upwardly mobile type with practised ease. I knew this as their eyes swept over me much as an eagle homes in on its prey. But being somewhat slow in my feminine appraisal department at that stage, I persisted and used my special Hollywood look, which when interpreted means:

'Why, hello there baby, how's about you and me …'

when the bulk of a security guard obliterated my view, and as he began to move in my direction I wisely switched my interest to the magazines closest to hand, which is where my new awareness began.

What I read on health and awareness, the battle between ego and spirit, improvement of inner awareness, cosmic connections, vibrational science and esoteric teachings hinted strongly that they would lead me 'back to life'. Vibrational science put me in mind of play things I'd seen advertised at Adult Shops here and there, and guessed that I was most likely off the mark there. Normally I'd have put the magazine down and walked out, but the clever use of words and such on the front caught my imagination; the cheeky, naughty side of course.

Electromagnetic radiation, river of oneness, marine mediation, solar eclipse linked with Nostradamus and supported by the photo of an American Indian, added Hopi philosophy to the pathways I might choose from. It was all new territory for me, but I've had a suspicious mind since being taken in by:

'Congratulations, you have been chosen…'

and ended up paying monthly instalments for two years for a set of books I seldom used, but this was different. The cunning sods were appealing to my intelligence, as it happened, and my wicked sense of humour persuaded me to stick with it.

Just as well, as I could have missed several pages of advertisements with more enlightening concepts. I mean, I could have Reiki treatments in the comfort of my own home, or enrol for a correspondence course in Anatomy and Physiology for Holistic workers. I could tune in by phone to an Astrology Data Service and receive computer generated reports, while Guiding Light Connections also offered their assistance by phone, covering spiritual development, Chakra and Energy balancing, intuitive spiritual counselling, crystal healing, aura cleansing, card readings, clairvoyance, meditations and past life regressions. Could there be anything else, I wondered.

At this point, the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee wafted into my nostrils knocking my equi off its librium. I left the bookshop several dollars poorer, the magazine in my hand as my senses led me to the source of the delicious aroma. In any case, I'd intended to have a bit of a bust up; I'd been to the gym twice that month and reckoned I should put some of the cholesterol I'd lost back into my system. A double helping of boysenberry cheesecake did that, and then some.

Later that evening I took another look at my literary purchase, with a bottle of wine and my walnut whirl chocolates close to hand. Larry, on page 13, offered to share his journey into ancient wisdom with prophecies and understandings of the 'days to come'. At $10, or for the unwaged, a donation, the lectures sounded reasonable. Vahrna, a native American Indian living in Arizona, on the next page began with, 'Let's commit to our inner happiness.' I'll drink that I thought, sipped my wine and read on. 'Let's fantasise for a moment', she wrote. Her photograph does nothing for me in that direction and what she suggested was lost to my comprehension. It couldn't have been the wine; I'd taken only a few sips thus far. She invoked the Dalai Lama who saw himself as a kind of mirror; and Vahrna suggested we do the same. I imagined a mirror, and after a period of trial and error, allowed the scowls to slip from my face. Still, the mental effort of traversing unusual pathways did create a small glow of inner satisfaction somewhere between my temple and lower navel area, but things are difficult to pinpoint at times.

Really, it did leave me feeling more saintly that when I last sang in the church choir. I tipped my halo forward on a jaunty angle, smiled contentedly, consumed a walnut whirl, refilled my glass and read on. The illusion was spoiled several paragraphs later as Vahrna asked, ‘Do we, as spiritual beings, have to love everybody unconditionally?' There flashed before my eyes a potpourri of obnoxious characters that have lorded it over me thus far in my life, and had me reaching for my glass and another walnut whirl. Her answer that we do have choice did little to calm my rising consternation. The wine and whirl helped though.

My last remembrance is of Vahrna's list of accomplishments danced before my eyes as I drained my glass…spiritual teacher, receiver and translator for channelled energy wisdoms, clairvoyant and medium, self-empowered counsellor…and the list went on.

The following morning I read again aphrase that caused me much discomfort during the night; it was staring up at me from the page I have left open. It read:

‘What about your water?’

That got me thinking, because I was to see the urologist the following week. But how on earth did an American Indian, living in Arizona, know that about me?

Dennis Crompton © 1999
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)