Don’t Just Write to Please Your Audience!
I’m really happy that Serena wants to be in my book, but not so much the crystal ball. Not that I have anything against crystal balls, but….been there, done that! I’m supposed to be writing my future, not my past. Maybe that’s why none of what I am writing is coming true. Nevertheless, the chapter needs finishing, so I finish it:
Serena’s smile was serene. “Just gaze into da ball and relax. If you see someting, don’t try to make analysis. Just obserfe until it passes.” Her eyes were so kind and twinkly that all consternation melted away. As her voice softened and slowed, Renee’s body relaxed in response. The words her guide caressed with her tongue were foreign. Was it Czech? Hungarian? Romanian? No matter; they were comforting. The ball turned cloudy and time ceased to exist.
After what seemed like a really long time and yet no time at all, Renee felt herself lift and float as if the mist surrounding the ball were buoying her up. Then abruptly the cloud dissipated and in the glass she observed, in three-dimensional color, herself! She was wearing her favorite yoga pants and sandals but she was not in one of her usual haunts. The topography looked dirty and urban and someone seemed to be walking at her side. She twisted her head slightly to see who it might be. A tall, gangly stranger it was, dressed in a patched waistcoat, striped pantaloons, orange Keds on his feet and a worn knapsack strapped on his back.
“I guess I don’t understand what this means. It’s very weird to see something that has not and may not happen and yet feels like it is real.” Renee hears her voice echoing.
“It iss true dat the future iss full of many possibilities. Vat you haf seen in the ball iss one.”
“So this is something that is going to happen?”
“Dat iss for you deciding. Da Universe vaits on you.”
“ Why wouldn’t I want it?
“I tink you haf concerns and da ball iss checking out. I haf friend, colleague in Switzerland, a Jungian analyst, who can explain. Of many of her clients she asks for dem to play in a big sand box in her liffing room. The vorlds day build, it iss amazing vat day tell about demselfs. Much like da vorld in da ball tells about your spiritual goals.”
Renee felt her body stiffen. “I’m sure I do not know what you are talking about!” She noted briefly to herself that she seemed to be shouting. “I don’t have any spiritual goals. I do not even know what a spiritual goal is! Who are you anyway? And what did you put in my tea?”
“Ah, da tea. Rosehips, mainly. And a bit of someting for da soul—but only if da soul iss ready. As about who am I, I am many tings, but for you now, I am psychiatrist, trained in Prague, but come to U.S. because of bad condition in my country. My speciality: spiritual matters.”
“A psychiatrist who specializes in spirituality?” Renee was genuinely puzzled. “I thought psychiatrists have medical degrees, not degrees in theology.”
Serena sighed deeply and summoned Monty from the kitchen. “It iss very bad in dis country,” she opined. “People here haf no understanding of Soul. Day confuse vith brain.” Then to Renee: “Origin meaning of psychology iss study of Soul.” Back to Monty: “I tink iss best she go home to make peace vith vat happening.”
The trip back to the suburbs was definitely not as exhilarating as the trip out. At home on top of the hill, Renee carefully dismounted while Monty started rummaging through his saddle bag. At last he found what he was looking for—a small black book. He removed it from the bag and thrust it at Renee.
“Here. I think you will find this interesting.” Without ado or adieu, he was gone. She turned the book over and scanned the title: Modern Interpretations of Ancient Esoteric Practices by Serena Pappionovitch, M.D.