Sunday, January 27, 2013

The High Cost of Nectar

The High Cost of Nectar

I’d not seen Alaia (AL)for nearly two years, so I was surprised when she called, said she was in town for awhile and wanted to get together. We went for a walk in a beautiful wetlands area to catch up on one another's lives. Like my life at the time, the day was dull and overcast, and because it was the weekend, the trail was full of families, people taking pictures, pedestrians with ear buds and camelback packs and lots of dogs.
She related to me that her son had just died at the age of 44─a massive heart attack. I asked her if he had any kids, and she said yes, one girl, her granddaughter who she saw once a year. So, "He had a family”, I said, not really knowing much about her personal life. I knew she’d had five kids, and two husbands, one of which went missing for over twenty years. The detective that finally found him told her that his memory had been “wiped,” he had some sort of permanent amnesia and was on disability in a large Eastern Seaboard City. "Yes", she replied, adding that she had gotten over the grief quickly and was not in the lingering state of devastation that had followed the suicide of another son, in his twenties at the time, some eight years or so ago. She had used the Hindu science of breath to move her through it. I asked if her other two children were OK, and she said that they were, still having a hard time, that they were all marveling that she was so strong.
She is a very strong woman. She is almost 67 years of age and looks much younger. She has long straight chestnut colored hair, completely natural, only has a little grey on the sides. You only see it if she puts her hair behind her ears. Her face is mostly clear and unlined, the complexion of a much younger woman, although to my senses she bears the traces of suffering around the eyes and mouth that most women get as they age. To live is to experience loss, and that suffering becomes part of who we are, no matter what the beauty regimen. Alaia is fit from years of walking and swimming first thing in the morning, in natural un-chlorinated water, to catch the first rays of sunlight and activate her thyroid.  Being the type of person I call a member of the "Whole Foods Master Race," she drinks pure spring-water only, and eats only natural, pure, organic foods.

Garden Variety Evil Queen, as per Snow White
graphic from
Another woman I know, who does not like Alaia, and who seems jealous of her, said to me before the day we walked together, said to me, gloatingly, that one day recently, she'd espied AL in the health food store and she'd looked like she'd aged a lot. Witches, everywhere. This woman did not stop to talk to her, did not learn of her tragedy and loss, just noted with satisfaction how old and haggard she looked. This was before I knew about the second loss of a son.
AL led an amazing life, with many adventures and accomplishments. She'd been an accomplished equestrienne from a wealthy family, married, had children, ran an entire art department for a prestigious school district, teaching with love and respect for children and their budding potential. She fell from a horse one day and as she lay there paralyzed, her spine broken from the fall, an Indian Holy Man appeared to her, and told her to get up. She had a spontaneous healing, got up and resumed life. Soon she found the Holy Man in the physical world and became his devotee, he her guru. She traveled the world with him for four years, bringing her four kids with her to share in the works of the miraculous manifest being, known the world over as a man of peace and a bringer of miracles. She had many extraordinary experiences and became learned in the ways of the yogi, mastering many breathing techniques and learning how to raise her vibration and keep it high through meditation, positive thought and "drinking nectar." When she and her family returned to the States, they built a lovely modern home, where she taught meditation and conducted groups on developing insight. She became a top-notch interior decorator, working with important developers and architects in the area; she was in that network. Her sons learned the construction trades from working with and for her, and two became contractors and builders later, as adults.
I met her about six years after her youngest son had taken his life in a violent manner. She didn't tell me about this until I'd met with her a few times and we'd gotten to know each other a  little bit. Several months after that I spent some time with her again and she told me about her amazing life-arc, Then a year later she called me and said she was house sitting nearby and I went to visit her in a 4 million dollar "staged" home that she was tending for the real-estate agent. The owner of the house had died suddenly, leaving no heirs and his remaining siblings were selling the property. I immediately sensed that the house was haunted and said so, even though it was not old and had had one owner.  She showed me around, and that is when it came out that the reason that she'd invited me was because she and some of her friends had channelled the spirit of the former owner, and that he had told her that there was gold buried somewhere in the house, maybe in the walls. See, I was supposed to suss that out. But since I have no interest in connecting with the departed, or disturbing the dead, especially for something as trivial as finding gold, I politely declined.
So, disappointed as she was, she made us both tea and we sat down for a chat. She told me that she had learned the technique of "Drinking Nectar," from her guru 30 years ago, and that is what has kept her young, unnaturally so, all of these years. It is a powerful, ancient meditative practice from the High Himalayas. She said, and this was three years ago, that she was starting to age because when her son died, it lowered her vibration and she couldn't maintain the high level frequency she'd developed after years of discipline and concentration. Consequently she didn't have her youthful zing anymore. Which is one way of looking at it, her way.
 I do not try to interfere with the dreams of another, nor do I go around bursting bubbles, as I have found that it is highly dangerous to myself to do so.
The way I looked at it, was that she did a magic spell every morning that cast a glamour over herself, in the old fashioned sense of the verb glamour - "First meant "magic, enchantment" or "art of contriving magic spells.", or even "fascinating or voluptuous beauty, often dependent on artifice."
That spell, or self hypnosis, unraveled, I think, because you can't stop the process of grief with positive or rational thinking, drinking nectar, breath science or anything else of this world or another. As human beings we are hardwired to feel loss at the passing of human life, especially young innocent life, from this realm.  A unique life and story that will never, no matter if you believe in reincarnation or not, ever walk on this earth, in that way, with those gestures, looks, peculiarities, foibles, charms, gifts or troubles, again. With a young life, there is the loss of potential; what could have been. That being has left the building. That is why it's called "the human condition."

some sort of yogi

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