Version 2007.03.18

## “The Sorcerers' Crossing: A Woman's Journey” - ©1992 by Taisha Abelar

### Chapter 15

One day several months after I had met Mr. Abelar, Clara, instead of sending me to the cave to recapitulate, asked me to keep her company while she worked in the yard.

Near the vegetable garden beyond the back patio of her house, I watched Clara meticulously rake leaves into a pile.

On top of the heap, she carefully arranged some crisp brown leaves into an elliptical pattern.

"What are you doing?" I asked, moving closer to take a better look.

I was feeling tense and somber for I had spent the entire morning in the cave recapitulating memories of my father.

I had always thought he was a bombastic and arrogant ogre.

To realize he was actually a sad, defeated man broken by the war and his thwarted ambitions left me emotionally drained.

"I'm making a nest for you to sit on," Clara replied. "You are to brood like a hen hatching eggs.

"I want you to be rested because we may have a visitor this afternoon."

"And who might that be?" I asked casually.

For months Clara had promised to introduce me to the other members of the nagual's group- her mysterious relatives that had finally returned from India- but she never had.

Every time I had expressed my desire to meet them, she always said I needed to cleanse myself first with a more thorough recapitulation because in my present state I wasn't fit to meet anyone.

I believed her. The more I examined memories of my past, the more I felt in need of cleansing.

"You haven't answered my question, Clara," I said testily. "Who's coming?"

"Never mind who," she said, handing me a bunch of dry, copper-colored leaves:

"Put these over your navel and tie them with your recapitulation sash."

"I left my sash in the cave," I said.

"I hope you're using it properly," she commented. "The sash supports us while we recapitulate. You're to wrap your stomach with it and tie one end of it to the stake I planted in the ground inside the cave. That way, you won't fall over and bang your head if you doze off or in case your double decides to wake up."

"Should I go and get it?"

She clicked her tongue, exasperated. "No, we don't have time.

"Our visitor might be here any minute and I want you to be relaxed and at your best. You can use my sash."

Clara hurried inside the house and momentarily returned with a strip of saffron cloth.

It was truly beautiful. It had an almost imperceptible pattern woven in it. In the sunlight the strip of silk shimmered, changing its hue from a dark gold to a mellow amber.

"If any part of your body is injured or in pain, wrap this sash around it," Clara explained. "It will help you recover.

"It has a bit of power, for I've done years of recapitulating wearing it.

"Someday you'll be able to say the same about your sash."

"Why can't you tell me who's coming to visit?" I pressed. "You know I hate surprises. Is it the nagual?"

"No, it's someone else," she said, "but equally powerful, if not more so.

"When you meet her, you have to be quiet and empty of thoughts, or you won't benefit from her presence."

With exaggerated solemnity, Clara said that today, as a matter of principle, I had to use all the sorcery passes she had taught me, not because anyone was going to test me to make sure I knew them, but because I had come to a crossroad and I had to begin moving in a new direction.

"Wait, Clara, don't frighten me with talk of changing," I pleaded. "I'm terrified of new directions."

"To frighten you is the farthest thing from my mind," she assured me. "It's just that I'm a bit worried myself.

"Do you have your crystals with you?"

I unbuttoned my vest and showed her the leather double-shoulder holster I had fashioned, with her help, to hold the two quartz crystals.

The crystals were secured, one under each arm, like two knives in their own sheathes; complete with an overlapping flap, and fastened with a snap.

She said, "Take them out and have them ready; and use them to rally your energy.

"Don't Wait for her to tell you to do so.

"Do it at your own discretion whenever you feel you need an extra boost of energy."

From Clara's statements, it was easy to deduce two things: that this was going to be a serious encounter, and that our mystery guest would be a woman.

"Is she one of your relatives?" I asked.

"Yes, she is," Clara replied with a cold smile:

"This person is my relative; a member of our party.

"Now relax and don't ask any more questions."

I wanted to know where her relatives were staying.

It was impossible that they were staying in the house because I would have run across them or at least seen signs of their presence.

The fact that I hadn't seen anybody had turned my curiosity into an obsession.

I imagined that Clara's relatives were deliberately hiding from me and even spying on me.

This made me angry and at the same time even more determined to catch a glimpse of them.

The origin of my turmoil was the unmistakable feeling that I was constantly being watched.

I deliberately tried to entrap whoever it was by leaving one of my drawing pencils lying around to see if anyone picked it up, or by placing a magazine open at a certain page and checking it later to see if that page had been changed.

In the kitchen, I carefully examined the dishes for signs of use.

I even went as far as smoothing out the packed dirt on the path by the back door, then coming back later and searching the ground for footprints or unfamiliar tracks.

In spite of all my efforts at sleuthing, the only prints I ever saw were those of Clara, Manfred and myself.

If a person was hiding from me, I was convinced I would have noticed it, but as it was, there seemed to be no one else in the house in spite of my being certain that other people were present.

"Forgive me, Clara, but I have to ask you," I finally blurted out, "because it's driving me nuts. Where are your relatives staying?"

Clara looked at me surprised. "This is their house. They are staying here, of course."

"But where exactly?" I demanded.

I was on the verge of confessing how I had laid traps to no avail, but decided against it.

"Oh! I see what you mean," she said. "You haven't found any signs of them in spite of your efforts at playing detective; but that's no mystery. You never see them because they're staying in the left side of the house."

"Don't they ever come out?"

"They do, but they avoid the right side because you're staying here and they don't want to disturb you.

"They know how much you value your privacy."

"But not to show themselves ever? Isn't that carrying the idea of privacy a bit too far?"

"Not at all," Clara said. "You need absolute solitude to concentrate on your recapitulation.

"When I said that you're going to have a visitor today, I meant that one of my relatives is going to come from the left side of the house to where we are and meet you.

"She's been looking forward to talking to you, but had to wait until you had cleansed yourself minimally.

I told you that to meet her is even more taxing than to meet the nagual.

You need to have stored enough power or else you'll go off the deep end as you did with him."

Clara helped me put the leaves on my stomach, and tie them with the cloth.

"These leaves and this sash will buffer you from the woman's onslaughts," Clara said, then looking at me added softly, "and from other blows too. So whatever you do, don't take it off."

"What's going to happen to me?" I asked, nervously packing in more leaves.

Clara shrugged. "That'll depend on your power," she said and gave the knot in the cloth a firm tug. "But, from the looks of you, God only knows."

With trembling fingers I rebuttoned my shirt and tucked it into my baggy pants.

I looked bloated with the wide saffron band around my middle. The leaves were like a brittle, scratchy pillow covering my abdomen.

But gradually my jittery stomach stopped shivering and became warm, and my entire body felt relaxed.

I must have given her a surprised look because she asked me, "What do you think hens do when they brood?"

"I really couldn't say, Clara."

"A hen remains still and listens to her eggs underneath her, directing all her attention to them.

"A hen listens and never lets her concentration waver.

"In this unbending manner she intends the chicks to hatch.

"It's a quiet listening that animals do naturally; but which human beings have forgotten, and therefore must cultivate."

Clara sat down on a large, pale gray rock and faced me. The rock had a natural depression in it and looked like an armchair.

"Now, doze like a hen does and listen with your inner ear while I talk.

"Concentrate on the warmth in your womb and don't let your attention wander.

"Be aware of the sounds around you, but don't allow your mind to follow them."

"Do I really have to sit here like this, Clara? I mean, wouldn't it be better if I just took a refreshing nap?"

"I'm afraid not.

As I've said, our visitor's presence is terribly taxing. If you fail to gather energy, you'll sink pitifully.

"Believe me, she's not soft like me. She's more like the nagual, pitiless and hard."

"Why is she so taxing?"

"She can't help it.

"She's so far removed from human beings and their concerns that her energy might completely disrupt you.

"By now, there's no difference between her physical body and her ethereal double.

"What I mean to say is that she is a master sorceress."

Clara gave me a searching look and commented on the dark circles under my eyes. "You've been reading at night by the light of the lantern, haven't you?" she scolded. "Why do you think we don't have electricity in the bedrooms?"

I told her I hadn't read a single page since the day I arrived at her house because the recapitulation and all the other things she had asked me to do gave me no time for anything else.

I admitted, "I'm not particularly fond of reading though, but I do browse from time to time through your bookshelves in the halls."

I didn't tell her that what I really meant to say was that I went there snooping to see if any of the books had been removed by her relatives.

She laughed and said, "Some of the members of my family are avid readers. I'm not one of them."

"But don't you read for pleasure, Clara?"

"Not me. I read for information. But some of the others do read for pleasure."

"So how come I never see any of the books missing?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Clara giggled. "They have their own library on the left side of the house," she said.

Then she asked me, "You don't read for pleasure, Taisha?"

"Unfortunately, I also only read for information," I said.

I told Clara that for me the joy of reading was nipped in the bud when I was in grade School.

One of my father's friends, who owned a book distribution firm, had the habit of giving him boxes of books that were out of print.

My father used to screen them and give me the literary books, which he said I had to read in addition to my regular homework.

I always took it for granted that he meant I had to read every word. What's more, I thought I had to finish one book before beginning the next one.

It came as a complete surprise to me when I found out later that some people start several books simultaneously and switch back and forth, reading according to their mood.

Clara looked at me and shook her head as if I were a lost cause. "Children do strange things under pressure," she said. "Now I know why you've turned out to be so compulsive.

"I bet if you try to remember those stories now, you'll be shocked at what you find.

"As children, we can never question what's presented to us, just as you didn't question that you had to read a book from cover to cover.

"All the members of my family have serious contentions about what's done to children."

"I've become obsessed with meeting your family, Clara."

"That's only natural. I've talked about them so often."

"It's not just that, Clara," I said. "It's more of a physical sensation.

"I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about them. I even dream about them."

The minute I voiced that, something arranged itself in my mind, and I bluntly confronted Clara with a query.

Since she knew who I was, and her cousin being my landlord knew me, it suddenly occurred to me to ask whether I knew her other relatives too.

"Naturally all of them know you," Clara said, as if it were the most obvious thing; but she didn't answer my question.

I couldn't possibly imagine who they might be. I insisted, "Now let me bluntly ask you this, Clara. Do I know them?"

"These are all impossible questions, Taisha. I think it's best that you don't ask them."

I became sulky. I got up from my seat of leaves but Clara gently pushed me down again.

"All right, all right. Little Miss Snoop," she said. "If it will make you stay put, I'll tell you.

"You know them all, but you certainly don't remember having met them.

"Even if any one of my relatives were standing right in front of you, my guess is that you still wouldn't have even the slightest twitch of recognition.

"But, at the same time, something in you will get extremely agitated. Now are you satisfied?"

Her reply didn't satisfy me in the least. In fact, it convinced me that she was deliberately mystifying me, leading me on, playing with words.

"You must enjoy tormenting me, Clara," I said, disgusted.

Clara laughed out loud. "I'm not playing with you," she assured me:

"To explain what we are and what we do is the most trying thing in the world.

"I wish I could make it clearer, but I can't.

"So it's pointless to keep on insisting on explanations when there are none."

I shifted uncomfortably on the ground: My legs had fallen asleep.

Clara suggested that I lie on my stomach and rest my head on my right arm, bending it at the elbow.

I did that and found the position comfortable. The ground and the leaves seemed to keep me rooted while my mind was still but alert.

Clara leaned over and caressed my head affectionately.

Then she fixed me with her gaze in such an odd way that I grabbed her hand for a moment and held it.

Clara, loosening my grip, said softly, "I've got to go now, Taisha, but rest assured I'll see you again."

Her green eyes had specks of light amber in them, and their glow was the last thing I saw.

I woke up when someone was poking my back with a stick.

A strange woman was standing over me.

She was tall, slender and incredibly striking. Her features were exquisitely chiseled; small mouth, even teeth, perfectly defined nose; oval face; delicate, almost transparent white Nordic complexion; lustrous, curly gray hair.

When she smiled, I thought she was an adolescent girl, full of daring and sensuality.

When she looked serene, she seemed to be a continental European woman, fashionable and mature.

There was elegance in her stylish dress, especially in her sensible shoes, something I had never seen in the United States, where well-dressed women wearing comfortable shoes always appeared matronly.

The woman was at once older and younger than Clara. The woman was definitely older in age, but years younger in appearance, and she possessed something I could only call inner vitality.

By contrast, Clara seemed to be still in a formative stage, while this being was the finished product.

I knew that someone incredibly different, perhaps as different as a member of another species, was examining me with genuine curiosity.

I sat up and quickly introduced myself.

She reciprocated warmly.

"I am Nelida Abelar," she said in English. "I live here with the rest of my companions.

"You already know two of them, Clara and the nagual, John Michael. You will meet the rest of us soon."

She spoke with a slight inflection. Her voice was appealing and so utterly familiar that I couldn't help staring at her.

She laughed, I think at the fact that due to my surprise, my face muscles were locked in a frozen smile.

The sound of her raspy laughter was also remotely familiar: I had the sensation that I had heard that laughter before.

The thought crossed my mind that I had seen this woman on another occasion, although I could not fathom where.

The more I stared at her, the more convinced I became that I knew her at one time but had forgotten when.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked in a solicitous tone. "Do you have the feeling we've met before?"

"Yes, yes," I said excitedly, for I felt that I was about to remember where I had seen her.

"You'll remember sooner or later," she said in a soothing tone that led me to understand that there was no hurry:

"The cleansing breath you do while recapitulating will eventually allow you to remember everything you have ever done, including your dreams.

"Then you'll know where and when we've met."

I felt embarrassed for staring at her and for being caught so completely off guard. I stood up and faced her, not challengingly, but with awe.

"Who are you?" I asked, in a daze.

"I already told you who I am," she said, smiling. "Now, if you want to know if I am a sort of personage, you'll be disappointed.

"I'm not anyone important. I'm only one of a group of people who seek freedom.

"Since you've met the nagual, the next step for you was to meet me. That is because I am responsible for you."

Upon hearing that she was responsible for me, I experienced a pang of fear.

All my life I had fought to gain my independence, and I had struggled for it as fiercely as I was capable of.

"I don't want anyone to be responsible for me," I said. "I've fought too hard to be independent to fall under anyone's thumb now."

I thought she would take offense, but she laughed and patted me on the shoulder.

"I never meant it like that," she said. "No one wants to keep you down.

"The nagual has an explanation about your unruly personality.

"He really believes that you have a fighting spirit. In fact, he thinks you're undeniably crazy, but in a positive sense."

She said that the nagual's explanation of my craziness was that I was conceived under unusual and desperate conditions.

Nelida then related to me facts about my parents' history that no one except my parents knew.

She disclosed that before I was conceived, while my parents lived and worked in South Africa, my father was incarcerated for reasons he never revealed.

I had always fantasized that he was not really in a prison but in a political detention camp.

Nelida said that my father saved a guard's life, and later that guard helped my father to escape by turning his back at a crucial moment.

"With his pursuers on his trail," Nelida continued, "he went to see his wife; to be with her for the last time on earth.

"He was certain he would be caught and killed.

"During that passionate life-death embrace, your mother became pregnant with you.

"The intense fear and passion for life that your father was feeling then was transmitted to you.

"Consequently, you were born restless and unruly and with a passion for freedom."

I could barely hear her words.

I was so stunned by what she was revealing to me that my ears were buzzing and my knees went weak.

I had to lean against a tree trunk to keep from falling down.

Before I could speak, she continued.

"The reason your mother was so unhappy and secretly despised your father was because he used up all of her family inheritance to pay for his mistakes, whatever they might have been.

"The money ran out and they had to leave South Africa before you were born."

"How can you know things about my parents that not even I am clear about?" I asked.

Nelida smiled. "I know those things because I am responsible for you," she replied.

Again I felt a jolt of fear run through me, making me shiver: I was afraid that if she knew my parents' secrets, she must also know things about me.

I had always felt safe, hidden in my impregnable subjective fortress.

I was lulled into a false security; certain that what I felt and thought and did didn't matter as long as I kept it hidden; as long as no one else knew about it.

But now it was obvious that this woman had access to my inner self.

I desperately needed to reaffirm my position.

I said defiantly, "If I'm anything, I'm my own person. No one is responsible for me, and no one is going to dominate me."

Nelida laughed at my outburst.

She tousled my hair the way the nagual had done; a gesture both soothing and utterly familiar.

"Nobody is trying to dominate you, Taishika," she said in a friendly tone.

Her gentleness served to dissipate my anger.

Nelida continued, "I've said all those things to you because I need to prepare you for a very specific maneuver."

I listened to her intently because I sensed from her tone that she was about to reveal something awesome to me.

"Clara has brought you to your present level in a most artistic and effective way.

"You will forever be indebted to her.

"Now that she's finished her task, she has gone, and the sad part is that you didn't even thank her for her care and her kindness."

Some horrible, unnamed feeling loomed over me. "Wait a minute," I muttered. "Did Clara leave?"

"Yes, she did."

"But she'll be coming back, won't she?" I asked.

Nelida shook her head. "No. As I told you, her job is done."

At that moment, I had the only true feeling I had ever had in my entire life.

Compared to that feeling, nothing of what I had felt before was real; not my anger, not my fits of rage, not my outbursts of affection, not even my self-pity was true when compared with the searing pain I felt at that moment.

The feeling was so intense, it numbed me.

I wanted to weep, but I couldn't. I knew then that real pain brings no tears.

"And Manfred? Is he gone too?" I asked.

"Yes. His job of guarding you is finished too."

"And what about the nagual? Will I see him again?"

"In the sorcerers' world anything is possible," Nelida said, touching my hand:

"But one thing is for certain: It is not a world to be taken for granted.

"In it, we must voice our thanks now, because there is no tomorrow."

I stared at her blankly, totally stunned.

She gazed back at me and whispered, "The future doesn't exist.

"It's time you realized this.

"When you have finished recapitulating and have completely erased the past, all that will be left is the present.

"And then you will know that the present is but an instant, nothing more."

Nelida gently rubbed my back, and told me to breathe.

I was so grief-stricken that my breathing had stopped.

I asked pleadingly, "Will I ever be different? Is there a chance for me?"

Without answering, Nelida turned around and walked toward the house.

When she reached the back door, she signaled me with a beckoning crook of the index finger to follow her inside.

I wanted to run after her, but I couldn't move.

I began to whimper, then the oddest whine came out of me; a sound that was not quite human.

I knew then why Clara had tied her protective sash around my stomach: It was to shield me from this blow.

I lay face down on the pile of leaves and released into them the animal cry that was choking me. It didn't relieve my anguish.

I took out my crystals, placed them in my fingers and turned my arms in counterclockwise circles that became smaller and smaller.

I pointed the crystals at my indolence, at my cowardice, and at my useless self-pity.