Shambhala Read online

Page 14


  As we drove back, there, sitting in the front seat of the car, I couldn’t stop thinking about the image that I saw in the meditation, very similar to the dreams. There were colors, forms appeared, textures, even including emotions. However, it still seemed strange that I felt like I knew some of the people who were in that picture. If I thought about it more closely, they could be the same people who were in the conference. That would explain why I knew them (I’d just seen them a few minutes before), but at the same time didn’t know them. Yes, that could be a plausible explanation.

  “Should we drop you at your house, Joaquín?” Ian asked kindly as he drove. His question got me out of my musings.

  “No, leave me at the restaurant,” he said. “Remember that since it was late, I drove my car there.”

  “That’s right, I’d forgotten.”

  “You’re still distracted,” my father said, laughing.

  “Yes, it seems like it,” Ian responded with a gesture of happiness in his face.

  They didn’t stop talking all the way, not only about what they felt, but also about what Enrique had said. I stayed quiet.

  I devoted myself to listen to their conversation, not without making a great effort to stay awake. Without knowing why, a sudden and intense sleepiness made me fall prey to an abnormal tiredness. My body felt leaden. For a minute, I was sorry I’d sat in the copilot seat. If I’d known that I was going to feel so strange, I’d have dropped into the back seat and maybe even been able to sleep a few minutes before arriving at our destination.

  Fortunately, the time passed quickly. In barely half an hour we arrived at the restaurant, and I say ‘barely’ because the journey seemed much shorter. It wasn’t even nine o’clock at night and we were already back.

  Ian stopped the car at the door and kept the engine running. It looked like a subtle hint for my father to get out of the car.

  “What are you going to do now?” my father asked slowly. It seemed he didn’t want to leave the car. “Do you want to get a drink, or do you have plans?”

  Yes, he definitely wanted to keep chatting awhile longer, he hadn’t had enough on the trip there. When it was something he liked, he never tired of talking and talking. His interest had no end.

  “I’m hungry,” Ian said, looking through the window at the menu hanging outside the restaurant where we’d had lunch.

  “Well, I’m really sleepy,” I said honestly. I did not have the slightest desire to go in there again. At best, it would be at least another hour before I could get to my longed-for bed.

  Joaquín looked at me seriously, raising his eyebrows and making it clear that he didn’t believe me. But I didn’t care if he believed me or not, I wanted to sleep.

  “Okay, we’ll go home, then,” he said sadly.

  “No, no, you don’t need to go,” I answered hurriedly. “You two stay, I’m going home.”

  Ian and my father looked at me strangely.

  “But...” started Ian.

  “You’re hungry, right?” I interrupted him.

  “Yes.”

  “And you want to have a drink, right?” I asked my father.

  “Yes, but...”

  “But nothing. I don’t need to be there. You’ve known each other all your lives, you can handle it,” I argued, trying to settle the issue quickly. I didn’t know how much longer I could stay awake. I was so tired I didn’t care about anything. I know that that ‘but’ from Ian was because he hoped we would continue where we’d left off before going to eat with my father, or maybe just spend some more time together, but I just couldn’t do it, sleep invaded me without a second thought, trying to end a very long day. That morning I’d got up early to write a little in my new novel, then I was nervous waiting for the conference, then getting fired, later the long-awaited kiss with Ian, eating with my father, the conference, the meditation...I was exhausted. I had no strength left for anything but getting to bed.

  “Okay,” Ian said, with what sounded like an understanding tone, “we’ll take you home then.”

  “It isn’t necessary, don’t worry. I can go alone.”

  “If you’re sleepy, you shouldn’t drive,” said Joaquín.

  “Okay, you guys can take me...”

  Ian released the handbrake and this time drove to satisfy my greatest desire at the moment. But I felt bad for not going with them, and above all, for leaving without giving Ian any explanation. He might think this was made up or a clumsy excuse to not take the step we had so long postponed. But that night was not the right one to take action. My body was hardly responding. I had the feeling of suddenly being thirty pounds heavier.

  In just a few minutes, we’d arrived at my house. I gave each of them a kiss on the cheek and got out of the car. My father got in the passenger seat.

  “Tomorrow I’ll come see you,” Ian said, leaning out of the vehicle.

  That scene reminded me of when I dared to give him the first brief kiss before running to my made up appointment. But this was a completely different scene, this time I was leaving because I had to, like a wounded man who has to be removed from the battlefield because he is weak, even though he wants to maintain his position and support his troops.

  “Okay. Call me before you come over, in case I’m still sleeping,” I joked. “Have a good time and be careful with my car...”

  “We’ll be good,” my father said with a big smile.

  I turned around and headed towards my building. I walked slowly, as my body permitted. While I was walking, I felt their eyes on the nape of my neck, carefully watching my every move, probably making sure I got safely to my door. When I arrived, I looked for my keys in my bag. I took them out and grabbed the one I needed. Unconsciously and automatically, I slipped it inside the first lock that separated me from my coveted nest. I turned the doorknob and slid inside, pushing against the door. Once over the threshold, I turned my head to send them a good-bye wave, but they’d already gone. Even so, the feeling that someone was watching me stayed with me.

  I didn’t pay any attention to it.

  I went up to my place, dropped my bag on the dresser in my room, kicked off my boots, and dropped face down on the bed. I doubt that more than a minute passed until, at last, I gave in to my dreams.

  Chapter 18

  Sleep

  It was almost six in the morning. I had just woke up, more or less in the same position in which I’d fallen unconscious the night before. I knew that it had not yet dawned, and the room remained dim. The little light that accompanied me felt like it came from streetlights that filtered through the slits of the blinds. That increased my laziness to get up. However, I could not go back to sleep. I’d definitely dreamt. That was a night with a lot of mental bustle, huge amounts of images going around from one place to another with almost no sense...possibly, with a lot of messages to be discovered and deciphered.

  I always thought that dreams brought us encrypted information but now, after the conference with Enrique Paz, I wanted to pay special attention to any memory that remained after them. Not because it carried a warning from an extraterrestrial, but because I knew that only with what my own subconscious wanted to transmit to me, would I have enough data to analyze.

  Of course, I had to learn to decipher it, because if the soul provided information but the mind could not understand it, then what good would it be?

  In general, I dreamed every dawn and remembered in detail my small or large incursions into that wonderful world. Something told me that, with so much traveling to that oneiric reality, I would find important and useful messages that would help at some point—anticipate the consequences of my possible decisions or even awaken my instinct or intuition.

  Apart from my growing interest in dreams, I was tired and wanting to sleep. However, I couldn’t do it. Perhaps my growing mental activity kept me rolling back and forth from one side of the bed to the other without getting any respite.

  After seeing how the time was going by, I finally decided to get up and start th
e day.

  As always, the first thing I did was seat myself in a lotus position, this time in bed, to meditate. I loved this practice. It was the best method I knew, along with writing, to identify my emotional state and connect with myself. On many occasions, it had even served as inspiration for my work.

  I’d only been in this particular inner encounter for what I estimate at about two minutes, when a memory arose: the recent dismissal. Once again, far from provoking any sense of oppression or uncertainty about the future, a current of fresh air settled in my chest. I immediately related that emotion to the new novel. That circumstance would allow me to focus on this project and dedicate the time it deserved. I felt the desire to continue it, immerse myself in the story, and enjoy its development.

  I’d dedicate the day to it. Everything pointed to a quiet and relaxed day. I breathed a breath of satisfaction.

  A little while later, when I’d finished, I jumped out of bed and went to the office to turn on my computer. A fleeting image passed through my mind. I saw the three of us coming back from the Enrique Paz conference, and later Ian and Joaquín dropping me at home so they could go to dinner.

  “I wonder how it went? Did they stay up late? Would they have been comfortable together?” I wondered.

  Yes, I felt it was fine. Spending time alone together wasn’t a problem for them.

  For a moment, I thought of sending them a text, but when I picked up my phone, I realized it was still very early. It wasn’t even seven thirty yet, and being Saturday, it seemed even earlier.

  I dropped the phone on the desk in the office. A small internal rumbling interrupted my thoughts, leading me to another: I hadn’t eaten dinner last night. Actually, I hadn’t had anything to eat since lunchtime. So, following my morning routine, I went to the kitchen to prepare some fruit juice, the tank, as I called it. I opened the fridge and took out a ripe kiwi, the box of pineapple juice and a handful of blueberries and strawberries. Then, from the fruit bowl, I got a banana. After peeling the fruit, I put them all in a large breakfast bowl along with a couple of pitted dates. I found the blender in the drawer, plugged it in and began to beat the mixture of plant life, breaking up not only the fruits but also the sepulchral silence throughout my house and the rest of the building at that time. When I was done, I added the pineapple juice until the smoothie was the way I liked it. I rinsed the appliance, dried it, and put it back in the same drawer where I had found it.

  Now with breakfast in hand, I went back to the office. My mouth watered noticing the color and aroma that it gave off. Without suppressing my appetite any longer, I took the first sip. It really was exquisite, and I was hungry.

  I settled myself in the chair in front of the computer and searched the desk for the file in which I kept the first draft of the novel. I reread the last sheets and continued on.

  My ideas came gracefully, inspired, and fresh. I let myself go, until something broke the rhythm. When I’d been concentrating and working for over an hour, a sudden tiredness came over me again.

  I tried to stay awake, but I really couldn’t find the necessary strength. My mind was submerged in a titanic struggle to stay alert.

  I decided to take a little walk around the house. But after walking around for five minutes from one room to another, it was same, or worse.

  “I can’t believe it! Again, the same as last night?”

  My body became increasingly heavy, tired, and slow at times. Was I sick?

  I tried to sense it calmly, and in effect, my muscles were tense, as if I had just made a great physical effort. I looked at the time on the computer screen.

  8:53. And I got up doing so well...I don’t understand it at all.

  I touched my face, my forehead, and neck, trying to figure out if I had a fever.

  No. Cold.

  I found myself in the bedroom without really noticing. The blinds were still drawn. There was no doubt—my subconscious chose to move with discreet subtlety to what at that moment was the most desirable place in the house, my bed.

  I was already in bed, and closed my eyes. My senses were still sharp and insisted on focusing on my anatomy. Maybe my defenses were low and my body wanted to give in to some kind of affliction.

  I observed myself carefully and felt discomfort in my ovaries and uterus. They felt tight. That made me think about what day it was, and whether I was starting my period. But no, it wasn’t time yet. I could be ovulating...but I didn’t think so.

  That wasn’t all it was. Soon I felt something in the middle of my chest, under my ribs, and I felt a strange sensation. I remembered when, as a teenager, still in high school, we had to run for twelve minutes without stopping in the well-known Cooper test. My lack of exercising regularly meant the test was an immense effort. I had a very bad time. We hardly took time to run in gym class when suddenly, on a random day the teacher came up with the great idea of scoring us in that torturous test. Now, despite not having run even ten yards, I felt the same sensation in my chest, as if my lungs and bronchial tubes were open, dilated. It was an intense and unpleasant perception. I tried to relax.

  I thought that sleeping a little more would do me good. I was ready to do so when suddenly I noticed there was an energy above me, or rather, surrounding me completely.

  M body began to produce small spasms, similar to the shivering with hypothermia and I was unable to stop it. But it was not a fever. I didn’t feel cold. I wasn’t hot. It was just my body trying to harmonize an excess or imbalance of energy.

  Yes, I already knew what those slight shakes were. I knew them very well—they even had their own name: kriyas.

  Years before, when I started meditating, after the accident with my family, I had my first experience with kriyas. It was a strange feeling, something I had not experienced until that moment.

  There came a moment when my calm relaxation exercises in the lotus position turned into active meditations. As soon as I was standing or sitting, lying down...my body seemed to want to move on its own will, raising and lowering my hands, legs, head...my whole body wanted to articulate without any rational impediment that would make it stiffen up. So I learned to let myself be guided by a more subtle and wiser part than my mind, to allow that beautiful dance.

  After the accident, there was a long time in which the emotional pain kept me from achieving peace. At that time, my moments of introspection became dynamic and from there the door opened to give way to the release of my despair, that feeling that wanted to go away and which, through the energetic jolts, was doing so little by little.

  This is how I understood that these kriyas, despite sometimes being unpleasant due to their abruptness and the trauma that accompanied them, deep down gave me the pleasure of rest and liberation.

  I learned that the bigger the block or the energy of pain, the more they presented themselves. However, the peace after their fleeting appearance was indescribable.

  Really, I was surprised at the intelligence of our energy, how it always looked for balance at all levels, and how the body could automatically and unconsciously translate, via movements, the information that it could find in our energetic field and look to restore the natural equilibrium. Fascinating.

  “It is possible I’m readjusting right now?” I thought.

  This time I didn’t know what the block was that was causing me to have kriyas.

  This situation was disconcerting. Along with the movements, I felt how sometimes my arms tensed against my will. There was also something singular in my skin, as if from time to time someone touched me—first one limb, then another.

  But I didn’t see anyone. I was alone...or so I thought.

  In spite of everything, I wasn’t afraid. I was filled with tranquility and confidence. I only noticed discomfort due to the perpetual heaviness that conquered my body, and the excessive sleep that pushed me to keep my eyelids closed.

  Suddenly I felt a progressively strong and unusual energy in my back. It wasn’t the feel of the bed—it was a very different i
mpression. The subtlety seemed to invite me to turn.

  I turned over on my right side to lie on my stomach, with the strange feeling that someone was going to massage my back and upper body. And indeed I noticed something, not in the musculature, but in my spine, as if a tenuous presence delicately manipulated my bone structure from the sacrum to the cervicals. It was relaxing...

  After a few seconds an image appeared in my thoughts: a drawing of a large cold metallic-looking cable that, seemingly traversed my spine from the crown of my head to the coccyx.

  Without knowing why, I suddenly felt like crying. And like a little girl, I whimpered without actually producing any tears.

  A sharp pinch in my left arm abruptly cut off my moans. It was a peculiar feeling, not very intense but annoying, like when a nurse is taking blood or giving you an injection. That shook my confidence and I felt helpless and sad. I let a furtive tear escape from the corner of my right eye towards the pillow.

  Meanwhile, immobile as if sedated, my body only reacted unconsciously to those little kriyas over which my mind had no control.

  Little by little the sensation and movements became increasingly smooth and harmonious.

  My body rested now in the calm of silence. Entirely quiet, full of serenity and confidence, to the point of falling asleep despite feeling the presence of that energy, almost imperceptible to the senses, around me.

  *・。.·.。・*

  I woke up at eleven in the morning. The feeling of well-being was palpable, but an uncomfortable feeling in my bladder reminded me of the big glass of fruit juice I had while I was writing. I ran to the bathroom. Then I drank some water, and almost mechanically went back to bed.

  There, lying on my back, I thought about what I’d just felt a couple of hours ago, the incomparable feeling of being protected by a subtle presence that somehow enveloped my body.