She couldn't stop crying. Fortunately, she'd left the child with her parents, because she was talking rather too loudly and there was a faint whiff of wine on her breath. I asked her to come in. Making all that noise at my front door would do nothing to help my already somewhat tarnished reputation, with people putting it around that I received visits from both men and women and organized sex orgies in the name of Satan.
But she still stood there, shouting, "It's all your fault! You humiliated me!"
One window opened, and then another. Well, anyone working to change the axis of the world must be prepared for the fact that her neighbors won't always be happy. I went over to Athena and did exactly what she wanted me to do: I put my arms around her.
She continued weeping, her head resting on my shoulder. Very gently I helped her up the steps and into the house. I made some tea, the recipe for which I share with no one because it was taught to me by my protector. I placed it in front of her and she drank it down in one gulp. By doing so, she demonstrated that her trust in me was still intact.
"Why am I like this?" she asked.
I knew then that the effects of the alcohol had been neutralized.
"There are men who love me. I have a son who adores me and sees me as his model in life. I have adoptive parents whom I consider to be my real family and who would lay down their lives for me. I filled in all the blank spaces in my past when I went in search of my birth mother. I have enough money to spend the next three years doing nothing but enjoying life, and still I'm not content!
"I feel miserable and guilty because God blessed me with tragedies that I've managed to overcome and with miracles to which I've done credit, but I'm never content. I always want more. The last thing I needed was to go to that theater and add a failure to my list of victories!"
"Do you think you did the wrong thing?"
She looked at me in surprise.
"Why do you ask that?"
I said nothing but awaited her answer.
"No, I did the right thing. I went there with a journalist friend, and I didn't have a clue what I was going to do, but suddenly things started to emerge as if out of the void. I felt the presence of the Great Mother by my side, guiding me, instructing me, filling my voice with a confidence I didn't really feel."
"So why are you complaining?"
"Because no one understood!"
"Is that important? Important enough to make you travel up to Scotland and insult me in front of everyone?"
"Of course it's important! If I can do absolutely anything and know I'm doing the right thing, how come I'm not at least loved and admired?"
So that was the problem. I took her hand and led her into the same room where, weeks before, she had sat contemplating a candle. I asked her to sit down and try to calm herself a little, although I was sure the tea was already taking effect. I went to my room, picked up a round mirror, and placed it before her.
"You have everything and you've fought for every inch of your territory. Now look at your tears. Look at your face and the bitterness etched on it. Look at the woman in the mirror, but don't laugh this time, try to understand her."
I allowed her time to follow my instructions. When I saw that she was, as I intended, going into a trance, I went on.
"What is the secret of life? We call it 'grace' or 'blessing.' Everyone struggles to be satisfied with what they have. Apart from me. Apart from you. Apart from a few people who will, alas, have to make a small sacrifice in the name of something greater.
"Our imagination is larger than the world around us; we go beyond our limits. This used to be called 'witchcraft,' but fortunately things have changed, otherwise we would both already have been burned at the stake. When they stopped burning women, science found an explanation for our behavior, normally referred to as 'female hysteria.' We don't get burned anymore, but it does cause problems, especially in the workplace. But don't worry, eventually they'll call it 'wisdom.' Keep looking into the mirror. Who can you see?"
"A woman."
"And what is there beyond that woman?"
She hesitated. I asked again and she said, "Another woman, more authentic and more intelligent than me. It's as if she were a soul that didn't belong to me, but which is nonetheless part of me."
"Exactly. Now I'm going to ask you to imagine one of the most important symbols in alchemy: a snake forming a circle and swallowing its own tail. Can you imagine that?"
She nodded.
"That's what life is like for people like you and me. We're constantly destroying and rebuilding ourselves. Everything in your life has followed the same pattern: from lost to found; from divorce to new love; from working in a bank to selling real estate in the desert. Only one thing remains intact--your son. He is the connecting thread, and you must respect that."
She started to cry again, but her tears were different this time.
"You came here because you saw a female face in the flames. That face is the face you can see now in the mirror, so try to honor it. Don't let yourself be weighed down by what other people think, because in a few years, in a few decades, or in a few centuries, that way of thinking will have changed. Live now what others will only live in the future.
"What do you want? You can't want to be happy, because that's too easy and too boring. You can't want only to love, because that's impossible. What do you want? You want to justify your life, to live it as intensely as possible. That is at once a trap and a source of ecstasy. Try to be alert to that danger and experience the joy and the adventure of being that woman who is beyond the image reflected in the mirror."
Her eyes closed, but I knew that my words had penetrated her soul and would stay there.
"If you want to take a risk and continue teaching, do so. If you don't want to, know that you've already gone further than most other people."
Her body began to relax. I held her in my arms until she fell asleep, her head on my breast.
I tried to whisper a few more things to her, because I'd been through the same stages, and I knew how difficult it was--just as my protector had told me it would be and as I myself had found out through painful experience. However, the fact that it was difficult didn't make the experience any less interesting.
What experience? Living as a human being and as a divinity. Moving from tension into relaxation. From relaxation into trance. From trance into a more intense contact with other people. From that contact back into tension and so on, like the serpent swallowing its own tail.
It was no easy matter, mainly because it requires unconditional love, which does not fear suffering, rejection, loss.
Whoever drinks this water once can never quench her thirst at other springs.
ANDREA MC CAIN, ACTRESS
"The other day you mentioned Gaia, who created herself and had a child without the help of a man. You said, quite rightly, that the Great Mother was eventually superseded by the male gods. But you forgot about Hera, a descendant of your favorite goddess. Hera is more important because she's more practical. She rules the skies and the earth, the seasons of the year and storms. According to the same Greeks you cited, the Milky Way that we see in the sky was created out of the milk that spurted forth from her breast. A beautiful breast, it must be said, because all-powerful Zeus changed himself into a bird purely in order to be able to have his way with her without being rejected."
We were walking through a large department store in Knightsbridge. I'd phoned her, saying that I'd like to talk, and she'd invited me to the winter sales. It would have been far more pleasant to have a cup of tea together or lunch in some quiet restaurant.
"Your son could get lost in this crowd."
"Don't worry about him. Go on with what you were telling me."
"Hera discovered the trick and forced Zeus to marry her. Immediately after the ceremony, however, the great king of Olympus returned to his playboy lifestyle, seducing any woman, mortal or immortal, who happened by. Hera, however, remained faithful. Rather than blame her husband, she
blamed the women for their loose behavior."
"Isn't that what we all do?"
I didn't know what she meant, and so I carried on talking as if I hadn't heard what she'd said.
"Then she decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and find a god or a man to take to her bed. Look, couldn't we stop for a while and have a coffee?"
But Athena had just gone into a lingerie shop.
"Do you think this is pretty?" she asked, holding up a provocative flesh-colored bra and panty set.
"Yes, very. Will anyone see it if you wear it?"
"Of course, or do you think I'm a saint? But go on with what you were saying about Hera."
"Zeus was horrified by her behavior, but Hera was leading an independent life and didn't give two hoots about her marriage. Have you really got a boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"I've never seen him."
She went over to the checkout, paid for the lingerie, and put it in her bag.
"Viorel's hungry, and I'm sure he's not the slightest bit interested in Greek myths, so hurry up and finish Hera's story."
"It has a rather silly ending. Zeus, afraid of losing his beloved, pretended that he was getting married again. When Hera found out, she saw that things had gone too far. Lovers were one thing, but divorce was unthinkable."
"Nothing new there, then."
"She decided to go to the ceremony and kick up a fuss, and it was only then that she realized Zeus was marrying a statue."
"What did Hera do?"
"She roared with laughter. That broke the ice between them, and she became once more the queen of the skies."
"Great. So if that ever happens to you..."
"What?"
"If your man gets himself another woman, don't forget to laugh."
"I'm not a goddess. I'd be much more vengeful. Anyway, why is it I've never seen your boyfriend?"
"Because he's always busy."
"Where did you meet him?"
"At the bank where I used to work. He had an account there. And now, if you don't mind, my son's waiting for me. You're right, if I don't keep my eye on him, he could get lost among all these people. By the way, we're having a meeting at my place next week. You're invited, of course."
"Yes, and I know who organized it."
Athena kissed me lightly on both cheeks and left. At least she'd got the message.
That afternoon, at the theater, the director made a point of telling me that he was annoyed because, he said, I'd arranged for a group of actors to go and visit "that woman." I explained that it hadn't been my idea. Heron had become obsessed with the subject of navels and had asked me if some of the other actors would be prepared to continue the interrupted "lecture."
"That said," I added, "it was my choice to ask them."
Of course it was, but the last thing I wanted was for him to go to Athena's house alone.
The actors had all arrived, but instead of another read-through of the new play, the director decided to change the program.
"Today we'll do another exercise in psychodrama." [Editor's note: a therapeutic technique that involves people acting out their personal experiences.]
There was no need. We all knew how the characters would behave in the situations described by the playwright.
"Can I suggest a subject?"
Everyone turned to look at me. The director seemed surprised.
"What's this, a revolt?"
"No, listen. We create a situation where a man, after great difficulty, manages to get a group of people together to celebrate an important ritual in the community, something, let's say, like the autumn harvest. Meanwhile, a strange woman arrives, and because of her beauty and the various rumors circulating--about her being a goddess in disguise, for example--the group the man has formed in order to keep alive the traditions in his village breaks up, and its members all go off to see the woman instead."
"But that's got nothing to do with the play we're rehearsing!" said one of the actresses.
The director, however, had understood what I was driving at.
"That's an excellent idea. Let's begin."
And turning to me, he said, "Andrea, you can be the new arrival. That way you can get a better understanding of the situation in the village. And I'll be the decent man trying to preserve the old ways. The group will be made up of couples who go to church, get together on Saturdays to do work in the community, and generally help one another."
We lay down on the floor, did some relaxation, and then began the exercise proper, which was really very simple. The main character (in this case, me) created various situations, and the others reacted to them.
When the relaxation was over, I transformed myself into Athena. In my fantasy, she roamed the world like Satan in search of subjects for her realm, but she disguised herself as Gaia, the goddess who knows everything and created everything. For fifteen minutes, the other actors paired up into "couples," got to know each other, and invented a common history involving children, farms, understanding, and friendship. When I felt this little universe was ready, I sat at one corner of the stage and began to speak about love.
"Here we are in this little village, and you think I'm a stranger, which is why you're interested in what I have to tell you. You've never traveled and don't know what goes on beyond the mountains, but I can tell you: there's no need to praise the earth. The earth will always be generous with this community. The important thing is to praise human beings. You say you'd love to travel, but you misuse the word love. Love is a relationship between people.
"Your one desire is for the harvest to be a good one, and that's why you've decided to love the earth. More nonsense: love isn't desire or knowledge or admiration. It's a challenge, it's an invisible fire. That's why, if you think I'm a stranger on this earth, you're wrong. Everything is familiar to me because I come in strength and in fire, and when I leave, no one will be the same. I bring true love, not the love they write about in books or in fairy tales."
The "husband" of one of the "couples" began looking at me. His "wife" became distraught.
During the rest of the exercise, the director--or, rather, the decent man--did all he could to explain the importance of maintaining traditions, praising the earth, and asking the earth to be as generous this year as it had been last year. I spoke only of love.
"He says the earth needs rituals, well, I can guarantee that if there's love enough among you, you'll have an abundant harvest, because love is the feeling that transforms everything. But what do I see? Friendship. Passion died out a long time ago, because you've all got used to one another. That's why the earth gives only what it gave last year, neither more nor less. And that's why, in the darkness of your souls, you silently complain that nothing in your lives changes. Why? Because you've always tried to control the force that transforms everything so that your lives can carry on without being faced by any major challenges."
The decent man explained, "Our community has survived because we've always respected the laws by which even love itself is guided. Anyone who falls in love without taking into account the common good will be condemned to live in constant fear of hurting his partner, of irritating his new love, of losing everything he built. A stranger with no ties and no history can say what she likes, but she doesn't know how hard it was to get where we are now. She doesn't know the sacrifices we made for our children. She doesn't know that we work tirelessly so that the earth will be generous with us, so that we will be at peace, and so that we can store away provisions for the future."
For an hour I defended the passion that devours everything, while the decent man spoke of the feeling that brings peace and tranquility. In the end, I was left talking to myself while the whole community gathered around him.
I'd played my role with great gusto and with a conviction I didn't even know I felt. Despite everything, though, the stranger left the village without having convinced anyone.
And that made me very, very happy.
HERON RYAN, JOUR
NALIST
An old friend of mine always says: "People learn twenty-five percent from their teacher, twenty-five percent from listening to themselves, twenty-five percent from their friends, and twenty-five percent from time." At that first meeting at Athena's apartment, where she was trying to conclude the class she had started at the theater, we all learned from...well, I'm not quite sure from what.
She was waiting for us, with her son, in her small living room. I noticed that the room was entirely painted in white and was completely empty apart from one item of furniture with a sound system on it, and a pile of CDs. I thought it odd that her son should be there, because he was sure to be bored by the class. I was assuming she would simply pick up from where we had stopped, giving us commands through single words. But she had other plans. She explained that she was going to play some music from Siberia and that we should all just listen.
Nothing more.
"I don't get anywhere meditating," she said. "I see people sitting there with their eyes closed, a smile on their lips or else grave-faced and arrogant, concentrating on absolutely nothing, convinced that they're in touch with God or with the Goddess. So instead, let's listen to some music together."
Again that feeling of unease, as if Athena didn't know exactly what she was doing. But nearly all the actors from the theater were there, including the director, who, according to Andrea, had come to spy on the enemy camp.
The music stopped.
"This time I want you to dance to a rhythm that has nothing whatever to do with the melody."
Athena put the music on again, with the volume right up, and started to dance, making no attempt to move gracefully. Only an older man, who took the role of the drunken king in our latest play, did as he was told. No one else moved. They all seemed slightly constrained. One woman looked at her watch--only ten minutes had passed.
Athena stopped and looked round.
"Why are you just standing there?"