Love & The Goddess (28 page)

When Raúl had finished all our readings, we walked downhill to the pier. The blue and white speed boat in which we had arrived was there waiting for us. The driver started the engine as
soon as we were all on deck, seated under the canopy. Raúl threw open a picnic basket, for each of us to help ourselves. We were ravenous, as we had long worked off our breakfast with all
the walking. The boat sped along over the calm waters of the lake, sparkling iridescent under a clear blue sky.

Between eating, our conversation turned to James’s excursions to Mayan sites. “Raúl, what do you believe the end of the Mayan calendar meant?” James asked.

“Ah that is a good question!” he said, holding up his right index finger and pursing his lips. “It was not about the end of time, rather a new time for humanity. A time of
awakening to our true life purpose. I call it the Goddess power because it is the Divine Feminine … a moving away from the love of power to embracing the power of love and caring for our
planet. Yes?”

“So are you suggesting that all of humanity will be swept up by this urge to change?” Maria asked.

“No. Not everyone will want to change, but in time when they have suffered enough pain and sickness, those who are wise will see the old ways are not working. It will also become apparent
that we must care for our planet.”

“Can you explain how that could become a new order? I don’t understand how?” Maria asked.

“Oh, many times before we have had new orders. Just think of the ancient Egyptian empire, the Incas and the Mayans,” Raúl said.

“Or the Enlightenment in Europe,” James suggested.

“Yes, it was a similar energy in some ways – yet this time, it is not the preserve of an elite group. I need to draw a diagram for you to explain.” Raúl rooted out a
hard-cover notebook from his overnight bag. In the centre of a page, he drew a vertical line, with an S-shape replete with curvy tail going though the centre.

“That’s like a dollar sign but with more curves,” Maria said.

“Yes, the dollar has been the most recognisable currency – a powerful yet one-sided symbol representing economic systems along with a love of money and power. Now look how this
symbol can change.” Raúl beckoned us in closer as he drew a backwards-tailed S intertwining the first one. “Look, now do you see how it becomes more balanced, changing into a
symbol of integration?”

“It’s the symbol of the medical profession – the
caduceus
from Greek mythology,” I answered, proud to give a well-informed answer.

“It’s also used in the East,” Maria offered. “I was in India and did some Kundalini yoga. It’s the symbol of Kundalini energy. But that’s an ancient
symbol.”

Raúl grinned. “Yes, we are now looking to the wisdom of the ancients. In Kundalini the staff represents the spine in the body and one snake is ascending while the other is
descending through the body’s energy centres. Kundalini is known as the integration of opposites – the unity of male and female energies within all of us. The Goddess energy moves up
and down in a wavy motion along the spine, raising consciousness.”

“So what has the Goddess to do with this?” I asked.

“The Goddess is the feminine aspect of God or the cosmic breath of the universe. It is present everywhere, all around you and because it is pure spirit, you can access it so easily. You
may know it as the Holy Spirit, for the Chinese it is Chi and in India it is Prana, the breath of life. All you have to do is spend time each day concentrating on your breath, breathing deeply and
bringing yourself into the present moment. This is the way to banish fear from our lives and come into our hearts.” Raúl breathed in slowly then exhaled, placing both hands over his
heart. “The world can be very different if more and more people take the short drop from their minds to dwell in their hearts. This way you learn to become an observer of your mind rather
than take every thought seriously. When you become an observer of your monkey-mind, you learn to master it. You learn you are more than your mind, and you can live in the present moment.”

“Are you saying the Holy Spirit is the feminine aspect of God?” I asked.

“Yes, definitely. The Kabbalah refers to it as the Shekinah and in Buddhism it is the Goddess Quan Yin. They all mean exactly the same – the Divine Feminine.”

“I can’t believe what you’re telling me. I have always had a problem with God as a patriarchal figure and I have been drawn to the softer energy of the Holy Spirit. It makes
sense to me now.”

“Is it easier for women to attain enlightenment?” Maria asked.

“Yes, because more women are in touch with their emotions and all women have the innate capacity to love unconditionally as a mother loves her child. However the Divine Feminine can work
through men just as easily as women. And for you, my brother, is not a problem,” he said, smiling at James as we all laughed. “But remember enlightenment is about integration or the end
of polarity, so we must see the bigger picture of God as both masculine and feminine.”

I was enraptured by the thought that the Goddess was making herself known to me in a variety of different ways. It seemed as if I had always felt her presence, yet she had remained in the
fantasy land of my childhood books. Now I was beginning to feel her essence whenever I meditated and connected with love within myself. Maybe my ultimate healing would come about if I managed to
oust the inner critic which had stemmed from the image of a judgemental, frightening God who was solely masculine.

Once back in Puno, I finished my packing for the following day’s flight to Arequipa. Afterwards, I headed down to the business centre to check my emails. It hadn’t been possible to
do so, on the island, and it might not be possible for some time again. “Any news from home?” James asked, startling me as he popped his head round the door.

“Julie’s job finished in Boston and she’s back in Dublin in great form. Ella arrived home from Rio. Have you looked at your emails yet?”

“Yep, I looked earlier when we came in and guess what? I had an email from my ex, Alex, saying he missed me … So who knows, we may get back together. He says the weather’s
awful though, so another few days here will help us face the winter. I’ll see you later for dinner then. Ciao!” He disappeared from sight. I felt a little tug at my heart, thinking how
I’d miss James if he became part of a couple once again. Then I scolded myself for being so selfish. “Think ‘right’ thoughts,” I reminded myself as I shut down the
computer.

Later that evening James, Raúl, Maria and I had our last meal together in Puno. Since Maria would be leaving the next day, we reminisced over the high points of our travels – the
trek to Machu Picchu, meditating in the mountains and Amantani island. We shed a few tears, agreeing that we had learnt a lot from each other and promising to keep in touch. As we walked back to
the hotel from the nearby restaurant, Maria turned to Raúl. “We enjoyed our time with you so much. You know we didn’t find Hakalan very spiritual.”

“Ah my brother, Hakalan. He has not right thoughts, right words or right actions. I am afraid life will teach him some difficult lessons,” he said, with a mischievous glint.

“We learned from your company, Raúl,” I said.

“My prayer for each of you is that you will find your own inner guru or goddess.”

Back in the hotel, we were all reluctant to say goodnight and decided to continue our chat, sitting in the foyer. Raúl ordered a pot of camomile tea as a night cap. I went to the
bathroom. It must have been a good area for mobile reception, because my phone instantly started beeping. I had five texts. Two were from my sister Liz and three from Julie, all sent hours ago.
What had I missed? I read the first text from Liz, and my heart leapt into my mouth. “Kate, Dad’s had an accident. Come straight to St Vincent’s hospital as soon as you
arrive.” I felt sick and dizzy, the words blurring before my eyes. Back in the foyer, James stood up to meet me, alarmed and puzzled. “What is it, Kate? You look as though you’ve
seen a ghost.”

“It’s my father! He’s had an accident, he’s critical!”

“What happened? Who told you?”

“Liz and Julie sent texts, but they’ve only just arrived. They’re all beside themselves with worry. He mixed up his tablets and crashed the car. God, my poor mother … I
need to phone home straight away. I’m going to have to leave tomorrow. As soon as possible. Can we see if I can get on Maria’s flight?”

T
he sky was overcast and Dublin looked like a concrete jungle after having spent so much time outdoors in rural Peru. We’d arrived at
the hospital and James, who had insisted on coming home with me, was driving around in circles looking for a parking space.

“Do you want to hop out while I park? I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready to leave. Then we can transfer your luggage into Liz’s car.”

“I really appreciate this, James. Just knowing you’re here is such a support.” I scrambled out of the car and ran towards the hospital entrance.

It was now over forty-eight hours since my father’s car crash. Julie had been in regular contact by text and we’d talked on the phone as soon as I’d arrived in Dublin.

“He’s out of the woods now, Mum. They were worried about him because he’d blacked out. They kept him under observation in case he had a brain hemorrhage. Apparently, he
accidentally took an extra anti-depressant, then went off to the pub intending to have a glass of non-alcoholic beer but one of his friends insisted on him having an Irish whiskey. The alcohol
clashed with the drug, and when he was parking the car he hit the accelerator rather than the brake and ran into the big oak tree in the garden. Pure misfortune, as Nanna said.”

“God, you mean to say he’d arrived in his own gate when it happened?”

“Yes. Anyway, they have him under psychiatric observation because of his blood toxicity levels. Nanna is up the wall over that. She thinks there’s a terrible stigma to it.”

Now I had arrived at the hospital and the nurse was holding open the door of room twenty-seven. “Another visitor for you, Mr Tynan.” My mother, Liz and Julie were sitting around his
bed.

“Oh Mum, it’s great to have you home.” Julie came over to embrace me. It was wonderful to be finally holding her after missing her for so long. My coming home ought to have
been a happy occasion – I’d imagined arriving back in Ireland in a state of enlightenment, having become a beacon of light and wisdom like a female Dali Lama of sorts. Instead I was
inwardly a wreck, yet I had to appear calm rather than fall to pieces.

“Hi, Dad. How are you?”

He was sitting up in the bed, ashen apart from the scuffs and bruises around his face. I’d expected him to be bandaged but it looked as though he’d got off lightly. I leaned over to
hug him, his body feeling frail and bony as though he’d lost a lot of weight. It can’t have happened over night, but I hadn’t noticed it since he always wore tailored jackets with
loose fitting shirts underneath. It was strange seeing him look so helpless, lying there hooked up to a drip.

“I’m fine, Kate. They shouldn’t have been worrying you. It was a very minor accident. As you can see I’ve no injuries apart from this.” He pointed to the small
bandage on his right temple.

My mother linked my elbow. “Listen to him. We were very concerned, weren’t we, Liz? Your father was under surveillance in case he had internal bleeding. The car took a fair wallop
and the air bag didn’t open. But he’s fine now.”

“Great to have you home, Kate. Mam’s right you know, but thankfully the worst’s over now and Daddy should be out of here in no time.” They both seemed determined to tell
me he was fine.

“I heard something about psychiatric observation. Is that to do with your anti-depressants, Dad?”

“Don’t mind them. Your father doesn’t need a psychiatrist. Who told you that?”

“How was your trip, sweetheart?” my father inquired, in his eagerness to change the subject. He had never called me sweetheart in his life before. They all seemed to be putting on
some kind of act here. My mother noticed my concern, and rushed to distract me: “You’ve got a great tan, Kate.”

It maddened me when she said silly things to distract from the real issues, but I humoured her. “I had a great break – the weather was lovely. How do you feel now, Dad?”

He opened his mouth, but this time it was Liz who jumped in. “Daddy’s great! He’ll be out of here as soon as we can get him discharged. It’s home he needs, not an
institution like this.”

Julie stood behind the two of them, shaking her head and pointing from one to the other, before placing a finger to her temple and alternating it clockwise and anti-clockwise. I said, “Can
I have fifteen minutes alone with Dad?” Both my mother and Liz reddened and got ready to protest, but my father spoke up.

“That’s a good idea. I’d like that.”

Liz threw me a dirty look and my mother assumed the evicted martyr’s posture of slouched shoulders as they left, shepherded out by Julie. “Oh, Julie.” I called her back.
“Take my phone and ring James. He’s in the car park with my luggage. Maybe you could get him to put it in Liz’s car?” That would ensure I had plenty of time. As soon as
they’d left, I turned my attention to my father. It pained me to see him look so haunted, hunched there in the bed. He’d always been independent and aloof and though that meant
I’d found it hard to ever truly connect with him, at least there was something solid about him, something predictable to depend upon. During my last visit home, he had been forgetful and
confused. I shuddered to see him like this – a frightened, crumpled old man letting my mother talk for him. I’d often worried that he might die before we ever truly had a chance to
talk. Before I ever had a chance to know who he was. I desperately wanted to grab that opportunity now, before it was too late. “Dad, I’m going to talk straight to you because I’m
concerned about you. You seem to have been under huge strain since Uncle Larry died. Mam told me you were taking anti-depressants. You really should have been going to talk to someone rather than
relying on the tablets.” I sounded a lot surer than I felt. I was taking a chance speaking to him like this. He could clam up but I was hoping to provoke him into straight talking, appeal to
the lawyer in him who liked the truth to be known.