Nature Mage (17 page)

“Gaspi, we’re not here to play!” she admonished. He laughed and bent to pick up another cushion, not spotting Emea’s cushion sailing across the room until it caught him across his face.

“Oh, it’s like
that
, is it?” he said, raising his arm to toss another missile. Emea was grabbing frantically at the nearest cushion on the floor, when the door swung open and an enormous, white-robed woman entered the room. They froze - Gaspi holding a cushion behind his head, ready to throw, and Emea stooped over, hands reaching towards one on the floor, head raised and turned towards the door, a grimace fixed on her face. Only Lydia looked innocent, standing over by the window, no cushion in her hand or anywhere near her. The large magician stopped in her tracks, staring at the now frozen tableau before her, then let out a throaty chuckle and entered the room, the door swinging shut behind her as she shuffled over to a chair at the front of the room.

“Make yourself at home,” she said with a wave of her hand, then sank into her chair with a sigh of relief. “I’m Healer Emelda,” she said. Emea, red faced, looked mortified that her mentor had met her in this way. The three students looked at each other, at the cushions on the floor and at the three chairs, and sat down in the chairs as one. Emelda chuckled again; a warm sound filled with mirth.

“Do you like the room?” she asked.

“Yes, very much,” piped Emea, still looking thoroughly embarrassed. Lydia and Gaspi said they liked it too.

“Well, that’s good,” said Emelda. “How you feel in this room will influence how quickly you learn to connect with your talent.”

“What do you mean…Healer Emelda?” Gaspi asked, a little formally.

“Gaspi, is it?” Emelda asked. Gaspi nodded. “In the classroom I like to be called Miss Emelda, or just Miss if you like. Healer Emelda is a bit of a mouthful,” she said warmly. Gaspi immediately liked her. She was friendly and informal and he suspected she’d be a good mentor for Emmy. “And what I mean, young Mage, is that a calm atmosphere, where you feel comfortable and rested, will help you achieve the optimum state for connecting with your talent,” Emelda explained. “Your magic lives in the deepest part of you, in the very seat of your being, and I am going to help you get in touch with it. I am going to teach you to meditate.”

Gaspi felt a surge of anxiety. He raised his hand. “Yes, Gaspi?”

“Miss, I’ve already connected with my talent, and don’t know if I want to do it again,” Gaspi said.

“Don’t worry, Gaspi,” Emelda replied in a comforting tone. “Hephistole has told me about your experiences, and you are not in any danger here. I think he has already mentioned to you that we have put a block on your power, and however powerful you are, you won’t be able to get past it. Your talent is what makes you powerful, and if you can’t touch it then you have nothing to fear, do you?” Gaspi nodded, but must have still looked uncertain. “What I’m going to teach you today,” Emelda continued, “is a technique that will enable you to control your talent. Once we release the block you can start to use it straight away, and if we have any problems we’ll put it right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Gaspi responded, with a little more confidence this time.

“Just relax, and enjoy the lesson,” Emelda said. “Let us worry about releasing your block when it’s the right time. Can you do that?” Gaspi said he could.

Emelda waved her hand in a deliberate-looking motion, and a gentle hum filled the room. Gaspi recognised it as similar to the sound he’d woken up to that morning, but this one had deeper, bass sonorities underpinning the harmonies, and was more steady and repetitive. He found it extremely relaxing, and one look at his friends’ faces showed them that they did too.

“We use sound and light to help you achieve the optimum state for performing magic,” Emelda explained. “The greatest magical innovators of our day work in enclosed, restful environments like this to enhance their work. All of our enchantments are done in just such an atmosphere to ensure the highest infusion of power into the object. You will find, with magic, that peace is power.” Gaspi noticed that Emea was listening to Emelda with rapt attention, eyes wide as she drank in every word. Again he felt that this wise, assured woman would be a good mentor for her.

“Magic resides in the deepest part of you,” Emelda continued, “where everything is pure and your potential is unlimited. As we grow we all learn to consciously restrict ourselves, to live in the outward part of the soul that interacts with its environment, struggling with the strains and stresses of daily life. But the deepest part of you, your spirit, is unaffected by these struggles, and is all-knowing. The techniques I’m going to teach you will enable you to touch that part of you, and that means to touch your talent. If you’re all ready, I’ll take you through a simple exercise.”

She paused, looking intently into each of their faces. “So, are you ready?” she asked significantly. She received a mixture of nods and murmurs in response. “Then get yourselves comfortable. Until you’re used to attaining an optimum state, you may fall asleep lying on the cushions if you try to meditate lying down, so the chairs are the best place to start. Just settle yourselves in, legs and arms uncrossed, your feet flat on the floor and your hands resting separately on your lap. Feet uncrossed, Gaspi. That’s it. Now, roll your shoulders a few times to iron the kinks out…that’s good. Now close your eyes, and allow your breathing to deepen…”

As Emelda took them through some breathing exercises and simple visualisations, Gaspi found himself teased by feelings of elation. His toes and fingers tingled, as he became increasingly relaxed. Emelda’s voice drifted in and out as his own imagination took over at points, creating fantastical visions, the warm-hearted imaginings of his soul. Once Emelda had taken them through the initial relaxation exercises, she took them deeper into a trance.

“Imagine you are in a safe place…somewhere you feel completely at rest…it can be anywhere at all, somewhere you’ve been or somewhere you create…allow the image to form in your mind…” 

In Gaspi’s mind’s eye he saw a secret mountain valley, hidden from everyone but him. It was tucked away between two peaks, sheltered from the wind and bathed in sunshine. Thick green stands of firs skirted the slopes, surrounding a shining blue lake in the centre of the valley.

“What can you see?”

Gaspi found himself in the centre of his vision, standing by the lake. A gentle wind caused the crystalline water to ruffle, sunlight flashing off each tiny wave, and piercing into the depths of the sparkling water with long, golden shafts.

“What can you hear?”

Behind him, the sweet sound of birdsong bubbled from the throat of a thrush. Other birdcalls sounded crisply from the trees. Water lapped gently at the lake shore, making a shushing sound as each tiny swell swept over pebbles.

“What can you feel?”

A gentle breeze tickled against Gaspi’s cheek. Cool grass and soft, springy soil pressed comfortably against his bare feet. But, above all, he felt a deep, peaceful rush of contentment, and surging joy, as if a deep well of his spirit had been opened. In a semi-rapturous state, Gaspi found himself wondering where this joy was coming from. What produced these feelings of bliss and filled his two-dimensional pictures with colour and depth and sound? What caused him to feel the wind on his cheeks, to taste the moisture in the air on his tongue? What made him feel more comfortable in his own skin than he had ever felt? Was this some form of magic?

“Affirm to yourself that you are in a safe place. Nothing can enter your secret place unless you allow it…” Gaspi didn’t think he had ever felt more safe, more comforted.

“As your feeling of safety grows, let your attention turn inwards. Let your consciousness search in, towards the centre of your being…”

Emelda’s words drifted through his consciousness as he moved more deeply into stillness, scraps of sentences catching his attention, directing his thought.

“Become aware of your flesh, strong and solid…now move deeper…past the body and into the soul…become aware of your emotions…examine them from a distance…unaffected…let them go one by one…leaving them behind…until all you have is stillness…”

Gaspi was a small, softly glowing light in the heart of his being, still as a pond, utterly restful, gently curious.

“In the centre of your being, residing in perfect stillness, is your spirit…feel it drawing you in as you approach this sacred, inner space, where you know all and all is known...”

Emelda raised herself out of her chair, and moved quietly to behind where they sat.

“Expand your senses, exploring the depths of your spirit, and become aware of your power.”

Gaspi peered intently with the eyes of his soul, searching for something in that inner light of his spirit. At first, he could sense nothing at all, and intensified his gaze, feeling a glimmer of frustration mar his otherwise peaceful experience.

“Not being forceful…” Emelda said. “Your inner senses gently exploring…remaining open to your power.”

Gaspi breathed deeply, letting go of his frustration and softening his inward gaze, sending his probing thoughts gently roaming through his inner landscape, until he sensed it. Within his spirit there was a force; not obvious at first, but there nevertheless. It swirled within his being, a light within the light, part of him and yet separate, moving in perfect harmony with his own spirit. Gaspi thought he smelled a faint scent of freshly turned earth, of greenery and new growth. The faint scent grew stronger in his nostrils, so that he almost opened his eyes to see where it was coming from, but he instinctively sensed that this was all part of connecting to his magic, and kept his eyes closed.

The swirling globe-light of Gaspi’s spirit was no longer the gentle white he had first perceived, but was coloured with tinges of green, which, as he watched, grew stronger and more pervasive. He peered deeply into the mesmeric light, wooed by its vibrant depths, and then abandoning caution he plunged into it, letting it surround him, watching it surge around him in a hypnotic orbit. It was many-hued, ranging from the fresh green of new life to the emerald hues of ancient forests. Allured by the beauty swirling around him, moved by its purity, Gaspi reached out with his hands, then with his heart, trying to harness the flow of this power, trying to get into its flow, but it remained out of reach. It was as if he was looking through thick, clear glass that separated him from the object of his desire. It came to him that this was the block placed between him and the source of his power, the block intended to keep him safe, but right now all he wanted to do was shove it aside and draw deeply on the magic within him. Try as he might, he could not touch the power he could see, and after a few minutes he stopped trying and contented himself with resting in the centre of his being, observing the flow of magic around him. Emelda’s voice cut through his trance and into his consciousness once again.

“Allow yourself to become aware of your physical environment once again…”

Reluctantly, Gaspi turned his attention outward.

“I’m going to count from one to ten. Affirm to yourself that with each number you will become more alert…one…two…becoming aware of your body…”

Gaspi wriggled his toes and stretched out his arms.

“Three...four...taking what you’ve experienced with you as you re-enter full consciousness…five…six…become aware of the chair you’re sitting on…”

Gaspi rolled his feet to work out the stiffness in his ankles.

“Seven…eight…re-orientate yourself to the room… nine…. ten…. and open your eyes.”

Gaspi found himself blinking in the light of the warmly lit room, and, looking around him, saw the others doing the same. Lydia looked radiant and relaxed, but he couldn’t read Emea, whose forehead was marred by the tiny vertical frown line he found so endearing.

“So...let’s talk about our experiences,” said Emelda, a look of childlike fascination and delight written across her face. “Remember, what you experience is private, and you don’t need to talk about anything if you don’t want to, but in the interests of learning, it would help if you can be as open as you feel comfortable with. So - who wants to start?”

Lydia went first, talking confidently about her inner journey. Her secret place was a plushly decorated Gypsy caravan, expansive and luxurious inside, scattered throughout with the softest cushions, the air perfumed with expensive incense. She had connected with her talent, visualising a crystal ball filled with deep crimson light, which filled her with magical energy when she placed her hands on it. Gaspi went next, briefly explaining his experience of the swirling green light, and also how the block had restrained him from connecting with it.

“And what about you, Emea?” Emelda asked.

Emea was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean…I think I felt something, when we were relaxing. I felt…happy, and something else. But every time I started to go there I’d be distracted. My hair felt like it was pulled too tight, or I couldn’t stop itching. Maybe I’ve got fleas!” she said in disgust.

“Ah yes, I know the feeling,” said Emelda with good humour. “Some people find meditating very easy, and others have to work at it. It’s like a muscle you have to train. Don’t be discouraged, Emea, you’ll get there.” Emea looked doubtful.

“Well, now you’ve tried to connect with your talent, let’s try and use it, shall we?” Emelda said cheerfully. “Not you of course, Gaspi, but your turn will come soon. Now, girls, I want you to close your eyes…and you, Emea. That’s right. Now, try to recapture some of that calmness you have been feeling. Allow the magic to draw you in…” Gaspi watched his friends’ faces. Lydia looked beatific, Emea like she was trying to thread a rope through the eye of a needle.

“Cup your hands in front of you, as if you are holding some water,” Emelda continued. She moved over, and adjusted their hands. “Now, draw near to your power, visualising it in whatever way feels most natural.” Emea’s frown deepened, as Gaspi watched.

“Imagine your power channelling into your cupped hands, forming into a ball of light. Gently now, don’t force it...”