The Witch of Portobello Read online

  "Well," said one of the actresses timidly, "it seems a bit ridiculous to be doing that. We've been trained in harmony, not its opposite."

  "Just do as I say. Do you need an explanation? Right, I'll give you one. Changes only happen when we go totally against everything we're used to doing."

  Turning to the "drunken king," she said, "Why did you agree to dance against the rhythm of the music?"

  "Oh, I've never had any sense of rhythm anyway."

  Everyone laughed, and the dark cloud hanging over us seemed to disperse.

  "Right, I'm going to start again, and you can either follow me or leave. This time, I'm the one who decides when the class ends. One of the most aggressive things a human being can do is to go against what he or she believes is nice or pretty, and that's what we're going to do today. We're all going to dance badly."

  It was just another experiment, and in order not to embarrass our hostess, everyone obediently danced badly. I struggled with myself, because one's natural tendency was to follow the rhythms of that marvelous, mysterious percussion. I felt as if I were insulting the musicians who were playing and the composer who created it. Every so often, my body tried to fight against that lack of harmony and I was forced to make myself behave as I'd been told to. The boy was dancing as well, laughing all the time, then at a certain point, he stopped and sat down on the sofa, as if exhausted by his efforts. The CD was switched off in midstream.

  "Wait."

  We all waited.

  "I'm going to do something I've never done before."

  She closed her eyes and held her head between her hands.

  "I've never danced unrhythmically before..."

  So the experiment had been worse for her than for any of us.

  "I don't feel well..."

  Both the director and I got to our feet. Andrea shot me a furious glance, but I still went over to Athena. Before I could reach her, however, she asked us to return to our places.

  "Does anyone want to say anything?" Her voice sounded fragile, tremulous, and she had still not uncovered her face.

  "I do."

  It was Andrea.

  "First, pick up my son and tell him that his mother's fine. But I need to stay like this for as long as necessary."

  Viorel looked frightened. Andrea sat him on her lap and stroked him.

  "What do you want to say?"

  "Nothing. I've changed my mind."

  "The boy made you change your mind, but carry on anyway."

  Slowly Athena removed her hands and looked up. Her face was that of a stranger.

  "No, I won't speak."

  "All right. You," Athena said, pointing to the older actor. "Go to the doctor tomorrow. The fact that you can't sleep and have to keep getting up in the night to go to the toilet is serious. It's cancer of the prostate."

  The man turned pale.

  "And you"--she pointed at the director--"accept your sexual identity. Don't be afraid. Accept that you hate women and love men."

  "Are you saying--"

  "Don't interrupt me. I'm not saying this because of Athena. I'm merely referring to your sexuality. You love men, and there is, I believe, nothing wrong with that."

  She wasn't saying that because of Athena? But she was Athena!

  "And you." She pointed to me. "Come over here. Kneel down before me."

  Afraid of what Andrea might do and embarrassed to have everyone's eyes on me, I nevertheless did as she asked.

  "Bow your head. Let me touch the nape of your neck."

  I felt the pressure of her fingers but nothing else. We remained like that for nearly a minute, and then she told me to get up and go back to my seat.

  "You won't need to take sleeping pills anymore. From now on, sleep will return."

  I glanced at Andrea. I thought she might say something, but she looked as amazed as I did.

  One of the actresses, possibly the youngest, raised her hand.

  "I'd like to say something, but I need to know who I'm speaking to."

  "Hagia Sofia."

  "I'd like to know if..."

  She glanced round, ashamed, but the director nodded, asking her to continue.

  "...if my mother is all right."

  "She's by your side. Yesterday, when you left the house, she made you forget your handbag. You went back to find it and discovered that you'd locked yourself out and couldn't get in. You wasted a whole hour looking for a locksmith, when you could have kept the appointment you'd made, met the man who was waiting for you, and got the job you wanted. But if everything had happened as you planned that morning, in six months' time you would have died in a car accident. Forgetting your handbag yesterday changed your life."

  The girl began to weep.

  "Does anyone else want to ask anything?"

  Another hand went up. It was the director.

  "Does he love me?"

  So it was true. The story about the girl's mother had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions in the room.

  "You're asking the wrong question. What you need to know is are you in a position to give him the love he needs. And whatever happens or doesn't happen will be equally gratifying. Knowing that you are capable of love is enough. If it isn't him, it will be someone else. You've discovered a wellspring; simply allow it to flow and it will fill your world. Don't try to keep a safe distance so as to see what happens. Don't wait to be certain before you take a step. What you give, you will receive, although it might sometimes come from the place you least expect."

  Those words applied to me too. Then Athena--or whoever she was--turned to Andrea.

  "You!"

  My blood froze.

  "You must be prepared to lose the universe you created."

  "What do you mean by 'universe'?"

  "What you think you already have. You've imprisoned your world, but you know that you must liberate it. I know you understand what I mean, even though you don't want to hear it."

  "I understand."

  I was sure they were talking about me. Was this all a setup by Athena?

  "It's finished," she said. "Bring the child to me."

  Viorel didn't want to go; he was frightened by his mother's transformation. But Andrea took him gently by the hand and led him to her.

  Athena--or Hagia Sofia, or Sherine, or whoever she was--did just as she had done with me, and pressed the back of the boy's neck with her fingers.

  "Don't be frightened by the things you see, my child. Don't try to push them away because they'll go away anyway. Enjoy the company of the angels while you can. You're frightened now, but you're not as frightened as you might be because you know there are lots of people in the room. You stopped laughing and dancing when you saw me embracing your mother and asking to speak through her mouth. But you know I wouldn't be doing this if she hadn't given me her permission. I've always appeared before in the form of light, and I still am that light, but today I decided to speak."

  The little boy put his arms around her.

  "You can go now. Leave me alone with him."

  One by one, we left the apartment, leaving the mother with her child. In the taxi home, I tried to talk to Andrea, but she said that we could talk about anything but what had just happened.

  I said nothing. My soul filled with sadness. Losing Andrea was very hard. On the other hand, I felt an immense peace. The evening's events had wrought changes in us all, and that meant I wouldn't need to go through the pain of sitting down with a woman I loved very much and telling her that I was in love with someone else.

  In this case, I chose silence. I got home, turned on the TV, and Andrea went to have a bath. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, the room was full of light. It was morning, and I'd slept for ten hours. Beside me was a note, in which Andrea said that she hadn't wanted to wake me, that she'd gone straight to the theater, but had left me some coffee. The note was a romantic one, decorated in lipstick and a small cutout heart.

  She had no intention of "letting go of her universe." She was going to fi
ght. And my life would become a nightmare.

  That evening she phoned, and her voice betrayed no particular emotion. She told me that the elderly actor had gone to see his doctor, who had examined him and found that he had an enlarged prostate. The next step was a blood test, where they had detected a significantly raised level of a type of protein called PSA. They took a sample for a biopsy, but the clinical picture indicated that there was a high chance he had a malignant tumor.

  "The doctor said he was lucky, because even if their worst fears were proved right, they can still operate, and there's a ninety-nine percent chance of a cure."

  DEIDRE O'NEILL, KNOWN AS EDDA

  What do you mean, Hagia Sofia! It was her, Athena, but by touching the deepest part of the river that flows through her soul, she had come into contact with the Mother.

  All she did was to see what was happening in another reality. The young actress's mother, now that she's dead, lives in a place outside of time and so was able to change the course of events, whereas we human beings can only know about the present. But that's no small thing: discovering a dormant illness before it gets worse, touching nervous systems and unblocking energies are within the reach of all of us.

  Of course, many died at the stake, others were exiled, and many ended up hiding or suppressing the spark of the Great Mother in their souls. I never brought Athena into contact with the Power. She decided to do this, because the Mother had already given her various signs: she was a light while she danced, she changed into letters while she was learning calligraphy, she appeared to her in a fire and in a mirror. What my student didn't know was how to live with her, until, that is, she did something that provoked this whole chain of events.

  Athena, who was always telling everyone to be different, was basically just like all other mortals. She had her own rhythm, a kind of cruise control. Was she more curious than most? Possibly. Had she managed to overcome her sense of being a victim? Definitely. Did she feel a need to share what she was learning with others, be they bank employees or actors? In some cases the answer was yes, but in others, I had to encourage her, because we are not meant for solitude, and we only know ourselves when we see ourselves in the eyes of others.

  But that was as far as my interference went.

  Maybe the Mother wanted to appear that night, and perhaps she whispered something in her ear: "Go against everything you've learned so far. You, who are a mistress of rhythm, allow the rhythm to pass through your body, but don't obey it." That was why Athena suggested the exercise. Her unconscious was already prepared to receive the Mother, but Athena herself was still dancing in time to the music, and so any external elements were unable to manifest themselves.

  The same thing used to happen with me. The best way to meditate and enter into contact with the light was by knitting, something my mother had taught me when I was a child. I knew how to count the stitches, manipulate the needles, and create beautiful things through repetition and harmony. One day, my protector asked me to knit in a completely irrational way! I found this really distressing, because I'd learned how to knit with affection, patience, and dedication. Nevertheless, he insisted on me knitting really badly.

  I knitted like this for two hours, thinking all the time that it was utterly ridiculous, absurd. My head ached, but I had to resist letting the needles guide my hands. Anyone can do things badly, so why was he asking this of me? Because he knew about my obsession with geometry and with perfection.

  And suddenly it happened: I stopped moving the needles and felt a great emptiness, which was filled by a warm, loving, companionable presence. Everything around me was different, and I felt like saying things that I would never normally dare to say. I didn't lose consciousness; I knew I was still me, but, paradoxically, I wasn't the person I was used to being with.

  So I can "see" what happened, even though I wasn't there--Athena's soul following the sound of the music while her body went in a totally contrary direction. After a time, her soul disconnected from her body, a space opened, and the Mother could finally enter.

  Or, rather, a spark from the Mother appeared. Ancient, but apparently very young. Wise, but not omnipotent. Special, but not in the least arrogant. Her perceptions changed, and she began to see the same things she used to see when she was a child--the parallel universes that people this world. At such moments, we can see not only the physical body but people's emotions too. They say cats have this same power, and I believe them.

  A kind of blanket lies between the physical and the spiritual world, a blanket that changes in color, intensity, and light; it's what mystics call "aura." From then on, everything is easy. The aura tells you what's going on. If I had been there, she would have seen a violet color with a few yellow splodges around my body. That means that I still have a long road ahead of me and that my mission on this earth has not yet been accomplished.

  Mixed up with human auras are transparent forms, which people usually call "ghosts." That was the case with the young woman's mother, and only in such cases can someone's fate be altered. I'm almost certain that the young actress, even before she asked, knew that her mother was beside her, and the only real surprise to her was the story about the handbag.

  Confronted by that rhythm-less dance, everyone was really intimidated. Why? Because we're used to doing things "as they should be done." No one likes to make the wrong moves, especially when we're aware that we're doing so. Even Athena. It can't have been easy for her to suggest doing something that went against everything she loved.

  I'm glad that the Mother won the battle at that point. A man has been saved from cancer, another has accepted his sexuality, and a third has stopped taking sleeping pills. And all because Athena broke the rhythm, slamming on the brakes when the car was traveling at top speed and thus throwing everything into disarray.

  To go back to my knitting: I used that method of knitting badly for quite some time until I managed to provoke the presence without any artificial means, now that I knew it and was used to it. The same thing happened with Athena. Once we know where the Doors of Perception are, it's really easy to open and close them, when we get used to our own "strange" behavior.

  And it must be said that I knitted much faster and better after that, just as Athena danced with much more soul and rhythm once she had dared to break down those barriers.

  ANDREA MCCAIN, ACTRESS

  The story spread like wildfire. On the following Monday, when the theater was closed, Athena's apartment was packed. We had all brought friends. She did as she had on the previous evening; she made us dance without rhythm, as if she needed that collective energy in order to get in touch with Hagia Sofia. The boy was there again, and I decided to watch him. When he sat down on the sofa, the music stopped and the trance began.

  As did the questions. The first three questions were, as you can imagine, about love--will he stay with me, does she love me, is he cheating on me. Athena said nothing. The fourth person to receive no answer asked again, more loudly this time, "So is he cheating on me or not?"

  "I am Hagia Sofia, universal wisdom. I came into the world accompanied only by Love. I am the beginning of everything, and before I existed there was chaos. Therefore, if any of you wish to control the forces that prevailed in chaos, do not ask Hagia Sofia. For me, love fills everything. It cannot be desired because it is an end in itself. It cannot betray because it has nothing to do with possession. It cannot be held prisoner because it is a river and will overflow its banks. Anyone who tries to imprison love will cut off the spring that feeds it, and the trapped water will grow stagnant and rank."

  Hagia looked around the group, most of whom were there for the first time, and she began to point out what she saw: the threat of disease, problems at work, frictions between parents and children, sexuality, potentialities that existed but were not being explored. I remember her turning to one woman in her thirties and saying, "Your father told you how things should be and how a woman should behave. You have always fought against your dreams, and '
I want' has never even shown its face. It was always drowned out by 'I must' or 'I hope' or 'I need,' but you're a wonderful singer. One year's experience could make a huge difference to your work."

  "But I have a husband and a child."

  "Athena has a child too. Your husband will be upset at first, but he'll come to accept it eventually. And you don't need to be Hagia Sofia to know that."

  "Maybe I'm too old."

  "You're refusing to accept who you are, but that is not my problem. I have said what needed to be said."

  Gradually, everyone in that small room--unable to sit down because there wasn't enough space, sweating profusely even though the winter was nearly over, feeling ridiculous for having come to such an event--was called upon to receive Hagia Sofia's advice.

  I was the last.

  "Stay behind afterward if you want to stop being two and to be one instead."

  This time, I didn't have her son on my lap. He watched everything that happened, and it seemed that the conversation they'd had after the first session had been enough for him to lose his fear.

  I nodded. Unlike the previous session, when people had simply left when she'd asked to talk to her son alone, this time Hagia Sofia gave a sermon before ending the ritual.

  "You are not here to receive definite answers. My mission is to provoke you. In the past, both governors and governed went to oracles who would foretell the future. The future, however, is unreliable because it is guided by decisions made in the here and now. Keep the bicycle moving, because if you stop pedaling, you will fall off.

  "For those of you who came to meet Hagia Sofia wanting her merely to confirm what you hoped to be true, please, do not come back. Or else start dancing and make those around you dance too. Fate will be implacable with those who want to live in a universe that is dead and gone. The new world belongs to the Mother, who came with Love to separate the heavens from the waters. Anyone who believes they have failed will always fail. Anyone who has decided that they cannot behave any differently will be destroyed by routine. Anyone who has decided to block all changes will be transformed into dust. Cursed be those who do not dance and who prevent others from dancing!"

  Her eyes glanced fire.

  "You can go."

  Everyone left, and I could see the look of confusion on most of their faces. They had come in search of comfort and had found only provocation. They had arrived wanting to be told how love can be controlled and had heard that the all-devouring flame will always burn everything. They wanted to be sure that their decisions were the right ones, that their husbands, wives, and bosses were pleased with them, but instead they were given only words of doubt.