The Nagual’s Double – Part Two

shamanmeditation“What are you thinking?” he asks. I stop to examine my thoughts. My brain feels inert. “I’m not thinking anything,” I tell him. “Good,” he says. “Power never presents itself to those who are accessible.”

He motions me to a massage table in the middle of the room. I plop down looking at the floor. A reprieve.

“Do you feel that?” His hands are on my shoulders.

“Yea.” It feels altogether unique.

“That is my energy.” It streams in circling to my feet returning in my head. He withdraws his hands. “Can you sit up?” He is handing me a pair of headphones. “This will last about an hour. Just listen and relax.” He leaves going up a flight of stairs.

I hear the sound of rain. The room is womblike, a refuge, dimly lit with cobalt blue walls. It seems aware of itself. Protective. I allow myself to drift.

A sudden presence enters the room startling me out of my solitude. It is a force that flashes through me. Opening my eyes I am surprised to see Lujan standing on my right. It is Lujan but not Lujan. There is something strange about him. Then he vanishes. There is no one there.

“How are you doing?” Lujan is walking in.

“I just saw you in the room a minute ago!” I blurt out, part confession and accusation.

“Really?” he asks, surveying me intently. “What did I look like?”

“You looked exactly like you, only bigger.”

“You saw my double,” he says.

“Your Double.” I repeat as a kind of joke. A windy feeling becomes a highway through my abdomen.

“I heard the noise outside and knew you were distracted so I came down. My Double just got here first.” For some reason I laugh, aware there is no point. Recalling the noise I had forgotten, it is now a vivid memory. My mind drifts leaving my body there to face the situation. Lujan laughs. He stands in front of me, omnipresent. There is a bouncy feeling in my heart center and my limbs are buzzing. A part of me comes unhinged and roams out to meet him. It feels like going out to play as a small child.

He observes me closely then pauses as if to make a determination on some matter. “Go ahead and listen to the soundtrack. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” He leaves me with a pat on the shoulder.

I replace the headphones. Loud splats of rain are coming down. I hear African chanting in the background and focus on it to distraction obsessing about whether it is real or imagined. An internal trembling makes me fidget.

Suddenly the air in the room seems to rush past me coming from everywhere. It is the speed of the movement that is so startling. I open my mouth to gasp but make no sound. There is Lujan again. It’s as though he flashes into form for a second and then disappears. I stare at the empty space. Moments later Lujan is coming down the stairs. He walks over to me with a huge grin on his face.

“I saw you again.” I hear my voice from within a tunnel.

“I know. You saw my Double again. No one has ever seen it so consistently like this before.” He seems excited. “Take those things off so you can hear me,” he taps on the headphones. “This is very interesting, very unusual,” he continues. “You beckoned me and so I came. My Double arrived first. It is always ahead of me, or just outside waiting.” He speaks to me as if revealing a secret.

“I don’t remember calling you.” I respond.

His laughter reverberates in the room. It’s contagious. I giggle, feeling elated and ridiculous at the same time. “Is there African chanting on the rain soundtrack?” I feel high, stoned.

“You are having quite a day, aren’t you?” He beams at me, not answering the question. “There’s another ten minutes of sound. Do you think you can listen awhile longer?”

I want to ask so many questions. I answer “yes.”

“Alright. Keep your eyes closed!” He leans in emphasizing the word “closed.”

Alone, I prop myself onto elbows and look around the room scanning and circling. Minutes pass. Nothing happens. Tiring of policing the circumstance I close my eyes. Bells are ringing in the rain. The chanting ceases. A bird just outside the door sings out and light floods the room. I wonder if the door is open and consider looking but do not.

He is here again. The Double. I feel the rushing sensation and a flash of panic. I fling my eyes open. He is closer this time, standing at arms length. He vanishes.

I wait for Lujan. He never comes. The rain stops and a night chorus of crickets begin. The sounds bring a memory of last night. I am upstairs in the bungalow and awaken to the cricket’s song. Climbing out of the mosquito netting I go to the open window and look into the rice field. A small section of plants come alive for the wind while the rest of the field remains motionless, witnessing itself. The wind moves like water on the plants in a glow of moonlight, swishing and swirling the delicate tips of the stalks. Lujan enters.

“Very unusual.” He seems contemplative. “Are you ok?”

“Yea, I’m ok.” I keep quiet about this last sighting of him. He takes the headphones, intently observing me. A lengthy silence ensues. “I know you saw me again,” he says finally. “You called to me. My Double was there but I decided not to come down again to talk.”

“Oh.” I say. “That’s ok.” I saw myself “calling” as he described and it dawns on me. He has seen me when I am not there, too.

I search for some words. “Nothing is hidden,” he offers.

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