Read Redemption's Warrior Online

Authors: Jennifer Morse and William Mortimer

Redemption's Warrior (10 page)

BOOK: Redemption's Warrior
7.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Juanita sobers hearing the news of Daniel’s death. She says, “My father approaches
El Jefe
with caution. As a child he was
loco
.” Reaching for his hands, squeezing his fingers, she says, “Please Christopher. Let me help you escape.”

They’ve had this conversation many times. Recently on the far side of the island Christopher and Checo stumbled on a bone yard. A mass grave, layers of bones hidden in the jungle. He shudders remembering, shaking his head. “No Juanita. These men are murderers. Even your father cannot keep you safe if they think you helped me escape.”

He searches for the words to explain. He counts on her safety and well-being. He draws comfort from the knowledge she is protected. But the words are elusive and he groans his frustration.

Juanita nods. “Living with
La Currandera
has kept me distant from my father’s world.” Laughing, she leans into him, whispering, “And no one wants to make a powerful healer angry.”

Squeezing his bicep, and giving his arm a tug she says, “For a moment let’s set aside worries.
La Currandera
suggested we teach each other something.” Amused, she adds “To quote
La Currandera
exactly she said ‘it will strengthen our unity.’”

Standing up Juanita brushes the dirt off her pants. She gives Christopher a fiercely competitive grin. “Today you will teach me martial arts. I will teach you double dreaming.”

Sweeping him a welcoming gesture she adds, “You first, let’s begin.”

Christopher begins their impromptu class with a forward fold. Gently swinging, gravity pulls on their hamstrings, the muscles along the back of the leg. He broadens the swing understanding it releases stress petrified in the muscles. Christopher rocks back and forth in comfort but for Juanita the deep pull on her hamstrings takes her breath away. She giggles, “Nothing like being shown up by a boy.”

Pulling his chin to his shin Christopher smiles at her.

Dragging his forearms over the top of his head Christopher begins conscious breathing. He explains, “Inhale over the course of six counts. Exhale over the course of six counts.”

Juanita presses her palms together and drags them over her head in their prolonged forward fold. She has stopped breathing. “Ow! This hurts,” she complains.

“Try breathing,” he encourages. “Inhale six counts, exhale six counts. I’ll count for you.”

After four cycles of six count breathing he asks, “How do you feel now?”

“Better,” Juanita pants

He cannot help the laughter bubbling at the back of his throat. He says, “Master Jojo reminds us ‘dead men don’t breath.’ Try slow inhales and exhales. It will keep you calm and refresh the muscles. Otherwise your mind can run away with you when the practice gets more difficult.”

Juanita gasps, “More difficult?”

This simple but powerful stretch has taken her by surprise.

Next Christopher demonstrates a side stretch followed by pulling his calf to the back of his thigh. Juanita grimaces as her quad muscle grips the bone in protest. Christopher watches stoically.

Underlying the movement sequences lives a difficult, time consuming lesson. To put words to the body’s story Christopher explains, “It takes time and your patience for a body to open and clear out.”

“Clear out what?”

“Honestly?”

Meeting his gaze, her brown eyes open and clear, “honestly”

Christopher shrugs, “Okay. What makes your body stiff while mine stretches?”

“Hmmmm, practice?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Nope, concretized ‘junk’ closes a body down. It lives in our muscles, joints and tendons.”

Gritting her teeth Juanita repeats, “Debris?
Basura
?  I seriously never thought such a thing would be possible. Wait until I tell
La Currandera
.” She makes a joyful squeak. “Thank you Christopher.”

Christopher continues with several rounds of front then back kicks. He finishes the mini lesson with side-kicks. He returns to a seated position on the ground. The souls of his feet are pressed together. He opened and finishes the mini lesson with stretches. When Juanita imitates him her knees fly up and she hunches over. Sweat rolls down her neck and flushed face. Christopher applies gentle pressure just above her knees. He explains, “It takes patience to understand the synergistic dynamic of strength emboldened with flexibility.”

He grins at her. “You have to surrender into the sweat. It’s a different mind-set. Most girls try to avoid sweating.”

Juanita giggles, “When do I get to hit you?”

Christopher laughs with her.

“Okay, it’s my turn,” Juanita says excitement lighting her eyes.

“What will we do exactly?” he asks.

Juanita frowns, “it’s kind of hard to explain. I’m going to take us through to the opposite side of time; day is night and night is day.”

Christopher shakes his head, “What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Is it dangerous?”

Juanita shrugs, “maybe a little.”

“I trust you with my life.”

“Well then,” Juanita smiles. “Let’s sit here. Do not move from this spot.” She squeezes his hands, “If you move around I may not be able to bring you back.”

Juanita unconsciously bites her fingernail.

Christopher nods.

She takes a deep breath, exhaling and shaking out her hands.

“Should I copy everything you do?” asks Christopher.

Juanita gives him a playful punch. “Breathe in and breathe out, just like we did in your martial arts lesson. Juanita reaches down to her side where she carries a bulky woven bag made from thick fibers of alpaca wool. The natural colors vary from cream to stone to brown. A hint of sage and rosemary drifts toward him when she opens the bag.

Pulling out four rocks she places a stone in each direction. In the south she places a red rock. She explains this is a sacred circle. “Some healers open their circle in the east.
La Currandera
opens a ceremonial circle in the south, a place of trust and innocence. Following clockwise we arrive in the west.”

She places a black rock, shiny and lined with striations, in the west. Smiling at Christopher she says, “West the place of setting sun. Some say death and transformation, even perfection or ecstasy live in the west.” A white stone follows in the north and then a yellow stone in the east. When she has all the stones in place Juanita begins a prayer; part song, part chant. She places different objects from her bag around the circle. Christopher can feel power building around them. The air is sticky yet weightless.

Juanita’s voice has become a singsong prayer and he falls into the rhythm and tone. Incandescent beams of violet, gold and green flash then disappear. The air feels feathery against his skin. Juanita’s glows a nimbus of light surrounding her. Christopher floats.
I hear a song alive in her words
. His muscles unwind. He falls into her instructions, wrapped like a package in the depth of her intonations and cadence. Now her voice travels across a distance. “In your mind’s eye, see us standing on this cliff. The sun shines. Feel the warmth on your skin, the gusting wind. It fills us with pinpoints of light. Standing together, holding hands, we are dissolving into pinpoints of light.”

Her directions reverberate in his body. Releasing his past, he moves beyond the shell of circumstances known as the story of his life. In Juanita’s lilt, inflection and rhythm, everything has transformed into dancing bits of light.

Eventually she says, “Can you see the horizon, the place where the earth and sky meet? It’s particles of light. We are particles of light. Now, with me, slip into the opening, the horizon where earth and sky are one.

On a sigh, Christopher slips through the opening. He floats through pinpoints of light. Ahead he perceives Juanita’s light body. He follows her moving beyond the edges where the earth and sky meet. He opens his eyes. They are sitting on a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean surrounded by dark night and millions of sparkling stars.

The air leaves his diaphragm in a “whoosh” of combined terror and disbelief. “This place?” he asks, “a shared dream? Does it really exist?” He’s starting to hyperventilate.  “I don’t know if I’m more scared this place might be real or a hallucination.”

Juanita takes Christopher’s face in her hands. “Hey, hey, we are here together in a sacred dimension. Remember to breathe. I’ll count, six count inhales and six count exhale.” She holds onto Christopher’s hands while they breathe.

Once centered Juanita laughs saying, “Look at the efforts I make to spend a night with you.”

Enchanted and dazzled Christopher asks, “Am I breathing in starlight?” Beside him Juanita starts to hum, adding, “Yes, very good Christopher. Breathe deeply the starlight. Ask for a visitation. Tonight we seek Star Woman, an ancient power, carrying the void before time as we know it.”

As she speaks an explosion of light bursts from her chest.
So bright, so vast,
it blinds him.

She cries out, anguished, collapsing at his side.

He yells, “Oh my God! Juanita! What happened?”

Juanita’s lifeless body drapes across his lap. “No!” he shouts. Cradling her, rocking, shielding her from the cold, “No! You cannot have her!”

He wants to get up and run for help yet he’s glued to this spot. Panic crushes him.
Where do I get help in this place
? He has no idea how to save her.

• • •

Solar winds buffet him. Stars stream by. He loses himself in the eternity.  The weight of Juanita’s body pulls him back.
How long have I sat here
?
How much time do I have?

Incomprehensible to live a life without Juanita, inside him a primordial scream gathers. He reaches out to the line where earth and sky meet. He pulls together, into his belly, the power of breaking dawn and twilight. With supernatural strength he calls on the powers of the four directions. He wraps himself in the planetary winds and bellows, “Juanita! Come back to me!”

The roar echoes through him. Waves, pinpoints of light, stream over and around him. They coalesce, past starlight, at the edge of existence. He bends over Juanita pulling her to his heart.

Looking up he’s alarmed to find a gigantic face filled with stars staring at him. An eye blinks. The face transforms into a woman, a woman standing within a universe of stars. Pointing her finger at Juanita, she asks Christopher, “Why did this woman bring you here?”

Heart pounding, he can barely speak. “I don’t know.”

Rocking Juanita in his arms, looking into the woman’s eyes filled with star shine, he swallows hard. “For generations before and eons after, in the stillness of a new day, in the night’s starry skies, I will love her.”

Star Woman’s image imprints deep within his cerebral cortex. “Please help me,” he begs. Personifying lunar darkness, turning it inside out, Star Woman speaks. Through her celestial winds birthing the Milky Way, in the pulse of solar systems, in the beginning and end of time, she is infinite and eternal. Her eye falls on Christopher filling him with despair.
How will Sovereign Life find importance in the infinitesimally small… me? We are irrelevant

Her voice is the explosion of stars splashing across the galactic sky. Shaking uncontrollably Christopher slips into her primordial pulse, oscillating.  Negativity, unresolved bits and pieces of his consciousness flee within her vibratory disposition. He is one, with the totality, the sublime beauty of existence. In the cosmic melody of Star Woman he feels peace.

She calls on him. “Welcome, Redemption’s Warrior.”

He breathes starlight. “Star woman. Please help me.”

Stars outline her face layer upon layer of starlight creased and folded giving her form. “Very good. You are willing to ask for help. Most humans … forget… to ask for help.”

She gathers a cosmic breath and blows it over Christopher who still holds Juanita in his arms. His insides turn to water as Juanita wakens. Her chest, rising and falling, stars spinning, the universe expanding. He can feel Juanita’s heart, beating at one synchronized with his heart. Star Woman’s face fills the edges of the universe. She exhales transcendence. A heavenly voice embodies the union of opposites. “When two hearts, in their innermost heart beat as one, then all of time stands still and bows before them. This is the power of love. Never forget it.”

She evaporates. Christopher’s head drops forward, bowed over Juanita, he weeps.

• • •

When Christopher next opens his eyes they are sitting on the cliff looking over the ocean. The sun beats warming their skin. He sees the ocean with new eyes. In the union of sun and water, the refractory power creates miniature diamonds. Shining stars in the depths of the ocean, born of sun and water. He thinks
I can almost see Star Woman’s face
.

“What happened?” he asks.

Juanita shakes her head and her voice trembles. “Honestly Christopher I don’t know. I was trying to introduce you to Star Woman, but I had one experience and you had another. Both were tests I didn’t anticipate.” On a soft moan, “What will
La Currandera
say?”

She reaches for Christopher’s canteen of
Islas Tres Maria’s
spring water. Taking a long drink she hands the container to him. “
La Currandera
would tell me ‘all is well that ends well.’” She shakes her head. “I’ve been taught to do better. I’ve been taught the importance of holding ceremonial space.”

Christopher drinks. Cool water soothes his throat. Every part of him is parched, dusty with the solar winds of creation
. I feel charred by starlight. Who would believe me if I told them this story?
The answer instantaneously is
Juanita
.

Now they are back safely on the cliff they move to sit under the shade of the banana trees. He asks, “What do you mean hold ceremonial space?”

Juanita sighs, “When we journey with cosmic elements we can fall apart. Oh I don’t know how to say it. Let me see… it was my job to hold the intention so clearly that we would only stay right in that spot. Instead I was pulled to a different place.”

Already Christopher’s memories are starting to disintegrate. What did Star Woman say at the end?
When two hearts beat as one time stands still… This the power of love. Never forget.

BOOK: Redemption's Warrior
7.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Crooked Vows by John Watt
Bride of the Revolution by Bethany Amber
The Chinese Takeout by Judith Cutler
In Search of Hope by Anna Jacobs
Cockpit by Kosinski, Jerzy
Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve
One Fat Summer by Robert Lipsyte
Great Sex, Naturally by Steelsmith, Laurie