The door opened slowly, as if moved by an invisible hand, gliding softly and silently on its hinges until it was half open. Eight men and three women turned simultaneously, each taken by surprise, nobody saying a word. Apparently they were wondering whether the open door might bring the ongoing meeting to an end.

The meeting had by now reached its lowest energy level. The dominant men were trying to prove their point by endlessly repeating their opinions, like an endless rhetoric loop, thereby pushing differing opinions off the table. An experienced chair would have been able to summarise the outcome, and the meeting could have ended half an hour ago. However, that was not to be, evidently. They could not reach a consensus that would satisfy the company’s management; therefore everyone seemed caught in a kind of paralysis.

Charlotte had been experiencing this slowly rising paralysis inside her for some time. Before this numbness reached her heart, she decided to visualise a brightly pulsing yellow-orange light in her body. She knew that she had to act before the endless talking in circles made her lose so much energy and vitality as to make it impossible for her to have the important points manifested in the protocol. Just as she had managed to stabilise the light inside her to a warm and steady pulsing, the door had suddenly opened, silently and softly.

A shudder went through Charlotte. Tension crackled in the air and she noticed some of the men were getting nervous. They had been discussing a 15% staff reduction, even though the company was doing well, which was causing uneasy feelings in some of the participants. Charlotte sensed thoughts like 'sabotage', 'revenge' and 'spying' coursing around the room while everyone looked through the open door into the empty foyer. Suddenly there was a strong presence in the room, quite in contrast to the destructive, down-to-earth atmosphere of the meeting so far.

Before the tension could become unbearable, Muehlin interrupted the silence by snorting softly. In his function as general manager, he was not only in charge of this meeting but this was clearly his territory. He even lived one floor up in the penthouse. He gave another supercilious snort, laughing disparagingly and said, 'Don’t worry, it isn’t a vengeful ghost, but the cat belonging to my wife. I should say, to my ex-wife. She preferred to leave the cat with me. I have no idea how the beast managed to get in here.'

Ah, Charlotte thought, that’s why he’s in such an icy mood.

Muehlin jumped to his feet, pointed towards the open door with the air of someone used to having his orders followed, and barked, 'Cleo, get out! You don’t belong in here.' Cleo completely ignored Muehlin. Mewing softly, she jumped elegantly onto the table and slowly – head and tail held proudly high – marched the length of it until she reached Charlotte. Her raven black coat and white paws were reflected in the shimmering dark cherry wood of the table. Everyone’s eyes were on the cat. Muehlin gestured angrily but seemed helpless. It was quite obvious that he did not want to touch the cat, nor did he want to be made fun of. He turned abruptly and left the room, shouting for his secretary.

Meanwhile, Cleo had reached Charlotte and sat down with dignity on the table in front of her. Charlotte chuckled. She slowly lifted her hand and softly massaged the cat’s neck. At once the tension in the room disappeared. Some smiled and others started talking about their own cats and dogs or children. When Muehlin stormed back into the room, his secretary in tow, Cleo was in Charlotte’s lap, purring softly. Muehlin stopped in front of Charlotte, the secretary standing behind him with a cage in one hand. Astonished, Charlotte looked at Muehlin then his secretary, the cage and back at Muehlin, while she continued to stroke Cleo. Impatiently, Muehlin said, 'Give me the cat now, so we can continue our meeting.'

'But she doesn’t bother me at all. Why don’t you just leave her with me?'

For a moment Muehlin looked really angry and his secretary flinched slightly, but suddenly his whole face lit up. 'Okay then, why don’t you take the cat home with you? It seems to be a woman’s cat anyway.' Gruffly he took the cage and put it on the floor beside Charlotte’s chair, dismissed his secretary with a flick of his hand, and with a satisfied snort once again took his seat. 'At least I don’t have to see that cat any more. I would have had someone take it to the shelter otherwise.'

Everyone looked at Muehlin in surprise before they turned to Charlotte, slightly embarrassed. For a while there was total silence and only Cleo’s steady purring could be heard. At first Charlotte was too much taken aback to reply. She tried to gauge her feelings and felt how the warm and happy sensations emphasised the orange and yellow light. Therefore she nodded at the questioning looks of her colleagues and replied,

'Okay I’ll take her. But I must ask you to end the meeting now, because I’ll have to go and buy cat food and litter before the shops close.'

Muehlin threw an approving glance in her direction, acknowledging her ability to take charge of the situation, but Charlotte did not wait for his reaction. She carefully put Cleo in the cage, gave a few instructions to the person writing the protocol and made for the door, calling out, 'See you, everyone'.

She stopped by the secretary’s desk, leaving her phone number in case Muehlin’s wife changed her mind and wanted Cleo back.

Walking down the stairs, Charlotte became aware of the sudden happiness filling her since she had decided to keep Cleo. This happiness had defeated any lingering fatigue. Cleo contentedly sat in her cage and watched the world around her. In spite of the fact that they were in the middle of office buildings, Charlotte found a small stall at the next street corner that sold cat food and litter. In no time at all she was at the station waiting for the train to take her home. She felt satisfied and almost happy. The meeting had been very strenuous and tiring at first and she had had the feeling of being superfluous and unsuitably qualified for her job. Cleo’s appearance had completely turned the situation around.

When the train pulled in, she chose a seat by the window, snuggled into her coat against the window, put her hand inside the cage to stroke Cleo softly and closed her eyes.

She thought about her job with Synergia. Her work with one of the world’s largest management consulting firms was a safe job and very well paid. She was in charge of women’s affairs and worked as a mediator. But mediating newly formed teams and the monitoring of projects was becoming more and more difficult. The atmosphere had become increasingly rough and implementing solutions seemed to need more and more energy and time to break through the protective walls her colleagues had put up. Apart from that, the topic of sexual abuse had now made it into the highest level of the company. After it had repeatedly appeared in different media, the company management felt obliged to state an opinion and now Charlotte had been told to plan a series of seminars on the topic. At least the directors had implied that they understood this topic wasn’t to be dealt with in one single presentation. Charlotte sighed. If only she could banish the world from her thoughts for a short time..., fall into the semi-darkness of a doze for a few minutes. She felt herself starting to drift, becoming lighter, gliding into that semi-darkness.

At that moment the train stopped and two men got on, taking the seats in front of her. Their self-assuming discussion began to dominate the train compartment. Business connections, transactions, the DAX index, excellent balancing… Nobody in the train could escape their bragging. Their mobile phones kept ringing, they told their invisible employees what to do and entertained their colleagues with little jokes. Charlotte sighed and tried to bury herself deeper into her coat. All to no avail. It was not possible to drift off even for a moment. She got up to go to the loo.

On her way back she watched the men out of the corner of her eye. One man was relatively small and was balding, the other had very well-trimmed dark wavy hair. Both were wearing perfectly tailored dark suits, ties and held black laptops on their knees. The smaller man was obviously trying to impress his neighbour, perhaps due to his lack in size, by gleefully telling him how he had managed to sack a female employee when she returned to work after maternity leave. Charlotte didn’t understand the story and the dark-haired colleague obviously hadn’t understood it either, but he seemed suddenly very eager and alert. He asked his companion to explain again how they had managed that because usually the lay-off protection in Germany would protect women coming back from maternity leave from getting fired. The balding man now began to explain with enthusiasm that they just closed job contracts that did not define the tasks in detail. As such, they could claim any time that the tasks the employee was supposed to do no longer existed, and this way they were legally allowed to dismiss them.

Charlotte slowly sat down again. Unobtrusively, she put her hand on the back of the man’s seat near his head. She visualised herself invisible, connected with the energy of the fox, filling herself with love and light energy and searching the connection to the universe. When she felt warm and full, she sent the energy through the palm of her hand into the crown chakra of the man in the seat in front of her. She stopped listening to him and concentrated completely on the flow of love and understanding, straight from the universe, through her own crown chakra, her body, the palm of her hand into the man’s top chakra. She sensed his voice suddenly becoming reluctant. 'Well, at the end I almost felt sorry for her. But her husband has a well-paid job.' His colleague glanced at him with surprise.

Charlotte now put her other hand on the back of the dark-haired man’s seat and concentrated on sending love and light to his heart chakra. For some time both men were silent. Suddenly the curly-haired guy asked the one beside him, 'Isn’t your company able to afford that? I would think that given its size it should be possible to organise a replacement for the duration of the maternity leave.' The words seemed to have escaped him involuntarily. He hadn’t been aware of where they were coming from. His colleague made a startled sound. Both men fell silent, gazing out of the window and avoiding looking at each other.

Charlotte tried to keep her concentration on sending love and sympathy, but a big joyful laugh tickled in her throat. She closed her eyes to concentrate more deeply but was unable to. She stopped and looked up. The curly-haired guy was standing in front of her. 'What in hell’s name...?' He left the question unfinished, his look more baffled than angry. 'What are you doing?'

Charlotte flushed and leaned back in her seat. The laugh rose in her throat and finally broke out of her. To her surprise the curly-headed guy joined in her laughter, shook his head and went back to his seat, looking thoughtful. The two men kept silent now, but Charlotte could see out of the corner of her eye that they kept throwing anxious glances in her direction. She evidently made them uneasy. A few minutes later they agreed that it was time for a pint and they set off in the direction of the train’s dining car.

Charlotte sighed. Perhaps what she had been doing was wrong. Had she really done it in order to bring more love and understanding into the world, or had she just tried to manipulate the two men? But it was okay to manipulate people into feeling love and understanding, wasn’t it? She shook off her doubts. That was nonsense. Love and understanding could not manipulate anyone. They helped people find another piece of their true self. She was calm now and finally fell asleep and only awoke shortly before she reached Basel.

She was still sleepy when she walked along the cold and draughty platform. Suddenly she noticed someone had fallen into step at her side. It was the dark-haired guy from the train. He hesitated and now Charlotte felt embarrassed.

'How…, how did you do that?'

Charlotte smiled hesitantly. 'What did I do?'

'Well, I suddenly felt very warm inside and my heart seemed to open. I haven’t felt that good for ages. But', now he hesitated again, 'also very sad, all of a sudden, almost painfully sad.'

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to be surprised. She hadn’t expected such open directness. And she hadn’t thought that he would be able to feel so much of what had been going on. She asked herself if it wasn’t strange that these businessmen in their strict dark suits could be as sensitive as this guy and still do what they did. How could they live in a world like that and endure it?

They walked along silently. Suddenly the man seemed to force himself to ask, 'Can you do that with everyone?'

Charlotte hesitated. 'Not always. And in most cases I can only do it if the person involved wants me to do it, if they allow me to do it and if they feel a need for it.'

He nodded. He seemed to understand her. 'Because, I mean, my wife..., she’s depressive. It’s very bad. Perhaps it would help her if she could feel a bit of this warmth in her heart for once?' He spoke abruptly, fast and almost as if he was afraid of his own words. The last few words were spoken with hesitation, almost like a question.

Charlotte smiled. 'Yes, I could try', she said. They had reached the exit and came to a stop.

'How would I be able to contact you?' he asked.

'You can’t contact me at all', Charlotte said forcefully. She felt him shrinking back and smiled. 'Your wife has to contact me.'

He looked at her enquiringly. 'Your wife has to take the first step. If she can’t do that, I can’t do anything for her. Then it’s simply something you’ve made her do. That won’t achieve anything.'

He looked as if he had been caught doing something forbidden. But when Charlotte offered him her card, he dared to ask, 'But how do I explain to her…?'

'Well', Charlotte said earnestly, 'just tell her what happened to you. No more and no less.'

He looked very doubtful. She gave him another nod and strode off in the direction of the tram. He stood where she had left him and looked at the card in his hand.

'Charlotte Lesab, Healer Tel. 079-8899661'.

Just a mobile number, no address. He was surprised to realize that he would very much like to know where she lived. He was even more surprised to find that it wasn’t because he found her interesting and attractive. He didn’t want to come onto her. He would like to see her again, but not for the usual reasons. He knew that there was another dimension to this.

Autumn Equinox

21 September.

Harvest Festival, Thanksgiving, Autumnal equinox

∞ Giving thanks for the harvest ∞

∞ Beginning of the dark season ∞

∞ Gradual passage from growth and birth to dying and death ∞

∞Nature’s retreat into the earth ∞

The harvest is finished. If it has been a good year, the storerooms are filled. We will have been able to charge and fill up ourselves with sun, power and energy, in order to cope with the dark, cold season. Our thanks for the harvest are perhaps laced with melancholy for the falling leaves and the dying plants. But in the daytime butterflies are tumbling for a last few hours in the warm sunshine. If you are watching a bee buzzing along looking for flowers, you might be asking yourself how much longer this bee will live. If the year hasn’t been kind and we didn’t have the chance to store sunlight and energy, you might even be full of sorrow and afraid of the oncoming cold, dark season. It is very important to be aware of this dark part in us and expose it to the last warming rays of the sun. The days are getting shorter. When we have to get up in the mornings it is still dark, the air often has a cutting edge to it early in the day. At lunchtime the midday sun spoils us with its warmth and seems to hold off winter a bit longer. We can thankfully store its warmth and light one more time, while enjoying the autumnal colours.

In times before Christianity and especially before men settled down on farms and villages, this time of the year was probably more defined by the ritual preparation of meeting with the dark force. The preparation for the dark season, the battle against impending dying and death, which in former times not only threatened plants and animals, but challenged the people as well due to the cold, diseases and hunger. People probably felt better prepared if they were strong and filled with sunlight.

Nowadays, whether caused by Christianity or by our roots in farming culture, the feast has mostly become one of thanks for the harvest. We give thanks for the rich and abundant harvest, for full storehouses. At a time when we are no longer threatened by hunger and cold, it seems reasonable to look back at the past year and think about things we can be thankful for. What were we given in abundance? Which expectations weren’t fulfilled? Is it really necessary to have them fulfilled? Is it possible that non-fulfilment is also part of the harvest? We become aware of the fact that we can’t take being well-off for granted. In other places and other times people are awaiting the nearing winter in fear of hunger, thirst and cold. This should put our anxieties in perspective and cause us to be thankful for the abundance and riches that we have.

Suggestion of how to perform a ritual: Look for a place outside where you can feel the advancing autumn. It is up to you whether you pick a field with a last few flowers, a place in the woods where you can watch the falling leaves or the edge of the woods where you can enjoy the golden leaves and colours of autumn. Sit down and concentrate on this year’s harvest. What has been given to you? Are there things you can be thankful for? Have a look at the autumnal colours, consider the process of decay and try to find out what you feel inside when you think about this slow decay. Do you find melancholy, sorrow, fear of death and illness, and of the dark season of the year? Then try to let both elements – the thankfulness and the dark – stand on their own. Give them both space without evaluating them, without labelling them or shaking them off. Take a short walk through autumnal nature and collect symbols for your harvest and for your darker feelings. Everyone bring their collection together and sit around the warming fire and eat the food which has been provided in abundance.

The next morning, Charlotte awoke restless, worn out and unhappy. She questioned her whole life, herself and had serious doubts that she had done anything useful with the time given to her. Shouldn’t she do a whole lot more good deeds in her life? Shouldn’t she share the riches she experienced with other people?

Although she was on leave she got up early to escape her inner restlessness. She fed Cleo, who had adjusted to her new surroundings quickly. She went out onto the balcony, sat down and looked down into the valley. There was a light fog in the air and it wasn’t very warm. Autumn had arrived. Cleo walked up to her and with a tiny mewing jumped into her lap and snuggled close. Charlotte wrapped her scarf around herself, put a cloth in autumnal colours on the table and spread out the tarot cards.

What did she need in her life? What was important? What was holding her back? The answer in the cards was very clear. Eight of earth – inner structure, six of air – clarity, seven of earth – loss of energy. She sighed. For her inner structure she would need a lot of self-discipline and that would probably lead to clarity. She felt indignation at the cards; she really did not want to accept their statement. She composed herself for meditation and closed her eyes.

Once she started to relax, she felt the void inside that was filled with grey, restless emptiness, full of dissatisfaction, doubts and feelings of guilt. Her thoughts kept drifting off, circling around small events, unfinished tasks, inabilities, guilt. Again and again she tried to direct her attention gently back to her breath. For a short time she once more experienced inner calm, but it was immediately displaced by an anxious, grey, disquieting restlessness. When her meditation timer went off, Charlotte stretched, sighing. What was she going to do with her precious day off? In this bad mood? Today was Thanksgiving, the autumnal equinox, the beginning of autumn. Her female friends were all somewhere else; she hadn’t made a lot of effort lately to make contact with women, ones with whom she would be able to share her spirituality and celebrate the annual cycle of rituals. That would have to change.

As it was the equinox and she had drawn two earth cards at once, it was probably best to go out into nature. Perhaps she would be able to feel the goddess again outside.

Before she went on her walk she went to the stable and visited her old gelding Voyou. He greeted her with mild disinterest. The horses were outside in the paddock and when she came out, Voyou was very clear in making her understand that she shouldn’t even think of taking him on a ride. Charlotte scratched his belly, brushed him a bit and massaged his back. When she left the stables, she noticed that the contact with the horses had helped her; some of her trust in her power was back. It was a mild autumn day, but it was still very cloudy. You had to guess about the existence of the sun rather than actually seeing it, but it was still nice and warm.

When Charlotte laced up her walking boots and marched off, she noticed that she was beginning to relax. What was today about? To give thanks for the harvest, for everything present in her life in abundance… While the leaves under her feet rustled, Charlotte tried to focus on remembering those things she wanted to give thanks for. She was fit and healthy. She had a well-paid and interesting job. She had male and female friends (who she had been neglecting in the last few months). She had to admit to having a perfect life, if only she could stop letting her feelings of guilt keep her from enjoying it. Of course, it was a worthwhile aim to encourage the good in her, to allow her empathy, help for others and generosity to grow and prosper in her life. But today being Thanksgiving meant it wasn’t so much about growth, but about finding out what she could to be thankful for.

Walking through the autumnal surroundings, she looked for symbols for all the wonderful things in her life. She had enough money for clothes, trips and travelling, even for keeping a horse. She climbed the steep path to the small chapel – she could enjoy the view over the valley, the meandering river, the small banks of pebbles and sand, the willows and alders from up here. She found thyme, absinth, oregano and golden rod, nice symbols for the healing in her life. She was thankful for being able to feel again.

The first feeling she had been aware of when, a few years ago, she had had the courage to feel her way towards the hollow emptiness inside her, had been a profound mourning and sadness – sadness for her lost childhood and youth. But combined with this profound sadness there was also the first joyful feeling – joy for being able to feel again, joy that her abdomen was managing to feel warmth again. Her heart and belly were no longer simply dead and cold, as if they were non-existent. After that had come the pain. Sometimes it was sharp and slicing, sometimes it was dull, holding her down but always, in a certain way, cleansing.

She felt hot after the climb, sweat trickled down her back, and for a while she strolled along the elevated path. She found some dog-rose berries – bright red fruits which reminded her of the rich variety in her life, and of the sun even if it was currently hidden behind some clouds. A last remaining rose blossom bent towards her and she thankfully picked it, a sweet-smelling symbol of the beauty in her life. She was happy about the treasures she had found, and noticed a feeling of relief. She seemed to be regaining the ability to enjoy life.

She jogged the short distance to the river and found herself at the edge of a small deep basin bordered by a welcoming sandy beach. Following a sudden impulse, she took off her clothes, folded them, put them on a rock and lowered herself into the river. The water was cold as ice, having flowed down from the mountains. The cold took her breath away and she fought for air as she quickly scrambled out. She stood on the beach laughing, and then went in a second time, this time more slowly. This time her body was already prepared for the cold. She held onto a rock in the water and let the current flow around and play with her body. She asked the goddess to cleanse her with the running water, to wash out all restlessness, discontent and guilt and take it with her into the depths of the sea. Again, the intense cold forced her out of the water after a few minutes.

For a moment she stood naked on the small beach and enjoyed the warm breath of autumn on her naked body and the prickling of her skin. She sent a small prayer of thanks. She felt rested and peaceful. She rubbed herself dry with her T-shirt, slipped back into her clothes, picked up her treasures and started her walk home. Lost in thought, she walked slowly, strolling through the peaceful autumn day with its soft light and the stillness of September. A few leaves rustled beneath her feet. Here, a field scabious nodded in her direction; to her left, a yarrow beckoned and a tansy glowed.

When Charlotte got home, she arranged the flowers and fruits on her altar and once more sat down to meditate. This time she felt deeply thankful. Her reality seemed to be a different one now – it had changed as quickly and as profoundly as the clouds scudding along the autumn skies outside.

While she was in the kitchen preparing supper, her mobile phone suddenly rang. She took the call but there was silence at the other end.

'Hello?' she asked, 'Who’s speaking?'

In contrast to her usual impatience, when the person at the other end didn’t answer, she didn’t slam down the phone at once. Intuitively she sensed that the caller needed her help. She was silent for a few seconds, and then she asked gently,

'Can I help you in some way?’

She was becoming aware of how stilted and stiff she sounded and decided to end the call. But suddenly there was a deep, very self-assured sounding female voice,

'Perhaps. At least, my husband seems to believe so.'

It took Charlotte some time to realise that the woman had answered her previous question. 'Okay, and how can I help you?'

'Well, you met my husband on the train yesterday. And…', the firm voice faltered and hesitated, obviously the speaker didn’t know how to continue.

Charlotte tried to help her. 'Ah, would you like to schedule a date for laying-on of hands?'

There was an audible gasp. 'Laying-on of hands? Ah… well, yes..., perhaps that is what I need.'

'All right', answered Charlotte, 'please give me your name and address and then we can arrange a date.'

'Christiane Löwensiek, Bergstrasse.' Charlotte knew where Bergstrasse was. It wasn’t far from her flat, near the Merianpark. Suddenly the voice became very hesitant, almost begging. 'Would it be possible for you to come tonight? I know, it’s quite a lot to ask, but…' – this woman plainly wasn’t used to ask for help, and it cost her – 'otherwise I don’t know how…'

Charlotte gulped; things had changed quickly from thanking to giving. But she promised to be there at eight o’clock. It was just after six now, so she would be able to cook herself supper and still get there round about eight.

As she put down the phone, Cleo sat in front of her and looked at her inquisitively. 'Well, Cleo,' Charlotte bent down and scratched the cat’s neck, 'I don’t know what’s going to come of it, but I can at least try'. Cleo purred contentedly, then made a beeline for her food bowl and showed Charlotte that there were more important things to life than phone calls. Charlotte chuckled: 'All right, first of all you get your dinner. After that I’ll set about making my own.'

Some two hours later Charlotte was walking towards a large, villa-like house. The garden bordered on the park and was slightly overgrown. A dog barked somewhere, but was nowhere to be seen. When Charlotte rang the bell, the heavy wooden door was opened almost immediately. Someone had evidently been watching out for her arrival.

The two women silently took each other in. Charlotte was looking at a tall, slim woman. Curly brown hair framed a very cared-for and unobtrusively made-up face. The comfortable, expensive clothing and a whiff of an expensive, dry perfume gave the woman an air of self-confidence and elegance. However her eyes, which hesitated to meet Charlotte’s, had a slightly flickering gaze and didn’t give anything away. Charlotte almost felt as if she was looking at a wall rather than into the eyes of a woman.

In contrast, Christiane was looking at a tall, strong but slim woman. She was surprised that she had to look up to Charlotte. Young, lively eyes and a face that – apart from small wrinkles around the eyes – was almost totally smooth, stood in contrast to the short-clipped hair which was laced with grey. Charlotte was wearing leisurely, comfortable clothes and only their warm, orange-red colour came anywhere near the image that Christiane had of a healer.

12 3 Weiter

Solstices

Autumn Equinox

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