Crystal Clear Page 7

  “Yes, unfortunately. And the same is true with Thursday’s tour, as well as Friday’s and Saturday’s.”

  “But my travel agent said I wouldn’t have any trouble booking the tour. She said your busy season doesn’t start until October.”

  “It doesn’t. That’s why we only schedule one new group per day now. During our high season, we book three or four groups at a time.”

  “Look,” I said. “I’m not going to be in Sedona that long and I really have my heart set on taking your Sacred Earth Tour. Isn’t there any way you could fit me into tomorrow’s group? I’ll skip the bottled water and boxed lunches if it’ll make a difference.”

  Crystal smiled. “As I said, six passengers is the maximum number that most of the Jeeps can accommodate, but there are a couple of slightly larger vehicles that can seat seven, plus the driver, if it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “It’s absolutely necessary,” I said. I hadn’t come to Sedona to sit in my room.

  “Then let me check with the head of the company that operates the tours for us,” she said. “He’ll be able to tell me which Jeep he’s planning to use for tomorrow’s group. If it’s one of the larger ones, we might be able to squeeze you in.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” I said.

  “Give me your room number and after I’ve talked to him I’ll leave you a message,” she said. “Just keep in mind that if we can fit you in with tomorrow’s group, there will be a tiny catch.”

  “How tiny?”

  “You’ll have to sit in the front seat of the Jeep, next to the driver.”

  “Well, that certainly won’t kill me,” I laughed, having every reason to believe it wouldn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  I took a long, slow stroll back to my room, and when I got there I noticed that the red message light on my telephone was blinking. I dialed the hotel operator, assuming that it was Crystal who had called about the Sacred Earth Jeep Tour. I was wrong.

  “You had two phone calls from Rona Wishnick,” said the operator, spelling out both the “Rona” and the “Wishnick” in a showy display of efficiency. “She said it was urgent that you call her back.”

  I called her back.

  “Rona? What is it?” I asked anxiously when she picked up after the first ring. “Did that sneaky little Otis Tool fire you?”

  “I haven’t even seen Otis today,” she said.

  “Then what was so urgent?”

  “Urgent? I just wanted to know how you like it out there.”

  “Is that all?” I breathed a sigh of relief. Rona was such a drama queen. “I haven’t done any real exploring yet, but from what I’ve seen of Sedona so far, it’s everything you said it would be.”

  “I’m so glad. Is the hotel nice?”

  “It’s beautiful. First class.”

  “How about your room?”

  “It’s beautiful, too.”

  “Spacious?”

  “Very.”

  “Private?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great view?”

  “Okay, Rona. What’s really going on? You didn’t leave two urgent messages so you could ask me about my accommodations.”

  She was silent for a minute. “All right, I’ll tell you,” she said finally, “but you aren’t going to like it.”

  “It is Otis, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s Steven. That’s why I was asking you about your accommodations. You could be sharing them.”

  “Sharing them? What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Steven is making noises about flying out to Tranquility. To convince you to marry him.”

  “For God’s sake, Rona. You told him where I am?” She was the only one to whom I had entrusted the name of the hotel, the point being that I didn’t want anyone—including Steven—to come between me and my search for Meaning.

  “What could I do?” she said defensively. “He started calling the office at nine o’clock this morning, begging me to give him your number.”

  “And you gave it to him.”

  “Look, Crystal, I haven’t been a big champion of Steven’s. You know that. But I didn’t think it would be good karma for me to interfere in your relationship with him. It’s up to the two of you to decide if you want to get married. As Illandra always says, it’s important to let people exercise their free will.”

  “So now he’s coming to Sedona,” I said. “I can’t believe he’d actually take time away from his clients.”

  “Why not? You did.”

  She had a point. “What am I supposed to do when he gets here?”

  “Do you want to marry him, Crystal?”

  I pondered the question. “I used to think I did,” I replied. “I assumed we’d get married and work hard at our careers and live happily ever after in his paisley apartment. But then came the whole business with Stephanie. And there’s another issue: Maybe if I hadn’t had such a rotten experience with my first marriage, I’d be more enthusiastic about taking the plunge a second time.”

  “Look, hon. The whole purpose of your trip was to go within yourself and figure out who you are and what you want out of life. True?”

  “True.”

  “So why don’t I call Steven and tell him you changed your mind about Sedona and went to Tahiti instead.”

  “What happened to letting people exercise their free will?”

  “I’d be exercising mine.”

  I laughed. “You don’t have to tell him anything,” I said. “I’m the one who has to handle the situation. Just not right this minute.”

  “That’s the spirit. You go out and enjoy yourself. If Steven shows up, he shows up, and you’ll sort it all out then.”

  I took Rona’s advice. I left the room, hopped into my burgundy rental car, and went for a little drive into “Greater Sedona.”

  First, I stopped at a gas station on 89A. I pulled up to the “full serve” pump and sat there for several minutes, waiting for someone to fill up my tank. Finally, a man in overalls and a red bandana asked me if I’d been helped.

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “Then you might want to head over to The Clearing House,” he said. “They can help you, no question about it.”

  “You’re out of gas?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am. You are,” he replied in a way that suggested that he wasn’t talking about my car.

  Here we go again. Another complete stranger taking my cosmic temperature, telling me I need to balance my energy centers. “Could we start this again?” I pleaded.

  “Yup,” he said cheerfully. “I asked you if you’d been helped. You said no. I figured I should send you to The Clearing House since that’s where everybody around here gets helped. They’ve got healers that come in all shapes and sizes. Whatever ails ya, they’ve got a cure for it.”

  “That’s good to know, but what if I just want $10.00 worth of unleaded gasoline?” I said.

  “Oh, I can take care of that,” he said. “But if I were you, I’d make The Clearing House my next stop.”

  Sure, why not? I thought. If this Clearing House is where the action is in town, I should definitely check it out.

  I paid for the gas, thanked the man, and continued along 89A, trying to keep my eyes off Sedona’s spectacular red rocks. They were so much more than just “scenery.” They were a constant source of wonderment, an exquisite reminder of how young we are in comparison to the land—or, to put it another way, of how ancient the land is in comparison to us. I had never visited the great ruins of Europe, never really concerned myself with how people lived in previous civilizations—the occasional PBS special notwithstanding. But being virtually surrounded by these mountains, which were the epitome of timelessness, made me question what had come before me and what would come after me in a way that was entirely new for me. It also made me experience two conflicting feelings simultaneously: that I was insignificant, a speck, someone whose existence really didn’t matter in the larger scheme of things, and that
I was important, a bona fide life force, someone whose existence was an essential, pre-ordained part of The Big Picture.

  Whoa, I thought. Would you listen to yourself, Crystal Goldstein? Contemplating your place in the cosmos instead of calculating your clients’ capital gains taxes?

  Maybe Sedona was beginning to work its magic on me. Sure, the place had more flakes than a piecrust, but it also had a certain “energy.” And wasn’t that the point?

  I followed the gas station attendant’s directions and after passing numerous shops selling merchandise that either promoted Native American Indians or exploited them—I actually spotted a hair salon called Scalpers—I came upon The Clearing House, a wood-frame building painted a deep red to match the omnipresent canyons. I drove into the parking lot, got out of the car, and ventured inside.

  “Welcome to The Clearing House,” said a woman wearing a flowing purple caftan. She told me her name was Zola, took hold of my elbow, and guided me into the store, which turned out to be a veritable Home Depot for New Agers. On the first floor were products—crystals, angel figurines, herbs, oils, candles, wind chimes, Tarot cards, books, tapes, videos, and, unfortunately for me, incense, to which I seemed to be highly allergic and which aggravated my sinuses to such an extent that I couldn’t stop sneezing no matter how many times Zola chanted over me. There was also a booth where “aura photography” was performed. Zola explained that, for a mere $25.00, The Clearing House’s enlightened photographer would snap a Polaroid of me in my aura field. I told her I’d take a pass, since I already knew that my aura needed cleansing and who wanted a Polaroid taken in a dirty aura?

  “What’s on the second floor?” I asked her.

  “Our spiritualists,” she said proudly. “The world’s finest, all under one roof. They each rent rooms here at The Clearing House. Trust me, dear, if you have a problem, one of them will be able to fix it.”

  “By ‘spiritualists,’ you mean what, exactly?”

  She smiled, indulging my ignorance. “Well,” she said, “we have psychics and channelers, astrologers and numerologists, Reiki healers and Rolfing experts, hatha yoga instructors and harmonic wave theorists, angelic energy clinicians and past life regression therapists, I Ching practitioners and UFO believers, holotropic breathing facilitators and ear coning specialists, Feng Shui—”

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted, having become absolutely overwhelmed, the way you get when you’re standing in the middle of a department store during an “Everything must go!” sale. “Would you mind explaining to me what, for example, ear coning is?” I had to start somewhere.

  “Ear coning is a cleansing of the ear channels, Eustachian tubes, and sinus cavities,” said Zola. “Belinda, our ear coning specialist here at The Clearing House, inserts one end of a cone into the ear canal while the other end of the cone is burning. The vacuum created by the warm smoke clears out earwax, fungus, and other toxic debris. The process is excellent for people with allergies or sinus troubles.”

  I had both at that moment, but the notion of letting this Belinda insert anything into my body didn’t appeal to me.

  “What if I just wanted a simple attunement?” I asked, remembering the waiter at Tranquility. “I ran into someone who says he does attunements for $50.00 a session.”

  “Jazeem is our attunement specialist here at The Clearing House,” said Zola. “Normally, her price is $60.00 per session, but if somebody else quoted you a lower price, we’ll match it.”

  “Sort of like at a rug store,” I joked.

  Zola was not amused. “Would you like me to book you an hour with Jazeem?” she inquired. “I could see if she’s free.”

  “Sure. Why not,” I said.

  Jazeem descended the stairs to the first floor to greet me. She was about my age, I guessed, and from the same Brooklyn neighborhood that Rona was from, judging by the accent. As she led me back up the stairs, to her private room, I asked her how she came to have such an exotic-sounding name.

  “I had it changed legally about three years ago,” she said. “My real name is Alice.”

  “I like Jazeem better,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

  Jazeem was a very short woman and when she sat in her chair, her feet did not touch the ground. I tried to picture her driving a car and was sure she was one of those people you couldn’t see over the steering wheel.

  “Now,” she said. “Get nice and comfortable. Okay, Crystal?”

  I adjusted my position in the chair facing hers and told myself to relax.

  “There,” she said. “That’s beautiful. I want you to close your eyes and take a really full, deep breath.”

  I shut my eyes and inhaled as fully and deeply as I knew how. Within seconds I was sneezing, just as I had been downstairs. Apparently, Jazeem had lit some incense after I’d closed my eyes, and my sinuses weren’t handling it well.

  “I’m sorry,” I said between ka-choos.

  “There is no ‘sorry’ in this room,” she said, snuffing out the incense and sparing me further embarrassment. “Spirit has brought you to me and it is time to do his work.”

  “May I blow my nose first?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Jazeem.

  I grabbed a tissue from my purse and blew. “All set,” I said.

  “Good. Close your eyes again and together we will take a full, deep breath. In two-three-four, out two-three-four.”

  I inhaled and exhaled. Maybe an attunement is a little like a Lamaze class, I thought.

  “Now, keeping your eyes closed, I’d like you to uncross your legs, put your hands together in the prayer position, and remain very quiet, while I come around to the back of your chair and begin the attunement.”

  I felt myself stiffen. Who knew what she was going to do to me? I mean, it wasn’t as if my internist had referred her. The local gas station attendant had sent me.

  “Just let go,” she said as I felt her presence behind me. “Let it all go.” Her voice was high-pitched but very soft and calming, like a little bell tinkling. I began to loosen up, to allow my limbs to turn to mush.

  Jazeem placed her hands on the top of my head and left them there for a minute or two. I expected her to recite some sort of incantation at this point, but she simply inhaled slowly, then exhaled with a loud expulsion of air. Next, she came around to the front of my chair and flicked the tips of my outstretched fingers with her own. The sensation was odd but not unpleasant and it lasted for no more than a few seconds, after which she went back to her chair and sat down.

  Is that it? I wondered, feeling a teensy weensy bit cheated.

  “Don’t move yet,” Jazeem advised me. “We’re not finished here.” I nodded, keeping my eyes closed and my hands pressed together in the prayer position. “Now, I’m going to talk to you a little bit,” she said, “and when I’m done you’re going to feel better. Much better.” Good, I thought. I’ll be getting something for my fifty bucks. “We are all one, Crystal,” she intoned, her voice suddenly lower by at least an octave. “We’re one with each other, one with animals, one with the land, one with the sky, and, most of all, one with Spirit. Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Whatever problems you’ve been experiencing in your life have happened for a reason—maybe to bring you here to Sedona, I don’t know. What I do know is that when you leave this room today, you will understand that since everything happens to us for a reason, there’s no reason to hang on to old behaviors, to try to control people and situations, to grumble about past hurts. Whatever’s going to happen will happen with or without our resistance. So—we have a choice in our lives, Crystal. We can either live with negative energy, feeling sick and angry and sad, or we can live with positive energy, feeling strong and centered and happy. After today, you will choose the second option, Crystal. You will decide to live with joy. Now, I’d like you to repeat after me—I will decide to live with joy.”

  “I will decide to live with joy.”

  “Very good.”

  Jazeem didn
’t say anything after that. Not for a while, anyway. As for me, I stayed in my chair, eyes closed, hands together, silent. And I stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity but was really only twenty minutes, she informed me later. It was a trance-like twenty minutes, too; I didn’t move a muscle or utter a word. I just sat there, thinking about what Jazeem had said, particularly in the context of my own life. When you got down to it, everything probably did happen for a reason. It certainly was reassuring to believe it did. And then there was Jazeem’s remark about the choice between living in the pits or living with joy. I didn’t want to choose the pits. Who would? But I’d never been an especially joyous person. It was possible that I’d need more than one attunement to get the job done. I opened my eyes.

  “Ah, you’re back with us, Crystal,” Jazeem observed, her voice returning to normal. “From the look on your face, I’d say the attunement went beautifully.”

  “Did it?”

  “Well? How do you feel?”

  “I feel…I feel a sneeze coming on.” I sneezed.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jazeem beamed. She motioned for me to stand, got up from her chair, and walked over to hug me. Since she was a couple of feet shorter than I am, it was like being hugged by a child.

  “Go with peace,” she said when we pulled apart.

  “Same to you,” I said, giving my nose another honk.

  “Now,” said Jazeem. “We take plastic or personal checks. Which do you prefer?”

  I smiled and handed her my Visa. She had one of those credit card machines on her desk, right next to an extremely large crystal. She ran my card through it, I signed the receipt, and we said our goodbyes.

  “Everything for a reason,” she said, wagging a finger at me as I headed out the door. “Remember that. You were led to Sedona. Only time will tell you why.”

  I left The Clearing House feeling pretty upbeat and drove around town for a while. In addition to cruising past your basic bank, drugstore, and supermarket, I spotted dozens of metaphysical bookstores, several very upscale looking art galleries, and a few restaurants that boasted something called “cowboy cuisine.” This Sedona may be a small town, but it’s definitely been yuppified, I thought as I swung back in the direction of Tranquility.