Archive for aura

Healing Hands

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 28, 2012 by javedbabar

Sophie was feeling unsettled. There were crises at work, family members demanding money, her landlord had given her one month’s notice, and she was about to hit forty and was still single. Left on the shelf. Many of her friends were single too, but at least they’d had a go, married, and failed. Some had wonderful children as awards for trying.

Why hadn’t she ever taken the plunge? There had been opportunities. Maybe she had been too fussy when younger.

“Will you marry me?” Adam had asked her, long ago, at Blackwater Lake. Her response was to run off. It’s right to not settle for second best, but what she’d then thought of as second best, was upon reflection first best, and those who had later won her heart turned out to be last worst.

She wandered across the park after work. The sky was glowing like there were two suns setting, golden and purple. TJ, the Lucerne Valley Hotel’s receptionist, said, “Welcome back.” She was a daily customer. She’d been there at lunchtime for a beer and burger, but now wanted something more and stronger.

The manager had found a clever way of getting around The Authority’s prohibition on cheap drinks. He promoted Happy Hour as a heritage event, harkening back to its nautical origins. There were wrestling, boxing, singing and drinking bouts, often all together. It was a barrel of laughs.

A buxom wench like Sophie was well appreciated aboard HMS Hotel Bar. Its sailors bought her endless rounds, and she was constantly engaged in jigs and reels. She danced with a small, dark guy with a great body. He didn’t talk much. He was either drunk or shy. He had a bright face which seemed to shine everywhere, and Sophie didn’t want to be without its glow. At the end of a reel, she grabbed his hand and pulled him outside. They smooched a little and then she asked him to walk her home.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Is that a good idea?”

“What kind of man are you?” she said. “Not a gentleman at all. I should have made you walk the plank!”

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he said immediately. Nobody likes to be called a barbarian.

When they reached her home, Sophie opened the door and pulled him in. He made an unconvincing attempt to resist and then gave up. He was not much heavier than Sophie but with extra muscle instead of extra curves. He leaned back on the sofa.

Sophie played some ambient tunes and pulled him up to dance. Despite the music being unsuitable for nautical antics, she forced her guest to engage in further jigs and reels. He was a really good dancer and somehow made them work.

His moves were great, jumping, skipping and twirling around the lounge. Her body pulled along with his, her heart was in tune with his, their hands joined together, and now their lips…

“Ouch!” she said, breaking off and pulling away. “Your hands are so hot!” She looked at them. They seemed to be glowing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should go now.”

“No, wait.” She didn’t know why she said it. There was something about him, about his hands. He looked at them in shock too. They were glowing faintly, golden purple.

He looked up at her and said, “I am from a family of healers going back to Pharaonic Egypt. I thought the gift had passed me by. My grandmother said that it would come to me when I met the one I must heal.”

Sophie’s head now reeled.


Posted in Unknown, World Myths with tags , , on January 31, 2012 by javedbabar

“What can you see, Akbar?” said Miss Jewel.

“It’s quite hazy,” he said.

“It will be initially. Please concentrate on Monika. Tell me what you can see.”

Akbar gave Monika his full attention. “I see a body, about one inch thick, all the way around her.”

“Good,” said Miss Jewel. “And what else?”

“Then a thicker body, about a metre wide, enclosing her, like an egg.”

Good, she’s well protected, thought Miss Jewel, and then said, “Yes, go on.”

“There are other bodies too,” he stopped to focus. “They’re not too clear. Quite thin ones, like layers. I can see three or four of those.”

“Well done,” said Miss Jewel. “You’re making progress. And returning to our question, do you feel that the perception of auras is a spontaneous act, or one that can be improved with practice?”

“I think it’s something that can improve with practice.”

“Yes, keep up the good work. And now, your turn Monika. Look closely at Akbar. What do you see?”

“I can’t see any shapes, really,” said Monika.

“Well, what can you see?”

“I see colours. I see mainly green around him; a glowing green, kind of like sherbet. The top part is bluish, and the bottom part is mixed with yellow, I think.”

“Very good,” said Miss Jewel. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, there’s some patches of orange,” Monika squinted. “But they’re hard to make out; when I look at them they disappear.”

“Great, well done. What you are seeing are Akbar’s thoughts and feelings charging the space around him. Let’s try someone else now. How about you…” But just then the school bell rang. “Ok class. Thanks for your efforts today. I know this isn’t an easy subject. Keep practising at home. See you all next month.”

Miss Jewel loved teaching this class. She’d wanted to teach school children about auras for years, but the Education Board had pretty much laughed her out – even though she often saw them at The Lotus, buying spiritual gifts and books about sexy vampires. Bloody hypocrites, she thought. So it was great when the International School set up in Lucerne. They had lived up to their promise of a “broad, progressive, global syllabus” and though she only taught Psychic Studies once a month, awareness was growing. She also taught “regular” Religious Studies and English Literature.

She was on a one-year contract. That was the problem with private schools – less job security. And she wasn’t really sure how it was going. English Literature was pretty straightforward. Everyone accepted it was a subjective area – a matter of opinion. Religious Studies was trickier though, in a land where people now defined themselves as “spiritual not religious”. They believed without belonging, and accepted that there were many paths – you just had to find the one right for you (except some paths, of course, that were clearly evil).

Psychic Studies went further, teaching that everything was a matter of direct personal experience. Numinous perception. And this is where the problem lay. She wasn’t sure whether everyone was able to see things like auras – in the same way that not everyone could sing opera, or dance salsa, or eat snails. Sure, they could be persuaded to see them – but then were they authentic? Their “auras” could be caused by stress-migraines, or visual disorders, or eye fatigue. In fact, with the amount of time people spent staring at screens these days, it was amazing that everyone didn’t see auras. Her hope was to teach at least half the class to see hidden dangers, such as vampires.

So many things were still unknown about auras. The main question was whether everybody had one, or just particular people. In sacred art of every faith, holy persons’ haloes symbolized auras; but it wasn’t just Jesus, Buddha, and Vishnu – it was also their companions. Maybe auras were contagious, and would eventually illuminate everyone. There was also the question of internal and external auras. Miss Jewel thought of internal auras as chakras, or the traffic lights of your soul. Some said that external auras had unlimited “skins”, initially embodying your individual manifestation, and easing into the universal soul.

Akbar saw Monika in the hallway later. She was on her way out of school. “Hey cutie!” he called out. “I liked the look of your aura.”

“And yours wasn’t bad either,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Very shapely!”

“Did you notice Miss Jewel’s?” said Akbar.

“How could you miss it? So fiery. And hey, keep your orange spots to yourself next time.”

Akbar smiled. “Do you think she’s seeing Mr. Cooper tonight?”

Miss. Jewel’s class was more advanced than she realized. Many of them saw auras clearly; they just didn’t want to show off in front of her.  To avoid vampires it was good to keep these things quiet. They knew that Miss Jewel was not a Sanguinarian – a drinker of blood; but she was a psychic vampire – who fed on others’ energy to balance her own deficiencies. Miss Jewel always chose her prey carefully. Tall, handsome, nerdy, and vulnerable. She dated them for a year and sucked the life right out of them. Poor Mr. Cooper had no chance. Neither did Mrs.Cooper.