Be There now
by Kimberly Diaz
“Is this the astral projection class?”
I was late and hoping everyone hadn’t already taken off without me.
A thin middle-aged man with long silver hair in a sloppy braid, wearing white linen drawstring pants and a Be There Now t-shirt stood up from behind the metal teacher’s desk. He tipped his head smiling, “You must be Heather. And you are late.”
I shrugged and nodded, guilty as charged on both counts and glanced around the room. Some of the other students, grown men and women who’d also signed up for this non-credit adult education course at Bay Breeze High School looked slightly annoyed as they squirmed in the hard wooden seats of the student desks.
I had my yoga mat— used just once during a failed attempt at hot yoga last semester— rolled up under one arm and a YETI filled with iced green tea (spiked with vodka) dangling from the other. I’d been taking classes here desperately trying to improve myself (or find someone who thought I was fine as is) since my last divorce a year and a half ago. Last meaning most recent—there’ve been two—and last also meaning I won’t be falling for that trap again. The first time I married for love, the second time I married for money, and ended up finding neither in either. Oh well.
“Have a seat anywhere you like and please try to respect our time here in the future.”
I blushed and slid into the first available desk which also happened to be situated next to a man about my age, mid-forties, with longish dark hair, black shining eyes, and a wicked grin. I wouldn’t be getting married ever again but dating, mating, those options were still on the table.
He gave me a thumbs up which I thought was surprisingly encouraging. I winked back.
The teacher walked into the center of the room, put his hands together and bowed, clearing his throat. He was probably choking on the patchouli incense which smelled nice but most likely annoyed the hell out of the math teacher who’d be back in to teach in the morning.
“Namaste” he said.
“Namaste,” the class repeated predictably. I took the opportunity to glance over again at the guy next to me, but when I did I caught him looking at me. I quickly turned away and focused my eyes straight ahead.
The teacher’s eyes were blue but also a little bloodshot giving him a slightly patriotic look which I found disturbing given the sorry state of affairs in the United States. He smiled broadly and held up his right hand as if he were about to take oath in a court of law.
“My name is Alan Rainier but you can call me Rainier.” He bowed again. “I’ll be your instructor for Introduction to Astral Projection, but before I begin, let’s have a show of hands. How many of you have experienced astral projection before?”
One woman raised her hand. Lola. She was infamous at the school for being a pathological liar and needy attention-grabber so who knows if that was even really her name. I’d been in classes with her before and she’d claimed that she was one of the original Spice Girls but dropped out just before they hit the big time, had warded off a grizzly using telepathy, and supposedly scaled Mt. Everest with only her third eye open. Her hair was always a different unnatural color. Blue, Green, Purple. She wore ridiculously low-cut blouses that revealed nearly all of her ample bosom with either short skirts or skin-tight pants. She was clearly overdue for an intervention of some sort, or at the very least, a week shopping with What Not to Wear’s Stacy and Clinton.
I started to raise my hand but brought it back down. One night I’d found myself over 500 miles away at my mother’s bedside the night she died. I’d seen her spirit rise right up out of her body. She was younger, beautiful and happy in spirit but I wasn’t sure if my experience was astral projection, lucid dreaming or one of the as yet unknown side effects of taking Xanax with a tequila chaser.
Rainier called on Lola. “So, Lola, please do tell us about your experience.”
She stood up, nodding. “I’d love to Rainier, thank you.” She made a big show of waiting until everyone was paying attention to her. Some of the other students who were familiar with her were already rolling their eyes and slinking down in their seats.
“Well,” she paused dramatically, “It happened in the Himalayas. I’d just reached the summit of Mt. Everest. I was exhausted, of course. I sat down and started doing some much-needed breath work.”
Apparently reliving the memory, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and placed a hand on her heart before continuing.
“After about nine cleansing, restorative breaths, I saw myself from outside myself. I was looking at the top of my head! I noticed my part was crooked but other than that it was all good. My lotus position was impeccable and there was a gold aura surrounding me. Then suddenly my blue metallic nail polish reflected the sunlight, and it sparkled so brightly it startled me. I gasped and was back in my body again.”
Rainier looked doubtful. “Fascinating.” He swiveled his body toward my side of the room.
“Did I see a hand up somewhere over here?” Rainier was pointing his index finger and waving it around. But I wasn’t really sure about my experience so I decided to keep quiet. After half a minute or so when no one spoke he said, “Very well, then. Let’s get started.”
He pointed to the words Astral Projection written on the whiteboard and underlined twice. “As you may or may not know, astral projection is the process by which the soul is able to leave the body, traveling without limit to any place you want it to go. You can go anywhere. See anything. Your soul can travel to parts of the world you’ve never been to and when it comes back you’ll be able to describe it in amazingly intricate detail. You may have to practice many times before you are successful but as they say, nothing ventured...”
He shrugged, without finishing the expression and pointed to the back of the room. “Push your desks back there to free up space for the mats.”
As we moved the desks, making the most hideous scraping sounds across the dusty floors, Rainier called out, “Hey, Google, play New Age Karma Dreamscape,” and within seconds the sounds of lightly stirring wind chimes mingling with sounds of rustling leaves and falling droplets of rain came through the speaker.
Next he directed us to lie on the mats. “Lie flat on your back, keeping your arms limp by your sides, palms of your hands upturned, and close your eyes.”
Rainier walked around making sure everyone, even Lola, was following directions. He suggested she turn her mat in a different direction though since she’d opted to wear such a short skirt.
“Pay attention to your breathing. Take deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Feel the breath reaching from your head to your toes.”
He paused for a moment listening to the sounds of oxygen going in and mostly carbon dioxide going out. “Feel yourself enter a state of deep relaxation.”
The thumbs up guy had his mat dangerously close to mine. Our upturned palms were almost touching. I felt the opposite of relaxed but when he reached over and playfully squeezed my hand I realized I didn’t really care.
Rainier continued to pad softly in his bare feet, weaving in and around the mats.
“You must enter a hypnotic state. Start by focusing on one part of your body. For example, your feet. Feel the energy going toward them. Visualize them in your mind.”
I could feel Rainier lingering by my mat and was glad I’d gotten a pedicure recently.
“Picture your toes. Imagine them curling and uncurling, then make them move but only using your mind.”
I wondered if Rainier had a foot fetish. I was glad when he was moving around the room again.
“Once you’ve reached deep relaxation, imagine a white light of purity all around you and advance to a state of vibration. You should feel it coming in waves, washing over you like rain.”
The sound of the rain on the speaker grew louder and went from lightly dripping to pouring rain with gusts of wind. It did feel like the waves were washing over me but it reminded me that hurricane season was approaching and I was not ready. What did I need? Flashlight batteries, water, mass quantities of alcohol.
Rainier spoke more softly, practically whispering. “Now, use your mind to move your soul from your body. Imagine yourself where you want to be. ”
My soul was a bit stubborn. I was willing it so hard to move but it wouldn’t. And I didn’t know where I wanted it to go anyway. I didn’t think you got to choose. I thought you just went where you needed to go like maybe I did that one time.
Apparently satisfied with his students’ progress, Rainier walked up to the front of the room to spread out his own mat. Before lying down he said, “If you brought a crystal, try holding it over your third eye. It should increase the frequency of your vibration.”
The mention of the word vibration was not helpful. I sighed, opened my eyes, and turned over on my side, gazing dreamily at the handsome man lying beside me. His eyes were closed but maybe he sensed my eyes on him because his expression changed. He grinned and sat up, placing a finger over his lips, and cocking his head toward the door.
We slipped out of the room, giggled down the stairs and flung ourselves out the school’s front doors and into the night. I think we both knew exactly where we wanted to go then but we would be taking our bodies with us.
I was late and hoping everyone hadn’t already taken off without me.
A thin middle-aged man with long silver hair in a sloppy braid, wearing white linen drawstring pants and a Be There Now t-shirt stood up from behind the metal teacher’s desk. He tipped his head smiling, “You must be Heather. And you are late.”
I shrugged and nodded, guilty as charged on both counts and glanced around the room. Some of the other students, grown men and women who’d also signed up for this non-credit adult education course at Bay Breeze High School looked slightly annoyed as they squirmed in the hard wooden seats of the student desks.
I had my yoga mat— used just once during a failed attempt at hot yoga last semester— rolled up under one arm and a YETI filled with iced green tea (spiked with vodka) dangling from the other. I’d been taking classes here desperately trying to improve myself (or find someone who thought I was fine as is) since my last divorce a year and a half ago. Last meaning most recent—there’ve been two—and last also meaning I won’t be falling for that trap again. The first time I married for love, the second time I married for money, and ended up finding neither in either. Oh well.
“Have a seat anywhere you like and please try to respect our time here in the future.”
I blushed and slid into the first available desk which also happened to be situated next to a man about my age, mid-forties, with longish dark hair, black shining eyes, and a wicked grin. I wouldn’t be getting married ever again but dating, mating, those options were still on the table.
He gave me a thumbs up which I thought was surprisingly encouraging. I winked back.
The teacher walked into the center of the room, put his hands together and bowed, clearing his throat. He was probably choking on the patchouli incense which smelled nice but most likely annoyed the hell out of the math teacher who’d be back in to teach in the morning.
“Namaste” he said.
“Namaste,” the class repeated predictably. I took the opportunity to glance over again at the guy next to me, but when I did I caught him looking at me. I quickly turned away and focused my eyes straight ahead.
The teacher’s eyes were blue but also a little bloodshot giving him a slightly patriotic look which I found disturbing given the sorry state of affairs in the United States. He smiled broadly and held up his right hand as if he were about to take oath in a court of law.
“My name is Alan Rainier but you can call me Rainier.” He bowed again. “I’ll be your instructor for Introduction to Astral Projection, but before I begin, let’s have a show of hands. How many of you have experienced astral projection before?”
One woman raised her hand. Lola. She was infamous at the school for being a pathological liar and needy attention-grabber so who knows if that was even really her name. I’d been in classes with her before and she’d claimed that she was one of the original Spice Girls but dropped out just before they hit the big time, had warded off a grizzly using telepathy, and supposedly scaled Mt. Everest with only her third eye open. Her hair was always a different unnatural color. Blue, Green, Purple. She wore ridiculously low-cut blouses that revealed nearly all of her ample bosom with either short skirts or skin-tight pants. She was clearly overdue for an intervention of some sort, or at the very least, a week shopping with What Not to Wear’s Stacy and Clinton.
I started to raise my hand but brought it back down. One night I’d found myself over 500 miles away at my mother’s bedside the night she died. I’d seen her spirit rise right up out of her body. She was younger, beautiful and happy in spirit but I wasn’t sure if my experience was astral projection, lucid dreaming or one of the as yet unknown side effects of taking Xanax with a tequila chaser.
Rainier called on Lola. “So, Lola, please do tell us about your experience.”
She stood up, nodding. “I’d love to Rainier, thank you.” She made a big show of waiting until everyone was paying attention to her. Some of the other students who were familiar with her were already rolling their eyes and slinking down in their seats.
“Well,” she paused dramatically, “It happened in the Himalayas. I’d just reached the summit of Mt. Everest. I was exhausted, of course. I sat down and started doing some much-needed breath work.”
Apparently reliving the memory, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and placed a hand on her heart before continuing.
“After about nine cleansing, restorative breaths, I saw myself from outside myself. I was looking at the top of my head! I noticed my part was crooked but other than that it was all good. My lotus position was impeccable and there was a gold aura surrounding me. Then suddenly my blue metallic nail polish reflected the sunlight, and it sparkled so brightly it startled me. I gasped and was back in my body again.”
Rainier looked doubtful. “Fascinating.” He swiveled his body toward my side of the room.
“Did I see a hand up somewhere over here?” Rainier was pointing his index finger and waving it around. But I wasn’t really sure about my experience so I decided to keep quiet. After half a minute or so when no one spoke he said, “Very well, then. Let’s get started.”
He pointed to the words Astral Projection written on the whiteboard and underlined twice. “As you may or may not know, astral projection is the process by which the soul is able to leave the body, traveling without limit to any place you want it to go. You can go anywhere. See anything. Your soul can travel to parts of the world you’ve never been to and when it comes back you’ll be able to describe it in amazingly intricate detail. You may have to practice many times before you are successful but as they say, nothing ventured...”
He shrugged, without finishing the expression and pointed to the back of the room. “Push your desks back there to free up space for the mats.”
As we moved the desks, making the most hideous scraping sounds across the dusty floors, Rainier called out, “Hey, Google, play New Age Karma Dreamscape,” and within seconds the sounds of lightly stirring wind chimes mingling with sounds of rustling leaves and falling droplets of rain came through the speaker.
Next he directed us to lie on the mats. “Lie flat on your back, keeping your arms limp by your sides, palms of your hands upturned, and close your eyes.”
Rainier walked around making sure everyone, even Lola, was following directions. He suggested she turn her mat in a different direction though since she’d opted to wear such a short skirt.
“Pay attention to your breathing. Take deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Feel the breath reaching from your head to your toes.”
He paused for a moment listening to the sounds of oxygen going in and mostly carbon dioxide going out. “Feel yourself enter a state of deep relaxation.”
The thumbs up guy had his mat dangerously close to mine. Our upturned palms were almost touching. I felt the opposite of relaxed but when he reached over and playfully squeezed my hand I realized I didn’t really care.
Rainier continued to pad softly in his bare feet, weaving in and around the mats.
“You must enter a hypnotic state. Start by focusing on one part of your body. For example, your feet. Feel the energy going toward them. Visualize them in your mind.”
I could feel Rainier lingering by my mat and was glad I’d gotten a pedicure recently.
“Picture your toes. Imagine them curling and uncurling, then make them move but only using your mind.”
I wondered if Rainier had a foot fetish. I was glad when he was moving around the room again.
“Once you’ve reached deep relaxation, imagine a white light of purity all around you and advance to a state of vibration. You should feel it coming in waves, washing over you like rain.”
The sound of the rain on the speaker grew louder and went from lightly dripping to pouring rain with gusts of wind. It did feel like the waves were washing over me but it reminded me that hurricane season was approaching and I was not ready. What did I need? Flashlight batteries, water, mass quantities of alcohol.
Rainier spoke more softly, practically whispering. “Now, use your mind to move your soul from your body. Imagine yourself where you want to be. ”
My soul was a bit stubborn. I was willing it so hard to move but it wouldn’t. And I didn’t know where I wanted it to go anyway. I didn’t think you got to choose. I thought you just went where you needed to go like maybe I did that one time.
Apparently satisfied with his students’ progress, Rainier walked up to the front of the room to spread out his own mat. Before lying down he said, “If you brought a crystal, try holding it over your third eye. It should increase the frequency of your vibration.”
The mention of the word vibration was not helpful. I sighed, opened my eyes, and turned over on my side, gazing dreamily at the handsome man lying beside me. His eyes were closed but maybe he sensed my eyes on him because his expression changed. He grinned and sat up, placing a finger over his lips, and cocking his head toward the door.
We slipped out of the room, giggled down the stairs and flung ourselves out the school’s front doors and into the night. I think we both knew exactly where we wanted to go then but we would be taking our bodies with us.