Are We Nearly There Yet

by Lucy Vine

  ‘Which process is that, Gary?’ I say, giving in to my irritation. ‘The drinking heavily process? Or the one where you culturally appropriate and co-opt a traditional spiritual retreat to make money?’

  He smiles. ‘You should relax, my friend. It’ll be great, I promise.’

  The Thai lady passes by and I grab a handful of Doritos, nodding my thanks at her. ‘I am incredibly fucking relaxed, thanks,’ I say.

  He sighs and turns to the group, his voice raised. ‘Everyone gather round, let’s get to know each other a little better, shall we? Has everyone had a drink? Keep passing the bottle along, it will help us with the bonding and the sharing of ourselves. Kohsoom, could you bring the stools in?’ The Thai lady nods obediently, leaving the hut and returning with several tiny stools, clearly built for children. Clara, Mark and Joe all abandon the bench for the tiny seats, forming a circle, and for a moment we all just stare at each other, waiting.

  Gary clears his throat. ‘I’ll start, then, shall I? I grew up in North Wales, on the Isle of Anglesey. I have six sisters and worked as an accountant for seven years before I discovered enlightenment during a trip to Phuket when I was thirty-two. Last year I retrained as a life coach and then set up shop here around Christmas.’

  So he’s been a guru for all of five months. How wonderful. How authentic.

  Gary catches the look I am giving Mark – a not very nice look – and quickly adds, ‘But even though I have not been running these retreats all that long, I have already had multiple conversations with the universe. Very deep conversations. I am enlightened and more than qualified to help you reach the same level as me. Plus, I think I’m the only one around here with a big pile of Ayahuasca in my bag, am I right?’ He laughs and smiles nicely at me.

  I smile back despite myself. He is obviously a total fraud, but at least he’s open about it. I also have a kind of respect for the way he’s changed his life so dramatically. It feels like there are so many people around – myself included – who sit there, buried in a life and job they don’t like, always moaning and wishing for something else; dreaming big, but doing nothing to change anything. It is so boring and unsexy. Gary has, at least, done something about it.

  The Texan clears his throat. ‘Well folks, I’m Craig,’ – or is it Greg? – ‘I’m fifty-three and I live in Austin – the Lone Star State!’ He pauses dramatically and I see Clara is very close to applauding. She grins across at me. He continues after a moment and suddenly looks a little vulnerable under his big hat. ‘I’m going through a pretty hellish divorce right now, folks, and my life kinda sucks.’ He sighs. ‘You know, life can be hard and sometimes I just wish I could be Mike O’Donnell for a day.’

  He looks at each of us expectantly and we all look at him blankly. Who the hell is Mike O’Donnell? Is he an American footballer or something? A US politician?

  ‘Mike O’Donnell?!’ he says, exasperated, looking at each of us. ‘The lead character in the most important movie of the twenty-first century?’

  Still nothing.

  His voice is raised as he adds, ‘Mike O’Donnell, played by iconic actor Zac Efron and Matthew Perry in two thousand and nine?’

  Is he . . . is he talking about . . .

  ‘17 AGAIN?’ he shouts.

  Clara sounds a little strangled as she asks, ‘The comedy body-swap movie thing?’ Craig/Greg stands up, incensed.

  ‘It is more than a “body-swap movie thing”!’ He seems genuinely outraged. ‘It’s about the choices we make and the regret we feel as we get older. It is groundbreaking, it is SEMINAL.’ He is red in the face and I try not to burst out laughing.

  To be fair, it is a great film, and from what I remember, Zac takes his top off a few times, so I am on board.

  Gary clears his throat as Craig/Greg throws his hands up in the air. ‘Um, thanks for sharing man, I’m sorry about the divorce. I hope this retreat gives you what you need. I truly hope this is your 17 Again moment.’

  Craig/Greg nods self-importantly as he sits down. ‘Thanks man. You just get me, Shaman Quam.’

  Crisis averted, Clara stands up next. ‘Well, I’m actually here for some of the same reason . . .’ Catching Craig/Greg’s eye, she adds quickly, ‘Not the 17 Again thing. I mean I’m going through a divorce, too.’ There is a slightly judgy silence around the circle as we all calculate how young she is. She cannot be more than mid-twenties, almost certainly younger. Sensing the mood, she stands taller, raising her chin. ‘I know what you’re all thinking, and yes, I am only twenty-three. It is young to be married, never mind divorcing, I’m well aware of that. But I don’t need to justify my choices to you. I truly believed he was my soulmate, I really did. And I’ve had months of people making me feel like a foolish little child, so I don’t need it here, too. I made a mistake, but life is full of mistakes, and I’m trying to believe I’ve been brave walking away from something I knew was wrong. I could’ve wasted twenty years on the wrong man. Instead I’m out here, travelling the world and figuring out who I am on my own again.’

  I give her a tight nod. Good for you, Clara. Her brave face falters for a second, and she adds, ‘But I am a little lost. I don’t know what happens next, I don’t know how to be sure, and I could really do with finding some clarity. I’ve tried a few different things . . .’ she makes eye contact with me ‘. . . and nothing has helped so far.’ Anna, beside her, reaches up and gives her a reassuring pat. Clara smiles at her gratefully before taking her seat.

  Anna and Marie stand up together simultaneously and then laugh at their mirroring. These two are so in sync, I feel like they spend their whole days giggling and copying each other.

  Anna begins slowly. ‘We are Anna and Maria. I am seventy-seven and Maria is eighty-one. We have never done anything like this before!’ She falls silent and Gary calls across the circle, encouragingly, ‘Tell us about yourselves, the pair of you.’

  Anna nods at Maria and her partner picks up the thread. ‘We have been lovers for ten years . . .’

  ‘But . . .’ Anna interrupts, sounding sad, ‘I am married to someone else.’

  ‘I am Anna’s mistress,’ says Maria, a weird sort of pride in her voice. ‘We spend time together whenever we can but this is our first-ever trip away.’

  The circle is thick with judgement again – but, I would swear it was way judge-ier for Clara’s divorce confession. People’s standards for women continue to surprise me – cheating on a partner is apparently not so bad as making the wrong choices when you’re young. Interesting.

  ‘My wife doesn’t know about Maria,’ Anna adds, sounding slightly regretful. ‘But we have been much happier in the last ten years, since Maria has been in my life. My wife and I were unkind to each other before, and now we love each other again.’

  ‘I have helped,’ Maria confirms.

  ‘Love is complicated,’ Anna sighs.

  This much I can certainly agree with.

  The pair sit down slowly and the group turn to me. I don’t even stand up.

  ‘Honestly, I don’t really know why I’m here,’ I say after a moment. ‘It was my brother’s idea.’ I shoot him another dirty look. ‘But everything kind of imploded in my life, at home in London. I turned thirty, I lost my job and my home and my best friend. And . . . some other stuff happened with my family. I’m trying to figure out what I want from life and what to do next.’

  I trail off and Clara smiles nicely at me. I blink a few times and turn away. I feel oddly emotional, sharing even only that much with these strangers.

  Joe stands next, looking excited. ‘I’m on a voyage of self-discovery,’ he pronounces, proudly. ‘My life is great and fulfilling in lots of ways, but I want to be brave and I want to see new things. I want to ask the universe some questions about myself and about others. I want to be open to everything in my life, I want to find the strength to try.’

  He glances down at Mark, and for
a moment I think . . . maybe. Maybe . . .?

  Mark stands up abruptly and Joe closes his mouth, taking his seat.

  My brother takes a minute to start talking and when he does, he speaks quickly and robotically.

  ‘I’m here because I’m really, truly miserable,’ he says, and suddenly he looks it.

  He is?

  ‘It’s been a rough couple of months,’ he goes on. ‘My stepdad recently had a major stroke. It was sudden, but not wholly unexpected. He’d been . . . ill for a long time.’ He makes eye contact with me. ‘He’s still in hospital, and we don’t know what’s going to happen to him. Either he’s going to die or he’s going to come out of this and be a vegetable for the rest of his life. Maybe I want him to die, maybe I want him to be OK, I don’t know. Maybe I even want him to suffer. He made all of us suffer a lot over the years. He even drove some of us apart . . .’ His fists are in balls at his side and I feel very cold all at once.

  He continues. ‘And sure, Steven wasn’t – isn’t – a very good guy at times, but he was also the only dad I ever knew. So what do I do with that? He’s my dad. And on top of that, my mum is a wreck, which makes me a wreck, and . . . I don’t know how to feel.’

  He breaks off, and I stare at his hands, clenching and unclenching. ‘I am struggling. I am really struggling,’ he continues at last. ‘But I also don’t feel like I’m allowed to struggle, because my mum needs me. Everyone needs something from me, and I have to be strong. I’m tired and sad. And probably the worst part is the way my closest, best friend – the one person who should get what I’m going through – won’t talk to me about what is happening.’

  He looks directly at me again and I swallow hard.

  His voice is shaky as he continues, ‘I feel like I’m in limbo. And I can’t cry. I want to know how to grieve for someone I hate a lot of the time but also love. Someone I’ve had to love. Someone who has needed my love so much, but has never deserved it. I want to learn to forget but also remember. Life is too hard, I need something and I don’t know what.’

  I haven’t seen Mark like this before and I glance down to see my hands are shaking. He continues in a rush, his eyes dark. ‘I am sad and I feel like I have been sad for a long time. Probably before this happened to Steven. And I don’t know how to not be sad any more. I hope this retreat helps me. I feel like I need help . . .’

  Joe stands back up, placing an arm on Mark’s shoulder. I reach across in the semi-darkness, but my brother sits down instead of taking my hand. Someone gives him the bottle of green liquid and he takes a long, hard drink.

  He stares off into the distance, studiously ignoring me. I sit there, feeling cold and afraid, and furiously wipe away the tear making its way down my face.

  20

  AWOL.COM/Alice Edwards’ Travel Blog: Living My Dream and Feeling Very #Blessed

  29 May – 9.42 p.m.

  Good evening, dream chasers,

  Obviously I am here at this retreat to get away from life and re-connect with myself and with nature, but I also just have to say how impressed I am with the WiFi service here. Of course, I am very very rarely checking my phone – no more than every few minutes at the absolute most – but it is very helpful to have, as they have just announced this year’s Love Island contestants and I am very keen to read more about which one used to go out with that soap star.

  But this retreat is about escaping the rest of the world, which I am definitely doing. There are trees here and everything. I am also pleased to report all the other guests at this resort are very deep and meaningful humans and I am confident they will help me find myself. Any minute now. Tonight is a big, important night for connecting with myself and the universe, as well as the other amazing souls here. For the record and just to be very clear, there still won’t be any drugs taken because that would be illegal. But if there were, this would be the night I take the most.

  Love Alice x

  PS. Do you think the soap guy is going to enter the villa to stir up drama????

  #SpiritualRetreat #LoveIsland #LoveMyWiFi #TravelBlogger #GoneAWOL #AliceEdwardsBlog #BloggerLife #Blessed #Brave #DreamChaser

  6 Comments · 2 AWOLs · 9 Super Likes

  COMMENTS:

  Hollie Baker

  | Wow, I wanna go to this retreat!!!

  Karen Gill

  | if you get bored of connecting with your inner being n that, there is an amazing new crime thriller available on Netflix. He definitely didn’t do it!

  Seamus NaughtyLad678

  | y u is waisting ur life on dis dumb websight, looser.

  Alice Edwards

  Replying to Seamus NaughtyLad678

  | I can’t argue with your logic, Seamus NaughtyLad678, you’re dead right. Probably not going to stop though.

  Hannah Edwards

  Replying to Seamus NaughtyLad678 and Alice Edwards

  | stay n touch sis

  Sarah Sommers

  | WiFi, eh? Downloading porn, much?

  We are three days into our ‘retreat’ and have just begun our second Ayahuasca ceremony. The first go – that first night – was fairly uneventful in terms of making any giant connection with the universe. I mean, that’s not to say nothing happened. It was, for example, deeply pleasant.

  We all gathered in the main hut as the sun went down – a little sheepish after a day of drinking and oversharing – to sip from cups of this thick brown tea-like thing. It tasted like it looked and the gagging began pretty much straight away. Then we lay around for a while, each on our own little camp bed dotted around the room, waiting for something to happen.

  Sure, I was sick a lot – a lot a lot – but that was sort of it for me. I felt a bit spacey, but that might’ve been the nausea. Some of the others had more luck. Clara couldn’t stop crying and then laughing, and then crying again, while Texan Craig/Greg shouted for three hours straight about goddesses and monkeys and Zac Efron.

  Lucky fuckers.

  Mark was quiet after his emotional display earlier in the day, but seemed serene, lying there in his corner. He was certainly experiencing something, as was Anna. Sadly, Maria and Joe were like me – but worse. I guess they had even more toxins in their body that needed shedding than I did. We were up most of the night, half of us ill, the other half seeing some kind of God, and yesterday was mostly spent napping and staring into space, feeling weird.

  I did try to speak to Mark.

  I didn’t know what to say, but I tried. I couldn’t just leave it after everything he said to the group. I’ve never seen him like that. I had no idea he was struggling; no idea he was in trouble. And yes, I know, that’s because I’m a selfish bitch. Always too wrapped up in how I’m coping to notice how he is. Always making everything about me. I feel terrible.

  I guess predictably, he didn’t want to talk to me about it. He wasn’t horrible, but he was firm in his dismissals. He said I’d had plenty of chances to talk to him and now he wanted to spend some alone time with this experience and with Shaman Quam. They went off for a long walk earlier today and have both been totally silent ever since.

  As we arrived at the hut tonight, I tried again, but Mark waved me off. Told me we could talk properly after all this was over.

  Not that I want to.

  I turn over on my camp bed now, sighing. Gary is singing something he called the icaros. He said it will enhance our mareación – our visions – but it’s been about thirty minutes since I took my latest dose and nothing has happened yet. At least I’m not being sick! Yet! Actually, I’m really starting to suspect Shaman Gary has fed us placebos. Very toxic placebos.

  I stare out the window. Sweet Jesus it’s dark out there.

  But of course it is. There are no street lamps or electric lights here – it’s a national park. It’s totally blank outside. The rain clouds are even covering any stars that might’ve provided some proof
we’re still a part of this world. It feels like it is a black universe out there. Just us, the incessant noise of birds and monkeys off in the distance, and a wall of blackness. It is incredibly surreal.

  I am barely conscious of the warm sensation creeping up my spine before I blink and my head comes off. It floats above me, looking down at the figures huddled around me. They blink in and out of existence, flashing red, amber, green, like traffic lights. I am aware enough to know this is really fucking weird.

  The music is suddenly so very loud and brightly coloured shapes are moving everywhere around me. It is fascinating and really quite wonderful. It is exciting and thrilling and also calming. I feel suddenly like I am happy and full of bliss. I float there forever, moving but not moving. Everything is good. Is this the universe? Because I am sure now that I am part of it and it is a part of me.

  Maybe I should ask the universe for a selfie?

  No, that’s probably not OK.

  It would be cool to have a selfie with the universe though! Imagine the likes on Instagram.

  And then I am rushing through space, moving faster than any human has before. I have no body, I am just a blue light, the world rushing past me, unaware of my existence as I move faster and faster. It’s scary now, I want it to stop, I don’t like it any more. At last I slow, and then I rest. After years of moving, I am now in a familiar kitchen. It feels real – it is real – it is more real than anything else.

  Mum is here.

  My mum. Mummy.

  She’s in the kitchen and she’s humming a tune. It’s the tune Shaman Gary was playing all those years ago at the retreat. Or is it years from now? I am not sure. Mum is young, she looks younger than I’ve ever seen her. She is line-free and fussing over a little girl, who must be about four or five. It is my sister, Hannah, I can see that. There is also a little boy – around two – sitting in the corner, smashing his tiny fist into a brightly coloured book, its pages thick card. Hello Mark, I try to say, but I am not really there.