Fury

by John Coyne

  But she wasn’t teasing, Jennifer realized. Something was wrong. Eileen was upset. But before Jennifer could question her, Simon interrupted, nodding toward the center of the room.

  “I think we’re ready.”

  Jennifer turned to see Kathy Dart standing in front of the blazing fire. Many of the other guests had already settled into the leather chairs. Kathy looked up and smiled over to where they stood, and immediately Jennifer stepped away from Eileen and Simon and walked into the circle of chairs. Now she needed distance from everyone.

  She squeezed herself between the others on the brown leather couch and turned her full attention to Kathy Dart.

  “We have several new people with us this evening,” Kathy began, as she introduced Jennifer and Eileen. “As some of you know,” she went on, “I like to spend a few minutes each evening before dinner talking about various aspects of parapsychology. To remind everyone again, this is a relatively new discipline that studies extrasensory perception, or ESP; psychokinesis, or PK; and survival phenomena, which include channeling, reincarnation, afterlife evidence—you name it, the list goes on.” She paused to smile at the group. “I know that many of you have questions about us and what we are all doing here at the farm. So, let’s take a few minutes to answer some of your questions.”

  Kathy paced slowly back and forth before the small gathering. She was wearing stone-washed jeans and a white cashmere sweater. But despite the casual clothes, Jennifer noted, she was perfectly turned out with pearl earrings and makeup. Her long, glossy black hair was loose and tossed over her shoulder.

  “Channeling, to give a definition developed by Jon Klimo in his wonderful book, is that ‘process of receiving information from some level of reality other than the ordinary physical one. And this includes messages from any mental source that falls outside of one’s own.’”

  She paused and grinned down at the group. “Got it?” she asked with a laugh.

  Jennifer found herself smiling. She had promised herself that she would be skeptical of everything she heard and saw. But she had to admit that Kathy’s warmth and humor made her sound especially convincing.

  “But who are the channelers of today?” Kathy went on. “And where are our oracles? Do you think I fit the mold?” She was laughing again.

  “Actually, I think I’m a channeler because I’m such a lazy person. It’s true, really. My spiritual guides say that lazy people make the best mediums because they don’t have an agenda. They’re not trying to hit home runs for God.” She paced across the hearth and then nodded to one of the guests who had raised a hand.

  “But, Kathy,” the woman asked, “how did you know that you could channel? How does it actually happen?”

  “It really began before I first saw Habasha, but I didn’t understand what I was experiencing. I think I was always a channel. For example, I’ve never been afraid of ghosts or graveyards or horror movies. When I was a child, I wanted to have a ghost as a friend. Even back then, I began to have a sense that I could talk to the dead, and I was drawn to certain people because they seemed somehow to be connected to me.”

  “I began with automatic writing, which, by the way, is nothing more than doodling. I’d hold a pencil in my hand, usually during a boring college class, and without warning my hand would start moving.”

  “And I used the Ouija board, even though my priest denounced it as the devil’s tool. And in a way he was right to warn people. Ouija boards are not toys. They have great power.”

  “Once you enter the world of the spiritual, you must tread carefully. I know this sounds a little medieval, but one has to use caution.”

  “Are all channels alike?” someone asked.

  “No, they’re not. Think of musical instruments. You can’t play keyboard music on a flute, which plays only one note at a time. But you can play Bach on the flute; you can play Bach on the pipe organ. It’s just that it sounds different on each instrument.”

  “Different mediums are like different instruments. Each one has an inherent limitation, but also a unique quality. The sound of a pipe organ, for example, is different than the sound of a piano or a harpsichord. Not better or worse, but different. It’s like that with channels. Not all spirits can communicate or even want to communicate through all channels.”

  “Besides, not all mediums are verbal. Some channels have healing energy. Some sing. Some dance. Isadora Duncan, I believe, was a great channeler.”

  Jennifer glanced across the room and saw another raised hand. “What about these spirits that I hear talked about?” the woman asked. “Are they around us now? Do we need to worry about them or what?” She laughed nervously.

  “No, you don’t have to worry,” Kathy reassured her. “They are very much like the rest of us. Some are between incarnations. Others will be spirits forever. They may be positive or negative. But they are all angelic forces. Manifestations of higher consciousness.”

  “And, of course, we have their polar opposites, the demonic forces—spirits consumed by unevolved energy that pulls everyone down. The Greeks summed it up when they talked about the harpies and the sirens. The sirens are the seductors who lure you into actions that are not in your best interest. The harpies shriek guilt and self-hatred into your ear. Both are very real.”

  “Are these spirits our personal angels?” someone asked.

  “No, they’re universal. No one owns a spirit. But spirits do befriend and work with certain people, and some of them may represent our spiritual brothers and sisters, or perhaps even higher aspects of ourselves.”

  “What about all this out-of-body stuff I keep reading about?” another guest asked.

  “Very simple. You leave your body and go somewhere else. Where, precisely, we don’t know. Remember that the mind is not a physical entity. When we lose consciousness, it is because our mind, or consciousness, is somewhere else.”

  “But where exactly?” Jennifer heard herself ask.

  “We don’t know, Jennifer,” Kathy said, softening her voice. “The Russians have been studying this phenomenon. I guess they’d like to spy on us by sending people out of their bodies, to go through walls.”

  “But let’s look at it from another angle,” she went on.

  “Let’s talk about dreams. Basically, dreams are out-of-body experiences. If you didn’t sleep at night, you’d go crazy! The stress of being ‘in body’ is too great to maintain.”

  “And reincarnation?” a woman asked. Jennifer found herself nodding. Yes, what about it? she thought.

  “Well, technically speaking, you’re either in the body— ‘in carnca—or out of the body—’discarna.’ Carna is, literally, the flesh. And death is the ultimate out-of-body experience. But, in fact, we leave our bodies all the time! Sometimes a person’s mind is half in one place, half in another. The truth is, it can be in both locations at the same time. You see, the mind is not physical, and so doesn’t need to follow the physical limitations of the body. When we talk about being out of body, we’re talking about energy that travels.”

  “So the idea is this: the mind goes out of the body. The body dies, but the mind continues to exist. !t is free to form a new relationship with physical matter. A relationship that is not necessarily confined to human form.”

  As Jennifer sat listening to Kathy Dart, she suddenly felt a curious spasm and saw a clear image of Phoebe Fisher, sitting by the fireplace in her apartment in New York. Phoebe was speaking to her, but Jennifer couldn’t hear the words: she saw only that Phoebe was frowning, beckoning her away from the living room of Kathy Dart, telling Jennifer to flee. Jennifer raised her hand to reach for Phoebe’s image, and then she felt the warmth of a soft palm, and she looked up to see Kathy Dart lean forward and smile down at her.

  “Dinner, Jenny?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes, sorry.”

  “There’s no reason to be sorry. Were you trance-channeling?” Kathy teased, smiling.

  “I don’t know what I was doing,” Jennifer admitted, chagrined by her b
ehavior, and by what she thought she had just seen: Phoebe Fisher sitting next to Kathy and warning Jennifer to get away from her.

  “Jennifer, I know you have been approached by Simon. I know you two were once lovers.”

  Jennifer glanced to the channeler, waved her hand and said, “It was a simple misunderstanding.”

  “It’s all right, Jenny. Please, you’re getting yourself upset. Of course you are attracted to Simon. He must have told you that we were all once together in a previous life. The physical attraction we have for each other is extremely powerful.” Kathy flashed one of her bright, wide smiles and linked her arm into Jennifer’s. “And if you two decide you want to make love, please follow your instincts. I don’t own him, Jennifer. We’re all free to act on our impulses and desires, especially here at the farm. I can’t keep you two apart. I wouldn’t if I could.”

  And then she grinned like a schoolgirl.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  WHEN THEY RETURNED TO the living room after dinner, the furniture had been moved away from the fireplace. Kathy Dart was already sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of the windows on the other side of the room. She was wearing a long white gown and had combed out her black hair so that it fanned over her shoulders. Her only piece of jewelry was a gold chain and the crystal that rested between her breasts. It was the same crystal she had worn when Jennifer first saw her in Washington.

  Jennifer slipped into a straight-backed chair away from the others, craning her neck to make sure she had a clear view of Kathy. She wanted to be able to see her when she went into her trance. Eileen had produced a small tape recorder from her purse; unable to find a chair close enough, she slipped to the floor at Kathy’s feet.

  From her angle against the side wall, Jennifer saw the whole room, and she watched the others as they found seats. Some of the young students who were on work/study programs at the farm came out of the kitchen still wearing aprons over their jeans and slid down as a group against the length of one wall.

  Jennifer spotted one young man who looked familiar, and she studied him for a moment, trying to place where she had seen him. He looked like the other students, but with short hair, and the build of an athlete. He looked up at Eileen then and smiled, and Jennifer remembered where she had seen him. He had been the young reporter writing the article about Kathy Dart. They had met briefly outside the meeting room, and he had reminded her of her brother.

  Simon stepped into the room, and Jennifer kept herself from looking at him. She was afraid he might walk over and sit beside her, and she did not want him near her, not when Kathy Dart was in her trance and Habasha was speaking.

  Simon, however, was busy. He had brought a large pitcher of water and a glass from the kitchen, and he set them down on a small table beside Kathy, who glanced up and smiled briefly at him. When he leaned over and whispered something, she laughed, then he stepped away and took a seat by the fireplace. Kathy turned to the group and asked cheerfully, “Are we all here?”

  She glanced around the room, smiling at everyone, and went on. “I’d like to explain to our new people a little of what happens when I do this trance-channel. So everyone who has been with me before please indulge us.” She directed attention initially to the row of young students and then went on.

  “I begin with a short prayer, and I ask that you join in with me. This enables us to come together as a group, as one being, so to speak. I’ll lead the group in an African chant— one of Habasha’s chants—that I find pulls Habasha closer to me and, of course, to you as well.”

  “After the chant, there will be a moment of meditation as I slip into the trance and allow Habasha to come forward. As many of you know, I am elsewhere during the trance; if it were not for these tape recordings, I wouldn’t know what was actually said by Habasha.”

  “Where are you exactly?” someone asked.

  “Sleeping, actually,” Kathy responded, and they laughed. “I get a good nap while Habasha does all the work.” Kathy glanced around the room again, caught Jennifer’s eye, and smiled. Then she spoke again to the group. “Usually Habasha has something to say, perhaps a story from his own life, and he’ll be prepared for questions. I know that many of you have things you’d like to ask, so please, don’t be shy.” She looked pointedly at Jennifer. “Oh, you should be aware that Habasha will often use African terms when he speaks,” she added. “Later, if you wish, I will explain to you what he has said.”

  Jennifer felt as if her heart were freezing up inside her. She slipped down farther in the chair but did not take her eyes off Kathy.

  “Also, I’d like to request that none of you cross your arms. We don’t want to close ourselves off from each other, from the flow of energy in the room.”

  She smiled, then turned to Simon, who reached over and dimmed the overhead lights. A dozen blue candles had been lit throughout the room, and their small flames flickered in the darkness. “All right,” Kathy said softly, “let us begin.”

  She moved forward to sit on the edge of her chair, lifted her arms, turned the palms of her hands up, and said clearly, “Spirit of light and truth unite us. Inspire our minds and fill our hearts with love. Heal and energize our bodies. Receive our thanks for the many gifts that have come to us. Guide us on the path that we may please and serve thee.”

  “Holy art Thou, Lord of the Universe. Holy art Thou, the Vast and the Mighty. Lord of the light and of the dark. O Jehovah! O Yahweh! O Abba! O Jesus! O Allah! O Brahma! Be with us today in our work.”

  Kathy bowed her head for a moment, and when she looked up again her eyes were closed and she chanted:

  Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

  She fell silent, rocking gently back and forth on the edge of the chair. Then her own sweet voice was given over to the voice of Habasha, the ancient African, a strong, full voice that roared into the silent gathering.

  “I am Habasha, the great one! How are my dear friends of America? Tenayistilligan.”

  “Tenayistilligan,” a few replied. “Tim no.”

  “Ameseghinallehu,” Habasha answered.

  Kathy turned her head slowly from left to right. Her eyes were open, and they seemed even larger than usual. So she was not going to channel with her eyes closed, as Phoebe Fisher had done.

  “We are very well, Habasha. Ameseghinallehu,” Simon said quickly, and there were a few other soft, mumbled greetings from the students and from Eileen. But most of the audience sat silent, staring up at Kathy Dart.

  “I am happy to be with you today,” Habasha went on in his strong bass voice.

  “I take pleasure to say that there is amongst you this evening one who has singular spiritual gifts, which, in due time, will manifest themselves to the benefit of your society. We are certain that all of you who have committed yourselves to the path of enlightenment shall know more and more with each day that comes, and you shall soon be in positions to shed much light, from the light which you possess, on where there is great darkness in this world.”

  “And, therefore, let us say that by taking care of your own need to know, you sooner will take care of others who need to know, for this light which you acquire for yourself will be the light that shines for others.”

  “For when you are illuminated you are like a light that shines. Wherever you go, if there is darkness, your own light will shine.”

  “You have come to the light, my dear friends, and you will go to another place. And we congratulate you for doing this goodness in our world.”

  “Let the truth be your essence. Let the truth lead you to your higher self. Know yourself and let that truth flow through your consciousness.”

  “As for those who will not understand, some prefer the darkness. Remember, my dear friends, that all those who walk in the shadows do so by their own choosing. We ask that you will not be followers. Neither let yourselves be leaders. For if you are a follower you are standing in someone else’s shadow; if you are a leader
, you are casting a shadow upon others.”

  “We commend to you this work and say: Do not hope for perfection. Do not seek a perfect heaven where all things will lead forever, without fault and without flaw, without need of further thought, or further exercise.”

  “All life, my dear friends, is an adventure. It is an adventure! Indeed, to know everything that was ever going to be, to have absolute and total knowledge—if you could have that knowledge, would it not deprive you of a great sense of adventure?”

  “If one knows everything, what more can one know? If one has done everything, what more can one do? We cannot know the end of knowledge, and that is the mystery of existence. How much power is in the universe? How much gold is in the mountain? How much love is in your soul? It is all there. The great adventure of life is to find out how much there is, and the only way you can find out is to start to use it, start to spend it. Truth is. It is all here, waiting for your adventure and your discovery.”

  Habasha suddenly fell silent and Kathy Dart rocked in the soft chair, then sat back, as if exhausted by the long discourse. She placed her arms on the chair’s arms, raised her head and again in that strong voice asked, “If any of you have questions, I will try to answer them. Speak up!” Her eyes were now closed.

  “What is the purpose of life, then?” came a voice from one of the front rows of chairs.

  “Woizerit,” Habasha answered, “the process of living is living.”

  “What about past lives?” Jennifer spoke up. “My past lives.”

  “You may have past lives, or not, Woizerit. You may still be living your past lives. People live different lives simultaneously.”

  “What about our spirit, then? I mean, how can our spirit, or our soul, whatever we call it, be everywhere at once?”

  “Each of your lives is lived with but a part of your total soul,” Habasha replied.

  “But then how can we have good lives and bad lives?” Jennifer asked immediately.