Secrets of a Spiritual Guru (Guru 1)

by Tamara Dorris

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I get to yoga early today so I can ask Dawn what she knows about meditation. After all, she is someone who I look up to, and I still think I’m her favorite. She tells me she uses prayer beads and listens to some guy named Wallamutra, or something like that. I have no idea who this is. A New Age band maybe? Anyway, I will do a Google search and find him/it later, just as soon as I figure out where one buys prayer beads.

  Dawn tells us that one thing we strive to learn in yoga is how to better trust ourselves. I know she isn’t talking about me, because she knows I meditate and we’re best friends now. Apparently though, inversions are good for everything, including hormones, detoxification, and tile grout, or something like that. I’m thinking this sounds like a good thing to incorporate into my practice since it helps with so many things. That is, until I figure out that to inverse something means to put it upside down. Dawn seems to be under the impression that I can do a headstand. I never said I could. However, she acts rather confident that it is no big deal and says she will spot me. I try to explain that in all my years on this planet, I have never stood on my head. That is what feet are for.

  Dawn brings up the idea that maybe I have trust issues. I tell her I have headstand issues. She urges me to give it a try. She says if I get into a half pose, then we can work up to it over time. I figure this is the best deal I’m going to get, so I agree. The rest of the class is dancing on their heads, feet flying in the air, and I am in a sort of downward dog with my head on the ground. My feet are planted firmly on my mat and have intentions of going anywhere, especially up. Dawn tells me how brave I am. As the blood rushes to my head, I acknowledge that this is pretty invigorating.

  Back in the office, I get an e-mail from someone named Amy who wants to talk about buying a home. I tell this Amy person that she’s in luck because that is exactly what I do. I chuckle at my wittiness. Amy says she’ll come into the office so I can explain the process. I am delighted. She also says that she hasn’t spoken to a lender, so I excitedly call Kari to see if she wants to come by at 2:00 p.m. so she can meet Amy and we can help her buy a house. I am singing inside and wondering if this is why Tac whistles all the time.

  Kari shows up a few minutes early. I hear Becky complimenting Kari on her tailored outfit. It sounds like the exchange is mutual, so I grab my notepad and head to the front desk, not wanting to miss out on any potential accolades.

  “Hey, you!” I say, reaching out and giving Kari a little lender love.

  “Great sweater,” she says, noticing the black cardigan from last fall. I say nothing, just smile. Right then, the front door opens, and we gawk.

  It’s very important that in my industry we are absolutely non-discriminating. In fact, the real estate exam we have to take before earning our license makes sure we understand that discrimination of any kind can not only cost us our license, but legal trouble, too. It’s against the law to discriminate. And…hello? Who would want to anyway? Under those same non-discrimination laws, protection is given to religions, gender, disability, and even same-sex marriages. So, when Amy walks in with her arm around Maggie, we all smile professionally just like we’re supposed to. Maggie is wearing a really cute pair of Capri pants, and Amy is wearing big black biker boots. They look really solid—the boots, I mean.

  We go into the conference room and start chatting. I have Kari explain the loan process, and then I explain the home-buying process. Maggie and Amy are very excited. Kari asks if they will both be on the loan. While I know this is something she needs to know, I am squeezing my toes in embarrassment because I do not want Maggie and Amy to feel at all uncomfortable. They say they are married and will be counting both incomes. I am relieved that I am the only one who got nervous. I’m very good about not judging people.

  In yoga, and maybe Buddhism, too—since Dawn seems to be a big fan of Buddha—we are told not to judge. Non-judgment is very important for us if we are going to be enlightened. I find this tricky in class, let alone in real life. In class, sometimes I notice someone who hasn’t quite mastered her downward dog, for example. I find I want to point this person out, show Dawn so she can fix the poor woman’s hips. But that would not only be judging, it would be tattling. The yoga studio is not somewhere one should tattle on fellow yogis.

  After Amy and Maggie leave, Kari and I sit there, together, not judging. In fact, we say nothing at all. Kari tells me she’ll run back to the office and check the credit and get back to me tomorrow. In the meantime, I have the two areas the girls—is it OK to call them that?—said they like. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll go house hunting.

  Back at my desk, I’m feeling all enlightened and nonjudgmental as I get ready to pull up a property search.

  “Cute couple,” Tac says.

  I study his face, ready to call the Department of Real Estate and turn him in for the discriminating pig that he is. I mean, tattling in this case is acceptable, right?

  Only, when I study his face, I cannot see one trace of sarcasm.

  “Very nice,” I say, smiling curtly.

  He nods and turns back to his computer.

  God, how I hate him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  At home, I’m doing a search on meditation music. It appears there are 11,732 pages full of links that will tell me about or sell me meditation music. I know I cannot get through even half of them tonight. But I need to respond to Tac’s post, lest my blogger fans think I am non-responsive. So, being resourceful like I am, I click on the first few links. I keep looking till I find a page that seems super-duper spiritual. You know, pictures of lotus flowers and people in gowns. Oh! I see prayer beads! I copy the link and go to my blog so I can respond to Tac.

  “Thank you for your message, Tac. I find there are many options for meditating. Here is one of my favorites, but don’t limit yourself. Of course, the ultimate goal with meditation is to find ourselves in silence. Namaste, Nala.”

  I no more than post my comment on the blog when I see an e-mail pop up from Tac. He’s like a little Internet stalker.

  “Dear Nala, Thanks for responding. On a more personal note I wanted to let you know how useful your posts have been. I’ve been going through some personal issues, and not having anyone to confide in makes it hard. My mother tells me I need to talk about my feelings, but you know how hard that is for men . Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that your words tend to resonate with me. I hope you’re having a great week. Your friend, Tac.”

  Hmmm.

  Now, I think it’s important to point out that I honestly have not done anything to encourage this online friendship with Tac. I even tried to cut it off with our last little e-mail exchange, telling him I wasn’t interested. Maybe I should have said I am a man? However, in light of this latest e-mail, it sounds like Tac may have some good dirt. I mean problems. No, I am not going to take advantage of my position here by asking Tac to share his personal problems because that would just be rotten. However, maybe he really does need some valuable input that one can only gain from a spiritual guru such as myself. I always try and see both sides of things. And of course, we must keep in mind that this is the guy who knocked my open house signs down. Seems like some kind of karma to me.

  “Dear Tac, I suppose many of us hold our problems in as a way to avoid facing them head-on. I am a big believer in addressing challenges as they surface. You should feel free to share your thoughts with me. Looking forward, Nala.”

  Just as I am basking in the glory of my response to Tac, and wondering if they serve cocktails in Hell, my phone rings.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “There you are, how’s things?” My mom has turned into a high school girl.

  “Fine, I guess. What’s up with you?”

  “Well, I just wanted a quick chat about Thanksgiving.”

  I suddenly remember this will be the first one in five years without Ron. I am sad.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I’ve invited Bill.”

 
“Are you drunk?” Of course my mother doesn’t drink, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Besides, I am searching for prayer beads while she talks.

  “No, but Bill says a little red wine with dinner is good for me.”

  I am suddenly torn between yelling at Bill for being a bad influence and asking him if he wants to move in with her.

  “OK, well, I guess one of us should have a date,” I say, feeling sorry for myself as I type in my VISA number for my prayer beads.

  It is my goal as a spiritual guru to really practice my yoga off the mat. That said, letting Bill come to our Thanksgiving table, especially if he likes wine, is something I am working on. In the studio, flexibility is a physical goal, but Dawn reminds us that it’s a spiritual goal too. I consider this about Bill and forward bends. At one point, I couldn’t even get my head and my shins in the same state. Now, at least they are within driving distance. My mother seems to like Bill, and like I said, one of us should be happy. Besides, I need to meet him, stamp of approval and all that, so why not for a little turkey dinner? I take pride in my spiritual flexibility and decide to write a post about it.

  “Inside the studio, many newer students think that flexibility is a sign of mastery. However, the truth of the matter is that only when we can demonstrate spiritual flexibility do we truly grasp what being a flexible practitioner is all about. In our day-to-day lives of paying bills, working through relationships, and earning a living, we often become rigid, afraid to bend. It is in our ability to move with the changes both physically and emotionally that helps us grow and indeed become the flexible beings we are intended to be. I would challenge all of us to remember, whether we are doing a forward bend or relationship mend, we meditate on the meaning of flexibility daily. Go with the flow of life and find where it takes you. Without judgment. Namaste, Nala.”

  Where do I get this stuff?

  Before bed, I check my personal e-mail one more time. I’m secretly dying to know what Tac’s big secret is. Or maybe he’s just using it as a ploy to meet her, I mean me. Maybe now that he sees how cute Yoga Barbie is, he wants to wiggle his way into her studio? One can just never be too sure when it comes to guys like Tac. I’m thrilled to see that he’s responded.

  “Thank you, Nala. It’s not my intention to bore you with my issues. In fact, I have a pretty great life. I do well in my business, am not at all bad looking (), and enjoy excellent health. I think lately, though, I’ve been feeling a bit down in the dumps. For one thing, I have a grandmother in hospice, and that’s been taking its toll. Secondly, there’s a woman in my office who I think really likes me, and while she’s nice enough, I don’t feel the same way about her. I think these are good issues to meditate on, don’t you agree? Have a nice evening, Tac.”

  What?!

  OK, first of all, he can’t possibly be talking about me. That’s just crazy. Besides, didn’t Becky say he likes me? Which me, I’m not exactly clear on. Maybe it’s Becky he’s referring to? Ha! Maybe Becky likes Tac and is stalking him, and Brian knows nothing about! I feel like I just solved the world’s greatest mystery. Or, what if Tac has figured out that I’m Nala and he’s just messing with me? He did make that Lion King comment. Naw, he’s not possibly smart enough, and I’ve been one careful guru. All I know for sure is he cannot possibly think I, Melissa Murphy, feel anything but contempt for him. The nerve.

  I decide not to respond tonight. However, I have resolved to make sure that if there is any possibility under the sun that his little ego thinks I like him, he is swiftly corrected.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Today I’m showing Amy and Maggie a few houses. I’m pretty excited because they seem very motivated. In real estate, motivation is everything. For buyers we get a lot of lookie-loos. Lookie loos like to visit open houses for sport and have well-meaning agents spend all their breathing moments driving them around to visit homes that they have no intention of buying. They are a dangerous breed that we are warned about early on. Maggie and Amy are serious buyers. Kari called me and said they can only go as high as $160,000, which in this market is considered entry level. That’s OK, though, because most first-time buyers end up in this range.

  I meet them at the first house. Maggie is all smiles, looking extra cute in pink stretch pants, with fuzzy boots and a big sweater. Amy is not smiling. She has nice eyes, a military haircut and boy clothes. I greet them both and ask Amy if something is wrong. Maggie shoots her a dirty look.

  “I’m pretty picky about my neighbors,” she says, nodding to a man who is raking up leaves in his front yard.

  I say, “Well, you can always meet them before you move in or write an offer if you like.” I’m smiling, looking for my lockbox key.

  “We’ll skip this one,” Amy says without commenting on my response.

  Maggie and I look at each other, and I am honestly perplexed. This is a cute house, in their price range.

  “This is a great house,” I say, hoping she will at least look inside.

  With some coaxing from Maggie, Amy agrees, and I unlock the door. The house is clean and has some great upgrades that Maggie squeals about.

  “It isn’t bad, but I need to make sure the neighbors aren’t dark.”

  “Excuse me?” I have no clue what she means, and then, in that one fraction of a second, I realize the guy who was raking his leaves was African American.

  “I just have my likes and dislikes, and if you grew up like I did, you’d understand.”

  Maggie lowers her eyes in embarrassment, and I am completely flabbergasted. I have never met a racist lesbian before.

  We leave the house, and I am speechless. We look at one more home, but my heart isn’t in it. They tell me to keep looking for other homes to view, and I am eager to escape. This has really gotten me upset. Here I thought that in this day and age people were all over the racism thing. Besides, like I said, we are taught in real estate training that any kind of discrimination is illegal. It’s just that I’ve never come across such a blatant case, especially with a client. And jeez, wouldn’t you think, of all people, a lesbian would be sensitive to discrimination? Her haircut is horrible, by the way.

  I decide to go home, maybe meditate or have a glass of wine. The wine wins, and I sit in my office to see what’s up. Three e-mails—the first one from the Unitarian guy who wanted me to speak at his church.

  “Dear Nala, Thank you for your response. I am very sorry to hear that you will not be able to grace us with your presence. However, I certainly understand and appreciate your vow to silence. Wow! A year is sure a long time. Please let us know when you are open to visiting, even without speaking. Blessings, Robert.”

  The second one is from the blogger people.

  “Dear Nala, We are pleased to inform you that your blog has been nominated as second runner-up in the Spiritual Blog Award of the Year. Personally, I feel if you’d started this earlier in the year, you’d have been a sure win, but maybe next year! We’ll keep you posted. Janet.”

  The third one is from Shanza/Yoga Barbie.

  “Dear Nala, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch this week, but I’ve had to do a lot of soul-searching. Funny thing, just when I’m ready to walk away from this relationship that seems to be the center of my universe lately, I read something from you and change my perspective. The post on Flexibility did so much for me. Here I was, convinced that my way was the right way, not willing or able to bend in my choices. After hearing what you had to say, I’ve realized that there is room for flexibility. I’m hoping it’s not too late. Please come practice soon. Hugs & Namaste, Shanza.”

  Well, it seems I’ve done it again. That is, have Yoga Barbie done with Ron, only to read my post and change her mind. I seem to have a real knack for convincing that woman to stay with my boyfriend. But he kind of did coming running back, didn’t he? He showed up at my door, all despondent and cat-loving. But I wasn’t really that excited. Part of me is flattered that he noticed how great I look, and the other part, slightly celebrato
ry that he’s tired of someone as amazing as Barbie, but really, I mostly feel like a really bad person. I decide I have just got to get this off my chest. I’m hoping that maybe calling Crystal Visions and getting it out of my system will be a metaphorical wind-removing pose. I don’t even care if I fart.

  It takes quite awhile because the nice lady at the hotline place, who always seems glad to hear from me, said that Crystal is finishing up with another client. Now we are clients? Nice. The lady also tells me how smart it was of me to have her keep my credit card on file since it will expedite the process. I tell her I want my typical ten minutes, and she puts me on hold. Ten minutes later, I hear Crystal.

  “Greetings, Melissa. Thank you so much for waiting.”

  I am flooded with relief at the sound of her voice.

  “I’ve got a real problem, and you don’t even need to guess. I’m going to tell you, and then maybe you can tell me what I should do?” I say this all so fast that I am sure I have removed all my bad wind.

  “Of course, but first, let’s get you grounded. Your energy is all over the place.”

  That Crystal is one smart psychic.

  We take a few minutes for me to get grounded. Being super conscious about the time limit, I make sure I ground fast. Then I tell her how Ron left me for a yoga instructor, who is like my best friend now, but that she doesn’t know the real me, only the fake me who is writing her blog. I tell Crystal that I’m pretending to be a blogger named after Simba’s girlfriend, and that everyone seems to love my blog, but what’s worse is that my cheating boyfriend may be leaving Yoga Barbie, and I’m all torn up inside. Crystal is silent.

  “You say your boyfriend left you for her?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that you want him back.”

  “Yes.”

  “But that she’s your best friend now?”