Jivana's Memoirs: 76

For the next few weeks I studied with her. Breath work. Postures. Visualizations. Talks on intention. Attuning to a more cosmic calendar she called the Tzolkin. Sitting with Nature but absolutely no substances. Learning subtlety, subtly. Integrating, she would say. I was also purifying for an unknown journey.

One night at about 3 in the morning she woke me.

“It’s not even the next day”.  I mumbled and felt dazed and fuzzy from being woken up in the middle of the wrong sleep cycle.  I looked out toward the opening of the cave.  A universe of stars streaking the sky, cosmic delusions in my dizziness outlined in love.

“It’s time” which came out in a proper British accent.

"Where are you from exactly?" I said as I scratched my head and began to braid my hair.

"Psyiam. My father was British, my mother from Sundance. He came to the states, met her, and then they moved to Psyiam where I was conceived. We were in London for my grammar school until my father was killed in the war. I really don't speak to people much unless I have to. Sometimes that old accent comes out.  Especially when I keep strange hours".

I sat cross-legged in front of her, pulling in my core, tucking my chin, pulling in my mulabandha which I often would forget. "So how long were you in Psyiam?"

"Awhile. Until my mother died and I felt I had to bring our knowledge of the crystal method somewhere else.  My mother had looked more like the natives and so they embraced her in Psyiam.  I looked more mix. I wanted a different look.  I actually got most of my tattooes there but I needed to leave once she died to be me fully.  She was part of the white tigress lineage too.  I learned from her. But the secular government was cracking down.  Modern witch trials.  Like in Tibet, priestesses began immolating.  I didn't want to do that.  Our practice is to sacred.  To help the shift, we must ensure the line endures".


She had prepared a brew, crackling upon the fire still. Smoke seeping around the pot.  She handed me a small cup of thick brown liquid.  Surprisingly cool.  I looked at it confused.

“Oh, that’s a different batch" she acknowledged the cauldron "for later.  I’m getting ahead of my work”.

She looked at my wincing face and said “You know, I think you need two”.

The brew was thick, and earthy.  I wished I had a chaser, but I was given none.  I nearly threw up on her but my fear of her tattooed face held it back.  I still had not quite gotten used to that yet.  I could tell underneath she was beautiful.  She was beautiful regardless. I couldn’t help but keep thinking that she had done that on purpose, to cover her beauty, to make herself almost frightful, to make the tests harder.

“As you journey, I want you to remember the sacrifices of the mother who raised you”.

She sounded like just like my mother when she said it.

“And Jivana”

I looked at her earnestly.

“I need you to be fearless”.