The dappled sunlight shone on Dr. Z’s round, brown face, creating the beatific countenance of an enlightened saint. The ritual was always the same; Grayce smiled then her mentor smiled.
His stillness washed over her, opening her to his deep gaze. In the brief moment’s exchange, she couldn’t hide from his soul scrutiny.
“How are you?” As part of the ritual, he always asked, but he already knew.
There was deep serenity in the garden, as if he poured his peaceful energy into each plant, as he did when he prepared each cup of hot tea for her.
Unlike his modest demeanor, his garden was a messy abandon of riotous blossoming foxglove, sweet peas, and bright colored roses surrounding the statue of a bodhisattva, a compassionate saint who stays on earth to alleviate suffering. As in everything Dr. Z touched, his loving care radiated, enveloping her in stillness.
She wrapped her hands around the cup and drifted into the calmness.
Dr. Z waited. He always waited. He never rushed.
She had organized her thoughts on the drive to the Ravenna neighborhood, expecting to discuss them with Dr. Z, but as often occurred, the concerns floated away.
Then abruptly she blurted out, “I’m having terrible nightmares.”
His head tilted toward her. He listened with his whole body and heart.
“Each night I’m either reliving the moment my sister died or I’m being burned alive. The dreams vary but not the feelings. There is always…deep pain and deep fear.”
Grayce was sinking into the familiar black emptiness of loss. Dr. Z elicited her innermost feelings.
His calm voice pulled her back. “You’re still trying to find the missing soldier, yes?”
Grayce was puzzled—but then she realized he was talking about Angie. “I am.”
“The mother is grieving, like your mother did when you were a young girl?”
A dull ache started behind her eyes.
“Your lesson was so very big for someone so very small.” He absorbed her pain. “The shock of abandonment, very hard at such an early age.”
The tears welled up in her eyes, and it surprised her that she could still tap into the raw, intense pain, as though it had been yesterday—instead of decades ago. She let Dr. Z’s words wash over and envelop her.
“A blessing to learn this lesson.” Dr. Z had tried to bring her along the path to realize essential solitude was important to finding the stillness and the blessedness in yourself. “The pain in your life gives you a wonderful patina, like my teapot.” He lifted the pot, turning the 19th century vessel that he used in all of their sessions.
“Did you know that I pour hot tea over the pot each day to prevent the clay from drying out? The hot tea gives the pot its beautiful patina. If I didn’t follow the ritual, the pot would crumble.”
“I’m not surprised that Mrs. Hines’ grief brings up my grief, but why am I back in this dark place? I’ve healed myself and moved forward. Why is the pain as acute as when Cassie died?”
He leaned over and touched her hand. The connection was intense. “But you’re not living in the pain as you did when you were a little girl. It’s only in your dreams.”
Dr. Z’s words were balm to her soul. “You’re peeling away another layer of your loss with these dreams.”
“I’ve tried to protect myself against feeling the pain again.”
“But something else has triggered this feeling of loss? Yes? Not just the grieving mother.”
There was no fooling her mentor.
“Davis is moving to Washington DC for at least six months, possibly a year.”
Dr. Z’s dark eyes were filled with compassion. He sifted through all the words and delved deep into her heart. “You love this man, yes?”
She nodded. There was no stopping the tears from pouring out.
“There is much fear, deep in your heart.” He patted his heart. “But your dreams are healing you, making you ready to let go of the fear and love this man.”
His healing words smoothed the jagged edges of her pain, the sleepless nights.
“Tell me about the fires in your dreams.”
“The missing woman—soldier survived IED bomb explosions in Afghanistan. Recently, I started treating a military dog and her master who both experienced similar explosions. I’ve assumed I had absorbed their fear and pain around fire.”
“It’s a heavy load to take on a client’s pain, but you must feel the pain in order to heal.”
The sweet acknowledgment hung in the air like the lyrical garden chimes. Like a magical alchemist, he changed her pain into light and love, enabling her to treat others.
“That is why you come here, yes?” Another joyous smile. The colors in the garden grew brighter.
“There is more to the fire dreams than your client’s pain.”
“Yes, I feel it, too. My tarot card reading by Davis’ aunt warned me of danger from a tall, dark man.”
“Spiritual paths may take many names and forms.” Dr. Z nodded. “You believe this prediction?”
“Aunt Aideen immediately recognized my talents. And I don’t believe she’d have shared the prediction if she didn’t believe in the danger.”
“Yes, I can feel the danger also.”
“I thought the missing woman’s brother was possibly the threat, but now I’m not sure.”
Dr. Z leaned forward in his chair.
“I didn’t tell Davis about the prediction.”
“You didn’t want him to be upset with his aunt.” His lips revealed a hint of a smile.
“Yes.”
It was always the same. Dr. Z understood and simplified her worries into acceptance.
“And you’re protecting the aunt and Davis. Yes? And you know that his aunt has gifts that he doesn’t understand.”
She was always amazed by her mentor’s ability to look right into her heart. She thought of herself as a gifted intuitive, but in comparison to Dr. Z, she was a neophyte.
Dr. Z chuckled. The delightful sound pealed in the garden like the birdsong on the wind, jubilant music that your heart hears.
“I will treat you today. Acupuncture will help you with the fear and pain.”