“When I touched the crystal that day at my dormitory, I pulled his spirit back to me through time. But I wasn’t ready then. I wasn’t open enough to receive him.”
“In 1984 I was married, living in Glendora, California, and the mother of a darling little girl, Aurora. I woke one summer morning and realized that I no longer loved my husband, that I hated my life, and that I had to do something to save myself.”
“I got out of bed before dawn and walked into the living room and over to the picture windows that looked out on our quiet suburban street. It was getting light outside. I could see the long line of palm trees that marked our cul-de-sac, and when I sat down in the window seat, I noticed my African crystal. Aurora had taken it out of my jewelry box to play with, and I picked it up and began to gently rub my fingers across its smooth clear surface. I was crying. I remember seeing my tears splash against my skin, and when I looked up again through the picture window, I saw him. He walked down the empty street, coming to me, and this time I knew I was ready, knew that I had suffered enough to be worthy of him. I knew then that I was going to be his channel.”
“I live now with my daughter and a few close friends on my family’s old farm in eastern Minnesota. It is there that we produce the tapes and books that reveal the wisdom of Habasha. It is from there that I travel to conduct these weekend sessions with Habasha.”
“Now for all of you who wish to hear Habasha speak, we will have a trance-channel session this evening, and I hope you will join us. I know it will change your life. And now I must go, but to use the words of Habasha, ‘I leave only for the joy of returning.’”
She stepped off the platform, taking the hand of a tall, thin, beautiful twelve-year-old girl who looked just like her, and walked out of the meeting room by the side exit. The audience rose and started to applaud. At the door, Kathy Dart paused, waved good-bye, and then dramatically disappeared.
“Oh, Jennifer, isn’t she wonderful?” Eileen said quickly, as the applause faded.
Jennifer hesitated. She had to admit that Kathy Dart had affected her, but she wasn’t ready to say how. “Well, it certainly was different!” She took a deep breath.
“She’s just marvelous!” Eileen declared, standing.
“Yes. Well. I think
” Jennifer stood. The woman’s presentation had dazed her. “I guess I don’t know what to think.” She turned to leave; she wanted fresh air.
“Are you coming tonight? To the channeling session?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I have to prepare for my meeting. What does the word Habasha mean, anyway?” she asked, to change the subject. They had reached the lobby of the hotel.
“Habasha? That’s his name. Kathy told us it meant ‘burnt face,’ which is the name for Ethiopians. He took it himself, because when he was reincarnated as the female Lucy, speech hadn’t yet been developed in the hominids.”
“But Kathy Dart said he’s at least twenty-three million years old. I don’t understand. Lucy is only four million years old.”
“Yes, I know.” Eileen nodded. “What Kathy said was that Habasha’s spirit appeared on earth ‘in human form’ four million years ago, at the dawn of man itself. Then, later, he has had other lives, other reincarnations. Just like us. But his spirit, or soul, is older than that.”
Jennifer shook her head. The spell was broken. She no longer felt unnerved by Kathy Dart. She had been briefly swept away, but now she was all right. Jennifer was not like Eileen Gorman. She was not so overwhelmed that she had lost sight of what was reality.
“Well, I don’t know who I once was, but I know for sure that I’ve never been a hominid, protohominid, or whatever they were called.”
“But you don’t know, Jenny. You don’t know what you once were. And that’s what’s makes it all so exciting.”
“Makes what so exciting?”
“Channeling! Habasha will tell you who you once were.”
Jennifer was shaking her head before Eileen stopped talking.
“Not me. I’ve got enough bad memories just in this life. I don’t need to learn about more lives.”
“Oh, Jenny, come on, give it a try. Come see Kathy Dart channel Habasha, and you’ll learn who you were in past lives.”
Jennifer remembered the look on Kathy Dart’s face when the channeler spotted her, remembered how her body had flamed up with pain and passion.
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to know.” And she meant it. She did not want to know, nor did she want to encounter Kathy Dart again.
“Excuse me,” a young man said, approaching them.
Jennifer and Eileen both stopped talking and glanced up at him.
The young man smiled. He looked like a college student, Jennifer thought at once. A graduate student, perhaps. She noticed his eyes immediately. They were gray and almond shaped, like her brother’s.
“My name is Kirk Callahan,” he went on quickly, as if he were afraid they would bolt away. “I’m doing an article on Kathy Dart for Hippocrates magazine. And I was wondering if I might have a few minutes to talk with you about her, you know, and your experiences with channeling?” He kept smiling and had now focused his full attention on Jennifer, who was shaking her head before he finished talking. “Not me!” she said defensively, and then laughed. “Perhaps my friend will talk to you. I don’t know anything about any of this stuff.” She glanced at Eileen and said quickly as the elevator arrived, “I’ll call you later. ‘Bye!” And then she stepped into the elevator before the doors closed, happy to be away from all these New Age people.
CHAPTER TWO
JENNIFER LEFT THE HOTEL by the side door, jogged down the sloping lawn to the bottom of Rock Creek Park, and picked up the bicycle path that she knew was good for running. She turned right and followed the level path under Massachusetts Avenue, heading for Georgetown and the C & O Canal. There was some snow on the ground, but the path was clear and dry.
The hour with Kathy Dart had made her uneasy, and she knew that being outside running would make her feel immensely better. It always did.
There were only a few joggers on the path, and Jennifer easily picked up speed. She hadn’t run in several days, and she was surprised that her muscles were this loose. She unzipped the front of her blue Gore-Tex jacket and lengthened her stride.
The C & O Canal was the best place to run in Washington. There was always room for both runners and bikers, and as she moved easily past other joggers, she held close to the narrow gauge of muddy water on her left. The path she was on was once the towpath used to help barges up and down the river as far away as West Virginia, but now it went only thirteen miles into Maryland.
Jennifer knew she couldn’t run that far. She had never run farther than three miles in her life. She had first taken up the sport because it was important to Tom, and it gave her another way to be with him. Now she ran because she loved the feeling it gave her, of being in shape and in control of her life.
She sped past a biker bent low over his front wheel. He was dressed in a tight black biking suit, with gloves and a black crash helmet. She caught his look of surprise as she swept past him, her feet now barely touching the hard-packed earth. He was breathing hard, gasping, and as she floated by, he rose up off the seat and pumped hard. She smiled and picked up her speed. For a few yards, she could hear him behind her, breathing deeply, and the slick sound of wheels on the hard earth, but gradually the sounds faded, and when she glanced back, she saw that the biker was disappearing from sight.