“I think so,” I said at last, and he gave me an approving nod.
“This is good. Then close your eyes, and let yourself merely be, here, on this couch. Think of who you are, and where you are. Think of the world surrounding you, and be one with it.”
Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I closed my eyes and folded my hands in my lap. At first I was acutely aware of Connor sitting on the couch a scant foot away from me, the hum of the evaporative cooler, the faint aromatic tinge to the air, something familiar. Sage, probably, as if they regularly smudged the house to keep it clear of unfriendly influences. A little farther off I sensed the presences of Lawrence and my father, both of them sitting quietly, their breathing calm, controlled. Maybe they were meditating along with me.
Something in me wanted to push beyond them, beyond the four walls of the cramped little house. It was as if I felt myself rising, seeing spread below me the small stucco structures the two men called home, the dilapidated garage, the equally shabby stable and small corral where a bored-looking pinto horse grazed. Even beyond that, and my eyes took in the sere golden undulations of the landscape, the dark gash a few miles off where the Little Colorado River gorge began, the cluster of deep green trees and buildings at the trading post.
Within me I felt a push to rise even higher, but somehow I knew now was not the time. It was enough that I’d been able to do this, to leave my physical self behind and take in the world through an eagle’s eyes. Now I needed to return to myself, and so I thought of me, of Angela, sitting there on the shabby couch in her new jeans that were already starting to feel too tight, in the sleeveless embroidered blouse, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail because of the heat, pink polish on her toes starting to chip. All that and so much more was myself, and so I slipped into my body the way I might slip into my oldest and softest beat-up sweatshirt on a cold winter’s night.
I opened my eyes, and saw Connor staring at me in wonder, and Lawrence and my father watching me with quiet approval on their faces. Oddly, I felt stiff and sore, as if I’d been sitting in one position for far longer than the five or so minutes I’d just spent in meditation.
“Very good,” said Lawrence, even as Connor shook his head and asked,
“Where did you go?”
“Go?” I repeated, putting one finger to my temple, where I felt a slight twinge. “Up — and out, I guess. It was weird. Definitely an out-of-body sort of thing. But I’ll have to work on staying in it longer next time.”
“Longer?” he demanded. “You were out of it for almost forty-five minutes!”
And then I noticed the iPad lying next to him, screen still showing the Kindle app. I had no recollection of him pulling out the device. Unbelieving, I stared at Connor for a few seconds, then transferred my gaze to Lawrence, who inclined his head slightly.
“This is true,” he said, not sounding surprised at all. “I was not sure that you would be able to make such a journey on your first try, but it seems you have a natural talent for this sort of travel. It is good. It will be easier for you when the time comes.”
“And you didn’t have any trouble getting back?” my father asked.
“No,” I said, recalling how I had seen myself clearly, down to the chipped polish on my toes. “It was easy, like slipping into an old comfy sweater or something.”
“That is kind of amazing,” he said. “When I first tried this sort of thing, I couldn’t manage that until I’d been doing it for several weeks. Good thing Lawrence was patient.”
“There was no rush. I knew you would work it out eventually.” Lawrence gestured toward my neglected glass of water. “But drink, because this sort of travel can be taxing on the body, even if you don’t feel it immediately.”
“There won’t any bad side effects, though, will there?” Connor asked, worry clear in his voice.
My father gave him an understanding smile. “Just a bit of dehydration. That’s all.”
I hadn’t noticed anything up until they mentioned it, but now I did feel extremely thirsty. Reaching over, I plucked the glass from where it sat on the scarred wooden tabletop and drained the contents in one long swallow. “I’m fine, Connor,” I said once I was finished. “Just thirsty. No big deal.”
“You say it was no big deal, but you were in basically a trance for almost an hour — ”
“Not a trance,” Lawrence cut in. “A deep meditation. It is important for Angela to learn how to follow where her spirit walks, to let it lead her back to herself. She seems to have a talent for it, which can only help her when she goes to seek Nizhoni.”