"Supertanker," Efterklang
Marguerite debates with the Teacher about living on solitary retreat in Ireland.
Hello! You’ve found Faye’s Wing, a series of multimedia scenes about the creative quest for fulfilment beyond a fixed spiritual identity. It comes out every Wednesday, and features music and visuals from contributing artists. If you are new here, I suggest you start at the beginning and read the story sequentially. You can also check out my project overview for more info, or view the list of scenes you might have missed.
All alone, walking towards the horizon
Helt alene, går imod horisonten…
When I tell her about my exciting new plan, my sister’s hard-earned approval backflips into indignant clucking. Having scanned Google Maps for speciality food shops and come up with a scattering of Aldis abutting bleak high streets and slipshod new builds, her verdict is definitive: ‘Non, Margaux, enfin! The towns are hideous, the weather is crap, and the food shops look dismal—and the kids will die of boredom when they visit. I thought you were finally going to settle down. We’re all worried about you, you’ve only just come home… Why do you want to live so far away from people?’
Sophie has a point, of course. Ireland feels right, but I felt a pinching in my heart after spending time with Caroline yesterday. She exudes the quiet, intense strength of people who have spent swathes of time toiling by themselves. I’m grateful that the Goddess has shown me this region and its people, and that I will be going into the unknown with a sense of both joyful anticipation and sadness for what I’m leaving behind. Even Sebastian, who signs his emails with a lowercase 'bash', insists that ‘while this is a good deal for the right person, it would not suit everybody. nor is it a free ride: there are responsibilities, and they must be met somehow. but i would be disappointed if anybody left bawnbay without thinking that the experience, long or short, had at least been worthwhile.’
“Bawnbay…” I must look up the etymology of the name, but, in the meantime, I take it as another positive sign—it kind of rhymes with “Bombay,” shorthand for India, the general homeland of my faith. In terms of its worldly appeal, however, my heart sinks when interior photos confirm my sister’s assessment. The kitchen is grim: going by the pot of magnolia paint on the counter, it has been freshly painted, yet gloom clings to the walls. There is a wonky, rusty-topped electric oven, flanked by a beat-up enamel cube you might see in an old person’s house—some kind of antique cooking range? Under a window, a table is covered in brown gingham plastic, heat-stained and buckled. The rest of the house is tidy, but soulless, with a Mondrian palette of headache yellow, icicle blue, and blood red in the bedrooms, peeling wallpaper, and electrical cords jutting out of crumbling plaster.
Will the ugliness depress me? When weighing up living options, I have always favoured views and brightness, even when it meant compromising on space. This one whiffs of dust from afar, grease, and mildew, so why does it feel right? I will ask about whether I can update and personalise things. And though Sophie has a point about isolation, she doesn’t know about the Teacher and the Kula. They will provide the right kind of companionship, even if it might be some time before that happens in person. Maybe it feels aligned because I’m tuning into the grace and protection of the Goddess, I reason with myself.
Before sending the agreement back, I do want the boys to weigh in, though. Ben and Sacha both say that they will be happy with whatever I decide. Luke, ever surfing on a Point Break vibe, tells me to follow my inspiration, that life is to be lived, and that whatever I do will be an adventure. On another call, he also invites me to think carefully—Biarritz is wonderful and perfect, but he promises to visit wherever I am.
Next, I am ready to report on all this to the Teacher.
Me: Ireland feels safer in terms of world events. But I asked for photos and the aesthetics will be a stretch. They said the position will always be open, so it could be a very long-term thing…
Teacher: You are making this harder than it needs to be. Decoration matters not. You are getting hung up on cleanliness and order… If travel were possible, I would send you on retreat in a dank, dark, dirty cave to get over that tendency.
I gulp. Now is not the time for a debate between my previous sattvic1 yoga path, which suited my natural inclination for tidiness, and the antinomian chaos of these new ways.
Me: The gentleman sounds meticulous, like a character from another time, yet intent on making sure that I am comfortable. The woman is a bit out with the fairies, but possibly more fun. I think she liked me. On the video call, he shot her a look, as if to say, 'Don’t gush! Keep your cards to yourself!' He is very reserved, but seemed to appreciate questions about my responsibilities.
Teacher: We don’t know what the Goddess wants of you yet. Wait for signs. Remember things that look or feel 'bad' now might turn out 'good' in the end and vice versa. You jump to conclusions thinking you know how things will unfold and what they mean. Please melt this habit away.
Me: I want to lose myself in the practices and serve my Teacher. Is this the right choice for my sādhanā?
Teacher: I think more freedom, fewer social obligations. It's an excellent choice for sādhanā. It sounds exceptional, really.
Me: Meanwhile, we are going back into full lockdown, with a curfew at 7pm. We are being asked for our phone number in restaurants—even for takeaways.
Teacher: You are anxious, but these are only fear-based projections of the future. None of it matters. Allow. The Goddess brings gifts in times of challenge. If you brace, you can’t receive Her blessings.
Me: It doesn’t make me want to stay… I don’t know where I belong anymore.
Teacher: We don’t belong anywhere. We belong everywhere. The world is our home.
Whining = identity being melted away. Let Her continue to melt you.
Me: Yes, but how? By leaning into Ireland?
Teacher: By leaning into sādhanā and seeing your habits. A habit can only be transformed if it is conscious and witnessed. Forget the outcome; focus on what is discovered as the option is explored.
Me: Maybe the inner whining is about longing for someone to want me to stay (or go), a reason to ground. And I don’t have that.
Teacher: Ground in the Goddess. Stop waiting to be saved and find immense freedom. We follow the path of the Goddess, a path of wanderers.
Me: That feels like stepping into renunciation. Staying here would strengthen my desire for an easy life.
Perhaps I have been contemplating Ireland without putting sādhanā centre stage. Yet being a wanderer means not choosing a place because it suits my personal preferences or makes life easier. Going there would strip away whatever keeps me from Her, it would pop the bubble of illusion. I want to strip away the belief that I am in charge and trust Her entirely to guide my life.
Teacher: These are excellent insights.
Me: I actually have no idea why I replied to that advert.
Teacher: Can you say more?
Me: I love it here, it’s beautiful. Yet when I saw the ad, with its shadowy picture, I was compelled to reply, as if the place was calling me home. The Goddess has presented an opportunity to deepen on the path, and now it’s up to me to walk the talk.
Teacher: It could be very hard. It’s not a choice for ease. It could help you move towards deeper truth and authenticity. You must choose it for yourself so there is no resentment later, when things are tough.
Do not go as a martyr. Not as an ascetic. We are lovers and devotees who seek truth, the truth of who we are without false habits, wounding, or armouring leading the way. We come to sādhanā as the place of rest and nourishment, as the great exhale into sanity.
Me: Well, I’m already thinking about having space for our Kula House!
A pause. It’s a sincere wish, as the lease for our centre has expired. In a few months, our Kula will no longer have a physical gathering place and the handful of devotees who were living together and offering round-the-clock pujas2 will go their separate ways.
Me: In my scenarios for life after kids, I have often wondered about living in the Kula House one day… What if Ireland happens and some of the other Devīs join me?
I leave out the bit about wanting to host residencies for artists—no point getting ahead of myself.
Teacher: Please please please don’t do this to please me or to be a 'good student'. Please.
Me: What I shared were my waking thoughts; everything felt very clear. I don’t want to rush into it if you don’t think I am ready, yet when life presents gifts, don’t we take the leap?
Teacher: Yes. Yes, we do indeed.
© Efterklang, Altid Sammen, 2019.
From sattva, one of three tendencies in Hindu philosophy, which refers to qualities of goodness, purity, truth, balance, peacefulness, and virtuousness.
Prayer rituals.
I see Marguerite’s conflicted thoughts here. She is enthusiastic, generous, brave, nervous and honest. The teacher seems to focus on the nervous and honest in a way that feels very judgemental to me