After the New Age: A Novel About Alternative Spiritualities

By Steven H. Propp

Its 1976, and Janet Tanhurst is a teenager who feels stifled by life with her strict mother, and the authoritarian church she must attend. Once out of high school, however, Janet is initiated into a fascinating new world of Astrology, Tarot cards, and Spirit Mediums. Next, she encounters the mysterious world of UFOs?a bewildering and sometimes frightening realm encompassing ancient astronauts, alien abductions, and shadowy government conspiracies.

As the 1980s arrive, the Christian-dominated Piscean Age seems to be giving way to a long-anticipated Aquarian Age, with its hope for a coming revolution in higher consciousness. There are new paradigms in philosophy and science?promoting a holographic conception of the universe as engaged in a Cosmic Dance?along with the emergence of an introspective type of instrumental music known as New Age.

With the help of bookstore owner Whisper Wynn, Janet investigates subjects such as reincarnation, quartz crystals, chakras and the human aura, in addition to an exciting new form of spiritual teaching called channeling. Following movement leaders including Shirley MacLaine and Marianne Williamson, studying enigmatic teachers like G.I. Gurdjieff and Carlos Castaneda, and inspired by medical doctors such as Deepak Chopra and Andrew Weil, she learns about Alternative Medicine and Holistic Health, as well as traditional health practices from China, Japan, and India. She assimilates wisdom from the ancient Celts along with rituals from contemporary Goddess worshippers, in formulating her own unique concept of the Divine that is within us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 16, 2008
• ISBN: 9781440110696

Steven H. Propp

Steve Propp and his wife live and work in northern California. He has written many other novels, as well as two nonfiction books (‘Thinking About It,’ and ‘Inquiries: Philosophical.’)

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Copyright © 2008 by Steven H. Propp

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4401-1070-2 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-1069-6 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 11/12/2008

Contents

PROLOGUE – THE PISCEAN AGE

PART ONE – THE COMING OF THE NEW AGE

PART TWO – THE ASCENDANCY OF THE NEW AGE

PART THREE – THE DECLINE OF THE NEW AGE

PART FOUR – THE END OF THE NEW AGE

PART FIVE - AFTER THE NEW AGE

EPILOGUE - A NEW BEGINNING

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedicated to all of the true seekers…

And to all of the genuine skeptics.

Acknowledgements

With sincere love and gratitude for the help and support of:

My beautiful wife and soul mate Nancy,

The light and love of my life,

Even during what was a very difficult year.

All of our wonderful grandkids: Devonte, Joseph, Dominic, Mariah, Kayla, and Brea.

My brother-in-law Darrel Buzynski;

My wonderful and irreplaceable big sister Susan;

My niece Jennifer and her husband Brade;

My favorite nephew Jason.

All the rest of Nancy’s and my changing, diverse, and always loving family.

To all of my friends and readers at work;

And to all my other readers everywhere.

PROLOGUE – THE PISCEAN AGE

(February 1976) Sunday Morning Ritual

Janet, are you ready yet? the serious-looking woman in her early 50s called down the hall to her 15-year old daughter. We’re going to be late to church. She was standing impatiently by the door to the garage.

I don’t want to go to church, Janet called back. It’s boring.

Her mother sighed deeply, and then walked back to her daughter’s room. Standing in the doorway, she said sternly, As long as you live under my roof, you’re going to church with me every Sunday morning and every Wednesday evening, young lady. So hurry and finish getting dressed. She looked distastefully at all the posters of rock groups hanging on the walls, then abruptly turned and left the room.

Reluctantly, Janet put her shoes on, and then quickly brushed her long blonde hair. Okay, okay; I’m ready, she said resignedly, as she walked down the hall to the door, and followed her mother into the garage. As her mother locked the door behind them, Janet asked, Can I drive? I need all the practice I can get, so I can pass my driver’s test next month.

Do you have your Learner’s Permit with you? her mother asked nervously, as she pressed the button to open the garage door.

It’s here in my purse, Janet replied, shaking her small handbag.

All right, then; but you must drive very carefully, her mother replied, and she went around to the passenger’s side, and lowered herself into the seat of the sedan.

Janet eagerly climbed into the driver’s seat, and immediately opened her purse and removed a small black bottle from it. She adjusted the rear-view mirror so that she could see herself, and began brushing on her mascara.

Start the car, please, her mother said, irritation in her voice. You don’t need to wear all that makeup; we’re going to church, not a cocktail party.

You’re wearing makeup, Janet replied, quickly applying her lipstick; finishing, she readjusted the mirror, before finally starting the engine.

But I don’t take time putting it on when I’m supposed to be driving, her mother countered, as Janet backed the car out of the garage. And I don’t wear nearly as much makeup as you do … especially not when I’m going to church. She sniffed, and added, "In my day, we wanted to look like young ladies in church, not like some Hollywood tramp!"

It’s not ‘your day’ any more, Mother, Janet replied, easing the car slowly down the driveway. She stopped abruptly when she saw a male black teenager walking down the sidewalk, and she waved to him. He stopped and smiled at her, then motioned for her to continue backing the car out.

She backed the car up until she was even with the young man, then rolled down her window and said, Hi, Richard; did you finish that homework for Geometry yet?

Yep; finished it Friday afternoon, the young man replied. He looked past Janet over at Janet’s mother, and said cheerfully, Good morning, Mrs. Tanhurst; beautiful day, isn’t it? Janet’s mother mumbled a reply, and then Richard looked back at Janet and asked, You need help with your homework?

Probably, Janet admitted. Can I call you later?

Sure, Richard replied. He returned Janet’s smile and wave, as she backed the car out into the street, and drove off.

In my day, young ladies didn’t call young men on the telephone, her mother observed disdainfully. They waited for the young men to call them.

Like I said, it isn’t your day any more, Mother, Janet replied wearily, as she turned the car around the corner, and then added, Mother, it’s 1976—we females are finally getting our equal rights, whether the ERA passes or not. Girls can call guys up just as easily as guys can call us up. Besides, I just need Richard’s help with my homework; Richard Weston happens to be the smartest person in our whole sophomore class, and he lives right next door to us—so what’s wrong with him helping me?

That had better be all it is, her mother replied in a severe tone. You know I don’t permit interracial dating. Frankly, I’m still not really convinced that you’re mature enough for dating, period.

Mother, what difference would it make if Richard and I were dating? Janet said with exasperation. "My Social Studies teacher says that there’s only one ‘race,’ and that’s the human race."

Then your Social Studies teacher is wrong; there are at least six different races, and they are all separate and distinct, her mother replied quickly. And while it’s good that you can get along with people from other backgrounds, and even socialize with them on occasion, no good can come from mixing of the races. She shook her head, and added, It’s especially sad for the children of such mixed relationships; the children don’t feel like they really belong with either group, and they always have questions about their own identity.

Janet laughed as she pulled into the parking lot of the church, and said, Mother, Richard is one of the most popular students in the whole school; he’s our class Vice-President, he’s on the basketball team, he’s the head of the Computer Club, and he’s breezing through all of the Advanced Placement classes that I’m struggling with; all the girls in school are crazy about him. She shrugged her shoulders, and added with pretended innocence, "Besides, we are living in California, after all; we’re supposed to be progressive thinkers, out here. And I think it would be kind of cool for a kid these days, having a black Dad and a white Mom—it would help show people that the color of your skin doesn’t make any difference, any more." She turned off the car’s engine, and put her keys in her purse.

It still makes a difference in our household, her mother said, as she got out of the car. As soon as she stood up outside the car, her face immediately took on a calm, serene appearance.

Rolling her eyes, Janet thought, Oh God, here she goes again with that phony ‘spiritual’ look, as she locked the car and walked alongside her mother to the small but beautiful church whose façade quietly announced, STENTORIA FIRST CHURCH OF CHRIST, SCIENTIST. Cynically, Janet thought, It doesn’t matter that she’s been arguing with me all morning right up until five seconds ago; now, she has to make it look good for all of her church friends.

Good morning, Ellen, a distinguished-looking woman with short silver hair greeted Janet’s mother as they entered the church. Isn’t this a beautiful day?

It is, Janet’s mother agreed. A lovely day.

And how are you today, Janet? the woman asked Janet pleasantly.

Fine, she replied perfunctorily.

Janet and her mother separated, as all young people up to the age of twenty attend Sunday School rather than the church service for adults. As her mother headed to her accustomed seat in the church, Janet walked to join twenty or so other young people in two adjoining classrooms—one for children age eleven and under, and one for the older children—furnished only with simple wooden tables and straight-backed chairs; the only sound was the quiet organ music in the background, coming from the main church.

There are a thousand other things I’d rather be doing than wasting an hour here, Janet thought impatiently. It wouldn’t be so bad if we could at least play some games or have some fun activities, like my Christian friends at school say they do in their Sunday Schools. But no—we have to sit around here bored for an hour and listen to some old lady read to us the ‘Lesson-Sermon’ for the week, delivered straight from the ‘Holy Mother Church’ back in Boston, and then go over a bunch of moronic Questions and Answers about the Lesson, designed for the intellectual level of a ten-year old.

Precisely at the beginning of the hour, a young woman began playing a hymn on the piano. Not one of Mary Baker Eddy’s tired old hymns, Janet thought with despair, as the nine young people began singing the hymn Feed My Sheep.

I will listen for Thy voice, the Sunday Schoolers sang, as Janet glanced around surreptitiously at the other members of the Sunday School class, and thought, There are only a handful of young people here, and the average age of the people running the church is probably mid-60s; who do they think is going is going to take over and support this church after its current leaders are all dead?

The class members continued singing, Lead thy lambkins to the fold, as Janet thought, There’s absolutely no way that this church is going to survive much longer; it’s lost at least a third of its members just in the past few years … and good riddance, as far as I’m concerned.

Once the hymn was finished, a severe-looking woman in her late 60s stood up, and invited them to participate in a moment of silent prayer. After about half a minute, she led them in reciting the Lord’s Prayer, alternating with Mary Baker Eddy’s spiritual sense of the prayer:

Our Father which art in heaven,

Our Father-Mother God, all-harmonious,

Hallowed be Thy name,

Adorable One.

Thy Kingdom come,

Thy Kingdom is come; Thou are ever-present.

The recitation continued until the prayer was finished. At that point, the older woman who was leading the class began to give the lesson, which she read from a pamphlet. Janet thought with exasperation, Every Sunday morning is the same; Mrs. Rumple reads the entire lesson to us, occasionally throwing in a comment from her own experience—as if what she did as a teenager in the year 1900 is supposed to be of any relevance to us, in 1976—while we’re supposed to sit here pretending that ‘Father-Mother God’ is listening to us, as we give our awed reverence to ‘The Discoverer’ Mary Baker Eddy; as if a Sunday School format that ‘Mrs. Eddy’ came up with in the late 19th century was still going to be valid today in its exact original form, more than a hundred years later. The whole idea is completely ridiculous…

"And what is the answer, Janet?" the teacher asked pointedly, looking sternly at Janet. The whole class turned to look at Janet.

Janet said calmly, "As the Discoverer said in the Scientific Statement of Being, ‘All is infinite Mind and its infinite manifestations.’ So someone who thought that way would be mistaken.’" She smiled smugly at the teacher—barely resisting the temptation to stick her tongue out at her—and thought, Hoped you’d catch me daydreaming, didn’t you? Well, it so happens, Mrs. Evil Old Lady Rumple, that it only takes about 15% of my brain to be able to answer the simplistic questions that you ask us each week.

The Sunday School lesson went on, as Janet’s mind continued to wander, I don’t knock what Mary Baker Eddy accomplished—shoot, founding your own church in the 19th century before women were even allowed to vote, and having it still in existence more than one hundred years later, is an amazing achievement—but this whole church just seems empty and meaningless to me; its time has passed, but all these fossilized old people refuse to admit it. She looked around the room to try and make eye contact with any of the other young people, but they all avoided her gaze.

At least in the Wednesday evening testimony meeting, people actually talk about things that are going on in their lives—about healings, and spiritual experiences they’ve had—so that sometimes, you actually get the feeling that God is more than just something you read about in an old book, but is actually a reality in our world. With resignation, she thought, But instead, they just go on reading from their musty old books and pamphlets for an hour, week after week, year after year…

Finally, the hour came to an end. As the Sunday School class filed quietly out of the classroom to rejoin their parents, Janet allowed herself to hope that her mother might skip her usual practice of remaining outside to chat with other members of the congregation for half an hour or so after the service. She silently walked up to stand beside her mother, whose attention was given to a woman who was one of the leaders of the church.

Good afternoon, Ellen, the woman said to Janet’s mother with a smile.

Good afternoon, Leicia, Janet’s mother replied, smiling proudly. It was a beautiful service, as always.

Leicia asked quietly, Ellen, are you still going to be able to give us some assistance at the Reading Room?

Ellen nodded, and said firmly, Every Saturday, from 10 until 4; starting this Saturday.

That’s wonderful, Ellen, the woman said with a pleased smile. That will help Agatha out so much.

I’m always glad to help, Leicia, Ellen replied, adding with a smile, Of course, if I have any ‘free time,’ I may use it to re-read all of the collected works of the Founder again.

That’s a wonderful idea, and an excellent use of your time, Leicia replied, nodding her head. The Founder’s writings are so rich, so filled with deeper meaning, that you can read them a thousand times, and never plumb their full depths. She waved goodbye, and then went to talk with another parishioner.

Can we just go home now, Mother? Janet thought impatiently, as her mother continued to talk with several of her friends. Rolling her eyes, she looked at her mother and thought disgustedly, I could probably kill myself, and she wouldn’t even notice it for a week.

Suddenly, a broad smile came over Janet’s face, as a young couple approached her, holding the hands of their 5-year old son in-between them. Janet called out happily to the boy, Hey, Toby! How are you doing? The boy came forward eagerly—walking a little stiffly, Janet noticed—as she bent down, and gave the boy a warm hug.

Hi, Janet, the boy said enthusiastically. With a serious expression, he blurted out, Guess what? I can’t go to school for a while.

You can’t? Why not? Janet replied, looking carefully at his face to see if he was just teasing her, but she realized with surprise that he wasn’t. She looked up at Toby’s parents, but they just remained standing silently behind their son. Janet’s mother had now come over to greet the couple.

The doctor says I’m… Toby began, but his parents suddenly put their hands on his shoulders, and began urgently pulling him out of earshot of the other members of the congregation, frantically signaling for Ellen and Janet to follow them.

What was that Toby said? Ellen asked, a look of grave concern on her face.

We … finally took him to see a regular medical doctor; a specialist, the boy’s mother admitted reluctantly, in a hushed tone. Seeing the look of shock this brought to Ellen’s face, she added apologetically, Ellen, you know that we’ve been having several different Practitioners pray with Toby for almost two years, but he just wasn’t getting any better; and since he started school last fall, we just thought that we had to…

Mary, haven’t you been paying attention to what we say in church? Ellen said, a stern note of reproach in her voice, as she recited, Matter does not express spirit, and disease is unreal. Divine Spirit is the only substance. Looking benevolently down at Toby, she said, If you send your son to a practitioner of so-called ‘modern medicine,’ all you’ll be doing is fostering in him an erroneous belief in the reality of ‘matter,’ rather than helping him to realize that the only true reality is that of spirit.

Mary looked stricken, and said, Ellen, in my heart I believe that’s true, but … well, we’ve been praying and praying for Toby for so long, that…

Mary’s husband Andrew gently interrupted, and said, Ellen, it was my decision, not Mary’s; so please don’t blame her—blame me.

It was both of our decision, Mary insisted. With tears in her eyes, she said in an emotional voice, Ellen, it’s just that … Toby is our only child, and we’ve been so worried about him, that…

You only have one child yourself, Ellen, Andrew pointed out. Surely, you can understand why we felt we had to…

And just what did this so-called ‘doctor’ tell you? Ellen asked sarcastically. Did he remove your worries? Did he make little Toby feel any better? Or did he just prey on your fears, in order to charge you an outrageous fee to…

He said that Toby has a rare blood disease, Andrew replied quietly. And he said that we have to start an intensive program of treatment for him, immediately. Andrew clasped and unclasped his fists while trying to get control of his emotions, then added softly, The doctor was … absolutely furious that we had waited so long to bring Toby in, but … he said it was still possible that the treatment might…

Ellen looked aghast, and said, "You aren’t seriously considering putting Toby under this doctor’s ‘care,’ are you? When the young couple didn’t answer, she continued, Mary, Andrew—that’s contrary to absolutely everything we believe in this church…"

"Ellen, please try to understand, Mary begged. Toby is … he’s all that Andrew and I have; can’t you see that?" Tears were flowing down her cheeks, as Ellen looked deeply into her eyes, and then into Richard’s, without saying anything.

Janet suddenly grabbed Toby’s hand, and said, Come on, Toby; let’s go look at the pretty flowers. She quickly led him outside the church, to a beautiful planter of colorful flowers that was directly in front of it. Aren’t the flowers pretty? she asked him.

They’re real pretty, he replied, looking at them intently. In the sunlight, Janet could clearly see that there were dark circles underneath his eyes, which had a yellowish tint.

Softly, she asked, So you haven’t been feeling well, Toby? The boy shook his head, and she asked, What’s wrong?

I’m always tired, Janet, he replied quietly. My kindergarten teacher called Mommy and Daddy; she was mad because I kept falling asleep in school, so they took me to see a doctor … wait, they said I’m not supposed to tell anyone about…

You can tell me; but don’t tell anyone else, OK? Janet reassured him, patting him on the shoulder. Smiling, she asked, So how did you like going to see a doctor?

I liked it; he was really nice to me, Toby replied. Suddenly frowning, he added, "Except that thing he puts on your chest is cold!"

I think it’s called a stethoscope, Janet explained with a smile. The doctor uses it to listen to your heartbeat.

Toby nodded and said, My Mommy and Daddy said now I’m going to go see another doctor that’s called a ‘spelicist.’

I think you mean ‘specialist,’ she explained, adding confidently, That means he’s someone who knows a whole lot about what he does. I’m sure that he can help you start to feel better.

But Mommy says I’m not supposed to tell anyone at church about this, Toby said, with a worried expression on his face.

That’s because at this church, they really don’t believe in using doctors, Janet replied with an exasperated sigh. She bent down and looked Toby straight in the eyes, and said firmly, "But you know what I think? I think that you and your Mommy and Daddy should go see anyone and do anything that they want to, if it will make you feel better, and not always be so tired—no matter what the people at this church say about it!"

Toby! the boy’s parents called out, as they emerged from the church. Seeing Janet and Toby standing by the floral display, they began walking quickly toward him, with Janet’s mother walking right behind them.

Mary reached over and squeezed Ellen’s hand, and said gratefully, "Thanks for … well, trying to understand, Ellen. We’ll let you know how things go." She took Toby’s hand, and they waved to Janet and her mother, and then headed to the parking lot.

Ellen said to Janet softly, It’s so sad when you see people giving themselves over to malicious Animal Magnetism … and it’s even more sad when they try to instill these false beliefs into their children. They began walking to the parking lot.

Mother, they’re just worried because their 5-year old son is really, really sick, Janet said, taking the car keys out of her purse. "They’ve been praying for him for almost two years—using only Christian Science Journal-listed Christian Science Practitioners—but Toby’s just not getting any better; what else do you expect them to do? She shrugged her shoulders, and added, Mother, everyone else in the whole world goes to doctors when they’re really sick; so why shouldn’t we…"

"Everyone else in the world doesn’t know the truth, as we do," her mother replied firmly.

Janet started to reply, but then just sighed with resignation and said, Come on, Mother; let’s go home.

PART ONE – THE COMING OF THE NEW AGE

(June 1978) Party Time

Happy day after high school graduation, and first day of summer vacation! the girl said to Janet, as she plopped herself down on the couch, placing her purse on the small coffee table in front of them. Taking an inexperienced puff of her cigarette, the girl asked Janet, What’s your sign? with smoke coming out of her mouth as she spoke.

My what? My sign? I don’t know, Janet replied, her voice somewhat slurred. She took a long swallow from her can of beer, and looked around the room: it was very noisy, with loud rock music coming from a huge set of quadraphonic speakers in the four corners of the room, as well as from the voices of about three dozen teenagers crowded into the house; the air was thick with cigarette smoke, as well as the sickly sweet odor of marijuana.

You don’t know your sign? I don’t believe it, the girl replied, with genuine amazement. When were you born?

March 4th, Janet replied, without interest.

The girl’s face lit up, and she said, Oh, that’s good, that means that you’re a Pisces; I get along with Pisces really well—it’s one of my most compatible signs. I’m a Cancer, by the way. She took another puff of her cigarette, and coughed slightly.

I wouldn’t know, Janet replied, and then swallowed the last of her beer, placing the empty can awkwardly on the end table next to the couch. Leaning back on the couch again, she explained, I’ve never really paid much attention to astrology, and that kind of stuff.

Oh, but you should, the girl said enthusiastically. Astrology tells you so much about yourself, and about other people.

Yeah, right, Janet replied, looking across the room to try and catch the eye of a young man—but he pretended not to see her, and continued his animated conversation with two other girls. In a sullen voice, Janet added, I already know about people, and as far as I’m concerned, all of the guys in the world are jerks! Especially Edward Garfield! She raised herself up from the overstuffed couch, and then reached across the coffee table to pull another can of beer from the ice chest, before settling back into the couch with a sigh, and popping the top of the can.

I’m not kidding, the girl said, looking closely at Janet, who was guzzling her new can of beer with determination. The girl said, Look, we’re in the same graduating class, but we’ve never really had any classes together. So you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, right? She placed her cigarette down in the ashtray.

Right, Janet said, burping loudly, as she placed the empty can on the end table.

"But just based on the fact that you’re a Pisces, I’d guess that you’re sensitive; creative; dreamy; emotional; and also kind of spiritual, rather than being ‘religious’ in a conventional way—you probably hate to go to church, for example, the girl said. Looking cockily at Janet, she asked, Am I right?"

Janet’s face had an expression of surprise on it, and she stammered, Well, uhh… yeah; but how did you…?

Of course, I’m just basing everything on your Sun Sign, the girl replied, picking up her cigarette again and taking a triumphant puff. You have to get an actual horoscope cast, to really be able to know yourself completely.

Horoscope? Janet asked, still sounding muddled. You mean those things they print in the newspaper, that tell you if today’s going to be a good day to do something, or…

The girl shook her head vehemently, and said, "No way! Those stupid daily horoscopes have nothing to do with real astrology! They’re written by phonies like Carroll Righter and Sydney Omarr just to make money. No, to get a true horoscope done, you have to have one done for you by a professional, after you’ve given them the exact date, time, and place of your birth. Earnestly, she drew circles in the air with her cigarette, and explained, You see, everything depends on the position of the Sun, moon, planets, and stars at the time of your birth: what sign is rising or ‘ascendant’ on the horizon when you’re born, which ‘house’ the planets are in, and so on."

Wow, Janet replied, gradually becoming impressed. It sounds really complicated.

It is, the girl replied with assurance. "Did you know that many of the most famous astronomers in history were also astrologers, such as Galileo, Kepler and Tycho Brahe? And so were famous philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras, and Euclid. And did you know that the Three Wise Men who followed the Star of Bethlehem to find the baby Jesus were really Magi, which means astrologers?"

Really? Janet replied, trying to stifle another burp. How do you know so much about this stuff?

I’ve read lots of books about it, the girl replied, taking a final puff on her cigarette, and then stubbing it out in the overflowing ashtray. Holding out her hand to shake, she said, By the way, my name’s Rachel Bolton.

Janet shook the outstretched hand, and replied, Hi; I’m Janet Tanhurst. Pointing to the ice chest next to the couch, she asked, Do you want a beer, or some pot, or…

No, thanks; I had some pot earlier, Rachel replied. I’m really not much of a drinker, and I only smoke enough pot to get a little bit of a buzz … just so that I can appreciate colors, and music more.

I don’t usually drink that much, either, Janet explained, as she pulled another can from the ice chest, and opened it. But I figured, ‘What the heck? You only graduate from high school once,’ right? And besides, that Graduation Dance they had for us last night was so lame, I figured…

So what are you going to do now? Are you going to get a job? Rachel interrupted. Or are you going on to college?

I’m going on to junior college, but I don’t really have any idea of what I’d want to major in, Janet replied, taking a swallow of her beer. But since I’m still living with my mother—and she said that if I’m not going to college, I’d have to get a full-time job and start paying rent—I figured that college was the lesser of two evils. So that gives me only another couple of months to party, before I have to start college. I’m also probably going to have to find a summer job, in the meantime. She looked over at Rachel, and asked, So what about you? You going to college, or what?

My parents don’t really care what I do—they’ve got lots of money, anyway—so I’m going to spend the summer with my older brother on a commune down in New Mexico. And if I like it, maybe I’ll move there permanently, like he has.

A commune? Janet asked, puzzled. You mean like hippies used to live on, back in the sixties? Seeing Rachel nod her head, she added, I didn’t think any of those places still existed.

"This one’s different: It’s a spiritual community, centered around a man who says that he’s an Avatar."

An ava-what? Janet replied woozily, shaking her head to clear it.

An Avatar, Rachel explained patiently. An Avatar is an incarnation of the divine in human form.

An incarnation, Janet repeated, without understanding. She asked slowly, What—you mean like Jesus, being the Son of God? and Rachel nodded her head. Suddenly suspicious, Janet asked, So why would you go to this place to see some guy who says he’s an Avatar?

To find God, Rachel replied immediately, without any hint of self-consciousness.

To find God, Janet repeated, taking a long pull from her beer. She said with a smirk, Personally, as soon as I turned eighteen three months ago, I finally told my Mother that I wasn’t going to go to church with her any more, and that was that; I haven’t been to a church since.

Rachel replied immediately, "But there’s a big difference between just going to some church, and seeking God. Looking at Janet thoughtfully, she asked, What kind of church did you go to?"

Christian Science, Janet mumbled, suddenly becoming embarrassed. Oh, God; she’ll probably say something like, ‘Oh, you mean those weird cultists who don’t believe in going to doctors?’

But Rachel looked genuinely relieved, and said, Oh, that’s not too bad; I was afraid you were going to say that you were a Southern Baptist, or something like that. Sometimes, it seems like everyone these days claims to have been ‘born again,’ and to have ‘accepted Jesus as their personal savior.’

Well, I hated my old church, Janet replied testily. Every little detail of every meeting and Sunday School lesson is planned out way in advance and sent down from the Headquarters church back in Boston; it’s the most boring one hour a week you can possibly imagine. Taking a large swallow from her can of beer, she added cockily, Frankly, I don’t even really care about God any more; I’ve got better things to do on Sunday mornings, than to think about Him … or Her.

"I still think you’re confusing God with going to church, Rachel replied, very seriously. I was raised in a Catholic church, but I quit going to Mass right after I was confirmed at age twelve, and I’ve never been to a church since … except to go to a wedding or a funeral, of course. Looking directly at Janet, she said earnestly, But now I’m really interested in finding God!"

Janet placed her can of beer on the end table, and said, Well, that’s good for you, but…

Have you ever tried to read the Bible when you’re stoned? Rachel asked, excitement in her voice.

Janet was momentarily stumped, and then replied slowly, No, but…

Rachel enthused, "It’s a completely different book; especially the gospels—the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount are just amazing—and all of the symbols in the last book, the Apocalypse, they just blow your mind. And praying is so cool, too, when you’ve had just a little bit of pot—not enough to really get loaded, but just enough to make you be able to pay more attention to things. You’ve got to try it."

Hmm; well, I guess I never thought about doing that—mostly, when I get drunk or loaded, I’m just getting drunk or loaded, and I’m not really paying attention to much of anything … and I’m probably feeling too guilty to ever want to read the Bible, or pray, Janet replied. She snorted, and added, But I only started drinking and smoking weed after my ex-boyfriend got me started.

You’re talking about Eddie Garfield, right? Rachel asked, and Janet nodded her head reluctantly. With an assured look on her face, Rachel said, He’s probably a Sagittarius, or more likely a Virgo; was he born between August 23rd and September 22nd?

He was born on September 2nd, Janet said, amazement in her voice. But how did you know…

Typical Virgo, Rachel said matter-of-factly. You should never have even gone out with him, and definitely never been his girlfriend; Virgo is the worst sign for Pisces.

With genuine curiosity, Janet asked, How do you know so much about astrology, and stuff like that?

I told you, I read books, Rachel replied, drumming her fingers on her purse impatiently.

You mean, like books from the Astrology section at B. Dalton’s in the mall…

No, dummy, Rachel replied, with a teasing note in her voice. I mean like books from a metaphysical bookstore!

A meta-what bookstore? Janet asked, looking puzzled again. She took another large swallow from her can of beer.

Metaphysical; in other words, a bookstore that sells nothing except books about God and spirituality, plus other cool stuff like Astrology, Rachel replied. "The best bookstore in this whole stupid town of Stentoria is called Whispering Winds Occult Books & Gifts; it’s just around the corner from that big hardware store in the Elm Street Shopping Centre. The lady that runs it knows about all kinds of stuff; she’s really interesting to talk to. Plus, they have all kinds of people who rent some of the rooms in the store, like professional astrologers—it’s a great place to go if you ever want to get a real horoscope cast, by the way—and Tarot card readers, or…"

Tarot cards? Janet asked, and Rachel nodded. Recognition dawning on her face, Janet said, You mean those ugly cards that have devils and skeletons on them, and…

Tarot cards are used for divination and fortune-telling; they’ve been around for more than a thousand years; and they’re actually the ancestors of our modern playing cards, Rachel explained, as she reached inside her purse, and pulled out an oversized deck of cards, holding them out for Janet’s inspection. Patiently, she explained, "The four suits are called the Minor Arcana: Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles. Then the cards with pictures on them are called the Major Arcana, but they aren’t just those ‘bad’ cards you mentioned—they also have ‘good’ cards like the High Priestess, the Empress, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Lovers…"

But what good are those cards? Jana asked, fingering her can of beer nervously.

"They’re like Astrology—they’re used for self-exploration, and they can really help you to guide your life; this woman who rents space at that bookstore I told you about is teaching me about them, and she reads her own cards every single day, Rachel replied. Even the cards that look scary—like the Devil, the Hanged Man, and Death—are useful, because they can help you to avoid the evil portents that may be on the…"

If I was going to die, I wouldn’t want to know about it, Janet replied immediately, holding her can of beer close to her chest, defensively.

Oh, but you should want to know about it, Rachel replied. "You see, Tarot is like Astrology; it shows you influences, things that may be on the horizon for you, but they aren’t necessarily going to happen. Besides, once you’ve been forewarned, there are things you can do that will prevent these bad portents from actually happening; as the astrologers say, ‘The stars impel, but they do not compel.’ In other words, things may generally be leaning in a certain direction for you, but you still have your free will, and so you can take action to prevent these things from taking place; that’s why knowing about Astrology and Tarot is so important."

Janet still didn’t look convinced, so Rachel pulled the small coffee table closer to them, and began shuffling the deck of cards, saying, Look, I’m not very good at doing them myself yet, but I’ll try and show you how it works. Janet sat up, genuinely interested, as Rachel began arranging the cards in her hand, saying, I’m using what they call the ‘Universal Waite’ deck—even though it was a woman named Pamela Colman Smith who actually drew the pictures on them—which is the most popular deck used today. I’ll just do a basic ‘Celtic Cross spread,’ like this… and she placed the first card face up on the table.

It showed a grinning skeleton riding on a horse, standing over a prone man, and facing a weeping woman and child; it bore the ominous description, "DEATH."

Rachel immediately picked up the card, and said apologetically, "Wait, I forgot; I’m supposed to let you be the one to shuffle the cards first, and…" but it was too late—Janet had already grabbed her purse and jumped up from the couch, and began moving unsteadily but quickly toward the door.

Rachel called out after her, "Janet, getting that card doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s your death, or the death of someone you know, or care for; it could just mean that death is going to touch your life, somehow; or even that it’s time for you to move on from some aspect of your life, and…"

I told you: those cards are ugly, and stupid! Janet hissed back at her from the door. They don’t mean anything! I’m leaving!

Rachel stood up quickly and started walking after Janet, saying urgently, "But Janet, you still need to be very careful driving home; look, I can give you a ride, or…"

But Janet was already out the front door, and walking to her car.

***** (Ten minutes later)

Janet slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing a car that was coming through the intersection; the driver honked as he drove past, and glared at her angrily. Oh, great, she thought. I nearly ran a red light, and got into a wreck. With a grim smile, she thought, Which would have made that stupid DEATH card come true, after all. She backed her car up to get it completely out of the intersection, grateful that there were no other cars behind her. It would be just my luck to get pulled over by a cop, after I’ve been drinking and smoking pot; Mother would have a fit, and probably ground me for life.

As her light finally turned green, she drove through the intersection with exaggerated caution, saying to herself emphatically, Come on, Jan; you’ve got to maintain, until you get to your bedroom; otherwise, Mother will know that you didn’t go out to a movie this evening. There were thankfully no further incidents, and she was soon turning the car around the corner of the street where she and her mother lived; she breathed a silent prayer as she finally parked the car safely in their driveway. As she turned off the car’s engine, she was suddenly aware of the pungent smell of tobacco and marijuana smoke on her clothes. She held up her palm in front of her mouth, exhaled forcefully, and sniffed her breath. Oh, God, she thought with dismay. Mother will know I’ve been drinking, for sure. How am I ever going to be able to sneak into my room or into the bathroom without her stopping me?

She quickly popped another couple of breath mints into her mouth, and forced herself to be calm. She looked at her eyes in the rear-view mirror, and thought, Jeez, do I ever look loaded, and she reached in her purse for some Visine. Blinking as she applied the eye drops, she wiped the excess moisture from her eyes, smearing her mascara as she did so. She quickly brushed her long hair, and thought, Remember, you’re supposed to have gone out with a couple of female friends to a movie, and maybe out for ice cream afterwards; so you need to look like you’ve got it together. She carefully reapplied her lipstick and mascara, and sprayed cologne generously over herself, hoping to mask all the other odors. She finally opened the car door as quietly as she could, thinking, Well, here goes nothing…

As she climbed out of the car, she thought with indignity (fueled by alcohol), I’m so tired of Mother treating me like a child; I’m eighteen years old, I’ve just graduated from high school with good grades, and I’ll be starting junior college in the fall—what more does she want from me? So what if I like to party sometimes? All of the other kids do it, too…what else is there to do in Stentoria, during the summer? It’s not like this is the ‘recreation capital’ of California…

Suddenly noticing that there was another car parked in front of their house, she thought with sudden relief, Oh, good; Mother’s got company—maybe I’ll be able to sneak in and take a shower and get into bed before she catches me.

As silently as possible, she crept up the front steps and unlocked the front door, peering cautiously into the living room as she slowly opened it. She noticed Leicia Anderson—one of the leaders of the Christian Science church that her mother attended—sitting next to her mother on the couch, obviously engaged in a serious conversation, not even noticing that Janet had just entered the house. So far, so good, she breathed gratefully, as she tiptoed over to the hall. They’re talking Christian Science junk; now if I can just sneak into the shower before they…

Ellen, matter and death are but mortal illusions, Leicia said firmly. Only the spiritual is real and eternal…

"This isn’t an illusion, Leicia! Janet’s mother insisted. Toby is dead! The Smallings have lost their only son! What’s ‘illusory’ about that?"

Janet froze in mid-step, shocked by what she was hearing. Toby? He’s dead? Is that what they’re saying? She stopped just outside the entrance to the living room, to listen intently to the continuing conversation.

Well, if the Smallings hadn’t given themselves over to false beliefs and Malicious Animal Magnetism, he wouldn’t have…

They only took him to a regular doctor after he’d been treated by three different certified Christian Science Practitioners for two years, and he only got worse and worse! Ellen shot back.

But Toby clearly wasn’t helped by those so-called ‘medical treatments,’ was he? Leicia said coldly. And maybe if the Smallings hadn’t lost their faith and dropped out of church, but had continued to support their son’s own developing faith…

And maybe if they’d started the medical treatments when he first got sick, Toby would still be alive—but no; you and everyone else at church told them that they had to show ‘faith,’ and… Ellen stopped suddenly, holding her hands to her cheeks guiltily. She shook her head bitterly, and said in an agonized voice, And I was one of those people who at first told them to stay away from medical doctors. But once I realized how serious Toby’s condition really was, I supported their decision to…

Nothing is beyond the power of the mind to heal, through God’s Spirit, Leicia interrupted.

I’m not going to argue with you any more, Leicia, Ellen said firmly. Standing up suddenly, she said, Good night! She crossed her arms stubbornly.

Leicia’s lips tightened, but she stood up calmly and picked up her purse, then began walking to the door, ignoring the stunned Janet who was standing by the hallway. As Leicia reached the door, she turned back and said politely, Good night, then, Ellen.

Ellen came over and silently held the door open for her. As Leicia stepped onto the porch, Ellen added, Oh, and by the way; don’t expect me to volunteer to work at the Reading Room on Saturdays any more. Frankly, I’m not even sure if I’m going to attend Sunday services any more.

As you wish, Ellen, Leicia replied with a sniff, and she walked down the steps and down the sidewalk to her car, without looking back.

Ellen closed the door, and for the first time noticed Janet, who had an expression of shock on her face.

Mother, did I hear right? Janet gasped. Toby Smallings is…

Yes, he’s gone, her mother said regretfully. Looking at Janet intently, she suddenly made a terrible face, and said caustically, Disgusting! You smell like tobacco smoke and cheap liquor! What kind of condition is this to come home in? You told me that you were going to a movie with some friends from school!

We went … to a drive-in, and … some of my friends smoke, and… Janet replied, weakly. Defensively, she added, Mother, I just graduated from high school, and I start college in two months—I’m not a kid any more! And I wasn’t smoking, but some of my friends were, so that’s why I smell like cigarettes. And I only had a couple of beers, and…

I know what someone who’s intoxicated smells like! Her mother hissed. I lived with your father for nearly fifteen years, before he finally died of cirrhosis of the liver! She suddenly put her hand to her chest, and said weakly, I feel faint…

Immediately concerned, Janet lurched forward to try and assist her mother, but her hands were pushed away.

Get away from me! I can’t stand being around you while you’re in this condition! She walked over and sat down on the couch, shaking her head and saying to herself miserably, My only daughter is running wild, and I can already tell that she’s going to take after her father. What have I ever done to deserve this…?

Janet started to reply, but then gave up and turned around and retreated down the hall.

As she walked, she shed bitter tears.

In memory of poor little Toby…

(July 1978) The Bookstore

Janet stood outside, looking at the hand-painted lettering on the window: Whispering Winds Occult Books & Gifts. Very self-consciously (and feeling like every other person in the shopping center parking lot was watching her), she quickly opened the door, and tried to slip inside unobtrusively … but as soon as she opened the door, several bells hanging on the door jangled loudly. Oh, great, she thought with dismay. So much for my chance of getting in and out unnoticed.

Her nostrils were immediately aware of the pungent smell of incense—of a strong, but not unpleasant scent. Soft classical music was playing in the background: Bach’s Air on the G String, she recognized immediately, having heard her mother play it many times on records at home. She quickly moved over to a nearby bookshelf, to try and look inconspicuous, and hopefully be able to explore the store without attracting any attention to herself.

Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be any other customers in the store. Looking up, she noticed with surprise that the large bookshelf she was standing in front of was labeled Astrology, and she gazed with amazement at all of the books in front of her. Dang, I’ve never seen so many books about Astrology, she thought breathlessly, as she looked over all of the titles. No wonder Rachel likes this store; they’ve got ten times as much as the B. Dalton bookstore at the mall. With curiosity, she picked up a book called Astrology for Beginners, and glanced through it, before deciding to keep it. Next, she picked up a book dealing with her own astrological sign of Pisces.

Can I help you find anything?

Janet was startled by the question coming from behind her, and turned nervously to see an elegant-looking woman of about 40 years with very light-brown hair extending far down her back, who was wearing a long flowery caftan.

Uhh … no, thank you, Janet replied, embarrassed by the attention.

The older woman smiled in a friendly way, and said, Enjoy browsing, and take as long as you like; just let me know if you need any help with anything. I’ll be over by the register, unpacking some new books.

Okay; thanks, Janet replied, and the woman turned and walked quietly away. Janet breathed a sigh of relief.

Janet began to feel more and more comfortable in the store. She wandered up and down all of the aisles, amazed by the variety of books she saw there. They’ve got everything here, Janet said, shaking her head in amazement, as she picked up a book on Tarot. Not only do they have books, they’ve also got all kinds of incense, oils, jewelry, charms, and herbs. The bells at the door to the shop jangled loudly again; as Janet continued with her browsing, she indistinctly heard the store owner greet the new arrival with familiarity.

One book suddenly caught Jana’s eye: it was called Life After Life. She picked it up with curiosity, and saw that it was written by Raymond A. Moody, M.D. Intrigued, she read the book’s cover, which announced, Actual case histories that reveal there is life after death. And it’s written by a doctor? she thought, as she flipped through the pages of the book with excitement. Maybe this would tell me something about where poor Toby is now…

Oh, my God—look who’s here! came a voice from behind Janet. Janet turned and was startled to see Rachel standing behind her, with a look of pleased amazement on her face.

Oh; hi, Rachel, Janet said shyly, but glad to see her.

I can’t believe you took my suggestion and came here; isn’t this just the coolest bookstore you’ve ever seen? Rachel said, grinning broadly. Pointing at the book that Janet had just picked up, she asked, What’s that?

Shyly, Janet showed Rachel the book she was holding, and Rachel immediately recognized it.

That’s not a bad book, Rachel said, nodding her head. Only I thought it was slanted too much in the direction of the Christian conception of life after death; Dr. Moody hardly even mentions reincarnation, for example. She asked, What religion did you say you were? I forgot.

My mother is a Christian Scientist, but I’m not…

Do Christian Scientists believe in reincarnation?

No; at least, I’ve never heard any of them ever mention it, Janet replied with uncertainty. I was just looking at this book because … well, a little boy that I knew died a couple of weeks ago, and I thought it might tell me something about him…

Rachel nodded sympathetically, and said, That’s too bad; but that’s exactly why you really need to study reincarnation. Taking Moody’s book from Rachel’s hand, she tapped its cover, and said, You see, if you only believe in the Christian conception of life after death—where you’re here only one time, then there’s Heaven and Hell, and that’s it—there’s just so much in life that’s totally unfair. How old was this boy you knew, anyhow?

Toby? Janet said, thinking for a moment. About seven; I hadn’t seen him for quite a while, because his parents dropped out of my mother’s church.

You see what I mean? Rachel replied, with assurance. How is it fair that a little boy like that dies when he’s only seven years old, while other people live to be seventy or eighty years old, or even a hundred? She shook her head, and said, And what about kids who die even younger? And babies? Wouldn’t it be totally unfair for God to let some kids die young like that, before they’d even really had a chance to live? That’s why we all need a next life, to help balance things out.

Janet thought for a moment, and then replied tentatively, Yeah; I guess that makes sense.

What other books have you got? Rachel asked, and Janet handed her the three books in her hand. All right! Rachel replied, pleased as she looked the books over. Astrology and Tarot! These are some good choices.

Hesitantly, Janet said, Well, I got the book on Tarot because … you remember how you pulled out that Tarot card for me at the graduation party? The DEATH card? Rachel nodded, and Janet continued, Well, I don’t know if it was just a coincidence or not, but it was that same night I found out that little Toby had died earlier that day, and…

It wasn’t a coincidence, Rachel replied confidently. That’s one of the main functions of Tarot cards and Astrology; they help you to prepare for what’s going to happen, so that it doesn’t sneak up on you. Motioning for Janet to follow her, she said, Come on, let’s find you a good book on Reincarnation. After browsing through the large Reincarnation section, Rachel recommended Ian Stevenson’s book, Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation. She explained, He’s a doctor, too, just like Raymond Moody is.

Looking doubtfully at the large, hardcover volume, Janet said weakly, Uhh… is there something that’s not quite so long? And expensive?

Rachel nodded, then picked out a copy of You Will Live Again by Brad Steiger, and handed it to Janet. "This one’s a good book for beginners; Steiger writes about all kinds of paranormal stuff, like UFOs. In his book, Gods of Aquarius, for example, he talked about what he called ‘Star People,’ who are beings from outer space that are becoming active now in order to help us survive a coming Great Purification of our planet."

Well, I think I’ve got enough books for now, Janet said, with a worried expression. I’m not that rich; I’m only working part-time during the summer, at MacDougal’s.

"MacDougal’s? That’s gross," Rachel said, making a face.

My sentiments exactly, Janet replied. But it’s the only summer job I could find.

Rachel nodded and said, Let’s go get you checked out. She led the way to the counter, stopping at a shelf along the way to pick up several small vials of scented oils, and a small package of some kind of purplish plant leaves. Pointing at the leaves, she informed Janet, These herbs make great tea; in case you hadn’t noticed, they sell lots of stuff here besides books.

I noticed, Janet replied, looking around the store in amazement. In a teasing voice, she said to Rachel, You mean that after encouraging me to buy all of these books, you’re not going to buy any yourself?

I can’t, Rachel replied. I’m leaving Friday night to stay at that commune in New Mexico with my brother; I told you about it at the grad party, remember? Janet nodded her head, and Rachel added, While you’re living there, you can’t read any books at all … except for books written by the Avatar himself, of course.

Janet nodded, and placed her books on the checkout counter.

Hello again, Rachel and friend, the middle-aged woman behind the counter said pleasantly, as she took the books that Janet handed her.

Hi, Whisper, Rachel replied with a buoyant expression. How are you?

I’m doing pretty well; I have a bit of a lingering headache, maybe, the older woman replied. Turning to Janet, she asked with a smile, Did you find everything you were looking for?

I found lots more than I was originally looking for; but thanks, Janet replied, returning the smile.

Rachel said, Janet, this lady owns this store—her name is Whisper, which is why she calls it ‘Whispering Winds.’ Whisper, this is Janet Tanhurst.

Janet extended her hand, and the older woman also reached out, but she didn’t really shake Janet’s hand; she just held it in hers for a few moments, while she intently studied Janet’s face.

It’s nice to meet you, Janet, the woman said with a beautiful smile, as she gently released Janet’s hand. I hope we’ll see you again. She then began ringing up Janet’s purchases.

You probably will, Janet admitted, as she opened up her purse and took out some cash, which she placed on the counter. This is a really interesting store.

And remember that they’ve got all kinds of classrooms down that hall, too, Rachel said, pointing down the hallway with her finger. You can make an appointment to talk with a psychic, have your horoscope cast, have Tarot cards done for you, have your palm read, and all kinds of other things.

Really? Janet said with interest. She looked at Whisper and asked, So all those people work for you?

Oh, heavens, no, Whisper replied with a chuckle, shaking her head as she handed Janet her change, then started to ring up Rachel’s purchases. They work for themselves; they just pay rent to me, since I’m the one who holds the lease on this space. It’s kind of like how a lot of beauticians in a salon just rent their station space from the salon’s owner. Sweeping her hand to indicate the entire bookstore, she said, You see, this used to be a business office—insurance, I think they sold—and they conducted the main part of their business out here, and the back rooms were for the supervisors and managers, who had their own private offices. When I was first looking around for a place for my bookstore, I loved the size and location of this place, but there’s no way I could have afforded to pay the entire rent by myself. But fortunately, there are lots of local people with special gifts who need a place to meet with their clients, but who can’t afford a full-time office, either; so this rental arrangement works out fine for them as well. And whenever they want to hold larger meetings, we just have them out here in the bookstore, after hours.

Wow; that’s pretty cool, Janet said, looking around and imagining a group of people holding a meeting in the store.

Giving Janet a wink, Whisper added, "Plus, I pick up lots of new bookstore customers from people who come in to get their