Ashanti's Symphony: Every Soul has a tone, occasionally one comes along with a Symphony

By Lenita Vangellis

What if you woke up to discover that you’re not who or what you think you are?

In a world where most people define their reality by what is tangible, Ashanti remembers a world beyond.

As the life she knows comes crashing down around her, an inter-dimensional portal opens up to reveal a realm of sacred codes, mysterious inter-galactic beings, super human feats and a love that has survived eternity.

Each and every step she takes is fueled with divine purpose, touching the lives of all who cross her path, leaving them changed forever.

The stage is set and the curtain is drawn to reveal a world where the lines between fiction and nonfiction are blurred, exposing the magic that is Ashanti’s Symphony.

 

Ashanti’s Symphony/ Reviews

I just finished the book 2 days ago...there are no words...the best book I have ever read, life changing, my world looks different now, more beautiful. Thankyou so much for your gift xxxxx

(Louise B)

Half way into your book and I've cried, laughed, smiled and felt every cell of emotions come to surface....touched the core of my heart.....I'm completely in awe.... I'm in the vortex and loving the journey!!!  To say it's out of this world doesn't even cut it...it's friggin brilliant!!! :)))) I love, love, love, love it... I want more!!!!! Xxxx

(Poppy D)

"In Lak'ech Ala K'in" has a powerful frequency! Last night it happened..the instant my eyes read this code in "Ashanti's Symphony" on my kindle, I felt my heart pound, followed by sobs and tears. I knew I'd been activated for my spirituality had been dimmed since my father passed 2 years ago, but I was also aware of Spirit's trust in my "Brightening its path" someday. Spirit does love unconditionally. Thank you Lenita Vangellis for your precious, creative and spiritual gift to humanity.

(thegoodlife4eva)

Thank you! Your book has been handed to me at a perfect time and for some reasons I understand and others I am yet to uncover. Your beautiful soul radiates and inspires. Thank you x

(Pauline G)

Namaste Lenita! I picked up Ashanti’s Symphony last night on the NEW Moon!

I couldn’t put it down! Even though I relate and understand absolutely every

word of it- it just captivated me! Especially that part of me that is here for all humanity! I stayed up late again (3am) reading...reading.....reading last night! Very hard to put it down!

This MasterPeace of storytelling will absolutely touch the hearts and awaken

all who are graced and guided to read it! Just writing to some friends today I described your inspiring work as thrilling... enthralling...captivating...mind expanding...elucidating and liberating! I really treasure the way you so cleverly weave the Universal principles through your dialogue!

A Master once told me to always wrap up the truth in a delectable wrapper and you have done it so adeptly!

This Masterpeace is a must for all the awakening neophytes out there and I will be networking it far and wide! Thank you for your Herculean efforts on behalf of this sacred planet we currently journey and reunite upon - to support all who seek the Light of reason!!

(Robin B)

I feel absolutely in awe of the synchronistic events that have led me to you and your beautiful book. I would like to express my gratitude to you for bringing this timely creative spiritual book to humanity. We are living in amazing magical times. Your Book is going to be a major catalyst to the next wave of awakening and expanding the human consciousness ... I feel this and your Love is already working it magic....the Butterfly effect.... my heart is expanding since reading only 1

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Mar 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469154732

Lenita Vangellis

Lenita Vangellis Lenita Vangellis came into the world the same year that Walt Disney exited, the Sound of Music won the Oscar for best picture and the Earth’s population had exceeded 3.4 billion people. After an agonising 48 hour struggle down the birth canal she thought here I go again, Planet Earth!...hmmm what a ride this is going to be.. She was right! AFI nominated actor, model, singer, songwriter, artist, author, mother, wife and Energetic practitioner... So many labels, one life. Then came the awakening... The only label Lenita wears these days is her name. Someone who recognises that they are divine light and consciously works towards the co-creation of a new Earth from a place of Unconditional Love; a true Lightworker. Her expositions of truth acquaint the reader with the notion of BEing. From this platform of truth and integrity Lenita Vangellis transforms and empowers.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE 

Today marks the six-month anniversary of my visits to Dr. Grayson. Fifty-two visits to be exact. My life was in shambles, my heart still broken, and peace was a fantasy word that seemed to elude me, belonging only to orange-clad monks residing in some temple far, far away. Ironic really, since my whole life I’ve been called Shanti, short for Ashanti, and for the first time in my twenty-seven years, I hated my name. It felt like God’s cruel joke. Shanti means peace.

Sitting on the beach, I noticed a lone surfer attempting to ride the pathetic excuse for waves that day; even the ocean couldn’t be bothered. After numerous attempts, he gave up. Wise move, surfer dude, the waves don’t wanna play. He undid his ankle strap, picked up his board, and headed up the beach.

I sat alone cross-legged on a rock reserved for thinkers; my huge black sunglasses shielded me from direct eye contact with the world. Mama always said I didn’t need to speak—my eyes said it all, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like saying anything.

Surfer dude was a couple of meters away from where I was sitting when he disrupted my thoughts.

The form on the beach is better than the form in the ocean, he purred, followed by a wink and an Elvis-like smile. I attempted a polite response but only managed a Yeah right that exited my mouth a little drier than I hoped. He continued walking up to where he left his belongings, sensing I was not open to conversation.

I grabbed a mandarin from my bag and began to peel it. The smell of the residue on my fingers was comforting and reminded me of the old mandarin tree in the backyard of my childhood home. This tree was overly abundant, providing us and anyone who came to visit with more fruit than we could consume. Sometimes I wouldn’t even eat the fruit; I would just scratch the peel and smell my fingers. There was nothing quite as soothing to my senses…

Images of Mama’s smile and Dad’s distinct laughter flooded my mind until my body ached from top to bottom as though I had been done over with a baseball bat. This incessant pulsating pain reverberated through every cell of my body. Eighteen months ago, their lives were wiped out in an instant.

They were on a road trip back from Nevada when a twenty-three-year-old student, texting while driving at over eighty miles per hour, hit them head-on, killing them instantly. He miraculously survived but paid the price by putting himself in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. A moment in time is all it took to change his reality from an active participant of life to an immobile observer. I was certain, between the guilt and immobility, he wished he hadn’t survived.

August 7,2008, is a day tattooed into the time line of my life, the day before my twenty-fifth birthday. I was on location in the Caribbean, styling a photo shoot with an upcoming starlet for a special edition of Harper’s Bazaar when I received the call. We were due to fly out to New York the following morning. I was looking forward to getting back and celebrating my birthday with a few of my besties. It was a rare occasion for us all, since we were rarely in the same city together these days. I had left my birthday arrangements with Tory, the sister I never had.

Tory was an obsessive compulsive with an attention to detail like no other. I knew she didn’t require a briefing from me as Tory knew me better than anyone and would make everything perfect. In fact, knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had even organized my outfit for the night; she’s probably laid everything out on my bed, shoes and accessories included. Tory had a natural tendency to mother everyone, especially me; she would often tell me in her put-on cartoon voice I have to protect you. You’re such a sensitive trippy soul. I’m the only one that really gets you, Shanti. Then she’d burst into fits of laughter. Our connection was undeniable from the moment we met in high school. We were total opposites.

I picked up my phone and dialed Tory’s number in New York. Tory? Mama and Dad… And that’s all I remember before the lights went out.

Not long after, I came to in Robbie’s arms. Robbie Ravesi was a creative genius with hair and makeup, another one of my closest friends. We had met six years ago in LA when I was apprentice to the Sara Bulliogne, stylist to the stars. I loved him to death, and he loved me. We were partners in crime and often booked together on jobs. The unique synergy we had as a team never went unnoticed by the demanding clientele we worked for. Our agent’s catchphrase to new clients was, You’ll get what you pay for with this duo, and we never disappointed.

Don’t worry, Angelbum—Robbie’s term of endearment for me— I’m with you every step of the way. Tory will meet us in LA. You won’t be alone for a second. I love you, baby girl.

I curled up in the fetal position, fell into his arms, and cried acid tears into the night. Robbie was the other sister I never had, more than Tory in some ways.

The days that followed were a blur. Tory stepped in and took charge organizing everything; all I can remember was signing some paperwork as best I could, since holding a pen took colossal effort. The family home in LA was cleaned out and locked up until a later time when I could muster up the strength required to clear things out and decide what to do with it all.

On the day of the funeral, as I watched the coffins holding the remains of my parents lowered into the earth, I felt a rumble beneath my feet that rose up into my heart, threatening to stop it from beating; but beat it did. A week later, I was back in New York. I opened the door to my Greenwich apartment to find my birthday outfit lying on my bed as I suspected, with shoes and jewels to match.

I threw myself facedown on my pillow and screamed for the longest time, eventually drifting into a blue haze that drew me deeper into a temporary sea of comfort.

Shaaaantiiiiii… Shaaaantiiiiii… Shaaaantiiiii…

I looked up and saw Mama standing right beside my bed. An immobilizing force surrounded me, keeping me unusually calm. She glowed with the most beautiful emerald green light around her, and with smiling eyes, began to speak.

Don’t be scared, baby girl. We are fine. I was hoping to surprise you in New York for your birthday. I had so many things to share with you and felt it was time. These twenty-two years that you were in our lives were the highlight for both Dad and me… you are special, Shanti. Don’t let the human experience tarnish your magnificence. We’re not really gone, you know… just a thought is all it takes… and…

I sat bolt upright, replaying the words of my mother in my head over and over, trying to make sense of what she was saying, when I was abruptly interrupted by someone knocking on the door. I dragged myself off the bed and placed my feet on the ground, unsure if I could even walk. Finally managing to stand up, I began making my way down the hallway, trying not to fall over the baggage that I had strewn across the floor the night before. I opened the door to find Lexi Russo standing there. Lexi threw her arms around me, crying.

I’m so sorry, Shanti. I wish I could’ve been there last week! I just flew in from London and came to you as soon as I could!

I released myself from Lexi’s bear hug and, in a barely audible volume, ushered her in and gestured for her to put the coffee on while I took a shower.

Lexi had gone to London earlier than normal that year; the shows were starting in September, but her agent had booked work for the weeks preceding Fashion Week. She was hot property right now, thanks to her French Vogue cover that had hit the stands three months ago. Lexi was milking it for all it was worth until the next best thing came along. When she heard the news of my folks, she cancelled all bookings, telling her agent there was a family emergency and she would be back in a few weeks, in time for the shows. She knew how the loss of my parents would affect me and felt the need to be by my side. In fact, all my closest friends had worked out a schedule for the next few weeks, a tag team to never leave me feeling alone. Considering we all worked in an industry where only the fittest survived and every man was out for himself, I felt truly blessed to have so many real heart-connected friendships. We were family.

My relationships with both Mama and Dad were really tight—not just because I was an only child, but there was an unusual bond and closeness that all my friends had commented on over the years. Robbie was with me the last time I visited and couldn’t believe that at twenty-five years of age, I would still tackle Dad and give him bear hugs while suffocating him with kisses. I loved jumping on his back, in a not-so-ladylike fashion, and make him piggyback me around the yard. It did help that he was so tall and strong for his sixty-eight years. Robbie would pull his Joan Crawford face. Angelbum, don’t you think that’s a tad weird at your age, seriously… ? That was my cue to turn around and tackle Robbie to the ground, tickling him until he begged for mercy. I still felt like a kid and refused to grow up in many ways.

What does growing up mean anyway? Why did taking life seriously seem to be a trait perceived as adult? I’ve never been able to shake the idea that life on earth is a playground, and playing is what keeps one’s heart light and joyful. But right now, for the first time in my life, I was struggling with light and joyful; and the truth is, it never once crossed my mind that they wouldn’t be around. I just never thought about it. Our love lived in a place called forever…

And forever doesn’t end…

By the time I showered and reemerged, looking and feeling a little more alive than I did fifteen minutes earlier, Lexi had made coffee and smoked five cigarettes. I grabbed three incense sticks, lit them, and placed them around the apartment.

I must’ve told Lexi a thousand times before that if she must smoke, she has to do it on the terrace, but it always seemed to go in one ear and out the other. She was such an airhead at the best of times, but the look I shot toward her obviously got through as she put her sixth cigarette back into the packet.

"Lexi, I had the strangest dream last night, but I don’t know if it was a dream."

With her head cocked to the side, Lexi questioned me with an air of authority, Well, it’s pretty simple, Shanti. Were you asleep or not?

"Well, that’s the thing. I was asleep, and then I think I woke up, but I’m not really sure… anyway, I could hear my name being called. It sounded like it was coming from afar. I opened my eyes and saw Mama standing by my bed."

Lexi’s eyes widened with fear, "What do you mean you saw her? Like a ghost or real life?"

I gave her a dubious look.

"What do you mean real life, Lexi? Are you serious?"

Realizing how stupid her question was, she attempted a correction. What I mean is, was it like a see-through apparition, or did you see her like solid?

I paused, trying to find words to describe the ethereal quality of what I did see.

She wasn’t see-through, but there was this incredible glow about her. She was bathed in the most amazing emerald green light. It seemed to radiate out of her chest. There was a peaceful stillness about her… But it’s not the vision as much as what she said. It didn’t really make sense, especially about being in their lives for twenty-two years—I’m twenty-five.

Lexi looked around nervously from side to side, her eyes scanning the entire apartment; she was never comfortable speaking about anything she couldn’t see, hear, touch, taste, or smell. I decided to drop the subject; she wasn’t the one I should be talking to about this.

Don’t worry about it, Lex. It must have been a dream. I never ever thought about them not being here. It’s going to take some getting used to.

The timing of the phone ringing was perfect; it stopped before I could answer it, but brought to my attention a full message bank on my answering machine. I quickly flipped through messages of sympathy from all over the world and stopped to listen to the message from Alana.

Alana Mayfair was my agent of four years; we both started in this business at the same time. I took a chance going with a novice for representation, but it was a risk that paid off. In less than three years, she had risen to the top and had a reputation for being the hardest negotiator in the game. After expressing her condolences, she quickly got down to business.

Shanti, call me when you get a minute. I’ve got something that could be perfect for you. Riva Maverick is doing a world tour at the moment, and the stylist couldn’t hack the pressure—she left them out in the cold. They need someone over in Belgium ASAP to take over, thought of you straightaway… They’re willing to double your rate… I think you should do it. Call me!

Lexi looked at me with a look of distaste. It’s all about money for them! Can you believe her? You haven’t even dried your tears, and she’s ready to put you on a plane again, fucking cold bitch!

A stifled laugh left my mouth. Relax, Lexi, she’s only doing her job. And anyway, this could be just what I need.

Lexi’s look conveyed she wasn’t at all convinced, but she refrained from commenting. I was already making arrangements to get out of here… escapism felt like a great option.

CHAPTER TWO 

Riva Maverick’s world tour was a godsend. I immersed myself into work and welcomed every distraction that kept me from myself and all I was feeling. Occupying my mind with mundane things like which shoes worked with the third outfit change and letting out the corset for Riva after overindulgence in Italy suited me just fine.

I began to experience a heightened sensitivity to my surroundings; I could feel things that I was unable to explain within the context of five senses. The old cities of Europe were steeped in history, and on many occasions, I received strange visions that seemed to belong to another time. In Rome, these visions were accompanied by physical sensations running through my body that forced me to stop whatever I was doing until it passed.

It was during this time that I also became aware of a very distinct difference between myself and most people around me, and I have Alana to thank for that. During one of the many conversations we had, she made a comment referring to my relationship status and how being single made me a dream client for her. I had no emotional ties that influenced my decisions for work. I had never really thought about my lack of desire to find a mate even with all the romantic dramas that surrounded me through my friends. That seemed to be their thing, not mine.

I had lost my virginity to a boy in high school but remembered it being more like some sort of initiation into becoming a woman. I recall feeling that was not what it was meant to be like. I liked him a lot; he was smart and quite cute, but the connection was more in the head than the heart. Tory convinced me he was special, and I convinced myself too; after all, you’ve got to start somewhere. Our relationship was short-lived, I just couldn’t shake the feeling or the words that reverberated in my head every time we were together… He is not the one, Shanti . . . Whatever that meant.

I just wanted to play; relationships were for serious folks, and I had no interest in getting serious. From where I stood, seriousness looked like a very grey place, and I preferred my technicolored wonderland.

After a few others came and went (my attempt at being like everyone else), I had a massive realization that changed the way I viewed life and relationships of the intimate kind. I realized that I was not governed by hormones and physical urges; in fact, you could say that I felt a disconnection from the physical. This had absolutely nothing to do with the sexual prowess of the partners I had; many of them were experienced, confident lovers that went to great lengths selflessly to please. The experience was always one-dimensional and not something I felt I needed. I was perfectly fine without it. Of course, I never voiced that to anyone, especially my closest friends. They were always pointing out potential suitors attached to a list of reasons they could be good for me. I’d laugh and brush it off over and over again, and they would say, We know! NI… Not interested, shaking their heads in frustration. Why they felt I needed to be in a relationship was beyond me—that program belonged to them, not me.

The tour eventually came to an end, and I was back in New York. I must admit I had missed my home. Tory had the place cleaned and freshened up from top to bottom. My favorite white lilies standing proud in a vase on my coffee table greeted me as I walked in. She paid such attention to detail.

It was almost a year since the accident, and I still thought of them both every day. I was doing all right and felt incredibly blessed to be living the life I did. Work didn’t feel like work to me; it was fun and an extension of my playground.

The family home in Los Angeles was cleared out, and everything was put into storage, courtesy of Aunty Janice. She was my mother’s childhood friend and a huge part of my childhood, at least what I could remember of it. There was a period between the ages of seven and ten where the memories are somewhat blurred and distorted. I had rented the house out for the time being until I could decide whether to sell it or not.

During this period, I inherited another property in Zuma Beach, California, left to me by an old friend of my mother. I received a call from her lawyers, who informed me of the request she had left in her will. I was sad to hear of her passing and surprised that I was the sole beneficiary.

Melody Turner was a Vegas showgirl who spent her entire life looking for love in all the wrong places. As a child, I remember her crying and disheveled on more than one occasion, seeking solace in the arms of my mother. The official cause of death was cancer, but I knew she died of a broken heart a long time before the date on her death certificate.

At almost twenty-six years of age, I was in a pretty good financial position. Robbie, who was a financial wiz, offered me advice on how to take care of my finances many times, but I really had no interest in anything to do with money. The choices I made were never motivated by a need to make money.

I called Alana and told her to book me out for the next month. I wanted to take the time to unwind and reflect on the whirlwind of the last ten months of my life. I had lost track of how many cities and hotels we unloaded in and out of. It was good to be home, even for me.

On the last leg of the tour, Robbie called me jumping out of his skin with excitement over the new love in his life. The guy was an IT mogul who spoiled him rotten, or to quote Robbie, He treats me like a queen, Angelbum! shrieking with laughter afterward. He had a private jet among other toys and wanted to fly Robbie and his closest friends to the Bahamas for the Fourth of July weekend. The plan was for all of us to meet in LA around the first and fly out on the second for a week of decadence and comatose relaxation. I voiced that it was a little insane for me to fly all the way out to the West Coast just to fly all the way back the next day toward the East and the Bahamas. Robbie convinced me, as he always did, that hanging out on a private jet all together was part of the fun; and in any case, he wanted to show off his new love nest that lover Luke had recently purchased for him.

I was so looking forward to seeing everyone again. It was going to be quite a group. Robbie and Luke; Lexi; Christian; who was a photographer, and his long-suffering girlfriend, Chloe; Rory, who I hadn’t seen in almost eighteen months; Lauren, who had recently walked out of her nightmare relationship with a rock star; and Brook, our awkward introverted writer friend with a nervous twitch. Tory couldn’t make it; she had deadlines to meet with the latest collection ready to hit the stores. I offered to help her get through it all since I was free and available, but Tory needed to do everything herself, to which I responded, No problem, control freak. I’ll think of you as I roll over to tan my ass. I didn’t expect her to accept my offer for assistance that would’ve been classified as a miracle or a sign of something very serious going on for Tory.

CHAPTER THREE 

The last four weeks were tranquil and drama free. I was eating well, exercising, and feeling great. I had even managed to put on a couple of kilos that I lost somewhere in Europe. My days were spent in bookshops, spas, and delis; and I didn’t have a care in the world. A week in the Bahamas to top it all off and I’ll barely have a pulse. I had a flight to LA the next day, so I spent the morning running errands and tying up loose ends before my goodbye lunch with Tory.

I grabbed my handbag, switched the answering machine on, and noticed it again… 11:11 a.m. What is it with that? Over the last six months, I kept seeing these numbers in everything; and each time, I found myself drifting off to someplace else… Where? I have no idea. Come to think of it, the visuals I began seeing in Europe and the heightened sensitivity while on tour with Riva coincided with my awareness of these numbers… I instinctively knew they were symbolic but had no time to think about that now. I didn’t want to keep Tory waiting.

She had booked a table at Balthazar, between Broadway and Crosby. She was obsessed with the frisée aux lardons, basically a fancy French term for a few wild green leaves, bacon, and a soft poached egg. I loved the place for its Frenchness, and the atmosphere was always highly charged with a colorful array of New Yorkers. If you turned your back to the street outside, you are instantly transported to the other side of the Atlantic. Well, blocking your ears helped as well. I always heard Edith Piaf singing in my head upon entering.

Of course, Tory was there waiting, looking as gorgeous as ever. She was always put together perfectly. Her hair was glossy and straight, nails immaculate, and skin so radiant. I often wondered how someone that leads such a stressful life manages to maintain such perfection all the time.

She had recently launched her own fashion and accessories label. Vic-Tory caught the eye of a few celebrities early on, and that’s all it took to make everyone want a piece from the collection. Tory had customized a few pieces for Riva’s world tour, and the press from that alone triggered interest overseas. There were signature stores due to open the following year in Los Angeles, Paris, and London. She had the next few years mapped out. A part of me admired that about her—I was never much of a planner. My instinctual need to be in the moment dulled ambitions that projected me to a time in the future.

She ordered her dish for both of us, like I had a choice, and a glass of the house white.

So are you all packed, excited to see the gang? she asked.

I am, Tor, but I wish you were coming. I mean you’re probably the only person working over the holiday, and besides, you’re the one that needs to chill out a bit—you’re going to run yourself into the ground.

I grabbed the attention of a passing waiter and asked for some still water. He nodded silently with an arrogantly raised eyebrow. This triggered Tory instantly with a reaction.

"What is his fucking problem, rude son of a bitch!" she complained, rolling her eyes.

It’s all good, Tory, he’s in pain—that doesn’t belong to me or you.

Tory looked at me baffled.

What the hell are you talking about, what pain?

I can feel it. Most people are, you know… they’re just completely unaware of it… Look around you. How many here do you think are conscious of this moment and how fleeting time is?

I paused noticing her perplexed expression and directed her attention to a guy in a suit a few tables away, in an attempt to clarify.

Look at him. He’s chowing down that food without stopping to taste one mouthful, and you know why? ’Cause he is thinking about the meeting he has later on today and the flight he has to catch tomorrow and the bitch of an ex-wife that set him back financially a few years ago. And the reality is, he could walk out of here and get hit by a bus or have a heart attack, and he missed the opportunity to savor his last meal. Most people are living in the past or in the future, and the only thing that’s real right here, right now, is this moment!

My voice had risen in volume and intensity toward the end. Tory was staring at me with the blankest look on her face and, in an unusually slow rhythm, asked, "Are you sure you were on tour with Ms. Riva, or were you at an ashram in India—where did that come from?"

I paused, not really knowing, before confessing, Ummm… I don’t know… And in the worst French accent, I changed the subject. "Here comes our frisée aux lardons."

The conversation over lunch was lighthearted until Tory purged herself of thoughts she’d been carrying around for a while. Tory and I had so much history and always laughed when we were together; the intensity of my monologue earlier threw her a little, since for the most part, I was the big kid and she was the serious one.

Shanti, I’ve been meaning to ask you something on a serious note for quite some time.

She paused for a moment as though she was trying to find the appropriate way to bring this up. I focused deeply on her eyes and waited.

"All of us, deep down, want to find love with someone else, someone to share our life with, plan a life with and, who knows, maybe even settle down and have a kid someday. That doesn’t seem to be on your wish list. I’ve known you since high school, and you’ve been like that since then, and I just don’t get it. You’re beautiful. Guys fall over themselves for you, and most of the time, you’re oblivious to it. Yet you would have to be the most loving, nonjudgmental person I know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything negative about anyone or anything. In fact, even with all the tragedies we’ve witnessed in the world these last few years, there is an air of acceptance about you, as though you see a bigger picture or something else that we’re all missing. I don’t know, but I want to see you with someone that loves you and can take care of you… I don’t even know what I’m trying to say exactly, but surely you want someone special in your life, don’t you?"

I laughed. Are you stepping down? I thought you’d look after me.

She wasn’t in the mood for my jesting. I’m serious, Shanti, talk to me. I’m your best friend. We’re sisters. I want to know what you’re thinking.

"Well, that’s the thing, Tory, I don’t really think, you know that, I’m more of a feeler. Most people are governed by logic that comes from the head. My heart is my GPS in life, and you’re right—I do love people, I love everyone and see potential in everyone, and I know you’re going to find this really confronting, but I don’t even feel hatred toward people that Americans perceive as evil. In fact, I don’t even see myself as an American. I actually despise geographical borders and religions and anything that keeps humanity believing we are separate. I am a global citizen and concerned for the whole planet, not just our American shores!"

Wow, that mega moment of profoundness even took me by surprise. Realizing I’ve gone off on a different tangent, I steer myself back and attempt to answer Tory’s question.

Tory, there isn’t one part of me that needs to have someone for the sake of not being alone, I’m fine with alone. I don’t need to have someone in my bed or on my arm to validate that I’m worth something—I know my worth. My heart sings a song that is uniquely mine, and unless another can hear it and has the same song in their heart, there is no point for me. You don’t look for that, it finds you.

Tory’s eyes glazed over; I knew I had touched the dormant romantic in her.

That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

She was either lost for words or satisfied with my answer since she didn’t pursue the subject further. I could see her mind racing trying to process what I had just expressed, which I must admit, surprised me as well. I was never asked in such a direct way to articulate my feelings on the subject, but I was glad I did.

We finished lunch and stepped outside into the heat of the day, I told her I loved her and reminded her to stop and breathe occasionally.

We hugged for the longest time, and in her baby cartoon voice, she said, I love you, Shantipoo. She looked at her watch and, in one swift move, whistled down a cab, jumped in, and disappeared. I was left standing on the sidewalk, smiling as people rushed past me, lost in their future or in their past… unaware of this moment.

I walked back to my apartment in no time, stopping off at my favorite candle shop and stocking up. I loved candlelight, and the exquisite scents available now in soy candles added to the ambience of my space. A scent had the ability to transport me anywhere far quicker that any visual. Smell has always been a valued sense for me, and I’ve always understood the power of aromatherapy. Candles were one of my few indulgences. I didn’t even blink five hundred and seventy-eight dollars later.

Everything was sorted for tomorrow, so I decided to have an afternoon nap just because I could. I smiled, feeling so blessed to have that luxury. I ripped off all my clothes, selected Sting ballads on my iPod, lit one of my new candles, and dived onto my bed throwing off the cushions that Tory pushed me into buying—all ten of them. It totally sets off the doona cover, Shanti, you’ve got to have them… , she said.

Every time I threw the cushions to the ground, I’d think of Ben Stiller’s character in Along Came Polly and silently giggle… There were some scary similarities between Tory and Reuben Feffer. I laughed imagining what a neurotic but entertaining match they would make.

I was exhausted and ready to shut my eyes to the world. My head settled into my pillow with ease; my heartbeat relaxed its rhythm as the sound of Desert Rose playing on the iPod transported me to faraway lands. The landscape changing from drifting sands to ripples in the ocean.

I was floating weightless in azure waters, and the distant sound of a pod of dolphins took my brain wave state from theta to delta. I fell deeper and deeper into a place where time stands still when I sensed I was not alone…

Shantiiiii… Shaaaaantiiii… Shaaantiiii…

I recognized the voice.

Mama… where are you?

"I’m right here, baby girl, I’m just a thought away, remember?

In that moment, an iridescent blue bubble appeared, and there she was encased within it, looking younger than I ever remembered her, and her eyes radiated the most blinding light. The circumference of her bubble began to disintegrate before me, leaving her imbued in a wash of blue.

"You will remember, Shanti, and in time, all will make sense, trust that everything is always perfect and as it should be, even if it doesn’t appear that way. Don’t allow the human filter to tarnish your perception of that knowing . . . everything is always perfect and as it should be… everything is always perfect and as it should be… everything is always . . ."

She faded into the blue, and I was back floating with the dolphins. Moments later, I noticed a shift in the temperature. It was subtle at first and then quickly, without warning, it dropped to an unbearable cold, the water turned into an icy sludge and began to pull me under. My body began to tremble, and my chest felt heavy. I couldn’t breathe, in or out; trapped in a suspended state of paralysis, I begged with my mind for my eyes to open, for this feeling to end… Pleeease . . . pleeease . . . wake me up, something, someone . . . I can’t breathe . . . I can’t breathe . . . Mamaaaaaa!

My body convulsed forward with a gasp that drew in air from the entire room only to shoot me back downward, my back slamming into the mattress. My chest was tight, and there was a frightening pressure that prevented me from expanding my lungs for air. I looked upward toward the ceiling of my bedroom which looked like a