My second sabbatical destination was in Big Sur on the high cliffs of the central Pacific coast where I registered as ‘work study’ for eight weeks at the somewhat isolated 120 acres of the Esalen Institute. I pictured myself wearing crystals while learning more psychobabble. At 3,000 miles away from my East Coast career life with its New England values, this would serve as space and time to recreate myself as part of the ‘human potential movement’ in California style …
‘Your therapy session with the new wonder on campus sounds terrific. I’ll make an appointment with him,’ I told a well-balanced friend who knew I was always looking for the saviour-therapist who would finally fix me From Eric’s CV, I learned he was a graduate of a narrative medicine program which looked impressive. When I met him, however, I was immediately turned both on and off by the beautiful head on his broad shoulders and his youth.
‘How could someone as young as you deal with my mature problems?’ I asked. He responded with an offer of a free introduction to his method, which I didn’t refuse.
‘Let’s start, Laurel, with what you are feeling at the moment?’
‘I want to be free, I want to fly!’
‘How can I help you to get what you want? I am here to help you fly. Decide where you want to launch!’
‘I’ll go to the top of the cliff overlooking the sea and fly from there.’
‘Close your eyes and put yourself there and I will accompany you on your mission.’
Perhaps because of the magic of Esalen, not to mention my wisdom and age, I felt empowered to imagine myself on a cliff’s edge and prepared to surrender to the wind beneath my wings. ‘I’ll just wait for the next gentle breeze to give me a start.’
‘All right, fly when you are ready.’
The next thing I remember, I was flat on my face on the floor. I didn’t feel wise any more. Eric’s beautiful face looked horrified. Neither of us lived up to the expectations of the other. Was he anticipating I would start flapping my arms? Did I really expect to grow wings on the way down? In my crash landing, I missed the radiator by a fraction of an inch, thus avoiding all that blood and the emptying of thoughts all over the rug. Eric and I didn’t schedule a follow-up.
Excerpt from the Laurel Ann Francis memoir – Bourgeois To Buddha : My Trials and Errors Across Four Continents – available online at all the usual locations including Ebay, Barnes&Noble and https://tinyurl.com/yrud63tf
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