My mind flashed forward to a time I had not yet lived.
I sat with the Yogi at the Black and Green.
I did not recognize him…although he wore what he wore; his head was shaved; his garments were rough and simple… But his face was of an aspect that was unpleasant, foreign, possessed by some archetypal force which he now had channeled and allowed to pass through him. His brows arched at strange angles, and his lower row of teeth became visible when he spoke. His eyes became tunnels. I did not look away from him, and as I engaged him, and looked into his face, I felt weak, as if I had not eaten in days.
Upi, Buddha-like, waited behind the counter. I could not see him, but felt that he watching.
“You cannot forget!” The Yogi shouted, rising up out of his metal chair. “You cannot forget!”
The metal garage door was up, and passersby quickened their pace.
From behind me, Upi said, “Please…for business.”
The Yogi shouted at Upi, “Upi! I’m very sorry, but he must know! Now is the moment.” The Yogi turned his eyes to me, and exhorted, “Remember your life. Hide nothing from yourself. You have been cruel… You must remember everything.” He was nearly singing now. I felt that the plates and utensils behind Upi’s coffee counter would rattle off their shelves. The Yogi’s voice vibrated so the metal chairs and tables seemed to sing with him, “You must reflect on your life!”
He brought his tea things to the counter, walked quickly back to his chair, put on his scarf, pulled up his hood, and quickly went out, protecting his space, allowing neither eye contact nor return comment. Then he was gone.
Moments later, or hours later, there was a brilliant sun break, and light reflected off the upper part of the metal garage door, so that I had to shut my eyes. When I opened them again, the room seemed so dark, and the street so light, that I could see nothing but a large bright rectangle in the darkness. The Yogi’s words resounded in my head, and I felt shame.
And then it was all gone, The Yogi was gone in an instant, and I was with Sailor, years before…