Orchestra Pit

“How was dinner?” IAM said. “Any miracles?”
Everything had become miraculous.
“I’ve never ordered what I want for dinner,” Ruth said, “That’s a miracle for me.”

There were miracles at everyone’s dinners. Groups directed traffic on Broadway. Someone guided the planes onto the airport. Parking spaces appeared. Service was great.

Life was a great metaphor of transformation and realizations.

The neophytes had begun to write their own scrolls. Everyone shared the happy news.

They could create miracles…free the slaves, heal the lame, raise the dead, and most important clear and rewrite their own scrolls.

Hugs were everywhere. Fists of support were raised.

Everyone shared gushing praises of clean scrolls, guru lessons and, it was as Karla said, “ a love fest.”
It was Karla who changed the energy saying, “I’m leaving.”
“Karla, what are you leaving?” MA countered.
“This shit pisses me off.”
The temperatures cooled.

Some neophytes stood to speak, defend and save Karla, AWE, and the high.
Karla turned and headed for the door.
“Karla, do you want to keep your agreement and stay?’ Serenaded IAM, in a fashion that enthused Karla’s interest. “The next process will let that anger free.

“Everyone chooses his or her three favorite words. Use words that you have a charge on. Clear the chairs and half of you on each wall.”
Everyone did as told, even Karla. IAM asked everyone’s phrase. Karla first.
“I hate you.”
“Good. Next,” IAM went from one side to the other till everyone said their words.
“I hate this.”
“I’m not rich.”
“Please help me.”
“I need you.”
“You did it.”
“I love you.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Please hold me.”
“Daddy don’t.”
“Listen to me.”
“I want more.”
“Life is great.”
“I love AWE.”
“Be here now.”
“Give me money.”
“I am innocent.”
“I love me.”
“It’s my choice.”
“I can dance.”
“Jesus loves me.”

With various bravado everyone said their words.

IAM spoke, “Now as the conductor of this orchestra you are my instruments. This is how it works. I will point to you and you will say your words. Easy?”
“Yes,” was the group response.
IAM pointed to Jules, “I love you.”

He pointed to Michael, “I hate this.” Like a conductor IAM used his wand.
“It’s my choice,” Brenda said
“I don’t know,” Alan said.
“Who are you?” Art said.
“I hate you,” Karla said.
IAM created a discordant cacophony of contradictions with one phrase against another.

Then he shifted into a higher gear adding discordant emotions. Pointing back to Jules, “With anger.”
Jules yelled, “I love you.” Then she giggled. IAM challenged Jules not to cheat herself of the experience of “I love you” in the different emotions of anger, sadness, jealousy, and enthusiasm.
IAM conducted everyone, adding forgiveness, rage, pity, doubt, fear, even lying to the orchestra.

It was destiny for Karla, a martial arts master, to be asked to play “I hate you,” with fear. She exploded in an attack toward IAM.

She was strong and fast and at IAM in a flash!

But IAM was faster, melting like water, he rolled her to the floor in her own motion, tossing her glasses to MA leaping across the room. MA rolled to the side of the room and into a cross legged meditation posture, with glasses in her lap. It was as if the scene was scripted by the World Wrestling Federation. IAM landed atop Karla, and with compassion, continued the exercise, “With love.”
“I hate you!” Karla screamed.
“With love.” IAM repeated.
“I hate you.” Karla said in a new tone, like an armored entity of evil had left Karla’s body.
“With anger.” IAM said.
“I hate you.” Karla complied.
“With pity.” IAM said.
“I hate you.” Karla spoke soft.
Art felt compassion from Karla.
“With joy.”
“I hate you.” Karla replied with joy that broke through the room in a wave of fists of support.
IAM lifted Karla to her feet and they hugged.
Hands went up for tissue. Karla took her place along the wall.
“With compassion.” IAM resumed.
“I hate you.” Karla said in a tone that brought more tears to the neophytes.The neophyte’s shock transformed to amazement. IAM and MA had gone beyond gurus.

They were superheroes.