Chapter 12

Unhook the brake wagon!

This year 1985 was for Brigitte, as for many others, a year of hard testing. It must be borne in mind that at this point in her journey she had no contact with Adenankar, and that Yanathor observed her only very discreetly. So Brigitte, ignorant of her true identity, was living alone on Earth. Brigitte experienced the same difficulties as us, and if she had progressed faster, it can not be because her path was easier. The only exception was the prayer group from Liouna, which influence was perceived by the people in Peyreblanque.

So do not be surprised to find Brigitte incorporated like the others in such a large lot. Too much slag, too much useless speech clutter the movements for a better world. This is perhaps why the path of enlightenment is so narrow. The constant effort which must be sustained in order to progress discourages the simple curious, the amateurs of power, and selects those who sincerely seek the truth, to the exclusion of all other motives. There is nothing else to find there. There is no oil. Only those who learn to find the way to the Truth arrive in these lands, those who really work on their personalities, eliminating the heavy prejudices and negative emotions. It would be unfair and very dangerous for everyone to advance on the path of self-realization with impure motives, or to access certain experiences,

For Brigitte as for others, the test is very simple, and could be summed up by a single question: «Do you really want to live the true life in every moment?» Yes, of course, but it is about doing it in the presence of Frédérique. It is a test in situation, and it is with her actions and with her feelings that she must answer. Including in much more embarrassing situations than a nice yoga class...

In fact, from that time the affair was already won at the level of her soul, but not yet realized at the conscious level. Brigitte, in the deepest of herself, had felt (since the beginning besides after her dreams) the nullity of her companion. But she has not yet actually accepted this fact. From this dissociation arises this sensation of falsehood, of hidden filth, and above all an insidious sadness, sticking everywhere, atrocious.

 

Whatever you think at it, the Eolis may be sweet, kind, considerate, they remain essentially free, and thus always somewhere indomitable. And the particularly discreet and timid Aurora is no exception to the rule, even embodied in Brigitte. She can be fooled for a while, but not indefinitely. And then she has her wisdom, her criteria. In other words, things are slowly but surely starting to get awry for Frédérique.

The discussions between them have raised the tone: Brigitte does not yet despair of mending her companion, and he needs more and more struggle to keep her in his power. He has not yet exhausted his arsenal of sophisms, self-justifications, and other distortions of the thought, but every new weapon he gets out, by this simple fact betrays him more and more. It has its effect for a while, then Brigitte disassembles it, and in doing so she discovers a little more the darkness of Frédérique, and... she still finds excuses to him!

It must be said that Frédérique is very strong at playing with her emotions. He never shows anger. To hear him, it is always Brigitte who assaults, gets angry, sulks, owes him an apology and will mend with him. Always her who must bend her trajectory. He is the master of the disarming smiles, dummy gaiety, persecuted innocent looks, great magnanimous pardons. Above all, he is an expert in reconciliation on the pillow: when we are taken by the desire, we forget everything, we do not talk anymore, we do not solve anything and we leave all the problems in the shadows, ready to come out even bigger as soon as we get up. What a more cruel game than false esteem, false love, or worse, FALSE FORGIVENESS!

Frédérique takes Brigitte unaware, defeats her, upsets her feelings. One day, very tender, he discusses with her and agrees on a decision, but the next day, he acts as if it was another decision, and he rolls terrible eyes! He solemnly forgives her something, but the reproaches come out again two weeks later! He knows that Brigitte expects from him some wisdom, a certain coherence, a form of fidelity at the level of the ideas. So he pretends to offer this to her, only to frustrate her later. This is how he takes revenge for her Sincerity, her Righteousness...

Brigitte, still a weak soul vacillating on her life choices, must learn to stay on course despite revolt and sorrow...

 

From his travels, Frédérique always comes back with a more tan skin, with a scent of papaya or mango, or some strange exotic trinket as a present: incense of maharajah, rare coral or mother-of-pearl, photos of space, insignia of mysterious esoteric fraternities... His appetite for life, however factitious, is so warm, so attractive!

For Frédérique, everything is simple: it is the one who is angry who is wrong. He does not have a sense of justice to stun him or to outrage him. So he can be serene, be master of himself, the master at all, well served by his attractive dynamism. And it works: in front of that smile, Brigitte melts, gives way, loses her confidence, feels guilty. Frédérique has a terrible power over her, and we ought better not to exhibit all these painful things, if unfortunately there were not so many blokes of this ilk, whom you will meet sooner or later, friends readers. And without necessarily entering the same spiritual environment, since in fact there are everywhere.

Despite this conflictual, compact, schizophrenic atmosphere, Brigitte trains to radiate and to remain in high consciousness. It would be an exaggeration to say that she succeeds: we really need a serious degree of maturity to remain positive, smiling and serene in the heat of persecution or in the ice of adversity. Yet Brigitte inspires Compassion, in her way of living this ambiguous situation. She does not rejoice in rage or in depression, and especially not in self-denial. She tries to keep her dignity, to stay upright. She falls again and again in anger, despair, doubt, but she always gets up again. Oh, it would be enough for her to keep silent, and continue her quiet life with Frédérique! Why to strive to find this fault, between his speech and his gestures, from which blows this icy emptiness? Raising from which sinister cellar? While it would be enough to listen to him without asking questions... Do not see anything... Do not feel anything... Do not think about it. Despite the temptation and a sadness even worse than the one she already knew, she stiffens and stands up again and again: Yes! She wants Harmony between beings, and Beauty and Truth.

 

Yes, beginners in the disciplines of the Spirit will often learn to meditate in nice flowery courses, where everything is prepared in advance, the difficulties are smoothed, the problems carefully avoided, especially the stories of personal relationships within the group of trainees. This is very good for the beginnings, but at some point you have to become responsible and strong, take the problems head-on, and solve them.

Presented this way, what happens to Brigitte seems simple. But not everyone presented with this situation succeeds, far from it, and they often gave up even before having really suffered. Someone who pretends to renounce selfishness, to live in community, or to stop smoking, or to live in an ecological way, sooner or later is confronted to the field. And he realizes that finally it is very unpleasant to give up one's vices... When we do not really want to.

The humble, normal attitude in case of failure is to... recognize it. To admit it, especially toward oneself. Then find out why we did not succeed, and gather the ingredients for a new, more enlightened, better prepared attempt. But there is also the guilty, proud, destructive attitude, which is about saying after the fact that no no no, finally this is not what we wanted, that it was impossible, that one is free to do what he wants, and other evasions. It is with this kind of little sentences that we recognize someone who has been rejected on the threshold of one of the stages of his life.

The key to the greatest achievements of the mind is simply there: To really want.

To want and to act accordingly. Sincerely. Totally.

We can want because it is fashioned, because it makes a good impression, because the buddy does it too, because we feel more powerful, more important... All these approaches are doomed to failure. You have to want just because THIS is real life!

What happens to people who fail? Nothing is definitive. They need a long period of ripening. Just wait and be more ready. In the secret of their soul, they are preparing to retake the test. Remember the story of the laborious turtle arrived before the hare too sure of himself. The Spirit is par excellence an area where any attempt at comparison or classification is essentially illusory.

And the ones who succeed? This is more interesting. They will receive the means to progress, and really live in themselves what they aspire to. The tools to build oneself. If the result depends only on them, and especially can no longer be destroyed by adversity, not everything is won yet. They will have to work to build themselves, and may have to go through other trials, to see if that holds. The path of self-realization is in fact a permanent test. No way to advance with boasting, with pretence. Any lie, any artificial scaffolding is condemned to crash on the ground, from the mere fact of being built.

About tests and trials, we must be careful not to fall into the cult of suffering. Some pretend that suffering would be essential to evolve. This cult of trial, of redemption, of painful sacrifice, this cult is frightening, and it is very dangerous to approach its followers. We can, however, adopt some good lines of conduct in front of the trials that life imposes on us anyway. First of all, there is no point in trying to avoid certain embarrassing situations, when they find their source solely in our personality defects. Only the elimination of our defects of relations or behaviour can allow us to really get rid of this kind of trouble, which otherwise pursue us wherever we go and repeat themselves indefinitely. It is also certain that the diligent practice of the Good, a pure aspiration and a sincere work on oneself protect us from many tragedies, while we are sure to attract terrible punishments sooner or later if we do it at our whim and we ignore the warnings we received.

 

But in facts, the right attitude toward suffering and trials is often referred under the quite misleading expression of «acceptance of suffering». Here again it is neither a form of masochism nor a justification of suffering, as this clumsy translation of an important Buddhist concept might suggest. Let us say that, faced with an unavoidable ordeal, our mental attitude cannot change the fact itself, and the refusal or revolt can only increase our suffering, without any profit. On the other hand, if we visualise that this obstacle or this suffering, apparently of external origin, ultimately has its source solely in our own faults and imperfections, then we can use this situation as a powerful motivation to strengthen our inner work, our discipline. Just like a judoka who uses the momentum of his opponent to make him fall, we can recover the powerful and destructive energy of suffering, to despite it continue to live standing, to advance, to work on oneself with a renewed energy, to build, to progress. So it is often possible to grow out of pain, learn from it, better understand our mistakes, and even lessen the intensity of that pain. Strange and shocking transmutations can result. What more wonderful than this technique which allows us to advance, without any adversity or obstacle can ever stop us?

We can hope, we must hope for it anyway, and it is quite possible that Earth's evolution can continue without suffering. Would it be slower? Not sure. It is even logical that it should be faster, since our sufferings come precisely because we are hindering it. In any case, this suppression of suffering cannot be only for Human beings: it must also include all conscious beings, animals, plants, stones, landscapes... The only condition to succeed in suppressing all suffering, is to accept to live in Harmony with the universal laws of Love, Help, Beauty, Poetry... And this choice rests essentially on our shoulders, to us conscious humans, with all our intelligence and all our knowledge that only us are able of. If any creator or cosmic authority has tolerated the existence of suffering, there can be only one reason: it is us who create it, and it is us alone who can stop it. So it is useless to wait for God, the extraterrestrials, or who else to come and solve this problem for us: the solution of evil and suffering is in our hands, and in nobody else's hands. We have to choose, get up, get to work.

 

It is very difficult to discuss with Frédérique. He is a piece of soap. Brigitte often makes the experiment, when, playing on the meaning of the words, he «demonstrates» that what she meant is exactly the opposite of what she said. (This dishonest process is called logomachy) Demonstrate? This word does not make any sense with Frédérique. Demonstrating means ensuring the truthfulness of something with the help of logical reasoning based on other already established facts. But in Frédérique there is no truth, no reasoning, no logic, and even the facts are vague and changing. There are only opinions which assert themselves, confront one another, win or are eliminated at the sole whim of his imaginary balance of power, what he calls «his dialectic», which is essentially confrontational. What yesterday was «false» because not recognized, can become «true» later, when the majority will think it. Frédérique explicitly says «is false» or «is true», whereas we would say «is considered as». For him, the Earth began to rotate around the Sun following the Galileo affair. So now, it may well become hollow, and its continents rise or sink alone in an inconceivable jitter, according to his romantic readings on disappeared civilizations.

When for the umpteenth time Brigitte takes him again on this special «dialectic», after explaining in detail all Aristotle and its logic, Frédérique locks himself, theatrically: «Oh but Brigitte, you can not understand, it's MY TRUTH!»

Stunned, Brigitte. Sitting, voiceless He thinks he is God, this Frédérique, to have his own personal truth? Is not Truth by essentially, by definition, what belongs to all? What in the immense labyrinth of facts and testimonies, ideas and perceptions, is the only valid landmark? Where do we go if everyone starts to change the laws of the universe as they please? Nothing makes sense, everything evaporates. Spiritual knowledge is often paradoxical, but still not at this point !!

 

Suddenly Brigitte realizes that Frédérique, like so many other people of bad faith, deforms the language according to the method of the Newspeak.

Apart from that, he is very liberal, the Frédérique. The others are free to have «their truth» if it pleases them, as long as it does not disturb his interests of the moment. It does not cost him much to be «tolerant», him: He has no values to defend.

He insists:

«It's your thoughts which creates the universe, all you see is you who imagined it and who projects it and who...»

But Brigitte does not listen anymore, running to the kitchen where a pan on the fire calls her appropriately. She boils. Who? The pan? Brigitte? Everyone is boiling. Ah, this Frédérique now gives her the same stupid theory as the wicked little professor in the faculty, inappropriately called «idealism» for the greatest confusion of ignorant crowds, as we remember.

 

 

Brigitte wonders if we can go a little further. Between spirit and matter, one of them would be too much. Let us suppose that the material universe itself is an emanation of the mind, a form of spirit as well as our individual consciousness. (But still not out of our personal consciousness! This would bring too many inconsistencies). Instead of having the matter separated from the mind and the two communicating nobody knows how, we get a continuum where they are interdependent, because of the same fundamental nature. Then everything becomes possible, and even natural, without adding any other ad-hoc hypothesis: survival of the consciousness after death, influence of the soul on the body, astral travel, parapsychological phenomena of all kinds... So the sensitivity to the Spirit would be a natural and intrinsic property of matter! (Detailed developments here became the core of the third part of my book «General Epistemology»)

 

Arrived at this stage of her reflections, Brigitte thinks back at this moment of super-consciousness, that she experienced when she was young, when this big pan falling from a vertiginous building had almost killed her. In hers memory, the scene remained engraved with a luxury of details, like a film in slow motion. Especially, none of the people who walked around her had time to move while she heard the warning, stopped moving forward, and watched as the deadly pig iron projectile crashed before her feet. Looking straight ahead, she even had not seen it passing, which is normal given the speed at which it fell. It was therefore with her eyes that she had seen the scene, but she had recorded it in her memory much faster than is usually possible: she had not had any thoughts during this time, not even sketched a hesitation or astonishment. So it could not be his material brain which was conscious at that moment, and so it was well out of the physiological time. (Detailed developments here were moved in the fith part of my book «General Epistemology»)

And if...

«Aaaah,I'll screw you tonight!»

 

Brigitte, stunned, bewildered, speechless, stares at Frédérique entering in, who, without a single word of courtesy, without a hello, cut her metaphysical reflections in a so trivial way. Not only he is polarized on sex, he can't avoid speak of it in an as anti-poetically way as possible!

Brigitte takes a moment to find the vision of the small room with yellowish walls, mismatched furniture, stacks of cardboard boxes overflowing with papers, undies dangling on a wire, and finally the character who just entered. He is starting to disgust her, she finally understands that he is cutting her wings with his low thoughts, not even intellectual. How to speak with him about the mind or about super-consciousness? It is not in itself his attraction to sexuality that hinders, but the crude way he has to talk about it, to stick on low vibrations, this lack of respect for her body. In fact, this anti-poetry, which he was showing more and more for some time, has more radically contributed to Brigitte's realization, than all his murky intellectual justifications.

«I can not tonight, I have my period, she eludes, not without trembling of the lie.

- How, but already last week you...»

Oh, the blunder! Brigitte sees Frédérique's face tense with fury, his fists clench, his chin contract as formerly Regnald's. His eyes shine with a vengeful joy: since the time Brigitte humiliated him with her pathetic efforts to remain dignified and irreproachable, since by her Sincerity, her devotion and her integrity she forced him into his character of circus guru, the whole accumulated rancor finally finds an excuse to explode! He who lies as naturally as you and me breathe, here he is for this peccadillio who fits a homeric rage:

«How, such a serious lie, which ruins all the confidence of our couple! (One way, the trust) What selfishness, to refuse me a little tenderness, (Did he ever gave any?) For your comfort, you who think you are a saint, who claims to know everything, have a high spirituality (Brigitte has never claimed anything, she thought she was a disciple of Frédérique) You would like to rule this house with the stick (While she always did according to Frédérique's wishes) and take care only of your little comfort (That she had always sacrificed to Frédérique, we just had to look at the room to see). You think you are an angel, don't you feel your wings growing?»

Despite her heart pounding, Brigitte is unable to avoid smiling at this last insult. To really understand why, friend reader, place yourself in complete physical relaxation, and think at one of your limbs: even if you feel nothing of it (no heat, movement, contact) you can still perfectly feel its presence. But what does Brigitte feel in this way, in more than her flesh limbs? Wings, of course. Invisible, but sensitive: she can move them, and she feels not at ease if somebody carelessly approach her in the back. She even has her shoulder blades slightly prominent.

The reader will understand that they simply are her eoline wings. A thing she could not know at this point. Useless to say that she strictly never entrusted anybody in this, nor parents neither friends. And that she does nor anymore think she is an angel for that. But Frédérique really wonders why she is smiling…

This does not help. His theatrical anger ends triggering a real one, his face becomes scarlet, and his threatening gestures she never saw before end up frightening Brigitte.

 

Let us move over the following evening. Better to forget it. We shall not be surprised to find, the next day early, Brigitte on the road, quickly descending to the valley, this small departmental road she had travelled only once, going to Peyreblanque to meet Frédérique.

The rain is dripping on her raincoat, which she hastily thrown over her backpack. «I'm going for a walk», she told Frédérique, feverishly gathering her meager baggage.

She is sad far more than angry, of all the vileness he told her, and which we shall not repeat. She is disillusioned. Finally. But how hard it is to discover a low life when we thought to see a wise man! Brigitte walks briskly and decidedly, remembering again and again Frédérique's mean words. So much angry for so little! It is his fault, anyway, if he had respected her as a person, instead of just using her body...

As she advances, this anger dissipates. And she finally realizes that it is Springtime! She was so absorbed by Frédérique that she was even not feeling the rhythm of the seasons anymore! How long had not she listened to a bird? Contemplated the stars? Feel the caress of the wind? Ah! With him she was much worse than in a prison!

The road crosses a landscape of brown rocks, covered with yellow and pale green lichens. Skinny green oaks intertwine their roots and their branches. The twigs shiver under the caress of the rain, and drip in the grass and dead leaves. The birds are singing everywhere, with the quiet and diligent joy they have even in grey weather. Grey? Even if the sky is, the soft spring rain seems to radiate a kind of soft warm to the soul, a quietness that even the few cars do not disturb. The tender warm green of the young leaves is much brighter in the rain than tarnished by the harsh summer sun. Brigitte is well under the shelter of her good raincoat, just she gets the smell of her wet hairs. A little further on, in a flat meadow, cows mow, signalling a farm which roofs protrude over a grassy knoll.

How the Earth is beautiful, even under its humble veil of clouds! How can we imagine that it is hiding so much lowness! Is it possible that these ordinary people, who attend their pastoral errands, also have such relationship problems? We don't feel they have. Some hammering noise comes from the farm, although from here we cannot see anybody. A little further, a steep and dark forest slope raises up into the stratuses. A warm hay smell comes in puffs, among the scents of humus and wet earth. Here is the entrance path of the farm, strewn with puddles and pounded tiles, with a letterbox naively painted in blue and a bread box for the baker.

 

Finally an old man she does not know takes Brigitte hitch hiking. He lives higher up in the valley. She tells him she is somewhere near Peyreblanque, but is careful not to say why she is going down!

«Peyreblanque? But it's a cult, right?»

That's it, here we go again. Brigitte listens and responds with monosyllables.

«Well, what I heard is that they have a kind of religion there, and they are building a temple to worship the Sun, according to the ritual of the ancient Egyptians. It's pity, because kids do not go to school, they're not educated, do you understand? Besides what I heard they starve, they eat nothing, their parents forbid them everything, meat, sweets, ice creams, and even television! We saw them begging in the village!»

Unbelievable! Who has fun distorting reality in such a way, inventing these black stories for the sole purpose of blaming what they do not know? Brigitte formally denies, describes the reality of Peyreblanque, or at least the outside of this reality, because how to talk about the inner life? The man, who does not look bad, does not add more, but does not back on what he said. Is he convinced? Doubtful? Interested? Careful? Perhaps he too is in the throes of not knowing who to trust... He kindly waves goodbye to Brigitte, placing her in the city, at the end of the street where the main road begins.

 

Once in the small town, Brigitte is suddenly amazed... After two years without descending from the mountain, everything assails and assaults her in mass: greyness, smells of cars, the infernal noise, garish colours, incoherent disorder, closed and indifferent faces... Her new again eyes receive the full force of the vision of all these accumulated dis-realities. She wanders on the sidewalk, refraining from saying hello to all passersby as we do everywhere in the countryside, wondering if she will wake up from this bad dream... More than disgust, she feels a sensation of strangeness, as if she had entered one of those ugly sci-fi books where sick writers tirelessly project their off-worlds fantasies. Stoned, she is: how could these people, with their own hands, voluntarily create such an ugly, rough and discordant environment? She walks past a butcher's shop, pinching her nose so as not to feel the horrible smell of dead chickens spinning in a small transparent oven, right on the sidewalk. Unbelievable!

She realizes that she took a famous lead with her work on vibrations. How sad that everything collapses so stupidly because of Frédérique.

Still, the Earth, what a mess! Here we lie, there we are polluted, there we are disappointed... ...Let us still be happy if in this place we do not receive shells.

We are not going to recount in detail Brigitte's wandering during these three months of absence. She did not went to Peyreblanque, because unfortunately, it must be said, Frédérique's continual insinuations, rehearsed more than ten thousand times in two years, ended up destroying her confidence in this place. She does not think about it anymore. Let us say that she visited, among other things, four communities or farms that she had heard about at Peyreblanque or by Frédérique, as being spiritual and interesting places.

 

The first, she stayed there for three days. She participated in the dishes or the kitchening, but nothing else. She did nothing but walk her sadness in the neighbouring restanques. Why so little activity? Because the inhabitants of this place did not care, but then nothing at all, except from time to time they printed brochures on their vast future plans. There was a pile at Frédérique's home. All the same, the saboteur (because there is always one posted in all the communities where one does not do a real work on the personalities) ends up asking Brigitte what was the meaning of her presence here, story of start to make her uncomfortable. She replied that she was wondering too, and twenty minutes later she came down the rugged path cut from the shale, still in a fine spring rain.

 

The second visit was much more pleasant, in a small organic farm in the plain. For a while, she shared the lives of these simple and quiet people, a young Dutch couple who moved to the South. In the evening, they spoke of many things, and Brigitte felt in them the Call of the Spirit, the Flame, the thirst for knowledge. But what material misery! What a little house where she had to sleep in the dining room! She could not decently be lodged and fed for longer, even while helping.

Anyway, she had little heart to stay in contact with a couple: Despite her disgust for Frédérique, she was now feeling, because of their broken relationship, a huge void, a deep sadness which manages to invade her consciousness with grey clouds. Her need to confide was immense: she opened her mind to the Dutch, who sympathized tenderly. The man explained that during the lovemaking a subtle organic bond is established in the couple, which is dangerous to break. People who practice sexual vagrancy can «make love» as much as they want, but they mutilate themselves from the sweet feeling of love, and they can never really get into the intimacy of the coveted person.

 

Brigitte's third visit was for a large well known community, and even very fashionable in some circles of the New Age (Pronounced Niou-èydge among French snobs). She expected to find people radiant with joy and wisdom, they were rather sad and cold, with narrow views, and they immediately started to tease her on her vegetarian practice, yet they claimed themselves. After them, Frédérique was «somebody evolved» and Brigitte's misadventure «her karma». In any case the visitors had to «support themselve», that is to say, to pay four hundred francs a day, same tariff for everybody, rich or poor. So Brigitte, who had just picked up some money from the household cash, was forced to do all the dishes on the evening of her arrival. In these conditions she went down again the next day, but this time for the opposite reason: here they were too rich.

Some readers will be surprised that there are still communities, while fashion has long passed. It is because the ideal is still alive, and despite the stigma thrown on the communities of the 70s, there always are here and there small groups of people making attempts. Of course the excesses of some 1968 communities are frankly outdated. In general these places are home to only two or three couples, or take the form of villages, usually on spiritual or agricultural grounds. It is because group life corresponds to a deep and unavoidable need of the human being. In the future, the vast majority of people will live in groups, and all will have to be able to do so. But no attempt of a community without rule or authority can last and succeed, as long as the relationship problems between people are eluded. Problems all related to egocentrism and ignorance of the Universal Laws.

 

Still walking along meaningless roads, it seemed to Brigitte that she was drinking the dregs of life, that she had found the bottom. Every junction that led nowhere reminded her cruelly that she did not know what to do with her existence. What good is it now of hands, eyes, thought? It was not raining anymore, but the sky was still grey, the temperature was mild. Suddenly Brigitte realized that her sadness was no longer a revolt, but a solid grey, like the sky. All traces of anger had left her, all what remained was the sweet sorrow of the pure and innocent beings, who look at the evil without getting angry, without entering its game.

Wandering on the grassy side of a country road, she began to meditate and visualized herself perfectly pure, pained by evil, but not entering its attraction, neither by revolt nor by fatalism. She visualized herself crying softly, as on the shoulder of an infinitely patient friend, who would not even ask her why she was crying. Suddenly she felt as if somebody had unloaded her shoulders of this sadness. Her surprise dispelled the charm, but... She well felt, for a split second, a soft warmth, a subtle peach-colored presence... The sadness was now coming back only if she thought of its cause.

All the reminder of the way, she repeated this exercise, forgetting even to extend a thumb to the cars which doubled her.

 

Especially she was arrived at this other organic farm which was receiving trainees. There she was accepted, and she began to transplant cabbages for the domain. It was hard work, she could barely keep up, but apparently her presence was well felt by her hosts, so she stayed until the end of the work. She felt happy at gardening tasks, although in fact she had little deep contact with the farmers, who were quite traditional, paunchy and grizzled under the beret, rolling the rr and reconverted to the «biauu» (Bio, the French for organic farming). She was sleeping in the hayloft without walls, just beneath the frames full of swallows nests, at the top of the large heap of fragrant hay: How well she was! Every morning, in the still fresh air and the tingling of the big milk cans, Auguste came and pricked a hay bale from his fork, mounted it on his shoulder with a powerful jerk, and went off to the barn, not without shouting at Brigitte: «Oòòòh! Ooooh! Get up the city girl! Lou Souleil he will soon go to bed!» One morning they were surprised to find a badger under the straw, who remained haggard, as surprised as them. Then he left without asking for his rest. Auguste and his family were not vegetarians, they even drank wine, according to their old habits that they had not questioned. But they never made the slightest remark to Brigitte, who refused meat for the peace of animals. They even described his engagement as admirable, and Emma, Auguste's wife, went in all extends to make her a cuisine which suited her. Nor did they bear any judgment on her misadventure with Frédérique. They just called the latter incorrect, which in the mouth of these peasants said more than many speeches. Finally, Auguste thanked Brigitte kindly, and handed her a bundle of banknotes as a pay. Stupefied, moved, Brigitte, who did not expected it at all, did not know how to refuse. She only accepted not to shock Auguste. And promised herself that this money, Frédérique would never see it.

 

Finally Brigitte returned to Frédérique, sadly, as do lovers who went angry. By hope, to believe again, to find a little warmth in all this gray... To give him a chance. To not leave him on a whim. To be sure that she did not do the wrong thing herself... And for some stupid papers she had forgotten in his home.

And hello, here's the surprise. Who does she find in Frédérique's home? But his next wife, of course. It is that he is fast at work, him. A short blonde, named Martine, pretty enough although a bit corpulent. Spread in a huge wicker chair, she does not seem to see Brigitte, despite Frédérique's presentations. She looks very detached, as in a completely natural situation, perfectly normal...

Unable to believe what is happening to her, Brigitte goes around the house. This is quickly done, by the way. Oh, a washing machine. Brand new. For Martine, it was worth it, not for Brigitte. No doubt Martine is not an ecologist. Oh and even a TV! Already with Frédérique's business the small rooms were full, plus the huge beanbags, the entire boxes of weaving and other macramés from Martine, it became a real souk, somewhat pretty by the way.

Frédérique comes and goes in various occupations, from time to time throwing a malicious glance towards Brigitte. Fortunately, they did not touched the little corner of shelf which, alone in all this stuff, she used for her personal belongings.

Martine wakes up finally, and turns toward Brigitte a stubborn forehead and an authoritarian pout contrasting oddly with her sensual hair and her hand-spun hippie sweater. Without any preamble, she starts: «Listen Brigitte, we put here for you your mail and your stuff, there, your personal belongings. Me, you understand, I do not want to live in aggression, to spoil my life with your problems and your stories, but by the time you find another home, you can sleep in the living room here. Understand that us, with Frédérique, we are living a great spiritual relationship, very deep, with lots of great vibrations, so we do not want lies and blockages.» Brigitte, having passed the stage of being surprised, realises that Frédérique ended up meeting a woman of his kind, and without further waiting she starts to take her things, although in fact she definitively has no ideas on where to go. Even his sadness passed in the background. She is now (at last) having only one thought: to flee this place as quickly as possible.

Ho, here again are the compromising photos she had found at the top of the cabinet. She plays at showing them to Martine, who rejects them disdainfully: «What does that prove?» Very likely Martine either is not in her first super-relationship full of super-vibrations.

Among Brigitte's mail, a small envelope lined with black... HORROR! The Grandma! She went without her saying goodbye, without her having thanked her for the best moments of her life, that she spent in her pretty little house! What a shame!

A letter from her parents explains how it happened: without warning the Grandma had died, after sweeping her room where no one ever entered, her room sanctuary always impeccably in order. Feeling the end coming, she had left everything clean, all washed, all tidy, leaving the last mop only regretfully, and she was finally lying on her lace covered bed. Then she gently abandoned her body, smiling to the angels coming to take her, and the wonderful smile remained on the lifeless face. At least this is what Brigitte deduces from her parents' explanations, much less poetical.

Brigitte wants to cry, for her lack of recognition, but she would hate to let go in the presence of this detestable Martine. Nevertheless a tear betrays her. Martine, who must have seen the announcement while taking the mail, suspects what it is about, and with the utmost insensibility, totally off topic, starts to pontificate: «You know Brigitte, I sympathize with your suffering, but you must learn that death is only a normal stage in life, a passage in a spiritual dimension where we are finally free from matter. It is our egoism which makes us suffer to lose a loved one and who...»

Brigitte does not listen any more. Besides, hearing all these pseudo-spiritual speeches so wrongly distorted start to make her need to vomit. This Martine is undoubtedly as dangerous as this E... which was sowing discord among the ecologists, with her treacherous language full of psychological interpretations, of high flown spiritualism and super-vibrations, just to better fool and twist unsuspecting people.

«...besides, vegetarianism is an illusion, because when you kill an animal, it makes it evolve, and moreover it is a spiritual initiation when you have to bring to the slaughterhouse an animal that is no longer profitable and that...»

What was I saying, thinks Brigitte. She will soon show that God is the devil and vice versa. Big brother in the spiritualistic sauce, reviewed and corrected, put in the last fashion of the time. Ah they will break souls and ideals, these two! Brigitte regrets that there is not a kind of spiritual police which stops these two dangerous delinquants of the mind, far too clever to let themselves be defeated by stupid materialistic laws.

More mail from her parents, who are worried about having no answer, even after the burial. Of course, she was not there. The counting of mail is long, because of the heaps of advertising that must be set aside, for the recycling of paper. A-aaah? A notary? But what does he want?

Brigitte, a little worried, carefully opens the official envelope, as if she was to blow off in her hands. A simple convocation, for the succession of the Grandma, without details. Strange! She is not a direct heiress. What did she leave him? Her flower pots? Her rabbits?

Martine ostentatiously comes to smoke a cigarette in the room where Brigitte is, and begins about this a diatribe on freedom, of course the one which starts where the one of the others stops. Brigitte does not know how to extricate herself, even by opening the window to the freshness subtly scented with rain, and curiously it is Frédérique who intercedes in her favour: «Do not badger her, You see that she's leaving!»

For a moment, Brigitte has a vision of a kind of small demon. She already saw it, but when? He laughs, mock at her, then flees with a pirouette, as if to say, «I leave you now.»

She finally leaves, wiping away a tear, not for herself, but from pity for these two sad individuals.

Martine pursues her with ranting to the street, but, suddenly realizing that neighbours are watching, she becomes all smiles, makes a cheerful good-bye and returns to Frédérique.

Just out of the village Brigitte steps right on the school teacher. Shame: What to say to explain her departure? Nothing: everyone in the village knew very well how it would end. The mistress, without daring to say anything precise, stammers a few words of consolation, clumsy but touching. Solidarity of all the brave people in the face of evil and stupidity, beyond all differences of spiritual level, ideology or opinion...