The Sorcerers' Crossing: Chapter 01.

The Sorcerers' Crossing - A Woman's Journey ©1992 by Taisha Abelar.

Chapter 1.

I walked to an isolated spot away from the highway and people in order to sketch the early morning shadows on the unique lava mountains that fringe the Gran Desierto, in southern Arizona.

The dark brown jagged rocks sparkled as bursts of sunlight illuminated their peaks.

Strewn on the ground around me were huge chunks of porous rocks

The rocks were the remnants of a lava flow from a gigantic volcanic eruption.

I made myself comfortable on a large clump of rock.

Oblivious to anything else, I sank into my work; as I often did, in that rugged, beautiful place.

I had finished outlining the heights and depressions of the distant mountains, when I noticed a woman watching me.

It annoyed me no end that someone would disturb my solitude.

I tried my utmost to ignore her; but when she moved nearer to look at my work, I turned around in anger to face her.

I noticed her eyes which were green and sparkling.

It was that friendly gleam that made my anger vanish.

Her high cheekbones and shoulder-length black hair made her look Eurasian.

She had a smooth, creamy complexion, so it was difficult to judge her age; she could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty.

She was perhaps two inches taller than I, which would have made her five nine, but with her powerful frame, she looked twice my size.

Yet, in her black silk pants and Oriental jacket, she seemed extremely fit.

I found myself asking the woman the inane question, "Do you live around here?"

"No," she said, taking a few steps toward me. "I am on my way to the U.S. border checkpoint at Sonoyta.

"I stopped to stretch my legs and ended up in this isolated spot.

"I was so surprised to see someone out here, so far away from everything, that I could not help intruding the way I have.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Clara Grau."

She extended her hand and I shook it.

Then I told her, without the slightest hesitation, that I was given the name Taisha when I was born.

I told her that, later, my parents did not think the name Taisha was American enough, so they began calling me Martha; my mother's name.

I detested that name, so I had chosen Mary as an alternative to Martha.

"How interesting!" Clara mused.

"You have three names that are so different.

"I will call you Taisha since it is your birth name."

I was glad she had selected that name. Taisha was the name I had secretly kept for myself.

While at first I had agreed with my parents about the name Taisha being too foreign, I disliked the name Martha so much that I ended up making Taisha my secret name.

In a harsh tone that Clara immediately concealed behind a benign smile, she bombarded me with a series of statements in the guise of questions.

I responded to her truthfully, and that was an unusual thing for me to do. I was accustomed to being cautious with people; especially strangers.

Clara began by saying, "You are not from Arizona."

I said, "I came to Arizona a year ago to work."

"You can not be more than twenty."

"I will be twenty-one in a couple of months."

"You have a slight accent. You do not seem to be an American, but I can not pinpoint your exact nationality."

I said, "I am an American, but as a child I lived in Germany. My father is American and my mother Hungarian.

"I left home when I went to college and I never went back because I did not want to have anything more to do with my family."

"I take it you did not get along with them?"

"No. I was miserable. I could not wait to leave home."

Clara smiled and nodded as if she was familiar with the feeling of wanting to escape.

"Are you married?" Clara asked.

"No. I do not have anyone in the world." I said that with the touch of self-pity I always had whenever I talked about myself.

At first, Clara did not make any comment, but then she spoke calmly and precisely as if she wanted to put me at ease and at the same time convey as much information about herself as she could with each of her sentences.

I did not want to give Clara the impression I was not listening to her, and I did not take my eyes away from her; but as she talked, I put my drawing pencils into my case.

Clara was saying, "I was an only child and both my parents are dead now.

"My father's family are Mexican from Oaxaca, but my mother's family are Americans of German descent.

"They are from back east, but now live in Phoenix. I just returned from the wedding of one of my cousins."

I asked, "Do you also live in Phoenix?"

Clara replied, "I have lived half my life in Arizona, and the other half in Mexico. "But for the past years, my home has been in the state of Sonora, Mexico."

I began to zip up my portfolio. Meeting and talking to this woman had so unsettled me that I knew I would not be able to do any more work that day.

Clara regained my attention as she said, "I have also traveled to the Orient where I learned acupuncture, healing, and the martial arts. I have even lived for a number of years in a Buddhist temple."

"Really?" I said as I glanced at her eyes.

Clara's eyes had the look of a person who meditated a great deal. They were fiery, and yet tranquil.

I said, "I am very interested in the Orient, especially in Japan. I also have studied Buddhism and the martial arts."

Echoing me, Clara said, "Really?"

Then she said, "I wish I could tell you my Buddhist name, but secret names should not be revealed except under the proper circumstances."

I replied, "I told you my secret name," and I tightened the straps of my portfolio.

Clara replied with undue seriousness, saying, "Yes, Taisha, you did; and that is very significant to me. But still, right now it is time only for introductions."

"Did you drive here?" I asked, scanning the area for her car.

Clara replied, "I was just going to ask you the same question."

"I left my car about a quarter of a mile back, on a dirt road south of here. Where is yours?"

Clara cheerfully asked me, "Is your car a white Chevrolet?"

"Yes."

"Well, mine is parked next to it." Clara giggled, as if she had said something funny.

I was surprised to find her laughter so irritating.

I said, "I have got to go now. It has been very pleasant meeting you. Good-bye!"

I started to walk to my car; thinking that Clara would remain behind admiring the scenery.

Clara protested, saying, "Let us not say good-bye yet. I am coming with you."

We walked together.

Next to my one hundred and ten pound body, Clara was like a huge boulder.

Her midsection was round and powerful, and she projected the feeling that she could easily have been obese; but she was not.

I wanted to break the awkward, and I said, "May I ask you a personal question, Mrs. Grau?"

Clara stopped walking, and faced me.

Clara snapped back, "I am not anybody's Mrs."

Then she said, "I am Clara Grau. You can call me Clara; and yes, go right ahead and ask me anything you wish."

I reacted to her tone, and commented, "I take it you are not partial to love and marriage."

For a second, she gave me a fearsome look, but she softened it instantly, and said, "I am definitely not partial to slavery; but not only for women.

"Now, what was it that you were going to ask me?"

Clara's reaction was so unexpected that I lost track of what I had been going to ask her, and I embarrassed myself by staring at her.

I asked hurriedly, "What made you walk all the way to this place in particular?"

"I came here because this is a place of energy."

Clara pointed at the lava formations in the distance, and said, "Those mountains were once spewed forth from the heart of the earth; like blood.

"Whenever I am in Arizona, I always make a detour to come here. This place oozes a peculiar earthly energy.

"Now, let me ask you the same question. What made you pick this spot?"

"I often come here. It is my favorite place to sketch."

Although I had not meant that as a joke, Clara burst out laughing.

She exclaimed, "This detail settles it!".

But then Clara continued in a quieter tone, saying, "I am going to ask you to do something you may consider outlandish or even foolish; but hear me out.

"I would like you to come to my house, and spend a few days as my guest."

I raised my hand to thank her and say no, but Clara urged me to reconsider.

Clara assured me that our common interest in the Orient and the martial arts warranted a serious exchange of ideas.

I asked, "Where exactly do you live?"

"Near the city of Navojoa."

"But that is more than four hundred miles from here."

"Yes, it is quite a distance. But, it is so beautiful and peaceful there that I am certain you would like it."

Clara kept silent for a moment as if waiting for my reply, and then she continued, saying, "Besides, I have the feeling that there is nothing definite you are involved in at the moment, and you have been at a loss to find something to do.

"Well, this could be just the thing you have been waiting for."

She was right about my being completely at a loss as to what to do with my life.

I had just taken some time off from a secretarial job in order to catch up with my artwork, but I certainly did not have the slightest desire to be anyone's house guest.

I looked around; searching the terrain for something that would give me an inkling of what to do next.

I had never been able to explain where I had gotten the idea that I could get help or clues from the surroundings; but I usually did get help that way.

I had a technique which seemed to have come to me out of nowhere; by means of which I often found options previously unknown to me.

I would fix my eyes on the southern horizon, and let my thoughts wander away; although I had no idea why I always picked the south.

And then, after a few minutes of silence, insights usually came to me to help me decide what to do; or how to proceed in a particular situation.

While Clara and I walked, I fixed my gaze on the southern horizon; and suddenly I saw the mood of my life stretched out before me like the barren desert.

I can truthfully say that although I had known that the whole area of southern Arizona, a bit of California, and half of the state of Sonora, Mexico, is the Sonoran Desert, I had never before noticed how lonely and desolate that wasteland was.

I realized that my life was as empty and barren as that desert; but it took a moment for the impact of my feelings to register in my mind.

I had lived off a small inheritance left to me by my aunt Taisha whom I was named after; but this income had run out.

I had no job, and I did not have any prospects for the future.

I had broken off with my family, and I had no family of my own.

I was utterly alone in the world.

The harsh and indifferent vastness that stretched all around, summoned up in me an overwhelming sense of self-pity.

I felt in need of a friend; someone to break the solitude of my life.

I knew it would be foolish to accept Clara's invitation, and jump into an unknown situation over which I had no control.

But my curiosity and a feeling of respect arose in me because of the directness of her manner, and her physical vitality.

I found myself admiring and even envying her beauty and strength.

I thought that she was a most striking and powerful woman; independent, self-reliant, indifferent. And yet, Clara was not hard or humorless.

She possessed the exact qualities I had always wanted for myself.

Above all, Clara's presence seemed to dispel my barrenness.

She made the space around her energetic, vibrant, and full of endless possibilities.

Yet still, it was my unbending policy never to accept invitations to people's houses; and certainly not from someone whom I had just met in the wilderness.

I had a small apartment in Tucson; and to accept invitations meant, to me, that I had to reciprocate- a thing that I was not prepared to do.

So, for a moment I stood motionless; not knowing which way to turn.

Clara urged me, saying, "Please say that you will come. It would mean a great deal to me."

"All right, I suppose I could visit with you," I said lamely, although I wanted to say the exact opposite.

She looked at me elated.

I immediately disguised my panic with a conviviality I was far from feeling.

I said, "It will be good for me to change scenery. It will be an adventure!"

Clara nodded approvingly.

Clara, with an air of confidence that helped to dispel my doubts, said, "You will not regret it. We can practice martial arts together."

She delivered a few brisk movements with her hand that were at once graceful and powerful. It seemed incongruous to me that this robust woman could be so agile.

Noticing that she easily adopted the stance of a long-pole fighter, I asked, "What specific style of martial arts did you study in the Orient?"

"In the Orient, I studied all the styles, and yet none of them in particular," she replied, with just a hint of a smile. "When we are at my house, I will be happy to demonstrate them."

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

When we reached the place where the cars were parked, I locked my gear in the trunk, and waited for Clara to say something.

"Well, let us get started," she said. "I will lead the way. Do you drive fast or slow, Taisha?"

"At a crawl."

"Me too. Living in China cured me from hurrying."

"May I ask you a question about China, Clara?"

"Of course. I have already said that you may ask anything you want without asking permission first."

"You must have been in China before the Second World War. Is that not so?"

"Oh, yes. I was there a lifetime ago. I gather that you have never been to mainland China, yourself."

"No. I have only been to Taiwan and Japan."

"Of course things were different before the war," Clara mused. "The line to the past was still intact then. Now everything is severed."

I did not know why, but I was afraid to ask her what she meant by her remark; so I asked her instead how long the drive to her house would be.

Clara was disturbingly vague as she only warned me to be prepared for an arduous trip.

Then she softened her tone as she added that she found my courage extremely rewarding.

She said, "To go so nonchalantly with a stranger is either utterly foolish; or tremendously daring."

I explained, "Usually I am very cautious, but this time I am not myself at all."

This was the truth; and the more I thought about my inexplicable behavior, the greater my discomfort became.

Pleasantly Clara asked, "Please tell me a little more about yourself."

And, as if to put me at ease, she came and stood by the door of my car.

Again I found myself conveying true information about myself.

I said, "My mother is Hungarian, but from an old Austrian family."

"She met my father in England during the Second World War when they worked together in a field hospital.

After the war, they moved to the United States; and then they went to South Africa."

"Why did they go to South Africa?"

"My mother wanted to be with her relatives that lived there."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have two brothers; a year apart in age. The oldest is twenty-six now."

Clara eyes were focused on me.

With an unprecedented ease, I unburdened painful feelings I had kept bottled up all my life.

I told her that I grew up lonely since my brothers never paid attention to me; because I was a girl.

When I was little, they used to tie a rope around me, and hook me to a post like a dog while they ran around the yard and played soccer.

All I could do was tug at my rope and watch them having a good time.

When I was older, I would run after them; but by that time they both had bicycles and I could never keep up with them.

When I complained to my mother, her usual reply was that boys will be boys, and that I should play with dolls and help around the house.

Clara said, "Your mother raised you in the traditional European way."

"I know it; but that is no consolation."

Once I had started talking, it seemed that I could not stop telling this woman more about my life.

I said that whereas my brothers went on trips and then away to school, I had to stay at home.

I wanted to have adventures like the boys, but according to my mother, girls had to learn to make beds and to iron clothes.

I told Clara, "My mother used to say, 'It is adventure enough to take care of a family. Women are born to obey.'"

I was on the verge of tears as I told Clara that I had three male masters to serve for as far back as I could remember; my father and my two brothers.

Clara remarked, "That sounds like an armful."

I said, "It was terrible. I left home to get as far away from them as I could, and to have adventures, too.

"But so far, I have not had all that much fun and excitement. I suppose I just was not brought up to be happy and light-hearted."

Describing my life to Clara, a total stranger, made me extremely anxious.

I stopped talking and looked at her.

I waited for a reaction that would either alleviate my anxiety, or would increase it to the point of making me change my mind about going with her; after all.

Clara said, "Well, it seems that there is only one thing you know how to do well, so you may as well make the most of it."

I thought she was next going to say that I should draw or paint, but to my utter chagrin she instead added, "All you know how to do is to feel sorry for yourself."

I tightened my fingers on the handle of the car door, and I protested, saying, "That is not true. Who are you to say that?"

Clara burst out laughing, and shook her head, saying, "You and I are very alike."

"We have been taught to be passive, subservient, and to adapt to situations; but inside, we are seething.

We are like a volcano ready to erupt; and what makes us even more frustrated, is that we have no dreams or expectations except the one of someday finding the right man who will take us out of our misery."

Clara had rendered me speechless.

She continued, saying, "Well? Am I right? Am I right? Be honest, am I right?"

I clenched my hands and I prepared to tell her off, but Clara was smiling warmly.

She exuded vigor and a sense of well-being that made me feel that I did not need to lie, or hide my feelings from her.

I agreed with her, saying, "Yes, you have me pegged."

I admitted that the only thing that gave meaning to my dreary existence, besides my artwork, was the vague hope that someday I would meet a man who would understand me, and appreciate me for the special person I was.

Clara, in a promissory tone, said, "Maybe your life will change for the better."

She got into her car and signaled me with her hand to follow her.

I became aware then that she had never asked me if I had my passport, or enough clothes or money; or whether I had other obligations.

But that did not frighten or discourage me.

I did not know why, but as I released the handbrake and began moving, I was certain I had made the right decision.

Perhaps my life was going to change after all.