This is the beginning of a loose series on the worlds of the Greens and the Left.
(by Maria Schneider)
As always, Anahanda is awakened by the sounds of Indian singing bowls in the Stuttgart bacon belt. What a wonderful way to start the day! Because she immediately feels transported back to the best time of her life in Baghwan’s Ashram in Pune. This is where the wonderful jewelry box comes from, which one of her countless admirers from her workshop on primal screaming therapy had sanded as soft as silk in hours of meditative work.
His daughter (presumably) also comes from him, who was conceived in a moment of physical-mental-spiritual enlightenment during a naked self-assessment session after dynamic meditation. But who knows that exactly? And is that really important?
Anahanda sits up carefully so that her soul mate Robin is not awakened. Anahanda is happy. She is 65 and her life is exactly what she wants it to be. Born as Heike Schmidt, she has always been dissatisfied with the materialistic gifts her post-war parents showered her with. Does the Latest TV Really Make You Happy? Is the “Blaue Bock” or the “Laufende Band” really that uplifting? Is the woman’s role really to care for her child, wash and cook for her, and help with homework, as her mother did? No, Anahanda was called to higher things.
How much she had hated the same, daily rituals! As if there was nothing more important in life than food on the table, a permanent job and a roof over your head. The most sickening part of all, however, was that her mother was financially dependent on her father and – worse still – she didn’t seem to mind!
Fixed by the Beatles’ search for souls in India and the revolutionary musical “Hair”, Heike wanted to get away from this bourgeois life as early as possible and therefore flew straight after graduation with the angry money her grandmother had saved, which was actually intended as a dowry or study aid India.
There she was finally respected because, unlike most Indians, she was extremely rich. Anahanda (then Heike) passed the money on to the Ashram and her beloved Guru Baghwan with full hands and a wide open heart. Yes, Baghwan deserved to buy another Rolls Royce with it, as he was her master and comforted her inner child, who had been so shabbily ignored by her cold, war-traumatized parents.
But that was a long time ago and Anahanda knows how important reconciliation is – especially for herself. In addition, Anahanda lives in the present as a matter of principle and has been taking care of her inner child for a long time. And so, like every morning, she feels inside herself and asks her inner child what it wants. “Pancakes!” Then it must be pancakes, because after her return from India (she ran out of grandma’s money) Anahanda had to live under the control of her employer, parents and daughter for far too long.
Anahanda ties her crazy, feminine, wild, gray locks together and takes a humming shower under the rainforest shower of her new go-in shower. She bought the shower as a reward because she finally managed to get over her guilty feelings and put her mother in an old people’s home. Her safety-loving parents had invested well in insurance and so Anahanda didn’t have to pay anything and was even paid out at the same time (good karma!) When her mother was admitted to the home, the life insurance that her parents had taken out for her when she was born.
Such a wonderful shower – almost like a mild tropical rain in India. Appreciatingly, she examines her breasts, which are still standing well and where the water droplets roll off so nicely. Yes, she is alive like the Wild Woman and she is no longer ashamed to live her femininity.
Now Ananda puts on the hand-woven, white linen robe (from the organic store, made without child labor) to emphasize her advanced enlightenment and turning away from material things. A long, shamanic mala, with a lapis lazuli dangling from the lower end, rounds off the image of the wise, old woman who is still sexually active – indicated by the lapis lazuli that rests between her breasts and accentuates them perfectly.
Smiling and at one with herself and the world, she carefully and lovingly prepares gluten-free quinoa pancakes and sets the table with hand-made dishes.
Time to wake Robin. Robin used to be called Robert Meier and like her had fled to India – disgusted by his caring and provident parents who had witnessed the war first hand. Together they had worked through their childhood trauma, maltreated pillows, panted, cleaned the toilets for the other ashram residents to learn humility and finally – one day – received the initiation and their new names from the master himself. In the meantime, both of them had been shaking with sobs, which – as they had found out on soul journeys – had deepened their kinship, which had been around for centuries.
Anahanda gives Robin a kiss on his third eye and whispered in his ear: “Breakfast is ready, my darling.” Robin slowly gets up, turns his dreadlocks into a bun and shuffles to the set table.