‘I had so many questions for the man who had written those words. I simply had to find him. The only problem was he was in India, according to the book. This was in the days before the internet, before Facebook, before you could just look someone up online. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight, but I made up my mind – I had to go there.
‘I sent away for a visa and when it came, I simply packed a bag and went to the airport. It was easy enough to buy a plane ticket. As soon as I was above the clouds and on my way, the pressure started to melt – the pressure that had been there like hands around my neck since the day your father died.
‘After a couple of days of travelling, I finally arrived in a town that I had never heard of before, surrounded by other towns that I’d never heard of either. The whole journey was a blur, and the last leg had been on the back of a rickshaw. Yet all these years later, I can still recall in vivid detail the moment the doors of the ashram opened. I was welcomed by a stranger in flowing robes with long hair that smelled like coconut, and I wept with relief.
‘Our days began with sunrise meditations, breathing exercises, and chanting, practices that nourished the body and soul. I saw myself growing stronger again, growing more aware of my power and my connection to the world, and gaining an understanding of the universe that was deeper than I could have imagined knowledge could be – I just had to work out what it all meant.
‘I had private audiences with the guru whenever I could. I would take along my copy of his book, with passages highlighted, and he did his best to answer all my questions. He used to constantly tell me, “just give it time”. “Enlightenment is not a lightbulb moment,” he would say, “it is like making a fire by rubbing two sticks together. If you try hard enough, and you are patient, one day you will get a spark.”’
‘But I didn’t have forever. I needed to get better and get home. Eventually I left. There was lots of talk about a spiritual retreat in Bali, and a new guy that everyone was following. I wanted to meet him, to see what answers he could give me.’
I held up a hand to stop her. ‘What, wait – you went to Bali? You never said.’ I’d been there several times, but I had no idea that Mum had ever visited.
Mum sighed and shrugged. ‘You never gave me the chance to tell you.’
I waved her on to continue the story.
‘Spiritual detox, energy cleanses, fasting and live-food diets, sweat lodges, liver cleanses, acupuncture, reiki, tantric chanting, goddess circles – I tried it all. Somewhere out there was the secret I was searching for. But the answer still didn’t come.
‘One day, I got chatting to another guest, an American woman. She had travelled the world and was quite the expert. The best she had come across was an indigenous tribe in Peru. This tribe had set up a retreat on their lands that allowed outsiders to come in and experience their ancient rituals – not cheap, but worth every penny. And not for the faint-hearted, she warned me. Well, I needed no more convincing. I left the next morning.’
I heard a creak from upstairs, either a bedframe or a floorboard. Rachel and Auntie Sue would be up soon, and I wanted Mum to finish the story.
‘Getting from Indonesia to Peru was not an easy journey back then, and the cheap ticket involved several connections. By that time, I had been living in ashrams, retreats and yoga institutes for quite a while and was used to the rhythm of life in a commune. I was as committed as ever, and very confident that finally, there in Peru, I would find the answer to the meaning of everything.
‘But the retreat was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was buried deep in the rainforest, and the accommodation was beyond basic. During the orientation tour – if you could call it that –we were told that the lodgings were designed to help guests connect more easily with nature, but the reality was they provided little protection from the constant rain and bugs. Men with painted faces patrolled the camp. One of their jobs was to catch snakes before they got too close to the guests.’
I shook my head, struggling to picture Mum turning up at an indigenous camp in the middle of the rainforest. The idea was surreal.
‘I booked in for the two-week package. I’d asked about a discount on longer stays, but the young lady who showed me to the dormitory said that nobody stayed longer than that. The highlight of the retreat was to be the traditional ayahuasca ceremony – it’s a ritual that involves drinking an ancient medicinal tea brewed from the leaves of rare rainforest plants. It helps to cleanse and purify the body and mind and induces visions. They offered all kinds of add-ons, including one that used treefrog venom rubbed onto the skin to help you detox. Finally, the night of the ayahuasca ceremony had arrived and I was ready. I dressed for the occasion in my all-white yogis and drank my tea quickly, eager for the visions to start.’
‘Wait, Mum,’ I said. ‘You took drugs? In Peru?’
‘Not drugs, Izzy. It’s medicine, traditional ceremonial medicine. The tribe has been drinking that tea for thousands and thousands of years.’
Mum shook her head and continued. ‘At first, nothing happened. I was sitting on the ground, and a kind assistant helped me to a chair. The other guests were enjoying their hallucinations, dancing around
