A man in his sixties, most of you would call a silver fox, was leaning against the anthracite wall of a trendy and vegan café in the city.
He feigned detachment, sipping his Chai tea. Mid-length hair, falsely neglected, shirt open on a grizzled torso. He wore with pride a crystal pendant, wisely chosen for its properties and the whole panoply of the perfect guru: rudraksha galore, signet ring, Celtic band…
- Clothes do not make the man! I said to myself.
To no one’s surprise, the expected ingenue had just entered. She sat in front of him. She seemed upset, sobbing. She stared at this father figure, like a child looking for comfort. She confided in him, in an indistinct voice and with great intensity.
He seemed wholly absorbed in her story, overflowing with empathy.
Little by little, the distance between them narrowed. By tiny gestures, he invited her to sidle on the seat next to him, inexorably.
Their knees then touched.
Devastated, her imploring eyes were seeking for help, a solution or anything!
With a precise gesture, of those only spiritual guides have mastery, he put a reassuring and compassionate hand on hers, while the other landed on her fourth chakra. On that hilly area, at the level of the heart. Where emotions sit!
He looked at her straight in the eyes, with a rare intensity. Under his influence, she felt unique and loved with Unconditional Love. Then between two sniffles, as if to prevent tears from running down her tremulous lips, he kissed her.
Without further delay, he escorted her to the exit, one hand pressed against the small of her back. One key in the other hand.
He looked towards the gate across the street. The path to redemption, the promise of nirvana.
No doubt… she was rescued.
