The Woman Who Vanished into Thin Air

Her red velvet dressing gown hanging on the back gate, the navy slippers abandoned on the wet grass and the blue tinted morning light, this is what I remember, will always remember about that day.

It’s been three years since Izzy disappeared. She simply vanished and I am left with a mind full of questions. Where did she go? Why did she take her dressing gown and slippers off?

In 2006 I found myself on a Tantric Sex seminar. I was asked to write an article for a new magazine called ‘Love Yourself, Love the World’. I was skint at the time and needed the money, anyway I met her there. She came up to me, introduced herself and said: ‘You’re new to this aren’t you?’  ‘Is it that obvious?’ I replied. She nodded and smiled, it was a smile that imprinted itself somewhere inside of me and I’ve never forgotten it. As I looked around I noticed others were giggling and whispering but not Izzy, she was ultra-confident. She took my hand and suggested that we partner up. I couldn’t believe my luck. Izzy wasn’t like other women. She was sensual, funny, and beautiful.

The first hour was taken up by deep breathing, gazing into her eyes and then role play with me as Shiva and she as Shakti. I had to do subtle things to her, like brush her feet with a feather, ever so lightly. She stroked my neck, arms and back using Jasmine, an essential oil. I found myself succumbing more and more with the exercises. She said once you learn to trust you can be free, in your head and in your heart. By the end of the weekend, I was blown away. The highlight was learning how to ‘ride the wave of bliss’, which in laymen’s terms is a whole-body orgasm. Topping this was the fact that Izzy agreed to go out with me and of course one thing led to another, and we found ourselves riding that wave of bliss quite regularly.

She’d done everything: Transcendental Meditation, Reiki Healing, Holotropic Breath work, The Journey, Trance Dance and had even spent a night in an open grave, whilst Shamans banged their drums above her. One day she declared that she wanted to be a breatharian. ‘What the hell is that?’ I asked. She said nothing, just smiled and kissed me on the cheek, her eyes glowing.

She started skipping meals; she stopped eating solid food, drank only water and Miso broth. She lost weight; her eyes began to sink into their sockets. Her skin turned a grey chalky colour. She looked fucking awful, yet she kept saying how great she felt, how enlightened she was becoming. She practised astral travelling, mainly at night. Even though she explained that she didn’t take her body with her, she might as well have done. I was lonely; the Tantric Sex had long been forgotten.

One day I found her lying on the grass, bathed in a translucent blue light, ghostly pale and thin. She was staring into space; her lips cracked and bleeding. I picked her up, covered her with a blanket and took her to see the G.P. He wanted to admit her to the hospital immediately, but she began to moan and wail like a wild animal in pain. The doctor gave her a cup of something which had been standing on his desk. He mouthed the words, ‘sweet tea’ to me. Once she calmed down, she agreed to start eating, to take care of herself. Just before we left, the doctor asked her why she had stopped eating.

‘I want to live on air and light.’

A few days later she had gone. I hear her voice in the wind. I feel her close, as if she’s part of the elements. I breathe her in.

—–

Raine Geoghegan, M.A. is a Romani poet, writer and playwright living in the UK. She is a Forward prize, twice Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net 2018 nominee. Her work has been published online and in print. Her two pamphlets are published by Hedgehog Press. Her essay is featured in the anthology ‘Gifts of Gravity and Light’ with Hodder & Stoughton. Her First Collection will be published with Salmon Poetry Press in March 2022. Website – rainegeoghegan.co.uk

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