The Witch of Portobello

"I'm going to say a third word."

She paused.

"Center."

I felt--and this was entirely unconscious--that all my vital energy went to my navel, where it glowed yellow. This frightened me. If someone touched it, I could die.

"Make a gesture for center!"

Her words sounded like a command. I immediately placed my hands on my belly to protect myself.

"Perfect," said Athena. "You can sit up now."

I opened my eyes and saw the extinguished stage lights up above me, distant and dull. I rubbed my face and got to my feet. I noticed that my colleagues looked surprised.

"Was that the lecture?" asked the director.

"You can call it a lecture if you like."

"Well, thank you for coming. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to start rehearsals for the next play."

"But I haven't finished yet."

"Perhaps another time."

Everyone seemed confused by the director's reaction. After some initial doubts, I think we were enjoying the session--it was different, no pretending to be things or people, no visualizing apples or candles. No sitting in a circle holding hands, as if we were practicing some sacred ritual. It was simply something slightly absurd, and we wanted to know where it would take us.

Without a flicker of emotion, Athena bent down to pick up her bag. At that moment, we heard a voice from the stalls.

"Marvelous!"

Heron had come to join her. The director was afraid of him because Heron knew the theater critics on his newspaper and had close ties with the media generally.

"You stopped being individuals and turned into ideas. What a shame you're so busy, but don't worry, Athena, we'll find another group to work with and then I can see how your 'lecture' ends. I have contacts."

I was still thinking about the light traveling through my whole body to my navel. Who was that woman? Had my colleagues experienced the same thing?

"Just a moment," said the director, aware of the look of surprise on everyone's face. "I suppose we could postpone rehearsals today..."

"No, you mustn't do that. Besides, I have to get back to the newspaper and write something about this woman. You carry on doing what you always do. I've just found an excellent story."

If Athena felt lost in that debate between the two men, she didn't show it. She climbed down from the stage and went off with Heron. We turned to the director and asked him why he'd reacted like that.

"With all due respect, Andrea, I thought the conversation in the bar about sex was far more interesting than the nonsense we've just been engaging in. Did you notice how she kept falling silent? She didn't know what to do next!"

"But I felt something strange," said one of the older actors. "When she said center, it was as if all my vital energy were suddenly focused in my navel. I've never experienced that before."

"Did you? Are you sure?" asked an actress, and judging by her words, she'd experienced the same thing.

"She's a bit of a witch, that woman," said the director, interrupting the conversation. "Let's get back to work."

We started doing our usual stretching exercises, warm-ups, and meditation, all strictly by the book. Then after a few improvisations, we went straight into a read-through of the new script. Gradually, Athena's presence seemed to be dissolving, and everything was returning to what it was--a theater, a ritual created by the Greeks thousands of years ago, where we were used to pretending to be different people.

But that was pure playacting. Athena wasn't like that, and I was determined to see her again, especially after what the director had said about her.

HERON RYAN, JOURNALIST

Unbeknownst to Athena, I'd followed exactly the same steps as the actors, obeying everything she told us to do, except that I kept my eyes open so that I could follow what was happening onstage. The moment she said, "Make a gesture for center," I'd placed my hand on my navel, and to my surprise, I saw that everyone, including the director, had done the same. What was going on?