Mana-ma stood in the center of the circle, and we all began humming as the drugs took a stronger hold. We reached out for each other as Mana-ma listed the images for us to create in our minds. A butterfly’s wings. The petals of a rose. The sky, dark with clouds, fresh rain falling.

There was a flash, pure and bright, that traveled through the ring. The pain that had been lessening with each Meditation returned. We writhed and panted, and I wondered if Mana-ma enjoyed it.

“Yes,” I heard Mana-ma say, even though she was speaking so quietly no one should have been able to hear her.

Another flash, and we weren’t in the meadow anymore. We were standing in a forest. The trees weren’t redwoods like the ones in Muir Woods. The bark was all silver, the leaves blue and purple. The sky roiled a deep green. All the members of the Hearth stood in this weird forest, looking about, confused. In the middle was Mana-ma. Triumphant.

“Mardel,” she said. “Come forward.”

He came forward, blinking, dazed.

“You have often spoken to me in Confession of your struggle with drink,” she said.

Mardel’s cheeks, always red from alcohol, flushed deeper. Way to break the sanctity of Confession, Mana-ma.

“I think together, with me as the conduit for God, we can heal you of that urge, here in the sacred wood. Will you permit us to try?” She held out her hand.

Mardel nodded, visibly shaking.

“My flock,” Mana-ma said. “God’s blessings upon you all. Let us join hands again and think healing thoughts to Mardel. Let him never again crave another drop of drink, so his mind and heart are clear to receive God’s love.”

We sent him healing urges, yet with so many people, each had a slightly different emphasis and flavor. Some wanted him to also become kinder, less prone to snap. His wife wished he would smile more. Others simply hoped he’d never again crave drinking to excess. I could feel everyone’s thoughts, see into their minds. Except for Mana-ma’s. She was closed off, wrapped up like her long, black robes.

Another flash. Another burst of pain.

We were back in the meadow.

“Excellent,” Mana-ma said, bursting with pride. “I knew it.”

She helped Mardel to his feet. “How do you feel, my son?” she asked.

“I feel … better,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you crave vodka?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “I don’t.”

We all cheered.

I hoped that, because of the triumph or whatever the hell we did in the meadow, we wouldn’t have to do Confession that day.

No such luck. “We’ll celebrate after,” she said.

We walked slowly back to the church.