When the wires were finally removed from her jaw, she’d carefully go out on a body board, paddling safely beyond the breaks, or she’d walk the beach, dutifully videotaping Jens and the other surfers. The power of the water used to thrill her, but now it made her fearful. What if she’d snapped her neck? What if nobody else had seen her go under? Did she get injured because she wasn’t that good in the first place? It was winter, and the best surfers in the world had converged at Sunset Beach. They didn’t get hurt.

She’d never made a conscious decision to quit surfing; she thought she was just taking a break, but her hiatus went on and on, just like the hiatus from her former life. She found herself drawn to what was happening on land. Hawaii had become a melting pot of all ages and religions; the culture that formed was all about surfing, travel, spirituality, and healthy living. Things were happening on the North Shore back then that were just beginning to be known elsewhere, like capoeira, an Afro-Brazilian form of martial art performed as dance. After spending so much time balancing on the water, she found this kind of movement natural: easy, even joyful. She was still strong and flexible, and she had great balance. She was drawn to any physical activity that allowed her to lose herself.

One night at an ayahuasca ceremony, the Peruvian shaman passed around hallucinogenic tea. People flipped out, melted down, and became transformed. It was intense therapy for emotional stuff: victims forgave their abusers, alcoholics swore they’d stop drinking. Jens confessed that he’d been sleeping with a beautiful, blond Swedish surfer named Uma. Poppy didn’t care much; she wasn’t possessive. Her life was open and communal. She was attracted to elusive, adventurous men. She wasn’t looking for commitment.

Poppy worried about what might happen to her when she took the drug. From what she’d heard, ayahuasca could unearth long-buried feelings, and she had plenty of those. Instead, she had a vision that changed her life. She saw herself with her palm pressed to a man’s forehead. A red heat came out of her. The man’s hands were clasped around her wrist in gratitude. She told the shaman about it.

“There’s a light in you,” he said. “You can do healing work. You’re a healer. You’ve known this all along. Even strangers can see this in you. Give yourself to the experience. Just live it. Be it.”

The next week she sold her VW and bought a one-way ticket to an ashram in Mulki, India. It was there that she learned about the Tamil Divya Prabandham and all the tricks of Iyengar, from liver-cleansing twists to handstands that improve fertility. She felt invigorated and reborn, full of new, useful knowledge and what she believed was healing energy.