So,off I went to London.

Although I had lived there for five years when I was still "career girl," my trips had become extremely rare, so it felt like a huge adventure to be there once again, looking for the right house in a wide North London, tree-lined street. The gated path was tiled and the huge front door was glossy and black with a brass handle; I rang the bell and the Tantric master appeared at once.

He showed me into his office and went off to make tea while I settled down from the journey. The room had two huge windows with beautiful saris for curtains, various statues of Indian deities and an entire wall of book-shelves, packed full of esoteric books. There were two large arm chairs, one of which I sat at, and his own large leather chair in front of a huge wooden desk.

While I drank my tea we chatted. He asked me how I knew Shanti, what was my experience of meditation, and I explained that I was a relative, but enthusiastic, newcomer.
"Why have you asked me to help with your workshops," I asked.
"I see something in you," he told me. Of course, we all like to be seen as special, and flattery is a powerful tool.
"What's that?"
"I see your hidden, inner Goddess." In the intervening years I have come to realise that we all have one of those, the diamond of a spirit that seeks to guide us and protect us. Back then, especially with my marriage as it was, it felt good to be seen as something other than a drudge who washed floors and peeled potatoes.

I asked him about his background, and he told me he had studied in India, as well as Zen masters in this country. He and his wife had stopped travelling when their daughter was born, and worked as holistic therapists, as well as on the television. A little alarm bleeped in the corner.
"Time to check on the kittens!" he announced. "My daughter's cat has had babies, and she leaves me strict instructions about looking after them while she's at school." I accompanied him to the bathroom, where the cat basket was tucked beside the boiler for warmth, with proud Mum and several babies looking up at us, sleepily.
And then, we went back to the office, while he explained that I would be one of four assistants. "All I want you to do," he told me, "is hold the energy. I'd like each of you to wear white, and sit in meditation in each corner of the room." It all sounded simple enough, and the opprtunity sounded too good to miss. In the evening, we'll have some activities planned, your food will be provided. All very simple really. Everyone is going to sleep in tipis in the grounds."

He then told me he would like to give me a chakra clearing. I had experienced various types of healing, and was looking into doing a course with the NFSH, so saw nothing unusual in his request. He laid out a yoga mat and asked me to stand beside it while he placed his hands on the top of my head. The pungent aroma of incence filled the room, and the saris fluttered at the windows, filtering the bright sunlight. He ran his hands down my back, stopping at each chakra point. As I normally did during healing, I closed my eyes and experienced a sense of peace that I used to describe as "other-wordly." However, I was suddenly shocked and alarmed to realise that he had lifted my skirt and was "clearing" with his hands inside my underwear. The healing process had numbed my physical reactions and my normal reasoning; I was easily pushed to my knees, where he continued. I am sure he gave me a very thorough and proficient clearing, leaving me feeling both satisfied and invaded. Questions ran through my head: "Is this normal? Should I have expected this? Should I be scared?" I was in shock. I stumbled to my feet and tried to return to a compsed state while he cleaned his hands and handed me a glass of water.

"I have to catch my train," I told him, suddenly wanting to be away as soon as possible. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sum of money, which he held out to me.
"I said I'd pay your train fare," he told me. I just looked at it, my mind racing. I could not accept money from him, not after what had happened. It felt very wrong, and I was unsure what I wanted to do, other than get out of his flat as quickly as I could.
"No." I shook my head. "I don't want any money."

On the journey home my head was spinning. In all that I do, I come from a position of integrity, and I expect that from people around me. Some of you may feel I was gullible but I was, on some level, being taught a lesson about discernment. It used to hurt when people did not extend me the same courtesy but now, years after that particular event, I just endeavour to always do my best. Needless to say, I chose not to attend the weekend workshop in Devon.