MANILA, Philippines - Gilda has had a heart attack,? reads the text message from Lorna, and I hear myself automatically reacting, ?Surely, she would be fine, as Georgina is my witness.?

Georgina is the only mystic astrologer I know. Not long before Gilda was stricken, we had seen her?Gilda and, as accidental tag-alongs, me and my husband Vergel?and heard her prophesy repeatedly, ?Gilda will not die, not like you or I.?

She was to pass on to the next life through some sort of molecular transformation, some cosmic magic that, alas, worked only for her especially blessed kind.

Graceful maneuver

I liked the poetry of it all and imagine Gilda?s preordained passage happening at her chosen time, in one graceful maneuver of the ?spontaneous inner dance? she is into these days.

Of course, I also liked what Georgina had to say for us of the lesser kind: In the not-so-distant future, we ourselves would pass on to the next life without going through the process of death.

It was a definitely good enough deal, provided, of course, that we managed to live to that fateful moment in the not-so-distant future.

Not privy to Georgina?s prophecy of Gilda?s immortality, Lorna hints in her message that it might be best not to visit yet.

As I start texting professions of love to Gilda from Vergel and me, I realize I will be competing for cell-phone time and space with a whole universe of Gilda lovers, a universe that transcends gender, class, profession and every manner of persuasion.

I text her anyway and remind her she must get well for the legion of us. Given her beauty, talent and success, it would seem easy for Gilda to attract envy and jealousy. Ah, but no, everybody loves Gilda.

While at the hospital, I?m told, her man, Elo, stood guard at the door, protectively shooing insistent visitors away. If he knew about Georgina?s prophecy, he was not one to take any chances?not with his Gilda.

A few days later, Gilda announces by text message that she is ?almost as good as new? and will welcome turned-away visitors and text greeters to her home, and even serve merienda. She sets visiting time for Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, from 2 p.m. to 7 p.m.

Easy welcome

It?s almost three when we get there on Tuesday. The gate opens to us car-borne. The lusty trees and plants and the cool they give?not to mention, of course, the promise of home-cooked native merienda?make for a quickly comforting welcome.

But no welcome is like Gilda?s hug. It comes natural and easy, like a heartfelt handshake. It feels so personal and snug.

She is as lovely and relaxed as ever, looking none the worse for her angioplasty.

We find two guests feasting on lanzones and peanuts with her when we arrive. One is a slim, blonde lady, a foreigner who betrays such familiarities that she must have been a long-time friend to both Gilda and this country. She will help herself with well-acquired gusto to the champorado and tuyo served for merienda presently. With her is an apparent common friend to her and Gilda.

Soon a group of much younger visitors, in their 20s, arrives. I am always heartened to meet young environmentalists who will carry on when we?re gone. They talk of Mt. Banahaw as a place of worship and share their intimate experiences with ?the mystic mountain.?

They have come to perform meditation in motion, more specifically by dance. Vergel and I are meditators ourselves, but we do our stuff in the more traditional way, in silence and stillness. I suppose that, while our ways might be different, our purpose is basically the same?affirmation of our spirituality with holistic benefits.

Still, while Vergel and I are somewhat intrigued and didn?t mind listening, there is a palpable divide between the young guests and us.

Real connection

But with Gilda, their connection is very real. She is the sweet authority they have embraced to guide them through fear and doubt, their all-accepting, non-judgmental, ever-loving, ageless kuanyin. To us she is peer and friend.

At any rate, our common bond is a deep affection for Gilda. For their part, they have come to offer it in the form of a meditation dance. Different dances seem to appeal to the graceful Gilda, but she is partial to expressive spontaneous movement sans a leading partner. She dances by herself even at ballroom sessions. ?I just can?t follow!? she says.

Gilda seems to have something for everyone and an instinct for what to give whom and when. She is able, for instance, to put together the right mix of friends for the right purpose. I myself happen to be a beneficiary, chosen by her to be one of a group we have come to call First Draft, an opportunity that got me writing again.

The young visitors begin to get up from the merienda table to prepare the living room for the dance. The boys rearrange the living-room furniture to make way for suitable space. I?m told that the dance, performed with or without music, is spontaneous motion that responds to an inner beat, produces, then releases energy, and thus frees blockages and heals.

Interesting, but we don?t feel ready for it. So Vergel and I get up and take the sweetness of Gilda?s going-away hug and leave her to her dance.

Not a year later, she gets her second angioplasty, and again we find comfort in Georgina?s prophecy.