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Chapter 6


The Pink One Meets The Green One


     He was polite, shy, gentle and soft spoken.


     That first night would be the only time in my life that I would ever think Federico Fellini was polite, shy, gentle and soft spoken. Over the course of our relationship, I would see the charm, the childlike curiosity, the constant flirtation, the temper, the yelling, the angel and the devil that sat on his shoulders. I would see many layers that made him truly one of a kind. But that first night, as he sat next to me in his iconic hat and tweed jacket, I saw a handsome, elegant and mysterious charmer who had a tender side and a fascination with the moment to moment movement of the world.


     When I climbed into the back seat of the black stretch limo and shifted over next to Fellini, I was pleasantly surprised. I wasn’t expecting him. Sybil had told me that we would be dining with the Italian director Franco Zefferalli. As soon as I got into the car, I saw this wasn’t Franco. This was someone very different, someone with whom I was very familiar and I could have only hoped to meet. I was so excited that I was overly bubbly and cheerful.


     “Hello, I’m Federico Fellini,” he said.


     I could tell that he was instantly appraising me as well. He was wondering if I was the woman that The Voice had spoken of, the all-important piece to this puzzle. I’m sure he was also trying to assess if I or Sybil or both would sleep with him. Andrea, Maurizio and Sybil were in the car as well and I could instantly feel tension from them, that I was an outsider to this group and that I was only there because of The Voice, something they didn’t understand.


     To help break the ice, I focused on Fellini and told him about my trips to Italy. I said we had a friend in common and mentioned Alberto Lattuada by name, and that I had known him since 1979. Alberto had helped Fellini in his salad days, co-directing a movie together and liked to call him his discovery. Fellini was amused by me and my attempts to flatter him.


     “It’s a great honor to meet you in person,” I said, nervous and smiling.


     He laughed a lot on the way to dinner and I instantly felt a connection.


     As the five of us sat at Trader Vic’s, a Beverly Hills mainstay, that connection grew, despite the efforts of other members of Fellini’s entourage.


     “Mr. Fellini, I should tell you that Christina does astrology,” Sybil said. It was meant to be condescending, and I was unsure as to why the person who invited me was so upset that I was there. Not that I cared…I just found it curious.


     “Oh, I love astrology!” Fellini replied, excited.


     Now my curiosity was definitely peaked.


     “But Mr. Fellini, she also does tarot!”


     “Oh, I love the tarot! Do you also toss the coins for I Ching?”


     Sybil had no idea that Fellini had such similar fascinations and I wondered if she knew who he was or had ever seen any of his films.


     “Every day I toss the coins,” I replied, beaming with pride. Now I had all of Federico’s attention. Trying to regain her footing, Sybil showed off the crystal she carried in her purse as a way to show her spirituality. I pulled several out of mine and gave one to each person at the table.


     “Now we’re all spiritual,” I said.


     The whole table laughed…minus one.


     Once the dinner finished, they drove me back to my apartment. I panicked. We had a great time, but there was nothing of real meaning that had happened. Surely this couldn’t be it, I thought. Surely there was something more that I moved out here for, something that was yet to happen. I couldn’t let this evening end…not yet.


     “Would you be interested in coming up to my apartment and watching my slide show?”


     I was a bit of a hobbyist photographer and I had compiled images from my trips around the world. It was a long shot, but I hoped Federico might be interested and it seemed like a harmless enough request.


     He instantly answered yes, perhaps remembering You’s suggestion that he was to sleep with one of tonight’s guests. Andrea and Maurizio weren’t as enthusiastic but they were willing to go wherever Fellini wanted. Sybil, on the other hand, told the limo driver to take her home.


     “A ballerina has more important things to do than look at silly pictures,” she declared. With that, gratefully, she was gone.

We gathered comfortably in my living room on my white sofas. I put on some music (George Winston served as a suitable score), turned the lights off, hit the projector switch, and there against the white wall, eight feet tall were images from Europe, America, the Caribbean and eventually Mexico.


     More specifically, Tulum.


     “Have you heard The Voice?”


     I smiled as Fellini jumped up and yelled out his mysterious question. The smile quickly dropped from my face as I saw a look of fear on his. He was suddenly sweating and looked very uncomfortable, as if I had reminded him of something painful.

I told him I didn’t understand.


     “These pictures of Tulum. This is where we are going, where we are being lead. This is where The Voice wants me to go.”


     I told him that I had visited Tulum because I was interested in shamanism and the ancient mysteries as well as the works of Castaneda.


     “Castaneda?! Did The Voice reveal itself to you too? Have you heard it? What did it tell you?”


     I was utterly confused but tried my best to explain to him that I had my own inner voice that I listened to for help with my readings and channeling and that voices come in many forms, but that I didn’t understand what he meant by this specific Voice.

Andrea and Maurizio sat silently, letting this scene unfold before them. They had witnessed Fellini flustered and frustrated before, especially since The Voice had become part of this journey.


     “You have to have heard The Voice,” he insisted, now pacing back and forth in my living room. Occasionally he would look up at the slide, as if it were calling him and reassuring him that I was a willing part of this. “You know. You know of our mission.”


     I again said I didn’t but that I would like to learn more. Feeling like the moment was right, I also finally confessed about Geri’s prediction and why I moved to L.A. Perhaps it was a bold move on my part, but like him, I was seeking an answer.


     “Goodnight, Christina,” Fellini said suddenly. Just like that, in a flash, they were gone.


     I sat there scratching my head, wondering what had just happened and what it all meant.


     “A slide show?” I said to my now empty apartment. “I left New York and moved to L.A. for a slide show?!”


     It didn’t make sense. There had to be something more. I turned to my studies to try and figure out what to do next. I ran to my cards, the I Ching, astrology and began to ask a thousand questions. I stayed up all night, asking in every way, shape and form, all with the same theme.




     Eventually, the answers made themselves clear.


     “This is just the beginning. There is more on the horizon. Be open. Be ready to go.”


     Looking back, I realize I was opening myself up for the adventure as a whole, opening up my personal vessel for The Voice that would eventually visit and for all the events to follow.


     I stayed up all night making notes, writing as much as I could. As dawn broke, I knew I had to get these notes to Fellini, if for nothing else than to say I had tried. I felt an ethereal connection and I couldn’t see the harm in sharing what I had gathered. I was also extremely fatigued and not necessarily thinking clearly. I felt like I was being led there. I had come so far, I felt I at least owed it to myself to listen.


     I didn’t know which hotel Fellini was staying at. Usually celebrities don’t leave their real name at the front desk, but I had to give it a try. I was determined and thought I would just call every luxury hotel in L.A. to find him and let fate play itself out. I also had the sense they were going on a trip soon so I had to act fast. The first hotel I called was the Hilton, which was right next door to the restaurant we had eaten at and by some miracle or some other form of intervention, it happened to be where he was staying.


     I was now convinced more than ever that I was meant to share my message.


     I threw on a jogging suit, hopped in my car and sped off to the hotel. Not wanting to invade his privacy too much. I was aware that I was probably already overstepping my bounds. All I wanted and needed to do was to drop off all the pages of notes I had written and stuffed into a vanilla envelope. My thought was that maybe he could find use for these notes and the spiritual messages directed towards him. I would leave it at that.


     It was seven in the morning and I stood quietly holding my package in the back of the line at the front desk of the Hilton; there were several people ahead of me waiting to speak with the concierge. I was very tired and unkempt, and I didn’t pay attention to who else was in line. I just stared down at the ground, numb and confused at what all was transpiring so quickly. Then, all of a sudden, the man standing in front of me in line turned around, grabbed my shoulders and shook me intensely. It was Federico!

He pulled me aside and we sat together. It looked like he hadn’t slept at all either.


     “Did The Voice tell you to come here? Do you know what they want?”


     I repeated once again that I didn’t know which voices he meant, but that I was drawn to do several inquiries into the mystics after our meeting.


     Fellini barely glanced at my notes. He said he had received another call from The Voice when he got back to his hotel room the night before. He was told that he must wait down by the front desk at 7 a.m. to find “The Spiritual One” to accompany him on a trip he was taking.


     I then told Fellini that part of my personal prophecy from Geri is that I would hear Voices from somewhere not of this world.


     “Come with me to my room, I have much to tell you,” he said with great enthusiasm. “We have a trip to go on!”


     When I walked into his room, I found Andrea and Maurizio already there waiting. They were not happy to see me. In fact, Andrea told Fellini in front of me that he believed this was all a trick and that I was in on it. I was very uncomfortable, but Fellini just ignored him, exclaiming that he was happy to have found the female muse that The Voice claimed he needed.


     Fellini sat me down and explained everything to me—his vision, his meeting Castaneda, his quest for don Juan, the trip, the film and of course, The Voice.


     “You are to be part of this group. You are to be a muse, the spiritual one that will help us. This work will be important.”


     I still didn’t understand, but I immediately accepted my role. This felt true. It was a higher purpose. I didn’t know where it would lead me and I was a little scared, but finally, all of it - my legacy with spirituality and other realms, my career path, my desire to be something more, my move to L.A. - it all made sense.


     The phone rang. Fellini just stared at it for a second. He feared who or what was on the other end. He picked up the receiver in one quick motion, as if he knew that if he paused he might not ever get the will to answer. After a quick and curt hello, Fellini’s face dropped. He staggered, nearly dropping the receiver. It was as if he was aging in front of my eyes. He didn’t speak. He just listened. That’s simply what you did when The Voice called.




     Fellini slowly relayed the message along with our new names, or rather designations that were given to him by The Voice. He would now be The Green One. Andrea would be The Blue One, Maurizio the Yellow One, Sybil The White One and I was to be The Pink One.


     “Well, pink is a very loving color,” I said, laughing nervously. Later on, others in Fellini’s circle would also get color designations either directly from The Voice or through Fellini. Tullio would become The Violet One. There would be another of his contemporaries that would be The White One, an Orange One and a Grey One.


     The Voice didn’t explain the reason for the colors, and we briefly tried to figure it out. But we were interrupted by Sybil coming into the room.


     Once she was caught up to speed, you could see the jealousy in her eyes. In her mind, she was supposed to be the Spiritual One. She made this new arrangement, my new place in the group, very difficult. Since the travel plans had already been set and paid for, there was no room for me and nobody was going to go out of their way to try and fit me in. Fellini pleaded to find a way to include me, but he was alone.


     “Don’t you understand? This is so clear!”


     Nobody wanted to hear. They felt they had their group set and I was the outsider. Not even Fellini could convince them. I was on my own.


     I accepted that my part in this adventure would come later and simply wished them well on their journey to Tulum. In fact, I took them to the airport. As they departed, Fellini looked unsettled. He knew this wasn’t right and he worried about the potential repercussions. I wished him safe travels and went back to my apartment, completely exhausted.


     As soon as I got there, the phone rang.


     I answered, and in that instant, before anyone even spoke, I began to shake uncontrollably. Sweat poured down my face and the air felt thick, as if I was choking. It would feel this way every time “You” called. I heard what sounded like the crackle of a walkie-talkie, an unusual static that was muffled, as if it was coming from far away.


     Then, The Voice spoke.




     Then the line disconnected and I just stood there in a full body sweat, in terrified awe of what had just happened. Up until this point, I don’t know what I had truly thought of Fellini’s tale. There were parts that made absolute sense to me, signs and coincidences that were just too obvious to ignore. I believed Fellini when he talked of The Voice, even though I was unclear what he meant. I even believed right away that it was probably not of this dimension. If my studies had taught me anything, it was to be open to the unknown, to be aware enough that we human beings are only conscious of a fraction of what is really out there. Still, I knew he was a man of great visions and I wasn’t completely positive of what was true and what was his translation of a vision. In short, even though I knew I was involved in something unusual and grand, I wasn’t exactly sure what it was or what I believed. The phone call left no doubt. This was happening, it was real and I was now an integral part of it.


     Early the next morning, I packed, loaded up my car and started the journey to Tulum. This team had a head start in their adventure, but I would catch up. I would play my part. I would make sure we followed The Voice’s plan.


     It seemed critical to me that we do so.

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