Читать книгу LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter - Deborah Maragopoulos FNP - Страница 11

While packing my things into a small sack, a frown plays at the corners of my mouth. At the onset of my menses over a month ago, I had a dream that the conception was to take place in the wilderness. But Joseph insisted that we are not safe outside the mists without protection and it took over a month for Yeshua to convince him to permit us to leave the property.

With a sigh, I carry my sack to the back entrance. Miriam is there to bid us farewell. Outside the gate, Yeshua responds to a familiar voice. Teoma?

Turning to Miriam, I start to complain, but she interrupts me. “Hush, Yeshua convinced Joseph to forego a large unfamiliar guard for the devotion of his friend. Now give this to Teoma and have a wonderful time.” Handing me a small leather pouch fragrant with herbs, she kisses me goodbye.

Drawing deeply of the cool morning air, Teoma has two donkeys, one packed heavily for the trip, the other for riding. His smile is endearing. “Hello, Mary. It is good to see you.” How could my husband believe that this is better than an unfamiliar guard! Teoma embraces me warmly, “Did Ima Miriam give you anything for me?”

“Forgive me. I am excited about this trip.”

He nods his thanks, “I would think you would be very excited about conceiving your first child.”

If Mother Earth swallowed me up now, I could escape this embarrassment. I turn to glare at Yeshua but he’s busy securing our things to the back of the donkey.

“Mary, do you want to ride?” Teoma’s blue eyes shine brightly.

“No, thank you. I’ll walk for awhile.” Why is he so excited?

“I never expected to be able to accompany you. It is like old times, is it not?”

No! It is not like old times. We never camped overnight. At least I was never invited. Yeshua smiles at our exchange. Does he not realize my discomfort?

In frustration, I find myself twisting my shawl. Did Joseph send word to Teoma to return from the desert just on our behalf? I am sure that the baby is to be born in the spring, but if I conceive now she will not be due until after the summer solstice. Oh no, I will not tire myself out by walking, but rather by struggling with the twists of fate that are very much out of my hands.

Comforting me with his touch, Yeshua speaks silently, Dearest, please relax and enjoy this adventure you so wanted to have.

Slowly my mood brightens. Yeshua calls up to Teoma. “Mary would like to ride.” Happy that my husband knows my thoughts, I kiss his cheek.

Stopping, Teoma adjusts the donkey’s riding blankets, while I tie my shawl about my waist and pull the end through my legs. Now I can comfortably ride astride. Teoma sets me upon the donkey’s narrow back shaking his head, “Yeshua, your wife has girded her loins in the manner of a soldier of Yisrael.”

Although my lower legs are somewhat exposed, my husband shrugs. Teoma dubiously hands over the reins, and I soon find how responsive the donkey is to my silent communication. Patting her neck, I swiftly turn her toward the foothills and encourage her to gallop, intent on piercing the protective mists Joseph has cast about his lands. Something draws me toward a strange rock formation.

I sense the energy of a sacred space, but cannot see a dwelling or even a cave. Not even arranged in a circle, the basalt stones lie lazily upon each other. Still, there is something here.

“Come, Mary, you have taken the wrong trail,” warns Teoma, running to catch up.

“What is this place?” Ignoring me, he grasps the donkey’s reins, leading us away from my discovery. My husband meets us back at the fork and encourages the donkey with a slap, thwarting any questions.

When the trail gets steeper, I slow the donkey to a walk, then halt. I am being watched. Perched on a stone ledge, a tawny wildcat basks in the sun. The donkey stands unconcerned so I greet the cat silently. She calls me Elat and explains in images that the creatures have been waiting for me. Enchanted, I bid the cat farewell and she leaps over us to disappear up the mountainside.

In moments, Teoma comes running. “Mary! Are you all right?”

Yeshua arrives, leading the pack animal. Smiling, I describe the communication. When I get to the part about the place of conception, Teoma gasps. “That is where I am taking you.” A large black crow settles itself in the tree top, cawing loudly.

Yeshua laughs, “Well, now that heaven and earth agree, let us proceed.”

A magical place, the sweet wild grove is blessed with the hayye of all the elements. The earth below richly comforting the creek gurgles its praise. The leaves begin to rustle as the element of air joins the dance and I imagine that this evening when we sit by the cooking fire, all will be complete.

Having set up a fine camp, Teoma goes off to hunt. Yeshua and I could not have provided for ourselves so well, but still I am nervous about tonight with Teoma sleeping so near.

Yeshua hugs me to his side. “Mary, do not worry. In Britannia, I learned how to create kasa over another, veiling us from any eyes.”

I understand how to become invisible for even as a child I would disappear when playing hide and seek with my sister and cousins, but Joseph must not truly trust the kasa for he sent us with an escort. So many secrets, I wonder…

“What was that place that Teoma led me from?”

My husband studies my face, “It is my father’s. A place for him to practice what he has learned.”

“What does he do?”

“He uses the ritual herbs he brought from Britannia to seek enlightenment. I believe he also has special mixes from the Egyptian healers who visit Qumran.”

“Do you partake of these herbs?”

Touching my cheek, he whispers, “With my Druid master, I took a journey enhanced by sacred herbs. But it is not my way. I find a much clearer connection to Source in my prayers and meditations.”

Miriam seems connected. I wonder if Joseph shares the herbs with her.

Yeshua shakes his head, “I do not believe she knows of this. Besides, Ima does not venture far from the house without Abba. She is not like you, my little nature priestess!”

I smile at teasing. “So much has happened since our marriage. I have always been aware of things that perhaps others have not, but the angels and the animals…it is as if I am remembering something that I have forgotten.”

With a tender kiss he gazes into my eyes, “I know, Beloved. Since our first night together my own awareness has increased dramatically.” Our mouths linger, tasting the sweetness of one another before he continues, “At first I thought this intense enlightenment was sexual. But there is something more, for I experience openings sometimes when I but think about you.”

“Yeshua, I believe that it is love which is the spark for our awakening.”

“Yes, falling in love with you, I am becoming my true self.”

Teoma’s delicious supper of roasted quail braised with olive oil, basilica, oregano, and crushed pepper berries, we are sated. Studying with the Essenes, I have learned much about herbs for ailments, but little about cooking.

“Teoma, that was delicious! Will you teach me how to cook? I can teach you about the healing herbs.”

“Whatever you wish, Mary.” He looks over at Yeshua, who laughs. What’s so funny?

“Nothing, love, you look tired, Go ahead, I’ll be right in.”

Once in the tent, I realize how soiled I am. Before a doused fire, the men speak in hushed tones, but I cannot escape Teoma’s sharp eyes. “Be careful, Mary. You may not have the same way with snakes as you do with donkeys and cats.”

I hurry down to the creek to be greeted by my steed from the far bank. Praying to release the barrier that has protected me these past six months, I wash the dust from our journey before returning to the tent. I sit cross-legged on a pile of blankets and close my eyes. Hmm…what next?

Conscious of my breath, I am mesmerized by the familiar purple teardrop slowly oozing throughout my being, until I am sitting in a violet egg of hayye. After unraveling the gossamer light setting my womb, the flowers, and the eggs free, I am guided to wait for Yeshua. Soon my husband stands in the doorway, his tunic sticking to his damp body.

Stripping, he joins me, “Is this part of the preparation?”

“Yeshua, let’s invite the spirit of our child to come to us.” When a golden hayye emerges to hover around us, my husband takes me in his arms.

Never have I felt so comfortable in Yeshua’s embrace, as if destiny is being fulfilled. Beginning with tender kisses that grow more intense in longing, his insistent hands take all of me into his awareness. The elestial quartz within my navel glows intensely.

His love for me seems more than I can bear, until he meets me beyond my core. At the final release, I begin to cry. Yeshua is alarmed until he realizes the tears are of joy, not pain. Our energies merge, his silvery white aura into my deep violet hue until the golden hayye of our child nestles within my pelvis.

Winter sweeps across the plains of Esdraelon to chill Nazareth ridge. Lighting my silver menorah each night in the small window of our chambers feels strange, for Chanuka is not recognized in this house. Perhaps if we had a home of our own, we might merge our traditions. I have not seen my family since the wedding so Yeshua invites them for the winter solstice. To my delight, Martha is due within half a moon cycle of me. While Abba congratulates our husbands, Ima draws me aside.

“You look thin, Mary. Don’t they feed you?”

“Of course, Ima.”

“Their Essene diet is too sparse for your royal Hasmonaean blood. I will send fresh beef and lamb.” Ima clucks her tongue. “They do have a separate table to prepare meat?”

“Yes, Ima.”

“Very well. Now tell me how you are feeling?”

Smiling, I reassure her. “Wonderful—especially since the new moon of Cheshvan when I first felt her move.”

“So early? Are you sure it is not twins? You are too petite to carry twins.” Bristling, she takes charge. “There is a fine midwife experienced with delicate pregnancies in Capernaeum, I shall have her come to attend to you.”

“Thank you, Ima, but Yeshua desires to deliver our child.”

“What!” Fanning herself, she takes a hasty seat. “Men know nothing of childbirth. This is unheard of…”

“But he said that his father delivered all of Miriam’s children.”

Drained of color, Ima motions for a servant to bring some wine. “I must talk to Miriam. Syrus!”

While Abba tends to Ima, I take comfort from my sister. “Mary, how do you know the baby is a girl? I have yet to feel movement.”

I lay my hand over her womb, to be greeted vigorously. My sweet daughter responds with her flitting golden light to his healthy turquoise hayye. Martha places her hand over mine, “What is it, Mary? Is my child well?”

I kiss her mouth, “He is wonderfully vital. Eleazer has very strong seed.”

Giggling, my sister hugs me to her, our bellies touching. The babies leap toward one another, dancing about our wombs in delighted salutations. Pressing our foreheads together, we glance down. Martha gasps, “Mary, I can feel him.”

Eleazer rushes over and hugs us both. Kissing first Martha and then me, he cries, “Miracles occur in this house. Yeshua, we are truly blessed to have such wonderful wives.”

Yeshua raises his cup of wine, “May we share many more moments like this as our wives and children delight in each other’s company.” Even Ima joins the rest of the family in a cup of wine to seal the blessing.

***

Working with his hands, tilling the earth, tending the plants, harvesting the grain, and finally creating a meal usually brings much pleasure, but Teoma’s enthusiasm is effectively tempered by Saada, who stands with arms crossed over her ample bosom as he teaches Mary to bake. She greeted him with such fervor when he came home to the lush hills of Galilee last month that he almost wished he had stayed in the company of the rebels.

For five months, the zealot commanders used his Roman appearance to gather information from the legionaires. Rome’s weakness lay in the Emperor’s sickbed. Chronically ill since boyhood, Augustus took a turn for the worse after Tiberius returned from securing the territories north of the Black Sea. His tribunal powers officially reinstated, Tiberius rules the empire while his stepfather wastes away.

Hands slick with oil, Mary fashions dough into a variety of shapes—crescent moons, braided loaves, even tiny animals. Knowing how sensitive she is to her mother’s strict observance of the halacha, he teases, “What is this, a pig?”

“Of course not!” With a look of consternation wrinkling her fine brow, she sprinkles the little dough creature with herbs. “Can’t you see it’s a lamb?”

Repressing a smile, he pushes the heavily laden baking stone into the hot oven, beads of sweat dripping into his eyes. When Saada steps out to pick more herbs, he chances to appraise his baking partner.

A smudge of flour sits like snow upon her dark skin, the color of kaffa brightened with golden honey. Mary notices his stare. “What? Do I have as much flour on my face as you?”

He chuckles softly and wipes the tip of her nose, “There, you look less like a baker now.” The soft texture of her cheek reminds him of a ripe mango. He must refrain from touching her. “I do not know how it is possible, but your beauty is enhanced with the pregnancy.”

To his dismay and delight, she clasps his rough hand and tucks it just under her chin. “You, my friend, have a penchant for voluptuous women.”

“Honestly, Mary, can I not offer you a compliment?”

“Of course not, dear man, or I would be in danger of favoring you.” He would gladly brave that danger. The expression on her face changes to one he cannot resist.

“Teoma, do you think it would be possible to go back to the wilderness for our anniversary?”

Frowning, he does not think he can tolerate escorting them to celebrate their marriage. He tries to discourage her. “In your condition, Mary, it is not wise.”

Abruptly she stands placing her hands on her round belly as if for emphasis. He tries to suppress his mirth, for being due in only three months, she is still quite petite.

“My condition? I have seen many pregnant women accompanying their husbands on pilgrimages to the Holy Temple. Am I that much more fragile than they?”

“No, of course not,” none could be as fervid, he quickly counters, “but it was very difficult to get Joseph to feel comfortable with you outside the mists.”

Her small mouth quivers in a pout as she worries an errant sable curl, dusting its rich darkness with flour. Wringing her hands, she sighs and moves ever closer to him, looking up through long lashes black as kohl. Her green eyes capture his as she presses her delicate hands to his chest, “Please, we were perfectly safe with you.”

Unable to resist, he nods a weak consent praying Yeshua has perfected kasa so that his services will not be necessary. Perhaps young Jacob is ready to master disarming techniques, for Teoma needs an outlet far removed from the heat of this kitchen.

***