Читать книгу LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter - Deborah Maragopoulos FNP - Страница 8

Over the ridge of Nazareth, spring dawns gray and misty. Although light will not penetrate the shaded courtyard window of his chambers until much later, Yeshua slips free of the warm linens to sit cross-legged upon the floor. Hands meet at his heart to give thanks, but unaccustomed to arising so early, Yeshua yawns. Whenever he closes his eyes, a sea-green gaze beckons. He resists the temptation to view through the ethers. Not until under the chupa may he look upon the face of his bride.

Excitement fills the chambers when Jacob arrives announcing, “Saada has baked massah so dress quickly before you go to the mikvah!” Fennel cake crumbs dust the corners of his young brothers’ mouths.

“I cannot break my fast until the wedding feast this afternoon.”

“Where in the Torah…?”

“It is tradition. But take Shimon and Judah to finish their meal, and then you may help me prepare for the ritual bath.”

The children hurry noisily out, waking Teoma. Donning a robe, Yeshua enters his friend’s chambers. Teoma yawns and stretches. “You’re up early. Did Jacob interrupt your meditation?” He nods, smiling. “Well, I am grateful not to have to listen to your snoring anymore.”

“I shall miss you.”

Teoma rises and gives him a rough hug. “Before you go to the mikvah, you are wanted in the garden.” Yeshua does not move until his friend pushes him away with a gruff, “Just take good care of her.”

In the olive grove, Yeshua removes the pouch from around his neck and hands it to Belshazzar. The mystic nods his approval, “You have outgrown the need for my protection.”

Twelve years ago, Zsao traveled from the far Himal range to teach Yeshua the ways of the Awakened One. Smiling, his almond-shaped eyes become mere slits. “Today you journey farther into manhood, but do not lose the joyful innocence of childhood as you live each day in Oneness.”

Reiti sits in an impossible pose. The thin brown teacher from the Hindus replaced Zsao as his teacher when Yeshua was but nine. Three years later, Belshazzar arrived from far away Aksum. Now they return as promised for the most special event of his life—his marriage. At dusk, the mystics shall hold the energy during the unification ritual. A shiver of concern raises the hair on Yeshua’s neck.

Reiti untangles his long limbs and rises with the grace of a crane. “Your dearest friend is deeply wounded.”

Shaking his head, Zsao repeats a long forgotten lesson. “Do not allow worry to occupy space in your being. Release your fear and accept your destiny.”

“I love Teoma like a brother and feel his pain as my own.”

“He honors your friendship and shall give you his blessing this evening.” Belshazzar’s assurance does not allay all of Yeshua’s concerns.

“This morning he asked me to take good care of her. Her mother bemoans that I cannot support her in the rich manner of her father. Without a betrothal ceremony last year, there has not been time, but Teoma would have built her a house with his own hands…”

“Ahh, but your parents have gifted you with a most lovely bridal chamber. At one with nature, Mary shall bask in the experience of sharing intimacies beneath the stars.”

Yeshua’s flushed cheeks bring laughter to their bellies. Still, he worries about Mary struggling to maintain her composure in the face of her mother’s disappointment. Forbidden to see his betrothed before the wedding, he could not even wish her well on her fifteenth birthday, and has been consumed by concern after overhearing Ima complain to Hava that a whole week in their chamam would be diminished by one day in Eucharia’s. The Aksum king clasps his arm.

“Your betrothed is most resilient. She shall perform the first anointing today.”

He thought the women had prepared her for the sacred ritual, not a royal ceremony. How can he be anointed king, while his father and grandfather still live?

Belshazzar’s laughter brightens the morning haze. “Yeshua, you are far from ready to be king; the sacred rite the messeh queen shall perform is the first of eight initiations.”

His eyes widen. Mary is the messeh queen? Only royalty claim this title after being anointed by the High Priest.

“My prince, did you not anoint her upon the altar?” Yeshua nods, throat tight. In his attempt to invite spirit into their physical union, did he claim a priestly privilege? He never questioned where Ima got the sacred spikenard, did Belshazzar…?

The Aksum king nods. But if it is true, today begins his journey to enlightenment! The first of…eight? From the Egyptian Therapeutate, he only learned of seven initiations.

“Two by water, two by fire, two by earth, two by air.” Belshazzar nods at Yeshua’s unspoken query. “The last rite is performed at death.”

Swallowing thickly, he prays to be prepared for the next, “May I ask when the second rite shall be performed?”

Zsao smiles, “The awakening is a long and arduous path. You have much to learn.”

“But who shall teach me? Will you return?”

“Yeshua, those closest are the best teachers. Please take advantage of your wife’s wisdom.” Reiti’s advice is a balm to his ears for he cannot imagine leaving Mary again to travel east.

He thanks each of his dear teachers before passing by the colorfully adorned tent praying his bride will be pleased.

Appeasing his mother, Yeshua covers his fine wedding garments with a cloak before mounting the white donkey. During the walk north, Jacob leads the entourage in song, lightening his brother’s mood. Some of his cousins straggle behind, but Teoma, under Abba’s orders not to be late, shepherds them along. Entering the village of Cana, a quiet synagogue and empty marketplace greets the young men, but the streets leading to the bride’s home swarm with villagers.

“The magistrate invites only Tzadokim to his daughter’s wedding,” a white bearded Chaverim complains. Before Yeshua can address the elder, Teoma nudges him. Herodian guards bar the great wooden gate. Apparently, one of the tetrarchs was invited.

Roman soldiers push the villagers aside making way for the bridegroom. A centurion reins his bay steed close. “May your marriage bear many joyous fruits.”

Yeshua thanks his old friend before entering the immense courtyard. Wealth emanates from the bubbling fountain inlaid with lapis lazuli to the polished marble pillars easily as tall as two men. Servants wash the dust from their feet and hands at an ornate silver kiyyor sitting upon a pedestal before escorting them into a richly draped gathering room. Yeshua is taken aside by his grandfather.

“Saba, why didn’t Jochan come?”

Hillel shakes his head, “Since you did not honor your agreement with the Zadoks, Zechariah refused to allow his son to come.” Yeshua nods, knowing his father is sorely disappointed that his cousins do not support him. “Your bride’s family entertains our enemies.” Hillel points to Herod Phillip speaking intimately to the Roman tribuni. Nearby the kings of Tarsus and Nabataea seek Belshazzar’s attention. In embroidered robes of the finest silk, Tzadokim enjoy ripe cheeses and stuffed figs. The jewels worn by just these few men could be sold to feed half of Galilee.

Even in a simple robe, Joseph sits proudly next to the richly adorned magistrate. Syrus signals for his daughter’s bridal trunk to be opened. The men express their appreciation of the display: exquisite household linens and ceremonial cloths as well as sacred ritual objects used on Shabbat, a copper pomegranate filled with precious fragrant spices, magnificent menorahs, and a pair of gilded sandals for him.

Saul acts as scribe, recording the exchange of property—a vast parcel of land west of Nazareth, a palace in Migdol, and enough gold to support his family until Yeshua is an old man.

With flushed cheeks, Joseph motions for his nephews to carry in the massive cedar table that took him a year to complete. “And the best of my vineyards will grace this table for twelve seasons.”

Within the silence, Yeshua perceives the Tzadokim wryly wondering about their local magistrate who would give his precious daughter for such a pittance.

Joseph of Arimathaea stands. “Unless you have partaken of my friend’s wine you cannot appreciate how rare and precious it is.” Teoma’s uncle is wealthier than any ten of the wedding guests and favored by Caesar as minister of the emperor’s mines; only Herod’s sons are more powerful.

After the ketuba is signed by witnesses, Ananias laughs, “Syrus, if I would have known you had such refined taste, I would have offered my vineyards in Damascus.”

Yeshua had no idea the High Priest had designs on Mary as bride for his son. Holding the circle of lambskin she embroidered with the emblem of their union—a star within a rose—he prays she will be pleased with his gift.

***

A beautiful cedar trunk ornately carved, obviously the work of Yeshua’s father, is placed before me by two robust servants. Ima hurries them out as my aunts, cousins, and grandmother, even my aged wetnurse gather round. Miriam sits with her sister and Hava at the back of the room, while little Esther and Ruth stuff themselves with dates.

Wed to the son of a rich textile merchant from Sepphoris just last month, my sister pushes back her richly bejeweled headdress. Although anxious for the house in Magdala to be prepared for them, Martha stayed for my prenuptials or I may have never survived our mother’s sharp tongue. I reach for the protective pouch, but it lies no longer over my heat. Abba returned it to my guardian.

Martha displays Yeshua’s sacred family scrolls tracing his lineage back to David for all to view before extracting Egyptian utensils from the trunk. The finely crafted copper induces nods from my father’s sisters who have traveled from Tyre for my wedding.

Savta admires the Roman glass plates, “Mary, you shall serve fine meals in your new home.”

“Your granddaughter will not have a home of her own.” Ima bitterly tells her mother.

“What!” Dod Helena exclaims. “Eucharia, with the dowry my brother paid, my niece should have a palace!”

Afraid my aunt has embarrassed Miriam, I look over, but she seems fine. I pick a pale blue cloak from the trunk and thank her aloud for these sumptuous silks come from her own wardrobe.

Ima passes out the rest and I cringe to hear Dod Helena comment on how lightly each is dyed.

Laying the ketuba on my lap, Ima shakes her head in dismay, “This is what you are worth to them.” My aunts commiserate with her as Martha reads the sacred marriage contract aloud. It ensures the transfer of property and my rights to be provided for by my husband in food, clothing, shelter, and sexual needs.

Martha whispers in my ear. “Pay them no mind. They are bitter because their rich spouses do not satisfy them in all ways.” My cheeks flush hotly. Thankfully, Miriam stands to take curious eyes from my face.

“Martha, search the bottom of the trunk. There is a special gift my son brought from Britannia.” My sister does her bidding and extracts a simple wooden box. Carefully I open it to find silvery-white branches curving into five scallops tipped with pastel opals in the form of roses. Yeshua’s energy emanates from the necklace. Did he craft himself? Across the way Miriam smiles.

At my hesitancy, Martha deftly ties the necklace about my throat and my hayye shifts to encompass the rainbow of energy.

Dod Helena clucks her tongue, whispering to Savta, “Poor Mary. That will be the last piece of jewelry she will ever wear.”

***

“Remove your cloak, my son.” His mother’s concern pierces his awareness, but she shakes her head and leads him to the ornately decorated columns signifying the gates of paradise.

Brilliant sunshine breaks through the late morning haze, directing Yeshua’s attention to the steps from the rooftop. Adorned in an elegant silk gown dyed from the purple secretions of rare and precious mollusks off the coast of Tyre, his bride descends, rich dark curls cascading down her back.

Yeshua takes Mary’s hand and leads her under the wedding canopy as their ketuba is read by Saul. As if protected by the chupa, Mary focuses her energy and circles him seven times, wrapping him in her violet hayye. And seven times he encircles her in silver, their intimate exchange inflaming them both.

Syrus hands Yeshua a richly beaded headdress to veil his bride. Hesitating a long moment before looking deeply into Mary’s eyes, Yeshua says loud enough for all to hear, “You are my beloved partner, not my property. I will not veil your power,” and casts the purple silk outside the chupa.

Horrified murmurs cut the silence as thick as clotted cream. In brilliant contrast to her dark skin, Mary’s sea-green eyes express her gratitude. Relieved, Yeshua motions for the first cup of wine. His little sister Ruth sweetly holds the chalice for him to share with his bride. After they consume the ritual yayin, Belshazzar approaches with an alabaster box.

“You are the messeh queen, anoint the beloved prince.”

As Mary receives the sacred spikenard with trembling hands, Yeshua takes a seat on the gilded chair. Softly singing the sweet words of love and devotion, she anoints his bowed head. Energy pours through his crown. Voice husky with passion, she kneels before him and he catches his breath as her tears bathe his feet—the first initiation by water. In a sensual peak, she wipes away the excess oil with her unbound curls. Lifting her to her feet, the groom’s song floats upon the breeze before he kisses her mouth. She melts into his form, oblivious to the murmuring crowd.

Valiantly, he parts from her lips. Yeshua’s youngest sister holds the second cup of yayin. Afterwards Mary sways so dizzily that he refuses a servant’s offer to fill their cup with sweet shekar. When his grandparents request his presence, Yeshua asks Teoma to be sure Mary has nothing but water, but upon his return, her inebriation is heightened.

Placing her cup to his lips, he detects no wine. Kissing her mouth, he tastes none. He calls for the seudah to be served and takes his bride firmly about the waist to sit before their wedding plate overfilled with roasted lamb, sweet fennel bread, salted olives and honeyed dates. The meal does nothing to quell her.

At the conclusion of the feast, young Jacob sings a prayer of thanks and with a stomp, Yeshua breaks the plate upon which they dined. The crowds’ approval does not drown Eucharia’s bitterness as she ties off the linen and hands it back to him.

Although he tries to soothe Mary, he is most grateful when Martha takes her arm. In a sea of colorful headdresses, his bride’s luscious curls swing free as the women dance in celebration of this first day of spring. Yeshua joins Teoma and his brothers to dance with the men.

His spirit immeasurably lightened, he is surprised when Ima takes him aside. Leading him hurriedly past two Essenes who refuse to partake a meal with the Tzadokim, she asks, “How is Mary holding up?”

“Not well. Her mother’s disappointment is a bane to her. I must not leave her long.”

“I’m sorry, my son, but we did not bring enough wine.” Ima points to the empty urns. “The mystics taught you well. Please, the guests’ cups are empty.”

“Why do you ask this of me? What will Abba say?”

“He said let them drink water.”

Yeshua swallows thickly, acutely aware of his father’s admonitions. “My time has not come.” She looks pleadingly at Yeshua and as if called by her distress, Teoma appears to place an arm around her. Yeshua sighs. “Bring me our wedding chalice and fill it with whatever wine you can find.”

Teoma leaves to do his bidding and Ima turns to Saada. “Do what he asks of you.”

Yeshua instructs Saada to fill six urns with water, which she has accomplished just as Teoma returns. “You must hurry. Ananias’s son has alerted Eucharia. She upsets Mary as we speak,” he whispers, clearly concerned. “Here, this is all I could find.”

“It will do.” Bowing his head, Yeshua holds the cup to his breast and prays. Energy pours through his hands and the wine soon sparkles with light. “Now, dear brother, put seven drops of this wine in each of the six urns.”

Kissing his mother’s cheek, Yeshua passes by the Essenes to find his bride. “Thank heavens, you returned!” Her voice unrestrained, she clings to him.

He best not leave her side again. “Beloved,” he whispers, “you seem inebriated.”

“How can that be? I only pretended the water was wine.”

She created reality purely through desire? Watching their exchange from across the courtyard, Reiti nods and Yeshua remembers his advice. Perhaps she might teach him. Mary grasps his arm, diverting his attention.

“Look, the High Priest’s cup is full and Ima said the wine had run out.”

Tasting the new wine, Ananias exclaims, “What! Has the best been saved for last?”

Mary gives him a curious look. Before she can ask, Yeshua hushes her with a kiss, her passionate response so arousing that he yearns for dusk. Why not hurry things along, he thinks, as he escorts his bride across the courtyard. With a flourish, he opens the heavy gate and invites the neighbors to join the celebration. “The bridegroom is here. Drink and share my joy for I am married now to my beloved.”

Amidst the growing throng of villagers, Joseph gathers the family to exit with Hava and the Seer. Mary asks concerned, “Your father is upset, why is he leaving?”

“Do not despair, precious wife. They go to prepare the inner sanctum,” He reassures her but she watches Teoma’s retreating back. Praying for strength, Yeshua brings a curl still shiny with spikenard to his lips, “So that you might remember this evening well, please release the effects of the imagined wine.” Blushing, Mary holds tightly onto him. After a long moment her lashes flutter open to reveal a clear sea-green gaze. Giving silent thanks, he takes advantage of one of his wife’s many gifts with a resounding kiss.

***

Before the sun can slip past the western ridge, we are carried back to Nazareth on a flower strewn litter. Newly married couples pepper their serenade with verses about the delights of the bridal chamber, warming me thoroughly. Yeshua takes my hand and we go to the inner sanctum. At the stone altar, Hava reads a poetic ketuba describing how our marriage unites the sacred feminine and masculine energies of Eloha. When all have taken their places around the intersecting triangles inlaid into the marble floor, we approach the altar from the east.

Her sadin dyed deep red, Hava’s vibrant hayye emanates from her palms moving through our hands into our hearts. “May this union be blessed with the fertility of creation and the sacredness of the life force.”

“You have embarked upon a great journey and have a unique opportunity to find yourself as Love.” Adorned in a bright orange caftan, Belshazzar hands Yeshua a small stone shaped as a miniature tetrahedron. “This elestial quartz will assist in your mutual comprehension of life, death, and immortality. Place it between you and your beloved during the sacred union and the physical will align with the spiritual.”

Donning saffron yellow, the Seer offers her wisdom. “May your connection be true as you follow your vision. You will not falter for you will be given strength.”

So handsome in his forest green tunic, Teoma gives us his blessing, “I bring you protection from the center of All That Is. Honor the way and the path before you.” Yeshua embraces his dearest friend before Teoma accepts my chaste kiss.

Regal in a dark blue robe, Joseph speaks, “My gift is the security of light which surrounds you both through this sacred union and for all eternity.”

“My beloved Mary and Yeshua,” a glistening tear drops onto Miriam’s lavender sadin, “may you have compassion for yourselves and each other. May your hearts be filled with love and your lives be filled with joy.”

When Yeshua enters the center ring, Joseph brings down the mists effectively hiding him. All eyes are on my face as Miriam gently guides me forward. Nearly at the edge of the mist, I look up to see Teoma staring at me. I halt, trembling.

I so want to be with my beloved, to experience this sacred union, but fear overwhelms me. When Miriam whispers into my right ear, “Your love awaits you,” all the witnesses veil their faces. Yeshua’s silvery aura expands to draw me through the protective mists. Sobbing, I fall into my beloved’s embrace, into the consuming fire of his love.

He holds me for a precious moment, before I lift my face to his. “Hush, my love. Release your fear. We are finally together for eternity.”

Alone in the mists, I see nothing outside of the inner circle. The only sound is our breath. Cords of love and desire bind us to this destiny of ours and I do not want fear to darken its brilliance. When Yeshua slips my gown off my shoulders, its edge disappears on the other side of the mist. Smiling, he lifts me onto the circular stone altar.

From the altar upon which we lie through the ceiling window and out to the heavens, a prism of hayye forms. The tetrad of angelic hosts bear witness as Yeshua places Belshazzar’s gift in my navel. The stone’s smoky interior pulsates through its transparent surface as if it is a living thing, emanating a familiar energy of comfort. From above my head, Archangel Gavriel silently introduces his companions. On my left is Archangel Uriel, on my right Archangel Michael with Archangel Rafael at my feet. Gavriel speaks from the north.

Beloved, with your union you unite heaven and earth, the lighter realities with the denser. May the divine feminine energies of sensuality, joy, and beautiful manifestation be joined with the divine masculine energies of compassion, nurturance, and seeds of creation through your sacred act.

Spreading my legs and arms wide, my body emulates the star. Hayye courses through my limbs when the angels touch my outstretched hands and feet. Over my womb heat rises on my skin in the shape of a five-petal rose. Yeshua looks up from my breast to glance down at his own groin, whispering, “There is heat in the shape of a star.”

Gavriel speaks again, Please beloved, let us not distract you with our ministrations. The heat fades as the archangels merge into the mist. Gazing at one another before surrendering to desire, my husband stokes another fire deep within and I cry out in my need. Above us the prism is now a great tetrahedron, which houses—the eye from my dreams!

From within my mind a deep voice speaks. Mary, have no fear. You are protected by the love of The One.

As my passion rises to a pinnacle, I cannot seem to attend to both the One and Yeshua until the sacred dance of our lovemaking loses me in its cadence. Deepening our connection, the heat of the elestial quartz intensifies as waves of vibrant color engulf us.

Leaving our bodies, we enter the pyramid to stand before Source. The hayye of The One is love and bliss. My beloved Yeshua and Mary, you have commenced your sacred destiny with your loving union. Yeshua, as the Essence of Divine Love, you have come into Sacred Unity with Mary who is the Presence of Divine Joy. Your love has planted the seed of hope in the heart of every incarnate soul. May you know yourself in the fullness of your truth as your willingness to enter into this union is blessed by the host of hosts.

Cradled in my navel, the elestial quartz pulsates with the beat of my heart, its smoky depth split into two distinct hues — silver and purple, taking form as a star within a rose. Before donning our wedding garments, Yeshua kisses the emblem of our union.

We step out of the mist as one.

Mikra of Jacob