And she came and stood before the high priest and the acolytes.
I wish to know myself, she said.
I wish to know the spark of life within me.
I wish to know the source within me.
I wish to know the ecstacy I have felt within me.
I wish to know the pulsation I have felt within me.
They listened in silence, and after she had spoken they stood in silence.
They stood in silence as the sun dipped low and the liminal time of change settled into night.
They stood in silence beneath the rising moon.
They stood in silence deep into the night.
There was a moment when the high priest softly smiled and nodded.
In the surrender of your body, in the opening of your heart, in the quiet beyond the mind you shall begin to know.
They prepared an altar for her of soft cloth and warm covering.
Candles were lit, a fire kindle.
Vessels of delicate oil were warmed for the ritual.
Fragrant herbs filled the air, soft music weaved itself in the temple.
Open the eyes of your heart.
Allow yourself to be seen, they said, as one by one they stood before her.
As her eyes opened, as the veils she looked through parted, she saw herself in their eyes.
She saw love, she saw beauty, she saw tears, she saw herself as she was, and felt an opening within her, a space of knowing that made her tremble in its vastness.
Come, they said, and led her to the altar, where she lay in the warm night.
She felt their hands move above her body and felt the air caress her skin, subtle and alive.
She felt their gaze, as if touched by their eyes, and felt the love in the way they saw her.
They began to anoint her with oil, warm and soft on her skin, stroking every curve, every valley, every rise of her body.
The touch of their hands was at times electric, at times subtle, at times probing deep, at times slow, soft.
Each touch, each caress, each stroke felt as if it went through her skin, into her body.
Each touch Softened something, Released something, owned something.
Deeper into her body it went.
She cried, she sobbed, she yelled, she writhed.
In hurt, in anger, in pain, in blame, in rage, in loneliness, in all that she'd felt, all that had been done to her, all that she'd allowed, all that she'd accepted.
Every expectation, every burden, every disappointment.
Every time love was twisted, withheld, choked.
Every time she hardened, contracted, tightened.
Every time she gave herself away.
Every time she was made to feel less than Divine.
Every time she was judged.
Every time…
Everything was within her, everything was in her body.
Every stroke, every caress, every touch, hour after hour through the night, she was opened, spread, softened, released.
She was turned this way and that, held in tenderness as every part of her, every part of her was touched in this sacred ritual.
And as the sky began to lighten, the pain became pleasure.
Pleasure that rose with the sun.
Pleasure that awakened every cell in her body.
Pleasure that throbbed with the puksation of life.
Pleasure that rose and fell in her as the ocean.
Pleasure that was a subtle warmth, then an inferno in her body, in her heart.
Pleasure that opened the space inside of her to hold all of life.
Pleasure that expanded her into the vastness of being.
Pleasure where she felt the source, and the source was within her, and she was the source.
And slowly, slowly, slowly, the touch of her body brought her to the awareness of the altar on which she lay, the sensation of hands, the sound of breath, the eyes that saw her with knowing, with wonder.
Arms that held her soft and warm.
Hearts that wrapped her in love.
And she knew, she knew the secret.
That it was within her, the spark and the source, the ecstasy and the pulsation.
It was within her, it was her.
[Jonti searll ] Thank you
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If you are ready to take these steps and embrace both your strengths and vulnerabilities, allowing you to let go of the past and live your best life, fostering meaningful relationships with yourself and others...
Joe Turan
- Life Coach
- Tantra & Kuscheltherapeut
00436643884305
www.joeturan.com
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