I was recently back to my homeland, visiting my home town (hence I disappeared from the WP for a few weeks…). One evening I was having a drink (too much 🙂 ) in a cousin’s brand new, vantage inspired, funky bar with the high high ceiling. Overwhelmed by the sameness of the persistant background noise created by the lively bar crowd’s chatter, I started losing my own crowd to the tall stain glass windows filled with glass bottles. I don’t know if it was the drinks, the noise or the play of colors on the glass, but I saw my life playing in front of my eyes and I remembered many things long forgotten. Like enchanted I stood up and walked out of the bar towards the temple outside. I thought I heard somebody calling me, a familiar voice. It was very distant but definitely familiar. I was looking for a face to appear on one of the narrow temple windows, when somebody grabbed my hand. A familiar warm feeling overcame my body and I shivered with excitement and pleasure. I felt his breath on my neck, his face in my hair and his hands on my thighs. I remember he would rarely speak to me but his eyes would talk. He often made eye contact and kept me close. I felt loved and safe in his presence.
He asked me to come along and we walked together, strolling the streets of my youth. They seemed as dark as I remember them but walking with him I felt lighter. We walked for a long time, I didn’t feel tired. We must have walked many times together, I was thinking, unable to locate any of our walks. I didn’t feel like telling him anything, he knew who I was anyways. We had met before, I remembered vividly his gentle touch on my hips. I remembered he would come to my chambers and never undress me. He would look at me patiently with his tender wise eyes until I was ready to undress, always in a dim light. I was used to being naked in front of men, yet I felt unusually shy undressing for him. I felt like I was stripping down all my heavy armor in surrender. I learnt not to trust anybody but I trusted him. I remembered that he never kissed me. I was used to not being kissed. Many men entered my chambers with only lust in their eyes. I never saw lust in his eyes, only grace. He would approach me from behind, wrap his arms around my waste and hold my belly. I was never a wife. Or a mother. But when he held me like that I knew how it felt to be both. As he made love to me, his movements were slow and slight. He would hold me very close and tight, pulling me to his side, and he would lie down close to me, our bodies touching, for a long time. He was the only one I ever lied down with.
The street lights grew more intense on me. They made my head spin, and I started walking at a different pace. I felt I was raging and fighting with myself. I awoke the beast, the wildeling in me wanted to run. Somewhere far away. Where he could not find me anymore, where I would forget about him. Where I would forget that he once loved me and betrayed me. He watched me die. He did watch me die, I remember that clearly. The one who tamed me, the one who conquered me, is the one who sacrificed me. In the end, he was the high priest, with a status and the right to marry. He stood there with her, and she wanted me dead. I was a qadishtu, the one to sacrifice. Or was I?
The blinding lights brought me back to the city of my childhood. Love and fire, an unextinguished fire made it difficult for me to see. I always saw blurry as a child. But I could read straight through people’s eyes. Unmistakably. He had deep and gentle eyes. I was looking at them then, I am looking at them now. He loves me. He always loved me. He sent me from heaven to hell and back. This is my heaven. He is my heaven, my Habibi. Sa Sekhem Sahu ❤
I learnt from the Inka tradition that we can shed our past in the same way the serpent sheds her skin. All at once… Or a bit by bit 🙂 .
For many cultures around the world, the serpent is an ancient symbol of passion, sensuality, life and rebirth, and represents the integration of the masculine and feminine energies.
Here are the two links if you wish to learn more about the origin of qadishtu – priestesses or sacred prostitutes?, and Natib Qadish, an ancient Canaanite Religion:
An interesting take on Jesus – the Man and the Myths by my galpal blogger Beverly at http://ghosttalkblog.com:
An interesting journey into time by another great galpal blogger Linda at lindalitebeing.wordpress.com/: