LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter. Deborah Maragopoulos FNP
he moves away, I catch his hand. “No, we mustn’t waste the oil.”
“I do not think it will go to waste,” he whispers and moves toward the east, lighting each of the thirteen lamps in turn. I pray Miriam will not be too angry that we burn the oil before the ceremony.
Circling south of the altar, Yeshua drops to his knees. “You look so beautiful tonight with the flowers in your hair and that wonderful violet dress that matches the color of your life force. And you smell delicious. I wonder why Ima would have you prepare so elaborately only to ready this room.” He does not take his eyes off me, nor does he stand. My breath catches…I am the special ceremony!
He stands and drops his robe, adorned only by the small leather pouch around his neck. Nervously, I finger my own pouch nestled between my breasts. All the elaborate ministrations over the past three days were to prepare me for this moment. Pouring off my shoulders in silky waves of violet, my gown soon lies upon the altar. Yeshua gasps.
“You are so…beautiful!”
Swallowing thickly, he kneels and slides me closer, until the tips of my toes are level with his chest. From his robe he produces a tiny bottle of oil. Holding it over us he prays in Hebrew, the sacred language of our people, and then begins anointing my feet. His touch creates waves of sensation as the pungent odor of spikenard pervades the room. When he stands to move toward my head, I feel a pillar of hayye pour from above us to enclose the entire altar. Radiance gathers to witness our union. Yeshua gently directs me to lie back and slides me north. Again he holds the tiny vial aloft, praying fervently before softly anointing the crown of my head.
The column of energy widens when he joins me on the altar. I lay completely still, mesmerized by the pulsating hayye rising in my body from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. Tenderly, he kisses my mouth. With a cry, I pull him closer, hungrily yearning for more.
He begins stroking me softly, learning every curve. Each moment intensifies. I part my thighs and he dips into my wetness to paint spirals over my belly and breasts. I cry out as he takes a rigid nipple into his mouth. He tastes all of me and I am enchanted.
When he probes below with tender fingers, I yearn to arch up yet he holds me still. One finger, now two, now…Ouch! There is an uncomfortable tightness, something is wrong. “Yesh…?”
Rising up to face me, he whispers, “It is going to be fine, love.” Of course. Miriam explained that there might be some discomfort the first time. Touching his chest, I run my hands down his hard belly …my goodness, his desire must be much greater than my own!
Groaning, he lies back, but my attention is too much for he drags me up to face him. Kissing me fiercely, his lovemaking becomes more urgent. The hayye intensifies around us, crashing like waves in a stormy sea. Drumming quickens the music. I am in awe, but it is not over.
He captures my gaze, rocking gently to engage me in an entirely new dance. Seeking a deliciously furious rhythm we finally reach a point from which there is no return. The energies separate, each wave moving progressively faster until our passion becomes the purest vibration and all colors merge.
Time stops.
There is nothing but us, bathing in the now pure white light.
Yeshua collapses heavily upon me (light as a feather just a moment before) breathing raggedly. Still in awe, I watch shapes coalesce within the prism and kiss him eagerly, “Thank you. That was wonderful.”
“You’re welcome, my love. But what did you perceive?”
“Yesh, you were right here. Was it not the same for you?”
Kissing me tenderly, he nibbles my lower lip. “I don’t think so.”
Somewhat self-conscious, I whisper, “Yeshua, next time you can be the anointed one.”
Just as the sky lightens, Yeshua gently shakes me awake. “Mary, Did I hurt you?” Sitting up sleepily, I do not feel injured, only a bit sore. What is he talking about?
My gaze descends—blood everywhere, his groin, hips, and hands stained. Oh, no! I am unclean, and now… so is he.
“Forgive me,” I explain in a strangled voice, “it is my menses.”
“Barchashem!” Thanking the Divine, he reaches to embrace me, but shocked, I back away.
“Yeshua, men never touch a woman in her unclean period!” Averting my eyes, I shiver, “I should be shut away.”
His fingertips lift my chin, his golden brown eyes saturated with compassion. “It’s not possible for my beloved to ever be ritually impure.” Tenderly, he lies us down on the stained lambskin and pulls me close to his chest. “In your arms, I have found what I’ve been seeking,” he murmurs into my tangled curls, “Sacred Unity—Eloha!”
Choosing Destiny
Accompanied by the sweet musk of intimacy, Yeshua and I hurry along the corridor. Closest to the street that it might drain efficiently into the Roman sewers, the betshimush lies within a discreet tiled booth. After relieving myself in the hole for this purpose, I go to the chamam. Yeshua is there. Although ill at ease, I allow him to sponge me in a low copper basin. He even watches as I place a clean soft rag between my thighs securing the menstrual strap tightly about my hips.
“When will you be fertile?”
“In about two Shabbats.”
“And we are to be married in thirteen days. Ima planned this out perfectly."
Turning away, I wind my wet hair atop my head, securing it with ivory hairpins. Miriam enters the chamam and Yeshua greets her with a kiss on the cheek, but when she tucks away my few stray hairs I slump upon her bosom.
“Mary? Ima? What is wrong?”
“Yeshua, it is all right. Please go to the gathering room.”
Miriam waves him off and I give him a tear-soaked smile. With bowed head, he walks slowly away. I grasp her hands, speaking rapidly, almost incoherently.
“Oh Ima Miriam! We woke up covered in my blood and Yeshua was not offended! Then he asked about my fertile time…that is when we will be married. I…”
“You are feeling some fear. That is natural.” I look up at her now, as she continues, “Yours is a challenging destiny that will be filled with love and passion, pain and sorrow. You have consented to a divine match that will pave the way for much more powerful energies to come unto the earth.”
Somewhere in the depths of my soul, I know what she is saying to be true. “Will my fear prevent me from fulfilling my destiny?”
“No dear, fear, like love, is part of being human. The perfect bride for my son.” Smiling, she stops for a moment, squeezing my hand, “Now I must ask you to do one more thing before adjourning to the atrium…” She pauses before saying softly, “Please say goodbye to Teoma.”
Still trembling, I hesitantly enter the gathering room. Both Yeshua and Teoma stand in respect. Dressed in a fine blue robe, sashed smartly with a decorated leather belt, Teoma looks like a soldier, muscular legs encased in high sandals, arms rigid at his side. Yeshua motions for me to sit beside him and gives me a gentle hug.
Teoma’s face bears great sorrow. What is wrong?
With a slight quiver of his jaw, he smiles at me. His hands slowly unclench. “Mary, I hear congratulations are in order.”
From across the low round table, heat rises from his chest and faintly I smell his tantalizing sweat. My heart pounds beneath my breasts as I sigh deeply. What is happening to me? Strangely attracted to Teoma, I twist golden cords girdling my waist, my betrothed stiffening at my side.
“Please, Mary, sit with Teoma and have your breakfast. I need my son to assist me.” Yeshua glances back at us as Miriam leads him away.