LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter. Deborah Maragopoulos FNP
He motions toward the food, “Mary, eat. You look like you could use some refreshment.”
He knows. Paralyzed, I cannot breathe. In surrendering to one, am I open to all men now? Or is there something between us that I overlooked in my fervor for Yeshua?
Still watching me intently, his sky blue gaze softens. Our children would have the most beautiful eyes. I am losing myself.
A sob chokes him, “I love Yeshua like a brother, but I never believed he would marry.”
Pain nearly rips my heart asunder. “Perhaps then you might learn to love me like a sister.” My whispered response begs an answer.
Great tears cloud his eyes. “I could never love you as a sister, sweet Mary.” I take his hand and he does not pull away, but gently covers mine with his other. So warm, his hands are much larger than Yeshua’s. Through the clear blue depths of his eyes, I fall into his soul. Flashes of unfamiliar images of us through the ages flow past my mind’s eye. For all eternity, his love protects me, but I shudder to see such prolonged unfulfilled passion, his desire threatening to destroy him.
Saying goodbye will release him, but I cannot let him go. When I stand, Teoma does not move to stop me, so I kiss the top of his bowed head. Running from the room, my senses overloaded by emotion, his essence burns upon my lips.
Outside the doorway, my breath caught in a sob, I bring a trembling hand to my mouth. Hearing footsteps in the corridor, I turn blindly to escape and run directly into Yeshua.
“Mary!” Grasping my arms, he tries to get me to look up at him.
Not wanting to reveal my tears, I press my face into his chest, wiping them away. “Please, Teoma is waiting for you to take his leave.”
“Mary, are you all right?” I only nod, for if I speak again, I will sob. He kisses the crown of my dark curls and enters the gathering room. With bowed head, I wander aimlessly.
A young boy’s voice chants the sacred texts. I look up to see Yeshua’s eleven-year-old brother. Jacob is a beautiful boy, a replica of his father with dark thick hair and eyes a muted shade of indigo.
“Come, I’ll show you to the atrium.” Jacob turns, walking so quickly that I must nearly run to keep up, but the activity lightens my mood somewhat. The enclosed courtyard’s paths are lined with flowers and herbs, their fragrances mingling to produce a hazy feeling in my head like wine.
We enter a pure white tent with large open spaces between the top and the sides enticing the breeze to move freely. In the middle is a bubbling fountain that I kneel by to cool my fevered face. Jacob smiles, “Mary, there is refreshment for you at the table.”
Rising, I brush off the hem of my sadin and see Jacob pointing at a feast. A large basket of fruit overflows onto the white linen tablecloth. Skins filled with yogurt sit between a small pot of honey and another basket filled with bread. My stomach rumbles.Like a gifted Tana, Jacob recites passages from the Torah verbatim. I ask him to sing me the Song of Solomon and his pure young voice sweetens my meal. Thanking him, I find a hammock suspended between the trunks of two olive trees. Jacob joins me and we swing. Soon a hummingbird hovers close looking at each of us in turn. Be joyful, I hear in my head. Jacob takes no notice.
“Mary, how did you know Yeshua was the one?”
“When I looked into his eyes the first time, I could see myself as love.” Nothing is clearer to me than this. In Yeshua’s eyes, I am beloved.
Jacob seems impressed, “That is just what the mirrors of the Essenes teach. There are seven of them.” When I try to stifle a yawn, Jacob takes his leave, chanting the psalms by memory.
Not a moment later, Miriam sits on the edge of the hammock. “Mary, did you say goodbye to Teoma?”
“No, I did not realize how much he loves me…” relieved by her tender smile, I go on, “until this morning when I could feel his heart breaking.”
“As your new life begins with Yeshua, you must let nothing come between you.” A pillar of hayye pours down. Pure white, translucent pulsations hold the space around us, drawing my attention away from her face. The energy shifts and I hear in my head:
Beloved, you are learning that love is the vibration that connects you to other dimensions. You share a path with Teoma as well as Yeshua. One is your ever-faithful protector, while the other is your fervent lover. One will meet you at the end of your journey, while the other has met you well in the beginning.
Looking intently at me, Miriam is silent. I wonder what I saw in Teoma’s eyes.
You witnessed, dear one, your shared paths through the ages to come. You will need a faithful partner to watch over you. Your destiny has been sealed by your love for Teoma. But now it is Yeshua’s turn to dance with you.
Tears slip from my lashes while the hayye recedes, bringing the garden back into focus. Miriam kisses my forehead. “Please rest now, dear. You will be guided to know how to handle Yeshua.”
Handle Yeshua? I close my eyes but soon the hammock rocks with the weight of another.
“Why do you cry, Mary?” Smiling, I hold open my arms. This is the way to handle Yeshua, I think, as we begin kissing softly. “Teoma took his leave in sadness; I hope he comes to the wedding.” I look into his eyes for a sign of malevolence. There is none. “Do you love him?”
“Until this morning, I did not know that he loved me…,” but how to say this without upsetting my betrothed? “Nor did I know that I had feelings for him.”
Yeshua’s hayye draws away from me, his hand cool upon my hip. I stay his touch.
“What? How can he have a piece of your heart when you gave yourself to me?” His jealousy tinges his aura with an olive hue.
Taking his hand, I hold it against my breast, “Yeshua, although I truly love you, my heart nearly broke when I saw the depth of Teoma’s love for me and the bitterness of his disappointment.”
He turns away, his hayye compressing into a narrow cord. I will not be with him like this, but when I try to leave, he holds me fast. Ignited by my frustration, my energy surges forth, forcing him to release me. “I can give myself to whomever I choose.” His eyes widen. “And I choose you. But I will be well met!”
His brown eyes soften with unshed tears. “I love Teoma, too. I do not know how I can feel this way when one of my greatest wishes was that you would come to love one another… just not as you do.” His hayye, now liquefied by his honest expression of despair, expands into its original fullness. He responds to my tentative kiss with a fervent passion that threatens to consume. Will our relationship always be so volatile or will it mellow with time?
At dusk, I slip on grass green silk in preparation to celebrate Yeshua’s eighteenth birthday. Delighting in the sensuous feel of the gown, I twirl around the room and nearly collide with his mother. Raised hands clasped together, I attempt to beg her forgiveness, but she lowers my hands to the level of her breasts, looking intently into my eyes. A golden energy surges from her hands into mine and the next moment, I am transported to another time.
We are in the desert with wild flowers blooming all around. I am very young, perhaps six or seven, dressed in a pure white tunic. Walking quickly with my hands tightly cupping something fuzzy, I see her coming toward me from some large white tents. Tall and light-skinned with auburn brown hair, she holds my small hands gently as a warm golden hayye begins to seep from her palms. The tiny fuzzy body begins to move and gasping, I open my hands. The once injured queen bee explores my palms before taking flight, pausing briefly to buzz her dance of gratitude. I look up into my mother’s soft brown eyes.
And I am transported to the present time, looking into Miriam’s eyes. “You see, Mary, why it is so natural for me to treat you as my daughter.” I am overwhelmed by emotion. “Come, dear, it is time to greet the guests.” Taking my hand, she leads me down the corridor. I am home.
Wandering