The High Priestess and the Rite of the Sash ©

As recalled from a dream the evening of Monday, November 11, 2013.

     I stood in a hall occupied by many women who have undergone a vigorous training program of which in the past I had been awarded the black sash. The procurement of this sash was not without its tribulations and in order to attain the honor of wearing it, one was to pay the ultimate price by demonstrating one’s merit. As I stood there staring at the dreary dark cloth which contrasted with my peach toned inner palm, I heard the name of someone else called forward to receive the same honor. A cold stillness slithered into my chest. Without looking up and any further thought, both she and I drew swords. Within two strikes, my opponent laid on the ground before me. With eyes closed, I could see the crimson of her blood permeating the ground beneath her. I did not feel particularly accomplished with this act, but I knew this was the one sacrifice whereby liberation was attained for both either the survivor or the sacrificed. Making and abiding by oaths taken long ago, we have all come to much understanding the manner, the way, the path of moving forward. No other alternative for surpassing this grade existed. In battle we met, in battle we parted ways. The body on the ground opposite of me was carefully wrapped and removed. Good bye old comrade. With chills still coursing through my body, I prayed to the gods I did not have to repeat this ritual, which others have had to in the past. Only the elders thought determined if this trial would be necessary. A battle won? There was no winning, only moving, and certainly such sacrifice was for naught.

     I looked down only to see I wore a black robe, a color as rich as the midnight of a new moon. The new day was met with a fresh assignment within the temple’s hall. Unlike before, I was charged with handing out degree sashes to new awardees and come to think about it, I could no longer recall my previous job. There was a beautiful tray upon my hands, where neatly folded sashes of varying colors from white, black, deep blue and yellow laid. Each one bore its recipients name. While I distributed white sashes, members in the hall hailed each other with cheer. On occasion, I disseminated a black one, which members acknowledged with reverence. I continued along in my task wondering which sash would be designated to me. And then, without further ado, I remembered the chill in my chest and thought, “Would it be the black one again?” Recipients, upon occasion received it more than once and I thought: “how would I feel about repeating this sacrifice?” I silenced my mind, as there was no point in a matter that was clearly out of my hands. Either I would receive the sash of sacrifice and fight yet again, or I would simply fail. There was nothing else to it. The possibility of receiving a different degree also existed, but I knew there was no point in thinking further about the matter. In either case, the elders have decided on the matter a long while ago. There was nothing else to ponder.
     Next to me stood another one of my companions who shared the same duties as me. On occasion we would glance at one another, wondering what laid ahead for us. The time arrived for her to call my name & present me with the new sash. She looked on her tray but could not locate my name or the sash. She and I exchanged dreaded looks leaving me with only one option on my plate left- to approach one of the high priestesses. I made a quarter turn to the right and proceeded to walk towards one of the high priestesses to ask her if there was a misplaced sash. The Priestess smiled with both her mouth and her eyes as she touched my right hand. She asked me to look through the batch once again. I nodded and walked back to where my companion stood. In unison, we searched amongst the multicolor sashes, hoping to locate the one with my name pinned onto it. Before reaching the end of the lot, I found a silver metallic one with my name pinned on. I was breath taking in beauty and design. However, this sash was made to be worn over the shoulder and across the body. Instead, it was to be worn around the waist. The front center portion contained an unrecognizable embroidered emblem. Beads were sewn around the image and hung from threads which when worn generated soft bell like sounds. The Priestess instructed me to wear it as she explained to me how she had this made especially for me. Her smile brought me such warmth and I began to briefly dance about the hall. When I ceased my dance, the ceremony came to a close and I happily went about my scope of work for that day within the temple.

A Clean Slate

Based on a dream entered into my journal on Sept 9, 2013

     I was asked to take up a unique research assignment. I, along with others was asked which symbols signified death for us. In other words, when we think of death in general, whether the actual physical passing or deity associated, which symbols were most prevalent to us. In order to fully mediate over the subject of death and its’ symbols, our professor suggested a visit to the graveyard where we would sit beside various headstones. We were each to choose a particular headstone, one that felt right, one that would be conducive to this type of work. We walked through the cemetery entrance, while the professor remained outside, watching. No one knew exactly why we had to choose a headstone, but after a considerable amount of time walking and perusing the endless stones and epitaphs, I finally found one that was welcoming. I could see my classmates spread about the cemetery, all of whom have generally settled on their stone. I sat down upon the grass and stared into my lap. I said absolutely nothing and come to think of it, I heard no chatter from my colleagues either. The professor at the cemetery’s gate was preoccupied with his own matters, most of which were administrative in nature. I sat there, wondering exactly how long I would have to go about in this as my eyes rolled up and down, staring one moment at my lap and the next at the headstone. I was not there terribly long. Feeling the grass beneath me, I thought quietly about this project and these supposed symbols, when finally, I saw something stirring within the headstone itself. There was a slight mist over the surface which then disappeared. The engraved epitaph was gone as if the crevices of each letter were filled in. Talk about a clean slate, it could not get any cleaner than this. I saw symbols which flashed upon the surface of the glassy granite. The symbols revealed were the following: a red rose, a bible (sacred book), a cross, various musical instruments, keys, a set of dice, dominoes, a perfectly tall black top hat and of course, a skull.

     I scribbled down each of these symbols as they were presented to me. I knew it was time for me to leave, as the stone no longer portrayed images. I stood up and headed back to the cemetery’s entrance. After our gathering, we walked back together, speaking enthusiastically amongst ourselves about our personal experience. The following day, I was driven to begin writing my findings, while a number of my colleagues teased me about my level of interest to begin my research paper. I ignored them and continued to work through my project until its completion. Sadly, those who teased me were the very people whom continued to put off the writings of their experiences & findings. The professor watched me from time to time as I wrote into my notebook, as I hardly lifted my eyes or pen off the page. After an extensive period of time, I completed my work and soon rejoined the group. In a matter of minutes, my colleagues were already chatting of their next planned venture. I agreed to accompany them just so that I could take my mind off my work for a little. We left only to arrive, at my dismay, to a place I have never encountered before. This place was disordered and filthy. People who resided in this area decided to live a soiled & dirty life. There was a rule prohibiting bathing, yet that rule did not seem to faze them. In fact, they preferred the filth and stench!
     I spotted a water fountain some ways away and felt impelled to jump into it and bath myself. I did so blatantly disregarding the posted rule prohibiting it. I felt the cool & clear water run down over me. It was refreshing. Others looked on and watched me but avoided this water fountain. I motioned to a man about my age and invited him to join me in the water fountain. Apprehension was written across his face, but in an instant, he too joined me and rejoiced at the feeling of the water that washed away the grime that had built upon his skin over a considerate amount of time. We invited others nearby to join us, and to rejoice, but they did not dare to do so out of fear! They were afraid of a sign with an outlandish rule, a law which no one enforced. These people had the opportunity to bath and cleanse themselves, but instead, choose to remain soiled. Was it really this easy to suppress free will?
     Though bathing was prohibited, there was a limited time it was allowed. I watched as these people flocked to the public bathing area. To my complete disbelief, these people bathed themselves in unclean water. I did not comprehend the reasoning for bathing in the murky pools of water, when the option for clean water existed. I watched this absurd spectacle and tried to understand the choice of this society. It was at this moment I arrived at an epiphany. These people chose filth because they refused to come clean. There would never be a clean slate for them unless they chose to will it.
     Having come to this conclusion, I departed the fountain and walked away, leaving this ludicrous scene behind me. Eventually, I came upon a small clean neighborhood. There was an intimate shop located at the corner which seemed peculiar, peculiarly intriguing indeed! I walked inside and was drawn to an area of scrolls. I sifted through various documents and objects on a waist level shelf when an empty space along the wall behind the shelf in front of me a scroll appeared, hanging on a rusted nail. It was fully extended, revealing the image within. The image was that of the high priestess. Beneath her image there was a phrase in script which read: “secrecy in circle.” I smiled and thought, “well that sure is the absolute truth!” I called on the shop owner, an older woman, and inquired about the price of the scroll. She smiled and said, take it, it is yours. As I lifted the image from the nail and rolled it back up again, a unique long necklace appeared in my hands. The shop owner suggested I take it for my use. She did not utter another word about the origins or its’ particular use and I did not feel it necessary to ask. If fact all was secret in circle, then I would find out at my own time. The necklace was long, made of both silver & brass metals, beaded with sky blue stones. The necklace had a large pendant of which the image of the high priestess was engraved. I put the necklace on and held onto my scroll. The shop owner smiled and disappeared. I took that as my cue to leave. I headed out the door and immediately awoke.
  

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