..::Truly, I say unto you, god is neither male nor female
and yet both are one, and god is the two in one. He is She
and She is He. The Eternal All -- our god -- is perfect and
compete and lacks nothing, our god is infinite, and One.
For as in the man, the Father is manifest, and the Mother
hidden; so in the woman the Mother is manifest and the
Father hidden.
Therefore, I say unto ye, shall the name of the Father and
the Mother be equally hallowed and reverenced, for They are
the great powers of god and the one is not without the
other in the One Infinite God::..
Teachings of Issa from:
The Holy Twelve 63:2-3
. . . .
..::One who knows the Mother is near to the Father , but
one who denies the Mother is far from the Father. There is
not two, but only one God and God is both Father and
Mother::..
Mary Magdalene from:
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene
* * * *
Evening entered the City. It came not cloaked in a blanket
of dewy fog but brazenly as a procession of diamond-bright
stars, flanking a waxing golden moon.
Thankfully, Emlyn heard no screech-owls nor ban-dogs. Not
yet.
After dinner, Daryl suggested that he and Em retire to the
parlor for 'cigars and brandy'. Em mentally performed the
figurative acrobatic eye-roll and dutifully traipsed along
to the tune of Uncle Daryl's mad piper's eccentricities of
the evening.
A bright fire greeted them therein, as it had been turning
chilly of late; rather disproving Mark Twain's declaration
that only summers were cold in San Francisco.
'Courvoisier, Emlyn?' Daryl presided over the crystal
decanters, whilst Em surveyed ye olde parlor; long and long
it had seemed since she had last viewed this cosy cloister.
She recalled that it would soon be time for evergreens and
holly to grace the mantlepiece in celebration of the
Solstice. Tempus fugit.
'Yes, thank you, Daryl. I will forego the cigar, for
now.'
'A wise decision,' Daryl handed over the snifter to his
ward, reminding himself that Emlyn was rather too old for
such a designation. Were they becoming a scandal about
town, he wondered? How delicious...
Emlyn paced about the old room, as Daryl took a stick from
the fire and lighted candles placed round about. This
added enough light to open up the dark walnut paneled
parlor somewhat. Em came to an abrupt halt upon reaching
the fireplace.
'This is not Anara!,' she remarked.
Smiling, Daryl drew up alongside Em.
'Indeed. Do you like her, though?'
Emlyn thought her beautiful... A vision of a woman with a
mantle of long tumbling red hair and a searching gaze,
holding a chalice, whilst a white dove fluttered above her
head.
'Rosetti,' Daryl spoke low, gazing at his newest
acquisition. 'A copy, of course.'
Em wondered if she could believe that, knowing Daryl's
wicked ways. Still... 'She is absolutely divine...'
'Yes, Em, she is; she is Mary Magdalene. The companion of
Issa, and a Priestess of Isis; a learned scholar and a
teacher in her own right.'
Emlyn stood silently; rapt with the spell cast by the
beauty of the portrait before her. 'One can't help but love
her...,' she breathed.
Daryl smiled down at her. 'I'm glad you feel that way. I,
too, feel just the same.'
They both stood, silent a moment; enchanted by the
radiant image before them.
At last, Daryl sighed and lowered himself into his wing
chair nearest the fire.
Emlyn backed away from the hearth, eyes still riveted to
the portrait of the Magdalene in her glory; peaceful and
unrepentant, having nothing to repent. Em knew it had only
been the church which had laid the brand of prostitute upon
her to disparage and dismiss her importance. Nothing of
this cruel lie was found to be true in any histories or
scriptures.
Em nodded. 'Yes, I have heard of some hidden teachings of
hers...they are very well hidden, however.'
You've no idea, Em, thought Daryl. 'One good thing which
came out of the future, Josephina, were the discoveries of
the Dead Sea Scrolls in 1945 and the codexes from Naj
Hamadi in 1947. These included the Gospel of Mary
Magadalene. Although very little was disclosed to the
public until the late 1970s.'
Emlyn gave a soft sigh as she lowered herself onto the
sofa, still staring at the vision before her. 'How
wonderful,' she breathed. She then turned and looked at
Daryl.
'What impact had this upon the world? It must have been
phenomenal!'
Daryl snorted and drank a hefty snort. 'Hardly. It was
practically ignored, save for those constipated old men of
the church with their fingers up their ar...ah, anyway, Em;
no, not really. It was decried as some insignificant
heresy, and denied and denounced and shoveled underneath
the rug and ultimately dismissed as just another
Inconvenient Truth...until Holy Blood, Holy Grail, and the
Da Vinci Code were published.'
'And even that, you said, was also given the same
whitewash,' Em recalled.
'Just so. But keep up your Kabbalist studies, Em; in
all religions, the roots are real. And in those roots,
inevitably, will be found both the Divine Mother, together
equally with the Father. As Above, So Below. Et abscindo
nil...,' Daryl murmured into his glass as he stretched his
legs before him upon the hearth.
'She looks so...peaceful, forgiving...,' Em mused, '...and
yet, she somehow seems to plead for understanding, for us
to know Her...'
What if it were true? There was certainly no reason why not
and many facts to confirm its veracity. Emlyn then realised
what this new portrait had replaced.
'Daryl...,' she began, running a finger along the rim of
her snifter, '...you have moved your portrait of Anara,
then?'
'I have...moved it, yes. Although it is no longer
displayed.' Daryl frowned at the fire.
Ah, thought Em. This gives me an opening, then: 'Daryl.
Last Samhain, I met and spoke with, with my spirit
husband.'
'Indeed.' Flat, monotone; his response.
'Yes,' Em sighed. 'He told me that we were not meant to
be together in this life. That we had much work to do in
our respective realms and we were to follow our separate
destinies.'
Emlyn paused. Then: 'He also told me, his name was
Merlin.'
Daryl deigned to glance at her then. 'Is that...so?' His
pensive gaze returned the dancing flames before them.
'Intriguing...'
'Yes. I am, rather, able to accept this now,' Em
confessed. 'And, Daryl...I have come to believe that,
truly, it is what I would wish also.'
Silence, but for the crackling fire.
Then, tossing down the remainder of his drink, Daryl
stood and returned like a bad penny to the cognac, pouring
a refill. This he took in hand and then simply stared at
the Magdalene, saying nothing.
Emlyn remained sofa-bound and besieged by her own thoughts.
Daryl brought the decanter to Em and refreshed her
drink.
He then repaired to the back of the room and Em could
hear him rummaging about in the corner. She heard the definitive
'plink, plink' of violin strings being plucked...
As Daryl slowly strode about the room, he softly played an
enchanting melody unfamiliar to Emlyn. It was lilting and
breezy, then dark and sharp and full of longing, overall.
It sounded to Em's musician's ears like a love song.
'A gypsy love song, Diego?'
Daryl smiled over his violin. 'Si, Josephina.' He allowed
one last note to linger then, sighing, lay his instrument
next to Emlyn. 'I wrote it long ago...'
'It reminds me of what you were playing, when I first saw
you at the gypsy camp that night.' Em remembered it well;
Diego had played like a man possessed. Perhaps he had been.
Daryl sipped his cognac. 'Ah, Em...would that we could
still fly to the south of France, and celebrate St. Sara's
day with the gathering of the gypsy tribes in Camargue. The
gypsies convene in May there, to revere the Black Madonna.'
'Ah, I have heard of her,' Em nodded. 'At least, I have
heard of the pilgrimage in Poland to the Black Madonna.'
'Yes, She is the same, everywhere. As are all women's
mysteries which were forced underground, hidden, and so:
dark. She is Kallah Sophia, the Mother of night, who
birthed the universe, and Kali Ma.
'She is Isis-Sophia and Sothis Isis; She of Sirius, the
brightest in the sky. The heliacal rising of Sirius, which
brings the Nile floods and fertility, was celebrated in
Egypt, near July, and gave rise to our term for the dog-
days of summer. The Feast of Mary Magdalene -- also in
July.'
Fire, within and without, caused Daryl to warm to the
subject:
'Isis was the first Madonna or Virgin Mother, the widow
of Osiris. And the Magdalene was the partner of Issa.
Both of them had seen their beloveds killed by the deeds of
darkness; both widowed and forced into hiding.
'The power of the Mother Goddess became more and more a
secret teaching, and so the men who were wise in the ways
of hidden knowledge, then referred to themselves as the
Sons of the Widow...'
Daryl had woven his spell of enchantment in the music, in
the flames of fire and candlelight all about them. Em
listened, spellbound. Salamander magick.
'But that is what the Freemasons call themselves,' Em
realised. '"Is there no help for the Widow's Son?"' Was
this not a sort of password among them?
Daryl smiled a small, sad smile. 'Perhaps.'
Em smiled. 'You know it is...' She sipped delicately.
'Have you ever been, Daryl? To this gathering of the
gypsies, in France?'
'I have, Em. It was ages ago...I was a very young man at
the time, full of ego and machismo. I'm afraid I was more
interested in the running of the bulls, back then. And the
marvelous music, of course.'
'Play some more marvelous music, Diego. Por favor...?'
Emlyn curled up, stocking feet beneath her, on her corner
of the couch, and leaned her head against a pillow.
'As you command, milady...,' Daryl bowed his usually
proud and uncompromising head to her and gathered up bow
and violin. Tucking these beneath his chin, he stroked the
instrument into a soft lullaby...
'I will play for you...a gypsy lullaby...,' Daryl murmured
as he closed his eyes and allowed the notes to waft
serenely about the parlor under the unrepentant gaze of the
Magdelene.
It was somewhat later that week when late one chill
afternoon, Emlyn, together with Rosa and Manuel, who drove,
were headed to the Leeks' mansion house to meet with Sophie
and the Kabbalists.
As yet, no sign of the impending Solstice showed about the
old Victorian or surrounding grounds. Emlyn knew that would
all change soon.
'I'll meet you later, then,' Manuel told them as he
dropped the ladies at the front steps. Obviously, these
sessions were familiar occurrences.
'I'm so excited,' Em confessed as they held up their skirts
to ascend the stairs. 'I can't wait to meet Sophie's
teacher.'
Emlyn had already envisioned the rabbi in her mind: A
wizened older gentleman with grey, perhaps white hair and
long beard, with creased visage of age and wisdom, a soft
smile at the corners of his mouth, professing the Wisdom of
the Ages in a low baritone...
'Yes, I think you will like her teacher,' Rosa smiled as
she stepped up to the great dark carved oak door and rapped
smartly.
Conner opened the door, looking much as he always had, eyes
bright with recognition, dressed in his familiar forest
green.
'Well, well! If it isn't our own wandering Emlyn, back
from her quests along the dragon-lines, up the hill and
back again, finding, losing and finding the Knight!'
Em was quite taken aback by Conner's true assessment of her
travels in the Otherworld. 'Conner!' She gulped, then
rallied, 'How good to see you! It has been too long...'
My word, how did he know? Did the whole City, the world,
know of her doings?
Conner simply smiled, his merry eyes dancing with elf-
lights as he took their coats and ushered them inside.
'Bridget and Sophie are within...we hold the meetings in
the parlor.'
They could hear the voices of the women deep in lively
discussion as they neared the parlor in back.
'Emlyn! And Rosa, so glad you could make it!' Bridget was
first to notice them and came to embrace Emlyn. 'Oh, you
are very naughty to have neglected us for so long!'
'Not my intention, at all, dear Bridget, but, oh, I am
glad to be here at last,' Em told her, as she looked around
for the rabbi.
'Have a seat, Em,' Sophie pulled out a chair next to her,
as Rosa took a seat on the other side of the table, beside
a tall lady unknown to Emlyn.
'Will there be others coming later?' Em asked, as Bridget
poured tea from a central pot and handed a cup to Em.
'We'll see,' she answered. 'It's rather informal.'
Em sipped her tea. 'I'm anxious to meet your teacher,'
she allowed.
Sophie then put a hand upon the tall woman's shoulder.
'Allow me to present Shekinah, my teacher in the
Kabbalah,' she said, much to Em's astonishment.
Em barely remembered herself, so flummoxed was she.
'I'm Emlyn, so nice to meet you!' She shook the woman's
long-fingered cool hand and was relieved to see a slight
smile curving her lips. 'Shekinah...that is the name for
the holy spirit, is it not?'
The lady nodded, 'It is. I'm glad you seem to know a little
about our teachings already.'
'Very little; muy poco, si, Rosa?'
Rosa chuckled. 'You are a fast learner, Em.'
'Indeed, the Shekinah is the spirit, which early Christians
also knew as 'ruach', or wind,' the lady with the large
golden eyes explained to Em.
'This is often depicted in the Keltic arts, by the symbol
of the spiral,' Bridget added.
embodied by many things; oftentimes it is thus revealed as
a white dove. The Christians also took this symbol for
themselves, and yet it was originally connected to the
goddess Isis. Aphrodite, and Ishtar as well. Wherever one
finds the Mother Goddess.'
'Oh!' Em recalled the events of the previous evening. 'I
just saw the most beautiful portrait of Mary Magdalene,
holding a golden chalice, with the white dove of peace over
her head...'
Rosa was nodding. 'Yes. Don Diego just bought that
painting recently. She is most lovely. Serene, yet somehow
of another time and place than here.'
'The Magdalene was a Priestess of Isis and initiated into
the Mysteries,' Shekinah continued. 'All roads do not lead
to Rome, but ultimately, back to Egypt. Our people, the
Semites,' she nodded to Sophie, 'were taught by Moses, who
was educated in the temples of Heliopolis.
Our early history was a combination of many different
influences. But always, in the beginning, there was an
equal reverence for the Divine Mother as well as Father.'
'Was that part of the middle-east always such fertile
ground for such a great outpouring of Spirit?' Emlyn asked.
'So it would seem to be, throughout the long ages, yes?'
Shekinah's golden amber eyes glowed in the soft
candlelight. 'And yet,' she glanced at Bridget, 'there are
even accounts of the Druids from the Keltic northern lands,
journeying there and bringing their own teachings
southward.
'These were not isolated tribal peoples. They were
nomadic, travelers. The Greeks did travel to Gaul for
trade, the Semitic peoples did wander throughout India, and
beyond. There are even writings from a Nepalese
text of Issa's journey there. All are connected.'
'Why do we war, so? Can not all peoples, with so much in
common, simply share culture, and stories, songs and
dances, and break bread together as sisters and brothers?'
Emlyn pleaded. Rosa sighed softly.
'Alas, with the determined extermination by the Church, and
yes, by Judaic elements, of the Mother Goddess-Father God
archetype, men became more aggressive and war-like. With the
development of agriculture, people did not herd their
flocks as they used, and put down roots, and became
property owners. They craved more land to rule over, to
spread out.
'Also then, northern war-like tribes like the Kurgans
began to descend upon the south; and the south had to
defend itself. But when people were given so-called
'divine' mandates to dominate the earth, and use it and
their women folk as mere commodities, the end of
civilization had commenced; not the beginning.'
'Certain places, too, have held a natural potency; like the
ley or dragon-lines we Kelts revere in Britain. Ley lines
travel across the globe and are everywhere,' Bridget added.
'Indeed, and the Great Pyramids do sit upon these,'
Shekinah smiled.
'"Signs on the earth, signs in the sky",' Em mentioned.
'Yes, let's not forget our astronomy and the influence of
the stars. 'As above, so below' -- many of our temples and
sacred sites are situated beneath such heavenly
constellations; and are aligned to certain directions
wherein influence and light of the stars and planets can be
conducted within.'
case from the hutch against the wall. Opening it, she
revealed within, nesting safely upon the velvet-lined
compartment, a brass telescope!
Emlyn was, naturally, delighted.
Shekinah smiled, noting her excitement.
'Later, when the stars come out, so shall we!'
Emlyn drank in all of this like a thirsty sponge as she
bathed in the presence of these wise women, her sisters.
She studied her newest teacher, Shekinah, she with the dark
auburn hair and golden lion's eyes...
Something about her reminded Em of that portrait above
the fireplace.
. . . .
WATCH AND LISTEN:
'Ain't No Sunshine' - Bill Withers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIdIqbv7SPo
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