Creating Beauty
"'Holy Virgin' was the title of harlot-priestesses of Ishtar, Asherah, or Aphrodite. The title didn’t mean physical virginity; it meant simply unmarried (belonging to no man). The function of such holy virgins was to dispense the Goddesses grace through sexual worship; to heal; to prophesy; to perform sacred dances; to wail for the dead; and to become Brides of God."- The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets, Barbara G. Walker
The tension in the room was claustrophobic. We had been together for several days, preparing for the moment when we would welcome the stranger into our midst. In keeping with our tradition, we had lovingly prepared the room for our ritual, removing the furnishings and all unnecessary junk that might distract us from the focus of our intention and design. We then carefully swept the space dispersing dust, dirt and all energetic negativity. We had lit tall red tapers in brass candelabras and strategically placed them around the room. The altar was strewn with velvety red rose petals, the incense was burning and the mats were arranged in a large circle in the middle of the room and covered in sensual shades of red, orange and gold. The sun was setting and evening just coming on. The room darkened steadily as daylight gave way seamlessly to the magical glow of candlelight. The women held hands in a circle, their elaborately decorated masks in place and their capes draped artfully over their bare shoulders. They looked beautiful to me, my priestesses-in-training, eyes radiating a shiny excitement through their masks. I felt proud of them, each stepping into authority as she took her place in the larger circle of life, accepting her leadership role as spiritually awakened women. I waited by the entrance to the room for my assistant to lead the men into our ritual circle. "Breathe!” I reminded the women and a soft giggle rose from the group, acknowledging the anxious anticipation that caused them to hold their breath.
Marianne was a virgin at 56. She had devoted her life professionally to the care of the elderly, the sick and the dying - washing them, feeding and nursing them, looking after their every need and then finally when the time came, helping them cross over into death. Her caretaker role had defined her life and she accepted this but she seemed oddly out of sync with the playful, at times ecstatic energy that I perceived in the other women who worked with me. I greatly admired and respected the qualities that she exhibited as "Priestess of Death” but over time, I noticed an emotional mask that she wore concealing something that was missing, unfinished or incomplete in her. When we were together, she would occasionally put on what she considered to be the external signs of femininity: ropes of clanking cockle shells around her neck combined with large dangling flashy-colored earrings, bright red lipstick and black fishnet stockings in painful contrast to shapeless homely housedresses that hung from her narrow shoulders. She seemed to long for some expression of femininity but the outward appearance that she created at such moments was more weird than flattering. Her short cropped hair and her pale body denied the maturity of her years. Her inner softness and vulnerability were disguised by a voice that was disconnected and often too loud.
Although she had experienced much of the human condition and knew a lot about the business of life and death, she had never intimately experienced a man. She told me that when she was young, there had been the occasional flirt but it never came to more than that, because of the boys aggressive expectations and her own fear of the unknown power of male sexuality. She remained to this day in every sense of the word, a virgin. She enjoyed her independence and valued her own sexuality but she had never shared her body nor received the loving touch of another human being, neither male nor female.
When I heard her story, I asked her if she was curious about men or if she had a desire at some point to experience male energy, to know what sex with a man was really like. "Oh yes!” she replied in her husky voice. "But I know it will never happen. Men are not attracted to me and I don’t think that this will ever change.” I asked her if she would be open to experiencing male energy in a safe environment, if I could guarantee that she would not be hurt or rejected. I received her answer by post a week later. In a four-page hand-written letter, she assured me that she did indeed want to experience men, to learn what sex with them would feel like. She wrote that she had no expectations or limitations about this, she simply trusted me to create a safe space for her to receive what a man might offer her. I was amazed at her curiosity and courage – she was simply open to a new experience, neither making demands nor withholding her vulnerable self.
I had asked each woman in the group to select and bring from home a piece of the finest white silk for our ritual. In the afternoon as we prepared the ritual space, Karin, who is very nimble with needle and thread, stitched the pieces of silk together to make a bride’s robe for Marianne. Without cutting the cloth, she simple anchored the pieces together to form an elegant and flattering gown fitting for this auspicious occasion. Late in the afternoon, just before sunset, as a group we washed Marianne then oiled and massaged her body, helping her to relax and ground her energy. One woman dressed her hair and another applied makeup and perfumed her soft pale skin. As we went about the room lighting the candles, she put on a pure white mask and the women gently placed the white robe around her shoulders. She radiated a quiet elegance that I had never seen in her before. We formed a circle around Marianne and called upon Aphrodite, mother of beauty, for protection and care throughout the evening. Silence fell over the room and we were ready to begin.
Silence was the rule in our Temple. As high priestess, I was the only one allowed to speak in this ritual. Both the women and the visiting men were instructed to remain silent – allowing their actions and their energy to be the sole means of communication for the entire evening. Music had been carefully selected to support the mood in the space. At this moment, it was a magical melodious sound that came through the speakers, soft and seductive at once.
Over the years that I have worked with men and women, the Temple has evolved and changed. Years ago, I understood the Temple as a place for men to seek sexual and spiritual healing from the women who followed the high calling of Sacred Whore. For several years I enjoyed the experience of being in this role myself. I learned a lot and had the opportunity to hone my skills as a sexual healer. Over time, I met men who were ready to step into this role, using their gifts in service to women and the female spiritual evolution. There are not many men on the planet who are able to follow this calling. For this particular evening, I had selected men strong in their individual style and expression but united in their intention to bring the masculine archetype of Sacred Whore into the reality of time and space. The priestesses had never seen these men before and they would leave again at the close of the evening without speaking a word or revealing their identity.
They approached the threshold - three men dressed in black, their faces hidden behind elegant black leather masks. These were the best from my men’s team, selected over the years because of their self-assured physical grace and their devotion and love of women. They came to the Temple not to please themselves but to serve and honor the Goddess and to dance with her priestesses. As they crossed into our magical space, each man silently bowed to me and took up his place at the end of the room, outside the circle of priestesses. I raised my arms toward heaven and began my invocation:
"All praise to the Goddess Aphrodite in whose holy Temple we are joined. We acknowledge the beauty and joy that falls from Her generous hand! Beloved brothers, my priestesses welcome you to this Temple, created by women as a sign of our power and spiritual authority. Behold our sister who is virgin. She is ready to know man for the very first time. Love her. Touch her deeply. Ignite the fires of her love. We entrust her into your care. Let the dance of joy begin!"
The priestesses sat down at the outer edge of the mat in a large circle with Marianne still standing in the middle in her white mask and robe. One by one, I took the men by the hand and led them into the circle so that they formed a close inner ring around her. They stood very still for a few moments, simply radiating to her their phallic presence. Then one man opened her robe and slipped it gently from her shoulders, placing it beside her on the mat. She stood in their midst, unsure and excited at once. One man lay her down on the mat and they began gently stroking and caressing her. Awkward and insecure in these first moments, she tried to reciprocate, to give something back to the men. I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Do nothing, only receive.” Looking up at me, she let out a sigh of relief and began to relax. She lay back in blissful acceptance and started to enjoy the loving hands that touched her. The men embraced her, held her, stroked her, touching her gently in every possible variation. I looked around the circle and realized that, like me, the other priestesses were in a state of awe. We stayed focused and quiet as we witnessed this thrilling act of love. Creating this space and making this possible for Marianne felt like true magic.
Later in the evening, the men each moved to an individual place that we had prepared for them outside the women’s circle. The priestesses watched from the women’s space as Marianne crossed over to the man of her choice, lay down on his mat and for the first time in her 56 years, felt a man deeply enter her body. She curled her legs around his back and opened to receive him. I watched her melt silently into his deep loving embrace as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Later, she sat up beside him in the candlelight and caressed his cock gently, smiling in wonder at how it danced in her hand.
The following day, when only the memory of the visit from the men remained, we sat together sharing what we had experienced the night before. Karin removed the stitches that held the wedding robe together and we listened to Marianne describing her experience in fine detail. She was radiant as she spoke. She seemed transformed. She glowed. Her voice was gentle and she was full of joy and thanks to all of us for holding the space and making this possible for her. As Marianne spoke, Karin quietly returned the pieces of white silk to each of the priestesses so that the women could take home a reminder of our magical time together in the Temple. We each quietly reflected on the time, so many years ago, when we opened to our first lover, that moment in our past at the beginning of a lifelong journey through the world of men. For most of us, it had not been like this, full of beauty and support from beloved friends, planned, careful, conscious, joyful. No, it had not been like this for us but we were conscious that we now held the power to redefine such moments by creating innovative healing experiences for one another. Holding one another in the sacred circle of love was our contract as priestesses and an expression of creative and regenerative female energy. As we step fully into this female power we release the burden of the past and make room for the joy of now.
For the priestess of today, the Temple blooms fresh while nourishing our roots in the fertile ground of an ancient lineage. Only after this event with Marianne did I realize the transformational power made available for women in this kind of sacred space, no matter what issue they bring. I witnessed the birth of a new vision of female evolution and healing, quite apart from the programs and agendas of the men in our lives. The Temple stands upon the foundation of our willingness to evolve as spiritually awakened women through sacramental acts of love and ritual. It is an invitation to go beyond the personal into the mystery of the Transpersonal. Every Temple is different. The liturgy changes with the seasons of the year, with the presence of our individual needs, with the energy of the moment. But as we step over the threshold of the Temple, we stand upon an unconventional path of female spirituality. We are blessed to discover the ancient connection that binds us together as sisters and we are energized by a spiritual strength that anchors us in today.
May the Temple soon stand again, born in beauty, brought forth in love - an earthly celebration of the spirit-infused woman, the priestesses of joy.
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