I was curious, but not enough to insist. I ' m convinced that when people want to tell you something, there ' s no need to insist or pull it out like a good cork from a bottle of good wine. I let her be what she was and manifests according to her own terms and times. It was a good decision. Early one morning, she came to see me in my hotel room. She was smiling, light and dancing. She told me that it was time; that I was the person chosen and if I accepted, she would share her secret with me. I answered I was happy and honoured. We sat on my sea-front balcony and holding a cup of tea, looking deep into each other ' s eyes, she began to tell.
From my twenty-first to my forty-second year of age I was the High Priestess of the Aphrodite ' s Foam Temple. I was the guardian of the Tantric Tradition, and Ceremony Master, and I officiated to all the ceremonies of my term, always witness and ever-present to the ritual.
Educated by those who came before me, and chosen on my menarche, I was the sole virgin among twenty-one priestesses and twenty-one co-participant priests. I had also the task to protect, and take with me into death, the Temple ' s Secret Diary, the comments ' archive of those who took part in the ceremony and wanted to leave their own note, as an anonymous track of their observance dedicated to the Mother of all things, the Goddess of love and fertility, reproduction and union of the polarity of life, and all. Today, for the first time in history, aware of my actions and consequences, I break my Holy Vows and commend the Journal to history, so that good may be to those who ubiquitously participate in the ritual. May the Mother Goddess protect me!
She told me that all notes left by devotees, were originally written on single sheets of parchment and transcribed later, at the end of the ritual, with order and precision, in the Grand Journal, by the priest or priestess from time to time delegated, in the Temple ' s Secret language, a Pythagorean numerical alphabet. At the beginning of each lunar month, to coincide with the new moon ritual of purification, the original sheets were then burned in a large brazier in the center of the room, symbolizing the new beginning from the ashes of the past.
By then she pulled, from her colourful cloth-bag, a large volume bound in blue fabric that smelled of sandalwood oil and was wrapped in a cloth of red silk. This is the first part of the diary- she said- and picks up a year of my term. Other volumes are stored elsewhere. I want you to hear the reading of it and choose with me the songs we want to share with all devotees who walk the endless paths that lead to Her, the Great Mother of all things, the Goddess of Love and Life. Then we ' ll decide what to do.
So it was. We continued our pleasant evening and more and more interesting conversation, to eventually find ourselves opt agree, for sake of simplicity and statistical curiosity, for direct compilation in alphabetical order of one part of that single volume, as an example of all others and human behaviour towards the divine. We worked hard for a long time, always happy and enthusiastic, eventually holding in our hands the result of our commitment. When I asked Sibilla why choosing me for the diary transcription, she quickly replied saying: Because you are you, my dear. The transcription, at the moment, is only in Italian. If one day you ' ll be interested in sponsoring the English translation, you ' ll be most welcome; mine and Sibilla ' s approval begins now.
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