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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