Excerpt from Ode to Minoa

Introduction

In Minoa, there was the belief that each person has a purpose, something they alone can uniquely offer. As a flower offers naturally beauty, nectar and fragrance; as a tree offers easily shade, fruits, feasts of green for the eyes; so too a person has that which wants to flow through her.

It was each person’s job to discover what that was and, in that capacity, serve the community in which she lived. Each contributing of themselves in this manner keeps a community harmonious and balanced . . .

It was hot and sunny the day I learned of my own gift, a day like most others. We walked our mothers to the Center in the morning. They gathered in the court in front of the entrance, visiting. Danelle tugged at my skirt. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s go.”

I turned to follow him down the white stone path which led to the crest of the hill above Dolphin cove. That was when I heard it.

“Don’t go in the water today,” the voice said, “even though the dolphins beckon.”

It was not my voice, but strangely, another voice inside my head. I knew it was not my voice because it had a different intonation from my own. It seemed the voice of an older person. A confident, wise voice, followed by a deep internal cramp behind my navel and a fluttering in my chest. I ran down the path with the rest of them, a heaviness in my feet I had not known before.

From the top of the hill we could see the dolphins following the fishing boats, jumping and leaping. The blooming jasmia were scenting the entire island. It was said when the jasmias are in bloom residents of Minoa grow dizzy the smell of beauty. The water was deep blue with the slightest edging of bright green. The sky was cloudless.

Down on the beach my friends jumped and called to the dolphins, who in turn danced and twirled themselves around in the water, squealing in playful delight. They were inviting us in.

“Let’s go,” Danelle said, stripping off his clothes.

“No,” I heard myself say, before I had even decided that I would. “Don’t go in the water today, even though the dolphins beckon,” I said, repeating what had been said earlier inside my own head.

The children looked at me with a question across their faces. Thela came and stood close to me.

“Please, don’t go in,” I said. “I’m scared.” I sat myself down in the warm sand and hugged my knees close to my chest. Thela sat down beside me.

The others stood stunned, looking from me to the dolphins and back again. The dolphins had begun to sing, their high pitched sounds echoing off the cove rocks. No one went in the water though it was clear all wanted to. The sun beamed down upon us. Danelle put his clothes back on and looked out at the water, hands on his hips. The wind blew, carrying jasmia through the air. I was about to explain why I had said it; I felt I owed them some sort of explanation. Someone began to shout. It was Giorgio. He was standing at the edge of the water. He screamed until it became louder and louder, his thick, black curls jumping in the air. Finally we heard his words, “Shark, shark!!” he was saying. “Angry looking shark!”

He turned and shouted toward the dolphins, “Go quickly! Shark! Shark!” The dolphins swam swiftly away, the shark close behind.

“No one must go in the water today,” Giorgio said, approaching us. “You were right, Aureillia. How did you know?”

“The voice,” I said meekly. “The voice told me, up by the Center.”

“A voice?” Danelle said. “What voice? What are you talking about?”

“A voice in my head. The voice of another inside my head.”

Danelle’s eyes blazed at me with intensity. I lowered mine from his, looking at the sand in confusion.

“We must warn people,” Giorgio interrupted. “Helen, you go to the village. I’ll go to the marinas. Danelle, you take care of the Center.”

They dispersed themselves quickly. Thela sat next to me. We stayed seated on the beach for a long time, listening to Mother Sea meet the rocks of the cove. It was the time of the rounded moon, making the sound of their joining even more intense. It was not unusual for the dolphins to be so excited or to even see a shark among us at this time. We had always been taught to take care upon entering the water a this phase in the lunar cycle. The cove was empty. No children came; word must have spread.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Thela said. “You hearing voices?”

“Yes,” I said, staring at the place where the sky met the water far in front of me . .

That evening the recruiter from the temple of the Snake Goddess came to see me. “Oh, yes,” she said, when she saw me. “You have a few more years, but there will be no stopping you. You are definitely a priestess of the Snake Goddess.”

She put her hands on my shoulders and looked into my face. Her face was small, the brown skin was dry and wrinkled, making her nose seem large. She wore a purple cloth wrapped around her head. It covered her hair completely, leaving her piercing black eyes exposed. I knew very little about what went on inside the temple of the Snake Goddess. I knew that all knowledge was passed from the Snake to Her priestesses: knowledge of other planes of existence, knowledge of things to come, messages from those already taken back and information on other times and places.

At Snake Goddess celebrations, Her priestesses shared what Snake had taught them. These teachings were then taken and passed through the teachings of the Center. No one was allowed inside the temple of the Snake Goddess except for Her chosen priestesses.

I knew that Snake had created all that was: the earth, the waters. It was She who filled the skies around us. I knew that from Her ever changing skin we were born, and into Her all-encompassing mouth we would return someday, to be shed again and again into new forms.

I knew nothing about what it meant to be a Snake Priestess. I had heard it whispered that some women did not survive the initiation, that Snake Priestesses lived very short lives, that very few brought forth children. From what I had observed on my own, it was clear that if they did survive to an older age, they were always among the wise women on the council of elders. I also knew that though this recruiter looked old she did not have on her many years.

Though it was a great honor to have your daughter selected by the Snake Goddess, that night my mother wept for me.

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See the other two excerpts:
Initiation Birth