Daughter of Isis by Lilian Nirupa (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📖

away from them since they were witches. Eventually their overheated vision would drive them along by the mortuary homes where the evil spirits would possess them and loose them in the desert to dry their blood in the sun – for that’s what happens to the blood when it catches fire through untrained awakening. For the first time this morning Lizla remembered that with uneasiness. Somehow it did not ring true; she wondered if maybe he told her that to protect her somehow... She wondered why; she had never doubted her teacher’s words before. What had happened to her under the sand?
Lizla was not sure which destiny the stars had marked for her. All she knew was that she been chosen, and that training was very important. It could mean the difference between life and death or even worse, madness, which drives one’s “ka” wild until it gets lost in the heavy worlds of the lower spirits.
The caravan approached the sunset as it ended. The glories of the desert made its best display when the rich, foamy clouds arrayed themselves in gold and pink to salute Ra’s departure beneath the horizon. But that was at their back. At the east, against a deep blue-indigo sky, the immaculate whiteness of the Isis temple emerged in the midst of a heavenly garden of date palms and flowing fountains.
An array of maidens dressed in white linen – whose black shoulder-length hair contrasted vividly with the bronze of their skins and the gold of their bracelets and waistbands -saluted the exit of Ra with a soft lullaby of papyrus vines and melancholy lutes. They smiled dreamily to the small group as it made the entrance into the back portal of the Temple of Isis.
Ra-Ta gently took her hand and helped her out of the litter. They entered noiselessly through the Western portal, into a painted corridor where a series of doors indicated the presence of more rooms, the incensed perfumed apartments of the Isis priestesses.
Ra-Ta gently took the veil away from Lizla and looked once again at the lovely figure. Dark-dreamy eyes, large and lustrous, adorned her round clear face, soft like the full moon. Her black hair contrasted with the pale tint of her complexion, and shadows under her eyes also reminded him of the severe training of fasting and vigils she had taken so valiantly. She had lost some weight, too, and her tall slender figure reminded him of a papyrus vine, rendered graceful and agile by the daily exercise of the sacred dances. He thought about her chart. Yes, she had been born by the end of the winter. A Pisces Sun heralded her prophetic destiny. Capricorn, rising, her queenly future and the enigmatic Moon in Aquarius, sign of the dreamers, opposed her proud Leo Venus. The dart in the heart of the mystics! Ah, but a fiery Venus could “wake up” early in the sense of the flesh. That’s why he had precipitated her training into the mysteries when he heard the Queen’s intention of giving her to the influence of the Babylonian’s worldly knowledge. She would have time for that.
Isis should be her mother. She would train her in the mysteries of the soul and womanhood at the same time – like a real Queen – like the Priestess she was born to be. Yes, he had acted on time! And it was working, he could tell!
The two young priestesses took Lizla by the hand and led her to a small chamber. Its intimate beauty touched Lizla. The white walls were covered partially with a large fresco of Isis, rescuing Osiris from the Nile. A light blue curtain that was drawn open to show the picture covering the rest of the walls. Lizla wondered if they had left that open only for her. Soon she was left alone.
A small table with a refreshment of figs, dates, and honey cakes was there and another alabaster jug with pink wine was on the table. Lizla took a small silver cup and filled it with pink wine. The taste startled her. Its sweetness reminded her of something... She took a date and chewed it. The sweetness intensified. Reclining on the silky cushioned chair, she closed her eyes. The scent of jasmine in two tall vases by the sides of a picture filled the room with an almost mystical atmosphere. As she put the silver cup back on the table, she noticed a small inscription embossed in hieroglyphics: “To the sweetness of Love.”
“What an appropriate toast,” she thought. She closed her eyes again and rose into Meditation. Soon she was deep in trance. As the soft breeze on her forehead intensified, Lizla awoke. She was surprised to find herself alone. No windows or slaves were there to move a fan. She felt good, although a little cold. At that moment Ra-Ta, accompanied by the two young priestesses, came for her. She was led through long corridors magnificently painted with murals of the lives of Isis, Osiris and Horus. At the end of the corridor, they stood at a door which was exceedingly small in comparison with the rest of the building, where the ceiling of the corridor was the height of ten men. The white door had no other ornament but a cross of life in relief above which – also in white relief – the letters were inscribed in the priestly language of hieroglyphics: REBIRTH CHAMBER.
The young priestess at Ra-Ta’s right presented him with a small box of deep blue silk. Ra-Ta opened it and extracted a golden key. Lizla felt a chill run up her spine. Was she going to have a baby?
The door opened and the young priestesses quietly but diligently turned on a huge golden lamp in the shape of an alabaster angel. The hands of this ten-foot-tall figure were held together at chest level as if making an offering. He carried a plate of alabaster fruits. Figs, grapes and pomegranates were so finely shaped that when the oil in its highest center was lit, its light produced an amber glow that seemed to emanate from the angel’s heart.
The rest of the angel’s shape, except the wings and hair that were of fine gold, was of the same amber-colored alabaster, so when a second lamp was lit on a crown above his head, the light flowed down the pleats of his ankle-long tunic, as if the finger of a God had showered heavenly light upon its features. Opposite the angel was a throne, a large and imposing chair whose back formed the golden statue of Horus, its hawk head rising above the height of a normal sitting person’s head. The young priestesses helped Lizla sit down on the throne and then, with the same graceful speed at which they had been moving since entering the chamber, they left.
Ra-Ta spoke for the first time since Lizla could remember after he had led her out of her strange entombment in the desert. “Lie down, please,” he said softly, pointing to a golden button at Lizla’s right. She pressed the button on the arm of the throne and the chair opened up into a couch of soft blue linen. The movement had been so gentle that Lizla wasn’t even startled. For all she knew it could have been Ra-Ta’s magic. But she had seen recliners before, although more rustic both in shape and movement. “I want you to close your eyes and do exactly as I tell you.”
The unnecessary recommendation put Lizla on the alert. He knew of her ability and obedience.
“There is nothing to fear.” Ra-Ta had read her thoughts. “What you will experience will hopefully awaken you. I believe you are prepared but only Isis knows her daughters.”
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Lizla couldn’t avoid a faint smile. It was the first time Ra-Ta had mentioned anything about his apprehensions of training a woman.
As Ra-Ta initiated the Isis invocation, Lizla felt a sweet stream of peace flowing up her body. Her eyelids closed, erasing the image of the angel’s eyes where the light on the mind and the heart seemed to converge into mysterious tenderness.
The priest guided Lizla through the rhythmic breathing exercises that constituted the driving force of the Egyptian rebirth procedure. A pressure in her heart made Lizla pause to rest. The voice of Ra-Ta was soft but firm: “Keep on breathing.” Then there was a sharp pain beneath her ribs with a suffocating feeling. Another pause, the voice was stern but reassuring as Ra-Ta held her arm, applying pressure at some specific points to control anxiety.
An hour passed. Lizla felt the life of her nerves reverberate with vitality as one by one her power blockages were released. Lizla’s breathing accelerated and her whole frame vibrated with energy. She saw waves of golden lights running like fire up and down her limbs, and her spine seemed to stretch out into a bright white-bluish light that cascaded into her head. A feeling of sheer delight accompanied that climax and as she relaxed (she was allowed to do so – no more orders for breathing), the golden light started rippling off and out, inundating her consciousness of the room, the temple, and the world. Waves and waves of golden light kept spreading out and away while again she felt the taste of an exquisite wine on the tip of her tongue. She remembered her twin-Ka and oh! The dream! Yes, it was a dream she had experienced while she was underground. She remembered now. She had been given a strong herb tea prepared by one of the young priestesses, and she had fallen asleep in the sun. How had she wakened in the darkness like that? Somehow it did not matter now. Her feeling of ecstasy was complete. The eyes of her twin-ka seemed to flood her consciousness with the honey-wine taste. The vision smiled and said: “Watch your teacher’s movements.”
Lizla had almost forgotten about Ra-Ta. Ra-Ta was smiling, a knowing smile; the experiment was proving excellent. Lizla’s aura had the most brilliant colors, like the rainbow but infinitely more brilliant. And a halo of white light hovered above her head. The white light! Ah! For how long it would still hover above the head of the elected. What had the prophecy said? One thousand times more should the earth go through the twelve constellations. One thousand years more before the Prince of Peace would come and bring down the gift of the white light into the hearts of the faithful.
Ra-Ta was interrupted from his melancholic musings by a sigh from his beloved disciple. He replied: “Watch my hands now – no! Don’t open your eyes – Just feel them.” He placed his right hand about two inches above her forehead. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” answered Lizla very quietly.
Without touching her, Ra-Ta ran his left hand up and down above Lizla’s aura, again at a distance of about two inches. In the area between her waist and her legs he felt a “hole” of energy, a cool spot. He could feel himself re-energized by the incredible powerful vibrations Lizla was emanating. He stopped his hand at that spot.
“Daughter of the Light can you answer?”
She was still floating in the golden light, but in her inner vision, she saw clouds of dust and among them a chariot pulled by two bright white horses; a young man was in the chariot. She could not see his face. She strove to see through the dust clouds...
Ra-Ta repeated the question; “Daughter of the Light, Can you hear me? What do you see?”
Lizla answered, “I see a man in a chariot.”
Ra-Ta raised his brows almost against his will. He had suspected that. The spot that had been cool, just above her womb started to feel like whirlpools of cold and hot air currents. “What does he