The Lion's Den

The world was at war. It had begun a very long time ago, and though it was escalating slowly, the evidence of this war could be found like small fires scattered across the horizon. Some of people of the land consoled themselves with the belief that these fires would eventually burn themselves out and that the world would once again be at peace. To the more observant, it was apparent that the flames were spreading, and soon the remaining peaceful sanctuaries of the land would be engulfed.

A beautiful medicine-priestess sat in a lonely temple contemplating this future. She was one of the more observant and took note of the signs; the disrepair of her temple, the distinct lack of wise elders, and, the decline of the warrior class. In fact, it appeared that there was nowhere in the land which had survived completely untouched. It was clear that the flames of war were spreading, for she could see the smoke and it was time to prepare for the worst.

Whether her people wanted it or not, a battle for survival would inevitably ensue, and she had charged herself to face the enemy with courage, integrity, and alone if necessary. As a woman, she of course craved for a partner to fight with in this battle, but as a priestess, she would only consider a man who's strength in character matched or exceeded her own. Such expectation's lately had begun to feel improbable.

For ages, the temple had been a safe harbor for wisdom and a treasury for the sacred songs which reflected the values of the tribe. With the elders gone, the wisdom had been reduced to mere whispers, but there was one song that had been preserved which the priestess particularly related to; The Lady and The Fan. It was the tale of a woman struggling to decide which of her suitors were worthy of her love. In desperation, she devised a test and threw her fan in the lions den, saying "which of you to gain a lady will retrieve for me my fan."

The priestess was young, still in training really, but devoid of mentors, she found herself idealistically expecting her own version of the test to work out much like it had in the song. The lady had created a test of fortitude. In the fairy tale version, her soul mate stepped up to the challenge and they lived happily ever after, yet in the chaos of the real world, the search for a partner had been dismal, if not traumatic. Her first series of test's were met with varying degrees of failure.... she would throw her own fan into the lion's den, only to hear the refrain; "Madame, I will not lose my life for love." It was a common response, with lover's walking away without even trying. Worse yet, there were warriors, sick from years of war, who would ignore the test of strength all together and try to take her love by force without earning it.

With time, (and sadness, and heartbreak, and setbacks) this medicine priestess began to have doubts. With no grandmother to turn to for counsel, she turned to her peers and it was often suggested that the test was too hard. Who would climb into the lion's den to prove their worthiness they would posture. The Priestess ignored these suggestions, choosing instead to look inward, for she had a source of wisdom that came from seventeen hundred past lives. It was her intuition, acquired from a mature soul, that told her that the test was a reasonable expectation... necessary in fact. The war was coming and she knew with every cell in her body that if she was to play an important role in it then she must be prepared. Only a warrior with matching strength would be of assistance in this crusade, lest his weakness become a drag on her precious reserves.

One day, she crossed paths with an intriguing prospect. A tall and handsome Warrior, with a reputation for kindness and honesty. He appeared out of nowhere and had nearly swept her off her feet. After years of setback and self doubt, she found herself in a state of vulnerability and she wished to do away with the test all together and give into the joy of connection and love. Alas, the priestess's wise and old soul; the only source of counsel that she trusted, began raising the warning flags. Her intuition screamed at her with reminders of how she had been fooled before; by a long line of untested warriors, full of bravado and false confidence, with each promising to slay a thousand dragons. Time had proven that these suitors had filled her with mere words that ultimately lacked substance.

The war was coming, there was no longer any time to waste; so she did what she knew she must do and threw her fan into the lion's den. The wise Warrior flinched at the challenge and this was not a good sign. Her heart sank at the prospect of having been fooled again by a fast talker, then to her great surprise, he shouldered his armor and ventured into the Lion's den. She held her breath, hoping beyond hope that finally she had met her soul mate. He whooped and raged among the lions, and when at last he did return, he was bloody, beaten, scarred, and very much without her fan.

The exchange ended in an awkward silence. Both the Medicine Priestess and the Warrior were in too much shock to compose their thoughts much less create any form of satisfying closure. The warrior slipped away with his head hanging low.

***

The warrior was angry with himself for failing, but even stronger than this emotion, he was surprised; for he truly believed he would prevail in the lion's den. He took some solace in the knowing that his integrity was in tact. At least he had not misrepresented himself. His tales of conquests did not stem from fantastic delusions of grandeur, or the naivety of the young who have never really suffered. He was a veteran of many tests of fortitude and had persevered through many hard trials. Yet today, his strength had failed him, and for this he had difficulty forgiving himself.

As with all the people of the tribe he was a complicated human being. He had spent a lifetime working hard to live up to the values and morals of right living. He carried himself in a good way at every opportunity, but the warrior was also imperfect. Simply put, through his own laziness, he had fallen victim to peer pressure. It was no secret to the wise, that the Warrior class was in steep decline. As of late he had spent more time in the taverns with his mates than on the training grounds with his sword and shield. That the transgression nearly cost him his life meant little. That it had cost him the opportunity to be with the beautiful Medicine Priestess was nearly unbearable.

To his credit, the Warrior had defended himself bravely in the Lion's Den, and did manage to hold them at bay with both skill and agility for some time, but it simply had not been enough. In the end, his endurance had given out, his strength had lapsed, and he had been forced to flee without the lady's fan. That his attempt had been valiant brought little solace. The pack of lions may have been fierce, but the truth of the matter was that their danger was nothing compared to the calamity of the coming war.

The Warrior knew in his heart that he should have been more prepared, and so he followed the footsteps of his ancestors and ventured alone into the wilderness. The Warrior was a proud man, but during the course of this journey, he remained stooped with the weight of humility. The wounds from the Lion's den may have run deep, causing him to limp in pain with each step, but there were older scars that made the weight nearly unbearable.

Just as the priestess had suffered terribly for long years in search of a deserving partner, the warrior had been on a similar quest. Just as the priestess, the warrior yearned for a lover of great strength. And, just as with the priestess, he had failed to find his equal.

The warrior had come to view 'love' as a tonic or medicine that fueled his inner strength and resolve. Alas, when the search for love had turned up empty, he had turned towards substitutions. There are many forms of medicine, the warrior chose wisely at first and filled his body with the strength building foods and activities that best prepare one for war. For years and years, he maintained his strength while other warriors of the tribe fell by the wayside and losing their vitality. Just as the songs in the temples had become mere whispers of their great past, the warriors were loosing their songs as well; only to be replaced by songs of the taverns; songs that tempted and coaxed the wounded to let go of their pains for a false medicine that would bring a few moments of comfort.

The very presence of these songs, often reminded the warrior that the war had already reached their home. Many warriors of the tribe succumbed to the temptation of free joy, never realizing the very steep hidden cost it had on their vitality. One at a time the other warriors of the tribe began to sing the songs of the tavern. The Warrior resisted this trend for years until at last he felt like a pillar of strength in a sea of despair. Eventually, these stormy seas eroded at his foundation and without really noticing, he found himself a part of the diminishing warrior class.

Before he knew it he had slipped off of the path of strength. It had been such a gradual process, that he found himself surprised that he had strayed so far. It was only the catalyst of emerging beaten and bruised from the Lion's Den, that shook him from this trance. He had strayed so far that a few steps further and it may have been too late to turn back. For this awakening he would be forever grateful to the priestess, her fan, and the lion's den. He had strayed, perhaps a long way, but he wasn't lost and knew the way back. So he left the priestess standing at her temple door and ventured into the wilderness.

The warriors exit was not one of retreat. There was no denying the humility and pain that came with that exit, but it was not one of cowardice. If a plea for help had come, then he would have rushed to the Priestess's side and offered all of his remaining strength to be at her service. But the war was a distance away, and as of yet, she was safe from immediate danger. For the moment the premise of consent was of far more concern to both. To have lingered at her side determinedly without invitation would only have added to her growing list of violations of trust.

So he ventured into the wilderness. Though he may have faltered, he had one advantage over many of the other lost warriors, for he knew the way back. He knew the secrets to strength and recovery. He journeyed far away to an ancient stone fort in the mountains. He sang the songs of the Warrior, he sang the songs of the temple. He consumed the true medicines of the land. He built an altar and prayed to the grandmothers of his people. He placed his hands on the cool stone of the mountain and absorbed it's grounding powers.

One day, when his wounds were healed and his strength regained, he would return from the wilderness, and if her fan was still there he would retrieve it. He was familiar with the ancient temple song, and was well aware of how it ended;

'....and when she saw her lover coming, and unto him no harm was done,

she threw her hands around his bosom, saying here

young man, is the prize you've won.'

The Warrior knew better than to yearn for fairy tale endings, for just as the priestess, he was an old soul of seventeen hundred past lives. Deep down he understood that something far greater than himself was at stake. One day, he would return to the Lion's den, not for the love of a woman, but for the love of his tribe. He would do so, not for his own selfishness, but as an example to all the warriors on how to carry oneself with courage and integrity. A war was coming after all, and they all must be strong together. There was no more time to procrastinate.

*** A Storybook Cottage ***

(Two years later....)

Deep in the forest, in a clearing on a lonely hillside could be found a secret temple. As charming as it might have been, if the casual observer were to ever stumble upon it, they could have easily mistaken it for a humble and unassuming cottage. The couple who built it on the other hand, believed this to be a very sacred place indeed.

The couple; a man and a woman, built this temple with their own hands. They utilized the materials of the land; wood, stone, earth, and positioned the structure so as to have a stunning view of the mountains beyond. They worked together, joyfully and tirelessly in it's construction for months, and, they designed it for the express purpose of being an altar to the tribute of pleasure.

The temple was of simple function and looked much as one would imagine from a magical storybook fantasy; with spectacular angles combined with the soothing textures of the natural world. It consisted of a single room with the interior walls lined with a variety of altars. To the west was an altar to fire; a simple stove for cooking, making tea, and burning sweet and fragrant incense. To the north wall was an altar to water; a simple fountain from the clearest of springs for bathing, anointing, and brewing. To the East an altar to medicine; dedicated to the health of their bodies with jars and strings of herbs lining the shelves and a bowl of fresh ripe fruit as its center piece. To the South; an altar to light with a large window; painstakingly carried to it's remote location and installed by the couple so that it might act as a portal to the outside world, shedding light of the sun or moon on the couple as they worshiped.

There were a variety of other smaller, lesser altars, mixed among the four corners which created a dizzying effect for the mind and heart that could be described as intoxicating sensuality. The space was designed to stimulate the senses, all of them. Musical instruments hung from the rafters along with the trickle of water in the fountain for the express purpose of delighting the ears. Delicious teas and ripe fruits made readily available for the taste buds. Sweet incense and fresh flowers for the nose. Bright colors of masterfully crafted paintings, mixed with the gentle earthen tones of the building itself, accented with natural lights flowing in from the window and the soft glow of candles in the darker corners; all present to please the eye.

Within the middle of all of this beauty was the most important altar of all; the altar to touch. This space consisted of a mat that was neither too soft or too hard and was large enough for the couple to use for a variety of purposes; movement arts, body work, love making, and even occasionally, sleeping. It was here that the couple did most of their work.

The couple had designed this space intentionally; believing that the world had enough suffering in it. They believed that devoting their attentions to pleasures of the mind and pleasures of the body were a desirable alternative, and that the work in this space was contributing to a balancing of the world's energy. They believed they were making the world a better place, so they took this work very serious.

It was within this temple; a complex arrangement of altars within altars, that they would pray and worship to the spirit world. These (sometimes complicated) ceremonies and rituals would always begin the same way, with the couple sitting cross legged in the center of the temple, holding hands, facing each other, locked in eye contact, and deep breathing. They would stare at each other until the connection was complete... until they were free of shyness, insecurity, anger or frustration, until their only thought was one of joy and pleasure and love.

Sometimes the ceremony would continue with the man honoring the woman's body as if she were the altar and he was worshiping the goddess that was within her. He might carefully bathe her or adorn her body with ornament and jewelry, or both. Sometimes he might bow before her with humility, kissing her toes and worshiping her body with his lips and tongue, paying homage to her most tender and intimate parts with his mouth and leaving no part forgotten or neglected; her toes, the bare skin of her thighs, her breasts, the soft parts of her neck and throat, her mouth, her ears, her breasts, her nipples, her vagina, her ass. Other times he might use his fingers instead; gently massaging fragrant oils all over her body; kneading sore muscles, bringing her to a heightened state of relaxation; all while probing the same intimate of places with the slippery tips of his fingers.

Sometimes the ceremony would take an all together different approach where it was the woman who was worshiping the God in her lover. She would make his body the altar and it was upon this sacred space that she would pray.

Over the years the couple would switch back and forth; taking turns worshiping one another individually or simultaneously; giving and taking; reciprocating. Sometimes they would forget who's turn it was and they would laugh at themselves for their forgetfulness. The spirits would smile down upon them in these moments taking innocent joy in the imperfection of humans.

It was within this temple; this safe space, that the couple would explore the parameters of pleasure. They left no stones unturned, no fantasies unfulfilled, no curiosities unexplored. Each new horizon was rolled into complex and rich ceremonies. From time to time the rituals simply wouldn't work out how they thought that they would, and again the couple would laugh at themselves for their silliness. It was times like this that the Spirits would again smile down upon them, admiring the courage of humans.

Regardless of the nature of this space. Regardless of the duration of their ceremonies. Regardless of how complicated the rituals might become. The couple's prayer always ended the way they started, with the man and woman facing one another, holding one another's hands and locked in eye contact. "I love you" one would say with sincerity. "I love you too," would reply the other. This brought upon the Spirit World yet more smiles, for they so admired this couple's dedication to bringing good to the world. The Spirits went out of their own way to reward this couple by bringing light upon their lives, and most especially, by protecting their secret temple in the forest.

....and thus the Priestess and the Warrior continued their adventure, walking down that road together, hand in hand.