It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 04

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He wants her to reform her wicked ways.
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Part 4 of the 13 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 07/07/2009
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Cheleste
Cheleste
76 Followers

All too soon, it was time for me to resume the duties of my priesthood. It had been a lovely sabbatical, but I heard the voices in my heart, sending out their prayers for deliverance and succor, and I knew I must answer them.

So we spent our days with Angela, and made appointments in the evening. Darian came along in his invisible form, and watched over me as I performed the liturgies.

Now, I know this is a concept you inhabitants of the lower vibration don't grasp very well, but try to imagine that Darian understood so deeply his place in my heart that, rather than feel jealous, he entered into the rapture with which my adherents were taken, and felt the ecstasy as surely as I did at the moment of transformation.

After all, he was an angel. He had attained that state with infinite patience, diligent dedication, and pure intent. He was a celestial present to me, and I treasured him as such.

There were many early morning hours that he ministered to me after a proselyte had gone home, sending energy through me to multiply the effect of the few hours of sleep I would get before Angela's insistent cries summoned me to her cradle.

* * * * * * * * *

Each of my recruits was unique and special. The love I bore them made manifest their myriad qualities, characteristics, and personalities.

I never stopped marveling at the variety and intricacy with which the Creative Vortex had produced so prolific a harvest. While there were many things about them that were the same, one only had to look closer to see both subtle and blatant differences.

Many of them made use of the sacrament of confession, either before or after consecration. They told me many things, both true and untrue, and I heard them all with equanimity. Occasionally, tears would flow when the Jewel settled within their heart, causing its calcified casing to crack and release unresolved memories, long-lost emotions, and forgotten pain.

How many broken hearts I was then able to bind up, soothe, and strengthen with the healing balm of compassion and the cauterizing White Fire of Cosmic Oneness. This especially happened with men who were middle-aged and older.

None of them was the same when they left me. And I too was changed by each of them.

I learned something new from every one of them, and was stunned by the number who told me that I was the first person from whom they had ever felt real love and acceptance. Oh, how I was needed in this place!

* * * * * * * * *

My practice was going very well, until I met Barry.

Barry was a rare bird. I was having a little lunch by myself at the sandwich shop inside the health store where we liked to buy our groceries, while Darian romped at home with Angela.

He was probably giving her a "Pegasus ride" on his back at that very moment, as that was her favorite, and she could hold on to the edge of his wings with her delicate hands and not fall off.

Barry asked if he could join me at my table and I welcomed him, as opportunities like this often provided me with another neophyte to bring into the fold.

He was very friendly, held my gaze with self-assurance, emanated an aura of goodwill and found lots of stimulating subjects about which to converse. He was learned and educated, yet not in the least pompous about it; and, in a word, a joy to talk with.

He told me the history behind a recent museum exhibition, and asked if I would like to visit it with him. I replied that I would love to go.

Darian gave his blessing to my museum excursion, and we both agreed that the situation was safe enough for me to go without him. If Barry became enamored on this meeting, I could bring him to the Temple afterward, but I sensed from his manner that he was a slow burner, and most of my potential converts didn't usually propose a visit to the Temple until the third date, anyway.

So we spent a gratifying afternoon at the museum during which I learned a great deal of history I had never known before.

Barry smiled ingratiatingly at me as we prepared to part, and asked if I would accompany him to a French film at the little Bijou downtown next weekend. I though that too sounded fun. And the darkness of the theater would offer the opportunity to activate his vibrations and stir them toward liberation. Darian would come with us this time as our unseen guest.

Barry met us at the appointed time, and I took his arm with my hand as we entered the Bijou and he purchased our tickets. We found a spot in the cozy theater, and he left to get a bag of popcorn.

I could sense Darian's waiting expectancy, as I also anticipated the joyous Union that would crown this night. Barry was certainly pumped and primed for action.

The film was French, and I took advantage of a steamy scene to stroke the back of Barry's neck and touch my hand to his thigh. He put his hand over mine, gently rubbing his fingers over it. I detected the slightest increase in the rate of his breath, and the quick intake of air when I moved my hand a little further up his thigh.

I savored every moment of the anticipation, through all two and a half hours of the movie, holding the energy in my body and allowing it to ooze out of my pores in gentle baptism; all the while, enjoying the film, caught up in the pathos, and busy reading the subtitles!

The dim lights of the theater were kind to our eyes as we rose to leave. Barry put his arm around me, and offered to give me a ride home. That seemed portentous.

But when we got into the car, the gear shift stood like a chaperon between us, and the cold air seemed to have chilled Barry's mood. He drove in silence, and didn't get out of the car when we arrived at the Temple, but said his good-bye from his side of the car.

I was surprised, if not to say disappointed, as I had been prepared for ignition. He said he would call me.

Darian made up for Barry's shortfall, and once again I was reminded of what a blessing Darian's presence was to me.

* * * * * * * * *

After as many dates again, Barry seemed no closer to execution of the rites, and I was becoming discouraged. It was always the same pattern. We would have fun and enjoy each other's company. I would make some subtle overtures; he would begin to respond; and then he would abruptly shut down.

Frankly, I had never had a case so reticent. The shy ones often turned out to be the most eager, once I made my offer apparent; and even the slow ones had never taken this long before. Barry was setting a record in my books!

I decided a straightforward approach might work better. I suggested we go to dinner, and while I had him captive across the table, I told him that I very much wanted to join with him and offer the gift of my body.

He looked stunned at first, but then his face lit up.

He said in halting phrases, "I . . . have been thinking about marriage, too. But . . . this is . . . much too soon to be considering that . . .yet."

"Oh," I said, rather stupidly. "Uh . . . I wasn't talking about marriage . . ."

"You weren't?" he asked, stunned again, and then embarrassed.

He looked at the table, at the wall; anywhere but at me.

"Oh, geez. Oh gosh. I'm . . .not that kind of guy. I'm . . . waiting for marriage, and . . ."

My erudite and well-spoken companion was suddenly dumb-struck, and terribly like a bashful schoolboy. And I, who had always known what to do with bashful schoolboys, was mystified. Why could I not kindle a flame in him that didn't flicker out before it even got started? This man had a mighty will, to be able to override the advances I had made.

I thought perhaps if I could explain to him that I was a love goddess, that my life was dedicated to administering the Jewel of Liberation to the men I met. He was versed in Egyptian, Greek, and Roman cultural history. Perhaps if he knew that I had been a virgin sacrifice . . . that I had served in the Temples of Ishtar, Isis, Aphrodite, Venus . . .

Don't ask me why I thought this would make any sense to this man. It made sense to me. But it prompted him to gasp with shock and begin to give me the entire history of the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth and to conclude with the warning that I should "repent and turn from my wicked ways!"

At that, I gave up, and Barry took me home. I was saddened by his reaction, but I wasn't going to force myself on him. My gift of Love was free for all to take, but all were free to reject it, I realized with chagrin.

Darian tried to cheer me up, but I just had to grieve for a while. Healers lose patients sometimes, but it's still hard to understand why.

* * * * * * * * *

Barry called on the phone a week later. I thought perhaps he was reconsidering my offer. He invited me out for an afternoon. We talked and laughed as if there had never been a rift. I had hope for his salvation once more.

Then he sat down with me on a park bench and told me that he loved me. I knew he was sincere, and that his heart was reaching out to me. But then the struggle of his soul became apparent, as he told me that Jesus loved me too, and was willing to forgive me if I would go and sin no more, like the woman taken in adultery.

Well, I had spoken with Jesus in the Ethers before I came. In fact, we had done much more than speak. And I already knew He loved me passionately, because He was part of the Tribunal which had sent me here; but I didn't bother to tell Barry that. I just thanked him for his concern, and said that I would consider it an honor to consummate the love I knew he bore me.

That wasn't the answer he was hoping for. He offered then to take me home, telling me he was going to continue to love me no matter what.

"Why are you frustrating your love for me?" I thought. "If you love me, then come to me, and I will give you rest!"

But I didn't say it because I knew it wouldn't help. Barry had strange ideas about the nature of love. He seemed to define his love for me by the level of denial he imposed upon himself on my behalf. I ached for him, for the joy and goodness he was withholding from himself and from me too in the process.

* * * * * * * * *

This predicament was putting stress on Darian and Angela too as I returned home time and time again from my dates with Barry feeling thwarted and unfulfilled. I wasn't sleeping very well, and my dreams were troubled.

One night I dreamed of the Temple at Bubastis. My guards tied Barry to the Altar, and I stripped and ravished him. But in my waking hours, I knew such a thing was not within my power, or my rights, anymore.

Barry's proposal on our next outing was an offer of marriage, so I wouldn't have to continue my life of promiscuity. By now, he knew I had Angela, and he wanted to give her a stable, decent upbringing. I didn't drag Darian into the picture, since I figured Barry would understand his role on the planet less than he understood mine.

Barry was anguished at my refusal of his betrothal, and I just couldn't watch the deterioration of our friendship any further. He was not going to let go of this, and it was bringing me down too much. I had to cut him loose.

We both cried at our parting. I loved him so much, and he loved me so much, but there was no reconciling our respective positions. Neither one of us was going to budge, so it was best we say good-bye. I had given it my very best effort, and so had he.

I gave him a little wave, and walked back to my Temple in the rain while the tears washed down my face with the raindrops.

Darian was there to hug me and kiss me, and offer me dinner which he had been preparing all afternoon; and Angela gave me wet little kisses on my cheek, repeating in worried tones, "Cwy? Cwy?"

"Yes," I said. "Mommy cry. Mommy is sad. But Daddy's dinner will taste good, and Mommy will feel better."

Darian reassured me. "Offer it up to the Golden Axiom, Sweetheart. He'll have lots of lifetimes to change his mind. Don't sweat it. You did a good job."

"Goo schyob. Goo schyob." Angela repeated.

"I know." I gave a little smile. "Let's have dinner."

After dinner, Darian played me a violin concerto, and soothed me with the supernal strings of his harp.

Cheleste
Cheleste
76 Followers
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