The Temple

As I lay on the floor of this temple I feel the memory and emotion of every event it housed. I can feel celebration, ceremonies, candles blown out, confessions made in desperation, fear of conviction, denial, idealistic prayer. Sacrifices were made in these temple walls. Blood sacrifices. Sacrifices of will. Sacrifices of hope. Of faith. Of dreams.. and all for the sake of love. Love. In the beginning this temple was built of love. For love. Filled with love. It was love. But at some point the love was distorted. It was categorized. Granted. Denied. Withheld. This temple became a vessel of confusion. So it housed celebrations. It housed great achievements. It was awarded for it’s architecture, style, class, grace, beauty, charm, and light. In an effort to restore its origin of purpose, it opened its doors wide open for any and all occupants to bask in its glorious hallways and catacombs. It welcomed all comers and seekers. It hosted any and all parties. Until the temple resembled something different all together. It lost some of it’s luster. Some of it’s shine. It’s walls grew dimmer and it’s floors covered in filth. Fees were charged to clean and rehabilitate the structure. Soon parties could rent the temple at a cost. Anything goes at the right price. And the money was put to good use. New paint, new fancy fixtures. A whole new addition was built so larger events would be accommodated. Everyone was pleased with the new textiles. But the temple felt hollow. No matter how many celebrations filled it’s walls, it had lost it’s sacred purpose. Now a glorified event center, it felt artificial and used up. No one respected this space anymore. At one point, a huge fire broke out during an exceptionally wild party and burned most of the veneer off the walls and most of the fancy fixtures were destroyed. It was left abandoned in ruin.

I remember when I found this temple. I was running from or toward a very terrifying feeling when I stumbled over its threshold. It felt familiar and foreign and comforting and destructive. I wanted to run from this temple but a memory whispered through a very quiet corner near the altar. Almost paralyzed, I pulled against the urge to step further in. The memory beckoned. Pleaded with my mind to not resist.

What do you have to teach me memory? Why have you called me here?

Stay a while. Please. Just stay a while. Allow yourself to rest here for just a moment. Be fair to me. I’ve been alone some time.

So I stayed. And after a little while I left, but very soon I came back. Then again, and again, till it became nearly every day of the week. I would sometimes only stay for fifteen minutes or so but each time I arrived something seemed brighter about this temple. I noticed things I hadn’t before. And it started to grow on me. I started cleaning it each day I visited. Little bits at a time. Pieces of rubble pulled out, rooms swept and aired. I even started bringing flowers to the temple. Sometimes the temple would get very drafty and doors would slam and some of my progress would seem to be destroyed. Many times I ran from the temple fearing it was possessed by sad souls that wished to reclaim their domain. But always I came back. I wondered what had happened here. How such a beautiful temple could suffer so much disrepair. In fact, I was in deep sorrow about its history the first time I heard the music. I was startled at first because I had always been alone, aside from the perceived ghosts, and believed that nobody else knew about the temple. The music was so faint and so beautiful and as I walked through the halls listening slowly and intently with my eyes closed, I discovered that it was emanating from the walls. I pressed my ear to the cool white stone and quieted further. Tones. Beautiful harmonic tones. Not like any sound I had ever heard before. And as I moved, the tones changed. I tested my movements over and over, utterly dumbfounded by the discovery. Then I tired other surfaces. Door frames, windows, pillars, railings. Any fixed part of the temple. And I moved differently, testing a movement of my right arm here, and left here. And all parts and movements sang with slightly new notes. I started to feel images in the melody. I grew ecstatic and erratic in my effort to hear and see and feel. Questions filled my mind and my logic drove me to prove what I was sensing. How is this possible? In a frenzy, I collapsed to the floor and felt a blanket of dead sleep pull over me.

Then I dreamed. Three dreams.

At first I was confused. I saw my bare feet on cobblestone. Filthy. Painfully cold and nearly destroyed. And others walked past me, some trying not to notice my presence, and others deeply disturbed by the bundle in my arms. What did I carry? Oh Fuck. It’s a baby. A stone dead baby. Is this my baby? Yes. Then I sat against a wall and died.

Next, cobble stones again but this time I wore military boots tied very tightly. My uniform was clean and pressed. Then I saw the soldier across from me pull his weapon. A deafening sound. Red ribbons decorated us both. I caught his sad blue eyes as the light escaped. What a sad sad waste. My last breath drew my eyes inward and I saw my wife and children standing on our farm looking over many lands to see if they could feel me ever coming back to them. No. Not this time.

This time everything was white. My pointy white feet looked as though they had never felt soil. On feather tiptoes, I glided over pure white stone to the mercurial crystal pool where they asked, “Oracle. What do you see?” From pure objectivity I told of harrowing sights. Hero’s and heartbreak. Journeys and home. Incredible experiences filled with richness and depth. I wondered what it all felt like? Then I decided. They braided my hair and wrapped me lovingly with flowers and beauty. I turned my knowingness inward with great excitement and anticipation for what may come. My final prayer: I just want to feel everything.

The floor was cold. My body felt heavy. The music had stopped. I heard only my breath laboring through my nostrils. Process this. I stayed away from the temple for a long time after that. It’s power too great for me to comprehend.