2. T h e P r i
n c i p l e o f a P e
a r l
All texts appear after Love… - Virginia, the Magister
of the female spaces
With one's eyes focused, the multicolored spot merged into
a strange picture: long hair dyed gold, gold framed yellow
glasses, long yellow overcoat and heavy yellow boots. The
people on the streets startled when a yellow figure suddenly
appeared before them in the traffic flow of bodies. “the Yellow”
- the nickname caught on instantly during conversations with
bartenders and taxi drivers, when he was looking for "Virginia’s
abbey".
He ran into a bar named "The
Bar without a Name" among the narrow streets of the old
city. He appreciated this smile of Reality and dropped in
to have a cup of hot espresso. The bartender greeted him and
pointed at the table where a smiling fair-haired lady was
sitting.
"The lady is waiting for you
…"
"For me? I don’t know anyone
in this city yet ..."
The bartender showed him to
the table and introduced him: "Dear Muse, let me introduce
you the guy who is looking for Virginia." The girl smiled
and asked: "How did you get to know about Virginia?"
And the Yellow told the girl he had
just met and didn’t even know who she was, about his friend,
professor from Stockholm, and about his interest in Virginia.
The girl smiled at him friendly while
he was talking. Then she looked around the bar and said: "People
are strange creatures. Do you see that long-haired old man
by the door? The bartender says he always drinks beer
at this place on Mondays. He has been coming here for three
years, and he always takes a seat by the door. This
is a local landmark, so to speak, - the old man drinking beer
by the door on Mondays. But nobody still knows his name, or
where he lives, or what he does. Very strange, if you think
about it. Usually it’s the other way around."
The Yellow smiled back and said: "Will
you help me to find the door I am interested in?" The
Muse nodded affirmatively and stood up. "Shall we go?"
It sounded like a statement without alternatives.
They entered into a complex entanglement
of cobblestone streets. The destination turned out to be not
too far from the bar. Stepping indeed under the vaults of
a monastery the Muse led him to an unnoticeable door in interlacement
of ancient galleries and enfilades. Inside, the decoration
looked more like a fine arts gallery or an upscale theatre
than a nuns’ residence. The door opened. A smiling woman escorted
by a young man and two girls came in…
"Virginia," the Muse whispered
behind his back.
He defocused his eyes. The dark mantle
of the woman stirred spreading the purple glow, and her eyes
shined like two golden lights in a deep shadow. He felt
unsettled for a moment - he couldn’t discern who was before
him: a butterfly pretending to be a woman or a woman intending
to become a butterfly. He stood up greeting them with a nod.
The young people nodded back friendly and proceeded to the
next room, chatting merrily. The Muse came up to Virginia and
humorously introduced him as a sailor who came to the port
searching for treasures.
Virginia took a seat in front of him
and looked at him with a smile of a happy surprise – the way
children look at the bright gift box with a cake. Friendliness
and jolly anticipation, the desire to tear off this yellow
wrapping as soon as possible and taste the present, the awareness
of her own power and pitiless tenderness were shining in her
smile addressed to him. Yellow comprehended that she needed
him for some reason, and it wasn’t for the sheer woman's sensual
desires. She began to speak. She had a slow melodious voice,
with modulations and pauses so much different from anything
he had ever heard, that it made him almost miss the meaning
of her her words at first.
"Athens courtesans of Ancient
Greece were obliged to dye their hair yellow. Shall
I call you Yellow or Gold, my dear guest?"
"Diamond," he joked and
introduced himself.
Virginia apologized for not having
time for a long conversation at the moment and invited him
for a private dinner at her place. He thanked politely
for the invitation, kissed Virginia’s hand, and left. The
temptation started to unveil.
In the evening, when he came back,
there already were a Guest and the Muse there. After dinner they
had strong tea and vodka. Relaxed conversation didn’t promise
anything special. Virginia suggested him to make a toast.
He proposed a toast to the friends’ health and happiness,
smiled at Virginia and said: "I saw in my dream that
you wanted to write an unusual book, and that I could help
you."
"It's a lovely dream," Virginia
said, too, with a smile.
"So, what is the book about?"
he asked.
"It's about how I see the world,"
Virginia continued.
"A novel?" he asked with
an obvious note of surprise in his voice.
"A novel, now that's sexy,"
said the Guest, who sat in the corner sipping his tea and
vodka by turns.
"No, it's not a novel,"
Virginia specified. "I would like to write about myself
and, to be exact, about the way how I returned to myself.
I lived an ordinary life, and nothing peculiar had
ever happened to me… But one day I met two friends, two hetaeras,
if you can say that about the essentiality of these European
women; and everything has changed…"
"Hetaeras, that’s sexy,"
murmured the Guest.
"All I knew about them was that
they studied in a European Tradition, named The School,"
Virginia continued. "One woman was mute. Another
one seemed to be allowed to participate in women's secret
rituals and certainly was reticent, and educated enough
not to suffer from the common dogmatism and attentively accept
everything that happened to her during her studies. Meeting
them has changed everything; they helped me to get introduced
to the Master. But the situation was also unusual because
the mute one turned out to be a man, and her taciturn companion
has surreptitiously disappeared from the abbey."
"Ooh, that’s sexy," the
Guest added to the description of the intrigue.
"Amusing. Looks like a joke.
Do you want to amuse me or yourself?"
"As they used to say in China,
when a nobleman takes a lute he intends to harmonize
the rhythm and not to indulge himself in pleasures."
Virginia commented.
"Thank you for the compliment.
If I get it right, you’re talking about the Mediterranean
Tradition mentioned a few centuries before Christ, aren’t
you? Let me ask you a question - why is there in your story
such a strange combination of a hetaera and a abbey?"
"Hetaera comes from the Greek
"HETAIRA" - a girlfriend, a lover. In Ancient Greece,
if you remember, a hetaera is an unmarried educated woman,
who leads an independent life. And the abbey under the School’s
sign is not the whole Tradition, it's only a sanctuary. The
life in the abbey, community is full of cooperation and mutual
respect."
"Are you going to leave the abbey
after you finish this book?"
"Yes and no. I have a women’s
workshop, an open women’s club. A workshop is an embryo of
the community where everyone contributes one's skills. One
has to acquire a trait of friendliness to offer one's skills
for the common purpose. And it’s going to be you who will
write the book, my precious."
"Really... I see, I already got
a job. Then let me say "yes" immediately and assume
a role of an inquisitor."
"An inquisitor and investigator,
as I see it..."
"Of course… So, how and when
did your story begin?"
"My friends introduced me to
a person who became my Master. Actually, I thought them to
be my friends, but then they abandoned me. But I am grateful
anyway. There was a time when I couldn’t fit in into any place,
no one accepted me. Now I understand what an important role
it played in my life. As a sailor you surely know that "the
lighthouse indicates the shallow waters, and the guiding star
shows the end of the way," Virginia quoted the epigraph
to his poem.
He smiled, thanked for the graceful
compliment and got back to the inquisitorial work: "You
were abandoned, you needed another life, and you surrendered
to the Master, didn’t you? Smells familiar…"
"It’s familiar to everyone, but
not everybody wants to know about it. Nobody wanted to deal
with me at my "zero transfer", but in him
I trusted at once."
"Your Master, however, is a peculiar
man, I would say," he smiled. "At least, he has
an outstanding taste having chosen you for the Work."
"Any grain of sand getting into
a shell has a chance to become a pearl, but not all of them
succeed. If a grain of sand has secured in a shell’s bosom,
then, as the time goes by, the ocean water passes through
the closed abbey space of the shell and builds, layer by layer,
the iridescent nacre that reflects the light, if, of course,
the pearl meets its light."
"It’s beautiful. I was told different
stories about you and your “The Art of Queen’s
Returning” in other cities of Europe. So what is it, this Art?"
"Try it yourself and you will
learn. Today we have a meeting for newcomers. Let’s go
and see. But try to pay absolute attention and be quiet."
"Pay attention and be quiet…
Oh, oh… that’s sexy," murmured the Guest falling asleep
in the armchair.
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