THE RUSSIAN DOLL AND THE MALTESE GODDESS - A short story with poetic overtones

THE RUSSIAN DOLL AND THE MALTESE GODDESS

Tectonic devastation, destroyed a waring nation…

One beautiful morning, in 9,600 BC, a devastating impulse rupture earthquake suddenly hit… The city was immediately leveled by the ensuing Tsunami, causing all remnants of the great civilization to crumble into the Blood Red Sea.

A thriving metropolis; where people were laughing, crying, being born and dying, waging war and praying for peace; they were all suddenly silenced…..

 The small vessels were moored and ready to move the people in the inlets…months before there was even the slightest inkling that a cataclysmic event was about to take place. How this was possible no one can say for sure, but as legend has told, a few of the gentle race had found a way to communicate with the deep sea beings.  They had felt the rumblings for a long time, and forewarned the girls who used to gather the fresh water along the shores of the Black Lake

The war had been raging for a few decades already, tensions rising, a battle of wills, old school knowledge rooted in peace and harmony was clashing with patriarchal theology

To avoid persecution, the women folk had to go underground with their knowledge.  Layer upon layer of polluted ideology covers up deeper layers of truth and spirituality.  Much Like the Russian Doll… her deepest secrets intact.

The earthquake generated massive waves in the Black Sea.  An eventual and final disequilibrium of forces , the tidal waves met flood of waters overflowing from the Caspian Sea and created a churning backlash which inundated their beautiful Inlet home, causing it to crumble, and slip into the newly created Sea.  All was destroyed, causing the remnant of the populous to migrate in every direction, away from the treacherous and putrid seas.

They fled the city and sailed by night, through carved channels, onward through the opening of the Bosporus, into the Sea of Marmara.  Down the coast they went, quietly, stealthily. They could hear the sounds from the Café Del Mar, where the people would gather by moonlight, sipping tea, whilst listening to the acoustic alchemy of the sea.

They were nameless, stateless, paperless, their true identity left behind.  There was no turning back…

The moon and stars their only map, they looked toward Orion for guidance.  Their Cetacean friends swam alongside their boats, chattering in a language that was a melodic combination of squeaks and whistles, varying pitches and tones.  An occasional warning or nudge of their small vessels was sometimes needed to steer them in the right direction.  They sailed away from the rising sun… further and further westward bound.

What kept her going? A fugitive, with nowhere to go.  Panic sets in, as she realizes the gravity of her situation. Homesick, Sea sick, she remembers her beautiful temples, and Castles.  She was from a Royal family.  The first to be overthrown by the burgeoning military-minded, male-dominated aristocracy of the Empire of Atlantis, who sought to subjugate the freedom-loving, ecologically-friendly and equality-minded Atlanteans.

Their beautiful Russian Princess had to be saved at any cost.  Torn from the arms of her parents, and taken to the underground Cathedrals for safe keeping.  Alone and scared, she didn’t much like getting her feet wet.  But here she was, surrounded by endless Sea… drifting aimlessly.  She began to still her mind to alleviate her fears of the unknown. Diving into the depths of her emotions she tuned into the sounds of singing, distant music, and the underwater beats and undercurrents and her heart.

On they sailed, past many small Islands.  But there was much evidence that these small Islands had also become victim of the ensuing Tsunamis from the tidal waves. 

Pottery, beds, people, floating dead on the water. The devastation was too much to bear.  They simply had to keep moving on.

It was  after 40 days and 40 nights,  on the brink of Starvation and dehydration, that an Island came into view.  Their Friends from the Sea chattered excitedly as they approached what looked like an Archway to a Grotto. It was flooded with a natural brilliant blue and emerald light, reminding her of her own home, which consisted of many underground temples. A place where the high Priestess would meet and gather for ceremonies of deep contemplation and gratitude for the abundance and the mystery of life.  A place where all could go to meditate, deep within the belly of the Mother.  A place, where dreams would be incubated and nurtured, to manifest with careful, deliberate incantations and intention.

Their friends from the Sea came back to the surface to tell them of the beautiful  underwater caves and temples that also existed - evidence which indicates the sea level was also once much lower here.

This place, this small Island, became a refuge and stop over for many others from South, East and West, for many more years to come. It also became evident to the young Russian Priestesses, that this had already been the case for many many years prior. 

As time went on, these new settlers became better acquainted with the essence, and the inhabitants of this tiny mysterious land.  One of the things they learned of, was the greatest inundations ever to occur...the filling of the Mediterranean basin many  years ago, which took 8 moons  to fill. This was the greatest catastrophe ever to be witnessed by human kind to date.

But was it a Catastrophic fate that brought these women to this new land, which reminded them of their own home?  What did the great Mother have in mind for them?  Why was it, that as the moons and then years passed them by, and the better acquainted they became with the people who very openly and willingly shared their great knowledge with them, why did it feel like they had some mission to fullfil?

Why was it that they could so easily tune into the secrets of these mysterious hidden temples?

Why was it, that they instinctively knew that all the main temples of this Island, were built in astronomical alignment either to the Sun's Equinox or to one of the Solstices, or to the Major Standstill of the Moon? Whoever built these underground temples, were wizards in acoustic construction.  They knew the exact measurements and configurations to make a softly spoken woman’s voice audible in every recess of the chambers.  No shouting,  just a soft, respectful word, which would activate a resonance.

Eventually, The Russian Doll knew in the deepest recesses of her own being that there was no such thing as cataclysmic accident. 

The Russian High Priestesses, who became nameless, and stateless, wanderers of the Seas, were now known as the surviving keepers of the hidden temple wisdom.  Her voice, her dreams, her very being, was all that was needed to keep the message of the lost Civilizations alive.  To be reborn, re-kindled and recounted. 

No matter how many came afterwards to try to conquer her, to make her forget, she keeps the memory’s alive.

Layer upon layer of knowledge has been kept hidden for so long.  She protected the truth deep with in her belly.  But now, 5 millennia on, she has to rise above the disequilibrium of our times, to re-align the constellations with the deep earth and the Seas, to channel the stories and energies from the star people, to anchor it into the Earths energy grids, sending healing and empowerment to all directions, to restore balance.  
How do I know about this mysterious woman?
She dwells inside me.  The Atlantean, Aegean, Mediterranean, Gozoean Doll. 

Post l-ghaqda Divina

 

(c) Teresa Mary / Divinia Nightfire 5th Feb 2014

THE TEMPLES OF MALTA (Megalithic temples both above the sea and sub terranean, are some of the oldest structures known...older than both the Great Pyramids of Giza and Stonehenge)

At the Hypogeum (underground) they constructed a recessed amplifier built into the stone wall of a room which will make the human voice reverberate throughout the entire vast temple of three stories dug out of the solid rock beneath ground-level. .  At Hagar Qim they used slabs 4" thick to reflect sound to make it pass through a hole in the wall about one foot in diameter

Just on a personal note, I have been trying to put the pieces of this story together my whole life.  The information came to me in bits and pieces as I searched deeper and deeper into my quest for the truth of my personal story.  

My Paternal Grandmother actually did flee from Russia from an aristocratic family under circumstances which she never divulged... we don't know the true story.

My maternal Grandmother and her whole family came from the tiny Mediterranean Island of Malta. 

Most of these photos are taken by a photographer called John Michael Mizzi, who lives in Malta, and conducts guided / spiritual tours of the temples.  this is a link to his web page
http://www.johnmizzi.com/
 
references
While this is a story that I have written myself, from my own understanding and divine connections, I did have some help, alot really.  First of all, from a wonderful writer who wrote the books
Islands of Dream and The Age of Magic and Wisdom by Author Francis Xavier Aloisio 

I also needed to get information regarding the flooding of Mediterranean Sea.  This was much harder to verify accurately, so I took information, including some words from two websites which are incorporated into this write
http://atlantis-today.com/Atlantis_Great_Atlantis_Flood.htm 

http://atmo.info/AtlantisIsland.htm 

And the Music Russian Doll by Atlantean is what gelled it together quite well I thought.