Tonight as I did my meditation with the incense burning, the candles lit, and music playing; Solomon entered my thoughts. As I sat here in the dark, I could see myself sitting in my meditation pose in Solomon's home. I got the sense I was the more spiritual one than he was. And as I sat there, he sat behind me, his chest on my back and his legs open with his knees bent. He put his head on my right shoulder. For a moment I thought I could hear his breathing in my ear. Being mindful and respectful of my meditation being a form of worship of the gods.
Then as I allowed the 'vision' or whatever it was to carry me away, we were at some festival. Somehow it was a festival of Sun and Moon. I painted Solomon in gold for he was the sun and I was painted in white for I was the moon. On his forehead a red circle with lines radiating outward represented the sun and it's rays. On mine the crescent moon, like horns painted on my forehead. The 'vision' didn't last for long. It drifted away from me slowly but all that remained was Solomon's face. I could see it and kept seeing it. I remember looking up to Solomon because he was taller than I was. Somehow using was to talk about the experience doesn't seem right. It's more in the moment more present than past tense.
For a moment I felt like I wasn't alone. Solomon was here. He was with me. I could again hear his voice and the words were an unknown and forgotten language. Yet I understood what he was saying yet now, I don't remember his words, I just remember him. Wrapping his body around mine as I meditated.
Just when I thought that somehow he wouldn't appear again, and there he was quietly and subtly there in the space between quiet and communion with all that is and all that will be.
Thank you, Solomon, thank you.
