Lost Paradise

By Sheryl Knowlton

Sheluna is strong and wise beyond her twenty years, and she is ready to assume her role as the next high priestess of Holy Ground. She has all the qualities of a great leadershe is open-minded, spirited, and courageous. She is loved and respected by all the people and creatures surrounding her. Now her destiny rests on the other side of one crucial and dangerous test.

Set in Holy Ground, a real city that existed over nine thousand years ago and lasted for over fifteen centuries in central Turkey, Shelunas story is imaginative historical fiction based on fascinating fact gleaned from extensive research into the excavations of atalhyk, the real city that inspired the story of Holy Ground. Home to an advanced egalitarian society, atalhyks legacy is rich with thought-provoking themes of equality, Earth worship, and the importance of ritual and symbology. Modern humans can learn much from our ancestors of prehistory (a big part of which is her story).

The people of Holy Ground called it Paradisethe paradise before the fall.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jul 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466939271

Sheryl Knowlton

Sheryl Knowlton admits that she should have majored in archaeology rather than English literature, but that hasn’t stopped her for studying Çatalhöyük. She grew up in Idaho and Oregon and now lives in Adrian, Oregon. Whenever possible, she and her daughter, Jessica, can be found outside, exploring the Earth Mother’s many gifts.

Book preview

© Copyright 2012 Sheryl Knowlton.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-3925-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-3926-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-3927-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012909800

Trafford rev. 06/29/2012

7-Copyright-Trafford_Logo.ai

www.trafford.com

North America & international

toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

phone: [phone] * fax: [phone]

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

It was the best of times, like paradise. The young girl wondered if Cole was as nervous as she was about the festivities planned for tonight. One of them was pre-ordained to be trained by Levana as the next high priest or priestess and member of the council of elders. She walked stealthily down to the large pen they had built for him. As she sneaked a peek at the wild aurochs bull standing and facing toward the center of the enclosure, she perceived that he’d probably had about as much sleep as she’d gotten—almost none. Both of their lives were intertwined, now and for an eternity. Depending on how she and Cole performed and on how the huge bull reacted, the bull’s head would hopefully end up in her ancestral home. She sighed as she gazed at the imposing animal; he was a gorgeous specimen. No shed remained of his winter coat, and he gleamed amber in the afternoon Anatolian sun. He kept shuffling and swaying his large head back and forth, no doubt feeling the rings on his gigantic horns.

Sheluna was a gorgeous specimen of her species as well. Long gleaming black hair hung down almost to her waist. No one could look into her eyes without some type of reaction, at times audibly gasping or looking away, then usually taking a second glance. One eye sparkled the most unusual green to almost yellow like a cat’s, while the other gleamed deep purple or violet through thick, black eyelashes. Her body was limber and athletic from practicing acrobatics, dancing, drumming, and of course the rigorous daily chores of a priestess-in-training. No one in their town got out of their fair share of the work. As Aunt Sheba said, All are able to find something productive to do, a job they enjoy and where they excel; we all are truly blessed.

In the prehistoric days when Catal Huyuk was at its height, a young person could do or be anything she wanted. A completely egalitarian society, it seemed like the perfect life to most, and they dearly appreciated their land and culture which provided for all. Sheluna’s family was well-respected within the village. As an artist, her father was one privileged enough to see the innermost sanctuaries of his neighbor’s homes, and usually fortunate enough to take part in sanctifying the room or occasion with his artwork as well. No matter how this night played out, her father would be edifying the ceremony on the main inside wall either of her house or Cole’s. That reminded her—she’d better get her hair washed and couffed. If any stray curls fell into her face tonight it could be dangerous or even fatal. Why did she suddenly feel as if she had a tremendous weight on her back? Much of the reason, she knew, was due to the fact that her mother came from the oldest and most time-honored clan in the village. As the storyteller and one of the most influential elders, Suda automatically placed many expectations upon her daughter. At Sheluna’s same age, Suda had been the most desirable woman in the entire settlement. Both beautiful and powerful, in her youth as well as today, she was known by absolutely everyone. Sheluna didn’t care to have that kind of life but had no notion how to get away from it. She could purposefully fail tonight . . . How did she know she would succeed, anyway?

Another deep sigh escaped her ample lips. She afforded/allowed herself one more sidelong glance at the aurochs without meeting his eyes. She would do nothing to affect tonight’s outcome, even as she tried to manifest it with contemplation and visualization. Sauntering down the slight incline from the area to the marsh ponds, her pace was slow and methodical. What if she had no special powers? Most people didn’t. Life as a normal/typical female would then be less public and involve much less responsibility. Everything remained in the hands of the Creators, as it had been and would always be. Once out of sight of the town she spoke a simple prayer to Cymbala, the Mother Goddess and Sheluna’s personal protector, who nourished and protected all creatures and inanimate objects alike. In physical form, She was the Mother Earth, and all were equal in her eyes.

"I surrender, Mother.

To your will I bend

In uncertainty I trust

With life I am blest

I pray for All.

May the best be most blessed.

Spare the beast from fear and pain.

His death be quick.

So it must be."

She wasn’t afraid or apprehensive; worry was a waste of precious time. She impulsively stripped off her clothing and ran the rest of the way to the water. Spring had suddenly sprung up all around her: That early light green which only new growth can bring, almost iridescent in the afternoon light. She tip-toed confidently into the cold water. This portion of the marsh was clear and clean as it traveled toward the river. She must bathe every inch of her body. How exciting that Levana, the High Priestess, had given her a secret concoction of herbs and flowers to rub into her hair, promising it would shine as brightly as the moonlight, and that she would be the envy of all the other girls. She would be anyway, she mused, especially if all went according to plan. Quit fretting, she scolded herself. Take deep slow breaths and envision the outcome you desire. It sounded like her own voice in her head. Was it hers, her mother’s, the All Knowing One? Sheluna saw herself as Mistress of the Animals; she knew she was. All animals great and small loved her and trusted her as no other human. She would need that trust tonight. Would the great aurochs walk to her or even notice her? I would, she supposed, just to escape those stupid arrows and spears.

Holy Queen Bee! That shampoo does smell heavenly, she sniffed appreciatively as she worked it and her fingers through her thick hair. Not an easy project, washing long tangled hair, she smiled ruefully. Should she save half of Levana’s hair cleaner or slather it over the rest of her body? Hmmmm. If her mother had taught her anything, Save and Savor was one of her favorite sayings. I guess I will save some, she decided. She could force the ingredients out of Levana anyway, even if she had to beg and offer to do anything she ordered, as usual. Levana had earned the right, or rite, to sit back and tell everyone around her what to do and even how to do it. She was the highest of the high in their town, even though her predecessor, the Old Crone, was still very much alive. Shel decided that if she rose to that station, she would still join in and help her priestesses and priests more often. Even though Cole was physically much stronger than she, Sheluna just knew with a satisfied knowing that she would show him up at the ritual tonight. She considered all of the possible outcomes. No one had prepared as hard as she had, especially practicing her drum and her meditations.

Now don’t be disrespectful, that voice inside instantly scolded her. She focused instead on gratitude; Levana has been so kind to you, teaching you, giving you special training daily on either drumming, medicine, cooking, and most importantly, nuances of ritual kept secretly and passed down by powerful shamen throughout the ages. She knew she was being prepped for amazing gifts of the Goddess, but that did not mean other priests or priestesses weren’t also being prepared. She WAS powerful and gifted; she sensed it. Always catching on more quickly than the others, she comprehended at a deeper level. Sheluna watched the world, the animals and all living creatures, every nuance of their lives almost intimately, always full of awe and with love in her heart. It’s the Great Mother Earth herself, and the animals, who give me such strength and confidence and show me the true path, she reasoned.

Here came that tame mama duck and her ducklings. Oh no, now she only has four. Yesterday there were five, and last week she had eight! Poor mama—she was losing them fast! Would any of these fledgelings make it to fly, sporting full adult feathers, or only live for a brief time while they had that cute yellow fuzz and were so vulnerable? She had seen the lean mother coyote watching them from the thick sedges last week as well. She realized it was all a piece of the bigger picture, the circle of life. The mother coyote had hungry babies to feed. Shel was certain they would enjoy a tender duckling to eat. Where was the mallard anyhow? He was cruising around the ponds with them at the last full moon. Just like a male—he didn’t have nearly the attachment nor the nurturing qualities that mother duck displayed. Who knew if they were really his offspring anyway? One never knows who fathers the babies, unless your species has the instinct to mate for life like the eagle or the wolf. Some people do that; she wondered if she would, or could. As the High Priestess, taking a lifelong mate would be impossible. Holy ground practiced many seasonal rituals involving different male partners, both for spiritual purposes and for pleasure. Only the gods and goddesses knew for sure; it certainly wasn’t up to her . . . Anyway, poor mama duck. She knew the mama was aware of how many babies she had. Sheluna had soaked some grains and seeds for them and left them on the shore. Maybe if they weren’t quite so trusting they’d all live longer. She hoped she wasn’t contributing to their demise.

Sheluna was wise beyond her fourteen years of chronological age. Iva, the ancient crone, had told her she had lived many times before. Who knew? Maybe she’d been a duck or a coyote in the past. She already understood that every decision had consequences, and not only just for yourself, but for all life around you. Her powers came from her deep inner knowing and her confident belief that she could do or be anything she set her mind toward. Everything on the Earth was made up of the same energy, just in different combinations or forms, and a thought, prayer, or constant vigil could change or instigate almost anything. Shel had only begun to witness and practice this power.

She’d better get out of the water and get her body dry so she could work with her hair. Even though she was content with her physical self, what a mop. Her people believed their hair to be a part of their personal power, and in her case it was her crowning glory (that’s what her mother always told her). She carefully combed through it with her fingers, then she could stack it up onto her head. Mother or Shontay will help me, she hoped. All was a part of the sacred cleansing and adorning process to prepare her physically and mentally for this evening’s ritual.

The people of Holy Ground, and there were at least five thousand of them, grew up with and loved ritual. It seemed to Sheluna that nearly everything was sacred, especially when she was younger. She knew exactly where and how she should sit inside their home before she could even walk. She disliked the small, dank indoors. All actions were so much more regimented than she felt they needed to be, and that was why she spent every single moment she could outside. And not on the roof either; it was almost as bad. Too many people and too many customs and formalities, and often too much unnecessary information being exchanged. Most of her friends had already adapted to the ritual practices, so to say: The daily food preparation, gossiping, and dressing and acting a certain way to name just a few examples. Well, they could have their city life. No wonder she was already called Mistress of the Animals and of the forest. She laughed out loud. She did what she wanted most of the time. She was also very demanding, of herself as well as others. No excuses allowed, she told everyone. Anyone can accomplish anything he desires if he knows he can, so show you can. Meditate on it and work at it, then wait to see what unfolds.

If she talked to even one of her friends about her trepidations over tonight’s performance, she knew what she’d hear back. You can do it—you are so talented/strong/acrobatic. Blah, blah, blah. She suddenly felt very annoyed; she’d rather just be by herself right now. She needed to focus, to set her intentions, and to visualize how the ceremony tonight would go. She seldom wished that she were more like the other girls, but now was one of the times. Who in the name of the Holy Cow, protector of all women (especially pregnant ones), would want to have a baby at her age? She knew how a child was conceived, and that also nearly half of the mothers died in childbirth. It all seemed very crazy and scary to her. Her town had built a special shrine for delivering babies, but even their best midwives and under the most sanitary conditions possible they lost way too many. I pray to Cymbala that I never become pregnant, she mumbled sincerely. Why DO people couple up in the name of the Goddess when they know the consequences? She didn’t understand it, but had no experience except kissing, which she felt was highly overrated. However, if no new babies were born their civilization would die . . . And why did everyone think babies were so cute anyway? Shel didn’t. They frequently smelled, and they assuredly were a lot of work. She enjoyed her freedom, and especially her independence, way too much. All the young men her age seemed immature, and they acted dumb. They were constantly showing off for the girls and for each other, and doing silly things like making jokes about body parts, contests of strength, or hurting themselves because they didn’t take care and pay attention. Maybe she was the one who was odd; most people who knew her well said so. Which is probably good, she reminded herself. She prized knowledge and individuality above all else, except for being outside with Nature, of course.

As she headed up the path to the cluster of houses, her friend Leila accosted her. Are you nervous about tonight?

No, why would I be nervous? I’m well-trained, I’ve worked hard, and besides, we both know fear will not help. The bull will feel my fear. It will mix with his and it could worsen the whole outcome. Oh I so wish it were in the past—at least that part.

Well, I can’t wait for the celebration and the food. Feel lucky you haven’t been preparing cakes and meats and gathering fuel for the fires, plus the ingredients we need to make everything. We are going to have so much fun. I hope so. I mean I hope I’m celebrating a new beginning. Either way it’s likely we’ll be up all night I’ll bet you neither one of us gets a lick of sleep. I’m so excited!"

I hope I can sleep . . . the last few nights I haven’t slept much. Trying to manifest the way the whole ordeal is going to transpire, you know. I’ve visualized it so many times, I’ll bet I could walk the whole arena with my eyes closed. I do worry about the bull though, and hope he doesn’t suffer too much.

I’d be worried about the bull too. How can you even think of going into a pen with a wild, injured bull? You must have more courage than most. I wouldn’t be caught dead going in there!"

Let’s hope you are only making a joke and not a prophecy.

Oh, Sheluna, no. Pray to the Goddess right now, and touch your cowrie shells. I will too. We’d better do it right now. I was just talking. I would never think something like that about the next High Priestess of Holy Ground. I pray all goes well tonight. Pray with me, Shel!

They both looked up to the sky and Shel spoke:

"Goddess

Your bounty we worship

In you we trust

Watch over All

Guide and protect.

Good fortune for the

Most deserving one

Who follows your steps

On the sacred trail.

So it must be."

Leila smiled at her friend. Most beautiful, Shel. Good luck to you this night. I mean it, I pray it. See you tonight priestess. And I hope your hair gets dry. You so seldom wear it down; I had no idea how long it was getting.

It’s a pain in my back side. It takes so long to comb through it. And when it’s down it’s so hot, and it gets in my eyes. No, when you see me later tonight it’ll be back up and out of the way. All right then, whatever you say, and good fortune. May the Goddess protect you.

Shel dragged her feet as she headed up toward the crowded village. Back to the domain of people, where life was so much more complex and confusing, and the smells less pleasing as well.

41994.jpg

Sheluna just audibly growled as she sauntered back down the mound and out of the village. She was feeling a little miffed: She and Shontay thought her hair had looked fabulous, all twisted up and piled onto the top of her head like a beehive. Then their mother had seen the masterpiece and had insisted upon redoing the entire top. Suda said it looked like the great volcano, Hasan Dag, erupting when she finished, with strands of curls cascading down from the top. It wasn’t so much that Shel didn’t like the re-do, just that her mom always seemed to come along and fix or perfect everything she did. She knew her mother was a perfectionist to the extreme and truly wanted her daughter to look and to perform the best. But actions seemed to have more of an impact on Shel than mere words or even compliments. Didn’t her mom realize that coming along and fixing everything made other people feel like their work was shoddy or not quite good enough? Shel sighed as she neared the first groves of trees. No, she probably has no idea that her actions are negatively affecting people. She no doubt had good intentions and was only trying to help. Oh well, nothing could dampen her spirit on this day she decided. Not unless she allowed it.

She had thoroughly prepared herself for tonight and imagined every detail one more time. Her body was cleaner than it had ever been except for the moment of her birth. Her clothing was laid out on her bed covers: Her short skirt made of the softest, most supple deer hide with matching under garment. The fleecy, stretchy white wool cloth would wrap around several times to support her breasts. And to top it off, her leopard skin shirt, which had been sewn and saved for this special day. Fixing her hair was the biggest chore, and at best it would stay out of her eyes. She felt the skin on her face and her scalp slightly stretched back to pull the mass of curls up as tightly as possible. All is as it should be, she thought as she slowed her breathing and forced herself to calm down. Fresh air and movement always helped a person feel better. Shel could never hang around the house or the village all day like most of the other women seemed content to do. The men were usually the smart ones in that respect. They were often outside of the village as well, either on hunting or scouting forays, target practicing, cutting and gathering wood, obsidian . . . any excuse to get away in a group and gab. They were just as dumb as a group of women gossiping, downgrading each other, and especially trying to out-do each other no matter what the activity. The vulgar herd was very humorous to watch. Right now she was fairly sure a large group was out in the woods practicing for the festivities tonight. Sheluna had been preparing for this ritual challenge for years, playing the drum, turning flip after handstand after flip; she could even walk on her hands for a short distance. She also ran barefoot through the forest or anywhere to toughen the bottoms of her feet and build stamina. Relaxation and meditation, out in nature whenever possible, were also part of her daily regimen, as was dancing.

Sheluna’s main focus, at this time, was to ask the Creator for a sign or portent of some kind, and to settle and clear her mind from the cares of the busy world of her community. She slowed her pace and forcibly her breathing as well. As she mumbled a simple prayer and smelled the pure air, a smile slowly appeared on her face. How did she sense that all would go her way tonight? She only needed to surrender and to trust her abilities. In a state of deep meditation, she came to a stop and allowed her gaze to drop to the ground. Her mind had been high up in the spring air, swirling her thoughts into the wind.

A feather laid perfectly perpendicular to her path through the brush and juniper trees. She stooped to look it over, wondering who had lost such a large feather; she noticed the tip of it was missing. This was the sign she had prayed for. Brown and black stripes on white, with fluffy, curly wisps at the quill end, only one bird she could think of touted this type of plumage: The great hoot owl. Whether an immature feather or an adult’s, it was a very good omen. She knew what the elders professed about owl medicine; as she thought of its symbolic meaning a shiver ran up her spine and to the top of her head, energizing her entire body. Several of the people closest to Sheluna called her Owlie. She had never been afraid of the dark. The night was her friend and favorite part of her day. Owl reminded her of her keen sense of observation and intuition. She could see clear to the truth about a situation or a person, and knew a wisdom far beyond her age. Owl was telling her she must pay attention to any signals or messages from Mother Earth coming her way, especially on this day. Owl medicine would help her to see all and to do what she must do. Sheluna was not a predator at heart, but Owl could surely show the way. She bent over farther and reverently picked up the feather. Owl overcame its prey with a precise and pre-planned attack. She was now more confident she could do whatever needed to be done, so she turned around and headed back toward town.

Owl energy will guide me tonight, Sheluna prayed as she placed the feather facing north/south on her sleeping platform, then gently set her counting bone on top of the feather facing east/west. All was ready, and the contest and festivities soon to begin. The rest of Shel’s family had already left for the sacred ritual with pots and platters of