In the Temple of Goddess Louisa

The Cloisters, New York

Once I was given the following meditation task: “Imagine being a minor deity. Create your own cult. Build your own temple. Be as decorative and aesthetically excessive as you wish. Do not edit or judge.”

I was inspired by this exercise, and part by part, quite effortlessly, my temple sprung into existence.

The first discovery that I made was an unexpected color scheme. I have always considered deep jewel tones – burgundy, ultramarine, purple, and emerald green – to be my colors. But my temple began to emerge in a much lighter and more subdued palette of moss-eaten stone, weathered yellowish and gray marble, light purplish pink of heather, deep green of pine needles, and light ochre of sand. A large compound of stone buildings quickly grew in front of my mind's eye, with arches and galleries, spacious chambers and quiet cloisters. Fountains and basins filled with water appeared in many places and filled the space with reflections and gentle sounds.

Another surprising element of this newly created realm was the intensity of smells. The place reeked. In one part of the temple, there was a stone garden with the floor covered with pure white sand. Smooth rocks and pebbles, large and small, sat between short and crooked pine trees with long needles. The rocks and the sand were warm, heated by steam escaping from hot springs running underneath (“Nice, this place is on top of a bloody volcano! They have already tried that in Pompeii,” – I thought). The heat made the pine trees give off powerful resinous aroma (I thought, "I knew there must be a reason - besides plebeian taste - for why I like Lapsang Souchong and genmaicha tea!"). I was told that this combination of a Russian steam bath and a Japanese stone garden was a place for gaining control over Kapha Dosha and treating respiratory infections. Visitors of my temple would come and sit or lie on the larger rocks and place smaller pebbles on various parts of their bodies that needed healing. Pilgrims would bring new stones from faraway sacred lands and temples, and after inspection, these offerings would be accepted and incorporated into the garden to expand the spectrum of its healing capabilities. This place was popular with people living in inhospitable climates as well as singers seeking to whip their vocal cords into the best shape possible.

“Grrrreat, all hail the goddess of sniffles!” – I thought. But getting the best seats at La Scala, Covent Garden, and Met Opera was suddenly very easy.

In another part of my temple, a large marble pool surrounded by a colonnade was filled with warm water that contained high concentrations of various minerals, including sulfur, judging by the characteristic odor. This spa, used for healing all sorts of ailments and imbalances of body and mind, was adjacent to a number of quiet meditation rooms.

I decided that my temple needed a space for dancing, so I added several airy rooms with smooth floors. People who wished to make their bodies serve as trusted vehicles of their souls would come to the temple of Louisa to receive instruction in mindful movement. Profound personal transformations took place at these lessons.

To my great surprise, the temple of Louisa accepted offerings of foodstuffs that were cooked into wholesome feasts for the pilgrims as well as for the poor and the needy. This was unexpected: I am not the most nurturing or welcoming person, I cannot cook, and my fridge is always empty. But I liked the idea of good food and simple charity.

Another unexpected element of my cult jolted me out of my reverie with a pleasant surprise and made me think that I probably did not yet know everything about myself yet: the temple of Louisa was the site of famous comedy festivals. Once a year, troupes of actors gathered at these festivals, which attracted crowds of pilgrims, and miracles of transformation, rejuvenation, and healing of conditions caused by grief, sadness and stagnant energy frequently occurred during these events. Teams of players took turns entertaining the public with prepared and improvised performances, and the team whose routines elicited the most uproarious laughter would be declared the winner and crowned with the highly coveted Wreath of the Fool. People would come to these festivals and leave with their sides and bellies aching with laughter, being several pounds lighter, several years younger, and often smarter and happier, too.

An overgrown park, filled with the aromas of wet earth, leaves, and fungi, surrounded the temple and served as the breeding ground for creative ideas. Miles and miles of paths crisscrossed the park, enticing those who got their best ideas while walking.

Finally I decided that no self-respecting deity can do without a statue, so I imagined hewing my likeness out of a hunk of marble and placing it upon a pedestal in the center of the main chamber. It turned out to my satisfaction, only the enigmatic expression on my face was so mischievous that if I were a worshiper, I’d be careful what I wished for in the presence of this subversive deity. However, most of the time, goddess Louisa was a dutiful patron of arts and sciences, public speaking, writing, inspired solitude, and clever trickery (even though the latter skill is not among my talents and thus appears on this list quite unexpectedly).

Ever since I continue building my temple, adding things here and there and touching up and perfecting the existing ones. I quite enjoy being a minor deity with a busy practice: you get to do the things that you like and care about and enjoy all the adoration, but bear none of the big responsibilities and never provoke religious wars.

Photo: LB, 2006

Update 5.19.13: As we discovered during a visit to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, building a temple on top of underground springs is not a wise idea. The spring water underneath St. John the Unfinished must be pumped out continuously, although on occasion it is used to fill the baptismal font in the Baptistery (panoramic view). Moreover, precariousness of local geology made the construction of the cathedral go over the budget since the very beginning: the original sum intended for the entire project was spent just on digging the hole for the foundation, after it had been discovered that the bedrock was located much deeper than originally suspected.