EXCOLO

The church; early evening of the Feast of the Nuptials of the Year

Been a long day today - up all night waiting for dawn, singing in the day with candles and evergreen, using the high holy tongue to praise our Lady on her wedding day. Nanse nin per ta pa an-se ga-la-am... We were on our knees from midnight in the church, and it was bloody freezing, our breath steaming in front of us. Fucking painful, kneeling like that. First it's uncomfortable, then it's numb, then it starts hurting again, low dull hot ache that lights into a screaming burn, and then it goes back down into an ache and an annoyance and finally, sweet-fucking-finally, numbness again. Still, we got the braziers lit as the light starting rising, and the herbs we were burning got us all high enough that the aching didn't matter so much. Still nearly fell on my face when I tried to get up. A few of the novices did topple over, poor bastards. And we greeted the first light of day by blessing the altar with water and oil, and then we broke bread all together over the altar, mopping up the oil with the slices, smell of incense and herbs in the air, and we ate for love of each other and for our goddess. Fucking ace.

Day's been busy getting the feast ready for tonight. Novices were allowed to take a nap this afternoon, but I've had too much to do to think about lying down. Still, though I haven't slept in nearly two days, I'm feeling pretty alright.

Brother Ash leads the service tonight, and I'm glad he does. Think we're all coming to terms with the fact that Oya's not coming back, and we're going to need a new abbot or abbess. I'd pick Ash, myself. Some people have said I could do it, but I don't think that'd be right. I've got a long journey yet to go before I should be in charge of a community.

Greet the congregation at the door. Get a nice turn out despite the snow. People come in carrying gifts for Nanshe and our community, filling baskets by the door with dried fruit and bolts of cloth and handfuls of silver, and as the service starts novices heft the baskets up onto their shoulders and take them up the aisle to the altar while the rest of us sing with one voice

The lady of the good utterance whose purpose cannot be taken away;
Nanshe, may she be praised in the countries!

When the service is over, each member of the congregation is handed a candle. We extinguish the lights of the church, and light instead the candles of our members, row by row. Light ripples outward in the winter dark, and the doors of the church are thrown open.

"Go in peace," says Ash. "The darkness falls in the face of our love."

I watch them go out, light spreading across the pitch black courtyard. Never get tired of this moment, not even after twenty years. Think it'll always be one of my favourite moments of the year.

Some people head home, out of the gates, but most head toward the refectory where we'll have our feast. My stomach rumbles. I'm fucking starving. But for now I stay by the door, greeting our people as they go by.


[Open to all!]

Afternoon of Sunday, October 11th

It's a mild enough afternoon as I walk into town. Probably shouldn't be out here; there's things to do back at the abbey. Always plenty to do on a Sunday. But I'm in a thoughtful sort of mood, and the walking helps.

Had a dream last night, about Concetta. Not the first one by a long shot. It's funny, when I first told her I was going to take temporary vows and we broke up, I didn't dream about her at all. I was so immersed in everything, and I thought when I gave up my name I was giving up the past. Of course, it doesn't work as easily as that, and after a few months, when I was really getting into my new life and I knew, really knew, that this was it for me, forever - well, it hurt more then, knowing what I gave up. Didn't change my resolve, and there's never been anything in my life that's made me as happy as serving Nanshe. Never think that I did the wrong thing. But sometimes, over the years, I've dreamed of Concetta, and I've missed her.

Last night's dream was a bit different, though. She wasn't young. Usually in my dreams we're both still young, barely out of our teens, and yeah, sometimes they're sex dreams but not always. Even when they're not, I still usually wake up with a hard-on, cos that's just how it is, if you're a bloke, I reckon. Just cos you give up fucking doesn't mean your cock forgets. It was easy not having sex, the first year or so, cos I was so fervent, and then it was really fucking hard for a couple more years, and then it got easier, and now it doesn't bother me most of the time. But last night's dream rattled me, cos Concetta and me, we was older than we are now. She had all these fine lines around her mouth, and I knew on waking that's just what those lines will look like when she's fifty. Her mouth always did turn down. Made her look sulky when she wasn't. A serious sort of mouth. And in my dream we'd buried my parents, and she took me to bed, which was our bed, and in my dream I was crying as we did it. When I woke up I was crying too. Not exactly fucking difficult to see what that dream was about, really. Got my share of guilt about a few things, I do. And maybe I feel a bit guilty because despite that, despite what I chose and knowing that it hurt people, I don't regret it. Knowing that I can never love anyone as much as I love my goddess. It's right, I think, that we had to give up romance and sex to live at the abbey. Not cos those things are bad. Nanshe is a mother, she loves families. But the way I serve her... There's room for friends in that, but not for anything else. No one else can be anything but second best.

All the same, it nags at me a bit, the dream. Cos I think Concetta and I would've been happy, and she never did get married, did she? Had kids, but never married, and I wonder if that's my fault. Shouldn't be so fucking arrogant, thinking what, I spoiled her for other men, but I wonder sometimes if she'd have found someone to love if she hadn't known me. Would never ask her, though. She'd probably smack me in the face, and quite right too. Can't go around feeling guilty for other people's choices - it's self-indulgent bollocks, is what it is.

I found I've come to the end of Silk Road, and the carnival wheel's turning. On a whim I decide to go across. I've been to the carnival, but not in a while. When I get over it's got a sad, end-of-holiday feel to it, bunting drooping, the wheel turning with no one on it. There's a few kids running about, but the barkers aren't bothering to shout, there's so few people out here. Wonder what they make of me, as I'm still in my robes. Don't really mind.

I buy myself some cotton candy. The sugar in my mouth makes me smile. Food's always been a way to cheer me up, and there's something so happily pointless about cotton candy. Fluffy sugar, I mean, what's the point of it except to make you smile? There's something lovely in that. Not everything needs a point, after all. Sometimes it's enough for the wheel to just keep turning.

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Saturday, 26 September, late afternoon

It's cooling down now, at the end of the day, though it's been bright. I feel pretty warm, though, as I walk up Silk Road and head toward the abbey. I've been walking for quite a while now, and I'm footsore, and my clothes are dusty.

I headed out at dawn on Thursday morning to my family's farm. It was another bright morning, sky as clear as you like, and the ten miles didn't seem too much on a clear bright morning with only the birds and a hymn on my lips for company. Nance nin me kal-kal-la ki na-mu-un-gi-gi/agarin na-nam ama sa-hi-in na-nam! Was feeling pretty cheery - the harvest festival party went well, and we brought in a good amount of cash for the poor this winter.

I got to the farm mid-morning, having had some breakfast by a hedgerow on the way. I always try to get back for a couple of days at harvest season to help out with things. The crops were looking good, but Mum and Dad - well. I've seen them look better. Stretched thin, I'd call it. Been a couple of months since I was last out there, and they don't come into town much these days, so I haven't seen them. Mum's looking a lot older, suddenly. Her skin's got this papery quality to it that wasn't there before. Reckon she's lost a bit of weight. Mum's always been plump, so it looks odd. She seems tired, too. I asked her if she's been sick, and she just brushed it off. She'd do that if she was dying, though.

Rashida and I didn't get to chat much, the first day. We were both too busy working. We managed to talk on Friday evening, though, and a couple of the things she said - well, they stung. I can tell she's lonely, and she's getting these worry lines between her eyes I think she's too young for. I told her she needs to make time for herself, spend time with friends. There's too much to do here, Sayid, she said. And even if there wasn't, how many friends do you think I have, now? Fucking hell, it hurt. I always feel guilty, seeing her. Like I abandoned her. I know it's stupid. She chose to stay with Mum and Dad. It wasn't like she was forced. Then again, I know that it was expected of her. Keep the daughter at home until she gets married, that's how it's always gone with my family, and with me moved away, Rashida's had to work too hard on the farm to really have boyfriends. I know there was a bloke a couple of years back, but it fizzled out. Taslim was here last week, she said, which I knew, cos Mum and Dad wanted me to come see him, and I couldn't because there was too much to do at the abbey. Feel bad about that; it's not often any of our folks from Oakridge come to town, that being Dad's brother and his three kids. Umayr and Abra are married themselves, but Taslim's not settled yet, probably cos he's not got as much of a brain as his siblings, and he's a bit of a flighty bugger. He suggested we get married, she said, and I nearly choked on my mint tea. "What the fuck?" I said. "The man's an idiot! And pretty closely related to us, you'd end up with four-eyed sprogs." Rashida just shrugged. I said I'd think about it. He'd be willing to move here, and it'd be nice, having someone to help out. And he's cheerful enough company, and he's devout and keeps hijab. It might be enough.

Can't get over the look on her face when she said that. It might be enough. Oh, sister, I want better for you than enough.

I kept working until lunchtime today, and then we all sat down for dinner. It made my walk back slow, my belly heavy with grain and meat and fruit, and I'm tired. I know serving Nanshe is what I'm meant to do. I just wish I knew how to serve my family, too.

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