Highly recommended by Man-Ka-El, Pythagoras was at once recognized and admitted into the Great Temple after a few days walk in the wilderness. As a matter of fact, the Temple of Mt. Carmel had long decreed very strict entry rules, and never received common visitors. The outcasts, the ill-mannered and the non-qualified students, included, among others.
Inside the Temple, the teachings of the Great White Fraternity anchored in the minds of all the adepts. The adopted system of teachings went far back in time to Enoch-Hermes-Tautus, the founder of the First Religion. Since then, it became the spiritual endeavor of the Canaano-Egyptian Monotheistic Fraternity. De facto, the members of this fraternity sought and believed in the resurrection of the self up into its higher level, and in the immortality of the spirit.
On the walls of the Grand Temple, some unique, delicately engraved symbols sided along a number of particular inscriptions for the neophytes to contemplate about in silence. No questions whatsoever were allowed to be asked, not even a word was to be heard. The only sound that resonated between the walls of that Temple remained that of the thoughts echoing in the mind of every seeker.
Separated from all the troubles and worries that burdened the profane world outside, Pythagoras spent most of his days and nights, and for almost three months meditating as a hermit on one single symbol. One symbol among many! From the very first moment in which he had stepped inside that Temple and that particular symbol had been all the focus of his attention.
The symbol reflected a horizontal line connected to another vertical line; a cross. Called the Sacred Tau, that cross, discovered by his Ancestors, rooted in time to the faraway days of Enoch-Hermes-Tautus. This exceptional charming symbol became the subject and the object unified in the mind of Pythagoras.
As usual, in silence, the doors of perception in his mind opened widely to the cognizance of the secret he sought. His transliteration revealed simultaneously the Horizontal Line as the Stagnant Matter, and the Vertical Line as the Moving Energy, or the Living Spirit. Accordingly, Pythagoras became more conscious than ever that the point of intersection between these two worlds was undeniably the Universal Mind; their point of balance, the First and Final Equilibrium.
It all makes sense to me now, he muttered in his heart to restrain breaking the rule of silence. And hence, on a relative human scale, the intellectual thinking mind of the human being could only be the primal, and yet final, mover of his or her two other dimensions; the spirit and the body.
The ultimate fusion of all, to Pythagoras, could only happen when the rational human mind would connect with the Universal Mind.
Now, how does this Rising occur? Pythagoras mulled over the concept for a long, long while. Yet he ended smiling, his heart rejoicing at his new discovery.
Deep down inside himself, in his most secret and sacred realm, a great light shone bright. A revelation arose. There existed a man, a mortal god, on the lengthy path to become, an immortal man, a god.
* * *
On the Phoenician coast, almost when the sun was setting in the horizon, a small boat landed. From his spot at the peak of Mt. Carmel, Pythagoras watched for a moment. Long tutored in ships by his father during their long trips together, Pythagoras recognized this one to be of Egyptian origin. Without any further delay, he leaped to his feet and scuttled down the steep mountain and straight for the ship at the shore.
For the first time in, perhaps, a year, panting and gasping to regain his breath, he heard the sound of his own voice addressing the sailors, “Are you heading to Egypt?”
They nodded and stared at him in puzzlement. Pythagoras felt their eyes examining him all over with curiosity.
“When?” Pythagoras yelled to be heard above the sound of the great wind that wafted through the coast.
An old man, apparently the captain, loomed from behind the sailors and screamed and gestured for him to listen to his reply, “Not before early tomorrow morning, my friend. The wind is crazy, so is the water. We are staying overnight.”
Pythagoras nodded and grinned widely. The hope of a new venture into the world of discovery streamed through his blood like the rush of a water current. He waited for the Captain to step on shore and approached him eagerly.
“That suits me perfectly well. Would you count me in?”
The captain chuckled and shook his hand. “Sure will, Phoenician! Just don’t be late tomorrow or we’ll leave you behind.”
And as decided the day before, Pythagoras, dressed in purple, his lyre in one hand and a small bag of personal belongings in the other, embarked at dawn the following day. Wordless, he paced the boat, looking for an isolated retreat where he sat in silence. And silent he remained for a couple of nights and days.
The sailors would throw speculative looks in his direction, yet none dared to disturb him. Devoid of food and water, motionless as if in a trance, Pythagoras undertook his trip to Egypt.
Then, all of a sudden, on the fifth day, he woke up to the life around him and instantly into social exchange with the crew. With gentleness and tranquility, he began conversing about the sea and its mysteries. He asked them where they planned to disembark in Egypt. The old captain pointed his finger towards their imminent destination, the Delta of the Nile.
“Is Memphis that way?” Pythagoras asked.
The old man, wrinkled by age and weighed down by life, might have known from his purple robe and his question that he was a seeker of wisdom.
“Yes, it is not far from there,” he answered with a reassuring smile.
On the eleventh day, the boat reached the shore of the great city of Memphis, at the early break of dawn. Physically tired from the trip and weakened by his long fasting, he welcomed the help of the sailors in stepping down ashore. His legs failed him and he slumped on the sandy ground.
Before bidding him farewell, the captain set on his lap a basket of fruits, urging him to eat. A sailor brought to his side a jug of fresh water. Sagging on the sandy floor, his eyes foggy, his ears alien to the noise around him, Pythagoras perceived their silhouettes fading away in the midst of what appeared to him like trees strewn over the Sahara.
Slowly and cautiously, he drank from the jug, and then grabbed a peach. In fact, he took his time in eating the various delicious fruits laid in the basket in front of him. Gradually, he regained his power and senses while his consciousness flooded back to him.
Moments later, he opened his eyes fully, and beheld himself reposing under a palm tree, on the soft sand of Egypt; the land of mysteries par excellence.
.4.
Egyptian Mysteries
Memphis!
Like the virtual reality of a long fancied dream, Memphis appeared impressive. Although its greatness, long related by both his teachers: Pherecydes and Thales, had remained vivid in his mind; to come and see the metropolis, for the first time, beheld quite an impact on Pythagoras.
He assessed his six years of Initiation in the holy sanctuaries of his homeland. His last conversation with Thales in the backyard resurfaced in his mind.
The easiest thing is to give advice to others… And I advise you to return to Phoenicia and then head to Egypt. There you will certainly learn about the deepest meanings of Life.
Thus, here he was, elated with a new hope at the turn of his twenty-ninth year of age, in these times: 541 BCE. Warmed up by the Egyptian early sunrays, he headed towards the city, ready for his new journey into the meanings of life no matter how profound.
He followed the sandy road through a massive forest of palm trees. The remarkable obelisks along his way seemed to foretell the gateway of a mystical world he intended to explore. Various statues of different shapes and sizes stood along the lane he traipsed. They appeared welcoming him into the realm of mysteries.
Pythagoras knew that inside the Egyptian sacred sanctuaries lived true magicians who possessed the profound erudition of the occult sciences, or what the sages called the divine knowledge. His insides quivered in anticipation of what awaited him ahead; the secrets
of the gods!
From afar, a temple appeared encircled by palm trees. A silhouette in white, probably a Priest, stood on the steps of the entrance. The man turned in his direction as if he had sensed the advent of some foreign energy. Pythagoras felt the eyes studying his every step as he moved forward. He fathomed those eyes of wisdom, which only great teachers could command, in order to discern those walking the circle of wisdom and mastership. He shivered before warmth braced him as the vibrations of the priest reached him from that distance. He wondered about that subtle, yet real, phenomenon: the sage probing the aura of a real seeker of Truth.
All of a sudden, the man in white vanished and a couple of servants appeared waiting for him at the entrance of the domain. He refrained from showing his surprise and followed them through the vast front yard and up the few steps to the temple. There, another silent servant led him to an interior court.
Pythagoras halted in awe.
Ten Colossal Lotus Pillars beset the patio. They held, with all their might and purity, nothing less than the sacred Solar Arch!
“Behold the Great Temple of Osiris!” The servant heralded in a strong voice. The vibes resonated like drums proclaiming the sanctity of the place. With silent steps that contradicted the verve of his recent herald, the servant walked out.
Amidst the Lotus Pillars, Pythagoras remained alone with his amazement. The Great Temple of Osiris! He mumbled in admiration and reverence.
The Pillars exhibited some hieroglyphic writing and images of Pharaohs, divinities and stars. Topping them, the Lotus shone in a harmony of red, blue and green colors. The pillars reached the ceiling of an amazingly painted sky. Figures of the winged golden disk spread amid a myriad of stars. The celestial Nile, there depicted, showed the navigation of some sacred barges that transported the deceased to the other world.
Frissons of awe cooled his skin while he tried to absorb the wondrous sight. Suddenly, he discerned some imminent vibes in the air. He stood on alert. A faint sound of steps ensued from behind him and impelled him to glance over his shoulder.
There, a few inches away from him, stood a bald, white man with a scepter. Taller than the average man, dressed in a white linen tunic and papyrus sandals, he carried his trimmed beard almost to his chest. Under the refined eyebrows, his black eyes, outlined with golden tint, hooked him; the same deep eyes that had previously probed him while nearing the temple. Pythagoras turned completely in order to face him. Wordless, they both remained for a while, as if, in this arcane land of Egypt, souls should meet before the human minds communicated.
The Priest, with all his physical being, reflected utmost serenity. His fervent inner light sparked out and glowed in an enigmatic manner. Pythagoras yielded to the beam that penetrated through the windows of his soul to meet his spirit, and the sacred incarnated impulses within him. He felt total peace in unveiling, to the soul of that Egyptian priest, the real identity of his being on the path to spiritual enlightenment.
It was only then that Pythagoras took note of the extravagant attire of the holy man. A large blue and gold necklace dangled from his neck. A thin blue linen belt wrapped the waist of his white robe. Heavy bracelets of gold adorned his wrists and upper arms.
“Phoenician, aren’t you?” The Priest brought him to focus his attention in a leveled voice. “I can tell that from your purple tunic.” He pointed his scepter at Pythagoras’ outfit, and granted him a hint of a grin.
Pythagoras nodded in tranquil silence.
“Ah! I knew it!” the Priest exclaimed, clapping his jeweled fingers in self-acclaim. He edged closer in small, yet quick, steps. “What is your name? In which city were you born? Who are your parents?”
Pythagoras grinned inwardly at the sudden interest that sprinted out from that odd personage. In a composed voice, he introduced himself. “I am Pythagoras, native of Saydoun. My father Mnesarchus was a merchant, trading all around the Mediterranean. My mother Parthenis is a widow now. She takes care of my two younger brothers.”
“Ah, I see!” The Priest muttered then probed for more, “In which Temple have you been instructed?”
“Actually, I undertook several apprenticeships in all the temples of Canaan-Phoenicia; Saydoun, Sur, Gebel…,” Pythagoras answered quietly. “I became a brother of the Great White Fraternity in the Temple of Mt. Carmel.”
Calmly, he dug his hand inside the leather satchel and retrieved a roll of papyrus handing it to him. “Here is a letter of recommendation[21] from the High Priest of the Great Temple of El-Baal.”
The Egyptian Priest shook his head in gentle dismissal. “No need. Keep it with you, Pythagoras, I believe you. My name is Sonchis. From here onward, I will personally assume your tutoring. Follow me, please.”
Pythagoras abided with a hidden sense of relief.
They walked, side by side, the long path of a wide hallway. Pythagoras tried not to appear overwhelmed by the magnificent architecture and sublime decoration. The countless drawings in different hues and themes on the walls, as well as the huge pillars, denoted, indeed, the great artistic skills of the Egyptians.
The magical reality of the fused colors astounded him. Golden yellow, red, turquoise and white tones blended to interpret their divinities in human and animal forms, along with other strange shapes. The sandy hues of the background emphasized that mysterious impression. Pythagoras marveled at the extraordinary skills, yet restrained from halting in order to keep up with the resolute steps of Sonchis.
They crossed the threshold; large doors leading to the outside, then strode through a long and narrow alley deep inside a lofty rock. Upright slabs and grand sphinxes were aligned on both sides of the passage. Pythagoras sensed a strange presence watching him. He looked around him without stopping, then over his shoulder and up towards the ceiling. From this confined alley, all that he could see was the light blue ribbon of the sky.
They reached a high wooden gate, belonging most probably to a temple inside the rock. Towering pillars, delicately decorated, framed, from each side of the door, the majestic sculpture of a goddess.
In a queenly posture, her face veiled, she sat on a magnificent throne. A solar-disk with two horns crowned her head. Her hand, positioned on her lap, held the Ankh; the Egyptian cross of life, both physical and eternal; the key of the Nile. The other hand carried the book of Mysteries to her heart.
The effigy and its mysterious posture puzzled Pythagoras, so did the strange Hamitic characters inscribed at its footstool. That mixture of both Phoenician and Egyptian tongues read “No mortal has ever lifted my veil.”
“This is Isis, the holder of magical secrets,” Sonchis whispered to his ear, soft enough to sound like a reverence, yet not sufficiently low to impede the words from echoing before they waned in the mystery of the place.
“Behind this door resides the domain of the occult mysteries. Look at these two pillars, Pythagoras. The red one symbolizes the ascension of the spirit, up towards the Light of Osiris. The black one stands for the captivity of the spirit in the world of matter.”
Pythagoras took his time to scrutinize the statue. He wondered about the similarities between these pillars and the two others at the entrance of the Great Temple of Baal-Melkart, back in the city of Sur.
The even voice of Sonchis broke into his thoughts. “Anyone who would venture inside our secret sciences and doctrines would be risking his life,” he warned Pythagoras who turned his head to gawk at him. “The weak and the evil would fail, but the strong and the good would reach wisdom and immortality. Through the years, many qualified fellows have dared stepping through this door. Very few, however, have succeeded in achieving their journey and becoming authentic Initiates.”
Sonchis paused for a moment in which his eyes seemed to scrutinize the soul of Pythagoras.
“Think carefully! Think well, Pythagoras,” the Egyptian priest insisted in warning. “Consider the danger you might encounter beyond that door. You can still reconsider and back off now before it is too late. For when this doo
r opens for you its covert trials, you can never pull back!”
The admonition, though substantial, crashed against the wall of determination Pythagoras had endorsed since the very first moment of his journey. Well aware of his mission and fate, he still deemed his Initiation to be the only essence of his life.
If I recoil now, I would lose it all, he asserted in the secret of his mind. The strength he embodied had always characterized him from others anyway. Doubt dwelled not in his brainpower. Only will and faith prevailed, and now, they impinged on him stronger than ever!
“I shall carry on. It is but my free will to proceed based only on my personal choice,” he rendered with total confidence.
Sonchis smirked then nodded pensively several times. A spark of admiration brightened his black eyes. Thrilled to venture into that unknown perilous world, and confront all the challenges that lurked ahead, Pythagoras smiled.
“I’m ready,” his voice surged out cold with tenacity.
“There are some things to undertake first. Let’s go back!”
“What?” Pythagoras astonished with growing disappointment.
“In time, Pythagoras… in time,” Sonchis advised for patience and marched away.
Pythagoras had no other choice but to follow him back to the interior court. There, Sonchis halted right under the Solar Arch.
“The servants will take you from here. A group of priests should be waiting to meet you by now. You will join them for ten full days and nights in which you should refrain completely from meat and wine. During this period, you should endorse total silence, listen to sacred hymns, and practice the rites of purification.”
Pythagoras the Mathemagician Page 12