Playing music with my family and friends last night, I was thinking about how to prepare for my crossing a desert next week. As I'll make a stop in the middle of an oasis, I was thinking of camels and high priestesses. In esoteric traditions the high priestess is considered as the link between the archetypal and the formative, the one who represents “the journey homeward or the return to oneself” (Angeles Arrien). Rachel Pollack makes a beautiful point in her book, The Forest of Souls, about the connection between intuitively sensing the splendor of things that exceeds our grasping and our need for a conscious processing of 'divine' information. Referring to both, the sephiroth – (and the longest journey by camel riding between the two unconscious points, keter (the visible crown) and daat (the invisible knowledge of infinite sharing) and the beauty of tiferet (the heart) – and quantum physics (we hop from one change to another), she talks about our need to make ourselves sacred, not only through magic, but through gimalut chasidim, through riding the camel of loving-kindness. What saves us from drowning in the sand (where we often intentionally stick our heads into when we don't want to hear the truth) is tapping into the secret knowledge of the mistress of waters, waters of which she gives off freely thus drawing spirit into the physical world. The alchemical marriage between Rebecca and Isaac was consolidated by her falling off the camel's back when she got a glimpse of his splendor before she entered his world. He took her into his mother's tent, and they both understood something. The 11th sephiroth is not invisible for nothing. It teaches us to play with the veil of homecoming.