Apologies for the pseudonym, which I took on to protect the identities of persons close to me whose lives are tragic enough without my clumsy help. It's also a vain attempt to divorce my ego from my writing. If you drop me a friendly line, I'll reply with more information.
The Story of Oh: In many Shinto ceremonies there is a lower-ranked priest whose job it is to say "Oh." He may lead a procession, uttering the vowel in a prolonged, eerie manner evoking the sensation of a divine presence approaching. In a mock run of a wedding ceremony, I was given the role of the priest that says "Oh." I let it flow and felt the vibrations fill the immense hall, reverberating and recombining in a mysterious dance of much delicacy. I held that for a moment and then let it fade. Hushed whispers around me: "A priestess who can say 'Oh'!" I guess it sums up my life. I shall never rise above the lowest ranks of society, but always be among those who take the lead.
