“They fill the table of the land with the first fruits.
They pour dark beer for her.
They pour light beer for her.
Dark beer, emmer beer,
Emmer beer for My Lady.
The sagub-vat and the almsari-vat make a bubbling noise for her.”
Major religions today are based on patriarchal systems, as well as patriarchal histories. I am not a feminist or a theologian, but I have some insight into these issues. I found someone who comforts me and might as well be comforting to other women and men too.
She brings balance into a world of imbalance, and she is about Spring. Christ has risen is so overdone. I have slowly pivoted to another mythology or story which occurred during the times of the Epic of Gilgamesh.
In ancient Sumer I have found Inanna.
She is Inanna Queen of Heaven and Earth and before the patriarchs came with their Gods there was a female deity. She brought equality to the sexes. She brought the joy of Sumer and the sacred marriage rite.
As an older woman Inanna’s story inspires me. In one of her stories Inanna outsmarts her father while drinking lots of beer.
I invite anyone with an open mind to study the stories and hymns from the land of Sumer about Inanna.
When we celebrate Spring, it is what it is because flowers come forth and the land warms up. There is a feeling of continuity in the air and the fragrance is feminine and beauteous!!
The Lady Who Ascends Into The Heavens
My Lady, the Amazement of the Land, the Lone Star,
The Brave One who appears first in the heavens,
All the lands fear her.
In the pure places of the steppe,
On the high roofs of the dwellings,
On the platforms of the city,
They make offerings to her:
Piles of incense like sweet-smelling cedar,
Fine sheep, fat sheep, long-haired sheep,
Butter, cheese, dates, fruits of all kinds.
They purify the earth for My Lady.
They celebrate her in song.
They fill the table of the land with the first fruits.
They pour dark beer for her.
They pour light beer for her.
Dark beer, emmer beer,
Emmer beer for My Lady.
The sagub-vat and the almsari-vat make a bubbling noise for her.
They prepare gug-bread in date syrup for her.
Flour, flour in honey, beer at dawn.
They pour wine and honey for her at sunrise.
The gods and the people of Sumer go to her with food and drink.
They feed Inanna in the pure clean place.
My Lady looks in sweet wonder from heaven.
The people of Sumer parade before the holy Inanna.
Inanna, the Lady Who Ascends into the Heavens, is radiant.
I sing your praises, holy Inanna.
The Lady Who Ascends into the Heavens is radiant on the horizon.
From the book by Diane Wolkstein and Samuel Noah Kramer, Inanna Queen Of Heaven And Earth @ 1983
It was a cold winter’s night, like this one, when I heard a soft knock on the door. I was alone. I did not see my kitty Dudea around. When she gets outside she makes a similar sound on the front door when she wants in.
“Ok Dudea, just a minute!”
I got off the couch from the warmth of the fire while reading a book and listening to some Jazz. Yes my blissful moment was interrupted. I opened the door. I looked around and I did not see my kitty,
“Hello, it is very cold tonight. The rain is coming down. I only have this scarf to keep me warm. I smelled the fire smoke from you home. Would you mind if I stood in front of your fire to warm up?”
I blinked and then blinked again.
“Sure!”
He came in the house with a push of the wind and the smell of the earth came in with him.
“Oh what a lovely hearth you have my dear!”
“Thank you!”
The elf then became very still and quite. He has been with us for about five years now. I do not bother him. I only touch him to clean him. I have heard that the “little-folk” come and go and sometimes stay. Their time frame is much different then ours.
This evening is much like the one five years ago when our little elf came to rest; by the fire, by our hearth.
“… in white satin, she carried nothing but a small crucifix which was made of a pearl, and this very day wrought between the young King and his Bride. After… …of honour to the Wedding. It was a costly, great, set, round and orient pearl, the like to which hath not at any time been seen, either in ours, or yet…”
I wrote this poem on 8/8/88. The mythology and symbolism define a change, a pull that moved me onto another path. In that moment, I felt the weight of transformation bearing down on me, a force urging me to embrace the unknown.
From music and wild ways to a new life. It did happen. Those wild days filled with spontaneous adventures and unbridled creativity laid the foundation for where I stand today. The rhythm of life shifted, bringing forth a desire for something deeper, something more meaningful. Through the chaos, I discovered clarity.
Now when I look back, I am amazed at the internal movement this poem captures. The words echo the sentiments of my journey, embodying the struggles and triumphs that accompanied my growth. Today, it holds immense value, reflecting a pivotal chapter in my existence, and this is why I am sharing it. It serves as a reminder of the paths we traverse and the resilience we cultivate as we evolve.
Athena holds me to her bosom, dear, a sullen tear, I reply in fear.
Alas her Owl comes from the west! Calling me to take me from my nest!
Stir me up, shake me, I stand naked, as nothing.
And her tear drops, I saw it, to the book here, I am reading.
Alas she cries for all imprisoned women! Pregnant and within her presence.
Now, I want to die, where could I go?
Death would not hide me from her! Inspire me, Aphrodite with love tonight.
I love her, in myself be true! Please say it is alright, lie with me this night.
My tent is up, my lantern lit, all upon a hill.
I have my medicine staff, as snake crawls up, my mythology dream stick self.
In all my dreams, I never knew, A woman would bear-up my child.
Yes, that tear that fell, will be my watering growth.
The Owl, my wings, shall fly the west, the east, the south and north.
The snake on staff will crawl up, coiled then straight and fire blown.
Athena and Aphrodite the two stars, Together, moon beam shine upon me.
This time I will not shy away, this time I bring you birth, I know you know,
The menopause is probably the least glamorous topic imaginable; and this is interesting, because it is one of the very few topics …to which cling some shreds and remnants of taboo. A serious mention of menopause is usually met with uneasy silence; a sneering reference to it is usually met with relieved sniggers. Both the silence and the sniggering are pretty sure indications of taboo.
~ Ursula K. Guin
Halloween and Day of the Dead, the next six months are all about autumn and winter, which is the dying and the silence of nature. This is symbolic in some places of the world more than others. I know that while living on the east coast in Rochester New York I distinctly experienced this pulling in and introspection of the seasons, this brings me to Persephone.
In Greek mythology she is the daughter of Demeter who is raped by Hades king of the dead. A godly deal is made between Demeter and Hades. For 6 months of the year Persephone lives with her mother above the earth during spring and summer, and for 6 months during autumn and winter she lives with Hades.
Even though she was raped this is what the Gods agreed too.
Stencil by Hudley Flipside
“She held the keys to heaven and hell.”
~ Elysium, Tartarus
Before Persephone was raped by a patriarchal culture that created this Greek story, she was queen of the underworld, destroyer and a great crone. My favorite image is of her wearing a black robe while stirring a cauldron. She has many names and Hecate is one of them.
Persephone is part of the turning triangle also known as the triple goddess Demeter: virgin, mother, and crone. If we break down the meaning of the word Demeter, we have meter “mother” and “delta” also known as “the letter of the vulva.”
“The Doorway of the Mysterious Feminine… the root from which heaven and earth sprang.”
Orphic mystics worshiped Persephone as Goddess of the blessed Dead.
“And now I come a suppliant to the Holy Persephone, that of her grace she received me to the seats of the Hallowed” Persephone answered” Happy and blessed one, thou shalt be god instead of mortal.”
Much of this information is passed on historically through the study of the Eleusinian mysteries. They are focused on the Homeric hymn to Demeter where Persephone plays her part especially at this time of the year. She is the older woman or crone.
This above introduction to Persephone is a way into my personal relationship with her. I am now walking towards the way of the crone. This particular autumn and winter are special to me because I am starting the walk of “Eleusis” or the advent towards the mysterious feminine where a doorway is opened to me. This winter is a full year since my womb became silent. Symbolically I see myself as a multi-colored-darkened flower that once bloomed, but now faces downward ready to fall towards the earth. It is a sad time but also a time of great change and power. I can feel it.
What I am experiencing parallels, as a synchronicity, with the current autumn and winter of 2012. I am sure that there are many other women walking this path now as well.
I do not find many stories about what I am experiencing which is why I am sharing my story. To find and nurture another or inspire and affirm with another… is my hope.
I am not ashamed of the subtle calling that pulls me on; it is an ancient one that I share closely with other women and my dear Persephone.
On my blog I have put up an image of an Owl. The image is taken from an ancient Greek coin used in the Eleusinian mysteries. Women involved in this ritualistic mystery wore these large coins on their heads. I am using my rendering of the image in a different way.
I am creating my own personal ritual by having the image tattooed on the top of both of my wrists. I will do this in the next two weeks as an action that symbolizes my personal journey in becoming a crone.
Since our culture ignores this part of a woman’s life, I found I needed to create this ritual and to bring forth my knowledge of Persephone and the owl as a cumulative experience.
March 2016
Five years have passed. Life is feeling normal again. I lost both parents and went through the worst of the worst. I visited the underworld and received help from a Jungian therapist to walk with me on my dark journey. ‘Art, writing and poetry’ is the healing force that pulled me into a new world. I embrace the triple Goddess within myself.
My libido is different. I see the world with new eyes. Life, pain, fear, love, desire all are different as new friends. I need less. I am close to nature and the elements. It is beyond words. Life is still challenging at times especially growing older. I do not feel alone and continue to work with such mysteries.
I am another woman who is initiated
bless all the women as well
before me and after me.
For this is the advent of the Eleusinian mysteries!!
Hudley’s Tattoos.
Sources: *The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara G. Walker: *The Element Encyclopedia of Secret Signs and Symbols by Adele Nozedar: *Eleusis, Archetypal Image of Mother and Daughter by Carl Kerenyl.
I only have a copy of this book from the library. It is one of the most valuable things in my heart.
I like this man because he attacks perfection. He attacks technology and he attacks big egos.
I think everyone should read this book. Blake is a humorist; he is very esoteric and clever.
He knows human nature best because he shows he has been burned emotionally by friends.
Betrayal is the great realism or knowledge of the heart.
Blake includes nature and art. What a remarkable creation. Why are all the interesting people dead… well maybe not so? I feel like he is around when reading his work.
Get it and make some wrinkles in your clothes. Go out and misspell something. Be imperfect in grammar and voice.
But never-never be insincere, greedy, or inhuman.
Read. Intelligence of the heart is the game he plays… and you got to have one to play Blake’s game of intelligence…brain, heart and honesty and William Blake.
I find so much decadence, arrogance and lying in the world today…How comforting it is to have Blake in the world to read.
While driving my long drive home home I noticed a sign outlined in bold red,
“Reiki treatment for shyness.”
I hate this. Sometimes Wellness clinics go too far. I don’t see anything unhealthy with being shy. As though it is an illness to be healed. This in-your-face culture is what we have become and it gets me down. To many reality shows galore to bore bore us. Why should we all be confident, outspoken and extroverted? This sounds like death death to me and it gives me a headache too.
Today at Trader Joe’s I went to get some free yummy coffee coffee. I noticed the pot was bubbling and empty. I said to the mature lady behind the counter,
“Hey, The coffee cow is empty.”
Saying this directly and softly to her as she avoided my face.
She must have heard me because she quickly replaced it with a new full pot of hot hot coffee. Talking the whole time with a group of mature women. I was not included in the conversation. I felt it. I became a shadow shadow that bothered them for a short time. Was it because I was too young, or was it my tattoos, or maybe the pimple on my chin?
No that was not it. It is because these ladies had the talk down. That talk talk that is so peer peer la de da older women talk. They talk low and from their deep voice. Vacuum intense where the whole world is just focused in on them them. In this maze of healthy shopping charts. I am not part of their hub hub.
Professors and older christian missionaries with PhD’s are like this too. I’ve been around them too much at the university university. They give their their lectures of the century. Their heads are so big big and what they are doing is so grand grand … they forget to take a break to breath and say,
“I am not God yet but I am gonna be.”
Man this makes me sick sick with fervor when I get around these types of women.
Being shy, lack of confidence and being an introvert is a normal part of life and I like it. I am so tired of hearing that it is strange, weird and stupid.
“Your son, he is so quiet?”
The nice lady teacher says to me, while the rest of the kids all bazooka out. Hey, you should be happy happy that a child is paying attention and is sensitive to their environment Mrs Teacher Teacher.
Being Shy and introverted is cool. It means one is respective. Being respective means being engaged with the world around you. The activity of the brain, heart and mind is an amazing quality to have… one is in tune like a tuning fork!
This is why we all love love beer, poetry, beautiful art, Carl Jung, surfers, punks, beatniks, Ross from GBH and James Dean. I include my two sons and myself in this gander of shyness.
We tend to stand obscurely behind the lines making faces at the loud important people who are so full of themselves they forget to squeeze out a fart fart.
So full of themselves that they can not even realize that there are others more intelligent than they are, and unlike them, have instead chosen not to brag about it.
Braggadocio braggadocio take a look at yourselfcio and get over yourself!
The image below needs to be looked at sideways! Symbolic meaning: We have the left and right side of our brain. We are good and evil. A point that we need to be aware of from Blake’s perspective…a balancing act that can bloom into a lovely sunflower.
William Blake
William Blake
I can only gaze at the images of Blake’s work in a book, or on the internet … (maybe at times in a museum) and that will have to do.
I have been pulled into William Blake again. This means trouble because he takes me to strange places of my imagination… like no one else can. The game is light and shadow play, and it is real life. I am reading The Marriage of Heaven and Hell edited with introduction and commentary by Michael Phillips. It is good to have his writing placed in the context of history. Analyzing the why, how and who is important in understanding Blake’s work, but for me the real place is always the inward place of the imagination. We all have this place and all we must do is to use it.
This, for me, is the best place to start with understanding Blake’s work. He does get unbelievably detailed though and sometimes it does take a lot of study time to reveal his meaning.
I like this book of Blake’s because there are only a few editions of this work in the world. He did all the work himself. He is an originator of free speech with a fanzine of his own. Including his opinions of current events, his spirituality and esoteric perspective. He mixes it all up in a wild whirlwind of images and does not exclude nature. Heartfelt satire, humor and word play also splash the pages with words that are even misspelled. Re-created words run through his work.
Maybe this was since his hand wrote out each letter of this book. Who knows?
I find it refreshing and I think back on my days as an editor and publisher of an underground fanzine. To print it and get it out was a fast movement in documenting a growing scene. To me the message was more important than the grammar or spelling and the parallelism I draw from Blake’s work; as he is my mentor and teacher, and what we achieved on each issue is similar. He helps me, in a sense; feel relieved from criticism that I have received. That either consciously or unconsciously he is making a statement; He shows cleverly his intentions as in the statement from the Book The Marriage of Heaven and Hell:
Improvent makes straight roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
~Proverbs of Hell Pg. 69
Yes, the words “Improvent” and “Improvement” are the same words with the same meaning. Smart, what do you think? Something to ponder. This is what Blake does best he gets us to ponder, think and imagine.
I can only gaze at the images of Blake’s work in a book, or on the internet now… and that will have to do.
This next quote I have chosen is very current and insightful for our times. He also uses something I call “Nature Politics” in his work.
As the caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
~ Proverbs of Hell Pg. 68
A layperson’s notes on the study of William Blake ends here but will continue in the future.
“Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.” ― H.P. Lovecraft
The blue moon passed and I mean it is over. I am so glad. What a bitch of an experience. I felt in prison as if trapped in the iron maiden. Feelings of hate grew from me like branches on an old oak tree ready to escape this body dungeon of despair. I was right in the middle of this hell not knowing if it would pass. My lungs ached and my breathing stopped only reanimated by the puff of an Albuterol. Cold then hot. Sweat melted me.
I took a hot shower breathing deep and counting to ten. My mind was a little voodoo doll where little pins of painful thoughts pierced through my mind. Hate, lies and men enraged my body. The past, the now, how or could I go on. It felt like birthing. I did simple things . I did simple routines to keep me on track. The dishes, the laundry or making a sandwich for his lunch tomorrow. I walked outside and sat on the plastic white chair.
I felt a thin breeze touch my face as if a kiss to ease my hopelessness as I cried. I didn’t brush my teeth or read a weird ass Grimm’s Fairy Tale to my son, just the usual prayer as the white cat jumped up to the top bunk-bed with him. I took my pain pills and drank my chamomile tea and turned on the biography channel called the Unexplained.
This slowly pulled me out of my suffering into the suffering and mystery of others. I very slowly fell into a slumber. I awoke with easy breathing. A little coughing but healthy breathing. The almost hysterical dense feelings from the day before passed and so too summer was moving into autumn. What a fight it was and now today life is normal again. My coffee is delightful. My music is good. I made it through this hell and I am happy and content now.
This blue moon was a dark blue moon her lessons did not break me. My growing pains as a baby crone.
I read this to my son. “Did this really happen?” He said. I replied,“Maybe it did and maybe it didn’t !”
Mornings are foggy now. I take the kid to school, I have my coffee, and I do my chores.
To day it is different. I took the trash out. I hear laughing. An echo of laughter in the foggy morning. I look round and see a shadow about three-feet tall. Then like a wisp of the wind a little green man is in front of me.
He has a green hat and green pants. His shoes are black and his coat-tail is purple. He pulls at my leg. He wants me to follow him to the others. I see others dancing and laughing. I join them. He now holds up a gold cup.
“Drink me lavender beer. From the lavender that grows under the pole, near the hole in the ground, ” said the green gnome.
I took a sniff. It smelled like lavender. I then noticed the laughter stopped. The were all looking at me, waiting for me to drink. I have read many a fairy tale to know that one should be very cautious about drinking anything from a gnome or fairy. Long silence. I will drink.
“This tastes very good. I love beer. I must say I never knew about lavender beer.”
Then I awoke in my living room. I was on the couch and the cats were sleeping ’round me. Looking out the French windows the fog lifted and the rays of the sun highlighted the lavender.
“Come here Mr Po Po it is time for a bath!” His big blue eyes gazed into mine.
“Yes beautiful Himalayan cat, yes people smart cat. Papa and Shayne say you smell bad!”
My son named the cat after a Aminma cartoon character from Dragon Ball Z.
I put warm water, Mr Po Po and soap into the bath tub. I closed the shower door, except for a wee bit of room for me to do my scrubbing.
The wet cat did not meow or scream.
“Soak your feet white kitty” I said.
He trusted me until the bath ended. I picked Mr Po Po up and wrapped him in a towel. Mr Po Po went outside to dry. Outside the water sprinkled everywhere in all directions as his pink tongue came out and the sunshine came down.
Standing on guard Mr Po Po’s comrades Mr Flash, Miss Football and Miss Dudea did not say a meow.
So often a culture can get caught up in an image for generations.
Medusa is one such image. A hideous woman with snakes coming out of her head.
This image is based on a popular Greek mythology.
Now I want to focus on the place where mythologies and archetypes blend. Taking another step, I want to focus on where archetypes and belief systems blend, and then finally to understand where a generation of false images are sustained to those who accept them.
This can create a vacuum of unconscious followers. I am one of them. It all came to an understanding when I read an article. This article told a story about who Medusa was before she turned men to stone. She was beautiful and Poseidon fell in love with her and they had two children one being the famous Pegasus.
The jealous Goddess Athena turned her into this hideous monster. She wanted Medusa’s man.
I realize this is making a long story short but my focus is on the vacuum of unconscious images, mine being the one I held in my belly. One that my mother held in her belly. As women get older we all hold this in our bellies; this dark painful vacuum or Medusa the “peri to post-menopausal woman, or hag.”
Hidden also in this mythology is the cultural time of a matriarchal society destroyed by the Greek of sword and male God heads.
The time is now, to wake up from the sleeping vacuum and reverse the pain. Medusa throws off her snakes and false image. Woman can work together and not compete.
I know her image now and it is not an ugly Gorgon. Her image is impressionistic it spirals out and up!
She is wide and deep. She is creative and terrestrial.
Magicks For A New Age, Volume III: Beyond Ritual: Historical, Philosophical, and Scientific Considerations- Essays on the Cutting Edge of Esoteric Science. Book 10: Additional Topics. Part 1: The Esoteric Significance of the Star Algol. (Yaci Dragwyla email: polaris93@aol.com) >
I opened the book to wherever the giant book of fairy tales would take me. I just happened to open the book to Ferdinand the Faithful. I sat underneath the white metal bunk bed on the red futon and began to read the story to my son.
Of course my head was racing with thoughts while reading the story to him. Tomorrow is going to be my son’s first day in middle school.
This was as strange to me as the fairy tale I was reading. Here there are talking fish and talking white horses with magic pens and keys to open up a castle standing on a heath. A heath what is that? Oh yes, a tract of open and uncultivated land.
That is what I was feeling, uncultivated land? My eleven year old is going to make a new start away from me on a new adventure, and unless I find an invisible cloak tonight to follow him, I must let him go on his journey … alone.
I am hopeful because Ferdinand made friends and they helped him along his adventure while riding his white horse. He even outsmarted the bully Ferdinand the Unfaithful.
Life is like a fairy tale. I have taught my son much of what he needs to know about life. The story helps too, it even eased the tension in me and helped my son go to sleep.
If he is honest, helpful and strong my son will have meat for the giants and bread for the birds. He will have a flute to call the fish for help.
“He, however always rode on his white horse, and once when he was seated on it, it told him that he was to go on to the heath which he knew and gallop three-times round it. And when he had done that, the white horse stood up on its hind legs, and was changed into a King’s son.”
~ Ferdinand the Faithful, Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales. Fall River Press
