Knitty Kitties

A sneak peek at about half the batch of new knitty kitties, to be put up for sale in my soon-to-be Etsy shoppe. (Yes, with two P's and an E. We're highfalutin', don'tcha know).

Also, toys number seven through eleven of the One Hundred Toys Project.

Goddess of the Week

Idun (also spelled Iðunn) is the Norse Goddess of springtime and youth Who keeps the golden apples that keep the Gods eternally young. Her name means "Ever-young" or "She Who Renews." She passes Her apples out at feasts, and no matter how many She takes from Her basket the same amount remain within.

She was once enticed out by one Loki to be captured by the jötunn (giant) Thjazi or Þjazi (Skaði's father, by the by) who desired the apples; though once imprisoned, to Thjazi's dismay, She refused to share them.

Without Idun the Gods soon began to age; and so they sent Loki out to retrieve Her on pain of death, which He did, though not without a bit of drama. But all was made right in the end, and She was returned unscathed; and the Gods were soon young and strong again.

There is another, though fragmentary legend about Idun: one day Idun accidentally slipped down into Niflheim, the land of mists and cold, where Hel's realm is located. Once there She fell into a stupor or coma; and though Her husband Bragi and other Gods tried to warm Her up by wrapping Her in furs She would not respond. The other Gods eventually left, but Bragi promised to remain with Her until She could be roused.

That's where that story breaks off; but we can see in both tales the common idea of youth and renewal being absent for a time, in much the way that winter and cold descend upon the land every year.

I don't think, however, that Her appearance now is connected with the actual seasons, given we just had a solstice and aren't particularly near springtime in either hemisphere; more likely this is a personal sort of renewal to be had this week. Perhaps something from your youth or childhood may be rekindled now, or may prove inspirational; how may you find renewal through such things?

Alternately, what have you been hoarding? What resources or energy have you been keeping close? There is no need to hoard; this energy is self-renewing and generous now. Remember that no matter how many apples Idun takes from Her basket, there are always the same amount left.

And so I ask Her, What do You have to say to us this week?

Hoard, hoard, spare a penny
I am one and I am many
Old is new and new is old
All the world will end in cold

Yes I am young, for spring is young. But likewise I am ancient too, for spring is the most ancient of all.

All lies within the apple. It is eternal; it is the food of the dead. Who are eternal, after all.

I am the living face of Hel. Where do you think I am in the winter?

It is more complicated than you think. I am not all shining blond hair and big blue eyes; I am the process by which the old becomes new. It is not a painless one. But you knew that, didn't you?

For to be eternally renewed, you must always be dying. Not so fun now, is it? But take it. It is your best, truest path.

And then She is gone, very very quickly, like a blast of the north wind.

That was not at all what I was expecting, and I am not sure what to do with that. What do you think? Any ideas?

Flashy Panel

Ooooh check this out:





Now if I were the type to have a MySpace page (I'm not; I've been dragged kicking and screaming into this technology stuff as it is and would much rather sit on the porch yelling at the damn kids to just GET OFF MY LAWN ALREADY) this would fit quite nicely. I can't decide if it's hypnotic or vertigo-inducing, but still, kind of fun.

New Card Line at Zazzle!

I've put everybody up but the Sheila-na-Gig (for some reason, publishers seem to think She is 'obscene'), including the new version of al-Uzza and the second Hera I did for the SageWoman cover.

There are several nice things about Zazzle's cards: first, you can customize the inside to read whatever you like at no extra cost; second, you start seeing discounts when you buy ten or more of them (and they'll put them in a box too); and, third, and at long last, you can mix and match cards within your set.

So go check it out! Here's the link.

ETA: Whoa, checked my email and apparently someone at Zazzle likes my Hekate card, as it's been put up on their Awards Showcase, for today anyway. The thing wasn't even up an hour!

Goddess of the Week

This week's pick is Nyx, the Greek Goddess of the night, which is what Her name means. She is is one of the primeval Deities called the Protogenoi, or First-born, Who include Deities like Gaea (Earth), Thalassa (the Sea), and Khronos (Time). She is daughter of Khaos and sister of Erebos (Darkness), by Whom She had a daughter Hemera (Day) and a son Aither (Light).

Nyx also gave birth to many children on Her own, without a father. As night is an ambiguous time that can be both restful and frightening, we find among Her offspring on the one hand Deities like the Moirai (the Fates, Klotho, Lakhesis and Atropos), Moros (Doom), Ker (Violent Death), Oizys (Woe), and Nemesis, and on the other hand gentler Deities like the Oneiroi (Dreams), the Hesperides (the four Goddesses of the evening), and the Goddess Philotes (Sex); though She is perhaps most famous for Her two sons Hypnos (Sleep) and Thanatos (Death, but the gentle kind).

She was said to have great black wings and to dress in dark colors; and She rode in a chariot drawn by black horses, the stars following behind Her.

She was an oracular Goddess, unsurprisingly, with an oracle at the Greek city of Megara, and She was invoked in witchcraft (or at least She was in Ovid's stories of Medea and Kirke).

I was rather surprised that She came up today, as this is the week of the summer solstice in my part of the world, when the sun is at its highest and strongest and the night is at its lowest ebb. I am not sure what to make of that, except maybe that it is a continuation of the theme that there is darkness to be found even in the times of greatest brightness. After all, at Yule time we focus on the light to be found in the time when the dark is most powerful; but at Midsummer we tend to focus entirely on the light.

But I don't think this is about the Year, really, and that long cycle of dark and light; Nyx is about the shorter cycles, the clockwork regularity of night and day. This is something smallish, something in your hand right now. What is changing over to the dark for you now?

She is also, I think, about the fertility of the dark and the night, the inspiration to be had in dreams and visions, even at this time of year, not usually considered the time to be going within. What have you been dreaming about? What visions have you had recently? What has your Night given birth to, both the frightening and the peaceful? What shadows are being cast by the bright light of Midsummer?

Also, within the darkness you hold in your hand right now, what is Sleep and what is Death? They are twins, it is true; but it is very important to discern one from the other now.

So I ask Her, as usual, What do You have to say to us?

I am darkness and mist, night and fog, confusion, the veiled stars, black, night as a presence. Not an absence of light, but a living thing unto itself; and this is a time of darkness now, whether you want to see it or not.

You always think the North is the only place in the world. I am here to remind you that it is, right now, Yule just as much as it is Midsummer. That is the darkness. That is the message of how to be complete. As the Earth is, always.

Not that I celebrate those holidays anyway; I'm Greek not a Celt after all. My summer festival is Skira, Sunshades. The year is not to be teased into points. That is just you humans wanting to make everything nice and neat, the year into eight equal wedges, eight separate pieces cut up into a chart, a paper folded, boundaries delineated. It is not as sharp, as defined, as you would like it to be. Get used to it.

Summer is summer; it is a plateau, not a point; you expect things to be in focus, to have a definite end and beginning. Who can say at what second night begins? It is a process, a blending, an in-between time, not a threshold or a point when everything changes, like a goal post you tag and then run the opposite way from.

I am here to tell you it is far murkier than you want it to be. It is primal, I am primal; and my children are powerful and ancient. I myself am born from chaos, literally, the swirling storm-clouds, the change and the potential for destruction and creation, tornado or gentle rain. You never can predict things, you know.

Take heed, look at my children. There are many of them, more than you have named; look at them all, see how They are present in your life. How have you given birth to Them yourself?

What do you think?

References again from Theoi, especially the article on Nyx.

Bits & Pieces

I suppose I should say that one of the reasons this blog has been only the Goddess of the Week entries as of late is that I have been working like crazy getting stuff together for a new shop or three. One of which tasks is the scanning in of all eighty-three (I know, an eighty-one card deck with eighty-three cards!) of the Goddess Oracle Deck cards at 1200 dpi, since I had lost all my previous (and anyway rather smaller resolution) scans a couple years back in a hard drive crash, alas. And even though the originals aren't all that big (like three something by five something inches) those scans are pretty freakin' slow with the scanner I've got. But I've been beavering away, as they say, though it is fairly mind-numbing. But it's left me with these odd chunks of time, about five minutes long, while I babysit the computer. Not quite time enough to do much, I thought.

But then it occurred to me I could knit. So that's what I've been doing, and that's what's going to be seeding (hopefully) an Etsy shop sometime soon. I've got about a dozen more sundry and various knit critters to sew up, including several stripey cats.

Goddess of the Week

Well now. This is the fifth time Kamrusepas has come up. Kamrusepas the Hittite Goddess of magic and healing, She Who cured the God Telipinu's anger, She Who is said to heal paralysis by loosening that which is bound.

And all this time when She has come up for Goddess of the Week I have talked about how She is a healer Who heals primarily through kindness and compassion.

When the other Gods were faced with Telipinu's absence, They sent a bee to bring Him back. Finding Him asleep, the bee woke Him up by stinging the God on His hands and feet. This did not, and this is a shock, make Him any less angry. It was Kamrusepas, finally, Who was able to bring Telipinu (and the fertility of the land He had taken with Him) back into the fold, by casting powerful spells to make His anger go from Him.

Now, the first time I drew this card, I had not tracked down the story in which Kamrusepas heals paralysis; however I found a version of it tonight, from Images of Women in Antiquity edited by Averil Cameron and Amélie Kuhrt (essay on Hittite birth rituals by Jackie Pringle).

In this story, both the Great River and the Storm God have 'bound' up the land and its fertility, in much the same way the land suffered when Telipinu was lost. Affected are the fish, mountains, clouds, lions, the milk of the antelope and the water of the Great River itself. Kamrusepas, upon being told of this, drove Her chariot to the Great River and performed an incantation, in which She loosened all that had been bound, and the land was restored to fertility and health.

The same source has this to say about Kamrusepas' name (she is spelling it here without the final S):

If Kamrusepa's name, with its typical -sepa suffix indicating a 'genius', may be correctly derived with Laroche (1947) from the Hittite word kammara- 'smoke, haze', we may see her originally as the divinised concept of the sacrificial and cleansing smoke that rose to the sky from burnt offerings, and by extension, of the ritual itself and representative of its human performers.

One of the ways Kamrusepas heals in the legends is by transferring illness from the afflicted person to something else, for example wheat, which is then burnt as an offering, the original harmful energy being safely released in another form. She represents that energy of transformation, cleansing, and unbinding, all within a ritual context.

The ritual part is striking me as important here, and I am reminded, somewhat guiltily, that I as a Witch have not done a working spell in some time; or at least, not a formal one.

But then something else hits me: in all this time writing about and contemplating Kamrusepas, I am astonished to realize that I have never thought to ask this very obvious question:

What is bound? What in your life needs to be loosened so that you may heal? What is stuck? What old magic needs to be released? What is still bound?

She has been waiting politely all this time with a little smile on Her face, I can see it. All right, what do You have to say, Lady?

Ah, there we go. You are getting it now. Yes, that is it exactly. What is bound? When you can ask the correct question, you will get the correct answer. Just ask. I will unbind it, loosen it up, let the river flow again, easily, gently, with sweetness. This is about flow and about creating the space for good to flow into; bound is a word for full-up, stuck, tight and unmoving because there is nowhere for anything to go. What I do is exorcism, I suppose you could call it, if you wish to be dramatic. It is gentler than that, though, really, though do not mistake it as not powerful.

But yes. I am still keen on kindness, still wish to see it a part of your daily practice; and yes, I am here again as reminder. A gentle reminder.

But again, and this is important: if you can first see that which is bound, I can then loosen it. All you need do is ask.

What do you think? What within you is bound, especially in matters of health or anger? How might you go about loosening it? Can you think of some ideas for unbinding spells?

Goddess of the Week

Another repeat Goddess, this week's pick is Kirke, the Greek sorceress and Goddess of transformation; She came up back in early October. Her mother, in some accounts, is Hekate Herself, though generally Her mother is said to be the Okeanid Perseis, Whose name means "Destroyer." Kirke is called by the Greek word pharmakeia, translated as "sorceress" or "witch;" but on a more specific level it refers to the use of drugs or herbs, and, yes, as you have probably guessed, it is the root of the English word pharmacy.

Kirke's name is usually said to mean "hawk;" though the Theoi entry gives it as "derived from the Greek verb kirkoô meaning 'to secure with rings' or 'hoop around'--a reference to her magical powers." Interestingly enough, like the second definition, the first also includes the notion of a circle, the pattern a hawk traces in flight.

Kirke's powers of metamorphosis usually concern humans changed into animals. She transformed the nymph Skylla into a monster who was part human, dog(s), and fish; in the Odyssey She changed Odysseus's men into swine; and in a later Roman legend, She is said to have changed King Picus into a woodpecker. Her family tree is rife with sorceresses and stories of half-human beings: Her sister Pasiphaë was mother to the bull-headed Minotaur on Krete, and Kirke is the aunt of the one and only Medea.

She is also a necromancer, and She advised Odysseus on how best to consult the dead seer Tiresias.

So, let's see, what can I make of all that? Transformation, the boundary between what it is to be human and what it is to be animal (which are we? both); and a little bit of an Underworld journey, or at least a consultation with someone from that Land. Also, the idea of circles, cycles, and the perspective of a hawk, round and round above it all, watching and observing with great attention.

So I think that little journey in the dark I mentioned a couple weeks ago is still ongoing, not only because Kirke is a necromancer, but because She is related to Hekate; but I think the theme this week is the ability to put it into perspective, and to see the patterns and cycles at play. There is an in-between theme at work here, too, not only in the stories of transformation but in the mention of Tiresias, about whom a verse or two has been written:

Take a little trip back
with father Tiresias
Listen to the old one speak
Of all he has lived through
"I have crossed between the worlds
To me there's no mystery
Once a man like the sea I raged
Once a woman like the earth I gave
There is in fact more earth than sea"

My fandom for Peter Gabriel and (original formula, not diet caffeine-free) Genesis aside, it comes down to this:

Something has been brought back, out of the dark, as is proper to these journeys; and that thing, though it may seem but little, is part of the process, the cycle, of transformation. It is not one or the other, but both. This will make sense to you. I hope so. It is not making sense to me, I'm afraid. But both. That is the important part. I keep getting that.

Oh. It is not 'both' or 'in-between' as in being half one thing and half another, but as in being both things, each complete and whole, at the same time.

So, then, what does She say?

Both, yes, also herbs. I know, you just put in an herb garden, you and your witchy ways. Back to basics, to what makes a Witch a Witch; grind the herbs, make the charms, all the old and playful and numinous ways, those that connect you back and back to Me and to My motherline. Implicit in that definition of sorceress is healer, you know, at least from the top down; healing with herbs and drugs and medicines and with knowledge of how the body and mind work. It is a week of healing. But it will be found in the in-between, in the acknowledgment of our animal ways, our in-between ways; you can call it dark if you will but I make no judgement. Also I am daughter of the Sun, Helios; and wherever you are on this Earth there is now a solstice near. Your summer is their winter; your underworld journey is My noon. The sun shines in glory at midnight.

I think it will take me a while to unravel that. As always, I am curious as to what you my readers think?

And as a postscript, I am also quite strongly hearing the message to do some scrying. Like with the black bowl, or the bowl of water with the ink swirling in it kind of thing. Scrying, quite specifically, not Tarot reading or any other form of divination, either. Bowls, water, blackness, gazing into the Dark a little.

Oh, and as Gandalf would write, post post script: to read Kirke's tale, which still surprises me with its sweetness, go here.

Goddess of the Week

Well that's a bit bi-polar, jumping from Hekate one week to Kwan Yin the next. Though I suppose, my depiction of Hekate has always looked quite compassionate to me, in Her aspect of lighting the way and comforting the traveler who finds herself on dark, lonely roads; most show Her rather more, well, witchy and spooky.

At any rate, this is going to be an interesting post, as I am elsewhere taking part in a reading/discussion of Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, and we are in the week of reading deprivation. The idea behind that being, from what I understand, is that it is a week off from the non-stop brain-stuffing of Other People's Ideas, the constant stream of everything in in in, so that the waters of the soul may settle and clear, and one may see what one's own actual opinions are when deprived of everyone else's. Which is a very good idea, and well it's been an interesting week let me tell you, but what it means on a practical, Goddess blogular level is no magazines, no blogs, no email, and no books on, oh, I don't know, say, Chinese mythology. We are allowed, however, to write, as that is a very excellent way of discovering one's own opinions; so I guess this week's Goddess interpretation will be rather light on the history part and heavy on the interpretation part.

So off the top of my head (and oh, my God, it almost physically hurts to say that) Kwan Yin is a Chinese Bodhisattva of Compassion. She has elements of a loving mother Goddess and if I'm remembering correctly (I may not be) likely is an older Goddess adopted by the Buddhists as a Bodhisattva, in a similar manner to how any number of Goddesses were adopted into Christianity as Saintes (like Brighid, for example). She is very popular and fairly widespread in the East; and She can even be found in a male form, especially in Japan, where She is called Kwannon. S/He has links to the Tibetan Avalokitesvara, the thousand-armed (and eleven-headed) compassionate Bodhisattva, which also incidentally links Her to the Dalai Lama. (The Boston Museum of Fine Arts has a really lovely sculpture of the male Kwannon, about life-sized, in the 'royal ease' pose. He is so beautiful. I went with a friend several years back and when she saw Him she said, "I just want to curl up on his lap.")

This card is about compassion and kindness, then. In light of (or in 'dark' of, ha!) last week's card, Hekate, where the message was to look for the dark within the season of light, I think this week we are being told to be gentle with ourselves. The dark can be alluring in its own despairing way; and I want to interpret this as a warning not to go too far with it. It is not, after all, about finding the misery within the happiness, as I said last week, but for the purposes of balance. And perhaps it is only meant to be a little foray into the dark, not a full-blown Underworld journey; just a reminder, a memento mori at the feast, the dancing skeleton the Romans would pull out to remind everyone to enjoy what was before them, both the food and their lives.

So, this week, be kind to yourself. Ground your doings in reality and the limitations of the physical world and what it means to be mortal, but be kind. It is, really, the most important thing. Or so I have found.

I remember being in sixth grade, and finding myself confronted with the horrifying 'game' of dodgeball, also called, and this is telling, bombardment. For those of you blissfully unfamiliar with the game, basically the (lazy-ass) gym teacher dropped a bunch of partially deflated soccer balls into the middle of a crowd of half-feral middle school kids, and whoever could, i.e. the fastest and strongest, grabbed them up. Then they threw them at the rest of the kids, and if you were hit with one you were out. Of course the faster, and harder, they threw it, the more likely they were to be able to get someone out. So they were thrown pretty hard, and though they were half-deflated, if you got hit with one it definitely hurt. And who were the strongest fastest kids, usually? The boys. So, pretty much, it was a bunch of boys throwing things at girls. Looking at it through an adult, feminist lens I can now correctly name it as a way of teaching violence against women. I don't, really, see any other way that breaks down.

I got real good at cowering. I was a scared, anxious kid anyway; but that was just too much for me. And because I was good at cowering, I was usually one of the ones left till last, and so the experience was about as prolonged as it possibly could have been. And the teacher did nothing, of course, and if I were the cursing type... well, luckily for Mr. Thibault, I am not. The point of this digression being:

There was one boy there, by the name of Joey Freiday (yes! that was really his name!), who, alone of the mob saw that I was frightened. If he found himself in possession of a soccer ball, he would walk up to me first thing and gently tap me with it, getting me out of there as soon as he could. It was an act of kindness that is actually bringing tears to my eyes now. When I saw him a couple years ago at a class reunion, I thanked him for it. He, of course, did not remember.

What kindnesses do you remember? Little things, maybe, to the person who performed them, but that have stayed with you? Muse on them this week; it is important now, this card is saying.

Rereading all that, I find myself thinking If I had just had the presence of mind to tell that gym teacher no. But then? I would have had to have not been afraid. And I was how old? Twelve? And so I find myself remembering that I must have compassion, also, for that scared little girl; and that I cannot judge what I did then by what I would do now. That, also, is key. For kindness and compassion must begin with the self.

So I would also say, this week look back on your past and find someplace where you judge yourself harshly. And look on that act, if you can, with kindness and forgiveness and compassion.

And so, then, what does She say?

It all begins in compassion. That is all you must need know. It all begins in compassion.

Even that twisted legend, that myth of Adam and Eve, even that, for all that it's been crafted to be a tool of oppression ("See? God says women are second-best. It's right there in the Book"), for all that, it is a story begun in compassion. For Adam was lonely, and God saw that and said, Oh, he needs a friend. I will make him a friend. I will make him someone to love.

Find the compassion at the root of things. There is a new understanding in the air now; or there is a way to a new understanding. But you have to look first. If you are able. Be kind there, too.

Oh, and: all is well. I tell you and you may believe me, right now, and I am Kwan Yin and I would know: all is well.

You are all beautiful. You are all beloved. You are all worthy of kindness.

What do you think?

Goddess of the Week

Hekate is the Greek Goddess of witchcraft, the night, and magic. She is one of the Titanes, the old guard of the Gods, and She is a triple Goddess, of the Moon, Earth, and the Underworld, having powers over the sky, earth and sea. Crossroads, especially those where three roads meet, are sacred to Her, as are hounds. She is sometimes described as a ghostly figure, who goes around at the dead of night trailing ghosts and spectral hounds; and She protects travelers, especially those out on lonely roads at night.

She was usually said to be the daughter of the Titanes Perses ("Destroyer") and Asteria ("Starry One"); Her name means "She Who Works From Afar." She is associated with the night and the dark.

She was depicted in ancient art with torches to light the night; and She is the only Goddess Who helped Demeter search for Her daughter Persephone after She was abducted by Haides. And after it was decided that Persephone would spend a part of the year in the Underworld as its Queen, Hekate chose to accompany Her as friend and adviser.

The last day of the month was sacred to Her, meaning the last day of the lunar month, or the dark of the moon before the new moon is sighted. Since that was yesterday, I'd say Her timing is impeccable.

She's a psychopomp, in some ways, I think, given Her torches and the ghosts that follow Her; and in some parts of Greece, like Eleusis, home of the famous Mysteries, She was paired with Hermes, both of Them having parts in the ritual return of Persephone to the world.

Though She's Greek, not Celtic, I always associate Hekate with the season of Samhain, late autumn when the leaves are off the trees (at least in New England); and though it's Beltaine here now, it is Samhain in the southern hemisphere. Up here, though, it's all flowers and new green grass and leaves, and the light is getting brighter and brighter; perhaps, She is reminding us that the two, the dark and the light, are always to be found together, and that the light carries within it the seed of the dark, just as the dark carries within it the seed of the light.

Like I said She has aspects of a psychopomp, the Soul Guide Who guides the spirit to the Underworld (and back, sometimes); perhaps She tells of a journey into something to retrieve its opposite this week, or that we are embarking on a journey of soul retrieval, if even a little one at this time. This card could also serve as a heads-up to look deeper and more closely at a situation that may appear to be very bright indeed; not, necessarily, as an exercise in pessimism (of needing to find the misery in the middle of happiness) but as a lesson in balance and seeing the true whole.

So, as always, I ask, What do You say, Lady?

You are a Witch. Do not forget that. I do not forget.

I am fearsome and I am compassionate both. I am invoked in curses and I protect the alone and frightened. I am powerful in dark magic, and many a black she-lamb has had its throat cut to me; also I helped a grieving Mother find Her lost Girl. But mostly, I am Woman's friend. I am very old, and do not side with the patriarchs. Even Zeus fears me.

He would not cast me into Tartaros with the other Titanes; He did not dare. But what good would that have done Him anyway? It is my realm already. But He will not harm me. He does not dare. Remember that, too.

What would you know now? Within the light there is dark, always. You see the light within the dark, do you not? At winter's lowest point what do you do--light a candle, decorate your homes with tiny lights, twinkling as my Mother, the starry void. All I ask is you do the same in the season of light. Find the shadows now. Seek them out. Be whole.

I'm not, myself, sure how to go about doing that. Any ideas? What do you think?


References: mainly Theoi, Aaron Atsma's amazing site on Greek mythology, which has extensive primary sources quoted and organized by Deity, hero, demi-god, &c. Go check it out (if you haven't already).

Unfinished Business

Speaking of Skaði, I've been thinking lately of sharing some of my (myriad) unfinished pieces here. I've got quite a few of them, including several of the Goddess (Athena) Nike, Whom I don't seem to be able to paint to my satisfaction. ('Paint', I say, never knowing quite what to call my works in watercolor pencil. 'Paint' seems not quite right, since it doesn't [much] involve a brush, yet 'draw' seems too far down the importance scale. Oh well.) But I expect my problems with Nike stem from my ambivalent attitude towards victory; try as I might, I can't get my brain around it as a positive thing. Too much glorifying violence and competition, I suppose, even if the battle is only fought within the self. I prefer other terms.

Anyway, here's one I started ages ago of Skaði, the Norse Goddess of winter, skiing, and the hunt. Actually I (and I am quite serious) vowed this piece to Her several years back when I found myself on the bunny slope of a local ski resort in a dead panic fervently praying not to die. I didn't (in fact I didn't even fall once); and so I promised Her a portrait. I should probably finish it; I suspect Skaði (Whose name is related to our 'scathe,' meaning 'harm') likes to have promises kept. But it's been so long I don't even use that medium anymore, Prismacolor colored (wax) pencils. But here She is, anyway. The background was/is going to be snowy fjords and pine trees and the like. She wears a wolf-skin and ornaments of silver.

Goddess of the Week

This week's Goddess is Hel, Norse Goddess of Death and ruler over Niflheim ("Mist-Home"), one of the realms of the dead; those who had died accidentally, or of sickness or old age came to Her realm.

She was said to be the daughter of Angrboða ("She Who Brings Sorrow"), a jötunn or giantess, and the God Loki (Who is also technically a giant or jötunn, though accepted into the circles of the Gods). Hel is described as being half alive and half dead, of foreboding expression. She was given Her realm by Odin, Who gave Her power over the Nine Worlds, i.e., the whole of creation; meaning, I assume, that all is mortal and will come to an end, including the Gods, Who are fated to die in Ragnarök.

When the well-loved bright and shiny God Baldr was killed through the machinations of Loki, the Gods much mourned His loss. Determined to do something about it, the God Hermod rode off to Hel's realm to try to bargain with Her; though She seemed a bit skeptical that Baldr had been quite that well-loved, She agreed to let Him (and His wife Nanna, Who had died of grief at His death) go back to the realm of the living on one condition: all things, living, dead, animate or inanimate, must shed a tear for Him.

It would have worked, too, save for the giantess Þökk, who didn't think Baldr was quite all that and a bag of chips; and so Baldr remained (remains) with Hel in Niflheim. Þökk, of course, was Loki in disguise.

Now someone as bright, as beautiful, as good and as perfectly one-dimensional as Baldr is of course not realistic; and I have always felt the legend of His death to be a sort of repudiation of that kind of naïve vision of things. Because life is more complicated than that; and nothing is wholly good, or wholly of the light. And I have to say I have always agreed with Þökk. Death cannot be cheated; not because it is breaking the rules, but because it isn't the natural order of things. It isn't right.

Interestingly enough, some versions of the myth say that Hel is the same as Skuld, the Norn or Fate of the Future; also the Winter-God Ullr, sometimes husband of Skaði, is said to spend a couple of months of the year in Niflheim as Hel's lover.

Hel is half alive and half dead, half light and half dark; and I have always considered this a card of balance and integration, though Her legends may seem to be weighed towards the dark. That She has a lover, though, is a point or two for the living, the light side of things; and I suspect He is Her summer lover (when would a God of Winter be said to be in Niflheim, i.e., dead? Summer, I'd guess). So Hel is not all dark. Nor is She necessarily unreasonable, though She is, it is true, rather unsympathetic. It's a good trait in a Death-Goddess, I imagine.

So I think the message this week is about finding the balance within a situation that appears dark, or looking into a place inside you you have thought dark or dead and finding the light and life there. And then seeing how the two support and harmonize with each other, or how the two are integrated. Integration, after all, brings integrity, both of the physical or structural kind as well as the moral kind. And if there is one thing Hel is, She is strong.

So what does She say?

Do not think you may cheat; all come to me. All the natural deaths, all the non-violent ones. Why is violence celebrated in my world? Because glory and daring are celebrated, though I suspect you see right through that. It is not all as dreary as they would make it in my realm; and anyway who wants to be surrounded by drunken boasting heroes for what is left of time? Rest is a very good thing.

I am the black and the white; I am the shades of grey; I am the mist that cloaks. Do not forget that Hvergelmir, the roaring cauldron giving birth to the twelve rivers, bursts forth from my realm; I have a hand in inspiration too, you know. There is far more here than you think.

I am on the one hand and I am on the other hand. It all comes to me in the end.

Well. What do you think?

Goddess of the Week

No, you're not seeing things. Evidently I am to get my wish, the one where I said I thought I should pick the card, mull on it a week, and then write the post. That, or Gwenhwyfar's decided that She wanted to get in on the repeating action, like Kamrusepas, Ishtar, Blodeuwedd, and Pele. Or, it's my own energy interfering here, given that I tend to take my time with things.

Or, most probably, She simply still has something to say to us.

So, Gwenhwyfar it is, the Lady Whose name means 'White Phantom.' She is the Welsh precursor to the Arthurian Guinevere, and like her, Arthur's Queen even in the earliest mentions of Her; She is a sovereignty figure, one Who embodies the power of the land Whom the King must wed if he is to rightly rule. She isn't ever explicitly called a Goddess in the tales we have, but if the land personified is not a Goddess then what is?

Though it is not mentioned in the Welsh versions of the legend, one of the most famous symbols of the Arthurian cycle is the Round Table, the great table in Arthur's court at which all his knights were seated. It is a symbol of wholeness and cycles through its circular shape alone; but it is also specifically said to represent the equal standing of the knights who sat at it (and I would assume the King as well), as a round table has no head and no favored position. It is interesting to note that Arthur only acquired this symbol of wholeness and equality through marriage to Guinevere, as it was part of her dowry.

Gwenhwyfar's name is etymologically related to the Irish Finnabair, daughter of the fabulous Queen Medb, herself a thinly veiled Goddess of the land, sovereignty, and sexuality, known for her many, many lovers, and so called 'Medb of the Friendly Thighs' in the tales. Though Medb has a husband, King Ailill mac Máta, in her most famous legend, it does not stop her from exercising her right to take other lovers; when Ailill, however, is found to be unfaithful, Medb has him killed. Though that might sound like a double standard, it is probably more a commentary on the fact that while kings come and go, the earth remains, or, in mythological terms, the Goddess is constant in Her change while the God dies and is reborn with the year.

Echoes of that idea can be found in Guinevere's love affair with Lancelot, as well as Guinevere's not-infrequent abductions by upstarts bent on the throne, as I mentioned in last week's post.

Gwenhwyfar is in my piece depicted as the May Queen, the Bride to whom the King is wed; and all around us at this time of year (well, in the North where it is the season of Beltaine) the flowers and the birds and the trees and the bees are, well, consummating that union. Last week I asked how you were wedded to the Divine. This week, how is the Divine wedded to you? How are you the Queen, the Earth, the one who is constant in Her cycles? How does the Year come to you?

As always, I ask, what does She say?

Now I am the Bride. Be merry! Dance in the grass; better yet, make love in the grass, in the woodland, in the fields beneath the apple tree. I am the flower that becomes the fruit, in time; but right now I am newly wed, the honey-mead in the mouth. Celebrate, and toast my health. It is toasting yours.

I am Blodeuwedd and Rhiannon; I am the Great High Queen, the Mother of Souls, Queen of Phantoms and the Otherworld; I am Queen of the Shades moving within you even in this season of warmth and light. I am the overlapping shadows, the sun and the moon and the earth aligned in the long cycle. I am the hawthorn, the may, great majestic Maia; and the king is my consort. Not I his. That is important for you to remember, both for my story and your own.

What do you think?

Goddess of the Week

This week's Goddess is Gwenhwyfar (and yes, I spelled it incorrectly on the card; I shall have to fix that!) the Welsh forerunner of Queen Guinevere, and like her the Queen to Arthur's King; given that I have depicted Her here as the May Queen I am not particularly surprised I picked Her just a few days after Beltaine (though I really did think I was going to pick Her last week. Instead we got Blodeuwedd, another Welsh Goddess associated with flowers).

I have called Gwenhwyfar a Goddess, here, though in the legends She is considered a mortal Queen; but there is evidence of Divinity in Her past, though, it is, as these matters tend to be, a bit on the hazy side.

She most likely has Her origins in a Goddess of Sovereignty, of the right to rule; and I suppose on its most basic level that makes Her a variety of Earth Goddess. In the later legends Guinevere is always being abducted by some upstart or other, the idea behind it being that if said upstart is wed to the Queen (even if by force), then he must be King. Her body, then, is literally being equated with the land.

Further evidence of Gwenhwyfar's Divine past is found in the so-called Welsh Triads, which are a form of verse grouping traditional wisdom in threes, which number is an especial favorite in the Celtic cultures. In the Llyfr Coch Hergest (the "Red Book of Hergest," which is also incidentally one of the principle sources for The Mabinogion), dating to the late 14th century, there is this triad:

Three Great Queens of Arthur:

Gwenhwyfar daughter of Cywryd Gwent, and Gwenhwyfar daughter of Gwythyr son of Greidiawl, and Gwenhwyfar daughter of Gogfran the Giant.

Celtic Goddesses were commonly depicted in triple form; one example of this is the Deae Matronae (Latin for "Mother Goddesses"), Who were worshiped in the Celtic lands during Roman times. They were typically shown on sculpture as three seated Goddesses holding symbols of fertility and abundance such as fruit or bread. (Note, also, that one of the Gwenhwyfars is the daughter of a Giant, an Otherworldly or fantastic being.)

So what, then, is this card saying for this week? It is the week of Beltaine, certainly, up here in the North, anyway; and it is a liminal time, when, like Samhain, the veil between the worlds is thin; though I tend to think that this time of the year it's the faeries poking through a bit rather than the ghosts. All the land is blossoming and mating and making merry; and though Guinevere's liaison with Lancelot is depicted in the (Christian) legends as shameful and bringing the downfall of Camelot it has always struck me as, well, right, as the true relationship. Not human marriage but the joining of Goddess and God. I've always felt that Arthur was the one in the wrong; theirs was an arranged marriage for political ends, and had little to do with love.

I guess the question is, then, how are you wedded to Divinity? How do you love God? And make no mistake, not platonically, but as a lover. This is the season of passion, after all.

What does She have to say?

May, that is key, I am gone a-maying. Lancelot and I are the Beltaine lovers, the true love. Arthur is the political, the patriarchal, laid over the old legend. How am I to love that? It is not the true story. Lancelot is the fosterling of a Faery Queen, is he not? And what is Arthur? Merely human.

But I am old; it is right in my name, White Ghost. I am ancestress, the old spirit of the land, the White Queen; and I span both past and future. How many Jennifers do you know, after all? It is my time now, this time of may. May the month, may the hawthorn.

My depiction of Her as May Queen owes a lot to the paintings Queen Guinevere's Maying, by John Collier, as well as Millais's The Bridesmaid.

More Art Journal Pages

I've acquired a bit of a backlog on these; after not doing any for a while I sat down the other night and did like six of them. Several are continuing Leah's April theme of color. The third one is bits of color cut out from magazines and arranged in chromatic order. I don't remember now where I got the idea, though I know I read it on someone or other's blog. Not Leah's, as far as I can tell. Whoever came up with the idea, thanks!

Then there's this one, in cobalt blue and iridescent copper, with a washed-out printout of the art in the last post, which I had been using to attempt to make some kind of transfer print with, as I'd had another print out accidentally get wet and end up sticking to another piece of paper and transferring the color over quite nicely. My first attempt with watercolor paper was too blurry and I think it was too wet; but I shall see if I can't figure it out. The texture of the cobalt and copper is really quite astonishing, though you can't really tell:

And this one, which started on another page with blocks of color laid down in oil pastels; but it was sticky so I put down a bunch of acrylic over it in a labyrinth pattern and ended up covering it with several layers of gloss acrylic gel, mostly because I had a new jar of the stuff. When I opened it up a couple days later the entire top layer peeled off; so I stuck that down upside-down onto another page.

And then there's this one, a vision board to get me working on the herb garden I want to put in in the back:

I do apologize for the quality of the photos. It would appear photography is not my strong suit. They were too large to just scan in.