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.

Goddess of the Week

Blodeuwedd has come up twice before; once for the last week of November and then again the first week of December.

Blodeuwedd is a Welsh Goddess Whose name means "Flower Face," and in The Mabinogion, which dates from medieval times, She is said to have been created by two magicians from the blossoms of the oak, broom, and meadowsweet, to be the wife of Lleu Llaw Gyffes, Who was cursed by His mother Arianrhod to never have a wife from any race of the earth. Lleu (don't ask me to pronounce that) is connected with the Irish Lug Lámfhota as well as the Gaulish God Lugos; He is probably originally a God of the sun or of light, as lug in Old Irish means "light" or "brightness."

It is not surprising, I suppose, that the sun or light should be connected with flowers in myth; after all the growing light and heat of springtime is what causes the whole shebang, at least in the temperate regions. And it makes sense that Blodeuwedd and Lleu, flowers and light, should show up in the week that includes Beltaine, that merry festival of union and blossoming.

But something about Blodeuwedd's story bothered me. The springtime element is only a part of it. For She is also an owl Goddess, connected with autumn and dying; and Her story does not end happily.

Not long into the marriage of Blodeuwedd and Lleu, it happened that Lleu was away for a time. While He was away, a hunter by the name of Gronw Pebyr came by, and since it was late in the day and he was far from home, Blodeuwedd invited him to stay the night in the castle, in accordance with the customs of the time. But at the feast it was quickly obvious to both of them that it was love at first sight; and in bed that night they contemplated their situation. It was Gronw's assertion that for them to be together Lleu had to die; and he convinced Blodeuwedd to find out how Lleu could be killed, as special protections had been placed on Him by the magicians.

So She did, and a year later Gronw gored Lleu with a magical spear, in odd and predestined circumstances; and Lleu, grievously injured, changed into an eagle and flew away. He was eventually found by the magicians and restored both to human form and good health.

For Her part in it, Blodeuwedd was punished by being transformed into an owl; and Gronw was killed by Lleu.

Rereading Her legend this time, I was struck by how the blame for Lleu's death always falls squarely on Blodeuwedd. Even though She was not the one to throw the spear. Even though it was not Her idea. Even though Lleu didn't actually die.

She gets more blame than Gronw does, Gronw who spent a good year of Sundays crafting that spear with ill intent, Gronw of the strong arm and sure aim. In The Mabinogion Gwydion (one of the magicians who created Her, and let me tell you, no favorite of mine) tells Her that for Her part in the plot 'I will not slay thee. I will do to thee that which is worse; that is I will let thee go in the form of a bird.' Whereas Gronw, though he is killed, is allowed the mercy of holding a stone between himself and Lleu's spear, since 'it was through a woman's wiles that I did to thee that which I did.' It doesn't help, of course; Lleu is so strong that the spear goes right through the stone and into Gronw, killing him.

(Incidentally, all of Blodeuwedd's maidens are killed as well, though it is not always mentioned--they are driven off a high cliff into a lake, where they drown. Gronw's men are not similarly punished.)

Now, the argument can be made that Blodeuwedd is the force behind all this, as She is really an old Goddess of transformation, of spring and autumn and the changing year, disguised as a princess in a medieval fairy-tale; and I wouldn't disagree with that. She is Maiden and Crone both. And I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised that a medieval version of a myth would place the blame on the woman; I mean they were working under the influence of Christianity and its foundation myth of Eve. I get that. (Though The Mabinogion does have more than a few outspoken and intelligent women in it--Rhiannon and Arianrhod for starters.) But in all the retellings I've seen it is always said that Lleu is 'killed' by Gronw's spear, even though he obviously wasn't; even in my own quick retelling on my web site, written some years ago, I use the word.

Because the blame always falls harder, and the punishment is always harsher, for women in this society. And it is taken as normal, such that people who are supposed to be aware (and I include myself) don't even see it.

Sure, this week is Beltaine, and the beginning of May and flowers and all that happy stuff (and don't get me wrong, May is my absolute favorite month, and Beltaine my absolute favorite holiday); so it is entirely appropriate that a Goddess made from flowers should show up. But I think the deeper message this week is about that misplaced blame. We women have internalized it for so long.

But to weed it out of ourselves we have to be able to see it first; and I don't know what kind of advice can be given to help that. If we don't see it, we can't see it, you know? But I think we have to try. Maybe take a situation from your past, one where you blamed yourself, and try looking at it with fresh eyes. How has the expectation of blame affected what you believe? What part of the blame have you taken? What part does not actually belong to you?

This is properly Blodeuwedd's realm, after all, as She is both owl-Goddess Who sees in the dark as well as Goddess of springtime's rebirth; and it is inevitable that one runs into the other--that one causes the other.

Well, after all that blathering on my part, what does She say?

White the blank sheet
White the snow
White the hawthorn
White the bones

It is my nature to be both. It is the Earth's nature to be both; it is not betrayal. It is both day and night; both together make a whole. It is simply the seasons. One after the other, each to the other. Remember spring here is autumn there, as the Earth is a whole, a circle, a globe; and opposites are always present at the same time.

If you can get your head around that, you'll be getting somewhere. For Earth as well as for yourself.

What do you think?


Quotes from the Gwyn and Thomas Jones translation of The Mabinogion.

Kicker

Speaking of shedding skin...

A few of you may have noticed that I have a CaféPress store called The Cat and Cauldron. I have worked hard on it in the past few years and have managed to get it to the point where, though it is not a luxurious living, it does pay the bills.

But now I'm not so sure.

Yesterday we all got an email from CaféPress announcing a change in the policy regarding the CaféPress Marketplace, that big search engine of theirs. Starting June first, CaféPress will be setting the prices of products in the Marketplace at a set rate and giving the artist/designer a flat 10% commission.

See, now, this is how CaféPress has always worked: they have a product, say a white t-shirt, that they charge a set price for (they call it a 'base price'). This price includes everything on their end--the actual product, the labor involved in printing it, &c.,--plus whatever they need to make a profit. And then, the artist/designer, the person who has set up a shop with them, adds what they think their design is worth and what they think the market will bear.

So let's break this down. Let's take the example of that white t-shirt. For the sake of round numbers, let's say their base price is $14.00 (that's rather low for the vast majority of shirts, but, you know, round numbers). Let's say then that I add a $6.00 markup (which is about the usual) so that it sells for $20.00.

Under the old system, if I sell a t-shirt I then get $6.00. But under the new system, if that t-shirt sells in their Marketplace for the same price, I will get $2.00. That's one third what I was making.

Now I'm one of the lucky ones, in that I get 70% of my sales through my store, which will not be subject to the 10% rule; still, I'm figuring I stand to see my paychecks drop to 80% of what they were. Some people make 90% or more of their sales through the Marketplace and are now looking at not being able to pay their mortgages and medical bills.

Also, in reading people's stories over at the CaféPress forum (which is really only begrudgingly allowing the discussion there) I am realizing just how much of a Godsend CaféPress has been to people with disabilities. I had just thought it the perfect job for me since I'm an anti-social deeply anti-authoritarian late-sleeping hermit who can't stand the idea of a boss (you could charitably read that I suppose as an 'eccentric artiste' if you like); but I had not realized just how big a difference it was making to people who can't work the standard nine to five.

I am not sure right now what I'm going to do. The loss for me is not huge, though it is still significant; and the nasty moral I'm getting is that I should never have put all my eggs in one basket. Which is unfair, really. If I were working in an office somewhere, and it paid the bills, I would not be expected to have more than one job, would I?

I have already looked at other print-on-demand companies, and I imagine I will be shifting over to Zazzle sometime in the future. But it's a daunting prospect. I have a few hundred designs on, and this floored me when I did the math, some 10,000 products. I'm not going to be able to replicate that somewhere else overnight.

The kicker (and I do mean kicker, as in the phrase kicking someone when they are down) is that in their announcement CaféPress says:

5. How did CafePress determine the commission rate of 10%?

This decision was a combination of what was realistically affordable, what we thought felt was right, and what industry experts recognize as a fair design licensing fee. A 10% commission is lower than the average seller margin in the Marketplace, but fair – relative to current retail design licensing models.

I can think of a lot of four-letter words describing that percentage; fair is not one of them.

Goddess of the Week

Tlazolteotl is an Aztec Earth and Mother Goddess, Whose name is sometimes glossed specifically to 'Dirt' Goddess, or even 'Filth' Goddess. She is a both a Goddess of lust and sexual impurity, and a Goddess of purification and cleansing.

And so She both inspires and absolves sins. She had the ability, if the proper rituals were followed, to pardon a petitioner absolutely; and this pardon even extended into the world of law, for the petitioner was also freed from the legal consequences of his/her sinful actions.

Now, I have included Aztec Goddesses as part of my Goddess Oracle Deck because to not do so would be a slight and an offense; but I will confess they make me rather nervous. Because, in addition to such innocuous things as being the patroness of spinning, Tlazolteotl, as a Goddess of the Earth and renewal, required the sacrifice of a handsome young man every year. After he was killed, his body was flayed and his skin wrapped around a statue of the Goddess.

And so a common representation of Tlazolteotl is as a woman giving birth while wearing the flayed skin of a human being over Her own. It is a quintessentially Aztec symbol of renewal and springtime, which draws, I assume, on such phenomena as the snake shedding its skin. Though nowadays it is only metaphor, still, once it was taken quite literally; and I just can't get my modern American brain around it. Which, I guess, is not necessarily a bad thing.

I think, though, that this card's message this week is a reminder that some things, some changes, some renewals are only had through blood and sacrifice. Birth was, until recently, a very dangerous prospect, one many women did not survive; and even though modern techniques can handle things better if something goes wrong, the process itself has not changed. Babies aren't any smaller, or women's hips any larger, than they ever have been; and there is still much blood and pain involved.

This is not usually how I read things. I have had to do a lot of work with fear, personally, and my motto in the recent past has been one of kindness and allowing myself to not do something if I am uncomfortable or afraid. But then, this isn't just about me, since I asked advice for the world. Some things, this card would seem to be telling us, have to be done the old fashioned way, and require walking the hard road. Whatever it is this week, whatever is being born or reborn, it would seem, this is the path.

It is well to remember, also, that one cannot, actually, sacrifice another. It must be something of your own that is offered.

What does She say to the World?

Blood, blood, blood, it all ends and begins in blood. You think that is frightening, dark, pagan, evil?

Who said spilled blood? I am the mistress of lust, of life, of experiments and experiences; I am the mistress of the blood singing in your veins. You may certainly keep it there, and that is fine by me. We all adapt to the times, you know.

But yes. Shedding your skin is painful, and rightly so. It is a newness, a softness, a vulnerability in this hard world. But it is necessary. And it is especially necessary now.

Peel that old skin away. Dig your nails into it, as you dig your nails into the Earth to plant a seed. For it is this Earth, also, Who is shedding Her skin. You do not believe this? Look around you. Change has begun, and cannot be stopped. You can sacrifice the old to keep up with it, or you can remain trapped and suffocating and unable to see. Which do you think will be less painful in the long run?

Goddess of the Week

Well, though I'm not a Christian it is Easter Sunday. So it makes sense that this week's 'Goddess' is the Black Virgin, a somewhat mysterious form of the Christian Virgin Mary depicted with dark or black skin. Though there can be various reasons why Her skin is dark (depending on the individual Madonna), more than a few are linked with ancient Goddess worship.

Now, I was operating under a fairly loose definition of 'Goddess' when I did these cards originally, which is why folk like Joan of Arc and the occasional Buddhist Bodhisattva have been included; but this one, particularly, has more claim to being a Goddess than most.

Black Madonnas are a mostly medieval European phenomenon, with between 450-500 of them in existence, a good part of which are in France, though there are famous examples in Belgium, Spain and Poland. Now, there are various reasons given for the dark color of Her skin, some of which are quite mundane: for example pigments changing over time, or soot from candles darkening the colors (though oddly enough in a lot of cases this seems to only affect the paint of the hands and face, not the clothing. Hmmmmm.) Still, it's quite clear that a number of them were painted dark on purpose.

It's also clear that quite a few of the sites with Black Madonnas were at one time sacred to some form of the Goddess, mostly Isis, Cybele, or Artemis. This isn't particularly mysterious--when the Roman Empire officially dedicated itself to Christianity, the Church's policy with the more stubborn holdovers of Paganism was to adapt them over to Christian purposes. So in the same way that elements of the Saturnalia, the great Pagan Roman winter festival, were adopted into Christmas, so churches were built on old Pagan holy sites. And if they had been dedicated to a Goddess, well it just made sense to dedicate the Church to the Christian version of the Mother, Mary.

And so then, because these Madonnas are connected with the old Earth Goddesses, the color of their skin is that of the rich, black, earth.

The Virgin of Guadalupe is perhaps the most famous Black Madonna. She is originally Spanish; but in Mexico one Juan Diego had a vision of Her in 1531, and so since then She has become a symbol of Mexico. She has been linked, incidentally, with the Aztec Earth-Goddess Tonantzin or their Great Mother Coatlicue.

I should probably offer a little bit of explanation on the art of this card. When I painted it I had in mind the Goddess Cybele, also known as the Magna Mater or Great Mother. Cybele was native to Phyrgia in central Anatolia; but the Romans adopted Her. Quite formally, actually: in response to a crisis in 204 BCE (there was always a crisis in Rome), the Senate consulted the Sybilline books, and came to the conclusion that Cybele's worship should be brought to Rome. Which they did, by bringing Her icon from Phyrgia. This icon was in the form of a conical (or needle-like) uncarved Black Stone, and was a meteorite; which I suppose makes it a conical aniconic icon.

Anyway, so that is why I only painted Her face black, to represent Cybele's Stone. The blonde hair, blue eyes and doll-like features are meant to evoke the European shell put over the ancient Eastern Goddess.

This card represents ancient secrets in plain sight, then, or the layers of the past showing through in the present; and despite the rewritten history the origins of things are easily discerned. So this week, be on the lookout for old patterns underneath current circumstances; it may not be apparent on first glance, and may require a little digging, but you may well find that what you thought was something new is actually a manifestation of an old issue or old way of doing things. Or, it may be less about old habits you're falling into and more about ancient themes of the sacred popping up in unusual or modern-looking places. I think, mostly, it is advice for the week to be aware and look closely at what is just beneath the surface, to see the patterns, habits, connections, or old ways of worship there.

What does She have to say?

I am Earthshaking Cybele, rattle your bones, bang on my drums! Rattle rattle BOOM! Dance the ecstasy, run up the mountain; you are all wild still in your bones, under your veneer of civilization. I cannot be stopped; I cannot be forgotten; I will always be here and I will always be powerful, whatever veil you throw over me. I am the Old Mountain Mother of the Mural Crown; I walk with lionesses at my side.

Rattle rattle BOOM! Let the kettledrums thunder! Every drumbeat is mine. Every drumming heart is mine. This is as it is. From the beginning to the end, it is mine.

I am the Great Mother. I always have been, and always will be. I am always here. And you are always my children, all of you. If you have need, ask. Even as a pretty Madonna, what do I do but bridge Earth and Heaven? For I am the Black Stone that fell from the Sky.

Well. She is very strong, and that was not what I was expecting. Two letters in to typing that I found I had hit the CAPS LOCK key; I turned it off but She is LOUD! I think, then, I will add to my advice above and say that reclaiming our wildness is also part of the message. Get your heart beating: go dancing, running, be loud! I am reminded of the boom of a firework, how it is so loud it almost stops the heart; but at the same time it opens the heart WIDE.

Wait a minute. I just remembered! One of Cybele's Roman festivals was the Megalensia, held from April 4th through the 10th, marking both the arrival of Her Stone to Rome and the founding of Her temple on the Palatine. There was also a (probably earlier in origin) festival of Cybele in March, the Hilaria, held from the 15th to the 28th; and some of the rites of the Hilaria are strikingly similar to those of guess what, the Christian Easter.

Well then!

Creative Every Day Update

I'll tell you whut, it is waaaay easier to make little dresses for the Sims than it is to:

Find the right combination of fabrics
Draft the pattern
Cut it out and
Sew it up
Embroider the Hel out of it
Try it on and
Start cussing because it doesn't fit, I've put on weight, it doesn't look good on me anyhow, it's running headlong into body image issues, and where would I wear it anyway? &c., &c.

Never mind finding all the proper accessories and jewelry that are made out of gold or something that would cost a pretty penny. Nope, much easier to just make a 512 by 512 pixel texture map.

So, here are a couple of wee Viking women:

Goddess of the Week

This week it is again Pele, the Hawaiian Volcano-Goddess; She is the latest in a string of repeated Goddesses. Last time I picked Her, three weeks ago, She spoke of change and adaptation and anger.

I think we are in a turbulent time right now, and I mean not just the times in general but this week in particular. Something old is being destroyed, and is coming to an end, right now. And it is a big change.

Something is boiling over.

One thing I'm seeing is that this past week there seems to be a rash of Dudes Who Can't Handle It. You know the type--something bad happens in their life and so they open fire on nursing home residents, immigrants, strangers, their own children. Sometimes they kill themselves, too. (Though really, I can't help thinking, can't they just do that bit first? You know, and spare the rest of us all the misery? But then spreading the misery around is the point, isn't it?)

It's entitlement clashing with the reality of a painful life, or a negative change; and instead of changing themselves to fit, or adjusting their expectations, they decide the world is the one that has to change.

This is a peculiarly male phenomenon in this society. And I'm afraid I have no sympathy for men who do this; even less when I read the articles, which are usually careful to point out in what way the man was 'driven' to it. 'Driven,' really? As if it's all understandable, all justifiable, and the man had no choice.

Yeah, well, I call bullshit on that.

Something is boiling over.

The thing about volcanoes, about Kilauea, is that you cannot make them adjust to you. A lava flow will do as it likes; you cannot stop it, and it will destroy anything that does not move. So you move. You get the hell out of its way. And you don't expect anything else.

Also I cannot help but think this card is about the Earth pushing back. We have abused Her for so long; and in some ways it is already all coming undone.

I don't know; that's not exactly cheery, is it? I don't know what advice to give that doesn't sound like I'm telling us to devote our time to quelling a mutiny on a rapidly sinking ship.

What does She say?

Oh honey, it's not that bad. Though, my idea of bad and yours are probably different, true. But as something is destroyed remember that something else is born. To be reborn you must first die, remember? Your resistance is what will make it difficult, or less difficult. Sorry, it's true; easy is not an option right now. Okay maybe it is that bad. The world will end in fire, you know that, right?

Oh great. The only thing I can think of that might help is to look at what is going on, as honestly, as bravely, and as humbly as possible (there is no room for ego in this), and then being willing to change.

That and that we support each other. That, I think, is crucial.

Art Journal Pages

A couple more art journal pages for Creative Every Day; April's theme is color.

Coincidentally enough I did that 'Blue' page in March, before the theme was announced; guess I'm just ahead of the curve. Or psychic, or something. It's a collage of blue things cut out of magazines with some painting over the top. The second one is a 'quilt' made of origami papers cut up and pasted together. I apologize that the photos are not as good as I would like; the lighting wasn't that great and I'm afraid they are a little blurry.