Descent: Intention
Mar. 9th, 2008 04:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qosI didn't do my descent ritual last night. When I finally realized what time it was, not only was it too late, I knew in my gut that I wasn't ready.
I'm ready now.
I know why I'm doing this. I know what I'm going to leave behind.
When Inanna went down, the seven gatekeepers of the underworld took her regalia from her piece by piece. That's not how I'm going down. I'm not going down as an invader. I'm going down as a daughter of Ereshkigal, one who aspires to Her priesthood. I'm not going to be humbled by the gatekeepers. I get to walk into the throne room and submit myself directly to Her.
I know what I need to give up, what I need to surrender -- and it's not going to be as easy as removing a crown or a gown. I'm giving up things that have been deeply a part of myself. And because it must be a voluntary sacrifice, I essentially get to perform surgery on myself.
As I was writing out what I needed to do, I wished fervently for an ordeal master or mistress to preside over this process, to set and hold the space, to challenge, to confront, to urge me deeper. There is no such person here. Only me. I aspire to such a role, and it looks like I get to start by doing it for myself.
I'm going down alone. I can feel LM behind me, nuzzling my neck, assuring me that all will be well, that I'm ready for this and that doing it alone is necessary. He can't go with me, can't help. None of my allies can go with me.
This is between me and Her.
I once was privileged to be the drummer for a shamanic healing session in which the shamanka used a bird claw as a tool to dig out and remove old pain trapped in the client. I feel like I need something like that this afternoon: some kind of pronged device which can cut into my self and help me expose and excise what needs to be released.
Like I said: surgery on myself. . . .
I'm ready now.
I know why I'm doing this. I know what I'm going to leave behind.
When Inanna went down, the seven gatekeepers of the underworld took her regalia from her piece by piece. That's not how I'm going down. I'm not going down as an invader. I'm going down as a daughter of Ereshkigal, one who aspires to Her priesthood. I'm not going to be humbled by the gatekeepers. I get to walk into the throne room and submit myself directly to Her.
I know what I need to give up, what I need to surrender -- and it's not going to be as easy as removing a crown or a gown. I'm giving up things that have been deeply a part of myself. And because it must be a voluntary sacrifice, I essentially get to perform surgery on myself.
As I was writing out what I needed to do, I wished fervently for an ordeal master or mistress to preside over this process, to set and hold the space, to challenge, to confront, to urge me deeper. There is no such person here. Only me. I aspire to such a role, and it looks like I get to start by doing it for myself.
I'm going down alone. I can feel LM behind me, nuzzling my neck, assuring me that all will be well, that I'm ready for this and that doing it alone is necessary. He can't go with me, can't help. None of my allies can go with me.
This is between me and Her.
I once was privileged to be the drummer for a shamanic healing session in which the shamanka used a bird claw as a tool to dig out and remove old pain trapped in the client. I feel like I need something like that this afternoon: some kind of pronged device which can cut into my self and help me expose and excise what needs to be released.
Like I said: surgery on myself. . . .
