Wolkstein's Descent
Feb. 20th, 2010 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qosThis evening I watched a DVD of Diane Wolkstein doing a dramatic performance of her version of The Descent of Inanna.
The DVD actually included most of the texts from her book, Inanna: Queen of Heaven and Earth, but "Descent" was my focus. It wasn't until Inanna began the actual entry to the underworld that I finally figured out what had been nagging at me throughout the performance: the formality of it.
Wolkstein is quite aware that her texts are poetry that follow a particular form, and her performance is correspondingly constrained. She moves about the stage gracefully, but it's the grace of a ritualist. It's the grace of a Queen of Swords.
And that's not what Inanna is like -- not the Inanna I know, anyway.
Inanna is passionate, brash, arrogant, reckless -- and none of those qualities were present in the serene figure Wolkstein presented. Her declaration of intent to visit The Great Below was announced with calm detachment, not eager adventure. The instructions to Ninshubur regarding how to rescue her were solidly reasonable, not an almost off-hand thought. The passage through the seven gates, a process during which Inanna is methodically stripped of power, of pride, of confidence, was rushed through, with dimming lights signaling the exterior change but nothing of the interior one.
Wolkstein's serene, reserved formality reminded me of the studious formality of an earnest novice Performing Shakespeare without understanding or communicating the rough vitality that underscores the archaic language loaded with centuries of baggage.
At the same time. . . it did me a great deal of good to watch the performance and listen to the words and be reminded of the many reasons why I felt close to Inanna for as long as I did. Ereshkigal herself has called me "Inanna's get". I partake of her passions. I partake of her association with sovereignty and kingmaking. And long before I was taken in as Ereshkigal's bitch and priestess, I, like Inanna, willfully pushed my way through the gates of the underworld, allowing much of what was most precious to me to be stripped from me and ultimately needing rescue to ascend again.
I found a piece of myself this evening. Not just in the performance, but in the company of the man who shared the DVD with me. The evening ended with a delightful, passionate, healing exchange of fierce kisses and caresses. . . something which has been long absent in my life.
It did feel strange to be kissing someone besides LM, but it also felt right and good. This is part of me. The passion is part of me. It probably would have happened whatever we had watched this evening. . . but there is something ritually appropriate about this.
Hmmm. . . The last time something like this happened was after my second degree initiation at Pantheacon last year, when my "sacred stranger" helped me ground and seal those energies. Interesting that this is happening almost exactly a year later, after a ritual involving Inanna and Ereshkigal.
The DVD actually included most of the texts from her book, Inanna: Queen of Heaven and Earth, but "Descent" was my focus. It wasn't until Inanna began the actual entry to the underworld that I finally figured out what had been nagging at me throughout the performance: the formality of it.
Wolkstein is quite aware that her texts are poetry that follow a particular form, and her performance is correspondingly constrained. She moves about the stage gracefully, but it's the grace of a ritualist. It's the grace of a Queen of Swords.
And that's not what Inanna is like -- not the Inanna I know, anyway.
Inanna is passionate, brash, arrogant, reckless -- and none of those qualities were present in the serene figure Wolkstein presented. Her declaration of intent to visit The Great Below was announced with calm detachment, not eager adventure. The instructions to Ninshubur regarding how to rescue her were solidly reasonable, not an almost off-hand thought. The passage through the seven gates, a process during which Inanna is methodically stripped of power, of pride, of confidence, was rushed through, with dimming lights signaling the exterior change but nothing of the interior one.
Wolkstein's serene, reserved formality reminded me of the studious formality of an earnest novice Performing Shakespeare without understanding or communicating the rough vitality that underscores the archaic language loaded with centuries of baggage.
At the same time. . . it did me a great deal of good to watch the performance and listen to the words and be reminded of the many reasons why I felt close to Inanna for as long as I did. Ereshkigal herself has called me "Inanna's get". I partake of her passions. I partake of her association with sovereignty and kingmaking. And long before I was taken in as Ereshkigal's bitch and priestess, I, like Inanna, willfully pushed my way through the gates of the underworld, allowing much of what was most precious to me to be stripped from me and ultimately needing rescue to ascend again.
I found a piece of myself this evening. Not just in the performance, but in the company of the man who shared the DVD with me. The evening ended with a delightful, passionate, healing exchange of fierce kisses and caresses. . . something which has been long absent in my life.
It did feel strange to be kissing someone besides LM, but it also felt right and good. This is part of me. The passion is part of me. It probably would have happened whatever we had watched this evening. . . but there is something ritually appropriate about this.
Hmmm. . . The last time something like this happened was after my second degree initiation at Pantheacon last year, when my "sacred stranger" helped me ground and seal those energies. Interesting that this is happening almost exactly a year later, after a ritual involving Inanna and Ereshkigal.
