Flowers in the Underworld

I bring flowers to Her: my goddess, my mistress, my queen.

She receives me in Her throne room: a vast, subterranean grotto of stone with hard, dusty floors. Her seat is grand but stark, Her robes dark and severe. She combines the beauty of eternity with the grimness of every reminder of mortality, and She very seldom smiles.

My gift catches her off guard. I have never before seen surprise in Her flickering eyes.

The flowers are simple: wildflowers from the meadow I passed through on my way to the dark entrance of the underworld. There are beauties and treasures beyond description in Her realm, but none of the beauties of the Great Above.

I hold out the humble bouquet to Her. The reds and purples and golds and whites are dimmed but not quenched in the shadows. She traces their petals with a careful finger, looks up at me with studied amusement that isn't quite convincing. "Thank you," She says.

I go to my knees before Her. "I wanted to give you something you did not already have, my lady." I do not add that I had considered bringing her silk flowers, ever-blooming, but denying the fragility of life seemed wrong. These will eventually wither and die, but that honors Her place in the cycle.

Of course I do not need to speak; She hears my every thought.

She bends down, caresses my cheek with fingers that carry the faint scent of the flowers, and kisses me on the mouth, tasting of ashes and myrrh.

In the press and mundanity of my daily life it's easy to forget that I love Her, forget Her generosity, Her passion, Her stern guidance. Sometimes I forget that She loves me.

It is good to remember.

Struggle

I was getting ready to go do my magical exercises a few minutes ago, and suddenly realized that the prospect made me want to sit down and cry.

And the thing is: this is not an unusual a reaction to thoughts of doing my work. Most of the time, I just don't allow myself to acknowledge it. And then of course, it ends up getting in the way of my work: either by keeping me from starting or by making it that much harder to concentrate if I do go forward.

At the advice of a friend (waves to sweetlycorrupt), I'm going to go out on the balcony, get some fresh air, and journal about the feelings.

I've been trying to do more of that kind of journaling these days, trying to get down into the blocks and deflections that come up between me and my stated goals. Such journaling usually results in the feelings dissipating, allowing me to move forward with focused energy and a positive outlook. The challenge is remembering to do that when the come up.

This is the hardest I've ever had to work at anything in my life.

Possibly a Major Breakthrough

I don't want to type any details right now. . . but after the post I made an hour or so ago, I went into my room and settled into some deep meditation, starting by following Ereshkigal's directive from the vigil to "release your preconceived notions."

I think I've found the key to the bindings and resistance I've been feeling about my magical studies. And it's the last thing I would ever have imagined.

I need to sleep on it, to test out how things go tomorrow. . . But right now energy is flowing and tingling through me. It truly does feel as if a key has been turned in a lock, and what was closed is now open.

I hope so!