Queen of Swords

In my "Cupid and Psyche" reading thus far, most of those who address the "deeper meanings" of the story focus on the fact that "psyche" is the Greek word for soul. Because of this, many, many people are eager to see her story as an allegory for the soul's progress from innocence, ignorance and isolation to the full flowering of divinity.

That's a very powerful story -- but I am as yet unconvinced that that's the story we see in the original version. In order to make "Cupid and Psyche" bear that weight, it has to be adapted to fit the purpose -- as these interpreters tend to do. (Again, so far in my reading.)

What is usually mentioned only in passing is that "psyche" also means "butterfly" -- and the butterfly is a living symbol of transformation. More pertinent to my study, following that line of symbolism doesn't require that the interpreter adapt the original story to make it conform to expectations of what a "spiritual journey" looks like. Stories of spiritual journeys to enlightenment require toil, commitment, endurance, patience, compassion, and etc. It's hard work. Dramatic work. Only the worthy win through to their reward. The rest fall to obscurity, to punishment, or are sent back to try again during their next life.

In contrast, a caterpillar is not an heroic creature. It doesn't aspire to anything. It doesn't struggle and yearn and overcome. (Unlike, say, salmon, birds or whales who struggle to cross hundreds or thousands of miles to reach their mating/birthing sites.) The caterpillar is utterly humble, unassuming, vulnerable, and not known for cleverness of any kind. And yet. . . simply following its instincts leads it first to complete dissolution as "chrysalis soup" (a metaphor I have used often in the past decade) and then to transformation into a creature so utterly unlike its original 'self' that no one would believe they were the same creature without having observed the entire lifecycle. Nature touches it with grace, not because of its own merits, but Just Because. Just Because it can. Just Because it seemed like The Thing To Do. The humble, witless caterpillar doesn't even have any choice in the matter. So long as it follows its instincts (and free will also seems to be conspicuously lacking in caterpillars) it will, if it survives the myriad dangers of its existence, experience something like apotheosis. Through absolutely no apparent virtue of its own.

Kind of like Psyche, in my opinion.

Which is all very well and good from a scholarly/academic perspective -- which, as a Queen of Swords, I am all in favor of. But twice yesterday I received rather more personal suggestions that "butterfly" rather than "soul" is the key in my particular journey with the story.

Last Saturday, several days before I started on this investigation, I went shopping at a very large bead store. At some point during my browsing, I picked up a package of butterfly-shaped beads and, after hesitating over them for a while, finally put them in my tray.

I am not the kind of woman who usually gravitates to butterflies -- but I had the sense that these would be put to use in upcoming projects. I then promptly forgot I had them until a mention of butterflies in my C&P reading suddenly reminded me.

Later in the day, during a break, I was browsing online images of the Queen of Swords card and some interpretations. As this is my personal card, I don't usually feel the need to read other peoples' interpretations, but for some reason it seemed like 'the thing to do' yesterday.

What did I find?
Butterflies.

Butterflies are traditionally part of the iconography of the Queen of Swords, something I had utterly glossed over in all my years working with the cards. I thought of them as relating to Air and thoughts, but nothing more than that. I never connected their symbolic relationship to transformation or the soul to the card.

Where is this leading?

At first, I wrote I'm not sure yet, but I'm certainly enjoying the journey.

But then, as I was re-reading this entry before posting, I realized exactly where it is leading. I'd already written it. It leads to Grace. To the undeserved, unlooked-for touch of Divinity that transforms us.

And now I need to sit with that for a while. . .

I was on the phone with my teacher and Scotty for more than two hours last night, and it was transformative.

The thing about initiations is that once they are underway, you can't stop in the middle of them. (I'm not talking about a ritual you can walk out of, but the deeper processes.) Trying to get back to what you were only traps you in a death state. To thrive, you must move forward into the unknown, newly-birthing new self.

Now that my grieving is over, I've been trying to get back to "normal" -- but defining it in terms of who I used to be, even as I paid lip service to having been through an intense initiation. But I'd only defined that initiation in terms of my spiritual path, not understanding that my entire being has been impacted.

I am not who I was. I don't know yet who I have become, who I am becoming. There is continuity, of course, but so much disjunct in my internal patterns that I am often at a loss, numb. I've been saying "I need to find new ways to be happy" and etc., but part of me has still been clinging to my old self, my style of life. For those of you who know "Once More with Feeling," I've been singing along far too often with "Going Through the Motions" and the first few lines of "Walk Through the Fire." (Why can't I feel? My skin should crack and peel. I want the fire back.)

First I had to grieve the loss of LM and accept the hole in my life where he used to stand.
Then I had to accept and grieve the loss of the future with him which I had been looking forward to.
Now I have to not just accept that I'm becoming someone very different than I was, I have to let go of that old self-image before the new one is fully in place.

There is a sadly ironic element as well. There have been days when I've hated Michael for changing so much after LM's death, but I've been blind and resistant to my own transformation.

When my allies and I started the conversation last night, I had been afraid because of the numbness I've been feeling for the past several months. I had been starting to think about going to a psychiatrist, perhaps asking for anti-depressants. Now I feel hope and an openness to life I haven't felt for quite a while. It's not a finished process. I suspect I will still go through cycles of resistance, grayness, and forward motion, but I feel like this is the key to what I've been suffering for the past few months since the end of my grieving.

This was confirmed by my dreams last night especially the one where LM and I encountered each other as completely different people, but we recognized each other and he kissed me the way he first kissed me in this life: as if he owned me and would never, ever let me go. I woke up with that kiss and its energy still with me like a blessing.

After my regular practices last night, I reached out and asked the Magdalene if she would grace me with her presence -- and I was stunned by the immediacy and vividness of her response.

A couple of days ago, Scottie (an inner place ally) suggested that I meditate on a pure white fire as the Presence of the Divine.

Magdalene took me into the Bridal Chamber of the Heart, where I didn't "visualize" the white fire, I was utterly surrounded by it and then burning with it myself. It was the most intense mystical experience I've had in a very long time.

I realized that part of the Mysteries she bears is that one doesn't learn "to love" one becomes love, in the way that the Divine itself is love -- and that being on fire is what comes to motivate every thought and action in life. That is the path which she and Yeshua of Nazareth model.

There's more, but I don't have time to write about it before work.

It was incredible. . .

Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest for me to grasp.

This morning I read What Would Buffy Do? - The Vampire Slayer as Spiritual Guide, which was a surprisingly charming and insightful book.

It was also very timely for me.

For the past several years -- and rather intensely during the past couple of weeks -- I've been wrestling with frustration about the whole incarnation gig. As a Queen of Swords, I have a tendency to the abstract, grounding into my body primarily in the area of sexuality, but generally not paying much attention to the physical. Add to this bias the intense pain of my grief over LM's death and my frustration with my day jobs for the past ten years, and living here on earth just hasn't seemed like a particularly desireable way to spend time.

My teacher has tried to explain that incarnate life is where we learn and mature, engaging in the Great Work of soul development and ascend the Tree of Life, but I've really been resisting the idea that there are not other ways and places to learn that are equally valid, ways that don't involve such much wretchedness (and I write that very aware of my privilege). I've wanted to be rid of the mortal coil, reuninte with my soulmate, and not have to worry about punching a clock to earn the money I need to keep myself and my daughter supplied with the material necessities of life.

My teacher hasn't been the only one with this message. A couple of nights ago I was listening to a CD by Dolores Ashcroft-Nowicki, who made the point that the Western Way of esotericism is one of engagement in the world. Tau Malachi, the Christian Gnostic teacher I've been reading, also points out that our spiritual growth happens in the context of our everyday lives, not just meditation. My aching desire to at least retreat to an isolated cave somewhere was not receiving support anywhere.

So what does this have to do with a cult tv show and a perhaps gimmicky spin-off book?

Author Jana Reiss illustrates her various points with numerous examples from the series. By the time I finished the book, it wasn't the specific themes and values she discussed but the overall context which was making the most powerful impression. Over seven years, the Scoobys go through a lot of changes, wrestle with internal darkness as well as external enemies, have to forgive, grow, grieve, change, sacrifce. . . And they do it not as isolated individuals meditating on abstract values, but within a matrix of family, friends, and community. They mature, grow wiser, grow stronger because of their active involvement with all that life throws at them.

Suddenly everything that my teacher has been trying to explain to me made sense. Staggeringly simple, obvious sense.

There probably are other places we can learn and grow, but I suspect most of them are as vulnerable to pain and suffering as this one -- because, unfortunately, that's a big part of how we learn and grow. And, as the enlightened ones of many paths point out: when one achieves a sufficient level of enlightenment to shake free of the struggle, it usually comes with a profound compassion that compels one to remain in the thick of life and help others along.

So once again I get smacked with a clue-by-four and end up feeling like the slowest student in class.

But I really wasn't getting it before.

I just received an amazing message (via FetLife) from another daughter of Ereshkigal who identifies with the Sacred Whore tradition, lives in my city, and is married to a priestess of Inanna! (Thanks, passionandsoul, for the intro!)

When I responded to her, I found myself writing the following:

I serve both Ereshkigal and Inanna, having been initiated into the Mysteries of both so I am able to stand at the point between the Great Below and the Great Above and mediate both Their power. I am the darkness between the stars and the starlight in the underworld.


That last sentence was completely new and unexpected, but it feels very right.

A couple of days ago, anax_anarkhos said something to me about my emergence from my grieving making me seem like "Persephone kissing the springtime." That image took my breath away -- and it was all the more startling because I've never identified with Persephone. Inanna emerging from the underworld, yes -- but never Persephone.

Except that Inanna hasn't 'been there' for me recently. I think she's waiting for me to grow back into her. She's so passionate. I think she's waiting for me to rediscover my passions before we start to working closely again. It's part of my need to be new. Persephone is definitely 'new' to me. . . In ways I never expected.

A couple of years ago, all adrift, I went into meditation to get a sense of where I was. I found myself in a wild wood, at night. I found a clearing, then set out a ring of small stones and sat down within it. I had a cauldron and a blade. I knew that I had to sit there until I found my answers.

Now when I go within I am standing naked on the top of a grassy hill. A pleasant breeze is blowing and I'm facing the early morning light -- about as classically "East" as one can get. Eventually I need to walk down the hill, to rejoin the living world, but for the moment I'm still in the borderland. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, but my skin still feels the heat of the underworld. It would be so easy to step back into the welcoming shadows. . . into the welcoming arms. . .

This is what I wrote during my afternoon break at work:

I've been thinking of Persephone a lot from my hilltop. . . Behind me, my passionate husband, bound to his place in the underworld. My heart is with him, but I can not live there all the time.

Not even if Zeus had not decreed it.
[A new thought there, and a radical one. . . What if Zeus's decree had been not to appease his siblings but because it truly was in the best interests of the girl?]

Before me, somewhere beyond the hills, is my mother. . . I've blamed her for trying to keep me a child -- but did I project my own fear onto her? It's easy to grow into a new person when you're in a new place, but harder to carry that newness back into the familiar places.
[Adria knew that, with the very air of her high school trying to press her back into her previous shape, her familiar roles. . .]

Blame Hades, blame Zeus, blame my mother. . . It leaves me the perpetual victim, always at the mercy of the will of others.

Hekate chuckles from her place under the apple tree. I hadn't seen her until this moment, but of course she is here at this crossroads.

"The rest of them are bound to their places," she tells me. "Only you are free to move. Only you have the full freedom of the crossroads. You are my heir-in-spirit, my god daughter."
[A gray, cloaked figure on the side of the bed in a little girl's dream. I am your mother she told me, and I cried back No, you're a witch!. I had the dream twice before I was five years old, vivid and terrifying. Never to be forgotten.]

Hekate gives me a key. "You control your own going out and coming in."

Inanna was stripped of her carefully-selected finery when she descended to the underworld, and we have no account of her picking any of it back up. I am naked on my hilltop. I must choose, choose deliberately and with full ownership of the consequences, what I will "put on" before I re-engage with society. What garb, what regalia, what roles and honors and secrets and silences will I wrap around me and use to adorn myself, to announce myself to the world and to others?

The choice is mine.

I have (almost) always seen Persephone as a victim.

Today, I experienced Persephone claiming her personal sovereignty.

Today I was affirmed as an initiate of the mystery of the sacred crossroads.

Breathing and relaxation practices are not chores I habe to accomplish. They are blessings I bestow upon myself.

On Thursday I had a fascinating experience with shifting energy in my body, one that led to a couple of important insights.

I was home sick that day, after Wolfling had the flu for three days and I spent most of the earliest hours of the morning awake, in a mild fever, and fraught with fear and pessimism about my ability to provide for myself and my child in the years to come. I got up sometime after 9am, twiddled around the computer for a while, then took some aspirin and went back to bed. I didn't fall asleep, but eventually the headache which had plagued me all morning subsided.

I lay there in bed and realized that my energy was too jangled to sleep. I called on LM, and he helped me "comb out" the tangles -- but then I realized that it felt like my center was full of the energetic equivalent of pus. I had the unusual desire to take a spiritual knife to the place and lance myself, letting all the nastiness drain away.

Hmmm. . . . just now remembering that it's only been a few week since I felt like I was putting my guts back into that space. Maybe this is an indication of a need for additional healing around that process. . .

My phone beeped, and I found a site notification from a friend, A, asking if I was alright, because he hadn't seen me online for a while. I decided I might as well get up. I logged into chat, and one of the first things he said was that it felt to him as if I was "filled with miasma" -- which startled me. He then strongly suggested that I do a full-day cleanse.

( Cut for your friends page )

Then I called my teacher to tell her about the experience. We agreed that this is pretty firm support for the hypothesis that I have some kind of binding that's trying to keep me from this particular aspect of my work. We don't know where it comes from, but a past-life situation seems the most likely, that someone -- whether myself or someone(s) else -- at some point decided that it was not desireable to have me practicing ceremonial magic.

I'm intrigued and curious about the possibilities, but I'm not going to spend much energy worrying about when/why/how. My immediate task is to continue to do the work of facing my internal obstacles as they arise. When I flail and growl and get upset, they get stronger. When I sit quietly and look them in the eye, they slink away.

The challenge is remembering to stop and look them in the eye rather than muscling my way through or allowing avoidance patterns to take over.

When I came back after my break, Inanna was there.

To my surprise, she appeared as an adolescent girl with long black hair, a big smile, and a white dress. She was high-spirited, taking my hand and urging me to go with her.

Her appearance completely boggled me. Inanna has always been a highly sexual goddess, and to see her as a girl who I considered far too young to be actively sexual threw me off balance. I resisted and resisted until she got irritated with me and showed me a glimpse of the vastness of her full self behind the adolescent form.

Only then could I perceive the resonance her chosen form had to something deep within myself: my memories of being twelve and thirteen years old, when my own passions were starting to break free. I was sexually aware, starting to have vivid fantasies, although I was still years from even my first kiss. I was passionate about everything: my faith, my creativity, my fantasies, my activities. . . I felt deeply, intensely. . .

. . . In ways I have not felt for the past several years.

I longed for the ability to feel so fiercely again, and as I did I realized that the lower two-thirds of my torso was empty. My heart was still there, but everything below it was gone.

( No guts )

( Hierodule )

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!