In honor of Mother’s Day, I offer this post about the mother of Isis, the Sky Goddess, Nuet.
A most beautiful Nuet
While I have no declared priestesshood for Nuet, She draws me. A lot. In fact, almost anytime I do spiritual work with Her, I am overawed by Her Eternity, Her Depth, Her Beauty, and I want to lose myself in Her.
Nuet is the mother of Isis. She is also called the Mistress of All and the One Who bears the Gods and Goddesses. She is the Splendid and Mighty One in the House of Her Creation. She is the Great One in Heaven and the “indestructible stars” (that is, the circumpolar stars that are always visible) are said to be in Her. She embraces the deceased king and each of us “in Her name of Sarcophagus” and “in Her name of Tomb.” She is the Mistress of the Secret Duat (the Otherworld). She is the Glowing One (perhaps as the Milky Way) and in Her we are joined to our stars, Becoming divine. She is the one Who gives birth to us and Who welcomes us back into Her starry body at our deaths. She is Heaven and She is the Otherworld. She gives birth to the Sun God Re each day and receives him back into Her body, by swallowing, each night. She is the one Who is “Amid the Iset Temple in Dendera” for She is over Her daughter and Her daughter is in Her.
One of the stars within Mother Night, is Sirius, the Star of Isis. Right now, She is absent from the night sky (at least where I am in the Pacific Northwest of the US). Each year, the star has it’s heliacal setting in May and its heliacal rising in August (again, here in my location). This happened in ancient Egypt, too, where the star’s rising heralded the beginning of the all-important, life-sustaining flooding of the Nile.
But now, right now, She has not risen. She is in the belly of Her Mother Nuet.
And while She is in Her mother’s womb, She is also in the Otherworld for Nuet is the Lady of the Duat and Her body is both the Heavens and the Underworld. So now in the rising heat of the year, our Goddess is in the cool depths of Eternity. Perhaps this is the time for us, as Her devotees, to enter the Otherworld as well. It may even be a particularly safe time to do so for now we have the support of Isis Who awaits us there. If we have scary things to face in our own personal Underworlds, now is a more supportive time to do so. The light of dawn comes more quickly now and the sunlight of Isis the Radiant One is more readily available to us after we have faced those inner darknesses that we must face in order to grow.
Nuet, the Circle of Eternity, encompassing All
This may also be a good time to explore our relationships with our mothers. A strong priestess of my acquaintance, who was serving as a Priestess of Nuet at a festival not long ago, told me an interesting thing about how she perceived the relationship between Nuet and Isis. It was her distinct impression that Nuet did not get along with Her daughter. Of course, in the human realm, this is far from an uncommon thing. Mothers and daughters (and mothers and sons, for that matter) can have issues. Now, with the light of spring and coming summer and the help of the Goddesses available to us, might be a time to shed some light on those issues.
But even if we don’t have mom stresses, this can be a time to honor our mothers, both human and Divine—perhaps under a star-filled sky. Since my own mother has already been enfolded in the wings of Isis, I shall plan to honor my Divine Mother Nuet and Her Starry Daughter, Isis…on the next clear and starry night.
An early Greek Kore, looking very Egyptian, complete with braided wig
I’m going to be talking with Janus Sunaj and Domonic of the Magician and the Fool podcast next week about the Mysteries of Isis…and probably some other things, too. I’ll let you know when the podcast is available. In the meantime, here are some speculations about Isis, Egypt, Greece, and the Mysteries…
Most modern scholars now accept the influence of ancient Egypt on ancient Greece. We are finally able to take ancient Greek writers a bit more seriously when they tell us that—well, yes—the fractious city-states of Greece were indeed impressed and influenced by the ancient-even-then, ever magical, amazingly unified, and seemingly peaceful land of Egypt.
Hey, nobody operates in a cultural vacuum and the ancients didn’t either.
Writing in the 5th century BCE, the Greek historian Herodotus told his readers flatly that in the Egyptian language Demeter is Isis. In fact, he seems convinced that most of the names of the Greek Deities and many of the Greek religious rites came to the aboriginal Greeks, the Pelasgians, by way of Egypt. Among these rites are the famous Greek women’s rites of Demeter called Thesmophoria.
In his essay On Isis and Osiris, the Greek priest Plutarch remarks that “Among the Greeks also many things are done which are similar to the Egyptian ceremonies in the shrines of Isis, and they do them at about the same time.”
One of the Eleusinian priests, the Dadouchos
Diodorus Siculus, a Sicilian historian, records that Erechtheus, the mythical king of Athens, was himself Egyptian and it was he who instituted the Eleusinian rites after obtaining grain from Egypt during a Greek famine. He also said that the Eumolpids, the family that traditionally ran the Eleusinian Mysteries, were of Egyptian priestly stock.
How seriously should we take this? Could there be an Egyptian seed at the center of the defining Mysteries of ancient Greece, the Eleusinian Mysteries of Demeter and Kore?
It is quite true that we have no incontrovertible proof of an Egyptian origin of the important Eleusinian Mysteries. We do, however, have interesting footprints to follow up. We know for certain that either Egyptians were at Eleusis or that Greeks brought Egyptian talismans to Eleusis for Egyptian scarabs and a symbol of Isis, which date to the ninth or eighth century BCE, have been discovered there. The eighth century is the time to which the Eleusinian rites are usually dated, though it is likely that their true origins go back further, even if the rites were not in the form they eventually took.
Greek Bee Goddess…in what looks like an Egyptian nemyss.
The correspondences between the Eleusinian myth and the Isis and Osiris myth as related in Plutarch are notable: the search for a missing Divine Beloved, the mournful aspect of the searching Goddess, the connection of the Beloved with the Underworld, and the (possible in the case of Eleusinian myth) birth of a Divine Child. Plutarch’s 2nd century CE rendition of the story is usually seen as Demetrian influence on Greco-Egyptian Isis and Her Greco-Roman Mysteries. But what if it was the other way around?
There are scholars who have traced magical formulae from Egypt to Greece, then followed them as they returned from Greece—changed—to be re-adopted in Egypt at a later period. Perhaps something like that happened with the Eleusinian/Isis-Osiris myth. While the basis of the myth—missing Beloved, searching, mourning, finding—may have its roots in Egypt, by the time it came back to Egypt, it had been changed. For instance, the “weeping at the well” incident in both the Demeterian myth and Plutarchian Isis myth is not found in any Egyptian rendition of the Isis and Osiris tale. It would indeed seem that this revised piece of the story was adopted from Demeter’s myth into that of Isis.
Egyptian death rites as Mysteries
While this is speculative, it’s not just me speculating. There are actual scholars thinking along these lines. One of them is the highly controversial Martin Bernal (author of Black Athena, which traces African origins for a great deal of Greek culture). The much less controversial Walter Burkert has something to say about eastern influence, too, in his The Orientalizing Revolution: Near Eastern Influence on Greek Culture in the Early Archaic Age. Even scholars of a more classical bent admit the influence of Egypt on early Greece, especially in matters of religion.
Bernal’s work as a whole should not be dismissed just because he goes too far in some cases. In my opinion, overall he’s right: Egypt particularly, as well as other long-established near eastern nations, exerted a huge influence on early Greece in its formative stages. Once Greece became established, of course, it developed its unique culture. But again, no culture exists in a vacuum. We are all influenced by each other.
The entrance to the Eleusinian sanctuary today
Bernal spends a lot of time making etymological connections (etymology is the study of word origins) which are, at the very least, interesting. For instance, there are a number of Eleusinian terms that have no Indo-European cognates, yet can be explained in terms of ancient Egyptian or West Semitic. I won’t go into all the details because, if you’re not an etymologist, you might start to snore. One of these terms is the word “mysteries” itself. While it is usually explained as coming from an Indo-European root that refers to “closing the mouth” or staying silent, Bernal suggests that it might be better and more directly explained by an Egyptian root that refers to secrecy.
In this scenario, “mysteries” is derived from ancient Egyptian em sesheta (you can see the “m” and “s” sound there), meaning “in secret.” Sesheta, “secret,” was a word often used in relation to the Isis-Osiris rites, as well as other Egyptian rites.
Bernal also make connections between Greek words associated with the Mysteries and other Egyptian words, but frankly, I don’t have enough etymological background to judge. For instance, Bernal offers a connection between the Greek root of telete (initiation), which also means “completion” with the Egyptian djer, meaning “limit, end, or entire.” (You may recall this word from our discussion of Nephthys as the Lady of the Limit during the last few weeks.)
The Hierophant from the Thoth tarot deck; the Hierophant is the High Priest at Eleusis, and of the Eumolpid family
As I mentioned earlier, Diodorus Siculus recorded the tradition that the Eleusinian priestly family, the Eumolpids, were originally Egyptian. The ancient Greek scholar Apollodorus said that the Eumolpids were from Eithiopia. Apparently the Eumolpids themselves believed they had Egyptian origins, while others said they were from Thrace. Bernal suggests that the name Eumolpid, as well as the name of the second Eleusinian priestly family, the Keryxes, who served as Sacred Heralds, have plausible Afroasiatic origins. In fact, he thinks that Greek keryx comes from Egyptian qa kheru, “high or loud of voice.” And that, if true, is extremely cool.
Of course, the big thing that may have come to the Greeks from Egypt is the idea of a blessed life after death. In the work of early Greek poets like Homer, the afterlife is a place of wan grey ghosts and no joy. Where did the idea of a joyful afterlife—for initiates, anyway—come from? Surely, surely it was influenced by Greece’s neighbors to the south, where they were well-versed in the ways of the afterlife and its joys, assuming one knew the proper passwords and pathways. It seems likely that this knowledge, which would have been sesheta until Books of the Dead became more widely available for everyone in Egypt, could have been turned into a Mystery cult at Eleusis, where a Goddess searched for a missing Beloved, eventually found Her, though She was forever changed having become the Queen of the Dead, and then bestowed the Mystery of a blessed life after death on Her initiates.
And we haven’t even gotten to the harmonies between Isis and Demeter, which are much more interesting than just Their “Mother Goddess” connection. Perhaps we’ll go there next time.
The monumental head of Isis-Sothis-Demeter from the Roman Emperor Hadian’s Villa, now in the Vatican Museum; I have seen Her in person and She is wow.
An Egyptian rudder with seeing eyes and regenerative lotus decoration
As a river-dependent civilization, ancient Egypt was quite familiar with the rudders used to steer boats.
So it is perhaps no great leap to see the guiding rudder as a symbol of the greater guidance of the Divine.
Just as Egyptian pilots steered their earthly boats with these rudders, so they became a symbol of guidance and direction in the afterlife. And so may we also take them as a symbol of guidance in our spiritual lives as well as our everyday lives.
In the Book of Coming Forth by Day, for example, the deceased prays that Horus, the son of Isis, will be in charge of the rudder of his funerary boat and that Thoth and Ma’et will be beside Him. In other words, he prays to be guided by the strength of Horus and the wisdom of Thoth and Ma’et.
When depicted in the funerary books, these Divine steering-oars are often decorated with the Eyes of Horus, representing the power of the Sun and Moon, and the blue lotuses of rebirth. In a group of four, the oars represent the four cardinal directions.
The seven Cows of Heaven and Their Bull, with four rudders representing the directions
The rudder is also connected with the concept of abundance. In the Book of Coming Forth by Day, the deceased prays to the rudders of the directions asking them to grant bread, beer, offerings, provisions, long life, prosperity, health, and joy. Furthermore, directly following this prayer to the rudders is the formula of the Divine Cows and Their Bull. It, too, has to do with provisions in the afterlife, as well as rebirth from the Divine Cow. The proximity of the formulae of the Divine rudders and the Divine bovines, as well as their similar subject matter, indicates a relationship between them. Not only do both have to do with abundance and life, but also, like the four rudders, the four legs of the Divine Cow we sometimes associated with the four directions.
Isis guides the boat of the deceased in the Otherworld
Both cow and rudder are, in turn, related to Isis. She is the Divine Cow Who gives abundance and rebirth and She is also a Goddess Who guides. In Egyptian texts, Isis is one of the Deities Who guides the Sun God’s boat. In later Graeco-Roman sources, Isis is specifically connected with the symbol of the guiding rudder. As Isis Pelagia, Isis of the Sea, the Goddess was known to steer the ship of life with Her sacred rudder. Mariners of all kinds invoked Her guidance and protection as they crossed the Mediterranean, braving its many dangers.
In the Mediterranean world, the symbolism of the rudder continued to embrace the ideas of abundance and prosperity. In Hellenic lands, the rudder was a symbol of Agathe Tyche (“Good Fortune”). In Rome, it was the emblem of the Goddess Fortuna—and both Goddesses were intimately connected with Isis. In fact, of all the Goddesses in the areas influenced by Greece and Rome, Isis was the one Deity with Whom Agathe Tyche and Fortuna were most consistently assimilated.
Isis-Fortuna with rudder and cornucopia
As Agathe Tyche, Isis was considered the “luck” of a number of port cities, particularly Alexandria. In fact, Her headdress emphasizes her connection with cities. As guardian of cities, Tyche wears an elaborate crown shaped like city walls. Legend had it that Tyche gave birth to a Divine figure called Isityche Who was said to symbolize the combination of Divine Providence and Chance. As you can easily see, Isityche is none other than Isis-Tyche. In this combined Divine figure, “Isis” represents the wise guidance of the Divine, while “Tyche”—sometimes depicted as blind—represents unseeing Chance.
The Roman version of Agathe Tyche was the Goddess Fortuna. She was extremely popular throughout the Roman world. Every Roman emperor kept an image of Fortuna in his sleeping quarters in hopes of bringing good fortune to his reign. Anyone with particularly good or bad luck was said to have their own “Fortuna.” Fortuna even had Her own oracular shrines. Her symbols include the Wheel of Fate, a sphere representing the World that She rules, the cornucopia of plenty, and a rudder with which She steers Fate. When Fortuna is depicted specifically as Isis Fortuna, She also wears the horns and disk crown of the abundant Egyptian Cow Goddess; thus reuniting the Egyptian symbols of cow and rudder in the figure of the Goddess Isis.
Isis Fortuna with rudder, from the Temple of Isis, Pompeii
Like Tyche, Fortuna was often said to be blind. And, in fact, it may have been precisely because of this that Isis became so strongly tied to both Tyche and Fortuna. The Goddess Isis was well known to be the very opposite of blind. She is specifically a Goddess Who sees and understands the needs of Her worshippers. By invoking not just blind Tyche or blind Fortuna, but Isis Tyche and Isis Fortuna, one was invoking a seeing Fate—a more auspicious Fate steered by a skillful Mistress of the Rudder, the wise Goddess Isis.
Whether as the Divine Cow Goddess Who gives provisions and rebirth or as the guiding Goddess of the rudder and the cornucopia, Isis goes before us, guiding and leading us to abundance in all things. May She bless you. May She steer you toward that which you most desire. May She help you grow in strength and beauty of soul. Amma, Iset.
In honor of Notre Dame de Paris (“Our Lady of Paris”), and in the expectation that She will indeed rise again in beauty, I offer this post on Our Lady’s extensive connections with the ancient city of Paris.
If you’ve read Isiac lore broadly, you’ve probably come across the idea that the city of Paris is named for Isis, presumably from Per- (the Egyptian word for “house” or “temple”) or Par- (French for “with”) and Her name, Isis. We find that notion in places like Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code and before him in David Wood’s 1986 book GenIsis: First Book of Revelations and before that in the musings of 17th century amateur “orientalists.”
Unfortunately, it ain’t so.
A Gallo-Roman Isis & Harpocrates
The name of France’s capital city comes from the Gaulish Parisii clan who had a settlement on what would become the Isle de la Cité, and along the banks of the Seine, starting about 250 BCE. They may have called it something like Lucotocia, possibly from the Celtic word for “marsh.” When Rome conquered them, the Romans built a military base there called Lutetia Parisiorum (“Lutetia of the Parisii”), which eventually got shortened to Paris. Interestingly, there is single mention (in Ptolemy’s Geographica) of a Parisii clan in Yorkshire, England as well, and scholars have speculated whether the Yorkshire Parisii were connected to the Seine Parisii. What’s more, while no one is entirely sure what the name Parisii means, some Celticists think it could come from proto-Celtic words meaning, “commanders,” or perhaps, “fighters,” or—my personal favorite— “they of the cauldrons.”
A gold coin of the Parisii tribe showing a (probably) female head, likely a Goddess. But not Isis.
It is very, very highly unlikely that the “-isii” part of the Parisii tribal name has anything to do with Isis—even in the face of quite a bit of wild-eyed speculation to the contrary; speculation that actually started hundreds of years ago and has grown exponentially of late as things get uncritically replicated across the interwebs.
Section of a map of Roman Paris (after Crypte Archéologique 2005, Paris; MacKendrick 1972).
Nevertheless, is it quite true that Isis does have a long history in France—and with the city of Paris. Isis came to Gaul with the Romans, in the same way that Her worship spread throughout the Roman Empire. So yes indeed, there were shrines and temples to Isis in France. This map shows the supposed location of a Roman Temple of Isis, at or near what is today the abbey of St. Germain des Prés in Paris. It is here, rather than at Notre Dame*, that we have the best hope of finding a lingering tradition of Isis’ presence even quite late.
A writer called Jacques le Grant, or Jacques leGrand, writing about the 1400s, recorded this Isis-Paris connection, tracing it to the 8th century CE:
In the days of Charlemagne [8th century] . . . there was a city named Iseos, so named because of the goddess Isis who was venerated there. Now it is called Melun. [Melun is about an hour south of Paris.] Paris owes its name to the same circumstances, Parisius is said to be similar to Iseos, because it is located on the River Seine in the same manner as Melun.
A French manuscript of the 1400s showing Isis arriving in Paris on Her ship
Le Grant’s reference probably comes from a poem about the siege of Paris by the Normans, written in 886 or 887 CE by a monk named Arbon, who had actually witnessed the siege. In it, Arbon supposedly mentions the veneration of Isis at Melun in his time (!). (I say ‘supposedly’ for I have not seen this poem myself so must withhold judgment.)
In a manuscript from about the same time, now in the French Bibliotheque Nationale, we see Isis, dressed as a Medieval woman, alighting in Paris from a ship with the caption, “Here is seen the very ancient Isis, Goddess and queen of the Egyptians.” Apparently, as in this manuscript, Isis’ association with ships and sailing—think Isis Pelagia and Isis Pharia—was one of the reasons the French connected Her with Paris; one of the city’s symbols is a boat, due to the boatlike shape of the Isle de la Cité (where the Parisii were centered), in the middle of the Seine, in the heart of Paris.
Whether or not this is true is not the point. The point is that the city’s closeness with Isis is part of its lore.
The abbey of St. Germain des Prés in Paris
As shown on the map above, some say that a Roman Temple of Isis used to stand in the vicinity of what is today the abbey of St. Germain des Prés. A number of French historians in the 1500s repeated that tradition. And, of course, it was common for churches to be constructed on top of Pagan temples; indeed, it was policy. But I haven’t yet been able to find out whether the St. Germain des Prés tradition is based on archeology or simply on historical references. If you have an archeological source, please tip me off.
However, in texts, we do have an “Issy” associated with the site of the St. Germain complex. Sometime in the 500s, Childebert I, the Frankish king of Paris, gave his estate, Issy, to found a monastery on the site that would eventually become St. Germain des Prés. Scholars think the name “Issy” comes from Medieval Latin Isciacum, probably meaning “estate of Isicius,” a Gallo-Roman landowner. Isicius was most certainly named for the Goddess.
A Roman Isis and Harpocrates. Very Madonna and Child, no?
Is this perhaps the Isis Who stands behind the tradition of a Temple of Isis beneath St. Germain? Writing in the early 1600s, Jacques de Breul, a monk actually from St. Germain des Prés, repeated the tradition that the name Issy came from Isis—which it ultimately did if the Isiacum conjecture is correct—but it doesn’t necessarily confirm the existence of a temple on the spot.
Another St. Germain “Isis sighting” I’m trying to track down is the story that, in 1514, the Archbishop of Meaux had a statue—which looked for all the world like the Christian Madonna and Child—removed from St. Germain des Prés and destroyed.
Update: So the story I’ve found so far is stranger than just “destroyed.” Where I’ve tracked the tale so far is to a footnote in a 1685 translation of The Inestimable Life of the Great Gargantua, Father of Pantagruel by François Rabelais. This particular footnote was the work of one of the many commentators/translators on the French work…which I shall not bother you with relating. But you can dig through it yourself if you are so inclined here.
Anyway. Here’s a paraphrase of the footnote because there’s a bit of weirdness in the translation and I think it will be more comprehensible if I paraphrase:
First of all, the footnote says that Isis is believed to have been the tutelary Deity of the Parisians “when they were in the state of Paganism.” (Starts well, no?) Then it proceeds to say that the “idol” they had consecrated to Her was “still subsisting, and in good condition” in the abbey of St. Gemain des Près as of the beginning of the 16th century. However, the note goes on to say, in 1514, it was taken away by order of Guillaume Briçonnet, Bishop of Meaux and Abbot of St. Germain, who put up a red cross in the room where it had been. Even then, the image was not destroyed. “As for the idol, her statue, which was tall and erect, rough and discolored with age,” it was placed against the wall on the north side, where the crucifix of the church stands, “and it was naked, except some drapery in a certain place of two.”
Well. So, not destroyed, but kept? Interesting. What’s more, I kinda think the storyteller here may be telling stories. There were no Isis images “naked, except some drapery in a certain place or two.” Aphrodite, perhaps. But I seriously doubt an image like that would have ended up in a church. It seems to me more like an ever-so-pagan fantasy of the old gentlemen of the 16th century. (Those of you who have been following along have, no doubt, seen several of my rants about the old gentlemen of the 19th century.)
What did that Archbishop think he knew? I’ve ordered a book with the references. I’ll let you know what discover once I check it out. (See above.)
Isis had Her place in the French Revolution as well. As part of the celebrations commemorating the anniversary of the Revolution, in 1793, the Parisians built a huge image of Isis, symbolizing Nature and Regeneration, in the form of a fountain with water pouring from Her breasts. Both politicians and populace came to drink of the water of the Goddess and be renewed. The fountain was—quel dommage!—only temporary. As it was made of bronze-painted plaster, it no longer exists.
The Parisian ship with enthroned Isis on the prow from Napoleon’s 1811 Paris Coat of Arms
The demise of the Revolution did not mean the end of Isis’ French connection. It remained so prevalent that Napoleon—who had developed a severe case of Egyptomania following his Egyptian expedition in 1799—had it checked out by his own scholar. Apparently he was sufficiently convinced that he had a Parisian Coat of Arms designed that included an enthroned Isis on the prow of the “Ship of Paris,” which was shown following the Goddess’ sacred star.
(Much of this has been collected by Robert Bauval and Graham Hancock in their book, Talisman. It’s an older publication, but I just ordered a copy. I suspect I may reach different conclusions than the authors did, but I do appreciate the work they did in collecting the pieces of the tradition and I will definitely be following up on the references.)
Isis is also to be found deeply embedded in the occult traditions of Paris, but that’s a topic too big to get into in one post. Here are links to some Isis connections from the early 20th century with two of my favorite occultists: MacGregor and Moina Mathers.
Dali with his work, called both “Aphrodisiac Telephone” and “Lobster Telephone”…no doubt Nerval’s lobster inspired the Surrealist artist
Yet for now, let’s turn our attention toward the Arts of the period, for She is very much found there as well.
There we meet Gérard de Nerval, French Romantic poet, Symbolist hero, and proto-Surrealist, and a person who did much thinking on the Divine Feminine.
As was so often true —especially for the artists, writers, and occultists who were clearly sharing ideas during this period—for Nerval, one of the most important forms the Divine Feminine takes is Isis. Nerval is a mad poet; literally. He seemed to have suffered from depression and probably schizophrenia. He believed that dreams were the true reality, which is why he was so inspired the Surrealists, but sometimes he had trouble sorting out dream from waking state. He also had some charming and well-known quirks. For instance, he kept a pet lobster, which he took for walks in the park leading it by a blue, satin ribbon, and declaring it a better pet than a dog for it never barked and knew the secrets of the deeps.
You can still get it…
Nerval wrote poems and prose, including a piece called “Isis” (1845). It appears in a collection of short prose entitled Les Filles du Feu, the “Girls of Fire.” Isis is the only Goddess among the fiery girls, though Nerval wrote poems about other Pagan Goddesses and Gods as well. “Isis” is more journalistic than poetic. Nerval writes about a party held by an ambassador in Naples. It was a costumed ball in which the life of ancient Pompeii was evoked, including the sunset rites at the Temple of Isis, which Nerval found to be the most inspiring events of the evening.
Nerval describes the temple and the “secret” rites held therein, all the while comparing them and Isis with Christian rites and Mary. This discussion then serves as a launching pad for Nerval to write about Apuleius’ tale of initiation into the Mysteries of Isis. You can feel his yearning as he describes the yearning of Lucius for Isis.
Indeed Nerval spent most of his life longing for feminine love, both human and Divine. Eventually, he could no longer function in the world, his mental illness incapacitating him. He committed suicide just ten years after he wrote “Isis”.
Sometimes we might wonder how it is that Isis, unlike so many of our ancient Goddesses, was never forgotten. From the time She was first recognized in ancient Egypt to now, Isis has never been completely out of human consciousness. Anytime we start pulling on an Isis thread—lore about ancient Isis temples in Paris or Fiery Girls Who take up residence in a mad poet’s dreams—we keep on discovering Her. For me, these discoveries, while always delightful, are no longer surprising. She is always there because She has always been there. She could not be forgotten because She is.
The Pilier des Nautes found beneath Notre Dame
*Notre Dame is not the site of an ancient temple of Isis. There is a crypt beneath the Notre Dame plaza that you can go into and see the archeological remains, all the way back to the Roman ones. For a long time, people thought that there may have been a Jupiter temple there due to the discovery of a large Roman column dedicated to Jupiter by the guild of boatmen in the 1st century CE. It has both Roman and Celtic Deities on it and is the oldest monument in Paris. Today, scholars have evidence to think that the pillar was moved from the Left Bank to the Isle de la Cité…so the question of whether the island was home to any Pagan temple remains unanswered.
The Blood of Isis amulet, with the name of the deceased
The ancient Egyptian amulet of the Tiet (also Tyet or Tet) is also known as the Girdle of Isis, the Buckle of Isis, the Knot of Isis, or the Blood of Isis. Appropriately, the amulet was often made of blood-red jasper, carnelian, or even red glass. (Red glass, by the way, is a precious material and quite difficult to make; the red color comes from the addition of gold to the molten glass.)
When paired with the Djed of Osiris, the Tiet can be seen as the feminine symbol of the Goddess’ womb just as the Djed can be seen as the masculine symbol of the God’s phallus.
The redness of the Tiet may represent the red lifeblood a mother sheds while giving birth. On the other hand, it might represent menstrual blood. Some say the amulet is shaped like the cloth worn by women during menstruation. Others have interpreted it as a representation of a ritual tampon that could be inserted in the vagina to prevent miscarriage. In this case, it would have been the amulet Isis used to protect Horus while He was still within Her womb. For a whole post on the Knot of Isis, click here.
The Goddess’ blood that is our topic today is the red blood of menstruation, in Egyptian hesmen. A menstruating woman is a hesmenet. If the interpretation of the Knot of Isis as a menstrual cloth or tampon is correct, we may be well within our rights to consider Isis as the patroness of women during their monthly menstruation as well as a special patroness of women during the fertile period of their lives, this is, while they are still menstruating regularly.
Women and girls preparing for a banquet from the Tomb of Rekhmire
A young woman’s first menstruation is a sign that she is now mature enough to become pregnant, thus the ancient Egyptians considered menstrual blood to be very potent. One of the methods a woman might use to encourage her own pregnancy was to rub menstrual blood on her thighs. The Ebers papyrus notes that the blood of a young woman whose menses have just come could be rubbed on the breasts, belly, and thighs of a woman whose breasts were too full of milk, “then the flow cannot be to her disadvantage.” Menstrual blood might also be used to anoint infants to protect them from evil. Could it be that the Tiet amulet was developed as a more convenient way to protect children, and by extension adults, from harm through the menstrual Blood of Isis?
We have very little from ancient Egypt about women’s menstrual customs. There is one precious mention on an ostracon (piece of pottery used as a writing surface) that scholars believe originated in Deir el-Medina, the workers’ village outside the Valley of the Kings. It says,
Year 9, fourth month of inundation, day 13. Day that the eight women came outside [to the] place of women, when they were menstruating. They got as far as the back of the house which […long gap…] the three walls …
The Tiet and the Djed, symbols of Isis and Osiris
From this reference, scholars infer that ancient Egyptian women, like many women throughout the ancient world (as well as some in the modern world) separated themselves from the rest of the village during their menstrual periods and went to “the place of women.” What’s more, at least eight women from this village were on the same cycle. But I wonder why this common, monthly event was significant enough for someone to write it down? As far as I can tell, no one has a guess.
None of the “places of women” have been found for certain, though there are several small structures on the outskirts of Deir el-Medina that could possibly fit the bill. Interestingly, at Deir el-Medina, the menstruation of wives or daughters is sometimes given as a reason for the man’s absence from work. The weird thing about this is that, if a man could be absent every time a wife or daughter had her period, he’d be absent at least two extra days per month…and we don’t find that many absences recorded. This has led some researchers to suggest that only in exceptional cases, for example if the woman was incapacitated by her period, could the man be absent to take care of the regular household chores.
Model of a home at Deir el-Medina; looks pretty pleasant
The other reference to a place of menstruation comes from much later—in the Ptolemaic period—when we find a reference to a “place beneath the stairs,” actually within the home, as the place of menstruation. This room must have been reasonably common for we find reference to it in a number of documents related to the sale or purchase of a home. I am imagining some ancient realtor noting the lovely little “place beneath the stairs” as a selling feature of the house. (It should be noted that a woman was the seller in at least one of these real estate transactions and in another, a woman was the buyer; more evidence of women’s relatively high status in Egypt.)
In a house in Amarna, in just such a place beneath the stairs, archeologists found two model beds made of clay, parts of two female figurines, and a stela depicting a woman wearing a cone on her head while leading a young girl before the Goddess Taweret. That all seems pretty clear to me; this is where women go to menstruate and where they celebrate the coming of age of young women, who are being introduced to Taweret, the hippopotamus-form Goddess of pregnancy and childbirth.
Egyptian woman and man taking food & drink from the Tree Goddess in the Otherworld
These special places for menstruating women seem to indicate a taboo around menstruation; the women absented themselves from the village or stayed in a special room. We also have lists of bwt, prohibitions or “evil”, in the 42 Egyptian nomes and some of them include menstruation and menstruating women—along with things like a black bull, a heart, and a head. We’re not sure in what way any of these things were to be prohibited; perhaps by keeping them out of the nome? At any rate, menstruation in these cases was seen as something negative.
There does not seem to have been a notion of actual pollution around menstruation or menstruating women, however. Contact with a menstruating woman was not dangerous to a man, even though she was bwt in some nomes. In fact, some scholars think it was the menstruating woman who needed protection during her period. Thus, in the case of the absent workers of Deir el-Medina, the workers stayed away from the death-touched tombs in which they were working in order to protect their menstruating female relatives. Conversely, the Egyptians may have wanted to prevent the non-pregnancy/fertility of a menstruating woman from touching the cosmic womb of the royal tomb through her male relative, and thus rendering it magically ineffective.
May the Blood of Isis protect you
Interestingly, it may be that menstruation was also associated with cleansing. Hesmen is not only the word for “menstruation,” but is also found with the meaning “purification.” It was also a term for the ritual cleanser par excellence, natron.
From the evidence, menstruation in ancient Egypt had both positive and negative connotations. On the one hand, it was a sign that a woman could become pregnant—something most women desired—and it was used as a potent protection or cure. On the other hand, if one was menstruating, one was clearly not pregnant at the time, so menstruation might be incompatible with work on the magical womb of the tomb, which must be kept fertile at all times.
I think many women would agree with this ambivalent attitude toward their periods. Having a period is at once a beautiful confirmation of connection with the cycles of Nature and the Great Goddess, and it can be a painful and messy time, too. In whatever way we are currently experiencing those cycles, we can be sure that the protection, as well as the shared female experience, of the Holy Blood of Isis is with us. I don’t know about you, but I think I may put on my Tiet amulet today.
Ritual is not only about entertainment. It is not only a pleasant pastime or an opportunity to socialize. It is not even simply a psychological tool to shape ourselves and our communities through shared emotional or aesthetic experiences, though it can certainly be used this way.
At the heart of my spiritual life rests the deep knowing that ritual is a way of listening to the Song of the World as it moves through the earth and the land, and engaging with that Song as something holy, wholly challenging and transformative. Shared ritual is when we accept the burden and blessing of being embodied beings of this dense, physical world that gives us life, and when allow ourselves to respond in kind, to speak back to the natural world with its energies and currents and wild mysteries. Ritual is not for our sake alone, but for the sake of the whole world. It is for the sake of the solitude and silence that surrounds us, that frightening shadow of void and absence that makes us who we are, makes us whole.
We ignore it or seek to replace it at our own peril, for the world is what is real. Even in our deepest solitude, the world of experience and natural forces persists.
* * *
We have been neglectful and arrogant for a long time in this country, intoxicated with our own power, lulled into disconnection by our own thirst for convenience and speed and ease. Those years of solitude I spent grieving and kneeling to the dust on the floor were not made up of my grief alone. The land, too, grieves. She misses us. She longs for us to once again touch her as a lover caresses the beloved, to whisper to her of our secret dreams and sit with her in the long silences of twilight. She aches to be with us in our ritual and our prayer. She loves to feel the pounding of our feet and our drums in dance and song and praise — not the scraping and gnawing of our machines and our indifference and our consumerism and our denial.
Our religious communities are not only human. The world, too, the earth and her creatures and her ecosystems and forests and rivers and storms — all these are part of our community of spirit, the community from which our lives crest and subside again like waves of the ocean. And we cannot embrace the world in its wholeness and holiness if we seek to escape it or deny it through digital media that robs it of its voice and deadens our ability to listen to its thrumming presence in even the deepest silences and loneliest moments. Digital and social media have their place, they can give us some direction and help us to share ideas and information across the globe. But they cannot ever replace the hard, necessary work of showing up to ourselves in all of our limited, bounded, frustratingly beautiful imperfections and engaging in the wildness and wilderness of a world so much bigger than we are.
Please, please, please: Go read the whole thing. And then go outside.
Had a wonderful, impromptu lunch today w/ a dear friend who found herself downtown about noon and in need of sustenance. We caught up on each others' crazy lives, and discussed her amazing belly dance classes, mutual friends, and gardens. Then we spent time giggling over our well-laid plans to hit up nice neighborhoods following the predicted rapture this Saturday evening. Since we're pretty sure not to be going anywhere both Witches and thus guaranteed not to be getting raptured into the Christian heaven, we worked out a plan for dividing up the Jimmy Choos, Hermes, jewelry, good booze, etc. left behind by god-fearing Christians (Yes, I know what Jesus said about rich people, camels, and needles, but that's now been preempted. Prosperity Christianity assures the people in Georgetown and McClean (our first picks for looting providing good homes to the property of our neighbors) that they WILL get raptured if they just believe in Jesus, hate the poor, and vote for tax cuts. So I'm not too worried that anyone raptured will leave behind only stuff I wouldn't want).
I've posted serious poems about the end of the world before. And of course, we all know what RF said about fire and ice. Yet, what I can't quit hearing in my head every time someone explains that the end of the world begins this Saturday evening (just as I'm hoping to have Son, DiL, and G/Son over for Sancerre, roast chicken, corn, biscuits, and broccoli (G/Son's favorite veg, what can I say?)) is Dorothy Parker's poem, which I know by heart, about predictions that the world will end.
The Flaw In Paganism
Drink and dance and laugh and lie, Love, the reeling midnight through, For tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)
Although, Parker's (oddly, she almost never is) wrong, that's not the flaw in Paganism (which she had the decency to capitalize; well, she left her estate to Dr. King, so of course she was wonderful and ahead of her time); it's the flaw in Christianity, esp. the hate-filled Christianity of this nutjob predicting the end of the world.
Dude, Jesus ran around w/ 12 men. He preached love and understanding. I really don't think that the word "lesbianism" is in the Bible. But if you do get raptured this Saturday, I'll be glad to see you gone. I don't even want your stuff.
Here's an article about the opening of what sounds like a lovely store and community center, Crone’s Hollow, in Salt Lake City. Clearly a lot of work has gone into its opening and it looks as if it will be a great resource for the local Pagan community.
And, yet.
The word "Pagan" goes uncapitalized throughout the article. The word "Pagan" is an umbrella term that describes a group of related religions such as Wicca, Druidism, Asatru, etc. It's precisely similar to, for example, "Christianity," which is an umbrella term for related religions such as Catholicism, Methodism, Baptists, etc. Or "Judaism," which is an umbrella term for related religions such as Hassidic, Orthodox, Reform, etc. Or "Islam," which is an umbrella term for related religions such as Suffi, Sunni, Shia, etc. We capitalize Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, and we should capitalize Pagan, as well. Not to do so implies that some religions groups are "more" than others. Dear ERIN ALBERTY at The Salt Lake Tribune, please take notice.
Similarly, Paganism is not a "faith." While some religions -- Christianity, for example -- are built upon faith, Paganism is not. No Pagan religion of which I am aware requires its members to have "faith" in the Goddesses/Gods. Rather, most Pagans have what they consider to be direct experience, not faith. Paganism is, rather, a religion and should be described as such. To use the term "faith" (or, even more gag-inducing, "faith community") as a substitute for "religion" implies that all "real" religions include an element of standardized faith. That's not helpful and has, in fact, been used against Unitarians to dispute their tax-exempt status as a religion.
And, finally, there's this:
“We have a fun place, and we are hoping to encourage all denominations to come hang out with us. We are your neighbors, and we aren’t scary,” Morgan said. “It’s not about sacrificing children and animals. It’s about people coming together and finding the way in which they can, using the experience of ritual, worship in their own way.”
For the love of the Goddess, can we please quit doing this to ourselves? It's as if no Pagan can get within 20 feet of a reporter without reflexively repeating this guilty-sounding denial. I've blogged extensively about why this practice is so unhelpful. Ask yourself what you remember about Christine O'Donnell or Richard Nixon and then Do.Not.Do.This.
The trouble is, the model of “religion” available from the monotheists is just wrong. Every seven days, everyone lines up and listens to holy books or to a long sermon or bangs their heads on the floor. That just is not us. We are supposed to be about embodiment, ecstasy, performance, and ritual.
Here's an interesting article about a book that discusses why people leave xianity and how xians can lure them back to xianity. The use of the now-almost-completely-discredited-term "Neo-Pagan" is a clue to how "hip" the book really is. Honestly, the relationship of my practice to ancient Paganism is at least as direct as is the relationship of most modern xian practices to those of the 1st Century xians. If I'm a "neo-Pagan," then they're "neo-xians."
Also, look, I'm going to break this to you as gently as possible, but I don't give a flying frap how much you try to "show familiarity with [my] basic beliefs by asking [me] what attracted [me] to Wicca and what problems [I] have with xianity." (How those questions show any familiarity with my "basic beliefs" is beyond me.) I don't care whether you "show[] an appreciation for nature and a desire to protect it," and I really don't want you to think that you can "direct" me anywhere, much less to the god that YOU IMAGINE Nature reflects. Nor will it do any good for you to "not be shy about talking about your own spiritual experiences." I've been deep inside your religion/had your spiritual experiences (hint: I was raised in it and by "raised in it," I mean: Catholic school, daily rosaries and Mass, children's choir, taught CCD for years to first Communicants, did Catholic pentecostalism, was v. seriously recruited for the convent, tried Protestantism as a serious adult) and deep inside mine and I'M NOT COMING BACK. I'm an intelligent, well-educated (to which a lot of you xians object), adult female (and you might want to work on how you treat this half of humanity if you REALLY want to address my concerns) human being, who understands what you have to offer and what Paganism has to offer and who has found Paganism to be a better path for me. I'm (unlike you) happy if others find different paths for themselves, including your religion, but, after 54 years on Earth and several decades as a Pagan, a few bad Marketing 101 tricks aren't going to change my entire life, but, you know, thanks for the insult to my intelligence, integrity, and ideals.
Also, since I say this every time, if you're going to capitalize "Christian," you can capitalize even "Neo-Pagan." If you have to use "Neo" at all.
Can you imagine how insulted xians would be if, for example, Moslems wrote a similar book about how to lure xians into Islam?
This grey afternoon, a dear old Pagan friend of mine came over and we hung out, chatted while we made organic Swiss Chard and barley (I love cooking with friends; I need to do more of this!), did some ecstatic dance, watched the birds at the bird feeder, and generally had (what passes in my own odd world for) a very good time. She asked me what good Pagan books I'd read lately and, I suddenly realized that the answer was: "Not Many." I'm working my way through (and, unlike a lot of Pagan bloggers, being rather impressed with) Trials of the Moon (maybe because I don't believe that where one gets one's degree is as important as the force of one's arguments. It's a lawyer thing.) but I can't say that I've found too many Pagan books this year that have made a deep impression on me.
Maybe this isn't too surprising; after all, Paganism is, IMHO, a religion of experience rather than of faith or authority. You can read about mystical experience forever or you can go outside, sit on a rock, breathe deeply, and . . . begin.
But, still, when I first discovered Paganism it was through books (The Politics of Women's Spirituality was "first," although I'd grown up reading "Pagan" books such as The Secret Garden, and The Wind in the Willows, Grimm's, etc.) that gave some context to those "on the rock" experiences that I'd been having all my life. And it's a bit sad that there's not quite as much (at least that I'm aware of) great Pagan writing out there as there once seemed to be.
This year I enjoyed, and agreed with some parts and disagreed with other parts of, Restall Orr's Kissing the Hag and had reason to re-read Sacred Circles. But the most important "Pagan" book (and the author would completely reject that characterization) that I read -- and the book that I gave to Son & DiL, DiL's wonderful 'rents, and the First ex-Mr. Hecate and his partner -- was Louv's Last Child in the Woods. I read Dark Green Religion and thought that it didn't say much that I didn't already know and that it was most likely a New Yorker-length article that fared less well as a book, almost painfully "pumped up," but I can see why it's an important book for people, who, for example, frequent Huffington Post, to read. I bought and regularly refer to Bearing Torches: A Devotional Anthology for Hecate, (not of much interest unless you're devoted to Hecate), which is published by a group doing some v interesting stuff these days (Are we entering a phase where the best writing and publishing is done by groups almost fanatically devoted to very minute bits of Paganism? Is that good or is it bad?) . But it's not a book you read cover to cover. And, as always, I've had regular reason to resort to Illes' Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells. I imagine that I will have until I'm too old to turn a page. I'm trying to work my way through a few of (and I don't think that she considers herself a Pagan) Ingerman's books and I'm still not sure if she's so advanced that I'm just not groking it or if she's not advanced enough to challenge me, but I too often find myself going, "Well, yeah, of course, and . . . " Likely, I'm not yet advanced enough.
Mostly, this year, I read a lot of good poetry and a lot of legal briefs, some so good they give me chills and some so bad I wind up raging to Young Lawyer Guy about them. I'm consistently mad for Theodora Goss' bits of stories and for most everything that Rima writes. I'm starting, more and more, to find more good poetry on YouTube than on the printed page and this, still, makes me sad. I'm a dying generation.
A lot of good Pagan writing is being done, these days, on the web, and that's v cool. I always check out (these are listed in my blog roll) African Alchemy, A Pagan's Blog, A Witch's Daily, Aquila ka Hecate, Know Thyself, Medusa Coils, The Archdruid Report, and The Gods Are Bored. There are a number of others that I check out at least once a week or so. Thorn Coyle rather irregularly posts podcasts that I'll often listen to several times while knitting, cleaning house, or walking on the treadmill.
What's the best Pagan book that you read this year? What's the worst? Where do you go for regular Pagan inspiration?
This grey afternoon, a dear old Pagan friend of mine came over and we hung out, chatted while we made organic Swiss Chard and barley (I love cooking with friends; I need to do more of this!), did some ecstatic dance, watched the birds at the bird feeder, and generally had (what passes in my own odd world for) a very good time. She asked me what good Pagan books I'd read lately and, I suddenly realized that the answer was: "Not Many." I'm working my way through (and, unlike a lot of Pagan bloggers, being rather impressed with) Trials of the Moon (maybe because I don't believe that where one gets one's degree is as important as the force of one's arguments. It's a lawyer thing.) but I can't say that I've found too many Pagan books this year that have made a deep impression on me.
Maybe this isn't too surprising; after all, Paganism is, IMHO, a religion of experience rather than of faith or authority. You can read about mystical experience forever or you can go outside, sit on a rock, breathe deeply, and . . . begin.
But, still, when I first discovered Paganism it was through books (The Politics of Women's Spirituality was "first," although I'd grown up reading "Pagan" books such as The Secret Garden, and The Wind in the Willows, Grimm's, etc.) that gave some context to those "on the rock" experiences that I'd been having all my life. And it's a bit sad that there's not quite as much (at least that I'm aware of) great Pagan writing out there as there once seemed to be.
This year I enjoyed, and agreed with some parts and disagreed with other parts of, Restall Orr's Kissing the Hag and had reason to re-read Sacred Circles. But the most important "Pagan" book (and the author would completely reject that characterization) that I read -- and the book that I gave to Son & DiL, DiL's wonderful 'rents, and the First ex-Mr. Hecate and his partner -- was Louv's Last Child in the Woods. I read Dark Green Religion and thought that it didn't say much that I didn't already know and that it was most likely a New Yorker-length article that fared less well as a book, almost painfully "pumped up," but I can see why it's an important book for people, who, for example, frequent Huffington Post, to read. I bought and regularly refer to Bearing Torches: A Devotional Anthology for Hecate, (not of much interest unless you're devoted to Hecate), which is published by a group doing some v interesting stuff these days (Are we entering a phase where the best writing and publishing is done by groups almost fanatically devoted to very minute bits of Paganism? Is that good or is it bad?) . But it's not a book you read cover to cover. And, as always, I've had regular reason to resort to Illes' Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells. I imagine that I will have until I'm too old to turn a page. I'm trying to work my way through a few of (and I don't think that she considers herself a Pagan) Ingerman's books and I'm still not sure if she's so advanced that I'm just not groking it or if she's not advanced enough to challenge me, but I too often find myself going, "Well, yeah, of course, and . . . " Likely, I'm not yet advanced enough.
Mostly, this year, I read a lot of good poetry and a lot of legal briefs, some so good they give me chills and some so bad I wind up raging to Young Lawyer Guy about them. I'm consistently mad for Theodora Goss' bits of stories and for most everything that Rima writes. I'm starting, more and more, to find more good poetry on YouTube than on the printed page and this, still, makes me sad. I'm a dying generation.
A lot of good Pagan writing is being done, these days, on the web, and that's v cool. I always check out (these are listed in my blog roll) African Alchemy, A Pagan's Blog, A Witch's Daily, Aquila ka Hecate, Know Thyself, Medusa Coils, The Archdruid Report, and The Gods Are Bored. There are a number of others that I check out at least once a week or so. Thorn Coyle rather irregularly posts podcasts that I'll often listen to several times while knitting, cleaning house, or walking on the treadmill.
What's the best Pagan book that you read this year? What's the worst? Where do you go for regular Pagan inspiration?
Here's a good article about an interview with Washington, D.C. witch, Katrina Messenger, concerning Christine O'Donnell's claim that she "dabbled into witchcraft" during a picnic on a bloody, Satanic altar. This is one of the few times that my "don't think of an elephant" rule, about not launching into a discussion of what Witches "don't" do, deserves to be ignored. Here, there's a well-publicized charge that conflates Witchcraft and Satanism, along with some real misrepresentations about the nature of our religion.
Katrina's kinder than I am; I believe the young woman was lying. There's a common xian trope that involves having gotten mixed up in Satanism and then being saved by faith in Jesus. It's apparently OK for xians to lie when it suits their purposes. Whichever, Katrina does a good job of quickly turning the interview to what Witches actually do and who we really are.
It's sad that O'Donnell's nonsense eclipsed what was, by all accounts, a quite successful DC Pagan Pride event, but it's a good thing that some members of the media are seeking out credible Pagan sources to counter O'Donnell's slanders.
/hat tip to Capital Witch for the video and to Katrina for the email notification about the interview.
In the end, you are either connected to your landbase or you are not. You either have a personal relationship with your watershed or you do not. Those things take time.
You can buy all the books and athames and tarot decks and Celtic-knot gimgraws and plasticene statues of Goddesses in the world. You can go to festivals, you can take on-line courses, you can wear t-shirts with air-brushed pictures of wolves under a full Moon, and you can dress like a RenFaire refugee 24/7. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) But those things won't make you a practicing member of a nature religion.
Just saying.
What did you do to "practice" your religion today?
Whooo, baby. This is like a compendium of how not to do it.
And, by the way, there are many religions that are not xian that also are not Pagan. I'm thinking Judaism, Islam, Latter Day Saints, Eckanar, etc., etc., etc. Spouting misinformation is no way to "clear up the misconceptions about [P]aganism."
Update, kudos to Greta Cuyler: 610-371-5042 or gcuyler@readingeagle.com. for understanding the rules of capitalization. It's not her fault that people who should know better go around announcing, "We're not Satanists," thereby causing everyone in the room to think of an elephant.
Whooo, baby. This is like a compendium of how not to do it.
And, by the way, there are many religions that are not xian that also are not Pagan. I'm thinking Judaism, Islam, Latter Day Saints, Eckanar, etc., etc., etc. Spouting misinformation is no way to "clear up the misconceptions about [P]aganism."
Update, kudos to Greta Cuyler: 610-371-5042 or gcuyler@readingeagle.com. for understanding the rules of capitalization. It's not her fault that people who should know better go around announcing, "We're not Satanists," thereby causing everyone in the room to think of an elephant.
Suddenly, the nights are noticeably longer and there are, in fact, leaves falling on the lawn. The CSA is delivering acorn squash, and apples, and mushrooms and I'm thinking of soups. I've been able to turn off the air conditioning and open up the windows. In a few days, the Wheel of the Year will have turned all the way around to Mabon, the second of the three Harvest Feasts. (For the first time in years, I'll be out of town, away from my amazing circle of women, celebrating on my own, due to a court schedule beyond my control. I'm working on a plan to commune with some new nature so that I don't wind up making a sad little altar in my hotel room and feeling (too!) sorry for myself.)
Having three harvests is a pretty neat thing. It goes back, I think, to a time when monoculture was unheard of. If you grow different fruits and vegetables and raise different animals (as any sane people would do unless they lived in an incredibly hostile environment), they mature at different times. And you have different harvests, which come in an almost rolling cascade: radishes and asparagus giving way to too many tomatoes, the tomatoes giving way to too many zucchini, the zucchini giving way to the first autumn squashes and winter greens. In my herb garden, the tarragon is finished and the basil is warning me that if I don't "get around" this weekend to making it into pesto to be frozen in ice cube trays for the winter, I'll be out of luck. One thing about harvests is, when the food is ready to be picked, it's ready to be picked. We have to stop, pay attention, do what the plant requires of us when the plant requires it. That's part of what it means to be "in relationship" with the land.
It's traditional among many Wiccans to view this time of year as a time when we "harvest" other things, as well. If you set goals for yourself last Samhein, and if you've worked on those goals and been blessed with good health and good luck, you may be close to reaping the rewards of your work, whether spiritual, magical, financial, emotional, physical, or educational. And, if you're not, now's a good time to figure out what you can salvage and what happened to get in your way, all in preparation for the final harvest feast of Samhein.
I find it a good time of year, as well, to take stock. What have you got to carry you into the cold and difficult part of the year? What might you need to focus on now, that may have gotten lost in the heat of summer, the long days laboring in the threshing field?
If you consider yourself to be a member of a Nature Religion, I'd like to suggest that one of the areas you consider is your relationship with Nature. Do you have a relationship with -- not just a vaguely benign feeling for -- your landbase, your local watershed, some particular plants, or animals, or places near to where you live? If so, what can you do to improve that relationship? We Witches say that power follows attention. If not, what can you do to begin to actually live your Nature Religion? We Witches say that power follows attention.
By now, you know that I don't believe that, "Well, but I live in the city," is a good excuse. Most Pagans in America today live in cities. And the landbase of every city in America is crying out for relationship with its humans. You don't have to have a yard. As I've noted before, cities are full of deserted spaces, almost custom made for a Witch's attention and connection. (And devotee of Hers that I am, I can't help but mention that it is in just such deserted, liminal spaces that Hecate often resides.) In Last Child in the Forest: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder, Richard Louv writes about the work of Robert Michael Pyle, who described his relationship as a child with "a century-old irrigation channel near his home. The ditch . . . was his 'sanctuary, playground, and sulking walk,' his 'imaginary wilderness, escape hatch, and birthplace as a naturalist.'"
Louv:
"These are the places of initiation, where the borders between ourselves and other creatures break down, where the earth gets under our nails and a sense of play gets under our skin," Pyle writes. These are the "secondhand lands, the hand-me-down-habitats where you have to look hard to find something to love." Richard Mabey, a British writer and naturalist calls such environments, undeveloped and unprotected, the "unofficial countryside." Such habitats are often rich with life and opportunities to learn; in a single decade, Pyle recorded some seventy kinds of butterflies along his ditch.
What "unofficial countryside" is your countryside? The crisp Fall days are perfect for walking around, looking, and listening. Tell me what you find.
