Down I Go

Wiccan mythology is based on a cycle called the wheel of the year. It was first written by the british, then re-written by californians, so over time I've adapted it to something a little more appropriate to southern Ontario. The link is actually pretty thorough for a brief summation, so give it a read if you're curious; my additions to it are below:

1. Imbolc, according to those crazy brits and californians, is supposed to be the first spring celebration. HA! I say, and again, HA! February 2 is never warm here, so in my calendar, Eostre (or Ostara; spring equinox) is the first spring celebration.

2. Lammas, on August 1/2, is supposed to be the first harvest festival. HA! again. Not here, it's not. August is the muggiest, steamiest, summeriest month of the year. Samhain (Hallowe'en; pronounced Sow-En) is meant to be another one. HA! By the end of October, no one's farming anymore. I restrict my harvest celebrations to the fall equinox (Mabon, or Harvest Home--along with a plurality of belief, we have a plurality of festival names).

The rest of it is pretty well the same.

And strangely--or maybe not--after twelve years of following the wheel on purpose, I find I'm entrained to it: by spring, I'm tired of myself. I want to get outside (of the house and of my own head). I turn my focus outwards, collect hobbies and causes like baseball cards, read about all kinds of important things like environmentalism and racism and feminism and politics and whatnot. I fill my head with new facts and new perspectives, never knowing what will stick or where it will go. Wicca is in the background--Beltane, Litha and Lammas are sadly neglected in my home. I can't be bothered, really.

The light starts falling. The air gets a bit nippy. A part of my mind (I don't know what to call it) wakes up, stretches, opens its eyes and--hello? What's this? Where did all this information come from? What is that perspective doing over there? What on earth did I think I was doing when I picked that hobby up? Like a cat, it stalks the altered inner landscape, sniffing everything, butting into it from as many directions as possible, leaping on top, and in general expressing disapproval until everything is made my own. Helplessly, my focus turns inward. Is there a world out there? I can't be bothered, really.

I am thinking about Samhain and Yule, already. Planning what cards to make, what foods to prepare for the Mabon meal, if I'd like to have a Samhain or Yule party, wondering where I left the pentacle. I pull out the tarot cards, blow the dust off the wicca books and creak them open again.

I will assume this is not typical. I would find it jarring, I think, not to have the outter world reflect these inner shifts to some degree. If the flowers were still blooming on Yule while my brain was preoccupied with change and rebirth and the possibility of redemption, it would be profoundly unnerving. But then, we've already decided that I'm hopelessly entwined with my current living-place.

We've had the fireplace on a few times, when it was just a bit chill but not cold enough to turn on the furnace (which had better work this winter). I'm filling up the vase on the mantle with pinecones from the backyard. I've ordered a large quantity of flour, for all the baking. It's time to get some pumpkins for the front walk. It's time to make soup for the freezer. I can't help it.

In Babylonian and Sumerian mythology, winter and summer were described as the descent of Ishtar into the underworld, the territory of her sister, Ereshkigal. (I prefer this one to Demeter and Persephone; the female characters are more active and powerful.) In some versions, she descends to save her consort (Tammuz) from death; but in the versions I prefer, she's just power-hungry and wants the underworld for herself.

There are seven gates between the surface world and Ereshkigal, and at each one, Ishtar must remove a piece of clothing, until she is standing in front of her sister, naked. She tries to take the throne; Ereshkigal defeats her and has her imprisoned/tortured/turned into a piece of rotting meat (depending on the version). On the surface world, the loss of Ishtar (the goddess of earth, the life force, and the chief diety in the pantheon) is felt:

"The bull springs not upon the cow, the ass impregnates not the jenny,
In the street the man impregnates not the maiden.
The man lies in his own chamber, the maiden lies on her side."

The method of her release depends on the version, but it often depends on a trick of Ea, another god; when Ishtar returns to the surface world, spring comes, and life returns.

I feel like Ishtar.

Not in the ruler-of-all, goddess-of-the-life-force sense, though that would be pretty cool, but in that I seem to make this annual journey. Down into the underworld for six months of introspection and quiet and inaction. Up into the real world for six months of activity and learning and noise. Pull inward, push outward, pull inward, push outward, and all the while I feel like things are starting to come together, making sense, like it all fits.

~~~~~

What does this mean for you?

Not much, except that I expect the contents of the blog will be changing. Less about the outside world, more about the inside world. Whether this is a good or a bad thing will depend on your preference. In either case, it doesn't much matter, because I couldn't change it if I tried.

Posted by Andrea at September 18, 2006 8:24 AM under Witch

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