PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE and How it all began:
(For best experience I recommend listening to ‘Lakme – Flower Duet’ by Delibes while reading)
Ishtar descended to the lower realms twice. She was the bearer of all wisdom and beauty. She was the sky you can see when driving on an abandoned highway in a late summer afternoon facing the sun nested behind the horizon of massive solid silver clouds. You feel the sky is bigger than anything that can ever manifest on earth. The sun surrounded with a gentle pink halo is sending uncounted sun beams of golden light, one next to another, all the way down to the horizon and beyond. She was the all encompassing nourishing beauty, that is pure love. She was the sky that makes you so overwhelmed that you stop the car because you have to weep. You weep because you know, that if you died at that very moment, your life was worth living. Because for a one single moment like this, all the silly struggle was made worth it.
That was her, Ishtar. She descended from these higher realms, to bring the reign of love to earth. She was the all encompassing Goddess of infinite variety. The Goddess of rain, heaven, earth, power, beauty and mercy. The unlimited ruler who sows and reaps. The creative wisdom in the core of every little being. The connective fiber behind the unity of it all. She was the one and only Goddess of War and Peace. But not the war we know now. The battles she was concerned with were battles for wisdom and harmony. They were battles that don’t end until every little thing in space is filled with peace and a sense of beauty.
She was the door to enter and the door to leave. She ruled over life and death as a relentless judge of equity. The golden mistress of wisdom.
She was adored and venerated by her folk. She bestowed chaos which is the base for creativity, originality. She was a poet who commanded the word just as she commanded nature elements. A prostitute. She could be a man or a woman but she could never be captured, restricted, limited. She was boundless.
When she came to earth, she presented herself with a prayer.
“I am Ishtar!
I am the fire in your heart and the shine of your eyes.
I am presence.
I am the seed of all there is.
I am the potential of your awareness.
I have manifested on earth in the name of beauty, love and harmony. That is who I am and that is what I offer to you.”
This prayer was to become the mantra for all Being bellow and above. This was the mantra of the universe. This was the mantra for transformation, breaking of boundaries and rebirth because there is no end without a beginning. There is no birth without death.
Ishtar was an uninhibited manifestation of beauty. She was nor male nor female. Her skin was like nobody else’s, the shade of ripe apricots, all pink and coral with a golden undertone. Her eyes bright turquoise jewels. She knew to enjoy the material beauty of things. She wore a rich golden collarett that was falling all the way down her bosom. It was embellished with large faceted indigo sapphires, warm amber and smaller turquoise roundels. Her number was 8 – infinity. Her plant was ivy. Precious metals delicately chiseled in the shape of bronze wine leaves were fawning up her long arms. She was all gold and orange and sparkly, zesty and glittery. The never ending source of absolute divine love and joy!
She was the dynamical guide who told farmers when to sow and when to harvest. She was the power that watered their crops.
She was the mistress of the night, when transformation happens in secret, unobserved, just so something new can appear in the morning.
She was the Goddess of fertility. Of the only creative power in the universe – sexuality. Back then sexuality was free, unabashed, ever present part of the natural flow of life. She ruled all kinds of sexual expression there is. She was a Healer and her skill was a true expansion of this creative power. There was no contradiction. All there was was creativity in the name of beauty and harmony.
She was worshiped all over the world in the times of antiquity. She provided rituals in her temple which was airy, heated by sun, a picture of sacred space and luxury. Men and women came to her for they wanted to better themselves. She talked to them, rested her sight on them, touched them… breathed in their scent, licked them, mated with them and then blended with all universe in an all encompassing explosion of life giving love. Love in all the little things. Love as a thought spread in an instant moment to everyone who needs it and transforms all worries into peace. Reveals true nature of things, the underlying truth in everything.
She was a teenager, a wife, a young widow, a prostitute, a lover. A symbol of sexuality for joy and a symbol of marital sexuality. She was all the power a woman can be, except one, she never was a mother. Creative power cannot be bound down to one object. Creativity must be free, else it cannot exist. Love for all cannot be chained by love for one singularity.
The reign of joy never ended but there came a time where darkness spread its wings and obscured the truth underneath. For a short period, an eye blink in the eternity, wisdom was hidden and overpowered by violence sprung from stupidity. Humanhood forgot where it originated from and lost its balance. It got ruled by greed and need, a bad dream that looked so real…
But this period will pass and Ishtar will be reborn and with her comes the return of spontaneity, feeling, instinct and intuition and as the Phoenix rising from its ashes, will be stronger and wiser than ever before, never to be overpowered again.
(For a fuller experience I recommend playing ‘Symphony #3, Op. 36, Symphony Of Sorrowful Songs, Lento E largo, tranquilissimo by Gorecki)
The second time the soul of the Goddess Inanna descended upon earth was in the middle ages. Dark times of lack and restriction held the power over humanity by firm clasp of violence, hunger and fear. This time she was known by the name of Sophia – inner wisdom.
She was a gentle being. Her eyes though, two deep wells filled with universal wisdom, spoke of immense power. This was the reason, why she kept her sight turned inside and her lashes lowered down, hiding the sparkle that wasn’t welcomed in those times. She couldn’t hide it forever though and one day it became the reason for her tragic unescapable end. She left her previous incarnation covered in jewels and armed with worldly luxuries but to enter this realm, she had to shed all that glittery armor and appear as she was – humble and vulnerable. Except, she didn’t know how to be humble yet. That was the lesson she was to earn in this life time.
Sexuality didn’t have an expression in this part of her soul. Yet she knew of her great power that was focused in one direction only – to be of service. That was a side she couldn’t hide or suppress. It was her purpose and she knew it.
She lived a simple sober life in a small cottage nested in a deep forest. Over the cottage there was hovering an ancient hawthorn tree and the cottage was covered by wild ivy. Her parents abandoned her when she was a young girl. Yet she always knew that spirit will provide for her. There was no space for fear or lack or worry in her days. She was one with everything. She didn’t feel compassion cause she had no self pity and where there is no self pity, there is no reason for compassion.
Her wisdom came to her directly. She knew right from wrong. She was connected directly to the spirit. The deity of the forest spoke to her and taught her, what herb or plant is good for which malady. She knew where the healing springs were hidden in the woods. She learned how to use tree bark, leaves and blossoms to restore balance. She just knew how to let the spirit guide her hands over the body of a malaised being – be it a tree, a plant, animal or human. She knew there is the right time for everything and she knew where the unicorns were hiding, waiting for the middle ages to pass.
She was pure, living in harmony with nature. Since she was a child, she had one good friend-Francis, who had nothing but admiration for her but it didn’t matter for he could never fully understand her. She was on her own. She lived for herself by herself. She knew she didn’t belong here, she wasn’t a part of the human race, but it never bothered her. She lived to serve, to uplift those who were ready to be uplifted. She could also relentlessly bring down those, who wanted to be belittled for she knew, that as with nature, so the human ought to go through cycles to enhance awareness, to be able to experience the polarities of joy and sorrow, of love and fear, of hate and peace of understanding. She was conscious that in the end none of it mattered as eventually everything will be manifested in its original fullness, just to be destroyed and reborn again.
Life was a laughing matter, a blink of an eye to be enjoyed through fulfillment that comes to us through service. It was to be marveled over the mystery that it truly is.
Her simple household consisted of a bed covered by soft and plump moss. All over there were hanging bunches of drying herbs of heather, mandragora, blackberry and some that didn’t even have a name yet. There were bags of tree bark, incense and yet smaller ones filled with healing crystals. She used those to make ointments and elixirs. Strong blackberry wine and nourishing wild heather honey – the food of power.
Villagers from near and far came to her for healing and she treated everyone as they come, as her brother or sister, poor or rich, she never saw a difference. She lived from the little appreciation gifts they brought – eggs, loaf of bred, flour, milk or butter. She was a hunter too and so she was well self sufficient.
As a healer, she was brief an efficient, the result of concentrated gifts she bore. One touch, one sentence, one look in the eye and the blind would see, the palsied would walk, the deaf would hear and those with broken heart begun to sing again.
Everything was possible when faced with a pure soul and acceptance.
Her fame spread like wild fire as she reached her 28th year. Her popularity grew way beyond the borders of that little kingdom. The inhabitants of the closest villages owed her for more than one miracle she performed on their children and elders. Yet she never asked for anything but kindness in return. Kindness for one another and all. Kindness that renders buried deep down in the hearts of those stricken with fear and disease.
She remained protected from the spells of the catholic church for a long time for she rarely left the forest – her loyal protector and companion. It couldn’t remain like this forever. One day she was visiting a nearby village to tend to those bound to bed. Unfortunately the authorities already knew of her powers and they knew that those influences need to be eradicated if patriarchy is to be the sole ruler of earthly realms. There was no place for natural cycles, intuition and unconditional love, if man was to enounce his unchallengeable supremacy. All those who were connected to god directly, all those who know how to heal, how to love had to be eradicated. They were the ones who understood the true nature of things. They were women of all backgrounds, they were called witches and heretics, enchantresses and hags. The Evil. The true source of divine inspiration. Evil was represented by a woman by the teachings of those in charge. The vulnerable were easily subdued by rough violence and it’s faithful helper – ignorance.
On a sunny day, Sophia was betrayed. She never learned by whom. But she knew the one who did it, will never admit his failure, not in this lifetime, for it was someone who’d child’s life she saved previously, it was someone who was saved by her. It would be too painful to admit such failure. The spirit of the weak and unaware isn’t prepared to carry such a burden. The burden of truth. No, that is reserved only for the brave and strong.
Sophia had a few days to think about this and all in custody. She wasn’t treated nice but she responded with kindness and acceptance, which made her capturers go into a scared frenzy for they didn’t understand. The flame in her eyes burned even brighter for she didn’t need to hide it anymore. It was too late. Her destiny was written in stone. And she knew it but she didn’t understand where the powers to be are coming from? What do they want? How can they believe, that they’ll ever achieve it? How could they forget? That this is just a dream, that looks and feels too real…
She lost her connection. She couldn’t understand anything anymore. Her thoughts were blurry and her head was dizzy. Frantic motion of her ideas made it impossible to focus on anything. She was lost. She begun to fear what will happen to her. Dressed in rugs and barefoot she was a picture of vulnerability yet the wardens were ever so cruel. She couldn’t conceive why. She never hurt anyone. She was unaware of the inhuman shine of her eyes at this stage. But for she forgot who she was, it was the shine of her eyes where all the power of her life, the wisdom, the strength, the divine in her concentrated and was glowing more than ever before, for it was the only outlet for the message she brought to earth. She couldn’t speak anymore as she was tortured by thirst and her throat was painfully dry and tissues were dehydrated. Her temperature dropped. She felt cold and distancing from her body.
These bodily symptoms only served as a confirmation to the inquisition. They knew she was the devil and now they could prove it. Her eyes bore hellish shine, her skin-the coldness of a reptile.
She never heard the prosecutor reading those convictions. When she was brought out in the daylight on an overcast morning and chained to a woodpile on a little square, animal fear was taking hold of her. She didn’t know, how she will be executed. She couldn’t hear anything but the screaming of the frenzied crowd as if from a distance.
She felt the wooden planks under her feet. She looked down and knew the structure was built specifically for her. That’s how much they feared her. That’s how much power she meant for them. They had to built the pile high, so everyone far away can see, how much power the patriarchy will acquire now. She had to suffer more than others, she had to spare the weaker witches, healers and herbalists, for they wouldn’t be able to bear so much pain.
Then Sophia looked up and searched in the crowd for familiar faces. She felt a sudden anguish and she knew just one thing. She didn’t want to die alone.
They were all there. All the people she met in her short life. Most were shouting in frenzy and hatred. A few were standing with their heads down. She longed to meet someones eyes, anyone’s, yet they didn’t dare to look up. They were too ashamed.
Sophia didn’t need to hear the charges. She knew what she will be executed for. And rightly so, she knew she was guilty as charged. She was guilty of being different. She didn’t belong to the flock. She refused to accept their sheep mentality and now for the first time in her life, she was judging them for it. She wasn’t capable of being one of them, so they had to get rid of her. Her own kind refused her. That made her feel humbleness. She was the one made of pure love yet she was the unloved one.
Her head was spinning, hands were shaking. All of a sudden everything went quiet. She didn’t hear the raging mob anymore. Once again she overlooked the long rows of people she once helped. They were at the height of frenzy, menacing with their fists. At the very back she caught a glimpse of those who were closest to her. They were standing quietly, their eyes focused, helplessly waiting for the inevitable as if they always knew, that this is how she would end up. Those few knew, without knowing.They were there for her, with love and acceptance that filled their hearts.
And then she knew, that she was making a sacrifice. A sacrifice for all those poor unconscious souls. A sacrifice, that she knew wasn’t worth it. They weren’t worth it. And yet she knew, she would do it again.
She felt pity for those unaware that they sold their souls for a piece of dry bread that will never satisfy their hunger. She felt compassion for those who knew they betrayed their savior, standing around feeling helpless. She pitied them for not having the resources to stop feeling like helpless victims of circumstances. She felt for her most loyal companions for she knew they felt they betrayed her too. Yet they had strong hearts and they could face their failure for what they felt for her was pure with no expectation of rewards. And eventually she felt most sorry for her persecutors for they were the ones who sold not only their own souls, they set to lose in a bid for selling the souls of all humankind and that’s a journey of no return.
She felt a mixture of dull fear and pity, of sacrifice and contempt. She didn’t want to be killed there but she didn’t want to stay either. She was paralyzed and she felt that this was the only possible outcome. She had to die there regardless of that she couldn’t understand why.
She was disappointed with them and she felt sorry for them. Those she sacrificed her life for were so pitiful and worthless.
Still in progress….
Remembered under the Venus eclipse on 5.6.2012
©Romana Anna Nova