The Storytellers Goddess Part 18

Then, out of the swelling, out of the thick, heavy, coiling dark, out of the belly of the Queen of Heaven, out of Her, slipping and searing, into the soothing of the beloved husband, into the dark of the stable, into the giant night, slid the Sun of the World.

Out of the body of Mary came the Son of Light. There at Her breast He slept, while the beloved husband smoothed back the Queen of Heaven's hair. There slept the Child, filling the stable with light. There moved the animals. There slipped the tears down the face of the Queen.

There in the night glowed the new light of the world, precious, whole, and alive at the center. And it came to pa.s.s that the night was filled with mult.i.tudes of heavenly hosts praising Her name and crying hosannah to the highest and the lowest and all the bleating, mewing worlds that lay between.

I hate the word surrender. It reminds me of war and rape and invisibility. Surrender has been a G.o.d word for me: it has been about having to buckle to the very thing I loathe in order to prove my piety.

It has been about conquering myself, about strangling the full range of my emotion. In the att.i.tude of surrender, I have been sure that my will, my innermost person, would lie squirming beneath a ruthless boot.

Needless to say, I have not wanted to surrender to anything or anybody.

Indeed, I have spent most of my life identifying with my will and avoiding any activity I thought smacked of the loss of it. Certainly surrender could have nothing to do with my relations.h.i.+p to my juicy, flowing G.o.ddess.

Or so I thought. It is true that my new understanding of surrender in G.o.ddess consciousness does not degrade me or strip me of my sovereignty. I have been greatly healed, for example, by coming to know a legacy of witch women who, before they were burned for it, practiced a religion in which they bent, not to outside authority, but rather their own wills when they worked their craft. How sweet it has been to learn of civilizations that wors.h.i.+ped submission only to the womb and the tomb, not of one person to another.

But it is not true that my relations.h.i.+p to the G.o.ddess has nothing to do with surrender. On the contrary, my sanity and sobriety depend on my admitting my powerlessness relative to Her Great Power, which I am not equipped to fully understand. The Order That I Cannot Know, I call Her. She embodies the facts as they are: in relations.h.i.+p to the G.o.ddess, I must relinquish my childhood-based certainty that I can and must somehow force the facts to be different.

Refusing to surrender forced me to manipulate my perception of the facts. The world was too complicated if I did not simplify and call facts either black or white. I became obsessive about my efforts to change people, things, and even places in order to fit my version of how things should be. My att.i.tudes, in turn, were manipulated by my obsessions. I was anxious and unreasonable without knowing it.

Surrender to the Power greater than myself has been the key to serenity. Paradoxically, when I live with ambiguity and helplessness, in the context of the Order That I Cannot Know, I gain a clarity and peace about my actions that I never had when I poured all my energy into trying to order my world. The G.o.ddess is gray: She mirrors the states of a world in which everything, including myself, is constantly fluttering out of the reach of my b.u.t.terfly net and silver pins. The truth is that I love and hate inconveniently; I get tired when I'm supposed to be performing; friends have feelings that dash my expectations; and my behavior disappoints others when it pleases me. I get angry; I get sick; grief does not clear up like a cold.

I became tremendously caught up in my efforts not to surrender. I created in my own life a personal control culture. I disregarded real information about myself and the world if it did not fit how I thought it should be. I became so unaware and un accepting of my own feeling states that I could not imagine believing that my own real needs and wants might be the beginning of a conversation between myself and a Greater Power. Today, Earth-centered spirituality has given me back the night, the dark, blood, Crone, under, and lower. It has given me back surrender, too. Earth-centered spirituality focuses on the truths however murky and contradictory of my body, partners.h.i.+p, and the Planet. Today, I can say that I picture surrender not as a rape or an invisibility, but as the awe I feel when I allow myself to accept not fix or dominate the endlessly s.h.i.+fting facts of existence.

Devi (DEE-vie) Queen of All (India) Introduction Devi, Sanskrit for "glowing with brilliant illumination" and cognate for the English word divine, is G.o.ddess of All the Patterns of the Universe. She is not external or separate from Earth: She is the spiritual essence in all things that exist and occur.

The Harappans who first wors.h.i.+ped Her in India's Indus Valley called Her Danu, the same name used by the Celtic peoples of Ireland for their Mother. The Harappans were practicing agriculture by 5000 B.C.E. and by 3000 B.C.E. had built large cities of two-story brick buildings. The people of the Indian Danu flourished for another thousand years before the Aryan invaders arrived in 2000 B.C.E. The Vedas, the earliest writings of the conquerors, describe the ma.s.sacre and enslavement of the G.o.ddess wors.h.i.+pers by the Aryans, who enforced a caste system that subjugated dark-skinned peoples in the name of their holy male trinity: Indra, Mitra, and Varuna. Indra, the Vedic story goes, killed Danu, and patriarchy replaced ma trifocal Earth-centered social systems.

Not for fifteen hundred years did the story of the Great Mother reemerge. In 500 C.E." storytellers from non-Aryan groups who had lived only at the fringes of Brahmanic caste influence put together the Tantras and the Puranas, new collections that painted the G.o.ddess once again as powerful, She Who could obliterate the entire universe by closing Her eyes even for a second.

Devi, they called Her, the ultimate Shakti, the One Whose image all other names and forms illuminate. Splitting the G.o.ddess into multiple aspects may have been a demotion in many cultures; the very same act, however, has also served to focus and clarify Her immense complexity.

As separate chapters in an epic story teach a whole worldview, so separate personifications of the Great Mother can paradoxically instruct about Her simplicity. Knowing Her as Devi, Shakti, Maya, and Kali (see stories) and by Her hundreds of other names and forms emboldens and humbles us at once.

The areas least affected by Brahmanic Aryan influence in today's India are the Malabar coast of the southwest and Bengal and a.s.sam of the northeast. Malabar remains largely matrilineal and ma trifocal and the practice of polyandry (one woman having several husbands) was common until the last century. Wors.h.i.+p of the Ammas the Mothers is of primary concern there, and numerous woman poets over the centuries have thrived, more than one writing joyously of lesbian love. Tantric orders in Bengal and a.s.sam include women in the highest clergy possible, and caste discrimination is discouraged.

I adapted Devi's traditional story from the one told in Merlin Stone's Ancient Mirrors of Womanhood. This story, in turn, was drawn from several books of the Puranas. I have used a crown and a purple cloth to invoke Her great power and centered ness in my life.

Devi and the Battle with Durga the Evil One Once long ago, in the heavens over the land of India, Durga the Evil One took the shape of a Demon Buffalo, raised up on his hind legs, and drove the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses from Heaven, forcing them to seek refuge in the forests of Earth. Bellowing, he smashed the holy places and crashed through the skies to the Earth below.

There Durga the Evil One stole fires from hearths, pushed great rivers from their paths, and dried up the rains. He uprooted mountains with his horns and dusted himself with the powder of gold and copper he found there.

The people cried out to the G.o.d s.h.i.+va.

"Dancing Prince! Save us from the monster Durga. Muscle the Evil One away. Tear out his horns!"

Prince s.h.i.+va was powerful, but he found the strength of his armies no match for the Durga. The Demon Buffalo continued his rampage.

When the people gathered at the palace of the G.o.d Kalatn.

"Guardian of the Night," they called out.

"Sneak up on the Durga. Tear out his tail from behind, and when he whirls to meet you, kill him with your power. We beg you. We are longing to be safe."

But Kalatri, too, found that his powers were nothing against the Evil One's storm. So the people gathered their jewels and went to the Devi.

Into the circle of Her throne room they flooded and fell on their faces before Her.

Devi sat at the center on a throne, half of which was made of fire and the other half of water. A tree grew high on either side of Her, and the scent of lotus hung in the air. Green threads sprayed out from Her thousand hands, and Devi's three eyes glowed one black, one white, and one the color of blood.

"Great One!" the people rumbled.

"Luminous Mother! You of the thousand arms. Queen of Earth, Queen of Fire, Queen of Water, Queen of Air. You Who hold the threads of all matter in Your hands!

"Neither Shakti nor Kalatri can leash the mighty Durga. We need You, O Great One. Put Your sword in his heart."

Devi the Great One rode to meet Durga on Her lion. The Demon Buffalo had created soldiers beyond number for this battle. He also had 120 million chariots and 120 million horses. With a whoop of rage, the Evil One hailed a storm of arrows on Devi, but they fell from Her body like raindrops.

Then the Demon blew hurricanes with his breath. He tore boulders off mountains and uprooted trees. He hurled the trees and rocks at Devi, but they touched Her like sand might touch a cliff in a breeze. Then the Evil One lashed a huge wave from the ocean with his tail and sent it to drown Devi's lion.

Though Devi's arms were busy with many battles, She was angered at the attack on Her lion. She took a mighty rope and la.s.soed Durga's tail.

At that instant, Durga the Buffalo became Durga the Lion. Devi plunged Her sword through the Lion, but Durga the Lion then turned into Durga the Man, sword and s.h.i.+eld in his hands. When Devi slung Her spear at Durga the Man, Durga became Durga the Elephant.

And so it was that the Evil One kept changing forms and creating more and more evil. No one lost and no one won. A mountain of evil grew up, and Devi sliced it into seven smaller hills.

Finally Durga showed himself in his true form. The Demon Buffalo stepped into battle without a disguise. This time he was Durga the Evil One, and he too had one thousand arms.

Then came the battle. One thousand arms of Durga flew against one thousand arms of Devi. Suddenly, just when it seemed that the clanging and cutting and searing could get no hotter, Devi stopped.

She pulled in Her one thousand arms and sat Herself down and was silent. Then slowly She spread a purple cloth before Her and began to eat and drink of the fruits and wine that appeared there. Devi chewed and swallowed with pleasure, and Her three eyes shone.

The whole world watched. People held their breaths. Why had Devi stopped fighting? Was She admitting defeat?

Then Devi stood. When She called to the Evil One, Her voice sounded like cymbals and bells.

"Durga! Laugh your last laugh!" She said. Durga roared. Devi leapt up and set Her foot on his neck. Then with Her thousand arms, She tore the thousand arms of the Evil One from his body. Then She braided his arms into Her hair until they rose up like a crown about Her face.

The people cheered.

"We are saved! Victory! Queen of the World! Savior! Devi!" they shouted, waving branches and singing.

From that day forth, Devi was called Devi the Luminous by Her people.

But they also called Her Durga, for at the battle of the Buffalo Demon they saw Durga become a part of the Devi.

Sun Woman (Australia) Introduction Before the European Caucasians began to force themselves onto the continent of Australia two centuries ago, the aboriginals, who prefer to be called Australoids, were the land's original peoples. Then they numbered five hundred tribes and three hundred thousand individuals. Today they are only forty thousand and have been largely pushed out of the fertile eastern sections of the continent onto the deserts of the central regions. The Australoid peoples tell the stories of the Ancients who lived under the world and came out at the beginning to sing into being the rivers, the ranges, the salt pan, and the sand dunes. The Ancients wrapped the world in a web of song, a net of music trails that even today enliven the land's forms and inhabitants, though the colonizer may be deaf to the sacred sound. Their song sung, the Ancients went back to the cave holes that bore Them, leaving the records of these wondrous cantatas on wooden and stone churingas (record sticks) for the people, to be guarded by every generation forevermore.

Yhi is the Sun Woman of the Arunta people who now live just west of Queensland in central Australia. She is the G.o.ddess who grows both old and young as the year changes (like Changing Woman of the Navajo: see story). Every day She reenters the Womb of Life under the sand where all the Ancient Spirits live. Sun Woman, like Amaterasu Omikami of j.a.pan (see story), Allat of ancient Arabia, and Sun G.o.ddesses of Argentinians, Inuit (Eskimo) peoples, and ancient Anatolians, defies the stereotype that Sun deities are always male.

I borrowed the seed of Merlin Stone's tale in Ancient Mirrors of Womanhood to write Sun Woman's story, which honors the Twelve-Step program concept of "one day at a time" that is so helpful in my life. I invoke Sun Woman with that slogan and have also carried a bit of red cloth and a wood chip to remind me of Her.

The Tasks for Each Day Deep down under the sands of the desert live all the Spirits who have died or have not yet been born. All day long the Spirit People sew a huge red dress, needles flas.h.i.+ng in and out, working seams and hems so the dress will fit just right.

The dress is for Sun Woman. Every night Sun Woman returns to the Spirit People under the sand and slips into the new dress They've prepared for Her. Then, just before every dawn, the Spirit People give Sun Woman a huge log, which They light for Her journey up to the Earth People.

Each night, the Spirit People make just one dress and ready just one log for one torch. That one dress and torch are what Sun Woman takes for Her trip across the sky every day.