Friday, December 9, 2011

Mythic Meditations

Another post that's been attempting to kick its way out of my head for at least a week, now...I've got so much on the brain lately, academically speaking, that it's actually blocking me from being able to write anything down - I need to be clear-headed and calm (or furiously angry) to be able to throw ink (or, in this case, pixels), so I'm going to force myself to get this out hoping that it will allow the floodgates to release the rest of my thesis unimpeded.

I've been thinking about intentionality quite a bit, lately, in terms of language, thoughts and actions.  Plenty of people much smarter and more prolific than I have written volumes on the subject, so I won't attempt to explain the theory or workings of it, but will offer my 'moron's-eye-view' as a way to establish some context for the subject I am about to dive into.  It is my understanding that by bringing focused attention to an object or thought, it has the potential to carry a specific sort of energy that we may direct in the way of our choosing.  It's the reason prayer works.  It's as simple as giving positive energy to the Universe as opposed to negative...the difference between YES and NO in a cosmic sense.

Now, here's where I'm gonna lose you with my woo-woo crazy mythological cosmic consciousness rhetoric, but try and hang in there (or go watch some tv, it's up to you), even though we may be headed over the edge of the map of what most people can deal with in terms of sacred shamanistic ju-ju.  Really, it's not that big or important, just some fun I chose to whip up to enliven my otherwise lonely evenings, based in/on an experimental synthesis of some of the stories/theories/practices I have come across in my wanderings/wonderings.  Come along if you will, go if you must, were off to where there be dragons...

Once upon a time, while wandering through a library wondering what my next step in life should be, a book jumped off the shelf and insisted I read it.  Truly.  It was the book that introduced to me to the wonderful world of labyrinths, and the mythology of Ariadne, High Priestess and Princess/Queen of ancient Crete.  (Interestingly enough, it was also this book that signaled the significance of my initial encounters with my darling child's father, but we'll get into that a bit later.)  I was instantly drawn to Ariadne's story - recognized myself in her words, actions, and even her countenance.  It was almost eerie, but to someone like me, an experience that lifts the hairs off your skin is one to dive into, and fully explore.  Most people have some knowledge of this myth by way of Theseus and a Minotaur, but I assure you, it goes WAY deeper than that, and what lies beneath is much more interesting than what it's been coated in for us to swallow.

Let's talk Ariadne.  It is said that when she was born, the god Dionysus claimed her for his own, though unlike that perv Zeus, he left her to her Earthly fate, and let her life unfold like any normal, High Priestess/princess in the matriarchal tradition whose Queendomly birthright was threatened by hostile takeover by power-hungry men who were raping and murdering priestesses on their altars of worship in a violent, blood-rage across the land.  The poor girl had the awful luck of becoming infatuated with the dashing young marauder, Theseus, and sailed with him when he left Crete, during the earthquake that destroyed her beautiful palace and city, leaving them in ruins.  They sailed to the neighboring island of Naxos, where Ariadne was received as the Holy Royal Highness that she was, and where she was asked to preside, as was her station, over the Dionysian ritual, the end result of which sent Theseus and his Athenians running scared, leaving her behind as they sailed for home.  It was at this point in pre-history that Dionysus is said to have claimed his bride, and given her the Crown of Stars.

You're all thinking, "Oh my god, that sounds EXACTLY like YOUR life!"  I know, it's uncanny, right?  Obviously, I'm joking, but where the significance lies in this particular telling - there are other synchronicities I could get into, but they're not as important to tell for what I'm getting at here - is the relationship between a mortal woman and a god.  Given the affinity I have for this myth, and the startling synchronicities I'm choosing to gloss over for the sake of space and time, there was a point in my life (after yet another relationship went sour and dissolved) that I lamented to myself how I didn't want to have to wait 'til I was dead to be claimed by, and joined with, my god.  (A month or two after that lament, my beloved baby-daddy, whom I'd been previously introduced to both in my meditations, and by his Timber wolf, walked into my apartment, and the sparks FLEW.  About a week later, the first time I went to hang out with him at his house, he showed me a cool book he'd found in the attic - wanna take a guess which book it was?  Yeah.  It's lived on my bookshelf ever since.)

Taking a step out of the mythology for a minute (but not too far, as you will see), let's talk about my dad.  My father was a man of epic proportion - not large per se, in fact, he was short and stocky, well-muscled, well-liked, well-loved.  He was the kind of guy you're lucky to meet once in your life, and I was blessed with having him in mine for 30.  His buddies called him the 'Bulvan', the Hebrew word for bull...wait, wasn't the Minotaur a man-bull?  Wasn't the Minotaur slain in the myth we were discussing?  Wasn't Minos, Ariadne's father, the one that was killed while trying to overthrow her country's centuries-old tradition of female rule to save his own neck from the Labrys, the sacrificial double-edged axe of the Cretan temples?  Didn't my beloved father die while I was immersed in the study of this mythology?  Didn't I find another thesis that had been done on this subject in my school's library - the author which's father had also died during her immersion in it?  Doesn't that raise the arm hairs?!

While baby-daddy and my father had little in common in terms of the lives they led, there were/are significant similarities in their 'personhood', or the ways they choose/chose to interact with their worlds - most likely, in my opinion, based on childhoods defined by pain, abuse, neglect, trauma, and any number of other horrible things that in a perfect world, would never be the fate of innocent children.  Perhaps that's why I was drawn to him.  That, and he's just so darned cute!  The man, like my father, has a certain epicness to him.  An immensity of Spirit.  While he is deeply broken, his light shines forth in a way that is unmistakable - and though I can get caught up in being angry with him for any number of Earthly issues, my Soul feels safe at home with him, and he remains the great love of my heart.  The gift of our child, after all, is the greatest gift I can ever hope to receive in this life.

So, getting back to our mythological pagan woo-woo love fest, it's important to note that I met a woman this past year who is probably the only person who can say she is 'married to Jesus' and not send me snickering off into the night muttering, "okay, crazy lady!"  In fact, it is most likely my interaction with her that helped me to understand the particular aspect of my relationship to my higher power in terms of how I relate the Ariadne/Dionysus paradigm to my own life.  As a result of this realization, I have undertaken to begin 'speaking with the angels'.  (Uh oh...this is where I'm gonna start losing those who've hung in this far)  It is a well documented...assumption...that there are these energies know as seraphim, cherubim, or angels, depending on what traditions you're familiar with, and I figured I'd give them a shout out, and let them know I was seeking a favor from my lord-god Dionysus, before bringing my request before the All One Itself.  And so I called - to them and to him:  "please, if you would, send me a worthy Earthly male which with to enjoy congress that I may honor you with the pleasure of my body."

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I realize that I should make clear, here, that sex, to me, is a form of worship.  A sacred act with which to commune with the Universe, the Original Source, or whatever you call that energy from whence we all came.  It is in this spirit that, about a week ago, I lay in my bed and invoked the archangels, cherubim, and seraphim - anything that would listen, really - and asked them to bring my request to the energy I was choosing to identify as Dionysus, if they would be so kind.  This is how they answered me - in a lucid dream, I found myself among the clouds, on the softest bed ever, being brought to pleasure by my high school boyfriend.  Funny that it was my high school guy, but I guess it makes sense in the way that he was the first man I had sex with that I had an actual connection to - we loved each other in the way 16 - 18 year old kids love each other, with the excitement and rush of discovery and wonderment.  Really, given my preference for a certain 'look' (I like a wide variety of men, don't get me wrong, here), they could have plugged in the hair/eye/skin color combo of 85% of my lovers, and any one of them could have fathered a child that looks much like the one I have.

The lucid sex was great!  It was like I had popped into the dream while my body was halfway to orgasm, and when I reached it, my high-school-honey and I looked at each other like the kids we were back then, with a certain surprise at how much fun this all was, and got really excited to give it another go in another way, when..."Mom?  Mom, are you awake?  I already cleaned my room and made myself breakfast, can I watch something?"  ...oh, you higher power, you!  With your sense of humor!  I told the darling little angel of my womb that he was absolutely welcome to do whatever he saw fit if he had the presence of mind to clean his room and make himself breakfast before waking me up on the weekend, before rolling back under my blankets and basking in the afterglow of a mostly-consummated congress with my god-love.

I intend to work further with this meditation, to see what else I am gifted with dreaming, and hopefully, to see what manifests.  It's ridiculous, at this point in my life, given the experiences I've had, to pretend these things don't happen, and that we have no power over the manifestations of our own destinies.  There was a time in my life when my day-to-day was immersed in the study and practice of the arcane, overly occupied by the occult, and engaging of the Enochian.  I have seen the results of focused intention first-hand on numerous occasions, and but for the wearing-down pressure of society to conform and make a living, and single-motherhood, still strive to remain true to the lessons I have been blessed to be given.  Living one's dreams is a hard road, but the more I grow, the more I see the importance of remaining true to one's Self, and the many pitfalls and pains that can be avoided in not having to look back and say, "I wish I had done this or that."

It is with intentionality that I ask you to go forth - to choose to see that which catches the edge of your sight, the snowball-sized flashes of light outside the window rising into the air as the radio that was off crackles next to you, to listen to your dreams and find peace in your hearts.  For me, this is the only way.  I think, for all of us, this is the only way.  My love attempts to cover us all - some days, I fail completely, but for the most part, if I choose to be more intentional about it, I feel that I can succeed.  That all of us can succeed, with the blessing of my love to carry us all home. ♥

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*the references are all pulled off the web, as it was convenient for me to do so.  if you have any further questions about some of the more esoteric information, feel free to contact me - wikipedia doesn't know everything!

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