Earthly Delights

Circe daydreamed under an oak tree that grew on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Her pet pig, Ulysses, dug truffles while she watched the sunset roll in. The truffles smelled woody, fresh, and clean. She felt wise when she nibbled them, almost as if she’d lived on the island for centuries.

She had thought she might live forever, cloistered from humankind. Young, tech rich, cranky, and prone to fits of passionate revenge, solitude suited her until she longed for company. Her TikTok video advertising island paradise dream homes went viral. Ulysses, in a straw hat, held an open house sign.

To Hell and Gone, Revised

Graduation night, Persephone and her girl band rocked out in the high school cafeteria. Glittery sequins covered her jacket like chain mail. She was young, it was spring, life was good.

But spring turned to winter when Persephone quenched her thirst with a fruity punch at intermission. Her head spinning, she stepped outside. That hellhound from the shooting range who was always trying to get into her pants appeared.

Blame it on the punch; she followed him. Her mother, a social influencer, raised the alarm. Millions searched. The gods got involved. When the two returned, her mother gave him hell.

(Apologies, it’s been hard to keep up this week.)

To Hell and Gone

Graduation night, Demeter made punch. Her daughter, Persephone, washed glasses and when they got to the auditorium, she set them out on a table where a senior class picture was displayed. Persephone was in the center of it all because spring was her season.

But spring turned to fall, then winter when Persephone’s boyfriend texted. Was he in on it? When she stepped outside, there was that hellhound from the shooting range who was always trying to get into her pants.

Blame it on the punch; she followed him.

When they returned, her mother sent him to hell and back.

Wishing Spring

Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric on Pexels.com


Until spring comes, Persephone will fill the Styx with tears of longing for her mother.
Caught in the prison of Hades’s grasping power, she mourns.
Caught in the devil of the season, we wish it done.

We cry for hope.
Hope that the dark sky opens. That sunlight shines on puddles and nourishes green shoots of grass. 
Grass like flying carpets.
Take us from this dark country, soar high on a hope and a prayer.

A hope that Persephone and Demeter will be united
in love of Mother Earth. Their garden will bloom again. 
A prayer for spring. For redemption.

Rusalka’s Story

Water coursed through Rusalka, around her slippery body, into her memory. The pagans called her a sweet thing, a beautiful maiden, a boon to forests and fields. Handmaid of Spring, she spread life-giving water to the crops.

Baptismal waters washed away that myth. There was no room for Rusalka in the new religion. She was demoted, maligned, branded a seductress. Some still believed she brought water to the fields as always. They became a minority, old thinking, out of date. God’s people cursed Rusalka. They didn’t deny her existence. They changed her story.

Some Equinox Thoughts

After March 21^st, light outruns dark. Human beings create stories across many cultures to acknowledge, to understand, to make meaning of this phenomenon. When the darkness is finally conquered by the longer days of spring and summer, tales of heroes and villains emerge. Moses and the Pharaoh (Passover), Jesus and Pontius Pilate (Easter.) Krishna and Radha conquer doubts through divine love (Holi) and the forces of good triumph over evil (Nowruz.) Remembering ancestors and preparing to plant come together (Tomb Sweeping Day.)

In September, we’ll prepare for winter decline. For now, be fruitful, make the Earth a better place.

Epona

I’ve been goddessing since the Iron Age. Born in water, manifested on land as horse/seductress, I lured Roman soldiers to their deaths. There’s a coin to prove it.

But Rome won. They couldn’t bury me; too many loyal followers. A demotion to domestic goddess, that’s all they managed. A warrior at heart, I spent centuries in the kitchen baking and plotting, biding my time.

We struck. Me, Ceres, and Demeter took back fertility and reproduction. It’s what they fear about women. The secrets we know about life and death. The patriarchy can try, but they can’t take away our power.

Close the Door Behind You

“Diana,” Janus said, “So glad you could come.”

The goddess entered through the door of beginnings. She brought the moon’s fertility to Janus’s Table for All Times. She sipped his tea of memories past and future.

“Janus, dear,” she said, “I wish the night would never end.”

“But we must let the sun shine. Start over. Correct past mistakes.”

“Yes,” she said. ”We must think good thoughts- health, happiness, peace, prosperity, especially for the sick, the sad, the beleaguered, and the poor.”

Once again, they closed the endings door, watching the past recede and seeing the present open to change.

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