It Begins with a Call: A Vision of Athena and Hygeia (Part 12)

Athena is still around. 

I close my eyes and picture the sacred spring at Panther Meadow on Mt. Shasta, a place that is sacred to me. From there, I see myself ascend to the top of a mountain where I find a fire outside a cave.  I sit down alongside the fire and wait, knowing that I need permission to enter the cave.  Athena arrives and takes me inside and Hygeia is there.  She is beautiful but does not look like Klimt’s version of her, although She tells me She likes the way he portrayed Her.  Here She is dressed simply and has a long, dark braid hanging down Her back.  She feeds me a syrup made from elder flowers and berries, thyme, and snake venom.

My Hygeia SoulCollage® card

Athena lays me down and kisses my forehead.  The kiss sends a jolt of energy running through me.  She speaks about my being (or needing to be) a warrior.  Not one who fights literal battles, but one whose work is protecting and defending the children and myself.  She tells me that I am to be a healer, but not a physical healer.  My work is not hands-on healing of the body.  She instructs me to say three times, “I accept Athena Hygeneia,” which I do (I have not seen the name Hygeneia anywhere).

Athena tells me to go to the teacher’s next healers’ intensive, not to either start or finish a process, but to “ripen” one.  She tells me this will be made clear if I pay attention, and that intellectual information will be given to me in my dreams.  She says that snakes are important; they are meant to scare.  My work is about healing fear.

Well, fear is one thing I’m certainly familiar with.  I remember the appearance of a large snake the last time I was at the teacher’s.

I have never felt either attracted to or fascinated by snakes.  Maybe this will change.  Both Athena and Hygeia handle snakes.

Hygeia wields her snake

            with confidence and skill.

She is beautiful and proud,

            and I wonder

what She might be

            to me.  I wonder,

what are Her stories?

The snake amulet came to me

            with a reading about shedding fear.

Hygeia knows about this,

            the way the Cretan snake goddesses -

Ixchel, Kali, and the Rainbow Serpent -

            all embody and brandish snake power

without fear.

            They let me know

I have much to learn.

I remember the teacher once saying that Spirit will not necessarily come to you in the way you want or expect.  Maybe all my whining and complaining about not feeling connected to Spirit is because I haven’t recognized how Spirit communication and, really, communion happen.  I get guidance when consulting my SoulCollage® cards, especially the one I call Wisdom Keeper.  She became my guide at age 65, for the years from ages 65 to 70.  She answers my questions when I write in the mornings, and never fails me.  But sometimes I discount her advice because it comes through the voice in my own head; the words come pouring out of my pen onto paper.  I think, “Well, it’s just my own voice.” But what if it is the way Spirit communicates to me, and I have just been discounting it?

Wisdom Keeper

I also wondered whether this focus on Athena and Hygeia was insulting to Persephone, to whom I feel allegiance, so I asked Her.  She said, “Oh, dear heart, expand your repertoire.  And your council.”

I like this idea, of having a council of goddesses and wisdom figures to be my guides.

It Begins with a Call - Part 4

When Athena sprang from Zeus’s head, She emerged fully formed.  In stories, what is missing may be very important.  Often, in fairy tales, it is the feminine; there is no queen, or the queen has died. That tells you something right away.

Here is what isn’t spoken of in the context of Athena’s birth, at least not that I have found: Zeus’ head, splitting open to bear a wise, snake-handling warrior woman goddess, must have caused Him a colossal headache. 

            

 A woman in black sits between Zeus and his daughter Athena.  They are at Dodona, the place where, in ancient times, the rustling leaves of the sacred oak delivered oracles.  In my SoulCollage® card, the woman in black pushes her elbow firmly into the back of Zeus’ head.  (This is the beauty of SoulCollage® - often you don’t really see what you’ve made until afterwards.)

“Headache,” she wordlessly prods.  “More headache.” Endlessly.  She is untroubled.  She comes from the underworld.  

I cannot hear what the leaves speak, but there is a whispering in my ear.

           

Another dream comes.  In it, I cross a bridge over a raging river on my way to the basement workshop of an Asian man, a wood worker.  He speaks to a small group of us, saying that the river we crossed is magical; drinking its water would add five years to your life.  He steps on blocks of wood and leads us to another area in this large underground workshop.  This is the studio of a very old Chinese craftsman, dressed in ancient, stereotypical Chinese dress.  He has just had a grandchild born to him.  He shows us a small box that he has made.  It is open in the front, like a diorama, and has small pieces, perhaps chairs, inside.  He tells us he has named his piece The Gifts of Oya.

           

I know Oya is an African goddess, but I don’t remember anything about Her, so I look Her up.  She is the goddess of tempests and wind, the goddess of transformation, death and rebirth.  A dark sister to Persephone.  But why would a Chinese man honor an African goddess?

I come to understand that the underworld is more than the land of the dead; it is the realm of the ancestral.  I intuit that I am to look to the ancestral, but not only the ancestors of my family.  There may be a council of ancestors who come from many cultures, some of whom are not even human.  This council may include trees, rocks, water. 

           

Did I think I was out of the underworld?  That was premature, wishful thinking.  The light is diffuse here.  I must be wandering around in the underworld still.

I have no question for the teacher, though I wish I did.  I want to ask something, but I don’t know what.  She says to me, “I know what your question is.” 

           

“What is it?” I ask.

           

“How do you bring your work into the dark?”

Birth Pains

As if there aren’t enough goddesses at work in my psyche, now I’ve been given Athena.  I accept.  Persephone, Demeter, Hecate, Hestia, and now Athena.  (Oh, and some conversations with Kali, too, but that’s another pantheon.)

I’ve been wanting to write about my experiences the last 3 months since attending the intensive, but it’s been difficult because everything has felt so unresolved, so unclear. Much of it may always be a mystery, but I have come to understand certain things about it.  It may take several blogs, and I may not be as linear or logical as usual.  Maybe that's a good thing!

To make a long story short, after being in the crucible of the intensive (with fires also burning all around Topanga and nearby), I felt myself seized by a headache in the back of my head.  But I’ve grown convinced that it is really a spiritual illness with physical manifestations. I have to treat it accordingly (but be assured I’ve used the allopathic system as well as lots of all kinds of alternative treatments).  

Yesterday, I had a conversation with Deena.  She says something is about to be born.  Like Zeus before Athena sprang from his head, I, too,  have an aching head.

Deena spoke of a statue of Athena at the Parthenon Museum, and I remembered it immediately.  It’s one of the few images of Athena that I love.  As Deena said, Athena is a warrior, but also very feminine, and accompanied by snakes (which many goddesses are).  She is the goddess of the mind, and I’m ready for a new belief system (or an old one, really) to take hold.

If you read my blog in early June, you might remember this image:

That’s where this poem begins (and where I am now):

Birth Pains

First,

there was an image,

a box of mystery,

required and sought –

held in Persephone’s hands -

claimed at the behest

of greater forces -

opened to reveal

ghosts and fear,

shame and diverted anger.

Resisting that which you pursued,

you turned your head

to one side and

threw your arms up

to shield your face.

They formed an X, a cross,

to ward off pain and suffering,

to stop the necessary change

that must follow.

After the image

came the dream:

Fix the hub and all healing

will radiate through the spokes

to every part of the wheel.

Spirit has seized you

like a mama cat

snatching up her kitten

by the nape of its neck.

Here - She says –

Look here –

where you have shoved me  

to the back of your mind.

Your dream spoke true -

I am the hub of the wheel,

Not you.

That was no more than

a false belief.

You were never alone.

You were never in charge.

No wonder you cannot trust.

You chose to believe a lie.

I will hold you here

until you relax into

the embrace of truth

and realize that

what you asked for so fervently

you had all along.

I will not, cannot, abandon you.

Fear will not abandon you, either.

It is my messenger,

informing you to open your eyes,

open your heart,

breathe,

live.

It no longer needs to run your life.

Shame?  Let it go.

You don’t need it any more.

Anger?

Keep it.

Use it righteously.

This may be unexpected.

Good.

Wake up.

The box is open,

and everything

is now released.

Zeus had a headache, too.

And Athena was born.