Oshun-Mother of Life/Mother of Sadness (The Gods in Therapy)

Emily found herself standing close to a river with the sky somewhere between the darkest time of night and the first light of dawn. She could not yet see the river but she could hear it and Oya stood before her in all of Queenly glory. “Well, hello again, child. I had to do a bit of begging but Oshun has agreed to speak with you. I have brought you some things to give to her as an offering. She is not like me. As she has aged with grief in her heart, she has required a bit more groveling than she used to need so please keep that in mind. We are near the river named for her that runs into the river named for me. It is the only place where she will meet me now. The people thought it a funny thing to do, to name these rivers that seemed to merge for the two of us, first and last wives of Sango, both of us mothers to my beloved Ibeji, my Kehinde and Taewo, we who share things no other Orisha share. They were right to do it. Every year, it seems, more people here are returning to us, their real Gods, and every year they come, sometimes a thousand or more, to pay their respects and ask for favors from their Oshun. But part of how the other religions were able to spread as they did without her retribution was because of the grief in her heart. She still dresses in yellow and she still shows how sensual she is. Sometimes she even does her part to make a woman fertile when she asks. But she is not the same happy, joyful, carefree Oshun she was before the day that she set our Ibeji by this river and left them there for me to find.”

         “Why did she do it?” Emily asked in a whisper. Instinctively she knew that if Oshun caught them talking in such a way about Her, She would never agree to speak with Emily directly again and She might even show Her wrath. Standing by Her river, Emily was quite sure that Oshun’s wrath would be deadly for her.

        “No one had ever seen twins from a human, let alone an Orisha. Only animals had twins. So when the Orisha heard that Oshun gave birth to two babies at one time, they accused her of lying with animals and all sorts of foul horrible things. She loved her babies, oh she loved them, and she loves them still. But she was made weaker in her heart, having just had babies, as women are, and their words cut her deeper than they would have ordinarily. Where normally she would have told them to go to hell, as people say, in that state, her heart already hurting from having babies by a wild man like Sango, her mind still not recovered from having the babies, she could not stand the ridicule. But she knew if she set them by our rivers, I would hear their cries and come for them. She knew about my lost babies and my useless womb. Though she has never admitted it to me, she set them there for me to take in.”

         Handing Emily the offerings of honey covered oranges and bright yellow sunflowers, she motioned for Emily to follow her. “Oshun, we have come to speak to you. I have brought the young human I told you about and she has brought you gifts.”

        As they reached the river’s edge, the rushing water seemed to collect in the middle into a funnel cloud like one sees during a tornado. Gradually, in the middle of the water, Emily was able to make out bright yellow and as the water subsided, the beauty of the Goddess of life and sensuality, of joy and happiness, but also of the sorrow of injustice, came into view. My Goddess, She is beautiful, Emily thought. She seemed to hear this thought and She smiled. Walking on the water, this Mother of the Yoruba people, the Goddess who brought them into the world, shook Her head, Her long thick dreadlocks briefly covering Her face. “I see no reason for this, Oya. If I have not been pacificed after all this time, you cannot truly think a little girl who is no different from those who beg for my help could possibly say something new. I do thank you for the gifts, though. Oya may have given them to you but I do see that you are giving them with reverence in your heart.”

        Emily bowed to the Goddess as she extended her hands and the Goddess took the gifts, devouring the oranges at once and giving the flowers to the river. Oya replied to Oshun’s comment only after Oshun took the offering, saying softly, “Sometimes, dear sister, it is not about what someone else says...it is about how well they listen to your pain. And she has a gift for listening to the pain of others.”

        Oshun laughed but it was a laugh filled with a great deal of pain and bitterness and lacking in any warmth or joy. “I am not your sister! And it is easy for you to tell me how to ease my pain when you have all that was once mine. You also have the luxury of dealing with the souls of the dead instead of the cruelty of the living. Since this earth was ripped apart, all of us, the Mother Goddesses, have watched our children, the same children we raised as one family, tear one another apart. Every day they invent new reasons for hate and violence. They never learn from the mistakes of the past anymore. It seems they traded their very souls for gold. They destroy the earth they must survive on to get money to buy the things they need to survive that the earth herself offers at no cost...just as we designed the earth to do. How can I help such blind stupidity? Humans used to bring me joy in my heart. Do you remember that? How we would laugh at their happiness and dance to the songs they created. When they created our images in caves and later from clay and stone, we felt pride that they learned the art. There is little art left on this earth. There is only pain and the disregard for one another. You have the children that might have continued to bring me joy when the humans disappointed me.”
       Sighing, Oya looked so sad. Her heart was heavy with the truth of her sister’s words and Emily felt as if it would be the love of Oya alone that would ease the grief of Oshun. “You know you may come and see our Ibeji whenever it pleases you. I would never keep you from their lives.”

        Again, the sound of that mirthless bitter laugh went through Emily to the core of her soul. There was just as much power in Oshun’s sorrow as there was in Oya’s near-constant joy. “Oh? And what shall I tell them? Who do they think I am?”

        “The Orisha that carried them in her womb and birthed them into this world, of course! They know who you are, Oshun! I spent many many years living in a constant fear of you returning to claim them as yours. I never would’ve stopped you, even if it tore my heart out. I wasn’t sure I would go on if you did that...but I would’ve never stopped you. At first I told them the truth because I wanted them to know in case such a thing happened. I told them the truth. That you birthed them and you loved them with all of your heart but the people were cruel so you did what you felt was best for all of you. I explained to them that because we lived in different places and we were different Orisha, I was able to keep them safe and happy and because you are a wonderful birth mother,even though your heart ached for them, that made it worth it for you. Do you recall the times I made the trip here so I could ask you if I could bring them? I wanted them to know you and for you to know them. There has never been a reason for you to stay out of their lives.”

         “Oh? And what about Sango? What would he feel about that?” Oshun questioned in an accusatory tone.

         Oya laughed a deep belly laugh and for a moment, Emily thought Oshun might smile. “What of Sango? You, too, were married to him. Do you think we live, all of us, in one big happy home, that he has been a wonderful father to his children, that he comes home in the evening and puts them to sleep with a story?” Again Oya laughed and it was obvious she couldn’t help herself. “I am their mother...you are their mother...Sango carves them toys from my fire from time to time before I have to remind him such toys will burn their little hands. Sango is no one’s father, sister.” At this, both Goddesses laughed. When the amusement died down, Oya declared in a somber tone, “I am your sister, Oshun. Our fates have been intertwined just as the fate of our Ibeji are intertwined. We shared a husband. We share our children. And I love you, beautiful Oshun. Can you truly not see that? Of course I remember how we used to laugh all of that time ago when the humans knew who they were and they loved each other. I miss you so sometimes my heart aches for you! And your heart aches for our children. I know you love your river and I am not asking you to abandon our people here. Even I’ve come home to visit. No, I am only asking that you come and visit. Wait until you see the home I have now. You will put on your brightest yellow dress with your yellow eye shadow and your dark red lipstick and you will shake your ass with me in Congo Square as you have not moved your ass in a millennia.”

       Emily felt as if she were all but forgotten in the conversation but that was fine. She knew healing when she saw it and she knew that, for whatever reason, Oshun finally heard what Oya was trying to tell her all along. The small part of Oshun that still felt as if this were some sort of trap made her narrow her eyes and put her hands on her hips, asking, “Is Sango there?”

        “Not presently. And if he decides to come in while you are visiting? We’ll send him out hunting.” They both laughed quite hard at that so Emily figured it was an inside joke. Touching Oshun’s shoulder for the first time, Oya pleaded with her, “Please come, sister. See the home I have and see what beautiful gifts our Ibeji are. We were not meant to be enemies. Life and death should never be enemies. We are meant to work together to keep things going for this universe, remember? Let us act like sisters once more. Please.”

        Emily found herself again in her living room, again carrying dirt on her feet from the river bank as a physical manifestation of what should’ve been an otherworldly experience. Seeing those two Goddesses embrace one another the way They were in her last moments there made her feel a hope and joy in her heart that was rare for her, even in her most optimistic moments. While she had only a two hour window in which to sleep, she was proud that she witnessed such a reconciliation even if she did nothing, really, to facilitate it. Sometimes all that was needed to bring two people together who really wanted to fix their problems was to stand as a silent witness and she was happy to do that. Although she wasn’t sure what, if any, benefits it would bring to humans, she knew it would bring joy to a gorgeous Goddess of happiness that needed a lift in her spirit. And if they were all on the brink of destruction, at least she would go out knowing she was there for such a moment.

Moral of the Story?: There’s no I in Team

Oya-Lady of Storms and Change and the One to Ease the Sorrow of Women (The Gods in Therapy)

Emily awoke in the middle of a place that she searched her mind to identify. It was clear she was in another time. It was clear that she was far from home in many ways. These were slaves around her, dressed in clothes from the early eighteenth century, dancing and beating their powerful drums from their home countries. Dancing in the middle of this circle in what could only be Congo Square in New Orleans, the only city that allowed slaves to keep any customs from home in any way, was a tall well built woman. Her skin was dark as night, her breasts were large and her hips were wide, her lips were painted red as were her eyelids, and her traditional Buba and Iro were the most beautiful colors of light and dark purple Emily ever saw. On her head She wore a light purple Gele while over Her shoulder She wore a dark purple Ipele. Emily was sure this was the Goddess Oya but she had no idea if she was right because she knew very little about the Orisha. As with Hecate, she could feel a sense of awe at the power that was just radiating around this amazingly beautiful Goddess and she knew for certain that this Goddess had something important to teach her.

        Without a word, Oya gestured for Emily to follow Her and Emily did so silently. As people passed them in the streets wearing early eighteenth century clothes, as carriages and horses moved around them, Emily was stunned. She told herself that this was probably a place like the Old Egypt that the Egyptian Gods lived in but there was a nagging feeling inside of her that this was not a place on the other side but rather a place that was somehow existing centuries in the past and also alongside the time of the present. Whatever the case, she was not transported there to ask questions.

        Inside a shop that smelled strongly of Patchouli and Sandalwood, Oya led her, closing the door behind Her as they entered. It was a shop not unlike the magic shops of Emily’s time, a Voodoo shop like those that existed in New Orleans, even if they were hidden, since the first free People of Color stepped foot on the shores of the city. It was almost amusing to see Oya, Goddess of many important things including change and the marketplace, inside Her own Voodoo shop but as Emily sat across from this Goddess, any thoughts of their surroundings were put far from her mind.

        Oya smiled and even something as simple as that expression of mirth seemed to carry with it power. In a thick African accent, she said, “You may relax, child. I mean you no harm.”

        “I am not afraid, I am in awe. I have met Gods but few possess Your power. I know a little about You and You are a Goddess of many serious things but You seem to drip mirth.”

        The sound of Her laughter filled the room and Emily thought it was a beautiful sound. “You must carry mirth in your heart. No matter what troubles you face or what pain is behind you, joy is the only thing that keeps us all from the darkness. Don’t you agree? You have pain in your past. Yet you show up each day and you provide hope to humans, monsters, and Gods alike. How could you do that without having joy in your heart?”

          “I never thought about that but You are right. In all of my patients I have seen the truth of Your words. Those who cannot find anything to laugh about, anything to smile about, they are the ones that have the hardest time improving their mental states.”

         “Of course. Joy is everything. Remember that always. Now, let me introduce myself. I am Oya, Orisha of Change, Orisha of Storms, Orisha of mothers who have lost their children, to death or to enslavement...what you, in your time, would call prison, Orisha of mothers who have adopted children, Orisha of mothers who have to do away with pregnancies, Orisha of the marketplace and the fortunes made and lost there, Orisha of storms of course, Orisha of the Cemetery Gates, Orisha of all forms of psychic gifts including speaking with the dead, Orisha of death and rebirth, Mother of the Nine. I have many small jobs that go along with each of those things but they are the major categories that I oversee. I am an Orisha from the Yoruba people. When the Yoruba grew rich from selling first their captives from other tribes but then their own people, I left those kings behind to go with the people they sold into slavery, disgusted at what those kings did. They no longer deserved my aid. When the Yoruba and the others were on those horrible ships with no idea where they were going, they knew enough from the way they were treated already and the condition of those ships to know they were not going toward a better life. Sometimes they would pray to me, tears streaming from their eyes, to use my storms to save them from this fate. I would tell them that the only way I could do that was to sink the ships to the bottom of that cold ocean and they were so desperate, they begged me to do it. They knew that when they died, I would guide their souls to rest and guide them back again into a new life. They knew death was not eternal. So I would do as they asked of me. History does not speak of all the ships that went to the bottom of the ocean carrying slave and master alike. But Oya remembers.”

          “For those who lived, I stayed with them. In the Caribbean, in Haiti, here in New Orleans, wherever they were, I was there. Do you know of the slave revolt in Haiti?”

        “Yes.” Emily replied. She was not about to admit that she only learned of it in the first place because of an Anne Rice novel, though.

        “Good, it is good that you know. I assisted with that uprising. When the people begged me and they cried out my name and they sacrificed the livestock of their masters knowing they could be killed for such a thing, I heard those cries and I came to their aid. The masters here were terrified of such a thing happening to them, especially as more Free People came into the city, the same city that the masters who survived fled to. The practices that were allowed by the masters here were suddenly forbidden, as if that would stop my children from calling my name. It did not. They merely whispered it where before they could shout it. There may have been no revolt in New Orleans as there was in Haiti but individual slave masters were dealt with from time to time.”

       “And then there was the rising of Miss Marie Laveau…” Oya chuckled. “Ah, Miss Marie! She found me when her first husband drowned her baby. She knew my name already from her mother and her mother knew it from her mother...Anyway, I helped her deal with that terrible man of her’s. He simply disappeared...poof…” A small rise of smoke came from her hands. “Into thin air...or the bottom of the swamp. Who can say?" She grinned as she said this and Emily smiled back. "Even his mother did not miss him, that horrible man. But Miss Marie continued to call my name when her heart was hurting because of that child she lost, she screamed my name from her home in the swamps. She knew my story, how I lost nine babies, and she would cry as only a mother without her child can cry, holding her chest because her heart was hurting so, and she would ask me, ‘Mama Oya, how? How did you live after losing so many babies? I have lost just one and I cannot go on!’ and I would comfort her as a Mother does and I would assure her that even though the pain never stops, she would go on. I told her that it did not matter if a mother lost one child or twelve, the pain is the same...always the same. But she would learn to live with that shattered heart. I told her that when she wanted another baby, she was to call on Oshun. But as long as she was easing the pain of her loss, she could continue to call upon me. The Marie Laveau that became so famous was born out of those long nights of pain in that swamp. She always practiced our religion but those nights with me made her tap into her power in a way that was incredible to watch. As you know, she eventually did call upon Oshun and she passed on all she learned from her mother and from me and to this day, the children of the Orisha love her and call upon her.”

         “Death is not the only way to lose a child, though. I am also there for the mothers who have their children ripped from them. Back in the slave days, they were ripped away by cruel masters in public auctions. Today they are ripped away through the modern day slave trade that you call prison. In each visiting room where one of my daughters is visiting her baby, I am there. On the nights where her heart is broken and she cries thinking of the child she carried in her belly being in such a horrible, joyless place, I am there. I am also there for the mothers who have an abortion or the mothers who have to put their babies up for adoption...and I am there for the mother who receives that adopted child. I bestow a special blessing upon the mother who gives the child away and the mother that takes that child both, as a mother of two adopted babies and as the Orisha who was there to try to ease the grief of Oshun, the mother who had to give them away. There is no blessing in my life like the blessing of my beloved Ibeji, my children who came from Oshun’s womb when my own womb could not give me a living child. As much as I love Sango, my lover, it is nothing like the love I have for my Ibeji. They remain small children always and I am so thankful for that. If I had to let them grow up and live their own lives, I think that would hurt my soul.”

     “While it is not a task I am known for doing, I also sit at the bedside of a woman when she is up all night worried about her man and his self-destructive ways, the women who have men ‘in these streets’ as young ones say today. I have spent much of my time for a very long time trying to keep my love, my Sango, from destroying himself. He was married before me, he had lovers before me, and none of them could tame him. He will never truly be tame. That is what those poor women did not understand. He is the sort of man who is just made to try to destroy himself from time to time and when he starts acting up, I use whatever I can including my storms and the souls of the dead to make him stop. We fight...oh, do we fight...but in the end he always calms himself and then he soothes me. For the women of men that truly love them but who cannot help but destroy themselves, I am there. I understand.”   

         Oya sighed as if talking about all of this was exhausting. Perhaps it was. “Sango was the one who finally convinced me to forgive the people in Yoruba for what their ancestors did, selling their own people into slavery. He said they needed me. So I went home only to find my own people worshiping a white man’s god. The people they sold into slavery could have been killed at times for calling my name but yet they called my name and they taught their children the names of the Orisha to call as well. Yet these people who remained in their own country, people who were not forced to convert, willingly converted. Of course they did. The men were told of religions where the men were worth more than the women, where men could all but own their women, and they thought that better than having a set of Orisha who said women are the creators of all life and they aid in moving souls on once they have gone from the living world just as they provided the vessel for those souls to return to the living world. Now men are jealous of the power of women. So a religion that allowed them to be masters of their own wives and mothers? Of course they cast their own Orisha out!”

         “When the world was all one land mass, every culture knew one another, they respected one another, they knew the names of their neighbor’s Gods and they respected the power of those Gods even though they were not the ones they worshiped. Back then, there were still battles from time to time. With humans, sometimes it truly is necessary. A group would become aggressive and they would try to take resources from other groups so they could hoard them for themselves or they would try to steal land and they would kill whoever lived on that land. But before a group went to war with the aggressors, they had to consult the women. You see, because it was the women who brought life into the world, because they were the mothers of those who might die in battle, only they could give consent for a war. If the women said it was not important enough to spend the lives of their children on, men did not go to war. If they said yes, they went. Could you imagine all of the wars that would’ve never been if it were still that way? But then men grew jealous and they said women had no right. Back then each group had a Goddess that showed them what herbs to take so they could rid themselves of a pregnancy they did not want. They were told how long they had to make this choice and they knew to listen or risk bleeding to death. They were also shown the herbs that would close their wombs forever just as they knew the herbs to take to open that womb up for a soul to be reborn. But then men grew jealous. They called it unfair that the ones who bring life into the world should be allowed to decide when that life should come. Even today, there are foolish men arguing this. So to finally find a white man’s god that agreed with them? Of course they abandoned their own for that.”

        “It is thanks to those poor souls who came to the New World in chains that we survive, we Orisha. I am grateful for that. We deserve to continue watching over our children on this earth and they deserve to have Gods like them. I tell you all of this just to let you know a little about who I am and about the history of the Orisha. I thank you for listening patiently. But I do not come to you for myself. I come to you to ask your assistance with my dear sister Oshun. She carries so much guilt and pain that I fear she will be too weak when this fight of ours begins. Her heart is too heavy. She needs someone besides me to talk to. I am but another reminder of her guilt. That is the last thing she needs. Will you help her?”

        Emily jumped at the sound of someone coming in the shop door. Believing this was Oshun, she agreed to help. “Of course. If she will sit down and talk to me, I’ll help.”

        “Good. This is good. Very well. Tonight I will speak with her and encourage her to come to you. Now you may go home. I have a customer I need to take care of. Thank you, doctor, for all you’ve done.” Standing up, she patted Emily on the shoulder and the last thing Emily heard was Oya addressing her customer. “Hello, Miss Marie. How are you on this beautiful day?”

         Emily was in her living room, mud on her bare feet getting all over her expensive rug. That only confused her further. The place she was in seemed both physical and also a place of spirits and Gods...It was unlike anywhere she traveled before. And it seemed she went there without any sort of guide to cross the worlds. Looking at her clock she realized it was time to start getting ready for work. She was absolutely exhausted, as if she ran laps in her sleep. Promising herself she would sleep on her lunch hour, she jumped in the shower thinking of all she learned from the first Orisha to contact her and she found herself singing in a language she did not understand a song of praise to Oya. She went with it. Nothing really phased her anymore and she enjoyed the way the foreign words just rolled off of her tongue. She also liked the feeling of energy and joy she felt as she sang it. She did not worry about what her day would hold. She did not fret about who might show up unexpected. She had a lightness of heart unlike anything she had felt since childhood. It was in that that she found the true power of Oya.

Moral of the Story?: “We all enter into fallow periods in our lives, times of questioning, of crisis, of not-knowing; times of depression, stagnation, terror and loss." -Jane Meredith

Lilith-The Goddess of Wild Women (The Gods in Therapy)

Emily had no idea who the Goddess was that stood before her. She was mesmerizing in her beauty and startling in her nakedness but what shocked Emily completely was the massive snake that she wore around her nude body, the snake’s head resting serenely on her shoulder. “I am the Goddess Lilith, originally of Sumeria, later turned into a bad wife in the Jewish tradition. But I am no one’s wife. There was no Adam, there was no Eve...but there is Lilith.”

       Emily gestured for her to take a seat but Lilith remained standing. “After my story was twisted into something I could no longer recognize, I left the Middle East to its new God and I moved on, eventually going to Crete where I met Hecate. I don’t know how I would’ve survived the thousands of years of male slander without her but thankfully, she took me in. To me, she is part mother and part best friend. We have weathered out the storms of the patriarchy together throughout the many years of my self imposed exile. She even allowed me to take on the phase of the full moon while she represented the dark moon, though humans seem to have mixed that up. While men call me the mother of demons, I have walked alongside some of the greatest women in the past two thousand years of this patriarchal nightmare. I was walking with Cleopatra up until the end when she killed herself to escape torture from the Romans. As bold as that was, the men twisted it until the story went that she killed herself because the man she was fucking for power killed himself. I was with Queen Eleanor of the Aquitaine as she literally made a stubborn ass into a king and refused to back down on anything she wanted in her life, even getting a divorce when no one was permitted to do so because she was charming to the pope and men are ridiculously stupid.”

       Lilith sighed in a very human way, as if she were tired to her core. Finally she sat down. Pushing her bright red hair back with her tattooed hand, she went on. “I was there with Mary Wollstonecraft when she said fuck it and lived her entire life just as she wanted to, writing feminist literature and articles in a time when women couldn’t even write children’s stories or love stories. I was riding alongside Boudica when she took on the Romans even though we both knew she probably wouldn’t win. The odds were not in our favor and she failed but she fought. I was there with Susan B. Anthony and Margaret Sanger...until she became crazed and she got on that eugenics kick. I do not support that madness. Especially coming from white people. No offense but if white people were the superior race, those who claim such a thing would be too busy reading books to burn the damn things. I swear, they burn them because they are jealous that they do not know how to read!”

        Emily couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was exactly what she always suspected herself. “I take no offense. I’m Jewish. I will never stand up for a white supremacist...which is more than we can say for the so called president of America.”

         “Do not get me started on that pig! When he dies, his soul will return to the blackness just as it did after the Nazis were killed and the priests who burned innocent women and all others of that sort met their ends. It’s the same cluster of souls again and again, returning ever so often to try their hand at pure evil. You all must get a hold on that before the evil spreads like a terrible virus. It does, you know. Ask your beloved Hecate. We’ve seen it again and again. You are Pagan, are you not?”

        “I am.” Emily replied quietly.

       “Then you know how energy works. The more evil that is put out, the more evil that is attracted. Children kept in cages, dying from maltreatment, crying out for their mothers while people just pass by as if they don’t hear? Is there anything in this world more evil than the torture of pure innocence? With the Suffragettes, with Gloria Steinem and Shirley Chisholm, with all of the women throughout history who stood up for women and children as they sought to tear down the walls of the ridiculous patriarchy, it was not just about themselves...it was about freedom for all. It was about freedom for the generations to come. Because that is what the matriarchy concerns itself with. Everything is about preserving the good and destroying the worst aspects of a society to make things better for the children to come. Women are built to worry about such things. Men were meant to guard the groups of women and children chatting and working together from predators and to take down large animals for the meat. They are built to destroy. And that is what they’ve done. That is what they continue to do. Now these rapists, harassers, and psychopaths are pushing once more to control the bodies of women. I am needed more now than I have been in a long time. And I am here. I just need you to tell them. Use whatever means you must but tell the women. I am the proud Goddess of feminists and women who fight. Musicians, painters, writers, housewives, doctors, lawyers...I do not care what they do. I only require that they fight! Fight come whatever may! We cannot allow these demons to take over the bodies of women once more! So tell the women to call upon me. I am also the Goddess of whores and I am just as proud of that so make it clear, I judge no one so long as they have pure intent.”

       The snake around her body raised its head and looked straight into Emily’s eyes. For a moment, Emily could not look away. In those eyes, she could see the past, present, and future and the future was part heaven and part hell depending upon what the humans do. “Also, tell our sisters that a volcano is about to erupt. It has woken from a long and deep sleep. Humans believed it would never wake again but it has and it is angry. This is the first sign that the oldest Gods on this planet are coming alive and we are all in for one hell of a fight. Only the Feminine can save the humans that only feminine can create and nurture. You must come together. And you may come together in the name of the one and only Lilith.”

         Unlike the other Gods who did as humans do when they were in her office, Lilith simply disappeared leaving behind the scent of burning sage. Emily exhaled as if she were holding her breath throughout the entire meeting. After meeting Sekhmet and Hecate and feeling the power of a God inside her own body, she thought she was getting accustomed to the energy of Gods but Lilith was incredibly powerful. Emily had many questions she wished she could’ve asked her, questions about Planned Parenthood and pussy hats and such. But she had no way to call Lilith back and she was suddenly so filled with lust that she couldn’t think straight. This was far more powerful than the feeling she had the first time she met Hermes. This was an all-consuming sort of lust. The type of lust that had to be satisfied one way or the other. Locking her office door, Emily decided to take care of herself since she had no way to ask Hermes to come over. Midway to her second orgasam, the God she was having sex with appeared as if he heard her silent pleas and he was more than happy to satisfy what Lilith started. Afterward, when he was driving home with Emily to have dinner and watch whatever they could find on television, Emily told him about her visit with the Goddess of feminism, whores, and unabashed lust.

        Hermes smiled in a way that said it all as he replied, “Yes, I know Lilith well.”

      There was no point in asking if he had fucked her. It was clear he had. But what did it matter? Lilith wasn’t interested in a long term thing and Emily couldn’t possibly have a long term thing with him either. So instead she told him about the prediction of the erupting volcano and he confirmed what Lilith said. The volcano was in Russia...Russia...of all places! Emily was not sure how she was meant to spread the word of Lilith but it suddenly seemed like an important job to do, just as important as helping the Gods go in to battle with clear heads or helping humans and vampires do the best they could with what they had to work with in their lives. As she fell asleep in Hermes’ arms for another night, both of them full on chicken alfredo and garlic bread, she suddenly felt like it was good that her relationship was part time and that she aborted the only pregnancy she ever had. Her work was beyond all-consuming and the weight of it was nearly crushing. She knew things she wished she did not. She knew things she wished she could shout from the rooftops to people who were looking for answers in all the wrong places. The worst part was that she had no faith left in the human race, not after the things she heard from patients through the years. So she felt she knew before the war began that it was a lost cause. The time of humans on earth, the great experiment as Hera called it in one of her many sessions, was nearly over. They forgot where they came from and what they needed to grow and protect. The earth would just have to go on without them…

Moral of the Story?: “When a man gives his opinion, he’s a man. When a woman gives her opinion, she’s a bitch.”-Bette Davis

Hecate Puts the "Dark" in Dark Goddess (The Gods in Therapy)

   

 Emily was physically shaking when she awoke in her office with her Divine Mother, her Matron Goddess, the Goddess that led her through her life and influenced, no doubt, every choice she ever made, sitting across from her. This aspect of Hecate was the Crone, the Old Hag, the version related to death and darkness. Sleeping at Her side was a huge black three-headed dog, the hellhound of legend and lore. In Emily’s half-sleeping state, she felt as if keeping that dog asleep was a matter of life and death. Hecate also had with Her two eternally burning torches and they were the only light in the room. The entire moment seemed unreal but Emily could not deny the solid wood of her desk or the physical comfort of her old chair. Since the Gods started coming to her with their problems, she wondered when Hecate would show and now that She had, there was a part of Emily that was terrified of Her. Hecate laughed a beautiful laugh, a sound like water bubbling in a clear brook. “Imagine that! Afraid of your own Mother? What for? I love you! I have loved you through many lifetimes, even when you couldn’t feel me near! Is it the form of the Crone that frightens you so? I came in this form only because it is Dark Goddess matters I came to discuss. But if it bothers you…” And before Emily’s eyes, she watched Hecate transform Herself into a beautiful young Mother with black hair and stormy eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light of Her torches. She wore a long black dress with a long black hooded cape over it. And She was stunning. But Emily still felt a tickle of fear in the pit of her stomach.

        Emily was surprised to find her mug of hot coffee at her side and she took a drink, only to find that it was the most perfect cup of black coffee she ever consumed. Hecate waited patiently as she took another drink before clearing her throat to say, “It isn’t the Crone aspect that made me afraid. It is Your power. It is the fact that I believe You have loved me through lifetimes where I couldn’t hear Your voice or do Your work. I am in awe that You are here. It is that and no more.”

          Hecate’s smile was radiant. “I wanted to thank you for your work with Hera. Working out the life she has had with that bastard nephew of mine seems to be doing wonderful things for her. She seems to be letting go of that bitterness that she has held on to for so long. She is using her own mind, challenging Zeus’s word in meetings for the first time, refusing to back down to his abusive remarks. She is becoming sure of herself the way she would’ve long ago had he not raped her and manipulated her into marriage. It has taken her an eternity but she is truly coming into her own at last and that is partially thanks to you. I must also say that I am finding great amusement in your...tryst if you could call it such...with my beloved young nephew Hermes. He seems rather smitten with you and that blush on your face as soon as I said his name tells me you are interested in him as well. But I would caution only this: Love affairs with mortals and their Gods has never ended in a happy way. That does not mean it can’t...only that you deserve a good warning. Watch yourself. Never forget, even when he is in your bed and in more than that that he IS a God. You will never marry. It is not advisable to have his children. He is never changing. As you grow old, he will remain as he is now. And any planning for the future is foolish. As long as you can accept that, the two of you should have a nice time while it lasts.”

          Emily didn’t know what to say. Of course, Hecate was right. Emily knew that. She knew that as soon as he touched her that first time and she felt that thrill go through her. She had two good dates with Hermes and it was easy when she was with him to forget what he was. But she had yet to sleep with him and if she stopped to think about the myths she read since childhood, there was a chance she never would. Hecate only added to the doubt. “I don’t think you came here to warn me about Hermes, though, or even to talk about Hera. I know you enough to know if you are here, you have something powerful to say.”

        Hecate smiled again in a way that seemed to  light up that dim room. “Ah, you are very perceptive, Dear Child. It seems as if I come with the same intent as my old friend Sekhmet. If we should survive this upcoming war, if you should survive, it will be up to you to spread our old truths, to keep them in your heart and to tell others about them. Tonight I bring you mine. I am Hecate, the daughter of Asteria and Perses. I can easily go into any world, any realm, and for too long I allowed my nephew to rule our Heaven while I looked after Earth. I have a special place in my heart for humans but I am also incredibly disappointed in many of them. Once, during the years of persecution and burning for any woman or child who carried the Old Secrets forward, I truly thought of destroying the entire human race and trying again. This was after watching a patriarchal society, something that has never made sense to me as it is women who create and raise the next generation, spread through all of Europe beginning in my very own Greece. How one Roman vampire managed to destroy what we believed to be the natural order of life, I will never understand. But I do know that my nephew’s lies and the lies of other Gods who decided to grab for power did much to push this foolishness forward. And I hate him for that. I truly do. There is no love left in me for Zeus and if we survive this, I intend to tear him apart limb by limb. What’s more, I predict that Hera will be at my side when I do it.”

         This idea shocked Emily to her core. She did not know that this was possible, that the Queen of All could literally murder the King of Olympus. But Emily did know that if anyone could destroy Zeus, it would be Hecate. “Yes, I am the most powerful Goddess left alive and active from the Greeks. However, while humans credit me with much of my attributes, including being the Goddess of women and children, Witchcraft and Magick, and even death, they fail to see something important in that. If I am the Goddess of giving life and taking it, what else might I oversee?”

       It took Emily only a moment to think of this answer. “Abortions.”

      “Absolutely! It was I who showed the first women what herbs to take to get rid of a fetus they did not want. Although the stories say I had no children, they do not accurately say why. I was pregnant three times but three times I did not yet want children. So I aborted them. And then I took their souls back as the Goddess of Life, Death, and Rebirth, and I directed them toward women who wanted children, where they were loved and wanted. That is the way of things. Should we live through this, I vow to strike down any who dares to fight about that. There is nothing to fight about. Humans have become so stupid. They are against abortion...until they need one. I have no patience left for it. You’ll see. Members of government, judges, and people on the street alike will feel my wrath. Abortion will be legal because it is the natural law and, damn it, men need to learn you cannot override natural law. All who try after this war will be destroyed by my own hand. Heart attacks, cancer, perhaps even botched abortions...they will fall. Because I am Goddess of Life and Death and, like the women of this Earth, I hold both in my hand and in my womb. Women are worth more than fetuses that can live only in their bellies. Anyone who does not see that must die. So shall it be!”

        Suddenly there was a lightning strike and the sound of thunder which made Emily jump in her chair. Again Hecate laughed. Emily didn’t know what to say. Part of her was horrified at hearing her Matron speak in such a way but part of her was proud to be a Daughter of Hecate more in that moment than ever before. Getting up, Hecate kissed Emily on the forehead before heading toward the door. The hellhound at Her side woke up but she paid Emily no mind as she followed sluggishly at Hecate’s side. Pausing briefly, Hecate assured her with a grin, “Worry not about getting home. Hermes is here to escort you.” As if on cue, he walked in looking amazing as always and Hecate laughed outright. “Remember all that I’ve said here this night. And fear not. The natural order will be restored so long as humans make it through the war. Women everywhere will reclaim their power. Of that I assure you. Have a peaceful night.”

        Emily was shaken by the visit even as Hermes took her home. Hermes was only meant to stay with her until she calmed down but the fear from Hecate’s visit combined with that electricity between herself and the God she was playing with until she couldn’t resist kissing him. And then she couldn’t resist getting on his lap. Before she knew it, she was screwing this man, this God, this incredible beauty with his amazingly upbeat sense of humor and all warnings, all thoughts of life and death, were thrown out the window. There was only the rhythm of their bodies moving together to produce the best sex of her entire life. Only after she was laying in his arms trying to explain the purpose of “reality tv” to him did she stop for a moment to consider if she could be content with just this and no more. And what would she do if she found herself pregnant? Could she have another abortion or would she think back to that sixteen year old girl she once was laying on a cold table alone and terrified? Was Hecate with her on that terrible day? Now she believed She was. Would she be with her again if the child were Hecate’s own relative? Emily shook from the chill that went up her spine and Hermes instantly covered her with a blanket believing she was cold. He was so kind. He had such a gentle soul. He was nothing like Zeus. So what did he want from her? As she went back to sleep she could’ve sworn she heard him whisper that he wanted her forever. But that was not an option. And she knew when she woke up she would be alone with only a sweet goodbye on a post-it note reminding her of their time together…

Moral of the Story?: If Mother ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!

Ptah Makes Sekhmet Face "Commitment Issues" (The Gods in Therapy)

Emily was still lying naked on her living room floor when Hermes woke her from her dreams of the past and future colliding. In her half-waking state, she thought he was part of the dream, the Greek messenger God who carried her off to an ancient land full of ancient Gods. He was wearing clothes this time...a simple pair of jeans and a tee shirt...but the sandals remained the same. Of course they did. They helped him travel between the worlds as few Gods in the universe could do. “I’m very sorry to wake you. We have a bit of a situation with Sekhmet and Ptah.”

       Thinking back to Hera and Zeus, Emily sat up, grabbing a blanket from the couch to cover her body, and she assumed aloud, “Let me guess...he repressed her in every way possible to make himself feel more powerful?”

         At this Hermes laughed outright. “You spoke with Sekhmet, did you not? Do you honestly believe She would let anyone repress her? Come now! You are wiser than that, Doctor Lieberman. I’ve heard stories about the miracles you are working with my family. Do not tell me that is what you took from your introduction to one of the most powerful Goddesses on the planet? No, if anything she won’t let him close enough to even love her, let alone repress her. They were married once for a very long time. Then when the tide started turning and the standard for being a good wife became the overly-devoted Isis, she divorced him. She moved to her temple and she left him in his own. But she continued to love him and he still loves her. I think he wants you to persuade her to re-marry him before the world ends. And I wish you all of the luck in the world with that. But we must go…”

        “I have to have some coffee. I’ll make it quickly and take it with me but if you have woken me up to do couple’s counseling at four in the morning for two ancient and powerful deities...well...you cannot possibly expect me to be efficient without the coffee.”

        “I hope it’s the instant stuff. Sekhmet is already angry that Ptah has demanded this in the first place so I doubt she’ll be thrilled if you keep her waiting …”

       A few moments passed before Emily found herself sitting at the energetic doppelganger of her desk with her coffee in her hand waiting for Sekhmet and Ptah to start speaking. Hermes sat beside of her so he could gossip about the session with the other Gods. She offered to toss him out, citing those ethics he helped to create, but the “clients” agreed to let him stay, although Ptah did not seem thrilled about it. In fact, he did not seem to care for the charming Hermes at all. But it seemed that Sekhmet always had the final say and this was no different.

       “I thank you much for coming, physician of the mind. When word spread that Sekhmet met with you to tell her story, I saw it as a wonderful opportunity to discuss the status of our own relationship. As you may know, we were married once for a very long time and she bore me two children, beautiful children, I adore them completely. However, sometimes it was Hathor who controlled the body they share and she also had consorts and bore children...my nephews. It was difficult when Sekhmet was gone, almost like having your wife die and return again and again. But I knew what I was getting when we wed. All was well until the system of marriage and the expectations changed…”

       “I divorced him. He now says I am afraid of commitment. What he does not understand, because he gained quite a bit from the shift in power that Ra orchestrated, including the honor of being called the first God excluding our dear Mother altogether, is that I do not fear commitment. I simply refuse to be the perfect wife. I am not that woman...and neither is Hathor. Yes, I bore our children. And yes, I nurtured them and I love them and I am glad to have them. And I love you, Ptah. I am glad to have you as well. I simply am not who Ra wants a wife to be.”

      “It is a good thing then that Ra is not your consort! Never mind what Ra wants! I never expected you to conform in that way. When other Gods started treating their Goddesses differently, I did not. When they teased me about the power you have in our relationship, I ignored them. I do not expect you to travel all over Egypt looking for pieces of my body and then to put me back together again...but I must say, I do sometimes wonder if you would. If you thought me gone forever, do you love me enough to try to bring me back?”

        “Damn it, Ptah, this is what I am speaking about! I am NOT Isis! Our dear little sister was an obsessive lover from the start. She fell in love over night and then Osiris became her only focus in this world. She neglected all else to make him happy. This only helped Ra with his campaign for power. And here you sit asking me if I would become that foolish girl for you? If I thought you gone from my life forever, would I try to bring you back to me? Is that what you really want to know? Of course I would. My first sight of you I fell in love...I did! It was you that needed persuasion back then. It was you that hurt me, Ptah! You are the only man I have ever loved and you broke my heart into a million pieces but still I married you. I used to be the standard of a good wife. I tended to our children and I was good to you but I also did the jobs I needed to do, assisting those who deserved healing and punishing those who intentionally hurt others. But when the standard of a good wife became Isis…? When Ra twisted the beauty of declaring your love for one another and promising yourselves to each other as long as love shall last into a way to make women property? I am no one’s goddamned property, Ptah! You allowed Ra to tell the people we have no Mother, taking Her glory from Her, She Who Birthed Us From the Void! And as if that were not bad enough, you never went out and told the people that Ra had no part in the birth of Hathor and me, that we were actually the first deities in our world. You took the power we earned! Do you know the hell we live in sharing this body? Do you know how badly we miss the world when it is time to hibernate? How we miss our lovers and our children? We go centuries with only one another to talk to, visiting the children and lovers of our sister so the one in hibernation can catch a glimpse of what she cannot touch or speak to...do you think that is easy? It is not! But that was the price we paid for being the first Goddesses born from the void! And YOU took that from us. So no, it is no stretch to think you would also start treating me as Ra wanted you to! But yes, Ptah, as your lover who goes sometimes thousands of years without you, I would do exactly what Isis did with Osiris if you died. Would you do that for me?”

       Emily’s heart was breaking for them both as she listened to their exchange. It was easy to do such counselling when dealing with couples that should not be married. It was much harder when she had to help two people who truly loved each other come back together. Sekhmet’s tears were just another example of the heartbreak she was expressing. Yes, she wanted to be his wife. The problem was her definition of what a wife was expected to be. He stole her very identity. Whatever else he might’ve done to break her heart, Emily suspected that to both Sekhmet and Hathor, that was the grounds for divorce that led Sekhmet to become the only Egyptian deity to marry and then leave the marriage. Emily was about to chime in with a question when, to her surprise, Ptah got up from his throne and he went to Sekhmet, holding her while she wept tears that looked quite a bit like lava. Emily’s surprise only deepened when they began singing to each other in a language no longer spoken on the earth she called home. No one in the Egypt of the present would understand the words but in that moment, in that incredible place that was not a place much like the circle she cast to do her spells and rituals in, she understood every word. They were actually singing two different songs, her’s to him and his to her...like a musical conversation. And it was a beautiful moment. Looking over at Hermes she saw that he was looking at her with a soft smile on his face.

       The songs to one another stopped but Ptah continued to hold her as he pled with her, “The world may end, my love. This may be our end at last. I will never ask you to be our little sister. Their marriage works well for them but we are not them. It would not work well for us. I just do not want to die without having you as my wife once more. I don’t want to spend another night in my bed alone. And should we live, once you are done with your mission, it will be Hathor for years and years and I’ll have no contact with you at all. It hurts me too when you have to go away. I love Hathor but I do not love her in the way that I love you. She is my sister and nothing more. I’ll miss you every day that you are gone, my love. Either way, I will be without you. I will swear to you here before this human and your Hermes that I will never ask more of you than you are willing to give me. I will never ever treat you as property. You are not my property. You are the love of my life, the strongest woman I’ve ever known. You...well...you are Sekhmet! I know who you are. I love you for it all. Why would I ever want to change you?”

        Emily felt like she did very little work but much was accomplished. She and Hermes were both invited to the wedding that Ptah and Sekhmet planned to have in June. The couple were busy moving his things into her temple when they left them. But the moment Hermes and Emily witnessed together made her wonder if she did the wrong thing by rejecting the advances Hermes offered her. Ptah had a point, after all. It was possible that the world would soon end. With that in the back of her mind, she sat on her couch beside of this God and she asked, “What is it that you want from me? What were you looking for when you asked me to go out with you? If it’s just sex you want you don’t have to take me…”

        When he took her hand, there was that jolt down her spine that his touch always caused. It was enough to distract her from what he was saying. “If all I wanted was to go to bed with you, I would’ve said so. I am not shy on such matters and I suspect you are not shy on them either. I want to know you, Emily. I am fascinated with you and I want to find out why. I want you to tell me things you’ve never told another, about your pain and your joy and everything in between. I have never been married though I have had many lovers. I do share a daughter with Aphrodite but Aphrodite and I were both looking for one thing and it was not love. I care about those I bed but I have never truly felt as if I were in love. Yet there is something about you that leads me to think I could love you. I do not know how our life together would be lived but we have time to figure that out. However, I know humans like to move a bit slower than Gods. That is why I asked you to dine with me. Unlike the rest of my family, I do have a concept of time so I’ll even make it to the date.”

        She grinned at him knowing he won her over. He was right. There was something between them that was out of the ordinary. She, too, wanted to know what it was. “I don’t know...You have a daughter with the Goddess of love and beauty. That’s a hell of an act to follow.”

       He continued to hold her hand as he laughed. “She did do this thing with her tongue…”

      Emily could feel her face turn red as her mind went straight back to the end of their last encounter. Suddenly she realized that the thought that made her run home to touch herself was put there by Hermes. If he would do that, what else might he do, her suspicious mind wondered? His father was a serial rapist. Was he one for raping women as well? She couldn’t remember any stories but that didn’t mean it never happened… “I am not my father! I am nothing like my father! He felt entitled to anything he wanted and he took whatever he pleased. If a woman does not want me, why would I want to lie with her? It is not my nature to rape women! But if that is what you think of me perhaps we shouldn’t…” He tried to walk away from her and she knew that if she let him, this chance would never come again. If she left things like this between them, it would be strictly business from that point forward.

        “I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I would love to ‘dine with you’ too.”

       His smile was positively brilliant as he sat back down beside of her and wrapped his strong arms around her. She didn’t mean to fall asleep but something felt so right about being in his arms. He waited until she was deep in her dreams before he left, writing her a sweet message on his way out so she didn’t feel so alone when she awoke. Gods and humans were not meant to love one another. They were free to bed each other, sure. But to love? That was too far a step to go. However, Hermes was not one for listening to rules unless they were his own. If Emily Lieberman was the woman his heart desired, he would be with her come whatever may. Like his dear friend (and one time lover) Sekhmet and her soon-to-be-husband-again Ptah, he was interested only in what worked for him and the woman he happened to love. If it went that way, he would work it out. He had a knack for that…

Moral of the Story?: “The love you make is equal to the love you take…”