The Myth of Macha

                                             

   Some prose about the Goddess Macha who cursed the men of Ulster.....


    The dappled mare beside me stomps the ground impatiently just as the child within my womb begins to kick. She eyes me wearily, perhaps knowing better than the men who gather around us what I am. Another kick from the life within me, the mare dances nervously in place kicking up clumps of packed earth with her hooves, and I run a hand over my swollen stomach. Although I know it is pointless I call out to the crowd again. It is too close to my time, will they not wait till after I have brought this tiny life into the world to test my husband’s foolish bragging? But my plea is met with laughter. I look at the bearded faces around me, did a mother not bare each of them? How can they listen with such deaf ears and stony hearts to my pleas? I place a protective hand on my belly again, and think that if this had been a crowd of women I would not be answered with gears. Little do they know this was never about the race, the race is already won.
    My pleas unanswered, the signal is given and the horses run free. I begin slowly, following behind them on the track. Their hooves pound against the earth, like distant thunder, like the beat of the drums within the Sidhe hills. I concentrate on the sound, and as I run I change. What the men see I do not know. Do they see the pale woman with hair the color of flame? Or do they see the roan mare? Perhaps both? When I run I am free, the weights of the world disappear as if a great yoke has been caste off my shoulders. There is nothing I cannot outrun. I am as eager as that dappled mare to challenge the wind, and so I run, and run, and run. The crowd blurs around me, a few shout in disbelief as I easily pass the king’s chariot. This was not what they expected. They were so certain these beasts where the swiftest that ever lived. Perhaps they are, but at this moment I am the Great Mare, I am the primal essence of every horse that ever was, and there is nothing that I cannot outrun, nothing I cannot overcome. But this magick has a price, and I will have to pay it all too soon.
    When I cross the finish line I collapse, no longer the Great Mare but a woman in the final stages of labor. The crowd circles around me. These men of sword and spear, who spill blood and glory in death, I wonder, do they know the value of life? They are so close, life and death, both forged in blood and pain, whether it be the pangs of labor or the sting of a blade. Transitions are never easy, whether we are coming into this world or leaving it behind. They look at me in astonishment, unsure of what to do or say. They should have waited as I had asked. Did I not deserve that much mercy? Do they think my husband’s boast was so bold now? I think not, but it was never about the boast, or the race. I knew from the very moment they arrived at my doorstep that I would win. It was about the mercy of men. It was about honoring the women who bore them, and the women who will bare their own children, and their children’s children.
    I feel myself fading as I hear my child cry out. No, as my children cry out. Twins. Despite the pain I smile. Someone places them in my arms, a tiny mercy, although it is too little too late. I look into my children’s faces and both a fierce love and rage sparks within my broken body. I feel the blood pouring from me. It comes too quickly. The womb that brought life into the world will soon end mine, but there is still some magick left in me, and when I speak it is not as a dying woman but as a Goddess.
    Some will call it a curse. But in my mind it is a blessing. For nine generations, in the hour of their greatest need, the bearded men of Ulster will know the pangs of a woman in childbed. If men will take life and throw it away so carelessly on idle words they will know the pain, the sacrifice it took to bring life into the world. Perhaps then they will not throw is away so carelessly.
    With the last word of my spell my human body gives way. Once more I am myself, shining spirit, immortal fay, Goddess. My sisters never understood my desire to take on mortal flesh for a time, they both warned it would only cause me pain. And it has, but it has also brought two new lives into the world. Two flames that will shine brightly, if only for a little while.
    The crowd stands in stunned silence around my discarded mortal frame. As I watch my spirit begins to take on a familiar shape, sleek wings, and black glossy feathers like a cloak of midnight. No one sees the crow now perched on one of the raceway’s posts. As I fly away I wonder if they see my curse for what it truly is.

Bride and Cailleach: Drinking from the Well of Youth

   As it’s almost Imbolc the story of Bride and Cailleach has been on my mind the last few days.  Cailleach and Bride’s interactions with mythology are all about transformation. Cailleach is arguably one of the most ancient Goddesses of the Celts. In fact she may even be a pre-Celtic Goddess, possibly being an earth Goddess of the original inhabitants of Ireland, prior to their integration with the invading Celtic tribes. She is usually described as an old woman with white hair and blue skin and at times is thought to be a giantess, dropping boulders out of her apron as she walked along. She was associated with Slieve na Calliagh, a peak of jagged rocks situated in a low range of hills in Ireland, which is made up of jagged rocks, which may be why she was sometime said to have very sharp teeth.

   Cailleach is best known as a Goddess of cold, winter, and darkness. She was also a Goddess of storms and during the winter months she was said to ride through the air on the back of a wolf, bringing snow and ice to the world below. According to my Irish grandmother thunder is really the Cailleach sneezing! She also had a magick wand that she used to strike away any hints of green on the winter landscape.

   As the winter hag Cailleach kept spring at bay, usually by keeping Bride, who represented spring hidden away. In Scotland it was believed that each year Cailleach held Bride captive in a cave. Unfortunately for Cailleach her son falls in love with Bride and together they flee the cave. Enraged Cailleach chases the lovers, conjuring up storms in her wake, but with the release of Bride spring soon overtake winter despite Cailleach’s best efforts. In other versions Cailleach turns to stone at the first signs of spring, and Bride escapes bringing with her renewed fertility and warmth to the world. But at Samhain Cailleach awakes again and captures Bride and once more holds her captive through the winter. In another version Cailleach travels to a magickal isle (sometimes said to be the Isle of Skye) where there is a miraculous Well of Youth. On Imbolc she drinks from the well and transforms into Bride.

   There are so many layers to this simple story. On one hand it is a seasonal myth. In other cultures many Goddesses connected to the sun are often hidden away in caves during the winter and return to the world with spring, Bride’s imprisonment in the cave mirrors this. But we can also see this struggle between the hag and maiden, winter and spring within ourselves. At times we keep our inner fire banked, we burry our creativity, our passion our hope deep within, like Bride in her cave. And like Cailleach sometimes we are afraid to let that part of ourselves out. We resist change.

   During this time of year I think about what I have been keeping locked away within me. Have I banked my inner fires? Have I been afraid to welcome change in my life? And I think of the winter hag taking a drink from that sacred well, willingly accepting change, knowing soon she will be the Goddess of spring.

Drinking from the Well of Transformation:

   Brew a cup of your favorite tea or if you prefer use wine. Take the cup to your sacred space. Place two candles on your altar, one of each side. Blue for Cailleach and a red candle for Bride. Light the candles and place your cup in-between the two candles on the altar.

   Take a few minutes to ground and center. See yourself in a small boat. The boat glides soundlessly across the waves, and a cold winter wind blows across you. Soon your boat glides up to the isle’s shore and you step onto the green earth. Shaded by a grove of trees you see an old stone well. The well waters shine with their own light, and you know you have found the Well of Youth. Take a few minutes to consider what kind of transformation you wish to bring into your life. Are their old habits that you need to shed, new ventures you wish to start? When you are ready you dip your hands into the water and drink.

   When you are ready take the cup in your hands and hold it over the altar, saying:

Cailleach, blue hag of winter,

Churning storms and chaos in your wake,

Lady of thunder, winter, and cold,

Drink now from the sacred well,

Bring transformation,

And let me change as you do each year

   Hold your hands over the cup. Visualize a brilliant white light filling the cup, the light of Cailleach and Bride, the light of new beginnings and transformation. Then take a sip of your magickal brew. Feel the blessings of Cailleach and Bride filling you, revitalizing you, as the Goddess’ energies renew and awaken the earth each spring. When you are ready say:

Like Cailleach I transform,

I drink from the sacred well,

The darkness within transformed to new light,

I shine like Bride of the green mantle,

Renewed and transformed by the Goddess!

Book Review: The New Death and Others

   Admittedly most of the books I read are part of a series.  I love getting sucked into a story and following characters across several books and mourning the fact that a series can’t be 30 books long.  But that being said, its refreshing to read something short and conscience. 

   The beauty of a short story is that while it may only be a few pages long it can leave more of a lasting impression on you than a novel that is several times longer.  The very first story in this collection The God of the Poor is only a few paragraphs long but I found myself thinking about it for days after I read it.  So if you are a fan of horror and dark fantasy and are looking for a collection of stories that will make you laugh or make you stop and think than you’ll love James Hutchings The New Death and Others.  Teh topics of Hutchings stories range from the birth of reality TV, to demons, to a story about a sorceress who craves the magic of the Gods.  My favorites were Everlasting Fire, with Lily the demon who enjoys punishing supermodels by feeding them and dines at McDonalds (the only restaurant in Hell).  And although a little gruesome, I loved the endings to How the Isle of Cats got its Name.  Hutchings poetry was also very enjoyable.

From Darkness All Things Emerge

   For me Samhain doesn’t really start until sunset on October 31^st.  The Celts marked their days from sunset to sunset.  Some have hypothesized this in honor of Bile, a god connected to the Underworld and often seen as Danu’s counterpart.  Marking the days from sunset to sun may have been a way to remember that they came from the darkness of the Underworld (Bile’s realm), and that all things have to pass through darkness to come into light.  Whatever the reason I find myself contemplating this concept as we approach Samhain.  Having the new day begin at night may seem odd to us today.  We think of our days beginning in the morning with the rising of the sun, but we aren’t that different from the Celts.  The new day technically begins at 12 am, a time of darkness, so even today we acknowledge that the day begins in the depth of night.  We tend to think of death, darkness, and the Underworld as the end of the journey.  But really it is our starting point.  We are born out of darkness, and to it we return to begin again.  We spend nine months in our mother’s dark watery womb before coming into the world of light and life.  The seed germinates in the dark rich soil before it reaches up towards the light of the sun.  We survive the cold and long dark days of winter, to reap the fruitfulness of summer with it long days of warm sunlight.  When must pass into darkness of the Underworld to be reborn. All things come out of darkness.  Through the darkness of Samhain night, the new year is born.    

     Although she is not a Celtic goddess, Nyx, the Greek goddess of night has been on my mind the past few days along with the idea of seeing night and darkness as a beginning.  She was a primordial goddess, one of the Protogenoi (the first-born elemental gods, who made up the basic components of the universe, which included earth, sea, light, day, and time).  She was the mother of Eris the goddess of chaos, and Thanatos the Greek personification of death, but with Erubus (the god of shadows and darkness) she is also the mother of Hemera the goddess of day.  At times she is prophetic, dispensing prophesies from her cave beyond the sea (at times her cave is at the end of the cosmos).  She is depicted either riding in her chariot, trailed by stars or a woman with black wings.  In her mythology she is a force to be reckoned with.  Even Zeus, the king of the gods, listens when she speaks.   Each sunset and sunrise she passes by her daughter Hermera as they exchange places.  That moment as night becomes day or day becomes night is that only time the goddess of night can greet her daughter who ushers in the day.  I find it interesting that the goddess of night gives birth to the goddess of day.  To me it mirrors the Celtic idea that light can only be born out of darkness.  While today we think of day preceding night, our ancestors saw darkness as the beginning of all things.  They knew we needed to pass through darkness in order to find light.  Whether it is our inner darkest or a dark time in our lives, we must pass through darkness in order to find light and new beginnings.  Dawn would be meaningless without the long journey through the night.       

 

                                Nyx Sunset Spell for New Beginnings

At sunset carve what you wish to manifest on a black candle.  Concentrate on your desire, see it clearly in your mind, see that image filling the candle.  Hold the candle in your hands as you invoke Nyx, saying:

Black winged Night

Dark mother Nyx

All things are born from your darkness

From the dark of our mother’s wombs we are born

From the dark soil the seed germinates and grows

From the dark of the Underworld our spirits are reborn

Nyx as you wrap your dark cloak over the world

I recognize that night is a time of beginnings

A time of rebirth and becoming

In the dark womb of night let my spell form and grow

And with the dawn manifest

Mother Night hear my prayer!

Light the candle and let it burn out.  If you can not let it burn all night (in a fire safe container of course) light it for a few minutes each night until it is spent.  

Samhain, Morrigan and Dagda

  When he first saw her, she was bathing along the river bank.  Long pale limbs, her skin the color of polished bone.  Clever hands loosed the nine tresses upon her head, leaving her hair to spill down her back.  It was the black of a starless night, with the glossy sheen of a raven’s feathers.  She sang softly as she poured the water over her porcelain skin.  The song was both somber and joyful, filled with all the pain and ecstasy that was life.  Something roused in him at the site.  He knew this woman.  Some called her Death, others knew her as Battle- but all he could see now was a painful, dangerous beauty that he longed to make his own.  He didn’t realize he had moved towards the bank until she was already in his arms.  She looked up at him with dark, raven eyes that mirrored his own passion.  He laughed to himself, perhaps it seemed odd that the God of life and the Goddess of Death should make such a passionate union together.  But as the sun sank and the old year died, he happily died in the ecstasy of her love, knowing with the dawn he would rise again, reborn.  The Morrigan may bring death, but Dagda knew her true gift was rebirth. 

   To many the story of the Morrigan and Dagda’s union on the eve of Samhain is perplexing.  They don’t seem at first glance to be two figures who would get along at all, let along come together in the manner that they do.  Like most myths there are several ways to look at it, and I find during different times of the year different aspects of the story stand out more than others.  On one level Dagda’s union with the Morrigan is a sacred marriage between the king and the Goddess of the land, giving us a glimpse into the Morrigan’s origins as a tutelary earth Goddess.  But as Samhain approaches it is the close connection the Celts saw between life and death that stands out to me the most. 

   At first they seem like an unlikely pair.  While the Morrigan is a very complex deity, at Samhain her connection to death comes to the forefront.  She is the Washer at the Ford who warns warriors that their deaths are near.  She over sees battle, taking pleasure in the bloodshed.  Dagda on the other hand is a comical figure in most of his myths.  He lives life to its fullest and indulging in all it has to offer whether that be good food or sensual pleasure.  He represents fertility, plenty and the bounty of life.  It would seem these two have nothing in common.  Yet upon seeing one another, they come passionately together, in a perfect union that ushers in the new year and new beginnings.  

   In today’s culture death and life are suppose to be enemies.  We think of these forces as opposites that clash, forces that exist to destroy the other.  Yet upon seeing one another, the Goddess who personifies death and the God who embodies life come together in a perfect union.  To the Celts life and death worked closely together, rather than being at odds with one another.  They recognized death is an unavoidable forces within life, and when we cross its threshold it ushers us into rebirth. 

   More often than not we concentrate on death during Samhain. After all it is a time to honor the dead and Samhain marks the end of the old year.  The veil between the worlds thins and we can more easily connect to those who have passed on and celebrate the lives of our ancestors.  But rebirth is also an important part of Samhain.  We must remember that life, death and rebirth are intrinsically linked.  Where one is present, the other is as well.      

   So as you prepare for your Samhain celebration, remember that it is also a time of beginnings.  A celebration of both life and death.  As the new year is born, we can shed the burdens of the past and begin anew.  Like Dagda, when we embrace death and welcome Her powers of change, our lives can be transformed, and with the dawn we can be reborn anew.       

Dark Goddess of the Week: Medusa

“I saw you once, Medusa; we were alone.

I looked you straight in the cold eye, cold.

I was not punished, was not turned to stone.

How to believe the legends I am told? . . .

I turned your face around! It is my face.

That frozen rage is what I must explore –

Oh secret, self-enclosed and ravaged place!

That is the gift I thank Medusa for."

-May Sarton, The Muse as Medusa

 

   I have always been fascinated by snake goddesses.  Having four pet snakes I suppose this is not too surprising.  From the Naga Kenya of India, Medusa and the Erinyes of Greece, to the serpent that tempted Eve, snakes have played a vital role in mythology.  Although with the influence of Christianity they are now connected to sin and evil, in earlier times they were symbols of rebirth, power, and wisdom.  They were also the faithful companions of the dark goddess. 

   Whether you love them or are scared of them, watching a snake shed its skin is fascinating.  Its skin becomes pale, its clear eyes become glassy and opaque.  Then slowly it peels its old self away, revealing new vibrant skin.  The snake symbolically dies and is reborn over and over again.  It knows change is necessary, and that we die and are reborn many times within our lives, before true physical death claims us.  While snake venom can kill, the snake only uses it to eat or for self defense.  Almost all snake bites are caused by humans not watching their step and startling the snake.  The snake teaches us discernment.  To strike, and use our power, only at the appropriate time.  Venom while deadly in many cases, is also used to save lives and create antidotes for snake bites, teaching us that sometimes something destructive can also help heal us.  With their connection to death and rebirth it is no wonder the snake has become the companion of the dark goddess, who embodies similar traits. 

     In Greece the snake is found wherever we find the dark goddess.  They were one of the animals associated with Hecate, goddess of the crossroads and underworld.  In her more terrifying incarnations she was the Erinyes, three sister goddesses with wings and snakes for hair, who punished those who committed crimes.  Like Hecate, the Erinyes were connected to the underworld.  They dwelt in Hades, only leaving the land of the dead to bring justice to murderers, and those who committed crimes against women and children.  At times they drove their victims mad.  If their target died without expressing remorse the Erinyes followed their spirit until he or she showed remorse for the crimes they committed.  

  The Gorgon Medusa is perhaps the best example of the merger between goddess and snake.  The Gorgons were the daughters of the sea god Phorcys and Ceto, whose gaze could turn men to stone.  While her sisters Stheno (forceful) and Euryale (far roaming) were both immortal, Medusa was subjected to mortality.  Because of their legendary gaze images of the Gorgons were often carved into homes, public building, and temples as a form of protection.  Like the gargoyles that would later decorate cathedrals, their frightening forms were thought to scare away those of ill intent.   

   Some myths claim Medusa was beautiful once, her golden locks and charms catching the attention of Poseidon.  She also vainly thought her beauty to rival that of Athena.  Unfortunately her beauty gets her in trouble.  In some versions the sea god is so enamored with her that he rapes her, in others she is Poseidon’s willing lover.  Either way the couple had the misfortune to give in to their desires in Athena’s temple.  Enraged the virgin goddess cursed Medusa, transforming her beautiful hair into writhing serpents.  Later Athena sent the hero Perseus to kill Medusa.  When he cut off her head the hero Chrysaor and the winged horse Pegasus sprang to life from her blood, as she had been pregnant by Poseidon prior to her transformation.  Eventually Athena would mount Medusa’s head on her shield (or in some version on her breastplate).  Athena also was said to have given a portion of Medusa’s blood to Asclepius (the god of medicine) who used it to both cure illness and cause death.    

   Most likely Medusa was Athena’s “darker” aspect.  While Athena represents the chaste and rational side of the goddess, Medusa embodies her sexuality and her destructive side.  She is in a way Athena’s shadow self.  It seems no accident that she blatantly makes love within Athena’s temple.  As a virgin goddess, Athena to some extent is suppressing her sexuality, while these impulses are played out in the uninhibited Medusa.  Ashamed of these desires Athena views her other half as something ugly and vile, and thus Medusa is transformed.  By sending Perseus to kill Medusa, Athena is in a way attempting to defeat she shadow self, to purge herself of her inner darkness.  Athena’s connection to snakes in her myths are also hints to the fact that they are two sides of the same goddess.  Along with the owl, snakes were also one of Athena’s sacred animals.  In Orphic poems she is called “la serpentine”, and she is accredited an “unwavering” or “unblinking” stare, not unlike Medusa’s stony gaze.  In battle she could also take on the Gorgon’s terrifying appearance, presumably because Medusa’s head was mounted on her shield.  In a way placing Medusa’s head on her shield is a sign that Athena, after confronting Medusa (via Perseus) has merged both of her “selves”.  With the Gorgon on her shield, in battle she can appear as either the goddess of wisdom or the fierce snake haired goddess, suggesting she has become whole.      

    Medusa may have been ugly in Athena’s eyes, but her only sin is giving in to her own desires and passions.  She sees no need for modesty, recognized her own beauty and declaring it as divine (by claiming to be more beautiful than a goddess).  She is comfortable with her sexuality in a way that Athena is not, boldly displaying her lovemaking in Athena’s inner sanctum.  Medusa, although she is punished for it, lives freely without the constraints of others.  As two side of the same goddess, it is Athena who is in denial of Medusa’s power.  Medusa represents the inner power Athena is afraid to accept.  Whether it is because of social morays or fear, we at times do the same thing.  We deny our own sacred natures.  We try to fit in, we give our power away to others.  But eventually we must embrace our own darkness.  We have labeled our inner power and desires as something dark, we have cursed this aspect of ourselves as Athena did, instead of recognizing its beauty.   But it is only when we learn to embrace this part of ourselves, and like the snake shed our fears and inhibitions, that we can become whole.  When we gaze into Medusa’s face, we see our own.  And like Athena, when we truly embrace ourselves for who we are we become an unstoppable force in the world.

Understanding the Warrior Goddess

   When I tell most people my patron Goddess in the Morrigan usually their first questions is “Why would you want to worship a Goddess of war?”  Those who have worked with the Great Queen will already know the Morrigan has many faces and aspects, war and battle only being one of them.  But it is this attribute, one she shares with many other Dark Goddesses, that sadly makes some people question working with her. 

  Why is it that we fear the warrior Goddess?  She appears to us in many forms, and across several cultures.  In Egypt she was Sekhmet, the lioness Goddess who drank the blood of her enemies.  In Greek she was Athena, goddess of wisdom and war.  As Durga she was called upon by the Gods to battle demons, as only she had the power and strength to defeat them.  She is Kali, Oya, Andraste, Freya, Bellona, and many others.  In so many cultures the warrior Goddess was revered and held sacred.  She defended clan and country, her fierceness filled enemies with despair.  Those she favored were blessed with courage, battle frenzy and victory.  Yet now she has become to many a deity to be avoided.  What has changed?  Have we suddenly recognized these Goddesses as representing something dangerous or have our attitudes towards her mysteries changed?                   

  I think part of why we are afraid of the warrior Goddess is because our concept of war has drastically changed.  We live in a world where we don’t have to worry about our food being stolen by people in the neighboring town.  The battlefields our armed forces fight and die on are often far away, leaving us with the illusion that the violence of war is something distant, only to be viewed from afar on TV. Modern warfare more often than not is motivated by political agendas, but to our ancestors war was often an aspect of everyday life and most importantly survival.

   In the Morrigan’s case we must remember that warriors were held in high esteem in the Celtic mind and that the warrior caste was one of the highest in their society.  Why?  Because they kept everyone safe.  Take a moment to bring some of our modern day warriors to mind: our military personnel, our police officers and firefighter.  Soldiers and police officers sometimes need to use force and violence to protect us.  It’s part of their job.  They aren’t evil people because they use force.  We hold them in esteem for doing a difficult and dangerous job, one that protects the rest of us and maintains peace (most of the time) in the world.  In many ways this is how the warrior archetype, divine and otherwise, was seen by ancient Pagans.  When we consider this the warrior Goddess isn’t so unapproachable.  Her nature is sometimes fierce, she is a Dark Goddess, her lessons difficult, but she is not by any means evil, nor is there any reason why modern practitioners should avoid working with her.          

   Generally war Gods or Goddesses reflect the type of warfare their culture participated in, embodying their ideals of honor and glory on the battlefield. War itself varies from culture to culture. The highly organized warfare of the Roman legions bears little resemblance to the somewhat haphazard style of warfare the Celts participated in or for that matter to our modern day high tech approach to war.  Irish warfare in particular revolved around cattle raids.  Cattle where seen as the ultimate source of wealth, were used as currency to pay debts and as bride prices.  The fact that Celtic warfare revolved around cattle, (and ultimately sovereignty over the land and its wealth) is reflected in their Goddess of war, as the Morrigan is usually occupied in stealing cattle, herding them or making it difficult for others to obtain them; all functions that reflect the Celtic cosmology of warfare.

   Oddly enough the Morrigan’s male counterparts Dagda, Lugh and Bran who participated in battle do not retain a stigma for being “bloodthirsty” or “evil”.  The fact that the Morrigan is female and connected to battle makes her dangerous.  Although women have gained equality with men in many ways we are still afraid of women who are dominate.  War in the modern mind is still very much thought of as belonging to the realm of men.  Women who participate in it become unfeminine and unnatural.  Women today who aggressively pursue their dreams and desires, (whether that be a career or other goals in life) and who stand up for themselves are often accused of acting like men.  This is especially true in the business world.  Unfortunately the message our culture is sending women is that strength and power belong to the realm of men and it is unnatural for women to display these traits.  Yet they can be found in warrior goddesses in cultures all around the globe.

   Ultimately our concept of war and that of the Celts (or any ancient culture for that matter) is vastly different. We can neither divorce Morrigan from war, nor can we call her evil for being a Goddess of battle. Like the warriors the Celts revered, she protects her people, inspires those who take a stand, and guards her children. She reflects the Celtic concept of battle and war, not our modern ones. That is not to say she cannot be called upon in this guise today, just that to understand her role as a Goddess of war we must keep in mind the culture she came from.

   But where does that leave the modern worshiper?  Can the warrior Goddess still have a role in our lives today?  Absolutely.  Her role in our lives may have changed compared to that of our ancestors, but that does not mean we should abandon her mysteries.  The warrior Goddess, in all her many guises, is concerned with all forms of conflict and its resolution, and her knack for bringing victory to those who invoke her make her a powerful ally when dealing with life’s problems. 

   Embracing the warrior Goddess has nothing to do with brandishing a sword or joining the military.  You can be a pacifist and still work with a warrior deity.  Modern warriors can be found in the most mundane places.  The single mom working two jobs to provide for her family, firefighters, police officers, teachers, social workers and environmental activists, these are all warriors and draw on the power of the warrior Goddess.  People who draw on an inner strength to help themselves and others, all embody the warrior spirit. 

   The warrior Goddess challenges us to stand up and be counted, to draw on our inner strength and champion life’s battles.  She knows the most important wars are not the physical ones.  Whether it is overcoming an obstacle in life or fighting our inner demons the warrior Goddess is there to champion our cause.  Maybe the warrior Goddess will challenge you to fight a “war” against poverty by working to help low income families.  Maybe your “war” will be against animal cruelty and you will feel drawn to donate time at an animal shelter.  Maybe you wish to draw on her strength to settle a conflict, to end an abusive relationship, to confront sexual harassment in the work place, or negotiating a raise from your boss.  Whatever you do, whatever your battle, when life has you down say a prayer to the warrior Goddess.  She is always there, waiting for us to embrace her, ready to offer us victory.