Venus and Her Lover

by Becca Tzigany

  Tracing Time’s spirals, we were encountering dewy fresh landscapes populated with old friends wearing new clothes: the Lover, the Warrior, the Magician, the Mother, and the whole host of archetypal resonances appearing in modern forms... Axis Mundi, Tree of Life, the World Mountain, Mother Ocean... The stories we shared were transhistorical. Wherever we went in the world, we felt at home.

  Whether the sun disappeared into the Atlantic or Pacific or Indian Oceans, we had listened to sunset conversations showing a concern for Mother Earth, respect for the rising Divine Feminine, a pan-spiritual vision and transcendent science, and an allegiance to the global tribe. Despite a genetic bent to be a slave race and eons of programming to keep our places in a dominator pyramid, people everywhere were forging a new story, a planetary mythos. We were all midwifing the (re)birth of the anima mundi, the Soul of the World.

  One of the most important stories being rewritten was the timeworn man-woman relationship. The hieros gamos, the sacred marriage, was perverted by patriarchy into a diabolical marriage of the pathological Feminine (victim, masochist, martyr, narcissist, self-indulgent shopper) and the pathological Masculine (controller, sadist, coward, exploiter fooled by status and money). Diavolikó gamos. Enough already! Everywhere we had been, people knew this, though they may not have known how to get out of it.

  Nonetheless, many brave souls, facing their personal Shadows, were working to balance their internal Feminine and Masculine, and then put it to the test with their partner. Robert Augustus Masters, in his book Transformation Through Intimacy, says, “Intimate relationship could be called the ashram of the 21st century – a place especially ripe with transformational possibility, a combination crucible and sanctuary for the deepest sort of healing and awakening, through which the full integration of our physical, mental, emotional, psychological, and spiritual dimensions is more than possible.”174 By following our Tantric path, James and I had certainly enrolled ourselves in that ashram.

  Over ten years before, James and I had answered the Call to Adventure and embarked upon the Hero’s Journey. Maybe it was not just a personal quest but a galactic storyline for humanity’s evolution. We rode the cycles of time that brought us aspects of ourselves (the adversary, the nemesis, the perpetrator) that put us through trials and tests, all the while prodding us to remember where we came from, to remember who we are. Then we would attain the treasure and sip the elixir that would alchemically transform us from leaden-weighted 3D humans into golden, radiant, infinite beings.

  All the old his-stories – Inanna competing with Marduk for power, Venus tricking lovers with her wiles, Mars goading men into bloodshed, Shiva’s glare reducing Kama to ashes, Pele’s jealous rampages, Set murdering Osiris, Mother Gaia estranged from Father Ouranos – were for an age now passing away. The pressure of the tightening spiral has outed them for our inspection, and once we understand their archetypal message, ejects them from our world. Stripped of their patriarchal armor, the archetypes wait in the dressing room for their new clothes. Their new garments are being woven, with strands of angora hope and horsehair conviction, by all of us who want to stand, with our high fashion planetary mythos, ready to step out onto the galactic runway.

  Gods Set Free

  Ceremonies and rituals have been the age-old, creative efforts through which human imagination combines the drives of nature with the arts of culture. The initiate enacts a role, but also becomes the locus through which the forces of nature and culture act.

  ~ Michael Meade

  Driving through a tunnel of flamboyán trees, our motorino wound its way up to the top of the promontory. Instead of pulling into the entrance to the fort, however, James kept going, and upon spying a dirt path, suddenly turned into a grove of trees.

  “Where are we?” I asked, when we stopped.

  “I dunno. I just felt like doing some exploring,” he replied.

  Walking through the trees into a clearing of dry, dusty ground and black volcanic rock outcroppings, I turned to my partner. “Well done, charioteer! You have brought us to a perfect place to do ceremony.”

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  Smiling my sly priestess smile, I said, “Well, what do we want to do?”

  Digging into my backpack, I pulled out ritual items I had stashed in there, just in case. Arranging a mesa cloth, I set the sacred space. Winds were whipping the tree branches overhead, and the energy of the sea, the air, and the Earth swirled around us. It was way too blustery to smudge, so we would have to work with the wind. We began with invocations.

  James called out in his informal way, “OK you guys, c’mon! All of you guides of Venus and Her Lover, who’ve been with us since the beginning, who’ve been showing us the way, come close! And all the participants – all the higher vision of the participants, why they did it, what they believed in about sacred sexuality – come in!”

  “And all the gods and goddesses we have invoked, gather ‘round! Venus and Mars! Isis and Osiris! Shakti and Shiva! Triple Goddess Kali, Lakshmi, Sarasvati, we are here in your land! Green Man, Dionysus, Quetzalcóatl, Kokopelli, Lilith, Inanna, Kuan Yin – gods and goddesses, all! We thank you for your participation in Venus and Her Lover, and we call you to stand with us here!” I added.

  James and I stood for a moment, feeling a great convocation of energies. The trees shook, a hawk circled overhead.

  Taking cornmeal and tobacco as Earth offerings, James and I faced the long stretch of coastline below us. The tan sand yawned northward buffered by a swath of green – palm and mango trees – up to the gentle slope of the hill of Anjuna. It was no leap of the imagination for us to visualize the beach at Aguada, Puerto Rico, how the sand reaches to the low rise of the northern peninsula of Aguadilla. As my vision rested on the thousands of coconut palms, tears bathed my eyes with a sweet memory of the Sacred Palm Grove.

  Instead of calling in the four directions, I led us in a ritual of gratitude of the places we had lived. Beginning with the palms and beach in our view, I loudly cried, “To Puerto Rico! You brought us together, you prepared us, you impregnated us with Venus and Her Lover! Isla del Encanto, water element.”

  “Caribbean vibe, going with the flow of yin energy,” James added.

  I continued. “There we faced our fears, felt our feelings so deeply, and learned to trust our intuition… We thank you! Gracias! To where the goddess stepped ashore! A ho!” We tossed our offerings that direction.

  Then turning around, we faced a grove of trees. A forest on top of a mountain, just like Benabbio. “To Italia! Element of air,” I began.

  James called out, “To Tuscany – la Toscana – to Bagni di Lucca, to Benabbio! Ahhhhhh...” he intoned, in imitation of Rocco’s sonorous voice.

  I went on. “You provided us with so much knowledge, there in the land of Venus and Mars! History, culture, art... in Crete and all of Europe! You really helped us work a lot, through the alchemy of inspiration. Grazie, Italia! Aho!” We let loose our cornmeal and tobacco, which were straightaway snatched by the winds.

  Turning now to the bay, where we had seen the dolphins, we honored our home in the Pacific. “To Hawai’i! Big Island!” James called. “You were not easy on us! I was in so much pain there! Our relationship went through the fires of purification. But you taught us a lot, too. So we say Mahalo!”

  “Tutu Pele,” I prayed. “You helped us know about Earth energy and about the first chakra. And I really got a lesson in the power of manifestation. We visited Buddhist Thailand from there, too. Oh, and the dolphins! Delfini! Naia! Thank you for all the love you give! Mahalo! Aloha!” Toward Hawai’i we cast our offerings.

  The brown earth below our feet reminded me of New Mexico. In June the monsoons would no doubt turn this hilltop green – just like the monsoons of the Southwest, I thought – but now it was as parched as a desert. So we held our tobacco and cornmeal over the ground as I called, “To Taos, there in the mat
rix of the Earth that held our family... to Maxwaluna the Magic Mountain, to Blue Lake, to the mesa and the Rio Grande Gorge, we offer our gratitude!”

  “I completed Climax there,” James said. “In a great studio looking at the mountain. And in that supportive community, we did the Grand Unveiling – ”

  “Where we declared the end of the era of the angry, wounded Masculine and the suffering Feminine!” I interrupted. “And I thank you for my best writer’s studio ever, and all the sunsets from there. We honor the Native Americans of all the Americas, and their traditions that taught us much about the Earth. Aho! Thank you, Taos! Gracias!”

  With this, James pulled out his pipe, and stuffed it with a pinch of tobacco. “I just realized we need to give the fire element its due,” he said. “And Taos is where I quit smoking for good. So this is a ceremonial puff.” It took both of us crouching by a tree and shielding from the wind, but he was able to light his pipe.

  “For the yang sun burning in our bellies that has powered us through this great artwork. For the spark of conscious awareness for us to learn the lessons. For the fire of sexual passion and the joy of sacred sex!” James blew smoke with each declaration.

  “And now India,” I began, looking which direction we should face.

  James smiled. “Well here we are. Right at the center. And we’re surrounded by it. The aether.”

  “The fifth element, the transcendent essence, the quintessence! To India!” I called, turning around and finally bringing my hands to my chest.

  “The dream came true,” James said. “You brought us here, the birthplace of Tantra. You let us live here, showing us your paradoxes.”

  I said, “Kali plunged me into the underworld, to see what was brewing underneath my sense of mission. I had to embrace the dark side of Venus, all the way back to Inanna. And from that experience, we got a fifth hypothesis on the War Between the Sexes: our Anunnaki creators.

  “Here James has healed from his surgery and the past rough years. He climbed Ramana’s mountain. Thank you, India, danyavad!” Casting my offerings around me, I then bowed with my hands clasped, saying, “Namaste!”

  James also bowed and then said, “Reinventing the Myth! Becca, don’t you think we should tell these guys...” he gestured to the gathered invisible deities, “they are free to evolve?”

  “Perfect!” I agreed, and began to call out to each one. “First off, Ouranos, Father Sky, and Gaia, Mother Earth, please forgive each other. Be gentle and love one another. We no longer hold you in this painful myth. You can make love again!” I imagined Ouranos weeping tears of relief, and as his tears rained upon Gaia, she pulled him to her green body. The mutual torture was over.

  “The same goes for Isis and Osiris,” James said. “Your lingam is restored, Osiris, and you and Set make peace. There is resolution in the myth of competing brothers. You work together and build up a new world instead of destroying it.”

  “Brothers Enlil and Enki, too!” I added. “Enlil is probably Yahweh, who is Jehovah, and his son allegedly became Allah. For God’s sake, no more punishing father!”

  “Jung said that the definition of masculinity was ‘To know your sword and how to use it.’ Be a real man, Yahweh, and use the sword of discernment, the sword of spiritual justice, and be a wise sovereign, a benevolent leader. To emphasize this for all men, I have laid down the sword of killing. No more war!” James decreed.

  “Ishtar/Inanna, and Marduk/Ra,” I began. “End the war for land, the war for control, the war for domination. I personally no longer support the channeling of feminine energy into the predator-victim game! You are free to evolve beyond this destructive dynamic. In Inanna’s name, I declare it!”

  “We men and women of today renounce the Dominator System!” James affirmed.

  “Instead, we choose love. Love!” I called out. “And an end to the dysfunctional relationship myths. Inanna and Dumuzi, Kama Deva and Rati, Lilith and Adam, Adam and Eve, and all the other Romeo and Juliet tragedies – let love work its magic, heal the wounds, set you free! May the Tantric Golden Age rise again in the couple! May love bless the union of men lovers, women lovers, men and women lovers, and may the archetypal Divine Child born of them usher in an age of respect and pleasure in relationship. Truly divine unions, the hieros gamos.”

  “For the liberation of Mars and Venus, through us!” James said.

  He went on. “Kali, we thank you for clearing the way for a new world. May everyone wake up!” James shouted this, “…to sustainable practices in relationship! Please, Kali, help humanity turn away from the destruction.”

  “Great Goddess, Gaia, Pachamama, Tonantzin, Pele, Prakriti,” I invoked the names of Mother Earth. “We declare the harmonious interactions of your elements, with us, your human children, ready and willing to care for you. Here on Earth, as it is by nature in the Kosmos!”

  As I was about to say, “May the balance be restored!,” as I had a thousand times before, the words stopped short at a cliff in the Grand Canyon of my mind. Before them... an expanse so magnificent, so uncontainable, that the little words retreated.

  At that instant, I understood that the balance would never be restored. The Masculine would always be free agent, trying to assert ever more freedom, defending individual rights, while the Feminine would always be gathering and conjoining, to hold it together as a unified whole. There might be moments of balance as the one that held more sway surrendered power to the other’s ascendance, but they would always be antagonists, each providing the foil to the other, and together creating a reality full of movement and color.

  Instead, it was the pathological extremes that needed to be curtailed and brought more toward a center balance point. In addition, where real evolution was possible was in my perspective of the whole play of energy, and then how I chose to interact with it. “May we move toward balance,” I said finally.

  Concluding our gratitude ceremony, we both knelt down to be in silence for a few minutes, to receive the stillness after our ritual action.

  Transcendence

  James broke the silence. “There’s something else we have to do. We invoke the gods and goddesses, like they are beings outside of us.”

  “I know, James, but we realize they are just those archetypal aspects of ourselves,” I agreed.

  “So why don’t we reflect that in our ritual, too?” he asked. “You know what that means, Becca? We have to leave them behind.”

  I stared at him. He went on. “Look, that Yahweh character, so like my own father enforcing the Dominator System? I renounce the fear-based control freak in myself! And Warriorship, the force that has given me the strength in my life’s battles? I have transformed the power of Mars... this Mars man has laid down the sword! That’s why painting ‘Climax’ shook me to the core. I knew I had to lay down the sword for real to be able to paint it.”

  A smile curled my lips with the sweet taste of reality. “And I have to take responsibility for Inanna’s betrayal of the Feminine and heal that dissonance within me. Her authority – as Queen of Heaven – rests in me. I declare myself sovereign! I refuse to continue to participate in a master-slave system.

  “That has been my part in evolving Venus. I am purifying the perversion of erotic love through healing my own sexual and karmic wounds.”

  James responded. “In our project, the deities are shown interacting sexually. We had to bring forth the gods and goddesses, and reinvent the myths, by bringing their sexual aspects out of the shadows... out of the darkness of shame and condemnation.

  “But we don’t want to get hung up in the myth, reinvented or not. The gods came from me; I did not come from them,” James said. “Oh no, check this out! We devoted over ten years of our life to reinventing these gods and goddesses, and now we’ll just say, ‘Whoops! Never mind!’? Those 64 paintings... all an illusion!”

  We gaped at each other. All our work, all the sacrifice..
. a misguided labor to create a new myth that could then be just as easily manipulated for dominator purposes?

  I thought of my own New Age swooning before the Goddess, projecting the Divine Feminine outside of myself. What if I did not take the next step and embody it as myself? Our Tantric art project needed to make that vital next step clear.

  “Not so fast, James!” I said. “Humanity has generations upon generations of cowering before the punishing, manipulative gods. Maybe Venus and Her Lover evoked them to bring them back into a friendlier, more empowering place. You can’t leave something behind until you know it – both its shadow and light aspects. Our art helps us know more fully how the archetypes manifest, so that now...”

  “We can leave them behind. Now!” James said with finality.

  “Now?” I asked.

  “Let’s do it, Becca, here in this ritual,” he said.

  I helped James to his feet, and we stood in the wild wind, gathering our intention. Then we began shouting their names.

  “Mars!”

  “Venus!”

  “Shiva and Shakti!”

  With each invocation, we let them loose. In a natural expression, we flung open our arms and then clasped their archetypal qualities to our chests, claiming them as our own. We were transcending their form and affirming their essence.

  “Sarasvati! Lakshmi! Kali!”

  When I called out Kali’s name, I hesitated. I felt the deep bond “she” and I had forged together, my attachment to the Black Mother. Then a wave of love enveloped me as I realized that just as I could transcend her outward form, I could include it again whenever I wanted to play. Lila, divine play. But first, I had to release my attachment.

  “Thank you, Kali,” I cried, opening my arms. And then embracing myself, I declared, “I have the power to transform myself, according to my free will and desire.”