The deities we label as “dark” today would not have been viewed as malevolent by our ancestors. The things modern people tend to have hang-ups about are more removed from the lives of the ancient people who worshiped these gods. To our ancestors deities like Mars or the Morrigan would be the kind of gods you wanted on your side if you were fighting a war or you were concerned for the safety of your village and family. We don’t have to worry about invaders coming from the next town or apartment building to steal our food stores for the winter. In the past a war goddess on your side was a very good thing. To ancient people the gods we tend to treat with fear today would have been essential to their everyday lives. And conversely, the gods we tend to fear in modern times may not be so scary to our descendants. Maybe in three hundred years Aphrodite will be considered a dark goddess—who knows?
Defining “dark” as a term that always indicates something negative also has racial connotations. There is an element of cultural baggage around the idea that lightness is good or preferable and being darker is shameful when it comes to skin color. There is even a myth about how Parvati is shamed by another god who calls her dark-skinned, and she takes measures to lighten her appearance, the darkness she sheds transforming into the goddess Kali, whose name means “black.” We have to let go of the idea that “dark,” within any context, is a bad thing. These attitudes influence not just the way we look at each other but how we perceive deity.
The concept of gods of light is just as modern and at times rather misleading. We tend to assume that gods who do not deal with the things we fear all have motherly, loving traits to them. At times I have found Brighid, who by modern standards fits this mold of being connected to light, to be just as challenging to work with as any dark goddess. She has her motherly side, yes, but her fires can burn you just as easily as they can spark inspiration. It is best to not assume to know the full nature of a god.
Ultimately, I prefer not to categorize the gods. They are all very distinct from one another. They are multifaceted. Just as I am many things to many people, so too are the gods. You may be a parent, a spouse, a child, and a coworker and play many roles to different people, but you are still one person. When we put a label on something, we tend to forget that it is anything else but the label we have given it. It took me many years to see that the Morrigan has other aspects and faces. She can be dark and scary, but that is not the limit of her power or scope as a deity. The problem with labeling something “dark” or “light” is that we put blinders on and forget that the gods are more than the title or box people put them in.
Throughout this book, I will refer to the goddesses we are working with as “dark,” but only because this has evolved into the terminology that we are most familiar with. I use the term “dark” only in the context of a grouping of deities that have similar functions relating to transformation. I suggest you take time to consider what the terms “light” and “dark” mean to you personally. Consider if thinking of the gods in these terms has limited your experiences with them and if you are comfortable using or discarding this terminology.
Are All Dark Goddesses Crones?
Terms like “dark” or “light” are ultimately just generalizations, and with them come certain stigmas. In general when we are talking about a dark goddess, it is almost always assumed that we are also talking about a crone. While the archetypal Neopagan Crone is connected to death and some of the harsher mysteries the Goddess embodies, the two are not mutually exclusive. In pantheons around the world we find maiden and mother goddesses whose energies and lessons challenge us and teach us the mysteries of transformation and rebirth. We tend to relegate the happier and more appealing aspect of the Divine Feminine to the Maiden and Mother and pack all the darker and uncomfortable things into the Crone’s corner. While the Crone is certainly connected to death and transformation, the myths and stories of goddesses around the world show us that the Maiden and Mother figures also have a darker side. Hekate, who is more often than not portrayed in modern art as a hag or crone, is shown as three young maidens in early Greek art. The concept that she appears only as an elderly woman is a fairly modern one, fitting our preconceived image of what a deity that deals with death and the underworld should look like. Likewise, Persephone, who descends into the underworld for half the year and rules as its queen, is a maiden figure who deals with transitions and the world of the dead. Sedna and the Welsh Blodeuwedd are also both young goddess figures who face difficult times and embody the independence and self-ownership the dark goddess embodies.
This idea that only the Crone can embody the darker side of the feminine is why when the discussion of dark gods in general comes up within Paganism, it is often assumed that one is exclusively talking about male deities. The lessons and nature of a god have nothing to do with gender. There are many dark gods that are powerful allies to work with as well—Hades, Ares, and Crom Dubh to name a few. Part of why I chose to center my focus here on dark goddesses is because they are often ignored. We have acquired an aversion to seeing femininity as a force of powerful, destructive change. But just as the concept of being a “nurturer” is not exclusively female, the concepts of strong action and destruction are not exclusively in the masculine realm either. We need to question why we automatically pigeonhole a goddess that appears as maiden in her myths or one that just so happens to be a mother to certain relegated roles. The Irish Macha is a mother, and one of her central myths involves how she birthed her twins. But she also goes off to war, fights in battles, and is known for her prophetic visions and eye for strategy. So is she a mother goddess simply because she bore children—case closed, end of story? Or is she something more, just as Persephone is more than simply a maiden?
Are Dark Gods Dangerous?
The idea that a god is dangerous doesn’t sit well with many people, and this is perhaps the biggest reason many Pagans shy away from working with dark gods. The deities we classify as dark are those who deal with or rule over the harsher, scarier parts of life. They are the sin-eaters, those who rule over the land of the dead or usher spirits into the next world, those connected to the violence of war, those who have faced brutality in their myths, and those who rule over liminal and transformational space. Deities like this challenge us. They shake up our lives when they appear and force us to look at all the things that are uncomfortable about life and ourselves. In short they are not happy mother goddesses who will pat us on the head and tell us everything will be okay. Instead they are more likely to put a sword in our hands and tell us, like the Spartans, to come home with our shields in hand or laid on top of us. In short they represent many of the things we are afraid of. And there is nothing more terrifying to most people than change.
It’s no wonder we are often reluctant to work with such gods, but more often than not their transformational powers are exactly what we need in our lives. Ten years ago saying the Morrigan’s name at a Pagan gathering was like saying “Voldemort.” She was “that scary goddess,” and I was often advised not to work with her. Now the Morrigan is one of the most talked-about and popular deities in Celtic Paganism. To those who have answered her call she can be a source of strength and power. She is not the only dark goddess whose worship has gained momentum. Slowly we are starting to rethink how we approach deities we have dubbed to be “dark.” Ultimately, working with these deities is a process of transformation in itself. Even though the concept of labeling deities as “dark” or “light” is modern, walking the path of the dark goddess is not the same as working with other deities. Working with deities that bring about change and represent our own fears can be challenging. No matter what label I put on the Morrigan, she is still the Morrigan. And she is very, very good at making me face the things I’d rather hide from.
So are the gods dangerous? Well, the short answer is yes. And when you get down to it, isn’t living dangerous too? Taking the subway or getting in your car can be dangerous, but it’s a kind of risk or danger that you acc
ept. Working with dark and dangerous gods can be like that. Life is not without risks any more than magick, working with the gods, or, for that matter, working with other spiritual beings is. Consider what any good teacher will tell you about faeries or even angels. Most will advise you that caution is required when working with these beings. The Sídhe are not Tinker Bell. They can be beneficial or try to eat you. For the most part, no one has any qualms about labeling faeries as dangerous. After all, they can be at times. But it also doesn’t negate that having a connection to them and working with them can be rewarding. The danger is understood. We understand that although many of the Sídhe have humanlike appearances, they are inherently not human. They are something different and distinct from us, and we can’t expect them to play by human rules or have human moralities. Likewise, with angels there is an understanding that they are not human. And if you have read the traditional descriptions of angels (they resemble fat little winged babies about as much as the Sídhe resemble Tinker Bell), you’ll find they can be quite scary. Some have thousands of eyes or animal heads and rain down the wrath of God with pleasure. But again we have an easier time accepting the danger and the understanding that some are beneficial and others we may have to be wary about or take certain precautions with.
Coming from monotheism, many of us were raised with the idea of a “heavenly father” watching over us. It is a concept many of us carry over into Paganism. When viewing the gods as creators of the universe and ourselves, it’s only natural to equate our relationships with them to the closest human equivalent we have, our parents. The only hang-up with this is that when we see the gods as parental figures, our next conclusion is that they love us unconditionally. The problem is no matter how human they appear or what form they take, the gods are powers so vast and unknowable that our human minds can’t really completely comprehend them. They created stars and planets, us, and all the beings we share this planet with. I do think the gods care about us and aspects of our lives, but at the same time I think they also have their own agendas and have a much vaster picture in mind. We can’t apply human expectations to them—or moralities, for that matter. We want them to be human, but really they are not. That is not to say they are not a part of us, and I feel we are a part of them. There is a connection, an interaction between us, but that is not the same thing. The Sídhe and angels may appear humanlike, yet by definition they are something completely different from us. When working with dark gods, we forget that they will make us face uncomfortable things. Asking for their help may land us in situations we may not like, even if overall it will lead us to be stronger or to overcome something. When we are faced with that kind of tough love, it’s not hard to see how dark gods get labeled as “evil” or “dangerous” because they don’t quite fit the loving heavenly parent image. A deity may well love us, but if they think making your world come crashing down is what’s best for you or what you have asked them for, they will have no qualms about making it part of your reality.
We can’t see the gods as spiritual parents who never get mad at us. Gods can and do get mad at people. And usually you get the pointy end of the stick pretty quick when it happens. Not showing respect to the gods and treating them like spiritual vending machines when we want something can have consequences. Asking them for help and not really wanting to do the work can be dangerous too. You can’t expect the gods to wave a wand and make everything better. They will help you but you have to earn it. And you have to be willing to bleed a little sometimes.
When some people discuss their work with the Morrigan, or gods like her, they will often describe a whole lot of upheaval and crap happening when they asked her to help them bring some kind of change into their lives. The Morrigan will goad you, throw you off the deep end, so to speak. She will place things in your path until you have truly dealt with your demons. It’s not to say she won’t help you—she will—but it isn’t in her nature to give you the easy way out. Similarly, a friend who works with Odin has said to me in the past that if you give Odin an inch, he will take a mile. Knowing that this is how these gods operate is vital to working with them. Knowing their personalities can help when working with them and help you set boundaries when dealing with them. When I work with Odin, I know that being very clear about things is important because if I’m not, it will be like talking to a genie, and my words may be twisted in ways that fit Odin’s agenda best. With the Morrigan I know that I have to really want the things I ask of her and that they are worth the pain they will most likely cost me. I also know that the Morrigan is direct, while Hekate, for example, will lead me to a revelation in a slower, slightly gentler way, like walking a winding path versus base jumping. Knowing these things changes how I approach them, both in ritual and personal practice.
The next logical question is “Are they too dangerous to work with?” My answer to that is no. But like working with faeries or other beings, we must approach the work with some understanding that there is a certain element of risk. The gods will challenge you, make you stronger than you have ever been, but at the same time they can completely rearrange your life. Sometimes it can be exactly what we need. But when we ask them for things, we must realize risk is involved. We may have to let go of other things to achieve the things we want, to become the kind of person we wish to be. All magic comes at a price.
My relationship with and devotion to the dark gods I work with is deep, and there is great love there, on both ends, I think. It’s a relationship that has built and grown over many years. But I can’t see them as spiritual mothers who will wipe my ass either. We have to let go of that image of the gods. That idea of God the Father way up in the clouds looking down benevolently on his children doesn’t always apply to the gods. And it truthfully doesn’t describe the Old Testament’s image of Yahweh either.
Dark gods can be dangerous; working with them has consequences and rewards. We must remember that these are vast and powerful beings. They are not human, not truly. No matter how close to humanity they are, they are still something different.
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Working with Dark Deities
Now that we have looked at the nature of dark gods and how they might differ from other deities, the next step is to examine how to approach working with them. Before we delve into working with specific dark gods, we must look at some of the basics of interacting with these deities. Working with a deity in general is something we should not rush headlong into without following some basic protocols. Interacting with every god is different, but in general there are some considerations that apply to most of the gods we think of as dark deities. Forging a relationship with a deity can have its pitfalls and complications. It is something we have to work at like any other relationship.
Devotional Practice
Devotional practice is the art of honoring and connecting to deity, usually through offerings, prayers, and other acts of devotion. Galina Krasskova describes devotional practice as being the “heart” of our Pagan traditions, and I can’t agree more. She goes on to describe the art of devotion as the following:
This is what makes our faiths live and grow and what infuses them with joy and what opens doors for our Gods to come through. … Devotion then is that which ones cultivates to develop and maintain right relationship with the Holy powers. …
… Devotion is a personal thing and when you do it well, and engage with the Gods in whatever way you’re able to, you’ll find it takes on a life of its own.1
Devotional practice is a very personal thing, and at times because it is such a personal and individual endeavor, it can be difficult to develop a road map for yourself in this arena. The particular offerings and acts of a devotee will vary depending on the person and the deity they are honoring. How two people go about honoring Oya may vary greatly. One might use traditional offerings, while another may feel they are drawn to offer a specific thing the deity indicates they want. Yet another devotee of the same deity may spe
nd more time in prayer and meditation than pouring offerings. The key to devotional work is the manner in which you go about it. If you approach it as a chore or see offerings as just so much wine being poured out into a cup rather than a gift and communion with deity, then the libation will do nothing for you.
Dark Goddess Craft Page 2
