From my own experiences, I’ve learned that we must first go through our own hero’s journey before we can experience its shadow side in the descent. We must acquire our guides and tools to help us along the way before we are at a place where we can shed our egos and like Inanna stand naked before the throne of the underworld. It’s very much like when one first learns magick. We worry about having all the right tools and can’t possibly do ritual without a particular athame or incense. Then later on we discover we can perform magick without any of those things.
We experience the descent throughout our process of change. In shedding certain parts of ourselves, we make room for growth and look at things that we once thought important with new eyes.
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If we distill the essence of all these models for change, three key elements emerge as universal. There is a descent, a challenge, and a rebirth. The descent is the journey we take to accepting that change must occur. We accept the circumstances at hand, but at first we may resist taking action or accepting the reality of what we must do or face. In Campbell’s model this is initiation, the journey the hero takes in order to descend into the underworld. In the concept of descent it is where we shed our illusions and, in letting things go, make room for change to occur within us. For Nietzsche this is the camel, accepting the heavy load of life and taking on more than he should. For Kübler-Ross this is denial and anger, refusing to look at the truth and asking the world, “Why me?”
The challenge phase is where we enact change and face it head-on. We are truly deep in the depths of the underworld and face the truths and shades we find there. In Campbell’s journey it is where the hero faces the temptations of the underworld and fights to capture the ultimate prize. Whether this prize is self-actualization or attaining a goal, it is fought for with determination and through facing the obstacles that block our path. We become Nietzsche’s lion in the desert, taking on the battle with the dragon. The darker side of the challenge is Kübler-Ross’s stage of depression. We may feel like the obstacles in our path are too much to conquer.
The final stage is rebirth, although the last stage in our process of transformation is really a beginning. It is where the real transformation begins. We have fought the great battle and can now transform from the lion to the baby. We can emerge from the underworld, transformed from our experiences and carrying new, precious knowledge. In our descent we stand at the throne of the underworld naked, having shed our ego and illusions, and can finally transform into something new.
No matter what kind of transformation you are considering embarking on, at some point you will go through these stages. Possibly multiple times, until like Campbell’s hero you emerge from the darkness transformed. Each part of the process is just as important as the other, and until we have dealt with each stage, we will keep chasing our tails and returning to the same problems without resolving them. Most of the time even us Pagans want a quick fix. Slap some glue, or magickal glue in this case, on a problem and bam! Problem gone. Smudging one’s house to banish negative energy isn’t the same as really putting our feet on a path of true transformation. Smudging and cleansing your house is important, but it isn’t going to make your marriage work or truly get rid of feelings of self-loathing or doubt. More than likely, negativity and the fears we hold inside are things that can’t be banished but instead must be faced and utterly destroyed if we are to ever truly be free of them. We cannot look at the difficult things in our lives as something to be banished; instead we must embark on a journey to conquer them and understand why they’re a part of us in the first place. It’s a daunting task. Luckily, we aren’t alone on our journey. There are guides along the way who will teach us, challenge us, and ultimately lead us to rebirth.
In the following sections we will explore each stage of the process of change—descent, challenge, and rebirth—as well as the dark goddesses connected to them. I recommend you start from the beginning and work your way through. Each step is vital. If we haven’t properly mourned and cleansed with the goddesses who embody the descent, we may not be ready for the ordeals we face when we meet the goddesses who represent challenge. If a particular dark goddess does not appeal to you and you’d rather work with a different one or one from your own tradition for a particular aspect of transformation, I encourage you to rework the exercises or rituals using the deity of your choice. Even if you do not work with every single goddess that embodies one of these stages of transformation, I suggest you at least work with one from each section.
Each chapter begins with a meditation designed to help you connect to that deity. You can read through the meditation and then do your own journey work based on the images provided, or you can record them and play them back when you are ready to connect to that deity. You will also find suggested offerings and ways you can start a devotional practice with that deity as you go through your journey of transformation.
The time you take working through each stage or with which goddess is up to you. For larger goals, or ones where there is a great deal of emotional trauma to sort through, you may want to take a year, working through a section a month. Or for other types of transformation, you may simply want to take three months to work through the entire three-stage journey. Each person’s journey will be unique.
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3. Morgan Daimler, e-mail message to author, January 27, 2016.
4. Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (New York: Macmillan, 1896), p. 25.
5. Katrina Messenger, Descent: A Journey for Women (Lulu.com, 2011), p. 5.
6. Ibid., p. 6.
Part 2
The Descent
She who walks the floors of hell finds the key
to the gates of her own Heaven buried there like a seed
—Segovia Amil, Ophelia Wears Black
T ransformation can be thrust upon us unwillingly or it can be a choice, a journey we embark on with enthusiasm or trepidation. Most of the time we concentrate on the big, dramatic parts of transformation, the crisis point when we are in the middle of facing a challenge head-on. But that is only one small part of the process of true change. We forget to look at the reasons we began the journey in the first place. Looking at the reasons we entered the cave of the underworld can be just as vital to facing the many challenges we will find in the underworld’s depths. The reasons we are afraid to enter the cave and the things that prevent us from facing change are also imperative to our journey.
The very first step on our path is an old one, one that both goddesses and mortals have taken. To begin the process of transformation, to enter our own personal underworld, we must, like the reluctant hero, face our fears and take those first brave steps into the dark. We must become Persephone, choosing to journey to the realm of the dead each winter, or Inanna, shedding our egos as we descend into the underworld. Those first terrifying steps into the dark require a choice to face our fears and of our own volition begin the process of transformation.
As with most things, the first step is always the hardest. The trouble with change is that even when we need it the most, we resist it. We bargain with ourselves and create illusions, excuses, and reasons why we really don’t have to change, or maybe just not right now. We are scared to march down into the dark road that leads to the deepest, most secret parts of ourselves. Really looking at our problems, at ourselves, can be terrifying. This is not necessarily because of what we will see, but what we know we will have to do when we enter our own personal underworld and really take a good look. If we don’t look at our problems, then we don’t have to fix them.
We are all afraid of something. Whether the monsters are in the physical realm or the ones that lurk in our psyches, fear is a part of human nature. At its most basic biological level, fear exists to keep us alive. And it does a good job. Fear stops us from doing dangerous things, like going too near the high cliff or toward animals
with sharp teeth. When we are in a life-or-death situation, it pumps us full of adrenaline, instinct sets in, and we are given a boost of speed and strength to escape whatever is confronting us. Biologically, fear shuts down our brain’s higher rational functions. If a saber-toothed tiger is attacking, we don’t have time to think through the problem. Our body needs us to react quickly to survive.
The problem with fear is while at its core it’s designed to save us from the saber-toothed tiger, it is also paralyzing at times. Fear can be crippling when we let it run out of control or apply it irrationally, because most of the time we aren’t being confronted by a saber-toothed tiger. We are afraid of a whole host of nebulous, vague threats. We are afraid of our own mortality, we are afraid to take action, and at times we are simply afraid of being afraid.
Fear paralyzes us. And sometimes it even tricks us. On a purely physical level fear causes an increased heartbeat, pupil dilation, and an adrenaline and cortisol boost that can make us feel like we are moving and doing something even when we are not. In short, people like to spend time worrying about something because the biological stimuli of fear in our bodies makes us feel like we are actively doing something, even when we are just sitting there stewing about a problem. We aren’t really thinking clearly or rationally when we are overcome by fear. But more often than not it is when we are in this irrational state of fear that we make many of our life choices.
When working with the dark goddess, it’s important to recognize you will be afraid. When we understand our fears and learn to control our reactions to it, we can master this emotion. In this section we will work with dark goddesses who rule over our descent into the underworld. They are the goddesses who help us move past fear, let go of things that hold us back, and mourn the things we have lost and the lost parts of ourselves. They give us the bravery to take those first steps into the dark unknown. The descent is all about removing illusions, releasing fear, and cleansing ourselves so that we may take the next necessary steps toward transformation.
When you begin your journey, your descent into your own personal underworld, there are three things you must keep in mind:
1. The life you had/are living does not work anymore.
2. The process of change will be painful and uncomfortable.
3. There is no guarantee who you will be at the end of the process.
All three of these statements have rather terrifying implications. The first, of course, is that we must acknowledge that change is needed. The second is that it won’t be an easy process or without costs. And last, it will change who we are to go on that journey into the dark. Even we won’t know who we will be when we emerge after our journey. But without coming to terms with those three facts, we will never find the courage to take those brave steps into the unknown.
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5
The Washer at the Ford
You stand at the shore of a great river. In some places the water rages past; in others it is calm and gentle. This is the river of life, death, and rebirth. In it flows the blood of the ancestors, the blood of all those who have gone before, the blood of birth, and the blood spilt in battle. All life flows through this river. Its water runs through your veins. And you have passed through this water many times before and you will again.
You are not alone in this place. In the center of the river you see a woman. Her skin pale as bone, her hair black as raven feathers. She stands naked in the river. The red waters swirl around her.
You know this is the Washer at the Ford. Of all the Morrigan’s faces, she stands out as being very distinct. Once you have seen her, you will never forget her face. She moves like a bird of prey, her hands reach out into the water, and the fingers are long and end in black claws. And she washes and washes. She washes the armor of the fallen and the banners of the brave, and she washes our souls clean.
You meet her eyes, and she begins to wade through the river to where you stand on the shore. She stops a few feet from the shore, still knee-deep in the red water. She motions you forward with a hand and you take one ginger step into the river, and then more confidently you wade deeper and deeper until you stand before her. The water rushes past your knees and you feel the weight to it, the weight of the life in this water—it is life and death and rebirth. In this water is the potential of all things; it washes away the old and brings new form to all things. Its current is unending, as impossible to stop as the rising and setting of the sun.
The Washerwoman looks at you, considering, and then speaks: “To stand before me you must lay yourself bare, as I come before you. Sovereignty is earned. You have to choose to lay the past behind you, to leave behind that which no longer serves you. Strive to be worthy. You cannot fool me, for I see your heart.”
She reaches down and scoops up water, pouring it over your head handful by handful. You taste copper and iron. And then she lets her claws rake down your skin as the water flows, until she begins to rip pieces of your flesh away.
“Let it go …” It is said more as a demand than an encouragement. “No more. I will take it from you; I will rip it away, cut out the rot. Your choice. Let it go, let me do my work, or resist and make it more painful for yourself. I will have my pound of flesh no matter what.”
And those claws tear you apart. They rip out all the things that do not serve you, all the things you fear to let go of, all the things you have outgrown, until your chest is hollow and bones protrude from a peacefully empty cavity. And then the rest follows, until you are nothing. You are nothing but pieces when you fall backward into the river. And as you do you feel all that life, all those beginnings and endings, swirling around you. You feel free, because there is nothing but yourself left, nothing but the core of who and what you are. No expectations, duties, others to attend to, only the shining of your own heart. In the river there is nothing but that. And slowly you feel yourself begin to reform. Little bits and pieces around the spark that is the essence of your being, the spark that belongs only to you. And you rise out of the river gasping, blood dripping down your body.
The Washerwoman looks at you and kisses your forehead. “My child, become whole again. Become who you are meant to be. Claim the sovereignty you have handed over to others. If you would pass through the river of life and death, if you would descend into the underworld and return again, then you must know your own worth. You are the child of a queen. Stand tall and be proud.”
You take a deep breath and the scene begins to fade, but you know if you ever need to release your sorrows and be cleansed, you can find your way back to the river and the Washer at the Ford.
Badb in her guise as the Washer at the Ford can be terrifying. When I have encountered her, she is at times shrouded, her hands blackened, fingers long like the claws of a bird. Other times she is pale, white as bone from her clothes to her skin and hair. She has the uncanny, and at times uncomfortable, ability to see right through you. The Washer at the Ford sees all the things we hide from ourselves with striking clarity. She will hold you fast with those clawed hands and make you take a long hard look into yourself, but she will mourn with you too. The moments when you cry your heart out, when hope seems impossible, she will stand beside you. She will wail, cry, and mourn with you, but she will also wash away your sorrows and help you move forward.
The Washer at the Ford has gone through a transformation of her own through time. “The Washer at the Ford” is a title given to the goddess Badb, one of the three sisters who form the Morrigan. In this guise she would appear along river fords, washing the clothes or armor of those destined to fall in battle, warning them of their fate. In later times she turned into the banshee and the faery bean-nighe, diminishing in status from a goddess to a faery woman washing her bloody laundry by river fords and connected to prophecy, usually concerning death omens.
As a goddess, Badb appears in many forms through Irish mythology. In her war aspect she is Catha Badb, literally meaning “b
attle crow” in Irish, and was said to fly over battlefields, her shrieks inspiring battle frenzy in her favored warriors and madness in their enemies. In the battle of Clontarf in 1014 CE Badb was said to have appeared shrieking over the battlefield, and in 870 CE she was said to appear to incite the armies’ battle frenzy.7 In the Táin Bó Cuailnge and the Cath Maige Tuired she is a figure that incites battle and provokes heroes.
Although her connection to battle and death is clear, what is the most striking about Badb is her connection to prophecy. Of all the Morrigan’s guises it is Badb who repeatedly appears to offer prophecy and warn heroes and gods of what will befall them if they do not change the course of their path. She appears to Queen Maeve in a dream, bringing the news that her son will fall in battle and she must arise to avenge him. In Tochmarc Ferbe (The Courtship of Ferb) she is described as a young woman, a “white lady, fair with brilliancy.” 8
In the Cath Maige Tuired after the Irish gods have defeated their enemies, Badb is asked what she sees: “Then after the battle was won and the slaughter had been cleaned away, the Morrigan … proceeded to announce the battle. … And that is the reason Badb still relates great deeds. ‘Have you any news?’ everyone asked her then.” 9 She responds by delivering a prophecy foretelling peace followed by troubling times.
In Togail Bruidne Dá Derga Badb appears to a king who had broken all but one of his geis (magical taboos usually placed on a hero or king by a goddess). After tricking him into breaking his final taboo, essentially proving his unworthiness to rule, he asks her if she possesses the gift of prophecy, and if so, what does she see? She replies that he will not leave the hostel, except for what pieces of his flesh the crows carry away. Her prediction of his death proves true, as he dies the next day. This kind of death prophecy also follows through in her dealing with the hero Cúchulain. As Cúchulain traveled to what would be his final battle, Badb appears to him and the druid Cathbad as the Washer at the Ford, predicting his death: “‘Do you see, Little Hound,’ asked Cathbad, ‘Badb’s daughter yonder, washing your spoils and armor? Mournfully, ever-sorrowfully she executes and tells of your fall, when she signifies your defeat before Medb’s great host.’” 10
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