Dark Goddess Craft

by Stephanie Woodfield

  Sometimes we are halfway through the process and just get stuck. We don’t stand up to the challenge that lies before us and wish the gods could just make our lives better without all the hassle we are going through. But when our reluctant hero is in the underworld, in many ways they are being judged. Will they face the task before them? Or will they run? Their underworldly guides are always there in the shadows, ready to intervene if needed, but at the same time letting the hero fight their own battles, conquer their own demons. They are worthy of aid only when they take action and face the challenge.

  All too often we treat the gods as spiritual vending machines. A little incense or some wine poured in a bowl becomes the cosmic quarter that drops down whatever we want from the sky. The gods can do amazing things, but we have to earn them too. We have to still make the mundane efforts to get what we want. They won’t do all the work for you, and neither will they ask something of you that you can’t accomplish. When you enter the underworld, the gods judge you too. Not everyone gets to go to Valhalla, and sometimes people get lost in the underworld.

  The gods challenge us all the time. Seeing them as divine parents who always help us out when we need it is part of our problem with accepting this. We don’t like to think of the gods as causing us any harm in any way. Placing a challenge in front of us isn’t harmful per se, but it isn’t hand-holding either. When we ask for something, the gods may challenge our worthiness. In many ways they are seeing if we can prove that we are worthy of something by fulfilling the challenge. I don’t think the gods put a challenge in front of us that we aren’t capable of accomplishing, but they make us work for it all the same.

  When we start our journey, it is very easy to get caught up in the process, to delve so deeply in feelings that may have been repressed for a long time that we forget that the purpose we started out with was to move past them. We forget that we journey through our own underworlds in order to come back to the world of light again. It is easy to get caught in self-examination. We know we need to change—we talk about it and maybe even have others supporting or sympathizing with us—but we are afraid to actually move on to taking action. The problem with taking that final step off the cliff to transformation, that moment when you enact change instead of just thinking about it, is that there are no guarantees. We don’t know if we are going to fail or succeed. We don’t know if our choice will make us any happier or unhappier than we are now. The unknown is horribly scary. We hate it. But it is just one of the challenges we must face. The alternative is to remain stuck.

  The goddesses in this section are all about taking action, whether it be facing our fears or making changes. They will challenge you. They will judge you and evaluate if you are ready to move on. And in many cases you may work with them for quite a while before you feel that you have worked through their lessons.

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  29. Pema Chödrön, “How to Move Forward Once You’ve Hit Bottom,” Lion’s Roar: Buddhist Wisdom for Our Time (blog), October 21, 2016, http://www.lionsroar.com/how-to-move-forward-once-youve-hit-bottom/.

  9

  Oya

  It is dusk and you find yourself on a winding path that leads to a graveyard. Take a moment to look at how the graveyard appears. What do the gates look like? Is there a stone wall that surrounds the grounds that belong to the dead? What do the trees look like that grow around its border? Is it an ancient graveyard or a modern one?

  You walk up to the graveyard’s gate and stand silently for a moment asking the spirits who guard this place if you may enter, for you are seeking the goddess Oya, and this is one of her sacred places. After a few minutes you feel a sense of welcoming, and after placing nine shiny pennies on the ground by the gate, you push the gate open and step inside. You walk among the gravestones, reading the names and messages on those that catch your eye. Some may be familiar to you, and if you feel moved to do so, spend a few moments speaking to and honoring the spirits who rest there.

  It begins to grow darker, and you notice there are candles lit near some of the stones, some even burning on top of them. And in the dim light of the fading day, you begin to see ghostly figures among the stones. It is the shades and spirits who dwell here. They all seem to be moving toward the center of the graveyard, their focus captured by something, pulling them like a magnet.

  In the sky you see the flash of lightning, a long strike that paints a jagged line of light from high in the sky to the ground. Thunder rumbles in the distance. And you too feel the urge to walk toward the center of the graveyard. With the spirits you walk among the stones until you come to the base of a small hill. There are no stones on it, but someone has left out baskets of food and other offerings, along with many candles that burn like fireflies in the fading light.

  On the hill is a woman. She is tall and lean and muscular. Her skin is ebony, and she wears a skirt with many bright colors that shift and catch the air as she dances fiercely. There is no music, but she dances to a rhythm that’s deep in her own soul. You cannot hear the tune, but you can feel it in the way she moves and in the sound of the wind and thunder. The wind has picked up too, and it blows her skirts. The air feels charged with the smell and energy of a storm, and dark clouds gather overhead. The air tastes like rain, even though the drops have not started. There is a kind of storm in her dance. Her hands move as if they wield weapons: they fight a fierce battle one moment, then they change to a joyful celebration the next, and then her mad twirling is the eye of a storm and the winds of a hurricane. There is fierceness and joy, intermingled in every move and gesture she makes, and it is entrancing and invigorating at the same time.

  To see her better, you move closer till you stand not far away from the woman alone at the crest of the hill. She stands tall suddenly, a hand outstretched to the sky. As she does so, a bolt of lightning flashes down from the sky, and to your astonishment she catches it, wielding and swinging it around like a spear in her hand. She laughs madly with joy, and then she looks straight at you and beckons you with her free hand. “Well what are you waiting for? Come! Dance!”

  And you do. You dance to the sounds of the storm, to the electricity in the air, to the beat of your own hammering heart, to the drumbeat of the wind that sounds like a war cry. At first it is slow, and then like Oya you dance faster and faster, your movements becoming wild like the storm churning overhead, until finally you can dance no more and collapse on the ground. You feel like a child who has twirled around in circles too long and made themselves feel dizzy, yet there is still a joyful smile on your face. Oya laughs again, and, tossing the lightning back into the sky, she comes over to peer down at you, hands on her hips, a smile on her face.

  “You danced well. Not everyone is brave enough to do so. Not everyone can understand that battle is a dance, sometimes a joyful one and other times an angry one, and the storm is our own will that drives it. When you become the storm, unfettered and free, your will a singular force as sharp and bright as lightning, then nothing can stand in your way. Then you will know you are invincible and free, and because you believe it, it will be so.” You watch as she calms the winds with a gesture, and the storm calms and the skies clear. The spirits calm as well and begin to drift away into the graveyard. “I am the guardian of the graveyard gates, and I am the storm and the winds. I go to war when I please. And I guard the graveyard and dwell in the marketplace, changing fortunes like the wind. I am change; will you welcome me or fear me? Will you greet me with joy or terror? What do you choose?”

  You think of places in your own life you need to welcome change and the reasons you fear or resist it. You think of the ghosts of the past you hold on to without letting them be shed from your being. You think of one area you can welcome change into gladly. And you walk over to the offerings and leave one of your own. See it clearly in your hands. Place it in one of the baskets, and then ask Oya to help you in this change and to welcome it with joyfulness.<
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  Oya is the fierce and powerful warrior orisha who rules over storms, the marketplace, and the gates of the cemetery in Santería and Yoruba traditions. In Yoruba Oya means “she tore.” Her epithets include Mother of Nine, as the Niger, her sacred river, has nine tributaries. She is also Ayaba Nikua (Queen of Death) and Ayi Lo Da (She Who Turns and Changes). Oya is a force of swift change, wielding lightning and controlling the winds of storms. Machete in one hand and fly whip in the other, she is a warrior, yet she can also be quite protective and compassionate. She is the orisha to call on when fighting a war of any kind, yet she is also one to go to for renewal.

  In Santería the supreme deity and creator of the universe is Olorun. Just below this supreme being are slightly lesser spirits, orisha, who rule over different aspects of life. The orisha require food, sacrifice, and human praise in order to grant petitions and remain powerful. In this sense Oya is not exactly a goddess in the sense of other traditions, though she possesses the powers and abilities of one. Being heavily influenced by Catholicism, Santería and related traditions also equate many of the orisha to particular saints. When it comes down to it, Oya feels no less divine to me than any other deity. The Yoruba hierarchy of divinity is just another way to see or arrange the world of the gods. Whether you call her an orisha or goddess makes little difference as long as you approach her with respect.

  Oya is thought to live in the marketplace, changing the fortunes of those gathered there. She also rules over the graveyard, particularly the entrances to graveyards. She will escort sprits to the cemetery gates. Once Oya ruled over the oceans, but she found the temperature of the waters not to her liking and tricked Yemayá into ruling over the oceans and taking the graveyards for herself. At first this angered Yemayá, but she soon learned to love the oceans she still rules over.

  Oya’s husband is Chango (alternatively, Shango) and there are various versions of their interactions found in Cuba and Africa. In some Chango seduces Oya away from her first husband, Ogun. Chango himself has two previous wives, Oya being his favorite. It is thought Chango cannot go into battle without Oya at his side and that his wife is fiercer in battle than he is.

  I see Oya in the dark mass of storm clouds, in the charged way the winds and air feel during a storm, powerful and energized. She is in the taste of the air after a spring storm, and she is the movement, change, and the clearing away of things that only the power behind a storm can be. I’ve always loved storms. Growing up, I would love nothing better than to listen to a storm as it rolled through our porch, and it was because of a storm that I first met Oya. My plane had been delayed because of a blizzard, and if the storm didn’t clear up, it was unlikely my flight was leaving at all. I was a little desperate to get to my destination, running through the possibilities of whom to make offerings to in my head. Something in the howling winds made me call to Oya, and I made my offerings and asked her to redirect or quell the winds she held sway over. I did not expect such a clear response. I could see her clearly before me, confident with a joyful smile on her face. She bargained with me. If I delivered a message for her to someone, she would do as I asked. I agreed, and the next morning I was able to catch another flight without any more obstacles. I delivered the message to a friend whom Oya apparently had her eye on, and from there I began my relationship with Oya, who remains one of the deities I always have an altar for in my home.

  Joyful Change and Honoring the Dead

  More than any other deity connected to change and transition, Oya teaches us to greet them with joy in our hearts. What struck me the most about Oya in my first encounter with her was the joyfulness that filled her. She wasn’t any less fierce or powerful. But she wore her great power, her willingness to go into battle, with a fierce joy. Oya is connected to the wind, and as such she excels at blowing away the old and making room for the new. She can be a gentle breeze or a tornado. She knows change is inevitable and takes pleasure in the process.

  When we have moved past the grief that brings us to the doorway of change and accept the process, Oya teaches us to clear away the old with joy in our hearts. She also excels at anything to do with business, as she rules over the marketplace. In this guise she is all business and guile. She is also a good deity to call upon when fighting legal battles or any of life’s battles in general.

  As a guardian of the graveyard, Oya can also help us honor those who have undergone the more final process of change, death. Honoring the ancestors, both those of blood and those inherited through traditions, was a vital practice in many cultures. Ancestor worship can vary from honoring those we knew in life who have passed to honoring our more distant ancestors whom we have a connection with through blood. We can also connect and work with our ancestors of spirit, those who have become ancestors through a connection within a tradition or culture. For example, some devotees of Celtic deities have adopted Boudicca as an ancestral spirit, even though they have no actual blood connection to the ancient queen. In the same fashion some Pagans in general honor teachers of the Craft who have passed as ancestors of the community.

  Working with ancestors can be rewarding and give us a connection to our past. It is also useful for clearing away negative connections that come to us from our ancestors as well. Our ancestors were not necessarily any more enlightened than us while incarnated, and working with them can help us heal issues we have about our own pasts.

  The first step to creating a relationship with our ancestors is to create a space for them in our home. Your ancestral altar can be as small or ornate as you like. It can include family pictures of those who have passed, a bowl or other vessel for offerings, and even items that remind you of one who has passed or that the person gave to you in life. If invoking cultural ancestors, you can include items that remind you of that culture. You can ask Oya to guard your altar, as she guards the graveyard entrances, and keep unwanted spirits away.

  Leaving offerings and burning candles for the ancestors is not the only way to honor or work with them. We can also ask them to help us in certain tasks or to keep an eye on the home. Ancestors can also bring messages when you start listening to them. On my mother’s side of the family my great-grandmother often appears in dreams to different family members, is seen in the house, and in one instance walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Her appearance is usually when “shit is about to hit the fan” as a kind of warning, while her husband appears usually when things are bad but about to get better. During a few Samhain rituals when some family members were not talking to each other, my great-grandmother decided to intervene. She has the habit of appearing and wanting to have messages passed on to family members. She was a very insistent woman in life, thought John Wayne was the definition of what a “real man” should be, and would light a new cigarette and smoke it before she was finished with the last one. She is no different having passed. Once the ancestors know we are listening, they have no problem speaking their mind or showing up when we least expect it.

  Devotional Work and Offerings for Oya

  Oya enjoys dark-colored things. Offerings to her can include dark pudding, black coffee with sugar, dark rum, chocolate, or things that are black, brown, purple, or burgundy. Eggplant is also a traditional offering to her. Nine is a sacred number to her, and things offered in that number are also good. I often leave nine pennies on her altar, and they make an easy on-the-go offering to her during travel when there is nothing else on hand. When visiting a graveyard, it is good to leave nine pennies or an offering of some kind to Oya at the entrance. When petitioning Oya for something, you can find nine small eggplants (small young ones can be found in most supermarkets). Place them on a plate or in an offering bowl on her altar with nine pennies. I will often carve a symbol into one of the eggplants symbolizing what I am asking her for. Then after a few days (nine if possible), take the eggplant and pennies and leave them near a marketplace, like a farmers’ market or a flea market. You can even dispose of the offerings in a garbage ca
n in the market. Some people do not like to throw out offerings, but I see it like this: the energy of the item is what is being offered to the gods, and after an allotted amount of time, that energy exchange has happened. Disposing of the offering, even in a garbage can, is just disposing of the shell of the item and does not have any disrespect attached to it. But if you wish to dispose of offerings in another way, there isn’t anything wrong with that.

  Protocol is very important when working with one of the orisha. Perhaps this is because their worship never really died out and has remained in one form or another even in Christian times and remains today. They seem to like what is traditional, unless they nudge you otherwise, perhaps because they are used to being offered these particular things. Gods have memories too after all.

  Oya Invocation

  I feel you in the wind

  In the power behind the storm

  Mighty Oya

  Fierce Warrior

  The wind comes to your call

  The thunder echoes your laugher

  The lightning is your machete as it flashes across the sky

  Mother of Nine

  She who brings change

  Help me clear away

  All that is not needed

  Graveyard Dirt

  In Santería and Hoodoo graveyard dirt is used for a variety of reasons, such as protection, healing, cursing, breaking curses, banishing unwanted people or spirits, and winning legal battles. Dirt from different types of graves is thought to be good to use in different types of magick. For example, dirt from a child’s grave is thought to be powerful for good works, that of the elderly who lived a long, happy life to bring wisdom, a soldier or police officer’s for protection, a doctor’s for healing. Dirt from specific places can have certain qualities: for example, dirt from a racetrack brings luck in gambling, and dirt from a courthouse brings success in legal battles.30 Dirt from the entrance of a graveyard is thought to be particularly good for banishing unwelcomed spirits. We can work with Oya, a guardian of the entrance of the graveyard, for gathering and creating graveyard dirt.