The journey begins…

….And Inanna was laid low…

The “hero(in)’s" journey has been looked at from so many various angles down through time. As a woman who follows the Divine Feminine, I have had my own circuitous journey throughout my life. This time is just yet another point on the ever turning wheel, and it makes sense for me to see it that way, as well as helping me to feel more sane. Otherwise, it might be too hard to take…

Every journey begins with the leavetaking, although, as one begins to go on the journey, one actually starts making preparations long before, even though it may not have been seen as such.

Inanna began to speak to her mate, her people, the various players on her life, letting them know that she was leaving, and alerting them to the fact that she really didn’t know what she would be facing, but to be willing to lend a helping hand if need be. Though in none of this was she asking to be kept in any way from the perilous parts of her journey that she was sure she would encounter.

While I don’t fancy myself as a Goddess, I do recognize, that over the years on my spiritual path, I have been being prepared by many helpers from beyond this plain of existence. I have been taught that on this path one holds a different perspective towards life. I hold life to be most sacred, and not just my own, but the lives of all around me.  I know that having life and breath within me are the most important things in life. That is the place we begin from—always. Maslow has taught us that we also have these other needs—shelter, food, etc. While those are important, on up the scale self-actualization is at the top, is what we supposedly strive for. Though old Maslow felt that all of those other things needed to be in place before we could even begin to make it to self-actualization.   

Yet, going back to Inanna, we see something different happening, something unexpected, and her response to it is surprising, given her stature as “the Queen of Heaven”.  She passes thorough 7 gates, on her way to meet  Her sister  Erishkegal. At each gate, She is challenged about Hher identity, and each time She explains that She is the "Queen of Heaven", seeking to meet with Her sister, and each time, She is admonished to give up some symbol of Her Queenly stature, and, each time, She does. Removing at various gates, Her crown, Her rings, Her necklace, Her belt--all of Her personal symbols. Finally, She has nothing left to remove but Her robe, and at that removal, she is then naked, and in so being, ready to face Her “Dark” Sister, which she also does willingly.

The loss, the leave taking., this part of the journey is what happens inside of oneself as the losses are faced, many of them natural happenings in life. Some perhaps self-created or thrust upon one because of the circcumstances of ones life.

For me, I face an empty nest, my children have finally flown. I can only hope the all the years with them have been fruitful, I have, mostly singlehandedly, tried to give them good values to live on. Our lives are not about stuff, but about who we are inside, what we believe, how we act around others, how we come to be loving and kind people while also being strong enough to face all of the many hurdles that life brings us.  As I prepared to move and was bombarded with the pictures of my children from babies onward, I came to appreciate them, and who they’ve become. They are sweet, lovely, beautiful young women. I can now only hope that their little wings prove worthy and strong. My love for them is immeasurable, has been, always will be.

I am choosing this time of homelessness and wandering. I think of my comfy bed in a little storage room now, wondering inside how long it will be before I lay my head on my bed again. As I set off to wander, I will have temporary beds, due to the grace of those who have offered. I have become a pilgrim, a seeker. My various dear friends have met the notion of my homelessness with a wide number of responses—one friend was so horrified she asked me to immediately go to get on a list somewhere so that I might find a home. It’s funny that when she told me this, the idea wasn’t new obviously, but I guess I’d always carried within myself a picture of the “typical” homeless person that we see on the street every day. Yet, when I taught “diversity” to my students, it was my desire to help them to not be afraid of the homeless, to not fear or ridicule them, I even sardonically taught them how close any one of us was to homelessness—the loss of a job, depression, loss of significant supportive others, loss.  Yet, while I am facing much in the way of loss, I am not afraid, I am not daunted, I am also suddenly and shockingly aware of how hard it is to face this kind of loss. Identity. That thing that ties us to culture, that tells us who we are, we think. But truly, who are we really? Am I not the same Soltahr if I have no home? Am I not the same person without all of my “stuff”? Then who am I really, if not these things. That’s what I want/need to find out.

Another friend was joyful for me and even gave me suggestions about various forms of housing on the road. Yet another friend has already been doing little walkabouts as we've come to call them, just to find solace and peace from the wild, noisy and intense world we live in. She is offering to help me get started. I admit that a part of this is to seek solace, silence in which to think and just be in. I admit to a little fear, I admit also feeling a great sense of fearlessness at the same time.