High Priestess – Tapping in to the Divine Feminine

An old, close friend was here, today, visiting, for the full Moon in Aquarius. She uses the Thoth deck and had recently pulled the High Priestess, depicted with outspread arms, so different from the traditional image of her, sitting on a throne, holding a book. We got talking about what that signified. What is the Goddess or Deity, exactly?

Look upon me, you who reflect upon me,
and you hearers, hear me…

In Tarot and numerology, 2 is considered receptive. The Arabic numeral is in the shape of an ear, because it has to do with hearing, listening. 1 embodies vision, literally a first ray or bolt of lightening. [As a side note, Taurus rules the second zodiac house. Though Aries rules the head in general, ear, nose and throat are more Taurus’ jurisdiction.]

Grimaud TdM

If one puts the Marseille Juggler (Magician) beside the Priestess, one could imagine him as listening to her. The wand he holds is parallel to the strap across her front, directed to the book she’s holding. That he is ‘merely’ a performer means he himself is not the source of this magic, but a trickster who, by listening and creating space, can ‘bring it.’ Interestingly, by casting cards, you yourself become the Magician, with four types of tools, while the vehicle of space, as personified in the Papess revealing sacred wisdom, is Tarot.

Hear me, you hearers
and learn of my words, you who know me.
I am the hearing that is attainable to everything;
I am the speech that cannot be grasped.
I am the name of the sound
and the sound of the name.

In ancient times – as with any rock concert or belly dance performance or Baptist sermon, today – the performer or priest had to connect with and exchange energy with the audience. The uplifted audience then became as one, through synergy. The Deity was the collective spiritual experience, larger than the individual, but felt inside, by each. The sacred space being accessed (or summoned) for the spirit to flow through and become alive in – one could say that was the feminine principal, regardless of whether people considered the Deity to be male or female. She was/is present in connectivity itself. Sometimes psychogenic substances were used to enhance the experience (or maybe a forbidden fruit?), just as they are today, although now people use substances solely because they have lost the ability to open.
This ever-present, but invisible space was concretized as the temple or church, but nature was the original temple, and birds her priests.

We spoke of singing to both people and animals – my friend, to a Tibetan lama, me, to a crow – and how the subject inspires the song. For this giving, receiving and returning to occur naturally, a space needs to open, sesame. That is the threefold way of Goddess. Every time you open space to listen to and understand another living thing, or to receive inspiration with which to playfully create something (as opposed to having to do it for work, noble as that may be), you bring the Divine Feminine into being. The resulting creation then embodies spiritual aliveness, and can be a catalyst in opening space for others.

The modern world seems to be set on eliminating space and imposing will, in one form or another.  Rather than listen to a tree, we think of it in terms of how it can be useful to us. We keep other living beings in cages or kill them for sport and raise our children in institutions, where the same lessons are imposed on everyone of a certain age. Few of us have any energy exchange with what we consume in the way of food – energy just means caloric intake. We want things how they ‘should’ be, not as they are. Silence is feared, space is the blackness ‘out there.’

I am the one whom they call Life,
and you have called Death.


Merely replacing the male godhead with a female is a superficial and symbolic step, but unless we begin to re-open the space that is the living Goddess, through which the spirit flows between every living thing, we will continue on the path of death; eating dead food, wasting knowledge, being ignorant to the root of illnesses, plundering nature/each other, and so on. Then and only then will we finally experience space, for she is also the space between lifetimes and lifeforms, through which both karmic and genetic information is passed. And if we die without listening, we are in for more of the same. That is probably why the first words in the Tibetan Book of the Dead are ‘Oh nobly born, listen undistractedly.’ Passages are recited to the dead person’s soul, to which they must be receptive, instructing them on navigation of the in-between realms.

To the attached person (and we all have some attachments), space feels like a void, equated with Death, and must therefor be a-voided. Silence, stillness and aloneness must be filled with sound, motion and other people.  Their experience of the Goddess space is finite – an empty vessel, from which one might hear an echo, but little else. Patriarchal religion sees the Divine Feminine only as a vessel for the male God, imposing will on that which has no form, but silently provides, sustains and returns life to all creation.

This is not to deny the importance of masculine energy in creation. Going back to Tarot, we see that the Juggler/Magician is the Mercurial spirit that exists in everything. He has all his tools set before him, and will use the appropriate one, based on what he hears and where the energy wants or needs to be directed. When spirit and the space are combined, we get the threefold return, a directed movement that is a reverberation and microcosm of the original.

In Tarot, cups are indeed feminine vessels, but the Ace is usually depicted as a threefold fountain, rather than just an empty cup, wherein the waters of life are flowing. It’s the natural space, depicted as a church or censer in the Marseille Ace of Cups (not to be taken literally).

And yes, of course the Goddess takes many forms – the Earth, the Moon, and everything in between – but ultimately this initial space is her ‘formless form,’ via which she gives birth to the infinite manifestations of herself.

I am the knowledge of my inquiry,
and the finding of those who seek after me,
and the command of those who ask of me,
and the power of the powers in my knowledge
of the angels, who have been sent at my word,
and of gods in their seasons by my counsel,
and of spirits of every man who exists with me,
and of women who dwell within me.                     

 ~ Excerpts from The Thunder: Perfect Mind, Nag Hammadi Texts


All written content herein, except the Nag Hammadi excerpts, is copyright ©Roxanna Bikadoroff 2016 and may not be reproduced without permission. Ok to share the article via link, however.

 

Rethinking Black Moon Lilith


We still use the given Greco-Roman names of Gods and Goddesses to describe the planets, but this can sometimes be limiting. Mesopotamians, for example, didn’t deny Ishtar-Inanna her dualism as morning and evening Star, nor her aspects as both love/sex and war/death Goddess. Venus, the same planet, is pretty much restricted to Goddess of beauty and love. Not that Love isn’t the highest power, but she’s left being a bit one-dimensional. Her shadow is repressed and, according to the mythology, comes out in underhanded ways due to jealousy or vanity. How are we supposed to consciously evolve if we are still stuck on these incarnations of the archetypes ?

Digitally ‘restored’ Burney Relief, depicting Lilith or Ereshkigal

Case in point – Black Moon Lilith. This is not actually a physical object but a ‘void space’ that acts as a shadow Moon, in modern astrology. Being the Moon’s dark twin, it’s been named after the screech owl of the Hebrew Bible who is, essentially, menstruating Eve, with a clinical case of hysteria-induced vampirism. Based on this archetype, Black Moon’s natal position shows where we sabotage our own happiness, especially in relationships. But modelling our un-lived self on this jilted first lady, who chose to cavort with creatures of the night, rather than submit to her husband’s dominance leaves us without the means to consciously break the cycle of hurt. Personally I don’t mind that she was a ‘demoness’, but that word has  some heavy associations I’d rather not have to carry !

Tibetan Mahakala and Hindu Kali
In Buddhism and Hinduism, deities that are black are referred to as ‘wrathful’. But they are actually more like the embodiment of relentless mercy or fierce compassion, that cuts straight through fear, anger or whatever state of distraction our minds might be in. Kali or Mahakala are extreme examples, but the Black Tara – who is most often depicted as dark green/blue – might be a more subtle yidam*  for our shadowy, lady Lilith. 
 

Unlike the radiant energy of White Tara, Black/Wrathful Tara is associated with power, but embodies the freedom and potentiality of non-form and infinite wisdom. A Buddhist friend was describing it to me as the feeling of infinite space one gets in a pitch blackness. More un-structive than de-structive. Wrathful yidams are also protectors, which is ideally what BM Lilith must become for women who are past child-bearing years.

Tibetan Bluish-Black ‘Wrathful’ Tara (Looks like the actual ‘black’ manifestation is in the top left corner, while the main one is a more of a wrathful, Green Tara)
Black Moon Lilith’s  retrogrades are frequent, her next being Jan 23 to Feb 7, with a Sun opposition on Jan 27. It’s two-week  opportunity for contemplating what drives our self-sabotage (for women especially, but also for men who project their shadow feminine onto the ladies) and work on integrating Tara and Lilith. During her retrograde, make time to sit in a pitch black room, where you feel safe, or if you are out in the country, with no lights, sit outside during the New Moon at the end of the month. “Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void.” If you should feel or see a negative emotion or it’s embodiment, observe it, note it, let it dissolve naturally into the blackness. Feel the protection and constance of this void space, the true, feminine nature behind the demoness mask of Black Moon Lilith.
 

*enlightened being, aka deity.

 

Note: There are, in fact, three Liliths – Black Moon, Dark Moon and asteroid. Some astrologers combine all three. I find BM to be enough by itself, not least because she’s exactly conjunct my Moon.

All written content herein is copyright ©Roxanna Bikadoroff and may not be reposted or reprinted without permission plus a credit and link to this page.  Feel free to share the article via link. Thank you for being respectful.

 

The Sacred Rites of Scorpio Season


Ah, Sex and War, Love and Death – the essential elements of any lasting narrative. In the western hemisphere, the sacred co-mingling of Mars, all sweaty from battle, and Venus, full of oysters, injects red life force into earthly vegetation each Spring (Aries and Taurus, but also planet Venus in Aries). In Autumn (Libra and Scorpio, but also planet Venus in Scorpio), they unite again in death, Venus committing sati on the bonfire and lonely Mars turning into a wolf that will eat the sick and weak who can’t survive the winter. Adieu, until next time around. The cycle begins, ends  and begins again with this union of opposites. Or, as the tantric, Indian Goddess, Lalita puts it, “Like the Sun and Moon coming together in an eclipse,  consciousness comes into being via orgasm.” (Funny how the first and last letters of that word spell  OM).

Two versions of Indian Goddess Lalita,  Babylonian ‘Queen of the Night’

Lalita means ‘she who plays.’  Her many incarnations include Lilith, Lilitu, Lili, Layla, Lola, Lulu, Lolita, etc,  all having nocturnal, sexual or demonic connotations. As Hebrew Lilith,  she is Adam’s first wife, the serpent in the Tree of Life who teaches him (or Eve, depending which version) “carnal” self-knowledge,  i.e. the mysteries of sex,  life and death.  She is not made from his rib,  either,  but from earthly muck. When God expels her for her independent spirit (refusing to lie beneath her husband in missionary position), she flies away to where the wild things are, and, finding it preferable to subservience, becomes the prototype for sexual demoness, vamp and devil-humping witch, eating babies and seducing holy men in their sleep. Independent yes,  but also deranged.  Her name means ‘screech owl’ or ‘ghost.’

The cycle of existence is hard-wired by desire, Scorpio’s raison d’etre. During the Sun’s passage through Scorpio/the 8th house (sex, death, regeneration, energy, healing, shared resources, financial obligations and the occult),  from Oct. 23 – Nov. 22,  we honour the Sacred Dead and all taboos associated with them. During the few days of Samhain,  All Soul’s Eve,  Hallowe’en and Dia de Los Muertos,  the veil between worlds is as thin as a spider’s web, allowing spirits to attend graveyard picnics and inhabit jack-o-lanterns. On Armistice/Remembrance Day, Nov. 11, we pause to honour those who, in the spirit of Mars (traditional ruler of Scorpio),  sacrificed their lives in battle. This year, it will fall on 11-11-11,  a date many are getting excited or apprehensive about,  considering the power of master numbers 11 and 33.

The word ‘taboo’ originally meant sacred, and indeed, sacred things were kept under veils (where we get the word secret).  It later came to mean something forbidden by society.  Incest, cannibalism,  bestiality and patricide are examples of common taboos. Then there are cultural variants, like the untouchability of the bereaved or of menstruating women, both considered ‘unclean.’ Even today, a woman may refer to her period as ‘the curse’ and drugs are routinely prescribed for blocking messy menstruation altogether. The very essence of sex and death,  menstrual blood is even more powerful than blood spilled in battle, therefor extremely taboo.

Teenage menstruation fears gone haywire in Carrie, Bleeding Goddess at Kamakhya Temple, Assam

While the mysteries of womb and grave may be a secret, they are not the property of anyone.  They are universally inherent in our DNA and as individually expressed as the infinite forms of nature. Yet, those who govern societies do not want people to be in charge of their own sex, death and regeneration. Whoever owns the rights/rites to these forces has all the power. Therefor, strict rules and guidelines for birth, sexual practices,  soul redemption and corpse management are imposed on the populace (while those at the top often practice the complete opposite).  Some of these are necessary for health reasons, or simply to protect people – it’s probably not a great idea to eat the deceased,  for example, and forced sex with anyone is a violation of natural law – but mostly it’s an 8th house issue of controlling other peoples’ resources.  It’s all energy,  just like money or food.

Plutonians harnessing Venusian power in Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut

Another attribute of Scorpio is that of the collective nemesis or shadow.  Since Scorpio is a feminine sign, this usually means feminine shadow – the harlot, devouring mother or hag – witches who channel the untamed forces of nature. And so we are divided, according to what’s deemed permissible. It is not just women who are affected by the censorship of essential parts of our being, either, since we are all composed of both masculine and feminine, feminine being the soul. Dreams, theatre and film portray our disconnected parts as characters in conflict and resolution. Ancient Greek drama was, essentially, group therapy. In the theatrical tradition of Hallowe’en,  it’s socially acceptable (and fun) to dress up as our shadows or alter-egos and parade them proudly, witches being by far the most common. In recent years, Zombie Walks have become hugely popular, with thousands of participants of all ages. (I guess eating braaaaiiins must be therapeutic for a populace so dependent on artificial  intelligence).

Beauty’s compassion breaks the Beast’s spell of duality, and Scorpio Winona feels Dracula’s pathos.

In Tarot, the Devil is shadow or dark twin to our solar self, banished to the underworld of our unconscious.  Our repressed impulses live there, like creatures of the night, creating disquieting thoughts, illusions and dreams. Traditionally the shadowy, lunar feminine presides over these, but with Pluto and Neptune now on the scene, we can’t be blaming the Moon for everything.  (Plus we’ve now an astrological,  Dark Moon Lilith).
The chained doppelgangers in card 15 represent our dual nature, which must ultimately be reconciled. This is really the theme of Tarot’s visual narrative, with the climax – a complete breakdown of the ego, followed by a period of grace, darkness and rebirth or ‘dark night of the soul’ – occurring between these two cards, mirroring conception.  In ancient astrology, the sign of Gemini was ruled by the Sun.


In extreme cases, the doppelganger can take on a life of its own and prey on the energies of its other. Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, which came to Robert Lewis Stevenson in a dream, is one such cautionary tale. Another is, of course, Dracula, the promiscuous, cannibalistic, murdering necrophile and most beloved Hallowe’en persona. Babylonian lilitu and medieval succubi were early inspiration for vampire lore,  but it was Phillip Burne-Jones’ painting of a female vampire, inspired by Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel,  that started the whole ‘vamp’ thing in popular culture. After viewing the painting, Burne-Jones’ cousin, Rudyard Kipling wrote his poem, The Vampire, which later became the script for A Fool There Was, the silent film that gave Hollywood’s myth-making industry it’s own Lilith, Theda Bara. Even her name – an anagram for Arab Death – relates back to the Babylonian demoness.  (Venus in Scorpio until November 1 is the Vamp).

Man-made vamps: Burne-Jones’ gothic and Fox’s lady, Theda Bara

Some Scorpios have been accused of vampirish tendencies, thriving on the life energy of others. Though Scorpio expresses the urge to dominate/have power over life, it’s higher resonance is redemption through love,  so it has multiple symbols:
Scorpion – basic instincts are fear and desire. It amasses power for it’s own gain and stings itself when cornered.
Eagle – sees from the heavens,  rather than the ground and amasses power in order to redistribute to the whole.
Phoenix – rises from it’s own ashes,  symbol of self-regeneration par excellence.
Dove – redeemer or Christ figure of eternal,  pure love/light.
Most Scorpios are a mix of scorpion and eagle, some are phoenixes, few are doves – but all are redeemers in one way or another, for better or worse.

Thoth Tarot Death card,  devouring Mother Kali

Indian Vedic astrology has not rushed to adopt Uranus, Neptune and Pluto as the new rulers of Aquarius, Pisces and Scorpio. It also still uses the sidereal system (tropical is commonly used in the west,  relying on seasonal equinoxes rather than constellations)  and the traditional calendar combines both solar and lunar cycles.  Between mid-October and mid-November,  it’s Libra season there and Hindus world-wide celebrate Diwali,  a five day ‘festival of lights’ celebrating the triumph of good over evil,  during which moral order or karma is restored. There are more variations than I’m qualified to write about, but the worship of Lakshmi, Goddess of wealth, wisdom and happiness is the main event. Lakshmi’s four arms represent the four principals of Hinduism – Dharma (duties/philosophy), Samsara (cycle of rebirth), Karma (right action/cause and effect)  and Moksha (liberation from Samsara).  She also wears red and sometimes rides an owl.

Two versions of Goddess Lakshmi

All written content herein is ©copyright Roxanna Bikadoroff.  It may not be copied/re-used without permission. Ok to share via link.

Eleven Power and Twin Towers

Today, Americans are marking the 10th anniversary of September 11. Nobody will ever be able to forget where they were that morning, nor the striking footage – somehow shot so clearly from every angle possible – of the world’s tallest skyscraper disintegrating into smoke before our very eyes.

At this time every year, I am compelled to zoom out and view the extensive symbolism surrounding the the Twin Towers, which stood for three decades as the financial matrix of the world. Two images stand out and contrast in my mind; one of Philippe Petit playfully defying death, atop a tightrope, (the beginning), and one of people falling to theirs from the burning buildings (the end). Both are of mythic proportion, completely surreal and defy explanation within the scope of our ordinary reality.

Power and the Tower

In a previous post I mentioned how Tarot expresses ‘universal laws.’ It’s as if all the scripts were written (by us) long ago and we just keep re-enacting and revising them…and that is really what myths are – a record of dream-time stories from the collective unconscious, unlike history, which is a record of stories as events, as they occur in the outer world.
Sometimes the fabric between the two realms is lifted or torn and the effect is momentous, impossible to explain. It usually happens when the rational mind (masculine) has become too dominant, threatening the balance of life by depleting us of mystery, magic and awe (feminine). A grand act of surrealism, for better or worse, throws our rational minds into chaos, challenging our set notion of which realm, exactly, we are in. It’s a form of death, when everything familiar suddenly isn’t. And at this opening between the veils (in Greek, the word apocalypse means ‘lifting of the veil’), there is a moment of truth or grace, when time just stops and feels infinite at once. This is the expression of the ‘mute’ number, 11.  In  Marseille Tarot arcanum 11,  La Force, the Goddess’ hat is shaped like a lemniscate or number 8, signifying her infinite dominion over balance, truth, paradox, law and order in the natural world.

Grimaud TdM

11 is the master number of illumination and inspiration. If it shows up, that’s usually a sign. World players know of the number’s power and have tried to invoke it – Armistice was signed on 11/11 at the 11th hour and Prince William and Kate Middleton were married on the 29th (reduces to 11) day of the month at the 11th hour in 2011.  The towers themselves formed a colossal 11, as if standing in constant invocation to the heavens. And they were twins. In  both alchemy and cross-cultural myth, twins embody the duality (and paradox) that each of us must work with, overcome and unify, a theme that reappears over and over in Tarot. Another duality we create and reckon with is between ourselves and what we imagine as God. Any act of balance or karma takes the form of Judgement in our minds, as if we are being rewarded or punished by events we have no control over.
A tower is, of course, an overtly masculine symbol. It’s  La Maison Dieu, ‘God’s House.’ Putting aside Babel for a moment, in Tarot duality terms, that means the opposing and uniting force that knocks down the ego, blows it’s mind or brings it to climax is feminine – ‘La Force’ of arcanum 11.

The Supreme Mother Goddess, Durga, whose name means ‘Fortress’,  rides a lion or tiger. (Bengal, late 19th/early 20th c)


Enter the Solar Hero

Not surprisingly, the young man who heard the Towers calling him  to give them life is a double fire sign, Leo (the Lion) with Aries Moon.  He is an agile performer, the fearless star of his own show – an artist who creates from the heart and performs dramatically daring feats. Aries is also the Fool, the ‘wise child’ and the hero who lives for the next mission. Sun conjunct Pluto indicates a person who was born with a very strong feeling of destiny, of having something to show to the world that will transform consciousness. His Jupiter, Lord of the Sky is in Capricorn (mastery, the corporate world). Not everyone with this combination would use their faith and skill to literally ascend to the summit of the world’s tallest banking institution, yet, for him, it was the only way. Fire is known for it’s ego size and you’d have to have one as tall as the Towers themselves to want to perform a feat like this, or indeed to have built such monoliths in the first place. The difference is that Philippe, wise Fool, always maintained his connection with the universe and was keenly aware of his place in it:

Grimaud TdM

“At some point in one of the crossings, I lay down on the wire and looked at the sky, and I saw a bird above me. And again, because… my senses were [decoupled]. I could see that bird pretty high up, and I saw the eyes were red. And I thought of the myth of Prometheus there. But the bird was circling and looking at me as if I was invading his territory, as if I was trespassing, which I was. So at some point I thought the gods – the god of the wind, the gods of the towers, the god of the wire – all those invisible forces that we persist in thinking don’t exist, but actually rule our lives – might become impatient, might become annoyed at my persistent vagabondage there. So my intuition told me it was time for me to close the curtain on this very intimate performance…”

Zero Ground 

The archetype of the Fool in Tarot is one who has left the realm of perceived reality, of wealth, possessions, pain and attachments. It sounds a bit like dying, but it’s actually freedom from death. Transcendent, he wafts between forms like a breeze and has no fear of reaching the end. He knows there isn’t one, so is free to live life “1000%.”  Most of us find it hard to get past the more finite idea of death. It’s terrifying, like the Grim Reaper in arcanum 13 and to be avoided at all costs. The two figures strike a very similar pose (this feature is unique to Tarot Marseille), plus, one is unnumbered, while the other is unnamed –  it would seem they illustrate the dual experiences of facing imminent death, as depicted in the two photographs at the opening of the post.

We are eternal.   Peace.

 

All written content herein, except quotation, is © Roxanna Bikadoroff and may not be re-used without my permission. Kindly share via link only. Thanks for respecting.