CHAPTER NINE

HOPE: HUMANITY’S GIFT TO ITSELF

The darkest depths are sometimes difficult to look upon. We want to believe that we are all shining beacons of light-filled radiance. And we are; unique, beautiful, light, spiritual beings. But the light can also cast shadow. The shadow is part of the light; if we ignore the shadow, if we pretend it does not occur, we are missing a profound aspect of being human. The shadow is a masterful teacher if we do not allow it to swallow us whole.

My husband and I were talking about the movie The NeverEnding Story earlier today. This movie is one of my husband’s favorites. He watched it again and again as a child. It’s about a young boy Bastian who is picked upon by bigger bullies while dealing with his mother’s recent death. Running from the bullies one day, he ducks into an old bookshop. You know the kind—dusty shelves, antique books, rickety desk with one lone lamp. One thing leads to another, and the boy “borrows” an old book from the man who runs the shop. He races to school, and through a strange series of events, decides to skip school and read the mysterious book.

The book describes the adventures of a mythical land that is being ravaged by a force, known as “the Nothing.” The Nothing devours everything in its path, leaving—well, nothing behind. Literally, nothing. The land, the rocks, the people, the animals are all gone, as if they never existed in the first place. The princess of this mythical land calls upon a great hero from a nomadic people to stop the Nothing. His name is Atreyu and his greatest possession and dearest friend is his horse Artax. His happiest times are spent upon the back of his beloved horse. Atreyu accepts the charge to destroy the Nothing and sets out on his quest.

Lots of stuff happens but, in the beginning of the quest, Atreyu and Artax must cross the Swamps of Sadness. For me, The NeverEnding Story boils down to this one scene. Atreyu enters the Swamps of Sadness with his horse Artax, but he does not leave with him. As you can imagine (or perhaps you remember), Artax becomes overwhelmed with the sadness of the place. And this beautiful horse sinks down, down, down into the thick, goopy mud. Atreyu is beside himself with grief, just crying out the name of his beloved horse over and over again. I know it’s a kids’ movie, but this is truly a heart-wrenching scene.

This scene has always affected me because it is such a pure expression of grief. No cover-up. No soft lighting. No pretense. It is naked grief in all its raw purity, a sight rarely seen in modern society. The hero Atreyu is completely bereft without his horse, his companion, his friend. He feels as though his world is over and life is not worth living. He almost allows the struggle, the sadness, the grief to overcome him but he does not. Through force of will, he continues on through the Swamps of Sadness, not letting the darkness overwhelm him. And, just as he feels he can go on no longer, just as he begins to sink deep, deep, deep into the swamp, down swoops a joyous luck dragon with an infectious laugh who gives him the chance to fly.

And that, I think, is the hardest thing to remember about the shadow. It’s not a forever thing. It’s transitory. A process. A part of life but not the entirety of life. Eventually the shadow lifts, no matter how imperceptibly. The NeverEnding Story is really a movie about the journey into and out of the shadow. And how, in the end, we all have a part to play in the creation of our own world, in the creation of our own lives. For in the end, Atreyu cannot stop the Nothing. It devours all of the mystical land. Everything is gone. The only things left are one grain of sand and the fragile princess who holds it aloft. But the land can be saved, it can be restored, if only the young boy skipping class believes it can be. If Bastian believes he has the power to save the land and the right to wield that power, the land can be saved. “How?” he wonders. He is just a boy in a school attic, small and insignificant. But, in the end, he answers his own question . . . how can he not?

And it is this power, which comes from within, from the experience of battling and escaping the shadow, that allows us to rise above the darkness and shine with our inner light. This power grows into self-worth and self-love. However, in the beginning, it starts with a tiny, glowing bit of sand. Amidst the darkness we see a tiny glimmer. A shimmer. A spark. Hope.

ENERGY RETURN

Hope is a quintessential element of living on planet Earth, a right that humans enjoy far beyond the darkness that engulfs them at any given moment in time. We sing songs about it, write poems, watch movies, and engage in weekly television rituals in an effort to see its miraculous effects on others. This bolsters us and reminds us that hope is always there, always present, always waiting to lift us up. Hope is a wonder. Without it, humanity would be a far sorrier lot and our world would be a far sadder place to live.

But hope does come with a downside. (Hard to believe but true, nonetheless.) Inherent within hope is the choice to simply sit and wait and watch the world go by. In this instance, we wish for something, hope it will occur in our lives, pray to the Divine for guidance, but refuse to do anything to achieve our dreams. For whatever reason—fear, laziness, anger—we refuse to take control of our own lives. And hope should never be a replacement for action.

I am reminded of the story of the man in a flood. (No, not Noah with his arc but a different guy!) In this story, a man wakes up and realizes that his house is filling with water because of a flood. He climbs to the second story and prays to the Divine for help. A little old man rows by on a rowboat and asks the man if he wants to join him. He shouts back, “No, thanks! God [Goddess/Spirit/Ancestor/Buddha, take your pick] will save me.” So the little old man rows by. The water continues to rise and, pretty soon, the man is balancing precariously on the roof of his house. A motor boat zooms past with a family of four in it. The pilot stops the boat and asks the man if he needs any help. The man on the rooftop shouts back, “No, thanks! God will save me.” The pilot shrugs, guns his motor, and whisks away. The waters continue to rise and, before too long, the man on the rooftop is up to his head in water. A third boat, a shiny military issue overflowing with refugees, stops and a strapping soldier asks the man if he would like to board the vessel. The man answers, once again, “No, thanks! God will save me.” The soldier works hard to convince the man to come into the boat but he refuses, clinging to his belief in the Divine, holding onto his hope. Eventually the soldier shrugs his shoulders and the boat motors away. The man is left by himself, with the rising waters. Eventually he finds himself in heaven (the Afterlife/the Otherworld/the Summerlands/take your pick), face to face with his deity-of-choice. The man asks the Divine why he (or she) didn’t save him. The Divine answers, “Who do you think sent all those boats?”

So, by all means, allow the power of hope to drain away the darkness, but don’t underestimate yourself! Don’t allow yourself to sink into a lethargy of inaction, believing that hope will do all the work for you. It won’t. Hope isn’t a license for inaction. Think positively. Send out positive vibes into the world. But don’t expect your dreams to manifest without some hard work as well.

MANTRA

Darkness creeps.

Light ascends.

Wipe my tears,

O Demeter.

Although not listed among the twelve Olympian supreme gods who reside on Mount Olympus, Demeter is a (sometime) resident of that holy abode and she is a sister of Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Hera, and Hestia. These six siblings compose the family of Cronus and Rhea, Titans who served as the creator-deities of the Olympian gods. The children of Cronus and Rhea are the starting point for all aspects of classical Greek mythology, especially Zeus, who single-handedly fathered the remaining seven of the twelve gods and goddesses.

It is interesting and a bit startling to realize that Demeter is not listed as one of the supreme Olympian gods. Perhaps this relates back to the fact that her worship is considered to be much older than the Hellenic patriarchal religion, having originated on Crete as part of the Minoan culture.[1] Or maybe the snub relates back to her country origins. As the goddess of grain and agriculture, it was not uncommon for her followers to worship her “in every humble act that made the farm fruitful.”[2] Her temples were the field and the threshing-floor where, at any moment, she might appear and be present. Provider for her people, even of temper and full of love, Demeter was often called the “Good Goddess” by the ancient Greeks.[3]

Never married, Demeter still births three children from two different fathers, proving her power as a lusty, fertility goddess. One child, Plutus, is conceived at a wedding when she and the Titan Iasius (or Iasion) slip away from the party to lie together in a thrice-plowed field. This tryst suggests an ancient, undocumented fertility rite where priestesses of the corn and grain would have lain with a sacred king in order to secure a plentiful harvest.[4] When Demeter and her lover return to the wedding, stained with dirt and mud, Zeus immediately realizes the truth of their “innocent little walk” and kills Iasius with a thunderbolt in a fit of jealousy. Naturally, he has reason to be upset, since he is the father of Demeter’s other two children—Dionysus and Persephone.[5]

While son Dionysus plays an important part in Demeter’s life and myths, it is daughter Persephone who holds her heart. Their lives and souls are entwined as only a mother and daughter can be connected. Of the same blood and bone, possessing the same powers of growth and blossoming, interested in the same topics of nature and beauty, Demeter and Persephone flow together. Cavorting through the spring fields, they rejoice in the beauty and wonder of the world; they revel in each other’s companionship. This idyllic lifestyle soon changes, however, bringing with it heartache, depression, anger, and sorrow.

One moment, all is well and Persephone is picking flowers in the fields with her friends and the next, she is gone, with only her echoing cry left. Hearing the scream, Demeter searches the whole world for nine days looking for Persephone. Some say she takes the shape of a bird as she flits here and there. Others that she simply acts like a bird, frantic with worry, quick-moving and jagged. She can find no news. Distraught, she drapes herself in black and, taking the shape of an old crone, retires to the city of Eleusis. There, sitting at the side of a well, looking like a most pathetic creature, the daughters of King Celeus take pity on her. They invite Demeter into their household to serve as a nursemaid for their baby brother. It is here, in Eleusis, where two seemingly insignificant events occur that are reminders of the elusive, yet pervasive, presence of hope.

First, Demeter, still in a deep depression, is accepted and made welcome by the king’s lame daughter Iambe and the old dry-nurse Baubo. They give her barley-water freshened with mint (a drink often given to harvesters) and then proceed to tell humorous, lusty stories, complete with provocative and erotic hand motions and dancing. Baubo even pretends to be in labor and, after much groaning and carrying-on, produces Demeter’s own son, Dionysus, from beneath her skirts! While this aspect of the story seems small, it is a reminder that when in the darkness of despair, it is easy to forget about all the things that you love and that make life worth living. Iambe and Baubo seek to remind Demeter of all the fun, frivolity, and lusty entertainment that is still in the world—as well as her other child, Dionysus. The world is the same, only Demeter’s outlook on it has changed. Iambe and Baubo, then, are the small pin-pricks of light and love that reach our bruised hearts and souls when we are grieving. They let us know that the world awaits our return, when we are ready.

The second seemingly insignificant event takes place the night Demeter arrives at the palace of King Celeus. Having vented her anger on one of the king’s poor helpless sons, Demeter seeks to repent by giving the gift of immortality to the newborn baby boy. While everyone sleeps, she places the baby in the fire, burning away his mortality. However, Metaneira, one of the women of the household (either the baby’s sister or his mother), sees the baby in the fire and cries out. The spell is broken. Demeter pulls the baby out of the fire and hurls him onto the ground where, unfortunately, he dies. In symbolic terms, fire is often considered to be a transformative element. It is passionate and creative and always moving. It heals, often through change and (sometimes painful) growth. In my mind, at this point in the story, Demeter is working to accept the change that has been wrought in her life. She knows she can’t change the past, so instead she is hoping to burn away the nasty residue of her loss so she can step forward into her future. The fact that the spell is broken and the baby dies shows that if you wallow in the past for too long, it will drag you down and you’ll never escape from the grief. You’ll never be reborn into your new, glorious self. Unfortunately, Demeter tried to move forward a little too quickly in the story. As the following episodes indicate, Demeter is not yet ready to let go of her past hurts.

After the night’s disastrous events, another son of Celeus steps forward and relates to Demeter that his other brother had seen Persephone ten days ago, being taken underground by a man in a chariot. Armed with this new information, Demeter seeks out Hecate and together they march to the mountain of Helios, the sun god who sees everything. After much convincing, he tells them that Hades stole Persephone and brought her down to the Underworld, with Zeus’ approval. Demeter is incensed! She quickly moves from bleak depression to crimson-wrapped rage. In her anger, she blights the land and refuses to let anything grow. Winter ravages the Earth and Demeter walks among her people, desolate and alone. Hunger grips the land, followed by starvation and death. But Demeter tells Zeus she will not bring prosperity to the land until her daughter is restored to her. Demeter’s persistence is yet another aspect of hope, for Demeter has the courage to pursue what will make her happy. She will not settle for conciliatory gifts from Zeus. Her daughter was stolen from her; she will accept nothing but her return.

In the end, Demeter is rewarded for her determination. Persephone returns to her. Warmth and light revisit the Earth! Hope blooms in the hearts of all! However, the whole experience has marked the goddesses and the humans with whom they came in contact. Celeus, two of his sons, and another king who searched assiduously for Persephone are initiated into the Mysteries of Demeter, which become the much celebrated and secretive Eleusinian Mysteries. Demeter gives another of Celeus’ sons the knowledge of agriculture and she instructs him to spread this knowledge around the world. Demeter is reunited with her daughter for eight or nine months of every year. And Persephone . . . well, Persephone is forever changed.

Pathway to Demeter

As an earth goddess, worshipped in the fields and on threshing-room floors, it makes sense to work with grains in order to get to know Demeter. Some of you may want to break out the yeast and bake bread. If so, great! Have at it! For those of us with few kitchen skills and little time, why not whip up a container of mint barley-water? It’s nutritious, yummy, and a beverage said to have been consumed by Demeter. What more can you ask for?

The best thing about making barley-water is that it’s really very simple. Get some barley, put it in some water, bring to a boil, and then simmer. When it’s all done simmering, strain out the barley with cheesecloth or a fine strainer, add the fresh mint, and set aside until cool. Once cool, remove the mint and refrigerate before serving. The amount of water you’ll need and the length of time to simmer depends on the type of barley you choose. Hulled barley is the most nutritious, but it’s also the most chewy. Luckily, you’ll be straining it out of your drink so you won’t need to worry about your teeth! Alton Brown of “Good Eats” on the Food Network recommends using 2 quarts water to 1 cup hulled barley and simmering it for 30 minutes. Since he’s an expert, I’ll bow to his superior knowledge. He also suggests using lemons and honey in your barley-water. While I think those would be lovely suggestions, your goal is to connect with Demeter with this sacred drink. Add honey if you must, but I’d stay away from the lemons. (By the way, Alton recommends ¼ cup honey.)

Any time you feel overwhelmed and need to remember the pleasant aspects of life, reach into your refrigerator and drink some barley-water. Think of Demeter and how sad and depressed she was feeling when Iambe and Baubo gave her this drink. Know that Demeter feels your pain and understands the darkness of depression and the entrapping power of rage. She is here for you, for all of us, and she truly cares.

MANTRA

I grow, I shift,

A second skin gift.

I am much more,

Greater than before.

Perhaps you’re thinking after the re-telling of Demeter’s ancient myth that I am completely crazy to find hope in the story of Persephone’s abduction. And you might be right. After all, Persephone is stolen away from her mother, possibly raped by the lord of the Underworld, and then, because of these occurrences, cannot fully return to her old life. Instead, she has to spend three months (some sources state four months) in the darkness underground, as the queen of the dead. Hope? Where’s the hope in all that?

It’s important, when looking at Persephone’s evolution, to really delve into the intricacies of the story. In other words, there’s a lot more going on in the myth then can be gleaned at first glance. When we meet Persephone at the beginning of the myth, she is a child, in actions and demeanor if not in actual age. Her name is Kore (Core), which means “maiden.” She is completely wrapped up in her mother’s life. She is the “spirit of grain,” while Demeter is “giver of grain.”[6] Kore is so integral to the birth of the crops and the growth of the land that she is seen as an aspect of Demeter, the “barley-mother.” In other words, Kore has no personality, no interest, no true life outside of her relationship with her mother. She is one with her mother, which, of course, leaves her no room for herself.

When Persephone chooses to leave the company of her friends (the water nymphs known as the Okeanides) on that fateful day, she is seeking out an individual path, different from her mother. Seeing a wondrous, glowing flower, Persephone is immediately drawn to pluck it. It is a narcissus of silver and purple, made by Zeus just for the purpose of luring Kore away from her companions. Robert Graves, in The Greek Myths, postulates that the flower is actually a three-petaled fleur-de-lys or iris, sacred to the goddess-as-three and used in the sacred wreaths of Demeter and Persephone.[7] If this is so, the flower may indicate Kore’s secret wish to move beyond the maiden role that she is required to portray as the daughter of Demeter. In one re-telling of this fateful moment, Kore is described as stealing “toward it [the flower], half fearful at being alone, but unable to resist the desire to fill her basket with it . . .”[8] Any number of sexual innuendos could be read into that sentence, beginning with Kore’s anxious anticipation and ending with her desire to have her “basket” filled.

Reaching toward the flower, without knowledge but ever mindful, Kore doesn’t even get one finger on a petal before the Earth opens up around her. From a vast and dark chasm, Hades, lord of the Underworld, springs forth on his gold chariot, pulled by snorting, mutinous black-coated horses. He pulls Kore to himself, holding her body against his, and descends deep into the Underworld, closing the chasm behind him. The only things left of Kore on the Earth are her screams.

The story does not describe Kore’s transformation into Persephone. We do not know what awaited Kore down in the dark land of the dead. We do not know how she felt or what she endured. At one point in Demeter’s story, during her nine-day search, it is said that Hecate, the old crone goddess, heard Kore’s voice crying out, “A rape! A rape!” However, when Hecate went to investigate and to help the young goddess, she found no one and nothing. Rape is a common activity among the male gods of Greek mythology. It is possible that Hades forced himself upon Kore. However, she never bore a child to Hades and, in some versions of the myth, Zeus secretly begot a son on Persephone before she was taken down to the Underworld.[9] With all these suggestions and considering her ultimate transformation into the yearly resurrection goddess, it is a good bet that Kore was de-flowered sometime during her foray into the Underworld, moving her from her maiden aspect into that of woman.

When Zeus finally grants Persephone’s freedom in response to Demeter’s endless winter, he sends Hermes to fetch her from the Underworld. When the messenger of the gods arrives in the Underworld, he finds Persephone sitting next to Hades, shrinking away from him. She longs for her mother’s arms and the warm touch of the golden sun. As Hermes delivers his message, Persephone jumps off the seat, eager to leave the dark Underworld and return to her former life. But Hades does not wish her to go. Outwardly acquiescing to his brother’s orders, he begs Persephone to think well of him and generously offers her a pomegranate seed. It is uncertain in the myths whether Persephone is duped by his outward demeanor and eats the seed of her free will or if he forces the seed upon her. It may be that she ate the seed of the pomegranate behind Hades’ back at some earlier time during her stay in the Underworld.

In any event, she eats the red fruit of the dead, of wisdom and knowledge, and forever gives up her maidenhood, further moving away from her enmeshed relationship with her mother. Persephone is Kore still, just a wiser, more worldly version of her former self. She has found her own sovereignty, separate from her mother. She has become complete unto herself. Persephone is driven in a chariot up out of the darkness, into the light, by Hermes, who takes her directly to her mother’s temple. Demeter and Persephone, overcome with joy at the reunion, embrace each other. They sit and talk about the events that have befallen them since they were separated. When Persephone tells her mother about the pomegranate seed, Demeter’s sadness is renewed, for Zeus had stated that Persephone could be with her mother only if she had not eaten any of the food of the Underworld. Holding her daughter close, Demeter decrees that, without her daughter, she will not remove the curse she has placed on the Earth.

Zeus, seeing that a compromise is needed but unwilling to offer it himself, enlists the aid of his mother, Rhea. Rhea descends to the temple of Demeter and suggests that Persephone spend most of her time with her mother, on the green, good Earth. But, since she has tasted the food of the dead and been forever altered, she must return to the realm of Hades for one-third of the year. Demeter and Persephone agree, but Demeter refuses to allow food to grow while she is separated from her beautiful daughter; every year she must see her daughter die, so she will cause the crops to die as well.

In truth, Persephone does die every year as the winter rolls in, for she returns to the underworld and her role as Queen of the Dead. Once married to Hades, she can never return to the merry naiveté of her youth as Kore. She is forever changed from her abduction and original encounter with the forces of the Underworld. Persephone returns in springtime to revel in the glories of her youth, to remember the beauty of spring and her connection to her mother. She is happy and pleased. However, Persephone can never shake off the aura of the Underworld and her title as queen of the dead. The memory of death hangs with her. No longer settled in the hip pocket of her mother, Persephone branches out to welcome a different aspect of herself. Innocent Kore still resides within her, but she has been strengthened and tempered by life. Learning from her choices, Persephone is able to offer gentleness, compassion, and care to those who pass into the realm of the dead. She has a purpose and a life that is true to her past and to her present and future. She is Persephone, “the maiden whose name may not be spoken.”[10]

Pathway to Persephone

Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the past and be hopeful about the future. We see the unwelcome change all around us, feel the shift in our souls, but still, we want to hang on to the familiar. This is a normal human reaction to unplanned transformation. (When is transformation ever truly planned?) However, using the spirit of hope to release the old and make way for the new will speed up the transformation process, allowing you to push past the difficult times to a welcoming period of freedom. And you can do this with the wisdom of the snake.

The snake is sacred to Persephone. Demeter placed her in a cave guarded by snakes, and she was impregnated by Zeus when he took the form of a snake. The snake, by its very nature, is a wonderful symbol of movement and growth. As a snake sheds its skin, it gives itself room to grow bigger and bigger. You want to remove the old aspects of your life that are holding you back from your growth. In essence, you want to shed your skin in order to transform. Utilizing the symbolic power of the snake and its connection to Persephone, you too can wiggle free of the restraints in your life.

First you need to get a snakeskin. This is actually easier to do then you think! Snakes are very accommodating creatures, and when you put a call out into the universe, they often will answer. So, don’t be surprised if a snakeskin suddenly shows up in your garage or in the bushes by your front door. If the snakes in your area are hibernating for the winter, go on down to your local pet shop and ask them for a snakeskin. If they don’t have one handy, they’ll be able to tell you when they should have one available. It’ll probably only be a few weeks and it’ll probably be free. Most pet stores just throw the skins away!

Once you’ve acquired your snakeskin, check your calendar. On the next waning moon (when the moon is getting smaller between the full and new moons), hold on to your snakeskin and pour all of your feelings into it. Don’t leave anything behind, really focus on your transformation and all the pain, anxiety, and upheaval you are feeling. Allow the emotions to leave your body through your fingertips, entering the paper-smooth snakeskin. When you feel you’ve released all that you can, go outside and bury the snakeskin beside a tree. You might consider burying a gift with the snakeskin, such as tobacco, cornmeal, or sage. You have now given over your attachment to the past to the energy of the snake and the care of the goddess Persephone. Feel free to perform this snakeskin release ceremony as many times as you need, even if the moon is in a different phase of its cycle. It will help you to move through your transformation with more ease and grace. In Persephone, we find hope even in our darkest times by remembering that the pain we are in is necessary for our transformation.

MANTRA

Shining, bright,

Here comes the sun.

Arise!

A new day is here.

Our sun is approximately 4.5 billion years old and will probably live for another 4 to 5 billion years.[11] Since humans have been on planet Earth, the sun has hung in the sky, brightening our days, giving life to our plants, regulating our weather, and warming our lives. The ultimate symbol of hope, the sun rises every day on our eastern horizon, burning away the darkness of night. She brings light and joy into our lives with her bountiful, giving energy. After all, the sun is the catalyst that spurs the growth of vegetation on our planet. In fact, we exist because of her and because of a lucky fluke of nature that placed us in the exact right spot to benefit from her powerful presence. The sun is the constant in our lives that sustains our planet and assures our survival.

In Norse mythology, the sun is a woman, which differs greatly from traditional Greco-Roman, Egyptian, and Middle Eastern myths that give the sun a male persona. These are the myths with which we are most comfortable. After all, if the moon, with her fluctuations and watery emphasis, is female, then the sun, with his assertiveness and fiery ways, must be male. Or must he? To the northern peoples, the Norse of Scandinavia and the Celts of Britain and Ireland, the sun did not hold the same intense strength and power as the sun of the southern lands. In Greece, Egypt, and the Middle East, the sun baked the land, destroying crops and drying up lakes and riverbeds. The sun gave life or destroyed life, depending on the time of the year. In the north, the sun loses some of its intensity. While it still helps the plants to grow and flourish, it does not burn them during the hot months. Instead, the sun melts away the cold and ice of winter, revealing a burgeoning Earth underneath the snows. The sun loses its negative qualities, becoming a nurturing, nourishing entity, not unlike a mother feeding her children. Is it any wonder that the Celts and the Norse related the orb of the sun with the Great Goddess?

The Norse sun goddess is Sunna (SOO-na), daughter of Mundilfaeri, sister of Mani, wife of Glen. She is a human who rose to the rank of goddess with the help of the Norse gods. Sunna’s father, Mundilfaeri (whose name means “Axis Mover”[12]), thought his children so beautiful that he named them Sun and Moon, respectively. The gods were unhappy with this proud father’s choice of names and seeking to punish him, took hold of Sun and Moon and threw them up into the sky, where they became one with their namesakes. Therefore, Sunna drives the chariot of the sun and Mani, her brother, is the driver of the chariot of the moon. Both children of Mundilfaeri are hastened in their flight across the sky by two wolves, named Skoll and Hati, who run at the heels of their horses, trying to devour the sun and the moon.[13] During an eclipse, it is said that Skoll and Hati take bites out of the sun and moon, heralding the death of these celestial orbs during the Norse end of the world, known as Ragnarok.

During Ragnarok, most of the Norse gods die in battle, fighting the legions of fire giants and dead men, led by the god Loki and his offspring, Hel (the Norse goddess of the Underworld), Jormungand (the world serpent), and Fenrir (the iron-jawed wolf). Ragnarok destroys the current incarnation of the world, allowing the rebirth of a new and brighter Earth, with the sons and daughters of the gods taking the place of their fallen parents. For Sunna, the wolf finally catches up with her, dousing her light by swallowing her. Skoll is descended from a giantess named Jarnvidiur, who births giants in wolf form in the Ironwood Forest. Born from this family, a wolf known as Moongarm “will swallow heavenly bodies and spatter heaven and all the skies with blood. As a result the sun will lose its shine . . . .”[14] He is known as “sun’s snatcher in troll’s guise” and the sun is described as “dark . . . for summer’s after.”[15] Yet, all is not lost. Like the other gods, at the end of Ragnarok, the sun still shines on the planet. Before her death, Sunna gives birth to a daughter, as beautiful as her mother, and “she shall ride, when the powers die, the maiden, her mother’s road.”[16]

One contemporary scholar of Norse myths has concluded that Sunna holds the powers and attributes of a mother goddess, as compared to a warrior goddess, maiden goddess, or crone goddess. In Goddess of the North, Lynda C. Welch postulates that since the Norse viewed the sun as a mature woman, capable of giving birth, the sun radiates with classic mother goddess attributes, such as the “mother’s ability to provide nourishment to sustain her children.”[17] While this is true from a modern goddess-spirituality viewpoint, there is little evidence to support that the medieval Norse categorized their goddesses into a maiden-mother-crone continuum. The fact that we cannot historically link Sunna to a maiden-mother-crone triple goddess structure does not lessen her impact as a mature, mothering goddess. She is a mother, not only to her surviving daughter but to all the medieval Scandinavians who relied on her warming rays for food and to all of us, in the present day, who need her to survive.

Figure 5: The Sunwheel

Sunna’s role in Ragnarok, as the birthing mother and the dying sun, also shows her affinity to be present at times of transition and to ease the burden of new experiences for humankind. Despite being eaten by a ravaging wolf, Sunna is still able to birth a daughter who will continue in her mother’s footsteps and shine the healing, growing, fertile rays of the sun on the world. While dying, Sunna gives birth to her own daughter and to humanity’s only hope of continuing life on planet Earth. The last activity of her existence puts her on the threshold of this world and the Otherworld twice—during death and during birth. Sunna’s demise at Ragnarok and her neither fully-human nor fully-goddess lineage demonstrate her familiarity with transitory periods, with an ability to aid those undergoing such changes and alterations.

The inclusion of Sunna in the Second Merseberg Charm is undoubtedly by design, rather than by happenstance. Sunna seems an odd choice to include in a charm to heal a horse’s leg until one looks at the tale of Baldr’s funeral and the fact that he replaces his father among the gods after Ragnarok. Baldr, like Sunna’s daughter, survives to aid and guide humanity after the destruction of the world as we know it. Both of them heal the world, knitting together the fragmented pieces of life after the chaos of Ragnarok. By birthing her daughter, Sunna performs the ultimate healing. She gives the Earth the light necessary to survive utter destruction. The sun survives, gifting the world with her life-giving rays.

Healing, mothering, guiding, the sun shines on all of us from on high. Sunna, sun goddess of the northern lands, is much more than the growing, warming sun’s rays. She is a symbol of hope, a beacon of light shining through the dark times of despair and desperation. She heals our broken bones and our fragmented psyches with the gentle touch of a mother. Present at times of change and transformation, Sunna offers her support and comfort to us during difficult transitions. And she gives us the ultimate offering, her newborn daughter, who will continue her mother’s work, bringing the light of the sun to all of us here on Earth. Generous and selfless, Sunna cares for all her children, feeding us, warming us, and shining on high with boundless energy and devotion. For humans, Sunna has always hung in the sky, nurturing our planet Earth, nurturing ourselves. May we always feel her distant love, embraced by her light.[18]

Pathway to Sunna

There is nothing more uplifting than spending a day outside in the sun. Whether it’s cleaning up the yard, taking a walk, or relaxing by the pool (or beach), the sun has the ability to relax, rejuvenate, and restore our emotions, our mental attitude, and our sense of self. It really is hard to be negative when basking in the rays of the sun. Part of this is chemical. We receive the powerful nutrient Vitamin D from the sun. Vitamin D helps the body to produce serotonin, a neurotransmitter critical to emotional health. Low Vitamin D levels or a Vitamin D deficiency can contribute to depression and a negative outlook on life. Vitamin D is often prescribed to people who are affected by the cold and dark of the winter months. This “seasonal depression” is linked to the lack of sunlight, and thus the lack of Vitamin D, in their body.[19] Therefore, when needing a boost of energy and hope, just look to the sun!

While soaking up the sun’s rays, I recommend listening to a fun, bouncy, sunshiny song. There are many from which to choose: “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles, “Sunshine” by the Partridge Family, “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves, “You are My Sunshine” by Jimmie Davis, or “Pocketful of Sunshine” by Natasha Bedingfield are great examples. My personal favorite (and I’m dating myself here) is “It’s a Sunshine Day” by the Brady Bunch.[20] It is impossible not to smile when listening to this song. From the beginning moments of whiny, rock-anthem 1970s guitar to the groovy mellow bridge, which asks “Can’t you dig the sunshine?” this song is peppy, positive, and eminently danceable. So, download it onto your MP3 player, cruise around town, and enjoy the unflappable Bradys. Re-live the nostalgia. Share your memories with your children or somebody else’s children! Celebrate the sun!

RITUAL FOR HOPE:
CRAFTING H.O.P.E.

Suggested Ritual Days

The first Wednesday in April: National Day of Hope, as proclaimed by the U.S. Congress and founded by the Childhelp organization

November 8: Day of Hope, as founded by the Four Seasons Hotel on the island of Maui, Hawaii

Thanksgiving Day: A Day of Hope, a program founded by students at the California State University, Stanislaus

Items needed

random pictures from magazines, the internet, or from your digital camera

large sheet of poster board

a glue stick

colored marker pens

sparkly stickers

scrapbook decals

any fun, crafty items you love

a fire of some sort

Hope springs from our humanity. It is undefeatable, indefatigable, present in even the most heinous of conditions. Whether lost in the slums of India or in the darkest jungle of the psyche, every single person needs hope in their lives—the belief that people care, that they are necessary and worthy, and that difficult circumstances can be overcome and conquered. How do we experience the presence of hope in our lives? Through the wisdom, caring, and touch of others. We, our individual selves, give each other hope. Through our actions, words, and thoughts, we can be the light that pierces the darkest gloom of our fellow human beings. For this ritual, I’d like you to consider the following acronym for the word hope:

H: help

O: out

P: people

E: everywhere

And this includes yourself. If you are performing this ritual during a dark time in your life, be willing to receive the generosity and love of others. They do it because they care. And, if you’re currently feeling good and positive, perform this ritual for all the people who may not be in such a happy space. Decide for yourself which type of ritual you’d like to perform and then gather your materials and sit down in a calm and relaxed space.

Begin to flip through your pictures and see them as connecting to each other. Begin placing them, in groups, on the poster board. Do you happen to have a picture of a contemplative young woman? Maybe you place her next to a photo of your favorite garden space, at the edge of a cliff at the Grand Canyon, or sitting next to a group of friends. Do whatever feels right to you at the time. Don’t second guess yourself. You are working on allowing the colors and shapes and emotions of the pictures to flow through you. If you’ve gathered a lot of scenic pictures of the Earth, place them together in a style that resonates to you. Don’t worry if they overlap each other or hang off the poster board. Maybe you notice that you have a lot of pictures of children. Put them together. Don’t feel like you’ve got to cover every square inch of your poster board. Allow yourself some room to move things around and manipulate the scene.

Once you’ve got the general idea of the design, begin to glue down one “vignette” at a time. Allow your hands to work while your mind wanders. What are you feeling while you glue down this section? What memories are you thinking of? What old hurts are resurfacing? With your marker pens, begin to make notes on your board. Write well-known expressions, family mottos, phrases of songs, book titles. Make a note (literally) of whatever comes to mind. Don’t be neat and tidy about it. Consider this poster board to be your own urban canvas for the graffiti of your soul. Continue gluing all the sections of your HOPE board, using your markers to add personal touches. Feel free to add the stickers or scrapbook decals at any time.

When you have finished, step back and look at the beautiful montage you have created. It is probably colorful, with glorious, emotional pictures that highlight all your personal thoughts. What a wonder you have created! What a wonder you are! With your finished poster board in hand, sit down outside in the sunshine and consider exactly what your personal canvas is telling you. Are you most concerned with the lives of children, animals, or the poor around the world? Do you care deeply for the environment, survivors of sexual abuse, or those in need of education? What does you poster say about you and how does it affect your life? Take some time to really contemplate the answers to these questions and decide what, if any, actions you wish to take to care for others and be a source of hope.

Right about now, you’re probably ready for an all-out diatribe and call to action, but that’s not my style. Nobody can tell you what’s right for you. Perhaps you really need to focus on your inner needs. Perhaps contemplating the plight of the world is simply too big for you right now—that is totally fine. Healing starts with the self. Honor your space. When we heal ourselves, we begin to heal the world. Hope starts with one person and grows one person at a time. Feel the light of hope within you and watch as it ignites the hope in others.

Having contemplated the message you sent yourself on your urban canvas, safely burn your poster board in a fire. Allow the fire to completely destroy the actual physical object. But don’t worry, it’s not gone for good! It still resides inside you and in the ethers to which it returns. The fire is the shining power of hope to transmute and alter the negative things in your life and around the world. It is the first step in allowing hope into your life and into the lives of others. Feel the warmth, see the light of the fire as it burns bright and true. Feel the hope. It burns within you.

[1]. Leeming and Page, Goddess: Myths of the Female Divine, 66–67.

[2]. Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes, 47

[3]. Ibid., 53.

[4]. Graves, Greek Myths, 93.

[5]. The mother of Dionysus is contested in Greek Mythology. Some writers say it is Demeter, others Persephone, and still others Io, Semele, or Dione. His father, however, is always the mighty Zeus.

[6]. Jordan, Encyclopedia of Gods, 135.

[7]. Graves, Greek Myths, 288.

[8]. Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales, 87.

[9]. Graves, Greek Myths, 90 and 118.

[10]. Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales, 54.

[11]. High Altitude Observatory, Earth and Sun Systems Laboratory.

[12]. Schmitt, “Sunna and Mani.”

[13]. Sturluson, Edda, 14–15.

[14]. Ibid., 15.

[15]. Ibid., 15. Further evidence of the sun’s demise can be found on pages 52 and 53. It is interesting to note that Sturluson, in his list of acceptable alternative phrases or names for the word “wolf,” does not list Sunna’s chaser Skoll. He also does not record Moongarm, although Mani’s pursuer Hati makes the list, page 164.

[16]. Sturluson, Edda, 57.

[17]. Welch, Goddess of the North, 151.

[18]. Much of the story of Sunna first appeared in Goddess Afoot!, 248–254. For more information and intimate workings with Sunna, Light-Bringer of Hope, including a guided meditation and ritual, please see chapter 13 of Goddess Afoot!

[19]. “Diet for Depression,” WebMD: Depression Health Center.

[20]. You can find this song on YouTube or on the album It’s a Sunshine Day: The Best of the Brady Bunch from Amazon.com. You can purchase the whole album or simply download an MP3 for cheap money. While you’re there, check out their song “Time to Change.” It is perfect for working with Persephone and the transitions in life! Maybe the Bradys were on to something . . .