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Descent.
Powerful Descent.
In
a lifetime, how often do we descend? Are we always aware of it?
I
am of the mind that I started a descent on the day I was born, when
my mother gave me to my grandmother. My initial descent of
abandonment and neglect was stopped, temporarily, before it really
got started. Living with, and be truly loved by, my grandmother saved
my life; even years later, I believe this. I stayed with this
beautiful woman until she passed through the veil. Descent
re-commenced. At the age of seven, with her death, I learned true
loss and overwhelming grief. I went to live with my mother and her
partner, always realizing on some level that I was interfering with
the life my mother wanted to lead. Each time it was possible to send
me away for a period of time, I was.
I
was alone. I was lonely. I was in pain. Does the pain of being left
and ignored time and again outweigh the pain of not being here? Does
the fear and pain you feel as the knife is held to your throat
outweigh the calm afterward? Does that pain outweigh the feeling of
the pain you feel as you watch yourself drag the piece of glass
across your wrist at the age of 13? Does it outweigh the pain of
seeing so much blood, panicking and running to clean yourself up,
thinking someone is going to notice this, but no one does.
Pain—and
descent.
There
is the descent of medical illnesses and surgeries, each time control
of your body is wrested from you and you begin the descent, and each
time you claw yourself back up, refusing to give up, always fighting.
There
is the descent that comes with the pain of anxiety, sometimes out of
control, when you look at your life and the only thing that stops you
from ending it is the love you have for your children.
There
is the descent that comes with the pain of family and friends who
betray, intentionally and purposefully.
There
is the descent that comes with loss, both physical and emotional.
We,
each of us, has our pain, our own descent.
While
many people suffer and descend throughout their lives via depression,
anxiety, loss, I believe that the involuntary descent of a woman
(versus the voluntary descent of spiritual growth, which is so
different) is that much worse because, more often than not, we suffer
in silence, we hold our pain close to our souls. We are taught to not
complain, and if we do, many times the words are not heard; and so,
our pain is quiet, heard only by ourselves. This is what women learn,
this is how we are socialized. No matter what happens, the only thing
you truly must do is... smile.
But,
somehow we go on, don't we? Through the pain and the anguish. Through
the descent and the ascent following. We leave something of ourselves
behind each time we fall, only to pick ourselves up and begin again.
Each time we leave something behind, something stronger takes its'
place, because it must.
An excerpt from Inanna's Ascent.
Susan
Morgaine
is a Daughter of the Goddess, Witch, Writer, Healer, Yogini. She is a
certified Kundalini Yoga teacher; a Reiki Master, who also works with
chakras to clear the chakras; She priestesses a Red Tent in southern
MA (US), as well as teaching Goddess Spirituality workshops. She is a
writer whose work can be found in The Girl God Anthologies,
Whatever
Works: Feminists of Faith Speak
and Jesus,
Mohammed and the Goddess,
as well as Mago Publications She
Rises, Volume 2,
and Seasons
of the Goddess.
She has also been published in SageWoman
magazine and is a monthly columnist in PaganPages.org. She is the
author of My
Name is Isis, the Egyptian Goddess,
one in the series of the My
Name Is… children’s
books published by The Girl God Publications. She is a Certified
Women’s Empowerment Coach/Facilitator through Imagine A Woman
International founded by Patricia Lynn Reilly. She is a member of the
Sisterhood of Avalon. Her website is MysticalShores.wordpress.com and
she can be reached at MysticalShores@gmail.com.
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