Venus Retrograde: The Descent of the Goddess
This post is about the current Venus retrograde in Scorpio.
THE VENUS CYCLE
The Venus synodic cycle is complex in the astronomical sense and also deeply symbolic in the archetypal sense. Experts in this can far better explain than I, scholars such as Gemini Brett and Nick Dagan Best. It is a large topic. If you are called to explore further I can recommend starting with them.
My first introduction to the myth we now call the Descent of Inanna was about 1992. While on retreat as part of a drama study group we enacted various readings of the myth and were sent out to the beach and into the forrest to find our power objects.
On the beach I found part of a sea shell and some old fisherman’s twine that incidentally was blue, and fashioned myself a crude necklace.
I carried that power object for many years, and it was with me when I went down into the underworld to retrieve parts of my lost self. As a trauma survivor I can say from experience that this sort of healing and devotional practice is essential for renewal, for soul growth and healing.
And especially for the release of the trappings that keep us small and stuck in repetitions of the same story.
Another thing I learnt was that we each enact the parts of the drama at different times and in a diversity of roles; Ereshkigal, the benevolent beings that restore life, Ninshuba and her drum, or the gatekeeper. We contain all the archetypes in this mystery.
I am profoundly grateful this time, to have the opportunity to participate in another group descent within this Scorpio retrograde, which already feels intense to me. Even though it’s via zoom, it still has a sacred holy power that seems to reach through the digital realms.
I see that there are many such offerings both online and in person, so if you do get an opportunity on the next retrograde to join a group, don’t hesitate. Louise Edington is one such practitioner who springs to mind.
These ancient Sumerian rites are those that initiated their priestesses into the regenerative power of nature’s cycles of birth, life, death and renewal. I can’t help but feel that we too are priestesses stepping into our own initiation as we undertake these soul journeys.
The songs of descent and rebirth have miraculously been passed down to us through millennia, and even though we don’t quite know exactly what we are doing, it is incredible to think that we are a continuation of it, we are part of something ageless and eternal.
As I write this Venus, approaches her station at 8 degrees Scorpio. She is moving very slowly and will come to a standstill, as if suspended in space and time.
Venus hovers here at 8 degrees Scorpio from 28 September (local time NZT), until 8 October before she turns around and begins her descent.
It’s my intention to descend with her, to release the all the clutter, the impediments and attachments of the world, the costumes of ego, to more fully surrender to the process of releasing my old skin, my old self.
In this deeply personal and transformative way it’s my hope to become more empowered, more fully my self, the self I already am, and the one I am destined to become.
I invite you also to participate, in what ever way feels right and good to you.
For your own personal descent story begin by looking at the place where Scorpio falls in your whole-sign birth chart.
Journal prompts might include the ones below or you can write your own.
Journal prompts:
- What Scorpio themes are showing up in my relationships?
- Are friendships or social groups requiring attention? Or boundaries?
- The Scorpio place in my chart is pointing to what kind of connections? (For example work, professional, family, ancestors).
- What creative or financial interest is calling to me?
- What creative project no longer brings me joy or satisfaction?
- What is the most intense interaction I have had recently?
You can listen to my favourite telling of the song of Inanna’s journey and descent here:
THE DESCENT MOTIF
What do historians and scholars say about the origins and purpose of the set of myths known as the goddess descent motif or the mysteries of regeneration?
The written story of the Descent of Inanna dates from between 1900 and 1600 BCE.
Fragments of cuneiform tablets are the only written record of the story. However it’s now thought that its oral roots go much further back, potentially to the beginning of the third millennium BCE.
So the story of the descent of Inanna is thought to be at least 6000 years old.
Historians say that it is more than folklore that gives it power and longevity. They think it also had ritual and religious purposes that were integral to Mesopotamian life, which was highly religious.
Perhaps it reflected the primarily agrarian social structure and beliefs of the peoples who comprised the lower social strata (perhaps slaves) who understood themselves to be presided over by gods, royal dynasties and then also the priesthood, who also acted as the administration.
The story may have been chanted, danced or performed in some way during rites that celebrated fertility and cycles of nature such as the seasons. The narratives would have followed the transitions from wet to dry, from dormancy and death to flourishing and abundance, and were performed to ensure good future growing seasons for crops such as wheat.
Scholars also discuss themes such as religious beliefs that deeply respected the cosmic order. For instance only the gods had dominion over death, and even they must pay the price. Mortals must relinquish wealth and power to enter the netherworld, to give up worldly attachments and so be reborn, in harmony with the eternal cycles of death and rebirth.
In the hierarchical society such as those in ancient Mesopotamia, Greece and Egypt, these narratives combined with festivals, ritual and pageantry, very intentionally reinforced divine and royal authority of the gods, kings and queens who wielded total economic and spiritual power.
Scholars of comparative mythology reference the myth of Isis and the Demeter as examples of the goddess descent motif.
Follow this link for a more general discussion of the Eleusis Mysteries.
Mysteries of regeneration provided the architecture for the emergence of popular cult structures such as the Eleusinian Mysteries, which were enacted annually at a sacred place — Eleusis in Ancient Greece.
Although they don’t know much about the rites, they were held on a specific annual calendar and were focused on personal transformative experiences concerning mortality. They were popular for hundreds of years.
The cult of Isis also became popular in Greco-Roman society after it was imported and adapted from Egyptian sources.
It was apparently a common spectacle to see congregations of Isis devotees on the streets in pure white linen robes adorned with gold adornments. It must have been an incredible sight.
DEMETER AND KORE (PERSEPHONE)
The most complete surviving written source of the myth of Demeter and Persephone is the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. This hymn offers the fullest narrative account of Persephone’s abduction and her subsequent return.
The Homeric Hymn to Demeter is estimated to have been composed around 650 BCE, placing its creation within fifty years of Homer’s epics, specifically in the 7th century BCE.
Some scholarly estimates place its production slightly earlier, in the late 8th century BCE. The designation Homeric does not imply that the famous poet Homer himself composed it; rather, it refers to the hymn’s adherence to the same dactylic hexameter meter employed in Homer’s epic poems. These poems however come from a much earlier oral tradition, the source remaining largely unknown.
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The version below is from a translation from the Ancient Greek in its poetic form, then I have composed it more as a prose narrative while keeping the poetic tone as much as possible.
HYMN TO DEMETER
This is the song of Demeter, the holy goddess with the beautiful hair. And her daughter Kore too. The one with the delicate ankles, whom Hades took. She was given to him by Zeus, the loud-thunderer, the one who sees far and wide.
Demeter her mother, she of the Golden Double Axe, she Who Glories in the Harvest, she did not take part in this. She was not there.
Kore was out having a good time, along with the daughters of Ocean, the nymphs and girls who still wear their girdles slung low, how children do. She was picking flowers. Roses, crocus, and beautiful violets. Up and down the soft meadow they wandered. Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth.
And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl Kore by Gaia. All according to the plans of Zeus, sky god. The narcissus was a wondrous thing in its full splendour. To look at it brings a sense of holy awe to the immortal gods as well as humans. It has a hundred buds growing from the root up. Its sweet fragrance wafted over the wide skies above and the earth below, who smiled radiantly and the sky smiled back, so too the churning mass of the salty sea, and all was golden for just a moment.
Kore was filled with a sense of wonder, and she reached out with both hands to take hold of the beautiful flowers. But suddenly the earth opened up beneath her feet. It was a chasm full of roads leading every which way.
This all happened on the Plain of Nyssa. There it was that the Lord who Receives Many Guests made his lunge. He was riding on a chariot drawn by six immortal horses, black as night. Dark Hades, the son of Kronos — the one known by many names.
He seized her, put her on his golden chariot, bound her and drove away as she screamed and struggled. She cried with a piercing voice, calling upon her father Zeus.
But not one of the immortal ones, nor any mortals, heard her cries. Not even the olive trees which bear their abundant harvest, not the ocean, or the forests, or the wide valleys, or the fields of wildflowers, or the mountains, or the starry skies above. Nothing and no one heard her scream.
Except for one. She is the daughter of Perses, the Titan of Destruction and Asteria her mother, the Titan of Stars and Prophetic Dreams. She is the one who Holds the Fire of Nature. She heard it from within her cave.
She is the goddess Hekatee, she of the Crown of Divine Power, who sees and knows everything on land, or sea, or sky.
And the Lord Helios heard it too, the radiant son of Hyperion. They heard Kore calling upon her father Zeus. But he was seated far apart from the gods, all by himself, inside a temple, the precinct of many prayers. He was busy receiving beautiful sacrificial rites from mortal humans.
Kore was being taken, forcibly, violently, by her father’s brother, her uncle — at the behest of Zeus, Hades Lord of the dark realm. They are the sons of Kronos, the one with many names. Kronos, the father of the fathers of the Titans, the ones who came to Earth at the dawn of time.
And so, on the chariot drawn by six demon horses, Hades captures Kore and takes her away from the meadow, away from all her friends and away from the magnificent Narcissus.
So long as the earth and the star-filled sky were still within the goddess Kore’s view, as also the swarming sea with its strong currents, as also the rays of the sun, she still had hope that she would yet see her mother and her friends again. For a time her courageous heart was soothed by hope, distressed as she was.
The peaks of the mountains echoed with the power of her voice, a voice that rang like a bell from the highest heights all the way to the depths of the sea.
And the Lady Demeter heard her and a sharp pang seized her heart. The crown on her head she tore off with her own immortal hands and she threw a dark cloak over her shoulders. She sped off like a black winged bird, soaring high over land and sea, looking and looking.
But no one was willing to tell her the truth. Not one of the gods, not one of the mortal humans, not one of the birds could tell her the truth — where was Kore?
Thereafter, for nine days did the Lady Demeter wander all over the darkened earth, holding torches ablaze in her hands.
Not once did she take a drink of ambrosia, nectar so sweet to drink, nor did she bathe her skin in water. She tore her clothes and blackened her hair and face with ash and she let her rage have free rein. She gave full vent to her fury and she let it fly over the earth like Harpies, hither and thither.
When on the tenth day a bright dawn arrived, Hekatee came to her, holding a torch ablaze in her hands to light the darkness. She came with a message, and she spoke up, saying to her Lady Demeter —
“Great goddess, bringer of beauty and joy, giver of splendid gifts, which one of the gods who dwell in the sky or which one of mortal humans seized your innocent daughter Kore?
“Who was it that brought unbearable grief to your devoted sisters and daughters? I heard her cries, but I could not see with my eyes who it was that took her. So I quickly came to tell you everything, without delay.”
So spoke Hekatee. But Demeter did not reply. Instead she took the hand of Hekatee and quickly they set out holding their torches high.
They went to Hêlios, god of the Sun, the far seeing-eye, who sees all the deeds of gods and mortals alike. They stood before his chariot, and its team of golden horses, stopping it right there. And as the Sun stood still the terrible Goddess demanded — “Helios! Show me respect, god to goddess, if ever I have pleased your heart in word or deed? It is about the girl Kore born to me, an innocent child, renowned for her beauty. Her piercing cry I heard resounding through the boundless aether as if she were being forced, though I did not see it with my eyes.
“I turn to you as one who ranges over all the earth and sea, as you look down from the bright aether with your sunbeams, tell me without error whether you have by any chance seen my child? Who has taken her by force? And then fled away? Tell me which one of the gods or mortal humans did it.”
So she spoke. And Helios, son of Hyperion answered her with these words —
“Daughter of goddess Rhea, Queen Demeter. You shall know the answer, for I greatly respect you and I know the anguish that bites and tears at you. Among all the immortals it is the cloud-gatherer Zeus himself we blame the most. It was he who gave her to Hades to be his wife, his Queen. He gave her to his own brother. And now it is that brother, heading for the misty realms of darkness, who grabbed her as he drove his chariot past, and bound her as she screamed and fought against him.
“But I urge you, goddess. Stop your loud cry of lamentation. You should not have this anger without bounds, all for nothing. It is not unseemly to have such a son-in-law as Hades. He is the brother of Zeus the Mightiest after all, whose seed is from the same place. And as for power, he has his share, going back to the very beginning. He dwells with those in the under-realm, those whose king he was destined to be.”
So saying he shouted to his horses, who swiftly responded to his command and off they sped away like golden-winged birds. And Demeter was plunged into grief that was even more terrible than before. She howled at the sun and the sky like the Hound of Hades in her outrage at the one who is known for his dark clouds, Hades and his brother, the almighty sky smiter Zeus, the sons of Kronos.
And so she spurned the company of all the immortal gods in the house of Titan on lofty Mount Olympus.
She went away, visiting the cities of her mortal friends, with all their fertile landholdings and their abundant harvests, the whole time shading over her appearance, covering herself with dark grey ash. For a long time she wandered. And not one of them looking at her, could recognise her. Not one of women or the little girls either who Demeter knew well.
Until, one day, she came to the house — fragrant with incense, of bright-minded Keleos, who was the ruler of the city of Eleusis. She sat down on the road, with a sad and heavy heart near the well called Partheenion, the virgins’ place, where the people of the town went to draw water.
She sat in the shade, under the thick foliage of an olive tree looking like an old woman who had lived through many years. She seemed older than old, beyond child-bearing and beyond the gifts of Aphrodite, Lover of Garlands in the Hair. Demeter looked like those nursemaids who serve royal houses and who are guardians of children in great echoing palaces.
She was noticed by the daughters of Keleos, who were coming with bronze water-jars to get the water that was easy to draw from the well and easy to carry it home. There were four of them looking like goddesses in their bloom of innocence. Kallidikee, Kleisidikee, and lovely Deemo. And then there was Kallithoee, who was the eldest of them all.
They did not recognise Demeter. Gods are hard for mortals to see, especially when in disguise. They stood near her and spoke these winged words.
“Who are you, and where are you from, old woman, old among the aged? Why has your path taken you far away from the city? Why have you not drawn near to the palace? There, throughout the shaded chambers, are women who are as old as you are, and younger ones too, who would welcome you in word and in deed.”
So spoke Kallithoee.
And the Lady Demeter spoke with the following words;
“Sweet children! Beautiful girls, I wish you pleasure and happiness from our meeting. I shall tell you. It is not unseemly, since you ask so nicely, for me to reveal to you why I am here.
And Demeter told them this story.
“Doso is my name, it means Gift. It was given to me by my honoured mother a long time ago. I am from Crete, having traveled far away over the wide expanse of sea. I was taken against my will. Without my consent, by violence against me, and under duress I was abducted by pirates.
After a while sailing with their swift ship, they landed at the harbour of Thorikos. There the ship was boarded by women of the mainland, a great many of them and so here was my chance.
The pirates started preparing dinner next to the prow of the beached ship. My heart longed for freedom and so I stole away and set out to travel over the dark earth of the mainland, fleeing my arrogant captors. This is how I stopped them from drawing any benefit from my worth without having paid the price. That is how I got here, on the path of all my wanderings.
And I do not know what this land is and who live here. But I pray to all the goddesses that your lives be blessed with beauty, goodness and joy as it was meant to be.
As for me, dear girls, take pity. To be honest what I want most is for you to name a house for me to go to, the house of someone, man or woman, who has children to be taken care of. I want to work for them. The kind of work that is cut out for a woman who has outlived others her own age.
I could take some newborn baby in my arms and nurture him well. I could watch over his house. I would make his bed in the inner recesses of well-built chambers, even the royal bedroom. And I could see to household tasks too.”
So spoke the goddess.
And she was answered straight away by the maiden Kallidikee, the most beautiful of the daughters of Keleos.
“Old mother, we are grateful for the gifts the gods bring, even if we are grieving over what has to be. The gods are, after all, far wiser than we are. What I now say will be clear advice. I will name for you the men who have the highest position here. And then there are the wives of all of these men. They are the ones who manage the palace. Of these women not a single one of them when they first look at you, would deprive you of honour, or judge you by your appearance, or turn you away from the palace. They will receive you. For, right now, you look like the gods have sent you.
“If you wish, wait for us, while we go to the palace and tell our mother Metaneira all these things from beginning to end, in the hope that she will tell you to come to our house and not to seek out the houses of others. She has a treasured son, who is now growing up in the great palace. He was born late, after many a prayer for the birth of a son and is a great joy to his parents. If you nurture him to grow till he reaches the crossing-point of life, the coming of age, I can foretell that you will be the envy of any woman who lays eyes on you. That is how much she would reward you in return for raising him.”
So Kallidikee spoke. And Demeter nodded. So they filled their splendid urns with water and departed, dresses billowing in the sea breezes, looking magnificent.
Swiftly they came to the great palace and they told their mother what they saw and heard. And she told them to go and invite Demeter hither to the palace, for whatever wages she wants, no limits.
Like deer or heifers in the first flush of spring who prance in the meadow feasting on natures abundance, so too the girls, hitching up the folds of their dresses, run along the path to the well, their hair flowing freely over their shoulders, as wild and beautiful as crocus blossoms.
They find the goddess sitting near the road, just the way they had left her, waiting for them. Then they bring her to the great palace. She was walking behind them sad in her heart and her steps heavy. She was wearing a veil on her head, and a long dark robe trailed around her delicate feet and the dusty ground.
They went through the hall, heading for the place where their mother, the radiant Queen Metaneira was sitting near the threshold of a magnificent chamber and holding in her lap her son, her little one. And the girls ran to her side.
Demeter in the meantime went over to the threshold and stood there with feet firmly planted, and her head reached all the way to the ceiling. And she filled the whole room with a divine light. Metaneira was overcome by a sense of reverence, by a holy wonder, and a blanching fear.
Queen Metaneira offered Demeter the chair on which she was sitting, and she asked her to sit down. But Demeter — mother of the goddesses of the hours and seasons, of Spring, of Summer and Autumn, and bleak, biting Winter, Divine giver of marvellous and miraculous gifts — she refused to sit down on the chair.
She stood there silent with her eyes downcast until Iambee, the one who knows true kindness, set down for her a well-built stool on top of which she threw a splendid fleece. On this the goddess sat down, holding a veil before her face.
For a long time she sat on the stool, without uttering a sound, in her grief and sadness.
And she made no approach, either by word or by gesture, to anyone.
Unsmiling, not partaking of food or drink, she sat there, wasting away with longing for her daughter, her child.
Until Iambee — the one who knows what is dear and what is not, started telling jokes.
That was how she turned the Holy Lady’s disposition in another direction, making her smile and laugh and have a merry heart. Ever since that day it is Iambee who pleases the goddess Demeter and brings a smile to her lips. It is Iambee who became the priestess of the secret, sacred rites of the Eleusinian Mysteries. The Mysteries only the initiated can ever know.
Then Queen Metaneira offered the Divine Holy Lady a cup filled with honey-sweet wine. But she refused saying that it was divinely decreed that she not drink any wine.
Then Demeter ordered her to mix some barley and water with delicate pennyroyal and to bring her that potion to drink. So she made this drink which was special magical potion and offered it to the goddess, just as she had been instructed.
The Lady, known far and wide as the goddess Demeter accepted it, for the sake of showing the way as an example.
Then strong Queen Metaneira spoke up in their midst.
“Woman, I wish you joy and happiness from our meeting, from this moment on. I speak this way because I sense you are descended not from mortal parents but from noble or divine ones. You have the look of courage in your eyes and the look of kindness just as if you were descended from royalty, those righteous ones who uphold divine law.
“We mortals suffer the gifts the gods give us, even when we are grieving over what has to be. The yoke has been placed on our neck. But now that you have come here, our fortunes shall be entwined.
“Take this little boy of mine and nurture him. He is late-born and it was beyond my expectations, miraculous that the gods could have given him to me. I prayed many times to have him. If you bring him up till he reaches the crossing-point of life — coming of age, you will be the envy of any woman who lays eyes on you. That is how much reward I — Queen Metaneira, would give you in return for raising him.”
Then Demeter speaks to her.
“Woman, I wish you well too and then some more. May the gods bless you and bring you only good things. I will take your little boy as you tell me to.
I will raise him well. I do not expect through the mistake of a nursemaid that he would perish from a pestilence or from poison. I know an antidote that is far more powerful than the poisoners’ potions. I also know a genuine remedy for the painful pestilence.”
Having so spoken, she took the child to her soft embrace held him in her immortal hands. And the Queen Metaneira rejoiced in her heart knowing her little one will be raised by a goddess.
And thus it came to pass that the son who was born to strong Queen Metaneira, the son of bright-eyed King Keleos, the boy prince called Demofoan was raised in the palace by a goddess.
He grew up like the immortals, not eating grain and not sucking from the breast. Lady Goddess Demeter would anoint him with ambrosia, as if he had been born of the goddess herself. She would breathe down her sweet breath on him as she held him to her bosom. And while sleeping he would breathe in the immortal power of the breath of the holy goddess and he began to bloom and grow.
At nights she would conceal him within the embers of the fire and his mortal parents were kept unaware. They marvelled at how healthy he became, and to look at him was like looking at the immortal angels.
Demeter would have made him ageless and immortal if it had not been for the heedlessness of Queen Metaneira, who went spying one night after letting curiosity and suspicion into her heart. Leaving her own fragrant bedchamber she crept into the nursery and caught sight of what Demeter was doing.
She let out a shriek and struck her two thighs, afraid for her child and not knowing what she was witness to. Crying out aloud, she shouted these sharp words.
“My child! Demofoan! Help! The goddess — this woman, is making you disappear in a mass of flames.
This is making her scream in terror.
And Demeter now became so angry at her she took the little boy, the baby who had been born to his mother in the palace beyond her expectations — she took him in her immortal hands and put him down on the floor away from her and there he lay.
Furious in her heart she turned and addressed Queen Metaneira: —
“You ignorant human. Heedless! Unable to recognise in advance the difference between future good fortune and future bad fortune. You have made a big mistake, a mistake without remedy.
I swear by the River Styx, the holy river of death and the witness of oaths that gods make, and I say this truly. Immortal and ageless for all days forever would I have made your dear little boy. I would have made him magnificent for eternity. But now there is no way for him to avoid death and doom.
“Still, he will have an honour that is un-wilting for all time, because he had once sat on my knees and slept in my arms.
And then she spoke in the powerful voice of the goddess, commanding all to listen.
“As I speak, I make it so. At the appropriate hour once every year the people of Eleusis will have a game of war, a terrible battle among each other, a great spectacle to commemorate this day. They will do so for all days to come forever and ever. I am Demeter, the holder of authority. I am the greatest boon and joy for immortals and mortals alike.
“Come now! Let a great temple with a great altar at its base be built by the entire town. Make it at the foot of the acropolis and its steep walls. Make it loom magnificently over the well on a prominent hill. And I will myself instruct you in the sacred rites so that in the future, you may perform the rituals in the proper way and thus be pleasing to me.”
So saying, the goddess changed shape, shedding her old age. She was enveloped in radiant beauty and a beautiful fragrance wafted from her robes. The glow of her divine face shone forth and her shimmering hair fell down around her shoulders illuminating the aura around her. Then with thundering sound the great palace was filled with a brilliant light as if from a flash of lightning.
The great goddess then departed from the palace, and as she did Queen Metaneira’s knees buckled strong as she was, and she fell to the floor, stunned. For a long moment she was speechless. She could not even think of her little boy, to pick him up and comfort him. But his sisters heard the all the noise and quickly they came downstairs from their rooms, half asleep. One of them held the child in her arms, clasping him to her bosom. Another one rekindled the fire while the other one leapt with her nimble little feet to her mother, to support and steady her.
They all tended to the little boy, washing him as he gasped, cried and spluttered. They all tried soothing and caressing him, but his heart would not be comforted because the nursemaids were not the goddess. And only the great Mother goddess could make him whole again.
All the rest of the night they prayed to the goddess, trembling with fear. And when the bright dawn came they told King Keleos, their father, who rules far and wide, exactly what happened and what the great goddess Demeter had instructed them to do.
Then King Keleos assembled the people, from this end of the public place to the other and he gave out the order to build for Demeter a splendid temple with a magnificent altar, on top of the tallest hill. And they obeyed without delay upon hearing his voice and they built it as he instructed them.
And the temple grew larger and wider, slowly taking divine shape through the special interventions of the goddess Demeter. When the people had finished their work and completed all their labor they went home. Then beautiful Demeter sat down and stayed there in the temple shunning the company of all the blessed ones, the immortal gods. She had the temple but she was wasting away with longing for her lost daughter, so young and innocent.
In her unquenchable rage the goddess made that year the most terrible one of all, especially for mortals all over the Earth.
It was so terrible, it was worse than the coldest bleak winter. The Earth did not send up any sprouting seeds. Demeter kept them all hidden and covered under the stony ground.
Many a curved plough was dragged through the fields by many an ox, but all for nothing. Many a bright grain of wheat fell into the earth — all for nothing. Nothing grew out of the dusty earth. At that moment Demeter could have destroyed the entire race of human beings with harsh hunger. She wanted to. But doing so would deprive the gods of the honours and sacrifices from the people, the food on which they depended. Everything on earth would soon wither away to dust.
And so Zeus took notice and decided to do try to help Demeter. First, he sent Iris with the golden wings, to summon Demeter, goddess of glorious beauty who is so much adored. This is what he told her to do — to go and bring Demeter.
And Iris obeyed Zeus. She ran the space between sky and earth in an instant with her winged feet. She arrived at the city of Eleusis and she found Demeter in the temple — fragrant with incense, wearing a dark robe deep in her grief and suffering.
Addressing her, she spoke words of power from Zeus the god of all.
“Demeter! Zeus, the one who is most wise and full of knowledge, summons you to come to that divine company of the immortal gods. So then, come. Come now. May what my words say, which come from Zeus himself, be obeyed immediately.”
So she spoke, making an entreaty.
But Demeter’s heart was not persuaded.
After that the father of the gods sent out all the other blessed and immortal gods. They came one by one. They kept calling out to her, offering many beautiful gifts, all sorts of honours and delights that she could choose for herself, if only she would join them and return to her heavenly home.
But no one could persuade her or change her mind. She was still furious in her heart and she harshly said no to their words. She said that she would never go to glorious Olympus, that she would never again send up the harvests of the earth. She could not care less about the gods or the honours they promised.
She would abide in her temple forever, or until she saw with her own eyes her daughter Kore.
But when the Almighty Zeus, he who sees far and wide, heard this he knew he must send a messenger to his brother Hades. The messenger was Hermes, the one with the golden wand, Demon Slayer, he who kills swiftly and brightly. He was sent, the one with the silvery tongue, so that he may persuade Lord Hades with gentle and clever words. He must convince him with all the authority he can muster, to release holy Kore so she can leave the misty realms of darkness and be brought back to the realms of light. So said Zeus to Hermes.
Hermes straight away flew down beneath the depths of the earth, rushing full speed, leaving behind the airy abode of Olympus, home of the gods, the ageless Titans, and down into the dank and dismal land of the dead.
He found the Dark Lord inside his palace reclining on a black couch with sweet Kore. Kore, who was much under duress, yearning for her mother and suffering from the hardships inflicted on her by the dark and merciless god.
Hermes, the powerful bright messenger was not afraid and he spoke to him from above.
“Hades greetings to you, Dark-haired one. King of the dead. Zeus the almighty Father of all, now orders that I take innocent Kore home with me right now. Her mother Demeter is in a rage and wrecks dire and terrible wrath against the gods and mortals alike. For she is performing a mighty deed and is unstoppable in her power. She wants to destroy all the tribes of earth-born humans on whom we rely for our sustenance. She hides the seed underground, nothing grows and so they starve. The immortal ones will not receive their sacrifices and so their power dies along with everything else.
“She refuses to keep company with her family, the immortal ones in their high home among the clouds and stars. She has taken charge of the rocky citadel of Eleusis. And so, faraway she hides herself inside a temple, a large and magnificent temple, fragrant with incense.”
So Hermes spoke with authority from his high place above. Hades, Lord of the Dead only smiled a secret smile, He did not think to disobey the order of Zeus the King. No, he would not disobey his brother even though he was taking back a gift he had honourably and sincerely given.
In haste he spoke to Kore.
“Go Kore. Go to your mother, the goddess with the dark robe. Have a kindly disposition and nice thoughts in your heart. Do not be too upset — well, not excessively so. Because actually I would not be an unseemly husband for you. You would reside in the company of the immortals. I am the brother of Zeus the Righteous after all. You would have been Queen of everything and have the greatest honours in the company of the immortal ones. Those who violate your honour will get punishment for all days to come — they who do not perform the appropriate sacrifice or rituals in a reverent way, or withholding offerings that are due — they will pay the price for all eternity, I would ensure it.”
Kore rejoiced, for despite His Lordship’s high and mighty words she tasted freedom for the first time in a year. She did not need his promises of honour or burnt offerings. Swiftly she prepared to set out, with fire in her heart.
But then Hades stealthily gave her the honey-sweet berry of the pomegranate to eat. Peering around him, acting in secret he enticed Kore to his side and then he put the berries in her mouth.
He did not want her to stay at the side of her mother for ever and knew, as everyone knew, that by divine law to taste this fruit in the depths of the underworld made her soul belong to him for all eternity. His deathly deceiving ways could not be foreseen by sweet Kore who had no choice now but to swallow the bright red berries.
And so the six immortal horses were harnessed to the golden chariot by Hades, Lord of the Realm of Death, he who buries the heroes of the gods in their tombs. Kore got up on the chariot, and next to her was the powerful speaker of spells Hermes, who took reins and whip into his hands and together they flew out of the palace of death.
And the horses sped away eagerly. Swiftly they made their way across the wide blue sky, wings outstretched, on their longest ever journey. Neither the sea, nor the water of the rivers, nor the grassy valleys, nor the magnificent forests, nor the mountain peaks, could waylay the immortal horses. High over the peaks they went, slicing through the vast air, through the clouds and spiralling down to earth where the dazzling city of rocky Eleusis lay.
They landed and came to a halt at the place where Demeter was standing at the front of the temple.
When the almighty Lady Demeter saw them she rushed forth like a wild woman with arms flung wide, reaching for her beloved child, desperate to hold her face in her hands. And they embraced tightly, heart to heart for a long while, crying tears of joy.
Then the goddess took her long lost daughter Kore in her arms and tenderly brushed aside her tears and she begged her say if she had eaten of the poison berries, the wicked berries of the pomegranate tree, while she was there at the palace of darkness. For she knew already the peril they were in and what the dark one had done.
And it broke their hearts to know that it was true.
For Demeter, Great Lady of the Seasons, knew that such a thing would seal her fate for eternity. Kore must return to the land of death once each year, there to dwell as if asleep. For the lord of death shall not have her beauty or the life she brings as the spring brings the flowers to the meadow. The Under-realms of Hades shall remain in darkness for all eternity.
But when great Gaia Mother Earth starts blossoming with fragrant flowers of springtime, flowers of every sort, then that is when Kore must come up from the misty realms of darkness once again, awakened to a new life on the broad plains, forests and meadows of magnificent and glorious Earth. And so abundance spreads and flourishes across the land in brilliant green and gold, a great wonder to gods and mortal ones alike. Kore! How beautiful you are.
“But what kind of ruse was used to deceive you by the powerful one? The one who receives many guests?”
Demeter now boldly asked the question of her dear one without wanting to hear the answer, but needing to. Then Kore, the most beautiful, the sweetest girl told her story like this.
“So then, my dearest beautiful Mother, I shall tell you everything, without error, without embellishment. The messenger came to me, the swift Demon Slayer Hermes, with the command from my father revoking his gift, that I should come home immediately. They discussed how you must see me with your own eyes and know I was safe and returned to you, and then you will let go of your wrath against the whole world.
Then I sprang up with a shout of joy. But then he came stealthily while Hermes back was turned and put into my mouth the berry of the pomegranate, that honey-sweet food. And he forced me to swallow them.
As for how it was that he snatched me away, with the permission of my Father the son of Kronos and how he took me down beneath the depths of the earth. I will tell you and relate in order, as you ask. We were, all of us girls, meandering through the lovely meadow, I and my friends. Leukippee, Phaino, Elektra, Ianthee, Mellitea, Iakhea, Rhodeia, Kallirrho, Melobea, Tychee, and flower-faced Okyroea, Chryseyis, Ianeera, Akastea, Admetea, Rhodopea, Plouto, and lovely Kalypso, Styx, Ourania, and lovely Galaxaura. Also Athena, the one who rouses us to battle, and wise goddess Artemis, who delights in arrows. We were all together. We were playing and gathering wild flowers, an assortment of delicate crocus, iris, and hyacinth, rosebuds and lilies, a wonder to behold, and the holy narcissus, which is grown, like the crocus, out of bare earth. I was joyfully gathering the flowers, and then the earth beneath me gave way, and there it was that he sprang out, the powerful lord who receives many guests.
He took me away under the earth in his golden chariot. It was very much against my will, he held me captive with strong and invisible cords. I cried and screamed with a piercing voice. It made no difference. I was alone, held a prisoner. These things, grieving, I tell you truthfully.
In this way did the two of them spend the whole day, having a heart to heart conversation. And they gladdened each other greatly and restored each other’s strength, hugging and holding each other. They received joy from each other, and returned it multiplied.
Then Hekatee approached them, the old one with the splendid crown. And she welcomed back the daughter of holy Demeter with many embraces.
And from that day forward, the Lady Hekatee became Kore’s attendant and aunty. Then the loud-thundering Zeus, who sees far and wide, sent to them a messenger, the goddess Rhea, to bring Demeter her daughter, to join the company of the of gods who dwell on the high places, her family. And he promised prestige and honours that he would give to her, which she would receive in the company of the immortal ones.
Then Zeus spoke the law that her daughter, Kore, every time the season came round would spend a third portion of the year, four cycles of the Moon, in the realms of the underneath and everything on earth would die and become winter. And the other two thirds, eight cycles of the Moon, Kore would dwell in the company of her mother and the other immortals and the earth would flourish again.
So Zeus asked the goddess Rhea to deliver this message in the hope Demeter would return to her true home.
Swiftly the goddess Rhea flew off from the peaks of mount Olympus and eventually she arrived to meet Demeter at the Rarian Field, that holy and life-bringing fertile spot of land. But, at this time, it was no longer life-bringing, but it stood idle and barren. The bright grain of wheat had stayed hidden deep in the soil by the power of Demeter.
But at that moment it began to sprout and quickly to flourish with long ears of grain as the springtime was increasing its force. On the field, the fertile furrows began to overflow with cut-down ears of grain lying on the ground, while the rest of what was cut down was already bound into sheaves. This happened miraculously the moment Rhea arrived from the boundless aether.
Demeter and Rhea were glad to see each other, and they rejoiced in their hearts, laughing and crying tears of joy. Then Rhea, the one with the golden crown, addressed her daughter thus.
“Come, child, Zeus the loud-thunderer, the one who sees far and wide, is summoning you to come home to us, your family. And he promised privilege and honours that he would give you, which you could receive in the company of the immortal gods. He agrees that your daughter, every time the season comes round, would spend a third portion of the year in the realms of dark underneath, and the other two thirds in your company, or family and with whomever you choose. He has offered this sincerely wishing you and Kore be happy.
So come, my child. Lets go. Do not hold your anger at the dark-clouded son of Kronos. Make the harvest grow, that life-bringer for the people.”
So she spoke, she pleaded with her daughter Demeter. So it was then great and mighty Demeter, with Kore by her side, decided to send forth the bounty of the land, sprouting new green shoots out of the rich clods of earth. And all the wide glorious earth with leaves and blossoms was becoming fruitful and laden again everywhere they could see.
Then magnificent Demeter went to the kings, the administrators of the city — to Triptolemis, to Dioklees, the driver of horses, to powerful Eumolpis and to King Keleos, leader of the people.
And she revealed to them the way to perform the sacred rites, and she laid down instructions for the ritual to all of them — the holy secret ritual, which cannot be ignored or spoken about. By the great fear of the gods that forbids anyone from speaking it.
But whoever is uninitiated in the rites, whoever takes no part in them, will never get a share of those miraculous things that the initiated get, once they die, down below in the dank realms of underneath.
When the resplendent goddess finished all her instructions, Demeter and her daughter Kore went to high peaks of mount Olympus, to join the company of the other gods. Holy they are, and revered. And if they decide to love you they will be kind and bring you miracles, treasure and life of joy and goodness.
But come, you glorious goddesses, who preside over of the city of Eleusis, fragrant with incense. Come, Oh Lady resplendent with gifts, queen Demeter, bringer of seasons, both you and your daughter, the most beautiful Kore. Be kind and bless them that hear this song and hold your light in their heart.
Thank you for reading, thank you for your support, shares and comments ~ Anna Marie x
