Podcasts about Ereshkigal

Hello Friends,Happy April 1st! Here we are, its Aries Season, it's Spring, Mercury and Venus have both been retrograde for a while now (which can give a certain feeling of friction or underworld journey to our days), there is much happening in our geo-political world that I (we) wish wasn't happening. And still the magnolias are blooming, the songbirds are back, tulips are pushing through the mulch in our front yard, the sun is rising earlier and setting later.Aries season reminds us that our life force is resilient, there is a certain courage within the bud that allows it to open. There is a certain courage within each of us to continue to live our lives, to walk this path of awakening, to let ourselves be opened by the world—even when things feel fragile or scary or uncertain. In this spirit I would like to share this koan from the Hidden Lamp Collection called Ryonen Scars Her Face.As a young woman, Ryonen Genso was an attendant to the empress, and was known for her beauty and intelligence. When the empress died, she felt the impermanence of life, and she decided to become a nun. Ryonen traveled to the city of Edo in search of a Zen teacher.The first teacher refused her because of her beauty. Then she asked Master Hakuo Dotai, who also refused her. He could see her sincere intention, but he too said that her womanly appearance would cause problems for the monks in his monastery.Afterward, she saw some women pressing fabric, and she took up a hot iron and held it against her face, scarring herself. Then she wrote this poem on the back of a small mirror:To serve my Empress I burned incense to perfume my exquisite clothes.Now as a homeless mendicant I burn my face to enter a Zen temple.The four seasons flow naturally like this,Who is this now in the midst of these changes?She returned to Hakuo and gave him the poem. Hakuo immediately accepted her as a disciple. She became abbess of his temple when he died, and later founded her own temple. Before her death she wrote the following poem:This is the sixty-sixth autumn I have seen.The moon still lights my face.Don't ask me about the meaning of Zen teachings—Just listen to what the pines and cedars say on a windless night.This koan is about a lot of things, which is one of the beautiful things about koans. They often meet us in the stuff of our lives. They give us a nod, or a wink, or reach up and hold our hand and say me too. I see you.In this story we can find themes of courage, vow, determination, sacrifice, injustice, impermanence and a deep reflection on what is truly reliable. And still, in this koan with so many words, much still isn't said—or can't be said.Just listen to what the pines and cedars say on a windless nightAs I reflect on Ryonen with that hot iron in hand, I know that she probably wasn't thinking too much about what she was about to do and the impact that might have on her life into the future. She picked up the iron and touched it to her face. Done.There are times in our spiritual lives or simply on this path of life, where we take that brave next step willing to face whatever consequences come from such action. This is very Aries. Just Do. Act first, think later.Can you relate?In my own life, I can feel Ryonen's iron in my choice to become a monastic. At the time I was thinking about my finances or professional development, I wasn't thinking about what futures I might be giving up—I just had this vow in my heart and ordination felt like the only way I could live that vow. And, I felt willing to face whatever consequences came from orienting my life in this way.Some steps on the spiritual path have this bold, no turning back feel.A single act marks a transformation.For Ryonen, it marked an orientation, a vow, a direction. The inner process of transformation usually doesn't happen in one single gesture.Much of our letting go on the spiritual path happens gradually or even invisibly. Many times it is a series of small commitments. We give over a night every week to practicing in sangha. Or we rearrange our morning or evening routine to accommodate our meditation practice. Or we start using our vacation time for retreats. Or we find ourselves changing certain behaviors. Perhaps we stop using substances or clean-up toxic relational patterns. Perhaps we start investigating the nature of judgment or learn to accompany the feelings of boredom. Maybe we start to courageously feel our feelings or speak our needs in our relationships.It's like walking through fog, Suzuki Roshi says, after sometime we realize we are completely saturated. Transformed through our persistence, awakened through the simple, yet courageous act of continuing.The spiritual path can also bring us into relationship with the dark night. Times when the habitual ways that we have found pleasure and joy in the past no longer hit the spot. Times when we are called deeper into ourselves to discover a satisfaction that is not dependent on other people or things. I mentioned that Venus is currently retrograde. Venus retrogrades last about 40 days and 40 nights and can have a really similar feeling as the dark night of the soul. Or even lent in the Christian tradition. A time of discovering a even deeper and more enduring love.During this Venus retrograde, I have been studying the myth of Inanna. Inanna is the Sumerian goddess of love, beauty, harmony and relationship similar to the Roman goddess Venus. In one of Inanna's myths that astrologers relate to the Venus retrograde cycle, Inanna receives a call from the underworld.Now Inanna's sister Ereshkigal is the goddess of the underworld. So Inanna hears the call, and chooses to respond, chooses to meet her sister in the underworld. This is something we do in our own lives. At times there is a call, maybe from within from Psyche or from Spirit asking us to move towards a particular part of the path, to open or include more of who we are, to truly love ourselves. It could also be a call to action in the socio-political realm or in our relationship. In whatever shape it takes something compels us to move towards something unknown, something we othered or disowned or simply ignored.How do you heed this call?Inanna being a goddess and queen, gets all suited up in her royal and protective attire and sets off for the underworld. When she gets to the gate, the gatekeeper informs her that she is going to have to pass through the seven gates of the underworld. At each gate she must remove another layer of her protective and royal attire. By the time she reaches the underworld, her final destination, she is naked and unadorned.This is another shape that sacrifice takes on the spiritual path, through progressive surrender. We shed or see through the protective beliefs and adorning thoughts that have kept us separate or on the surface of things.In its heart, the myth of Inanna is a story of wholeness, the two sisters come to see that they are each other. Inanna's descent is actually an opening to inclusivity. True love and beauty include all facets and shapes of this one life.The descent is never easy, coming to wholeness or spiritual awakening involve periods of sacrifice, or darkness. These times help us discover our deeper resources, hidden or forgotten sources of support and a faith that isn't dependent on an object.As Ryonen says before her death:This is the sixty-sixth autumn I have seen.The moon still lights my face.Don't ask me about the meaning of Zen teachings—Just listen to what the pines and cedars say on a windless night.…For a more in-depth contemplation of this koan and the myth of Inanna listen to the audio.I'm Amy Kisei. I am a Zen Buddhist Teacher, Spiritual Counselor, budding Astrologer and Artist. I offer 1:1 Spiritual Counseling sessions using IFS and somatic mindfulness. I also offer astrology readings. Check out my website to learn more. I currently live in Columbus, OH and am a supporting teacher for the Mud Lotus Sangha.Below you can find a list of weekly and monthly online and in-person practice opportunities.Weekly Online Meditation EventMonday Night Dharma — 6P PT / 9P ET Join weekly for drop-in meditation and dharma talk. We are currently exploring Zen and Dreams.Feel free to join anytime. Event lasts about 1.5 hours. ZOOM LINKMonthly Online Practice EventSky+Rose: An emergent online community braiding spirit and soul, first Sundays (back in May)10:30A - 12:30P PT / 1:30P - 3:30P ETnext Meeting Sunday May 4thEmail me: amy.kisei@gmail.com to RSVPZen Practice opportunities through ZCOLight of the Ancestors Sesshin—May 12 - 18, in-person at Great Vow Zen Monastery16 Bodhisattva Precepts Class—May 4 - June 8, online class series exploring the ethical teachings of Zen BuddhismIn-Person in Columbus, Ohio through Mud Lotus SanghaInterdependence Sesshin: A Five Day Residential Retreat Wednesday July 2 - Sunday July 6 in Montrose, WV at Saranam Retreat Center (Mud Lotus is hosting its first Sesshin!)Weekly Meditations on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit amykisei.substack.com/subscribe

Guardian Goddess in Manhattan.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels."Our Princess grew up around a woman whose keen intellect we rely on to protect us from unseen enemies," Saint Marie's voice became deeper and more threatening. "At the age of ten, she," Saint Marie looked my way as my hand shot up mimicking Aya's identical plea for attention."Yes Ishara?" Saint Marie chose to acknowledge me."She's nine.""Fine. At the age of nine, she earned an honorific, Mamētu me eda, which I didn't accomplish until my 19th year." 'Yes Ladies, I'm an epic bad-ass and I've been out-performed by a child'."She was kidnapped along with the Head of House Ishara. They tortured her by clipping off two of her digits, one at a time, then seared the damage with a blowtorch. She gave them nothing. At the end of the encounter, the two of them managed to defeat thirty Seven Pillar's commandos, over fifteen she disabled personally.""After killing nearly half as many enemies as the 35 I have personally dispatched in my entire career, she crossed a mile and a half of barren rock in the midst of a Category 4 Typhoon. Cáel Ishara only helped her half of the way because he was engaged with the last two members of the Seven Pillar's team.""I have utter confidence the madness here today, while assisted by House Epona and Ishara, was the brainchild of Krasimira. I say 'assisted' because Cáel Ishara spared Kwenhamai's life on the battlefield. Katrina Epona removed Kwenhamai from Romanian custody to keep her out of the hands of those who wished us harm. I was aware Kwenhamai was in New York, but not her precise location.""My read on the situation is this:"Aya of Kururiyahhssi was aware of Kwenhamai and Krasimira's plot to adopt her into the bloodline of the first Amazon.""She was not aware of Kwenhamai's plan to exit the Host in the manner she chose. I read the shock and pain in, Aya's face.""Our Princess has not given me a single order and I am the only voice here today that matters, I am the Golden Mare and the Council has consistently failed to agree on a Regency.""Krasimira, why have you done this?" Saint Marie abruptly asked for either a denial, or acquiescence of her perception of events."As directed by the Ancestors, the statute of a goddess of a First House was recast then returned to her perpetual spot. It brought new light to a dark, sacred and painful place. In that moment I realized that for the first time in nearly 3,200 years, the descendants of every Amazon gathered before the walls of Wilusa (Troy) had been reunited.""I was troubled. Was this a portent the augurs couldn't divine? In their council (the augurs) then came up with the words 'speak to our eldest'."Oh shit, the rest of the Council was racking their minds trying to figure who was the oldest surviving Amazon. I knew for a fact they were overlooking the two top candidates."I sought out the eldest Amazon alive. They claimed to not have the answer for my worries. She had far more numerous things weighing on her mind such as her intimate demise. Though I hated sharing the same air with her, I asked her to tell me her greatest regret.""I had given up on the Amazon Race until an Amazon reminded me, through martial effort, valiant spirit and a kind heart, I was wrong to abandon my faith with my people. Now I will die, unable to pass on my renewed hope because the one Amazon I would trust with my legacy is equally childless.""I asked her the name of this Amazon she felt was worthy of her legacy. Then I informed her she was wrong and the Amazon in question did indeed have a daughter. She asked to meet the daughter,""Last night I requested the presence of a female child residing with members of House Epona," the Keeper of Records looked up at the Golden Mare. "I provided neither the resident female (Caitlyn, Aya's Mother), or the House Head with an explanation."Female childSince my revival, Amazons were using 'female' child a lot more often. This meant, the motheer had never told her daughter farewell. The true fate of Aya of Epona would never officially be recorded. She has been born, but never recorded as an Amazon of her true House."The three of us met alone. The two embraced; birth mother and daughter. The eldest of us proclaimed she saw the light of Kururiyahhssi in her daughter's eyes. Words were exchanged. The child agreed to be adopted then departed. Further arrangements were made without the child's knowledge as we have recently observed.""I testify that there is only one Amazon alive today who knows what transpired and I will take those conversations to my grave. Does that suffice?" Krasimira finished. I was already regurgitating my mental quandary with my Isharans. Was Aya really a daughter of Kururiyahhssi?"I will leave it to the others to contemplate your, bizarre actions, Krasimira," Saint Marie frowned. "As for the rest of you, Aya has impressed me. If she has not impressed you, I do not care. I think she is definitely influenced by those two," Saint Marie motioned to Katrina and me. "It is a given since Katrina was of her blood and she has risked much in the presence of a man she calls 'Atta' and he calls 'Duma'.""Katrina is a cold, heartless snake and I am convinced she is one of the best 'First Bearer of the Sun Spear through the Halls of Night and Death' the Host been served by in a long, long time.” Saint Marie paused then looked at me while she said; “ Cáel is a fool who leads with his heart when he should let better women take charge. Fortunately for the rest of us, he is reliably successful despite his multitude of handicaps."Was I upset about being insulted? No. The truth hurts and a Man needs to learn to roll with the punches. Buffy I could deal with. Katrina most likely appreciated being associated with a dangerous reptile. Saint Marie hadn't forgotten Katrina threating Saint Marie's daughter that was for sure."I am considering much of what our Princess would like me/us to do, because it is based in keen insight and well-reasoned thought. She wishes to spare our sons so we will have more warriors in the fight. We have already added men to Havenstone and one to the Council, as was the Will of the Ancestors.""Let me see, she wishes a bodyguard of fourteen (2 First House and 1 from Africa, Asia, Europe and North & South America, the Amazon presence in Australia was minimal and I doubted they would bring someone up from Antarctica, plus the seven matching Runners) without removing permanent members of any House and allowing all Houses to have access to our future Queen. I approve. It is a fine idea and I wish I had thought of it.""Should we add Runners directly into the Royal House? She doesn't think so and I feel this decision shows a remarkably insightful into the long history of our People and protects the Council's sensitivity on such matters. I approve.""Placing our sons into the care of the Royal House? We need to free up as many sisters as possible. Men under the care of the Royal House will be tradesmen and help-mates. Not a single weapon will be in their hands. If none of you have realized herlike will take two decades to implement, it only increases my eagerness to see her become 'casted'."Aya's hand shot up again.Yes?""I would hope the Council, or the Regents, will consider a 'like' which is not mine. It is a man's and it should be of no surprise the idea is Cáel's.""If you feel it holds merit, Aya, tell us," Saint Marie deferred."The 9 Clans have shown some interest in a children exchange programs among our youth as it would provide new techniques we can add to our arsenal an a new avenue to experiment with new ideas. I find the idea to be promising as the Host takes part in affairs beyond our own immediate needs. It would also supply partners between families to be shared for a season or two."Translation: Amazon women could breed with men of allied Secret Societies to reduce our dependence on our own, much smaller, male population. In the short term, it would go a long way to rectifying the Host's child-bearing problems.The Council's quarrelsome behavior was biting them in the ass big time. Saint Marie was right, the only opinion that mattered was hers until the Council elected a Regency. Had we not been at war, the Council would have ruled, but we were, so we took orders from the Golden Mare. Even if the High Priestess had been alive, she would have deferred to our designated War Leader on most things."Cáel Ish, Cáel Wakko Ishara is a very dangerous and devious male, Aya. Be careful of any council he gives," Saint Marie's caution was more playful than menacing."I'll be okay," Aya peeped. "He doesn't have sex with any woman until she is eighteen." That wasn't what the Golden Mare was cautioning her about. We all knew it. Aya was working to defuse a sticky bit of mental juggling, listening to a man's advice."On that we can agree," Saint Marie conceded. "Back to what I would 'like' to say. The New Directive is being implemented. I feel it goes beyond the purview of my mandate. I will leave it for the Regency to deal with. Katrina and Tessa have already invested in the groundwork in this endeavor, so I will endorse it if that is the decision of the Regency.""I have zero desire to add a single Runner to the Security Detail. I will open up slots in the training program if that is what the Regency demands. Each House's policy for dealing with the First Directive is their business, not mine. If any of you wish to consider something the Princess considers to be important, so be it. The idea of 1,000 Isharans does not appeal to me. Look how much trouble their tiny numbers have already caused us and take heed."Buffy began growling, which amused/worried the Houses on either side of us. Unlike me, Buffy didn't 'roll with the blows' and considered all manner of insults to me, House Ishara and her Isharan sisters to be answerable with violence. I loved her so. There was also no way I'd let her go after Saint Marie. The Golden Mare would crush her; I had no doubt."The unwelcome blood feud: are both House Heads ignorant of my forbiddance of such things? Apparently so. Both defied me by tossing insults back and forth. Considering we are at war with two of the most powerful Secret factions, I am angered by both for their idiocy.""The solution the Princess likes is rather novel," Saint Marie was punishing both Messina and me with her low voice and fiery gaze. Krasimira coughed."Yes?" Saint Marie suspended her anger."The suggested resolution is not without precedence," Krasimira spoke with a scholarly detachment. "In our early days, the Host settled such disputes in Spring and Fall gatherings by contests of foot speed, hunting, horsewomanship, archery and wrestling. If we revive the tradition, the competing Houses could nominate one woman for each contest to settle the matter. Only the hand-to-hand match would risk either contestant's health.""I will consider it and render judgement before the Sun sets today," Saint Marie nodded. "The final like pleases me greatly. Dealing with the 52 of you is, Cáel?"I was on the spot. I couldn't let down my fan base of one, Aya. Perhaps it was five, Buffy (who would never admit it), Daphne (who liked me), Katrina (because she liked fucking with my head) and Desiree (who was less likely to admit she found me funny than Buffy).I felt I gave a decent effort."'A ginormous pain in my hemorrhoids?' the basic one.""'More painful than having my cornea scrapped with a spoon?' more gruesome.""'Enough to make me want to give Sakuniyas a surprise French kiss?' most likely to be fatal.""'Worse than waking up to discover I'm related to Cáel Wakko Ishara?' most horrifying, for both of us.""'Inspiring me to toss it all away and take up Professional Bikini Mud Wrestling?' a personal fantasy of mine.""Why do we put up with him again?" one House Head remarked."Because I am worried that one," motioning to Buffy, "will stab me in the elevator after a meeting.""My First, are you acting psychotic around the Council members?" I looked over my shoulder at Buffy."Wakko Ishara, it is not an act. I am psychotic," she responded deadpan."Are you still packing that thermite grenade?""No Wakko Ishara. Daphne stole it from me and hid it," was her quick delivery."I love working with you two," Daphne whispered."What is it with you, your unsubtle sexual innuendo and me in a bikini?" Saint Marie stared at me."I find the combination of brilliance and lethality sexy. Just ask Elsa," I grinned. Then I grimaced as Buffy stomped on my toes. The House Heads and Apprentices on either side of me noticed and clearly expected me to do something, like to show outrage (because she was my underling), or start crying (because I was a guy)."Prestige," Daphne hissed quietly. "Prestige." She was reminding Buffy that beating me up in public made the other Amazons think even less of me than they already did."I will go with (B), the cornea scrapping," Saint Marie gave me a nod."Damn it," I muttered. I also got my foot out of the way before someone did any more damage to my phalanges.'Best Daddy Ever,' Aya mouthed to me. Back to the main action."It is not my place to order the rest of you to elect Shawnee, Rhada and Buffy to be the Regency. I do admit I admire the mixture of candidates," Saint Marie declared. I shot Rhada a quick look. She seemed really, really enamored of the idea of being part of the Regency, thus staying in New York for the next decade, or so."Before the idea is rejected out of hand, I suggest we ask the three people our Princess would like to be part of the Regency if they would accept the nomination," the Golden Mare continued. "Shawnee Arinniti?""I bow to the logic and reason of the proposal," Shawnee replied."Rhada Meenakshi?""I wish to join my sisters in battle, yet I accept the reasoning behind the proposal," Rhada nodded. "If my Head of House agrees, I will stay and do my part for our People." What was she saying to me? 'You are going to whip me, beat me, torture me, humiliate me and push me to beyond the limits of any pain I have experienced until I pass out ~ repeatedly'."I despair of finding any other compromise," Mahdi frowned. "If my Apprentice understands the greater difficulty she will face gaining prestige among her House-mates, I will consent to this proposal." Essentially a 'yes'."Buffy Ishara?""I was really looking forward to ripping the spines out of still living foes, but I would be a fool to go against Aya of Kururiyahhssi's smarts. If Wakko Ishara wants to walk out of this room unassisted, he will see the wisdom of this decision as well," she gave me a shark's smile. Daphne had surpassed her limit and punched Buffy."Hell ya, I agree," I exclaimed. "Now I know there will be certain times of the day when she isn't stalking me.""I'll work more pain into our limited schedule," Buffy grumbled."Are we sure he is the House Head and she is the Apprentice?" Yet another House Head joined the 'shit on me' train.It was telling of our group dynamic how we accepted the Pyramid of Pain. The underlings dispensed advice and violence as they felt necessary without their 'superior' getting pissy about it. Buffy felt totally justified hitting me and accepted being hit by Daphne, who continued to act unimpeded as Buffy's rapid-fire translator."If I was House Head, I'd handcuff him to me," Buffy clarified for her."What she said," I pointed a thumb Buffy's way. I'd have used a finger, but she might have grabbed, twisted and made me scream in pain."Perhaps the Council can vote on this as their second order of business," Saint Marie cloaked her command as a suggestion."Cáel Wakko Ishara, can I ask you a personal question?" Kohar of Marda caught my attention."Shoot, wait, probably not the best terminology in this crowd. Ask away," I replied."Have you faced a House challenge yet?""Yes. Just last night in fact. We free-climbed the north-face of Havenstone. I beat the next closest contender by three floors. I also had Princess Aya on the roof dropping bricks on anyone who attempted to get past me.""That means he isn't going to answer you," Beyoncé  interpreted for my audience."Can't you ever take these meetings seriously?" Febe Mielikki glowered."La, Febe, in the past few minutes I have watched the person I love most in the world get her life shat on," I shook my head."The only thing worse than seeing this happen to Aya is knowing this is her sole opportunity to not lose her soul, so I'm sucking up my heart's pain and putting forward a jester's persona so I don't put any more pressure on her than she's already been subjected to. Like me, she doesn't want the distinction of being a Person of Note.""Like me, she knows she must sacrifice her dreams for the sake of our People, the Amazon Host. Trust me, you would rather have 'me, the jester' than 'me, the Amazon' furious with the destiny that has foisted this pain on her'. Do any of you take responsibility for forcing the events of this morning?" I growled. If they wanted to see the other side of the Janus, so be it."Had you chosen a Regency in the fucking weeks you've been bickering, Kwenhamai could have been dealt with privately. The fate of the Royal House could have been put off a few years. Had you not all been so dead-set on being heroines of the Host, three of you would have sacrificed your bloodlust, your birthright and the future accolades you could recite on your final night (before taking themselves to the cliff), but none of you did.""Instead, you set the stage for dumping all of your indecisiveness on the slender shoulders of a nine year old girl most of you had written off as too fractured and frail to survive her 12th year only three months ago. So Febe how do you like the honest 'me'?" I finished off furiously.It was not lost on anyone in the chamber I was an Amazon raging against the cruelty of fate. Every other bitch in the room knew they had discarded my daughter's life as trivial and I was prepared to unleash violence on the next one to show an ounce of disrespect over Aya's surrendering of her destiny and my grief at failing to find a way to stop this from coming to pass. St Marie had just reminded them that I was 'reliably" successful despite my handicaps. Not an enemy anyone in the room wanted any part of. Saku would have been proud.A Note:I have been remiss in informing my readers of the names of the 53 Houses, even though I created it some time ago. I have made a few alterations to the original version as I've had to rethink certain parts of this tale, but here is the list I now use.List of Goddesses:The First Twenty Houses in no particular order :1) Ishara, Oaths, Medicine and War (to North America) (died out 450 CE; Reborn in 2014)2)   (Deceased) Anat, Goddess of War, Fury and Blood Sacrifice (died out 6th cent. BCE) ~ possibly resurrected by Sakunyias3) Anahit, water, wisdom and war (to North America)4) Arinniti, Sun Goddess (to North America)5) Hanwasuit, Sovereign Goddess6) Illuyankamunus, Dragon God (to North America) (Special Case)7) Inara, the Hunter Goddess8)  au ka, fertility, War, healing9) Kamrusepa, Healing medicine magic (to Africa)10) Lelwani, Goddess of the Underworld (to Africa)11) Hapantali, Pastoral Goddess.12) Hatepuna, Sea Goddess (to India)13) Hannahannah, Mother Goddess14) Moirai, Fate15) Selardi, Lunar Goddess (to Africa)16) Nammu, Primordial Sea, sailing, sailors (to India) (to Indonesia)17) Uttu, Goddess of plants (to Africa)18) Lahar, Cattle Goddess (to Africa)19) Ereshkigal, Queen of the underworld (to India)20) Istustaya and Papaya, Twin Goddesses of Destiny (to North America)Additional Houses, founded in Europe:(Code: Sc = Scythian; T = Thracian, P, Phrygian, C = Celtic, R = Roman, Sl = Slavic)21) (Sc) Marda, the One-Eyed Goddess/Vengeance {fantasy creation}22) (Sc) Farānak, A Scythian Goddess also known as the Lynx Goddess and the Silent Huntress (Dora)23) (Sc) Stolgos, Monstrous Slayer of Greeks (known to the Greeks as the Gorgon Stheno) {semi-historical}24) (T) Cotyttia, Thracian Goddess of Sex, War and Slaughter (to North America)25) (T) Bendis, Thracian Goddess of the Moon and Hunting.26) (T) Semele/Rajah, Thracian Goddess of the Earth and Birth (to India)27) (T) Hylonome, Centaur Goddess28) (P) Cybele, Phrygians Earth Goddess on Lion's throne (to the Amazon)29) (C) Andraste, War Goddess; also Goddess of the Moon and Divination; 'the Rabbit Goddess'30) (C) Epona, Horses (to North America)31) (C) Cyhiraeth, Goddess of springs whose war cry precedes death (to Africa)32) (C) Maeve, War Goddess, the Enslaver of Men33)   (Deceased) (C) Nantosuelta, Earth, Fire and Fertility (died out 1st cent. BCE)34) (C) Artio, the Bear Goddess (to North America)35) (C) Nemain, Goddess of War and Panic36) (R) Minerva, Roman Goddess of War & Strategy37)   (Deceased) (R) Diana, Hunting and Archery (died out in India 16th cent. CE)38) (Sl)  iva, Love and Fertility49) (Sl) Morė, Goddess of harvest, witchcraft, winter and death (to North America)40) (Sl) Zorja, The twin Guardians (Evening/Morning Stars)41)   (Sl) Oźwiena, fame and glory (died out in 1944)42)   (Sl) Koliada, Sky Goddess and deity of sunrises/dawn (died out 17th cent CE)43) (F) Mielikki, Goddess of the Hunt44) (N) Ska i, giantess, Goddess of bow-hunting, skiing, winter, and mountainsAdditional Houses, founded in In dia:45) (I) Mookambika, Demon Slayers46) (I) Bhadra, Goddess of the Hunt (to Indonesia)47) (I) Meenakshi, The Liberator (Rhada and Madi's House)48) (I) Durga (Dark Mother) (to Indonesia)49) (I) Chandala Bhikshuki, Queen of Night, Death, Destruction and Rebirth50) (I) Jaya (Goddess of Victory)51)   (I) Chelamma, the Scorpion Queen (died out 16th cent.)Additional Houses, founded in Africa:52) (A) Oshun, (Yoruba Goddess of Love, Sexuality, Beauty and Diplomacy; Lady of the Orisha ~ life spirits)53) (A) Yemonja, Mother of Rivers (to the Amazon)54) (A) Oba, Goddess of Betrayal and Exile55) (A) Ox ssi, Goddess of Hunting, Forests, Animals and Wealth56) (A) Jengu, Goddess of Jungles and Water SpiritsAdditional Houses: founded in North America(NT = Native Tribal)57) (NT) Uusheenhiton (noo'uusooo' heeninouhuusei hitoniho') (Arapaho), Storm Horse Sister {fantasy creation}58) (NT) Gahe, Apache (supernatural spirits who live in the mountains)Prospective House:59) New, (Hittite) SzelAnya, the Dragon's DaughterCurrent Number of Central Houses:12 in North America (9+Ishara from Europe and 2 native)10 in Africa (6 from Europe and 5 native)3 in Amazonia (1 from Africa and 2 from Europe)8 in India (3 from Europe and 7 native)3 in Indonesia (2 from India and 1 from Europe)17 in Europe6 Deceased{7:35 am Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}Right where we left offMy rage over Aya wasn't called into question or challenged. Practicality had trumped tradition in the inevitable Amazon fashion. The only one elevated in anyone's eyes was Aya. Krasimira's apparent political adventurism was probably hard for the others to deal with. But in context, only Mahdi, Katrina and Saint Marie had seen her denounce Hayden, so this seemed a new side of Krasimira to most people in the room.Krasimira wasn't the spiritual authority, that was Hayden. She wasn't the Generalissimo, that was Saint Marie. Katrina and I were both appointed officials, we retained our House status. Saint Marie would die a member of House Inara and join her ancestors with pride. Her litany of accomplishments were well known to the Host.But Krasimira? She would die a member of House Cybele unheralded. The Keeper of Records recorded the feats of others, not their own. Nearly two generations ago, a young Krasimira had joined the Keeper's House as a guardian to an un-remembered (save by her) augur. The augur passed and she took up other duties within the house.When the old Keeper faced her final months, she elevated Krasimira to her spot. High Priestess Hayden had approved the choice without really knowing who Krasimira was. (No one outside the House of the Keeper had personal bonds with her anymore.) Seamlessly, she had sat in the old Keeper's seat and the Council kept chugging along.For the past eight years, she had sat quietly at Hayden's side and only speaking when addressed. Mostly, she did nothing overt. The actual note-taking was done by an underling. The Keeper took her own private notes squirreled away in her mind, to be written when she was by herself. Those notes would be handed over to her successor, for the Keepers' eyes and theirs alone.I don't think Krasimira knew me in particular when she dutifully followed Hayden into these chambers the day my death, or life in a cage, was bantered about. It was the day we first crossed paths. She would have known of Shawnee's request for the tooth of an Isharan, though she lacked the authority to ask why. (She wasn't a voting member of the Council.)But when Shawnee made her claim, Krasimira hadn't balked in her support, despite the oddity of Shawnee's declarations, I was indeed Ishara and my sisters could not dispose of me. The outrage of the others meant nothing to her. She pursued her obligations with true Amazon fearlessness both inside and outside of the Council.On the night of the 2nd Betrayal, a Keeper had sat there in silence as her fellow Amazons, the Ash Men, were sentenced to an unjust death. She'd had neither the numbers nor the authority to alter events, what else could she have done?So the Keepers kept track of the names of nineteen 'unaccounted for' Ash Men. For what purpose? An episode of Amazon history no one would ever want to revisit? Yet in my hour of need, coming back 2,600 years was the name 'Vranus of Ishara', sitting only a few keystrokes away. No one, save a few Arinniti diehards, wanted to know the truth of the Amazon Ash Men; and even they didn't want to remember us as individuals. To them, Vranus existed as a notation on the secret Charter of the Arinniti Sons.To Krasimira, Vranus had been a living, breathing warrior of the Host, not even dead, still mythically fighting the enemies of our race because his death had never been officially recorded. With my appearance, I stood in mute testimony to his death, and that of his sons and their sons for a damn long time.Still, I hated playing catch-up.With the Amazon custom of adoption, had no one asked if another possible Isharan heritage still persisted?I would bet they had. And I'd bet they had sought for that knowledge in the Rolls of the Host, always finding that pathway devoid of hope. But if the Keeper had known, why had she kept quiet?Pride, shame, Krasimira's words: we show anger when we should show humility. We are proud of our shame. We are arrogant of our weaknesses. We have heaped insult upon insult on our ancestors, yet are now aghast that they turn away from us, I had confused her soliloquy with that of an accusation, not the long held understanding of her office.Even staring extinction in face, the modern Host hadn't truly accepted the answer, the line of Vranus. Faced with the truth, the Amazons would have 'forgotten' the descendants of Vranus all those centuries ago in the same way they 'forgot' all the other Ash Men on the day I was brought into the Host.But the Keepers did something more than maintain the rolls and records of the Amazons, more than watch over the augurs and make sure their messages made it to the proper ears. They safeguarded the truth. No matter what the Council decided and the High Priestess commanded, the Keepers remained honest stewards of the real history of the Amazons.Why?The Amazons were terribly practical and the truth could run contrary to the needs of political reality. Honesty wasn't a highly stressed Amazon virtue, loyalty was. So was bravery. And thus generation after generation of Keepers had lied to the Council and the High Priestesses. Every time those august personages had committed something to 'the nothingness', the Keepers had defied them and not forgotten.The first heads of the first twenty houses had surrendered their names for the unity of their people, but the Keepers remembered. All twenty of those women had been of the Amazon tribe of the Pala people living on the southern coast of the Black Sea when the Trojan Wars began. Over time, their true blood descendants had founded new houses and been adopted into others.Aya was truly a daughter of Kururiyahhssi; I had no doubt of that anymore. Had she not shared the same blood as the first Amazon, Krasimira wouldn't have brought Aya and Kwen together. Resurrecting an ancient tradition in a complicated fallacious coup attempt wasn't in her; nor was such a maneuver even a necessity. The Host would elect a Regency eventually and Saint Marie was handling the war in a highly competent fashion.So Krasimira hadn't sought out the heirs of Vranus, yet when one appeared, she welcomed 'him'. And when she stepped into the President's office with Hayden while waiting for me to be brought upstairs to face judgement that night, I imagined sending Hayden to the cliffs was the farthest thing from her mind.The rest were playing politics, gender politics, and couldn't see the truth staring Krasimira in the face. The truth was a bitch and didn't play favorites, or worry about the sensibilities of others. Krasimira had seen her sisters refusing to acknowledge the ugly reality they had created for themselves.Krasimira wasn't an advocate for Ishara, that was my job, and my crappy performance was something between Dot and me. She wasn't an advocate for the males and the New Directive. That was what Katrina was for. No, like a hundred Keepers before her, Krasimira was the silent sentinel for the Truth and, the Truth didn't care about anything but the Truth."The assassin is indeed in this room. Its name is Amazon was a rather grand pronouncement from the Chief Librarian, wasn't it? Krasimira didn't chastise Hayden. That wasn't her place. Technically, neither was she disputing Hayden's ability to rule.This wasn't the climax of a dinner-theater 'Who Done It'. The crime before the High Priestess was High Treason and I was the pre-ordained guilty party. My 'ally', Katrina Epona, had not been an advocate for my defense. No. Again in my Hour of Need it was Krasimira.Lacking any true authority, she had defied her sisters and made her definitive statement. What truly transpired was Krasimira staring Hayden straight in the eyes and saying 'you cannot lie your way out of this one, High Priestess. We (as in all the Keepers past and present) will not let you'.Had she used those words, Saint Marie would have gotten around to asking what Krasimira meant. Krasimira would have rather died, because once those bitches discovered their nerdy sisters hadn't erased a damn thing in 3,000 years, they would insist they do so immediately. Krasimira wasn't about to do that. Thanks to the chaos surrounding Hayden's departure, no one had confronted her over her crucial action.To put it more precisely, the Golden Mare had been too busy and Mahdi had been wrapped up in Hayden's Decree and the resulting pressure on the Heads of House to pick the Regency. Katrina was probably a case of I'm not going to ask you so you don't have to lie to me. The only other living person in the room when Hayden's fate was sealed was me, and I'd had my hands full as well.I had to think about what I should and could do. I couldn't beat her up over Aya anymore than I could punish my Isharans for their misplaced arrogance. I decided to extend a 'thank you'; and not only for myself, but for every conceited bitch who had ever sat at this table, or all the other physical mediums the Council had used before this one.We held three votes: The Council couldn't collectively decide on how to implement Aya's other likes (1), so they agreed on her suggestion for a Regency instead (2). The final vote was to set a date for the next Council meeting (3). A date within 9 days of the Winter Solstice with the Regency to decide the precise date and give the House Heads two weeks warning.The last calamity at the meeting was initiated by a question of etiquette."How do we address the Princess at Council meetings?" the Head of House Hanwasuit inquired of Krasimira."There is no precedent for addressing the Iwaruwa alone. By our laws, she is not truly Dumalugal Aya either. She is Nasusara," Krasimira responded. Queen."She is a child," a third House Head declared, "not an Amazon.""No," Mahdi shook her head. "A, Aya is 'un-casted'. She bears an honorific presented to her by the leader of an established stronghold (Summer Camp) and confirmed by the Golden Mare minutes ago.""Congratulations my mamētu me eda," I winked to my past and present Princess, "you've just become a single-digit aged teenager.""Go Aya," Daphne and Buffy whispered behind me. Aya raised her hand, waiting for Saint Marie's recognition.However, Saint Marie moved steadily forward, declaring: "Until the Regency alters my decision, I decline assigning anyone to the Iwaruwa (heiress) whose sole purpose would be to stop her from sneaking off to endure her 12th Year Test. I judge it to be better we know where we placed her as opposed to failing to outsmart her as she needlessly proves to the Host she is, in fact, already an Amazon of the Host." Aya lowered her hand.Thus,'Yes, Aya is an Amazon of the Host' and 'Aya will take her 12th Year Test because she wants to take it, won't let us talk her out of taking it and the rest of us had better accept it'."So, she is our Queen then?"No one appeared to have an answer. Aya raised her hand once more."Yes?" the Golden Mare smiled down at her."Am I in charge?" Aya's other hand squeezed Saint Marie's as she spoke in a barely audible voice."Perhaps.""If I was in charge, I would like it if there was a law that declared the Queen of the Amazons would be officially represented by a Regency until she becomes casted, and antedate the law by one hour so this never, ever comes up again," Aya kept looking up at Saint Marie."Aya," Katrina exhaled.The council chamber was a mixture of awe, resentment and amusement. If Aya was Queen, she could make such a law. The Queen-ship was a Bronze Age autocratic institution designed to provide leadership to a 'state' in near-constant warfare with is neighbors.It was guided by oral traditions and military necessity, not written laws. As long as the queens provided successes on the battlefield and through diplomacy, she was deemed fit to rule. The traditional way of choosing a House Head was the same for the Royal House, the ruling Queen chose an heir.In the long list of Queens, less than half had been the 'eldest' child. No, those ancient War Leaders picked the bravest, smartest and most successful daughters to succeed them. Their wisdom in those selections showed in the fact the Amazons had held off a male-dominated world for over 600 years before fatally marching off to answer an ally's call to fight in the Trojan War."I advise against it," Saint Marie shook her head. "You are young. You are also the only Royal we have. Duty demands and sisters must always answer their sister's call."Translation: Aya was an adult now. It was similar to the first lesson Pamela gave me upon learning I was Ishara. We lived with bitches, it doesn't pay to play nice with bitches."Thank you," Aya nodded. She was 'thanking' Saint Marie for the lesson, no matter how hard it was to accept. Krasimira coughed."Now that the matter is settled," she spoke. The matter wasn't settled. Krasimira was steamrollering the discussion. "What do we call you?", to Aya."I, oh," in a very small voice. Aya's brow furrowed and her tiny nose wiggled. "I wish to be known by the legacy of my Anna (mother) and Atta (me, Cáel). I will be Assiyai hamai.""Love song?" Daphne murmured to Buffy."Assiyai hamai?" Krasimira asked for clarification. 'Love-song' was hardly the name of a 'fierce' Amazon Queen."The only other name I could come up with was Markappidusmene, which seemed less auspicious," she meeped. Markappidusmene meant 'Tiny Smile'."Perhaps Talliyahulla would be more auspicious?" Saint Marie nudged Aya. 'War Cry'."Oh no!" Aya balked. "That's your job.""What do you think your job is?" the Golden Mare questioned, suddenly realizing she'd made the mistake of making assumptions where Aya was concerned."To go to the cliffs with twice as many Amazon daughters, each equal to the likes of Saint Marie, Katrina, Oneida, Buffy, Elsa, Kohar and Tad fi as exist today. We must not 'survive', or simply replenish our numbers."We must become stronger because the World is a terribly messed up place," she raised her wounded hand and splayed her digits for the others to see the two she was missing, "and has become too small for us to seek safety in hidden freeholds any longer. If we cannot hide, we must rule openly. We are Amazons. Having no equals, we must rule alone. The only people we can trust, really trust, are the sisters at our sides."My job is to advance my People's cause with both compassion and cruelty and I will do so alone, because the Amazon Queen has no equals, only daughters."Not a sound. I could count out the individual fan blades recycling the air."Let our enemies tremble," Saint Marie nodded, repeating an earlier declaration."Assiyai hamai," Krasimira intoned, making Aya's royal name official before adding, "Assiyai hamai, you are mistaken about one thing. You are not alone. You have a mamētu me eda.""Oh," she perked up, shedding the gloom which surrounded her. She looked at me, our eyes met and we both grinned, then she giggled...and yet again, up her hand went."Yes?" Saint Marie looked upon Aya respectfully and then at me with much suspicion."Is the mamētu me eda of my mamētu me eda also my mamētu me eda?" Aya asked.Just like old times, only Katrina was ahead of the game. "Oh, by Epona," the Spy-mistress snorted."Cáel Wakko Ishara, who is your mamētu me eda, oh no," Saint Marie bristled."Ah, indeed," Krasimira nodded. "An unlooked for bonus.""Does someone care to enlighten the rest of us?" the head of House Nemain prodded."Oh!" That was Elsa."That's right!" Oneida, she was definitely a fan of me and my spasmodic lifestyle."Wakko Ishara's mamētu me eda, other mamētu me eda, is Temujin, Great Khan of the Reborn Mongol-Turkish Khanate and ally of the Host," Saint Marie let them know. "They are bonded by Cáel risking his own life to save Temujin's. It is actually a privately understood and publically declared fact.""In Temujin's words to the international press when our Cáel and our new Queen were kidnapped : I believe Cáel is still alive. If he wasn't, we would be seeing piles upon piles of dead enemy around him and his 'boon companion', clearly visible from orbit. Until they discover this carnal pit from Hell, I am sure they are both still alive," Oneida added. Rhada flashed ill-distilled hate her way."Shawnee, is your Apprentice's mind addled with the birthing hormones of their child?" Mahdi snipped. That was merely a cultural zing, not an attempt to expose my sinister erotic misdoings. Unfortunately, she was somewhat correct. Okay, she was totally correct."That was uncalled for," Shawnee graciously chided Mahdi, thus demonstrating her ignorance of the facts soon to be in evidence."Yes, I am carrying a child of Arinniti and Ishara," Oneida proclaimed loud and proud. "We share a Warrior's Love."I wasn't really sure how anyone else reacted to the news because House Ishara exploded into violence. That is the politic way of saying Daphne and Juanita were trying to stop Buffy from beating me to death. Here was yet another Ishara-baby and it wasn't gestating inside her. I was too stunned to defend myself.And the old refrain: 'and then it got worse'."Ta  ah kattanda!" (IN HITTITE for 'you pig's ass'), Rhada howled. I missed her drawing her blade, vaulting to the top of the table and lunging at Oneida. Most of the Amazons in the room stood, yet held their ground.They weren't shocked into indecisiveness, only trying to understand the nature of the conflict before intervening. This was not the first 'your Amazon did something my Amazon found infuriating' public threat they had to have dealt with. Rhada was more volatile than the average woman of her breed and station, true, but a violent in-chamber assault?That wasn't the 'worse' though. Oneida drawing her blade in an open challenge to Rhada wasn't the worse either, nor was her shouting."He loves me! He merely saved you!"Saint Marie yelling 'Ishara! Ishara!' over and over again, demanding I put my house back in order wasn't the end of my woes, nope.Me being yanked free of my House fur-ball into the volcanic gaze of Elsa as she seethed, "Rhada?" Oh yeah, Elsa's people and Rhada's people had a bit of a blood feud going on, how could I have forgotten that?But wait!"Not Fabiola!" gasped Messina, bizarrely assuming I slept with, okay, not such a huge assumption."Gael?" voiced by the Head of House Bendis, followed by Gael's "I'm late.""Damn it!" I pulled away from Elsa (slightly)."No. She only lets me ejaculate on 'safe days'," to Messina, Fabiola's Mom."Oh, come on! We had sex one time!" to Gael of Bendis, and finally,"Stop it!" to Rhada and Oneida, (deep breathe). "Really?" with my most believable happy face plastered on. "This is great news!"No. No it wasn't, and I could read the ugly emotional undercurrents on the faces of everyone present, except Aya, who kept the faith."Ishara," Saint Marie rumbled. I held up one finger to forestall her wrath."Oneida, Rhada and I have already decided to name our daughter Parvati. My daughter by Tad fi, ordained by the Goddess to be the first born, will be named Shala while my first son will be called Harki heni (White Hair, I'd call him Raider when we were in the 'outside' world).""My daughter by Miyako Yuri will be named Suwais-urāni, Fushichou in her Mother's tongue, in honor of Sakuniyas. My, other relationships," I would have liked to say 'none of your business', except Amazon mothers, or not, those children would be of Ishara's blood and potentially their kin.

This podcast was recorded in January 2025 for the Super Conductors of Love free summit facilitated by Martha Alter Hines and Cayelin Castell. To join in the closing ceremony March 30th, use this link: https://www.livingtheonelight.com/sup... This podcast incorporates the Venus journey at the end of March 2025 and her conjunction with Neptune (the higher octave of Venus) and the Mars opposition with Pluto (the higher octave of Mars). I speculate in this video about how Ereshkigal, in the myth of Inanna, may be represented by the asteroid Persephone and, in my later, more recent video published in March 2025, by the asteroid Ceres. Let me know your thoughts on this! All of these points represent aspects of this split between Inanna and Ereshkigal and the division of the Great Goddess archetype. Heather's website: https://www.risingmoonhealingcenter.com/ To become a patron of Heather:   / heatherensworth  

The air grows still. The light dims. You've crossed the threshold, but there is no going back. This week, we descend—into the shadowy depths of the Underworld. From Hades and Persephone to Hel, Ereshkigal, and the Duat, your hosts Alicia and Terra guide you through the darkened corridors of the afterlife across cultures and mythologies. Who rules these realms? How do the dead get there? And why does every river have a toll? (Honestly, someone call HR.) Join us as we whisper the names of forgotten gods, navigate the geography of the soul's final journey, and confront the eerie beauty that lies beneath the surface. Grab your obols, light a torch, and hold your breath— The ferryman does not wait.

Episode 17In this podcast, professional astrologers Chani Nicholas, Thea Anderson, and Eliza Robertson look to the sky to make sense of what's happening here on Earth.This episode brings you into the astrological group chat to talk through how Venus' retrograde in Aries and the North Node–Neptune conjunction have shown up on the world stage — and set the scene for the rest of this month's milestone astro. Covering everything from Zelensky's Oval Office visit to Bernie Sanders' anti-oligarchy tour, nationwide town hall takeovers, and Anora's Oscar wins, we break down the many ways these transits have manifested in the collective. Plus, we give a preview of what's to come. (Spoiler: It's a lot.) March's madness is just getting started. So buckle up, and settle in.Timestamps:(00:00) - Welcome to Down to Astro episode 17(00:25) - Neptune and the North Node: what happens when things fall apart(06:50) - The role of Neptune in current events(10:49) - The impact of retrogrades on global dynamics(19:45) - Zelensky's chart: a Venusian figure in politics(37:20) - Bernie Sanders' chart: astrology and the fight against oligarchy(44:57) - Art as resistance: the upside of Venus retrograde(49:50) - The spirit of disruption: local movements and protests(51:14) - Oscars recap: politics and representation in film(56:22) - Inanna and Ereshkigal: the Venus Rx journey of transformation(01:01:39) - Venus in Aries: love, relationships, and personal growthThis episode was recorded on 3/3/2025.For more astrological insights, download the CHANI app or follow CHANI on Instagram, TikTok, and Bluesky.The song “Midas,” featured in the podcast, was created by NISHA and is available wherever you listen to music.This episode also mentioned the following creative works:“The Astrology Podcast” hosted by Chris BrennanP.S. The transcript for this episode is available here.

Artemisa, Freya y Ereshkigal son algunos de los ejemplos más célebres de diosas poderosas en sus respectivas mitologías

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Last time, Inanna, the Sumerian Goddess of war, love and sexuality stole the Mes, fought against Gilgamesh and lost while getting her brother-in-law killed. Now, she's on her way to pay her respects in the underworld to her sister, Ereshkigal, but unsurprisingly things do not go as planned. Join us in the second part of our Inanna series which includes the seasonal myth of Dumuzi!  Enjoying the Podcast? We want to hear from you! Leave us a review on Podchaser or follow us on Goodpods and tell us what story you want us to cover next! Show notes can be found on our website at: www.talesfromtheenchantedforest.com You can also find us on: Bluesky Mastodon Instagram   TikTok X @FromEnchanted

After Gilgamesh turns down the advances of the Goddess Innana, she sends the Bull of Heaven to destroy him. However, the Bull of Heaven is killed during an epic seven day battle. Innana decides to descend to the underworld to talk with her sister, Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld and the widow of the Bull of Heaven. Inanna is stripped of her seven divine powers and presents herself naked and bowed at the feet of her sister. After being killed and hung up on a meat hook, she is brought back to life through a series of synchronistic events. She emerges and escapes the underworld. However, no one escapes the underworld without a replacement. When Inanna finds her lover, Dumuzi, he is not mourning her loss. She allows the demons to take him in her place in the underworld. Dumuzi's twin sister volunteers to take his place half the year, hence a representation of the Fall Equinox in the descent into the shadow. Discover how this poem is an early representation of morality and sets the stage for pantheons of gods and goddesses to emerge in future timelines. Connect with the Goddesses:  https://www.goddesswitchwomb.com   Follow us on Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/goddesswitchwomb/   Follow us on TikTokhttps://www.tiktok.com/@goddesswitchwomb      

In this conversation, Mojo sits down with SJ Tucker to discuss the 20th anniversary of her first album, Haphazard. They talk about the album cover, the process of recording the album, and the stories behind some of the tracks. SJ shares her experiences in the music industry and the importance of community support. The conversation highlights the journey of a young artist finding her voice and creating music that resonates with her audience. Haphazard is an album that holds a special place in SJ Tucker's heart, as it represents her journey as a musician and her connection to the pagan community. The album features songs that reflect her experiences and emotions, from the story of Inanna and Ereshkigal in 'Crystal Cave' to the empowerment anthem 'Stick It'. SJ shares the stories behind each song, including the influence of her dear friend and collaborator, Catherynne Valente. The album captures Tucker's growth as an artist and her commitment to authenticity and self-expression. Purchase Haphazard and all of SJ's music here! It's All About the Love!

"Since when is being a SLUT a crime in this family!?"... Thats right, we're throwing down some serious slut praise, sex positivity and free love autonomy in this episode. It's evident our Owens Aunts are very sex positive and we wanted to explore this construct and its (her)story. In this PART 1, we unravel our favorite film and book(s) to learn all about the different views these characters have relating to sex. We jump back in time to history's first empowering slut LILITH, as well as Inanna, Ishtar and Ereshkigal. Then we slide into ADAM and EVE's DMs and talk about the fall of Eden, the Whore of Babylon and that misunderstood jezebel...., Jezebel. TOPIC MAP: (00:00) Intro (05:49) Topic Starts (11:27) Slut Praising in the Film and Books (40:40) Lillith: Ancient Demon, Dark Deity, Sensual Goddess (59:00) The Whore of Babylon (01:04:40) Card Pull (01:09:48) Jezebel (01: 19:30) Sacred Goddess/Sacred Prostitute: Rediscovering The Sacred Feminine (01:42:15) An Exploration of the Not-So-Lovey-Dovey Gods of Lust, Promiscuity and Alternative Love SOCIALS: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Patreon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Kristina's Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Justina's Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Voice Message⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠HERO SOURCES⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ DISCLAIMER The Magnolia Street Podcast intends to discuss the movie, “Practical Magic” in its entirety. This will evidently result in spoilers and it is recommended that you watch and or read the following. Alice Hoffman's: Practical Magic, Rules of Magic, Magic Lessons, Book of Magic. The Magnolia Street Podcast is for entertainment and informational purposes and should not be used as a substitute for professional or medical advice. Do not attempt any of the discussed actions, solutions, or remedies without first consulting a qualified professional. It should be noted that we are not medical professionals and therefore we are not responsible or liable for any injuries or illnesses resulting from the use of any information on our website or in our media. The Magnolia Street Podcast presenters, Kristina Babich and Justina Carubia are passionate fans of Alice Hoffman's work and the Practical Magic word she has created. There is no copyright infringement intended, all characters and story lines are that of Alice Hoffman. We do not own any of that material as well as any of the move score music shared within the podcast. All intellectual property rights concerning personally written music and or shared art are vested in Magnolia Street Podcast. Copying, distributing and any other use of these materials is not permitted without the written permission from Kristina Babich and Justina Carubia. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/magnoliastreetpodcast/message

Neste episódio, mergulhamos na complexa dinâmica das relações fraternas, onde sombras se entrelaçam e reflexos se revelam. Caim e Abel, Ereshkigal e Inanna, Paola e Paulina Bracho: na história, na mitologia e nas telenovelas já vimos irmãos representarem pares de opostos complementares, mas você já parou para observar essa dinâmica acontecendo na sua relação com seus irmãos ou amigos íntimos do mesmo sexo?Descubra como nossos irmãos podem ser espelhos dos aspectos ocultos de nós mesmos - aquilo que rejeitamos e, secretamente, desejamos ser. Prepare-se para explorar as dimensões ocultas da fraternidade, em uma jornada fascinante na qual cada um descobre que a sombra do outro é um reflexo de sua própria jornada pessoal.

https://www.patreon.com/GnosticInformant Please Consider joining my Patreon to help finding scholars to bring on. Any amount helps me. Thank you existing Patrons. Dr. Joshua Bowen (Ph.d) & Megan Lewis (M.A) Assyriology www.youtube.com/digitalhammurabi Learn to Read Sumerian: https://www.amazon.com/Learn-Read-Ancient-Sumerian-Introduction/dp/1734358602 Despite their ancient origins, the Anunnaki have been subject to many contemporary reinterpretations, notably in various fringe theories and works of pseudo-history. These often involve extraterrestrial influences and other speculative concepts, but these ideas are not supported by mainstream scholarship or historical evidence. But more on that later as well. The mythology of the Anunnaki is complex and spans several ancient cultures, with the earliest accounts coming from the Sumerians. Their stories, like many ancient mythologies, attempt to explain the origin of the world, the nature of gods and humanity, and the laws that govern existence. In Sumerian mythology, the Anunnaki were initially viewed as celestial deities associated with various aspects of life and nature. However, the term Anunnaki gradually came to be associated more specifically with chthonic (underworld) deities. In Mesopotamian mythology, the term "Anunnaki" was used to refer to deities in general, but it was often specifically associated with the deities of the underworld, the realm of the dead. However, this does not necessarily imply a negative or punitive association. In many ancient cultures, the world was perceived as a multitiered structure, often divided into heavens, earth, and underworld. Gods and goddesses were assigned to different realms based on their roles and functions. The Anunnaki are depicted in various myths as judges in the underworld, ruling over the fate of the dead. For instance, the goddess Ereshkigal, the queen of the underworld, and Nergal, the god of death and plague, were both considered part of the Anunnaki. The reason why many of the Anunnaki were associated with the underworld is likely related to the Sumerians' beliefs about life, death, and the afterlife. The underworld, known as Kur or Irkalla, was considered a dreary, dark place where the spirits of the dead existed in a shadowy version of their earthly life, sustained by libations and offerings from the living. The Nephilim, as depicted in biblical traditions, are the offspring of the sons of gods (or fallen angels) and are described as giants. In general, the Anunnaki and the fallen angels, who give birth to giants, or Nephilim, are separate entities from distinct cultural and religious contexts: Mesopotamian mythology and Hebrew religion, respectively. Both undergo the wrath of God and try to teach humans knowledge. Both the Anunnaki and the fallen angels are seen as powerful beings with the ability to influence humanity. The Book of Enoch, an ancient Jewish religious work, ascribes the origins of sin and corruption on earth to a group of angels known as the "Watchers," who fell from grace by mating with human women and teaching humanity forbidden knowledge. But rather than the Anunnaki, This story shares more elements with the myth of the apkallu, seven wise men or demigods in Mesopotamian mythology who were created by the god Enki (a member of the Anunnaki) to establish culture and give civilization to mankind. #gnosticinformant #nephilim #anunnaki --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/gnosticinformant/message

https://www.patreon.com/GnosticInformant Please Consider joining my Patreon to help finding scholars to bring on. Any amount helps me. Thank you existing Patrons. 2nd Channel: https://www.youtube.com/@LateNiteGnosis Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NealSendlak1 Discord: https://discord.com/invite/uWBZkxd4UX In Sumerian mythology, the Underworld was known as Kur, and it was ruled by the goddess Ereshkigal. The Babylonians also had a similar concept of the Underworld, which they called Irkalla. According to Sumerian mythology, the Underworld was a dark and gloomy place where the souls of the dead went after they passed away. The journey to the Underworld was perilous, and the souls had to navigate through seven gates, each guarded by a different deity. Once in the Underworld, the souls were judged by Ereshkigal and her consort, Nergal. The souls were then assigned to different levels of the Underworld based on their deeds in life. The worst offenders were sent to the lowest level, where they were subjected to eternal torment. The Babylonians had a similar concept of the Underworld, but their version was more complex. According to Babylonian mythology, the Underworld was divided into several levels, each with its own ruler. The souls of the dead had to pass through each level, facing different challenges and obstacles along the way. One of the most famous stories from Babylonian mythology is the tale of Ishtar's descent into the Underworld. Ishtar was the goddess of love and fertility, and she decided to visit the Underworld to rescue her lover, Tammuz. However, she was unable to pass through the gates of the Underworld, and she was forced to remove her clothing and jewelry as payment to the gatekeepers. The seven deities that guard each of the seven gates in the Underworld are named: 1) Neti, 2) Gedu, 3) Ennugi, 4) Ninkasi, 5) Ninimma, 6) Enbilulu, and 7) Dumuzid/SISTER. These deities were believed to have the power to judge the souls of the deceased and determine their fate in the afterlife. It was believed that those who were deemed worthy would be granted access to the afterlife, while those who were deemed unworthy would be condemned to eternal suffering. The purpose of each of the seven gates in the Underworld is to prevent the dead from escaping and to ensure that they are judged fairly before being allowed to enter the afterlife. Each gate is guarded by a different deity, and each deity has a specific role in the judgment process. The first gate is guarded by the god Neti, who checks the name of the deceased against a list of those who are allowed to enter. The second gate is guarded by the god Gedu, who weighs the heart of the deceased against a feather to determine if they have lived a good life. The third gate is guarded by the goddess Lahamu, who judges the deceased based on their deeds in life. The fourth gate is guarded by the god Shala, who determines if the deceased has been faithful to their spouse. The fifth gate is guarded by the goddess Ninlil, who judges the deceased based on their knowledge and wisdom. The sixth gate is guarded by the god Nergal, who determines if the deceased has been a good ruler or leader. The seventh and final gate is guarded by the goddess Ereshkigal, who judges the deceased based on their overall worthiness to enter the afterlife. Ereshkigal is a prominent figure in Sumerian and Babylonian mythology, known as the goddess of the Underworld. She is the sister of the god of the sky, Anu, and the god of the earth, Enlil. Ereshkigal is often depicted as a fearsome and powerful goddess, ruling over the dead and the spirits of the Underworld. Ereshkigal held a senior status among the underworld deities, ruling over the category of so-called "transtigridian snake gods" Two Minoan snake goddess figurines were excavated in 1903 in the Minoan palace at Knossos in the Greek island of Crete. #gnosticinformant #documentary #mythology --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/gnosticinformant/message

Who are Inanna and Ishtar in Sumerian and Mesopotamian mythology? What is the mystery of Inanna's descent into the underworld? How does Inanna's journey to the underworld reflect Sumerian beliefs about life and death? What role does Ereshkigal play in Inanna's descent to the underworld? What are the key symbolic elements in the story of Inanna's descent? How is Inanna connected to the goddess Ishtar? What is the significance of Inanna's transformation into Ishtar in Mesopotamian mythology? How do the stories of Inanna and Ishtar reflect ancient views on femininity, queerness, gender fluidity and power? What lessons can be drawn from the story of Inanna's descent into the underworld? CONNECT & SUPPORT

Guest: Annika First, a classic sitcom setup: Ningishzida plans to sail a boat to hell with his friend (an ill-intentioned demon), but his sister Ama-shilama wants to tag along! Then, we visit the construction site of Mari, a city built from scratch in the middle of nowhere around 2900 BCE, along with 150 km (90 mi) of canals to connect it to both the Euphrates and the Khabur river. You can do the math: the perfectly circular outer walls, with a diameter of 1.9 km, enclose an area of about 280 hectares! (The inner walls enclose about 130 ha.) Who built it? Who built Thebes of the seven gates? So many questions! Then, we head west to the lower Diyala river, to see the temples in Tutub and the statuary in Eshnunna. What can famous art tell us about the chronology of the late early Early Dynastic period? Also, skipping forward in time: you're never going to guess where this textile worker who died young under unclear circumstances got her pendant from. Finally: the text is broken, but Ningishzida receives a blessing, possibly from Ereshkigal, the underworld goddess who fell in love with Nergal back in episode 6. Questions? Feedback? Email us at drumbeatforeverafter@gmail.com. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram @drumbeatforever Works cited

The Anunnaki (also transcribed as Anunaki, Anunna, Ananaki, and other variations) are a group of deities that appear in the mythological traditions of the ancient Sumerians, Akkadians, Assyrians, and Babylonians. Descriptions of how many Anunnaki there were and what role they fulfilled are inconsistent and often contradictory. In the earliest Sumerian writings about them, which come from the Post-Akkadian period, the Anunnaki are the most powerful deities in the pantheon, descendants of An, the god of the heavens, and their primary function is to decree the fates of humanity. In Inanna's Descent into the Netherworld, the Anunnaki are portrayed as seven judges who sit before the throne of Ereshkigal in the Underworld. Later Akkadian texts, such as The Epic of Gilgamesh, follow this portrayal. During the Old Babylonian period, the Anunnaki were believed to be the chthonic deities of the Underworld, while the gods of the heavens were known as the Igigi. The ancient Hittites identified the Anunnaki as the oldest generation of gods, who had been overthrown and banished to the Underworld by the younger gods.

Content Warning: Mentions suicide, substance use, bereavement, language.   Sarah Durham Wilson is the author of Maiden to Mother: Unlocking Our Archetypal Journey into the Mature Feminine.   Her own mother died when Sarah was just a teenager and life sort of spiralled from there for a while. She came to professional success through journalism and her stints writing for the likes of Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair and Spin Magazine. She also found her voice on social media a decade ago as Do It Girl, a popular blog-facebook presence for young women seeking a spiritual experience. But it was hitting rock bottom, struggling with substance use and just kind of chaotic dysfunction that Sarah came to understand the trauma of being an Unmothered Woman.   She has since deepened her studies, diving into the works of Marion Woodman and apprenticing to the myths of Inanna and Ereshkigal, devoting herself to the work of elevating the Mature Feminine as well as her activism work, intersectional feminism, decolonization, divesting from whiteness, and eradication of the patriarchy.   Check out Sarah's website, themotherspirit.com Plus her Instagram and her book. Support the women of Iran.  

Colabora Con Biblioteca Del Metal: En Twitter - https://twitter.com/Anarkometal72 Y Donanos Unas Propinas En BAT. Para Seguir Con El Proyecto De la Biblioteca Mas Grande Del Metal. Muchisimas Gracias. La Tienda De Biblioteca Del Metal: Encontraras, Ropa, Accesorios,Decoracion, Ect... Todo Relacionado Al Podcats Biblioteca Del Metal Y Al Mundo Del Heavy Metal. Descubrela!!!!!! Ideal Para Llevarte O Regalar Productos Del Podcats De Ivoox. (Por Tiempo Limitado) https://teespring.com/es/stores/biblioteca-del-metal-1 Toifelthal se forma en Iruña en otoño de 2017, juntando a músicos con experiencia en otros grupos: Mikel voces (Dubrofnik), Jonny guitarras y coros (Voltaje), Carlos teclados y coros (Kharmia), Mikel batería (Blast Wave) y Jonathan bajo (Black Beltz), influenciados por el rock Old School: Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Deep Purple, NWOBHM, Mercyful Fate… Toifelthal debutan en directo el 15 de septiembre de 2018. En abril 2019 salió el primer LP autoproducido “VIPERINE” disponible en todas las plataformas digitales como Spotify, Weezer, Itunes, etc., y también en: Lacasadeldisco, Metal on Metal Distribution y en Demonshop para copias físicas. Disponibles camisetas en Morgana Music Events Market. El álbum tuvo buena acogida y permitió a Toifelthal telonear a Jorn en su concierto en Pamplona y además consiguió el fichaje por parte de la agencia de Management Morgana Music Events además de aparecer en la Heavy Rock, la Metal Hammer, en MariskalRock, La Emisión Pirata en YouTube y en diversos programas de Radio. Por desgracia, la gira por toda España que estaba programada se truncó por la pandemia justo después de hacer dos fechas en Madrid. En 2021 a pesar de las restricciones Toifelthal realiza cuatro conciertos en Pamplona, Villava, Agurain y Amurrio y entran al estudio a grabar su segundo disco “Queen of Darkness “ el cual se publica en enero del 2022. Toifelthal son: Jonny Arrastia Espinal-Guitarra Carlos Zugasti Azcona-Teclado coros Mikel Janices Zamborain-Voz Jonathan Solana García-Bajo Mikel Iragui Subiza-Bateria Han pasado tres largos años desde que la banda de Iruña nos sorprendiera con su disco debut, aquel fenomenal Viperine, un disco repleto de sabor a la vieja escuela del hard rock y del heavy metal de corte setentero dónde las esencias de bandas como Uriah Heep, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath o Mercyful Fate fluían por todos sus cortes y que con este nuevo disco siguen reivindicando a su particular manera. Como los buenos artesanos, Toifelthal se han tomado su tiempo para seguir puliendo milimétricamente y con elegancia su sonido. Queen Of Darkness es un disco que supone un soplo de aire fresco y originalidad en un panorama metalero nacional en el que la mediocridad y la caspa sigue campando a sus anchas. Es una pena que bandas como Toifelthal pasen desapercibidas para un público que prefiere bailar al ritmo de las grandes campañas publicitarias pagadas en medios que arriesgarse a buscar la calidad. Este segundo trabajo de los pamplonicas está repleto de poderosos y exquisitos riffs de inspiración setentera, cuya magnifica fusión con los teclados harán la delicia de cualquier amante de los sonidos retros y tradicionales del heavy metal. Temas como la inicial Pussy Rider, la genial Fire o la potente Bloody Mary son buena muestra del buen hacer del quinteto pamplonés. Pero Queen Of Darkness es un disco que tiene muchísimos matices, la épica está presente en un tema como Rise From The Ashes con el que dan ganas de apretar los puños y cantar su estribillo a grito pelado. La velocidad del heavy mas macarra y chalequero se desata en Motor Kult y la oscuridad y el misticismo, que tan bien domina Toifelthal, se nos aparece en la homónima Queen Of Darkness, con la colaboración de Alfonso Zarzosa en la guitarra solista, y en Lord Espectral, tema cantado en alemán y cuya poderosa parte final es una gozada. Siempre es de agradecer escuchar trabajos donde todos los componentes brillan con luz propia para acabar creando una máquina perfectamente ensamblada, los riffs se complementan a la perfección con los teclados a la vez que el bajo y la batería crean una base rítmica demoledora y si a todo eso le sumamos un gran trabajo vocal el resultado es fácil, un disco que no puede fallar. En definitiva Toifelthal han vuelto a lo grande con un disco maduro y cuidado que sin alejarse en exceso de los que fue su trabajo de debut se nota que ha sido mimado a conciencia, una banda currante que han aprovechado estos tiempos pandémicos para componer un álbum francamente notable, mientras la banda aprovechaba cualquier oportunidad para tocar en vivo en estos tiempos tan difíciles para la música en directo. Si lo tuyo son los sonidos retros, potentes y pesados o simplemente estas cansado de los mismo de siempre y buscas algo fresco ni te lo pienses, Toifelthal pueden alegrarte el día. Tracklist: • Dearg Due: Intro instrumental. El nombre Dearg Due es un mito celta irlandés referente a una vampiresa • Pussy Rider: Canción muy heavy que a mi me recuerda a los Black Sabbath de Tony Martin. Trata de una persona que se siente utilizada sexualmente y cosificada. • Fire: Es un tema que comienza con un piano y que tiene un toque a UFO, salvando las diferencias. • Moto kult: Es la canción cañera de Toifelthal. Tiene un aire muy Motorhead con unos coros entre épicos y punkarras. Tiene un solo de hammond para darle nuestro estilo. Y habla de subirse a la moto con la pareja a correr aventuras. • Heavy Duty: Tema de Mikel, nuestro cantante. Habla sobre esos amigos que todos tenemos que no evolucionan en la vida. Tiene un aire muy setentero con gran presencia de hammond , muy Uriah Heep, UFO… Habla de deseo, libertad, vida, sexo…fuego!! • Queen of Darkness: Trata sobre Ereshkigal, señora del inframundo de la mitología mesopotámica. Es la hermana de Ishtar y está casada con Nergal. Canción con toques orientales y con una gran presencia de teclados. para la obtencion del disco en su totalidad: https://www.facebook.com/toifelthal Videoclips de Toifelthal: https://youtu.be/bJ2dN8tfe_4 https://youtu.be/uWosa6Bmrjo Para contactar con Toifelthal: En Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/toifelthal o en nuestro correo Eva.Benito.mme@gmail.com Eva Benito (Manager): 619972595

What it's All About:Another Middle Eastern form of paganism. It is somewhat similar to Mesopotamian paganism. Much like the Romans borrowed the Greek gods from the Greeks, Mesopotamia borrowed from tribes like the Sumerians. I will discuss some interesting facts about the ancient Sumerians and how this pantheon can be incorporated into modern paganism. The Spirit Guide of the Week is Ereshkigal. And the Dream Symbols are Sandals, Scalp, and Sea.Songs Featured:1. Midsummer Fever by David Wood2. Midsummer Lullaby by Eleanor and the Lost3. Ancient Mother by Helouise Pilkington4. There is Only the Dead Inside by Inkubus Sukkubus5. Inanna Blue by Hecate's Wheel6. Sea Chant by Vanessa Cardui7. Deep Relaxation in 5 minutes (Guided 5 Minute Calming Meditation) by the Honest Guys8. The Calm Before the Storm by Arcana9. Inanna by Reclaiming featuring Suzanne SterlingLinks Mentioned:- Sumer - www.history.com/topics/ancient-mi…20understand%20it- Sumer - en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sumer- 9 Things You Didn't Know About the Ancient Sumerians - www.history.com/news/9-things-you…ancient-sumerians- Sumerians - www.worldhistory.org/Sumerians/- Ereshkigal - en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ereshkigal- The Ishtar Gate - www.theishtargate.com/- Interview: Temple of Sumer - witchesandpagans.com/pagan-culture-…-of-sumer.html- Temple of Sumer - www.facebook.com/groups/TempleofSumer/- Pagan Trinity, Holy Trinity - rowman.com/ISBN/9781461626701/…estern-Civilization- #sumerian paganism - www.tumblr.com/tagged/sumerian%20paganism?sort=top- cuneiform - www.britannica.com/topic/cuneiform- Music From the Goddess' Vault on Ko-Fi - ko-fi.com/goddessvault- Episode 8: The Sumerians - The Fall of the First Cities - www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2lJUOv0hLA&t=3s- The Complete and Concise History of the Sumerians and Early Bronze Age Mesopotamia (7000-2000 BC) - www.youtube.com/watch?v=szFjxmY7jQA&t=3s- A Short History of Sumer and the Sumerian Civilization from Mesopotamia - www.youtube.com/watch?v=JS4dc1lEhZk&t=2s

What it's All About: Another Middle Eastern form of paganism. It is somewhat similar to Mesopotamian paganism. Much like the Romans borrowed the Greek gods from the Greeks, Mesopotamia borrowed from tribes like the Sumerians. I will discuss some interesting facts about the ancient Sumerians and how this pantheon can be incorporated into modern paganism. The Spirit Guide of the Week is Ereshkigal. And the Dream Symbols are Sandals, Scalp, and Sea. Not for those of you who listening to the podcast here: For some reason, I cannot add any of the links on here. You might have to go to the blog. Songs Featured: Midsummer Fever by David Wood Midsummer Lullaby by Eleanor and the Lost Ancient Mother by Helouise Pilkington There is Only the Dead Inside by Inkubus Sukkubus Inanna Blue by Hecate's Wheel Sea Chant by Vanessa Cardui Deep Relaxation in 5 minutes (Guided 5 Minute Calming Meditation) by the Honest Guys The Calm Before the Storm by Arcana Inanna by Reclaiming featuring Suzanne Sterling

Ereshkigal was the goddess of the underworld in Mesopotamian mythology. She was regarded as the queen of the Great Earth, and she was one of the many deities that ruled the underworld in the region. Her main temple was in Kutha, which was once a part of Nergal's empire but her cult had a limited scope. The two main myths about her are the tale of Inanna falling into the underworld and her marriage to Nergal. Other myths also refer to her as a son of various gods, such as Ninazu and Ningishzida.The story of Ishtar's descent dates back to ancient Mesopotamia and is written in cunniform, the ancient script of the Summerians. It is believed that it symbolized the seasons and the development of rituals and doctrines related to the afterlife. This is also intended to illustrate the various rituals and doctrines that were commonly practiced in the temple-schools of the region.Ereshkigal and her various demonic creatures were believed to have been the inspiration for some of the Greek myths, such as the stories of the Persephone and Hades. The Sheol concept in Judasiam was also closely related to the mythology of the underworld in Mesopotamia. However, since the monotheistic tradition prevented the goddess from being able to rule the underworld, Sheol was not able to include her.Read more about her at https://mythlok.com/ereshkigal/

Our Story Inanna, Goddess of the Upperworld, is at the core of a 6,000 year old myth from ancient Sumer. Upon the request of her sister Ereshkigal, Inanna pays a visit to the Underworld. As she passes through each of the seven gates, more of her symbols of power, intellect, and wealth are stripped away. Upon arrival, Inanna is sentenced to death by her sister Ereshkigal. As is the way of myth, death is intricately connected to rebirth. Through the intercession of her father, Enki, God of Wisdom and Light, Inanna is revived and ascends to the Upperworld, renewed and transformed. At least… those are the basics. Pearl's retelling of the story is a deep dive into contemporary dreams and timeless truths about the emerging of the feminine and the merging with the masculine. Our Guest Pearl Gregor is an explorer and a seeker. She is a writer, dream coach, story teller, author of the three books in the series Dreams Along the Way, and an international public speaker.  Pearl is a farmer, grandmother, a blogger, and a Crone of wisdom.  Join Pearl to explore the deep mysteries of dreams, psyche and soul. You can read her books, or join her in her latest passion, a Dream Readers' Myth Circle. Find Pearl at http://www.dreamsalongtheway.com (www.DreamsAlongTheWay.com) and on https://www.facebook.com/pecgregor (Facebook ) andhttps://www.instagram.com/gregor.pearl/ ( Instagram) Our Conversation This story of Inanna is woven with seven years of dreams that came to Pearl at midlife. We explore: Pearl had never heard of Inanna when images from this myth came to her in dreams. The book https://amzn.to/3jjvHn3 (Descent to the Goddess: A Way of Initiation for Women Sylvia Perera) appeared as a guide and confirmation.  We need both the light and the dark, the masculine and the feminine, though the patriarchal mindset has shaped our perspective of what the feminine should be The role of “strange women” in a woman's dreamlife; the integration of the “strange” parts of the self and the movement into circles of women The process of “birthing a new world,” as described by Jean Shinoda Bolen in  https://amzn.to/3JjJDrH (Moving Toward the Millionth Circle) A perspective on “intersectionality”: Pearl's experience with a diverse group of folks in one of her dream groups in which they explored the universal language of dreams The power of “collective dreaming.” “Were we living in an aboriginal community in these difficult times, we'd be getting together over the breakfast table to discuss our dreams.” Talking about dreams and mythology can guide the way. Learn more about Marisa's online community, the https://www.marisagoudy.com/sovereign-writers (Sovereign Writers Knot) More of Pearl and Marisa in the conversation series, https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyZbN9gz4oA4mLR4bbP8nnFV9X2pyPeHy (Dream, Sovereignty, and Wise Woman Ways) As Pearl says, “Skip Descartes and what you learned in school, there is nothing logical about rebirthing an entire universe.”  Our Music Music at the start of the show is by the wonderful Beth Sweeney and Billy Hardy, a Celtic Fiddle and multi-instrumental Duo based on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The traditional Irish reel we play at the start of the show is called The College Groves. Find out about their music and shows at: billyandbeth.com Connect With Your Own Stories and Work with MarisaBook a Healing for Heroines session: a unique blend of energy medicine, intuitive guidance, and the language of archetypes and mythology to help you work through the tangles of life so you can weave a new story. Explore Marisa's work and get a copy of The Sovereignty Knot : www.marisagoudy.com Follow the show on https://www.instagram.com/knotworkpodcast/ (Instagram), https://www.facebook.com/knotworkstorytelling (Facebook), and jhttps://www.facebook.com/groups/4429930243750952 (oin our vibrant listeners' community).

VIRM is revealed! The trap is sprung!! The mirror is in place! Hayden Workman returns as a guest and brings along his WeBAG cohost Patrick. Alex finally gets the chance to talk about Inanna and Ereshkigal, and what connection these Sumerian godesses have on our tale. Check out Patrick and Hayden's work here: https://www.facebook.com/badatgamescast or https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/were-bad-at-games/id1275373713

Salomé Guadalupe Ingelmo (Madrid, 1973). Formada entre España e Italia, se doctora en Filosofía y Letras por la UAM, donde imparte cursos sobre lenguas y culturas mesopotámicas desde 2006. Durante los diez años que residió en Italia desarrolló labores como traductora y docente de español. Ha recibido premios literarios nacionales e internacionales de narrativa y dramaturgia, así como alguna mención en la modalidad de poesía. Sus textos han aparecido en numerosas antologías colectivas. Cuenta también con publicaciones de narrativa, ensayo y dramaturgia individuales. Además de artículos sobre Orientalística (fundamentalmente religión e iconografía mesopotámica), publica asiduamente ensayos literarios, tanto académicos como de divulgación, en diversas revistas nacionales e internacionales. Comprometida con la promoción de la cultura, sus reseñas literarias y de cine, así como notas de actualidad, han aparecido en revistas y magazines en papel y digitales de España, México, Colombia y Venezuela. En la última década ha sido jurado y coordinadora de concursos literarios internacionales convocados por diversas universidades desde Colombia y Finlandia. Sus obras narrativas de terror y ciencia ficción pueden consultarse en Biblioteca Tercera Fundación. Más información sobre su trayectoria literaria: http://sites.google.com/site/salomeguadalupeingelmo/ y http://salomeguadalupeingelmo.blogspot.com/ Su Facebook es @saloguadalupeingelmo Relato contenido en "Lo Siniestro", VV. AA.; Ed. Bala Perdida Comprar libro: https://balaperdidaeditorial.com/producto/lo-siniestro/ Notas pie de página.- G. de Silva y Figueroa. Comentarios de D. García de Silva y Figueroa de la embajada que de parte del rey de España Don Felipe III hizo al Xa Abas de Persia. Edición y prólogo de M. Serrano Sanz. Madrid: Sociedad de Bibliófilos Españoles, 1903 (2 vol.), 389. Por primera vez un erudito europeo señalaba que los signos en forma de pirámide, es decir el cuneiforme, constituían escritura y no mero adorno. Sobre este nefasto hábito da testimonio G. de Silva y Figueroa. Op. cit., 388. La anécdota es verídica (G. de Silva y Figueroa. Op. cit., 381-382). La anécdota de las cigüeñas, que al anochecer regresaban a sus nidos sobre las columnas de Persépolis, es cierta. No obstante, el pájaro negro constituye una licencia por parte de la autora. Se denominaba bizcocho a galletas de harina de trigo cocidas varias veces para que soportasen los largos viajes. Por su dureza, a menudo habían de ser consumidas mojándolas previamente. Entre las aves de corral, los patos, gansos y pavos se preferían en las travesías marinas a las gallinas, que sufren más frecuentemente el mal de mar y podían perecer por su causa. Nombre que los portugueses daban al escorbuto, una enfermedad que los navegantes españoles denominaron “peste de las naos” y los ingleses, “peste del mar”. Aunque nos consta que el escorbuto fue observado y descrito por Plinio —que se refiere a él al hablar de los soldados de Germánico en Flandes— y también por Estrabón —que lo menciona en relación a los ejércitos de Galio en Arabia—, el mal amenazó especialmente el norte de Europa durante la Edad Media, cuando se volvió endémico. El escritor y cartógrafo Olaus Magnus, pionero en los estudios de historia y antropología sobre el Norte de Europa que dedica el grueso de su obra a los pueblos escandinavos, se refiere a la enfermedad llamada scorbok, que provocaba úlceras en la boca y aparecía en las plazas sitiadas. No obstante, el escorbuto sembró el terror sobre todo en los siglos XVI-XVIII, con la proliferación de las largas travesías oceánicas, y disuadió a muchos marineros de enrolarse. Don García describió los efectos del mal sobre otros marineros en su viaje de ida a Persia: “hinchándose las piernas y muslos, con unas manchas negras o moradas de malísima y oculta calidad, subiéndose desde allí y poco a poco al vientre y luego al pecho, a donde luego mata” (G. de Silva y Figueroa. Op. cit., 85). Lev. 17:11; Deut. 12:23. También, en la novela Drácula, de Stoker, en boca de Renfield. El propio Don García describe estos peces (G. de Silva y Figueroa. Op. cit.,10-11). Según la antropogonía acadia presente en el Atramhasis IV 188-VI 289 (trad. en Jean Bottéro - Samuel N. Kramer. Uomini e dei della Mesopotamia. Turín: Einaudi, 1992, 570-574). Del verso 251 al 270, reconstruidos mediante el fragmento K. 7816+ de la Biblioteca de Asurbanipal, conservado en el British Museum. En las fuentes textuales mesopotámicas, las almas de los muertos aparecen recubiertas de plumas (Poema de Gilgamesh VII 161-190; trad. en G. Pettinato – S. M. Chiodi - G. Del Monte. La Saga di Gilgamesh. Milán: Rusconi, 1993, 185-86). En muchas culturas las almas de los muertos y las divinidades infernales tienen aspecto de ave. Los antiguos egipcios, por ejemplo, representaban el Akh —el alma del difunto o su fantasma— mediante el ibis, y el Ba —la parte del individuo que sobrevivía al cuerpo y que determinaba la personalidad—, con un pájaro de cabeza humana. Descenso de Ishtar a los infiernos 1-11; trad. en Bottéro - Kramer, Op. cit., 335: A la Tierra sin Regreso, el reino de Ereshkigal, Ishtar, hija de Sin, decidió ir. Decidió ir la hija de Sin a la casa sombría, la morada de Irkalla, a la casa de la que nunca salen quienes han entrado, por el camino que carece de retorno; a la casa en la que quienes entran son privados de la luz, donde su sustento es el polvo y su alimento el lodo, sumidos en las tinieblas, sin ver nunca el día, revestidos, como aves, por un manto de plumas, mientras sobre la puerta y el cerrojo se acumula el polvo. Más adelante, el mismo poema hace referencia a las siete puertas del infierno, en cada una de las cuales Ishtar es despojada de una de sus prendas hasta quedar totalmente desnuda e indefensa (en Bottéro - Kramer, Op. cit., 337-38). Muchos remedios fueron peculiares y de escasa utilidad hasta que el medico de la marina inglesa James Lind, autor de Un tratado del escorbuto (1753), demostró que la ingesta de zumo de limón prevenía y curaba el escorbuto. Desde entonces el jugo de limón concentrado, tratado y embotellado para su conservación, fue obligatorio en los barcos ingleses, donde se consumía mezclado con aguardiente. Una vez se hubo comprobado que la falta de vitamina C provocaba la enfermedad, se adoptaron otros remedios efectivos. Casi al mismo tiempo que Lind recomendaba el jugo de limón, Mac Bride proponía el consumo de la denominada cerveza escorbútica o drech: una infusión de cebada germinada, tostada y molida similar al café y fácilmente conservable en botes de lata. Ambos remedios, el de Lind y el de Mac Bride, fueron combinados en 1755 durante la expedición de James Cook. También otros fueron puestos en práctica: coles ácidas deshidratadas en Alemania y Escandinavia; jarabe de hojas de pino cocidas en Finlandia, Suecia y Canadá; tortas de harina de centeno en Rusia o quina con patata en España. La primera expedición sin bajas por escorbuto fue la del español Malaspina, a finales del XVIII. Tras dos meses de travesía, sólo cinco marineros se vieron afectados por un brote que el médico de la nave, Pedro María González, gran estudioso del mal, controló con éxito gracias a las numerosas naranjas y limones que cargó para el viaje y a la fruta fresca que buscó apenas alcanzaron Guam. En el sigo XVII, algunos postulados sostenían que la sangre animal estaría más libre de vicios y pasiones que la humana, y ofrecería las virtudes de los donantes: docilidad y paciencia en el cordero, fortaleza y serenidad en la ternera. El francés Jean Baptiste Denis, médico de Luis XIV, defendió esta teoría. A él se deben, en 1667, las primeras transfusiones confirmadas de sangre animal a seres humanos. Dados los desiguales resultados y la polémica que suscitó esta práctica, el Parlamento francés la prohibió en 1670. También en Gran Bretaña se tomó la misma decisión y, en 1679, tras algunas muertes causadas por estas transfusiones, el Papa extendió la prohibición a toda Europa. Según la nota Ms 17629, conservada en la Biblioteca Nacional, a los dos días el ataúd se hundió. Plinio aseguraba que el alma de Aristeas de Proconeso salió por su boca en forma de cuervo. El cuervo aparece asociado a la muerte en el Canto de las Albas, de tradición balcánica. Numerosos pueblos creen que el alma del difunto es conducida al más allá por un guía, a menudo un perro o un ave, y por eso sacrifican estos animales cuando alguien fallece. Muchas culturas antiguas identifican al vampiro femenino con aves, especialmente nocturnas. La Lilith de la tradición rabínica se comporta como un búho y parece heredera de la lilitu sumeria —un demonio mencionado en el poema Gilgamesh, Enkidu y los Infiernos (línea 44; trad. en G. Pettinato – S. M. Chiodi – G. Del Monte, Op. cit., 330)—, a la vez que precursora de la Lamia griega. En realidad, son numerosos los demonios menores que en Mesopotamia se imaginaron con alas. A la vista del Relieve Burney y otras fuentes iconográficas y textuales, también entre los acadios existieron seres relacionados con el reino de los muertos, como la Lamashtu, que amenazaban la seguridad de niños y hombres, a quienes chupaban la sangre. Este monstruo con aspecto de pájaro o atractiva mujer con alas y garras de rapaz por pies pudo haber estado estrechamente relacionado con Ishtar, divinidad de facetas eróticas y ctónicas. También los árabes creían que las mujeres que hubiesen perdido un hijo se convertirían en búhos —animales impuros para los hebreos (Lev. 11:17)— e intentarían robar los bebés de otras. Los clásicos denominaban a las brujas que chupaban la sangre de los bebés striges, y el strix era un pájaro nocturno, probablemente el cárabo. Las Keres, oscuros seres alados con largos dientes y uñas, buscaban, según los griegos (Escudo de Heracles, 248-57), la sangre de los cadáveres o agonizantes en los campos de batalla. La anécdota es recordada en G. de Silva y Figueroa. Op. cit., 32. Musicas: 01.- PGM Misterio Autor: Antonio Muñoz Guirado en colaboración con Jim Bryan y Brendan Brown - Cedida en exclusiva para este programa de Relatos de Misterio y Suspense. 02.- D&D Ambience - Haunted Ship Interior - Ghosts, Sea, Unsettling. Michael Ghelfi - RPG Audio Patreon : http://bit.ly/Patreon-MG GET THE MUSIC ♬♪ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ Bandcamp : http://bit.ly/Bandcamp-MG Spotify : http://bit.ly/Spotify-MG DISCUSSIONS & SOCIAL MEDIA ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ Discord : http://bit.ly/Discord-MG Facebook : http://bit.ly/FacebookMG- Twitter : http://bit.ly/Twitter-MiG Twitch : http://bit.ly/Twitch-MG Instagram (Music) : http://bit.ly/Instagram-MG Instagram (Me) : http://bit.ly/Instagram-Pers ALL THE INFOS & EMAIL ADDRESS ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ Official Website : http://bit.ly/Official-MG 03.- Música para Conectarte con los Dioses Egipcios - MAU Nueva Consciencia - Música & Composición: Javier Sanchis Suscribete a su canal aquí: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcAk... Sígueles por Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maurevista/ Sígueles por Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shimizutenchi/ Donaciones & Colaboraciones: https://www.paypal.me/ctenchishimizu 04.- Música De Terror Sin Copyright - Youtube Nota: Este audio no se realiza con fines comerciales ni lucrativos. Es de difusión enteramente gratuita e intenta dar a conocer tanto a los escritores de los relatos y cuentos como a los autores de las músicas. Escucha el episodio completo en la app de iVoox, o descubre todo el catálogo de iVoox Originals

Ep 9 We think we can control our emotions, stuff them, or hide them. What does it take to "work" through emotions? Even after Inanna loses all her possessions, she demands Ereshkigal's throne - what is she thinking? Like and follow this podcast to enjoy interpretations of myths and fairy tales with applications influenced by Jungian analysis ~ plus original music & meditations, and interviews. goddessarchetypecode.com

In Ep 8 - Inanna is required to have her possessions stripped from her before she can meet Ereshkigal., her sister / her shadow side. I use Chakras to describe the psychological meanings of the items she loses at each gate to the underworld - or the Dark Night of the Soul.  Like and follow this podcast to enjoy interpretations of myths and fairy tales with applications influenced by Jungian analysis ~ plus original music & meditations, and interviews. goddessarchetypecode.com

Today we have pop culture references! We are going to look briefly at Tiamat, who shows up in some Dungeons and Dragons stuff, and then we are going to look at the god Nergal, who is a popular god in the Warhammer franchise under the name Nurgle, briefly comparing the Mesopotamian god with his fictional counterpart. Then, the meat of the episode will be one of the world's oldest romantic comedies, the tale of how Nergal came to marry Ereshkigal, queen of the underworld. Honestly, the show is going to mostly be the ancient myth, the pop culture references are mostly just me seeing if I can boost my podcast numbers. Online at oldeststories.net.

Queen of the Great Earth, the Sumerian goddess Ereshkigal knows all about sister wounds, shadow work, being a Queen, and yes, zombies. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/witchandgoddess/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/witchandgoddess/support

This episode features "Dancing With Ereshkigal" written by Sameem Siddiqui. Published in the May 2021 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/siddiqui_05_21 Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

This episode features "Dancing With Ereshkigal" written by Sameem Siddiqui. Published in the May 2021 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/siddiqui_05_21 Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

Who were the Anunnaki? From pseudo scientific books to cinema like Ancient Aliens, these mythological figures have claimed a place in the popular imagination but amidst all of the fiction and misinformation we are left wondering who they actually were. Dr. Miano is here to answer that question as he guides us through the proper context of the Anunnaki, their place in ancient Mesopotamia and the modern fiction that surrounds them. Wikipedia Reference Below. The Anunnaki (also transcribed as Anunaki, Annunaki, Anunna, Ananaki and other variations) are a group of deities who appear in the mythological traditions of the ancient Sumerians, Akkadians, Assyrians and Babylonians. Descriptions of how many Anunnaki there were and what role they fulfilled are inconsistent and often contradictory. In the earliest Sumerian writings about them, which come from the Post-Akkadian period, the Anunnaki are the most powerful deities in the pantheon, descendants of An and Ki, the god of the heavens and the goddess of earth, and their primary function is to decree the fate of Sumerians. In Inanna's Descent into the Netherworld, the Anunnaki are portrayed as seven judges who sit before the throne of Ereshkigal in the Underworld. Later Akkadian texts, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh, follow this portrayal. During the Old Babylonian period, the Anunnaki were believed to be the chthonic deities of the Underworld, while the gods of the heavens were known as the Igigi. The ancient Hittites identified the Anunnaki as the oldest generation of gods, who had been overthrown and banished to the Underworld by the younger gods. The Anunnaki have featured prominently in modern pseudoarchaeological works, such as the books of Erich von Däniken and Zecharia Sitchin. Celebrate the birthplace of civilization and get our Sumerian Shirt | Hoodie | Coffee Mug today! CLOTHES: https://teespring.com/Sumerian-Clothing?pid=212&cid=5818 COFFEE MUGS: https://teespring.com/sumerian-coffee-mug?pid=658&cid=102908 Subscribe to the channel of Dr. Miano at World of Antiquity here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC64TYItcUS940vNWhQRnJWg Follow him on Twitter: https://twitter.com/DrDavidMiano Get his free online book "Why Ancient History Matters" here: https://mailchi.mp/a402112ea4db/why-ancient-history-matters Academia Profile: https://ucsd.academia.edu/DavidMiano Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/antiquorum Video Attribution: kristina gaboyan in 60°C visiting the ziqqurat Chogha Zanbil & The Palace of Susa The Ancient Middle East Every Year by the awesome Ollie Bye: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oys6EQtpCJk Check out our new store! https://teespring.com/stores/the-history-shop Get your Sea Peoples | Late Bronze Age Merch below! Mugs: https://teespring.com/new-sea-peoples-mediterranean?pid=658&cid=102950 Hoodies | Shirts | Tank Tops: https://teespring.com/get-sea-peoples-mediterranean?pid=212&cid=5819 Get your Hittite Merch below! Mugs: https://teespring.com/HittiteEmpireMug?pid=658&cid=102950&sid=front Shirts | Tank Tops | Hoodies: https://teespring.com/hittite-empire-shirt?pid=2&cid=2397 --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/antiquity-middlages/support

-- Olá você e seja muito bem vindo ao Webitcast, o podcast da Webitcoin sobre criptomoedas e tecnologia -- No Webitcast Live #82 vamos conversar com Isnaylha P2P sobre diversos temas ligados ao espaço cripto, dentre eles, é claro, P2P! ===================================================== www.webitcoin.com.br -- Youtube - Inscreva-se! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJMuckwJEqCVKYO304Fdb5Q -- Facebook - Notícias em tempo real. Curta nossa página no Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/webitcoinoficial/ -- Instagram - Siga-nos e fique por dentro de tudo o que acontece no mundo cripto! https://www.instagram.com/webitcoin/ -- Grupo no Telegram https://t.me/tradebitcoinnow Baixe nossas planilhas lá, GRÁTIS! -- Twitter https://twitter.com/webtcoficial -- www.webitcoin.com.br O melhor canal de notícias do país! ==================================================

Storie dalla Mitologia, lettura e messa in voce delle storie degli dei, eroi, guerre, amori e inganni. Da Occidente a Oriente. Avventure fantastiche dalle tradizioni culturali e religiose dei popoli di tutto il mondo. Come un piacere del ritorno alle origini. Continue reading

Storie dalla Mitologia, lettura e messa in voce delle storie degli dei, eroi, guerre, amori e inganni. Da Occidente a Oriente. Avventure fantastiche dalle tradizioni culturali e religiose dei popoli di tutto il mondo. Come un piacere del ritorno alle origini. Continue reading

This is the fourth and final episode in the 4-part series on the Sumerian myth of Inanna. We've crossed into the new year in the meantime, and this mixing of beginnings and endings felt appropriate for this myth and for these times.What is the difference between a "beginning" and an "end?" What binds the realms of the Great Above and the Great Below? What is the shared reality of Inanna and her sister Ereshkigal, and Dumuzi and the rest of us mere mortals, for that matter?I hope you enjoy the story. thanks for listening and keep the mystery in your life alive...Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/mythmatterspodcast)

In the very first episode of Legendary, host Tina Escudero introduces herself and discusses the legends of La Llorona and the Goddess sisters Inanna and Ereshkigal.

We're back and we're feelin a lot about our feelins! Banah reads a poem called “if the people should one day choose life,” which will be published in the forthcoming @afghanpunkmagazine. Zhe talks about how to make spaces of freedom when we are unfree in the material world cuz “it's a caravan, not a sprint.” As Banah says “the more we can cultivate spaces of freedom for ourselves, even when we're unfree in the larger world, we can time travel to a world where we are free.” Weyam talks about how to commit to non-harming when you've been hurt in a day to day way. Weyam shares an old Arab Muallaqat by Amr Ibn Kulthum where a Bedouin tribe leader cuts off the head of a king because his mom got insulted (too real). Banah shares the holy Assyrian & Sumerian story of Ereshkigal & Nergal, and how turning toward pleasure, turning your feelings might be the key to getting free. As Weyam says “If we're going to survive as a literal species through increasing climate crisis, displacement, and refugeedom, we have to be able to metabolize experiences of senses of violation to our dignity faster and more absolutely, not in just a superficial way. And the way you do that is by completely feeling every feeling. The injustice, the oppression, the smallness, the pain, the love beneath the pain that makes you feel the anger, and fully feeling it until it moves. " songs & plugs: Nia by Oum Itha al Sha'ab Yawman Arad al Hayat Turning toward Conflict Workbook: https://www.weyamhealing.com/offerings

A necromantic caper. Support the show and gain access to over three dozen bonus episodes by becoming a patron on Patreon. Rate and review the show to help us reach more readers and listeners. Not enough science-fiction and fantasy in your life? Join us on The Gene Wolfe Literary Podcast! Love Star Trek? Come find us on the Lower Decks! Neil Gaiman fan? Love comics? Join us on Hanging Out With the Dream King: A Neil Gaiman Podcast. Check out Glenn's medieval history podcast Agnus! Find out how you can commission a special bonus episode here. Join the conversation on the Claytemple Forum. Follow Claytemple Media on Facebook and Twitter, and sign up for our newsletter. Follow Glenn on Facebook and Twitter. Check out Glenn's weird fiction story "Goodbye to All That" on the Tales to Terrify Podcast. Next time: A pair of bonus episodes on Roger Zelazny's novella The Graveyard Heart. Music: http://www.purple-planet.com

A reading of the myth of Ishtar and her descent into the Underworld in seek of her lost love. But the Underworld is the realm of her dark sister Ereshkigal and she is not best pleased to see her sister of the Heavens.

Stir your cauldrons! Light the fire! And prepare to be intoxicated! This is a delicious episode full of inspiring ways to conjure up magick and desire in the kitchen. Lucy explores the real-life magick of the enchanting film Like Water for Chocolate (including the Maiden, Mother and Crone, spellworking with recipes and how to overcome hexes and curses and unwelcomespirits). She interviews Polixeni - The Sensual Chef about her love of magick, cooking with the Goddess and making every meal a rite of love and pleasure, and finally explores the warming, healing power of Cacao - and examines why this potent power food is having such a moment. With music by Wendy Rule, Spiral Dance and SJ Tucker, this Witchcast is a feast for the senses! Songs are Ereshkigal by Wendy Rule, from the album Black Snake, the Goddess and the Weaver by Spiral Dance, from the album Woman of the Earth, and Firebird's Child by SJ Tucker from the album Blessings. The intro music is "We Are One" by the band Nordic Daughter. Find the band on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/nordicdaughter/ Or visit their website - http://nordicdaughter.comMusic throughout the show includes tracks from Darksphere EmpireDownload the Darksphere Empire album here - https://darksphere-empire.bandcamp.com/album/after-the-rainSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Show #434 Recorded live from my house on July 14, 2020 Special background music from Ennio Morricone - Il Grande Silenzio soundtrack **Playlist** 1) To Conceal the Horns - Realm of Averiandur 2) Somniate - In Bone Incorruptible 3) Glass Coffin - Call of the Shadow Wraith 4) Gramarye - Amulet of Ereshkigal **talk** 5) Notorius - Face Of Sorrow 6) Seuls Nos Soupirs - Au dedans des nuits 7) Nordtor - Untitled (2) 8) Cetăți dacice din Munții Orăștiei - Oil Paintings Of Forgotten Bloodlines **talk** 9) Valdrin - Basilisk Of Light Live every Tuesday at 9pm EST on BostonFreeRadio.com

Welcome back witches to The Macabre Academy, a podcast designed to teach you all about the bizarre and unusual. This week is part 2 of the Death Goddesses mini series, and Steph teaches Brandi about Ereshkigal.(Rated Not Safe For Work)Strands of Sollus by Cheryl Suchacekhttps://www.amazon.com/Strands-Sollus-Rewoven-Cheryl-Suchacek/dp/1089727585/"Ereshkigal: The Mightyt Mespotamian Goddess of The Underworld" by Wu Mingren https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends-europe/ereshkigal-mighty-mesopotamian-goddess-underworld-0010004 "Ishtar and Ereshkigal: Daughters of Sin" by Scott IrvineThe Descent of Inanna into the Underworld https://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/descent-inanna-underworld-5500-year-old-literary-masterpiece-007296"Queen of the Great Below: An Anthology in Honor of Ereshkigal" Compiled by Janet Munin"Seeking the Primal Goddess" by Melusine DracoSFX:Sound Maiden CuesSoughtaftersoundsCopyright © 2011 Varazuvi™ www.varazuvi.comSupport the show (https://www.patreon.com/themacabreacademy)

And here’s the RSS feed: http://glittership.podbean.com/feed/ Episode 77 is part of the Autumn 2018 issue! Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/ The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen by Jenny Blackford     Dumuzi—my beautiful brother Dumuzi, lovelier than the first green shoots of barley rising from the dark mud of an irrigated field—Dumuzi was dead. Father had not spoken for six days. Not long ago, he’d been a great king in the fullness of his manhood, but now he was hobbling around the halls of the palace like an old grasshopper waiting for death. His hair was gray; his face was grayer still. Mother was quiet at last. For six full days and nights she’d wailed and screamed on her wide bed of gold, tearing her soft face and her lovely breasts with her nails, pulling great lumps of curled and scented hair from her luxuriant head, berating all the gods for their cruelty to her. The people said that she was no mere mortal beauty but a goddess walking on earth with us, and she did not disagree; but even if this were true, it did not diminish her fury against the other gods. [Full story & transcript after the cut.]   Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip Episode 77 for the longest March, 31st, 2020. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story for today is The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen by Jenny Blackford read by Marcy Rae Henry and Amber Gray. Before we get into the story, I've got a few things to say. First of all, much love to everyone out there in the world as we face this pandemic together. Love to all those who are suffering, whether from the virus itself, from loss of or fear for loved ones, from financial uncertainty, or from the fear of what the next day will bring. As in most times of extreme disaster, we're seeing both acts of extreme sociopathy and extreme kindness. Please do what you can to stay safe. Once you've got your own oxygen mask on, see what you can do for others. GlitterShip was originally going to run a full-sized Kickstarter in an attempt to increase our rates, but a combination of finances, time, and the magical world of Keffy-is-still-working-on-a-PhD made that deeply unfeasible, which only became moreso when the pandemic started really ramping up in the States. That said, we are running a much smaller Kickstarter at https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/keffy/glittership-a-queer-sfandf-magazine-going-for-year-4 in order to fund the next year of GlitterShip through the end of 2020. The much smaller amount is designed to get us through the year and pay off some previous incurred debts. That said, there are also a few stretch goals just in case. If we go considerably over our goal, we'll pay authors more, yay! As of this recording on March 31st, the Kickstarter is about 2/3 of the way funded. The Kickstarter is live until 9pm United States Eastern time on Friday, April 10, 2020.  Thank you so much in advance for helping me keep GlitterShip going. Finally, this episode is from the last issue, but there's going to be a new issue released extremely soon as we get back on track! And now, onto "The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen" by Jenny Blackford, read by Marcy Rae Henry and Amber Gray. Jenny is an Australian writer and poet. Her poems and stories have appeared in Cosmos, Pulp Literature, Strange Horizons, and more. Pamela Sargent called her subersively feminist novella, The Priestess and the Slave, "elegant". She won two prizes in the 2016 Sisters in Crime Australia Scarlet Stiletto awards for a murder mystery set in classical Delphi, with water nymphs. You can find her at www.jennyblackford.com.   Marcy Rae Henry is a Latina born and raised in Mexican-America/The Borderlands.  Her writing and visual art appears or is forthcoming in FlowerSong Books’ Selena Anthology, Thimble Literary Magazine,  New Mexico Review, The Wild Word, Beautiful Losers, The Acentos Review, World Haiku Review, Chicago Literati, The Chaffey Review, Shanghai Literary Review, Damaged Goods Press/TQ Review.  Her publication, The CTA Chronicles, received a Chicago Community Arts Assistance Grant and Cumbia Therapy, her collection of Spanglish stories, received an Illinois Arts Council Fellowship.  Ms. M.R. Henry is currently seeking publication of two novellas.  She is an Associate Professor of Humanities and Fine Arts at Harold Washington College Chicago.   Amber Gray is a theatre artist and lover of stories. She enjoys mimicking and creating character voices, especially in song, for her own amusement and the annoyance of those around her who have to put up with it. Thank you to Marcy for being such a good friend and neighbor, and for inviting her to have such a fun time with this project.   The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen by Jenny Blackford       Dumuzi—my beautiful brother Dumuzi, lovelier than the first green shoots of barley rising from the dark mud of an irrigated field—Dumuzi was dead. Father had not spoken for six days. Not long ago, he’d been a great king in the fullness of his manhood, but now he was hobbling around the halls of the palace like an old grasshopper waiting for death. His hair was gray; his face was grayer still. Mother was quiet at last. For six full days and nights she’d wailed and screamed on her wide bed of gold, tearing her soft face and her lovely breasts with her nails, pulling great lumps of curled and scented hair from her luxuriant head, berating all the gods for their cruelty to her. The people said that she was no mere mortal beauty but a goddess walking on earth with us, and she did not disagree; but even if this were true, it did not diminish her fury against the other gods. “My life is nothing without him,” she’d screamed again and again. “Why did you not take me instead, or my husband, or my worthless, thankless, useless daughter?” I was the useless daughter, of course. I had failed to save my brother from the demons that hunted him to the Underworld. My mother would never forgive me. Finally, Mother swallowed enough sweet wine laced with poppy juice and honey from the alabaster cup I held to her lips to bring merciful sleep. Death would perhaps have been more merciful for her. As I put down the cup and smoothed her hair, my mother woke herself just enough to hiss, “Far better that you had been taken, daughter, than him, Dumuzi, the beloved of my heart. Why did you not give yourself to the demons instead? Why did you let them take him? Why? How could you let them take him? My Dumuzi!” And, truly, I understood. My brother Dumuzi had been more than beautiful, when he had walked this earth. My suitors—brought by my father’s wealth and my mother’s beauty—had been enthusiastic enough, over the years, until each in his turn had seen my brother. Only a few men are immune to the charms of a pretty boy, and will always prefer the soft roundnesses of woman to a boy’s firm flats and hollows. Even those men, those devoted lovers of women, wanted my brother more than they wanted me, once they had met him. But all left the palace disconsolate: Dumuzi had eyes for none but peerless Ishtar, daughter of the Moon, queen of heaven and earth, goddess of love.   I had not always been in second place. I was the firstborn child of our parents; when I was a toddler, I was my father’s delight, my mother’s plaything. Father ordered his artisans to make me golden carts with silver wheels, and dolls carved from fragrant cedar with eyes of lapis lazuli and hair of gold. Mother dressed me in tiny versions of court ladies’ dresses in blue and purple, fringed with silver and pearls, tinkling with the myriad silver moon-crescents sewn to them. But in my fourth year, my mother’s belly swelled again. Even as a newborn babe, Dumuzi shone tender as the spring sun on a field of emmer wheat. I was forgotten. Kings and wise men came from the ends of the earth with gifts of jewels and spices, merely to gaze on my brother’s shining face. The peasants bowed down to him; the slaves openly worshipped him as a god. But now that Dumuzi was dead, now that the demons had taken him to the Underworld in exchange for his lover, the goddess Ishtar, no man could bear to look upon my face; they turned their heads in angry grief for my brother. Women screamed and wept, tearing at their cheeks and their clothes. If they had dared, they’d have attacked me with their bare hands. Even the sheep, which Dumuzi had loved above all other beasts, refused to walk to their grassy fields. The noises that they made were so full of grief that they would have brought sorrow to the heart of the most joyful stranger. The sun was hot in the sky, burning the crops, and the fertile irrigated fields were cracked, dry mud. Only the old vizier came to my room and wept with me for my brother’s death. Perhaps the people were right; perhaps it would have been better if I had died, instead of him. But it was not my fault that Dumuzi was taken from us as ransom for Ishtar. Only the gods knew why the goddess had challenged her sister’s power in the Underworld and been trapped there. I had done my best to protect my brother, as an older sister must, when demons were sent to drag him to the Underworld to take mighty Ishtar’s place. The demons had threatened me with death when they searched for him; they even tried to bribe me with precious water and with fields of grain. But my brother was my river of precious water; he was my field of grain. I could never have betrayed him. It was not me who gave him up to the demons, but his childhood companion, his dearest male friend, who took the bribe. But no one cared. They loved my brother Dumuzi so much that they loved his friend for his sake; my less lovely face reminded them too much of my beautiful sibling. After another night of evil dreams, I could not bear it another moment. A little before noon, I went to the Field of the Winged Bulls. The life-sized sculptures of the human-headed bulls that guarded the entrance to the palace, strong golden wings tucked against their massive basalt flanks, made all who saw them catch their breath in fear and awe. Though the bulls’ magic protected the city, few other than the members of our family had ever seen the models for those sculptures in real life. The winged bulls and their mates, in the flesh, were more glorious in appearance and in power than words could tell, but they detested the eyes of human strangers. A plump, bejeweled dynasty of blond slaves from the north tended to all their needs: combed their glossy blue-black hides, polished their golden hoofs, fed them the figs and dates, sweet grapes and honey cakes that they craved; but I was the only living human, other than their slaves, whom they permitted to enter their compound. The human-headed bulls lazed with their herd in the shade under the date palms, in the vast enclosure that they had requested a thousand years ago, when they’d taken up residence in the city. The huge twin males, rulers of the herd, lay perfectly still, not moving a feather or a shining hair, while the three queen females slowly fanned them with their wide golden wings. Six or seven smaller beasts, close to fully grown, lay quietly around them. Even the frisky calves, their wings mere buds on their shoulders, were relatively placid in the heat, scuffling quietly in the grass for fallen dates. The two great bulls spoke steadily to one another, their deep voices strange and sonorous to human ears. Their faces looked human, but the sounds that they could make in those deep chests were beyond the reach of any man or woman, or ordinary animal, alive. No human had ever learnt more than a few words of their language. They far preferred for us to speak to them in courtly Sumerian or everyday Akkadian, rather than to hear their ancient, sacred speech distorted and defiled by human mouths. They would not tell us—not even me, their longtime favorite—where they had come from before they took refuge in our palace, except that it was somewhere long ago and very far away. “You wouldn’t understand, child,” they’d said when I’d asked them, when I was young. “It was our destiny. It was in the stars. We are here, now. That’s all you need to know of where we came from.” They’d looked so sad, as they answered me, that I never dared cause them sorrow by asking again. The deep poetry of the twin bulls’ ancient voices as they conversed in their own language was strangely soothing. I stood leaning against the warm stone wall of the huge enclosure listening, not comprehending anything they said, but slowly growing calmer, until they spoke to me. “You are unhappy, Geshtinanna,” one of them said. “Is it your brother?” I nodded. “Of course,” the other said. “How could things be otherwise, when humans are involved? And the people blame you, though you are surely blameless?” I nodded again. I did not want to burst into tears in front of the bulls. The first one said, “Even we were powerless to prevent this fate from falling upon your brother. How could your people believe for a moment that you had the power to challenge the will of the gods?” I squeezed my eyes tight shut, but fat tears ran down my cheeks nonetheless. The three dominant females spoke together for some time, after that. I wiped my tears on the hem of my dress and watched their grave conversation. Their voices were like the sound of great bronze bells, sweet but dangerously strong. The males listened, silent like me, as the massive females spoke, each in her turn. At last, the largest of the females flicked a golden wingtip against my hand, gently as a kiss, and gave me their decision: “You must go to the wise woman, child. Go to Siduri, the woman who brews her beer and keeps her tavern at the end of the earth, by the shores of the Waters of Death. She will advise you what you must do.” Mother had told me tales of Siduri, of course. Siduri’s tavern, with its peerless beer-vat made from pure gold, stood by the fabled Garden of the Gods, full of vines hung with gems, shrubs with jewels instead of flowers, fat gemstones in the place of fruit. Mother described it endlessly, greedily. Perhaps the people were right; perhaps Mother was a goddess in truth and belonged there in the jeweled garden. Perhaps she would have been happier there. But the place held dangers as well as riches. A single drop from the deep abyss of the Waters of Death could kill in an instant. “But how do I travel to the ends of the earth, to consult Siduri?” I asked the powerful inhuman creature lying on the grass in front of me. “I am a woman virtually alone, ignored now in my parents’ own palace, though I was born a princess here. Even with the strongest men from my father’s army, I could not hope to travel through the well-armed kingdoms and the trackless wastes between our city and Siduri’s tavern. Even a hero would surely die in the attempt.” The human-faced female who spoke now for the herd spread out her golden wings in a graceful gesture. “You see my children, and my sisters’ children, all about you. The oldest of them was born some centuries ago, now, and they are almost full-grown, though still young by our standards. We have taught them all we know: astronomy, astrology, cosmogony, theology, geometry, mythology and more.” I just nodded. What could I say? She went on, “We will send Kalla with you on your quest, child. She is not much more than three hundred years old, or thereabouts, but she is wise for her age, as you also are.” One of the young winged cows lifted her head, then and looked at me. Her eyes were the hard, pure blue of the best lapis lazuli, but fierce intelligence shone in them. But did her mouth tremble with suppressed fear? I tried to smile bravely at her. I was a princess. A princess might know fear, but she must never show it. The older female spoke again. “You and Kalla will do well together, we believe.” She sighed. “We hope so. This quest could be more dangerous than any that we have attempted for many years.” Fear touched me with its black wing, then, but what could I do? My life in the palace, or anywhere in Father’s kingdom, was insupportable. Each moment pricked me to the heart like a sharp bronze dagger. A quest to the ends of the earth and perhaps beyond with a wise, if young, winged beast could hardly be more painful, or more difficult. It was more than likely, I knew, that I would die; but Dumuzi was already dead. What was my life worth now? “Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say. Father’s elderly vizier had coached me well in diplomatic language since my toddlerhood, training me to be a good queen when the time came, but this was not one of the endless number of situations that he had covered. “Go now, child,” the old female said, “and prepare yourself. This will be no ordinary journey. Pack a little food and water, yes, but other things too. And return soon. It would be best for you to leave before the sun is low in the sky.” I made a formal gesture of thanks, as the vizier had taught me, and rushed back to my room. To my relief, I reached the room before I burst into flooding tears.   After I composed myself and packed, I went to say farewell to my family. In my mother’s room, the chief of her women barred the way to her bed, hissing like a snake in an irrigation ditch. “Geshtinanna! Who do you think you are,” she said, “coming to torment the Queen? You let Dumuzi die, you slut, you useless bitch. Do you think she ever wants to see your face again? Do you think she will ever again call you daughter, after what you did? Go!” I went, saddened but dry-eyed. My father, in his throne room, looked at me, then away. The vizier by his side, his hands shaking, pulled at my father’s elbow. “It is your daughter, my King,” he whispered. “It is Geshtinanna. She comes to speak with you.” But Father’s eyes, and mind, were somewhere else, somewhere not good. The vizier followed me to the door. “I am sorry,” he said. “Your father the King...he is not himself, these days. He will recover, in time. The doctors say so. We must wait patiently.” “Yes,” I said, then turned to leave. He looked stricken. “It was not your fault,” he said, in a rush. “The gods know, it was not your fault. The people are like silly sheep. Even their leaders are like sheep. It was not your fault.” I gave him the formal embrace of sincere thanks which he had first tried to teach me when I was a clumsy four-year-old princess. We were both in tears when I left the room. Soon, though, I stood again in the Field of the Winged Bulls, this time with all the pieces of my old life that I intended to take with me when I left the palace. Around my neck I wore a necklace that Mother had given me when she still loved me, flat red-gold links with a cow carved from lapis lazuli hanging down from the central point, and from my earlobes dangled crescent earrings covered in golden granulations, also her gift. On my hands were three rings set with hunks of carnelian, sapphire and emerald, all from my father, each given to mark an auspicious birthday. My right wrist bore a bangle of bright beads from the Indus Valley, a gift from Dumuzi, and my left ankle held an anklet of heavy gold inscribed with the signs of the greatest gods, the symbols of the Sun, the Moon, Venus, Mercury and Mars. There were gold and less precious objects—brooches and pins and other small gewgaws that I could exchange for what I needed on the journey—in a soft leather sack concealed under my dress, and another one, flashier, with less gold in it, tied to my belt. In a bag strapped over my shoulder I had a water-skin, plus soft cheese and juicy half-dried figs; they would last maybe two days. The journey could take months, or never end; I would get more food and drink when I needed it, or not at all. Kalla was at one end of the compound, alone. I walked over to her. “You must settle yourself behind my wings,” she said, flicking her tail nervously. “I will carry you where the elders say you must go.” Her blue eyes glanced at the herd at the other end of the compound, then looked back down into my face. I was going to ride on her back? “Oh,” I said, looking at that glossy expanse of hide, higher and wider than my father’s royal throne, almost as wide as my bed. But what had I imagined? That we would walk together sedately through the palace gates, with the people waving us on our way, and proceed on foot to the ends of the earth? Kalla’s tail flicked again. I could feel her anxiety overlaid on my own. This would be her first time away from her herd, and it would be no easier for her than for me. But she was too stressed to understand that I—a princess, but all the same a puny human female—could not vault onto her back, higher than the top of my head. What could I say, that would not cause her shame in front of the herd? What would the vizier do, that consummate old diplomat, in my position? His daily lessons had almost become second nature: I must let Kalla work out the problem for herself. I put up my right arm, tentatively, and touched her high on her ribs, barely brushing the glossy blue-black hairs. Her head turned and her eyes followed my movement and the extension of my arm. She blinked in what must have been a mixture of dismay and amusement. “I’ll kneel for you,” she said, and settled gracefully onto the grass. It was my turn for dismay. How could I sit on so wide an expanse of back? Kalla was three or four times the size of the asses and wild donkeys that men rode. The dress I wore was practical and simple, plain linen, well designed for dusty travel, with no golden fringes, no tinkling ornaments. Nonetheless, it was too tight for me to stretch my legs so far. There was only one real possibility. I bent down to my right ankle and ripped the linen of my dress up to mid-thigh. I could pin it together when I needed to be respectable again. Then I lifted my bared right leg over Kalla’s shining back—when I touched her hide, it was like silk from the fabled Orient, beyond the sunrise—and sat. My legs were wide stretched, and it would be painful in time, but for the first time in my life I was grateful for the tedious stretches and long poses of the lessons that I’d been forced to take, for the sacred dances day and night before the gods in their solemn festivals. “You will not fall,” Kalla said, but her voice sounded a little nervous to me. “Don’t be afraid of that. The elders have arranged for an attachment spell to keep you safe. If you want, through, you can put your hands under where the wings connect to my shoulders. They tell me that you can hold firmly there without hurting me.” I felt thick muscle under my hands, sunwarmed and strong as stone. I grasped as tightly as I dared. Kalla stood up onto all fours so carefully that I scarcely shifted, though I was seated so precariously there on her flat back. She turned then towards the herd, which had carefully been ignoring us. The winged beasts were better diplomats even than Father’s vizier. Kalla cried out to them in her own language, in her voice like a well-tempered bell. Her wide golden wings had already started beating. “Farewell,” I called, more softly, and waved. “Thank you.” By the time I’d finished speaking, we were in the air above the palace, then flying south-east along the River.   It was as if my gilded silver bed with its duckdown-stuffed mattress had taken wings and started to fly through the sky. I felt as safe sitting on Kalla’s back as I would have on my own bed, and no more likely to fall off. Kalla’s passage through the air was stately, but, even if she hadn’t told me, it would have been clear that a magical force was operating to keep me safely positioned on her shiny-smooth skin. Luckily so: a tumble would have seen me dead, smashed and drowned in the great river which was our kingdom’s life. Mentally, I thanked whichever of Kalla’s herd it was who’d thought to use the spell. The river Buranun—our land’s lifeblood—was even lovelier from the air than from the earth. I gazed down on its turns and bends, the reedy marshes full of waterbirds, the farmlands irrigated with its water, and the great stone temples of the gods. Sometimes, when we were high or it was close, I even caught sight of our river’s eastern twin, the Idigna. The vizier had taught me the names of the cities there, and their various strengths and weaknesses, in case Father chose one of their foreign kings as my husband. I’d never thought to see it from the air. No one down below took the least notice of us. “I’m flying high enough that even the sharpest-sighted won’t be able to see anything distinctly,” Kalla said. “They won’t understand how big I am; they’ll think me an eagle, or something of the sort. And they won’t see you at all, Geshtinanna. You’re much too small, you tiny human. It would take two or three of you to make one of our newborn calves.” She laughed deep in her massive chest; after a moment, I laughed too. We flew for many days, or perhaps months, stopping in the evening only when Kalla sighted a small town, a few isolated farms, where she could stay concealed in the shelter of trees or rocks while I found a farmer’s wife who would be happy to give me food and fill my water-skin for a small piece of gold, even though I was a woman travelling alone. When it grew dark, I slept curled against Kalla’s warm back, comforted by her firm bulk. Her quiet snores made my sleep sweet. On the first evening it could have been pure luck that I was met with nothing but kindness by a woman busy in her farmhouse. No threats, no violence, no greed at the sight of my gold. But I had learned too much of human nature, both in theory and in practice, to think it normal or natural, after three nights. “I don’t know,” Kalla said, when I challenged her about the mystery. “It’s not magic, or if it is I’ve never learnt it. The places I stop in just look right, feel right. They call to me.” “Snakes and dogs know when an earthquake is coming,” I said. “Birds fly north from our marshes, every year, and back again, and winged butterflies build themselves from creeping caterpillars in their cocoons. The wise men call that unknown knowledge instinct. Perhaps you have an instinct for kindness.” “Perhaps,” she said. “Kindness is good. It is worth seeking.” She looked thoughtful, after that, until she slept. The next night, as we lay together in the grass under some fig trees, and I apportioned her the larger share of the dates that I’d received from yet another pleasant woman, I asked the question which had worried me since my childhood, when I used to watch the blond slaves tending to the herd’s needs: “How is it that your people are so large, and yet you eat so little?” “Hmm,” Kalla said, flicking the tips of her wings in amusement. “No one has dared ask us that before. But the answer is simple: we eat merely for pleasure, not out of physical need. We need no food as you humans do, or your animals. Would you like more of the dates?” “Thank you, but no,” I said. I was blushing with embarrassment. All my childhood, Kalla’s herd had lazed in the compound at the palace, flicking away flies, munching slowly—but they were not mere cattle. Far from it. I said, “I should have known better. I was taught better. You are not mortal, as we are, but guardian djinn, more akin to the gods than to us.” “Yes, it’s something like that,” Kalla said, laughing the strange, deep laugh of her kind. “We absorb the energy from the sun, as plants do. But it’s too complicated to explain. Push those delicious-smelling fresh dates closer to my mouth, human, and stop worrying about it.” She grinned, then, and used a golden wingtip to brush my head softly. I tried to treat Kalla more deferentially after that, more as one ought to treat an immortal guardian and less as a friend, but I kept failing. It was like water in the desert, after all my lonely years, to have someone to talk to. One evening towards the end, as I dismounted, Kalla told me to get all the food I could carry, when I went to the farmhouse nearby. “Can you see those mountains in the distance?” she asked. “Those little bumps on the horizon? They’re the Mountains of Mashu, the boundary of your human realm, higher and wider than you can imagine. Some say they’re impassable, that they stretch to the heavens. We will come to them tomorrow. There will be streams of pure water, but no farms—no human beings who eat the food that you do.” After that, we flew not over fertile river plains or even desert but over the rocks and boulders of the mountainside. In the evenings, Kalla refused any of my stores of fruit and cheese. “I’m not sure how long this will take, trying to skirt around the side of these mountains,” she said. “You need those good-smelling edible things, and I don’t. No, don’t argue, human. I’m older than you. And much bigger.” Her face was serious; only the twitching of her tail told me that she was teasing. After nine days of mountain flying—cliffs and ravines, springs and cataracts, stands of tall pines and regal cedars—the stocks in my food-pouch were almost gone. I tried not to worry. I had enough for tonight, just barely. “Look,” Kalla said, around noon. “The glitter, below us. It is the Garden of the Gods, I’m sure it is.” She sounded relieved. Surely my guide and protector had not doubted that she could find it? I looked down, and gasped. I had grown up in a palace, surrounded by the riches of men and gods. I used to eat from silver plates, and drink from a golden cup set with gemstones. Mother glittered like the stars in the night sky when she was hung about with gold and jewels for state occasions, and Father’s green alabaster throne set with carnelian and chrysoprase glinted in torchlight. But this was a garden as big as our city, or larger, with each shrub, each tree, each lush vine scattered with bright jewels in place of fruit and flowers. It was just as Mother had told me, but larger, brighter, more real—and more divine. This was indeed the Garden of the Gods. How had I dared come here? My awe and wonder at the jeweled garden only increased as we flew closer and I could see more and more gemstones encrusting the plants. And then I saw the sea. It was like our River in flood, but impossibly wide. It stretched to the far horizon and beyond. And then the truth hit me: the Mountains of Mashu, the Garden of the Gods, the wide blue sea—I was where Kalla’s elders had sent me, the fabled ends of the earth. I must find Siduri and ask her advice.   As it happened, I didn’t need to find Siduri. She came to meet me while I was still scrambling down from Kalla’s back. “We must talk, girl,” Siduri said to me, then looked at Kalla. “You—guardian being—what is your name?” My massive mount said, “I am Kalla, Goddess.” Goddess? Of course, I thought. People called Siduri a wise woman, but how could she live here, brewing ale in a vat given to her by the gods, unless she too was one of them, a goddess in her own right? Siduri nodded. “Kalla, you may now graze on the fruits of the Garden of the Gods.” Kalla bowed before Siduri. Her human-seeming face was almost impassive as that of the carved bull statues that guard my father’s palace, but I could see the suppressed joy around those stony blue eyes. Kalla moved sedately towards the glowing jewels, her body a picture of restrained decorum. “The jewels of the gods are a delicacy for Kalla’s kind,” Siduri told me. “They give them strength and wisdom.” I just stood there helpless before the goddess, my knees trembling, my mind almost blank. Siduri took me by the hand, led me to a bench in front of her tavern, and gave me a silver cup of ale, also pouring one for herself from a golden jug. “But now,” she said, “you must drink my ale. I have few mortal visitors, here at the ends of the earth, but my ale is excellent.” I sipped; it was the best I’d ever tasted, better even than the finest of wines in the palace. “It is excellent indeed, Goddess,” I said. “Thank you.” “So tell me, girl,” Siduri said. “Why are you so sad?” That much was simple. “Demons dragged my brother, beautiful Dumuzi, down to the Underworld.” “Ah, I heard about that. So you are the sister, valiant Geshtinanna, who tried to protect him.” Unshed tears made my throat hoarse. “I failed.” The goddess shook her head. “Whether you had failed or not, your brother would have died soon enough. He could perhaps have had ten more years, twenty, maybe even fifty, but death comes to all mortals. It is best if you accept it. Take joy in everyday pleasures: warm baths, clean clothes, good food and drink, making love with your husband, feeling your child’s hand in your own.” Wise men and poets had said the same thing since the dawn of time. It didn’t help. I said, “That is excellent advice, Goddess, I have no doubt. But my city is falling to ruin. My mother has had no rest since her son was taken by the demons, and my father the king will not speak even to his closest advisers. Even the slaves and the sheep lament him. The sun burns the crops, and our fields are cracked, dry mud. To escape the sorrow of my brother’s death, I would need to leave my city and my people, never to see them again, and still I would feel their grief and anger.” Siduri poured herself another cup of ale. “But, Geshtinanna, to leave her family is the lot of all women, whether peasant, noble or goddess. Every woman of marriageable age must leave her father’s house and her mother’s rooms and live instead in a house of strangers. The more exalted the family, the farther the woman must travel from her home.” I sipped cool ale from my cup before I replied. “That is all too true, Goddess. Indeed, if any of my suitors had paid my bride-price, he would have taken me far from my parents’ palace. His mother would have become my mother, and his father my father. Perhaps, indeed, I would never have seen my own parents again, nor the place where I was born.” Still, it did not help. The goddess gestured around her. “So why are you here?” The words came unbidden to my lips. “I must find Dumuzi.” I hadn’t known, until that instant, what I was going to say. But it was true: the purpose of my quest was to find my brother—in the Underworld. Everything in my life pushed me towards that destiny. The goddess sighed. “I was afraid of that. Your mortal race finds it so hard to accept death, though it is your lot.” Death is not the lot of the immortal gods, I thought. Why must it be our lot? Why must we accept it? But I did not speak. Siduri drained her cup. I looked down and found that mine, too, was empty. The goddess said, “If that is what you want, you must go to the Dark Queen, Ereshkigal.” Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld, the Queen of the Dead. Ishtar’s sister. For a moment, the world went hazy-white around me. If I had not been sitting on the bench, I might have fallen. But I remembered the vizier, and how he had trained me. I took a slow, deep breath, and lifted my head high. “How do I find Ereshkigal?” I asked. “Ah, that’s an interesting question,” the goddess said. “For mortals, there are many paths to the quiet realm of the Dark Queen. I could slip a simple poison into your cup, or touch you with a single drop of the Waters of Death out there—” the goddess pointed to the sea, moving blue-green against the shoreline in front of us “—or merely wish you dead.” Gods! I took another deep breath. Siduri touched my hand, gently and kindly, and said, “But you are fortunate, Geshtinanna. Kalla will take you to the Underworld.” My heart shuddered at the thought of exposing Kalla to that danger. “Can I ask that of her?” “Perhaps you could not,” the goddess replied, “though she is no mortal creature. But I will ask her, and she will not refuse me.”   Soon I sat again on Kalla’s broad back, my heart hammering, my fear-cold hands gripping the muscles below her wings. Siduri’s kiss of farewell burned on my cheek. This time I took no fruit, no water-skin. There was neither eating nor drinking in the Underworld. Kalla said, “It would be best if you closed your eyes, Geshtinanna. Your kind is not designed for a journey such as this.” I squeezed my eyelids shut and felt a sudden sensation of dropping through the void. My bowels were cold. There was darkness and confusion all around me: first whirling heat and pressure on my head and body, then a windy emptiness and a searing cold. I heard cries of terror, whimpers and moans. It could have lasted a moment or a year. Then all was still and quiet, and I opened my eyes. I was in a great cavern, naked as a newborn baby, and stripped of my seven pieces of jewelry, gifts from my family and reminders of my past. Kalla stood beside me, shining blue-black in the light of the torches on the rough-cut walls. In front of us stood the Queen of the Dead, Ereshkigal, incomparably lovely in her nakedness. A horned crown sat on her glistening hair. Strong dark wings hung behind her, from shoulders to knees. Her hands were almost like human hands, though her nails were talons, but her feet were the strong claws of a bird of prey. Those terrifying feet gripped the backs of twin lions, and two great owls, each as tall as a ten-year-old child, flanked her. She was as beautiful and as terrible as an army arrayed for battle. “What do you want, mortal woman?” Ereshkigal asked. Her voice was that of a lion calling in the night, or of a huge owl hunting before moonrise. My breathing quickened at the sound, despite my fear. I could not lie to her. “I have come to seek Dumuzi,” I said. The goddess bared her teeth, and the hairs bristled at the nape of my neck. She said, snarling, “Are you sent by my treacherous sister Ishtar? Are you one of her devotees?” I trembled. “No, Goddess. I have no love for mighty Ishtar. I am Dumuzi’s sister, Geshtinanna. My brother was Ishtar’s husband, then her ransom to leave this place. The demons sent to free your mighty sister snatched my brother Dumuzi and brought him here, to your dark realm, in her stead.” The goddess settled her glorious wings against her back. “Surely my sister sent you. All men and women who walk on the earth serve the Goddess of Love and Battle.” I shook my head. “I do not do the will of Ishtar, no matter how great she is, and how much adored. If it were not for Ishtar and her love for my brother, he would still walk on the earth, living and breathing. Why would I do her bidding?” “Then why are you here?” The goddess glowed with unearthly beauty. Her breasts were like ripe pomegranates, her eyes the color of the night sky. I felt myself falling, helpless, into that deep, starry sky. I took a breath. “Truly, Goddess, I am here for my own sake, and my mother’s, and my father’s, and my city’s. My parents are mad with grief. Our city falls to ruin. The sun burns the crops, and the fields are dry. Even the slaves and the sheep lament him.” The goddess Ereshkigal asked, “Do you desire to come here, as his ransom, to take his place? Do you wish to live here in my kingdom?” I gasped and knew that this was what I had sought without understanding: to live forever in Ereshkigal’s dark realm, in her fearful presence. I bowed my head, ashamed. “My brother Dumuzi’s beauty made him a god, or equal to one. He was beloved of a goddess. He was enough to ransom Ishtar, great goddess of the earth and sky, from your power. I am a mortal woman. Am I enough to free my brother, and take his place?” Ereshkigal frowned. On her face, even a frown was glorious. “Perhaps not, my mortal Geshtinanna,” she said. “But I will beseech the gods on high that they might allow the exchange, if that is truly what you wish.” She gazed into my eyes, into my soul. I fell into her darkness, and stars swirled around me. “Yes,” I said. “Yes. It is truly what I wish.” The goddess put out a sharp-taloned hand to my right breast—was she going to kill me now, slash me with those glittering claws? I held my breath, waiting for pain and death. Instead, Ereshkigal pinched my nipple, tenderly. Fire ran through me, but it was the fire of pleasure, not of pain. Again, I gasped, and blushed. The goddess smiled in delight. “You tell the truth, mortal. Truly, you do wish to dwell here with me.” “Yes,” I said. I watched her hands, her eyes. I needed her to touch me again. “You and I have something in common,” the dark goddess said. “We are both sisters of siblings beloved by all.” “Yes,” I said. Touch me. “Beautiful Dumuzi, lovely Ishtar.” She stroked my ear, my throat, with those clawed fingers. I shivered, but I was not cold. “Yes.” Please, touch me. The goddess kissed my hair, my cheek, my lips. “To me, you are more beautiful than Dumuzi.” “To me,” I said, catching my breath, “you are lovelier than Ishtar.”   The gods on high decreed that I, a mortal woman, would not suffice to ransom Dumuzi entirely, but that I could take his place in the Underworld for half of every year; for that time, my brother would walk the earth. It was enough. Our city rejoiced, the sheep jumped in the fields, the irrigated soil abounded with crops, and Mother and Father were filled to overflowing with happiness. I was pleased for their sake, but I could no longer live there, with them, after all that had happened. For half of each cycle of the sun, now, I dwell in Ereshkigal’s dark realm, sharing her fierce pleasures. No woman knows greater bliss. But when Dumuzi returns underground and the sun is hot in the sky, I am compelled to return to the world of the living. I travel the earth, then, with Kalla, best of companions. If you look carefully enough at the hawks and eagles that fly high in the sky, one day you might be startled to see her golden wings flashing in the sun. Look for me riding on her back. END   “The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen” was originally published in Dreaming of Djinn, edited by Liz Grzyb and is copyright Jenny. Blackford, 2013. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by pledging to our Kickstarter at https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/keffy/glittership-a-queer-sfandf-magazine-going-for-year-4 , checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on Apple podcasts or buying your own copy of the Autumn 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy. Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a whole new issue and a GlitterShip original, “The Ashes of Vivian Firestrike” by Kristen Koopman.

Apakah rahasia untuk sering mendapatkan SSR? Sekedar hoki saja atau ada suntikan dana juga? Mari silahkan disimak.

The Anunnaki (also transcribed as Anunaki, Annunaki, Anunna, Ananaki, and other variations) are a group of deities who appear in the mythological traditions of the ancient Sumerians, Akkadians, Assyrians, and Babylonians.[1] Descriptions of how many Anunnaki there were and what role they fulfilled are inconsistent and often contradictory. In the earliest Sumerian writings about them, which come from the Post-Akkadian period, the Anunnaki are the most powerful deities in the pantheon, descendants of An and Ki, the god of the heavens and the goddess of earth, and their primary function is to decree the fates of humanity. In Inanna's Descent into the Netherworld, the Anunnaki are portrayed as seven judges who sit before the throne of Ereshkigal in the Underworld. Later Akkadian texts, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh, follow this portrayal. During the Old Babylonian period, the Anunnaki were believed to be the chthonic deities of the Underworld, while the gods of the heavens were known as the Igigi. The ancient Hittites identified the Anunnaki as the oldest generation of gods, who had been overthrown and banished to the Underworld by the younger gods. The Anunnaki have featured prominently in modern pseudoarchaeological works, such as the books of Erich von Däniken and Zecharia Sitchin. https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/insanity-forever/id1488582385 https://shop.spreadshirt.co.uk/insanityForever https://www.instagram.com/InsanityForeverofficial/ Mental Health Page: https://www.facebook.com/KingInsanityfrenzy/ --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/insanityforever/message

Welcome back to the tree house, we're the Fallen Fruit: Stephanie Ginese, Catherine Urban and Lynette Ramos. Today we are musing on the myth of Persephone - an ancient myth whose origins predate its most famed Greek origin. (Revisit episode 2 where we discuss Inanna and Ereshkigal for the Sumerian version.) It's very timely that we discuss Persephone and Demeter as we approach the Autumnal Equinox, as her mythos serves primarily as a basis for the seasons on the planet. This episode definitely brings the juiciness, so kick back, eat some pomegranate seeds and visit Hades with us. Give us a follow on Instagram @thefallenfruitpodcast and don't forget to give us a 5-star review! --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/fallen-fruit/support

While Elandra and Penelope were in slip traveling to Amaterasu system, a helluva lot went down on Tyr. Winding back to day 1, Gabriel continues his investigation of the Ereshkigal summoning. Over the course of two weeks, Bridget sees the Free Wolf conflict turn into a war. And Andrea arrives at Aster Station with a warrant out for her arrest, and a moonshot plan to evade capture.Engage with us!Twitter • Reddit • Donate

After Inanna, Queen of Heaven, was killed by her sister Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld, the world began to suffer in a melancholy malaise of sexless apathy.  Parcasters - This week on Extraterrestrial we delve into one of the most famous cases of all time, The Rendlesham Incident! Listen to Extraterrestrial today on Spotify or wherever you listen to Parcast Originals!

We look at Babylonian, Akkadian and Sumerian goddesses of love, war, and the underworld, with a particular look at the ancient story of the Descent of Inanna.

We look at Babylonian, Akkadian and Sumerian goddesses of love, war, and the underworld, with a particular look at the ancient story of the Descent of Inanna.

Bibi was born in Chicago. Attempts by her parents and teachers to turn her into a lady failed utterly. At a loss, her mother enrolled her in an acting class when she was six. She pursued this vocation until 2012. Along that road, she read every original spiritual text she could get her hands on, …

The power of the mind is a big subject. Energy and energy medicine are big subjects. How do we work with these quantum tools to improve our experience of life? Ask Dominic! Dominic is a coach and trained as a theta healer, working with subconscious paradigms and energetic fields. He recently launched a new online business called healerology.com, where you can get connected with a healer - and his/her specific expertise - to support you in life. I've been working with various healing modalities over the past 18 months, which have been fundamental to my big life shifts and to improve my overall well-being, state of mind and energetic field. Energy and energy healing are fascinating and rapidly-evolving modalities being backed by science and quantum physics more and more each day. The conversation flows back and forth about our experiences and understanding about the fields, modalities like theta healing, NLP (neuro-linguistic-programming) and so much more. There's a wealth of information for those who like to nerd out on how the mind works, and how we can proactively work with the mind. In the introduction, I talk about the ongoing Venus Retrograde, which will hit its zenith (or it's darkest point) on October 26th, two days from today which is also the Full Moon in Taurus (also working with Venus energy). This is the best time to make the most of Venus' journey into the underworld of our psyches, integrating parts of ourselves we've abandoned. I go into the mythology of Inanna and Ereshkigal to illustrate the Venus journey and how it relates to us personally. I also share some insights on big mental shifts I've had around labels and roles and my epiphany (and resulting energetic and mental shift) out of the necessity to identify with any role or label. The result? Freedom! More freedom to be, think and do what is best aligned with the WHO I AM, which is separate from the WHO I CAN BE. Links & Info: http://www.healerology.com/ --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/journey-within/support

HORARIO HABITUAL: 5 P.M. CENTROAMÉRICA, 6 P.M. MEXICO & HORARIO CENTRAL EE.UU. (CT) ¡¡¡ B - I - E - N - V - E - N - I - D - O !!! PTRN Presenta - Voces Paganas, tu conexión radial en Español para explorar temas y tendencias del Paganismo contemporáneo, rituales, entrevistas, noticias y comunidad!! Estamos aquí cada semana, todos los Domingos por la tarde. Conecta con nosotros vía nuestra Página de Facebook “Voces Paganas”, o nuestra cuenta en Twitter “Voces_Paganas”, y llámanos En Vivo al Programa. http://www.facebook.com/  Contáctanos y envía tus sugerencias a vocespaganasradio@gmail.com HOY PRESENTAMOS: El Santuario de Ereshkigal con el Terapeuta Rev. Pluma Argenti, Sanación desde el Hogar INVITADOS ESPECIALES:  Rev. Pluma Argenti 139º Programa En Vivo. 01/10/2017 DOMINGO 01 DE OCTUBRE DE 2017 En el Mundo, transmisión: 4:00 PM Los Angeles (USA) 5:00 PM Centroamérica 6:00 PM México, USA Central Time (USA-CT) 7:00 PM USA Eastern Time (USA-ET), Venezuela, Bolivia, Chile, Rep. Dominicana, Paraguay 8:00 PM Argentina, Uruguay 12:00 AM UK - Reino Unido (Media noche, ya Día Sig. Lun. 02) 01:00 AM ESPAÑA, Francia y Alemania (Ya Día Sig. Lun. 02) VISITA: https://rqtcarq26.wixsite.com/karnak-natural https://www.santuario-de-ereshkigal.com/

Llorraine Neithardt is an internationally recognized Jungian-inspired cultural visionary in private practice for 29 years. In this series she speaks extemporaneously on the archetypal theme of VENUS, creating a virtual Heartbreak Hotel – a place where the wounded heart finds inspiration to accept the task of becoming a wise heart. "I have come to drag you out of your yourself and take you into my heart.  I have come to bring out the beauty you never knew you had and lift you like a prayer to the sky."  Rumi

Ereshkigal has agreed to let Inanna leave the underworld but there are strict rules about this that must be followed. Will someone else have to take her place, and if so, who?Part 3 of 5 in the telling of the Sumerian myth of the Goddess Inanna and her journey to the underworld.Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/mythmatterspodcast)

One of the most important skills we can develop is the art of descending into the underworld. The Sumerian myth of Inanna is an interesting meditation on that process and it’s a story that has stood the test of time.In Part 1 I gave you the backstory on this passionate goddess. In this episode we make the descent with her. She’s going to visit her sister Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld. I wonder what kind of time they’ll have together.Every culture has an image of that “other” place, the place that is not hospitable to life as we know it. The Sumerian underworld is dusty and dry. There is no beer there! Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/mythmatterspodcast)

This week’s episode is a special Samhain edition of This Week in Heresy. This approximately one hour meditation is a journey to the Underworld and the Isle of Apples, under the protection of Inanna, to commune with the Beloved Dead. The music was written, composed, and performed by Sarah Thompson, also known as Mage of Machines. You'll recognize a little bit of this album as the show music for both This Week in Heresy and The Heretic Speaks.  Some of you, if you had attended Pantheacon in 2013, will also recognize this music. The Circle of Cerridwen, with friends, performed The Descent live with an early edition of the music. The final edition of the album was released on Samhain 2013.  Sarah Thompson is your Guide. Inanna is voiced by Calyxa Omphalos, and Rev. Gina is the voice of Ereshikgal. The script was written by Rev. Gina and Sarah Thompson.  We offer this as a Samhain blessing for you, as a gift to the community, and to honor the Beloved Dead.  The album version of The Descent is available via iTunes. If you are looking to purchase it through other platforms, click here.     Blessed Samhain!

Aldrig har noget Nytaar været saa fattigt Et nyt lorteår truer, så den traditionelle påkaldelse af Ereshkigal er ikke blot tiltrængt, men en tvingende nødvendighed. Byen summer af liv, og livet summer af tvivl, men solen er så rød, alt for rød, og alting får en ende. Vore bestræbelser er dog ikke forgæves, og med […]

The Grim Reaper, Ereshkigal, the pale rider... it's the fourth horseman (or woman, as you'll hear) in a series of four: DEATH! This episode Joe, Toren, and Kevin take on the anthropomorphic personification of death throughout history and popular culture. Music: "O Death" by Dock Boggs Images Videos http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JG2IFsz_n5c http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uY0ofqJur8 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg0kQHIMx9M http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qjl54v1irbs

The image is the “Queen of the Night,” a relief of Old Babylonian Empire (1800-1750 BC); it is now housed in the British Museum.This large plaque is made of baked straw-tempered clay, modeled in high relief. The figure of the curvaceous naked woman was originally painted red. She wears the horned headdress characteristic of a Mesopotamian deity and holds a rod and ring of justice, symbols of her divinity. Her long multicolored wings hang downwards, indicating that she is a goddess of the Underworld. Her legs end in the talons of a bird of prey, similar to those of the two owls that flank her. The background was originally painted black, suggesting that she was associated with the night. She stands on the backs of two lions, and a scale pattern indicates mountains.The figure could be an aspect of the goddess Ishtar, Mesopotamian goddess of sexual love and war, or Ishtar's sister and rival, the goddess Ereshkigal who ruled over the Underworld, or the demoness Lilitu, known in the Bible as Lilith. The plaque probably stood in a shrine. ***Music excerpt is “Ninevah” from the album The Forest by David Byrne