The best part of choosing Slytherin? Between the study of wickedly noxious potions and ancestral bragging rights and license to party and everything else, it's hard to pick. But perhaps the most deeply beautiful thing is the reward that comes from accepting your shadow as part of who you are . . . and dancing with it.
On January 14th, after several prep meetings over the previous couple of months ("If you have trouble finding the house, just listen for the cackling!" -Nemesis), my women's coven SisterSpirit held our Medusa ritual at the meeting house.
Medusa, far from being a mere monster, was originally the crone form of an African triple goddess collectively known as Anatha (some suggest her head-serpents in myth originated with dreadlocks). She also represents the power of female sexuality.
It is thought that Medusa was demonized and subjugated by the patriarchal Greek mentality; in myth, this is represented by Athena, a chaste virgin goddess of war and wisdom, engineering Medusa's defeat and wearing the severed serpentine head on her breastplate, therefore using her own repressed shadow-self as a kind of shield.
Athena represents any and every woman, including myself, who has ever squashed her sexuality under a leaden foot in order to focus on intellect, skill, and playing the game in a man's world. We Athenas may be efficient, but as long as we're operating from a place of shame, the myth reveals, we won't be completely whole. In working spiritually with archetypes in preparation for this ritual, I realized I had donned my "ice goddess" persona in exactly the same way as Athena wears Medusa's snarling face: If they were going to shame me with being a boy-unfriendly nerd, then I would wear that reflection as a mask of protection.
Western culture has long demonized the serpent, a symbol of transformation, just as it has the sexual and creative power of the feminine (whether in males or females, but especially in women). It also shames and demonizes the elderly, for their perceived weaknesses, their mortality and for any love of sensual earthly things they may enjoy: Medusa is also the crone, remember, and old ladies aren't supposed to like getting it on -- ew!
In this ritual, we explored how our society turns women against each other: Virgins against whores, mothers against daughters, businesswomen against nurturing homemakers, as it tries to stuff us into the roles men want to assign us. This leads us to turn the pain against and shame each other, accusing other women of those same roles we feel unable, or ashamed, to fit ourselves. Slut-shaming, fear, guilt, self-loathing . . . all are rife in our lovely society of equality!
Our task in this ritual was to heal the symbolic rift between the three forms of Anatha, and by doing so, heal the literal rift between ourselves in the community of women, thus sparking a sacred transformation of our collective feminine shadow. I was nervous; I felt as if all the inner explorative work in the world couldn't prepare me adequately for the ritual: After all, I would be embodying slut-shame itself, the reverse of the type of shame I had been doled in life.
I needn't have worried. The ritual proceeded magnificently, and Jamie, one of SisterSpirit's "alpha females", told me I was a really good ritual dramatist. I was also in charge of the South altar and invoking Fire, and had pulled hook and crook together to make a beautiful and potent altar space -- including staying up way too late the previous night to finish a new fire-serpent wand! (see below.)
But nothing compared to the dance itself. We had two guests with us that night, to lend us their magick in our ritual craft of transformation: bellydance artist Sedona Soulfire, and her . . . companion. After guiding us into releasing our Shakti or kundalini power via movement, Sedona joined us in dancing to this great song, Gate of the Snake. Halfway into it, she opened a basket she had set right in front of my fire altar. Carefully and gracefully, she lifted out her pet and familiar, Sachamama -- a five-foot female redtail boa!
The sudden presence of the beautiful ophidian soul in our midst, an inhuman but entirely sacred body and spirit capable of moving in ways beyond our human ability, and by doing so enabling our healing, was purely electrifying. The energy in the room shifted radically, and deliciously (at least for me, since I love snakes). "She's such a healer," Sedona told us. Sachamama, being cold-blooded, loved the warmth of our hands and bodies, though possibly felt surprise at being surrounded by so many dancing women. Throughout the rest of the ritual and feast, the snake got passed between many hands and shoulders; I petted her once and as her tail brushed my finger, its very tip curled around the end like a tiny embrace.
The ritual of Medusa helped emphasize to me that no matter who we are as women, or what we prefer for ourselves, it's perfectly acceptable, so long as none are harmed: We have the right to acknowledge who we are without being shamed. If we love having sex, for our own enjoyment and not a man's orders, we should not be made to feel dirty or ugly because of it.
On the flip side, if a woman wishes not to copulate with a certain person, who the hell are they to act entitled and shame her for that choice? And a woman like me, who enjoys sensual things but may be reticent to engage in full sex because she's so damn tight it actually hurts, should not be shamed as an "ice queen" for stopping the cuddling at the gate, or choosing to forego a physical encounter completely and spiritually shag Severus Snape instead! Medusa is about healing our wounds, shedding old skins, and reclaiming our feminine power.
I felt a pulse of energy for at least a week after this rite. Soon after, I went to Michael's Craft store to look for both a Medusa figurine as per a tip-off from a fellow sister, and to pick up some Paper ModPodge in the hopes it would work well for committing my huge backlog of potion scrapbook entries to my logbook,
Potus. On the picked-over shelves littered with tumbled dragons, princes and baby wildlife, one Medusa figurine remained, and home she came with me.
From Mystic Heart:
The Illusion of the Opposites (Serpent Work)
"Opposites are two sides of the same continuum. The human brain tends to pick out contrast with incredible quickness while obscuring the similarities. This is the reason why the “false dichotomy” fallacy exists. It is as if there is a veil over the middle of the spectrum, the bridge, that links both together and obscures it’s unity.
In the same way, our darkness is connected to our light, and our light is connected to our darkness. Our goal is to transmute, not reject. As Alchemists we find the unrectified First Matter in that which was rejected. That’s what we work with with, and that’s what we refine through the operations as the Serpent rises to become the Lion.
Eventually, through our operations, the unrectified first matter becomes rectified and more valuable than any of the metals in-between. It is as if one thing is turned into it’s opposite, when in reality they are both different manifestations of the same dual-natured thing.
We find reference to the these opposing forces depicted as serpents with a single origin in imagery across the globe. In this photo we see a Makara which is a Hindu Sea-Dragon. This is often represented by a crocodile chimera with different features, such as tusks of an elephant, and tails of a peacock. In much of the imagery the Makara is also seen with Nagas (serpents) coming out of its mouth; and sometimes a lion. The Makara represents a single creative force from which the dual nature of the serpents arise.
In the Buddhist Naga Staircase of Chiang Mai, Thailand, the union of the opposites is depicted as a bridge. This bridge is a continuum, and in the middle of the bridge the scales of the naga and steps are rainbow colored to represent the unity of light at it’s source, regardless of shade or visibility. It links Samsara with Nirvana.
Ultimately, the opposites obscure the the path to the Elixir of Life, the Philosophers stone, yet they are the gates we must walk through, and the bridge we must walk across, to find it."
As per my newly revived focus on the Craft, I made a potion shortly after the ritual to encapsulate the Medusa energy for access in the future when I needed it.
For this brew, I again employed the pendulum technique I developed this winter for determining measure of ingredients. I can see where there might be a tendency to overuse the pendulum, rather than go by hard science or logic, but I found so far the two tend to correspond fairly closely, so I'm trying to trust my body's perception of energies via the pendulum.
As is typical, I didn't get around to compounding the potion on the day of the Medusa rite itself. Rather, I made it on January 19th, drawing on the energy of the dark moon in Capricorn. As the foci of intention, I concentrated on courage, dedication, work (Capricorn), and the kundalini energy of Medusa, as a way to bring pleasure into my life via a changed state of consciousness and to create joy and sensual engagement in my work. Part of this means being able to visualize dreams and goals, and to open myself up past fear and into pleasure and full wholeness. Sensuality and sexuality are definitely a part of this, as they are related to being more engaged with life, and so is spiritual work with the dark animus, as a tool of transformation. Quite a mouthful for one potion!
The brew contains several types of ingredients, but an experienced potist can look at the list and know instantly how best to combine them. Again, all measures were determined by pendulation, via questions such as: "Is this ingredient helpful for a brew of this purpose?" and, "Is a teaspoon sufficient?" and, "Do I need more or less of this ingredient?"
Dark Moon Medusa Brew
Dry herbs:
Damiana - 1 Tbsp
Eleuthero - 2 tsps
Holy Basil - 1 tsp
Lavender - 3/4 tsp
Chrysanthemum - 2 tsps
Tincture, alcohol:
St. Johns Wort - 1 tsp
Tincture blends, glycerin:
Aphrodisia blend - 3 dropperfuls
Rose Dream Elixir - 2 dropperfuls
Tincture, high power, alcohol:
Toxicus Exquisitus (Bittersweet Nightshade tincture) - 2 drops
Bring 2 cups water to a boil. Grind Eleuthero root in a mortar, inviting the spirit of the herb with intent, then add first to water. Turn heat to low, and let simmer 3 minutes.
Meanwhile, add other herbs to mortar, and pestle them gently with intent. Add these to brew. Cover, simmer no more than a minute, then turn off heat and steep 11 minutes or so.
Uncover brew, strain into Pyrex 2 cup measure (or other vessel), let cool. Add tinctures one by one, stirring with intent. If the potion is to be drunk right then, nothing more is needed.
To preserve excess brew, however: Add to cooled potion one half its volume in vodka. Bottle.
Lab notes:
• Bittersweet is toxic. Note the tiny dose, which may be far below a dangerous or even noticeable level, but nonetheless all that is required here.
• Lavender is hardly dangerous at all, but I was surprised by the small measure, which suggests that a benign herb still may not be desired or needed in a large amounts by my overall energy complex --- or the synthesis of circumstance and intention for that particular potion --- at the time.
• We received two affirmation cards as part of the ritual. (The task was to pick one, but two chose to slip into my fingers) These read: "I am magnetic" and "I am vibrant". I had the idea to enchant the potion further by placing the bottle on my altar on top of these cards, much like labeling a glass of water with intention. More on this later.
• Results. When I did partake of a sip of this brew later, as per a desire to connect with this energy, I felt a surge of sensual urge and sensation at the taste. I hope this means the brew is amply charged with the Medusa vibration, but more observation is needed for me to be sure.
The Gate of the Snake is open!
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