Breakfast At Ereshkigal's

As Samhain (pronounced "Sow Win" -- the Celtic term for Halloween) rolls around each year I like to reread this entry to a former private blog I had, of one of the most powerful rituals I've ever taken part in.  It took place a couple years ago with a local Pagan group and still I feel the ripples from it influencing my life to this day -- particularly the promise I made to the Queen of the Underworld...


The other night I took a trip to the underworld. Though it was “just” a ritual, the experience was authentic and powerful. I thought I had come to this gathering to see a couple friends who would be there but, as the rit unfolded, I realized that it was the real reason I was there.

The ritual was centered around Inanna’s descent to the underworld. In the pre-rit discussion, as they were preparing us for what was to come, I felt anxiety rising, and my chest beginning to tighten. I could tell this was not going to be a normal, just-along-for-the-ride type, ritual, but had deeper, more consequential ramifications. I had doubts, and questioned if this was truly something I wanted to take part in. I also knew that I had to go through it, because it was exactly, in a nutshell, what I’ve been doing this season.

We met inside, where we watched Inanna, the Sumerian Queen of Heaven, decide to visit her sister, Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld. She was confident because of Her rank with the gods, and who She was, that this would not be a problem. However, we witnessed Her meeting with Ereshkigal’s guardians who literally stripped Her of everything until bowed and shaking, naked and crying, She was ushered into the lower realms. And as Inanna disappeared out the door, into the dark night, one guardian turned to the group, telling us that if we wanted to travel to the underworld, we were to join them outside, along the building.

Once we were lined up outside, we were given blindfolds of gauze, and a rope to hold onto, by which we would be guided through the seven gates to the Queen Herself. So we were led slowly, blindly, through the night and over the rough, mucky ground, sometimes brushing against trees or rocks, and at seven points, as we passed through a ‘gate’, we were asked a question: “Will you release…” What we were asked to release were our power, our relationships, our possessions, our wealth, our bodies, our beauty, our minds. If ever our answer was ‘no’, we would need to let go of the rope and return, but I continued to answer ‘yes’. This is what this whole exploration has been about for me, getting to my core. As we were told at each gate, “These things have no power in this realm. Who are you without them?” That is what my exploration is about. Who am I at my essence, when everything that is not me is removed? It is something I faced on my vision Quest, and here, 6 months later, it seems I needed to be reminded again.

And so, as we neared the Nether Realms, and I let go of more and more of the things that I have wrapped a false identity around, I felt lighter and lighter, until finally we were told to remove our blindfolds. We found ourselves in the Royal Presence of Ereshkigal. A fire burned in a brazier, just off the ground in front of us, and beyond that was a raised platform, a stage, upon which sat the throne of Ereshkigal, and upon which sat Ereshkigal Herself.

What unfolded next was more drama, as Inanna was brought before Her sister -- Her sister filled with anger, bitterness, resentment, and hate for being relegated to the Underworld while Inanna had been raised to become Queen of the Heavens. Inanna, on Her knees, still weeping and asking why, kept crying “It’s not fair”, only to be slapped by Erishkigal who repeated “it’s not fair!” “You will never leave this place Sister!”

Then the Queen of Darkness turned Her attention toward us. She descended the throne, and walked to and fro before us, and though her black attire and skull-painted face seemed aimed at frightening us, there was a beauty and an allure to her that could not be denied. “What were you looking for when you came here? Enlightenment?!” She asked, “Well, you’ve found me, and you best pray that you can find something in your heart to draw you beyond this place, because if I find one spot of darkness in you, my bitterness and resentment and regret and anger will use that opening to eat at you alive from the inside out!”

Now, I guessed that all this was meant to push buttons, make us question ourselves, and even scare us, but having just released all those things, on the journey down to this point, that would bring up such feelings, I could look upon Her with nothing but Love and Compassion, for at my core I knew myself to be Light and Love and Truth. I saw in her a reflection of all the things that distract me and get in the way of my connection with that core, but at that moment, all I was was Love.

She continued by saying that there was no way out of here but through Her. She was the final gate, and we would have to have good reason to be released back into the land of the living. With that She ascended the throne once more, where She sat and motioned each of us before Her, one by one. As we filed up, I watched Her interact with the others. Despite Her rage and bitterness, she showed quite a bit of tenderness, reaching out and holding someone’s hands, placing her hand on the top of someone’s head, or beneath their chin. Still I felt a tinge of anxiety as my turn arrived, in fact enough anxiety that I wasn’t paying attention and tripped going up the steps. D’oh! I regained my composure, approached Her Majesty, and knelt at Her feet. Looking up into Her eyes I knew for certain I was kneeling before a Goddess and no mere human.

“What would bind you to my realm?” “Low self esteem,” I answered. “Ah yes. When I close my eyes I can see that you appear this big.” She held Her fingers a couple inches apart. “But you are not this big. You know this!” “Yes.” “If I release you from my realm you will take all of you, your full size with you. You may leave that little you here, but you will take the rest with you.” “Yes.” “Now, what ties you so strongly the Land of the Living?” “Love, Creation…” “Ah! Creation!” She sat back, closing Her eyes. “I remember that well! I was quite fond of Creation, but I have nothing to do with that now,” She said, a sliver of bitterness slipping back into Her words. She opened Her eyes, sat forward again, and once more I found myself captivated by the beautiful eyes of the Divine. “You will not waste this?” She asked, though more as a command than a question. “No.” “You will live and you will create?” There was the sense of personal purpose in this, of not allowing anything to interfere with it. “I will.” “Then go,” She said, tilting her head toward the far end of the stage.

Once we had all been released, Ereshkigal again addressed Inanna, telling Her to get up from where She had lain, next to the throne, this whole time. She rose, to be told again that She would not be permitted to leave. Inanna protested, saying She had done all that had been demanded of Her. At this point, a priest stepped forward, addressing Ereshkigal, saying it was the Law that if She could find some soul to take Inanna’s place, the Queen of Heaven must be released. He waved a hand toward us saying, “There are plenty of souls here. Choose one.” “Wait!” Cried Inanna. “This is my shade.” She pulled the same gauzy fabric that our blindfolds were made of, from about Her head. “This is all my bitterness and fears, you may keep these.” She descended the stairs and tossed the gauze into the flames. She stood, once again naked, before the Queen of the Underworld, but no longer shaking or crying.

“Your requirements have been fulfilled. Thank you Sister. I have learned a lot from you, and for that I will always be grateful.” Inanna’s friend and companion, then draped a robe over the Heavenly Queen’s shoulders, and She turned to us, directing us to throw our blindfolds into the fire. When all had done so, leaving behind the things that blinded us to our true natures, Inanna told us to clasp hands, and She thusly guided us back to the Land of the Living.

On the way back, only one question had we to answer – “Will you live?”

“Yes!”

Swan Song

It was, synchronistically, the day of my Birthday at the shamanic workshop I went to in Santa Fe that we were dealing with Creation Stories.  In the work we were learning, we were merging with the Creator, and so it was important for each of us to know who our personal creator is, thus we did a journey to literally 'meet our maker' and to discover what our personal creation myth was, as well as to come back with a symbol of our creator that we could put up somewhere to remind us to connect.

Now I have a deep, expanding body of personal myths that I've been building for years, and had actually written a creation myth long ago (Swan Mother -- A Creation Story), so when we began our journey I was nervous -- if Swan Mother shows up, that's just too convenient and I know I'm just making it up, if not downright cheating because I already wrote it.  Well, guess who showed up?  But as I watched this living story unfold before my eyes, whether I'd already written it or not, there were changes and depth added to it that were not part of the original story, and I can't describe the immediacy and exhilaration of witnessing it play out of it's own accord before me.

The following is an updated version of my personal Creation Story, melding my original writing with my first-hand eye-witness account...

irst was, is, Swan Mother. She-Before-All-Else. You wouldn't have known that was who She was, though, for She appeared as but a ball of pure white light. She was alone, but not lonely, for She was complete in Herself. So complete was She that a feeling began to make itself known to Her from deep inside. A tingling, bubbling feeling. A feeling of love.

Now Swan Mother knows love. One complete in Herself knows all about love, because it is love that makes one complete. A deep abiding love that is the touchstone and ground of all Being. Swan Mother is Love.

But this love was different. This love was growing -- Growing and expanding in such a way that Swan Mother knew it could not be contained. If She did nothing She would burst! So in Her wisdom, Swan Mother gathered Her wings about Her, like a great downy cloak, and in one swift and graceful movement, spread Her vast wings as far as they would reach. In so doing, in this unimaginable expanse from wing-tip to wing-tip, Swan Mother had created Space.

As Her wings unfolded, so too unfurled Her long, curved neck and in a great expression of release she sang out a song of Joy.  Now this tingling, bubbling, effervescent feeling of love, growing with in Her, had somewhere to go, and go it did!  From Her snowy throat, amidst the notes of Her beautiful song, sprang a serpent of flame which curled and twisted and danced through the new-born space, rolling and stretching in it's new found freedom. And as the serpent danced, his fiery form coalesced into a stallion -- Fire Horse!  

So filled with His new found joy and freedom was Fire Horse, that He ran and jumped, played and pranced throughout the whole of space between Swan Mother's outstretched wings.  And in His excitement and play, the sparks from His hooves ignited all the downy feathers, that floated everywhere from Swan Mother's great exertion, and these became the countless multitude of suns and stars in the heavens. 

Swan Mother flapped her wings, fanning the flames of these myriad suns, and the the currents which formed in the wake of her wings drew all the stars into their myriad patterns and constellations.  So much Joy had She at this creation that tears fell from Her eyes, each tear drop falling into place around a star -- each a pregnant salt-water world ready to blossom with life.

And so it was. And so it is. Aho.

 

...and as I was beginning to return from my journey, and to the class room in Santa Fe, I was left with one last image -- I was a wee-babe held lovingly and tenderly in the interlaced wingtips of Swan Mother, as her long, graceful neck craned down in my direction and She smiled at me.

 

In The Footsteps of the Master

In the recent 5-day shamanic workshop I attended in Santa Fe, our teacher, Sandra Ingerman, was talking about how the Universe is always talking to us, and it's really up to us to recognize and interpret the signs and omens presented to us.  It may be as simple as a particular bird or animal crossing your path, or the snippet of an overheard conversation.  But whatever your question, the answers are all around you, and the Universe attempts to communicate them to you in meaningful ways.  I believe it was just before lunch she was telling us this, and as we broke to eat, our assignment was to ask a question and then to expect and to look for an answer. 

At the soul retrieval workshop I'd taken with Sandra acouple months ago, I'd learned that she has a two year Teacher's Training program.  Immediately I felt excitement and a pull in that direction, but for the intervening time between that workshop and this one, whenever I asked my guides if I should sign up for it, my answer has been, "One step at a time. Just get through the next workshop..." etc. So here I was at the next workshop and a lot of people were talking about teacher training, and a lot of people had already been accepted into the program.  "Okay guys! I think I need an answer here! Is it for the highest good for me to take this teacher training?"

I went to lunch, a little disappointed that some of the faery folk who abounded in this magickal place didn't jump out of the bushes yelling "Yes!! Do it!! We want to see you again ion April!!"  Oh well.  I kept my eyes and heart open as I wound down and processed all the info and experience from the morning's class.  I wandered back up to the class room a bit early, thinking that maybe I'd take a short nap in my spot and that way not have to worry about oversleeping into class time.  As I walked into the building, there at my feet, inexplicably to me as to how it got there and pretty sure I hadn't seen it before, was a paw print, dug into the solid tile floor. A wolf's pawprint.

It's not like it was a solid concrete floor where some animal could have stepped into it before it had dried.  And it wasn't a decorative tile where there was a theme with other decorative tiles around it. It was absolutely on it's own.  Besides that, had it been cut there by a professional craftsman, it would most likely have been more 'perfect'. This print was perfectly imperfect.  There may be a totally logical way it got there, but I can't even guess at how.  And besides that, the 'how' isn't important -- that just adds to the juicy mystery of the miracle.

The significance is simply in it's presence, and the fact that it is a wolf paw.  Wolf, aside from being my Totem animal, carries the medicine and symbology of the Teacher.  Whether male or female, Wolf gets its energy and power from the Moon, the intuitive Feminine side of its soul -- a trait of the greatest teachers, rolling with the flow of what needs to be illuminated and putting the importance that things are seen clearly rather than following to the letter some syllabus or schedule.  And every wolf pack has its scouts that venture forth into unknown territory to bring back to the pack what they've learned from their own experience.  This is the essence and embodiment of the teacher.   

The fact also that the print was pointing into the heart of our class room rather than away from it seemed highly symbolic.  A clear enough sign to me, as if Wolf were standing there in person, ushering me into the room and whispering, "You're on the right path. Follow my footsteps. This way..."

So to my hidden faery folk friends, including the little guy with the long tail who climbed up into my closet the first night, I will see you in April!

Down The Pub

We interupt your normally scheduled blog posts to bring you this very important Blantant Self Promotion...

I'M PUBLISHED!!

It seems almost anti-climatic, as I sort out what the word "published" means in today's era of technology and computers. I've been periodically posting original comics to my facebook page, and eventually ended up dedicating an entire blog to my latest works (http://drawingbreath-comic.blogspot.com/) but in the same way that I still prefer a book in my hands with real pages to turn rather than reading things online, there's something in me that said that, until I hold a solid book of my comics in my hands, I am not published.

It started almost by accident, and as an experiment. Recently my sister published a book of her art with an online publisher -- 

Aside from absolutely loving her artwork, something switched on in my brain. If she can do that with her paintings, then I can do the same thing with my comics!  I checked into the website she used, found out how easy it was, and voila!

The timing was perfect! After I'd been to the Soul Retrieval training with Sandra Ingerman acouple months ago, I was looking at a comic I'd drawn about 15 years ago, and with the new insights I had garnered from the class, realized I was looking at a soul retrieval in comic book form, drawn years before I even knew they existed. I decided I needed to share this with Sandra when I saw her again for another workshop that happened just last week.  I gathered all my original drawings, made sure they were all in the correct order, tucked them into a manilla envelope, and prepared to go to the local printer to make copies.

Boom! That's when my sister finished her book and I realized how cool it would be to hand Sandra the very first published copy of this comic book! ...signed of course. So the following is that comic --

Putar and the Preserver by Patrick Corrigan
Make Your Own Book

 

I drew it when I was rediscovering my love for cartooning.  In the comic, Putar, my childhood feline version of Tarzan and the one character I drew semi-consistently up to recent times, is sent back in time to retrieve my other boyhood charcters, and thus restore that creativity to my current self.  In the final panel Putar holds my younger self and wishes him, "Welcome home."  This is exactly what we've been taught to whisper into the ear of every client when we finish a soul retrieval. How cool is that?

 

So as I continue to do soul retreivals, and make plans to teach shamanic classes, as well as attend shamanic classes, and draw new comics, I am compiling a number of older comic projects and am slowly getting them published into book form.  And as I watch this bit of childhood dream unfurling before me, easier and more effortlessly than I could have imagined, I whisper to the little boy whose dream this has always been, "Welcome home."

 

 

 

 
NOTE:
My sister's book is "30 Dogs in 30 days" 2011 by Kat Corrigan http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2496995
and while you're at it you can check out her other paintings at http://katcorrigan.blogspot.com/

How Weird Is That?

One of my favorite Star Trek quotes (...Yes. I am a geek and I do have more than one favorite Star Trek quote... ) happens when Captain Janeway is walking with a crew member through the decks of Voyager. The crew member is talking about how weird their latest adventure was, and Janeway replies, "We're Starfleet. Weird is just part of the job!"
 
At my second Sandra Ingerman workshop in so many months (which I will talk about in more detail in other posts) I heard a few different people on a few different occasions specifically mention the word 'weird,' in reference to what family and others called them, or how they felt, usually with a negative conotation. But all I could think of was the above quote and how, when you're walking off the beaten path, things are going to naturally get a little strange. To me it's a sign post that I'm going the right way.  You can't walk a magickal and/or shamanic path and expect to be normal. If things were 'normal' where is the adventure and the wonder?

Besides that, there is the etymological root the word comes from -- "wyrd" -- which ties into the Fates (particularly the Norse version called the Norns and specifically the Norn who was named "Urd"), often referred to as the Wyrd Sisters whose most famous incarnation is as the three witches at the beginning of Macbe... --The Scottish Play. 

So, fittingly, 'weird' is a word brimming with magick, and prophesy, and other such shamanic things, and I tend to wear it as a badge of honor. So if you are on a shamanic path, and things start getting... interesting... just remember -- "You're a shaman. Weird is just part of the job."

(Second favorite quote: "Sir! I protest! I am not a merry man!")