The Serpentine Path
Time moves differently along the spiral 𖦹 ê©œ 𖦹â’°｡
It’s been about a year since I started my doctoral program in Mythological Studies. Time has moved in such a way that I feel like a century has passed in the blink of an eye.
Sometime between then & now, I went deep into my own mythopoetic process with a metaphorical pile of underprocessed lore to show for it. Studying cross-cultural myth while reading literature on wizards, alchemy, and the Jungian unconscious will do that to you.
My writing over the last few months has been limited to term papers and discussion posts, some of which I might share on this platform now that the muses have deigned to grant me the motivation.
The good news is that I made it through my first year at Pacifica with a general idea of my dissertation topic—serpent medicine as a healer for the Motherline. Somehow, I managed to write nearly all of my papers about the Goddess.
The Great Mother has always been with me like a subtle pulse, an ancient rhythm beneath my feet. From my Motherpeace studies with Mimi Young to my folk medicine apprenticeship with the Escuela del RÃo Cósmico, every path I’ve taken has led me back to Her.
Growing up in a Korean Presbyterian community, I have carried the witch wound my entire young adult life. I went to church to feel the presence of the Divine and sang to the Goddess in secret, veiling her under the guise of a more palatable masculine God.
But the Goddess is Sophia. She is the very soul of the holy trinity, giving form to the eternal. Without realizing it, I was contributing to the exile of the Feminine Divine by refusing to speak Her name alongside that of the Father.
Around this time last year, I started to have vivid memories of a past lifetime as an Avalon priestess. So often, I hear a fascination from others around past lives. Everyone wants to remember living in ancient Egypt.
In my time I have been called many things: sister, lover, priestess, wise-woman, queen. Now in truth I have come to be wise-woman, and a time may come when these things may need to be known. But in sober truth, I think it is the Christians who will tell the last tale. For ever the world of Fairy drifts further from the world in which the Christ holds sway. I have no quarrel with the Christ, only with his priests, who call the Great Goddess a demon and deny that she ever held power in this world. At best, they say that her power was of Satan. Or else they clothe her in the blue robe of the Lady of Nazareth—who indeed had power in her way, too—and say that she was ever virgin. But what can a virgin know of the sorrows and travail of mankind?
The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley
As beautiful as it is to remember the Isle of Apples, the soft grass, and the ever-presence of the Great Mother on that fertile land, there was also the heart-wrenching memory of the old ways fading away and the gruesome death I faced for knowing too much. It is an old wound that follows me even still. Many of us carry this imprint in our current incarnations—the fear of speaking our truth.
Being at Pacifica and studying comparative religion has helped ease that fear immensely. It turns out, the deeper you go into one religious tradition, the more you realize that all spiritual teachings are (more or less) saying the same thing. There are many paths of God. And if you go far back enough with any culture, there you will find the Goddess.
I recently had a dream that I was back on campus at Pacifica with a gray, bearded hierophant/mentor figure who was teaching me the secrets of Christian mysticism in one of our school storehouses. When I emerged, a friend noted the golden crucifix I wore around my neck.
Following the tradition of nourishing a dream, as introduced to me by Dr. Barbara Bain, I asked my mother to help me find one of the old Sunday school necklaces my sister and I used to wear as children. Somehow, it feels so right to be wearing that cross. My spiritual identity feels incomplete when I deny my Christian roots when they are just as alive as my shamanic and animist practices.
On this cross, I see the Magdalene and a reminder that inner union begets outer transformation.
Just as the Goddess has many faces, we as women are gifted with the capacity to hold and embody paradox.
Green Witch. Priestess. Christian.
Sister. Lover. Wise-woman. Queen.
For anyone who has made it this far, a little note that I’ll be back to posting more regularly on Substack.
My relationship with social media is still tenuous and this feels like a softer place to start.
I hope some of you will enjoy following me across this next threshold.