It is just after midnight. I'm awake and sipping coffee. I got somewhere around 3.5 or 4 hours of sleep. I figure that I'll be up most of the night, coffee or not. My mind has been on the gods as of late and a feeling of emptiness that pervades the core of my soul. This is not depression, my medications are (mostly) working. This goes deeper. There is an emptiness in my soul. Something has shifted. I can't quite name it. Maybe I have forgotten the feeling when a soul part is about to return. Maybe my doom scrolling and watching the world finally come to its breaking point in real-time, no less, has caused me to lose a soul part. Maybe it is pandemic anxiety meeting my regular anxiety and them teaming up. I'm not sure.
So, I turn my face to my gods. I turn my thoughts to their workings, to their worship. I think of Athene, my newest goddess. I think of Hekate and Mars, who have been there for more years than I can say. Looking back, Athene has been there, as well. I just didn't realize or, maybe, acknowledge it.
She stood watch over me as a child. She watched me grow from a teen into a strong-willed woman. She guided me through an ultimately nasty marriage and divorce. She walked the path beside me as I navigated this strange wasteland we call life, often without any support system beyond those friends inside of my computer.
My father bought a statue in the 1960s. He was in the Navy and traveling the Mediterranean, exploring exotic places on the African coast (bought my mother's engagement ring there before he knew her), and finding adventure on the shores of the far east. He bought an ivory statue. That statue is of a woman with a spear, shield, and helmet. She is standing proud, the warrior she is upon a small pedestal. Underneath, her name MINERVA.
Now, I am generally a hard pantheist. A god is a god and is not the other culture equivalent. The other culture, similar god, is a god in its own right. I go back and forth with myself regarding the Greco-Roman deities. Their stories are twined together so tightly, many tales look the same in both cultures. The Greek tales seem to be softer, with less violence, but I digress.
Minerva stood in my home from the time just before I was born and still stands, ironically, atop my father's gun cabinet. You see, my father is one of those people who are pagan and don't know it. My mother, as well, though she would be horrified to hear such a blasphemous utterance. All my life, dad has kept Minerva close to him. Always in his room, his private sanctuary. Always placed somewhere high above us: a bookcase, his gun cabinet, mom's armoire. A place of honor so that she may watch and keep us.
These two goddesses are similar. Maybe the same? I'll not make any declarations here except to say that they possess the same type of energy. They weave similar tapestries upon life, influence life in similar manners. So, I believe it is a safe bet to call Athene a family deity.
She came to me for the first time in 2010 or 2011 in the form of an Avon perfume bottle, the noxious liquid still inside. She held a golden laurel crown in her right hand. Later, I came to find out that most of those perfume bottles lost their gold leaf crowns, so mine was quite special. Most recently, I came upon another perfume bottle, one that had lost its gold leaf. With it, an amphora depicting the lady with Heracles, in that famous and beloved tale.
She was, again, making herself known. I recognized this very blatant sign. I bought both pieces and they form part of an altar to Athene. I also set up an offering bowl. I give her trinkets, money, stones, whatever feels like it needs to be there. While these offerings fill a spot in my heart, they do nothing to touch the emptiness. I know she is pleased with them, yet I feel nothing. Like I am going through the motions of life and worship.
So, I turn my face, not away from my gods, but I turn it to my shamanist training. I trust they will guide me through the harrowing adventure that is to come. I have a soul part to find and it is not as easy as wandering into the 'cave of souls' and plucking the shining little bit of diamond dust from the ground or wall or ceiling. I trust that my gods will guide me beyond the well of souls and give me something to place into the void I feel.
I have one more trusted guide on this journey. I don't want to make it, but I know that I will be all the better for it.
