Written for the LotS group over at the Cauldron, on a prompt I nudged for. Not everyone is staying (and I’m not sure if I will be staying much longer, either), but it has brought up some interesting things. Its 2 days late, but oh well. I was rather busy since Beltane (magic pig and a swarm of bees. Yikes.)
The Lady, for me, is huge. Bigger than huge. She is so much that what She isn’t might be easier to think of. She isn’t old. She’s a ever-present flame and a timeless ocean. The spark of life instead of an Earth-mother. Time does not touch Her. From before the beginning til after the end, She will be there. An immense patience and kindness, for She knows that we are hobbled by time and the limitations it puts on us.
We are living beings, sharing the spark of life-fire and being able to appreciate it, and so She looks after us. The feeling of home I have with Her is of kindred found. She is a point that we cling to, and in clinging we find ourselves. Those that do not need Her do not feel the loss, but I need Her. To be without Her is to be in a universe without stars, without black-velvet sky. I never knew how great the hole was until She filled it, singing and radiant and reaching out for me. Not a mother, though She can be for some, but both me and not-me. I hold a piece of Her, She holds all of me.
She is not my lady. She is. The sun is not my sun, the moon is not my moon. The Lady is not my Lady. In all that I do, I honor Her. In all that I am, I honor her. I am not unworthy, though. I merely cannot let myself put such a grand and wondrous idea in a single box. I do not worship her as I worship others. She is the one that reminds me of the pull of something so great I cannot truly comprehend it, of ideas so strange I cannot swallow them whole. I must nibble nibble nibble ’round the edges until I have enough to gnaw on for a while. To see the Mystery in plain guise would be either insanity or drivel, so She teaches me in paradox. A Fire on the Water. One who is Many and None. The Starsmith and the Destroyer. If I tried to hold her as I do with the more- human? familiar? worldly, I suppose, gods, She wouldn’t be what She is. Others are important and good, but they aren’t ~quite~ the same.
I call her the Lady of the Stars, over any other name, because that comes closest to the idea of Her that I have. A being so vast and wonderful only the stars themselves can be Her, a celestial heaven and all it implies that is only one speck of Her. We know so very little for certain about the stars, yet we yearn after them, generation after generation pulling themselves up out of primordial muck and craning our heads up to the vastness Out There, reaching our arms out to Her. The stars birthed us, brought oxygen to our rock, and strange minerals, and gave us fire. It spat meteors and holy stones and swords of gleaming space-iron into our stories and fables. The stars hold secrets too vast for comprehension so we make do with what we can understand.
We try to tame the unknown and spin it (and Her) into something we can hold. And She lets us. Encourages us. For we must have the glimpse of the divine to yearn for it. That is one of the Mysteries I take on faith, until I bite off more of the puzzle. She isn’t every deity, but She isn’t exactly just Herself, either. There is no sense of subservience, no feeling that She is an ubergod. She just is. Others just are. Sometimes they are together, sometimes they aren’t. Take Manannan for example. He is the one I see and speak with every day. His signs are the signs that I see. I adore him. He has duties and jobs that are important and needful and when he asks something of me, I try my best to give it. But Her? Her work fits seemlessly into what I do, what I am. Manannan challenges me; Her influence is all-pervasive. Her voice is a gentle hum that comforts me and guides me. So far, They have never come into conflict. Its a harmony that I don’t try to understand too hard. I just accept it, give thanks for it, and continue to do the work I need to do.