How to Become a Goddess... Literally!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

A group of young women become spiritually awakened through an initiation.

Over a period of sixteen hours, we had all been ritually cleansed, intellectually challenged and emotionally tested. And now, finally, it was time to return to the fold, as fresh new initiates. Or was it?

Ana had gathered us all, once again, in the now empty auditorium. And, just as before, she was evidently going to address us, informally, from the edge of the stage. Only, this time, her demeanour was more serious. She looked troubled, in fact, as we competed for the meagre selection of refreshments that had been placed out for us. I don’t think I was alone in sensing the tense atmosphere, but Lucy seemed quite oblivious to it, as she attempted to trade her packet of crisps for my bag of peanuts.

“If you recall,” said Ana, putting her clipboard to one side, “my stated goal, at the very outset, was to make all of you appear so delicious, in the eyes of the Goddess, that She wouldn’t be able to resist gobbling you up. And so, I proceeded to wash you, symbolically, and prepare you, in various ways. But, even so, there remains something within you, something hidden, that would cause the Goddess to vomit you up, were She to consume you. Therefore, that something must now be purged, in order to complete your initiation into this… movement.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t about effort, on your part. Simply listening to my words will set in motion a chain of events that will sever your connection to this world, forever. I am therefore giving you all one last opportunity, to change your minds, if you don’t feel ready to experience something of this magnitude. And, believe me, I don’t use that word lightly. For you are about to pass the point of no return. You are crossing the Rubicon, as they say. And your lives, even within the community, will never be the same again.”

Lucy immediately stood up, much to my surprise. “Nah, I’m just kidding,” she said, before promptly sitting down again. Two more girls then stood up, who were not kidding. One of them was Penelope.

“I’m sorry, guys,” she said, addressing the group, “but I’m not ready for this. Not yet, anyway.”

Both girls were then escorted out of the auditorium.

“Wow,” said Lucy, “I didn’t see that coming.”

“I did,” I admitted.

Ana continued: “I’m never quite sure how to broach this subject, despite having given this talk many times before. It always seems to unfold slightly differently with each group.” She then took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if going into a state of meditation. Whatever she was doing, she remained silent and motionless for quite some time.

Lucy took my hand and placed it over her heart. She was either very excited or a lot more frightened than she appeared.

“Patriarchy,” said Ana, springing back into life. “It has turned human beings into human addicts. Most of us fail to see this, however. And those who do see it, well, they don’t see it as a problem. Because it isn’t a problem, for the children of that system; for the human products of that system. In fact, their addiction is necessary for the system to function; their addiction is the system. But to what, exactly, am I referring?”

“Chocolate?” said Lucy, with a smirk.

Ana chuckled. “If only it were that simple. No, think about the animal kingdom, Lucy, because animals don’t share our addiction, which shows that it’s not natural; not part of nature.”

Nobody seemed to have a clue as to what she was talking about.

“What do people like to do in their spare time?” she asked. “Books, games, movies, sport. Think about where you are, right now. What is theatre synonymous with?”

“Entertainment,” Kirsty suggested. “Animals aren’t addicted to entertainment, as we are.”

“But even more essentially,” Ana persisted, “what is entertainment rooted in and dependent upon? What is theatre fundamentally all about?”

“Oh,” I said, my eyes widening. I knew exactly what she was referring to, at this point, but for some reason I was reluctant to say the word. Perhaps it was because I didn’t actually want to be cured. For it wasn’t about entertainment, as such, but life itself. Ana didn’t simply want to purge an addiction, she wanted to rip our guts out! She wanted to redefine what it meant to be human.

I glanced across at the others, who appeared to be as unsettled as I was, perhaps because they had also realised what it was that Ana was referring to. “Okay,” Lucy confessed. “At this point, I am officially… crapping myself.”

“I think we all are,” I told her, with confidence.

Ana stood up and began to pace around as she continued talking: “Patriarchy has created a conflict in the human psyche, which manifests as conflict in the world. And we are addicted to this conflict, whether we see it as entertainment, or politics, or sporting competition, or war. But none of these things play any part in the world to come; in the world which you yourselves have been divinely commissioned to create. This means that you cannot continue with any conflict within yourselves, because that internal conflict will inevitably contaminate your creation. And so we must identify the root cause of this conflict, in order to dig it out. Which isn’t hard to do, because all conflict, all drama, obviously stems from the illusion of otherness. An illusion upon which patriarchy itself is founded, and which patriarchy ruthlessly promotes and sustains.

“So who would you all be, exactly, without this conflict in your psyche? What, in fact, already exists beyond this conflict? Am I not speaking of the very thing that you all claim to aspire to? Simply, the desire to become Her; to become whole and harmonious; to become love? This is not only your desire, of course, but Her desire too. And it’s a desire that’s being fulfilled, even as I speak.”

“But how?” I asked. “How does simply hearing these words resolve the conflict within us?”

“Because they are not merely words, Melanie, but energy. Words infused with energy. It’s a phenomenon known in the East as Shaktipat, and it’s why some of you may be experiencing mild bodily sensations, such as sweating, increased heart rate or dizziness.”

“Shakti what?” said Lucy.

“Shaktipat. It’s the transmission of spiritual energy from one person to another. And, in this context, it represents your initiation; the preparation of gross matter for divine consumption.”

As she spoke, a wave of peace suddenly washed over me, which had the effect of silencing my mind. “Melanie?” said Ana, apparently noticing my change of demeanour. 

“I’m fine,” I told her. “More than fine, in fact. Something has definitely been relieved.”

“And how would you describe that relief?” she asked.

“Like, when you burn your finger on the stove, and then plunge it into a glass of icy cold water.”

“Well, of course,” she replied, “no conflict means no pain. And, you know, everybody lives with this pain, whether they realise it or not. It’s the silent engine of their action; the architect of their lives. Everything people do is an attempt to soothe, obscure or distract themselves from this pain, in one way or another. Addiction to drama is simply an outward reflection of their inner turmoil. What we can’t resolve on the inside, we attempt to resolve on the outside. But it obviously doesn’t work that way. No amount of war and conflict, whether real or fictionalised, is going to end our pain. Only wholeness can end our pain, which means that only love can end our pain. Not romantic love or familial love, but unconditional love. And people are simply not capable of this, because a person is self-identified as separate. It’s a Catch-22, which can realistically only be resolved through grace. Your own liberation isn’t the result of striving, after all, but rather your willingness to let go; to sacrifice your illusory selves on the altar of Truth. And, in so doing, become the unique expressions of divinity that you were always destined to be.”

Silence is said to be the language of the gods. And, in that moment, all of my questions had been answered by the greatest silence imaginable. For the questioner, herself, had dissolved into it; been consumed by it. My curiosity now seemed meaningless; ridiculous, in fact. Like a child determined to discover what type of cheese the moon was made from. My worries, too, were seen as equally absurd, stemming as they did from my misidentification of myself as a person, rather than as the Divine incarnate. I may have been sitting in a theatre, but there was no drama present in me any longer, and therefore no desire to experience it, if only as fiction. And this, I realised, meant that I was fit, not merely to inherit the world, but to birth it. For the new system was to be the child, not of a conflicted human psyche, but of the Goddess Herself.

Submitted: November 26, 2020

© Copyright 2021 JayShakti. All rights reserved.

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