Nothing's Normal When You're Dead, Part 2.

Obviously, I am not dead in the literal sense. I do not plan to eat foxglove or smear myself with a ton of mandrake or fast for a really long time or anything that could actually cause death. Driving on I-45 is bad enough, thanks.

The fine line between the literal and the figurative/poetic in magic is just that - fine. Am I literally dead? Of course not. But figuratively? Well, four months or so ago, I was married to someone I thought I knew and thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. I thought I had a home. I thought I had some sense of security.

I have none of that, now.

I was willing to do things I am no longer willing to do. I was willing to tolerate things I will no longer tolerate. I was someone who I am not, now. So am I figuratively dead? Yes. But it's a little deeper than that.

I've been drawn to the story of Inanna's descent into the Underworld and her time there with her sister, Ereshkigal, for years. So when I say I'm dead, I mean that you can't go through life changes like the ones I've been experiencing for the past year or so and think you'll ever come out as the same person as you were before. I mean that my old self, the person I've been for years, is hanging on a meathook, divested of her jewels and powers, waiting for the things that will bring her back to life.

I don't mean that I'm going to hang here until someone rescues me. Inanna gave instructions about what should be done to bring her back, and I trust that I told myself how to come back. I also trust that, as with Inanna, some of these instructions won't be carried out, but other things will happen to take me off the meathook.

In keeping with the recent trend of my receiving messages from people who didn't intend to speak to me directly, some of you may be Father Enki, and have some message that's important for me now. Don't be afraid to share.