Goddess: Part Three – Naamah.
[It’s the end of an era and the start of something new. I’ve been primarily working with goddess archetypes as part of my practice since I was fourteen. Now it seems its time for me to move on. But, in honour of the feminine archetypes that have guided me thus far, this is the goddess series.]
You may have figured this out already, you probably have. Writing is the only safe place in the universe. It’s the place where you can’t speak your mind and be yourself. It’s a private space, where no one can hear you, but where you can still say what needs to be said. So, you pick up a pen and begin to write. You write your opinions, your ideas, your history. You write about the people who raised you, about their voices in your head. You feel your fingers dancing across the keys, you feel empowered. When you’re done, when all of it has been emptied out, when your fingers feel tight and locked, cut a small length of duct tape and place it over your mouth. Remember it is not your place to get angry or upset, you must never slip up and speak again. Disobeying these rules would be like disobeying words that are tattooed on your bones. Yet, also remember, that it’s okay to be awful, as a woman, you’re expected to be a catty, and nasty creature. You are a descendant of Lilith, you’re unclean, made from sediment, rock, slime. It’s your nature to be disobedient, to be disgusting, you’re God’s afterthought, you’re a mistake.
Despite not being raised Catholic, I have always been aware that my family are Catholic. I was christened, but not as a Catholic, as a Christian, because the Catholic Church wouldn’t christen the baby of a single mother. When I look at photos from that day, I only recognise three people, my mother, my grandmother and my uncle. My godparents are also in the photos, but I don’t know who they are, they’re strangers to me. This might be the reason I’ve never questioned my questioning of religion; or felt anyway about being drawn to a demon named Lilith, but maybe not. If I think about it, there is a dark undertone to all things, we long to peek behind the black curtain and get a glimpse of the other side. We’re drawn to horror movies and novels that explore the darker aspects of reality because it not only provides a break from the routine, but a realisation that even if our lives suck, at least we’re not being chased by zombies. But, maybe it goes even deeper than that, maybe our obsession with the darker things are primal, maybe we’re born in darkness and secretly all crave a return to it. We want to explore the darker aspects of our personalities without putting ourselves in any real danger or losing ourselves in it. We want to know ourselves, all of ourselves, no matter how raw and untamed.
Naamah: Why are you writing this? You know I have to question this, right? What about this is enjoyable to you? It’s half past seven, and you’re still here, still typing away. I’m curious as to why. (She flicks back her red hair with a swift twitch of her wrist. The movement is so instinctive and over so quickly, that her hands are back on her lap before I can blink. She stares at me with an expression that is almost blank, like it’s painted on, like she’s not even really here, but there’s something just behind, some hint of life, a flickering ghost light.)
Me: I guess I have a lot to say, years of silence and years of being unseen.
Naamah: Self-pity, that’s why you’re writing this?
Me: This isn’t a pity party, I like being invisible, it’s my superpower. I see and hear all, and no one notices me. So not pity.
Naamah: I don’t believe you, no one likes to be unseen, it isn’t a superpower, it’s too cruel to be. Let’s talk about something else, something happier. My name means ‘pleasant’ or ‘charming’, depending on who you ask, although sometimes I’m referred to as the unnamed one. What does your name mean?
Me: ‘Journey through the night’, but I was also told it means ‘she who laughs’.
Naamah: Do you laugh a lot?
Me: I find a lot of things funny. Funny or depressing, I alternate between the two.
Naamah: That seems to sum up the world.
Me: I have a question to ask.
Naamah: Then ask it.
Me: Lilith came to me wearing a red dress, you and Inanna, however…
Naamah: Don’t have a red dress?
Me: Yeah, let’s go with that.
Naamah: We don’t have any clothes because in our stories we weren’t given any, well, Inanna had hers taken away. Lilith makes her own choices though, she’s not a person you can take things from. (She sighs) My story began a little after my sister Lilith’s. Adam couldn’t be single, so when it came time to make me, Adam wanted to be in on the act. Whether this was because he didn’t trust god to not cut corners like he did the first time, or if he just wanted to see how it was done, I don’t know. I think he wanted to make sure I was done according to his exact specifications, he liked to be in control that man, but I suppose everyone does.
Once I was done, I was presented to Adam like a prize, but he refused to go near me, he refused to even look at me. He said that he’d thought we were as smooth and perfect on the inside as we were on the outside. I disgusted him. I was full of guts and blood and bile, he ignored the fact that he was too. He said that when he looked at me, that’s all he saw.
Having no purpose other than to be his wife, I was cast out of Eden and left to wander. I was made to be perfect, and even though I may have been perfect on the outside, my insides fell short. I couldn’t live up to the perfection someone else had imagined in their mind, and because of that, he could never see me. Being unseen is never a superpower, it’s just cruel.
Me: I always imagined that you met up with Lilith, that the two of you would bond over your failed marriages to the same man. I never liked the idea of you being alone.
Naamah: You wanted me to find someone to journey through the night with?
Me: Yes.
Naamah: Then maybe I did. Maybe Lilith was waiting for me by the Red Sea and we made perfect little lives for ourselves, exploring the world without limits.
