You know the story. The foundation cracks open. The first time was sudden. Shocking perhaps. A maiden, daughter of a goddess, descends to the underworld. To the land of the shades. Willingly or unwillingly. Forcibly or by desire. We do not know for certain. Some say, the change was traumatic. Some say, she chose her fate. We know there was a lot of grieving. And we know that the myth itself, seeded 2000 or more years ago, gave birth to spring.

Regardless, with time and patience, stillness and grace, through the power of the great, transforming dark, a new queen is born. The myth was once told for initiatory purposes as the Eleusinian mysteries, the annual rites performed by the ancient Greeks at the village of Eleusis near Athens in honor of Demeter and Persephone. Specifically in honor of Persephone’s rising.

From out of the death place, comes new life. Whether you are 13, 18, 25, 36, 42, 57 or 80 years old. In every woman is the triple goddess embodied. Persephone, the maiden, Demeter, the mother and Hecate the crone. They are all integral parts in the story and in every woman.

Their story is your story. Your story is her story. Every woman has a Hecate in her, guarding the crossroads with her ancient crone wisdom. Every woman has a Demeter in her, grieving the loss of some part of her self. And every woman has in her a Persephone, a transformation embodied, waiting to rise, anew.

Persephone. She is healer. She is seer. She is prophetess. She is embodiment. She is soul knowing. Depth in bones. Wisdom keeper. Story tender. Compassion. Sex. Intuition on fire. Imagination. Innocence and Seasoning.

We know that in the below, below, we don’t always know how the story grows or unfurls.

Whether the first time or the thousandth time, Persephone descends and Demeter grieves. Winter comes and the earth is bare. Stories lose their leaves. We lose something we once held dear. We lose a part of our self. We feel cut off from our own knowing or power. We feel betrayed by the world. We are angry at the gods. We feel the stagnancy of our own growing season. We age. We come into the dark shadowy parts of our own midlife. We navigate stories blindly. We lose a love we once treasured. We forget a power we once traveled far to obtain.
Persephone and Demeter cycle through our lives, mysteriously. We relate to the myths new each season, if we allow our eyes to be born anew in spring. It’s hard to see the story with new eyes. Yet when we do, something in us blooms.

There is deep power in reclaiming power. How does Persephone speak through a woman on the cusp of motherhood or midlife, transition and new beginnings?

What does your Demeter have to say about grief and loss and separation? What does your Hecate, wise woman know about which way you are to travel at the next crossroad?

What does your Persephone bring offer as you emerge from the depths of winter, to the surface, to the light? How does the myth seek to renew you?

To the center of the myth we journey. Rite of passage through myth and meaning to discover ourselves anew. We return changed. Veriditas! The Greening truths of spring with their holy life force surge through the old story shedding remaining doubts. We remember Green. We discover our own unique miracle at the center of the story. Our own new life in spring. We see the emergence, the becoming of ourselves, blooming before our eyes.

Nourish yourself with the power of story. You are the author of your life. Rewrite your life. Through myth and mirth. Salt and Tears. By editing the past you can transform the present. Become your own Myth. You can create the new myth of your making.

Stasha Ginsburg
The Wild Matryoshka

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