#springmyths

Alright, settle in because I have a tale for you, one that's older than chocolate bunnies and sunrise services. It whispers of a goddess, the changing seasons, and the hidden magic in those springtime symbols we all know so well. This isn't just about Easter. You see; this is the story of how spring itself got a name.

Picture this: not the world we know, but one much older. A land of sun-baked bricks and whispering rivers – Mesopotamia, the cradle of stories. Here, among the farmers and the priests, the bakers and the poets, walked a goddess. Her name was Ishtar.

Now, Ishtar was…complicated. Imagine a woman dressed as a warrior, but with eyes that could melt the hardest heart. She was the protectress of cities, the roar in the battle cry, yet also the goddess of love and – this is important – the change from winter's bleakness to spring's vibrant green.

Every year, the tale goes, Ishtar would do something brave and frankly a bit terrifying. She would descend into the Underworld, the land of shadows and stillness. Think of it like winter itself, that time when the world seems to go to sleep.

Why would she go down there? Well, there are different versions of the story. Some say it was to rescue her love, the shepherd-god Tammuz. Others say she faced her dark sister, Ereshkigal, ruler of the Underworld, in a contest of power. Whatever the reason, Ishtar always, eventually, fought her way back up.

Imagine the land while she was gone. No goddess of springtime meant the fields lay barren, the lambs shivering, the world holding its breath. That's the chill, silent heart of winter, isn't it?

But Ishtar was nothing if not tenacious. After her hard trek through the land of the dead, she would burst back into the world of the living – and that's when the party started! Her return meant warmth, flowers blooming, the birds finding their songs again. It was the rebirth of the world.

Naturally, the people of Mesopotamia threw one heck of a festival for her. Music, dancing, a feast that likely put our Thanksgiving dinners to shame – all in celebration of that shift from winter to spring. And since ancient people were clever at using symbols, they chose a few special ones for Ishtar.

Eggs, those perfectly shaped promises of new life, became her symbol. Rabbits, those frisky little creatures always popping up in springtime, they represented her energy too. See how that starts looking familiar, even with our current Easter celebrations?

Now, here's where history gets tangled like yarn. As cultures changed, as new stories and religions sprang up like wildflowers, the meaning of Ishtar's story changed too.

Some linked her to the idea of fertility, to new beginnings in nature. Others wove her into their own celebrations of springtime, which happened around the same time anyway. Heck, even the name "Easter" may have roots in an old Germanic goddess of spring, Eostre.

Then you have Christianity coming along, with its own powerful springtime story of death and resurrection. That, perhaps more than anything, began layering new meaning onto the ancient festivals.

Here's the thing, though: stories are slippery, powerful things. They don't disappear, they change shape. You can still catch glimpses of the strong, brave Ishtar in our modern Easter.

The eggs aren't just cute decorations, they're echoes of that ancient symbol of life triumphing. The bunnies with their boundless energy? They remind us of the world waking up from its winter sleep, just as Ishtar once brought the land back to life. Even the focus on rebirth, seen in the Christian story of Easter, has that same heart to it – the promise that darkness is never the end.

The thing about old tales is that it's not about which one is 'true'. The story of Ishtar may not be literally true, but that doesn't lessen its power. It's a way people long ago understood the world – how winter always, stubbornly, gives way to life again. It's a celebration, and a reassurance.

So the next time you bite into a chocolate egg, or spot a rabbit hopping across the lawn, remember Ishtar. Remember that beneath the modern traditions lies a story thousands of years old, a tale about the fierce, unending magic of spring.

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"The God of Spring came before the Fairest of the Fair who lifted up her eyes & looked upon the God of Spring. In the same moment the wistaria with which he was clothed burst into flower. He was sweet-scented, white & purple from head to heel."https://americanliterature.com/author/grace-james/fairy-tale/the-spring-lover-and-the-autumn-lover

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          cool air is an ocean , its gales the waves . tumbling and surging ; it knocks the stable’s windchimes together  –  their sound a distant , humble melody . gloved hands pull fur - cloaked coat closer , as if its tightness would hold in  secrets  the breeze teases to steal as she dances her way across the parapet .  perhaps it does , perhaps it doesn’t .  perhaps she merely whisks them away to be whispered among the trees . 

          gaze is distant across the stretching mountains ,  &  the open valley stares back ,  warm & maiden  , as if greeting an old friend . the castle slumbers like a child .