Heya I noticed a lot of tags like carrion mother and wolf mother (and same with hyena woman from ages ago but not here) and some of the tags resonate with my Artemis (especially wolf mother), would you be willing to talk about these spirits in more detail? have a good day :)
sure. the Hyena Mother i met before any other, back within the past year that i considered myself kemetic. She arrived in a time of great self doubt, and while Sheās rarely a presence i feel nearby as of recent, i think of Her fondly still. She arrived in all the showings of the cave hyenas of the pleistocene - distant and fickle, tucked in dark stone corners with watching eyes, laughing in amusement as much as fear (or, perhaps, spite). though She changed to my path at the time, molding Herself to an inherentlyĀ ākemeticā manifestation in which She took the name Hetjetset for Herself, i believe the first of what i saw of Her was Her truth, the latter simply a loving excuse to tail me as Her namesake might. She is barbaric, She is gnoll-minded, raised spear and tanned hide and beaten shield and bared teeth, but Hers is a wardance of triumph and unapologetic existence. laughter in the face of death and turmoil, that in doing so they would be intimidated, banished from sight. the overcoming of the corrupt through debauchery and revelry, not as a safety precaution, but as a first chance against what would dare tread on the domain of survival. when the message is not received, when the Hyena Motherās protective cackles go unheeded, that is when She bites down, and She does not let go. She is bloody and beautiful, much like the Wolf Woman. She is a drunken dance around the raging pyre of all that would harm the cyclic fate and prosperity of life. to live is to bleed, but never should She see you bleed for the wrong reasons. in lieu of bleeding, however, is Wolf Woman. iām still unsure of how self-actualized She may be, and for a time i wondered if She may have been an automated aspect of myself, but iāve since stopped putting pressure on the analytics, as iāve been encouraged to do with what i experience in my spirituality now as a whole. She is feral womanhood and menstrual rage, and turns weeping to howling euphoria. She chases the moon and i do so with Her. Her existence brushes frequently, pun intended or not, against my experiences with what i can easily describe as lycanthropic shifts in mentality, but thatās a larger subject to touch on and i can succinctly summarize it as a simple overarching belief in a personal interconnectedness with animality (iāve considered ceasing referring to it as anything akin to therianthropy or similar - itās not specified so much as it is just integral to my spiritual being). when i become the wolf, She is there to run with me, to wail and scream my woes to the open sky or the wet soil, taking up the pain and anger in Her clawed hands and showing me how to devour it, how to land the killing bite. She is bloody and beautiful, much like Hyena Mother. Carrion Mother, though the title may be redundant, is a presence iāve only come into contact with in spotty, fleeting moments perhaps once or twice in the past, and it has only been within the fast few days as of the time writing this that iāve actually met Her face-on. as far as iāve been able to infer in cooperation with a friend, She may likely be an entity that they experienced for themselves for a time, but Her message has far altered between their experience and mine from the start. She is the vultures that perch on electrical towers with wings spread, waiting for their prize on the roadside - not from greed, but necessity. She embodies every scavenger and low-headed, keen creature we typically deem unsettling or unclean, but vultures are Her favored children, the ones who can see the world for what it is, distant and high above. Hers is the soft death, the lovely decay, and i have no doubt Sheās here to pay visit to my recent self-reflections concerning my view of death and my inherent, and regretted, fear of it. Her children are not agents of entropy as much as they are harbingers of the cycleās end. my description of Her energy in discussion may do Her the most justice, and i suppose i can close it there just as well.
ā[...] seeing the good and the ugly in it and being able to approach both sides not with escapism, but an embrace, not so much inviting it as simply appreciating it for what it is, and in return, how that reflects in life. cyclical woo like that i suppose. not sure if it ties into all this fungal-spirit confusion i have going on as well but something is definitely banking on both that and my previous fascinations with figures like Nekhbet. taking those notions of the scavenger and survival and reflecting it. sacred domains found in the power poles upon which droves of vultures gather to sun, and the love between life and death, despite how much the land of the living may try to deny its own consort. [...]Ā iād say itās like being the poor thing lying on the road and welcoming the vulture overhead as a savior, not an enemy. the peace of mind in the full belly of a chick as your final legacy. promises to always be a part of the greater picture, and not being afraid of that. ā They are all, to me, forces of Nature. Old Things forgotten. perhaps not gods, but certainly within that power. and i love them dearly for it. i hope this is helpful to you, and i thank you for the opportunity to speak of Them.
