Goddess Rising

by Melissa Bowersock

  Her stomach growled. With her eyes adjusted to the darkness now, she looked about her limited world. No food presented itself. No hawks would fly and drop food to her here. She reached for her water and took a few drops just to moisten her mouth; her stomach clamored for more. Good-naturedly admonishing her stomach to be patient, she willed herself to relax in the face of a long night.

  She did sleep, dreamlessly this time. For a time her spirit cavorted about the cosmos without her awareness. It was the deepest, most restful sleep she could remember.

  In his own cave not far away, Balat had watched with backward-turned eyes as Grace soared among the starmists. He had followed her ascent into eternity, watched her gentle return to the temporal, even knew her hunger and felt her knotted muscles. Throughout it all, his body slept lightly, his old, thin chest barely lifting as he breathed. The connection between body and spirit had become increasingly thinner in the last years. In not too many more years it would dissolve completely.

  He would have little use for his body during this trial. He, at least, would not require any food at all. Instead he poured all his awareness into the spiritual and stayed with Grace. He could not guide her, for he had no idea where she would go; he could not protect her, for she was in the Goddess’ hands. He could only hover nearby, watching much as a father might watch his treasured child take her first steps alone. It was his agony to want her success and yet be powerless to effect it.

  When Grace had dropped into her deep and dreamless sleep, Balat waited nearby for what he guessed would come; her wraithlike spirit body disengaged itself carefully from the physical and began its own silent ascent. Balat followed in the abstract way that non-physical entities can align themselves in a non-physical world; he willed himself to be near her, but not too near. She had no awareness of him at all.

  The atmospheres of the spirit world arranged themselves in layers of star-studded, ethereal mists tinted with beautiful colors. The essence that was Grace glided effortlessly up through the layers, past shimmering images of strange and wonderful beings, past clouds of great emotion that bathed her in their mist as she passed. Her spirit glowed. Balat watched in awe as she continued, aware that Grace was taking him beyond any place he’d ever been before. Their physical universe was no longer anywhere in sight. Balat’s ethereal senses were tingling with excitement and anticipation.

  As they soared into ever higher spheres of being, Balat could sense great changes in his essence. They came into a formless space where he felt a curious elation that was at once also a strange non-emotion, a blankness. He searched his spirit for recognition of this ... thing ... but had nothing to compare it to. It felt like happiness, but also felt like nothing—like simply being. There was no flavor to this emotion—if it was emotion—not good or bad or high or low. It just was. Fascinated, he willed himself on.

  Grace had gotten far ahead of him, yet it seemed she swam upward through this place of flat elation without effect. He stretched after her, feeling the spiritual sensations increase as he went. The elation seemed stronger; so, too, did the nothingness. It was the most curious thing he’d ever encountered. Elation he knew, and its opposite in sorrow, yet this was not a case of being aware of opposites. The further he went the more he was aware of a leveling, a flattening—an absence of all feeling. Everything dropped away from him; pain and curiosity and contentment and fear; all emotions were gone. He only … was. Briefly he wondered if this was how a tree felt, or a raindrop. It was incredibly comforting, yet without character. It was everything and nothing. It just was.

  Floating languidly in this void, he had almost lost track of Grace. Now he found her again, still ahead. From where he was, it looked as if she approached a great cloud. The near side was white and bilious, bright with a living glow; its far side was dark and shadowed, almost dangerous-looking. Balat willed himself no closer but hung back and watched.

  The cloud began to turn on a polar axis, showing its white face, first, then its dark side, over and over. It seemed to pulse. The spirit that was Grace floated steady before it. The cloud began to condense then, to thicken and solidify while still emitting a bright ethereal light. It seemed to slow, its faces alternately flashing dark and light, dark and light. Finally Balat thought he could see forms amid the cloudy mists.

  And what he saw almost destroyed him.

  Her place was there: the Goddess. He saw all things light in Her white face; all things dark in Her black face. He saw all things that She created and all things that She destroyed. He saw all that was born and all that died; all that grew and all that withered. He saw Her strength, Her softness, Her courage and Her pain. He saw everything that was; everything that was a part of Her, everything that was a part of him, and She was him and he was the universe, and the universe was a circle that went round and round, a serpent holding its own tail in its mouth as it turned and turned and turned. It was all real and it was all True and it was all there for him to see and feel. He felt it all and almost died.

  His body, back within the little cave, lurched spasmodically; it groaned and rolled its eyes. Balat felt the tug of pain pulling him back to it. He had to go. He had much more to do now before he unraveled the last thread that tied him to the physical world. And he knew now that he had even more to do than he had thought. For just before he released his hold on the spiritual concentration that kept him aloft, just before he spiraled down into a gentle descent and remerged with his body, just before he lost his sense of ethereal sight, he saw Grace.

  And she was being enfolded in the cloud.

  CHAPTER 11

  Grace awoke just before dawn the next morning. The world outside her cave was shadowy, but the sky was already bright. The cool morning air chilled her, yet it would not be long before the sun began to bake the ground. She would be glad for her cool shadows then.

  To awaken herself more fully, Grace splashed a few drops of water on her face and cleansed her mouth with a sip. She wondered what this day would bring. The night was restful enough. She felt good, refreshed, yet seemed to feel that she had traveled far in her dreams. She could not remember them now, but she had a sense that they were glorious.

  She was quite hungry now but there was nothing to eat save sand and rock. For a moment she frowned and wondered if she had chosen badly, if no food would be provided to her. Yet she was sure the little cave had spoken to her as Balat said it should. She thrust aside the doubtful feelings; she trusted Balat and the Goddess. She would have what she needed.

  The first bright spot of sunlight appeared out on the ground before her cave and as she watched, it spread and skewed into a long, slanting window of light. The volcanic ground shimmered in the early light, tiny particles of glass catching and reflecting the sun. The ground seemed much more than mere dirt; it was magical. But then everything was magical, she thought. Her whole world was filled with it.

  She watched the pattern of sunlight flow across the ground and climb up over a boulder, its fingers reaching into all the holes it could find. In response, a shadow grew out of the back of the boulder, hiding from the sun as it crouched upon the ground. Grace watched as the sun and shadow played hide and seek about the boulder. She could almost hear their laughter.

  Suddenly a small movement at the corner of her cave caught her attention. She looked down and saw a large beetle haul itself over the lip of rock and wander into her cave. A very large beetle.

  Food.

  Just the thought of eating sent juices down her throat into her stomach and her stomach began to clamor for fulfillment. But a beetle—she had never eaten a beetle before. Could she? It stood on the floor of her cave for a moment, antennae waving about curiously, front feet restive. She wondered if it sensed her, or sensed her thoughts. If so, she thought, it would turn quickly and get out of the cave as fast as possible. But it did not. It came on, ambling across the sand, feelers nodding as it walked. It seemed to have no more purpose than to be out exploring, enjoying the new day.

  It had a large
body; it would be something for her clamoring stomach. It had a hard shell across its back that shone brightly black. As she watched, she noticed how intricate it was; its six legs moved in perfect coordination and its system of segmented joints was a novel of engineering. Even heavily armored, it moved easily, fluidly. It was truly of the Goddess.

  But could she eat it? Her stomach complained that she even asked the question at all. The beetle walked unhurriedly across the front of the cave, past her, to the opposite side of the opening. If it came back toward her, if it stayed in the cave, she would eat it; she promised her stomach. If it came back, she would accept it as a sign and eat it.

  It crawled out of the cave and disappeared.

  Grace sighed, knowing her stomach was ranting at her. Well, it was early yet. If anything else came, she would eat it. She had the whole day ahead of her.

  The sun was winning the game. Now it had risen to the point that its light showered the boulder and the shadow was forced to crouch in a small, thin ring around the base of it. The sky was bright blue; birds called from places she could not see. The humming of airborne insects drifted to her on the breeze. All living things seemed to be celebrating the day.

  She wondered where Balat was and what he was doing. She wondered if he were learning anything. Was she learning? She thought heavily about that but the answer did not seem clear. She may be learning, but if she was, she didn’t know it. All she had done so far was sleep and dream and sit in her cave and watch the shadows. Surely she would have to do more than that to learn any lessons.

  The sun climbed higher and almost all the shadows outside disappeared. The boulder had no more than the slimmest black outline around its base. The air turned heavy; when the languishing breezes blew, she felt hot, heavy air flow into her cave, dispelling the coolness there for a bit. She knew the outside of her cave home was baking hot in the sun. She had chosen her cave well enough.

  It was sometime later when she realized that the sunlight had become muted. The small patch of sky visible from the cave opening was still clear, so she reasoned there were clouds forming to the north. No wonder the air felt so weighted. She could smell rain, but saw none fall. Trickles of sweat ran down her body, adding to her discomfort, but whenever the infrequent breezes blew, they cooled the moisture on her skin and brought some relief. She no longer felt hungry. Even the thought of sipping water was unpleasant; her body felt bloated and leaden. She drowsed a bit, not dreaming.

  In her doze, her foot itched, but she did not have the energy to scratch it. Something tickled her there. She opened one eye.

  The beetle sat back on its haunches, two front legs up on her foot, feelers tapping. Its attitude almost seemed to say, Wake up. Here I am.

  Grace tried to swallow but her throat would not work. Her stomach, alerted, began to growl. She had promised. She had said if the beetle came back, she would eat it. It was back. The thought of those six little feet and the waving feelers moving down her throat brought chills to her. She wasn’t sure she could do it.

  The beetle tapped a few more times with its feelers, then dropped onto the sand again and began to walk away. Toward the cave opening. It was leaving. The day was almost gone. If she let the beetle go, would anything else come? How many chances would the Goddess give her?

  She made her decision. Just as the beetle reached the lip of the opening and teetered there, she reached out and grabbed it. Before she could think, before she had time to reason it out, she ate it. It was down her throat before the muscles there could contract and close up.

  Belatedly, she remembered to thank the Goddess and said a little prayer of praise to the persistent insect. That would be one meal she would not forget.

  Near sundown, the air became so heavy and thick it was hard to breathe. Grace watched as the shadows grew long and black, and as the diminishing sunlight took on a fiery orange cast. She prayed for an evening wind, but none came. She grew restless, but lethargic. Before the last of the sunlight disappeared, she dropped into a heavy, troubled sleep.

  She dreamed that she was jostled by a crowd of strange beings. They were not human. Some seemed like animals she might have known but most looked like fantastic creations she had never seen before. They all jostled one another as if vying for a place. Grace found herself being pushed and squeezed out, shoved behind most of the other beings. They were all intent on jockeying for position and paid no attention to Grace unless she placed herself unknowingly in their way. Not knowing or caring for what they were contesting placement, she was content to be pushed ever further to the back. Finally she found herself behind them all, with only their strange furred or leathery backs to her.

  Then a humming started. The animals became more anxious, attentive, yet restive, all looking toward something Grace could not see. At first she thought the humming was a distant sound, mechanical and harsh, but then it seemed to become singing. A chorus of voices chanted a wordless song, their harmony breaking over her like the waves of a gentle wind. She felt the sounds in her skin, in her blood, in her backbone. The sense of it thrilled her. She found herself straining now to see what was there in front of the animals, what marvelous being sung so wonderfully, but the crowd was churlish and would not let her through. She placed her hands on the shoulders of the beings before her and pushed herself up on tiptoe to see better, but all she could see were the gray and muted backs of countless beings, a sea of animals that stretched away to infinity. There was nothing else.

  And still the singing continued. It rose, becoming high and clear and inspiring. A single voice soared out of the blend, a voice sweet and bell-like. Soon it was only the one voice she heard and it brought elation to her. It was a voice that soared, that was at once sweet and childlike, yet strong, powerful and full, the voice of an angel, a mature woman, a mother, a saint. It permeated the air around her, imbued her own body with peace and quiet empowerment.

  Lulled by the beauty of the voice, she did not at first realize there was movement ahead of her. Slowly, reluctantly, the animal beings were moving to one side of the crowd or the other, parting from the front. Grace noticed the ill-mannered jostling, the unwilling steps aside. It was as if some force were making its unhurried way back through the gathering and although the others did not like being forced aside, they went, finally. Then Grace saw what it was that brushed them aside; a beam of light grew steadily through the open space. It moved slowly, deliberately through the crowd, like a living thing, stretching long and brilliant. It moved as Grace had never seen light move before, slowly, gracefully. She watched in awe as it came on and thought that she would gladly and obediently step aside to let it pass when it came to her.

  But when it came, when it flowed past the last of the beings before her, it found her dumbstruck where she stood. Her feet seemed unable to move. The light touched her weighted feet and flowed warmly up her body. She felt as if the light reached inside and warmed her blood, and her blood raced through her veins now with this new glow, this light, within it. Her body sparkled from within; it glowed with a strange brilliance. Light shone from her eyes. She stood still and calm as the light enveloped her, and she in turn reflected it back to its maker.

  And its maker was the Goddess. Grace saw Her now, standing a far distance away at the beginning of the light, yet clearly, as if She were very close. She moved slowly, gracefully, and the light quivered and rippled with Her movement. Grace felt stunned, for the Goddess met her eyes and smiled at her. The Creatrix looked past all the other beings and bestowed Her sweet smile on Grace alone. It was a smile of love and adoration, of promise and confidence and renewal.

  You are mine, She said in a voice that was as silent as a thought, yet as loud and resounding as thunder. Always remember, you are mine.

  Grace awoke from her dream so suddenly startled that she flinched backward and rapped her head on the stone behind her. The combination of the dream and the blow brought her completely, immediately, awake. Her eyes wide in the darkness, she strained to catch her brea
th; she gasped as if she had run for days. Her heart pounded, and her whole body shook.

  Such a dream! she thought. What could it mean? She would have to ask Balat. It seemed very important, even awesome. Could the Goddess have really come to her, young Grace, and said that? She would have somehow felt better if she could dismiss it as the mad imaginings of an insect-fed body, but she could still feel the way those eyes touched her and bored into her and commanded her, and she thought it best to accept it as truth. Well, she thought, rationalizing, Balat had always insisted Grace was of the Goddess; it just seemed very much more awe-inspiring when the Goddess Herself said it. Grace knew she could no longer deny it. Her path was clear now.

  She spent the remainder of the night in a thoughtful, contemplative pose, inspired yet humbled, excited yet calm. She had time to watch the late stars wheel across the opening of her cave and to consider their endless dance. She had time to scoop a handful of sand from the floor and let it run out between her fingers. She felt not only part of the world, not only sister to its animals, but sister to the sand, and to the stars as well. They were all one, and they all came from the Great Mother.

  A quiet, shining light in her eyes, Grace composed a new prayer of gratitude to the Goddess.

  Sometime before dawn, she must have slept again. She heard a small, distant noise and found she had to swim up through heavy darkness to reach awakening. Once there, the early morning light blinded her, and she blinked to adjust her eyes. The brilliance before her swam with dots and it was only after a little bit that it finally settled into recognizable shapes of dark and light.

  “Balat!” she said in surprise, for he stood there outside her cave, staring at her. He looked years older. His face had new lines, and his hair seemed more starkly white. He seemed smaller, weaker.