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The Triad of the Moon
(Pre-Hellenic Myth)
When the moon appeared as a slender cresent, delicate and fine but firm
in the promise of growth, Artemis roamed the untouched forests of
Arcadia. The Goddess lived with Her nymphs amid the thick, wild growth
where animals joined freely in Her games and dances.
She loved new life. Whether at play or at rest, Artemis was ever alert
for the rising moans of a mother giving birth. The wind brought to Her
long, low sighs and staccato songs of pain expelled. If the mother was
an animal, lying alone in a hidden cave or a sheltered pile of leaves,
Artemis rushed deftily through the woods to her side. She brought leaves
of Her wild artemisia for the animal to eat and spoke softly in the
mother's own sounds. The Goddess gently stroked the bulging womb until
the wet, squirming bodies emerged. She fondled each one and placed them
under Her protection: Within these forests no harm will touch the
children of Artemis.
If the mother was a human, the Goddess appeared instantly at her side
bringing artemisia for a potent tea. She wiped the woman's brow and
massaged her womb with delicacy and patience, even though She knew the
result would be only a meager litter of one or sometimes two. Still,
Artemis always appeared to a mother who called and always rejoiced with
her at the moment of birth.
The other mortals present would come forward for a look, asking, "How is
the new one ? Who is the new one ?" Then Artemis would smile at the new
One and whisper to the mother: You may both enter My forests without
fear and join Me on any night lit by the waxing moon.
The joining began when the moon was new and continued each night with
more and more of Her animals and humans coming to dance with artemis. On
the evening before the full moon Her sacred grove was filled with
celebrants. They encircled a large tree that stood apart from the
others, its smooth bark and leaves seeming silver in the moonlight.
Artemis moved toward the tree and silence followed, but for Her doves
cooing softly in the boughs overhead. The Goddess crouched as the Great
She-Bear once had been and touched the earth. From the roots, up the
trunk, along the branches to the leaves She drew her hands. Again. And
again. With each pass She brought forth new life: pale blossoms
unfolding and falling away, tiny globes of fruit shining among the
branches, and finally ripe, glowing fruit hanging heavily from the
sacred boughs.
Artemis gathered the fruit and fed Her animals, Her mortals, Her nymphs,
and Herself. The dance began.
The animals were drawn to the tree. They rolled over the roots and
encircled the trunk. In a larger ring the dancers raised their arms,
turning slowly, and felt currents of energy rising from the earth
through their arms, turning, out their fingers, turning faster, through
their arms, turning, out their fingers, turning, turning, to their
heads, whirling, racing, flying. Sparks of energy flew from their
fingertips, lacing the air with traces of clear blue light.
They joined hands, joined arms, merged bodies into a circle of unbroken
current that carried them effortlessly. Artemis appeared large before
them standing straight against the tree, Her spine its trunk, Her arms
its boughs, Her body pulsed with life, its rhythms echoed by the
silvered tree, the animals at Her feet, the dancers, the grass, the
plants, the grove. Every particle of the forest quivered with Her
energy. Artemis the nurturer, protector, Goddess of the swelling moon.
Artemis !
She began to merge with the sacred tree, while the circle of dancers
spun around Her. They trew back their heads and saw the shimmering
boughs rush by. When Artemis was one with the moon tree, the circle
broke. Dancers went whirling through the grove, falling exhausted on the
mossy forest floor.
Lying there on the earth, still breathing in rhythm with the earth, they
stared up at the constant dancers in the heavens. Through the stars
Selene was cutting a path with Her chariot. The winged Goddess drove a
pair of oxen, whose horns echoed the crescent moon on Her own crown.
Behind Her Selene pulled the full moon across the sky. She rose from the
ocean and climbed steadily with the enormous disc to Her Zenith, where
it gradually shrank in size and She easily glided downward to the ocean
once again. When Selene crossed the heavens, Her light flooded the
earth, filtering down through the hidden cracks and crevices in the
nature of mortal beings. They marked Her passage, joined in small groups
to celebrate, and treated with awe those touched by Her magic.
But when the moon slipped away, shrinking gracefully into its own death,
there were no festivities. The nights grew blacker and the mortals
guarded themselves against visiting spirits from the underworld. Hoards
of ghosts led by Hecate and Her baying hounds of hell roamed the earth
on moonless nights. Yet She protected those mortals who purified
themselves in Her name. With faces averted they offered Her ritual
suppers at lonely crossroads, the gathering place of spirits. When
Hecate's rites were observed the black nights passed silently one into
another. But if the Goddess was defied, She unleached the power of Her
wrath and swept over the earth, bringing storms and destruction. Animals
howled in fright, while Her ghosts stalked freely.
Hecate's disturbances were fierce, yet not all of the mortals feared
them. Some longed to join Her. In the dark of the moon small covens
awaited Her near drooping willow trees. She appeared suddenly before
them with Her torch and Her hounds. A nest of snakes writhed in Her
hair, sometimes shedding, sometimes renewing. Until the new moon slit
the sky, Hecate shared clues to Her secrets. Those who believed
understood. They saw that form that was not fixed, watched human become
animal become tree become human. They witnessed the power of Her favored
herbs: black poppy, smilax, mandragora, aconite. Awesome were Her skills
but always Hecate taught the same lesson: Without death there is no
life.
