The Furious Spinner

Two years ago I put together a short book about the Eleusian Mysteries, only I adapted them for modern times and called them The Salmon Mysteries: A Re-Imagining of the Demeter and Persephone Myth. With a group of people here, we did the Salmon/Eleusian Mysteries for nine days. It was very grounding and deep. I intended to do it again this year, but I didn't really have the energy to gather together a group of people. I am going to do the Mysteries this year by myself, and I thought I'd post the Mystai Guidebook in case anyone wanted to do it along with me. You don't have to believe in the Goddess to follow The Mysteries. Demeter and her Daughter can be a metaphor for the cycle of life. You are the only "thing" you need to believe in, and even that may come with time.

I haven't read this in two years, so there may be glitches. I know there are places where I'd like to rewrite and make it more of a blood mystery, i.e. women's blood. But for now, this is what I have. The Eleusian Mysteries were celebrated around Autumn Equinox. This year, I'll begin it on Autumn Equinox, which is Wednesday, September 22. Men and women participated, although I believe only the women were Priestesses. I'll post each day's "commitments" the day before. If you do follow The Mysteries, I'd love to hear from you. I am planning on turning this into a longer work on ecstatic women's cults.

I apologize for the inelegance of the footnotes. It was either learn more html or get this out. I decided to get it out to you. Also, the italics didn't transfer, and I didn't have the time to go through and put the tags in for each italicized word I used in the original.

As with everything I do on this weblog, The Salmon Mysteries are my intellectual property. I give you permission to make personal use of them. But you can't publish them or teach them without my explicit and written permission. My writing is how I try to make a living. If someone steals it from me, it is the same as if they stole a paycheck from me.

Preface to The Salmon Mysteries

She is the mother of all, for contained in her are the seeds of all.
—Hildegard of Bingen, translated by Gabriele Uhlein

Welcome to the Mysteries! The Eleusian Mysteries have fascinated me for years. After all, what happened on the last two nights of this nine-day celebration and worship of the goddesses Demeter and Persephone had been kept secret for over 3,000 years despite the participation of thousands of people. Yet the more I studied the Mysteries, the less I was interested in solving a mystery. Instead I wondered what it would have been like to worship a goddess all of your life. To think of the Divine as female. To see representations of Her everywhere, artwork where someone with a body like mine was Goddess. It gave me chills.

I believe we may be hardwired for cyclical activity—for routine, ceremonies, celebrations. My fondest memories of childhood are of Halloween, Christmas, and Easter. Most of the actual celebrations blur into one mysterious Halloween, one mystical Christmas, and one colorful Easter; each year is not distinguishable from the other, but the act of celebrating in a similar manner on each holiday became touchstones of stability in the ever-changing life of a child.

I was raised Catholic but left that religion long ago because its rituals and doctrines were meaningless to me. The lack of respect for and exclusion of women in every organized religion I studied kept me far from any thought of the Divine until I rediscovered what I had known as a child and forgotten as an adult: the Divine is in Nature. The Earth is always there, always trying to produce air for me to breathe, water I can drink, and food I can eat. She is the ultimate Mother. When I learned that our ancestors had once worshipped the Earth, had seen her as Goddess, and lived in relative peace and harmony with Her and one another for thousands of years, my entire worldview changed.

We didn’t have to be killers. Those who said humans were biologically predetermined to kill each other and ravish the environment didn’t know the truth; life did not have to be about death, dying, and killing. Death was only part of a lifelong cycle. All those stories about men killing people for eternity (and it was usually men doing the killing) were just that—stories. And we had been listening to them for too long.

We needed a new story.

We needed a new way of seeing the world, of being in the world.

We needed a new cycle—not one permeated with violence.

At the core of the Demeter and Persephone myth, underneath the parts added by patriarchal storytellers that I stripped away like layers of old ugly paint, lay a story of love, cyclical change, and rebirth: a story for our times.

Although I set The Salmon Mysteries here in the Pacific Northwest, and it deals with the wild salmon and its slide toward extinction, The Salmon Mysteries could be set anywhere. Just as The Eleusian Mysteries were most likely adapted from Cretan ceremonies to fit into Greek society, so The Salmon Mysteries can be adapted to wherever you make your home. You may not live alongside a Big River, but a river (or other body of water) figures into your ecological life, whether you are aware of it or not. Waterways all over our country—and the world—are in great peril. The sacred salmon is extinct in many places already. But the salmon could just as well be the sacred owl, or the sacred jaguar; they are by their very Nature sacred, holy. The word holy comes from kailo which means ‘whole, hale, uninjured, health.’ The existence (or non-existence) of the salmon, owl, jaguar and other species indicates whether our environment is whole, healthy, hale.

I see The Salmon Mysteries as an annual event, something which will effect positive change in the world and become a touchstone of joy and stability in our lives. Adapt it to your own community and to whatever time of year seems appropriate. Make it meaningful to you, and let me know how it goes.

The Salmon Mysteries: The Story

“The universe is made of stories, not atoms.”

—Muriel Rukeyser

Every spring, Demeter and Her Daughter walked through fields of wildflowers—picking this one and that one to eat as they went on their way. Demeter liked the cool sweetness of the chickweed; Her Daughter liked the tangy violet petals and leaves. From every step Demeter took, a wildflower sprung. Her Daughter laughed as the flowers bloomed; she leaned down to smell each one. At the rivers, creeks, and streams, Demeter and Her Daughter stopped to watch the golden salmon on their way out to the Nch’I Wana—the Big River—then to the ocean.

Demeter told Her Daughter the story of the salmon every spring when they celebrated the First Salmon and in the autumn when they celebrated the Salmon Homecoming: how they hatched from orange-red eggs buried safely in a sandy river bottom by their mother in a place where their mother’s own parents had been born and their parents before them.

“After they hatch and grow, the beautiful salmon swim down Nch’I Wana,” Demeter said, “and their bodies change so that they can survive in the ocean, where they live for many years until it is time to return home. Then nothing can stop them! They change once again as they travel from the ocean to river. They become red with the passion of creation, with the fire of determination. When they reach the spawning beds, they lay their eggs—or fertilize them if they are male—and then they die, and the nutrients of their bodies become the food for their children.

“Nch’I Wana is Life, and Salmon is the soul of that Life—of our life,” Demeter said. “Salmon is like the blood running through our veins—it keeps the Big River going, just as our blood keeps us going.”

Every autumn, Demeter and Her Daughter walked through fields of berries—picking this one and that one to drop into their baskets or pop into their mouths. Her Daughter especially liked the huckleberries, Demeter the salmonberries. At each river, creek, and stream, Demeter and Her Daughter stopped to watch the blood red salmon swim upstream, leaping up watery basalt cliffs and rocky creeks. Her Daughter was certain she had never seen anything as beautiful as the giant red salmon twisting in mid-air, trying with all its considerable might to make it up the river and back home again.

One spring while Demeter walked in one field, Her Daughter ran to Falling Creek to get a drink of water. The river bed was swollen with snow melt and had flooded its banks with its new-found body, yet Her Daughter could still see the flashes of gold as salmon made their way downstream, like pieces of light that had been lost by the sun. The gold matched the color of her dress. She glanced up the hill where her mother danced, flowers growing from her footsteps. Demeter had always cautioned Her Daughter to be careful near the water. “The River is our life,” Demeter said, “but it is easy to fall into her dreamy arms.” Of course, her Mother was mostly speaking of Nch’I Wana—the Big River—not this Falling Creek. Her Daughter looked back at the flashing water. What would it feel like to touch the fish as they traveled toward the Ocean? Would it feel like the sun? Would it feel like the Soul of the World?

She reached out to the water. Her feet slipped on the water’s edge, and she lost her balance. She cried out as she tried to get her footing again, but it was too late. She fell into the water.

Demeter heard Her Daughter’s cries and raced toward her instantly, turning in time to see her slip into the water without even making a splash—the creek was nearly all white-water anyway, from the snowmelt. Demeter reached the edge of the creek and looked frantically for Her Daughter but saw only salmon. She waded into the turbulent water, ignoring the warnings of her companions. She was a powerful being, responsible for life on Earth: She could withstand the water from a creek! She peered into the water. Salmon knocked against her legs. She cried out for Her Daughter. No response.

“Crow!” Demeter shouted.

“I am here!” Crow responded.

“You are good at finding shiny things,” She said. “Run along this river and see if you can find my Daughter.”

“I will do this,” Crow said. And Crow flew away, following the bends of the creek.

Demeter stepped out of the water and ran along the banks of the river, watching and calling out for Her Daughter, riparian branches and saplings slapping Her in the face as She ran, panic clutching Her heart.

Finally She reached the shore of the Nch’I Wana. She had seen no signs of Her Daughter, dead or alive. Crow flew down to Her.

“I am sorry, Demeter,” Crow said. “But I did not see your Daughter. Only salmon.”

Demeter nodded. They both knew what that meant: either Her Daughter was dead or She was now one of the Salmon People. In any case, She was lost to Demeter. The older woman sank down onto the ground and wept.

“Why has this happened!” She wailed. “I have done all that I should! I have given to the people all of my gifts! It is not right that you take away my only pleasure, my heart’s desire!”

No one answered Her cries, although Her companions tried to comfort Her when they reached Her side. She was inconsolable. She began walking alongside Nch’I Wana, crying and calling out for Her Daughter. All of the River People began an extensive search for Her Daughter. Day after day they searched. Day after day Demeter walked and searched.

Finally one of the Elders of the River People said, “We are sorry that we have failed you, but we cannot find your Daughter.”

Demeter did not answer the Elder. She continued walking up and down the River bank. She did not eat, She did not drink, She did not sleep. She wandered about so long without rest that She was unrecognizable. Sometimes a hunter or gatherer would mistake Her for Sasquatch and run hollering from the woods.

The flowers in the fields began to wither and die. The grass turned golden; when the wind moved through it, it made the sound rattlers make to warn you away. Streams and creeks dried up.

Coyote began to worry about the state of the world—especially about her empty belly, so she searched for Demeter. She found Her sitting beside the Great Falls, Celilo, watching the huge red salmon leap into the air as they tried to swim up the falls.

“The salmon are returning,” Coyote said.

Demeter said nothing. A chickadee flew onto Her matted hair and began picking insects out of it.

Coyote raised an eyebrow. “That's quite a fashion statement,” Coyote said. “Soon everyone will have that hair style. And those clothes. Quite beautiful.”

Demeter slowly turned Her head and looked at Coyote.

“Really. Could you show me how to do it?” Coyote asked.

Demeter stared at her.

“I’ve never had much sense when it comes to dress,” Coyote said. “You know me, I’m too busy looking for something to eat to pay attention to what I look like. At the last gathering, Crow had to point out I had maggots in my teeth. Who knew? Carrion. Gets you every time.”

Coyote detected a slight glimmer in Demeter’s eyes. Was that recognition? A shiver of a smile?

“So you know what I did to distract them from the maggots in my teeth?” Coyote stood up. “While I was picking my teeth with one hand, I did this with the other.” She quickly lifted up her skirt, revealing her naked vulva to Demeter.

Demeter could not help it. She began to laugh. And laugh.

Coyote dropped her skirt.

Demeter’s belly laugh rocked the Great Falls. The fishers on the platforms stopped to look at her.

“My private parts are not that funny,” Coyote said. “Although Crow and the others laughed themselves silly, too, come to think of it, when I showed them.” Coyote lifted her skirt again and looked down at her nakedness.

Demeter roared again.

Coyote smoothed down her skirt. “They are no funnier than anyone else’s.”

Demeter began picking the sticks out of her hair.

“Have you considered that maybe your Daughter is on her way home now?” Coyote asked.

“What do you mean?”

“She could be returning with the rest of the salmon,” Coyote said.

“But once someone has been to the Salmon People, they never return.”

“That is not always true,” Coyote said.

Demeter stared at her. “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

“Only that some can return to this world,” she said. “Some are rescued. You are very powerful. I bet you could find your Daughter and bring her back.”

“But I don’t know where or how.”

Coyote nodded. “This I heard in a dream: To find your Daughter you must follow the ways of Snake, Cougar, and Bear. They will help you find the way. Once there, you must be prepared to offer the Salmon People something in exchange for your Daughter’s release.”

“I will do as you say,” Demeter said. “Thank you, Coyote.”

“You are welcome,” Coyote said. She got up to leave. “And let’s keep this little...joke...to ourselves, thank you very much.”

Demeter nodded.

Coyote left.

“Snake,” Demeter called out. “I am in need of your assistance.”

Before the milk spilled across the night sky again, Snake appeared.

“What may I do for you?”

“Coyote says you can help me find my way to the Salmon People.”

“Ah, that is a treacherous journey,” Snake said. “Even for one like yourself. But I will show you.”

Snake began dancing, slithering on the the ground, making shapes in the dirt. When she was finished, Demeter looked at the tracings in the Earth left by Snake’s body and recognized them. They were the same curves as those made by Falling Creek.

“Thank you, Snake,” Demeter said. “I am indebted to you.”

Demeter walked and walked until She reached the Falling Creek. She stood at its edge watching the stars on its skin until the sun came up. Then She followed the creek, only this time she traveled up, north, curving and winding through the fields and woods. After a time, Her way was blocked by a sheer wall of stone. She tried going around it, but She kept losing Her way. She knew She needed to stay near the river. Finally She sat down near the water and said, “Cougar, I am in need of your assistance.”

Before the spine of the Universe held up the stars, Cougar padded into camp silently.

“How may I assist you?”

“I am going to the Salmon People to find my daughter, but my way is blocked,” Demeter said. “Can you help me?”

Cougar looked across the river. Demeter followed his gaze. She could see a path going up the side of the waterfall. She had been so exhausted she had not even considered wading to the other side of the stream.

“Mother,” Cougar said. “You are weary. Ride on my back. I will carry you across and up the waterfall.”

Demeter accepted Cougar’s kind offer. She clung to his back as he splashed through the water, then up the cliffs, past the waterfall, until the river was once again on relatively flat ground. Demeter got off the mountain lion.

“Thank you, Cougar,” she said. “I am indebted to you.”

Cougar walked back into the forest.

Demeter walked and walked. She was so exhausted all her rage dropped away, She was so exhausted all her grief softened, She was so exhausted She knew only that She was a woman on a mission.

After a time it felt like the river went on forever, and She could not go on another moment. Finally She sat by the river’s edge and said, “Bear, I am in need of your assistance.”

Before the stolen cornmeal dropped from the dog’s mouth to become milky stars, Bear came crashing into Demeter’s camp.

“How may I assist you?” Bear asked.

“I am searching for my Daughter where the Salmon People live,” Demeter said. “But I have been traveling for a very long time and am getting nowhere. Can you help?”

Bear sat down next to Demeter. “Yes,” Bear said. “First, You must eat, You must drink, and You must sleep.”

“I have no time for such things,” Demeter said.

“You have time for all of that and more,” Bear said.

Demeter did not have the strength to argue. She ate the food and drink Bear proffered. Then She lay Her head in Bear’s lap, and She fell to sleep. When She awakened, She ate the food and drink Bear proffered. Then She lay Her head in Bear’s lap and fell to sleep. They repeated this pattern again and again, until Demeter felt strength return to Her body.

“Coyote told you you could rescue your Daughter,” Bear said. “But she neglected to tell You that if You go to the Land of the Salmon People, even as powerful as You are, if You have not protected Yourself ahead of time, You will not be able to leave either.”

“I should have thought of that,” Demeter said. “How should I protect myself?”

Bear held out a basket to Demeter. “Eat these.”

Demeter reached her hand into the basket and came out with a handful of huckleberries. She laughed. “These simple precious berries,” Demeter said.

“They will protect you,” Bear said. “And help you dream. You will need to dream the rest of the way to the Land of the Salmon People. Now sleep, my Mother.”

Demeter closed Her eyes and fell to sleep. She dreamed...

Meanwhile, Her Daughter had slipped and fallen into the water. She thought she would certainly drown, but the salmon and the river—which is life, after all—were fond of the girl. They had watched her grow from an infant to a girl to a teenager. She had run along the banks of the river, she had sang to the fish. So they could not let her drown. Instead, she became part of them.

She swam out into the Ocean with the rest of the salmon. She liked the Ocean very much. She would have stayed for a very long time except she kept hearing her mother calling for her. So she returned to the Nch’I Wana with the spawning salmon, and went up the river until she smelled the creek she had first fallen into and knew she was nearly home. She swam and swam, going with the flow of the other salmon, leaping when they leapt, resting when they rested, unable to get out of the water on her own until they all stepped out of the water together and into the arms of the elders of the Salmon People.

“We have a new daughter,” the Salmon Elder said, holding out her hands to Her Daughter. “Welcome.”

Her Daughter did not know what to say. She looked down and saw that her golden dress was no longer gold but was now a beautiful crimson color.

“I would like to return to my Mother,” Her Daughter said.

“We are sorry,” the Salmon Elder said, “but that is not possible. So many people have forgotten our ways that we are losing more and more of the Salmon People. We need you here.”

“But I don’t belong,” Her Daughter said.

“You do now,” they told her.

For a long time, Her Daughter would not eat, drink, or sleep. This distressed the Salmon People greatly. But they could not let her go. Two of the men began vying for her attention. They wrestled and fought with one another until Her Daughter said, “I cannot abide war. If you have no better skills or imagination then to wage war against one another, I have no interest in either of you.”

Her Daughter sat by the edge of the river most days, watching for her Mother. Other girls in the tribe came and sat with her. After a while, they became friends with Her Daughter and began showing her the ways of the Salmon People. One young man sat with her, too, and pointed out stars to her. At the Fire Dances, Her Daughter excelled, showing off her ability to control the fire sticks as she danced. She called herself Persephone now. Soon she no longer had much time to sit by the water and pine for her Mother. She became an expert basket weaver and story teller. Still, she missed her Mother and wanted to see Her again...

Demeter dreamed a map of the rest of the way to the Land of the Salmon People. It had been there all along: written in the shape of Her body, in the breath of Her lungs, in Her love for Persephone. Rested and well-fed when She awakened to Her empty camp, Demeter immediately set out. At mid-day, the threshold to the Land of the Salmon People appeared to Demeter. She ate a handful of huckleberries, then stepped over the threshold.

Immediately She saw Persephone just preparing to sit down and feast. She gasped to see Her Daughter alive! She had almost given up hope. Persephone had grown into a strong beautiful young woman. Demeter shouted with joy. Her Daughter turned and saw her Mother. They ran into each other’s arms. The Salmon People watched the couple embrace. After a few minutes, Demeter pulled away from Persephone but kept a hold of her hand.

“I have brought you huckleberries,” Demeter said, holding out the basket to her daughter. Persephone took a handful of berries and put them in her mouth.

“And I have baked you bread,” Persephone said, holding out to her mother the braided bread she had just brought over to the feast. Demeter gratefully ate a piece of the bread her daughter had made.

“I thank you for taking care of my Daughter,” Demeter said to the Salmon People. “She left me a girl, and now she is a grown woman. But I am taking her home.”

Persephone’s young man stepped forward. “Do you wish to return to your former home?”

Persephone looked into her Mother’s face, then back at the Salmon People. “I am at home in both worlds,” she said. “It is a difficult choice.”

Demeter could not bear the thought of never seeing her Daughter again.

“If you will let her leave with me,” Demeter said, “I promise we will teach your ways to the world. To keep the waters pristine, the air clear, the rivers unblocked. We will teach the people to respect you, to sing to you, to celebrate you again in all ways.”

“And I will return for part of each year,” Persephone said, “to learn more from you to take back across the river to the people.”

The Elders nodded. “This is acceptable to us. Our numbers have been diminishing greatly. It is as though the rest of the world have forgotten their souls. Let us feast to commemorate this agreement!”

Demeter and Persephone feasted, danced, and sang with the Salmon People for many days. Then they prepared to leave the Land of the Salmon People.

The Salmon People embraced Persephone and Demeter and said their farewells. Then Demeter and Persephone stepped through the threshold and found themselves standing by Falling Creek in the exact spot where Her Daughter had fallen. Crow called to them from above.

“It is good to see Mother and Daughter reunited,” Crow said.

“It is good to see you again, too, Crone Mother,” Persephone said.

Demeter and Persephone splashed in the creek together, then ran up the hill and across the fields, hand in hand, wildflowers springing up from Their footsteps.

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