Kybele Speaks

Marble statues of the goddesses Hekate (left) and Kybele enthroned (right), Roman Empire, 2nd Century C.E. Photo I took in New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art

Marble statues of the goddesses Hekate (left) and Kybele enthroned (right), Roman Empire, 2nd Century C.E. Photo I took in New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art

(thumps drum)

By Wand and Cup, Pentacle and Sword,

O women, hearken unto my word!

You are My tribe of women, are you not?

Are you my Partheniae? Women who belong to themselves?

I thought so.

O My daughters—yes, I am your

I am the black stone that tumbled from the heavens—Kubaba—and fell near the sacred mountaintop

In Anatolia—the land of the Mothers

My deeds were sung by my priestesses—queens and warriors

Solid as the rock that forms my throne

Immovable as the mountain itself

I witnessed the cycles of ages and empires pass

First, the Chaldeans, the Syrians, the Hittites,

Then Alexander of Macedonia, the Mycenaens, the good Greeks, the proud Persians,

The farming Phrygians, and those world-roaming Romans

All of them have known Me,

All of them have served Me

With clanging cymbals and pounding drums

My priestesses echoed My footsteps in frenzied dances

My priests sacrificed their members—felled their own miniature World Trees with scimitar blades

During the heights of religious ecstasy

Their bleeding orifices a reminder of my life-giving womb

Not shame, but glory they found it: to mold their bodies like women’s

Those are My sons, My brothers in Spirit

 

From the beginning, I birthed both wilderness and civilization

There is no territory that does not declare Me its Queen

In the wild mountain valleys or in high-walled cities

My lions accompany me, faithful feline guardians of the Mother clans,

Who attest to My sovereign power

They stand watch also at the gates to the Mysteries

Ready to bar the entrance to the unworthy

No wonder the Romans called upon Me like they did when they needed a lifeline

From My Divine aid alone, their 30-year-long Punic Wars came to an end

Upon the request of the highest Roman Priestess and Prophetess,

The Cumaean Sybil,

My sacred image was shipped from its mountainous home in Anatolia to the Eternal City

To save it from the Carthaginian conqueror, Hannibal

And so My likeness in stone was brought up a tributary of the Tiber River

Serenely smiling, as is My nature,

And yet My hands rested atop the heads of My lions

Thousands greeted Me on the shores of that river that day

“Ma!” they cried, “Mâ-Bellona!” seeing in Me the vestiges of their ancient goddess of war

“Nike!” others cried, seeing in me the Greek goddess of Victory, shield-bearing wonder worker

Oh yes, I brought in all My martial prowess and I granted the Romans victory, too

All was well—the prophecy came true:

Those Carthaginians were staunched like a clotted wound

Their city was razed, and salt was sown in its ground

Behold, I am the Queen of All Cities

Mine to make or destroy

I wear towers and battlements in My citadel-studded crown

Patroness of urbanity

Giver of laws, of good governance of the lands

Teaching humans how to flourish with all that civilization can offer,

Culture and commerce

Igniting the spark of creative potential

 

Above all else, let there be music!

I created My sacred tympanum, the drum whose holy beats connect the rhythm of

Your heart beat to Mine,

Just as the umbilical cord weds the pulse of life from mother to baby in the womb

Each thump, a prayer

Echoing out across the worlds of My love for you

Our unbroken connection

I also created the cymbals that tinkle, crash, or roar as well as pipes of multiple reeds

Instruments all to accompany the movements of My sacred temple dancers

You come from their lineage,

O My daughters,

The memories of those joy-filled dances are embedded within you

At the deepest cellular level

At the core of your souls

I charge you to remember!
Remember and celebrate the cycles and the rhythms of your lives

 

I charge you to recognize your birthright and claim your role

As keepers of the precincts of My Holy Temples:

Your very bodies

Your sacred cities

And most of all, the places of power found within the wild places of nature

Oh yes!

In the temples of your bodies

Celebrate the rhythms and cycles of your lives, natural passages and transitions

Seek Me out, let Me nourish you,

O women scattered about this Earth like so many stones

Seek Me out, invite Me in

In the midst of your joyous dances

In the quiet moments of reflection

In the heart of your fast-paced cities

In the glorious places of solitude in the wilderness

I, Optima Maxima, the Greatest and Best of Women,

Domina Urania, the Lady of the Vaults of Heaven,

Am here

I am here to remind you of our unbroken connection,

Now in this season of rejoicing

For my Beloved has returned from the Land of Death

I called Him back

Oh yes,

To you I bring happy immortality in brightly lit mountain meadows

I am Kybele

Me, Mâ, Kybele, Kubaba,

Of the ripe, honeying body, swelling and ebbing

My womb, the earth

Gibbous

Growing

Giving

Fully flowered, Self-empowered

Birthing the family

Building community

Centering the tribe

Pulsating heart of civilization

I am here

Mountain Mother

Sacred Stone

Throne of Power

My four-wheeled chariot begets the cycles of the four seasons

I am the Mirror of Your Sanctified Sovereignty

Let it flower

Goddess of Cities

And Big Kitties

Inviting you to roar My name without fear, without shame

I am Mother of the Wilderness and Mother of All Nations!

I will lead you through the spiral of transformation!

Let me lead you down into the holy darkness of your inmost self

Black mirror of reflection!

Claim your power with conviction!

Your glorious woman souls blaze as a bridge to connect the magic of the past

With the wonders of tomorrow

Heed My call to claim your might and cast aside all sorrow

My daughters, join Me!

In drum and dance and revelry!

Together, we are one

Voice it—One with One Name!

We…Are…ONE AND THE SAME!

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