These Are The Children Of Ereshkigal, The Dark-eyed: Ninazu, By Gugulanna Heaven's-Bull Namtar, By Father

These are the children of Ereshkigal, the dark-eyed: Ninazu, by Gugulanna Heaven's-Bull Namtar, by Father Enlil who sits enthroned in state Nungal, by the queen of the dead and the dust of time that keeps her secrets. These are their titles. Ninazu, city-god, Enega and Ešunna, death-and-life through vegetation and the shadow of the never-never in his blood. Pitiless mace of war, dying and rising serpent-friend. He will suck the poison from your wounds. Namtar, inexorable. Right hand of the sinister, mouth of hell's crown, messenger of An and Ereshkigal and Nergal. Commander of demons whose very name breathes a plague, unfaltering fate, dutiful minister of his mother's court, Death who is the issue of the Dead's All-Mother. Nungal, the neck-stock, the dusty threshold bolt, the screaming lock, the fanged river of ordeals. Rebirther, reformer, who dwells in the mountain where Utu rises. Hers is that corner of the underworld man can return from reforged, the house of dust and shadows where a broken man sheds his old skin or wears it as burial shroud. Goddess Prison-Warden, her mother's daughter in the realm of men, radiant hope and beautiful despair, cool water of compassion on fevered brows. Hear their names in the bellow of a bull, in the snarl of a dragon, in the tolling-bell tones of their mother and as soft as crematory ash. They sit on the borderline like ravens on a fence, silent dark eyes and subtle croaked secrets, twilight-and-dawn owls, young-and-old serpents. Poison and healing, life found in death. Fear. Learn. Become braver for it. Ereshkigal, for deserved awe of you and your children, may your names be marked by the black-headed ones.

Them: Merry meet!

Me: Nah son in this house we say “silim” and “good health” don’t bring that other shit up in hear

KTU 1.23 (Dawn and Dusk/The Gentle Gods)

It’s been a while since my last translation, but I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do.  It’s an odd Ugaritic text: the first half is a fragmented mish-mash of ritual instructions and mythic imagery, while the second half is a ribald tale about Ilu, the Father-God, and the consequences of his libido.  I have included several notes to outline my own read of the text, but I want to emphasize that many of its elements are still debated by scholars, so you should take my observations with several grains of salt.  Notably, I argue that in the “bawdy comedy” section, the text includes a fairly explicit depiction of two women having sex with each other.

I welcome the Gentle Gods — [1]        the graceful sons of the Sun-Go[ddess], those granted honor from the heights, [2]        in the wilderness and the barren plateaus.

… upon their heads, and …

Feast abundantly upon the feast!        Drink abundantly of the bubbly wine! Grant peace to the king!        Grant peace to the queen,        to the guests and the guards!

The Death-Lord is seated:        in his hand, a staff of sterility;        in his hand, a staff of widowhood. The vine-pruner prunes it;        the vine-tier ties it;        like a vine, he drops it on his death-field. [3]

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Homelessness and Polytheism

So, as of today I'm living out of hotels and my car. I'm still out a job. My altar setup is in storage, I have no home to sprinkle with water and fill with the scent of cedar. No stove to cook on, no fridge, my couch is in storage, my BOOK COLLECTION. It's.... I should be panicking more than I am. I don't know why I'm not. Part of the worst of it, for me, is the lack of sacred space. I don't have a home to connect my gods to. I'd see Nuska in the glow of my bedside lamp, Gibil in my oven that doubled as a kiln. I would greet Nanna when I saw him as I drove into the parking lot, and the nearby park had a stream where I'd done rites for Dumuzid and Geshtinanna. Gula had a votive statue on my altar, and I always had some sort of offering laid out for my personal gods. I had Nisaba's written cuneiform name (since she is the written word) in the most important place in my living room. But it's not like I'm going to roll over and quit. These are my gods. I am their servant. Even when I'm an uprooted disaster of a human being with little to offer, I can still offer a cup of water and a few words of heartfelt praise. This new chapter is going to be tough. I'm going to meet it with everything I've got, and I pray that my gods see and approve of my efforts. I have promises to keep, and I'll meet my potential even if I have to claw my way up. My gods, my goddesses, I think I relate more to Enheduanna now than I ever have. If all I have to offer is a cup of water and my own words, then that's what I'll do.

This is the first real installment of my long quest to combat the ancient aliens on all fronts, as well as give exposure to a pretty obscure topic: Mesopotamian Polytheism. We're here, we're pagan, and I'm here to explain it.

Sort of a spiritual cousin over here in Sumer. Yo, Devotee of Nisaba here.

So, I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered any other devotees of Seshat on here. Am I alone?