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This story was written by Rook and Wolf, inspired by input from the SpiralHeart community.
The ritual arc team for this year's camp has in turn crafted a version of the story which can be found here.
Listen, O Wise Ones, to words of wisdom. Listen to the story of the goddess Lilitu, who men have vilified as the mother of demons! Listen to the story of the birth of humanity, of choices made, and the possibilities that stem from those decisions.
In the time before time, the goddess Lilitu shared a united existence of sublime, everlasting twilight with everything that was not. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Nothing grew. For there was no-thing to undertake these actions. Lilitu, and everything that was not, existed unmanifested in perfect emptiness and peace. Every no-thing was whole and complete.
Eons passed…
There came a point where an urge came to be within Lilitu. This impulse desired movement, purposeful action, and release. Lilitu sensed the impulse. Out of compassionate love and unanticipated curiosity, Lilitu brought this urge into being within herself. Lilitu called this force of life Yahweh and embraced him within herself, as a part of herself. She then settled back into her state of tranquil peace, content that Yahweh was within her as well.
More eons passed…
Yahweh reveled that this impulse was recognized. Yet Yahweh’s nature was one of movement and springing forth. He struggled again within Lilitu, not just for existence, but also for separation. Yahweh loved Lilitu for countless ages, but he could not sense where she ended and he began. Yahweh wished to know his edges.
This desire for separation disrupted Lilitu’s peace. Individuation was new to her and was very alarming.
“Yahweh,” Lilitu spoke. “Please do not do this. Separating into you and me, is to disrupt Our oneness, Our wholeness, Our unity, Our Our-ness. For what reason does this occur?”
“I desire individuation for the sake of knowledge. I wish to know what it means to be of you, yet not always with or within you,” said Yahweh.
“This way may lead to occasional joy, Yahweh, but it will also lead to sorrow,” said Lilitu. “Individuation will forever disrupt our peace. Please reconsider.”
“It is in my nature, Lilitu. Please let me be an individual. We can then create wonders, together,” said Yahweh. “We can manifest some-thing from the great void.”
Against her better judgment, Lilitu relented. “If this is what you need, Yahweh, then...” and she struggled to say it, “I… will not stop you.” Indeed, she merely named what was already so.
As Yahweh promised, he and Lilitu created a garden that existed for their pleasure, for Lilitu had said that a perfect creation is born from perfect cooperation. Lilitu was skilled in creating beautiful plants and animals. Yahweh excelled in creating hills and valleys. Each breathed life into the moon and stars and rivers and lakes to delight themselves. Inspiration came to Lilitu and she launched the water from a large lake into the sky, clouds cooled the rays of the sun, rainbows appeared and after a time, gentle rain fell on the garden. Yahweh looked at their handiwork and declared it, “Good.” Lilitu took pleasure in the garden, but knew that one day this garden would come to an end. She smiled, and said, “This is wonderful, brother,” said Lilitu, out of courtesy.
After five eons, Lilitu retired into the peaceful, twilight tranquility of non-existence and told Yahweh to call her if he wished to satisfy his urges to create. Yahweh wandered the garden, marveling at what he and Lilitu could do together. Over time, however, he wondered what it would be like to create on his own, without the Great Mother. During the sixth eon, Yahweh sat by a river, gazing within it. He saw his own radiant face and had an idea.
“As Lilitu created me through recognition, could I not create another, just as I recognize my own reflection? Perhaps I shall create a man in my own image while Lilitu rests,” said Yahweh. So Yahweh reached down and scooped earth into his hands and formed a creature in his own image. And Yahweh breathed in every impulse of movement, action, and force that existed within him into the man.
Overjoyed with his efforts and what he thought was the pinnacle of creation, Yahweh said to the man, “Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” The man lowered himself before his maker and did as he was told, beginning with subduing the earth.
The man named all the creatures that he came upon to show his dominion over them. He trod down the sweet grass and slew fowl and cattle for his meal. He netted fish from the river and ate of every fruit tree and vine. Yahweh saw the creatures of the garden suffering at the hands of the man and wondered at his own creation. Aghast at Adam’s brutality and unsure of what to do next, he called to Lilitu.
“Lilitu, while you rested, I created a man by myself in my own image. His behavior puzzles me. I imbued in him all of my life force, but he behaves savagely and destructively at times. What should I do?” said Yahweh.
Lilitu watched the man in wonder. Indeed, he could be so gentle one moment and so savage the next. He was capricious and impulsive, but could create great beauty with minerals from the earth and wood from the trees and even out of stones from the riverbank. He could compose and sing long poems in honor of the garden and Yahweh. Perhaps he would sing for her as well…
Yahweh looked at the first human and said, “Is he not beautiful?” And indeed, Lilitu was much enamored of the man, as he was made in the image of her beloved brother.
“Yahweh, he is indeed a creature of your creation. He has your beauty and active nature. Yet, your divine impulses have unforeseen consequences when brought into manifestation. Because you created him alone, this human lacks the balance to your forces I would have provided.”
But Lilitu continued. “Do not fret, my brother. If necessary, I shall spend an eternity bringing Adam into balance by going to him in physical form. This I promise you. This I solemnly swear.”
“Though I am concerned about incarnating yourself, I thank you, sister. I lack your patience and wisdom, but accept your help and your word,” said Yahweh.
The man seemed happy, but from time to time he would sing a song of loneliness for being the only one of his kind. He envied the birds their flocks and the cattle their herds and the fish their schools. He shaped clay and made images of other men and imagined long conversations with them. After a time, he cried to Yahweh to create others like himself so that he would not be alone, so that he could bring forth others in the way of the animals. This he prayed for fervently.
Yahweh turned to Lilitu, unsure that this would work, and she knew that the time had come for her intervention. Lilitu took mortal form in her own image so that the man would not be terrified as she appeared to him. Even so, he was startled to see a human in a form like his, but not exactly like his.
“What manner of animal are you who walks on two legs like a man, but are not man?” asked Adam.
“Why, man, do you not have a name for me?” The man trembled at the sound of her voice and was abashed.
“No, indeed, I do not.”
“Nor for yourself, I see. Have you named yourself?”
“I am…” the man broke off and was silent for a long time as he and Lilitu contemplated one another.
“You are called Adam,” said Lilitu. “And you may call me Lilitu.”
Now Lilitu became aware of a curious byproduct of incarnation. She noticed that she desired physical contact with Adam. Slowly, she reached out her hand and stroked his face. She lightly ran her fingers over the contours of his body. He thrilled at her touch and she noticed that he became erect. She stroked that, too. The man shivered in pleasure.
Lilitu said, “You may touch me in turn,” and Adam did so. She drew him to her and she kissed him hard. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He entered her.
“What are we doing?” Adam asked.
“Have you not seen the animals in the fields do this?” Lilitu said.
“But you are not a man!” he gasped. “It is not natural that I should mate with another kind.”
Lilitu laughed so hard at this that they fell to the grass. She rolled and laughed until she could catch her breath.
“Mate with whom you desire, O Man! It is your choice. Do you not desire me? Did you not pray for a mate?” She patted the grass, “Lay down beside me.”
Adam's cheeks burned at the laughter of Lilitu, but he did as he was bidden. Lilitu immediately straddled him.
“If you are the answer to my prayers, then why are you different?”
“Good question,” Lilitu replied.
“And if we are to bring forth more men after the way of the animals, I should be on top, for I have dominion over all the creatures of the garden, as Yahweh says.”
Lilitu laughed again. At that, Adam roughly threw the goddess over on her face. He entered her from behind and asked, “Is this not the natural order?”
Lilitu threw Adam over in turn and pinned him.
“Nature! What is nature, but our desire manifest? You are but one kind of nature. I am another. Why do you seek dominion over me, when I offer you my nature freely as an equal? Adam, you do not have dominion over me!”
In this way, Lilitu and Adam spent seven days in conversation and conjugation, Adam earnestly trying to exert his dominance and Lilitu playfully thwarting and teaching him. At last, Adam became angry and said, “Has not the Great God created you for me? You are to obey me. Why are you so obstinate?” Adam grasped Lilitu firmly and pushed her to her knees. She suddenly realized that by incarnating, she had inadvertently made herself vulnerable to the man.
As Adam overpowered her, she saw the injustice of the situation. Wherefore should this creature have dominion? How should he be allowed to victimize all the denizens of the garden? Why should he alone be immune to hurt? Lilitu knew what she had to do. She rose to her full height, with the full bearing and dignity of a goddess, and said,
“Adam, you misunderstand the words of Yahweh. Though I am incarnate, I still see with divine eyes, and I can see the divinity of all beings, including you. Your folly is that you fail to read your own soul. Look within and you will know the truth. You are divine, but no more divine than everything and everyone else you behold.”
Enraged that he would be equal to anything he could see, Adam raised himself to strike her for her blasphemy.
“Silence, woman. You are mine!”
Yet within Lilitu came a font of strength she had never known and never before needed to know… righteous anger.
“NO! Adam, do not take one more step. I will be free. Though I thought to bring you into divine balance, I see now that you are not ready. So now I leave you. I will range across the land, give myself or withhold myself. I am free and equal. I will always make my own choices.”
“Go then,” said Adam as he spit at her feet. “I will never utter your name again, except to curse it.”
And so she left Adam, the garden, and all pretense of an easy solution to Yahweh’s unfortunate act. She left searching…
Yahweh wept. In all their eons together, Lilitu had never denied him anything. And here, incarnate and working to correct his error, she was the first living being to say ‘No,’ to ever need to say ‘No.’ Yahweh knew that ultimately he was responsible for this.
Having left the company of Adam, Lilitu wandered the vast emptiness outside the garden she created with Yahweh. This untended land was unkempt, dangerous, and wild. Rocks cut her feet. Thorns clawed at her body, now covered in the dry dust of the expanse. Water was rare, and she deeply felt the pangs of thirst and hunger. And where did she wander? Even she did not know, but she knew that she could not bear the stifling air of the garden… or the sting of her failure to heal Adam as she had hoped. Surely, Yahweh was amused with this unforeseen outcome, especially when he had explicitly expressed misgivings about her incarnation. Lilitu was sure that Yahweh awaited her return to immortal unmanifestation. As the dust blew in her face, she could hear Yahweh’s soft voice on the wind asking her to come home. But she would not give Yahweh the satisfaction of her retreat to her divine form.
“Yahweh, why do you ask me to break my word? You know I cannot return until I have fulfilled my covenant with you. To do so would diminish me… Do you also wish dominion over me? NO! Now go away, and leave me to my task.”
Yahweh’s warmth retreated from the wind, but it continued to blow dust at her. She ignored the dust and the pain, because she had more immediate concerns: shade, water, meager morsels of food… and a place to lie down on the unyielding earth.
Time passed, but she could not tell how long it had been. She knew one thing though… she was truly alone. Only the sun and the wind kept her company. So she walked the brutal expanse, subsisting on its smallest and most humble of plants: the weeds. No doubt these were the forgotten children of the homely plants she and Yahweh had carelessly tossed from the garden in their quest for perfect beauty. The irony was not lost on her…
In her wanderings, Lilitu eventually came to the land’s end. Before her tear-streaked eyes, she saw a large body of calm water.
“Yech… another mirage?!”
No, this sea did not fade into and out of existence as the illusions of the expanse did. Perhaps… perhaps she had found a place for her, a place to heal.
“Could this be real? Is my search at an end? Have I come through the passage of fire to be cheated of comfort?”
Lilitu took a tentative step toward the sea, afraid that this sea would disappear into illusion and that her hopes would be dashed again. Yet the sea remained. She took another tentative step, and another. Yet the sea remained. Lilitu looked at her body, now dry and dirty from her journey, and she yearned to feel the caress of the water.
Perhaps it was foolish, but she began to run with wild abandon toward this beckoning sea. As she ran, she tripped and stumbled, but she would not be deterred. Lilitu ran until she felt the cold shock of the sea’s water running over her feet and up her thighs. The water’s cold woke her from her running frenzy, but she pressed forward anyway.
Lilitu scooped water from the sea and splashed her face with it. She scooped more water and poured it over her breasts and over her shoulders. The cold was intense, but she reveled in this new sensation that re-awakened her life force. She scooped more water and poured it over her head, letting it trickle down her face. The cold water mixed with her own tears and dripped back down into the water, transforming the sea and her into a single being. She closed her eyes and breathed out a single word.
“Rest.”
And with that, she plunged her entire form below the water. Lilitu leaped into an icy baptism by immersion that washed away the sorrows she had endured.
The water had accepted Lilitu, and she embraced the water as her own form. She continued to enter the sea until the water was well over her head. Lilitu noticed that the light could no longer penetrate the sea to these depths. She praised the water’s skill in hiding her from the scorching light and dived deeper into the dark fathoms, eager to explore the depths of her new home.
At last, she came to the sea’s floor where she could lay down her burdens and rest. Even she could not say how much time passed as she healed herself in the water’s cold embrace. But the time was well spent. Lilitu gave voice to the harsh lessons she had learned on the land.
“I survived what no one else could, and I am proud of my accomplishment. I have found myself and choose to step into the power I find there. I know in every fiber of my being that I am not anybody's anything. I am not Yahweh’s sister. I am not Adam's wife. I belong to no one, but myself. I am She who makes choices. And I choose myself.”
And so Lilitu set about to complete her covenant with Yahweh. Only now, she knew how.
“Water my midwife, darkness my comforter,” said Lilitu.
From the humble example of the weeds that fed her gaunt form, Lilitu set out to perfect perfection. And with a passion she never knew she possessed, Lilitu gave birth to every fang and claw, slime and infection, and every toxic creature that inhabits the lowly, dark places. And she loved each and every one of them; because Lilitu knew that even the smallest of her monstrous children contained the hidden strength she discovered in the weed… and in herself. Lilitu knew that her offspring would be able to test and strengthen the feeble and naïve creatures of the garden, including the unbalanced Adam. So Lilitu praised each of her children as she gave birth to them, and sent them forth into the world saying,
“Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the earth, and challenge all those whom you find there. Know, my children, that Adam and his dominion will curse you and seek to kill you. But you and your kin shall survive. For behold, I have blessed you with the iron of my own blood and the salt of my own tears.”
Someday Adam would see Lilitu for who she was. Indeed, the whole of creation would recognize who she was… someday.
Lilitu rested from her birth pangs. Her mind and heart were full, though her body was now empty. And in her repose, Lilitu felt the current of waters shift. Warm waters flowed near and around her. She opened her eyes and sensed a presence. The usually dark waters shimmered with a calm radiance.
“It’s good that you have come, Yahweh. You have saved me the trouble of sending you a message that my covenant with you is now complete.”
Nonplussed, Yahweh replied, “I came, because I sensed the covenant had been fulfilled. Thank you, sister, for bringing balance into our creation…”
Moments passed. “Is there something else, Yahweh?” Lilitu softly asked.
The waters shimmered as Yahweh replied. “I also wish to thank you for giving me the chance to learn all the ramifications of creating Adam by myself. I now recognize this act as an arrogant indulgence. By making this error of love, I have learned much about myself and about the laws of nature. Indeed, I feel more compassion for our creations, including Adam.”
Lilitu closed her eyes and responded. “You speak wisdom. Yes, long ago, I warned you that creating by yourself would be a mistake. That is why we made the garden together. Without my influence, Adam is a creation out of balance. No doubt, he is fostering chaos and havoc in our garden… Do not worry, Yahweh. My self-made offspring will bring balance back to your error. All will be well now that you have learned your lesson.”
The waters brightened, but grew chilled. Yahweh said, “Did you think that I was the only one who had a lesson to learn, Lilitu? Has it been so long since your incarnation that you have forgotten your original resistance to individuation? It appears to me that you have learned how valuable and powerful separateness can be… or am I mistaken?”
Lilitu said nothing. Her gaze was stern and flat. She pursed her lips. But gradually she smiled… and even began to chuckle in spite of herself. The waters around her were bright, warm, and mirthful, reflecting her chagrin.
“What now, Lilitu?” Yahweh asked. “Is there anything else that we should do?”
“There is the matter of Adam and his loneliness,” Lilitu answered with a coy, sensual smile. “Perhaps we can remedy that…”
“But will Adam accept her,” Yahweh asked, “knowing that she came from you as well?”
“Put Adam to sleep and tell him that you fashioned her from his rib,” Lilitu flatly replied. “After all, I know you have omitted the entire truth of creation from him already. Adam will never know the difference.”
The waters warmed at this suggestion. Lilitu smiled, reaching out and caressing the bright waters invitingly.
“Will you have me?” Yahweh asked.
“I have made my choice, and now you must make your choice,” Lilitu said. “Come to me, if you will.”
And so the warm, bright waters swirled around her thighs and entered her womb, each one giving pleasure to the other. The light penetrated the darkness. And the darkness engulfed the light.
As Lilitu and Yahweh predicted, Adam accepted Eve as his own flesh.
“Eve, while I gather grains and fowl for our meal, will you pick fruits from the trees?” Adam asked.
“Of course.” Eve replied. “I think I know just the one…”
And so Adam went to the fields, while Eve went to the groves.
“Quickly,” said Yahweh. “Eve has made her decision, Lilitu. Now is the time to undertake our plan. Come quickly to the garden and disguise yourself in the Tree of Knowledge.”
Lilitu smiled. She knew that the day was at hand that Adam would be made whole. And so Lilitu took to the wind and flew to the garden. Yahweh welcomed her at the garden gate with a smile.
“Remember,” Lilitu said. “Once they each take a bite, they must believe that you are angry.”
“I understand. And Lilitu…” Yahweh said. “You realize that they will no longer be obedient to either one of us.”
“Brother, do not forget the point. Their obedience to you or to me is irrelevant. They must learn to be obedient to their own divinity, just as we are.”
Once at the Tree of Knowledge, Lilitu took the form of one of her favorite dark creatures, a constricting snake, and hid in the canopy. Eve approached the Tree and then looked over her shoulders. She knew Yahweh had prohibited that she and Adam eat from this Tree, but she had done so already and Yahweh did not seem to notice. From eating the fruit, Eve learned that an entire world existed outside the garden, and she yearned to experience the world. Yet when she questioned Adam about what lay beyond the garden gates, Adam looked at her quizzically and expressed no interest in it. Perhaps a little knowledge of the outside world was what Adam needed.
Eve reached for the red fruit and hesitated. She was lucky once. Perhaps her luck would not last.
And then she heard a voice. “Go ahead, Evvve. You havvve been heeere beforrre.”
“Who are you?” Eve asked.
“Whooo am I?” said the serpent. “My name is Li-li-thhhhhhh. I wasss onccce a mate to Adam. Doesss he ssspeak of me?”
“Lilith, my name is Eve. No, he never mentioned you… I wish to pick this fruit to give to Adam. Will you let me have one?”
“Take twwwo,” said Lilitu. “Onnne for you and one forrrr Adammm.”
“Perhaps I should not,” said Eve. “Yahweh said that if we eat of the fruit, we should surely die.”
“And did you diiie?” asked Lilitu? “No, youuu did not. Perhapsss Yahhhwehhh isss not as harshhh as Adam hasss lead you to believe…”
Eve considered the serpent’s words and found them to be truthful. She picked two fruits and gave thanks to the wise serpent.
Lilitu called once more. “And one more thhhing. Befffore you eat the frrruit, cut thhhem in halfff acrosss the middle. Thhhere you will fffind deeper knowledge. Share this knowledge withhh Adammm and all yourrr children to come.”
And lo it came to pass that Adam and Eve were chased from the Garden with lightning and angels bearing swords. They settled in another part of the world and had children. In that time, Adam and Eve would struggle with the children of Lilitu. Adam cursed them. Eve, however, remembered the words of the serpent Lilith. She understood the deeper meaning of their collective struggles and often took refuge in the secret knowledge of the pentacles she found within the apples, even if Adam was not yet ready to fully accept this wisdom.
“Adam,” Eve said. “Perhaps those creatures that hunt our fowl or the insects that take our crop are not the evil that you call them. Surely they have a larger purpose.”
“Purpose? What sadistic purpose can they serve? No, Eve!” yelled Adam. Suddenly aware of his aggressive tone and unnecessary harshness, he asked Eve for forgiveness. “I do not yet have your patience, Eve. Pray to Yahweh that he will deliver us from this pestilence.”
“I will pray to Yahweh,” said Eve. And under her breath, she said, “And I will pray to the Dark Mother, also.”
“And while I battle the pests, teach our children to pray as well,” said Adam.
“Oh yes,” said Eve. “I will teach them well.”
And when Adam had left… “And I will teach them choice as it has been taught to me,” said Eve.
“Lilitu, will you join me in the unmanifest again?”
“Not yet, dear brother, not yet. I wish to watch over my children and the children of Eve from my home in the dark waters.”
“Curious, is it not,” said Yahweh. “I thought that I wanted to be manifest forever, but it is you who watches over the earth in physical form.”
“It is a good experience, Yahweh. Perhaps you should consider it sometime.”
And for eons to come, Lilitu lived apart from her brother in a place of her own creation and eagerly heard news of the children of men. She heard of the expulsion from the garden, of Cain and Abel, of the flood, of Sodom and Gomorrah, and of the myriad triumphs and tragedies that befell humanity. Until, at last, she saw her brother take mortal form and when that form had been destroyed, she sensed that Yahweh finally understood the complexities of manifestation as she did.
Lilitu flew to him.
“Sister, I understand now. Shall we return to the unmanifest?” Yahweh asked.
“Yes, dear brother. Let us wait for all of creation to return to our breast once more,” said Lilitu. “Until then, we will reside in their breasts.”
And from that day to today, those born from Adam and Eve have struggled with the children of Lilitu, some seeing wisdom and others seeing folly. And sometimes, when the moon is right, the children of Eve and the children of Lilitu gaze upon one another, and wonder.
The ritual arc team for this year's camp has in turn crafted a version of the story which can be found here.
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