Queen of the Dead
As autumn begins, the myth of Persephone's descent to the underworld reminds us of the power of turning towards darkness.
Around the time of the Fall Equinox, the ancient Greeks practiced dying.
In late September, a nine-day ritual death initiation began at the temple of Eleusis, reenacting the myth of the goddess Persephone’s descent into the underworld and eventual return to life.
If you’re not familiar, here’s the short version of the myth: Persephone, the beautiful young maiden and goddess of Spring, was out picking flowers one day when she was abducted by Hades, God of the underworld. Grief-stricken, her mother Demeter, goddess of the harvest, desperately searches for her daughter for nine days. She calls on Zeus (Hade’s brother) in despair, demanding that he bring her back from the underworld. Persephone is joyously returned to her mother, but because Hades tricked her into eating pomegranate seeds while she was in the underworld, she is forced to return (in some versions of the story, she chooses to return). Persephone becomes the Queen of the Dead, forever spending half the year tending to dead souls in the underworld, and returning to the upper world for the other half of the year as the goddess of Spring.
The myth speaks to the inseparability of darkness and light, grief and joy, life and death. Just as Spring always follows Winter, Persephone’s return to her mother shows that death always brings rebirth—a return to life.
Thousands of people participated in these secretive initiation rites known as the Eleusinian mysteries. At the beginning of Fall—the time of Persephone’s descent—initiates descended into the underworld to experience a kind of symbolic death (almost certainly involving psychedelics, as we now know). The experience gave them the opportunity to find the life that exists even in death; the light that is present even in the darkness of the underworld.
In facing their own fear of death, they were reborn.
While we have no way of knowing exactly what happened during these rituals (the initiates were sworn to secrecy), philosopher Simon Critchley notes: “Whatever took place in the Mysteries, it was an enormously powerful experience, the effects of which appear to have lasted a lifetime.”
Through undergoing a symbolic death and rebirth, the initiates came out wiser, more aware, with the capacity to live life in a new way. They befriended death to embrace life.
Here’s what the Greeks knew: Encounters with death can change us for the better, and for good. Whether through taking psychedelics or undergoing secret mystery initiations or confronting our own mortality, facing (and embracing) death brings growth and renewal.
Autumn: A Time of Descent
The Fall Equinox is a great time to think about death. At this time of year, despite the busyness of the back-to-school season, we naturally feel the pull to get quiet and tend to what is dying in our own lives.
The Equinox marks the turning of the wheel of the year into Fall and Winter, which, in the Northern hemisphere, this brings darker days, longer nights, and colder, quieter months. While Spring and Summer are all about birth, new life, growth and abundance, Fall and Winter is a time of dying, decay and deteroriation—an equally important part of the cycle of life.
And as the ancients knew, we are nature, and our inner world mirrors the outer world. At this time of year, we are naturally invited into our own death processes. It’s not the time for growth. It’s time to slow down and be with what is dying, what we’re ready to shed and let go of.
Persephone’s tale reminds us that we can’t have life without death. Our lives are made up of both light and dark, underworld and upper world, birthing and dying, winter and spring.
At the beginning of Fall, when Persephone departed into darkness, we are invited us into our own descent, our own death process. Can we allow something to die—a part of our identity we’ve outgrown, a self-defeating habit, a relationship that’s run its course, or an old pile of junk in the basement—and know that something new will emerge in its place? And once something has died, can we allow ourselves just be in the darkness of the unknown—the place between death and rebirth, where we don’t yet have the answers or know the next steps?
Letting go is a way of practicing death. Sitting in the darkness of that which is not yet clear is also a way of practicing death. Both are their own forms of descent. So is contemplating mortality—choosing to face our own fear of death so that we can more fully claim our lives.
Whenever we let go of something that is ready to die, we make way for new growth come Spring. Whenever we let ourselves linger in what Buddhist teacher Joan Halifax calls the “fertile darkness,” we enrich the soil that will nourish the seeds of new life. For many of us, the big question becomes: Can we trust that a descent is always followed by a return?
So here’s a little death contemplation for this Fall Equinox: What are you ready to let go of? How can you tend to what is dying in your life? Can you make more space for what is unknown and uncertain? And if you see the world around you as a mirror of your inner world, what might nature’s processes of death and decay have to teach you about your own life?
I hope this reflection is valuable. If you feel moved to share, feel free to respond to this email—we read every message we get.
Happy Equinox -
Carolyn
I'm ready to let go of limiting beliefs that “I'm not good enough” or “I don't deserve success” when building a business. I'm making more space to remain curious and courageous when following my intuition.