Meeting the Morrigan
by Chris Cook
The Morrigan came to me on quiet feet. For over a year there was A Presence that had not been there before. She came to me only as the Dark Mother during that time, and She was the first link in the collar the gods were placing around my neck. Her symbolism made sense to my soul: dark ravens and triskeles now permanently tattooed into my skin. It was my first real descent into the Dark, and I luxuriated and stretched in it like a cat. Dark is not evil, Dark is just Dark.
She was motherly with me, sometimes strict, sometimes comforting, always there if I reached for Her. She counseled but let me make my own decisions, picking me back up when those went awry. She was darkly beautiful, appreciative of offerings of both sexual energy and pain. There exist myriad interpretations of Her and as many proscriptions upon how to follow Her... most of these I cast to the wind; the gods come to us in the manner in which we best understand them. She is old yet glows with youth from within like the light of a full moon. She knows The Land and its ancientness and magick as intimately as the back of Her own hand. She stalked the European soils and bled black upon that earth; it rose singing to Her in return. She is The Banshee, The Bean Sidhe, the one who trails dark wrappings in the night wind, keening to the dark moon. She is glorious.
After two years in her care, She passed me on to another goddess from whom to learn. I still see Her as a Dark, beautiful, almost dangerously sensual woman who could swallow me whole in those things. I owe her my life in that she would not allow me to take my own. I owe her unconditional surrender, gratitude and love for the care she showed me. Indeed I would not be of the mind, heart, and soul that I am now were it not for my time with Her. Hail Mother, hail Dark Lover, hail Dark Mystery.
Artwork by Jenova Ratt.