Descending into the Underworld.
The Power of Myth and revelation.
“They picked their way in silence up a steep
and gloomy path of darkness. There remained
but little more to climb till they would touch
earth’s surface, when in fear he might again
lose her, and anxious for another look
at her, he turned his eyes so he could gaze
upon her. Instantly she slipped away.
He stretched out to her his despairing arms,
eager to rescue her, or feel her form,
but could hold nothing save the yielding air.
Dying the second time, she could not say
a word of censure of her husband’s fault;
what had she to complain of — his great love?”
An excerpt from the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Myth’s are powerful, in their underlying truth. It’s truly profound the ways myths speak to the depths of the psyche. The journey into the underworld, the willingness to face death in all its forms. Our ability and courage to look at what seems to be hell, and alchemize it into heaven.
Heaven and hell, both exist within. Maybe you grew up learning that these planes were “otherworldly” – that heaven is a place you ascend to upon death. Hell is a burning plane of a blazing furnace. So, they become what is anticipated rather than experienced within the realms of the body. Our body encompasses all realms. Our body encompasses the stars… planets.. higher consciousness… lower consciousness…
I’ll spend the rest of my life embracing the mystery that is the human body. Recently, I have been experiencing and studying more in the realms of the etheric and astral body. Upon my readings, I came across the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. A story of love, and also a story of what happens in our doubts.. In the silence…
The silence.
Orpheus, to have been the son of muses.. To have spent his life sharing his poetry in song in beautiful harmony. It’s amazing how in a time of silence, his trust suddenly falls short. His song is what gifted him entrance into the underworld to plead for his wife Eurydice. His song, so beautiful that it even led the gods of the underworld to shed tears.
They were so moved by his song, that they allowed him one last chance with his wife. Under one exception – he was not allowed to look back to make sure she was walking with him. They needed to walk in silence, and could not see each other until the light of the sun shone on them once again.
Just as he could see the light, doubt filled his veins. What if she wasn’t behind him anymore? Could he risk losing her once again? In a moment, the anxiety filling him took the reins and he just subtly turned his head to see her. In this moment, she slips away and all he hears is “farewell” as she falls away into the dark silence.
Upon contemplating this in the realms of my own psyche, it tells a story of the pain in looking back. Not just that, but the pain of only looking forward. The ways, we as humans, are either obsessing over the past or stressing about the future.
In a moment, both of which led to Orpheus losing his beloved wife again.
What would have happened if, through presence and trust, he kept walking?
Did he not risk losing his wife either way?
I can see how trusting Hades’ words could have been challenging, but what did he REALLY have to lose?
The silence was too unbearable – the pain of looking back was more appealing. Doubt will literally cloud our knowing and judgment of trusting the heavens’ promise over our life. This morning I wrote in my journal:
“The story of Orpheus really landed for me. No looking back or even forward. Seeing what’s here, with my knowing. The eyes that don’t need to see physically to know… sense.. Innerstand. Seeing it’s all here, now. Orpheus couldn’t fully trust, even after taking the adventure and descending into the underworld. So much of this year has been about feeling safe in the rise, the bridge and coherence of the Heavens and Earth. Truly, resting into surrender of the fall season rather than fighting it. It’s all here now, the words come as they please. I am remembering to breathe. Why look back?”
Since 2021, especially around this time of entering fall, I have become accustomed to the descent. I have become quite fluid in my innerstanding and experience that we cannot resist the shedding of our leaves. This isn’t just metaphorical, but a deep internal experience in the realms of body and psyche. Orpheus’ story shows what happens when you take the descent, but look back.
We can’t take with us what dies, we experience the descent… and then we rise. We rise, naturally. Just as naturally as a plant finally blossoming. There comes a time when we don’t need to dig and plow anymore, no more dissecting… planting.. Seeding..
We just simply (doesn’t always feel simple but is) – allow ourselves to bloom. We allow ourselves to bloom until it’s time to decay once again. We take the journey of being the seed and becoming the tree, over and over again.
The myth of Orpheus is a story of presence, of trust, of being willing to descend in the name of love. His story closes out in him grieving. No more songs, just grief… tears… and lost love.
We have the opportunity to descend as love and rise as love. To incarnate as love itself. To BE art itself.
Do you keep looking back? Or allow yourself to rise as truth?
Do you cling to what was? Or allow what is NOW to exist within you?
I was recently brought onto a sisters podcast, where I share bits of my story in the descent.
Together, we chat about:
🌹 The descent into the womb: what it feels like and why it’s deeply healing, not just dark.
🌱 The seed of creation: how to tend, fertilize, and grow your inner seed into a tree through your body.
🔥 Decay as medicine: why breaking down is actually re-writing your reality.
🤍 Men have a womb too: honoring masculine soil and compassion in their healing.
✨ Practical embodiment: working with your cycle, eros, cervix communion, the energetic of your bleed, and more.
💫 The art of surrender: how obliteration can become liberation when we stop fighting what life is trying to teach us.
Listen to the full episode here
Thank you for taking the space to read, listen, and support the words that flow through my being.