About Hera - an info dump

The idea behind this post was not to make an essay about Hera as goddess in myth or in cult. It was more about looking into the ressources I had at hand and gather cultic information that I haven’t seen mentionned on tumblr. 

But if there is one thing that I need everyone to understand it’s that: 

Hera’s main cultic theme is fertility and child-bearing.

And yes, this clashes with the Hera we know in myth. In fact, there is a huge difference between her representation as an unenthusiastic mother in myth and the cultic evidence that we have. 

For example, in Argos, Hera’s cult was centered around cattle herding as a source of wealth (reminder that the cow is her sacred animal), motherhood (as the nourisher and protector of the young) and military strenght. In fact, sources describe a statue of Hera in the Classical period where she is portrayed sitted and holding both a scepter, as a symbol of power and a pomegranate, a symbol of fertility. Hera, as the divine consort, was considered the ‘generator of all’, the ultimate mother figure. The Argives celebrated the festival of ‘Hera of the childbed’ - Hera Lecherna. We notice a similar pattern in Corinth, where the focus is especially on children. In Samos, the offerings that have been found included figures of pomegranate and pinecones until the 6th century BC, where there is a shift in her worship that considers her more as Zeus’ wife and less as an independant entity. 

Another important aspect of hers is her link with womanhood and wifery. I find it somewhat ironic that today I see worshippers attribute this role solely to Aphrodite, when clearly, it was mostly Hera’s attribute to bring protection to women throughout all their lives. Diodoros notes that even though Aphrodite was given the youth of girls, aka the time they have to marry, as well as the care of other things connected with marriage, in the end, men and women alike made their first marriage sacrifices to Zeus Teleios (‘Married Zeus’) and Hera Teleia (‘Married Hera’). Concerning marriage, a lock of hair could be given as offering to Hera when a girl married.  At Plataea there was a temple to Hera with a statue of Hera Teleia and another statue of Hera which was called nympheuomene, the bride. Hera also received offerings as Hera Gamelia, ‘Hera of the Wedding’. Hera Teleia could be invoked as the guardian of the keys to marriage: she protects the sanctity of each individual marital union.

A lot of the offerings given to her were domestic items, probably because they held personal relevance and could be dedicated at rites of transitions (weddings, birth of a child). In Perachora, the most found votive items were terracotta spindles as well as other weaving tools. Fibulaes were also found in great quantity. Another set of dedications are fertility-related, such as terracotta figures of cakes (and very likely actual baked goods too, which indicates Hera’s motherly aspect (kourotrophic role/“child-bearing/nurturing” role). 

Ressources under the cut.

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here’s a fun new way of responding to anon hate, just post this pic

Playing Cards Artwork by Mahdieh Farhadkiaei

I love this answer. Not to mention that big spirits, like deities, more often than not have an end-justifies-the-means approach, in my experience. Everything from suffocating one ability so that you develop another, or steering you somewhere where you literally have to claw yourself out with your bare hands. The more powerful a spirit you have a relationship with is, the more demanding it can be, and the more careful (or clever) you gotta be about what you ask for.

You pray that you want to get stronger, and so your God push you over a cliff with a ‘Ok then survive this’, and then some of yall start whining about the Gods being abusive because they weren’t the same romantic-uwu-fluff you read about on tumblr dot com. Spirits never lie; the foundations of who, what and why they are is all there written in the myths and folklore. 

It’s very important, even crucial, to not cherry pick bits you like and ignore the things you don’t like, which many of yall do when it comes to the fae.

Ooof, feel that. Been there done that. Thanks for your excellent addition friend 🖤

Aren’t we all othered in some way or other? Acknowledging that our paths and those with whom we consort mark us means, to my mind, that different paths and associates mark us differently. The division is not simply “non-magical” and “Other” , in my experience, but of potentially countless allegiances, influences, and choices. 

Do not despair when you are crossed, for if you honor the gods of the world below, they will hear your cries. When you are wronged, dig at the earth, howling and screaming, calling on Hekate, named Brimo, and the Erinyes, the Furies who attend Her. Cry out in your agony, pouring libations into the earth and giving your words of distress as supplication. They will come to you, snakes in their hair, carrying whips and flaming yew, bringing vengeance and righteous fury with them. Offer to them the names of your oppressors in this moment of pain and they will not deny you. They will bring you the justice you deserve.

Fjord in the sunset light 

by Konrad Alexander Müller-Kurzwelly

How Location and History Affect Spiritual Practices

So I’ve been feeling this for a long time, and I’m curious to see if anyone else feels the same.

I’m an Australian witch, born and raised down under. I started practicing witchcraft about three years ago. The first year or so of my practice was pretty smooth - I learnt about the basics: how to meditate, how to cast spells, pantheons and different belief systems. As I’m sure you’re all aware, the more witchcraft you practice, the more aware you become of energies around you. In my second year I began communicating with plants and animals through reading energy. It was then, when I started to advance beyond 101, that I encountered my problem.

I’m directly related to both convicts and officers who came to Australia on the First Fleet (the collection of ships that invaded and colonised Australia in 1788). I’m the most ‘Australian’ you can be without being Indigenous, and yet I’ve never felt connected to the land around me, because this land is not mine. My people have been here for about 200 years. Indigenous Australians have been here for about 50,000. Their spiritual practices are inseparable from their everyday life. Their connection to the land is part of their soul, which is why it was so devastating for Aboriginal people when the British invaded. Their land was stolen from them, industrialised and seen as an asset rather than something living. For Indigenous Australians, land is spoken of as a person. They speak to country, sing for country, long for country. This is not a bond my people can come close to understanding.

This is where my issue lies: I can engage with the land around me on a surface level. Spiritually, I can build a house here, but I do not feel that I can build a home. I know, on a deep level, that there are levels to the nature around me that I will never be able to explore. I’ve considered working with native plants and animals in my practice, but it feels wrong. The land here constantly reminds me that I am only a guest. Working with introduced plants like lavender and rosemary feels so much more natural than being in the presence of a gum tree. I know that, as much as I want to, I will never be able to fully develop my spiritual practice in Australia.

Recently, I went on a trip to Rome. I was curious to see if the energy there differed, and when I stepped off the plane it hit me like a truck. In Rome, you can feel the rising and falling of civilisations. The energy has movement in it, ancient tales to whisper in your ear. It was so different from Australia. Australia’s energy signature, to me, is linear. It has history, but that history is current. Its stories are still applicable, its sacred ground still in use. Rome gave me the feeling of treading through the dust of a fallen empire. Australia’s was still alive.

If I trace my family tree back further, I’m Scottish, with viking roots. I’m planning to go to Scotland at some point to see if my practice feels right there. Rome was different and interesting, but it wasn’t home either. Australian culture is familiar to me. After being in Rome long enough, I was homesick for the way I was able to subconsciously pick up on mannerisms from strangers in Australia. I was raised in Australia, so I understand the way it works. My spirituality is in conflict with my home country; but where my spirituality is at home, the rest of me is not.

Has anyone else, particularly witches who live in areas where Indigenous cultures have a strong connection to land (Australia, North America, etc.) felt this? What are your thoughts, your experiences?

p.s. I apologise if any of this seems jumbled or doesn’t make sense, I’m tired and this is mostly all word vomit. I tried to make it as coherent as possible.

I understand how you feel. I too am an Australian witch. I’m not an indigenous Australian or Torres Strait Islander so my connection to the land is different. But its still there.

I was born here but I started practicing witchcraft in the US because that’s where my family lived at the time. When my family moved back to Australia things were different in regards to my practice - certain herbs that I learnt to use didn’t grown here and the land, as you said, was alive - it’s history moving like a spiral through the landscape with past and present being felt in the one moment.

It’s hard reconciling a colonial heritage with a land that has been stolen from it’s traditional custodians. But it’s worth it.

Since being back in Australia my practice feels so much more in tune with the land, the ocean and the weather because this is my homeland too. Maybe not traditionally but that’s where my practice blends the traditions of my ancestors with the practices of the land while acknowledging that we still have a lot to learn from the traditional custodians of this land.

I am Wiradjuri.

I can tell you with all my heart this is not a linear place. This land is ancient and hums with stories from before, now and will be. This sovereign place is its own creation, the land carries its history and knowledge differently. A sprial is a lovely way to describe it.

When you step onto country it is a sense of homecoming so deep in your marrow. A feeling of peace and power that I certainly never felt anywhere else. I have heritage in both free settler and convicts and when I walked some of their original lands it never felt like coming home, as a historian it was pleasant and thrilling to be in a place that had visible structural history, as a witch there where spirits that gathered and whispered to me but this was not the same as walking on country and having the knowledge of history hum inside your bones.

If you know whose land you are on you can start to learn about it. Meditation will only take you so far. Engage with the land by listening to the stories, learning the traditional names of places and things, learn where you are welcome and where is sacred and where you would be uninvited. Listen to elders and lore keepers when you have the chance and always know that it is Aboriginal land but you can learn and therefore your practice can grow with that knowledge.

Thank you for your response, this was really interesting and informative to read. If you have any other insights into your understanding of magic practice in Australia that you would be willing to share I would love to hear them.

A thought on names : perhaps the danger is in their truth. When they become too close, when they settle snuggly. When they start to shape you. When you answer to them. When you are growing too comfortable with yours, when the sense of ill-fit slowly fades. When one cannot hide behind the safety of a mask, and is in fact facing a mirror. Do you want a mirror ? Or do you want a mask ? Do I want a mirror ? Or do I want a mask ? Do I want to reveal, or do I want to conceal ?

Wear them like a cloak. Weave them into each other, trap them in the fabric of your soul. They will keep you warm, keep you safe, fit you as a second skin. But in the night they will hide you, cover you fully, until all that is left is wool and words.

Collect them like pebbles. You may never have enough. Find the names you tried on in your youth, each one a different shade of spirit, an echo of who you once were- who you might’ve been. Steal back the names you forgot you loved, that you used for three moon cycles before hiding them away, that you whispered in the darkness. Claim the names that others gave you, names the dead called you, long-left friends and blurry faces.

Write them like stories. There is always a meaning you have not found yet. Take your name in it’s fullness and dive into the pages it has written, the roots, the fables, the blood it called home. Let ink spill onto your tongue and taste the shadows left behind. Who has worn your name before you? When did it first ring out, in joy, in fear, in faith? Tell yourself why this one word means what it does, and in truth, there is never one answer. Piece the answers together and know who you are, and who you will never be. 

 Fight them. Fear them. Catch them, hold them, pry them apart just to put them back together. Know the shape of the silence around them, map out the feel of honey-sweet music as they roll from your tongue. Scream them out to the storm, hide them away, bind them in chains and bury them deep so that none may know. Let them tangle, let them dissolve into each other until they indiscernable, the secrets they hold sliding away from prying eyes. They will conceal. They will reveal. 

Your name was the first true gift you were given. And we are given many more as we walk through time. They never truly leave, never die, and they will march on without us.

Do not be scared of a name. Be terrified. Be enchanted. Be cautious. But do not be scared. 

They are yours.

I believe you do have to learn your own internal 'language' - the symbolism that you've built up over time - because it's your filter for the wider world (including spirits you communicate with) and it creates a kind of signature that can't be replicated. Being fluent in that language creates something potent in magic that's hard to articulate

ancient greek word of the day: ἀστράρχη (astrarchē), queen of stars, epithet of the moon