“Sing now muses,
show me the way,
to a spring that runs clear
on the darkest of days.
There was a time,
cities had no walls.
There was a time someone took it all.”
-Jen Taylor (Love Letter from Cupid / 2017)
Introduction
In the ancient world, music is the gift of the Goddess: Inanna in Sumer, Hathor in Egypt, Goma in Old Korea, and the nine-fold aspect of the Muses in Greece. Well into Roman times, the muses were invoked by poets and musicians alike for authenticity of voice before beginning a performance. Deepening the mystery, the iconography of the Paleolithic and Neolithic is rife with images connecting spiritual practice to sound. Throughout Mesopotamian Sumer, ancient Anatolia and Egypt, the Goddess and her priestesses are most commonly portrayed with frame drums and often a harp.¹ Vibration, to the ancient mind, quickened the birth of the cosmos, and can be heard in the hum of the bee. In the oldest Neolithic settlement we have found, bee priestesses of Catal Huyuk hummed initiates through the ritual experience of death and rebirth in sacred ceremonies. It was said that the wood of the priestess’ drum was best if it came from a tree struck by lightning, “symbolizing the energy of the pure self-striking through the constructions of the ego.”(2) We have lost the songs, the names, rhythms, and melodies played by these ancient goddesses and priestesses. We are left to guess at fragments of word and image. We are left to rebirth our lost heritage.
“Remember. Failing that, invent.” – Monique Wittig / Les Guérillères
When I was 16, buying my first guitar, my face flushed deep crimson crossing the threshold inside to the music store. I had never been in an exclusively male space, and I knew immediately, my presence was an intrusion. My dad had to do all the talking; I was too embarrassed to even speak. In 1988, it was an anomaly to be a female playing guitar alone in your bedroom, let alone in public. For most of my life, it was hard for me to imagine a time when women were not only musicians, but used the art of music, with instruments like the drum and harp, to lead sacred rituals and ceremonies.
Scholars such as Marija Gimbutas, Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Max Dashu, Riane Eisler, and Layne Redmond document a time before women were cast out of spiritual leadership. I like to set the stories and images from their work on the pre-classical and Neolithic era to song. Exploring the scholarship and iconography of our lost lineages through music is a way to dance with the ancient vibrations and birth them back to some measure of understanding. Using music to recover what was lost, perhaps I am taking part in “women’s lost spiritual legacy.” If music “began and developed as a spiritual technology,” as Layne Redmond reminds us, we can use it towards the reclamation of our lost spiritual legacy.(3) We can also use it towards the reclamation of our lost history. Mnemosyne, Goddess of Memory; Clio, Goddess of History; and Euterpe, Goddess of Music will be with us in the following reflections.(4) Sing now muses…
Egyptian Hieroglyph / Middle Kingdom
(To be continued…)
- Layne Redmond, When the Drummers Were Women (Brattleboro, VT: Echo Point Books & Media, 1997), p. 19-20.
- Redmond, 40.
- Ibid, 70.
- Angeles Arrien, The Nine Muses: A Mythological Path to Creativity (New York: Penguin, 2000).
(Meet-mago-contributor) Jen Taylor
“Exploring the scholarship and iconography of our lost lineages through music is a way to dance with the ancient vibrations and birth them back to some measure of understanding. Using music to recover what was lost, perhaps I am taking part in “women’s lost spiritual legacy.”
Yes indeed! Here’s to the reclamation of our lost stories through your music, Jen!
My most powerful Dreams – the ones I take special note of – are those in which music or song shows up.
With gratitude for your contributions here.