The Mad Goddess

The Deuce of Hearts

Instant recap: In a document titled The Alchemical Wedding, the Goddess Savitri says:

     All are One in the love of God, but the love can only be felt and known and returned when there are Two. I am Savitri, the Second… I am the Eternal Feminine, the Object of the love of God ~ for he is the Subject, the Singularity, the Source. My infinite bliss is ever to surrender to the Will of my Lord, and thus I will know forever that I am loved.

     Therefore is Savitri called the Deuce of Hearts. But “the Deuce” is also a name for the Devil, raising a question that will now be answered.

Anima Mundi by Leilani Bustamante

3. The Mad Goddess

Why did Modern Woman turn away from her true feminine nature? Why did she turn against men, and become a promiscuous whore? Why did she start killing her unborn children? In the next chapter of The Alchemical Wedding Savitri tells us the answer: she was rejected by Modern Man!

As ideal collective entities, Man is Spirit and Woman is Soul. But when human reason and materialist science began to displace spiritual knowledge and religious devotion:

   the Spirit of Man declined; and then, when he began to build his factories and make his machines, his body diminished as well. The poison in the air and water coagulated with the poison in the heart and mind, and the race that once gloried in its humanity gradually sank lower than the brutes.

Anima Mundi by Daciana

When Man traded his Supernal Spirit for the modern materialist Zeitgeist, he thereby cast off his own Soul ~ which is Woman, the Anima Mundi, the Soul of the World. Now Savitri assumes the form of this Goddess, and cries out the anguish of her abandonment:

My memory of the last century is very vague and fragmentary, especially toward the end; this is because the human Soul faded out nearly to extinction, and the feminine essence along with it.  To the extent that I still lived in the hearts of the millions of women alive in the world, what I remember most strongly from the latter part of the 20th century is the absence of real men.  It became harder and harder for me to find the satisfaction I needed in the act of love, as the number of capable males catastrophically diminished.  Naturally Yin expanded in exactly inverse proportion, and this radical imbalance underlying society manifested itself in outrageously perverse ways.  It’s no irony that a culture of sexual excess and promiscuity arises in precisely those times when primal potency is on the wane.  Everyone can do whatever they like, because no one has the power to do anything real.  All is permitted to the fiddle-fucking flaccid ones because the remorseless force of Yang is nowhere to be found.  Likewise women are said to be liberated sexually and in all other ways, meaning that they can have anything and everything they so desire ~ except for the very thing they want most of all: true love with a real man.

Anima Mundi by Iona Miller

     Though I searched endlessly, peering through the eyes of innumerable women, nowhere on the Earth could I find any longer a man who embodied my Lord. I mated half-heartedly with lesser men, and wept in pity for the barely-human children they fathered in my womb.  The wretched men who couldn’t satisfy my longing would then redouble it by betraying me and abandoning me. At length I became so bitter that I began to take revenge upon the men.  The hurt endured from life to life, and whenever I awoke in the soul of a beautiful, desirable young woman, I would betray every man who was drawn to me before he had a chance to inflict any evil upon me himself.  Some of the men were so pathetic that they relished my cruelties and submitted utterly to my will.  These I kept as erotic bondslaves, and was pleased to suck them dry of energy and all their other resources, while never allowing them to so much as touch my yoni.
     In some cases I was so lost to myself that I also took out my pain and heartache upon my own innocent children, abusing them in terrible ways.  But in other lives I found what I felt was a better way: I simply ate my children, or at least their souls, by preventing them from being born. It wasn’t even necessary to conceive to carry out this act of black magic.  Every woman deigned by God to be a mother must bear her share of children to carry on the race.  Their souls reside in the Hyperean, awaiting the gestation of their destined bodies.  If the woman does not conceive at the appointed time, the soul comes to her anyway and she ingests it into herself, as surely as if she had cooked the living infant and eaten it for dinner, with perhaps a goblet of menstrual blood in place of wine.  So it is that women, and men as well, lead selfish, narcissistic lives instead of shouldering the natural human burden of parenting a brood of children.

by GPrime

     Many people worshipped me as a Goddess; this inflated my power and my ego, but also increased the bitterness in my heart of hearts. I was enraged at the human race, and loathed myself for all the evil I had done in my misery.  As a spirit in the Hyperean, my form changed to match my essence, and so it was that I took on the aspect of the demonic Goddess Kali, a hideous black creature with fangs and claws, adorned with necklaces of human skulls.  There came a day when I awoke from the fog of denial that clouded my self-awareness, and caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the hearts of a band of diabolic Kali-worshippers.  I saw what I had become, and went insane.  In total mindless fury I began to dance ~ I flailed my limbs at the puny human world, destroying whatever was in my path.  In Hindu myth this dance of Kali begins the Endtime and heralds the violent downfall of the Last Empire of the Iron Age.
     In the olden tongue of Thule my name as the ultimate Goddess is SAVIT.  This name signifies the infinite black emptiness which is the mother of all form and of the universe itself; it has a resonance with Kali as the Dark Mother.  Like all Godnames, my name Savit has a number as given in the ancient art of gematria, whereby letters and numbers transpose themselves and reveal secret meanings.
     And the number of my name is 911.  By this you may know the truth of what I now confess: it was I who destroyed the towers in the great city on the day designated by this number.  It was my unseen hand that pulled the puppet-strings of the men who flew the planes and carried out that deadly mission.  It was my urge to destroy the world and the civilization that had caused me so much pain.
     Now, thank God, my Lord has found me and awakened me from my madness.  But alas for modern Babylon, my dance is not yet done!

     Postscript by Flo: An update on the plot and our prophecy for a happy ending is told in a spiel titled Eroskrieg: The War of Love. Take a look at either or both of the consecutive chapters at these links:

The Second Coming of Kali

Kalki-Christ vs. the Great Kali-Whore

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