originally written 07/2013

I think the easiest place to start is with Mara. I’ve already made one major shift in how I understand her, since I first knew her as the Disneyland Mara and only found the Latvian goddess much later. I needed that at that time, since I was learning then to see Mara separately from how my ex had seen her. Going recon was about as far as I could possibly go in the other direction.

Variations on the name Mar* are pretty common in mythology. There’s the Latvian Mara, the others I’ve written about on Mara’s shrine, like Marzanna, and the fictional Maras from Disneyland and Skyrim, and still others I haven’t considered, like the Christian Mary and the Basque/Feri Mari. I think Mara remains as good a name as any for the Good Earth.

What I know about her is that she is generous and bountiful. She gives freely, and what she asks in return is that we pass that generosity on to others in need. She has some hearth goddess tendencies, expecting me to keep house and learn to cook. She likes her shiny things, and expects to have the nicest altar in the house. She has high standards and a kindness to her, expecting much of me and picking me up when I fall.

I grow my garden for her, small and sad as it is. I give to charity for her. I shop secondhand and local at her request.

I know her and I have always known her. Whether I associate her with a “known Mara” or I admit that she is a lady unto herself, she is still my Dear Mara.

I stand before the mountain.

How do you get a mountain’s attention? Well, you climb it.

Even when you’re journeying, sometimes you just have to put in the long, hard slog. Anything else would have been defeating the point.

It takes me the better part of the night to make any progress. Then a second night and a third. Long enough for me to wonder if maybe there’s some trick, some track, some shortcut I’d see if I was more clever.

The view of Jotunheim and the seas and the slivers of worlds beyond from the summit is incredible… and that’s when I get my first sign of life, calling me back down.

I end up inside a cave near the summit. There’s a being there, wearing a humanoid form, and I’m not sure if it’s for my benefit or if he actually putters around in this shape when he doesn’t feel like being the mountain. For all that we’re in a cave, he’s tall and broad enough that he fills the space, making me feel small.

We make introductions, and he asks me why I’m here.

“I’m learning earth.”

“Why not the valley floor, or one of the smaller mountains? Why here?” I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or curious or… there’s not a lot of emotion in his voice.

“Honestly, this was the first thing I thought of, and I’m too stubborn to change to something easier once I get a bug in my ear.”

That, he laughs at. It’s a booming laugh, reminding me of my grandpa when I was little, or Santa Claus.

“I will keep you busy,” he told me. “When you’re ready to leave, let me know.”

Busy is so far a lot of control exercises. Maintaining myself in cold and warmth, handling pain, that sort of thing. Being, well, rock. I am largely left alone. I’m pretty sure he expects me to give up, but I’ve been through this kind of exercise before.

Sure, I’m confident I can outwait a mountain. No way this will end badly.

–

My joints ache. My sense of time is a mess. While these should only be true of me-on-the-mountain, they’re bleeding through. I haven’t slept properly in days.

I’d been going in small circles, trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing. A bunch of thought exercises, meditations, and it all seemed shallow. Like it was just wasting time.

I thought about just letting go like I had with Mara, but I can’t just go into the mountain the way I did earlier. The earth is Mara but only in a broad sense. There’s a lot of it. There’s a sense of the larger, but it’s much larger. Diffuse identity.