Soul Matters Volume Six: Bondage Battleground
Chapter 7

Pam went home. Her parting remark confirmed her plan would be grounded in Buddhism.

She told him, “Suicide to Buddhists is the most ego-centric act there is. It totally screws up your karma. Quan Yin is probably my best defense against myself. Thanks, Phil.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek and headed home to make an altar to the Bodhisattva of Compassion. Phil closed the door and leaned against it for some time. The dishwasher growled in the kitchen, and the smell of Pam slowly dissipated in his empty apartment. The open back door and open living room wind allowed the warm sea-breeze to waft through. It was nice to just lean against the door and relax.

Then his new problem hit full force. How could he free Echidna and Lilith? If Manuel didn’t know, what hope would a mere human have? He sat at the table and opened his laptop. There might be something he overlooked in his research.

After an hour he kept coming back to the same ideas. Hoping he hit on something, but not knowing what, he knew he needed Manuel’s take to bring to consciousness what he may have found.

Closing the computer he sat on the cushion and meditated his way back to Manuel’s patio. They must have sensed him coming. Manuel, Raphael, and Sanoy were already there when he arrived.

Without preamble Phil asked, “Did they imprison Agrat and Eisheth?”

“No,” Raphael answered.

Manuel chuckled and said, “You’re been reading up on your Mesopotamian myths. What are you thinking?”

“Jehovah has no real power over them,” Phil said. “Lilith showed up as Ardad Lili in a Gilgamesh story. Echidna began as a Greek. But what about their two sisters? Where did Agrat and Eisheth come from?”

“They are Jewish,” Raphael answered. “The Zohar names them. All four are wives of Sammael.”

“Just what does a ‘wife’ do in their world?” Phil wanted to know.

“Spawn demons, of course,” Manuel drawled. “Demons have short lives. They are like impulses. If a human feeds them with energy, they last longer, but they all have a short lifespan. The four sisters keep new crops coming.”

Phil considered this, along with the other information he gleaned from his search and haltingly laid out his idea.

“They form a quaternary: Lilith, Naamah/Echidna, Agrat and Eisheth. The number four represents completion. The four seasons make a complete year, and so on. We also know completeness is in the sphere of female spirituality. So what would happen if we brought these four sisters together?”

Raphael spoke, “They’ve been separated for eons. I don’t know why. I know they are forcibly kept apart.”

“We had to separate them more than once,” Sanoy added and explained, “We first threw Lilith out of Inanna’s sacred grove of palm trees. With her sisters, who were unnamed back then, they waited in the desert. When Sumer came into power, they returned for a time. When all four are together, their symbol is the rose. Finally, with the Hebrews, we separated them for good.”

“The power of the rose,” Raphael mused. “No wonder they were separated.”

“The rose?” Phil prompted.

“It self-generates,” Raphael elaborated. “When these sisters combine forces, they can create out of nothing. They would be more powerful than a mask of God.”

“How can that be?” Phil exclaimed. About the time he thought he understood the strange world of Spirit, something new showed up to put him back to square one.

“Unlike En Sof, the Great Mystery, the masks of God create by changing energy and matter,” Raphael went on. “They are bound, so to speak, by the laws of physics. The four sisters could create from nothing.”

Manuel jumped in, “I see where this is going, and I don’t like it. These ‘women’ are sitting on thousands of years of rage. Do we really want to bring them together?”

Phil smiled at Manuel's discomfort and teased, “Is this a voice of caution, Manuel? I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

“You may not live at all if you do what you’re planning,” was the angel's retort.

“How’s that different from the alternative?” Phil shot back.

Sanoy butted in, “I know where they are. I doubt anybody but me and my cousins remembers why they must be kept apart.”

“Sammael?” Phil reminded him. “If he’s the husband, he should know something about them.”

“No,” Sanoy said dismissively. “It’s a symbolic marriage. He provides the energy for them to manufacture demons through surrogates under the direction of Usiel.”

“Usiel,” Manuel frowned. “Wasn’t he a Virtue before the Fall?”

“Yes,” Sanoy answered. “He’s also changed sides a couple of times. I think he sees his work as ultimately aiding mankind by providing them with demons to defeat. He isn't as anti-Man as the rest of them.”

“Once a Virtue, always a Virtue,” Manuel quipped with some sarcasm. “I wonder if we could recruit him. If we can’t, we’ll have to neutralize him somehow.”

“True,” Sanoy agreed. “He could easily give the plan away. I’ll ask my cousins to talk to him.”

Manuel put a hand on Sanoy’s arm. “Not yet. I’m still not sure we even have a plan. What do you think, Raphael?”

“I can’t predict anything. The consequence of bringing them together is clouded. I can’t even guess.”

Phil looked from angel to angel. “Is that a bad thing?”

Their solemn faces were his answer. He tried a different tack. “I don’t know if we could get Lilith and Echidna out, but could we get Agrat and Eisheth in? What if I contact each of them and attempted to defeat them? Won’t that prompt Sammael to round them all up in Jehovah’s compound?”

“I agree we would be hard-pressed to free Lilith and Echidna,” Sanoy said. “Your plan would work as long as Sammael doesn’t figure out what you’re really doing. And only Usiel would know enough to warn him.”

Manuel looked around at them, “So we’re going to do this, I take it. You know the kind of chaos we might introduce. We could fatally upset the balance.”

Sanoy’s stern voice countered, “Or we may finally set things right. I’ll leave you now. Phil, look for me soon.”

After Sanoy was gone, Manuel groaned, “Powers. They’re like cops, Phil. Serious all the time. Simple-minded -- ”

Raphael cut in, “Dedicated, loyal.”

“Well, that, too, but they can be real bores.”

Phil squirmed with discomfort at Manuel’s second disparaging remark about his fellow angels, but he asked, “What else is there for me to defeat? Lilith never gave me the other clues.”

“The whore-madonna complex,” Raphael said in explanation. “Agrat is the Madonna. Eisheth is the Whore.”

It made sense once it was spoken. The patriarchy reduced women to these roles. However the new questions Phil faced required he translate these symbols into concrete enemies. For now he let them remain mysteries. His mind was too full. He bid goodnight to the angels, slid back into his body and went outside for some fresh air.

Martin, the faerie doctor, was sitting at the patio table. Martin looked taller than he was, sitting in the plastic-strapped chair. Roly-poly and bright-faced, he smiled at Phil, “Good evening to you, Phil.”

“Martin,” Phil inclined his head and sat across from the faerie doctor.

“I hear you’re having some dealings with the mothers of demons.”

“I am. Is there anything you can do to help out?”

“Probably not, but I would be remiss in my promised task to Morrigan if I didn’t try.”

Phil smiled to himself and let the silence between them grow. The night sky was mostly clear, and a gibbous moon was rising. The air was cooler and refreshing after all that Phil experienced.

He waited for the faerie doctor to continue, for even though Morrgian commissioned Martin to teach Phil about the ways of the fae people, Martin had his own way of doing things.

Presently the faerie doctor said, “You know the word lullaby comes from the Hebrew for ‘Lilith be gone’.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They say the two creation stories in Genesis represent two different wives for Adam. Lilith was first and man’s equal. Eve was second and more subservient.”

“I have read that,” Phil said. “Feminists see Lilith as the archetype for women oppressed.”

“And the demons she spawns are her revenge.”

“Her and her sisters.”

“Themselves archetypes as well,” Martin added. “What can be done with the situation?”

Phil laughed a short laugh, “I’m working on it.”

“Well, then, perhaps it would help you to know the properties of demons.”

“Perhaps it would.”

“They are like fleas or lice or ticks. As you walk your life’s path, they jump from the bushes and land on you. They can’t be avoided, but if they gain a hold on you, they suck out your life force.”

“Manuel warned me about the demons of distraction and self-importance.”

“Aye, there are those, but also fear, ignorance, resentment, and others. I guess you could say they are creatures coming from their own negative archetypes.”

“And each sister spawns a thousand a day.”

“So the legends tell us. It is also assumed they only live for a few days, unless they latch onto someone. Then they can live for as long as they stay attached.”

“Well, that’s not good.”

“It gets worse,” Martin smiled. “Then, you see, there are arch-demons. Much more powerful beings with longer life spans. After them, we have the nasty wee folk who can order the whole lot of demons around.”

“How does that work?”

“Well, my boy, those who make the dark their home are always looking to dominate others. Obviously, the stronger prevail over the weaker. There are races in the fae world that use demons for their own devices.”

“Are they products of the sisters?”

“Some say yes; some say no. In my opinion, there are counterparts to the sisters in other cultures. The Hindus have some ghastly ones. Then, since of course dark beings can’t cooperate, they come up with their own demons, arch-demons and the like. So we have here in America, native species of fae creatures I’ve never seen before.”

“Well, that’s pretty scary.”

“Most people don’t know it’s going on. Now, if they could see demon activity, well then, you might have a worldwide panic.” Martin chuckled softly at the thought.

Phil said, “Morrigan thinks I’ll be able to see them soon.”

“Aye. That she does. I think you are catching sight of that world already. A relaxed and open mind is all it takes -- truth be told.”

“I get glimpses, but nothing like a coherent picture of any coordinated activity.”

“I block it out most of the time myself. Unless, of course, I’m working.”

Phil smiled as Martin stood and tipped his hat, “Well, I’m off.”

“Thanks for your input,” was Phil reply.

Once Martin was gone, Phil headed into the house and went to sleep. He most certainly dreamed, even though he had no recall, for he awoke jittery and not well rested. Becky called, and their hours of surfing helped settle him.

At brunch, she filled him in on her date with metro-boy. His real name was Walter.

“Not Walt or Wally,” she smiled, “but Walter. I swear, he should be gay. I can’t see him again.”

“Why not?” Phil asked as he sipped his coffee from a mug.

“I just want to slap him to see if he breaks,” her smile deepened to include her green eyes. “That can’t be a good impulse for a first date.”

Her cell phone buzzed and she answered. “Hey, Walter, what’s up? .... No. I’m busy.... It was okay. Nothing magical.... I’m not saying that. I do want to be friends. It’s just....” Then she looked at her phone and hung up.

Phil raised both eyebrows in question.

“What a jerk,” she responded. “One get-to-know-you date and he thinks he owns me. Go figure.”

Phil became concerned. Walter was showing the markings of an Azazel plant. Either that or Phil was becoming paranoid.

“Did he threaten you?”

Becky frowned, “Not in so many words, but his tone changed.”

“Any name-calling?”

“Prick teaser,” she relayed. “Man, I never even let him hold my hand. It was just a fun date. Get some dinner, hang out with friends. I even drove so I wouldn’t be stuck.”

“Want to learn some psychic self-defense?”

“I think I’ll need it,” she laughed, but then grimaced again. “What a jerk. I can’t think of anything I did to encourage him.”

“People like that don’t need encouragement. He’s trying to see how far he can push you.”

“Really? What for?”

“He’s a product of the patriarchy,” Phil sighed, at some level wishing he didn’t know what he knew now. “His idea of relationship is domination. If you submit, he’s in his comfort zone. If you don’t, he’ll need to move on.”

“Or punish me,” she added the obvious. “How tricky is psychic self-defense?”

“Not very. You make a bubble around yourself with the energies of Flesh, Force and Spirit; then you disappear yourself inside the bubble.”

“I’ll start working on it today.”

“You might want to start now,” Phil murmured. “I think he just walked in.”

She glanced to the door, “Yep. That’s him.”

Walter was slim and impeccably dressed in tan Dockers and a long sleeve pale green shirt. The sleeves were rolled up exactly two turns. His sandy hair was short, and he sported a trimmed goatee. Seeing Becky, he moved like a dancer to their table.

“I don’t appreciate being hung up on.” His voice was a terse tenor.

“Buzz off,” Becky replied. “I’m having a business lunch.”

“Business? Is it for sale?”

Becky’s face flashed crimson in embarrassment. Phil cleared his throat.

“You’re making a scene young man. Please apologize to the lady and leave.”

Walter ignored him, “There are consequences to trifling with me, hanging up on me, making a mockery of me.”

Phil signaled their waiter who came with two others.

“Sir, you can’t come in here and bother our guests. You need to leave.” He put his hand on Walter’s shoulder. Walter shrugged it off and left.

“Sorry, sir,” the waiter said as his helpers escorted Walter to the door. “It won’t happen again.”

Phil nodded but his eyes stayed on Becky. Her face was less flushed when she spoke.

“That was interesting. I’ve never been called a whore before.”

Phil caught the synchronicity of the moment. Walter was prepping Becky for the whore-role in his two-woman show. Phil suspected Walter’s mother was the Madonna.

“Did Walter talk about his parents?”

“Some. His mother is some kind of great cook. When we were at dinner he said the food was second-rate compared to hers. And, of course, he invited me to her house for our next date. Why do you ask?”

“Whore-madonna syndrome. Men stuck in the patriarchy have only two ways to relate to women.”

“I’m the Whore; mommy, the Madonna. Why can’t he just see us as people?”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “Why indeed?”

Phil followed Becky to her house and circled the block to make sure Walter was gone. Then he drove home. He spent most of the afternoon working, but the constant distraction was his growing empathy for the plight of women.

He remembered a time when he was younger. On his way home from school, he rode his bike through a different neighborhood. He didn’t see a white face for blocks. He did see the change in people’s eyes, from simple registering a kid on a bike to seeing a white kid. The shift in their eyes haunted him back then. He couldn’t understand why he could be hated just for his skin color. As Becky said, why couldn’t they see him as just a person?

When he finished with work, he ran a search on the computer to replace an answer to the question. It took a while, but he finally came to a phrase Manuel quoted some time ago. Phil couldn’t remember the context, but the phrase fit his current situation: “Where there is ‘other,’ there is fear.”

The whore-madonna syndrome was fear-based. Defeat the fear and he would defeat the syndrome. The obvious question was, fear of what? For Walter, it was his worldview. It would collapse if he saw Becky as a person -- let alone see his mother as such. And if his worldview collapsed, then what? His identity -- his otherness -- would collapse back to the Whole, the indissociated darkness of the unconscious. The devouring Great Mother would reclaim him. When the choice was individuality or dissolution into the Whole, then the 'other' was the foil against which the individual was maintained.

Patriarchy prevented this slide into personal oblivion. This was the good news Pam was looking for. The problem was the patriarchy threw the baby out with the bath. Instead of defending women’s individuality, the gift of the Yang, and welcoming healthy community, the gift of the Yin, patriarchy came to fear all women and their innate power. Men could only see the black widow chomping off the heads of her mates. They couldn’t see her giving her own body as food for her young.

Phil realized to defeat Agrat and Eisheth he would have to dismiss their ‘otherness’ and replace where he and each of them was the same. His growing sense of empathy would serve as a bridge to connect the sameness of their beings. And he would have to not lose himself in the process. It was a tricky both-and solution.

Pam called after his dinner of reheated pizza. She was fully motivated on her recovery track. She would be researching Quan Yin mythology, building a simple altar, and, she told him with some pride, she found a book of psalms to this goddess. She planned to read them aloud once the altar was built. She also found a Buddhist community she could join for vipassana meditation.

Phil fell into bed early and once again slept fitfully. He awoke around 4am. Sanoy was shaking him.

“Are you ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be,” Phil grumped and sat up.

“Do you know how to journey?”

“Like astral projection? I’m not sure.”

“In the system Manuel taught you, is there a way to communicate with distant beings?”

“Yes.”

“Go there and meet me at your front door.”

Phil lay back on the bed and brought himself to his envisioned world of the trail, the stairs and the arch. On the stairs was a place Manuel called ‘far entity communication.’ As part of the Living Force, this power-spot connected Phil to all living things through the ch’i field. He found the marker for this place, a high wooden platform overlooking a vast meadow. Once he felt himself firmly standing on the platform, he projected the image of his front door on the meadow. Then he floated off the platform toward it.

Sanoy drifted into view. Taking his arm, Sanoy zoomed them away.

“Agrat is in Syria. Eisheth is in the Sudan. Agrat agreed to see you.”

“And Eisheth?”

“Will need convincing.”

Flying in this fashion wasn't much different than flying out of Manuel's patio. They headed for the portal to the 'normal' world, zoomed through that, and then headed to Earth.

Presently they arrived at another desolate, rock-strewn landscape. Agrat lived underground in what looked like an old tomb. Dark entities scurried out of their way as they entered.

The room was rectangular, about forty by twenty feet with a six-foot ceiling. Agrat sat on a bench across the room from the entryway. More entities scuttled away from them as they approached.

“My children,” Agrat said proudly, gesturing to the entities. Phil realized they were the demons she spawned. Myth had it each of the sisters produced a thousand demons a day.

Agrat was plain-looking in a simple dirt-colored shift. Dark skin, long black hair and a delicate face. When she brought her attention to Phil, her eyes shown like black fathomless pools of mystery. Phil broke eye contact by bowing his head.

Sanoy spoke, “My lady, we have come as you wished.”

“I didn’t wish it,” she snorted. “You played to my vanity, and I became curious. Who is this man who causes so much trouble?”

“I’m Phil, Lady Agrat. I have a commission from the Twins.”

“I always liked Irin,” she said, and her charm began to flow. “Qaddism is no fun. Wouldn’t you agree, Sanoy?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Phil began filling himself with the power of Flesh, Force and Spirit. As he did so, Agrat’s charm waned.

“What is your commission, Phil?”

“I must defeat the shadow feminine to replace yin spirituality.”

“Interesting. How do you expect to defeat me?”

Phil raised his head and let himself fall into the mystery of Agrat’s eyes. He felt her presence through the dampening effect of his shield. Then he allowed himself to be absorbed into her presence.

The cave or tomb they were in disappeared. Time and space shifted, and Phil found himself translocated to an ancient city along a slow-moving river. Turning toward the city he was standing at the bottom of a stairway leading up to a temple. The warm wind brought the call, ‘Come to me.’

He mounted the steps and entered the flat-roofed building. Inside was an open area with a centerline of columns. At the far end, a rectangular opening in the roof allowed sunlight to splash in. A rock-bordered garden fronted more steps to a dais. Agrat stood there, now dressed in a white jewel-studded gown. Her long black hair fell loosely to her waist. A thin gold-serpent tiara graced her head. She was a Madonna glowing in the light.

The protective energy still circulated in Phil’s chest shielding him from the full impact of Agrat’s presence. He approached and bowed his head again.

“My lady, what is your will?”

“What do you seek?” she countered.

“To balance yin and yang within me.”

“You cannot without knowing me.”

Phil wondered if she was using the term ‘know’ in its biblical sense, which meant carnal knowledge. Before he could inquire, she was speaking again.

“Prostrate yourself before me. Give me your will, and I will come to you.”

He could feel the seductive pull through his defenses. She offered what all men longed for -- losing the self in a mother-lover’s embrace. All cares and worries wiped away. Total comfort and security finally achieved. No more want, strife, rejection, fighting or dying. Only protected bliss wrapped tight in her maternal arms.

Phil inclined his head again, “I bow to your authority, my lady. Your words make known the unknowable. You bring hope to those who suffer. I can be your servant but not your slave.”

Her demeanor changed radically. The sky darkened above them. She lashed out with ropes of energy to bind him, but he counter-attacked and cut through the ropes. Phil didn’t attack her, though. He simply stood upright and proud.

“I offer myself willingly, my lady. There is no need to coerce me, seduce me, or control me. Can you not accept me as I am?”

“It’s a trick!” she shouted back. “No man willingly bows to me or any of my sisters. You’re a liar and you’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous, maybe, but I’m not a liar. I do offer my services willingly. Tell me how I may serve and I’ll prove it.”

“Bring me a woman who will vouch for you, a woman ready to die for you.”