Note: If you’ve been reading Athena’s story for the past two days (link to Part 2 here), you know what’s happened to her before her third birth. You’ve read her version as I heard it in my mind and wrote it down. Part 3, here, is mostly speculative, based on hints in books I’ve read during the past twenty-plus years. If you’ve read The Greek Myths by Robert Graves (who is said to be The Authority), you’ve met Medea in the context of the yarn about the Golden Fleece, but I’m leaving Jason out of this story. I’m also leaving Theseus (also associated with Medea) out. These boys have no role in Athena’s story of her meeting and her shamanic rebirth at the hands of the great Medea, who is sometimes called a sorceress. Read on.
And so with the help of the great Hera, who remembered how I had once loved her (and she still loved me), I left Zeus’ stony kingdom. Hera helped me depart, though I soon forgot her help. I suppose she is still there. After all, her own lands had been taken long before, her own throne stolen long ago, her temples and altars supplanted. I suppose she has nowhere to go now. For all I know, great Hera remains at the declining god-king’s side, where poets still deprecate her and laugh at her and call her a nagging wife. A god-king as impotent as he is now needs such a strong wife, does he not? I regret that I no longer know her.
But I could find no other kingdom that would give me charity or honor, found no other king or god who would wed me or let me speak for him, and so I become disillusioned with kings and gods and epic tales. I put down my spear and shield and abandoned my armor and helmet, though I always kept my owl (who often flew above me) and my ragged plume.
And so, twice homeless, twice born and twice dead, friendless and scorned by the men I had so harshly judged, I wandered through the world, and all anyone saw was a woman, a gray, anonymous woman carrying a stick and a drooping feather. I walked up and down in the world and had no home. I had neither friends nor sisters nor protégées to honor me, neither priestesses nor queens to love me. I had no one at all. I had nothing at all. I wandered alone through all the lands around the wine-dark sea, alone in the lands around the central sea, alone in the lands along the ocean sea and the northern sea. For uncounted years I wandered alone, stopping here and there, but never staying anywhere, searching for what I never found and no longer remembered. I went in a plain gray cloak with my stick in my hand, my sad plume in a pouch at my belt. Sometimes I ate, but more often I went hungry. Up and down upon the earth I walked, and so my pride and anger began to be worn away.
At last I came to a small temple in a great city at the eastern edge of the Black Sea. I found myself outside a temple of the Great Goddess, and having nowhere else to go to escape the rain that sad day, I went in. I who had forsaken Her when I fell into the ways of the old god-king, I who had not returned to any temple since my death to the god-king’s ways, yes, I went into that temple. I who had shunned all religions as useless and weak, I who had turned my back on impotent gods and irrational goddesses alike—I came to a temple and because it was raining and I was chilled, I went in.
The Lady of that temple was present that rainy day. The Lady Medea smiled at me. Not realizing who I had been, she greeted me and called me daughter. She saw that I was wet and cold and hungry and because she had no more children, she gave me dry clothes and set me before the fire and fed me. The Lady Medea let me watch her rites. She lit a lamp for me at the altar.
As I watched and listened, I said not one word. But I began to remember. In her voice I heard again the voices of my mothers and sisters in the ancient flowery lands. In her incantations, I heard my own long silence. I was touched. I was embraced that day by the Great Goddess who loves Her children and never forsakes them.
But to live in that land, I had to die again. I had to die to my terrible, self-imposed death of wandering. I had to die to my hubris that knew neither human nor divine compassion. The Lady Medea showed me compassion. She assisted at my death. The Lady Medea chopped me into pieces, pulled my flesh from my bones, pulled bone from bone, and boiled my barren bones in her shamanic cauldron until I was clean. And then she hung me on a tree limb above the coils of her serpents. Charred and black, I hung there in a sack.
With her golden touch, the Lady Medea then restored me to new life. She knit my bones back together and covered them with my renewed flesh. She and her ladies nursed me as my mothers had nursed me. In their cloisters near the temple, they chanted over me and healed me, they fed and clothed me. And thus in that small temple near the wine-dark sea I was born a third time, born into the lovingkindness of the Great Goddess, and thus it is that I am now called the Thrice-Born One. I rose from my long death in the god-king’s realm, from my longer death in the wilderness, from my death in the Lady Medea’s cauldron. I was reborn to dark and light, to winter and summer, to sorrow and pleasure, to ignorance and understanding.
Now I shall go forward, I shall walk into this newest world my younger sisters have built. I shall tell them that the old stories written by blind men are nonsense. I shall tell my true story and tell what I have learned in my lives and in my deaths. Now being thrice-born, I wish to live a full life among scholars and warriors and housewives and executives and secretaries and teachers. Perhaps I can be seen as an example of what a true, free woman can be. And may our modern women never forget who we have been.
Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com), is a published author and freelance editor. Her newest book is Secret Lives, a novel about grandmothers who do magic. Her earlier nonfiction books include the daybook Pagan Every Day, Finding New Goddesses (a pun-filled parody of goddess encyclopedias), and Goddess Meditations. When she can get away from the computer, she goes to the theater as often as possible—she loves musical theater and movies in which people sing and dance. She is also an active CERT (Community Emergency Rescue Team) volunteer and a member (and occasional secretary pro-tem) of a neighborhood organization that focuses on code enforcement and safety for citizens. She has been an AIDS emotional support volunteer and a literacy volunteer. She is an active member of the neopagan community and is well known for the rituals she creates and leads.
feminismandreligion.com 
thank you Barbara for this well told encouraging story, and so needed …
LikeLiked by 3 people
So *that’s * how Athena ended up on my altar and in my email handle…
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes, Kris, Athena is here now for all of us, for all modern women. Let us be grateful to her. And thanks for reading the story and commenting here.
LikeLiked by 3 people
A beautiful and inspiring story – absolutely amazing. And, for each of the three parts, told in a way that your readers will say “Yes! I know what that feels like!” I now appreciate in so many new ways all of the goddesses you write about so eloquently. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 3 people
I suspect that more modern women than we can even guess know how Athena felt in all three parts of her story. Especially since about 2016. I bet more and more women are working actively to make things better for their sisters today. Ya think??
LikeLiked by 3 people
Wow – ( you must be sick of me saying this word but what I feel goes beyond words) You demonstrate the truth – the road through hubris and hatred/revenge must be traveled in order to reach a state where accountability and humility finally birth new life – what a story. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks as always, Sara. I wonder if we all have to be wanderers sometime in our lives as women. I wrote this story in hopes of rebirth for all of us. Bright blessings!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You know, I think we do have to become wanderers… without those periods of unknowing/deep suffering/reflection would we develop into the kind of women we are?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Evocative. Thought-provoking. Redolent. Great storytelling/re-image-ining,
I know you don’t want to write another book, Barbara, but In this case especially I hope you reconsider. The fleshing out, enlarging, tweezing and spinning of the details deserves a larger stage, as do your talents.
I have a small statuette of Athena –rescued from a church-supported thrift shop — on one of my altar-shrines (I relate to her most strongly as Wisdom) and would love to read more of your thoughts and intuitions on Her.
As always, brightest blessings!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks (as always), but I really don’t want to write another book. It’s too much work and I’m too lazy. Buy I sure enjoy writing these posts for FAR! I have several small Athenas as well as a whole bunch of other goddesses. They’re all over my apartment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Barbara, for this final part of your Athena story. It’s a perfect fit for a day which in my past was devoted to death and resurrection. Now of course I tell stories about death and rebirth, and this one is a powerful example of that. Thanks, again.
LikeLiked by 3 people
I’ve been wondering if readers would see Athena’s story as one of resurrection, which it partly is. I hope we can resurrect wisdom and kindness and let the boy stories (like Zeus the rapist and his rapist brothers and sons–many of the familiar myths) disappear under the ground. In tombs.
Next month–more goddesses doing important work!
LikeLiked by 4 people
So beautiful, powerful, and moving. Yes to reclaiming resurrection!
LikeLike
Brilliant, from beginning to the. :D … to Beginning again. :)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great weaving of Greek myth and shamanic themes. Love how it all comes together. I am of the camp of another book in your future but then again “as an example of what a true, free woman can be” I imagine that Barbara/Athena will do what she will. I look forward to your future postings.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Dear Barbara,
I have a blog at reborn athena Dot com & wonder if you would re-post (or, allow me to re-post or link) this story of Athena Born three times on that site?
My own version of the Athena story only has her reborn once!
I’m very impressed by the passion of your vision and by the positive response from all your readers!
May Reborn Athena’s wisdom flourish,
Alice
LikeLiked by 1 person
You have my permission to post my three stories (in order, please–haha) on your site, but I think you also need to ask permission from the FAR administrators. Look at the top of this page: Contact and Submissions.
I’m honored to be asked. Your site–is it https://rebornathena.com/ ?–looks very interesting. Bright blessings to your work. To the work we’re all doing to restore the goddesses to the honor they deserve.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank-you! I’ll follow up with the admin. I’ve been on break from Reborn Athena for other work, but she’s calling me back to herself.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A wonderful rethinking of Athena. I especially liked the notion of thrice-born and how she needed to wander.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow, I love how you have reimagined Athena! I’m trying to walk with Sophia and I see her as connected to Athena, since they are both Wisdom. Most of what I know about Sophia comes from the Bible, so I’ve been very interested in your story of Athena and her life. Walking with a goddess is new for me and this was such an inspiration! Thank you so much!
LikeLike
There are numerous books about Sophia as a Gnostic goddess. Look for Sophia by Susanne Schaup (1997) and The Most Holy Trinosophia and the New Revelations of the Divine Feminine by Robert A. Powell (2000). Yes, these are two older books, but they’re both very good. The Sacred Source catalog also has a wonderful image of Sophia. https://www.sacredsource.com/Sophia-7-3_4/productinfo/SOF/ I have two or three of these little statues. You’ll love this image. Good luck meeting Sophia and learning more about her. Bright blessings!
LikeLike
thank you.
LikeLike
Love this update for motherless Athena — born from her dad’s head. Pah! As if abiding in the sacred womb for a spell were a downgrade. I like to advocate for the erased moms, in Athena’s case, the much dissed Hera. I call these moms, Godmas. It is a quest — writing the sacred wombs back into the story!
LikeLiked by 1 person
In the Greek myths, Athena’s real mom is Metis, who Zeus swallowed so that he would be the sole source of wisdom (she was the goddess of wisdom). In Barbara’s story, Hera adopts her.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nancy, thanks for the clarification. You can see that I left out a lot of details.
LikeLiked by 1 person