They're Trying to Take Your Head. Don't Let Them.

Like times of old, today’s empire is trying to take our heads. Not with a blade, but with something far more insidious.

Dearest Starlings,

The weight of recent events sits heavy in our bones, and I know many of you are feeling the sharp edge of empire against your neck. What I'm about to share may seem strange in such dire times, but bear with me – because the ancient myth of Medusa holds a truth we desperately need right now.

The Scythians (the most likely culture of origin for Medusa–something I get into in my workshop) had a profound belief worth examining in our present moment: that the head, our heads, are the seat of the souls, the very throne of sovereignty.

The Scythians took this so seriously that they collected the heads of their enemies, and placed them onto the altar of their anguipede goddess. This was to continue to subjugate and defeat their enemies even in death—because they believed the spirits of their enemies could rise up and cause them defeat in the mortal world. The best way to prevent that was to keep their enemies heads (souls) under the control of their goddess.

Starts to make sense of why the Gorgon’s head was used to protect bath houses (liminal and sacred places where spirits could pass back into the mortal world), drinking water, markets, temples, and much more… doesn’t it?

When I glimpse the adoption and inversion (via theocrasia) of these ideas by the Greek’s in the story of Medusa, I see with stark clarity what's happening in our present moment.

Like times of old, today’s empire is trying to take our heads.

Not with a blade, but with something far more insidious: they want us mentally drained, emotionally exhausted, spiritually disconnected.

They want us doom-scrolling until 3 AM, skipping meals, lying awake with anxiety, forgetting to brush our teeth, isolating from our loved ones.

They want us too tired to imagine, too frightened to create, too overwhelmed to act.

Because here's the truth, dear ones: when we let empire get into our heads, when we let it rattle our nervous systems and destroy our capacity for joy, we are letting them slowly, methodically remove our heads.

We cannot imagine new worlds, solve problems creatively, come together to protect what's precious, or act on our deepest convictions when we are emotionally, mentally, and spiritually disempowered.

You can be upset. You can mourn. You can rage at what's happening – these are natural, necessary responses.

But you must also care for yourself through the upset and mourning.

Empire succeeds best when we are tired, emotionally wrecked, under-resourced, and divided. They want you to lose sleep. They want you to stop eating. They want you to panic. They want you to turn against those who share your cause. They want you distracted.

Fantasy as a Doorway to Change

To quote Ursula K. Le Guin:

Fantasy is a literature particularly useful for embodying and examining the real difference between good and evil. In an America where our reality may seem degraded to posturing patriotism and self-righteous brutality, imaginative literature continues to question what heroism is, to examine the roots of power, and to offer moral alternatives.

Imagination is the instrument of ethics.

There are many metaphors beside battle, many choices besides war, and most ways of doing good do not, in fact, involve killing anybody. Fantasy is good at thinking about those other ways.

Let's look at Perseus for a moment. His story isn't just some dusty myth – it's a manual for maintaining sovereignty in impossible times. It’s a reminder that spirits are waiting in the wings to assist us. It’s a deeper reminder that action is the instrument of hope.

His mother Danae was robbed of her vital spiritual initiation rites by a tyrannical father, leaving her vulnerable to exploitation (on a cultural note, this was during a time in Greek history where women’s rights were being stripped unceremoniously in the name of xenophobia and empire—worsening as different versions of the myth emerged over time).

Once Acrisius discovered that somehow Danae had a child despite his every attempt to lock her away, both Danae and Perseus were thrown into a bronze-lined barrel and cast into the sea – a glorified tomb with no way to steer or help themselves.

Then a dictator, Polydectes, tried to force himself on Danae, refusing to make her a proper queen, wanting only to use her as an illegitimate concubine. 

When Polydectes realized that Perseus would protect his mother at all costs, he devised a clever plan to get rid of him. Under the laws of hospitality, he demanded an impossible gift from Perseus—the Gorgon’s head. Where was Perseus going to even begin? No one knew were the Gorgons were, let alone how to defeat them without being killed first.

These were impossible situations. Yet the helping spirits showed up, again and again, through the long journey of Perseus reclaiming sovereignty and dignity. Just as they show up for us now, if we can keep our heads clear enough to notice them.

Reclaiming Your Head

So how do we get our heads back? It starts with the basics:

• Step away from the doom-scrolling

• Get something hardy in your belly

• Brush your teeth, take a shower

• Go for a walk outside

• Find something – anything – that makes you laugh

• Call (or better yet, spend time with) loved ones who feel safe

• Pray to your spirits, ancestors, and/or Gods—as I’ve talked about recently, it is a vital form of co-regulation

Want to stand deeper in your sovereignty? Sovereignty comes from stepping fulling into your agency—whatever is available to you. Some suggestions to get you started:

• Volunteer at your local food pantry or shelter

• Donate to relevant causes

• Begin building (or join existing) networks of care and mutual aid

• Protect your privacy with encrypted apps like Signal and install VPNs

• Learn food preservation skills to combat rising costs

• Wear masks to protect disabled friends and family (yes, the pandemic is still killing people)

Make hope a discipline—which is to have a practice of actively seeking joy, beauty, love, connection, and reciprocity in your life.

This may seem counter-intuitive on some level. When the world is going to shit, isn’t it escapist to focus on any of these things?

If we only focus on survival, we will not survive.

Human beings are not made to undergo constant never-ending stress, emotional turmoil, and forgo even small moments of feeling safe (which usually come from social connection).

And our spirits don’t wish that on us, either. It’s why folk and fairy tales, and myths, stress particular virtues within the person being initiated. Not just strength or cunning, but also creativity, collaboration, service, generosity, empathy, and kindness.

When we’re reduced to mere survival, it slowly takes our heads off in isolation, no access to creative problem solving or imagining a new way of living for the future.

Being stuck in survival mode prevents us from actively resisting oppression and injustice in meaningful and effective ways.

Over time, the things we are driven to do in order to just survive when we are under-resourced. have the potential (and probability) of forcing us to compromise on our convictions until they are nothing but broken promises that haunt us. (And remember, being resourced is far more than just having money. My dear friend Diana Rose Harper has taught extensively about this.)

A discipline of hope—active hope—is necessary for us to move beyond mere survival. And it begins with make sure you aren’t slowly being beheaded by your lack of self-care in moments of despair and high-stress.

What is Strength?

It's easy to be strong when everything feels safe and comfortable. But real sovereignty, real spiritual power, shows up to do the work when things are terribly wrong.

Every single one of us has ancestors who had to dig deep and find those wells of strength in times of adversity – or we wouldn't be here now.

These folk tales, these myths we carry – they're not escape routes from reality. They're survival manuals, encrypted in story form, passed down precisely for moments like these.

Mater Medusa's tale isn't just about a beheading – it's about maintaining sovereign power even when empire tries to separate you from it.

Remember: Spiritual sovereignty doesn't give up in the face of seemingly insurmountable adversity. It gets creative. It gets practical. It takes care of its physical vessel so it can continue the work of transformation.

When they try to drain you, when they attempt to separate you from your power, that's when you need to take care of yourself the most. That's when you need to double down on your relationship with spirit, with community, with your own sacred knowing.

Being hungry, exhausted, and panicked is a great way to scramble your spiritual acuity, keeping us from being able to co-regulate with loved ones and friends, causing us to be reactive and eventually infight and break apart, and completely disrupts our ability to problem solve. 

We are in a long game here, dear ones. This is not the first time empire has tried to separate people from their power, and it won't be the last. But we carry within us the DNA of resistance, the cellular memory of how to remain whole even when they try to tear us apart.

Your head is sacred. Your power is real. Your spirit connections are valid. Don't let them convince you otherwise.

So yes, feel everything you're feeling. But don't let empire get in your head and slowly cut away at your power to think, to create, to resist, to protect what matters. Don't let them take your head through a thousand small cuts of anxiety, despair, and exhaustion.

The spirits of these ancient tales are with us, especially in moments like these. They've seen empire rise and fall countless times. They know how to persist, how to protect, how to transform impossible situations into opportunities for reclaiming power–in fact, finding (or gifting) avenues and skills of power that otherwise are not available through conventional means. 

Take care of your head, dear ones. It's the seat of your sovereignty.

May the fierce protection of Mater Medusa wrap around you like a cloak of stars.

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If you are finding the deepened myth of Medusa and Perseus to be helpful in this time, or if you’d like to grow closer to the protective and sovereignty-encouraging spirit of Mater Medusa, I have a comprehensive mythopoetic spirited workshop that was written as an empowering and soothing balm for times just like these.