Resurrection of Medusa

A few years ago, I had an ancestor and spirit court reading done by an up and coming witch, an initiated Palo (I'm not familiar with these designations, so I'm not sure what they are called) who also practiced some type of Macedonian witchcraft (as she was Macedonian, born and bred). She was incredible, really. Engaging, funny, blunt as hell. Part of the reading included discovering my spirit animals, and one that she revealed was venomous snakes. I don't like snakes. I grew up in parts of Texas and California where coming across a snake was as predictable as the sunrise, so I've had my fair share of weeing in the pants and running away going on in my childhood. Unfortunately, and it explains why I ran, always, none of the snakes I encountered were harmless. I always walked up on rattlers, copperheads, coral snakes, and my favorite, the sneaky AF water moccasin. While friends were picking up and playing with green and black garter snakes, I would be challenged by some fanged monstrosity that was intent on giving me nightmares. Once, when I was twelve, my parents and I went on a trip from San Antonio to Houston and somewhere along the way, and far off the beaten track, found a swamp with dilapidated shacks on the edge of a shallow lake. While my parents hunted for old bottles and whatever the hell else they were doing trespassing on this property, I was standing on the edge of the lake watching the water mocassins squiggle over the water. There were hundreds of them, it seemed, a full-on water mocassin resort! And then I watched as two of them headed toward one another in the water, gently bump and tangle for a moment, and then turn in unison and head straight for the bank, right toward me, at warp speed. I spent the rest of that scavenger hunt in the backseat of my dad's 1967 1/2 Oldsmobile 442, curled up in a tight ball. When this witch told me venomous snakes were prominent in my spirit court, my stomach churned.

And then the dreams started. Dreams about Medusa and her hair of snakes being held aloft by that jerk Perseus to defeat his enemies. I dreamed that I was trying to put her back together, to reunite her head with her stone body. And in the waking moments, I realized that this reunification mirrored the myth of Kyphi, how it is an act of sacrament, a resurrection, the reanimation of a god, and in this case, in this dream, I was trying to make Medusa whole again. So I will. The Resurrection of Medusa, made of resin and wood, herbs and spices, tears and love.