May 6, 2004
On Sacred Theatre, and The Story Of Sedna
By Lauren Raine, MFA
Within the past two months or so, I learned that a new planet has been discovered beyond Pluto. It has been called Sedna.
Why the name of Sedna? Astrologer friends have various things to say about this, but not being an astrologer, I reason that a planet, floating in the ocean of space, cares little about humanity's archetypal myths. But as a storyteller, and a student of myth, I do ask, what is the collective mythic language being spoken here? Why call this lonely little planet Sedna, after the Inuit Ocean Mother? What does this mean to us, now, in the world we inhabit?
There are moments when, well, a big syncronicity occurs, and perceiving it, I cannot not say something, although in truth, I do not know how to address it. I'd like to share my story.
I make masks, specifically, I make masks of Goddesses, a skill I refined while studying sacred masks in Bali. For five years, I've engaged communities with my masks, and eventually, if we're lucky, if the group coalesces, or there is enough money, the work becomes a ritual theatre event in which women, wearing the masks, invoke the Goddesses through dance, story, and music. Over the years, I've noticed that the events seem to arise quite magically; the right people turn up, a space opens up, a syncronicity occurs. Such for me was the advent for the event I, and my compatriots, are about to do in Tucson at a theatre, appropriately enough named The Muse.
In January, I had a show of my masks at a local gallery. Around that time, being accustomed to waking up at the crack of dawn, with coffee in hand, I took an amble down the street where my studio is in downtown Tucson. I passed a tree, and not entirely awake, was surprised to see a large bird fly to a branch not 12 feet from me. At first, I thought it was a redtail hawk, and wondered what a hawk was doing in noisy downtown Tucson. The bird looked at me, I looked at the bird, and I realized it was too large to be a hawk. I was stunned to be looking at a golden eagle. I've walked in the desert many times, and never, ever seen an eagle. To see one in downtown Tucson, sitting on a branch 12 feet away, was nothing short of amazing. We regarded each other for a few minutes, and then the eagle raised its great wings, and flew off.
Not long after that, I was approached by an elderly native American man, Grey Eagle, who had come to see my show. Grey Eagle is a traditional Storyteller; he is both a ceremonial storyteller, and a scholar, who has told and researched indigenious stories throughout the world. Grey Eagle and his wife drove from Patagonia, where they winter, expressly to give me the story of Sedna. Shortly after that, at a talk, I met a woman, Katherine, who had been thinking a great deal about the Inuit, and Sedna. In fact, she was researching the story of Sedna on the internet when she received my email invitation to my talk. To make a long story short, a group met, and we began to plan a ritual theatre event devoted to the Goddess. It was to include the dramatization of Grey Eagle's story, and Katherine had decided to dance the mask.
There are many versions of the Sedna story. Grey Eagle received his story from the Inuit while in Alaska at an environmental action, and I was not aware of the rituals that traditionally the Inuit do in relationship to Sedna, the Ocean Mother Goddess. He told me that, shortly after leaving Alaska, he was invited to share the story with the Sami people, the last surviving European shamanic traditition, on the other side of the world, in Norway and Finland. Perhaps, for these people, also living in the Northern hemisphere, it had deep resonance.
Here is the tale: Sedna lived with her widowed father on the cold Northwestern Sea. Although many Inuit men courted her, she would not leave her father, and refused them all. But one day, a fulmar (or sometimes, a raven) disguised as a handsome man came to her. He promised her a better life, and he also promised to provide for her father. And so, with her fathers urging, lovely Sedna agreed to marry him, and left for a better life.
But instead of comfort, she found herself on a desolate island, barely surviving. And no provisions were sent home to her father. Her husband had deceived her. And in time, her father came to visit. When he saw the plight of Sedna, he grew angry. In some versions he killed her fulmar or raven husband, in others he simply took Sedna into his kayak to return to the mainland. But as he paddled in the open sea with Sedna in his kayak, the wrathful Raven caused a terrible storm to arise. And at last, Sedna's terrified father, hoping to save his own life, cast Sedna from the boat.
But Sedna clung to the side of the kayak, and would not let go. So her father, in desperation, cut off her fingers and hands. They fell into the sea, and became the fishes, the seals, and the whales. And at last, Sedna sank to the bottom of the sea, where she lives in a house of bones.
Here is what Grey Eagle further wrote:
"Sedna is cold and naked, since without fingers she can't sew herself clothes. She is covered with a tangle of hair that sometimes crawls with crabs, which she can't comb out. It's also said that broken taboos and the sins against nature of the people who live in the above world collect on Sedna's body. And when the accumulation is too great, Sedna sobs in sorrow. The sea creatures gather by her door to comfort her. The people know then that Sedna is mournful, and from the suffering of Sedna comes hunger and sickness.
Then they gather in a circle with their Shaman, and publicly confess their broken taboos, their sins. They send Sedna their prayers, and go through a ritual of healing. The men, remembering the name of Sedna's father, do a dance of contrition. Slowly dancing, they sing a song of remorse and regret for all the sins done by man to women, to earth, and to her children. And at last, their shaman purifies herself, and enters a trance before taking the dangerous journey to the underwater world where Sedna lives. She gathers fine sand with which she lovingly cleanses the filth of the people's sins from Sedna's body. She sings while tenderly picking the crabs from Sedna's hair. And, acting for the people, she offers Sedna the confessions of those above. She repeats their prayers of love and respect, their promises to change their personal stories and to be kind and loving to each other, and to earth and all other creatures.
Sedna is comforted, and She sends a prayer to Creator, asking Creator to forgive the people for the ways they have become out of balance. Her sobbing is no longer heard in the waves, in the winds. The sea animals end their vigil, and swim away to offer themselves again as food. And the shaman returns to the above world to tell the people of Sedna's enduring compassion. From her great forgiveness, comes the wealth of the sea. And the Inuit are inspired to return Sedna's gift by making their life stories better. Now we need to close the story by saying together: "That's how it was, and that's how it is."
It is striking to me that this new planet is about the wounded Mother, alone in the ocean of space. From Her forgiveness comes the abundance that sustains the life of the people. And yet, the Inuit, in their wisdom, recognize the need for reciprocity in their dealings with the Great Mother. As She absorbs their imbalances, as She suffers, so ultimately must they. They know then it is time for a rite of re-balancing, of attunement. Sedna's suffering comes from the injustice of the male; her husband, her father. This is addressed by the men of the tribe; and equally, all the people participate in attonement for the "broken taboos" of the people. Sedna has transmuted her sacrifice into the generosity of nature. But equally, this is not limitless; the people must also come into relationship with Her in order to continue to live. They must find their way again to right relationship with Sedna.
In the years I've done this work,there is a kind of living metaphor that often occurs. Because many in the group are interested in astrology, I learn that the date we have been given for our performance (the only date available for the theatre) is April 9th, a date when Venus and Mars are closely aligned.........a time when the polarities of male and female are in both opposition and attunement. Here is a quote from the trance journal that Katherine, in preparing to enact the Sedna myth, experienced and wrote down. It speaks to me about a meaning of this myth for our time.
"The work of our group was not to re-enact the ancient goddess myths, but rather, it is now time to take the myths to their next level of evolutionary unfolding. Artists are the myth-makers. It is time for us, as artists, to create the next chapter in the ancient myths…unfolding the development of human consciousness to its next level.
It is time to join the energies of Goddess and God. Time for a reconciliation of that which is within and without. Time for the light and dark to join. It was necessary for human consciousness to focus on exterior, male aspects in order to individuate, but now the integration of male and female must occur in order to bring a balance to the earth and to human consciousness. The goddess must rise up and join the energy of the god. This needs to involve more than atonement on the part of the male…for the male was acting out of fear…which is pain. The male must learn that it is safe to allow the goddess energy to arise and join with the energy of the god. It is necessary for a dialogue to occur so that the pain of both male and female may be brought to light and transmuted. Raven and Sedna's father were both acting out of their own fear…their own pain. Both their pain and Sedna's pain must be brought to light for a true understanding and transmutation to occur."
Thank you for listening to my story, our little story of syncronicity. Now, to dance Sedna.
Lauren Raine is an artist and mask maker who has created goddess masks for dance/drama performances of the Masque of the Goddess and other shows.