Surrender
Chapter XII finds Asmeret and Asmara in the thick of their ‘initiation’ journeys, within reach of one another and as far from their destination as they could possibly be.
Tree continues to narrate for us, switching (as Trees tend to do) between memory, myth, and multiple points of view in various times and places. I trust you have had enough practice weaving through this maze now to not get hopelessly lost—but I will try to give you a few additional signposts through Chapter XII.
After the initial radiant glory of a journey’s departure—feeling purpose-filled, committed, and guided by powerful forces, counterforces arise. One gets stuck—suspended in the tension between the past and multiple potential futures, strung between the expectations of family, culture and a lifetime of being bent and folded into little boxes of somebody else’s construction and your own needs, gifts, and divine calling.
This is the nature of XII The Hanged Man, and this is the principle at work on Asmara and Asmeret.
Even as Asmeret’s ability to think clearly erodes the further she travels from her sources of life (Tree, the Red Sea, her dog, her mother and Arsema), memories of her nine-year-old journey to the Goddesses’ Cavern begin to arise. And, once again, she falls into an unconscious state (a mini abyss, if you like).
In circular storytelling (mythic) fashion, she is found behind the market, this time by a white man, whom she refuses to call by his name. Instead she calls him the ghost.
This is a complex manifestation of several forces: a projection of her own internal state of confusion having gone so long unseen and then the shock of being seen through by the fortuneteller; the external circumstance of being in an unknown in-between place; the cultural and racial context in this time and place where ‘other’ isn’t fully seen and understood; and a deep knowing that while this is a necessary phase of her becoming a fully mature self-actualized woman, this man and this place are not her future.
She told him her name was Asmeret, and when she spoke it aloud it didn’t feel right.
(And maybe Asmeret isn’t her true name.)
ATU XII calls us to Surrender to that which seems confusing and incomprehensible. Instead of planning, deciding, controlling, we are asked to pay attention. What old names, identities, beliefs, patterns need to be broken? How might this challenge, pain, or counterforce be building strength and capacity in us for the next part of the journey?
Angeles Arrien says “The Hanged Man represents that state of consciousness which requires that we move beyond ego and trust the deeper aspects of who we are.”
The Hanged Man, being upside down, also calls us to take on different views to expand our perspectives . . . In Asmara, Asmeret tries on different roles, leans in to her mysterious new power to understand any language to explore the cultures and histories of the world, begins to shape her own world view (which is counter to the one she is being ‘taught’ by the ghost and the priest), and later, beneath tree, she is called to re-story her shame from “I let the ghost desecrate me . . .” to
Princess Asmeret brought the source of all light back to the world. When the child was born, a girl with tea-and-cream skin, pale blue eyes, and wavy, ash blonde hair, Asmeret named her Theia after the Titaness who gave birth to the sun, moon, and dawn.
Re-storying is a beautiful thing to spend XII time doing.
ASMARA is also stuck in his own way. While he is definitely on the move, both avoiding and searching for Asmeret, he is playing parts that he carries from his deep ancestry (tinker, musician, inventor, lover are all associated with Apollo), they aren’t his destiny. The closest he comes to feeling like he is on his true path is as a healer to the woman he finds who has suffered from an obstetric fistula (nothing graphic in the link) during childbirth (a condition Daniat claimed the twins had caused Tigisti, though we didn’t see any evidence in the story). She is shunned by her family and village and Asmara is able to repair not only her physical body, but also her mental, emotional and spiritual bodies. That is shaman work!
Charlotte and the tarot cards are also in a sort of limbo. Charlotte has married Ben and had a child (by a tryst with an unnamed man on one of her trips to Africa) and is working as a private pilot, but clearly she is unsettled. The tarot deck Frieda has been trying to send to America is stuck between India and England. Even Helge’s ashes are on hold, waiting for Charlotte and Frieda to make the time to fly him home.
And in a literal nod to suspended gifts, the package the ghost sent down the mountain for Theia has been under her bed for four years! Thankfully by the end of the chapter, the gifts seem to be on the move again . . . but with the opening of this gift comes a fresh wave of anger and grief.
Asmeret stands on the ledge over the Red Sea and screams . . .
I’m not sick! I’m not! I won’t make you ashamed any more. Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you come find me? Why did you take them from me?
Paying close attention we read that she has rejected the story of ‘sick’ and ‘shame’ for herself but also demands answers for her pain asking WHY of . . . her mother, her father, her brother, and the unseen force that seems to be controlling her life . . .
Asking Why is shouting at the sky.
Circles in circles. On Theia’s fifth birthday she is given back a piece of her father but also slowly begins to lose her mother.
Asmeret began spending more days and night in the tree by the Red Sea . . . The little dog sometimes stayed in the village, burrowed under Theia’s blankets. With the dog’s heavy head on her feet, Theia ran after her mother in her dreams.
Theia Dreams - art by Annelie Solis
