The Minotaur Within
A Return to Creation and Connection
Leaves rustle on the sidewalk as I catch the last bit of warmth on the front porch like a cat following the sun. Since I last wrote, summer turned to fall, Stacy and I celebrated our wedding anniversary, then our 15-year anniversary, the academic term is already through midterms, and Stacy is one week post-surgery. All is well, and we are in full-on rest and recovery mode.
I‘ve thought of you often and had many stories to share; the magic of watching hummingbirds in a lavender garden on one of our anniversary weekends, sitting by a lake on a hard day after weeks of navigating a challenging situation at work, and driving for hours out of the city two nights in a row searching in vain for the aurora borealis.
Most of all, I’ve missed connecting with you. My soul longs to come back to this work. To create, teach, and write again. So, I am slowly and softly returning one step at a time as I allow new visions to guide my way. I am listening to the call and following the red thread back.
Today, as I enjoy a quiet Sunday afternoon, I’m in the middle of painting the November cover page in my bullet journal of Pasiphaë – the queen of Crete, mother to Ariadne, wife to King Minos, solar goddess of sorcery and witchcraft – holding her Minotaur child in her arms.
In the 4th-century image I draw from, she looks sternly at her monster bull son, but I paint it as a way to bring tenderness to the parts of self that we do not want to see. I draw it as a reminder to embrace my own shadow with love and compassion.
Pasiphaë holding her child, the Minotaur. Red-figure kylix found at Etruscan Vulci, 4th century BCE.
Where I live, at this time of year, whether people are aware or not, we collectively embrace shadow and death. Spectres, ghouls, and witches in black hats and capes fill neighbourhood front lawns.
At this very special time-between-time turning of the wheel at Samhain, we honour our ancestors, remember the burning times, and reclaim what was lost and taken by generations of oppression so that all may be free.
The natural world around me teaches me to savour each moment of warmth while accepting and releasing what must also fall away. Trees become bare, days get shorter, candles are lit, and mugs of tea and hot chocolate bring joy.
And today, I simply wanted to draw a version of Pasiphaë holding her Minotaur child with love as another way to tell the story. Like our shadow, the Minotaur was never a monster to be feared in the middle of the labyrinth.
Underneath what we so often want to turn away from—in ourselves and each other—is what we must turn towards. It is the deepest love imaginable.
The sun is getting lower in the sky, and I’ve been able to sit outside longer than I thought I would. Thank you for being here. I’m wishing you a wonderful week ahead. May it be filled with sweetness, magic, love and a little bit of mischief.
