STORIES

THE STORY OF ISHTAR

I am not the Ishtar you may know. The one from the Bible. The one called the Queen of Heaven, whose worship angered the Hebrew God and caused the destruction of cities.

But I am named for her.

I named myself. I gave birth to myself, and then I looked at me and gave myself a name. I had a life before that I do not remember. But I, Ishtar, began alone. I am mother and daughter in one.

In the beginning I looked in the mirror, and I had no name. I looked into my eyes and I saw a queen. But then I looked at the lines and scars on my face, and I saw one who had endured many battles. And the name "Ishtar" sprung to mind, and so I was Ishtar.

I learned the stories of my namesake. I had to search them out in old tales, for I had no one to teach them to me. The goddess Ishtar--the one of the Bible, of the Babylonians and Assyrians, and Akkadians--had all but vanished. She was only a name in the stories of other people and other gods. But she was everything I wanted to be.

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LOST WORDS

Once, when the world was new, other people lived here in cities and towns and villages, just like we have today.

They spoke a language unknown to us, and just like us, everything in their lives was built on the basis of language. They used their words to run countries and wage wars, to build tall buildings and keep streets clean, to buy and sell all kinds of things.

And then one day a woman in a remote village fell sick. The woman was poor and hungry, and had gone into the forest to look for food. She saw mushroom growing beneath a tree, and though the fruit looked healthy and tasted good, she became feverish soon after eating it.

When the woman returned to her village she was so sick she could not speak. Barely able to stand, she stumbled to the nearest clinic where she received care. She fell into a deep sleep for a full day, and when she awoke the next day, she appeared healthy in every way.

But she still could not speak.

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THE BOTTOM LAYER

There is a layer of life beneath those we know best. Beneath the top layer--the layer of words and symbols. Beneath the middle layer--the layer of sights and sounds and happenings. Beneath even the bottom layer--the slow passage of time. There is life beneath all of that. And most people will never see it.

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