I had a long and difficult conversation with Mars the other night.
All of us light-workers love to hate the God of War.
War. Really, who needs it? It sucks, it's pointless, it's cruel, causes suffering, wastes resources…WHY do we have it? Why do we need a GOD of it, for heaven's sake?
Wouldn't it be great if there were no wars? Wave your hand and have peace reign?
As usual, I don't get to have (or share) the easy platitudes. The introspection becomes so deep it's like surgery. Surgery while I'm awake.
Here's what happened:
So, I'm calling in the spirits, and after the four directions, I get to the compassionate spirits of the heavens. And for some reason, this time, I'm really taking my time and not just calling their names and asking for their help. I'm actually greeting each one as they arrive.
I call to the Sun, and the Moon, and start to work my way through the planets.
I get to Mars. And my nice, happy, deep, comforting journey work becomes something else.
I think this is really the first time I actually met him.
As he approached my space, I was shown the horrors of war. The suffering of the soldiers, but even more the suffering of "the innocents" who are caught up in it. Grist for the mill of war, ground into pulp of flesh and wails of suffering.
It was horrible. And there he stood, his sword pointed up, resting against his shoulder, one eyebrow slightly raised, looking at me expectantly. Waiting for something from me.
How could I welcome him? Why would anyone welcome him?
I reflected on my Celtic and Runic studies, the North, the Morrigan, the Calleach, the whole notion of battle rage. I checked in with as many angles as I could think of. It didn't fit. It wasn't complete enough to account for all that horror, pain, and suffering. All that scarring and soul-loss and senseless death.
So I looked the only place left to look. At the horror. At the pain and suffering. I stared into the grinding maw as it consumed families, cultures, swathes of Mother Earth. I took in as much of it as I could stand, and then I took in more. It was the only place that made sense to look, and I knew I wouldn't understand unless I did.
It was horrible.
"What is this?!" I cried. "What is this…THING…that is so present and so insatiable and so seemingly unstoppable, and so cruel?!"
And he said, calmly but not comfortingly, "It's the remainder."
Auugh. It hit me like a punch in the gut.
The remainder of our lack of integrity.
The remainder of our lack of pure intention.
The remainder of our arrogance.
The remainder of our self-indulgence, our willful self-delusion, and our unwillingness to face the consequences of our actions.
War is the remainder of our personal, cultural, and societal choices not to speak the truth, not to keep our word, not to clean up after ourselves. And not to listen and accept the truth with a warrior's heart.
We have war, because we choose not to live like warriors. It's what happens when we sweep the inconsistencies of our logic and the entreaties of our conscience under the rug.
War is the remainder of our lies.
And the bigger the lie, and the more of us that engage in it, and the longer we tell it, the larger the account holding the remainder.
Inevitably it must be purged.
Mars is so often depicted as a war monger, always ready to start it up and roil the waters.
The Mars I met would say, "Go to war -- early and often!" Lance the boils, cleanse the wounds. Get it done as soon as possible.
In fact, he would counsel that we go to war in every single breath. Because then, we would each examine, reconcile, and exhale our remainders. There would be no account to be purged, because we would all be warriors, living impeccably in every moment.
But we don't. And so that account has to be managed.
Like Death, Mars has a difficult and dirty job. But unlike Death, Mars can rightly scold us for making his work harder. Death catches us all. Eventually, we either stop running from her or simply lose the race. Her embrace is, ultimately, gentle and compassionate.
But Mars -- he looks at us and growls, "WHY?!"
Why do we choose to ignore his counsel, and sentence ourselves to such horrors?
(He sometimes scowls at the other Gods and Goddesses, too, so comfortable and patient and didactic are they in their godding. "Things will work out," they counsel him. "Be patient. They're inherently good..."
To which he responds, "Do you guys ever WATCH this show?" )
This remainder I was shown is not optional, because we live in a world of challenge, complexity, and free will. How large the account becomes - that is indeed optional. It seems that arrogance and greed make it grow fastest. And self-indulgence. Ignorance and lack of personal discipline are also factors.
Fear of Death, too, if truth be told. But Death catches all of us, eventually, so why bother being afraid of it?
We should fear War more than Death.
I think living and dying as warriors is much better than living and dying in War.
The Mars I met would agree.