Lammas: The Story of Demeter and Persephone

This my version of this traditional myth, brought to you in honour of Lammas


Demeter was the Goddess of the harvest, who presided over grains and the fertility of the Earth.  Demeter had a beautiful daughter called Persephone who she loved and treasured deeply.  One beautiful summer’s day, Persephone was playing in the fields with her friends while her mother watched.  Suddenly the ground opened up and Persephone was drawn down into the Underworld by Hades.

Hades had been watching Persephone for a very long time, he had fallen in love with her and wished her to be his wife.  Persephone did not like the darkness of the Underworld and spurned Hades affections, refusing to eat or drink, hoping he would return her to her mother Demeter.

When Demeter realised what had become of her daughter she became distraught and the fertility of the Earth began to wane.  Realising that the Earth was dying and that the people and animals of the world would die also, Zeus knew he would have to intervene.  He sent his messenger Hermes to talk with Hades.

In the meantime, Persephone had started to realise that the Underworld was not the dark and fearsome place she believed it to be and that she could help the souls who arrived there.  She also realised that Hades was not as bad as he first seemed.  As Hermes arrived in the Underworld, he saw Hades offer Persephone a pomegranate, and before he could intervene she ate six seeds from it.

Hermes stepped forward and entreated Hades to return Persephone to her mother.  Hades declared that because Persephone had eaten in the Underworld she would have to remain with him. But he realised he could not allow the Earth to die, so he agreed Persephone would stay with him in the Underworld for six months of the year, one month for each pomegranate seed, and for the other six months she might live with her mother in the world.

And so this is how it has ever been, Persephone descends to the Underworld at the end of the summer, taking her light and her mother’s joy with her, leaving the upper world in the darkness of winter.  Then in the spring she returns to Demeter and the world is bright, fertile and full of laughter once again.

Image – Persephone and the Pomegranate by Kris Waldherr

(c) Awen Clement July 2015

Honouring the Bones

My sister,
I honour your bones.
I cradle your bones,
As we are cradled in the palm of the Great Mother

I honour your stories.
I honour the stories you hold in your bones.
The stories of life and death and birth and grief and living.

I see you.
I see the strength,
The strength and love and courage in your bones.
I see you sister, daughter, mother, grandmother.
I see the ancestors.
I see them walking in your bones.

My sister,
I love you.
I love and honour you.
I love and honour the bones of you.
As I hold and honour you,
So do you honour me.



I offer a ceremony of 'Closing the Bones' as part of my healing practice for women.  These words arose from deep within as I contemplated this work.

The sculpture in the image is 'Cradle Woman' by Ember Vincent (www.embervincent.co.uk)

Why is motherhood making me sad?

Almost a year ago to the day I wrote a post about being in Zwischen, waiting for the birth of my baby boy.  At that point my mood was such a melting pot of feelings - anticipation, excitement, nerves and certainly happiness.

Now a year later I must quietly admit, here, between you and I, that I am feeling really rather sad.  In fact I would go almost as far as saying I am grieving.

This beautiful baby boy, who brings me so much joy, is my last baby.  We have four children and a few weeks ago my husband had a vasectomy.  This was a mutual decision and I am quite clear that our family is the right size for us.

But, there is a sadness.  I am mourning the end of our fertility together.  There will be no more pregnant bumps, no wriggling tummy, no inner hiccups.  Never again will I feel that sense of being two people as one.

Never again will I have the sensation of transcending worlds as I birth a new life from my body and hold slippery, warm, new skin against mine.

And when this little boy decides its time, never again will I feed a child from my breast.  Nurture and love them with magical milk, comfort and soothe them close to my body.

I love watching everything he does, seeing him learning to walk, hearing him form his first words, watching him dance and work out his world.  This brings me huge amounts of joy and yet I am sad.

I am still a mother, I still have a great many years of mothering to do, and yet my motherhood is changing. So just for a little while, I am sad.

Today's post is part of the Moods of Motherhood blogging carnival celebrating the launch of the second edition of Moods of Motherhood: the inner journey of mothering by Amazon bestselling author, Lucy H. Pearce (published by Womancraft Publishing). Today over 40 mothers around the world reflect on the internal journey of motherhood: raw, honest and uncut. To see a list of the other contributors and to win your own copy visit Dreaming Aloud.net