Invocation to Baubo and the Number 16

There’s a tradition somewhere that says, “if you want to break down the barrier between yourself and somebody else you’ve got to tell them a secret about yourself.” At least I think there is… and if there isn’t, there ought to be.

INVITATION

My name is Orange You Glad.
I’m a recovering asshole.
I’ve come to tell you a secret.
But first, a little background…

In the womb
as the body begins to form
there is only a single sex.
Male and female are the same.
But then something happens and
the genitalia evolves into one kind or another.
In the one, the hood grows a little larger and the nub a little smaller
in the other the hood grows a little smaller and the nub a little larger.
The hood is primarily associated with the female and the nub with the male.
After birth, they apepar soemwhat different but
each contains the essense of the other.
Suprisingly, some cultures choose
to cut off the nub of the female
removing her masculinity, or
to cut off the hood of the male,
eradicating his femininity.
Both customs seem to me like a denial of
something important.

SUMMONING

Sweet 16.
How sweet the sound.
“Once upon a looking for Donna time she was a sixteen year old virgin.”

1+6 = the sacred number 7.
The sum of the four first odd numbers: 1+3+5+7 = 16

“16 candles make a lovely light, but not as bright as your eyes tonight.”

Blow out the candles, make your wish come true.

The 16th hexagram of the I-Ching is Yu, Enthusiasm
the arousing thunder above
the receptive earth below
there is harmony in the opposition of
the rolling thunder and the immovable earth

“You come on like a dream,
peaches and cream,
lips like strawberry wine.
You’re sixteen,
you’re beautiful
and you’re mine.”

The 16th major arcana in the tarot is The Tower
whose element is fire, symbolic of
the destruction of existing conditions
the removal of all that is stagnant
wthin our lives and thus holding us back

You know what I love about the internet? The porn. I like the sites where women show themselves off, wet t-shirt contests, Girls Gone Wild. I especially like watching women beating the bush. You know what I mean…

Opening the Honey Pot
Banging the Beezer
Flipping the Bean
Petting the Pussy
Jilling-Off
Cleaning the Clam
Waking the Butterfly
Romancing the Rose
Praising the Orchid
Parting the Petals
Tip Toeing Through The Two Lips
Making the Oyster Smile
Stroking the Snail
Caressing the Kitty
Invoking Venus
Buttering the Potato
Dating My Palm
Fanning the Furnace
Finger Fun
Flipping the Flaps
One Hand Clapping
Pearl Diving
Playing Piano
Polish the Pussy
Polishing the Pearl
Primin’ the Hymen
Rowing the Little Man in the Boat
Scuffing the Muff
Sorting the Oysters
Tickle the Taco
Tossing the Pink Salad
Touch Typing
Winking the Hood

But my favorite porn to look at are wide open beavers.
It’s almost as of they want you to crawl up inside.
I used to be scared of vaginas.
They made me think about death.
I used to be afraid of falling inside and disappearing.
It’s because they’re like portals, I guess.
You have to go through them to
come into this world and so it’s natural
to think they can take you out of it as well.
Sex is like death.
Well, not just sex, but orgasms.
The french call them “le petite morte,” the little death.
I like orgasms.
Every time they happen I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

“Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the fire stick!”

John Newton, the author of Amazing Grace, was a slave trader. The story goes that he had a sudden moral realization, freed his slaves and then composed the song. In reality, it was after he had been made a slave himself and lived in bondage for eight years that he had his transformation.

The numerological value of 16 is awakening.
By destroying all that we cling to, our transformation may begin.

Twice round through the chakras took us to 14. 15 brought us back to the root and now, at 16, we’re in the second again, the sacral, the gonad chakra whose element is water.

As fire burns us, water doth soothe us,
washes away the ashes of our deceipt and
nourishes a new born self

“You load sixteen tons, what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don’t you call me ’cause I can’t go…”

In ancient Greece when
Demeter, the corn goddess,
lost her daughter, Persephone who
was abducted and raped by Hades
she became so consumed with grief that
she stopped the corn from growing.
The world became barren and drab.

Enter Baubo, the Belly Goddess.
Meeting Demeter at an annual gathering,
known as the Festival of Eleusis,
Baubo dances for Demeter and
tells her bawdy jokes.
She ends her dance by
baring her belly and
flashing her vulva.
Demeter laughs.

Mirth conquers despair.
Demeter sees Baudo’s femininity and,
remembering who she is,
resolves to reclaim her daughter.
When she does so, abundance returns to earth.

Meanwhile, in
Ancient Ireland and England,
from whence I come,
artisans carved figures of
squatting women into the arches and
doorways of churches.
Known as Sheila-Na-Gig
these figures hold their vaginas wide open
as if inviting all to look within.

The word gig has roots that speak of women who were attuned to the divine force of life.

In ancient Sumeria, femal priestesses were known as Nu-Gig or “the pure.”

Today a gig is an event, activity or engagement.

Since those ancient times
something has been forgotten.
The carvings chiseled away,
the belly goddess dessicated and
the true meaning of words buried as if
made into secrets best left unsaid.

Since those ancient times
the world seems barren and drab
to those who would grieve
for that which has been lost
to those who’ve been forgotten.

My name is Orange You Glad and
I’ve come to tell you my secret…

I was 16 years old when my awakening began.
That was the year I put my fingers through a dog’s skin and
touched it’s heart.
I walked through a portal of genuflecting trees.
I became frightened when I saw the faces
behind the masks of strangers.
The devil came to take my soul but
when I told her I wasn’t ready
she turned into an angel and said,
“don’t you worry about a thing ‘cause every little thing is gonna be all right.”

16 was the year that I began
receiving transmissions in the form of
coded messages delivered by way of movies,
mass advertisements and
the occasional pizza delivery man.
You remmber him, don’t you?
Arnold Avoid the Noid?
Well, that was me too.

I’ve heard alien voices calling
from the dark side of a blue moon
that filled up half the sky.

I’ve set myself on fire and
learned that you don’t have to be perfect
to be invited to a boogie

I’ve hung myself by rope
around the neck and
shit myself and learned
that the reason we’re here is
simply because we want to be.

My awakening became complete
that time my brother sent me a love letter
in the form of a suicide note
that said one word:
remember.

Those were the times I almost died.

Now I’ll tell you about
the time I actually died,
and this
was
my secret…

1+6=7
I was seven when
I met the Prince of Darkness.
I took his held-out hand and
he threw me face first
into a snow bank.
With his boot on the back of my head
leaving an impression of the face of fear in the snow.
Then he picked me up and said
he wanted to be my friend.
So I went with him
to an abandoned farmhouse
where my initiation
began.

My innocence was ripped from my chest,
shoved down my throat and
buried deep within my bowels.
With it my identity was lost,
my self dis-membered from it’s own life.

But a secret once told
becomes a secret no more.
Something buried takes root,
transforms, from seed to sprout,
claws its way up from the dark earth
in search of light.

Something lost
will always
be found.
Something forgotten
will always
be remembered.

Everything that dies will be born anew.
When did you die and are you ready to die again?

“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.”

“O, Death, O, Death Won’t you spare me over
til another year passes by
Well what is this, that I can’t see
ice cold hands, takin’ hold of me”

“I’m death I come, to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh, off of the frame
Dirt and worm, both have a claim”

“When we’ve been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing our praise
Than when we’ve first begun.”

And now,
let us prey.

About the author

Eric

Eric Jennings is a poet, an invocateur, an accidental yogi and he dabbles in patamysticism which is the spiritual branch of pataphysics.

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Eric Jennings

My name is Eric Jennings and this is one of my poetry and writing blogs. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and most of the work on this site is borne from those experiences.

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