The Church of Holy Abandonment

Athena took me aside one day when I was up above.

“What’s wrong with you? You seem so distant. Like you’re not here. You should be out, enjoying the sun, the treasure that my brother Apollo brings us, rather than moping about.”
“You don’t miss Hades that much do you?”

I really didn’t want to be bothered by Athena. She’s really like an irritating, know-it-all, older sister. I wanted to taker her to the Church of Holy Abandonment. Since I am the Princess of Desire (another one of my titles along with Queen of Hell and Queen of the Night), I know about the Church of Holy Abandonment.

When you go there what happens is that you abandon hope—all hope—you abandon the “shoulda, coulda, wouldas” and all of your “first-cut” dreams—and then you begin to exist.

You abandon your dreams and your fantasies and your logic—and then what begins to emerge is something better, something with its own eternal logic, its own way of being that transcends the rationality of an Aristotle, a Plato—or Athena. And you go then to a deeper wisdom than wisdom, the facile might call it a metawisdom.