Book of Path -- Creation Myth

The next several posts will be parts of my Book of Path, which is a simple working overview of of my particular path of paganism. This is not to be confused with a Book of Shadows which is usually a collection of rituals, spells and reflections that are kept private amongst members of a circle or coven.

For my minister training class I had to create, write and compile various aspects of my path including the following: creation myth, deity, philosophy, ethics, festivals, ritual, symbols, tools and organization.

As my path is that of a hearthwitch or kitchenwitch -- there are no existing creation myths and therefore I wrote my own:

Here it is:

Creation Myth: The Great Kitchenwitch in the Sky

The Great Mother stood alone in her great kitchen, debating what to make for dinner. She had a great dining hall, with an enormous (spanning many miles) table and innumerable numbers of chairs in all shapes, materials and sizes. She had the most beautiful dishes made of frozen starlight, and the best ingredients (the world, quite literally my dear) at her fingertips.

The Great Mother always ate very, very well.

What the Great Mother did not have, and what she really wanted, was a family to share her great food, beautiful dishes, and lonely dining hall with each night.

So, the Mother grabbed her largest skillet and set it on her stove (which was approximately the size of New York City). She reached out her window and grabbed a handful of the sun, a half measure of the ocean. She tossed in love, compassion, a pinch of argumentativeness to make things interesting. She mixed gently with a whisk made out of tail of a comet, tasted, and then added a dollop each of trust, joy, music, and curiosity. For her final ingredient, the Mother added a single tear of loneliness (her last for a long time), and then began to toss the mixture in its pan.

The mixture began to sizzle, so the Mother tossed with more exuberance, causing splatters to splash to the floor near her feet. But, compelled by a force outside of herself, she continued to toss the mixture up and down, catching as much as she could each time.

The Great Mother felt a tugging on her skirt, and looked down to see a tiny creature near her foot. It was no bigger than her little toe. The creature had two arms, ear, eyes, legs, just as she did. It hugged her foot and made a sound, the joyful notes of its laughter taking a full minute to reach the Mother’s ears.

Kneeling, and then stooping down, the Mother picked the creature up and brought it close to her eyes. “I shall call you woman,” she said to the tiny creature, “because you are much like me”.

Looking around, the Mother realized that there were hundreds of little creatures around her, of all different shapes and sizes. After whipping up a quick batch of moonbeam soup to feed her new friends, the Mother went about naming each and every creature before she would let herself rest.

The Great Mother and her friends lived a long while together, happily enjoying fantastic meals and good company. But after a while, the Mother grew tired of having company all the time. She decided to bake them a new home, which she made much like monkey bread, twisting and pulling the dough until it was the proper shape and size.

Placing the freshly cooled planet in a galaxy of appropriate beauty, the Mother delivered her creatures to their new home. Before she withdrew to take a long-needed nap, the Mother told her first creature, woman, this, “If you want to feel me close, you will find me in your kitchen”.

And that is why all good kitchen witches find the peace and magick that they do while cooking. Each time they bake a cookie or stir a soup in their skillet, they connect back to the Great Kitchen Witch in the Sky.