The Perils Of Goddessness

I've never considered (until recently) the potential for a downside to Goddessness. Although it’s not a terrible snag for me; it could be problematic for emerging Goddesses with partners less appreciative than my sweetheart of a husband.  What is this danger you ask?  You can become a Goddess Diva.

It’s no longer a surprise to me that the origin and history of the word diva is this: It. diva "goddess, fine lady," from L. diva "goddess," fem. of divus "divine (one)." Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2010 Douglas Harper 

We’ve all heard stories (ad nauseam) of Hollywood Hotties, divas who embrace their adulation and privileged treatment as a right. Celebrities, clearly, aren’t the only individuals who can fall prey to the temptations of divahood. Take me for example. My Goddess persona began as a fun game of sensuality, sexuality, and intimacy. My honey was (and still is) on board with whatever amusements I conjure up. I am the Goddess; he is the enchanted mortal King.

Little did I know that my Goddessness would eventually permeate my earthly life.  One by one my domestic responsibilities went by the wayside.  I began to feel that my sole purpose in life was to have fun and be contagiously happy.  Consider the elements which recently contributed to the making of a perfectly joyful day.

* I woke up early and went to the track for an hour of glorious and sweaty exercise.* I meditated with my BFF Debra.* Deb and I went to one of our favorite spiritual venues, Flat Rock Brook, where we enjoyed a luscious day in nature made complete by singing frogs frolicking in the water.* When my wise friend suggested we go to lunch instead of rushing home to do some housework, I replied in the affirmative (of course).

Later on in the evening, when my honey and I were alone in our love nest, I told him all about my wonderful day. Not once, did he mention the dishes in the sink, the backlog of laundry, or the litter boxes that needed to be refreshed. He simply said, “I’m glad you had a nice day;” and he kissed me.

My Goddess inspired response was this: Silk Road by Kitaro (the music), a neon lit Pink Flamingo (the lighting), a Bath and Body Works Caribbean Escape Candle (the fragrance), and a significantly better adventure than he would have gotten had he complained about my domestic neglect.

The moral of this story is this. When a happy Goddess becomes a carnal mastermind, the perils of Goddessnes may not be an issue.