Arise, Come, My Darling
Question + Photo by Annie Petrik
Q: What is the significance of a fig? Because let me tell you — I feel so connected to them. I don’t know how to explain it.
A: My God I love this question. It is *the* question. The original question. The question that makes us human. This question is ancient — the answer, too. And it lives in you. In fact, you’ve already spoken it, right there in your question.
The short of it is: you tell me.
And part of me wants to stop there, say less. And maybe on another day, in another conversation, I would. But something in me — perhaps that same something that’s got your attention — is asking me to go on. So I will.
I can begin by guiding you to turn inward and see what you unearth.
What do you think it is? What does it feel like, to you? Happy? Warm? Scary? Curious? Melancholy? Familiar? Exciting? Do you see any colors, hear any music? Does it remind you of anything?
There are no wrong answers here, but the answers must be yours. I cannot tell you what your experience is — you tell me.
Another fun thing I like to do is share some of my favorite internet findings and suggest you too do a little browsing. The fig carries rich symbolism in various cultures so there’s a lot to explore. The most famous thread — fertility, fecundity. Yes, this is a sexy fruit. Or so it’s widely believed.
It’s also found in the Song of Songs — a biblical love poem. One that celebrates eros, sensuality, and sexual love.
“The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.” Song of Songs 2:13
I can tell you that verse gives me chills. But I cannot tell you which symbols ring true for you — you tell me.
And I can recommend letting your search go. Rather than trying to track down an answer, open yourself to receiving one. More than one. As many as you desire, really.
Maybe you see a book at the library — you’re almost pulled to it like a magnet — and as it would turn out, there’s a whole chapter on figs. Or perhaps it’s just a few words, but it’s the few words you needed.
Maybe you’re making dinner and you’re playing so-and-so’s new record when, wait a minute, was that a lyric about figs? And because the universe has a real sense of humor, it might actually be somewhere you’ve listened a million times before — you just weren’t looking for it yet.
Or maybe you’re riding your bike, simply enjoying the present moment when — out of nowhere — a thought or an image pops into your mind and you know exactly what your fig fascination is all about. It’s like the clarity just sort of, arrived.
I can tell you the ways these answers could come to you are infinite. But I cannot tell you which ways they will — you tell me.
And lastly, I’ll admit my first thought when I read your question was Eve. How many say the “forbidden fruit” in the Genesis story was actually a fig. And after seeing your photo, wouldn’t that make sense? If taking a bite of it will open our eyes to the hard work of growing up, it better be delicious. And what I mean by that is, for me, the whole point of eating the fruit was to discover in ourselves exactly what I’m now telling you — that you tell me.
Taste it. Chew on it. Digest it. You. Tell. Me.
What’s intuition and what’s fear. What’s gut and what’s impulse. What’s soul and what’s ego. What’s good and what’s evil. By your own gnosis. Your own direct experience. Because you see, when this is how we know a thing — not from any outer authority but from our very own bodies — nothing in this world can take that truth away. And once we meet that truth inside of ourselves, we become responsible for living in alignment with it.
I can tell you when life offers you the fig, I say sink your teeth in and hold it close. But I cannot tell you what you’ll choose, nor what you’ll find when you do. Only you can tell me.
If I’m going to talk about Eve, I have to talk about Lilith.
Lilith has been called many things. But in my story, she’s Mother Earth herself. She’s the source of our own truest nature. And I think it’s time we all get to know her, to know this part of ourselves. Here’s an excerpt from the piece I’ve been writing the past several years.
…Months later I came across the story of Lilith.
Due to the two differing creation stories, one being man and woman created together and the other Eve created second, the Jewish tradition decided Adam had a first wife named Lilith. And that when he wished to lie on top of her, she refused, and was banished from Eden. Eve was then created from his rib. Lilith was cast as a demon, many claiming she was the serpent who would later speak with Eve.
Of course, serpents were also an ancient symbol of wisdom, feminine power, and sexual energy. So there’s that.
Since she wasn’t written into the myth until centuries later, the more I read about Lilith, the more I saw comments like, “Disregard her, she’s not real.” And it made me ache, almost as much as the misogynistic narratives. Because her presence has been so felt in my life. But then eventually, it set me free. Here’s what I mean.
Lilith was made up to explain the kind of woman who would rather be exiled than be treated as less than. The kind of woman who takes no shit. Who will release anything that doesn’t honor the whole of her. She will leave. She will let you leave.
This kind of woman has zero interest in abiding by societal expectations. Roles. Scripts. She follows her pleasure. She’s bored by perfection. She embraces her shadow. She knows how completely complete she already is without the approval of another.
This kind of woman is grounded, she is connected to her intuition, she takes up space and she uses her voice.
She cannot be controlled. Period.
And somebody went, “Ah, yes, this woman is wicked.”
They tied the idea of a woman refusing domination to being a demon. So when one carries her essence, she’s considered the same.
But here’s the thing — she’s not real. At least, not the version of her they created.
Every time I say things like:
“I know what’s best for myself.”
“You’re not allowed to speak to me like that.”
“This doesn’t work for me.”
“Stop hitting on me, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“I need more.”
“No.”
And I’m mistaken for some kind of villain — that woman doesn’t exist. She’s not me.
But she is the part of me that knows my inherent worth and equality to all living creatures — certainly to men.
She’s the part that knows the pain and the rage of being neglected, betrayed, misunderstood, taken for granted, and excluded in a patriarchal system. And the part that knows I deserve better.
What I’ve learned from Lilith — and the energy she commands — are the same lessons I’ve learned from Mother Earth herself. From the mud. So that’s who she’s become to me.
The way I’d always seen it before, Eve was the Earth before Eve was a woman. Now to put it another way, Eve was Lilith. Every Divine seed was born from her womb. Adam does mean “son of the red Earth” after all.
See, Lilith was no monster — we’ve just been taught to fear much of what she contains. Chaos, mystery, mess, eros, change, complexity, void, defiance, death.
An untamed and unashamed being.
One that lovingly demands our respect — knowing that being in right relationship means steadfast reciprocity of care and devotion. It means interdependence. Mutual growth.
In its absence, everyone suffers.
Lilith needed humankind to get this. She needed Adam and Eve to travel through their own underworlds to embody the truths found in her depths.
So were they created together or was Eve created from Adam’s rib? Well, both can be true.
Like midwives to each other, him coming into form meant her coming into form, too. And this pattern would continue.
When Eve, being the Earth and having a womb of her own, innately understood there was more to life than what she could see. That God was not an authority outside of her but something she held within. And this dark, hidden nature was nothing to be scared of because it’s how we all get here. It’s who we all are. So she went first. She listened to her curiosity. She ate the apple. And she offered it to Adam, giving him the choice to do the same.
I cried several times in the first chapter alone. The material book itself is just as stunning. If you need a copy in your hands, Kelly at Fairytales can hook you up — let her know you’d like to place an order and she’ll have it ready within the week.
“Somewhere between broke and bein’ free”
QUOTE OF THE WEEK
“With my fingers sticky with berry juice, I’m reminded that my life is contingent upon the lives of others, without whom, I simply would not exist. Water is life, food is life, soil is life — and they become our lives through the paired miracles of photosynthesis and respiration. All that we need to live flows through the land. It is not an empty metaphor that we call her Mother Earth. Food in our mouths is the thread that connects us in a relationship simultaneously spiritual and physical, as our bodies get fed and our spirits nourished by a sense of belonging, which is the most vital of foods.”