Three years ago, I performed my first ritual in honor of the goddess Ishtar. Since then, much has changed, yet I remain grateful for the notes I kept after each encounter with the divine. They serve as a way to travel through the waves of memory and uncover new insights. I recommend keeping a record of magical practices—it helps you reflect and grow. Here, I share my personal observations along with some background on the powerful goddess, Ishtar.
Goddess Ishtar
Ishtar, also known as Inanna, was revered in ancient Mesopotamia and is one of the earliest known goddesses. Her myths laid the foundation for many later deities, influencing figures such as Egyptian Isis, Greek Aphrodite, the Persephone-Demeter-Hades triad, Indian Parvati, Scandinavian Freya, and many others. Even the Christian epic was shaped by her.
Ishtar is closely associated with Venus, the morning star, and her symbol is the eight-pointed star, representing this connection. It’s possible that she later evolved into the figure of Lucifer—light-bringer—from the Latin lux meaning "light" and fero meaning "I bring." But does this transformation imply that Ishtar is evil? Certainly not. The demonization of older deities by newer religious movements is a well-documented historical practice. The word "demon" itself originates from the Greek daimon, which initially referred to a guardian spirit or inner voice with no negative connotation.
Ritual Location
My journey began with a backpack on my shoulders, heading toward the remote kibbutz Bet Keshet, aptly named "rainbow" in Hebrew. I stepped off the bus into darkness, greeted only by the empty road winding upward, dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights.
I walked the remaining two kilometers, with the crunch of twigs, fallen acorns, and wild pomegranates underfoot. Dense thickets flanked both sides of the path, rustling with unseen creatures. In the distance, I spotted what looked like a small dog by the roadside. As I approached and spoke to the figure, I realized with a start that it was no lost dog—it was a jackal. Both of us were taken aback. We exchanged glances, then each went on our way as if nothing had happened.
At last, I reached the top of the hill, passed through a multicolored arch, and found the house where I would be staying. The key awaited me under the mat. For the next seven days, I lived in solitude—no talking, no internet, no books—just silence, grounding, and kundalini yoga to prepare myself for the Ishtar ritual. Though such ideal conditions aren’t necessary, a secluded room where you won’t be disturbed for several hours suffices for most rituals.
I chose this deeper isolation for my first communion with Ishtar because I have three Hermit Arcana in my personal fate matrix. In the past, I struggled with the Hermit’s shadow, often feeling acute loneliness and seeking companionship to escape it. Ironically, it is often in the company of others that the Hermit’s loneliness is most profound. Now, I embrace the Hermit’s strength. Through abstinence from conversation and technology, I gain immense power and clarity, which fuels my magical work.у.
Ishtar Is Getting Closer
I came prepared, bringing sacrificial food, drinks, and incense with me, as kibbutz amenities are quite limited. Regrettably, I realized I had forgotten my colored pencils. A key aspect of any ritual is having an image of the deity — whether a statue, drawing, or even a picture on a phone screen. Handcrafting the image adds power to the ritual because the act of creating it serves as an offering, imbued with your energy.
Although disappointed by the lack of pencils, I soon found solace when several graceful cats— the mini-lions sacred to Ishtar — came to greet me.
The Ritual
Ishtar’s energy is powerful and unmistakable. As she drew near, the air thickened, and the cats outside pounded at the windows with wild intensity. In our first meeting, I followed proper etiquette and asked for nothing. Yet, Ishtar, like a kind grandmother, wouldn’t let me leave without a gift.
After the ritual, I took the offerings to the forest, then returned home. When I reached under my pillow, I found a pencil case, complete with colored pencils and a note. It’s important to understand that they hadn’t magically materialized — they were always there. But they revealed themselves at the right moment.
Magic, you see, exists beyond the constraints of time. There is no past or future —everything happens simultaneously. Each action, thought, and intention radiates out, influencing all things at once. A ritual performed in the present can alter the past, ensuring that a pencil case waits for you under your pillow. This is why some ceremonies begin to work even before they’re completed, reinforcing the confidence that they will succeed, which in turn amplifies their power.
The Next Day
During the ritual I recited hymns in honor of Inanna, including a passage from Thorkild Jacobsen’s Treasures of Darkness:
“When I stand at the forefront of the battle, I am the leader of all lands
When I stand before the beginning of the battle, I am the quiver at the ready
When I stand in the middle of the battle, I am the heart of the battle, the hand of warriors
When I step to the end of the battle, I am an evil rush of blood
When I follow on the heels of the battle, I am a woman—forward, catch up!"
This hymn struck a deep chord within me. I had long sought to connect with my inner warrior, to ignite my inner fire.
Later that day, I hiked through the forested hills surrounding the kibbutz, with jackals darting through the underbrush. Though harmless, I picked up a stone just in case. As dusk approached, I realized I had wandered too far and hurried back. A car stopped nearby and offered me a ride. Since my time of solitude was coming to an end, I accepted.
But after some time, I noticed that the driver was heading in the wrong direction, and the passenger door handle was broken — I couldn’t open it from the inside. I asked him to stop, but he ignored me. In that tense moment, instead of fear, the words of the hymn echoed within me: "I am the heart of the battle, the hand of warriors, the rush of blood." I felt the stone in my pocket, but my hand no longer felt like my own. It held the power to take life if necessary. I spoke a single word, but it wasn’t my voice. The driver didn't know about a stone, still terrified, stopped the car, let me out, and hurried away, calling me crazy.
Ishtar’s lessons can be hard and even frightening, but they are gifts nonetheless. I walked away knowing that she is a part of me, and I am a part of her. In any moment of crisis, I can call on her strength.
In Conclusion
Reading about magic is one thing; practicing it is another. Trust yourself, trust the process, and trust the power. The ritual needn’t be grand to be meaningful. Start small, with an image of the goddess and a simple offering. Listen for her responses, build a dialogue, and cultivate a relationship of warmth and respect.
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