#yemayá

[smokingcaterpillar]

Artist profile: anetteprs on instagram

I don’t talk about her often and how my practice and culture relates to her — for some reason (whether it’s a pull from Her or not, idk) I feel the need to keep her more private — but She’s indeed close to my heart 🩵

[tainolearner]

bayamo-holguín reclaiming taíno girl here 🙋🏽‍♀️

[alashe01]

🩵💚🤍Bendecida Semana🤍💚🩵

15/07/24 🌟🏡

[rockclassics]

Iemanjá (Yemọjá na Nigéria, Yemayá em Cuba)

[abwwia]

Harmonia Rosales, Creation Story, 2021, Oil on wood panel, 48" x 72"

Obatalá’s desire to create land and life on earth was granted permission by the Supreme God. Yet nobody bothered to ask or inform Yemayá who was there with her oceans from the beginning. As Obatalá swings down from the sky on a long chain made of gold donated by the other orishas, he pours out sand and seeds from his seashell to form land. The rooster claws at the ground, planting seeds for forestation and foliage. Meanwhile, Yemayá’s surprised expression indicates the abrupt intrusion upon her kingdom as the oceans were forced to subside to Obatalá’s new land masses. With the loss of territory and an increase in human population, Yemayá demonstrates her power and strength by creating the Great Flood. This painting reimagines frescoes from Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling.

[abarroteraflores]

Yemayá ahí 💙aquí

[joannechocolat]

Mermaids and Mr Freud...

What do you think when you hear the word “mermaid”? Chances are, you’ll imagine a beautiful girl with a sparkling fish tail, naked breasts, flowing hair, gazing into a mirror: a scene straight out of early 20th-century Golden Age illustrators Arthur Rackham and Edmund Dulac. Or perhaps you see Ariel, Disney’s 1989 cartoon version of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid, with her cherry-red hair and purple shell bikini. That romanticized – and Disneyfied – picture of a mermaid seems fated to endure with this year’s live-action The Little Mermaid film (though the casting of Halle Bailey in the title role has prompted as much racist backlash as it has celebration. The mermaid of Andersen’s 1837 fairytale was white, say the purists.) But Andersen himself drew on a far older, stranger, and more subversive folklore to write his story. His tale of a mermaid who, falling in love with a human prince, is forced to sacrifice her tail and her voice in order to become human, was deeply influenced by Undine, the 1811 novella by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, which in turn was inspired by the 16th-century occultist Paracelsus, who coined the word “undine” to describe an elemental water spirit who can only gain a soul by marrying a human. And mermaid legends, like so many other fairytales, have been shared in many parts of the world for millennia. One of the earliest mermaid stories dates back to sometime around 1000 BC. In Assyrian mythology, the goddess Atargatis, who was venerated for thousands of years all over the Middle East, attains a half-fish, half-human form after throwing herself into a lake. The Yoruba spirit, Yemoja, who is represented as a mermaid, appears under other names as an ocean and river mother goddess – Yemaja, Yemanjá, Yemoyá, Yemayá – across half the world. Mami Wata – a water deity sometimes known as La Sirène - revered in Haiti and many parts of Africa, often appears as a mermaid, with a mirror that allows the passage from one plane of reality to another. And so it goes, from the ningyo of Japanese folklore to the sjókonar of Norse sagas. It is one of the most powerful archetypes in our shared dreaming. Nor were mermaids always understood to be mythological. Throughout the Middle Ages and beyond, European bestiaries and illuminated manuscripts portrayed mermaids as real creatures. On several occasions fishermen have claimed to have caught them in their nets. Early explorers reported mermaid sightings – although it is more likely that they were dolphins, seals or manatees, mistaken for mermaids by sailors expecting to encounter exotic beasts on their journey. Since then, humans have stubbornly continued to look for proof that mermaids are real (so far, without success).  What does the mermaid mean? Why is the half-fish half-woman such a potent, enduring legend? At the heart of these stories is the question of women’s power. Fairy tales and folklore have played an important role in challenging societal roles and giving people opportunities to discuss difficult or taboo subjects through the safety of metaphor – in this case, through the image of a woman whose irresistible sexual power over men is balanced by her own inability to function sexually or to reproduce. And in the days when pregnancy and childbirth often proved fatal, that might not have been such a bad thing. The mermaid cannot be raped, or forced to give birth. Not being human, she is not bound by the conventions of human society or the laws of the Church. She enjoys both the freedom and the sensuality of her element without any of the attendant dangers or discomforts. In folklore, the mermaid has independence, and can exercise sexual power over men, which makes her ultimately dangerous, unnatural: a monster. Perhaps this is why so many ancient myths and medieval bestiaries depict mermaids as untrustworthy, deceitful creatures, leading sailors to their doom. Their bodies are all sexual promise, but no sexual reward; and their voices are so enchanting as to drive men to madness. Unable to fulfil what some believe to be a woman’s biological destiny, they are often portrayed as soulless. Because a woman who uses without being used, who seduces without being seduced, who moves through water and air – whereas men are doomed to drown if they venture into the mermaid’s world – is a challenge to God, to the patriarchy, and to order itself.  In The Little Mermaid, Andersen tamed this older, more radical tradition. The moralism of his tale serves the dual purpose of mastering the mermaid – of making her fall victim to a human’s charms, rather than the more traditional way around – and taking away her power. The mermaid, made helpless by love of her prince, gives up her native element and the autonomy that comes with it, and exchanges it – via a witch’s spell – for a pair of feet, though walking causes her terrible pain. She also relinquishes the power of speech, which means that she is incapable of expressing her love in any way but the physical. And if her prince falls in love with someone else, then the mermaid is doomed to die on the instant, and to forfeit the soul for which she has sacrificed everything. Her entire being – her very existence – becomes dependent on the love and approval of her prince. Her independence, her challenge to the patriarchal status quo is gone. Though the ending of Andersen’s tale is – to a certain degree – redemptive (the mermaid, refusing to take the life of her prince in order to save her own life, is borne aloft by spirits of air and promised an eternal soul), it seems very cruel, especially as the heroine is only fifteen years old. A contemporary reader might well see in Andersen’s telling a warning to an emerging women’s movement – women’s power has often been seen as fragile, unnatural, and at the mercy of emotion. Unlike the tragedy of Andersen’s mermaid and prince (and of Fouqué’s Undine), the 1989 Disney film rewards Ariel and Eric with a happily-ever-after ending. And it tells their story in a cheery, colourful palette (a stark contrast to Kay Nielsen’s original dark, eerie concept drawings for the film), which while being pleasingly child-friendly, also reduces the mermaid’s essential alienness, and minimizes her sacrifice, thereby making her tale into little more than a love story with a little added jeopardy.

 But Disney also perpetuated other tropes. It is meaningful that the sea witch who provides the mermaid with the spell fits the older-woman archetype well represented in fairy tales: embittered by age, envious of the little mermaid’s youth and beauty. She is the one who demands the mermaid’s voice as payment for her services: a potent image of an older generation, silencing the voices of youth. (In Andersen’s telling, she too is the one who demands that the mermaid’s sisters cut off their hair in order to save their sibling.) The older woman is filled with rage and contempt for the younger woman; taking pleasure in their humiliation and the loss of their power. And as the tentacled Ursula in the Disney version, she is especially monstrous. 

  Over the centuries, fairy stories have always been reinvented to serve the needs of the changing times. And people have often fretted about this. (In 1853, Charles Dickens criticised the trend for rewriting fairytales to fit didactic, contemporary concerns.) But perhaps that the meaning of the mermaid has drifted further and further away from its origins in ancient folklore should not be cause for too much concern. Today, the mermaid has become the symbol of the trans community, whose members often feel the generational divide especially keenly. And there are endlessly imaginative ways to retell the tradition. (In 2008’s Ponyo, Hayao Miyazaki spins his tale of a goldfish who longs to be human into a charming meditation on childhood.) 

 Like the ever-evolving traditions of fairytales, magic, too, is transformative. In stories, magic acts as a metaphor for the change we seek to effect in our lives, in ourselves, in the world around us. Perhaps that is why fairy tales resonate so deeply with us. Why else would we cling to them, retell them in so many ways? They teach us not that magic exists, but that change is possible. They teach us not that dragons exist, but that monsters can be overcome. And they teach us to hope, in the face of a world that seems to be getting harsher and more confusing by the day, that sometimes love can save us, and that, even in the face of the cruellest kind of tyranny, we can still keep control of our fate, and hope for a happy ending –not just a Disney wedding, but something perhaps more satisfying. In films like Moana - or more recently Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken – the love story is with the sea; a story of claiming, rather than giving up power. Mermaids – in all their aspects – are still working their magic on us. And now, perhaps more than ever, it’s time to listen to their song.

[thelorelounge]

Yemayá—mother of the sea, goddess of salt and sorrow, tides and tenderness. If the ocean had a heart, it would beat in her name. She’s the matriarch of the Yoruba pantheon, and like all great maternal figures, she is equal parts embrace and storm. Wrap yourself in something flowy, light a candle if you're feeling dramatic, and let me tell you her story.

---

Yemayá: The Ocean’s Womb and the Tide That Raised Us

In the beginning—before cities, before memory, before we learned to name things—there was water. Endless, restless water. And within it swelled Yemayá, the primordial mother, the first woman, the saltwater soul of all creation.

She was the ocean personified: vast, unknowable, teeming with life and mystery. From her womb came the orishas, the divine spirits of the Yoruba cosmos. Every wave, a lullaby. Every storm, a roar of protectiveness—or rage, depending on your attitude.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

---

Motherhood, Magic, and Men With No Sense

Yemayá was once married to Obatalá, the orisha of wisdom and creation. Together, they were divine royalty. But let’s just say that marriage among deities is... complicated. Obatalá wanted order. Yemayá, well—she was the sea. Order is not her native language.

Then came the time of war. Yemayá’s kingdom fell. She was captured. And in her grief, her body—her very being—split open, and from her flowed rivers, oceans, and the life that would fill them. Her tears turned into lakes. Her brokenness, into beauty.

She became more than a goddess. She became the sea itself.

You want power? Yemayá is where salt meets strength.

You want softness? She rocks every child in the ocean’s cradle.

You want rage? Well… hurricanes do have mothers, you know.

---

Yemayá in the New World: Saltwater Chains and Spirit Survival

When her people were stolen—ripped from the African continent in chains and ships—Yemayá followed them across the Atlantic, whispering prayers into slave ships, wrapping herself around the lost, the drowned, the survivors.

She shapeshifted into La Sirène in Haiti, Iemanjá in Brazil, Yemayá in Cuba. In every port, she wore a new name, but her essence never changed: the ocean mother who does not forget.

Enslaved people lit candles to her in secret, called her name beneath their breath. In Santería, Candomblé, Vodou—she became the living proof that gods cannot be colonized.

---

She Is...

The moonlit tide that soothes you when you cry.

The wrathful wave that pulls down tyrants.

The mother of all, even the ones who don’t believe in her.

Draped in flowing blues and silvers, often holding a fan or a mirror (because even goddesses need to check their glow), Yemayá listens to prayers from beaches, bathtubs, stormy decks, and broken hearts.

---

So, What’s the Point of Yemayá’s Story?

The same as the ocean’s:

You came from her. She holds you still. And if you ever forget who you are, go to the sea. She remembers.

[spiritualdiversitymagic]

📖🐟 Happy World Poetry Day

In honor of this special day, I’d like to share my piece celebrating the nurturing and powerful presence of Yemayá, the ocean goddess who cradles the tides and guides us with her boundless love.

Yemayá’s Embrace 🌊🌕💧

In twilight’s hush, where waves caress the shore, Yemayá’s presence whispers evermore.

Goddess of ocean’s depths and might, She cradles the tides through day and night.

With motherly love, she nurtures and sustains, Protecting her children through joys and pains.

Her waves, a melody, soothing and deep, Rock us gently, as we drift into sleep.

In her dark, mysterious waters, secrets lie, Yet each wave’s touch lifts spirits high.

Through ebb and flow, she teaches release, To trust the currents and surrender in peace.

As the moon’s silver glow dances on the sea, Yemaya’s essence calls to me.

In her embrace, I find solace and rest, A heart unburdened, a soul caressed.

💙 So let us honor Yemaya with reverence and grace, For her love, her wisdom, her boundless embrace. May her waves cleanse, may her tides guide, May her motherly love forever abide.

© @spiritualdiversitymagic 2025. All rights reserved.

[rpg-wiccareborn]

Pasivas

Las marcadas con un * son personales.

Poder de Tres: (Próximamente)

*Arco de Cupido: Reliquia mágica en actual posesión de Persephone Halliwell, regalo de su padre, Coop, cuando esta cumplió los dieciséis. Efecto: contra NPCs a los que superes en AGI (Agilidad), tus dos primeros ataques de combate se consideran a distancia y no recibes contra-ataque. Contra PJs, salvas tantas Pifias de Ataque en combate como puntos de AGI le superes, convirtiéndolas en 3.

*Anillo de Cupido: Reliquia mágica en actual posesión de Penelope Halliwell, regalo de su padre, Coop, poco antes de que desapareciese. Narrativamente permite su uso para teletransportarse. Efecto: Permite realizar intentos de Huida en combate ilimitados, para el portador y un acompañante.

Entre Fantasmas: Conexión especial con el mundo espiritual, que hace que los espíritus y almas perdidas acudan al receptor buscando su guía de forma frecuente, pero también le otorgan ayuda. Efecto: multiplica el daño de sus acciones de Mediumship x2. Sus acciones de Mediumship sometidas al dado de Probabilidad siempre arrojan acierto.

*Excalibur: "Se dice que quien posea la Espada en la Piedra, será invencible". Reliquia mágica en actual posesión de Wyatt Halliwell. La espada es un símbolo de poder, pero también de gran responsabilidad. Es de suponer que su legítimo poseedor la utilizará para la protección de la magia, y a cambio la espada tiene propiedades mágicas que dotan de una mayor resistencia a su poseedor, mientras tenga contacto físico con la misma. Efecto: la espada te salva de hasta 3 pifias de defensa por tema, convirtiéndolas en 3.

Heredero de Excalibur: "Solo un legítimo Heredero puede invocar a Excalibur." Aquellas personas que tengan relación directa con el poseedor de Excalibur, pueden invocarla en situaciones críticas. Efecto: cuando tus PV se reduzcan a menos de veinte, la Espada aparece para ayudarte, convirtiendo hasta 3 veces tus dados de defensa menores de 3 en 3, incluido pifias en defensa.

Caballero de la Mesa Redonda: "La Espada en la Piedra se presenta a sí misma a todo Defensor que lo necesita". Para miembros del Aquelarre, o defensores de la magia que luchen del lado del Bien. La Espada acude de forma independiente en tu ayuda en momentos críticos. Efecto: cuando tus PV se reduzcan a menos de quince, la Espada aparece para salvarte de hasta 3 pifias en defensa por tema, convirtiéndolas en 3.

*Reina Vudú: Tu pacto con Papa Legba ha condenado tu alma a cambio de vida y poder. Efecto: Hasta en tres ocasiones por tema, tus dados críticos en defensa o ataque te aportan +2 pv o +2 MAG, a elección.

*Suprema: El pacto de fidelidad del Aquelarre hace que mantengas una radiante salud y un aumento de poder. Efecto: Hasta en tres ocasiones por tema, tus pifias en defensa o ataque te otorgan un bonus de +2pv o +2MAG, a elección.

*Orishas de la Familia Salazar: Las Orishas tutelares de la Familia Salazar les otorgan a sus miembros bendiciones especiales. [A elegir una Orisha Tutelar] Ogun: Orisha de la Guerra. Te aporta un bonus de +1DEF constante, en cuanto tus PV bajen a menos de 10pv. No convierte dado natural en crítico, ni salva pifia. / Yemayá: Orisha Madre del Mar. Te aporta +2PV por cada 10pv que pierdas. / Shango: Orisha del Fuego. Te aporta un bonus de +1FUE constante, cuando tus pv bajen a menos de 10pv. No convierte dado natural en crítico, ni salva pifia.

Ecos del Pasado: Tienes alguna conexión especial con un espíritu de un antepasado perteneciente al linaje familiar, que te visita de vez en cuando. Efecto: comienzas con +1SAB extra a repartir en Mediumship (+10%).

Familiar: Espíritu o criatura mágica que asiste a una bruja o brujo, actuando como guía espiritual, protector o ayudante en sus prácticas mágicas. Suelen ser animales. Efecto: Cuando tus pvs bajen a menos de 5pv, tu familiar aparece para protegerte. Tu enemigo tiene que abatirlo antes de volver a atacarte, por lo que durante 1 turno, no recibes Ataque del oponente.

Cocinitas: Tienes mucho talento en el ámbito de las pociones. Se puede confiar en tus manos para que todas las elaboraciones salgan bien. Efecto: 20% de descuento en todas las pociones de la tienda.

Amigo de Campanilla: ¿Eres tú, Campanilla? Te has hecho amigo de las Hadas, que acuden en tu ayuda para rociarte de polvos mágicos cada vez que necesites ese empujoncito extra. Efecto: Cuando tus pvs bajen a menos de 10pv, las Hadas restauran 5 puntos de tu Magia. En temas ubicados en Avalon, te restauran hasta 10 puntos de Magia.

Sherlock: Eres un fantástico rastreador, o tienes una intuición super avanzada. Efecto: Multiplicas x2 los efectos de tus acciones de Scrying.

Karmic Fix: Solución al Karmic Backlash*, que hace que los efectos de un hechizo realizado por una bruja o brujo oscuro sean caóticos, y puedan contra el propio usuario. Efecto: revierte el Karmic Backlash.

*Karmic Backlash: los hechizos utilizados para realizar tareas mundanas o para beneficio personal, pueden crear un efecto caótico para enseñarle una lección al usuario. En Spell Casting en solitario, para usuarios cuya magia se haya tornado oscura, si ambos dados de Probabilidad arrojan Fallo, los efectos del hechizo se vuelven contra el usuario, salvo que posea Karmic Fix.

NOTA: Melinda y Henry, les hemos quitado las pasivas, las dejamos a su elección. Solo aquellos PJs poseedores de reliquias mágicas o títulos especiales tendrán Pasiva personal.

[afrodytis]

In Yoruba Polytheism and Traditions Yemoja (Yemanjá, Iemanjá, Janaína, Yemayá, Iemanyá, Iemanjá, Yemallá, Iemanja, La Sirène) is a mother spirit; patron spirit of women, especially pregnant women; the ocean; and the Ogun river. Her name is a contraction of the Yoruba words "Yeye omo eja" which means "Mother whose children are like fish." This represents the vastness of her motherhood, her fecundity, and her reign over all living things. Umbanda worships Yemanjá as one of the seven Orixás. She is the Queen of the Ocean, the patron spirit of the fishermen and the survivors of shipwrecks, the feminine principle of creation, and the spirit of moonlight. She is syncretized with Nossa Senhora dos Navegantes (Our Lady of the Seafaring). In Santería, Yemayá is the mother of all living things as well as the owner of the oceans and seas. Iemanjá is also celebrated every December 8 in Salvador, Bahia. The Festa da Conceição da Praia (Feast to Our Lady of Conception of the church at the beach) is a city holiday dedicated to the Catholic saint and also to Iemanjá. Another feast occurs on this day in the Pedra Furada, Monte Serrat in Salvador, Bahia, called the Gift to Iemanjá, when fishermen celebrate their devotion to the Queen of the Ocean.

Artwork is by an unknown artist.

[dearmouse]

Yemayá (Yemọja) Yoruba Goddess of Creation, Water, Moon, the Motherhood, and Protection.

Yemọja (also: Yemaja, Yemanjá, Yemoyá, Yemayá; etc) is the major water spirit from the Yoruba religion. She is the mother of all Orishas. She is also the mother of humanity. She is an orisha, in this case patron spirit of rivers …

Yemọja is often depicted as a mermaid, and is associated with the moon (in some diaspora communities), water, and feminine mysteries. She is the protector of women. She governs everything pertaining to women; parenting, child safety, love, and healing. According to myth, when her waters broke, it caused a great flood creating rivers and streams and the first mortal humans were created from her womb.

[robertobaoriate]

© Robert Obà Ení Orìaté

Consultas disponibles de Lunes a Sábado , puede hacer su cita llamando al (512) 326-2128 , estamos ubicados en Austin , Texas Estados Unidos

Consultations and readings are available from Monday to Saturday. You can schedule an appointment by calling (512) 326-2128. We are located in Austin, Texas, United States.

www.robertobaenioriate.com

#robertobaoriate #Santería #Orishas #Sincretismo #Rituales #Espiritualidad #HerenciaAfricana #CulturaYoruba #MagiaBlanca #Devoción #ConexiónEspiritual #osain #obaoriate

#Santería #PaloMayombe #Ifá #Espiritismo #ReligionesAfro #CulturaAfro #RitualesSanteros #MagiaNegra #Adivinación #Orishas #Eleggua #Ochún #Ogún #Yemayá #Orula #Elegguá #PoderesMísticos #Espiritualidad #CultoAfricano #CreenciasTradicionales #AmarresDeAmor #Hechizos #MisteriosAfro #RitosSagrados #ConexiónEspiritual #MagiaRitual #CreenciasYoruba #TikTokEspiritual#SecretosAfro #MisteriosDelIfá#palo#palomayombe#congo#palomonte

[thewomanofrevelation]

la india/eddie palmieri, yemayá y ochún [x]

[culturalukumi333]

🖤Para petición a Elegguá❤️

«Invoco al espíritu guardián de los caminos, Elegguá.

Bendito Orisha dueño de las llaves del destino. Mensajero incansable que vigila los sacrificios que realizan los vivos y los muertos. Conoces a todos y todo lo que existe entre el Cielo y la Tierra»

#orishas #eshu #eleggua #oggún #oshun #Yemayá #obatala #shango #oyá #espiritismo #palomonte #Ifá #puebla #loscabos #mexico #chiapas #tlaxcala #guadalajara #españa #chile #perú #estadosunidosdenorteamerica #miami

#diloggun

[armatofu]

Haciendo un poquito de historia, debemos recordar que los esclavos africanos comenzaron a llegar a las Américas alrededor del año 1501.

Los primeros en arribar provenían de factorías lusitanas, pues Portugal fue quien inició el tráfico negrero apoyándose en los jefes de algunas tribus costeras que cazaban y vendían a integrantes de otras tribus a quienes consideraban ajenos u hostiles.

Se piensa que entre 1821–1860 se trajeron, solo a Cuba, al menos trescientos cincuenta mil esclavos africanos procedentes del sudeste de Nigeria y de toda la Costa de los Esclavos, desde la enorme cuenca del Congo hasta Liberia y la Guinea Francesa.

Por la manera en que influyeron en nosotros, los YORUBA fueron los más importantes.

YORUBA es el término que identifica a todos los que hablaban el mismo idioma sin importar que no estuvieran unidos políticamente. Los pueblos yoruba tuvieron un importantísimo desarrollo urbano y artístico, pero su influencia sobre nosotros la ejercieron a través de la religión. Sus ORISHAS o deidades siguen vivas entre nosotros y conforman la REGLA DE OCHA o santería.

Mientras vivieron en África, cada Orisha era patrimonio de una aldea o región determinada:

En Oyó se adoraba a Changó.

En Egbá se adoraba a Yemayá.

En Ekití y Oridó se adoraba a Oggún.

En Ijebu e Ijosa se adoraba a Ochún.

Aún así, algunos cultos abarcaban a toda la región, como el de Obatalá o el de Oddúa, padre fundacional de quien todos los gobernantes yorubas se concideran descendientes. Debo aclarar que en casi todos los casos, se trataba de hombres que, una vez muertos, fueron divinizados.

Según los yorubas, la metamorfosis de humano a dios ocurría en momentos de crisis emocionales, la pasión quemaba el cuerpo físico del individuo y solo permanecía su ACHÉ, es decir, la energía pura en forma de poder y, como esta religión está íntimamente ligada a la familia, era necesario que los familiares establecieran el FUNDAMENTO o cazuela que sirviera de contenedor de esta energía. Es en el FUNDAMENTO donde se rinden las ofrendas.

El Orisha, aunque es una deidad, no deja de ser un pariente, un bien familiar que se transmite por línea paterna.

Cuando en época de la colonia el Santo Oficio permitió en estas tierras las fiestas que eran la forma tradicional de convocar a las deidades con el ánimo de evitar la rebeldía de los esclavos, nunca imaginó que lo que presenciaban era una elaborada liturgia religiosa. Fue así como nació el sincretismo, cuando al toque de tambores Changó se mimetizó con Santa Bárbara, Babalú Ayé con San Lázaro y así una larga lista de otros santos y orichas.