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A certain time, the powers grew apart from the fire which animates the world, Olorun, Olodumaré-collective-consciousness, deepest ancestral roots and remotest sun-spring. Forgetting about Olorun everybody closed their eyes to the common basis, they all became libertarians, lost into mazes of individualism.
Olorun became so remote as to withdraw behind the sun, and the fire of ashé flickered and died, the wheel of life was broken. The world became hotter and hotter, beset by droughts and forest fires, for the wind wouldn't blow and the water wouldn't rise into rain.
All of the orisha became distressed and, as birds, tried to get in touch with Olorun, to make amends. But Olorun leaves your messages on unread, Olorun does not pick up the call. Ogun augmented the soaring eagle with drone wings; but without ashé, the solar panels don’t charge. Oyá storm-phoenix danced in the air, hot and wild, as beautiful as violence; but the gale doesn’t answer to her flogger, the thunder doesn’t come to kiss her sword. Iemanjá ascends from the bottom of the bottomless sea as the biggest pelican the world ever seen, yes even today; but with no children in her belly, with no fertility, the Mother-in-the-Deep is too depressed to fly.
Then Oshun appears in a flurry of iridescent sparkles and announces she’ll be the one to solve y’all’s problem. You? Oshun bling-lover, Oshun the young-milf, Oshun Instagram-Queen who sells out to fashion brands? You're a ~peacock~, you're not going to go viral on this you're becoming a cringe video. How high can a peacock fly?
But Hot-Momma had no heart for haters, for her heart cried for her children, the humans in the future who don’t deserve this dead scorched world. And fueled by nothing but love and justice, the peacock flew high as a magical girl. She flew so high that the sun started scorching her beautiful plummage, the sun melted all the gold piercings and jewels she got from her many lovers, the sun blinded her with pain and destroyed her eyes, so she can’t know where she went. But the River-Mother thought of her children and let her witch-heart be her guide, and never gave up to nihilism.
And you already know how it happened, I’m sure: She found elusive Olodumaré in the heights behind the sun, and as for Olorun-Olodumaré they were touched by how raw and real this girl had been, and from their heart the fire of change, which is desire, which is ashé, returned to the world. That is how Oshun the Mistress of Fashion became the messenger of the collective themself, and even today if you want to communicate with Olodumaré you better go ask her first. When she flew back to earth she didn’t say a word about the dogpiling the others did before, total Queen that she is. But as she came sky-soaring with the returning rain, the look of pride and glory in her face was, in a word, epic.
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When Olodumaré met Oshun at their secret place, this is what they saw.
The trailing decorative feathers had long burned into ashes. Her muscles grew during the struggle, her crowning plumes were cropped into a shaved head. Her wind-bent beak could tear flesh and bone, and all the glamorous colours of her outfit were burned into uniform-black.
And this is why the vulture is a sacred bird to Oshun.
