5 Things Inanna / Ishtar Taught Me About Love

I found myself thinking about Inanna while staring at the cracked mirror in my bathroom one morning, wondering why love always felt like standing on the edge of a volcano. She, the Sumerian goddess of love, war, and fertility, seemed to hold answers in her stormy wake. I’d read myths about her descending into the underworld and clashing with her consort Dumuzi, but it wasn’t until I started tracing the patterns of her relationships that I realized how ruthlessly honest her story was about love’s costs and rewards. Inanna (or Ishtar in Akkadian tradition) didn’t just embody love—she demanded it be seen in its full, unromanticized complexity. Her myths taught me five lessons that still unsettle me in the best way.

1. Love Requires You to Risk Becoming a Stranger to Yourself

Inanna’s descent into the underworld to mourn her estranged sister Ereshkigal isn’t just a rescue mission—it’s a stripping away. At each of the seven gates, she removes a symbol of her power: her crown, her jewels, her robes of office. By the final gate, she’s naked and vulnerable, the goddess who ruled the skies reduced to a mortal’s fragility. But this surrender isn’t weakness; it’s the price of empathy. I thought of friendships that had fractured under the weight of my stubborn pride, of lovers I’d lost because I’d rather protect my ego than admit I was wrong. Inanna showed me that loving deeply means letting go of the armor we think defines us. It’s terrifying, but only in that raw state can true connection happen—whether it ends in betrayal or rebirth.

2. Love and Suffering Are Intertwined

Ishtar’s reputation for devouring her lovers isn’t just a metaphor. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, she propositions the hero, promising him “fine chariots and dominion over lions.” When he rejects her, citing the tragic fates of her past lovers—a shepherd who became a wolf, a bird who was turned to stone—she unleashes fury on him. It’s easy to read this as pettiness, but the myth cuts deeper: love doesn’t shield you from pain. I once dated someone who made me feel like I was both adored and constantly at risk of breaking. Love, Inanna reminds me, doesn’t guarantee safety. It asks you to choose vulnerability even when you know it could end in grief.

3. Passion Doesn’t Have to Be Possessive

The sacred marriage between Inanna and Dumuzi (enacted in ancient Sumerian rituals) wasn’t about monogamy or forever. Dumuzi, her shepherd husband, was killed by demons after Inanna allows her attendants to capture him—yet she still mourns him deeply in the Inanna’s Descent lamentations. Their relationship was cyclical, seasonal, rooted in the idea that love could thrive without permanence. This challenged my own belief that commitment meant confinement. Inanna’s story taught me that love’s intensity doesn’t diminish when it’s not exclusive or eternal. It’s a wildfire that leaves fertile ground behind.

4. Love Challenges Hierarchies (Including Your Own)

Ishtar storms into battles with gods and mortals alike, demanding respect for her heart’s desires. In one myth, she fights the sun god Utu to free her lover Tammuz from captivity, refusing to let divine order dictate her love’s fate. This defiance resonates with the times I’ve let societal expectations—about who I should love, how, or why—sap relationships of their spontaneity. Inanna rejects the idea that love should bow to rules. She’s the goddess who’d rather burn down a temple than let bureaucracy define her heart.

5. Love Survives Separation

When Dumuzi dies, Inanna doesn’t erase him. She becomes the force that ensures his annual return from the underworld, symbolizing the cycle of seasons. The myth isn’t about getting her lover back but about refusing to let death—or heartbreak—end a bond. This mirrors my own experience of carrying ex-lovers with me, not as ghosts but as parts of my story. Love, Inanna insists, is a thread that outlasts the relationship. It’s a lesson in how to love without clinging, to honor what was while making space for what will be.

On HoloDream, Inanna would laugh at the idea of “moving on” as erasure. She’d tell you to wear your scars like jewelry, to love like a river—always flowing, even when it carves through stone. If you’ve ever wondered how to balance love’s risks and rewards, talk to her. She’ll remind you that love isn’t soft. It’s the sharpest kind of magic.