June 4, 2026June 5, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino1 Comment

(Nine Poets Speak) To Your Glory, O Great Goddess by Tamara Wyndham

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.] Statue of Isis from Ponte d’Arma Passo Corese Rieti, Wikimedia Commons The Goddess descends I Read More …

June 1, 2026December 25, 2025 RTMeditorsKGLeave a comment

(Audio) The Wheel of the Year as a ‘Turas’ by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

The text part is an edited excerpt from the author’s book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony, and the audio links are usually part of Read More …

May 28, 2026April 6, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino1 Comment

(Nine Poets Speak) Mother Cabrini Throwdown by Annie Lanzillotto

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.] Screen shot: Annie Lanzillotto Mother Cabrini walked here Mother Cabrini walked here Mother Cabrini walked Read More …

May 25, 2026May 26, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino2 Comments

(Essay) My Journey Home to the Creatrix/Dea Madre by Mary Saracino

Bandelier National Monument, New Mexico: Photo by Mary Saracino I was born in 1954 into a working class Italian-American Catholic family, the fifth child and first daughter of parents whose Read More …

May 21, 2026May 18, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino1 Comment

(Nine Poets Speak) these mountains by Luan Danaan

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.] Photo by Luan Danaan these mountains still clothed in their ancient raiment of treesbreathe a Read More …

May 18, 2026February 26, 2026 Mago Work1 Comment

(Book Excerpt 7) Asherah: Roots of the Mother Tree ed. by Trista Hendren Et Al

[Editor’s Note: This excerpt series is from Asherah: Roots of the Mother Tree ed by Claire Dorey, Janet Rudolph, Pat Daly, and Trista Hendren (Girl God Books, 2025).] Asharah and Read More …

May 17, 2026May 12, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M SaracinoLeave a comment

Meet Mago Contributor Luan Danaan

Luan Danaan was born and grew up in rural Queensland, Australia. She worked and travelled around Australia and New Zealand in her late teens, eventually settling in Melbourne. She was an Read More …

May 14, 2026March 16, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino3 Comments

(Nine Poets Speak) Fatuma by Leslene della-Madre

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.] Photo: CIAT, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons I sit by my fire as Read More …

May 11, 2026May 9, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M SaracinoLeave a comment

(Prose Poem) The Shattering of Earth Woman Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright Where are the owls that sing through the night until dawn? Their Silence is deafening. When I walk to the river I feel absence keenly, a Read More …

May 8, 2026May 9, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino2 Comments

(Poem) Guerilla Knitters by Mary Saracino

They wield their pointed needles not as weapons of terror flung at airline pilots or fellow passengers, but as benevolent batons in the hands of a maestro, to orchestrate the Read More …

May 7, 2026April 2, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M Saracino1 Comment

(Nine Poets Speak) Santa Rosalia by Maria Famà

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.] Photo of a holy card of Santa Roslby Maria Famà Santa Rosalia five hundred years Read More …

May 4, 2026May 6, 2026 RTMeditorsKG2 Comments

(Audio) The Living Earth by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This is an edited recording of a radio program, from a twelve part series named Re-membering the Great Mother, authored and put to air by Glenys Livingstone in 1994, for Read More …

April 30, 2026April 23, 2026 RTM Co-Editor M SaracinoLeave a comment

(Nine Poets Speak) She, Land of Milk and Honey by Jsabél Bilqís

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.] Photo by Seif Abukhalaf on Unsplash, free license All praises to Mother, Endowed!Magnanimous supply is Her nature, Her Read More …

(Essay 5) Circe the Island Witch by Hearth Moon Rising

Fifth (and last) in a series. Earlier installments are here, here, here, and here. Christine de Pizan lecturing (1413). From a compendium of her writing. The Italian Renaissance produced some amazing women. There was Christine de Pizan, born of an intellectual Venetian family and a highly regarded writer of the French Court. She was the first woman to write a treatise on great women in Western history (The Book of the City of Ladies, 1405). Interestingly, Circe was one of the women featured. There was Modesta Pozzo, who wrote an analysis of women’s struggle against misogyny (The Worth of Women: Wherein is Closely Revealed Their Nobility and Their Superiority to Men, 1597). Like the British feminist Mary Wollstonecraft (A Vindication of the Rights of Women, 1792), Pozzo died in childbirth. Modesta Pozzo Many feminists are aware of Artemisia Gentileschi, the artist who bravely prosecuted her rapist in open court. Her famous painting, Judith Slaying Holofernes (1614) definitively sums up her feelings about predatory men. We could go on and on with examples of scholarly, artistic, highly accomplished women of this time and place, but this really is an essay about Circe, and in that context I want to discuss Eleonora of Arborea, who ruled most of the island of Sardinia for twenty years, beginning in 1383. Judith Slaying Holofernes (1614) by Artemisia Gentileschi Like any other female ruler of the time, Eleonora assumed political control through family connections and a series of accidents. What is interesting about her is not that she was granted power, but that she held on to it so long in that era of war, intrigue, and social upheavel. She successfully spearheaded some changes to the legal code benefitting women, such as equalizing inheritence. The ability to own property was one of the main issues that concerned early advocates for women’s rights. Another important change in the legal code strengthened penalities against rapists. Statue of Eleonora of Arborea in Oristano, Sardinia, Italy. Photo: Briangotts. One of Eleonora’s legacies, less known outside of birding circles, was the protection of hawks and falcons on the island. She was an enthusiastic falconer, like many in the nobility, and her favorite bird was Falco eleonore, or Eleonora’s Falcon, which was eventually named for her. This falcon, who is Circe’s avian form, had no predators except humans, who would brave the precipitous climb up cliffs to gather eggs. Eleonora put a stop to this. Eleonora’s Falcon. Photo: Jurgen Dietrich. Maybe she did this to save the bird for herself and her friends, more out of dedication to the sport than ecological awareness. We don’t know. She was the fourteenth century ruler of a Mediterranean kingdom and so probably not a paragon. But this is a falcon who captures songbirds, strips them of their flying feathers, and traps them in rocky crevices awaiting slaughter. Eleonora’s Falcon has some rather troubling features herself. Eleonora of Arborea fits the Circe archetype in many ways. She adopted and protected Circe’s falcon. She was herself an indomitable ruler of an island nation. She sought to improve women’s status in relation to men. She was skilled in managing warfare and in negotiating peace. Nowhere does it say she was a witch – But come on, how did she do it? (End of the Essay) https://www.magoism.net/2013/04/meet-mago-contributor-hearth-moon-rising/
(Song) Oh Holy Dawn by Dale Allen

“Oh Holy Dawn” was first sung in 1999 in my musical theater production, “Dancers of the Dawn.” The play featured a cast of 7 women of different ages, shapes, sizes and colors who tell the untold herstory, and who as modern women, experience the ways the sacred feminine flows through their lives. At the time, Isabel Donahue was an infant, whose mother, Arden was part of the cast. We all took our coveted turns to hold the baby at rehearsals! Now, Isabel sings the song in this new vocal recording over the original piano track, bringing the gift of her angelic voice. “Oh Holy Dawn” by Dale Allen • Lyrics Oh holy dawn The sun is surely rising It is the morn of the Goddess’ return Born in us all She holds all life as sacred Our hearts rejoice in remembering Her Her body is the Earth and all creation All life is free to thrive in peace and joy Rise to your feet Oh hear the ancient voices! Oh love within Feel Her strength and love within Oh love di-VINE Oh love Her love divine Artwork attached! Oh Holy Dawn by Dale Allen https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vACT057bm7o&feature=youtu.be https://www.magoism.net/2024/05/meet-mago-contributor-dale-allen
(Poem) My Three Grandmothers by Mary Saracino

[Author’s Note: Previously published at www.mothertongued.com, September, 2004] Immacolata The Boss we called her, though in life her authority barely reached beyond the aroma-stained walls of her over-worked kitchen. She came to America from Puglia in 1920, seven months pregnant with my father. A woman on the run from who knows what — poverty or the threat of it. Of my grandmothers, I knew her best, this woman of sad brown eyes, whose drawn lips withheld somber secrets no matter how many times I asked, “Why did you leave Italy?” After her husband died, The Boss ruled, a dowager empress; her queenly attire, a plaid or flowered house dress, a simple apron, with or without pockets, anointed with meatball grease, stained with red sauce, flour, egg yolks, and sweat; her mother named her Immacolata, a mother who died before her sweet daughter turned four, leaving a hollow of want in the young girl’s bones (the onset of shrouded mystery?). Immacolata, a reverential name, spiritual, resonant, heavenly with authority; Mary, the immigrant papers insisted, their official stamp stripping my grandmother of native identity, unraveling the umbilical thread that bound her to her dead mother;a minor indignity, one might say, though one would be wrong to misname it so. Mary she became, a diminutive of the nobler appellation conferred long before; Mary she was called, though her older sister — the one who could still recall the scent of their mother’s skin, the one who had also sailed to America in the belly of a big boat bore that name from birth, etched as it was upon her brow by long-lost maternal lips. In America, Immacolata, the junior Mary, her mother’s cherished, last child,lived in a cramped house in a small town, an hour’s drive from the elder, original Mary.There, The Boss, distanced from her sister and from what her native tongue refused to recall, reigned over Sunday suppers, holiday meals, a bevy of seven children, dozens of restless, hungry grandchildren, each with American Italian mothers who did not die, but abandoned them nonetheless to assimilation, a different kind of silencing; each child burdened with secrets, like their grandmother, yet more fierce and unyielding, defying the proscriptions, refusing to change their names, slam shut their hearts, be silenced. 2. Fiora My mother’s mother was named for aromatic bouquets of flowers fresh from the loamy Tuscan soil. She gifted me with a small string of faux-pearls when I was born, my mother Margaret’s first daughter. After four sons, a blessing for which Mom had prayed; Fiora, too, lighting vigil candles for a girl this time, a girl, to please her youngest daughter. To please herself, as well. Fiora’s tiny necklace a promise of affiliation, a miniature garden of round, iridescent blossoms strung together, a collection of whispered prayers, the bequeathing of lineage, a gift I used to wear as a young girl, liberating the delicate strand from the velvety confines of the small box on my mother’s dresser. Unclasping the silver clasp, I would display the pearls around the pink curve of my small neck until one day I misplaced them, never to be recovered, lost as they became, amid the clutter of life in my family’s chaos, perhaps buried beneath a pile of dirty clothes or cloaked by dust or by tears. Fiora died when I was two, passing beyond my earthly grasp. I do not recall if her skin smelled of roses or peony petals, if her smile was as fragrant as her name, if she would have taught me to till and transplant, coaxing brilliant buds from the dirty American soil had she lived to see me grow into a woman determined to outsmart the aphids, coax reluctant seeds to swell, inhale every aromatic blossom. My mother did not name me Fiora; perhaps I did not remind her of cultivated plots or terra cotta urns overflowing with brilliant red zinnias. Spurring convention, Mom sandwiched an adjective between my surname and my first, calling me Mary Immaculate, shunning the too-Italian Immacolata, foregoing the homage due The Boss, my father’s mother, as was familial tradition; in doing so unwittingly planting a mistrust of rules for their own sake in my ever-listening soul. 3. Isabel Isabel, whose German practicality does not grace my arteries, became my grandmother by default, perhaps the only hidden blessing of my mother’s second marriage. No Nonna she, Isabel did not possess The Boss’s sassy, sad aura, Fiora’s soil-savvy touch, or their lingering ache of a motherland lost. Grandmother nonetheless, Isabel bequeathed not genetic memory, but something else — something as posh and pink and elegant as the curtains that hung in her fancy living room, something as fragile as the cut-glass, crystal goblets from which I drank cold milk when first I was invited to her dinner table; the same milk my ten-year old hands splayed across her finely woven, lace tablecloth. Isabel did not chastise, did not raise her groomed eyebrows to shun my reddened face, name my embarrassment, my ineptitude; she did not scorn or pity me. She merely retrieved a cotton cloth to sop the pool of white liquid that puddled before my plate of grilled steak and creamed potatoes, a meal so foreign to my second-chance immigrant mouth as to befuddle my senses. Once the pond of milk was contained, Isabel commanded that the meal go on, as if I belonged there, as if the youngster who sat at her refined table was accustomed to bone China, sterling forks and spoons, instead of mismatched Melmac and chipped tumblers; as if the accident I had caused was minor, nothing more than a causal, commonplace spill, easily dismissed and forgiven, instead of the deeply disquieting sin that stained my insides, unaccustomed as I was, to absolution and exoneration. https://www.magoism.net/2013/05/meet-mago-contributor-mary-saracino
(Art) Tree Goddesses by Janie Rezner

Sculpture by Janie Rezner Read Meet Mago Contributor Janie Rezner.
(Photo Essay 9) Goddess Pilgrimage 2017 by Kaalii Cargill

[Author’s Note: In July 2017, I set out on a 4 month pilgrimage to the Unites States, Italy, France, Spain, Lebanon, Jordan, and Egypt. I name it a “pilgrimage” because my main focus is what I call “visiting with the Grandmothers”, although I also encountered many other wonderful people and places. This series of Photo Essays is an invitation for you to visit with the Grandmothers I met on my journey . . .] Lebanon – the earliest evidence of civilisation in Lebanon dates back more than seven thousand years. This was the home of the Canaanites/Phoenicians with their Goddesses: Anat, Athirat (Elat, Asherah), Athtart (Astarte), Baalat, Ishat, Kotharat, Nikkal-wa-lb, Qadeshtu, Shapash, Tanit. Byblos – 5000 year old temple walls, stone steps, standing stones, and the sacred spring where Isis searched for Osiris. In the souk, an antique dealer played Tables (a board game similar to ancient Egyptian Senet and the Royal Game of Ur); in his shop window a 4000 year old Goddess statue. Meet Mago Contributor Kaalii Cargill
(Poem) The Original Trinity by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This poem was included in the journal, S/HE: An International Journal of Goddess Studies (Vol 3 No 2, 2024).] https://www.magoism.net/2013/07/meet-mago-contributor-helen-hwang
Hemlock Haunting by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright When I stand under one of these giants I sink into the dark spiraling into Deep Time. If Hemlock does not succumb to insects a poisoned sky this tree might live out a natural life… 800 years is eight to ten times longer than this piercing pain of mine – So why is anguish stretching me into ‘forever’ mourning trees without hope? One difference is that Hemlock lives in community with others that care – the kindness of kin both young and old Roots entwine, support… communicate. Comfort seeds the air. Hemlocks can tolerate the darkest forest gloom, the sparse spongy needle strewn floor stores a multitude of seeds… for hundreds of years… Witch hobble thrives above, golden beech composts future… 400 million years of Life buried a few feet deep…. If nature’s patterns wed to genes story a future when Earth is ready to birth, these trees might rise again as Blessed Green Beings once despised and rejected insect infected Now thriving in Balance with All That Is… _____________________________________________________________________ Tree of Life? Every culture has a creation myth about the “tree of life” except the western one unless we include the Christmas tree which today is often made of plastic. As we approach the holiday season I am sickened by the thought of more live trees being cut down, only to be thrown out the door as soon as the presents are opened. I see the tree as a kind of backdrop for the human drama. The Christmas tree seems to be a symbol for excessive consumption. Contrast this with the Indigenous Skywoman’s story in which the tree of life holds every aspect of the living natural world in her arms including the mosses that live in the tree’s knotholes! Nature no longer structures our collective reality in any meaningful way, and trees if they are noticed at all viewed as a kind of indoor or outdoor wallpaper. Trees were once considered to be protectors. In Greek mythology they saved women from rape. Witches once danced around trees under the full moon, held rituals underneath them. These customs have been revived today by some but are still considered suspicious, ‘cultish’, dangerous by the dominant culture. Even the word ‘ritual’ has negative connotations. Indigenous peoples continue to honor trees as wisdom – keepers and elders. These people still know how to listen to trees and to follow their instructions. Scientists like Suzanne Simard teach us about the importance of trees and forests for human survival, but few are listening. Like Rachel Carson who wrote Silent Spring 60 years ago forecasting the loss of non – human species due to pesticides – Simard (Finding the Mother Tree) and others like her -especially women scientists – are simply dismissed. Irrelevant. It might be argued that women and trees belong together. Both are seen as decorative wallpaper, raped routinely, and easily replaced. Because trees are fundamental to my well being I am always in relationship with forests as a whole, and cyclically move through periods where a particular tree becomes my tree of life. This year the tree that emerged out of the forest is the hemlock. How this happens is always a bit of a mystery but what captured me this year was noticing that hemlocks seem to embody a powerful charge that I could feel in their presence. The more time I spent with them the more I questioned their role in the forests they lived in because in healthy hemlock areas there is tremendous diversity not seen elsewhere. It wasn’t until I did some research that I learned some amazing facts. I want to include some here because so often a tree is pictured as symbol or background; rarely do we actually bring a tree to life. In addition to being the most shade tolerant tree, eastern hemlocks are also the most patient of trees. When a space in the canopy opens even a tree that is already 75 – 100 years old will shoot up to the sky, branching its ladders to reach the sun. A pencil thin hemlock can be 100 years old! Tiny flat forest green needles create and layer their own canopy in a patterned way that allows every stream of light to be maximized by the tree – an incredible strategy to make the most of low light. Animals thrive in hemlock territory; the red eft (salamander) is one that appears regularly after a rain. Deer browse and seek cover under hemlock boughs. Red squirrels and mice feast on hemlock seeds. Bears den under snowy boughs. Hares like the foliage. Many insects inhabit the rich humus under hemlocks and in the branches of these trees songbirds flourish. Blue throated green warblers, blackburnian warblers, Acadian flycatchers, hermit thrushes, winter wrens, nuthatches are just a few examples. The blackburnian warbler nests nowhere else. Most of the warblers that I heard this summer were hiding in hemlocks! Ruffed grouse, barred and saw whet owls roost in hemlocks branches. Hawks like them too. Brook trout need hemlocks to keep the water pure and cool. Hemlocks can also photosynthesize at very low temperatures – just above freezing. In the spring before leaf out the hemlocks absorb high light creating optimal conditions for growth. Besides pine, beech and oak, in untrammeled forested areas hemlocks are also peppered with mountain laurel, hobblebush, and witch hazel, understory plants that can also tolerate lower light. Hemlocks make remarkable parents – their ability to seed themselves so close to adults – within a hundred feet – allows the seedlings to be nourished through roots from the mother trees (both male and female reproductive structures are found in each tree). Hemlock roots are attached to a complex underground mycorrhizal (symbiotic) mycelial network that stretches across the forest floor. When adult trees die their nutrients seep into the ground because this tree decays very slowly nourishing the rest of the trees and plants of the forest around them. Many mushrooms, fruiting …
(Tribute 1) My Loving Father Hwang Jong-Hwan (黃鍾煥 7/31/1935-10/10/2020) by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

Dad in 2020 My Father and His Return to WE/HERE/NOW My loving father passed on Oct. 10, 2020 in South Korea. It feels like a big portion of my core is torn away. In memories and sorrows, I thank him for his love for me, comfort him for the pains and sufferings his life caused, and celebrate the gift of himself to the world. I unite with him in spirit, as he has embarked his eternal journey of being beyond the visible world. I send him off to WE/HERE/NOW in a traditional Magoist Korean way, which I have encountered through my research. He seems gone from the physical world but is fully HERE/NOW with All in WE, the Mother World!My task is to pave his way as much as possible. So I begin with a little about the life he had in this fragile visible world: Dad in Youth Hwang Jong-Hwan (黃鍾煥 July 31 or July 2 on Lunar, 1935-October 10, 2020) was a gifted man, a proud father, and a devoted husband. His name Jong-Hwan, which means the Splendid Bell, was given by his father according to the naming custom of the Hwang clan. His childhood name was Yong-Hwan (the Splendid Dragon). Born and grew up under the Japanese colonial rule, survived the Korean War, and endured the harsh reality of modern Korea’s economic re-building in the 1960s and 1970s. He was the first of four siblings (three sons and one daughter). He was born as the promising son of a self-made businessman (my grandfather) who owned a bike store (sales and repairs) in a historical township, Seonsan in North Gyeongsang Province. However, his happy childhood could not last long. His father’s sudden death (my father was seven-year old) left his wife and children unprotected and in poverty. As his mother (my grandmother) returned to her in-law’s village (I was born there too) with her children and lived as a farmer in the household of her mother-in-law, he grew up as the young widow’s oldest son. Wasn’t able to pursue his educational dream beyond primary school, which hit him hard throughout his life. He kept a drawing journal with a beautiful color drawing (the moon, the village surrounding, and the hind view of a lady with a long braided hair dangling on her back dressed in Korean traditional clothes depicted in a pastel tone, as I recall; its serenity and beauty mesmerized me as a child) and poetic verses during his youth years and carried it with him until his 30s, a book which his children were able to see. In fact, that may have been my first book to read. He was an artist and a poet, I gather now. Married a woman (my mother) from a well-off family in the same village. My maternal great-grandfather had chosen him for his granddaughter (my mother). He was 6 years older than her. They had three children (a daughter and two sons). Together with his wife and with the support of his in-laws family, he began as a vendor in Seoul to support his family but was not successful at all. That made my mother stronger. He was supportive of his wife and later opened a grocery store, owned a family tailor shop making himself a tailor, and conducted clothing business on and off. He was gifted in repairing household appliances and enjoyed providing his family with external wound care. He even enjoyed cooking for the family especially during family trips in nature. He designed and built a two-story family home in his 50s. He lived frugally and diligently so that they (my parents) could put their three children through prestigious private universities. Two of them achieved a doctoral degree and beyond. He was very proud of his children and enjoyed their successes on many levels. Loved traveling nationwide and listening to songs. Liked many things among which are gardening, biking, and outdoor-exploring. He held the city’s chess championship and continued to enjoy watching and playing chess matches till his last year. He was diagnosed with kidney failure in his 60s and under dialysis for 16 years. He endured it with an amazing spirit and tenacity for which we, his family, admired and respected him. He had undergone a series of near death crises over the years. Each time he returned with his mind intact and with his body functional. I called him the phoenix. We in our family knew that the farewell was approaching but did not know how soon. He left the visible world at 4:52 AM on Saturday October 10. On the same day, his body was moved to another hospital for the funeral. My mother had hoped to bury him so my brothers honored her wish. Survived by his spouse, three children, and three grandchildren as well as his brothers and their in-laws. We who are his family, relatives, and have known him are grateful for his life of caring, enduring, and giving. His funeral organized by my younger brother’s family was attended by many under the courteous observance of the Covid19 order. Funeral altar at Seoul National University Hospital in Bundang. Flower stands sent by visitors His grave yard, October 13, 2020 First visit to my father’s grave by my younger brothers (mother next to them invisible) Through the passing of my father, our family members bonded anew and exchanged one another heartfelt sorrows and encouragements, a huge comfort for me. I could not but thank my brothers and their families for I wasn’t there at all physically. And I couldn’t contribute to the expense monetarily. Everyone in the family knows my lifestyle, which barely makes my own living, while leading the life that I am called to. Alas, I am broken-hearted by not being able to see him in his last days and moments. It seems a bit too late to realize that I have taken his love for granted. I, his first and only daughter, am indebted for his love and the …
(Art & Prose) Becoming Safe to Feel by Lucy Pierce

“After the Fire” art by Lucy Pierce We need all of our feelings, they are there for a reason and they need to be felt. We need to know we’re big enough to feel them all, even the most excruciatingly uncomfortable ones, even the ones that mean we have to disrupt the expectations of life and other people and our own limitations to feel them. I was raised in a culture, at a time, when I was taught it was not safe to feel my own feelings, not acceptable to express all the hues and shades and textures of my human emotions as they arose. What happened for me was that then my body became so full of all the suppressed feelings that couldn’t be felt, that I had to leave my body because it had become a toxic dumping ground. Because I knew I would not be loved and held through the process of releasing the painful and uncomfortable or raucously jubilant emotions that perpetually bubbled up from within, I swallowed them down in a constant imperative to suppress. I used any means I had to spread wings and fly from the impossibility of being full of things one could not be loved for, but that had nowhere else to go. I formed addictions which further added to the toxicity of my body as a place of residence. The perception that I was not safe to express who I was led to a sense of immense insecurity and self-loathing, I could not know myself in all my colors and so I couldn’t truly know or trust others. I was so isolated and alone, I couldn’t express my needs and so I did not feel safe, ever. Everything of value to me, everything life-giving, like creativity, sensuality, sexuality, boundaries, ambition, desire, intimacy, connection was all bound up with all the things I couldn’t let out and so became inaccessible to me, became dangerous. I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself let alone how to ask for it. I had a vast pain body and mountains of shame and a seemingly bottomless self-loathing. Throughout my early life, adolescence and early twenties, more insults and injuries were incurred along the way, but the vastness of my withheld pressure cooker of rage and grief and panic and fear and love and joy was so densely packed in. How does one even begin to address the backlog, let alone attend affectively to the slights of the moment? I was tied, bound and gagged internally, crippled and contorted, hiding in my own skin. When I first became a mother at the age of 25, I had only just begun to address this dire dissociated state of shame and toxic suppression of emotion. I was voiceless and isolated from my own body, because of the things that hadn’t been shared and accepted. Motherhood changed the landscape of my psyche in such a fundamental way. Simultaneously I understood great love and saw the depths of my own trauma. For the first time in my life I felt a dimension of fierce love and responsibility that blew my mind. It showed me that to love and to hold my baby, I would have to begin to feel all the feelings that hadn’t yet been felt, in order to offer true advocacy and a deep container of loving compassionate acceptance for all that moved in my child. I had to learn to love myself. It also made me see that those who are suppressed will suppress in order to avoid feeling the feelings they have been indoctrinated to suppress, in order not to feel the terror and threat of death, abandonment and annihilation, that becomes associated with one’s own emotional expression. The powerful instinct of my children to use their emotions to get their needs met was deeply triggering to the wounded child within me. Their anger triggering a deep fear and discomfort that would then lead me to unconsciously control their behavior in order not to feel so overwhelmed by my own toxic response to the purity of emotional expression. This paradox was so excruciating for me to live with, as I saw my own toxicity impacting on my pure and perfect children. I began to walk the long road toward a restoration of selfhood and healing, one I am still growing and learning upon in each living moment. The story that it was not safe to be who we are, not safe to feel and be that which rises and falls like the magnificent waves of oceans or storm clouds or spring blooms, began back in the far reaches of our ancestral history, in the intricate twists and turns of our epigenetic traumas. The contortions of our complicit pretense, seeded in the fertile ground of our innocence, began long before our mother’s mother’s mother walked the Earth. I have been mothering my three children for 17 years now and I have made more mistakes than you could poke a stick at, just as I have loved them as fiercely always as I have known how to. In the years that have ensued, living inside the paradox of needing to fall apart and own my rage and grief and love and fear, let myself be undone, spill open, dismantle the iron maiden of my own withholding, whilst simultaneously holding space for small, vulnerable humans and trying to maintain healthy adult relationships has been fraught with times of chaos and immense vulnerability. One who is suppressed has no idea who they might be on the other side of their expression, one only knows one’s self for the shame of not being true. Over the years I have allowed myself to feel it all, rivers of tears, snot and spit. Violent rage ripping through my body, spewed out to self and other. Tender apology, stripped back remorse. Cycling in, cycling out. There have been times when I have longed to medicate myself, times when I have felt I was …

(Special Post 4) Nine-Headed Dragon Slain by Patriarchal Heroes: A Cross-cultural Discussion by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: This and the ensuing eight sequels (all nine parts) are a revised version of the discussion that has taken place in The Mago Circle, Facebook group, since September 24, 2017 to the present. Themes are introduced and interwoven in a somewhat random manner, as different discussants lead the discussion. The topic of the number nine is key to Magoism, primarily manifested as Nine Magos or the Nine Mago Creatrix. Mago Academy hosts a virtual and actual event, Nine Day Mago Celebration, annually.] Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Here is how Goma is known among the ancient Chinese. She is called The Mysterious Woman of the Nine Heavens (Jiutian xuannu). Nine Heavens refer to the confederacy of nine states, Danguk or Nine Hans. Statue of Jiutian Xuannü, Wikimedia Commons https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jiutian_Xuann%C3%BC Another icon of Jiutian Xuannu below. https://www.tinyatdragon.com/blogs/spiritual/jiu-tian-xuan-nu-mysterious-lady-of-the-nine-heavens?fbclid=IwAR0n1Ld6tmxqTec23Pzg3DxRjEQ-DbjdGF1DU_Jjlt4eMbHdTOO9Jd7ePnc Lizzy Bluebell: Oh – now I see what the Buddha riding the deer was carrying; her Gourd. A very interesting link, thanks.”…these statues in Taoism are not for worshipping or praying. They are like a container, a magic tool, which is used to program the energies into profiles and be used for different things in Taoist magic. The outsiders cannot understand too much, and so these “Taoist secrets” are often hidden from the public in the old days or even today.” Lizzy Bluebell: Very informative passage on the power of the NINE:”Nine is the pattern of giving off power, or using up the energies of things to give off powers, just like a flashlight burning it’s battery up for the light. Sky is the pattern that relates to any pool of resources or elements that are considered the proactive party that is “starting” something or the giving side of a situation.Remember that we talk about patterns in Taoism, and it applies to everything including our FU talismans words and these special terms like Jiu Tian / Gau Tin.A practical example for this term can be used as in if you are trying to go to the kitchen and cook something for lunch. Your “sky” here is all the things in the kitchen, and ground is the kitchen itself where you put the food into “process” them. So the 9-sky stage is to have picked out the food you like and let them show themselves to let you know which one is the best to use, maybe some just smell better or some look fresher to you. Nothing has been done yet, but you are now able to “start” something because you can at least feel and sense the food’s potentials and power.” Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Lizzy Bluebell, Oh it is gourd. Yes, I forgot about the gourd symbol for Mago/Magu. It is a container for the elixir from which one drinks. It is a common pictographic/literary theme and I have images of Magu with the gourd. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Lizzy Bluebell, this is one heuristic analogy. Ancient Magoists depicted/perceived the universe as Nine Heavens, an equivalent to Nine States on earth for it is the lens of Nine Numerology through which they saw everything. Because ancient China removed the history of Goma, they spiritualized/philosophized the teaching of Nine Numerology. If we have Goma’s history (and the mytho-history of Old Magoism), we can perceive the meaning of Nine Heavenly directly (not through theories or analogies). Wherever and whenever the consciousness of Nine Numerology surfaces is a manifestation of Goma’s rule/civilization/religion. This will remain forever insofar as humanity continues because Nine Numerology is the principle of nature including humans. I would say that the teaching/principle of Nine Numerology is Goma’s self-redemptive soteriological gift. Insofar as we understand and honor the Nine Mago Creatrix/Nine Numerology (the female divine in general), we are endowed with the power of self-redemption. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Lizzy Bluebell, the character “Xuan or Hyeon 玄” refers to the quality of gynocentric spirituality, which has been made esoteric or mystic. It refers to the spirituality of the Great Goddess (Magoist spirituality). Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Nine Hans or Nine Heavens manifests in such place-names as Kyūkoku (九国, Nine States). Kyushu (Nine Provinces) Island, Japan, seemingly a replica of Danguk (confederacy of nine states) representing the Nine Mago Creatrix, reflects the ancient glory of the Goma’s gynocentric rule. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kyushu Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Doumu (Mother of the Northern Dipper) also comes in the icon of eight arms. Doumu, Song Dynasty, Wikimedia Commons Domu, Wikimedia Commons https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doumu Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: She is often conflated with Marici seated on a boar in her iconography (affine to Gemu of the Mosuo and Durga on a tiger/lion). Here Marici is depicted as four-headed and eight-armed. Marici, Wikimedia Commons Marici (Buddhism) – Wikipedia Judy E Foster: So similar to the Indian Goddess… Helen Hye-Sook Hwang Indeed! I am afraid that we may not be able to feature some of the nine forms of Durga from “Hinduism”. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang There is more, Marici. Marici, Wikimedia Commons File:Marichi, Buddhist Goddess of Dawn, China, Qing dynasty, 18th… Marichi, Source below. Marichi (Buddhist Deity) – Kalpoktam (3 faces, 8 hands)… Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: This is new info. on the nine tripod caldrons of ancient China. “The Nine Tripod Cauldrons (Chinese: 九鼎; pinyin: Jiǔ Dǐng) were ancient Chinese ritual cauldrons. They were ascribed to the foundation of the Xia (c. 2200 bce) by Yu the Great, using tribute metal presented by the governors of the Nine Provinces of ancient China.[1] At the time of the Shang Dynasty during the 2nd millennium bce, the tripod cauldrons came to symbolize the power and authority of the ruling dynasty with strict regulations imposed as to their use. Members of the scholarly gentry class were permitted to use one or three cauldrons; the ministers of state (大夫, dàfū) five; the vassal lords seven; and only the sovereign Son of Heaven was entitled to use nine.[2] The use of the nine tripod cauldrons to offer ritual sacrifices to the ancestors from heaven and earth was a major ceremonial occasion so that by natural progression the ding came to symbolize national political power[3] and later to be regarded as a National Treasure. Sources state that two years after the […]
(Special Post 1) "The Oldest Civilization" and its Agendas by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: The following discussion took place in response to an article listed blow by the members of The Mago Cirlce, Facebook group of Goddessians/Magoists from May 6 to May 10, 2016. Readers are recommended to read the original article linked below that has invoked the converation.] “The Danube Civilization: Oldest in the World” in The Ancient Ones upon the ruins of our ancestors, published April 3, 2016.
(Special Post 6) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, or Spirituality? A Collective Writing

[Editor’s Note: This was first proposed in The Mago Circle, Facebook Group, on March 6, 2014. We have our voices together below and publish them in sequels. It is an ongoing project and we encourage our reader to join us! Submit yours today to Helen Hwang (magoism@gmail.com). Or visit and contact someone in Return to Mago’s Partner Organizations.] Esther Essinger “Why Goddess, when “GD” is perpetrating so much grief? 1) First, it’s vital to know that Goddess is NOT “GD” in a skirt. It is demanded of NO one that they “believe” or “have faith”, so there can be no guilt (and no punishment! (No Hell below us, thank you John) in NOT choosing to interest oneself in these particular Stories, myths, legends and tales which center the Cosmic Female, the Universal Mother, Mother Earth /Mother Nature at their core. No evangelism happening here!

(Book Excerpt) Imbolc/Early Spring within the Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 6 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Traditionally the dates for Imbolc/Early Spring are: Southern Hemisphere – August 1st/2nd Northern Hemisphere – February 1st/2nd though the actual astronomical date varies. It is the meridian point or cross-quarter day between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, thus actually a little later in early August for S.H., and early February for N.H., respectively. Some Imbolc Motifs In this cosmology Imbolc/Early Spring is the quintessential celebration of She Who is the Urge to Be. This aspect of the Creative Triplicity is associated with the differentiation quality of Cosmogenesis,[i] and with the Virgin/Young One aspect of the Triple Goddess, who is ever-new, unique, and singular in Her beauty – as each being is. This Seasonal Moment celebrates an identification with the Virgin/Young One – the rest of the light part of the cycle celebrates Her processes. At this Moment She is the Promise of Life, a spiritual warrior, determined to Be. Her purity is Her singularity of purpose. Her inviolability is Her determination to be … nothing to do with unbroken hymens of the dualistic and patriarchal mind. The Virgin quality is the essential “yes” to Being – not the “no” She was turned into. In the poietic process of the Seasonal Moments of Samhain/Deep Autumn, Winter Solstice and Imbolc/Early Spring, one may get a sense of these three in a movement towards manifest form – syntropy: from the autopoietic fertile sentient space of Samhain, through the gateway and communion of Winter Solstice to differentiated being, constant novelty, infinite particularity of Imbolc/Early Spring. The three are a kaleidoscope, seamlessly connected. The ceremonial breath meditations for all three of these Seasonal Moments focus attention on the Space between the breaths – each with slightly different emphasis: it is from this manifesting Space that form/manifestation arises. If one may observe Sun’s position on the horizon as She rises, the connection of the three can be noted there also: that is, Sun at Samhain/Deep Autumn and Imbolc/Early Spring rises at the same position, halfway between Winter Solstice and Equinox, but the movement is just different in direction.[ii] And these three Seasonal Moments are not clearly distinguishable – they are “fuzzy,”[iii] not simply linear and all three are in each other … this is something recognised of Old, thus the Nine Muses, or the numinosity of any multiple of three. Some Imbolc/early Spring Story This is the Season of the new waxing light. Earth’s tilt has begun taking us in this region back towards the Sun. Traditionally this Seasonal Point has been a time of nurturing the new life that is beginning to show itself – around us in flora and fauna, and within. It is a time of committing one’s self to the new life and to inspiration – in the garden, in the soul, and in the Cosmos. We may celebrate the new young Cosmos – that time in our Cosmic story when She was only a billion years old and galaxies were forming, as well as the new that is ever coming forth. This first Seasonal transition of the light part of the cycle has been named “Imbolc” – Imbolc is thought to mean “ewe’s milk” from the word “Oimelc,” as it is the time when lambs were/are born, and milk was in plentiful supply. It is also known as “the Feast of Brigid,” Brigid being the Great Goddess of the Celtic (and likely pre-Celtic) peoples, who in Christian times was made into a saint. The Great Goddess Brigid is classically associated with early Spring since the earliest of times, but her symbology has evolved with the changing eras – sea, grain, cow. In our times we could associate Her also with the Milky Way, our own galaxy that nurtures our life – Brigid’s jurisdiction has been extended. Some sources say that Imbolc means “in the belly of the Mother.” In either case of its meaning, this celebration is in direct relation to, and an extension of, the Winter Solstice – when the Birth of all is celebrated. Imbolc may be a dwelling upon the “originating power,” and that it is in us: a celebration of each being’s particular participation in this power that permeates the Universe, and is present in the condition of every moment.[iv] This Seasonal Moment focuses on the Urge to Be, the One/Energy deeply resolute about Being. She is wilful in that way – and Self-centred. In the ancient Celtic tradition Great Goddess Brigid has been identified with the role of tending the Flame of Being, and with the Flame itself. Brigid has been described as: “… Great Moon Mother, patroness (sic … why not “matron”) of poetry and of all ‘making’ and of the arts of healing.”[v] Brigid’s name means “the Great or Sublime One,” from the root brig, “power, strength, vigor, force, efficiency, substance, essence, and meaning.”[vi] She is poet, physician/healer, smith-artisan: qualities that resonate with the virgin-mother-crone but are not chronologically or biologically bound – thus are clearly ever present Creative Dynamic. Brigid’s priestesses in Kildare tended a flame, which was extinguished by Papal edict in 1100 C.E., and was re-lit in 1998 C.E.. In the Christian era, these Early Spring/Imbolc celebrations of the Virgin quality, the New Young One – became “Candlemas,” a time for purifying the “polluted” mother – forty days after Solstice birthing. Many nuns took their vows of celibacy at this time, invoking the asexual virgin bride.[vii] This is in contrast to its original meaning, and a great example of what happened to this Earth-based tradition in the period of colonization of indigenous peoples. An Imbolc/Early Spring Ceremonial Altar The flame of being within is to be protected and nurtured: the new Being requires dedication and attention. At this early stage of its advent, there is nothing certain about its staying power and growth: there may be uncertainties of various kinds. So there is traditionally a “dedication” in the ceremonies, which may be considered a “Brigid-ine” dedication, or known as a “Bridal” dedication, since “Bride” is a derivative of …
A Southern Hemisphere Perspective on Place by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from the Introduction to the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion, which was an outcome of her doctoral research/thesis entitled The Female Metaphor – Virgin, Mother, Crone – of the Dynamic Cosmological Unfolding: Her Embodiment in Seasonal Ritual as Catalyst for Personal and Cultural Change. This doctoral work was in turn a documentation and deeper research of the Seasonal ceremonial celebrations that the author was already engaged in for over a decade. The whole of the process is here named as her “Search”. photo credit: David Widdowson, Astrovisuals. The site of seasonal ceremonial celebrations will always be significant. In my case, the place in which I have created them has been notably in the Southern Hemisphere of out Planet Earth. The fact of my context being thus – the Southern Hemisphere – had contributed in the past to my deep internalized sense of being “other”, and dissociated from my senses, since almost all stories told were based in Northern Hemisphere perspective. Yet at the same time this context of inhabiting the Southern Hemisphere contributed to my deep awareness of Gaia’s Northern Hemisphere and Her reciprocal Seasonal Moment: thus, awareness of the whole Planet. My initial confusion about the sensed Cosmos – as a Place, became a clarity about the actual Cosmos – which remained inclusive of my sensed Cosmos. PaGaian reality – the reality of our Gaian “country” – is that the whole Creative Dynamic happens all the time, all at once. The “other”, the opposite, is always present – underneath and within the Moment. This has affected my comprehension of each Sabbat/Seasonal Moment, its particular beauty but also a fullness of its transitory nature. Many in the Northern Hemisphere – even today – have no idea that the Southern Hemisphere has a ‘different’ lunar, diurnal, seasonal perspective; and because of this there often is a rigidity of frame of reference for place, language, metaphor and hence cosmology[i]. Indeed over the years of industrialized culture it has appeared to matter less to many of both hemispheres, including the ‘author-ities’, the writers of culture and cosmos. And such ‘author-ity’ and northern-hemispheric rigidity is also assumed by many more Earth-oriented writers as well[ii]. There has been consistent failure to take into account a whole Earth perspective: for example, the North Star does not need to be the point of sacred reference – there is great Poetry to be made of the void of the South Celestial Pole. Nor need the North be rigidly associated with the Earth element and darkness, nor is there really an “up” and a “down” cosmologically speaking. A sense and accountof the Southern Hemisphere perspective with all that that implies metaphorically as well as sens-ibly, seems vitally important to comprehending and sensing a whole perspective and globe – a flexibility of mind, and coming to inhabit the real Cosmos, hence enabling what I have named as a ‘PaGaian’ cosmological perspective, a whole Earth perspective. It has also been of particular significance that my Search has been birthed in the ancient continent of Australia. It is the age of the exposed rock in this Land, present to her inhabitants in an untarnished, primal mode that is significant. This Land Herself has for millennia been largely untouched by human war, conquest and concentrated human agriculture and disturbance. The inhabitants of this Land dwelt here in a manner that was largely peaceful and harmonious, for tens of thousands of years. Therefore the Land Herself may speak more clearly I feel; one may be the recipient of direct transmission of Earth in one of her most primordial modes. Her knowledge may be felt more clearly – one may be taught by Her. I think that the purity of this transmission is a significant factor in the development of the formal research I undertook – in my chosen methodology and in what I perceived in the process, and documented; from my beginnings as a country girl, albeit below my conscious mind in the subtle realms of which I knew little, to the more conscious times of entering into the process of the Search. In this Land that birthed me, ‘spirit’ is not remote and abstract, it is felt in Her red earth[iii]. Aboriginal elder David Mowaljarlai described, “This is a spirit country”[iv], and all of Her inhabitants, including non-Indigenous, may be affected by the strength of Her organic communication. It took me until the later stages of my research to realize the need to state the importance of this particular place for the advent of the research: the significance of both the land of Australia, and the specific region of the Blue Mountains in which I was now dwelling, as well as the community of this particular region, which all lent itself to the whole process. The lateness of this perception on my part, has to do with the extent of my previous alienation; but the fact that it did occur, is perhaps at least in part attributable to the unfolding awakening to my habitat that was part of the project/process. The specific region of the “Blue Mountains” – as Europeans have named them – is significant in that I don’t think that this project/process could have happened as it did in just any region. David Abram says, “The singular magic of a place is evident from what happens there, from what befalls oneself or others when in its vicinity. To tell of such events is implicitly to tell of the particular power of that site, and indeed to participate in its expressive potency[v]”. Blue Mountains, Australia: Dharug and Gundungurra Country The Blue Mountains are impressive ancient rock formations, an uplifted ancient seabed, whose “range of rock types and topographical situations has given rise to distinct plant communities”[vi]; and the presence of this great variation of plant communities, “especially the swamps, offer an abundance and variety of food sources, as well as habitats for varied fauna”[vii]. I feel that this is the case for …
(Essay) The Wheel of the Year and Climate Change by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from Chapter 2 of the author’s book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ The Wheel of the Year in a PaGaian cosmology essentially celebrates Cosmogenesis – the unfolding of the Cosmos, in which Earth’s extant Creativity participates directly, as does each unique being. The Creativity of Cosmogenesis is expressed through Earth-Sun relationship as it may manifest and be experienced within any region of our Planet. In PaGaian tradition this is expressed with Triple Goddess Poetry, which is understood to be metaphor for the creative dynamics unfolding the Cosmos. At the heart of the Earth-Sun relationship is the dance of light and dark, the waxing and waning of both these qualities, as Earth orbits around our Mother Sun. This dance, which results in the manifestation of form and its dissolution, as it does in the Seasons, happens because of Earth’s tilt in relationship with Sun: and that is because this tilt effects the intensity of regional receptivity to Sun’s energy over the period of the yearly orbit. This tilt was something that happened in the evolution of our planet in its earliest of days – some four and a half billion years ago, and then stabilised over time: and the climatic zones were further formed when Antarctica separated from Australia and South America, giving birth to the Antarctica Circumpolar Current, changing the circulation of water around all the continents … just some thirty million years ago[i]. Within the period since then, which also saw the advent of the earliest humans, Earth has gone through many climatic changes. It is likely that throughout those changes, the dance of light and dark in both hemispheres of the planet … one always the opposite of the other – has been fairly stable and predictable. The resultant effect on flora and fauna regionally however has varied enormously depending on many other factors of Earth’s ever changing ecology: She is an alive Planet who continues to move and re-shape Herself. She is Herself subject to the cosmic dynamics of creativity – the forming and the dissolving and the re-emerging. The earliest of humans must have received all this, ‘observed’ it, in a very participatory way: that is, not as a Western industrialized or dualistic mind would think of ‘observation’ today, but as kin with the events – identifying with their own experience of coming into being and passing away. There is evidence to suggest that humans have expressed awareness of, and response to, the phenomenon of coming into being and passing away, as early as one hundred thousand years ago: ritual burial sites of that age have been found[ii], and more recently a site of ongoing ritual activity as old as seventy thousand years has been found[iii]. The ceremonial celebration of the phenomenon of seasons probably came much later, particularly perhaps when humans began to settle down. These ceremonial celebrations of seasons apparently continued to reflect the awesomeness of existence as well as the marking of transitions of Sun back and forth across the horizon, which became an important method of telling the time for planting and harvesting and the movement of pastoral animals. https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ It seems that the resultant effect of the dance of light and dark on regional flora and fauna, has been fairly stable in recent millennia, the period during which many current Earth-based religious practices and expression arose. In our times, that is changing again. Humans have been, and are, a major part of bringing that change about. Ever since we migrated around the planet, humans have brought change, as any creature would: but humans have gained advantage and distinguished themselves by toolmaking, and increasingly domesticating/harnessing more of Earth’s powers – fire being perhaps the first, and this also aided our migration. In recent times this harnessing/appropriating of Earth’s powers became more intense and at the same time our numbers dramatically increased: and many of us filled with hubris, acting without consciousness or care of our relational context. We are currently living in times when our planet is tangibly and visibly transforming: the seasons themselves as we have known them for millennia – as our ancestors knew them – appear to be changing in most if not all regions of our Planet. Much predictable Poetry – sacred language – for expressing the quality of the Seasonal Moments will change, as regional flora changes, as the movement of animals and birds and sea creatures changes, as economies change[iv]. In Earth’s long story regional seasonal manifestation has changed before, but not so dramatically since the advent of much current Poetic expression for these transitions, as mixed as they are with layers of metaphor: that is, with layers of mythic eras, cultures and economies. We may learn and understand the traditional significance of much of the Poetry, the ceremony and symbol – the art – through which we could relate and converse with our place, as our ancestors may have done; but it will continue to evolve as all language must. At the moment the dance of dark and light remains predictable, but much else is in a process of transformation. As we observe and sense our Place, our Habitat, as our ancestors also did, we can, and may yet still make Poetry of the dance of dark and light, of this quality of relationship with Sun, and how it may be manifesting in a particular region and its significance for the inhabitants: we may still find Poetic expression with which to celebrate the sacred journey that we make everyday around Mother Sun, our Source of life and energy. It has been characteristic of humans for at least several tens of thousands of years, to create ceremony and symbol by which we could relate with the creative dynamics of our place, and perhaps it was initially a method of coming to terms with these dynamics – with the apparently uniquely human awareness of coming into being and passing away[v]. Our need for …
(Photography & Poetry) Thoughts of Spring by Deanne Quarrie

Spring At the highest point on the tree, you stretch, reaching for the sun. Your pink petals elegant in their grace, you stand alone. Bravest of all, for leaves have yet to come to offer shade Branches bare except for furry buds that will soon follow in imitation of your daring first move. Intrepid flower of Spring, I feel like you in my yearning for the Sun!
(Essay) Walking with Bb by Sara Wright

Walking with Bb: a story exploring the psychic connection between one woman and her bear. Preface: The black bear – hunting season in Maine is brutal – four months of bear hell – five if one includes the month where hunters can track bears for “practice” with hounds – separate mothers and cubs, terrorize them, tree them and do anything but legally kill them. During the legal slaughter, Hunters bait bears with junk food by putting old donuts etc. in cans and shoot the bear while he or she is eating. Most bears (82 percent) are slaughtered in this manner, the rest are killed by hounding and trapping. The season begins in August and lasts through December. Trapping, by the way, is illegal in every state but Maine. Black bears are hated, and that hatred will, of course, eventually result in their extirpation. I had a shy (male) year old black bear visiting my house this past summer with whom I developed a friendship, and what follows is part of our story: Last Saturday I was walking down the road when I remembered that I had not done my daily “circle of protection” imaging for Bb (standing as he was the day he visited me at the window early in August). When I began to do this another picture of Bb moving on all four feet with his face turned towards mine super-imposed itself over his standing image. I could almost see his expression, but not quite. I didn’t know what this imaging meant beyond that we were communicating in some unknown way, and he was in the area (not a good thing on hunting Saturdays). He had not been coming in most nights and I was worried… That night he came. He is still making nightly visits five days later, the most sequentially consistent visits since September 15th, the day I believed that he had been shot. This experience prompted me to write about telepathy and precognition. It is close to All Hallows and the full Hunter’s moon (Nov 3). I keep listening to Charlie Russell’ story which reminds me that loving bears (especially male bears) is hard, almost a sure recipe for disaster, and that I was not alone in this deep concern for and fear of losing Bb. I can barely stand to remember my other bear losses and I can’t stand feeling them. Even after I wrote about the incident with Bb, the experience seemed to carry a charge that didn’t dissipate. Had I missed something? Next I wrote “Root Healer,” exploring the possibility that as I continued to act as Bb’s “little bear mother” now employing psychic techniques to keep him safe (in some desperation as it was the only means left open to me to protect this very vulnerable yearling), that Bb’s presence might also include a gift for me and that it might involve some kind of root healing for my body because Nature thrives on reciprocity. One idea I missed completely, for it was so obvious. Bb’s image was communicating to me that we were having a psychic conversation in that very moment. It was the first time in three months of imaging protective circles that moved with him that I had confirmation from him that we were communicating effectively in this unknown way. This rarely happens. Normally when I do this kind of work, I just do it. I don’t get direct confirmation that it’s working from the animal itself (except with Lily b). Knowing this helped me make another decision I might not have made so intentionally. The hunting season will last into mid December, and I will be traveling during that last month. I keep thinking that putting actual physical distance between Bb and I might pose more of a threat for his life and I have to remind myself that psychic phenomena are not distance dependent. I should be able to image that protective circle every day and feel that it is working. Bb has already shown me that it can but I fear adding distance because I don’t completely trust my own perceptions.* I suspect believing might be an additional dimension of ensuring success when it comes to psychic protection for this bear. But how do I incorporate belief into a picture that is so clouded with personal/cultural doubt? Half the time I don’t believe myself and virtually no one except Rupert Sheldrake, Iren and Harriet have ever taken my experiences seriously. I have to remind myself that I have done this work many times dealing with doubt and it worked anyway. The point of writing this reflection might be to put me on a new edge of increasing Bb’s odds of survival. If it’s possible that an attitude that embraces believing in what I do could help me protect Bb more effectively until hunting is over and its time for him to den in peace I want to claim it. The question I need to answer now is how to go about moving into a more trusting self as a woman who continues to walk with a bear at her side? The night after I wrote the above paragraph I dream of the doubters in the roles of my parents, and in a friend. I take these dreams seriously as doubters inside me and out. These dreams may be telling me that it is unreasonable to expect me to believe that what I do works when no one else does? The problem with this idea is that on some level I do believe. I feel as if I am walking with this bear, every single day. I think about him constantly. The only thing that got me out of the house yesterday was that he was out of chocolate donuts. Something is intensifying my relationship with Bb although I never see him. I am caught in a field of bear energy and information, perhaps through some version of beauty and the beast. That an archetype is …
(Essay) Conceiving, Imagining the New at Samhain by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

It is the Season of Samhain/Deep Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere at this time. In the PaGaian version of Samhain/Deep Autumn ceremony participants journey to the “Luminous World Egg” … a term taken from Starhawk in her book The Spiral Dance[i], where she also names that place as the “Shining Isle”, which is of course, the Seed of conception, a metaphor for the origins of all and/or the female egg: it is the place for rebirth. Artist: Bundeluk, Blue Mountains, Australia. The “luminous world egg” is a numinous place within, the MotherStar of conception: that is, a place of unfolding/becoming. The journey to this numinous place within requires first a journey back, through some of each one’s transformations, however each may wish to name those transformations at this time. The transformations for each and every being are infinite in their number, for there is “nothing we have not been” as has been told by Celts and others of Old, and also by Western science in the evolutionary story (a story told so well by evolutionary biologist Elisabet Sahtouris, particularly in her video Journey of a Silica Atom.) Ceremonial participants may choose selves from biological, present historical self, or may choose selves from the mythic with whom they feel connection; from any lineage – biological or otherwise. Selves may also be chosen from Gaia’s evolutionary story – earlier creatures, winged or scaled ones … with whom one wishes to identify at this time. Each participant is praised for their “becoming” for each self they share. When all have completed these journeys/stories of transformation, the circle is lauded dramatically by the celebrant for their courage to transform; and she likens them all to Gaia Herself who has made such transitions for eons. The celebrant awards each with a gingerbread snake, “Gaian totems of life renewed”[ii]. gingerbread snakes Participants sit and consume these gingerbread snakes in three parts: (i) as all the “old shapes” of self that were named; and (ii) remembering the ancestors, those whose lives have been harvested, whose lives have fed our own, remembering that we too are the ancestors, that we will be consumed; and (iii) remembering and consuming the stories of our world that they desire to change, the stories that fire their wrath or sympathy: in the consuming, absorbing them (as we do), each may transform them by thoughts and actions – “in our own bodyminds”. When all that is consumed “wasting no part”, it is said that “we are then free to radiate whatever we conceive”, to “exclaim the strongest natural fibre known” – our creative selves, “into such art, such architecture, as can house a world made sacred” by our building[iii]. This “natural fibre” is a reference to the spider’s thread from within her own body, with which she weaves her web, her home; and Spider has frequently been felt in indigenous cultures around the globe as Weaver and Creator of the Cosmos. Spider the Creatrix, North America, C. 1300 C.E., Hallie Iglehart Austen, The Heart of the Goddess, p.13 In the ceremony, participants linked with a thread that they weave around the circle, may sail together for a new world “across the vast sunless sea between endings and beginnings, across the Womb of magic and transformation, to the “Not-Yet” who beckons”[iv]: to the Luminous World Egg whereupon the new may be conceived and dreamed up. Samhain/Deep Autumn ceremony is an excellent place for co-creating ourselves, for imaginingthe More that we may become, and wish to become. This is where creation and co-creation happens … in the Womb of Space[v], in which we are immersed – at all times: and Samhain is a good season for feeling it. References: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005 Sahtouris, Elisabet. Earthdance: Living Systems in Evolution. Lincoln NE:iUniversity Press, 2000. Starhawk, The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. NY: Harper and Row, 1999. Swimme, Brian. The Earth’s Imagination.DVD series 1998. NOTES: [i]p.210 [ii]a version of this Samhain script is offered in Chapter 7 PaGaian Cosmology [iii]These quoted phrases are from Robin Morgan, “The Network of the Imaginary Mother”, in Lady of the Beasts, p.84. This poem is a core inspiration of the ceremony. [iv]“Not-Yet” is a term used by Brian Swimme, The Earth’s Imagination, video 8 “The Surprise of Cosmogenesis”. [v]note that creation does not happen at the point of some god’s index finger, as imagined in the Sistine Chapel – what a takeover that is!

(Photo Essay 2) ‘Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess of Korea’ by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part II: The Lost Iconography of Gaeyang Halmi We visited the Suseong Shrine a second time on July 11, 2012. I looked inside the Shrine wherein a shaman ritual was being performed by a Mudang (Korean Shaman)[i] and her assistants. The Mudang in colorful ritual outfit appeared to console her female client on behalf of the spirit. The ritual continued another hour or so and we waited outside until she finished her performance. We had come here on the day of arrival in Jungmak-dong, Buan. The shrine was locked, apparently not being in use. On our second visit, the shrine was packed with four people and their instruments and equipment. It was so compact that it left no room for another person to sit; however, it was pumping up the sober energy. In fact, I have no recollection of which musical instruments were being played inside the shrine. Nonetheless, it feels like that I was hearing the sharp and high banging of the kkwaenggwari (gong) accompanied by the janggu (hourglass drum) rhythm [symbolizing the sound of thunder and rain respectively]. The “musical” sound that I heard shook off the debris of ordinary thoughts and took me to the Other Side of Reality. I began to see things clearly the way they are. I was stepping into the history of this place that I was going to discover.
(Photo Essay 1) ‘Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess of Korea’ by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part I: Living Tradition Bearers and Her Shrine, Suseong-dang I had the privilege to join a field trip to collect the folk stories of Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess, in Buan-gun (Buan County), North Jeolla Province, South Korea July 10-12, 2012. The team comprised a group of graduate students studying Korean Literature at the Kunguk University (Kim Jungeun, Cho Hongyoun, Lee Won-Young, Hwang Sungup, and Lee Boohee) headed by Dr. Shin Dong-Hun, Dr. Park Hyeon-Suk, and myself.[i]
(Special post) Interweaving Mago Threads by Mago Circle Members

“Mago” tradition Magoism is a new word to the modern Western vocabulary, yet it has its linguistic roots in many parts of the globe and in an ancient knowledge and know-how almost lost. Dr Helen Hwang determinedly and methodically is excavating the little-understood historical Mother-Goddess knowledge of Korea, and its traditions, the Mago, and Magoism, and in doing so is unlocking another previously invisible door, and replacing another ripped-off corner of the global map of significant, almost-lost tradition and forgotten knowledge. This is a most welcomed prospect. The newness of this discovery for those who learn of it fills them with excitement because every step to remember the ancient ways, particularly the lost Goddess ways, and those ways that hint of Source, are crucial to humanity remembering itself. Moderns have become accustomed to modes of mind that strip the soul and psyche of finer attunement to earth, sea, stars and each other. This renders most adrift on a sea of seeming limitless freedoms, to be picked up by any technological hook that would substitute for inner knowing. The map becomes the new computer wiring, insurance policy or bank regulation to follow. But once we scrape from our psyches the encrustation of mind most moderns have settled with (which calcifies the innate senses and finer antennae of knowing, emboldening technologically driven modes of mind and being to take their place), then we are on our way to a vivifying recollection. Here is an earlier presentation of the “mago” root word in “imago” or image. Not coincidentally, perhaps, it is connected to maps. (Mary Ann Ghaffurian, culled from Through a Darkened Door—Light, Part 2 by Mary Ann Ghaffurian PhD [http://magoism.wordpress.com/2012/11/26/through-a-darkened-door-light-part-2-by-mary-ann-ghaffurian-phd/]) A very special online, global group Dearest X, …Which brings to mind the “other” reason why I wanted to write to you … Other than just saying “hello” and letting you know that you are very much missed, I also wanted to share with you about a very special online, global group that I have had the honor of being a part of. This group is called Mago Circle and it was founded by my dear friend, “sister” and colleague, Helen Hwang. Helen’s work and commitment to restoring Mago, Ancestral Mother Goddess, to her rightful place as progenitor and creatrix of the Korean people, has not only been admirable but truly critical during a time when we are in real need for inspiration from thought leaders and scholars with a solid foundation in the arts and research of the sacred feminine. As you know, with the roots of Korean shamanism in the realm of women, it makes perfect sense that Korean spirituality must also have sprung within the womb of Woman … the great cosmic goddess, Mago. While Helen’s work is very much grounded in meticulous research — showcasing Korea to the rest of the world in all of Her depth, herstory, and vibrance — it is more importantly, founded in genuine intentions of love, transparency, and humility. I know that Helen can explain the depth, breadth, and height of her work much better than me so I think it will be better to have her directly share more of herself with you; what I simply hope to do through this letter is perhaps help serve as a familiar hand …. reaching out to you and letting you know that your presence and blessings as a well-regarded and much-admired Korean female shaman and scholar would be much appreciated in Mago Circle. Do you remember, X, … you once told me … about 20 years ago: “Sanity is insanity with a focus.” These words I still remember and hold true … they have helped me through times that were truly dismal and chaotic in my life, and with this reassuring and transformational way of looking at myself, looking at my life, looking at the world, I have made it through. My life continues to have its share of insanity, but I know that with focus, all sanity is restored. I know that my letter to you today may feel unexpected and random (especially after not having seen each other for so, so long), but as you know, somehow, life brings us through twists and turns that may seem awkward and strange at first, but upon retrospect, all makes complete sense. In closing, may I have the honor and pleasure of introducing Helen Hwang and the Mago Circle to you … I realize that you must be very busy, but it is my sincere hope that you will find a little time to acquaint yourself with Helen and this wonderful group of women (and men) who are very much dedicated to restoring the balance and peace of Korea and the world via Mago and her goddess sisters of many names… (Wennifer Lin, culled from her letter to her old friend) I share your call for staying connected with each other at a time of cultural and religious tensions. I too believe that all tensions arise from a patriarchal system of hegemony or domination. In the absence of patriarchal hegemony, there would be little or no tension among human beings. The belief in the Mother Goddess would remove the necessity for aggression and hence domination of other human beings or animals. In the eyes of the Mother, every living being is her creature. Hence love, kindness, nurturing and all that is beautiful would prevail everywhere. Am I sounding too idealistic or am I pining for a utopian society that is just not possible? But in theory, it is possible to return to the spirit of Mother, manifest in everything in nature and in our thoughts and actions. With admiration and preservation of Mother we can change the world for a better place. So with this in mind, I submit to all women (who are the living image of the Great Mother Goddess) and goddess lovers in the world to unite in our efforts to bring back the ideals of the Great Goddess. As an academic, I …

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