Radical Doll Making
I call myself a radical doll maker taking this practice back to its roots. Back to roots of dolls as tools of magic, of holding intention, created and used within ritual. In a world that views female stone figurines as male pornography this is indeed a radical art!
I choose the gatherer’s story. I choose to spend time with my sisters in a sacred creative circle where together we weave magic envisioning it stretching out through space and time to Continue reading
“Waiting to Fly”, © Robin Quinlivan. Used by permission.
These are burning times. And they call for burning women. Women embodying their passion. Women feeling in their bodies. Creative women. Courageous women. Connected women.
Gather the women. Gather the men. Let burning women and burning men come together in ecstatic creative partnership. In dangerous acts of creative rebellion.
Rip your clothes off, run towards the flames and dance like there’s no tomorrow to the beat of your own heart. Only you can hear the rhythm, only you know its tune, only your body can dance this way, so do it. Stop holding back, and waiting, and trying to do it right, and not upset anyone. Continue reading
Jesus, Muhammad and the Goddess: a Girl God Anthology. Edited by Trista Hendren, Pat Daly
and Noor-un-nisa Gretasdottir
Introduction by Trista Handren
“It is a patient pursuit to bring water from the depth of the ground; one has to deal with much mud in digging before one reaches the water of life.”
–Hazrat Inayat Khan Continue reading
Old Antlered One. Art doll by Jude Lally
Sacred Becoming the Political
In looking into the theories of the stone goddess figurines and the artists of the cave art, it doesn’t take long before we become entangled in archaeological dogma. In 2009 the Woman of Hohle Fels was found, a carved female figurine dating back to 35,000 BCE. Nowell and Chang (2014) reviewed the scholarship around this finding as well as the mass media reporting. As news of the figurine was reported in the mass media, she was reported with headlines such as “World’s first Page 3 Girl”, “Smut carved from Continue reading
For almost 40 years, my feminist activism has been accomplished primarily through writing in the English language, until the day I learned that I was even more fluent in the Goddess language of being. During a drumming practice not long ago I was thinking about something my teacher had said — “All musical instruments come from drums” — and I thought, “When I play my drum, I speak the oldest of languages, the heartbeat of our mother in the womb,” a language that all share. But this language was older than that, beginning with the Big Bang and continuing in the waves that make up the reality of our universe, the masterpiece of She Who Creates. This was a language I profoundly knew but never thought of as a language till that moment. It is the language of being simply who we are, in all our sacred glory, in the most elemental way beginning with the most basic rhythm of our lives.
Ani Finch is an American poet, author, and performer. She has published more than twenty books, including the epic abortion poem Among the Goddesses (Red Hen Press) and Spells: New and Selected Poems (Wesleyan University Press). Educated at Yale University, University of Houston, and Stanford University, Ani also writes regularly for The Huffington Post on Goddesses, witchcraft, and women’s spirituality. She is currently completing a new book of poems as well as a prose book, The New American Witch: Five Directions to Your Inner Goddess. For more information and to sign up to receive Ani’s Spells, please visit poetrywitch.com.
Riding the Red Dragon, ©Sandra Curtis
When diagnosed with “unexplained infertility” and during the long, long process of grieving that followed unsuccessful IVF attempts, I found myself almost obsessively drawing and making images of vulvas over and over again. Stylised line drawings, paintings, abstracts, moulding in clay, noticing its shape in many natural forms. I had no clear idea why. All I knew in the deepest part of me was that I must, for as long, and as many times, as it needed to come forth. Like stumbling along a path blindly in the dark, one step after the other without any clue where the path leads, it became like a daily “drawing meditation” followed by however many (or few) words spoke from (or to) each image. Not judging any of it, just allowing it to flow out on the page in whatever way it needed to that day, and the next day, and so on. Continue reading