April 18, 2014October 2, 2019 Mago Work Admin

(Art) Crow Mother by Lydia Ruyle

Crow Mother is the mother of all the katsinas who are spirits of the Hopi universe. The Hopi, which means peace, believe all beings in the universe carry energy. They are one of the oldest living pueblo cultures and reside on three mesas in northern Arizona. Crow Mother appears during the Powamu or Bean dance, which opens the ritual year. She offers corn to sustain life and switches for discipline and protection. She stands on a rock art labyrinth symbolizing the human journey of life. Black crows hang out around humans and love corn.

Source: Katsina. Painted Wood. N.d. Hopi. Museum of Northern Arizona. Flagstaff

Read Meet Mago Contributor Lydia Ruyle.

0 thoughts on “(Art) Crow Mother by Lydia Ruyle”

Donna Snyder says:

April 19, 2014 at 9:06 PM

Another wonderful artwork by Lydia Ruyle. I never cease to be amazed. Here is an offering, humble and unworthy as it may be.

Lament for Mother Crow

Sold
for 106,000 Euros,
$209,000 American,
more than three times the pre-sale estimate
because calamity sells, you know.
Headlines sell. It’s the American way,
and apparently the French way, but not the Hopi way.

Stolen
by a Frenchman 100 years ago,
Mother Crow. She brings the bean sprouts
to The People, peaceful folks who live in the desert
in mud houses and trailers in the bellybutton of the world.
She initiates the children into the life before them,
ensures the good health and behavior of children.

It is a crime
against The People, the Hopi,
Pueblo people surrounded by Others.
Encircled by a hostile Navajo Nation.
Enclosed by the usurping State of Arizona.
Swallowed by the United States of America
Vomited out in Paris on an auction block.

Mother Crow
brings life to The People each year.
Mother of all the kachinas
who bring water from the mountains
and make the blue corn to be ground
and baked into piki bread, blue bread.
thin wisps that crumble and melt on the tongue

Religious relic
Pieces of feather and turquoise chunks.
A wooden mask carved and painted,
pieces of godliness and Mother Crow,
sold to the highest bidder somewhere cold,
somewhere not the center of the earth,
too far for Mother Crow to fly back to her mountain

and return next year at the appointed time.

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dlwshieldfacebook2 says:

April 19, 2014 at 2:47 AM

I resonate with the spiritual essence in this image, Lydia. I see you use current colors. Very interesting.

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(Art Poem) Sacred marriage by Yvonne M. Lucia

It’s rumored that Mary Magdalene and Christ were lovers.
(Book Review) Amazon Grace: Read it Aloud by Harriet Ann Ellenberger

Mary Daly’s Amazon Grace: Re-Calling the Courage To Sin Big, New York and Hampshire, England: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006 reviewed by Harriet Ellenberger I want all of us to read Mary Daly’s latest book, sooner rather than later, and to read it aloud. Here’s why: Amazon Grace transmits energy at bolt-of-lightning levels, even more so when the sound of the words intensifies their meaning. Amazon Grace exposes made-in-the-USA fascism with such fierceness that reviewers in the homeland of homeland security have been leery of touching it. I think it’s our political responsibility to not let this book be buried. Amazon Grace sums up and takes off from a lifetime of the author’s philosophical work, work that is both solid and wide-ranging. Amazon Grace begins by announcing itself as “a challenge and an invitation hurled out to Daring, Desperate Women everywhere” – and it is – but the interweaving of idea, fact, metaphor, and story in Amazon Grace can prove central and illuminating for anyone desiring that life continue on earth. I love the cut-to-the-chaseness of Amazon Grace – Daly wastes zilch time in getting to the point. Patriarchy is the global terrorist system that targets the planet and its life forms for destruction; woman-hating, nature-hating, life-hating, are at its core; and women who once knew this perfectly well, as well as those just learning it, need to begin again generating the energy between and amongst ourselves to name the system, confront it, transcend it. Even if, or especially if, the situation appears hopeless. To emerge from despair, do something. I also love the time-traveling aspect of the book. Daly and nineteenth-century feminist Matilda Joslyn Gage hold frequent and fervent conversations throughout; Mary shows Matilda the televised bombing of Baghdad and briefs her on the history of atomic weapons; they travel together to 2056 B.E. (Biophilic Era) to meet with the survivor women of Lost and Found Continent. These parts of the book work well if read as flights of the imagination, fictional devices to make vivid the author’s points about what has been, what is, what can be. But I’m noticing something additional going on with these time-travel stories: in telling them, Mary Daly performs the classic work of the tribal medicine woman or shaman. On behalf of the collective, she journeys into the realms of non-ordinary reality and brings back knowledge to make whole the life of her people. Her people are, to begin with, the daring and desperate women everywhere whom she addresses; through them, the circle enlarges to encompass the living beings of earth. She connects us to the intelligent powers of the universe, and this is a medicine woman’s job. Finally, let me not fail to mention that the animals in Amazon Grace, from Mary’s cat Cottie, who, in ordinary reality, paws out significant volumes from Mary’s bookshelves, to Brontie, the telepathic brontosaurus who sets out on a vacation and ends up teaching Mesozoic-Era wisdom to the inhabitants of Lost and Found, are a pure delight. In 1973, when Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women’s Liberation was published, Mary Daly seemed to me to be articulating the deepest desires and intuitions of an entire movement, myself included, and placing that movement at the center of hope for human survival. The fortunes of her work since then have mirrored the fortunes of the movement to which she devoted her thought and energy: first, she was made a sort of media star, then she was scapegoated, then her work was pigeon-holed and ignored. But the peril of women and all the creatures of earth that she described thirty-three years ago has only intensified in the meantime; the forces responsible for that danger have gathered strength and momentum and become more clearly visible; and the movement that could name and dispel them has been divided and dispersed, becoming an almost un-locate-able entity. Under these circumstances, a mourner part of myself resists any re-kindling of communal energy and hope, wanting only to disappear into the woods (get me out of this mess, puh-leeze), while the spirit part of myself longs as much as ever to live and act and be part of something that is authentic, passionate, directed. I hate to drag Shakespeare into it, but “to be or not to be” really does seem to be the question du jour, for each of us. And be-ing confronting non-being has always been the focus of Mary Daly’s work. That’s what makes her books essential reading, more timely now than when they were first written. Harriet Ellenberger was an activist in the U.S. civil rights and anti-Vietnam War movements and a founding member of the Charlotte (North Carolina) Women’s Center (1971). She founded and edited the lesbian feminist journal Sinister Wisdom with Catherine Nicholson (1976-81), was a founding member of the bilingual feminist bookstore L’Essentielle in Montreal (1987), published a small feminist journal on the web called She Is Still Burning (2000-2003), and co-edited with Lise Weil several issues of Trivia: Voices of Feminism (2004-8). She lives in rural New Brunswick, where she and her partner are renovating an old farmhouse.For an updated list of works published in TRIVIA, please see this author’s contributor page. Originally published in Trivia: Voice of Feminism.
(Essay) Farewell for Now to a Beautiful Mother by Harriet Ann Ellenberger

On 19 May 2013, my mother died, four days after her hundredth birthday. She’d been living for weeks on ice chips and low-dose morphine, regularly leaving her body to walk and talk with my father, then returning to report to my brother at her bedside and to me via long-distance phone. No one knew when she would leave and not return, but everyone believed that her departure was imminent. Five days before her centennial, however, she suddenly said to my brother, “It’s only a week away; maybe I can make it.” And she revived, sending the nursing-home staff into a frenzy of last-minute party planning. When the morning of her birthday dawned sunny and warm, they came to dress her for a convertible ride around the small town of Reinbeck, Iowa, and she said, “Hallelujah, I thought I’d never get out of this place alive.” The convertible was a bright yellow muscle car with the top down, and the route had been planned so that town residents could come out on the curb to sing “happy birthday” to her at various stops along the way. It all worked like a charm, and she made the driver stop three times in addition, to listen to the birds singing and to watch squirrels run up and down the tree trunks. After a half-hour ride, they returned to her room, which had been transformed into a festival of balloons and cakes and flowers and visitors with cameras. The next morning, she slipped into a coma and was gone three days later. And the morning following her death, I woke with the realization that there was no one left but me who knew the stories of her early life. In a rush to send something to my brother before her grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered for her funeral, I wrote the following: Some Things You May Not Know About the Young Kathryn Louise Truitt Ellenberger:
(Essay) Being is the Language of the Goddess by Carolyn Lee Boyd

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. The next day I was walking in the woods and heard a racket, frogs in a pond all warbling at once, then all silent, then all warbling again. Down the trail was a tree full of birds all chirping as they flew from branch to branch in a kind of syncopated rhythm. I suddenly thought of them as speaking to each other in their own language — “Let’s make some babies!” “There’s a human down there!” — but also to me in a language we both understood that came from our instincts to come alive in the season’s warmth and the return of abundance and life — “It’s spring! Time for renewal!” When I wandered down to my garden to see what plants were beginning to pop through the soil, the violet flowers of the periwinkle — that had come and gone on the same hillside for decades since, most likely, before my own childhood — spoke of the constancy of nature even as I move from youth to middle age to elderhood. Bloodroot has a red sap that is poisonous, but is traditionally used as a crimson dye, and small, simple, white flowers that have always reminded me that the new life of spring comes from blood and the hard work of giving birth, whether to baby beings, art works, relationships or anything else. The first leaves of the healing herbs in my garden assure me of the benevolence of the universe. All of these messages came from the plants’ expression of their gift of themselves, whether their beauty, their sap and simplicity of their flowers, or their healing properties. These beings, through their effect on me and other beings who encounter them, have an impact on the world just by expressing who they most essentially are. Do humans do the same? I began to think of my ancestors, especially my female ancestors, and wonder, what did they tell me through the language of their lives? Each of them, in her own way and within the constraints of her time and place, expresses to me that life is to be lived as an adventure on my own terms. My grandmother went to college at age 40 with small children at home at a time when women simply did not do that. My mother learned to fly an airplane in midlife because she wanted to see the world from heaven’s viewpoint. As I sat by my mother’s bedside as she died, and we looked into each other’s eyes, she traced a tear down her cheek with her finger and I knew that she was saying that she would miss being on this plane with me, but that love is eternal. All these actions that came deeply from the heart transformed me more than only words ever could. As I considered, I realized that the revolutions that shake the world come not just from what we say, but our expressions in deed that show the effects on ourselves of the changes we are making in the world. On my 25th birthday, I heard Merlin Stone speak about her experience writing “When God Was a Woman” and for the first time I understood that Divinity could look, and for most of human history had looked, like me, a woman. A few months later I witnessed Diane Wolkstein performing “Inanna” at the Museum of Natural History in New York City and I knew that the stories of Goddess had meaning for my own life and that I could center my spirituality around Her. Their words were important, but more essential to my new life-changing understanding was who Merlin and Diane were as women — Merlin’s passion and sureness that she was a messenger for the Goddess who was ready to re-emerge in the world and Diane’s willingness to move Goddess through her body and voice to speak again to the women of the world. Their language of being was what remade me by showing me that Goddess is alive and that I am part of Her just as they were. In the decades since then I have known many women who have changed the world, sometimes one person at a time, sometimes in ways that have moved society as a whole forward. In each case, it is not what they said or wrote alone, but rather who they were and how they affected those who came into contact with them that was their most effective activism. What will my true Goddess activism be? Will my life echo what I have comprehended Goddess saying to me — “Be free!”, “Know that you are loved always for who you are,” “Respect all beings, the Earth, and the universe,” “Understand in the deepest womb of your soul that you are sacred and deserving of happiness, joy, and peace”? How will I “be” to convey these things so that others see the Goddess within themselves who do not now? Now I know that every moment is precious and not to be wasted. Everything I …
Elderberrying with the Yei by Sara Wright

Every year at the end of August I celebrate the Wild Harvest by gathering elderberries to make a medicinal tincture that I use all year long and share with close friends. This gathering is a process that begins in the spring as I search for new bushes and then later blossoming elderberry flowers in old and new places. As the summer progresses, I continue to monitor the bushes searching for those with berries. Beginning in early August I am on alert for ripening. I am especially mindful because our weather is changing rapidly. If the trend of bad air, fog, too many deluges continues unabated it’s probable that the times for harvesting berries may shift. In addition, many of the wild places that once supported elderberry bushes have been manicured to get rid of the wild plants by mowing them down, bulldozing the soil to remove all greenery, etc. The rape of wild nature has escalated with time. This year I have been especially fortunate because I found new clusters bursting out in places they weren’t before. I think the Elder – Berry Woman is helping me. Destroying these precious wild plants and their habitat means that a once common ancient Native plant remedy may be disappearing. Despite horticultural advertising our elderberry bushes do not do well in cultivation, if they survive at all. I know enough (which a almost nothing) about the mycorrhizal fungal network to know that just the right combination of plants and fungi must be present for these plants to thrive, even if I don’t understand what those relationships could be. Westerners have yet to return sovereignty to the soil as Native Peoples did from the beginning thousands and thousands of years ago. All Indigenous peoples have names for the fungal power that lies beneath our feet. One such name according to Robin Wall Kimmerer is Puhpowee, an Anishinaabe word for the spirit or force that causes fruiting fungi (mushrooms) to appear out of earth overnight. Ever since I first dreamed that I needed to use this plant for my well-being many years ago, I have heeded that call. The winters I spent in NM were the only years I didn’t use this tincture. I became desperately ill. Up until this year I have always done my gathering alone calling upon the Grandmothers to be present for me during this process. Before we began last week I called up the “Elderberry Woman” to be present for our prayers of thanksgiving as Gary joined me as a gatherer. The actual process took eight days in all. Our first gathering included too many berries that were not yet ripe. After checking my secret places during the remainder of the week I picked another quart and a half determining that this Monday would be just the right day – and it was! Within an hour Gary and I had all the berries we needed! Yesterday, was the last winnowing day for me. Four in all. The first was frustrating. I lost my glasses, couldn’t see the berries and ended up throwing at least 2/3rds away because so many were unripe (I hate waste). The second time included a brief magical moment, the result of discovering that deadly machines had not wiped out an entire elderberry patch probably because the destructive road work was done above ground. Just finding a couple of tablespoons of ripe berries reminded me of the fact that nature is above all focused on renewal, and if the underground networks aren’t destroyed S/he will rise again. That evening I sat out with the Yei* as I winnowed the few berries feeling the presence of the Ancestral Navajo Woman Spirits floating around my joy. The third time I found berries was the day before Gary and I went gathering for the second time. I was checking a couple of places just to be sure the harvest was at its peak picking a small basketful of ripe berries in the process. After winnowing them, I had a good idea of just how much we still needed. Knowing just how much was important because I was also focused on not taking more berries than we needed. Some must always be left for regeneration and the birds and animals who eat them. Animals and birds who then deposit seeds that hopefully will end up in another wild place. Monday’s gathering was a golden moment for both of us with Gary able to walk and reach into inaccessible places that I can no longer reach. We came home elated; the job was done – at least for him. Yesterday I hoped to winnow the remainder outdoors in the sun, but as usual the air was so poisoned with pollutants (127 – dangerous for everyone to breathe) that I came inside to finish winnowing and bottling the rest, a job that took most of the day. I always associate this harvesting of Elder – Berries with the late summer sun, so retreating indoors to celebrate a summer harvest was an unwelcome change. Our summers no longer usher in fresh clean air but layers of fog, drizzle, deluges and hazy humid sun and heat. Pollutants abound. I confess I am still in mourning for clean fragrant mountain air that I never took for granted in the first place. To make the adjustment to ‘what is’ requires moving through this grief. But for the moment I am steeped in gratitude, grateful for a bountiful harvest and giving thanks for Gary’s help. I am getting old and having such loving assistance has become necessity, at least in some gathering areas which are now too dangerous for me to traverse safely. Additionally, I was able to show Gary how to determine when the berries were ripe and how to winnow them, passing on a beloved harvesting practice to a man who is a powerful healer in his own right. A joyful moment for me. Every year this particular harvest attaches me to the Ancestral Spirits, …
(Poem) Eclipse of Hope by Harriet Ann Ellenberger

Acutely Personal, Eerily Collective In early autumn of 1985, I had been living for four months in a Studio of One’s Own, a beautifully airy structure built by women for women artists on Ann Stokes’ land, a low wooded mountain-top in New Hampshire across the river from Brattleboro, Vermont. It was the first time I’d lived alone and the first time I’d lived in the woods. I was there to write a serious book of prose and to chart a new direction for my life. Instead, I’d been getting up at the crack of dawn to write in my journal, walking the trails all over the old mountain, and skidding wildly from ecstatic vision to paralyzing despair. My journal entry for 1 October 1985 reads: “11 a.m. I am EXHAUSTED. 11:30 a.m. Well, shit, I just wrote a poem.” It was, astonishingly, a real poem, one of the first I’d written since childhood, but there was a tongue-tangle, marking a conceptual muddle, in the second stanza that I couldn’t for the life of me disentangle. Eventually, I put the poem away and even forgot I’d written it. Twenty-six years later, in the midst of an e-mail to a friend about something else altogether, the lines as they were meant to be surfaced in my mind. Why did it take so long? Well, I’ve come to think that humankind has a species-soul, a deep current that courses invisibly beneath the surface of our individual lives. When that soul is in trouble, we can feel it. In the mid-1980s, it was clear to any witness of my life that I personally was in trouble, my past gone and my future unknown. But I couldn’t altogether articulate what that felt like. By the summer of 2011, though, human beings were clearly and collectively in the same kind of trouble: past gone, future unknown. And suddenly, with so much company, I could say how that feels. Have human beings already precipitated the final decline of our mother the Earth? If not, how far will she need to go to restore balance and renew life? Will humans become extinct in the process, the way we’ve sent so many other species into extinction? These are the questions I ask myself, but I don’t know the answers. I only know how it feels now to be human, and on the brink. ◊ ECLIPSE OF HOPE A moon blots out a sun. Darkening silence comes between us. In place of my house, stands a tower of stone. At its crown — the lightning catcher, she who writes on the blank rune. Below, my departing selves wait with their boats. Driftwood burns. I mark in sand the sign of migration. My eyes sting. At my wingbones four winds rise. – Harriet Ann Ellenberger Note: “Eclipse of Hope” first appeared in the Spring 2012 issue of Trivia: Voices of Feminism http://www.triviavoices.com/eclipse-of-hope.html
(Art) Volunteer Lifesavers (with Annette Kellermann) by Eileen Haley

Women lifesavers (including one in a burqini) dance on a beach. Mermaids populate the ocean behind the figures.
The Kindness of Winter’s Cailleach by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Cailleach Beira, Wondertales from Scottish Myth and Legend, 1917, Internet Archive Book Images, No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons The most ancient Cailleach was the Goddess of winter throughout the Celtic lands. Usually envisioned as an old woman, She is a Creatrix, making mountains by dropping stones from Her apron. She terrified her believers by throwing down Her staff to freeze the land in winter, whipped up frenzied storms, and harshly punished those who mistreated wild animals. You will find her name on rivers, mountains, lakes, monuments, and standing stones. Yet, at the same time, the Cailleach has a nurturing side to Her. She is the mother of entire tribes. She protects deer and other wildlife from hunters. Her staff is known for healing. An Irish tale tells of her rescuing a baby who was to be killed because he was born of rape and incest. She removed the curse from the child and returned him to his grandmother who raised him. In Scotland, she saved a young boy who had fallen from a cliff while hunting rock doves, telling him never to hunt the doves again or she would not be there to rescue him. These gentler qualities of the Cailleach are so needed in our own time. We need goddesses who are unafraid to wield their power and act boldly, but who have a perspective of kindness that comes from witnessing our planet’s travails from the beginning of time and realizing that true transformation comes from encouragement rather than harshness. We need goddesses who understand from healing hundreds of millennia of human misery that only compassion joined with fierce persistence can bring spring from the winter our world is now in. One aspect of this tender-hearted Cailleach that I especially crave these days is seeing other beings as inherently worthy and not commodities, whether cows, deer, or people. From the Cailleach’s perspective, without wealth or social hierarchy, with all the world full of spirit, all beings are experienced as valuable just as they are and not for how they can benefit those who hold authority over them. An Irish poem supposed to be a Cailleach’s lament of the state of the world at the time it was written says: “It is riches you love and not people, when we were alive, it was people we loved.” May we always love people and all beings, and not riches. This Cailleach is concerned with individuals and the small acts of life. She is not too mighty or busy to save a hunted fawn or a young boy who has foolishly risked his life to prey on a small bird to teach him about not victimizing others. She knows that the world changes one person, one action at a time. May we cherish even the tiniest, frailest being and do even the smallest action with intention and thought, knowing that these are the key to the most profound changes. She knows that the mightiest power is that of healing and regeneration, not violence and destruction. When she is hurling her staff to make the winter that is necessary for new life in the spring or throwing boulders to make islands and mountains, she is not destroying, but creating. The Cailleach has given her name and blessing to “womb tombs,” places of burial of the dead, in Ireland and elsewhere. Here people were lovingly placed near carvings of vulvas and other symbols of new life so that they may be reborn and once again join the living. She teaches that death leads to regeneration, to rebirth. May we focus our attention and lives not on destroying and death, but on healing and renewing. People’s Vote March, 2018 User:Colin / Wikimedia Commons Recently I have come to see the Cailleach in many elder women I know. They are strong women with their own ideas, talents, and dreams and wield power within their families and communities while exhibiting a committed kindness. They experienced great loss in their lives but found their way through that grief to the empathy that comes from elder wisdom. They love nature and wildlife and fiercely protect children, non-human living beings, and those in tough circumstances. They were born into societies that did not value their talents, but they live their lives in ways that make it is clear who they are and what is important to them. They are healers on many levels — educators, good friends and neighbors, philosophers and theologians. This mightiness of older women who combine power with caring is seen in current research into the magic of grandmothers who nurture their grandchildren. Karen Hawkes developed the “grandmother effect” hypothesis that having grandmothers care for grandchildren resulted in lower child mortality, a theory that has been borne out by research of populations across time and continents. Moreover, grandmothers are frequently the transmitters of oral traditional culture to their grandchildren. More recently, studies show that children who are cared for by their grandparents have fewer injuries, better grades, and fewer behavioral difficulties. Many of the older women I think of as like the Cailleach never knew the name or myths of the Cailleach, but they each lived Her legacy. You may have, too, and you probably know elder women who do. When I imagine the might of the Cailleach, but with the faces of these women, I know that She is not a mythical figure from long ago, but alive, here and now, in all of us, ready for both our global challenges and moments of love, peace, and joy. Sources: Max Dashu, Witches and Pagans; Patricia Monaghan, Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines https://www.magoism.net/2016/08/meet-mago-contributor-carolyn-lee-boyd/
(Solstice art) May the Light Within Guide Your Way by Jassy Watson

The Priestess walks the wild soul path of magic and mystery. With sacred signs and messages to receive on her journey she lights Her way with a lamp of old and forges the armour that no longer serves her in the winter flames. There is a deep knowing in her heart that it is the light within she is seeking. From the darkness and cold, the light and hope return. Winter Solstice Blessings to those in the Southern Hemisphere. May the light within guide your way in the dark. (This work is included in Celebrating Seasons of the Goddess, Mago Books 2017.) Read Meet Mago Contributor Jassy Watson.

(Special Post Mother Teresa 3) A Role Model for Women? by Mago Circle Members

Part III: The Debate, What Went Right/Wrong with Mother Teresa? [Editorial Note: The following is an edited version of the discussion that took place spontaneously on Mago Circle from March 1, 2013 for about two weeks. It was an extensive, heated, yet reflective discussion, now broken into four parts to fit the format of the blog. We thank each and all of the participants for your openness, generosity, and courage to stand up for what you believe and think! Some are marked as anonymous. As someone stated, something may have been “written in the heat of the moment” and some might like to change it at a later time. So we inform our readers that nothing is written in stone. As a matter of fact, the discussion is ongoing, now with Magoism Blog readers. Please comment and respond as you wish.] [C]: Unfortunately, Mother Theresa is not understood here in some of these comments: To be in any way critical of Mother Theresa using what was the state of the world in her time & the poor & dying as tools of compassion, even more so when left to die visibly barely cared for, as a teaching method must not be looked at as unfeeling on her part as it was her greatest sorrow to use them so horribly as means to an end, but they were what she had at hand. Was never her intention to use any money to save them, would negate their very suffering purpose as well. She did not believe we all had learned the lesson yet in her time so she had to pretend to be solving the problem while continuing the problem. You see, the money was a byproduct of no importance to her, used just to get the peoples’ attention by using what they valued, let the Church have it for other things for it had served it’s purpose by bringing her sought after awareness of the poor & dying into view. In pretending to like & accept attention to herself, honors, & even challenges to these choices, all for one purpose to fool, to get the poor & dying attention, is why she was so distressed near the end by the means she had to use to reach that end! And perhaps her sheer loss of hope at having to stoop to such measures which reflects on the sad state of the rest of us. Wondering here where the money went doesn’t understand anything of what she was trying to do. [C]: Thank You Naa Ayele Kumari for plowing through my thoughts enough to ‘like’ even! Could I be understood that Mother Theresa’s intentions were ‘higher’ than just taking care of the poor & dying in institutions, but to have the people understand there should be ‘feelings’ for them so they would never ever even have to be cared for in such ‘style’? She sacrificed these many nonpeaceful deaths to display, to show, to the whole world the direction it was heading, for the saving of the future multitudes of suffering & deaths if no one understood & cared soon. She dreamed these future lives would be right & good & their deaths would be the same attended by loved ones of their own, no need for group interference. She did not wish to just contain such tragedy, but to eliminate it from the whole earth forever. In the smaller scale view of some today the institutions are a necessary step, however Mother Theresa thought this a false step on a horrible path in the wrong direction, & she knew this, & dreamed beyond! To send away, to cage, the suffering, old, & sick in any society is a crime against Mother Nature no matter what the excuses or how pretty the packaged institution is presented! [Z] Did not foresee the discussion would provoke such indepth and rich responses. It feels that we are getting close to the bottom of the matter that has not been brought up for so long, not in my life time. Profound interactions that make us aware of the aspects of how our thinking and living can be based on the kind of values we hold. I treat each and all of you in the hand of our goddesses. Anne Wilkerson Allen: I think the Mother always moves us back toward compassion. Whether we have a sense of deity or not, we can all understand contextually how she was used and that her “beliefs” left her with such poverty of spirit that her entire life is under the microscope. I wonder, will the media ask what the Church has done with all their Billions or simply focus on a dead nun indoctrinated by the system? Diane Horton: No, I am sorry. [C], that is an incredible rationalization of Mother Teresa’s actions. Unbelievable actually. For you to justify her not using the extraordinary amount of money sent to her by saying that she chose to use these horrible deaths to bring attention to the sick and the dying and evoke compassion in people – that is the most megalomaniac position possible! Did she assume the role of God then?? That is outrageous! To think that she had the means to relieve these poor people’s sufferings and chose not to in order to USE them is even more heinous to me! I cannot wrap my head around how you think that is a good thing. She already HAD evoked compassion for these people. That’s why the money poured in! And all the “pretending” and lying you said she did for the greater good? NO. Compassion and empathy are a basic human response to suffering. “She sacrificed these nonpeaceful deaths” REALLY?! She had no right. And she was wrong. I can see no lofty ideal she was displaying there. Diane Horton: Forgive, me. I could not let what was said there lie. I won’t say anymore. Everyone has their own perspective. And each perspective together makes the whole. Blessed Be. [C]: On this […]
(Special Post Isis 2) Why the Color of Isis Matters by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s note: The discussion took place in Mago Circle during the month of July, 2013. Our heartfelt thanks go to the members who participated in this discussion with openness and courage.] Part 2 The Color Talk in Goddesses Kahena Dorothea Athena was also whitened which is sad. However the statues were worshiped by many women to whom they brought comfort. And their origins were later remembered by the abundance of Black Virgins that became important in Italy and other parts of Europe. I don’t see Dark Goddesses as shadows but as having depths of Creativity and Knowledge. My main Goddess is Kirke and the bast relief I have of her is a chocolate brown. Diane Horton The worship of Isis broadened from Egypt to all the countries bordering the Mediterranean, as well as the Middle East and the isles called now the British Isles. She and Her worship were virtually everywhere in the westernly known world of the time! She IS the Goddess of 10,000 Names! And as such she was adapted to each culture’s vision of Her. She was the basis of all the” Black Madonnas”. I do not think of this as Isis/Auset representing the “dark” Goddess as something somehow bad or to be dealt with, but rather that ancient darkness represents infinite potential, eternal creativity/fertility, the beginning and ending of all things, and the always deepening knowledge of magick. Max Dashu However, there is a politics of representation that we all need to be aware of, that pushes original African iconography down and away, and fronts Europeanized images. There is no possibility of “colorblindness” in such a system; a restoration of the original must be actively striven toward. This is incumbent on all of us not of (recent) African descent. Otherwise we perpetuate the injurious status quo, instead of overturning it. Harita Meenee I agree with those who say that race is largely a social construct. Its roots seem to lie in colonialism and the slave trade. I would also like to add that racism is used to oppress people of different nationalities and colors. Ηere in Greece the IMF neo-liberal policies are destroying our economy (and lives); they go hand in hand with a vicious racist campaign against immigrants, along with the rise of a neo-Nazi party. This is part of an effort to redirect people’s anger away from the government and bankers, towards those who are poor and foreign and often have a different color or religion. Fortunately, many grassroots activists are responding to this by building a strong anti-racist, antifascist movement. You can see our Facebook page below. It’s in Greek but the photos are quite revealing. If anyone is interested in learning more about the situation here, please message me and I’ll try to find some articles in English for you. https://www.facebook.co/19JanuaryATHENSvsFASCISM?fref=ts 19 Γεναρη – ΑΘΗΝΑ ΠΟΛΗ Αντιφασιστικη Μπροστά στη κλιμάκωση της φασιστικής απειλής και της ρατσιστικής βίας, στη εμφάν…See More Naa Ayele Kumari Let me put this in the context of something you might understand. This is a goddess group that honors the feminine and the power it represents. People in this group understand the oppression and misrepresentation of women. We understand the implications of misogynistic patriarchal thinking. We understand the implications of stealing the information, rites, and traditions from goddess centered cultures and rephrasing them into male dominated themes… especially those that then went on to oppress women today. This is the same thing that has happened as it related to race and our cultures. It infuriates us when a man may say… why do we have to focus on the goddess? Let us just accept that we are all human and no special consideration should be given to anyone because of their gender. Or, this is just a distraction or social construct and it really doesn’t matter. We understand the blatant disregard and ignorance of those statements. Yet, the same is true for race and people of other races. Your attitude and casual disregard perpetuates a lie that you are comfortable with and don’t wish to move from that comfort zone. It means you don’t have to be accountable for the injustices or oppression it continues to perpetuate in the larger culture toward people who do not look like you. As far as I am concerned, I truly believe that the dark goddess for many with white skin IS their shadow… It is the part of themselves that they deny and fear. That you may have come from black people may scare you… even when the science proves it. That deep down… you fear what you don’t understand. To even confront it is frightening… something that you would rather ignore and deny… Yet… here we are. Black, Yellow, Red… people.. women… who have been oppressed for thousands of year because of this… and are asking… to be seen in their true likeness… not as you wish them to be… or fear them to be. Naa Ayele Kumari Thank you Max Dashu, I so appreciate your scholarship and dedication to the truth where ever you find it… and Helen Hwang for staying open to it as well. [Someone withdrew the threads.] Rick Williams No, you can’t passively aggressively slither your way out of this, reread your own statements and that last post contradicts most of your ascertains. I can’t believe that you honestly say fire away at you like you’re some sort of martyr and VICTIM of being misunderstood, not at all, I understand you very well. I don’t think you understand yourSELF. That’s the real tragedy. Rick Williams “The Lips of Wisdom are Closed except to the Ears of Understanding.” It is in quotes, and it’s part of Ancient Wisdom, of Tehuti, DJehuti, or Hermes Trimegitus… The Great Scribe of KMT.. they have alot of pretty pictures of him all over KMT(Egypt).. still have no idea what you are saying have the time. Max Dashu Thank you Naa Ayele for taking the time to make the extremely apt analogy of women’s oppression to clarify the politics of race oppression […]
(Special Post Mother Teresa 4) A Role Model for Women? by Mago Circle Members

Part IV: Illumination and Consensus Reached [Editorial Note: The following is an edited version of the discussion that took place spontaneously on Mago Circle from March 1, 2013 for about two weeks. It was an extensive, heated, yet reflective discussion, now broken into four parts to fit the format of the blog. We thank each and all of the participants for your openness, generosity, and courage to stand up for what you believe and think! Some are marked as anonymous. As someone stated, something may have been “written in the heat of the moment” and some might like to change it at a later time. So we inform our readers that nothing is written in stone. As a matter of fact, the discussion is ongoing, now with Magoism Blog readers. Please comment and respond as you wish.] Diane Horton: [C], how is it that you do not see that MT had no right to sacrifice other people for any purpose whatsoever? None of us have the right or the place to “sacrifice those we care about” for anything. She was not “above them”. And she had abundant means to do far more for them, to cure and comfort them. If indeed she imagined she had some lofty motivation as you so fervently believe, to use the power she had to withhold medical care from the poverty stricken sick and dying in some misguided and ultimately cruel attempt to bring the world’s attention to their suffering and produce compassion within those who would not otherwise feel it is the most monstrous miscarriage of any expression of what you might refer to as “love” that I have heard of outside of Jim Jones killing all of his followers in Ghana. That’s not Love. That’s not Compassion. That is Manipulation, and manipulation is ego-based. Anne Wilkerson Allen: Yes. It is an indoctrination so deep and so prolonged that it takes a lifetime to overcome…and we rely on the love and compassion of others to help bring us to this understanding….thanks, Diane. Diane Horton: Love you, Anne. [C]: Is thinking that any human being sacrificing inside their very soul, their morals, & all that entails, is actually of lesser value than outside human pain, suffering, even death itself, right? Diane Horton: I’m not sure I understand the question really, but I’ll try a response: one’s inner and outer life are of equal importance because they are all the whole person.

(Music) Songs for Samhain by Alison Newvine

The season of Samhain is upon us. This playlist is an offering for this descent into the sacred darkness, and a companion for the journey into the underworld. Invocation of Witches features music by Loreena McKennitt, Marya Stark, Inkubus Sukubus, Wendy Rule, my band Spiral Muse, and many others. It is a soundtrack for ceremony and each song expresses a different face of the spirit of the witch. May this Samhain season guide you gently into the dissolution of what no longer serves, the honoring of what is complete and the cultivation of the inner space that will gestate what is yet to come. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2CFNoH9exhloz3w95P3Rlb?si=270cf01fabb8421c https://www.magoism.net/2023/10/meet-mago-contributor-alison-newvine/
Imbolc/Early Spring – a Season of Uncertainty by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Traditionally the Seasonal transition of Imbolc/Early Spring, celebrated in early February in the Northern Hemisphere, and in early August in the Southern Hemisphere, has been a time of nurturing the new life that is beginning to show itself, around us and within. It is a time of committing one’s self to the new life and inspiration – in the garden, in the soul, and in the Cosmos. We may include in our celebrations and contemplations of this Season the beginnings of the new young Cosmos as She was, that time in our cosmic story when She was only a billion years old and galaxies were forming; and also the new which has continually emerged throughout the eons, and is ever coming forth. The flame of being, as it has been imagined by many cultures, within and around, is to be protected and nurtured: the new being requires dedication and attention. In the early stages of its advent, there is nothing certain about its staying power and growth: it may flicker and be vulnerable. There may be uncertainties of various kinds. There is risk and resistance to coming into being. The Universe itself knew resistance to its expansion when it encountered gravitation in our very beginnings, in the primordial Flaring Forth[i]. The unfolding of the Universe was never without creative tension. The Universe knows it daily, in every moment: and we participate in this creative tension of our place of being. Urge to Be budding forth Imbolc/Early Spring can be a time of remembering personal vulnerabilities, feeling them and accepting them, but remaining resolute in birthing and tending of the new, listening for and responding to the Urge to Be[ii]of the Creative Universe within. Brian Swimme has said (quoting cultural anthropologist A.L. Kroeber) that the destiny of the human is not “bovine placidity” but the highest degree of tension that can be creatively born[iii]. many flames of being, strengthening each other These times are filled with creative tension, collectively and for most, personally as well; there is much resistance, yet there is promise of so much good energy arising. We may be witness to both. This Season of Imbolc/Early Spring may encourage attention, intention and dedication to strengthening well-being: in self, and in the relational communal context, and opening to our direct immersion in the Well of Creativity. We may be strengthened with the joining of hands, as well as the listening within to the sacred depths, in ceremonial circle at this time. NOTES: [i]As our origins (popularly named as “the Big Bang”) are named by Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme in The Universe Story. [ii]As I name this determined Virgin quality in PaGaian Cosmology. [iii]The Canticle to the Cosmos, DVD #8, “The Nature of the Human”. References: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era. New York: HarperCollins, 1992. Swimme, Brian. Canticle to the Cosmos. DVD series, 1990.
(Poetry & Photo Essay) Pongal by Susan Hawthorne

I am a secularist rather than a ritualist, but I can’t help but be drawn into the celebrations that people make when they honour the passing of the seasons. Even as a child I felt the disconnect between Christmas and the hot dusty days of summer. When Christians invaded and colonised Australia they brought their holidays but did not consider changing the dates to match the seasons. I was in India recently, invited as a speaker at the Hindu Lit For Life Festival in Chennai where I had lived ten years ago. The last day of the festival was the first day of Pongal. A friend, feminist economist Devaki Jain, who had grown up in Chennai eighty years earlier invited me to join her in a car ride to see Pongal celebrations in the streets. This is a Tamil festival dating back at least a thousand years, a sun festival, welcoming the next six months of the sun’s journey, also a harvest festival. During this time many women produce beautiful drawings, known as kolam. In my book Cow I wrote a poem about kolam which I think says more than I can explain here. what she says about kolam where they are drawn and when is all important early morning is auspicious it sets the shape of the day the hard ground is cleaned points of white grain sprinkled she works quickly she knows her design for the day runs the powdered grain from point to point it is a mandala a yantra a sign so the forces of the universe align themselves with her intentions Back to Pongal. The festival goes for four days. On the first day, which is called Bhogi, people are on the streets with the fruits of harvest, piles of tumeric and stacks of sugar cane tied in bunches. My friend, Devaki, bought flowers to take back to her room in the hotel. The second day, called Thai Pongal, I was invited to a harvest lunch at the house of my friend Mangai who is a playwright, theatre director and human rights activist. The word ‘pongal’ means ‘boiling over’ or’ overflow’ and I saw this in the cooking of the sweetened rice dish into which each of the twelve people present poured some water and milk as it almost overflowed the pot. This sweet rice dish was added to the collection of other dishes on the table. I cannot tell you what they were, but the meal was delicious. After lunch everyone relaxed, someone sang, we talked and caught up on news. The third day, is called Maatu Pongal, and cattle are at the centre of celebrations on that day. I don’t know if this line up of cattle had anything to do with the day’s celebration but there they were tied up alongside a very busy main road. These were not cows and I did not see any cows with decorated horns and flowers on their heads. on that day as I have on other occasions. On the fourth day, Kaanum Pongal, things begin to wind down. One of my co-speakers at the festival said she would be visiting family members on that day. The kolams are drawn again, sugar cane is consumed and people go back to their daily lives. What I liked about being in Tamil Nadu during the Pongal festival is that it felt absolutely right. The time of the year, the connection with harvest, so I did not feel the discomfort I so often feel in the midst of the out-of-season commercialised holidays as they are celebrated in Australia. Susan Hawthorne’s book Cow is available worldwide from distributors in USA, Canada, UK, from all the usual online retailers or from Spinifex Press. http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/Bookstore/book/id=215/ © Susan Hawthorne, 2019 (Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthorne.
(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!
(Prose & Photography) Equinox Reflection by Sara Wright

Photography by Sara Wright I gaze out my bedroom window and hear yet another golden apple hit the ground. The vines that hug the cabin and climb up the screens are heavy with unripe grapes and the light that is filtered through the trees in front of the brook is luminous – lime green tipped in gold – My too sensitive eyes are blessedly well protected by this canopy of late summer leaves. The maples on the hill are losing chlorophyll and are painting the hollow with splashes of bittersweet orange and red. The dead spruces by the brook will probably collapse this winter providing Black bears with even more precious ants and larvae to eat in early spring. I only hope that some bears will survive the fall slaughter to return to this black bear sanctuary; in particular two beloved young ones… Mushrooms abound, amanitas, boletes morels, puff balls, the latter two finding their way into my salads. The forest around my house is in an active state of becoming with downed limbs and sprouting fungi becoming next year’s soil. The forest floor smells so sweet that all I can imagine is laying myself down on a bed of mosses to sleep and dream. The garden looks as tired as I am; lily fronds droop, yellowing leaves betraying the season at hand. Bright green pods provide a startling contrast to fading scarlet bee balm. Wild asters are abundant and goldenrod covers the fields with a bright yellow garment. Every wild bush has sprays of berries. My crabapple trees are bowed, each twig heavy with winter fruit. Most of the birds have absconded to the fields that are ripe with the seeds of wild grasses. The mourning doves are an exception – they gather together each dawn waiting patiently for me to fill the feeder. In the evening I am serenaded by soft cooing. One chicken hawk hides in the pine, lying in wait for the unwary…Just a few hummingbirds remain…whirring wings and twittering alert me to continued presence as they settle into the cherry tree to sleep, slipping into a light torpor with these cool September nights… Spiders are spinning their egg cases, even as they prepare to die. I can still find toads hopping around the house during the warmest hours of the day. Although the grass is long I will not mow it for fear of killing these most precious and threatened of species. I am heavily invested in seeing these toads burrow in to see another spring. My little frogs sit on their lily pads seeking the warmth of a dimming afternoon sun. Soon they too will slumber below fallen leaves or mud. I am surrounded by such beauty, and so much harvest bounty that even though I am exhausted I take deep pleasure out of each passing day of this glorious month of September, the month of my birth. Unlike many folks, for me, moving into the dark of the year feels like a blessing. Another leave -taking is almost upon me, and I am having trouble letting go of this small oasis that I have tended with such care for more than thirty years… I don’t know what this winter will bring to my modest cabin whose foundation is crumbling under too much moisture and too many years of heavy snow. In the spring extensive excavation will begin. A new foundation must be poured and this work will destroy the gardens I have loved, the mossy grounds around the south end of the house that I have nurtured for so long. In this season of letting go I must find a way to lay down my fears, and release that which I am powerless to change. Somehow… I have no idea what I will return to except that I have made it clear that none of my beloved trees be harmed. I am grateful that Nature is mirroring back to me so poignantly that letting go is the way through: That this dying can provide a bedrock foundation for another spring birth. As a Daughter of the Earth I lean into ancient wisdom, praying that this exhausted mind and body will be able to follow suit. (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.
(Essay) The Wheel of the Year and Climate Change by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

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 sacred ceremony of relationship with our place, can only be more dire in these times, as we are witness to, and aware of, …

(2015 Mago Pilgrimage) Neuk-do (Serpent Island) by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

I wanted to visit Neuk-do because of the Mago story told in the region. Its name Neuk-do, which means the Serpent Island (구렁이섬), whispers a deep memory of the gynocentric past. However, people today seem to be oblivious to this. Our guides did not inform us of the meaning of the island’s name. I relished being surrounded by an air of mystery about the island during our visit. Also I was drawn to Neuk-do because it is under the administration of Sacheon City. The place-name, Sacheon (泗川 or 四川 Xichuan in Chinese), is no unknown place in the mytho-history of Magoism. Like many other place-names, “Sacheon,” recurs in both present-day China and the Korean peninsula. They, although written in slightly different characters, concern Magoism (stories, place-names, or topographies). In the case of the Chinese “Sacheon,” Magoism is systematically suppressed and replaced by Daoism. Today China boasts of Xichuan Province as a birthplace of Daoism. Mt. Qingcheng (青城山) in Dujiangyan City, is known as one of the ancient Daoist centers. Our data are, albeit often sketchy, ample to indicate the importance of Mt. Qingcheng in Daoist history. It is a place wherein Zhangling (34-156) or Zhang Daoling, the founder of Tianshi (天師 Celestial Master) Daoism, founded the doctrine of Daoism and died. Yellow Emperor, the pre-dynastic hero of the third millennium BCE, is commemorated. The Temple of Eternal Dao(常道觀 Changdao Guan) located in Mt. Qingcheng is noted for its oldest hall, the Shrine of the Yellow Emperor, built during the Sui dynasty (605-618).[i] Also the place-name, Dujiangyan(都江堰), reflects the ancient irrigation system originally constructed in circa 256 BCE during the Qin dynasty.[ii] Alongside a number of Daoist temples extant today, there are Magoist place-names and topographies, Magu Cave (麻姑洞 Magu-dong) and Magu Lake (麻姑池 Magu-chi) also known as Heavenly Lake (天池). Located adjacent to Shangqing Palace (上清宫 Supreme Clarity Palace), Magu Lake has a story that Magu collected water for her alchemical practice.[iii] “Mago” is alternatively used with “Cheon (Heaven, 天 Tian in Chinese),” as is in “Heavenly Lake.” As in other places, such Magoist place-names in Xichuan have survived Chinese mytho-historiography that has obliterated pre-Chinese Magoism and replaced it with Daoism. Note that Magu is never articulated as the Creatrix in Chinese historiography, whereas her supremacy is adumbrated in Chinese folklore and place-names. Chinese mytho-historiography has paid the price for its matricide: Its origin will never be explained. To say that Xichuan is a Daoist birthplace is a misleading. Xichuan is a pre-Daoist center of Magoism whose origin possibly dates to the time of Danguk (3898-2333 BCE). From the Korean sources, fortunately, we are able to assess that Xichuan was a place of significance from pre-Dangun times. According to the Handan Gogi (Archaic Histories of Han and Dan), Daeeup extant today near Mt. Qingcheng, Xichuan Province, was a place wherein Dangun began her career. The Handan Gogi reads, “Dangun began her career in Daeeup (大邑 Great Town, Dayi in Chinese). All people feared and obeyed her virtue as a divine being. When she was at age 14 in the year of Gapjin (2357 BCE), Sovereign Ungssi, upon hearing her divine virtue, appointed her as Biwang (Auxiliary Ruler) to administrate Daeeup (Great Town) [Female connoting words are mine].”[iv] Thomas Yoon points out that Daeeup is not a fictitious place-name but an actual site extant today in Chengdu, Sichuan.[v] Mr. Kigap Kang, former politician but now an orchard owner who experiments with nature-based farming for fruit trees in Sacheon City, arranged our meeting with the Director of the Sacheon City Cultural Center. The Director alongside his companion met us in his office. They told us Neuk-do’s stories of Mago Halmae. Then, we drove to the road off the shore where we could look out across the stepping stones in the sea that were said to have been placed by Mago Halmae. The tide was high and we could see only the tips of rocks. I could see the island across the adjoining water. Neuk-do had unusual topography as it was an elongated island conjoined by two mountainous isles. From such topography the name, the Serpent Island, may have derived. Houses are populated in the conjoined area. We drove to Neuk-do via a modern bridge with the hope of running into someone who could guide us to the site of Mago stepping stones. A native of Neuk-do, our guide-to-be, happened to be right there, when we got off the car. Mr. Gyeung Jang, a 61 year-old fisherman and native of Neuk-do, showed us the site in the sea where Mago is said to have placed stepping stones. Due to the high tide, we could only see the top parts of Mago’s stepping stones upper edge over the waterline. He also led us to peeking Mago Halmi’s washing laundry rock and estimated its size to be about two meters high at the low tide. He added, Mago Halmi was so tall and giant that she needed a tall rock. The motif that the giant Mago Hami carried a boulder to construct standing stones or dolmens and the story of Mago’s laundry rock commonly recur in other regions. During dinner at a seafood restaurant in Neuk-do, our conversations grew. Mr. Jang informed us of the fact that the whole island of Neuk-do is designated as a cultural and notable site by the province and the state. Its archaeological unearthing began in the early 1980s and has brought out numerous multi-period findings (about 13,000 items) ranging from the Neolithic to the early Iron Age. The unearthed include shell mounds, house sites, human and animal burials, pottery, and daggers that originated from not only Korea but also Yayoi Japan and Nangnang China. As such, Neuk-do has come to be known as a site of ancient transnational maritime centers in East Asia.[6] As I write this, the Mago story turns out to have several versions. I will share three versions here. In one account, Mago Halmae, so tall and giant, walked around the sea. She brought rocks …
(Book Excerpt 6) The Mago Way by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

[Author’s Note] The following is from Chapter One, “What Is Mago and Magoism and How Did I Study HER?” from The Mago Way: Re-discovering Mago, the Great Goddess from East Asia, Volume 1. Footnotes below would be different from the monograph version. PDF book of The Mago Way Volume 1 download is available for free here.] Magoism, East Asian Religions, and Magoist Mudangs As mentioned above, Magoism refers to the totality of human civilization that is ultimately gynocentric. Speaking from a narrow perspective, Magoism is the primordial matrix from which such East Asian religions as Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism were derived. In the light of Magoism, a patriarchal religion is redefined as a pseudo-Magoism that which has co-opted the Way of the Great Goddess (Magoism) with the androcentric reversal of the female
(Mago Almanac 3) Restoring 13 Month 28 Day Calendar by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[This and the following sequels are from Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A), Years 1 and 2 (5, 6, 9, 10…), 5915-6 MAGO ERA, 2018-9 CE (Mago Books, 2017).] We want to get back the 13th Friday. This almanac shows how that is possible. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang INTRODUCTION (Continued) HOW TO USE THE MAGO ALMANAC The Magoist Calendar employs a 28 day monthly cycle identical throughout the 13 months (see “28 DAY MONTHLY CALENDAR”). The first month of a year, however, begins with one intercalary day that falls on the eve of New Year for all years. Every fourth year has another intercalary day that fall on the eve of the first day of the 7th month (see “4 YEARS CALENDAR/1 LARGE CALENDAR”). Years are counted as a cyclic unit of four years, which is called Large Calendar. I have charted 8 Large Calendars of 32 years (see “8 LARGE CALENDARS/32 YEARS”). That said, the Mago Almanac will appear as the two types of booklets, Book A and Book B due to its Gregorian Calendar translation dates. The current booklet, Book A, includes calendric data of two years Year 1 and Year 2, the first two of the four years cyclic unit. Year 1 and Year 2 are exactly identical, when it comes to their Gregorian translations. In other words, one can use Book A for the years of 2018 and 2019 with the same Gregorian dates. Book B will include data on Year 3 and Year 4 for the two years of 2020 and 2021 in the Gregorian Calendar. As Gregorian dates intermittently run every month throughout the year and every four years with one leap day added in the month of February, both Year 3 and Year 4 will need a separate translational chart for Gregorian translation dates. While Gregorian leap days are more complicated than just one additional day in February, they won’t interfere with Mago Almanac’s Gregorian translation system until the year 2100, when it skips the leap day.[1] Book A Book B Years 1, 2… 3, 4… Common Era 2018, 2019 CE 2020, 2021 CE Mago Era 5915, 5916 ME 5917, 5918 ME Because both the Magoist Calendar (365.25 days) and the Gregorian Calendar (365.242189 days) are of the solar clendar, their dates tend to coincide every four years. For example, Year 5 and 6 will share the same Gregorian dates as Year 1 and 2. This means Book A is useful not only for Year 1 and 2 but also Year 5 and 6. Likewise, Book B is not only for Year 3 and Year 4 but also Year 7 and Year 8. Such patterns will repeat until 2100. By such recurrence, Mago Almanac will remain useful throughout the coming years. Below is the chart of 12 years (3 Large Calendars) for Mago Almanac’s two books. Book A Book B 1st Large Calendar Year 1 (2018 CE, 5915 ME) Year 3 (2020 CE, 5917 ME) Year 2 (2019 CE, 5916 ME) Year 4 (2021 CE, 5918 ME) 2nd Large Calendar Year 5 (2022 CE, 5919 ME) Year 7 (2024 CE, 5921 ME) Year 6 (2023 CE, 5920 ME) Year 8 (2025 CE, 5922 ME) 3rd Large Calendar Year 9 (2026 CE, 5923 ME) Year 11 (2028 CE, 5925 ME) Year 10 (2027 CE, 5924 ME) Year 12 (2029 CE, 5926 ME) Book A (Year 1 and Year 2) stands for the year of 2018 in the Gregorian Calendar (from December 17, 2017 till December 16, 2018) and the year of 2019 in the Gregorian Calendar (from December 17, 2018 till December 16, 2019). Year 1 (5915 ME) begins on December 17, 2017, the one intercalary day that comes on the day before the New Year’s Day. Its New Year’s day on December 18, 2017 marks the new moon day in the first month of the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. Year 2 (5916 ME) will be the same as Year 1. It begins with the one intercalary day of December 17, 2018. Its New Year’s day is December 18, 2018. However, it won’t be the new moon day since the moon’s phases are not exactly the same as the moon’s motions for the coming years. For this reason and the Gregorian Calendar’s intermittent dates involved in Book B, Mago Almanac plans to publish its yearly booklet. Book A includes Moon Phases in UTC (Universal Time Coordinated) for the years of 2018 and 2019. The cycle of moon phases (the synodic period of about 29.5 days) will run on its own path in the Magoist Calendar is based on the moon’s motions (the sidereal period of about 27.3 days). Also this almanac includes 24 Seasonal Marks in the Korean Time for the years of 2018 and 2019. Among these 24 seasons demarcated based on the solar calendar are such eight seasonal marks as Yule, Imbolc, Vernal Equinox, Beltane, Summer Solstice, Lammas, Autumnal Equinox, and Winter Solstice, whose hours vary according to the viewer location. Last but not least, this almanac taps into the self-actualizing power of the calendar, which awakens its users to the Reality of the Creatrix. Its task is to be a user’s guide to the Magoist Calendar, the Living Text of the Creatrix. A cause that is equipped with the self-realizing force is divine. Restoring the Magoist Calendar is a divine work to be accomplished by the power of the gynocentric 13 month calendar itself. Its applicability is left to the hand of users. One’s own understanding of the gynocentric calendar will do the magic within herself/himself. One’s intellectuality is the winder to one’s spirituality. Individuals awakened by the Magoist Calendar will discover a sense of belong/direction/timing, not just to a particular society/place/time but to the inter-cosmic whole, WE/HERE/NOW. One may suddenly re-member her/his kinship with all others in an unexpected way. The consciousness of WE is not a destination arrived at a future time. It is HERE wherein we are born and live. In our …