January 4, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work Admin

(Poem) Come Eat My Roses/ the Feminine Renewal Calls By Louisa Calio

I’ve seen the horrors of the wasteland yet to come

The famine spoken of

I believed I was bound to repeat them.

But frustration screamed rivers

Rivers running through my bloodstream.

Ferocious as the forest fire in high winds

I seering, seering, Saw

I can make nothing better by speech alone

Risking as I speak, -the madness.

Consciousness is not a constant thing

Though a continuous vigil.

Ours is a time of sewer landscapes

Removed as we on concrete shores

From the truths nature teaches.

I’ve seen the miniature

The smaller canvas in you and I

Mirrors turned to doubles

To see in four to the other side.

Dual dilemmas

Dialectical pulls

Rip through my heart.

I follow through

Pushed down to the deepest dark

Past the guarded secrets I am led

Guided by the Old Mysteries

I am vomited up again

In relief, I traverse the earth.

To see you, see you clearly

See you in peace or see you in war

I see you are at the crossroads.

You may go the terrible way,

by the light of the blood burning sun

We may become, scorched earth in famine and drought

If you deny the forces of water

If you kill the rain making powers

The sources of moisture! The feminine powers!

Paused at the brink,

You are the final link caught in reason

Dying to believe only what you see in concrete

A masculine bias.

This epic has been told and retold

before the Hebrew or the Greek

Through time in other weaves

other languages

Sounding the same struggle.

The door is opening

Come, watch me weave

I am mending as my grandmother used to.

Join me with your tools

In this a woman’s labor

Each new weave, better teaches us the old.

Don’t be afraid,

Come, take the passion fruit

Ripe and ready

Come Eat my Roses

Dive into the face o f Love

Touch the blood of passion

As it drips from the cup.

*A longer version of this poem was first published as “Cassandra’s Visions” In The Eye of Balance New York: Paradiso Press, 1978.

See( Meet Mago Contributor) Louisa Calio

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(Book Excerpt 5) Rainbow Goddess: Celebrating Neurodiversity ed. by K. L. Aldred, P. Daly, T Albanna, and Trista Hendren

[Editor’s Note: This anthology was published by Girl God Books (2022).] “Neurodiversity Holds Keys to Unlock Patriarchal Prisons” by Trinity Shea Thomas Great news! Neurodiversity (ND) holds keys to unlock patriarchal prisons. What has been used against us can be turned inside out to set us free. ND codes safely unzipping in our neurology escort us from apologies to superpowers. The challenge for me in writing about this was to talk myself off the ledge of entirely earned outrage and stay firmly in the increasingly familiar realm of celebration, where all the many Truths retain their capitals and we are securely positioned to win the race of human. I will be taking full advantage of neurodivergent license, a step or twirl beyond poetic license. I didn’t have a word for how I am designed for a long time. I knew I was different, definitely one of those who was not like the others. I lived my life as an apology. The word neurodiversity was created in 1996 to describe diagnosed deficits in learning and thinking processes on the autism spectrum. I prefer Harvard Health’s recent definition: “Neurodiversity describes the idea that people experience and interact with the world around them in many different ways; there is no one ‘right’ way…” This ‘no one right way’ business is the patriarchy’s worst nightmare, as it should be. The neurodiverse are uncontrollable by design. It’s our superpower. But I’m getting a bit ahead of my tale. My Own Neurodiverse Design My brand of neurodiversity is the extra-sensory sort. I was born with enhanced senses, as if I had less filters or had a blowhole open in the top of my head that let more in. I saw, heard, felt, and knew things that no one around me could verify. And these abnormal sensings were the favorite parts of my life. I found real companionship and truth there. I still do. Tragedy struck when I realized I could not share them. This confused me! Why would I see, hear, feel, and know all of these marvelous things if they were not to be shared with my family and friends? Was I just simply flawed? ‘Twas a mystery that required discovery. I was convinced, over the first dozen years of my life, to keep quiet about everything outside the reality most people lived in. I apologized continuously for all that I saw, heard, felt, and knew. For all that I was. I was shamed into silence. My life became about exploring how to move from shrinking from my differences to putting them to work in service. I began to look for the others who did not fit in. I found that my ND, before I ever heard the word, was neither a deficit nor a disorder, but rather a power of a higher order. Occasionally it even saved a life. Eventually, I stopped hiding and apologizing and got to work. Now I know there are many of us. And we hold crucial keys. I must admit I was relieved when Malcolm Gladwell published his book, “Blink,” in 2007 about how we often ‘know without knowing.’ He provided a case study of an expensive museum statue that turned out to be fake. The many experts hired to assess it did not agree about whether it was or was not. The ones who ‘knew’ it was fake could not say how they knew. They just did. And they were correct! My people! Extreme sensitivities often accompany our higher order powers. As a child it was nearly impossible, for example, for me to cut roses for the dinner table. I heard their cries. No one could convince me it didn’t hurt them. I learned to mask my reactions to pass for normal. Usually. Particularly in women, masking leads to a loss of sense, of self, with an increased vulnerability to patriarchal control. We accept the stigma and gaslight ourselves, incrementally dismantling our truth in exchange for acceptance, sanctuary, and belonging. It’s a survival strategy and a recoverable error. As my accumulated life experience and research yielded success, I felt most at home in the arms of nature and the rainbow goddess, the self-sustaining natural wells of love and truth. When I found myself at my wit’s end, I would wrap myself around a tree until I was better. It always works. I found myself regularly at odds with the dominant paradigm. One of its names is Patriarchy. Patriarchal Prisons – Misogyny and Anecdotal Evidence I don’t have enough pages to catalogue the abuses of the patriarchal system. And I’m committed to staying out of the Outrage Zone. I’m focusing on my top two. Misogyny and the invalidation of individual truth are patriarchal plot lines designed to enforce powerful prisons. They target agency. A famous example of this was the women who knew too much and bowed too little – being burned as witches, among other things. And even more astonishing, a successful campaign through history to make us fear the witches rather than their murderers. This became a tried-and-true Formula: Step One: Label something to create fear or discredit it. Step Two: Ostracize or destroy it. Step Three: Absolve or even glorify the perpetrators. Misogyny The assault on the feminine, misogyny, is not new. It’s thousands of years overdue for a rewrite. Ironically, ancient patriarchal cultures conspired to deprive women, the natural heiresses to goddess culture, of the right to any religious leadership. The Council of Nicea, a Council of Christian Bishops in Turkey in 325 AD, removed women from the priesthood despite women being equally honored as the original apostles of Christ. In about 400 AD, the Oracles of Delphi closed their well of inspiration and walked away after more than a thousand years when the Priests of Apollo began telling them what to say based on who would pay the most to fill their coffers. Until recently, the patriarchy successfully conspired to deny woman all sorts of everyday rights. Women were not allowed to own …
(Prose) Mother Daughter Betrayal by Sara Wright

(1) As a child I adored my very distant mother and did everything I could to please her, including becoming a second mother to my baby brother at four years old. I remember tenderly holding him and giving him his bottles. Is that why I became so devoted to the divine image of Mary, Queen of Heaven the moment I was exposed to her at the convent garden that I secretly visited each day on my way home from kindergarten?
(Review) Mary Saracino’s The Everyday Spirituality of Women in the Italian Alps: A Trentino American Woman’s Search for Spiritual Agency, Folk Wisdom, and Ancestral Values by Mary Beth Moser

Mary Beth Moser’s doctoral dissertation, The Everyday Spirituality of Women in the Italian Alps: A Trentino American Woman’s Search for Spiritual Agency, Folk Wisdom, and Ancestral Values, takes readers on a wonderful adventure to uncover women’s ancient ways of knowing and being in the world. While it explores the cultural and spiritual traditions of Trentino—a region in northern Italy that is the motherland of Moser’s grandmothers—the truths that it unearths transcend location and contribute to the ongoing effort to reclaim the story of women’s culture and spiritual agency across time and space.
(Poetry) Women Who Love The Wind by Phibby Venable

Women who love the wind have no fight with gravity They rise and fall in scars and wildflowers I have inherited the colourful scarves of my grandmother, thick and sturdy — the scarves of my mother, delicate pastels that softened the high cheeked beauty of her passions And I have learned to love the wind. I have managed to run the distance of disaster and desire, of muffled laughter and of hearty And yes, it is a difficult world, and a mystery of choices Which is why I choose to fly Why I kneel in the grass as the wind storms through Then suddenly rise in a joy of twirling, whirling into the burn of sun on my face, and the speed of all that twists and leaps into the sky of awareness I am a breeze and a feather I am my mother and my grandmother, and I am a multitude of bright eyes travelling through the temple of myself Listen daughters to the irises unknotting their fragrance from the ground I laugh and reach for you in the wild winds of growing. (Meet Mago Contributor) Phibby Venable.
(Prose) Immaculate First Child by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

She had not really accepted that her body was female. Such a body had no validity, it was not the real thing. Yet here she was apparently pregnant. Her abdomen was beginning to bulge in a very unfamiliar way. She looked at it in amazement. That amazement in itself was one story, but it was one that could not be thought through right now. The story most pressing was, what was she going to do? She was young, single, a college student. Would she tell her mother? Would she marry the father? She was of spiritual inclination … a Christian hippie variety; sufficiently hippie to allow her to fall into bed with her bloke,
(Art & Prose) She Who Runs With the Herds by Jude Lally

My dolls are born on the thresholds, one foot in this world and a foot in the otherworld. As I create a doll and build up the layers of wool and fabric I am also digging down to her bones, hearing her stories of her people and the landscape. The inspiration for this doll was born in a time of ice, a time when great herds of reindeer were able to cross from mainland Europe across to Britain. She was there with her people guiding them as they tracked the reindeer. The female reindeer, like the male, grows antlers. She is the leader of the herd, following the ancestral deer paths over the land that her mother led the herd on and her mother before that – stretching back thousands of years.There is an ancient connection between women who led her people and these female reindeer – one which has been honored and respected. The wise women of these clans were the women who went into trance to contact this Great Mother of the herds to ask for a sign of where to find the herds and in ritual gave thanks for using them for food, shelter, for sacred objects and clothing. Even today many women see the wisdom in this great Mother of the Herds, they search out her knowledge, dream of their foremother’s rituals and ceremonies. Visiting the Cairngorm Reindeer herd, Scotland Our spiritual journeys, too, take us through bogs of unconsciousness. We too must pass through raging rivers of grief, tread carefully over areas of icy despair, cross craggy ravines that reflect our terror of the unknown, and face feared enemies that threaten to devour us, like hungry wolf packs. As the earthly reindeer struggles to dig up grass and lichen for food to fuel her journey, so we must strive to find what nutures our spirit’. Linda Schierse Leonard. Creation’s Heartbeat. Following the Reindeer Spirit. It is not hard today to lose hope, to be overwhelmed by all that is unfolding and sink into despair and apathy. Wherever you are in the world we can be inspired by the Wise Woman who led her people and when they lost the herd it was she, She Who Runs WIth the Herd that moved into the threshold, shapeshifted into deer and ran through the snowfields of the otherworld to find the herd. Once she found them she ran with the reindeer, body running with body, heels clicking in the noise they make which allows them to hear where each reindeer is. She runs with them through valley, through forest recognizing both the reindeer and the terrain so she can return to her people and know which path to take. Transforming hopelessness into faith requires digging into the depths of the soul, just as the reindeer must dig deep in the snow for lichenLinda Schierse Leonard. Creation’s Heartbeat. Following the Reindeer Spirit. Yet running with the herd also allows you to dig deep for what is required to nourish your soul. To find that much-needed magic, the fodder that feeds the soul for this dark journey offers a rebirth of the soul. Click on the file below to take this journey to run with the herd. Perhaps take some time before you make the journey – consider your intention for your journey. Take some time to journey alone and keep a journal and pen by your side to record any insights or inspirations. (Meet Mago Contributor) Jude Lally https://soundcloud.com/sisterhood-of-the-antlers/she-who-runs-with-the-herds
(Tribute) Catherine the Lion-Hearted by Harriet Ann Ellenberger

Where She Came From Catherine Nicholson (no middle name) was born in Troy, a small town in the Scottish Presbyterian sandhills region of North Carolina, on August 7, 1922, but her father Mike, the town druggist, registered her birth as August 8th. Catherine celebrated both days. When Catherine was four, her older sister, Edna Earle, died at home from an overdose of morphine given her during an asthma attack by a new doctor in town. The morphine had come from Mike’s drugstore, a hard fact which Catherine’s mother never forgave. She took to her bed for a year, and during that year taught Catherine to read. Catherine’s head-start on schooling and her love for literature were born out of her mother’s unassuageable grief. To escape the thunderclouds at home, Catherine spent much of her time outside the house. She read the magazines and drank cherry cokes at the soda fountain in her father’s drugstore, and watched every Hollywood movie that came to town – for free, in her uncle’s movie theatre. She played long hours with Nancy and other friends in the neighborhood: one of their best games was Plike (short for “play like you’re x … “), a form of theatre that didn’t require adult supervision or resources. And, when her mother didn’t intervene in time, Catherine gave her toys to the other children. Moving Out into a Wider World Catherine Nicholson, Flora MacDonald College graduation Catherine graduated from a small woman’s college near Troy that had been named after the 18th-century Jacobite heroine Flora MacDonald, remembered by the Scots for her courage, fidelity, and honor. Then Catherine went to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill for a master’s in English literature. She taught in Winston-Salem, and later showed me the campus where she’d asked WH Auden to read. He arrived on the train from New York City, and she and her roommate invited all the beautiful, intelligent young men they knew for him to converse with. Catherine herself was working seriously on poems, but Auden never knew that. Catherine never told me when and why her passion shifted from words on the page to live theatre, but she took the extraordinary step of moving alone from North Carolina to Chicago, to study at Northwestern University under the great acting teacher Alvina Krause. Catherine earned an MA and a PhD in theatre and oral interpretation at Northwestern, writing her dissertation on the role of the chorus in Greek tragedy. It was during those years in the Midwest that Catherine made three discoveries which would shape her life until its closing: she discovered that, though she made a good actor, she made an even better director; she discovered the books of Jane Ellen Harrison, intellectual revolutionary who uncovered the violent destruction of female-centered culture which lay at the root of Western civilization; and she discovered Barbara, then an undergraduate in sociology at Northwestern and Catherine’s first real love. Making Theatre Live When I met her at the Charlotte Women’s Center in 1974, Catherine had directed university theatre for nearly twenty years, first at Randolph-Macon Woman’s College in Virginia, then at the new branch of the University of North Carolina in Charlotte, where she and the painter Maud Gatewood had begun the interdisciplinary arts program. I knew that the old lovers and friends she introduced me to thought she was a great director, but I had no idea what that meant until after we were living together and she was directing what would be her final play at UNCC, “Twelfth Night,” cast irrespective of sex. I listened to her anguish night after day after night, and I watched as she created a whole world; I watched her slowly give that world over to the actors; and I watched her withdraw to let the actors in turn make that world live for their audience. I saw how what she did caused everyone touched by it to rise far above their ordinary selves. And I saw what happened when the play was done, the collapse of the collective extraordinary back into the individual ordinary. How We Got Together and Catherine Left the University Catherine had become fascinated with me by reading my journal (she could quote chunks of it verbatim), and I had become fascinated with her by listening to her talk. Catherine’s mind was a library, and she could talk a blue streak – from morning coffee, when she would recount fabulously detailed, richly theatrical dreams, to the last drop of bourbon nearly twenty hours later. She was fifty-three, she was at the top of her game professionally, and she drank a lot. I was twenty-eight, I lived and breathed revolution and the Charlotte Women’s Center, and I was career-less, unless you counted a part-time job as a technical writer. We were in complete agreement that an ongoing love relationship would be a terrible idea. We were in complete agreement that my moving into her house would produce a catastrophe. We agreed completely, and then in early 1975, we went ahead and did it anyway. After the “Twelfth Night” performances a few months later, Catherine left her tenured teaching position, explosively. In practical terms, she could have stayed. The administration was upset about the sex discrimination suit she’d filed, but they still needed her. The gay male artists who surrounded her like a Judy-Garland fan club were alarmed by the women’s center and by me, but, given time and reassurance, they would have come around. The real reason she left, I think now, was that she had reached the limits of what the patriarchal theatre tradition could do. She’d directed Greek tragedy, knowing that the stories the old plays told were stories of the defeat of women. She’d directed Shakespeare, playing with gender roles even more than he had. She’d directed Brecht and Ibsen and Strindberg and the first North American production of Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot.” She’d been there, she’d done that, and she wanted to create something new. An …
(Art & Poetry) A Glorious Catastrophe by Lucy Pierce

I never asked for it, the box you gave to me at my birth, the ask that my vast, wild, eternal nature should squeeze itself inside and make a home for itself. So excruciatingly crippling, the conditions of service. Maybe it never really mattered after all that I wasn’t ever quite lovable enough, or desirable enough for you. Not pleasing or pretty enough, never quite malleable and subservient enough to win the prize of your gaze. Maybe I was really just born to be this glorious catastrophe of heat and hair and blood and sweat, trying to hide itself from the cruel gaze of the predator, swirling through time like a force of nature, untamable, unknowable, unpossessable, sovereign and free, if only she knew. Maybe I don’t care anymore, that I don’t actually want what you’re selling, that I am not and never was for sale, that I have nothing to sell that you would want to buy. Unwanted, unhinged from the world, an act of revolution, like a thunderstorm or a wildfire or a weed that sprouts in the gaps of the pavement. Because I always was and ever will be a little piece of everything. I am birth and death and all that comes between, the amniotic fluid and the first breath, the black shroud and the dark earth, exquisitely grotesque, primal and fierce, delicate and fine. Maybe I don’t even want you to love me any more. Maybe I just want to find the way to claim a greater playing sphere than the one you allocated to me. One that has a place for all the parts of me, unbound from the contortions of suppression. If you only knew how big I was, if only I could let myself truly know that unfathomable fact, unshackling the edicts of safety you placed on me. I am not safe, I am a turbulent channel of rampant love and pain, a catastrophic deluge of compassionate rage and sensual harbor. I am unfurling my torrential magnificence into the co-creative field of the universe, I am weeping in the darkness of my exile. I am a grief-stricken burgeoning, a primal harbor for lost parts and misplaced dreams, I am big enough to hold all the brokenness and all the hope, a majestic annihilation of reason, a formidable imperative of tenderness. I do not fit in your box and I have all the scars to prove it. I will not prune myself for you, be clipped by your infantilising whim. I am hair and juice, snot and tears, blood and bone, woman born, all the years my age and powerful, unkempt and fertile, life-giving warrioress, bloodcurdling protector of the vulnerable and the weak. No I am not pretty and I will not be shamed and as you cast me aside I feel the primal undercurrents of creation scoop me up and feed the ancient rivers within, of this formidable longing to unshackle Her vibrant potency, Her ferocious transmutation, transcending the captivity of feminine identity, the psychic imprisonment of fear and belittlement, that a colonizing culture enforced upon Her. I exalt the mossy crevices you would manicure and poison, I relish the succulent decay you would sanitize and bleach, I trust in the blood-swelling, bone-crunching, nectar-flowing, sweat-drenched brutality of her primordial love, so tender and fierce. I will make of Her my home. I don’t want to please you anymore, I just want to love myself and breath my devotion, in all my magnificent messiness, a potent mix of all the things a life can be, born only this once, as this particular catastrophe of love and grief, untamable after all the trying, only able to be loved completely by a consciousness as vast and unknowable as it’s own self. I can rest there, in that knowing, that even though the world would not have me as I truly am, I know that the place from which I came will take me back, unapologetic and shining. She will understand that I was just an ugliness too exquisite for the world of small boxes, a beauty too primal and pungent, too real and honest for the world of masks. (Meet Mago Contributor) Lucy Pierce.
(Meet Mago Contributor) William Matthews

William Mathews is a writer from the foothills of the majestic Great Smoky Mountains National Park. These incredible hills have inspired and continue to inspire William’s writings then and now. To date William is featured on instagram and Facebook under the name :Williammathews85writer

(Special Post 5) 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.] Annie Finch For me, Goddess is completely different from God–Goddess means acceptance of the sacred WITHIN the physical instead of transcending the physical; acceptance of death and life as equally sacred; and the holiness of changing cycles…. Annie Finch, Maine anniefinch.com Marie de Kock Why Goddess spirituality? Goddess spirituality is crucial for our survival and the survival of our planet. I’m referring to every woman’s connection and relationship with her own Spirit which resides in her heart, and her own divine ability to create, which springs from her womb. The womb is infinitely more than a reproductive organ; it is a replica of the Cosmic Womb or Mago. From that profound pool of infinite silent knowledge, women can access the solutions so urgently needed to recover the equilibrium the world with its God spirituality has lost, and women can dream the solutions into being. It is the intelligence of the heart and intelligence of the womb that humanity needs in order to balance out the ill effects of our noisy ‘rational’ left brained society. Women carry the keys to the wisdom within them. Female spirituality is the door. Marie is in Chile for now http://ninenormalwomenwithwings.com Leslene Della-Madre Goddess among many things to me is a verb–Goddessing. “Goding” isn’t the same. She is Love in action in all things–she is the cosmic gen-Her-ator bringing life into form from primordial chaos, the twin serpents of coming and going. She is the plasMA of the YoniVerse filling space with her divine essence creating great beaded necklaces of galaxies all connected to each other by electric pathways. She is the All and Eternal. Leslene Della Madre, California USA midwifingdeath.com Diane Horton Sacred Goddess Sisterhood Each of our stories as women who have come to embrace the Goddess are varied and interesting. Certainly interesting to each other, as our spirits long to resonate with another who has had a similar journey. Mine began while I was still a member of the Episcopal Church and a Christian. But relative to many, it was not that long ago, just 18 years. Some women have been knowing and worshiping the Goddess for more than 30 years, some have only just come to the reawakening and re-membering recently. Some of us call ourselves witches, some priestesses, or both. Some do not identify with either of those words and simply say they have immersed themselves in the Divine Feminine, or that they worship the Goddess. Some will say they are Pagan or Wiccan or Dianic Wiccan. Whatever we call ourselves, or do not call ourselves, we are all Sisters in Goddess, those who worship the Great Mother. And though our numbers are growing, seemingly almost daily, we are still in a minority. We need those who are articulate to voice our views and we need wise teachers who can share practices, philosophy and knowledge with those who are eager for such spiritual food. One of the great things about this Goddess Path is that, although there is much written and oral knowledge to be had for those who seek it, the deepest part of this path is experiential. Personal experience with Goddess, deep within ourselves, and having our eyes opened to Her all around us all the time, seeing and feeling Her magic in our lives, knowing Her love and nurturance in our hearts. We have no dogma, no set of rules or commandments, no rigid ideology. We have our own hearts to guide us into all acts of love and pleasure, compassion, humility and reverence which are Her rituals. When we express strength, hold our power and honor life, as well as giggle and laugh, those are Her rituals, too. There are the Women’s Blood Mysteries, which set women apart from men who worship the Goddess, but that should serve to unite women in a strong eternal bond, not alienate men. There is no place for hierarchy. We are all women equal to each other as daughters of the Goddess. We cannot, we must not, allow the patriarchal mindset to contaminate Feminine Spirituality. No hierarchy, no duality, no controlling others. If we want to see a world in which the Divine Feminine is prominent, the world that many of us believe is coming, we need to take a good, hard look at ourselves in the mirror of our Sisters’ eyes and all of us individually commit ourselves to Unity, Sisterhood and Unconditional Love. That does not mean we will never disagree, and sometimes disagree vehemently, but it does mean we do not allow those disagreements to fracture us as a body of women or to damage or destroy our Sisterhood. There are many teachers who have their own followings of students, their own coursework, their own publications and newsletters, their own festivals they work all year to organize and make manifest. This is a good thing! Especially with the national economy the way it is now many, many women cannot afford to travel very far from their homes, so the fact that there are festivals in diverse parts of the country is no doubt just as the Goddess desires. Those who know of Her and hear Her call are greatly benefited by all of these in mind, heart and spirit. We all need each other. We who can spread this information far and wide need to do so, not just think of and promote the one group or project we are involved in ourselves individually. This is the BIG PICTURE. This is how the movement moves forward. This is how the Goddess gathers Her women (and men). Unification of purpose. Standing together. Supporting each other in concrete ways. We are Women of Goddess. Her spirit […]
(Special Post 1) 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.] Introduction by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang and Wennifer Lin-Haver Helen Hye-Sook Hwang I am asking each of us to consider writing a sentence or paragraph on “Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, or Spirituality?” This idea is prompted by Wennifer Lin-Haver, Founder of Mother Tree Sanctuary, and I agree that we need to and can create a sort of collective writing on the topic. What we write below will be included and published in The Girl God, Mother Tree Sanctuary, and Return to Mago. As a subaltern minority as we seem at the current point of time, Goddessians/Magoists [the term Mago means the Great Goddess] need to make extra efforts to make our voices and presences exposed to the public and inner circles. Length and style are open. Please also include your name, region/state/country, title, and/or website URL. We strongly encourage you if you are located in a place where Goddessians are rarely around. We intend to make a collective testimonial tapestry of WE as Goddessians/Magoists! Please keep this in your mind and join us in this collective effort. Thank you in advance. March 6, 2014 AF (Archaic Future)! Wennifer Lin-Haver Our “call” started as a conversation between Helen and me where I was expressing to her the real need for Mother Tree Sanctuary to be more articulate with exploring the significance and importance of Goddess in our lives. I was prompted to give such a response, when asked “why” we had to differentiate God and Goddess. “Isn’t everything God?” She asked. And “Isn’t Goddess also God?” “Isn’t it all the same as long was we’re all coming from our ‘higher’ self?” she asked. So I saw this warranted a longer and much deeper discussion. I initially thought I should formulate a response and post it as a Page or Tab in our website, but after some reflection with Helen, I saw how much better it would be if we replied to this question as a diverse and creative collective. I surely do not have all the answers as an individual but perhaps together, we can come up with something more whole, colorful and satisfying. I do hope you will contribute a little something! We are always grateful for all that you have to share.
(Special Post) Why I choose to be an RTM contributor by Glenys Livingstone

The contribution of my writing to Return to Mago E-Magazine has evolved since it began four years ago, into a deeply mutually enhancing relationship. The time and effort taken to write carefully and in alignment with my heartfelt passions and insights, and then to be able to publish to a receptive audience, has always been rewarding – for me personally and apparently for many who received it.

Beltaine/High Spring within the Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from Chapter 8 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Traditionally the dates for Beltaine/High Spring are: Southern Hemisphere – October 31st or 1st November Northern Hemisphere – April 30th (May Eve) or 1st May though the actual astronomical date varies. It is the meridian point or cross-quarter day between Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice, thus actually a little later in early November for S.H., and early May for N.H., respectively. The twin fires lit in older times on hilltops in Ireland for Beltaine likely represented the two eyes of night and day.[i] With this vision, Goddess as Sun and Moon sees Her Land, and with the power of Her eyes (Sun and Moon) brings forth life and beauty. With the fire eyes, Goddess“reoccupied and saw her whole land…”[ii] The twin fires later came to be used to run cattle between as they headed out to Summer pasture, for the purpose of burning off the bugs and ticks of Winter; the fires may thus be understood to serve a cleansing effect and likely the origins of the tradition of the ceremonial leaping of flames by participants in Beltaine festivities. In PaGaian Cosmology this is poetically expressed as the Flame of Love that burns away the psyche’s “bugs and ticks,” and sees the Beauty present, and calls it forth. The Beltaine flames may be a celebration of Sun entering into the eye, into the whole bodymind: a powerful creative evocation upon which the Dance of Life depends, and as the cleansing power of love and pleasure. PaGaian focus for Beltaine is on the Holy Desire/Passion for life, and it may be accounted for on as many levels as possible … the complete holarchy/dimensions of the erotic power. On an elemental level, there is our desire for Air, Water, the warmth of Fire, and to be of use/service to Earth. There is an essential longing, sometimes nameless, sometimes constellated, experienced physically, that may be recognized as the Desire of the Universe Herself – desiring in us.[iii] We may remember that we are united in this desire with each other, with all who have gone before us, and with all who come after us – all who dance the Dance of Life. Beltaine is a time for dancing and weaving into our lives, our heart’s desires; traditionally the dance is done with participants holding ribbons attached to a pole or tree (a Maypole in the Northern Hemisphere, which may be renamed as a “Novapole” in the Southern Hemisphere), wrapping the pole with the ribbons. This is not simply the heterosexual metaphor as is thought in modern times (thanks largely to Freudian thinking) – it is deeper than that. As Caitlin and John Matthews point out: it is symbolic of a far greater exchange than that between men and women – in fact between the elements themselves. … the maypole, a comparatively recent manifestation in the history of mystery celebrations, can be seen as the linking of heaven and earth, binding those who dance around it … into a pattern of birth, life and death which lay at the heart of the maze of earth mysteries.[iv] Beltaine is a celebration of Desire on all levels – microcosm and on the macrocosm, the exoteric and the esoteric.[v] It brought you forth physically, and it brings forth all that you produce in your life, and it keeps the Cosmos spinning. It is felt in you as Desire, it urges you on. It is the deep awesome dynamic that pervades the Cosmos and brings forth all things – babies, meals, gardens, careers, books and solar systems. We have often been taught, certainly by religious traditions, to pay it as little attention as possible; whereas it should be the cause of much more meditation/attention, tracing it to its deepest place in us. What are our deepest desires beneath our surface desires. What if we enter more deeply into this feeling, this power? It may be a place where the Universe is a deep reciprocity – a receiving and giving that is One. Brian Swimme says, in a whole chapter on “Allurement”: You can examine your own self and your own life with this question: Do I desire to have this pleasure? Or rather, do I desire to become pleasure? The demand to ‘have,’ to possess, always reveals an element of immaturity. To keep, to hold, to control, to own; all of this is fundamentally a delusion, for our own truest desire is to be and to live. We have ripened and matured when we realize that our own deepest desire in erotic attractions is to become pleasure … to enter ecstatically into pleasure so that giving and receiving pleasure become one simple activity. Our most mature hope is to become pleasure’s source and pleasure’s home simultaneously. So it is with the allurements of life: we become beauty to ignite the beauty of others.[vi] Beltaine is a good time to contemplate this animal bodymind that you are: how it seeks real pleasure. What is your real pleasure? Be gracious with this bodymind and in awe of this form, this wonder. Beltaine is also a good time to contemplate light, and its affects on our bodyminds as it enters into us; how our animal bodyminds respond directly to the Sun’s light, which apparently may awaken physical desires. Light vibrates into us – different wavelengths as different colours – and shifts to pulse. It is felt most fully in Springtime (“spring fever”), as light courses down a direct neural line from retina to pineal gland. When the pineal gland receives the light pulse it releases “a cascade of hormones, drenching the body in hunger, thirst, or great desire.”[vii] We respond directly to Sun as an organism: it is primal. NOTES: [i] Michael Dames, Ireland, 195-199. [ii] Ibid., 196. [iii] I have been inspired and informed by Swimme’s articulations about desire, particularly in Canticle to the Cosmos, video 2 “The Primeval Fireball,” video 5 “Destruction and Loss,” and video 10 “The Timing of Creativity.” [iv] Matthews, The Western Way, 54. And for more, see “Creativity …
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.
(Prose) Halcyon for the Season by Deanne Quarrie

A bird for this season is the Kingfisher, also known as the Halcyon. The Kingfisher is associated in Greek myth with the Winter Solstice. There were fourteen “halcyon days” in every year, seven of which fell before the winter solstice, seven after; peaceful days when the sea was smooth as a pond and the hen-halcyon built a floating nest and hatched out her young. She also had another habit, that of carrying her dead mate on her back over the sea and mourning him with a plaintive cry. Pliny reported that the halcyon was rarely seen and then only at the winter and summer solstices and at the setting of the Pleiades. She was therefore, a manifestation of the Moon-Goddess who was worshiped at the two solstices as the Goddess of Life in Death and Death in Life and, when the Pleiades set, she sent the sacred king his summons for death. Kingfishers are typically stocky, short-legged birds with large heads and large, heron-like beaks. They feed primarily on fish, hovering over the water or watching intently from perches and they plunge headlong into the water to catch their prey. Their name, Alcedinidae, stems from classical Greek mythology. Alcyone, Daughter of the Wind, was so distraught when her husband perished in a shipwreck that she threw herself into the sea. Both were then transformed into kingfishers and roamed the waves together. When they nested on the open sea, the winds remained calm and the weather balmy. Still another Alcyone, Queen of Sailing, was the mystical leader of the seven Pleiades. The heliacal rising of the Pleiades in May marked the beginning of the navigational year and their setting marked the end. Alcyone, as Sea Goddess protected sailors from rocks and rough weather. The bird, halcyon continued for centuries to be credited with the magical power of allaying storms. Shakespeare refers to this legend in this passage from Hamlet: Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow’d and so gracious is the time. Hamlet, I, i 157 When I was a young mother, and my children were little, we lived in a house that had a creek in the back yard. There were small trees along the far bank of this creek and every day, a kingfisher would sit in the branches overlooking the creek. Sometimes he sat there very quietly for a very long time. Suddenly he would dive from his perch straight into the creek. Every time he did he came out and up into the air with a fish. It gave me great pleasure to watch him from my kitchen window. I love birds. I love learning about their habits because it teaches me ways of being that are closer to nature. I love drawing birds as well. When I was a young and more able, I was an avid bird watcher, out with my friends hoping for a sight never seen before. I love the story of the kingfisher and her connection to the Halcyon Days of the Winter Solstice. It is for most of us the busiest time of year. Whether it is for the Solstice or Christmas (often both) we are in a frenzy to get things done, making sure everything is just right and perfect. I celebrate the Winter Solstice. As a priestess, my days right now are very busy creating ritual. It is at the Solstice that many passage rites are happening with the women I work with. And of course, I celebrate with my family with our magical Yule Log each year. But I try to honor those seven days before and the seven days after by trying to have the frantic moments before the Halcyon Days begin and then even when busy, hold the peace and calm of that beautiful smooth sea in my mind. Peace and love and joy surrounding the Winter Solstice make it perfect. May the Peace of a Halcyon Sea be yours in this Solstice Season. Do hold the image of that little kingfisher in mind! Meet Mago Contributor, Deanne Quarrie
Samhain: Stepping Wisely through the Open Door by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Day of the Dead altar, via Wikimedia Commons According to Celtic tradition, on Samhain (October 31 for those in the north and April 30 for those in the south) the doors between the human and spirit worlds open. Faeries, demons, and spirits of the dead pour out of the Otherworld to walk the Earth. In the past, some would try to hurry ghosts past their houses or ward off evil spirits by setting jack o’lanterns in their windows. They avoided going outside, especially past cemeteries, lest they be snatched away to the Otherworld. In ancient times, some offered sacrifices to propitiate deities. However, others have invited in the souls of friends and family who have passed away. In Brittany, according to W.Y. Evans-Wentz’s Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries, people would provide “a feast and entertainment for them of curded-milk, hot pancakes, and cider, served on the family table covered with a fresh white tablecloth, and to supply music” which “the dead come to enjoy with their friends” (p. 218). Other cultures also have such welcoming traditions. In Korea, as so beautifully described by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang in her posts about her family’s mourning for her father (Part I and Part II), in Mexico on the Day of the Dead, and elsewhere, food and flowers are brought to cemeteries to honor those no longer in the realm of the living. Many of us live in a society where death is pushed out of sight and Samhain’s sacred traditions have devolved into Halloween, a commercialized children’s holiday. Still, it seems to me that the pandemic, climate catastrophes, and war have made death much more present in our everyday thoughts over the past couple of years than before, so perhaps this year’s Samhain offers us the opportunity to re-examine Celtic and other practices of the past and present to see what insights and meaning they may have for us. Jack o lanterns: By Mihaela Bodlovic, via Wikimedia Commons All these ancient practices respect the spirit world and its power. Whether you believe that the Otherworld can wreak havoc on us at Samhain or not, the realm where spirits dwell clearly has power. Its allure can take us away from focusing on mundane, daily challenges or, more positively, open our eyes to the value of relating to forces that can give richness and meaning to our lives. At the same time, we must remember that each domain has its own power. We can use our physical bodies in beneficial ways that those in the Otherworld cannot. We must respect the power of the Otherworld as well as our own. Some kinds of healing are only possible when we welcome those from the Otherworld into our lives in a healthy way, whether through holiday visits or every day through remembrance, meditation, prayer, or other means. I’m of an age when many of my beloveds are in the Otherworld and so I am beginning to find that the idea of being able to sit with someone I have lost is cause not for fear, but rather joy and comfort. Perhaps those who have longstanding wounds from the past can heal by remembering those we have lost at Samhain and forgiving them or ourselves or realizing that we are no longer bound to those who have hurt us and are now gone. Samhain can also reassure us of the truth of our intuitive sense that our beloveds who we grieve are with us still, in some way, on this night and throughout the year. When we participate in the celebration of Samhain’s opening of doors to the Otherworld, if only for a day, we are honoring our own participation into the great cycle of life, death, and rebirth. We are expanding our vision of ourselves to be more than our bodies on the Earth and experiencing ourselves as connected to many realms, seen and unseen, spirit and human. We are accepting that at some time we will also become ancestors, with all the responsibility that entails and the fulfillment of taking our place in the complex matrix of being that is our universe. When we interact with the souls of those we have lost in ways that are healthy for us, however we may choose and believe that happens, we can also better celebrate the realm of the living. Just as we may listen in various ways for positive messages from those whom we have lost, we can ensure that we are expressing important guidance to those who will come after us by who we are and how we live our lives. We can express that life is worth living, even with all its traumas, and that we respect both the boundaries and the doors between the worlds so that we may continue living fully in our physical bodies on our beautiful, awe-inspiring Earth. I hope my message to my descendants will be: Love your lives. Build on what we have done and do better. Leave behind what we left you that no longer serves. If you feel alone, remember that you have thousands of generations of mothers sending you unconditional love and also generations of women coming after you eager to pick up where you left off. According to Mary Condren in The Serpent and the Goddess, in the most ancient times, “Samhain had been primarily a harvest feast celebrating the successful growth and gathering of the fruits of the past year” (p. 36). While we in the north are coming into the season of death, those in the south are experiencing Beltane, the first moments of spring when the doors between the worlds are also open. The eternal cycle of life, death, and regeneration turns again. Whether you are celebrating Samhain or Beltane, know that this holy time offers us all a chance to enter into the task of maintaining harmony with those we have loved before and for bringing balance between life and death, winter and summer, and the realm of the living and …
A PaGaian Wheel of the Year and Her Creativity by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 2 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. for larger image see: https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ Essentially a PaGaian Wheel of the Year celebrates Cosmogenesis – the unfolding of the Cosmos, none of which is separate from the unfolding of each unique place/region, and each unique being. This creativity of Cosmogenesis is celebrated through Earth-Sun relationship as it may be expressed and experienced within any region of our Planet. PaGaian ceremony expresses this with Triple Goddess Poetry 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 expressed in the seasons), happens because of Earth’s tilt in relationship with Sun: because this 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,[i] 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.[ii] 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 (as of this writing) 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,[iii] and more recently a site of ongoing ritual activity as old as seventy thousand years has been found.[iv] 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. 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 anyone’s 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.[v]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. In PaGaian Cosmology I have adapted the Wheel as a way of celebrating the Female Metaphor and also as a way of celebrating Cosmogenesis, the Creativity that is present really/actually in every moment, but for which the Seasonal Moments provide a pattern/Poetry over the period of a year – in time and place. The pattern that I unfold is a way in which the three different phases/characteristics interplay. In fact, the way in which they interplay seems infinite, the way they inter-relate is deeply complex. I think it is possible to find many ways to celebrate them. There is nothing concrete about the chosen story/Poetry, nor about each of the scripts presented here, just as there is nothing concrete about the Place of Being – it (She) is always relational, a Dynamic Interchange. Whilst being grounded in the “Real,” the Poetry chosen for expression is therefore at the same time, a potentially infinite expression, according to the heart and mind of the storyteller. NOTES: [i] See Appendix C, *(6), Glenys Livingstone, A Poiesis of the Creative …
(Essay) Ceremony as “Prayer” or Sacred Awareness By Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 3 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. MoonCourt Ceremonial Space set for Autumn Equinox ceremony, 2013 Ritual/ceremony is often described as “sacred space.” I understand that to mean “awareness of the space as sacred”: all space is sacred, what shifts is our awareness – awareness of the depth of spacetime, and of the depth of all things and all beings. I understand “sacred awareness” as an awareness of deep relationship and identity with the very cosmic dynamics that create and sustain the Universe; or an awareness of what is involved in the depth of each moment, each thing, each being. Ceremony is a space and time given to expression, contemplation and nurturance of that depth … at least to something of it. Ceremony may be both an expression of deep inner truths – perceived relationship to self, Earth and Cosmos, as well as being a mode of teaching and drawing forth deeper participation. Essentially, ceremony is a way of entering into the depth of the present moment … what is deeply present right here and now, a way of entering deep space and deep time, which is not somewhere else but is right here. Every-thing, and every moment, has Depth – more depth than we usually allow ourselves to contemplate, let alone comprehend. This book, this paper, this ink, the chair, the floor – each has a history and connections that go back, all the way back to Origins. This moment you experience now, in its particular configuration, place, people present, subtle feelings, thoughts, and propensity towards certain directions or outcomes, has a depth – many histories and choices that go back … ultimately all the way back to the beginning. Great Origin is present at every point of space and time – right here. In ceremony we are plugging our awareness into something of that. In this holy context then – in this mindframe of knowing connection, everything one does is a participation in the creation of the Cosmos: for the tribal indigenous woman, perhaps the weaving of a basket; for another, perhaps preparing a meal; for you, perhaps getting on the train to go to a workplace. It is possible to regain this sense, to come to feel that the way one breathes makes a difference – that with it, you co-create the present and the future, and you may even be a blessing on the past. In every moment we receive the co-creation, the work, of innumerable beings, of innumerable moments, and innumerable interactions of the elements, in everything we touch … and so are we touched by them. The local is our touchstone to the Cosmos – it is not separate. Ceremony may be a way into this awareness, into strengthening it. Ceremony is actually ‘doing,’ not just theorizing. We can talk about our personal and cultural disconnection endlessly, but we need to actually change our minds. Ceremony can be an enabling practice – a catalyst/practice for personal and cultural change. It is not just talking about eating the pear, it is eating the pear; it is not just talking about sitting on the cushion (meditating), it is sittingon the cushion. It is a cultural practice wherein we tell a story/stories about what we believe to be so most deeply, about who and what we are. Ceremony can be a place for practicing a new language, a new way of speaking, or spelling – a place for practicing “matristic storytelling”[i] if you like: that is, for telling stories of the Mother, of Earth and Cosmos as if She were alive and sentient. We can “play like we know it,” so that we may come to know it.[ii] Ceremony then is a form of social action. I have found it useful to describe ceremony using and extending words used by Ken Wilber to describe a “transpersonal practice,” which is needed for real change: he said it was a practice that discloses “a deeper self (I or Buddha) in a deeper community (We or Sangha) expressing a deeper truth (It or Dharma).”[iii] My extension of that is: ceremony may disclose a deeper beautiful self (the I/Virgin/Urge to Be/Buddha), in a deeper relational community (the We/Mother/Place of Being/Sangha), expressing a deeper transformative truth (the It/Old One/Space to Be/Dharma). This is the “unitive body,” the “microcosmos” that Charlene Spretnak refers to in States of Grace.[iv] Since ceremony is an opportunity to give voice to deeper places in ourselves, forms of communication are used that the dreamer, the emotional, the body, can comprehend, such as music, drama, simulation, dance, chanting, singing.[v] These forms enable the entering of a level of consciousness that is there all the time, but that is not usually expressed or acknowledged. We enter a realm that is ‘out of time,’ which is commonly said to be not the “real” world, but it is more organic/indigenous to all being and at least as real as the tick-tock world. It is a place “between the worlds,” wherein we may put our hands on the very core of our lives, touch whatever it is that we feel our existence is about, and thus touch the possibility of re-creating and renewing ourselves. NOTES: [i] A term used by Gloria Feman Orenstein in The Reflowering of the Goddess (New York: Pergamon Press, 1990), 147. [ii] As my doctoral thesis supervisor Dr. Susan Murphy once described it to me in conversation. [iii] Ken Wilber, A Brief History of Everything (Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1996), 306-307. [iv] 145. [v] As Starhawk notes, The Spiral Dance, 45. REFERENCES: Livingstone, Glenys. A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Girl God Books: Bergen, Norway, 2023. Orenstein, Gloria Feman. The Reflowering of the Goddess. New York: Pergamon Press, 1990. Starhawk. The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. New York: Harper and Row, 1999. Wilber, Ken. A Brief History of Everything. Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1996.

(Bell Essay 4) The Ancient Korean Bell and Magoism by Helen Hwang

Part IV Asking the Dangerous Question: How Old is the Symbol of Nine Nipples? An inquiry about the origin of an ancient female symbolism is subversive in nature. It shakes the ground of patriarchal premises come to be believed rather than understood. The question here is the provenance of the nine nipples sculpted on ancient Korean bells. A focus on the female principle that nine nipples represent hurls the inquirer into uncharted territory. Note that official [read Sinocentric] historiography of East Asia leaves no means to navigate through the beginning of gynocentric civilizations. Where there is no written history, archaeologies and mythologies are rendered anomalous if not obsolete. Thus, tracking the provenance of nine nipples is made to face a quandary, without the mytho-history of Old Magoism. The relief of nine nipples on the ancient Korean bell has its predecessors. From Silla, a wind chime called pungtak from Gameun-sa (Temple of Gameun) appears to be an immediate model. Much smaller in size (27.8 cm), pungtak is to be hung on the eaves of a pagoda or a Buddhist temple building. Given that the Gameun-sa was completed in 682 CE, the nine nipples of pungtak may well be considered as the precursor of the Sangwon-sa bell (cast 725 CE). Unfortunately, however, we are unequipped to trace the pre-Silla Korean examples of nine nipples under the standard view of Sinocentric ancient Korean history. This will need another space to discuss. That said, how old is the symbol of nine nipples? Extant ancient bronze bells with nine nipples suggest that it dates back to as early as the introduction of bronze metallurgy in East Asia. On the other hand, however, the existence of nine nipples on ancient pottery bells throws a new light on another scenario that they may predate the Bronze Age. That the use of clay preceded the use of metal is incontestable. Interestingly, a good number of ancient bronze bells with nine nipples are from the Shang dynasty (ca. 1600 BCE-ca. 1046 BCE) and the Western Zhou dynasty (1046 BCE-771 BCE) of China. Seong Nakju, in his article tracing the origin of ancient Korean bells, states that bells with the nine protruded knobs emerged for the first time between the late Shang and the early Zhou period (see Seong Nakju below in Sources). When something of the female principle, ultimately like the provenance of Mago, is dated to the Shang dynasty [Shang dynasty to be the earliest historical polity of China], it suggests that it was there before the beginning of Chinese history. On these ancient Chinese bells, the nine knobs are placed in three rows of three in its four corners just like yudu (nipples) of the Korean bell. Nonetheless, there is, among others, a distinction to be mentioned here. The nine knobs of Zhou bells are called “mae” (枚, classifier for small things, mei in Chinese) not “yudu.” The female connotation is absent in ancient Chinese bells. This gender shift or female castration to be precise, however casual it may seem, is no small factor. It has allowed a chasm in the forthcoming history of Chinese bells. Bells were no mere object for the ancients. They were the channel of epiphany, sacred in short. They represented the divine power derived from Old Magoism during which female shamans ruled. The patriarchal enthronement that took seizure in the course of history, however, marked a discontinuity and changed the nature of the bell’s symbolism to be only nominal, lacking reality. The bell as the symbol of the female principle was no longer effective under patriarchal rules. Why? It was deprived of the reality of the Goddess with which it could reverberate. Thus, it lost its ultimate purpose, to create music, in that the patriarchal ruling principle itself was not “musical,” but dissonant with the rest of the world. One who breaks the harmony can’t own the music! Bells are rendered as a thing that points to the meaning of the past. This is how bells during the era of patriarchal rules came to be objectified as a royal belonging, as seen in the Qing bell of a later time. Ancient sages or even kings and queens of East Asia may have noticed what had gone wrong with the bell and agonized to restore it, the effort for which they were praised as the great thinker or sage ruler. The imposing air of authority had to be made visual precisely because the bell could no longer do the magic, engendering the divine power. Thus, highly embellished designs and classifications of various bells were made to cover up the void. Later on, the magnitude of the bell was employed to convey (pseudo-)power, deranged from the female principle. Nonetheless, the nine nipples seemingly survived in many bells of the Zhou dynasty. I present here some specific bells such as yongzhong (a bell with a cylindrical handle on top), niuzhong (a bell with a semi-circular knob on top), and yangjiaozhong (a bell shaped like ram’s horns) to highlight the various styles of mae. After all, pyeonjong (bianzhong in Chinese, metal chime bells) is a variation of pyeongyeong (bianqing in Chinese), the stone chime bells (see Part I). This suggests that the making of ancient bells needs to be seen in a continuum rather than as a new invention in the Bronze era. However, we do not have pyeongyeongs with nine nipples. Stone chimes do not seem to have nine nipples. If ancient East Asians had not carved the nine nipples on a stone bell, then they did it on clay. Pottery bells with nine nipples are found to have co-existed with bronze bells. The level of sophistication and precision in artistry is there as well, as shown in the images. It may be, as experts would explain, that ceramic bells were created to substitute for the costly bronze bells during the Zhou dynasty. However, that should not be always the case. Prior to the Bronze Age, humans invented terracotta technology and brought it to its zenith from which, in fact, metallurgical techniques are likely to have derived. In short, ceramic bells of the Zhou dynasty suggest that the origin of nine nipples predates the …
(Bell Essay 6) The Magoist Whale Bell: Unraveling the Cetacean Code of Korean Temple Bells by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

[Author’s Note: The part 6 and ensuing sequels are a new development from the original essay sequels on Korean Temple Bells and Magoism that first published January 11, 2013 in this current magazine. See (Bell Essay 1) Ancient Korean Bells and Magoism by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang.] Southern right whale from Wikimedia Commons Introduction The Korean temple bell is no mere Buddhist device. Calling it a Sillan Esoteric Buddhist invention in origin only adds to its mystification. Commissioned by Sillan rulers who represented traditional Magoist shaman rulers, Sillan temple bells administer sonic balance within and without all beings once and for all. In short, the Sillan temple bell reenacts the Magost Cosmogony HERE and NOW.[1] Engendering resonance to the self-creative power of cosmic music, Yulryeo (Rhythms and Tones), the Korean temple bell summons the paradisiacal reality of the Creatrix, Mago. Cast in the form of a female body, the bell structurally embodies the gynocentric principle of the Creatrix, the Mago Way. I have discussed earlier such features as nine nipples and apsaras. Here the dragon figure (Yongnyu) and the sound tube (Yongtong or Eumtong) in its head are focused. Multi-functional and polysemic, the dragon is there not only to be the loop for hanging but also to envelop the sound tube, seen below. Among others, the sound tube stands out as a distinctive feature of Korean temple bells that distinguishes them from their Chinese and Japanese counterparts. What is the sound tube of the Korean temple bell? Why do Korean temple bells have a sound tube? Answers to these questions concern a yet-to-be-unraveled undergirding theme of the Korean temple bell, the whale. Although its origin is debated, the sound tube signals Sillan cetacean veneration. In the mytho-history of Magoism, Silla (57 BCE-935 CE) stands as a prominent ancient Korean state, which succeeded and flowered ancient Magoist cetaceanism. Sillan cetacenism defines Silla as a new government that succeeded Old Magoist confederacies. In this context, we can assess a whale-shaped wooden mallet, which is no mere decorative addition to the bell. Nonetheless, the whale-shaped mallet is only a tip of the cetacean meaning of the bell. A whale (고래 Gorae in Korean) is the very model that the Korean temple bell (the bell hereafter) takes after, especially for its vocalizations. The bell mimics the music of whales. While the latter is heard in water, the former is heard in land. Its cetacean names corroborate such an assessment. The bell is called Janggyeong (長鯨 Eternal Whale), Gyeongjong (鯨鐘 Whale Bell), Hwagyeong (華鯨 Splendid Whale), or Geogyeong (巨鯨 Gigantic Whale). As such, the sound of the bell is alternatively called “the sound of whale (鯨音gyeongeum).” Ancient Koreans perceived whales, pre-human in origin and once a land animal, as the messenger of the Creatrix, Mago. In folk traditions, the phrase, “riding the back of a whale,” was widely popularized among East Asians throughout history, which means that one returns to Mago, by riding the back of a whale upon death. That ancient Koreans were cetacean venerators remains esoteric. The cetacean code of Korean temple bells holds the key to unraveling what has gone suppressed in patriarchy, the Magoist Cosmogony. By the Magoist Cosmogony, I mean a systematic origin story of our universe, as is recounted in the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City). I have summarized the Budoji’s cosmogonic chapters in my aforementioned book, The Mago Way, as follows: The Magoist Cosmogony highlights the sonic movement of cosmic elements as the Creatrix. In the beginning, there was light. The movement/vibration of light (cosmic music) in the universe caused creation to take place over eons. Stars were born in the previous cosmic era. In due time, Mago was born together with the Earth (the Stronghold of Mago) with her moons. Her (self-)emergence marks the beginning of earthly history. Mago listened to and acted in tune with the cyclic movement of the cosmic music. In further due time, S/HE bore two daughters, Gunghui (Goddess Gung) and Sohui (Goddess So) parthenogenetically. This Primordial Triad laid the foundation for the earthly environment for all species. Mago, assisted by HER two daughters, orchestrated the terrestrial plan to bring acoustic balance in harmony with the cosmic music/sound/vibration. S/HE delegated HER descendants to cultivate and manage the sonic equilibrium of the Earth [Italics added].[2] Precisely, the Sillan temple bell encodes the message that whales are the paragon of Magoists whose mandate is “to cultivate and manage the sonic equilibrium of the Earth.” Restoring Magoist cetaceanism is metamorphic. Antithetical to the very establishment of patriarchy, ancient Magoist Korean cetacean practice unfolds the Other World that has been ever HERE. This essay, assessing the sound tube as a Magoist code of Sillan cetaceanism, aims to delineate how the Magoist cetacean meaning came to be encoded in the sound tube of the bell by the Sillan rulers of the 7th and 8th centuries. In decoding the cetacean message, we are led to the myth of Manpasikjeok (萬波息笛 the pacifying flute that defeats all, hereafter the pacifying flute), a Sillan royal treasure that is hermeneutically construed as made of the tusk of a narwhal. A group of Korean scholars maintain that the sound tube was designed to represent the pacifying flute. The task of this essay is to go further and to re-read the myth of Manpasikjeok—a story of King Sinmun the Great (r. 681-692) of Silla (57 BCE-935 CE) who was told by a sea dragon to create a flute out of a mysterious bamboo tree growing in a mysterious mountain in the East Sea, alternatively known as the Sea of Whales—from the Magoist perspective. This story has been written and misinterpreted as an enigmatic Buddhist story. I hold that “Ruler (King or Queen) the Great (大王 Daewang),” unlike other kings of the ancient world, does not refer to a patriarchal monarch. It is a Magoist cetacean term that is related with “Ruler Whale the Great (Daewang Gorae),” referring to the blue whale for its gigantic size or whales collectively. By adopting the cetacean title …
(Video) 2013 Mago Pilgrimage to Korea by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s note: The first Mago Pilgrimage to Korea took place June 6-19, 2013. We visited Ganghwa Island, Seoul, Wonju, Mt. Jiri, Yeong Island (Busan), and Jeju Island.] Read Mago Pilgrimage Essay 1 and Mago Pilgrimage Essay 2. See Meet Mago Contributor, Hae Kyoung Ahn for “Ma Gaia Womb” chant music and Meet Mago Contributor, Helen Hwang Ph.D.