March 30, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work Admin

(Poem) Star-Crossed by Melissa La Flamme

I feel your heat

stirring

silently

between the tender folds

of sleeping and waking,

opening

to the delicate, potent

time each day when

residue of viscous dreams

coalesce the gravity of desire.

De sirée,

the French say,

of the stars,

crossed now.

Come with me,

daybreak beckons

pregnant with promise

to spill another custard rising.

Be my sun,

rise in me,

carry us down and over,

up and through

the hills of bodies,

souls salty

with ocean’s endless tide,

where I, your moon,

track the arc

lit with the ages,

our mythic stories

colliding

like stars

colluding,

busking

for radiance.

Explode my horizons

while I hold your heart

softly in moist eyes

as we enter

worlds waiting

embodying

multiplex layers,

landscapes

of fractal soul,

solid and alive,

alight in our bodies —

as celestial

as we are animal,

moving deliberately

to the unknown deep bass,

holding down the beat,

romancing the heart

of the earth.

My book, What You Are For: Inciting A Revolution In Your Soul, is available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1478753250

Meet Mago Contributor Melissa LaFlamme.

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(Poem) spirit by Jhilimil Breckenridge

i know when spirit stills it is when the eagle perches, tearing flesh held in one claw the crow patiently waiting i know when spirit stills it is when clouds are mottled cream painted onto the blue mulmul kurta that is the sky
(Essay 7) The Blending of Bön, Buddhism and the Goddess Gemu in Mosuo Culture by Krista Rodin

Differences among the Traditions Buddhist Temple, Lugu Lake. Goddess Gemu behind right hand flags. Photo K. Rodin Mosuo chieftains had strong ties with the Buddhist monastic structure as, according to Shih, “the Lamaist theory of the unity of divinity and personality provided the Moso chief with another possible ground to claim perpetual legitimacy of reign.”[1] These chiefs associated primarily with Zhameige and the Gelugpas. They were installed, or at least condoned, by Chinese regional bureaucrats. While the chiefs were men, daily social, and cultural activities were governed by women. Politically, Buddhism was a key structural thread for the elite, yet in every other way the Goddess Gemu and Daba traditions held sway in the people’s minds and hearts. Some of the differences between Daba and Buddhist ideas and practices include: – Dabas believe in the immortality of the soul; Buddhists do not. – Dabas use meat as sacrificial offerings in their ceremonies, which is anathema to Buddhists. – Dabas lack any hierarchical or structural institution, but rather function similarly to shamans; Buddhists have highly structured monastic institutional traditions. – Dabas rely on experiential training; Buddhists rely on both textual and experiential training. – Dabas do not use written story-based sacred texts; Buddhists do. – Daba traditions and rituals are passed on through oral transmission, Buddhist through both oral and written transmissions. – Dabas look to nature and the invisible world to balance the spirits; Buddhists seek to overcome the senses through meditation. They have almost diametrically opposed views of the world. Prior to the Social/Democratic Reform there were three levels of dabas: 1) the now non-existent haba, who utilized Tibetan sacred books, were psychopomps and had powerful magic; 2) the paddaba, the diviner who could see malevolent spirits; and 3) the pvdabba, the incantatory who knew how to chant the rituals to exorcise malevolent ghosts.[2] In addition to dabas, and lamas, which is the local term for any Buddhist monk, in Yongning, there is a long-standing tradition of shamans and diviners, called soma and zheda. Soma are vegetarian and deal exclusively with gods. They often perform in company with lamas who chant sutras to guide their journeys. The zheda cannot fly like the soma can, and they only deal with ghosts they can see, but with whom they cannot directly communicate. They also cannot communicate directly with humans, but need a translator to interpret their messages during their trance.[3] The soma and zheda can be either men or women and were invested by the Living Buddha. Today, without the Living Buddha, this tradition is in limbo. The dabas were practically wiped out during the Cultural Revolution. Their ritual implements were destroyed and no one was allowed to train the next generation. Lamu Gatusa, a Mosuo scholar, tried to reverse this trend in the 1990s when he organized twenty young men to train with two respected dabas. He also collected and recorded all known daba ceremonies and translated them into Mandarin.[4] For the people, the differences among the levels of daba, the lamas, the soma and zheda were not problematic. Dabas performed certain ceremonies, shamans and lamas others, and often the same event would have both dabas and lamas performing their ceremonies, e.g., funerary rites, to ensure that all the spirits were appeased.[5] The differing systems influenced each other over time. According to Mathieu, by the mid-20th century the dabas disassociated themselves from blood sacrifice and left that to their assistants. She also states, “In the Buddhist regions of Yongning, ordinary men and women likewise repent of their meat eating habits through daily penitence, by praying and circumambulating the village soto, stone burners in which the Moso light ritual fires.[6] (To be continued)Meet Mago Contributor, Krista Rodin, Ph.D. [1] Ibid., 244. [2] Christine Mathieu, “The Moso Ddaba Religious Specialists,” Naxi and Moso Ethnography: Kin, Rites, Pictographs, eds. Michael Oppitz and Elizabeth Hsu (Zürich: Völkerkundemuseum, 1998), 213. [3] Ibid., 211. [4] Ibid., 210. [5] Shih, “Mortuary Rituals and Symbols among the Moso,” 105-107. [6] Mathieu, “The Moso Ddaba Religious Specialists,” 211.
(She Rises 2) Introduction by Trista Hendren

[Author’s Note: This is part of introduction to She Rises, Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?” forthcoming June Solstice, 2015] Goddess has been a guilty pleasure of mine for the last twenty years, although it wasn’t until my mid-thirties that I was able to fully embrace Her. She had been hidden and demonized throughout my childhood in a way that took me a long time to recover from. I was always the quiet and submissive daughter that I was supposed to be. Once she was fully unveiled, there as no turning back on the rage that I felt and the power that slowly returned to me. This awakening cost me the relationship with my father. It has been a painful realization that my continued silence and subordination was a mandatory requirement for some of my relationships. Despite the loss that I still feel, I cannot revert to the person I once was.
(Essay 1) How Did I Fall In Love with Korean Historical Drama? by Anna Tzanova, M.A.

Go to online class, Korean Historical Dramas. “To become a kairomancer¹, you need to learn to trust your feelings as you walk the roads of this world, to develop your personal science of shivers, to recognize in your gut and your skin and in free-floating impressions that you know far more than you hold on the surface of consciousness. You need to take care of your poetic health, reading what rhymes in a day or a season. You want to expect the unexpected, to make friends with surprises, and never miss that special moment.” ~ Robert Moss² After a year and a half of work without a day off; driving 100-150 miles every other day; writing past midnight every night; at the end of July 2011, overwhelmed by fatigue, I finally decided to take a weekend off. Little did I know, that time off would last over seven months, during which I would not only change my job, but also acquire a new passion.
(Poetry) The Nine Muses, Daughters of Mnemosyne by Susan Hawthorne

01 Kalliope, Muse of Epic Poetry I’m drawn to Kalliope who can sing for days her verses flowing without end one night I sat by her as she sang her epic poems to the stars she says they are not so long not even a light year long they are intricate their metre complex and rhythmic so you can dance as she sang it seemed that the stars came closer the trees huddled around us and the whispers of animals could be heard in the forest before I knew it I could hear the rushing sound of a stream just out of reach I listened and watched the night through woke to the sound of a trumpeting swan the clatter of grasshopper wings 02 Polyhymnia, Muse of Song I thought Polyhymnia would be a walk-over a softie away with the fairies her head in the clouds but this Muse is serious she is sacred through and through whether it be poetry hymns or dance its her eloquence that lifts her and us she is solid too in her farm boots turning the soil following the ox-plough digging weeding and harvesting then come the celebrations of harvest pantomimes for which you need geometry to organise a stage Polyhymnia is queen of silence meditation more than a hobby on Parnassus she listens to the oracles of Pythia nothing is lost it was her son Orpheus who picked up the lyre and revived the dead 03 Melpomene, Muse of Tragedy in your boots you stomp around the stage with your knife your club and that hideous mask life is tragic enough without making it ugly too your sting is like that of the bee whose honey is sweet but the bite can kill that’s how the tragic arts are we are all engrossed in the story meanwhile our lover has died of heartbreak or lost dreams or serial disappointments we all think we are immune to tragedy in our lives until it strikes without warning like lightning flash there is no way back we are all changed by those moments when we had hoped for joy Melpomene sing your dirges for me so that I might haul myself up unwrap the cloths split the hard chrysalis emerge transformed 04 Ourania, Muse of Astronomy Ourania is an enigma she is invisible in her starry robe against the darkening sky but each clear night we stand watching her movements darkness is in her she is the dark matter that fills the universe the dark energy that sparks everything in the day she has a golden orb around her as she rides the sky in a boat laden with songs carries a globe constantly spinning Ourania full of magic is the first astronomer Uranian once considered a tragic pronouncement who knows what goes on in that heavenly soul she is old and young she is light years away and right here now just as we are here and are everywhere but in fireworks of celebrity unseen unheard unknown 05 Erato, Muse of Lyric Poetry everything always lovely her eyes her hair the way she moves her body Erato is like the sea washing up on the shore rising and falling in waves poets call on Erato in their darkest moments when love turns sour or the stars cross and when inspiration fails they call her then too hoping she’ll stand by them in love and lyric it’s partly her fault because she shoots words into the sky like arrows and whoever feels those arrows falls in love with the next person they encounter but who can get angry with Erato so full of grace she picks up her lyre sings with a voice that is as clear as a night sky filled with stars 06 Kleio, Muse of History when history is in dispute who can you trust but Kleio she was there and if not her then one of her sisters her kinship is wide enough to draw in the world it’s not in the telling but in the unravelling who speaks true who does not one will claim celebrity status say fame is the key to import another says the least known are the most trustworthy for they have nothing to gain or to lose the poets too stay firm to their metre there since the beginning of time history in the making is a troublesome way to go for only later can we see the made and the unmade so unravel your tales and I will weave them anew 07 Euterpe, Muse of Music Euterpe is in her own heaven the fifth dimension where beyond human perception play the music of the spheres music from every time and every place Euterpe is well-schooled in these matters she is the muse of music music creates pleasure which in turns leads us to dance some say Euterpe is the brightest asteroid in the solar system Pythagoras string theorist and mystic mathematician gave Euterpe the number eight that coiling infinity ogdoad like a dancer endlessly spinning to the sound of the double flute astrophysicists are divided some think Euterpe might be responsible for dark matter but some things are unaccountable 08 Thalia, Muse of Comedy it’s hard to be funny when Thalia abandons you but each of us has to get up draw on inner reserves and make one more joke Aristophanes managed it and you can too bring on actors and instead of high boots make them wear socks dress them in rustic outfits put a shepherd’s crook in their hands – I know more than enough about droving sheep to laugh at myself – then she can start her bucolic verses accompanied by comedic flourishes a few stereotypes here and there won’t go astray put a buffoon at the centre and his air-head wife she can parrot some phrases give the quiet one a trumpet to blow away sadness don’t worry there will be …
(Book Excerpt 7) On the Wings of Isis: Reclaiming the Sovereignty of Auset, ed. by Trista Hendren et al.

The Rulers of Our Own Damn Lives Monica Rodgers It was so quick, I would later call the episode a “stress hallucination.” In that moment, as my six-year-old daughter clung to my leg silently begging me to protect her from her father’s rage, I was shown a line of females from a pyramid, through myself, and ending with my beloved daughter. While my daughter cleaved, my three-year-old son hid behind the heavy curtains, rocking silently. In the midst of what felt like a hurricane, a great eye of stillness seemed to envelop me, and in it appeared a hologram, streaming forth a firm reminder from some other realm that stated with clarity and conviction: “You are the ruler of your life.” In that moment as I stared down into the pleading eyes of the female child I had birthed, I knew that I would continue the chain of pain and sorrow if I did not break it, right then and there. Although I had never before uttered the words, I declared my decision to get a divorce, and just like that—after almost ten years living in fear and misery—I was free. The Goddess had just begun her work with me. Following the dissolution of my marriage, I fell deep into a dark night of the soul, becoming bed-ridden as all the misaligned pieces of my life came crashing down around me. It was in that bed that I descended into to other realms, retrieving pieces of myself from childhood and beyond. I found guides—a medicine woman and a shaman—to help me on my healing journey. Eventually, I began searching for stories of the Goddesses, which would lead me back to the one I had briefly experienced the afternoon my world had begun to change. Isis visited me through symbols and clues that seemed to intimate my lineage to her. Her name or image would continually show up in Oracle cards, dreams, on jewelry or in books. Each offered me pieces of a larger puzzle that had not fully come into view. Last summer, I was visiting my childhood home in Maine and felt a deep and desperate urge to drive 45 minutes into Portland to walk the streets by myself. I felt rather silly, but a familiar restlessness seemed to propel me in search of something I could not name. Eventually I found myself in front of an antique store and felt a giant invisible magnet pulling me inside. I walked directly to a jewelry case in the back, and in that case that had beckoned me, a beautiful small gold Ankh gleamed at me from a black velvet box. As the woman behind the counter fitted it with a matching chain, she mentioned that she’d never seen such a simple version and that it had just come in the day before. The same day I downloaded the book Mary Magdalene Revealed by Meggan Watterson. The same day I’d listened, mesmerized, as she shared her own journey of discovery articulating the link between the suppressed divine feminine and the lineage that led her back to Isis. Every cell in my body felt on fire. Shortly after this divinely inspired “coincidence,” I had the privilege of working with Sophie Bashford, author of You are A Goddess for a channeled reading. During the reading, she guided me through a meditation that led me to Mary Magdalene who, in turn, brought me to the feet of Isis. The energy I felt coursing through my body as this meditation proceeded was intense. Tears poured down my face as Isis touched my forehead with her finger in the meditation, her image seeming to superimpose upon Mary Magdalene, making me wonder if she was not somehow showing me the reincarnation of her own spirit. Without words, she told me that I had to forget who I was in order to remember who I was. That we all carry her message inside of us and that we are here to alchemize the spirit (divine) with the matter (human). That we all carry a the divine story within our human bodies. When women remember who we truly are—discarding notions of what we should be—we also remember our lineage. We remember Isis and every woman who has come to honor our vow as divine creators. We claim their stories as our own, we gain the mastery to overcome the deeply rooted masculine-feminine imbalance of the patriarchy. We stop giving our power away, and we begin to know that we are the rulers of our own damn lives. (To be continued) Details of On the Wings of Isis are found here. https://www.magoism.net/2013/08/meet-mago-contributor-trista-hendren/
(Poem) Mother-Warrior by Glenys Livingstone

You are hera, heraic, warrior You are brave, you are Brave You have conquered You have taken in hand those forces of disintegration that threatened your existence You hold them in your hands, your strong hands They writhe but you hold them fast. Your strength is a-mazing, your courage awesome. Your wild hair flies in the wind. Your wild eyes flame – your mouth too. Your sun-kissed naked body stands firm on the high boulder If it falls, it flies. If pierced through, it heals. Oh Guerillere, Guerillere – female warrior Your existence overpowers the death beat of the nation. Your number is growing. We will take them by storm, we will devour them transform them in our powerful bodies, excrete them. With this compost we will cultivate We will nurture new life. We will do as we have always done. For a long while now the dynamo has been kept in a sound-proof room under lock and key. But the dynamo has been seized by those who own it. Its sound can be heard now – it is not the loud discordancy of the pnuematic drill. It is the smooth whirring – of wings beating, of hearts humming. Its power produces, regenerates. As we have always done, we will do – Mother-warriors that we are. © Glenys Livingstone 7th September 1980, with additions 2006. with acknowledgment for imagery to: Monique Wittig, Les Guerilleres. NY: Avon Books, 1973. Robin Morgan, “The Network of the Imaginary Mother”, Lady of the Beasts. NY: Random House, 1976. Charlene Spretnak, The Politics of Women’s Spirituality, NY:Doubleday,1982, p.87. Published in MODERN WITCH Lughnasad 2008, p.8.
(Essay) Autumn Equinox – Thanksgiving and Grieving by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

The Autumn Equinox ceremony in PaGaian tradition begins with the statement: In our part of Earth, the balance is tipping into the dark. Feel the shift within you, see in your mind’s eye the descent ahead, the darkness growing, remember the coolness of it. This is the time when we give thanks for our harvests – the abundance we have reaped, that we enjoy daily. And we remember too the sorrows, the losses involved. The story of Old tells us that Persephone, Beloved Daughter, receives from Her Mother, the wheat – the Mystery, knowledge of life and death – for this she gives thanks. She receives it graciously. But she sets forth into the darkness – both Mother and Daughter grieve that it is so.
What Was Never Spoken by Carolyn Lee Boyd

[Author’s Note: This story is a tribute to those all over the world who are courageously reclaiming women’s roles of spiritual power.] Illustration: NASA.Mrshaba at en.wikipedia, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons The seer was both coming home and making yet another journey to the farthest bounds of existence. She entered through the door of a small thatched round dwelling that had been her first gateway to those realms where time is an open horizon and strength emanates from the soul rather than the sword. Her blue cloak, heavy silver brooch, red wool dress, and ornate iron staff were outward symbols of her high status but in this simple house she was still an apprentice. The home belonged to the woman who had taught the seer to peer into the future, to make the rain fall or storms vanish, and to heal or curse, but who had chosen to live out her own last days in her simple gray, roughly woven tunic and bare feet, spinning at her wheel. The elder woman had summoned the seer, simply saying she wished to know the future. The seer settled on a stool by the fire, arranged her cloak around her, laid her staff across her lap, and closed her eyes. She began to chant, riding on the rhymes and intonations, then fell into a silent trance. After a moment, she flinched awake and grabbed her teacher’s hands. “What vision is this?” she asked. “My sight has gone far beyond your fate, deep into the future of our people, and there are no seers, no women prophesying, no one to intervene when the powers of the cosmos threaten, no place for women like us! How can this be? How can those who live in such bereft times survive?” “It is what is never spoken,” the old woman said. “What you see is true. In other lands women seers continue, but not in ours. I saw this myself, right before I retreated to this little hut. I then closed my inner eye and told myself not to speak of this, to let the people of the future make their own way.” The seer left the house, folded away her robes and jewels, and wandered the primeval forest. Her ancestor heart ached for her descendants who would never be able to peer beyond their own narrow lives as she did. She closed her eyes, sang holy songs, and danced until she fell into a trance, then powered her soul forward in time to not just witness, but to be with, the women in the forlorn future. When she opened her eyes, the forest was no more and she stood on a lawn with short grass enclosed by a chainlink fence. She was alone, yet in her heart she could hear the mourning cries of the women from many different centuries and places, heartbroken, emptied out, barren with grief at the loss of that which they could not even name, did not even know had ever been. To never see their own holiness embodied in the women seers, to never know that flights to other realms could happen right in their own kitchens, and to live without the understanding that they and all beings were embedded in a cosmos infused with magic were voids too deep to bear. The seer fell on her knees, grabbing her belly where all the trauma was flowing in. She had not the vigor to intone a blessing, to fall into a trance and prophecy, so she simply laid her hands on the Earth and let the women’s pain flow there, where it could be transfigured. Then she decreed that when she died her grave would lie untouched until the right time when women would find her with her clothes, jewels, amulets, and herbs and know that they, too, held great spiritual power. Maybe then they would begin to hear their own song, to see with their own prophetic eyes, and to hold the staff of their own century. And, indeed, after many centuries her grave, with all the symbols of her office, was excavated, confounding the archeologists who always assumed that only men would lie in such magnificent tombs. But the everyday women who learned of the find recognized their own household tools in the distaff-shaped iron staff, symbols of their own inner spiritual sovereignty in the glorious clothing and jewelry, and their own poignant humanity in the bones of a woman just like them. The seer travelled back to her own time and returned to the old woman’s house a year later for another vision of the far distant future to see what her visit there may have wrought. Her mind’s eye was filled with a burst of blazing light. What did it mean? The elder woman said “Maybe it is the sun and earth exploding, or being born again. Maybe it is the passageway into paradise. Perhaps it is the sacred fire emerging in the souls of those future women again, thanks to you. I think it is all these things and more.” In time, the seer retired to her own small cottage and put away her clothes, jewels, and staff until she would be buried with them. She still sang and danced her way into trances, but this time traveling to the future not to tell what would be, but to create what will be. When she saw a woman just beginning to understand the power within her, she would whisper encouragement and advice. When a circle gathered, she would send into their minds images of her own rituals and chants, that they might know the proper ways, just as her teacher had shown her so long ago. When a barrier was placed in the way of truth, love, and justice, she would offer courage and persistence. Have you heard her voice, received her visions, felt her faith in you on your path? Endnote: Max Dashu’s Witches and Pagans: Women in European Folk Religion, 700-1100, (Veleda Press, …

(Special Post) BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FOR EL PASO ARTIST MARIO COLÍN by Donna Snyder

Born in Juárez in 1959, Mario Colín lived his entire life in the Five Points area of Central El Paso, where he attended Houston Elementary and Austin High School. From the age of fifteen, he worked as a construction worker, building silos and other large construction projects across the U.S.A., at some point hitch hiking from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic shores. In his late twenties, he began to focus all his attention and energy on art, which had been an interest since early childhood, working as a muralist and portrait painter. Much of his art is of a religious nature, although he also painted secular art, portraits, and historical scenes. Colín painted his first mural of the Virgin of Guadalupe in collaboration with deceased artist Chuck Zavala in 1987 at Esparza’s Grocery, a small store in Central El Paso. It has now become a shrine, with community members building a stone arch and bringing flowers and candles, and has been pronounced a religious site by the parish church. Since that first mural, Colín has painted over 40 pieces of public art, many of which have become landmarks. Many of those murals are in that same Central El Paso neighborhood, on or near Piedras, including the House of Pizza, Los Alamos Grocery, The Elbo Room bar, the former Sanitary Plumbing at Piedras and Fort Boulevard. Colín twice painted a 25 foot mural of the Virgin of Guadalupe, at Alameda and Zaragoza, across from the Ysleta mission. The first version, painted in 1997, became decayed, but was a popular landmark. That mural has appeared in periodicals, art books, calendars, many newspaper articles, and in photographs exhibited in the El Paso Art Museum and galleries. In 2004, Señor José Villalobos donated and members of the community contributed money to pay laborers to replaster the wall of the century-old adobe building where it is located, and Colín repainted the entire mural for donations from passers-by and community members. Colín’s work has also been featured on the International History Channel and Canal 44, XHUI TV, in a Ford television commercial, and numerous times in the El Paso Times and the defunct El Paso Herald-Post, as well as in periodicals such as Texas Monthly, Dallas Morning News, Texas Observer, Austin American Statesman, Stanton Street magazine; literary journals such as Mezcla and GypsyMag.com; in documentaries including Walls that Speak: El Paso’s Murals, directed by Jim Klaes; in art books such as Colors on Desert Walls: The Murals of El Paso and Texas 24:7, and in various editions of Chicano Studies: Survey and Analysis, a text book used throughout the country.
(Special Post 8) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?

[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. Special thanks to Trista Hendren, founder and author of The Girl God, who passionately and painstakingly promotes the message of each contributor via Facebook’s memes. Without Trista’s devotion to the advocacy, this collective effort would not have continued. 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.] Marija Krstic-Chin To remember who we really are (nature, cycles, network, creative force, one, infinite…) for the benefit of all of humanity and all living things; and to unite and unify as we broadcast, hand down, protect and defend this truth and each other against the oppressive intentions and actions of patriarchal perpetrators, puppets, and pawns who seek to enslave us by various old and new divide-and-conquer strategies.
(Special Post) To Contributors: Strengthening Our Roots by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Dear Contributors, Do you know that Return to Mago (RTM) E*Magazine is entering its fifth year this fall? And, thanks to our collective effort, we are still growing! As of today, our contributors have grown to more than 130 in number and our readership is from about 140 countries around the world. We have some hundred email followers as well as Wordpress blog followers. We draw 3000-4000 clicks per month on average; that is no small accomplishment for a Goddess blog that is named after a yet-to-be heard word, Mago (the Great Goddess), and that began from scratch.

(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/
The Ceremonial Creative Cosmos 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. The Cosmos is a ceremony, a ritual. Dawn and dusk, seasons, supernovas – it is an ongoing Event of coming into being and passing away. The Cosmos is always in flux, and we exist as participants in this great ritual event, this “cosmic ceremony of seasonal and diurnal rhythms” which frame “epochal dramas of becoming,” as Charlene Spretnak describes it.[i] Swimme and Berry describe the universe as a dramatic reality, a Great Conversation of announcement and response.[ii]Ritual/ceremony[iii] may be the human conscious response to the announcements of the Universe – an act of conscious participation. Ceremony then may be understood as a microcosmos[iv] – a human-sized replication of the Drama, the Dynamic we find ourselves in. Swimme and Berry describe ritual as an ancient response humans have to the awesome experience of witnessing the coming to be and the passing away of things; they say that a “ritual mode of expression” is from its beginning “the manner in which humans respond to the universe, just as birds respond by flying or as fish respond by swimming.”[v] It is the way in which we as humans, as a species, may respond to this awesome experience of being and becoming, how we may hold the beauty and the terror. Humans have exhibited this tendency to ritualize since the earliest times of our unfolding: evidence so far reveals burial sites dating back one hundred thousand years, as mentioned in the previous chapter. We often went to huge effort in these matters, that is almost incomprehensible to the modern industrialised econocentric mind: the precise placing of huge stones in circles such as found at Stonehenge and the creation of complex sites such as Silbury Hill may be expressions of some priority, indicating that econocentric thinking – such as tool making, finding shelter and food, was not enough or not separate from the participation in Cosmic events. Ritual seems to have expressed, and still does actively express for some peoples, something essential to the human – a way of being integral with our Cosmic Place, which was not perceived as separate from material sustenance, the Source of existence: thus it was a way perhaps of sensing “meaning” as it might be termed these days – or “relationship.” Swimme and Berry note that the order of the Universe has been experienced especially in the seasonal sequence of dissolution and renewal; this most basic pattern has been an ultimate referent for existence.[vi] The seasonal pattern contains within it the most basic dynamics of the Cosmos – desire, fullfilment, loss, transformation, creation, growth, and more. The annual ceremonial celebration of the seasonal wheel – the Earth-Sun sacred site within which we tour – can be a pathway to the Centre of these dynamics, a way of making sense of the pattern, a way of sensing it. One enters the Universe’s story. The Seasonal Moments when marked and celebrated in the art form of ceremony may be sens-ible ‘gateways’ through the flesh of the world[vii] to the Centre – which is omnipresent Creativity. Humans do ritual everyday – we really can’t help ourselves. It is simply a question of what rituals we do, what story we are telling ourselves, what we are “spelling”[viii] ourselves with – individually and collectively. 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”[ix] 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.[x] Ceremony then is a form of social action. NOTES: [i] Spretnak, States of Grace, 145. [ii] Swimme and Berry, The Universe Story, 153. [iii] I will use either or both of these terms at different times: I generally prefer “ceremony” as Kathy Jones defines it in Priestess of Avalon, Priestess of the Goddess, 319. She says that ritual involves a repeated set of actions which may contain spiritual or “mundane” elements (such as a daily ritual of brushing one’s teeth), “whereas ceremony is always a spiritual practice and may or may not include ritual elements.” The PaGaian seasonal celebrations/events are thus most kin to “ceremony,” although I do not perceive any action as “mundane.” However, “ritual” is more commonly used to speak of how humans have conversed with cosmos/Earth. [iv] Spretnak, States of Grace, 145. [v] Swimme and Berry, The Universe Story, 152-153. [vi] Ibid. [vii] Abram speaks of “matter as flesh” in The Spell of the Sensuous, 66, citing Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Invisible and the Invisible (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1968). [viii] Starhawk used this term on her email list in 2004 to describe the story-telling we might do to bring forth the changes we desire. [ix] A term used by Gloria Feman Orenstein in The Reflowering of the Goddess (New York: Pergamon Press, 1990), 147. [x] As my doctoral thesis supervisor Dr. Susan Murphy once described it to me in conversation REFERENCES: Abram, David. The Spell of the Sensuous. New York: Vintage Books, 1997. Jones, Kathy. Priestess of Avalon, Priestess of the Goddess. Glastonbury: Ariadne Publications, 2006. Orenstein, Gloria Feman. The Reflowering of the Goddess. New York: Pergamon Press, 1990. Spretnak, Charlene. States of Grace: The Recovery of Meaning in the Postmodern Age. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993. Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era. New York: HarperCollins, 1992.
(Essay) The Emergence celebrated at Spring Equinox by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

The Spring Equinox Moment occurs September 21-23 Southern Hemisphere, March 21-23 Northern Hemisphere. The full story of Spring Equinox is expressed in the full flower connected to the seed fresh from the earth; that is, it is a story of emergence from the dark, from a journey, perhaps long, perhaps short, through challenging places. The joy of the blossoming is rooted in the journey through the dark, and an acknowledgement of the dark’s fertile gift, as well as of great achievement in having made it, of having returned. Both Equinoxes, Spring and Autumn, celebrate this sacred balance of grief and joy, light and dark, and they are both celebrations of the mystery of the seed. The seed is essentially the deep Creativity within – that manifests in the Spring as flower, or green emerged One. the full story: the root and the flower As the new young light continues to grow at this time of Spring, it comes into balance with the dark at Spring Equinox, or ‘Eostar’ as it may be named; about to tip further into light when light will dominate the day. The trend at this Equinox is toward increasing hours of light: and thus it is about the power of being – life is stepping into it. Earth in this region is tilting further toward the Sun. Traditionally it may be storied as the joyful celebration of a Lost Beloved One, who may be represented by the Persephone story: She is a shamanic figure who is known for Her journey to the Underworld, and who at this time of Spring Equinox returns. Her Mother Demeter who has waited and longed for Her in deep grief, rejoices and so do all: warmth and growth return to the land. Persephone, the Beloved Daughter, the Seed, has navigated the darkness successfully, has enriched it with Her presence and also gained its riches. Eostar/Spring Equinox is the magic of the unexpected, yet long awaited, green emergence from under the ground, and then the flower: this emergence is especially profound as it is from a seed that has lain dormant for months or longer – much like the magic of desert blooms after long periods of drought. The name of “Eostar” comes from the Saxon Goddess Eostre/Ostara, the northern form of the Sumerian Astarte[i]. The Christian festival in the Spring, was named “Easter” as of the Middle Ages, appropriating Goddess/Earth tradition. The date of Easter, which is set for Northern Hemispheric seasons, is still based on the lunar/menstrual calendar; that is, the 1st Sunday after the first full Moon after Spring Equinox. In Australia where I am, “Easter” is celebrated in Autumn (!) by mainstream culture, so we have the spectacle of fluffy chickens, chocolate eggs and rabbits in the shops at that time. There are other names for “Eostar” in other places …the Welsh name for the Spring Equinox celebration is Eilir, meaning ‘regeneration’ or ‘spring’ – or ‘earth’[ii]. In my own PaGaian tradition, the Spring Equinox celebration is based on the Demeter and Persephone story, the version that is understand as pre-patriarchal, from Old Europe. In the oldest stories, Persephone has agency in Her descent: She descends to the underworld voluntarily as a courageous seeker of wisdom, and a compassionate receiver of the dead. She represents, and IS, the Seed of Life that never fades away. Spring Equinox is a celebration of Her return, Life’s continual return, and thus also our personal and collective emergences/returns.We may contemplate the collective emergence/returns especially in our times. I describe Persephone as a “hera”, which of old was a term for any courageous One. “Hera” was a pre-Hellenic name for the Goddess in general[iii]. “Hera” was the indigenous Queen Goddess of pre-Olympic Greece, before She was married off to Zeus. “Hero” was a term for the brave male Heracles who carried out tasks for his Goddess Hera: “The derivative form ‘heroine’ is therefore completely unnecessary”[iv]. “Hera” may be used as a term for any courageous individual: and participants in PaGaian Spring Equinox ceremony have named themselves this way. The pre-“Olympic” games of Greece were Hera’s games, held at Her Heraion/temple[v]. The winners were “heras” – gaining the status of being like Her[vi]. At the time of Spring Equinox, we may celebrate the Persephone, the Hera, the Courageous One, who steps with new wisdom, into power of being: the organic power that all beings must have, Gaian power, the power of the Cosmos. This Seasonal ceremony may be a rejoicing in how we have made it through great challenges and loss, faced our fears and our demise (in its various forms), had ‘close shaves’ – perhaps physically as well as psychicly and emotionally. It is a time to welcome back that which was lost, and step into the strength of being. Spring Equinox/Eostar is the time for enjoying the fruits of the descent, of the journey taken into the darkness: return is now certain, not tentative as it was in the Early Spring/Imbolc. Demeter, the Mother, receives the Persephones, Lost Beloved Ones, joyously. This may be understood as an individual experience, but also as a collective experience – as we emerge into a new Era as a species. Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme speak of the ending of the sixty-five million year geological Era – the Cenozoic Era – in our times, and our possible emergence into an Ecozoic Era. They describe the Ecozoic Era as a time when “the curvature of the universe, the curvature of the earth, and the curvature of the human are once more in their proper relation”[vii]. Joanna Macy speaks of the “Great Turning” of our times[viii]. Collectively we have been away from the Mother for some time and there is a lot of pain. At this time we may contemplate not only our own individual lost wanderings, but also that of the human species. We are part of a much bigger Return that is happening. The Beloved One may be understood as returning on a collective level: …
(Essay) Walking with Bb by Sara Wright

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

This essay is an excerpt from the Introduction of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Meditation cushion in circle of decorated stones My ancestors built great circles of stones that represented their perception of real time and space, and enabled them to tell time: the stone circles were cosmic calendars.[i] They went to great lengths and detail to get it right. It was obviously very important to them to have the stones of a particular kind, in the right positions according to position of the Sun at different times of the year, and then to celebrate ceremony within it. I have for decades had a much smaller circle of stones assembled. I have regarded this small circle of stones as a medicine wheel. It is a portable collection, that I can spread out in my living space, or let sit in a small circle on an altar, with a candle/candles in the middle. Each stone (or objects, as some are) represents a particular Seasonal Moment/transition and is placed in the corresponding direction. The small circle of eight stones represents the flow of the Solstices and Equinoxes and the cross-quarter Moments in between: that is, it represents the “Wheel of the Year” as it is commonly known in Pagan traditions. I have found this assembled circle to have been an important presence. It makes the year, my everyday sacred journey of Earth around Sun, tangible and visible as a circle, and has been a method of changing my mind, as I am placed in real space and time. My stone wheel has been a method of bringing me home to my indigenous sense of being. Each stone/object of my small wheel may be understood to represent a “moment of grace,” as Thomas Berry named the seasonal transitions – each is a threshold to the Centre, wherein I may now sit: I sense it as a powerful point. As I sit on the floor in the centre of my small circle of stones, I reflect on its significance as I have come to know the Seasonal transitions that it marks, over decades of celebrating them. I sense the aesthetics and poetry of each. I facilitated and was part of the celebration and contemplation of these Moments in my region for decades. It was always an open group that gathered, and so its participants changed over the years but it remained in form, like a live body which it was: a ceremonial body that conversed with the sacred Cosmos in my place. We spoke a year-long story and poetry of never-ending renewal – of the unfolding self, Earth and Cosmos. We danced and chanted our relationship with the Mother, opened ourselves to Her Creativity, and conversed with Her by this method. All participants in their own way within these ceremonies made meaning of their lives – which is what I understand relationship to be, in this context of Earth and Sun, our Place and Home in the Cosmos: that is, existence is innately meaningful when a being knows Who one is and Where one is. Barbara Walker notes that religions based on the Mother are free of the “neurotic” quest for indefinable meaning in life as such religions “never assumed that life would be required to justify itself.”[ii] I face the North stone, which in my hemisphere is where I place the Summer Solstice. From behind me and to my right is the light part of the cycle – representing manifest form, all that we see and touch. From behind me and to my left is the dark part of the cycle – representing the manifesting, the reality beneath the visible, which includes the non-visible. The Centre wherein I sit, represents the present. The wheel of stones has offered to me a way of experiencing the present as “presence,” as it recalls in an instant that, That which has been and that which is to come are not elsewhere – they are not autonomous dimensions independent of the encompassing present in which we dwell. They are, rather, the very depths of this living place – the hidden depth of its distances and the concealed depth on which we stand.[iii] This wheel of stones, which captures the Wheel of the Year in essence, locates me in the deep present, wherein the past and the future are contained – both always gestating in the dark, through the gateways. And all this has been continually enacted and expressed in the ceremonies of the Wheel of the Year, as the open, yet formal group has done them, mostly in the place of Blue Mountains, Australia. PaGaian Cosmology altar/mandala: a “Womb of Gaia” map Over the years of practice of ritually celebrating these eight Seasonal Moments – Earth’s whole annual journey around Sun, I have been held in this creative story, this Story of Creativity as it may be written – it is a sacred story. Her pattern of Creativity can be identified at all levels of reality – manifesting in seasonal cycles, moon cycles, body cycles – and to be aligned with it aligns a person’s core with the Creative Mother Universe. I have identified the placing of one’s self within this wheel through ceremonial practice of the whole year of creativity, as the placing of one’s self in Her Womb – Gaia’s Womb, a Place of Creativity. All that is necessary for Creativity is present in this Place. All may come forth from here/Here – and so it does, and so it has, and so it will. NOTES: [i] See Martin Brennan, The Stones of Time: Calendars, Sundials, and Stone Chambers of Ancient Ireland (Rochester Vermont, Inner Traditions, 1994). [ii] Barbara Walker, The Woman’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983), 693. [iii] David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous (New York: Vintage Books, 1997), 216. REFERENCES: Abram, David. The Spell of the Sensuous. New York: Vintage Books, 1997. Brennan, Martin. The Stones of Time: Calendars, Sundials, and Stone Chambers of Ancient Ireland.Rochester Vermont: Inner Traditions, 1994. Walker, Barbara. The Woman’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets. San Francisco: …
(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

(Essay 2) Returning Home with Mago, the Great Goddess, from East Asia by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This essay was first published in Trivia, Voices of Feminism, Issue 6, September 2007. Also to be included in the forthcoming anthology She Rises: Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?] An Introduction to Magoism Mago is the Great Goddess of East Asia. Nonetheless, she remains barely known to the world. Her equals, Xiwangmu (the Supreme Goddess of Daoism) and Amaterasu (the Sun Goddess of the Japanese imperial family), are said to comprise the pantheon of East Asian cosmic goddesses. Considering that these goddesses are often aligned with the ancient culture of China or Japan, one notices that the pantheon of East Asian Great Goddesses thus omits both Mago and “Korean culture.”
(Book Excerpt 2) Mago Almanac Planner by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

Details for Mago Almanac Planner are available here. [Author’s Note: This is Part 2 of the Preface. Read Part 1 of the Preface here.] PREFACE What Mago Almanac Planner Offers There is nothing more plainly indicative of the fallacy of patriarchal thinking, that is, the perspective of male-supremacy than the 12 month calendar. Considering that the calendar is the basic foundation for human activities, the standard 12 month calendar that the modern world is adapting functions to maintain patriarchy. According to the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem Capital City), the principal text of Magoism, the 12 month calendar was first invented and introduced by Yao (ca. 2356-2255 BCE), the pre-dynastic ruler of ancient China to replace the 13 month Magoist Calendar. The newly risen patriarchal rule needed to amend the female-centered 13 month calendar, which would make the Mother-Nature bond invisible. First of all, the 12 month calendar has an irregular number of days (28, 29, 30, or 31). The inconsistent number of days is an indication that the 12 month calendar is out of tune with Nature’s rhythm, ultimately Sonic Numerology. Reality is distorted. Fundamentally based on the imposed or presumed balance within the scheme of dyads (the male and the female), the 12 month calendar propagates a hierarchical dualism. In the dyad, the two are viewed as independent single entities disconnected from each other so that it allows one to be superior to the other (A>B). The worldview it represents is reductionist; the evolutionary process of life is predetermined. On the other hand, the 13 month calendar has 28 days in a month. It is regular and rhythmic, a sign of a healthy living entity. In tune with Nature’s rhythm, the 13 month calendar guides us into an infinitely creative and open-ended worldview based on Sonic Numerology (musical interplay of nine numbers), the cosmogonic force of WE/HERE/NOW. Numerologically aligned, the 13 month 28 day calendar leads us to an ever-unfolding reality. The triadic principle, an epitome of Nine Numerology, stands for the web of spiral interconnection. One divided by three leads to the realm that never ends as it goes 0.3333… for example. That said, what is the better way to restore the lunar-female song and dance than women themselves by charting out the menstrual cycle in the 13 moon calendar? Mago Almanac Planner provides tools for menstruators to mark menstrual dates side by side with lunation dates. We want our modern-day maidens and mothers to see how their own menstrual cycles run in harmony with all other beings in the Natural World! Menstruation is a calendric indicator designed to guide human societies. Biology is not only social but also cosmic. Menstruation is never a separate biological phenomenon. For non-menstruators, Mago Almanac Planner opens the door to each day, week, and month of the cosmic song and dance. We are about to move the axis of our consciousness in tune with all else in the universe!Book information on Magoist Calendar Year 4 and Magoist Calendar Planner Year 4 here. (To be continued) https://www.magoism.net/2013/07/meet-mago-contributor-helen-hwang/ [1] This is a topic that will be treated in detail in my forthcoming book, The Magoist Calendar: Mago Time Inscribed in Sonic Numerology.
(Budoji Essay 1) The Magoist Cosmogony by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

“The Great Goddess Myth is the first and last revelation to humankind. Where the Primordial Mother is, there is Home!” Part 1 Introduction When I first read the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City), the principal text of Magoism, my life journey took an unexpected turn. The power of the Magoist cosmogony began to work on me, and suddenly I was returning Home with/to/in Mago, the Great Goddess! Before, “Home” had seemed an unreal destination, a mirage that lured voyagers to its abyss of nowhere. I had been stripped of “Home.” The Magoist cosmogony gifted me with a vision of what I had been seeking as a feminist voyager. I meant to return Home. In Mago, I felt no longer free-floating, but this was not without its price. My radical feminist searches brought me no material benefits; rather, to become Myself was the reward. Layer after layer of patriarchal deception had to be peeled off. And for women who, like me, came from the non-Western, formerly colonized world, reversing the reversals required a deeper analysis of racism, ethnocentrism, and colonialism. I underwent the process of becoming Me, a process which also led me to WE. Personally, Homecoming means an integration of myself within the mytho-historical-cultural context of Magoism. However, Homecoming in the Great Goddess can never be an isolated individual act. Magoism unfolds the Primordial Home wherein all beings are kindred. The Primordial Home is for everyone. Everyone is destined to return Home in the Great Goddess because She is Here for us all. She will be Here for as long as humanity survives. Homecoming is a harbinger; it signals the arrival of WE, a very old concept that was misconstrued if not tabooed in patriarchy. The nature of my life has changed. “I” is no longer in the way of “WE.” “I” and “WE” do not stand against each other. Furthermore, “I” is transformed by “WE,” just as are all things in the universe. Scalar turns to vector. Chaos yields to order. The labyrinth leads to the Source. My feminism is rewarded with gynocentrism, the Goddess Matrix in which the female principle by far surpasses patriarchy. As many admit, Myth, the story of the divine, is etiological, meaning it explains the origin of things. I hold that only the gynocentric cosmogonic myth can be fully etiological, shedding light on the primal beginning. Myth is inherently gynocentric, for it is derived from the perception of the Primordial Mother, the oldest divine in human history. Put differently, Myth tells us that the Divine is She, that Female is the original divine. Myth is ultimately inseparable from the Great Goddess. The Primordial Mother is the macrocosmic translation of a mother. She is the Metaphor for life-giver and life-raiser. Divinity issues from Her. In Her, everything, including the God, is endowed with divinity. The etiological and metaphoric nature of Myth is fully illumined only in the story of the female beginning. The Goddess Myth told to/by us testifies to what patriarchy can’t or doesn’t tell. It is a language distinguished from that of patriarchy, dominating if not violent. The nature of Its language is persuasive and pacific. The truth It tells awakens one to Home. It is intrinsically soteriological, and herein lies the urgency of Myth: It shows the Way that humanity needs to know and follow in order to survive and flourish. The Great Goddess Myth is the first and last revelation to humankind. Where the Primordial Mother is, there is Home! Mago is not necessarily the “creator” of things. In the Magoist cosmogony, there is no one who created or creates anything alone. (I have used the term “cosmogony” in place of “creation” to avoid the conflation of Magoist thought with the origin-stories of patriarchal religions.) Instead, all things are interdependent and the power of auto-genesis is embedded within the universe itself. In explaining that, the Magoist cosmogony does not employ a magical or a logical jump. In the time of beginning, cosmic rays dance in accordance with the law of nature. Mago and primordial matter are self-born through the movement of cosmic music. Mago is, above all, the Cause of human existence. All things on Earth are indebted to Mago for She initiated the process auto-genesis of the Earth itself. In short, She is the Source of Life on Earth. Without Her, nothing is possible for us.