September 3, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work

(Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Abbott

Susan Abbott catches her creative inspiration from the individual and collective genius of rebellious women. She works in a gynographic milieu that affirms their sacred incendiary spirit. Her watercolors are known for their evocative bold colors and themes. She has shown her work in Joshua Tree, California at local galleries, shops, farmers markets, and her own Dancing Wind Studio Gallery. Her poetry chapbook “Nasty Woman Rise: The Dream and the Curse” was recently published by Cholla Needles. Her art also appears in “The Mojave Muse Major Arcana Tarot Deck” (2016) and “Woman Awake” (online journal). She has a Facebook page “Susan AbbottWatercolors” where you can see and order more of her work.

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(Prose) A Gift from The Goddess by Luna Anna

Goku in his every day magnificence How many of us have got through life purely because we had a pet, a familiar by our side? I never really considered my pets to be gifts from Her and then there was Goku. Goku is my rescue cat. As the saying goes, he rescued me…. It was a dark time in my life when my gift arrived. My dad had died and my familiar, my cat Satoshi had also died. I was in an abusive relationship. I had financial troubles as I was too sick to work full-time and was being drained by my relationship. I had begun a path with the Goddess central to my life. I had awakened and was having guidance and shifts that came through Her. I suppose I was beginning my life of service to Her but didn’t know it at the time. Less than one week out of hospital, having had a breakdown, I was gifted a semi-feral kitten named Goku. The name comes from an anime where Goku is earths fiercest warrior and he certainly lived up to his name. I have the scars to prove it. As soon as this tiny five-week-old kitten was passed to me to care for, he said to me telepathically “Hello, I’m here to teach you about death.” Death. Not my favourite subject to be ‘taught’. That night, Goku was unwell, and needed vet care. At the emergency vets, the vet told us “He might die.” The words still ring through me five years later because for the entirety of his life, he has been at the edge of death with an incurable virus that requires close monitoring and if left unchecked can be fatal. Indeed, for two years, it was nearly fatal. He spent his time in and out of specialist vets who all agreed they had never seen anything so severe. Every day was a conscious decision whether to carry on or put him to sleep. These are not decisions you can take lightly. You know you are the custodian. You know you are borrowing them from Her. You know you must honour their choice, no matter how devastating that might be to you. Still, he chose life, and I chose him. I loved him more than I’ve ever loved any pet. The cleverness of this. I could see how She had made him into exactly the kind of cat I would fall for. Exactly the kind of cat, I would fight for. Exactly the kind of cat, I would live for. I devoted my life to keeping his life going. Oh, She planned it alright. She planned that I would break my heart open time again for him. Eventually I fled my old life and took him with me. She knew I would save him before I saved myself, so She brought him to me with the mission to do just that. We left together, once again, close to death. It was the start of the pandemic, and we didn’t know how we would survive. Slowly, he got better and just as we always dance together – I got sick. I had the worst breakdown I’ve ever had. Now, I was the one close to death and he was the one fighting to keep me alive. We clung to each other. He began his work as my therapy cat. He was bossy and demanding. I was exhausted and traumatised. He was insistent that I get up, get washed and dressed, eat, drink and that I move to play with him. He gave me a reason and he was such a high intensity cat, that he was able to organise the household and hold me through all the trials that came my way. Coming out of the deep fog of trauma, I looked at the beauty of him. She had made him exquisitely. The precision of Her brushstrokes to create such a creature with black smoke, charcoal streaks and soft white fine fur that blew in the wind like feathers on angel’s wings. His slow blinking green eyes staring up at me, I marvelled at how She comes up with these things. He fit my arms perfectly despite being a huge cat. His neck slotted into the creek of my elbow neatly. His paws are just the right length to wrap around my neck and his face the exact placement to give me kisses on my cheek. The wonder of the accuracy of it all, hit me. “You are the most beautiful cat in the world.” I’d tell him. “I love you so much. You are my best baby boy cat.” Love would pour out of me. Having lived a life of abuse, it was the first time my love could run free, and I would gush over him. He healed me. I healed him. We were a team. My most favourite team ever. Only Goddess could have known the recipe for this. Only She who knows all, sees all and is all, could bring this deep soul bond into being with such ease. As I write this, Goku is on the path to death. I’m bracing myself for his return to Her. I find myself pleading for him to stay with me, but I know I only ever borrowed him. He belongs to Her, not me. My lesson in death is just beginning as his life is ending – that dance again. What a gift. She, the creator of all things, gave me the greatest gift of all. And I am so thankful for that. https://www.magoism.net/2023/11/meet-mago-contributor-luna-anna/
(Book Excerpt 3) Re-visioning Medusa Eds. by Glenys Livingstone, Trista Hendren et. al.

Medusa: Wisdom of the Crone Moon Theresa Curtis, Ph.D. ALL MYTH IS AN UNFOLDING of both being and becoming. Hence, Medusa equally was—as Herself, precisely—and is—brewing Her story as circumstances warrant. I do Her a disservice when I dissect and mold Her into a specimen of interpretation. In face, Medusa is fierce, turning to stone those whose interest is superficial. As Goddess, She can unravel Her deeper medicine beyond time and space for those who ask—and it is toward this Medusa I intend to visit. How She chooses to venture forth today is Her business. But how we collaborate, intuit, circumambulate Her is all our affair, and I invite each of us to join this adventure. We could honor Medusa as the three phases of Moon, and therefore the traditional three phases of Women: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Various tales have told of Medusa’s Maiden voyage toward lost innocence through rape (forced entry), and then Her radical Mothering moment when She births from Her bloody neck. Her tale is long and rich, and constantly unfurling deeper—it can never truly be known. Yet Medusa chooses which wisdom She imparts to each explorer, and She has visited specifically as a snake-headed, wisdom-infested Crone. For me, She reeks of the endless mystery of the secrets beyond the dark moon. Her mystical powers deliver terror to those who think they can reach Her through direct observation. Freud observed Medusa at length, interpreting Her as Vagina dentata, exhibiting panic and horror (stoning) in the face of Her power. In fact, he was never able to complete his treatise on Her. Athena’s (logic, order) rage ignites Medusa’s power, wherein Medusa seems to pulsate with the unobservable might of sagacity —the Dark Crone Moon—and its deep endlessness of insight (in-sight) and possibility. She does not take lightly that wisdom is being stolen through measurable, evident reasoning. Rather, if we forego our gaze in order to perceive Her through reflection, then She may forego her head and birth Pegasus and Chrysaor. Medusa must be seen reflectively; only then is the fierce vision alive with the transformative energy of snake. She entices me in. If you are still reading this, then She is enticing you too. Power of the Archetypal Medusa Gather up, sisters. We must reflect upon Medusa without statuing to stone. It’s time to find our voices—all of us, as women. Medusa is open for business: to accept Her voyagers, and be discovered. Medusa offers a pulsating transformation—a deeper knowledge. Shall we undertake this mission? Yes, this is an adventure wrought with hedonism, angst, and enlightenment; it is not for the faint of heart. We shall reflect upon that which brings up our great fears; we will each touch our own distress—feel it; swim in it. We need a gritty honesty and willingness to open our minds to a deeper discovery. And when we are complete, we can birth our own Pegasus and Chrysaor. Only then will Medusa’s story evolve. How shall we ready for such a journey? I have relied on intuition, ritual, and meditation to sense the brew of Medusa—and to trust Her. She is not easy to trust. And yet, She is predictable: if I am merely here to ogle, I will get stoned and nowhere. But when I honor and reflect upon Her, She is ripe with the guidance of Crone. Medusa has responded to effort and willingness. Yet She also instigates, in which I am the effect to Her cause. She is not only approaching me; She is enticing me to enter Her. This can feel like being swallowed, and then shat-out after being transformed through digestion. It is as if I am entering Medusa as Vagina Dentata, hungry and toothed. Facing Medusa requires courage. I have wielded to an inclination to transform, to realize more of who I am, to alchemize. But alchemy is a patriarchal representation of the active Medusa; it is a masculine attempt to convert rigid iron to a more malleable and valuable gold. It relegates magic to science. Animus alchemy can measure, clarify, and change the visible surface—but Medusa’s Crone wisdom does not live there; thus, alchemy and science will never illuminate the active Medusa. She is wrought only through reflection and contemplation. It was by reflection, and refusing to merely gaze, that my great wombing within Medusa began. I have given of myself to Her that She may deliver to me my own Cronehood—where Her snakes may weave me a more fertile field to sidewind through. And so, I prepare for this Medusation—where the surface persona can be infused with a more essential knowing. “BE Medusa.” Let her live in your curls for a while and see what wisdom you can bring up and add to the potion. Meditate on her. Sharpen your intuition through introversion, meditation, imagination. Leave Her some space to crawl in through your cracks. What you learn is your lesson—this is my personal learning: Grounding my Self before stepping into the Myth Without witnesses… people become trapped in silences (Shulman-Lorenz, n.d., para 9). I feel an obligation to sufficiently prepare and ground myself (I am, after all, an experiment) prior to mindfully responding to the initial rumblings of Medusa calling me inward; I link with my familiars before I connect with the unknown. Entering this transformational phase can be hazardous, and a way to process the sometimes overwhelming world of unconsciousness is essential. Marie-Louise von Franz notes the hazards one might encounter: When the conscious and unconscious personalities approach each other, then there are two possibilities: either the unconscious swallows consciousness, when there is a psychosis, or the conscious destroys the unconscious with its theories, which means a conscious inflation…and then people get out of it by saying the unconscious is ‘nothing but…’ (1980, p. 164) Setting the Intention Willingness to enter Medusa’s Crone portal initiated an ego-confrontation between my individual self, and my Higher Self. Fear fought that call again and again, yet a commitment and trust in Medusa gave …
(Video) PAAWBAC Interview by Cynthia Tom

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zd4g9ThQkS0 Pacific Asian American Women Bay Area Coalition’s Board Member Elsie Lum interviews Cynthia Tom, visual artist (Cultural Surrealism) and founder of A PLACE OF HER OWN, an arts-based healing program for women of color. PAAWBAC is a sponsor of A PLACE OF HER OWN https://www.magoism.net/2021/07/meet-mago-contributor-cynthia-tom/embed/#?secret=fDs2B6tjix
(Prose) Ritual in These Times by Arlene Bailey

Photo by Arlene Bailey ©2020Image in photo by John Shannon It’s a beautiful day and Mother Nature looks gorgeous in all her summer fullness. It is also a day where the energies are erratic and challenging and one of those days when I want to curl up in the roots of my huge Grandmother Oak. I want to lie in those ancient arms and be held. I want to feel the life happening below me as roots, critters and mycorrhizal enzymes in a symbiotic dance alter and enliven the system. I want to feel their community efforts working together, each individual supporting and enhancing the life of the other. I want to feel this because on a daily basis it is situational and in short supply, disappearing even, from the human community. Tears stream down my face as I wonder what has happened. Things were definitely not perfect before – far from it – but now… NOW… well, as Alice would say, everything down is up and everything up is down and nothing is as it seems. My mind goes to that “who can I trust” place. My heart knows, but right now my mind is caught in that proverbial “but and what if” loop. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I light a candle and pick up my drum. Randomly I strike beater against hide a few times until I find a rhythm. Then, as I feel the women of ancient times gather round me, I lay down the beater and allow my hands to find the rhythm… frame drum style. I slowly feel my body begin to move and my voice to make sounds – nothing special and definitely not melodic. Rather, visceral and raw, the sounds of my Soul moving from the depths into the now. Slowly, drum… dance… sound… begin to alter the vibrations holding me captive to the “what if’s and how come’s”, the questions and pesky doubts. I finally reach the stillpoint where the mind is quiet and my body able to tap into its cellular memories. I light some frankincense and inhale this ancient resin whose aroma transports me back to the Temple. I drift off into memories of altars and ritual and purpose. I breathe in those rememberings as I feel myself sink deeper into connection with the Great Mother, She Who Has Been, Is and Always Will Be. I am an Ordained Priestess of the old ways birthed into the Now to ground a different way of being and knowing, living and doing. Ritual is the language of my soul, the memory of ancient ways my guide. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It’s never easy is it? Never what we expect. Always though what we are called forth to do and/or become. I think on this as I create a new altar to ground the experiences of this day and bring in new energies. Thank Goddess for ritual and altars and the medicine of drums and roots and dirt-filled organisms teeming with life! Honorings and Blessings to you Great Mother for holding and sustaining this daughter through lifetimes… for holding and sustaining me through this lifetime, especially through this now. May you continue to hold ALL of your children. And so it is. https://www.magoism.net/2020/04/meet-mago-contributor-arlene-bailey/ (Meet Mago Contributor) Arlene Bailey _____________________________________ Ritual in These Times by Arlene Bailey ©2020
(Art) Migration by Liz Darling

The red is sort of symbolic as blood in the water – a nod to our terribly polluted oceans and damage to marine life (and by extension, all of us). (Meet Mago Contributor) Liz Darling.
(Essay 5) What It’s Like to Live on Wimmin’s Land by Hearth Moon Rising

These essays don’t have to be read in order, but previous ones are here, here, here, and here. Thus far, I’ve confined my series on wimin’s land mainly to the hardships. It is vital that women exploring this adventure recognize the pitfalls before committing time, energy, resources, and sacrificed opportunities to the endeavor. I do not intend to recount my experiences as a cautionary tale, however, so I will conclude this series by describing some of the wonderful things about wimmin’s land. Photo: Brocken Inaglory The best part is all the women. All the women you meet who share your beliefs and all the women who are different from you. Women who validate you and women who broaden your thinking. Even if there are only half a dozen women who call the land home, many more pass through. As I mentioned earlier, my perspective of wimmin’s land was partially informed by visiting other lands, and denizens of wimmin’s land were enthusiastic visitors as well as hosts. Some women spent years just traveling from land to land. Some would summer in Vermont and winter in Tucson, like old rich folks, only young and poor. Some women who worked regular jobs and had regular houses would spend their week’s vacation on wimmin’s land, arriving in their campers with the kids. Photo: g’pa bill Women in cities and towns close by would visit for a weekend, a day, or an evening event. While some women on the land wanted nothing to do with Goddess worship, women in the surrounding area would arrive at the solstices and equinoxes to participate in ritual. There was a symbiotic relationship between women in town and women on the land. Town women would provide respite, labor, or material resources. Women on the land would housesit and carpool to creative or political events. Some women on the land were healers, offering services for donation or barter. The land was also a low cost option to hold a workshop, albeit without the amenities. You could always find someone on the land to pat your back or listen when you felt frustrated or sad. There were always women up for deep discussions about politics or spirituality or books. These were real discussions, where you explored areas of agreement, listened to other perspectives, and allowed yourself to be persuaded, not the competitive debating style of communication favored by most men. In the evening, at least a few times a week, there would be campfires and singing. Some women brought instruments, but we had a supply of rattles and drums. Potlucks might be impromptu or planned, attended by town women who had real kitchens. Photo: Tkkk Children loved the drumming sessions, campfires, and ritual, but they also created their own entertainment. They liked to write and perform plays, and they would write their handbills on scraps of paper and pass them around. Like parents summoned to the school play, women would obediently turn out for the performance. There were a lot of hard times on the land, as I’ve described elsewhere, but calamity can occur in other places, too. If we had more than our share of hardship, we never went through anything alone. Always there were women around to celebrate and women to share the load. https://www.magoism.net/2013/04/meet-mago-contributor-hearth-moon-rising/
(Prose) Quintessential Connections by Luciana Percovich

Good Morning, Avalonian Sisters and Friends! Crones, Mothers, Daughters and Sons! This talk, my small contribution to this gorgeous conference, is dedicated to our Beloved Crone Sisters who have passed among our Ancestresses: Mary Daly, Merlin Stone, Marija Gimbutas and Lydia Ruyle. May they Be with us here and now And bless our tongues, ears and souls
(Poem) Birth of Aphrodite # 3 by Donna Snyder

I. a golden frame empty upon an aqua wall an empty gold frame on an aqua wall embellished with a subtle vignette the same color of gold creamy rich mat frames nothing just a piece of the delicate aqua enclosed with that golden line the image supplied as in all instances of beauty beheld projected visions from the mind of the beholder the empty wall the aquaeous amniote Beauty perfect and entire unto itself since Time severed Heaven’s cock the golden vignette on the golden frame the froth of waves golden in the sunlight the birth of Beauty free of the ownership of Gods or Fathers the sea’s amniote the sun-gilded waves swelling and receding a promise of ceaseless pleasure the psychopomp’s offer of exotica and adventure to no avail as Beauty need travel no where infinitely available and infinitely varied not even the sturdy arms of the artisan husband the husband’s creation of the artifacts of fat life the rich treasure of his own opened veins a volcano with expectations to hold–no behind the golden frame the aqua wall no one captured Beauty neither ransomned nor bought nor yet possessed the aspect of the great divine trinity–Beauty, Passion and Pleasure She there inside the empty golden frame visible to any eye could look at a plane of aqua and see her face II. a plate of pits the morning after the grape skin peeled by teeth suckled by tongue and lips sweetness rolling down throat and chin the swallowed moment the moment spent the moment remembered Obviously this is about the birth of Aphrodite from the foam that gathered about the severed genitals of Uranus thrown into the sea, making her not born of a father, limitless like the sea. As well, it is about the attempts of other gods to possess her, including her husband, the smithy of the gods. (Go to Birth of Aphrodite #1 and #2 by Donna Synder)
Progress in a Ship of Moon and Stars by Belinda Subraman

Our corkscrewing choice is superhero complex or top heavy greed in a dynasty of bucks in bed economy living on controlled mind grids bombarded by 4K TV rays and cellophane wrinkles of reality. Associative synesthesia is some of this strangeness, an empath with a radical mind, sensual transporters to parallel worlds… The universe expands to keep me stimulated protected by smoke rings on Mars. (Meet Mago Contributor) Belinda Subraman

(Special Post 6) Nine-Headed Dragon Slain by Patriarchal Heroes: A Cross-cultural Discussion by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: This and the ensuing sequels are a revised version of the discussion that has taken place in The Mago Circle, Facebook group, since September 24, 2017 to the present. Themes are introduced and interwoven in a somewhat random manner, as different discussants lead the discussion. The topic of the number nine is key to Magoism, primarily manifested as Nine Magos or the Nine Mago Creatrix. Mago Academy hosts a virtual and actual event, Nine Day Mago Celebration, annually.] Helen Hwang Without knowing nine numerology, it is NOT possible for us to understand the depth of Magoism, an anciently originated tradition of Old Korea/East Asia that venerated the Creatrix. “Giants” are the hallmark for the Goma, the people of Danguk (nine-state confederacy led by Goma, the Magoist Shaman queen). Those giants are not described as a singular people. They come in “81 brothers,” as mentioned below. We know what “brothers” mean, it is 81 sisters! Changing or translating a female-connoted term to the male proves its agent to be patriarchal. And Chiyou or Chiu (in Korean) is the ruler of Nine Ris (Guri), another name for Nine Hans (Guhan). Check this out: “Chiyou (蚩尤) was a tribal leader of the Nine Li tribe (九黎) in ancient China.[1] He is best known as a king who lost against the future Yellow Emperor during the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors era in Chinese mythology.[1][2][3] For the Hmong people, Chiyou[4] was a sagacious mythical king.[5] He has a particularly complex and controversial ancestry, as he may fall under Dongyi[1]Miao[5] or even Man,[5] depending on the source and view. Today, Chiyou is honored and worshipped as the God of War and one of the three legendary founding fathers of China.” “According to the Song dynasty history book Lushi, Chiyou’s surname was Jiang (姜), and he was a descendant of Yandi.[6]According to legend, Chiyou had a bronze head with a metal forehead.[1] He had 4 eyes and 6 arms, wielding terrible sharp weapons in every hand.[7] In some sources, Chiyou had certain features associated with various mythological bovines: his head was that of a bull with two horns, although the body was that of a human.[7] He is said to have been unbelievably fierce, and to have had 81 brothers.[7] Historical sources often described him as ‘cruel and greedy’,[6] as well as ‘tyrannical’.[8] Some sources have asserted that the figure 81 should rather be associated with 81 clans in his kingdom.[5] Chiyou knows the constellations and the ancients spells for calling upon the weather. For example, he called upon a fog to surround Huangdi and his soldiers during the Battle of Zhuolu. TRIBE Chiyou is regarded as a leader of the Nine Li tribe (九黎, RPAWhite Hmong: Cuaj Li Ntuj) by nearly all sources.[1] However, his exact ethnic affiliations are quite complex, with multiple sources reporting him as belonging to various tribes, in addition to a number of diverse peoples supposed to have directly descended from him.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiyou Helen Hye-Sook Hwang Below is from my article, “Goma, The Shaman Ruler Of Old Magoist East Asia/Korea, And Her Mythology,” included in Goddesses in Myth, History and Culture (Mago Books, 2018). Goma is also credited for designating queens of the bear clan to state rulers. Another account of the Goma myth reads, “She looked after numerous spiritual persons and wise persons. Accepting women of the bear clan, Hanung made them rulers (后). Goma chose queens of the bear clan to make them nine state rulers. Note that Danguk is a nine state confedearcy. That Danguk’s nine states were headed by the queens of the bear clan is, among others, corroborated by Chinese mythological accounts. Chinese myth informs that Chiu, Huangdi’s opponent in an epic war, was aided by “a tribe of giants from the far north.”[1] In Chinese mythology, Gonggong and her minister, Xiangliu, symbolized as a dragon with nine heads in the body of a snake, are depicted as an enemy of Emperor Yu of Xia (ruled c. 2200–2100 BCE). Such a story is aligned with Sinocentrism inscribed in Chinese mythology that antagonizes pre-Chinese history of Old Magoist Korea/East Asia. In Chinese mythology, Gonggong (龔工) is described as a sea monster whose minister Xiangliu (相栁 Mutual Willow) is told to have been defeated by Yu, the Great.[2] Assuming the character hu (后 xia in Chinese pronunciation) to mean a male ruler’s wife, androcentric scholars have translated the above account as “Hanung received his queen from the bear clan. And he instituted the rite of matrimony.” This proves to be a modern androcentric bias in that hu originally means a “ruler.” This is the case of the logographic character whose original meaning has changed from “a female ruler” to “a male ruler” and to “the wife of ruler” over time. Ancient Chinese texts betray ample evidence. For example, Xiahou (夏后 Ruler of Xia) and Houyi (后羿 Ruler of Yi) respectively refer to a male ruler. Xiahou refers to Yu of Xia. Other ancient Chinese texts include the Classic of Poetry (詩經商頌玄鳥), the Zuozhuan (左傳) and the Book of Document (書經).[3] [1] C. Scott Littleton, ed. Mythology: The Illustrated Anthology of World Myth & Storytelling (San Diego: Thunder Bay Press, 2002), 414. Cited in Hwang, Finding Mago, 239 in note 494. [2] Lihui Yang, Deming An and Jessica Anderson Turner, Handbook of Chinese Mythology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 214-5. [3] Goma, “Goma, The Shaman Ruler Of Old Magoist East Asia/Korea, And Her Mythology” Goddesses in Myth, History and Culture (Mago Books, 2018), 272. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang I am realizing that even ancient Chinese people depicted Chiyou as female. When her image is cropped from the whole frame, it is hard to tell. But see her in the attached image of the whole frame. In comparison with Chinese heroes (supposedly including Yellow Emperor) on the left side, she and her ally are depicted as a figure in a curvy body line. Of course, Chiyou was pejoratively depicted as she was an opponent to the future Chinese emperor, […]
(Special post) The Goddess Inanna: Her Allies and Opponents by Hearth Moon Rising

Inanna’s Descent to the Underworld is one of the most fascinating myths ever told. Not just because it is profound and enlightening, although it is certainly that. It’s an exciting journey that ignites the imagination, and female characters are at the hub of the action. This is a tale of power: power that is demanded, power that is won, power that is appropriated, and power that cannot be escaped. The story follows the fertility goddess Inanna, who brought civilization to Mesopotamia, as she seeks to expand her realm by venturing into the world below. Inanna’s experiences in the great below, her escape, and the wild events that unfold as a result of her caper are the focus of the tale.
(Special post) Laurie Baymarrwangga, Senior Australian of the Year 2012

Posted with permission in Return to Mago on ‘Australia Day’, 26 January 2014 (Australian time), in recognition of the ill-treatment and misunderstanding of Aboriginal people that was set in train when, in 1788, white people first settled in the land now known as Australia.

(Video) Winter Solstice Breath Meditation by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Winter Solstice/Yule Southern Hemisphere – June 20 – 23. Northern Hemisphere – December 20 – 23 Winter Solstice is a celebration of the Mother/Creator aspect of the Triple Goddess in particular – as both Solstices may be, as dark or light come to fullness. Winter Solstice Moment celebrates the ripe fullness of the Dark Womb, and the gateway from that fullness back into new growing light. It is a Birthing Place – into differentiated being, and Her birthing happens in every moment in the breath, and is seamlessly connected with all layers of being – of self, Earth and Cosmos. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDsVZzXtoyM The Text in the Meditation[i] Take a deep breath and let it go. Notice the Void at the bottom of emptying your breath … feeling it, and feeling the Urge to breathe as it arises. And again … feeling it over and over – this breath that arises out of the full emptiness in every moment, birthing you in every moment. – Recall some of the birthings in your life, your actual birth – see it there in your mind’s eye … you coming into being – your Nativity, your Nativity. Recall projects you have brought into being, new beings within yourself, perhaps children, new beings in others, how you have been Creator and Created – even at the same time … who was birthing who? Staying for a while with the many, many birthings in your life. – recalling now Earth-Gaia’s many birthings out of the Dark everyday … the dawn is constant as She turns. See Her in your mind’s eye – the constant dawning around the globe, the constant birthing. Recall Earth’s many births right now of all beings – as day breaks around the globe – the physical, emotional, spiritual births. Her many, many birthings everyday, and throughout the eons. recalling now Universe-Gaia’s many birthings – happening in every moment – right now in real time and space … supernovas right now, stars and planets being born right now. Her many, many birthings in every moment and throughout the eons. – recalling now Universe-Gaia’s many birthings – happening in every moment – right now in real time and space … supernovas right now, stars and planets being born right now. Her many, many birthings in every moment and throughout the eons. Come back to your breath – this wonder – none of it separate … the Origin Ever-Present, birthing you in every moment – out of Her Fertile Dark, in real time and space. Feeling this breath, Her breath. NOTES: [i] Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, Winter Solstice ceremonial script, p. 195-196. Reference: Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology. Music: Fish Nite Moon by Tim Wheater, permission generously given Images: – Birth of the Goddess, Erich Neumann, The Great Mother, pl. 155. See https://pagaian.org/book/cover-goddess-image/ – Winter Solstice window, MoonCourt Australia 2016 – some sources unknown
(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: …
(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 …
(Prose & Photography) Equinox Reflection by Sara Wright

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

A SEED FOR SPRING EQUINOX . . . till I feel the earth around the place my head has lain under winter’s touch, and it crumbles. Slanted weight of clouds. Reaching with my head and shoulders past the open crust dried by spring wind. Sun. Tucking through the ground that has planted cold inside me, made its waiting be my food. Now I watch the watching dark my light’s long-grown dark makes known. Art and poem are included in Celebrating Seasons of the Goddess (Mago Books, 2017). (Meet Mago Contributor) Sudie Rakusin (Meet Mago Contributor) Annie Finch
(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/

(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 …
(Mago Stronghold Essay 1) The Forgotten Primordial Paradise by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

Part I Multivalent Meaning of Mago Stronghold Mago Stronghold (麻姑城, Mago-seong) refers to the center of the world (axis mundi) in the Magoist Cosmogony. It is a metaphor for the Source/Origin/Womb of Life for terrestrial beings. Mago Stronghold represents the forgotten paradise of the Great Goddess in patriarchy. In patriarchal times, it has become a code to unlock the hidden S/HE Reality. As one’s life in the body and mind is the very proof for the first mother, “Mago,” from whom one comes, the existence of Mago Stronghold in toponym and meaning is the very token to prove vital for the primordial home of terrestrial beings, also called the Earth. The Mago Stronghold talk, upon being fully deciphered, merits the bird’s eye view of human history from the cosmogonic beginning of the Great Goddess to this day. Its message is, among others, we are NOT locked out from the blissful time of S/HE beginning. We are NOT disconnected from our ancestors and deities. And we are NOT substantively different from our non-human sojourns. All in WE are found in Mago Stronghold. I present my investigation of Mago Stronghold, rather than a new theory, as an alternative mode of perceiving reality. The Mago Stronghold talk answers the ultimate question of “who I am” as a person and why we are here in our life journey. It is meant to engender metamorphosis, the process of awakening and navigating in S/HE Reality, for both an individual and the collective. We realize that no one is bound to patriarchal reality except those who create it. WE are HERE/NOW. However, the full-fledged implication of Mago Stronghold can’t be unveiled without naming the systemic working of mental blocks and lifting the limit. Official (read patriarchal) historiography is not the place where we nest our conversation. Linear thinking can’t help us arrive at the Scene. Thinking within ethnocentric and nationalist grids is among the mental blocks. We are invited to explore a whole new/old/original way of seeing and knowing matters. You and I across cultures, nationalities, and geographies have a lot in common to talk and think about. Precisely, the Mago Stronghold talk bridges the gap among moderns. Its implication is NOT confined to Korea or East Asia. One may wonder how it is so? The concept of Mago Stronghold, remembered by East Asian Magoists, concerns the common origin of all beings on Earth. Discourse on the Great Goddess/Primordial Mother/Creatrix can’t be parochial by nature. It maps out the gynocentric consciousness of WE, which redefines national/cultural identities as consanguineous. The Mago Stronghold talk works at multi-dimensions crisscrossing and connecting the personal and the collective, the local and the universal, and the physical and the symbolic. Mago Stronghold found across Korea and China is no ordinary cultural or historical landmark. It is also equated with Mago Mountain or Triad Mountain. The extant toponym of Mago Stronghold is a door to the Other Realm of the Great Goddess. Precisely, it signifies the Primordial/Perennial Home for not only the Mago Clan (Mago and HER divine and human descendants) but also all terrestrial beings, according to the Magoist Cosmogony. “Mago Stronghold” is an eponym for such socio-natural-architectural variations as castles, citadels, mountain villages, fortresses, stone walls, earthen walls, and ultimately the Earth. It is etiological, explaining the gynocentric origin of the axis mundi and the sacred mountain reverence known in many ancient worlds. Macrocosmically, Mago Stronghold refers to the Earth, the Splendid Land of the Primordial Mother. Residing in the Big Dipper (Seven Stars),[1] Mago governs the solar system and chooses the Earth as HER Garden.[2] S/HE delegates HER divine and human offspring to cultivate sonic resonance in harmony with cosmic music. In that sense, Earth IS HER Civilization. Its literal meaning, the Stronghold of the Great Goddess, conveys that all Earth’s civilizations are born of the Great Goddess. The Mago Civilization of Earth is aligned with the Law of Nature established by the marvelous working of the Great Goddess. Nature reflects HER Majestic Work. When the Creatrix (Cosmogonic Matrix) is made unthinkable, if not erased, in the course of patriarchal mytho-history, Mago Stronghold stands as an enigmatic cultural icon. It comes to us as a code to decipher. Much is to be unveiled for HER Paradise to be reinstated in the collective mind of humanity. Euphemisms that are severed from the Magoist implication in the course of history are linked back to the original Magoist words. The Mago Stronghold Code enchants us to the holistic view of the Great Goddess, the WE consciousness in S/HE, that is tabooed in patriarchy. Reminding people of the common origin from the Primordial Mother, Mago Stronghold opens a new horizon of the gynocentric reality, WE/HERE/NOW. We have been part of the Grand Plan of the Great Goddess. When it comes to the female, official historiography, which is after all a product of the patriarchal dominant group, offers little to, if not obstructs, the researcher. The history it calls is nothing other than a self-aggrandizing distorted view of the past events, or rather an imposed false view of the past by patriarchal colonizers. Patriarchal history should be called pseudo-history. It concerns not truth but domination and self-expansion. The history of self-sharers/altruists/Magoists never dies for it is about re-membering of all in WE. What happened is never left unanimated, according to the Law of Nature. It can’t be erased, for truth is the language of Life. As such, the collective memory that ancient (read pre-patriarchal) Magoists were the bearers of the Magoist royal lineage has survived official East Asian (read Sinocentric) historiography. It is imbued in such socio-cultural data as lore, literature, art, and place-names, as well as the so-called apocryphal texts. My task here is to decode the meaning of Mago Stronghold, unearthing non-official data and reading them between the lines of written records. (To be continued) See Meet Mago Contributor Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D. [1] The Big Dipper (Seven Stars) is favored by Koreans. Triad Deity (Samsin), another name for Mago, is …
(Mago Almanac Basics 1) What is the Magoist Calendar? by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: I have created 13 basics of Mago Almanac, which are included in Mago Almanac Planner for Personal Journey: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Volume 6), Year 6 or 5920 MAGOMA ERA (Equivalent to 2023 CE). These 13 basics constitute the backbone of Magoist Cetaceanism as well.] It is a 13 month 28 day luni-menstrual-solar calendar of Old Magoist Korea. Insofar as one year marks about 365.25 days, a time taken for the earth to revolve around the sun, it is a solar calendar. The fact that both the moon and the female menstruation cycle mark 28 days, which makes 13 months or 364 days for one year. This makes approximately 1.25 a surplus. Thus, we have days outside the calendar grid. Each year has one extra day on the day before the New Year’s day. The New Year of Year 1 or 5915 Magoma Era was set on the new moon date before Winter Solstice in 2018 by the Gregorian Calendar. With one extra day, the year makes 365 days. Given that the actual period of the Earth’s revolution is approximately 365.25 days, we have the second extra day every fourth year. Setting aside the extra days, we have 364 days for one year. 364 days divided by 28 days is 13. That is how we have 13 months in a year. The Magoist Calendar championing the matricentric worldview is the very indication that our Mother Earth is stabilized in her own voyages. https://www.magobooks.com/update-on-mago-books/mago-almanac-13-month-28-day-calendar-book-a/ https://www.magoism.net/2013/07/meet-mago-contributor-helen-hwang/