June 11, 2020June 11, 2020 Mago Work Admin

(Poetry) Ancestral Mothers and Warrior Goddesses: Revisioning Pluto Retrograde in Capricorn by Arlene Bailey

Sitting in a cold room,
I scarcely can breathe,
my psyche stripped bare
and my heart broken.

Pluto has arrived and
already my life is being
disrupted by things
beyond my control.
Already things from the
Depths are emerging
Demanding to be seen.

I don’t do drama or chaos.
Still it has entered my life
destroying what is not
in my best interest.

You see, disrupting and destroying
what no longer functions, what
is worn out and no longer
serves our highest good along with
forcing us to face our inner demons,
unhealed trauma and karmic dross…
well, this is Pluto’s task and
his raison d’etre.

Trying to find that illusive place
of balance may as well go
out the window right now,
as the best we can hope for
is to stay in integrity through
these winds of change and
fires of transformation.

Pluto is now retrograde in Capricorn
whose ruler is his old friend Saturn.
The Lord of the Underworld and
Patriarchy are cozying up for an
explosive and transformative visit.
For five months.
Five. Fucking. Months.

I feel I’m on the Night Bus and
the driver has just announced
“Here’s your ticket to the Underworld.
Hang on it’s going to be a bompy ride!!”

I’m numb and am feeling more like…
“Beem me up Scotty.”

And…

There’s no place to run.
So I grab the essentials…

Broom
Cauldron – the GIANT one!
Frankincense and Sage
Owl Wing and Crow Feathers
Crystals – lots of Black Tourmaline
Drum
Rattle
Those “just right” herbs and other
accoutrements known only to the few!

There’s no running from
this Astrological Influence,
but I can damn sure NOT
give into the miasma
of the fucking patriarchy
or fight the transformative
energies Pluto brings.

I Can and Will surrender to
the journey into the
inner/lower world where the
energies of change wait for me.

Not Pluto with the Patriarchal
naming of “Lord” of the Underworld,
but rather Pluto as Hecate who waits
to once again begin the Mystery School
of deep inner work and depth diving
into those dark places we dare not go.

Hecate who brings up unhealed vibrational
karma and what no longer resonates.

Hecate the Sorceress who is magic.

Hecate as the very exacting Grandmother
Crone who once again lights the
fires of alchemy demanding we become
the dark matter to be transformed into gold.

NOT Pluto, “Lord” of the Underworld!

I can and will surrender to the Morrighan
and Erishkigal who strip bare all that
no longer serves me.

I will be Innana at the Seven Gates
releasing all that I find precious,
but that has also entrapped me,
blinding me to what is really true,
what is really important
what is in my best interest.
Blinding me to my
Medicine in the world.

So Pluto…
I see you and
I take your challenge.

But…

On. My. Own. Terms.

I know this game, know its rules.
Been here, done that
so many times now
I’ve lost count.
Even got the T-shirt!

AND

It will be Hecate and
Erishkigal that will
Guide me.
Challenge me.
Remake me.
Transform me.

And

It will be the Great Crow Triple Goddess,
The Morrighan, Badb and Macha who
will strip away all that no longer serves,
pecking at the dross until I am newly
enlightened and empowered, owning
and speaking my own truth, finally
released of what has hidden in the dark.

Until finally…

It is Owl with eyes that see in the dark
who lifts me in her powerful wings and
carries me back into the light of this world.
Carries me back a transformed and
more powerful woman than you
Pluto, “Lord” of the Underworld,
can ever imagine.

It may be your time, but the way
I label it and the way I move
through it is up to me.

My choice.

My decision.

My medicine

My alchemy.

So go ahead Pluto and Saturn
with your tasks of upending everything
and dismantling all the outmoded
structures of the Patriarchy, while
simultaneously demanding I excavate
my deepest, darkest wounds and
memories as I walk through the
fires of transformation.

Go ahead ‘cause I’m ready.

Me and my Tribe of badass
Ancestral Mothers
And
Warrior Goddesses…

Well…

We. Got. This.

It may not be easy, but
we’re gonna be just fine.

____________________________________________________________________

(Meet Mago Contributor) Arlene Bailey

(Meet Mago Contributor) Arlene Bailey

1 thought on “(Poetry) Ancestral Mothers and Warrior Goddesses: Revisioning Pluto Retrograde in Capricorn by Arlene Bailey”

Duann Kier says:

July 3, 2020 at 1:19 PM

I had to post this one of my Facebook page. It so perfectly describes to me what I and so very many others are experiencing at this time. And it really struck a nerve with me as a Capricorn!

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(Video) "Mothers and Daughters" by Trista Hendren

[Editor’s Note: This video meeting was created and produced as part of 2015 Nine Day Solstice Celebration, organized by Mago Academy.] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzmv6ePdLGk&feature=youtu.be
Mourn the Blockage of Matriversal Blessing by Alison Newvine

On September 7th, members of the Mago and Girl God Books communities gathered to share stories, poems and wisdom related to the themes of grief and the matriverse. Inspired by the Girl God Books anthology, Wounded Feminine: Grieving with Goddess, we explored topics of grief rituals, decolonizing attachment, generational trauma and blessings, and Magoist Cetacean Soteriology. This event was hosted by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang and Claire Dorey who served as presenters and discussants, and by Trista Hendren who was our moderator and sacred space-holder. Other presenters were Stephanie Mines, Jude Lally, Luna Anna, J.A. (Jilly) Burnett and myself. Click here for a full description of the presentations. Here is a glimpse at what our forum had to offer. There will be subsequent forums and similar events in the months to come so please stay tuned to join us in the future. https://www.magoism.net/2023/10/meet-mago-contributor-alison-newvine/
(Art & Poetry) Beltane by Sudie Rakusin & Annie Finch

A WREATH FOR BELTANE May 1 May is here, come around, Find a place on the ground. Find a place on the ground, and the flowers rain down. And the flowers rain down. We are gorgeous today. We are gorgeous today, We’re alive for the May. We’re alive for the May, May is here. Come around. Meet Mago Contributor Sudie Rakusin and Meet Mago Contributor Annie Finch. Sudie Kakusin’s artwork is included in Celebrating Seasons of the Goddess (Lytle Creek, CA: Mago Books, 2017).
(Prose) Earth Stories by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright Every day I send a FB post into what feels like a Great Void including nature photos that I took around the house or in the woods that morning or the day before. There is always Something. Coalescing early morning thoughts with recent images helps me orient myself to the day to come, reminding me to be Present to Now. Now is my only Refuge. In these posts I also hope to capture an audience through image if not through words, introducing or reinforcing people’s positive relationship to nature before it’s too late. My intention is twofold. Help others to see nature in all her wonder, and to encourage folks who read the text to think creatively, to question, to challenge what has been normalized. Does anyone pay attention to these efforts? The answer is probably that few do, and yet I persist. I recall what Pulitzer Prize winning author Richard Powers states, namely that ‘hope is a willingness to engage with the future’. Outcomes are not the point. As a naturalist I am wed to the earth. That I am witnessing Earth’s sorrow, suffering and perhaps even her rage is reality. That we cannot separate the earth from our lives is also reality. Denial or not. That joy can still be felt sensed experienced by living in the present is a third reality. Sharing my little posts helps me to pass these ideas/feelings on. I include today’s post as an example. “WHAT IS THE EARTH ASKING OF US? Both author/scientist Robin Wall Kimmerer and scholar / author Amitav Ghosh ask the same question in different ways. Kimmerer answers that the earth asks to be thanked for the gifts that s/he brings us, and that Gratitude is key. Ghosh answers the question through the story of how one plant brought down a civilization and what this might be saying about the intelligence of nature that may be working under the radar -the fires the flood droughts colonization, wars, misogyny racism etc. cannot be separated and all are all telling us something… Both And. I wonder what would happen if every person queried this question to nature and then LISTENED to any answer that might materialize through a thought or an action – – – Do I hear thousands of responses? This is when I think that it might be possible to change the world. Yesterday when I stood under my beloved hydrangea whose pearl white blossoms rivel that of the moon’s blue light listening to the hum of bees, I heard the cosmos singing. The many and the one. There’s more to this story. Yesterday I also heard my almost 33 -year- old dove Lily b thrashing around his bathroom bower. Something had frightened him badly. Racing into his room – he is a free flying dove that has never been caged – I feared that he might have hurt himself accidently. Lily spends his days in a plant window that is open overhead. Although he is completely safe, he doesn’t feel that way if a predator is near. Hawks can see him from above and sometimes dive bomb the window sending him into a frenzy. After finding him huddled in a corner I picked him up, soothed him with words, and placed him on his protected night roosting perch to recover. Imagine my shock when I entered the living room, and a giant hawk was sitting in the nearby cherry tree. It took a second to identify the Red Tail before he flew directly at me, hovering in the air inches in front of the window tail feathered fanned out behind him. He repeated this behavior three times in all before flying away. Stunned almost senseless, my heart pounded involuntarily. I just stood there dumbly. This was personal and frightening; every cell was vibrating in my body. When a jumble of thoughts tumbled into awareness the hawk’s messenger aspect came first. Nature was communicating with me through one of her creatures, but what S/he was saying was not clear. Never in all these years had I witnessed this behavior in a hawk. Was this some kind of warning? It sure felt that way as my mind flew through all the times the hawk had come to me over the years… often in conjunction with family. Sometimes ‘his’ messages were benign; sometimes not (I only experienced hawk as male). But three times? This sounded mythical; in fairy tales happenings occur in threes. I have no answer to what this startling appearance might mean to me personally or even collectively, but I am on high alert because nature routinely communicates with me through plants, animals, and birds. Unfortunately, sometimes it is months, even years before I comprehend why a visitation occurred. The point of including this unfinished story is to demonstrate that developing an intimate relationship with nature in any of her aspects does weave a person into the uncanny tapestry of the whole if we are open to the reality that it is possible. In The Nutmeg’s Curse Amitav Ghosh suggests that human/animal communication is the oldest of our ‘animal’ traits, and that Nature was telling stories long before humans ever inhabited the earth. My life experiences indicate to me that he’s right. https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright/
(Meet Mago Contributor) April Aronoff

I am a blogger of 3.5 years and have written extensively about the Goddess, Spirit, and self-evolution in a variety of genres, including essays, poetry, memoir, and children’s stories. I also write about addiction and parenting special needs children. My present blog, mytemplegarden.org, has been running since October of 2015. My previous blog, runninginwater.com, ran for 3 years. I also take my own photography, of which a large part comes from my garden temple. I am a practicing priestess and shamanic light worker, dedicated to healing others. I read tarot, do shamanic journeying, and work with Angels when I offer the sacred art of Anointing, ancient body work involving essential oils, crystals, and tuning forks. This act of communion, once practiced by priestesses of antiquity, was meant to unite one with the Goddess. I am honored to be part of this lineage. Feel free to contact me on Facebook for more information about readings or anointings. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area.
(Prose) The Pleiades, The Seven Sisters and Songlines by Susan Hawthorne

In February I travelled to Canberra to see the Songlines exhibition which was on at the Australian Museum. I have been thinking about this star cluster for many years, but this exhibition is the first to be curated by Aboriginal women and to be mounted in such an extraordinary way with paintings, soundscapes, immersive multimedia and explanations of the surface meanings of the art. In 2002 I heard Munya Andrews, an Indigenous woman from the Kimberley region of Western Australia, give a talk about the Pleiades at the Midsumma Festival in Melbourne. We talked and I asked to see the manuscript she was writing. Over the next years or two, Munya worked on her manuscript and the book was published in 2004, The Seven Sisters of the Pleiades: Stories from around the World. The book begins with the stories told to her by her grandmother. Munya goes on to trace the extraordinary connections between different mythic traditions, she comments on the overlaps between the Greek tradition with its birds and the traditions found in Australia where birds are also part of the story. She looks at the importance of the Pleiades in determining seasonal and agricultural systems and festivals connected to those systems. She follows the Pleiades across the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean that the Polynesians use in their navigating. There is a great emphasis on Indigenous traditions from around the world in this book including Australia, Aotearoa/New Zealand, the Ainu of Japan, Native Americans from North and South America as well as the traditions of India, Egypt and Greece. It is a treasure trove of information. I remembered what I had written in my novel, The Falling Woman (1992). You sing of the old times, singing four words, repeating them over and over. Others join in, and soon everyone is singing. The chant becomes a mantra. We sing and we forget. We sing and we remember. We sing and we invent, creating new meanings for old stories, old chants. We reinterpret the story, the chant. The words give us one meaning. The words are: The emus became stars. We know the story behind the simple song, a story of flight and transformation. On the dusty plains of Australia and in the island world of Greece, they tell the same story. Seven maidens in the form of birds were pursued by suitors. The maidens, as emus or doves, fled across the earth and became stars, forming the constellation of the Seven Sisters. Their pursuers became the group of stars we know as Orion. You can see the eternal flight if you look into the summer night sky. As winter approaches the Seven Sisters disappear over the western horizon. Psappha wrote: The moon and the Pleiades both have set The night is half gone Time passes me by still I sleep alone The Seven Sisters: Alcyone Merope Maia Taygete Electra Calaeno Asterope Daughters of Pleione The Songlines Exhibition follows the stories of women from Roebourne in Western Australia in Martu lands through Anangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara (APY) lands and Ngaanyatjarra lands in South Australia. This is a distance of several thousand kilometres. The basic story is the pursuit the seven stars who are sisters by. They are pursued by a man who is represented by Orion. In some of the stories, the women escape, in others they turn on the old man who is chasing them, in some one of the sisters is raped and sometimes reappears, sometimes she doesn’t. Wati Nyiru turned himself into flowers. The eldest sister says, ‘Don’t pick these flowers. The flowers are him!’ –Inawinytji Williamson, 2016 Wati is the word for man ins several desert languages. There are beautiful sculptures of the sisters who fly up to become starts. There is so much in the exhibition and it is impossible to describe it in a very short post. To get some idea of the power of this exhibition, you can purchase a copy of the exhibition catalogue, Songlines: Tracking the Seven Sisters, Margo Neale (ed.). It includes the background to the exhibition, stories artists, mostly women, essays and beautiful reproductions from the exhibition. Links: Seven Sisters of the Pleiades: http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/Bookstore/book/id=138/ The Falling Woman: http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/Bookstore/book/id=64/ Songlines exhibition: http://www.nma.gov.au/exhibitions/songlines Songlines: Tracking the Seven Sisters catalogue: http://www.nma.gov.au/exhibitions/songlines/shop The translation of Sappho above is by Susan Hawthorne © 1992. (Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthrone.
Floating by Dale Allen

Image art by Dale Allen Floating on my back in my home waters of Long Island Sound. Arms outstretched to each side. Complete Utter Relaxation. My Dad, Dan Morgan, used to do this. And then, he’d lie chest-down on the sand, head resting on his arms that were up and crossed under his cheek, feeling the warmth and support of the beach. I always liked seeing the way he knew how to relax and really feel pleasant experiences. He was lots of fun at the beach, too. My brother, Doug, and my younger sister, Lee, along with a collection of childhood friends, would surround him in water that was waist deep for him. He’d submerge underwater, kneeling on one knee, while the other bent leg provided a step for us to climb up and then swing ourselves around to stand on his shoulders. This was very cool for us kids! And then, a big jump forward to splash into the water! “Again!” We all took many turns. And Dad always included any nearby kids that looked on hopefully for a turn. He always included everybody’s kids. My Dad is my second father. He came into our lives after my father, Allen Schmid died when I was 3 1/2 years old. When I was almost 5, my mother remarried. At 37, long-time bachelor for that era, Dan Morgan married my widowed Mom and came, heart-wide-open, into a family of four children who had all experienced the loss of their father. After they married, we left the house my father had built and moved into a new house in town. About 2 1/2 years after they married, my younger sister was born. My beautiful baby sister. My Mom and Dad kept my father’s tradition of having a family boat for summer weekends on the water. We’d fill that boat with food and even more family and friends… these long summer days were wonderful! As I’m floating, I’m one with the gentle rhythmic motion of the waves. I am the waves. I am the Sound. I am the Atlantic Ocean. My Dad came from an Irish-American family of six boys, who were legendary for their antics and humor – legendary! I have a newspaper clipping of a story about their giant pet pig, “Frankie” who got loose and ran around town. Everyone chased and called for the pig around town until finally it ended up in woman’s kitchen, having been drawn in by the smell of blueberry pie. “Morgan Pig Goes Berserk” was the headline. But they also had a built-in, old-fashioned respect. I still love parades and decorum, like my Dad did. My Dad brought that Morgan humor into a family that needed it. He rolled with all of the unsettled emotions of his new family. He rolled with everything. And my father’s memory had plenty of welcome room to be a part of our lives too. My Dad’s mother, Grandmother Morgan told me as a little girl, “I told Gerald…” (She looked upward to indicate her deceased husband’s presence beyond.) “I told him that I would have a blond-haired little girl. He said, ‘Ann, you have six sons!’ But I told him that I would. And see…” (She looked up again and this time pointed a finger at her husband.) “I was right! Here she is!” And then she hugged me. Many, many times she would invite me to tea. I’d delight in selecting my own tiny teapot from her vast collection. She’s fill with it with tea, and we’d sit and talk at her small table in the kitchen. She made a little girl feel very special, and I learned a lot listening to stories of her world travel – solo travel – which was very unusual for the time. My father’s mother, Nana Schmid, after her son died and my Mom remarried, introduced my Mom and Dad to others saying, “This is my daughter, Ellie and her husband, Dan.” We’d all visit them in Delaware where they’d moved. We’d soak in everything we could get from them in word, artistic skill, woodworking, sewing, pug-dog-loving, Pop-Pop-humor that would sneak-up on you and delight you – and a very special kind of Nana-love that filled every nook and cranny. Part of that filled-up feeling was their love for our full family then – all of us. My mother’s mother, Grandma Wachowski who came from Poland as a girl, loved everyone in her own shy way. She was shy, but dependable like the ground that holds us up, and from which everything springs. She had fortitude, inner courage, commitment, and love. She runs like a low hum in me. All five of us children belonged equally to all three sets of grandparents. And we all belonged to each other equally. Everyone belonged. Our extended full family stories are abundant and rich. There are triumphs, there are tragedies, there are countries to leave, there are losses and gains, and there is humor, and music, and family feasts, and noisy gatherings.… Of all the stories, it’s the humorous stories we tell over and over. With each wave, I breathe in the memories and visions. My human body floats in the water, the amniotic fluid of the earth… the earth I came to, and of which I am made. We are all made of the Earth where life ever bursts forward in a cycle of birth, growth, death, renewal. Life, unstoppable. All around us in nature we see these cycles. We see nurturing to support the next generations – in trees, plants, birds, insects, animals. We are made of this. Floating, I am one with the ocean. All of the fish and whales and dolphins swim through it, as if suspended. It’s like the Universe. The stars seem suspended as they move outward with the ongoing expansion of the cosmos. I am the Universe. There are no questions here. No one is missing. We came to Earth, and we are of the Earth. From …
(Prose) The Resting Place by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright I am writing from land that loves me as I am. Inside, the log cabin’s walls weep, as do I. We have both been abandoned. Outside, diversity reins as royalty – this forest helps me breathe more deeply. Every leaf glows, waving translucent hands. A multitude of shades of green. Sweet moist air fills my lungs, the music of rushing water calms my fears. The brook meanders towards the sea through unfurling ferns and wild sprigs of lily of the valley that are springing up under a woodland carpet, a pine – needled floor. With each deep breath I pray to be re-united with the terrified body I left behind almost two years ago when I escaped into thin dry mountain air and fierce and deadly west winds to survive the snow. At dusk last night for a timeless moment I became the snowy crabapple while a few petals drifted towards the ground – an early summer benediction. When the baby bear lumbered up the path my heart split open. A few days earlier I listened to pitiful wailing from the white pine, the bear’s grief spilling over into my own. Eventually, the baby’s heartrending cries were answered by a casual mother who approached her youngster briefly. The yearling scrambled down the tree only to be left behind again as the mother strode across the grass on a quest of her own. I thought I was observing “family break up,” a normal black bear process, albeit a brutal one to witness. After a four day absence the mother appeared with another adult bear, perhaps a future mate. The yearling was gone as I expected. Tonight, the little bear I named Rosy Marie ambled up the path much to my bewilderment. She approached the seed can but seemed unable to open it, returning to the bird feeder to feast on sunflower seed that I had also scattered under the birdfeeder. I felt such relief seeing her. Perhaps the too little yearling would stay around to feed while mother and male companion were otherwise occupied mating? It was almost dark and suddenly there were two bears feeding on scattered seed. Although one was larger than the other, both were yearlings. Shortly thereafter an adult, obviously the youngsters’ mother, appeared and opened the can before striking out on her own. No other adult bear emerged. I was baffled. At this point I am just grateful to have a bear story unfolding, just as I am thankful for these glorious fruit trees into whose blossoms I can almost disappear. Trees and Bears – Wild Nature incarnates still. The last three months have been psychically brutal; I have been walking on air. Perhaps the earth is round so that we don’t have to meet the future, face to face, except through dreams? Mine forecast the story I am presently living. Two violent weeks of traveling across country, returning to ‘my’ beautiful land in crisis and in betrayal have left me reeling. Like Rosy Marie who I hope will stay to be nourished by supplemental feeding so that she can develop into a bear who can survive hibernation (if she alludes the hunter’s gun), I hope to find a place on this patch of earth to re-attach myself to this abandoned body before moving on from here. (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.
(S/HE Article Excerpt) A Scottish Goddess: An Introduction to The Evidence by Stuart McHardy

Available in S/HE V1 N1 [Editor’s Note: This article was previously published and is now available for a free download in S/HE: An International Journal of Goddess Studies in Volume 1 Number 1. Do not cite this article in its present form. Citation must come from the published version in S/HE: An International Journal of Goddess Studies (https://sheijgs.space/).”] In oral tradition from Scotland’s two oldest indigenous languages, Gaelic and Scots, there are references to powerful supernatural female figures who in pre-Christian times may well have been perceived of as goddesses. While we can never reconstruct the specificities of belief patterns of the pre-literate past, the attributes of this being, the Cailleach in Gaelic, and the Carlin in Scots, can be understood as deriving from an indigenous mythology centered on a supernatural female figure. This evidence exists within literary records, often deriving from oral traditions, recorded oral tradition, contemporary oral tradition, place-names and perhaps most interestingly, in the landscape itself. Such material comes from all over Scotland and exists in both of Scotland’s surviving indigenous languages Gaelic and Scots. In this brief overview of the evidence, we will look at material from both linguistic traditions, in which the supernatural figure of the Cailleach in Gaelic and the Carlin in Scots, feature as both landscape creator and weather-worker. In a forthcoming work, Scotland’s Sacred Landscape, due to be published by Luath Press in 2022, I shall present more evidence and, given the extent of the material hope, beyond that, to create a more definitive collection of the material in either book or on-line database form. It should be noted that in Scottish culture, unlike among our cultural cousins in both Ireland and Scandinavia there are no extant records of any kind of pantheon of gods and goddesses from early literary sources. This is part of a general scarcity of early literary sources in Scotland which has been attributed to ongoing destructive invasions from respectively Northumbria, Scandinavia and, on many occasions, England, combined with an unfortunate outbreak of church-directed vandalism during the initial period of the Scottish Reformation in the latter years of the sixteenth century. In the forthcoming work I will consider parallel evidence from particular sites in both Ireland and Scandinavia which could be used to posit a similar underlying feminine-centered belief system in both areas to the one I suggest was extant in Scotland’s far past. In Scotland we have a single reference from Bishop Carsewell in the sixteenth century to the popularity of tales of the Irish Tuatha de Danaan, but within our oral tradition I have found no evidence that this material was ever widespread here.[1] This is particularly striking when we realise that Scotland, like Ireland, has a great many localised tales of Fionn MacCumhaill and the Fianna. That this is down to the close relationship between Irish and Scottish Gaelic is unarguable, but it is all too often forgotten, or ignored, that both countries were heavily settled by Scandinavian incomers from the eighth century onwards. A perhaps forgivable but unfortunately Romanticised attitude towards material deriving from the Celtic languages has tended to overshadow this historical reality. The extent to which the pantheons of Gods in both Ireland and Scandinavia may in fact have been essentially literary creations by classically and biblically focused monks is one that remains unresolved. As McCone put it, …monastic propagandists and genealogists were ruthless reshapers of the past in the interests of the present, studies of early Irish sagas show…them to be deliberate literary compositions primarily geared to contemporary concerns rather than mere antiquarian assemblages, however archaic or traditional the elements so manipulated.[2] Given that any underlying feminine-focused beliefs and traditions similar to the Scottish evidence would have been anathema to the essentially gynaephobic worldview of the monkish scribes and those directing them, it is little wonder that references to any such beliefs are almost entirely absent from surviving records. The possibility of the over-masculinising of supposedly indigenous belief in both Ireland and Scandinavia, in both of which literacy was the exclusive domain of Christian monks in the period when the source materials for the respective pantheons were first written down, is not one that should be avoided. Such material may well have been created in Scotland, but if so, none has survived. However we do have some later literary references, which suggest that the idea of the supernatural, landscape-creating, weather-working female had deep roots in indigenous culture. The Gyre Carlin appears in poetical works in the Scots language from the sixteenth century, where her role as a landscape maker and shaper is presented in burlesque form – in the poem “The Gyre Carlin”[3] she “luts fart” North Berwick Law (one of the Paps of the Lothians) and in the “Maner of the Crying of Ane Play” (the Manner of the Crying of a Play) she “pishes the watters of the Forth.” [4] The survival of these works is due in great part to them having been known at the Royal court showing that such material had a strong hold on even the supposedly upper levels of Scottish society.[5] It was noted by several early visitors to Scotland that not only did the King of Scots share a language, Scots, and thus a culture, with the population of central Scotland, but that he was approachable in a way that was not the norm in the rest of Europe. One of the poets at the court of James IV was William Dunbar (c.1460-c.1530). In a remarkable analysis of William Dunbar’s poem, “The Tua Mariit Wemen and the Wedo” (the Two Married Women and the Widow) the Australian poet A. D. Hope suggested that the poem was derived from what he saw as a “fairy cult” extant in Scotland at the time of the poem’s composition.[6] The poem is essentially a discussion between two young married women and a widow about the relationship between the sexes and in their attitudes they clearly show that they are of independent mind. Hope sees this as deriving …

(Special Post 7) 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.] Kaalii Cargill: Life emerges from the Feminine: Woman, Nature, Goddess. When we value the life-giving power of the Feminine we are less likely to kill other human beings who have been held in a mother’s arms.
(Special Post 2) 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 Hye-Sook Hwang: Here is another image of the nine-headed Lernaean Hydra slain by Herakles. https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydra_(mythology)… Glenys Livingstone: Yes, the Hercules story is more documentation of the Old Battle, of the rise of the “hero” to slay the Mother, when in the earliest of times he served with his beauty and labours. It is so interesting to see the analogies in other cultures/places as you are doing Helen, especially in Asia – it seems important work. Your perseverance is paying off, and will. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Glenys, I am re-reading a book on Chinese mythology and found a lot more on the nine Magoist symbolism. Someday, I hope to write about the topic in its own right. Glenys Livingstone: This chapter’s work is good re the Old Battle in Greek mythology: Valaoritis, Nanos. “The Cosmic Conflict of Male and Female in Greek Mythology”, in From the Realm of the Ancestors: An Anthology in Honor of Marija Gimbutas. Joan Marler (ed). Manchester CT: Knowledge, Ideas and Trends Inc., 1997, p.247 – 261. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Now back to the female divine who is depicted with the nine heads. See the nine-headed Guanyin/Kannon/Gwaneum. Also note that her icon comes in eleven-headed (the 8 Daughters and the Triad Creatrix, which makes eleven). http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/kannon.shtml Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: The symbol of nine dragons was adopted by imperial China. See the Nine Dragon Wall China. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nine-Dragon_Wall Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: We connect the dots. When Guanyin is depicted with nine dragons, it conveys that the nine symbolism was/is once deemed sacred. https://i.pinimg.com/originals/4a/17/b3/4a17b33d9a4ae53bad6466a0eaf11722.jpg How popular the Guanyin icon, three headed and eight armed, to this day! Simply Google “eight armed Guanyin.” Below is from the Late Ming Dynasty, China. https://www.google.com/search?q=eight%20armed%20guanyin… She comes in a different name, Ushnishavijaya, in Tibetan Buddhism. https://www.himalayanart.org/items/65445 Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: We can draw that the female deity such as Guanyin and Ushnishavijaya, just to name two, is venerated in association with the nine symbolism. Within the mytho-history of Magoism, I infer that Guanyin or Ma Guanyin is a persona embodying Goma, the Magoist Shaman ruler of Danguk (3898 BCE-2333 BCE), the head of Nine Hans (Magoist Koreans). Note that Magoist shamans or priestesses are called “Mago.” See my essay, “Goma, the Shaman Ruler of Old Magoist East Asia/Korea and Her Mythology,” in Goddesses in Myth, History and Culture (Lytle Creek, CA: Mago Books), 2018. The insight that the major Goddesses in East Asia and beyond point to the same and old divine persona is NOT farfetched, considering that the nine-headed snake or dragon representing the female sovereignty of pre-patriarchal times is slain by male heroes across cultures. Judy E Foster: I’d have to agree with you here. As usual, interesting information! Patty Kay: My meditation this morning was on a history of mysticism. While I’m in the midst of appropriating all of the wonderful beliefs I find here, I also have found a strand in my own tradition that helps me understand why all the Divine Feminine stuff makes so much sense to me. I’ve been trying to determine when the patriarchal world view took over. According to this history, mysticism began to emerge in about 800 to 500 BCE. Could it be that mysticism kept alive the ancient understanding of the cosmos? This is just speculation, but in it I’m answering my own questions. (To be continued) Join us in The Mago Circle https://www.facebook.com/groups/magoism/.
(Special Post 1) Nine-Headed Dragon Slain by Patriarchal Heroes: A Cross-cultural Discussion by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: This and the ensuing eight sequels (all nine parts) 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: I am thinking of the Nine Goddess/Mago Symbolism or Nine Numerology. Insights connect the data that I have collected, otherwise seemingly unrelated across cultures and periods. We have reasons to celebrate the nine symbolism among us. As seen in this discussion below, Hercules is most aptly equated with Huangdi (Yellow Emperor, 2698–2598 BCE), one of the forebear emperors of ancient China, who is alleged to have defeated Chiu (successor of Goma), the representative of Danguk’s Nine Giants (nine sub-states). The Magoist history writes the other way around. Chiu won the war, the archetypal international/global war waged over the defense/overthrow of the Magoist throne. Old Magoists (Danguk founded by Goma) of Nine Queen-led States defended the rebellion of the patrilocal force, represented by the Huangdi. With this victory, Old Magoist Confederacy of nine sub-states was able to maintain gynocentric peace of the ancient world for about five centuries longer until a man, Yao, rose to give a way for the establishment of the first patriarchal rule, ancient China of the Xia Dynasty (c. 2070 BCE – c. 1600 BCE). Nonetheless, patriarchal ethnocentric Sinocentric historiography has proliferated to this day. Yu, the founder of the Xia dynasty, is depicted as the hero who slains the nine-headed snake. What I am saying is here that the Nine Goddess/Symbolism is pre-patriarchal in origin and possibly speaks of the same event across cultures! The slain of nine-headed snakes or dragons indicates the usurpation of gynocentric rule by a patriarchal hero across cultures. Let me show you some available information and images to open the discussion. Lernaean Hydra 1 oz Copper | The 12 Labors of Hercules “Hercules was sent to slay the Lernaean Hyrda for his second Labor. The multi-headed, snake-like monster was defeated by Hercules after he sliced its one mortal head. The last day to purchase the 1 oz Copper Lernaean Hyrda was the November 12, 2014. There is, however, time to order the 5 oz Copper Hercules Round, and 5 oz Silver Hercules Round. To read about Hercules and his 12 Labors, check out our blog for more information. If you enjoy the 12 Labors of Hercules coin series, take a look at more Silver and Copper coin collections offered by Provident Metals. After defeating the Nemean Lion, Hercules was sent to slay the Lernaean Hydra for his second labor. The Hydra, a snake-like beast with multiple heads, was raised by Hera to destroy Hercules — making this an inevitable match up. In the face-off between Hercules and Hydra, the son of Zeus used a sword to slice off each of the creature’s necks, according to one popular tale. When the heads grew back, Hercules enlisted his nephew to burn each of the necks to halt regrowth. The Hydra had one mortal head, however; so Hercules used his golden sword to slay the mutant and complete his second labor. The beast is displayed on the Second Labor coin, to be released in the 12 Labors of Hercules Series. The reverse features the multi-headed Hydra in a striking position, displaying the daunting task Hercules faced. LERNAEAN HYDRA and II are inscribed. The familiar obverse portraying Hercules with the Nemean Lion draped over his head as armor is shown on this round, as it will be on each round in the powerful series. “1 oz CMXCIX (999 in Roman numerals) FINE COPPER” is also displayed. The 1 oz. Copper Lernaean Hydra rounds will only be available for one month from Oct. 12 through Nov. 12. Make sure to keep your 12 Labors of Hercules Series collection current before time runs out! 12 Labors of Hercules Driven crazy by Hera, Hercules slew his family — only regretful after recovering his sanity. King Thespius purified the son of Zeus, but to atone for his crimes, he was sent to serve King Eurystheus. Eurystheus ordered Hercules to execute 10 Labors, which were a series of tasks carried out as penance for his actions. Hercules successfully completed all 10, but because his nephew helped with one and he planned to accept payment for another, Eurystheus forced Hercules to finish two more Labors alone. Hercules’ Labors adhere to the traditional order of the Bibliotheca: Nemean Lion – Sept. 12, 2014 Lernaean Hydra – Oct. 12, 2014 Ceryneian Hind – Nov. 12, 2014 Erymanthian Boar – Dec. 12, 2014 Augean Stables – Jan. 12, 2015 Stymphalian Birds – Feb. 12, 2015 Cretan Bull – March 12, 2015 Mares of Diomedes – April 12, 2015 Girdle of Hippolyta – May 12, 2015 Cattle of Geryon – June 12, 2015 Apples of Hesperides – July 12, 2015 Cerberus – Aug. 12, 2015 Commemorate the historic battle between Hercules and the Lernaean Hydra with this 1 oz copper round from Provident Metals.” https://www.providentmetals.com/1-oz-copper-lernaean-hydra-the-12-labors-of-hercules.html Helen Hwang: I looked for the answer to this question: How many heads did the Hydra originally have? It is nine, which accords with its icons to be shared shortly. Helen Hwang: Check out Nine-fold or Nine-Headed Phoenix. Not all iconographies of pre-modern China vilify the nine symbolism, which indicates the influence/presence/revival of Magoism. This image is much reminiscent of the blue crane with nine feathers, a Magoist symbol that we have seen in Mago Stronghold, Mt. Jiri during Mago Pilgrimage (to be discussed in another space). “This Qing-dynasty (1644-1911) print shows the nine-headed phoenix, a being from Chinese mythology with a bird’s body and nine heads with human faces. It is one of several hybrid creatures mentioned in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhai jing), where it is […]

(Photography & Poetry) Thoughts of Spring by Deanne Quarrie

Spring At the highest point on the tree, you stretch, reaching for the sun. Your pink petals elegant in their grace, you stand alone. Bravest of all, for leaves have yet to come to offer shade Branches bare except for furry buds that will soon follow in imitation of your daring first move. Intrepid flower of Spring, I feel like you in my yearning for the Sun!
Lammas/Late Summer in PaGaian tradition By Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from Chapter 5 of the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. Traditionally the dates for this Seasonal Moment are: Southern Hemisphere – Feb. 1st/2nd Northern Hemisphere – August 1st/2nd however the actual astronomical date varies. See archaeoastronomy.com for the actual moment. Lammas table/altar Lammas, as it is often called[1], is the meridian point of the first dark quarter of the year, between Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox; it is after the light phase has peaked and is complete, and as such, I choose it as a special celebration of the Crone/Old One. Within the Celtic tradition, it is the wake of Lugh, the Sun King, and it is the Crone that reaps him. But within earlier Goddess traditions, all the transformations were Hers[2]; and the community reflected on the reality that the Mother aspect of the Goddess, having come to fruition, from Lammas on would enter the Earth and slowly become transformed into the Old Woman-Hecate-Cailleach aspect …[3] I dedicate Lammas to the face of the Old One, just as Imbolc, its polar opposite on the Wheel in Old European tradition, is dedicated to the Virgin/Maiden face. The Old One, the Dark and Shining One, has been much maligned, so to celebrate Her can be more of a challenge in our present cultural context. Lammas may be an opportunity to re-aquaint ourselves with the Crone in her purity, to fall in love with Her again. I state the purpose of the seasonal gathering thus: This is the season of the waxing dark. The seed of darkness born at the Summer Solstice now grows … the dark part of the days grows visibly longer. Earth’s tilt is taking us back away from the Sun. This is the time when we celebrate dissolution; each unique self lets go, to the Darkness. It is the time of ending, when the grain, the fruit, is harvested. We meet to remember the Dark Sentience, the All-Nourishing Abyss, She from whom we arise, in whom we are immersed, and to whom we return. This is the time of the Crone, the Wise Dark One, who accepts and receives our harvest, who grinds the grain, who dismantles what has gone before. She is Hecate, Lillith, Medusa, Kali, Erishkagel,Chamunda, Coatlique – Divine Compassionate One, She Who Creates the Space to Be. We meet to accept Her transformative embrace, trusting Her knowing, which is beyond all knowledge. Lammas is the seasonal moment for recognizing that we dissolve into the “night” of the Larger Organism of whom we are part – Gaia. It is She who is immortal, from whom we arise, and into whom we dissolve. This celebration is a development of what was born in the transition of Summer Solstice; the dark sentient Source of Creativity is honoured. The autopoietic space in us recognizes Her, is comforted by Her, desires Her self-transcendence and self-dissolution; Lammas is an opportunity to be with our organism’s love of Larger Self – this Native Place. We have been taught to fear Her, but at this Seasonal Moment we may remember that She is the compassionate One, deeply committed to transformation, which is actually innate to us. Whereas at Imbolc/Early Spring, we shone forth as individual, multiforms of Her; at Lammas, we small individual selves remember that we are She and dissolve back into Her. We are the Promise of Lifeas was affirmed at Imbolc, but we are the Promise of Her- it is not ours to hold. We identify as the sacred Harvest at Lammas; our individual harvest isHer Harvest. We are the process itself – we are Gaia’s Process. Wedo not breathe (though of course we do), we borrow the breath, for a while. It is like a relay: we pick the breath up, create what we do during our time with it, and pass it on. The harvest we reap in our individual lives is important, andit is for us only short term; it belongs to the Cosmos in the long term. Lammas is a time for “making sacred” – as “sacrifice” may be understood; we may “make sacred” ourselves. As Imbolc was a time for dedication, so is Lammas. This is the wisdom of the phase of the Old One. She is the aspect that finds the “yes” to letting go, to loving the Larger Self, beyond all knowledge, and steps into the power of the Abyss; encouraged and nourished by the harvest, She will gradually move into the balance of Autumn Equinox/Mabon, the next Sesaonal Moment on the year’s cycle. References: Durdin-Robertson, Lawrence. The Year of the Goddess.Wellingborough: Aquarian Press, 1990. Gray, Susan. The Woman’s Book of Runes.New York: Barnes and Noble, 1999. Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. McLean, Adam. The Four Fire Festivals. Edinburgh: Megalithic Research Publications, 1979. Notes: [1]See note 3. [2]Susan Gray, The Woman’s Book of Runes,p. 18. This is also to say that the transformations are within each being, not elsewhere, that is the “sacrifice” is not carried out by another external to the self, as could be and have been interpreted from stories of Lugh or Jesus. [3]Lawrence Durdin-Robertson, The Year of the Goddess, p.143, quoting Adam McLean, Fire Festivals,p.20-22. Another indication of the earlier tradition beneath “Lughnasad” is the other name for it in Ireland of “Tailltean Games”. Taillte was said to be Lugh’s foster-mother, and it was her death that was being commemmorated (Mike Nichols, “The First Harvest”, Pagan Alliance Newsletter NSW Australia). The name “Tailtunasad” has been suggested for this Seasonal Moment, by Cheryl Straffon editor of Goddess Alive! I prefer the name of Lammas, although some think it is a Christian term: however some sources say that Lammas means “feast of the bread” which is how I have understood it, and surely such a feast pre-dates Christianity. It is my opinion that the incoming Christians preferred “Lammas” to “Lughnasad”: the term itself is not Christian in origin. The evolution of all these things is complex, and we may evolve them further with our careful thoughts and experience.
Artful Ceremonial Expression by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This article is an edited excerpt from Chapter 7 of the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. I always wore a special headpiece for the Seasonal ceremonies when I facilitated them over the years, and I feel that any participant may do so, not just the main celebrant. My ceremonial headpiece with its changing and continuous Seasonal decoration took on increasing significance over the years; it became a personal central representation of the year-long ceremonial art process of creating, destroying and re-creating. For the research period of my doctoral studies particularly, when I was documenting the process, I realised that this headpiece came to represent for me the essence of “She” – as Changing One, yet ever as Presence – as I was coming to know Her. In my journal for the Mabon/Autumn Equinox process notes one year I wrote: As I pace the circle with the Mabon headpiece in the centre, I see “Her” as She has been through the Seasons … the black and gold of Samhain, the deep red, white and evergreen of Winter, the white and blue of Imbolc, the flowers of Eostar, the rainbow ribbons of Beltane, the roses of Summer, the seed pods and wheat of Lammas, and now the Autumn leaves. I see in my mind’s eye, and feel, Her changes. I am learning … The Mother knowledge grows within me. The headpiece, the wreath, the altar, the house decorations, all participate in the ceremony: they are part of the learning, the method, the relationship – similar to how one might bring flowers and gifts of significance to a loved one at special moments. Then further, the removal and re-creation of the decorations are part of the learning – an active witness to transformation through time.
(Essay) Conceiving, Imagining the New at Samhain by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

It is the Season of Samhain/Deep Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere at this time. In the PaGaian version of Samhain/Deep Autumn ceremony participants journey to the “Luminous World Egg” … a term taken from Starhawk in her book The Spiral Dance[i], where she also names that place as the “Shining Isle”, which is of course, the Seed of conception, a metaphor for the origins of all and/or the female egg: it is the place for rebirth. Artist: Bundeluk, Blue Mountains, Australia. The “luminous world egg” is a numinous place within, the MotherStar of conception: that is, a place of unfolding/becoming. The journey to this numinous place within requires first a journey back, through some of each one’s transformations, however each may wish to name those transformations at this time. The transformations for each and every being are infinite in their number, for there is “nothing we have not been” as has been told by Celts and others of Old, and also by Western science in the evolutionary story (a story told so well by evolutionary biologist Elisabet Sahtouris, particularly in her video Journey of a Silica Atom.) Ceremonial participants may choose selves from biological, present historical self, or may choose selves from the mythic with whom they feel connection; from any lineage – biological or otherwise. Selves may also be chosen from Gaia’s evolutionary story – earlier creatures, winged or scaled ones … with whom one wishes to identify at this time. Each participant is praised for their “becoming” for each self they share. When all have completed these journeys/stories of transformation, the circle is lauded dramatically by the celebrant for their courage to transform; and she likens them all to Gaia Herself who has made such transitions for eons. The celebrant awards each with a gingerbread snake, “Gaian totems of life renewed”[ii]. gingerbread snakes Participants sit and consume these gingerbread snakes in three parts: (i) as all the “old shapes” of self that were named; and (ii) remembering the ancestors, those whose lives have been harvested, whose lives have fed our own, remembering that we too are the ancestors, that we will be consumed; and (iii) remembering and consuming the stories of our world that they desire to change, the stories that fire their wrath or sympathy: in the consuming, absorbing them (as we do), each may transform them by thoughts and actions – “in our own bodyminds”. When all that is consumed “wasting no part”, it is said that “we are then free to radiate whatever we conceive”, to “exclaim the strongest natural fibre known” – our creative selves, “into such art, such architecture, as can house a world made sacred” by our building[iii]. This “natural fibre” is a reference to the spider’s thread from within her own body, with which she weaves her web, her home; and Spider has frequently been felt in indigenous cultures around the globe as Weaver and Creator of the Cosmos. Spider the Creatrix, North America, C. 1300 C.E., Hallie Iglehart Austen, The Heart of the Goddess, p.13 In the ceremony, participants linked with a thread that they weave around the circle, may sail together for a new world “across the vast sunless sea between endings and beginnings, across the Womb of magic and transformation, to the “Not-Yet” who beckons”[iv]: to the Luminous World Egg whereupon the new may be conceived and dreamed up. Samhain/Deep Autumn ceremony is an excellent place for co-creating ourselves, for imaginingthe More that we may become, and wish to become. This is where creation and co-creation happens … in the Womb of Space[v], in which we are immersed – at all times: and Samhain is a good season for feeling it. References: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005 Sahtouris, Elisabet. Earthdance: Living Systems in Evolution. Lincoln NE:iUniversity Press, 2000. Starhawk, The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. NY: Harper and Row, 1999. Swimme, Brian. The Earth’s Imagination.DVD series 1998. NOTES: [i]p.210 [ii]a version of this Samhain script is offered in Chapter 7 PaGaian Cosmology [iii]These quoted phrases are from Robin Morgan, “The Network of the Imaginary Mother”, in Lady of the Beasts, p.84. This poem is a core inspiration of the ceremony. [iv]“Not-Yet” is a term used by Brian Swimme, The Earth’s Imagination, video 8 “The Surprise of Cosmogenesis”. [v]note that creation does not happen at the point of some god’s index finger, as imagined in the Sistine Chapel – what a takeover that is!
Lammas – the Sacred Consuming by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Lammas, the first seasonal transition after Summer Solstice, may be summarised as the Season that marks and celebrates the Sacred Consuming, the Harvest of Life. Many indigenous cultures recognised the grain itself as Mother … Corn Mother being one of those images – She who feeds the community, the world, with Her own body: the Corn, the grain, the food, the bread, is Her body. She the Corn Mother, or any other grain Mother, was/is the original sacrifice … no need for extraordinary heroics: it is the nature of Her being. She is sacrificed, consumed, to make the people whole with Her body (as the word “sacrifice” means “to make whole”). She gives Herself in Her fullness to feed the people …. the original Communion. In cultures that preceded agriculture or were perhaps pastoral – hunted or bred animals for food – this cross-quarter day may not have been celebrated, or perhaps it may have been marked in some other way. Yet even in our times when many are not in relationship with the harvest of food directly, we may still be in relationship with our place: Sun and Earth and Moon still do their dance wherever you are, and are indeed the Ground of one’s being here … a good reason to pay attention and homage, and maybe as a result, and in the process, get the essence of one’s life in order. One does not need to go anywhere to make this pilgrimage … simply Place one’s self. The seasonal transition of Lammas may offer that in particular, being a “moment of grace” – as Thomas Berry has named the seasonal transitions, when the dark part of the day begins to grow longer, as the cloak of darkness slowly envelopes the days again: it is timely to reflect on the Dark Cosmos in Whom we are, from Whom we arise and to Whom we return – and upon that moment when like Corn Mother we give ourselves over. This reflection is good, will serve a person and all – to live fully, as well as simply to be who we are: this dark realm of manifesting is the core of who we are. And what difference might such reflection make to our world – personal and collective – to live in this relationship with where we are, and thus who we are. We all are the grain that is harvested and all are Her harvest … perhaps one may use a different metaphor: the truth that may be reflected upon at this seasonal moment after the peaking of Sun’s light at Summer Solstice and the wind down into Autumn, is that everything passes, all fades away … even our Sun shall pass. All is consumed. So What are we part of? (I write it with a capital because surely it is a sacred entity) And how might we participate creatively? We are Food – whether we like it or not … Lammas is a good time to get with the Creative plot, though many find it the most difficult, or focus on more exoteric celebration. May we be interesting food[i]. We are holy Communion, like Corn Mother. Meet Mago Contributor Glenys Livingstone NOTES: [i] This is an expression of cosmologist Brian Swimme in Canticle to the Cosmos DVD series.
(Prose & Photography) Equinox Reflection by Sara Wright

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

(Essay 1) The Magoist Calendar: Mago Time inscribed in Sonic Numerology by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This is my latest research that has led me to restore the 13-month, 28-day Mago Calendar, which will be included at the end of its sequels. See Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A), published in 2017.] Magoist Calendar is the inter-cosmic genealogical chart of the Creatrix in which all is found kindred. It unfolds the one standard unified time, which I call the Cosmic Mother’s Time or the Mago Time, wherein all beings in Our Universe from microcosmic quarts to macrocosmic celestial bodies are perceived in continuum. The Cosmic Mother’s Time is an inclusive time in which everyone is re-membered and celebrated. It is revelatory for its numinous nature, which some may call a mystery. The Mago Time is happening
(Budoji Essay 3) The Magoist Cosmogony by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

“Reintroducing the concept of the Mago Species has a profound implication, compelling one’s vocabularies to be changed to the Mother’s Tongue.” [This is a translation and interpretation of the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City), principal text of Magoism. Read the translation of Chapter 1 of the Budoji.] There were Four Heavenly Persons at the four corners of the castle. They built pillars and sounded music. Four Heavenly Persons are the four clan leaders who reside in the four corners of Mago Castle, Primordial Paradise. They are entrusted by Mago to cultivate the acoustical effect of the universe (the original music). While the translation of “pillars” is provisional, it may mean a musical instrument of some primordial sort. Given the importance of stone, a theme reiterated in later chapters of the Budoji, the pillars may refer to the stone structure that supports a musical instrument. Or they may indicate stone chimes or an acoustical rock structure.
(Photo Essay 1) ‘Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess of Korea’ by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part I: Living Tradition Bearers and Her Shrine, Suseong-dang I had the privilege to join a field trip to collect the folk stories of Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess, in Buan-gun (Buan County), North Jeolla Province, South Korea July 10-12, 2012. The team comprised a group of graduate students studying Korean Literature at the Kunguk University (Kim Jungeun, Cho Hongyoun, Lee Won-Young, Hwang Sungup, and Lee Boohee) headed by Dr. Shin Dong-Hun, Dr. Park Hyeon-Suk, and myself.[i]