(Essay) Ritual as “Prayer” or Sacred Awareness by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from the Introduction to the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion

Ritual is often described as “sacred space”. I understand that to mean “awareness of the space as sacred”. All space is sacred, what shifts is our awareness – awareness of the depth of spacetime, all things and all beings. I understand “sacred awareness” as an awareness of deep relationship and identity with the very cosmic dynamics that create and sustain the Universe; or an awareness of what is involved in the depth of each moment, each thing, each being. Ritual is a space and time given to expression, contemplation and nurturance of that depth … or at least something of it. Ritual may be both an expression of deep inner truths – perceived relationship to self, Earth and Cosmos, as well as being a mode of teaching and drawing forth deeper participation.

Essentially, as I understand it, ritual is a way of entering into the depth of the present moment … what is deeply present right here and now, a way of entering deep space and deep time, which is not somewhere else but is right here. Every-thing, and every moment, has Depth – more depth than we usually allow ourselves to contemplate, let alone comprehend. This book, this paper, this ink, the chair, the floor – each has a history and connections that go back, all the way back to Origins. This moment you experience now, in its particular configuration, place, people present, subtle feelings, thoughts, and propensity towards certain directions or outcomes, has a depth – many histories and choices that go back … ultimately all the way back to the beginning. Great Origin is present at every point of Space and Time – right here. In ritual we are plugging our awareness into something of that.

In this Holy Context then – in this mindframe of knowing connection, everything one does is a participation in the creation of the Cosmos: for the tribal indigenous woman, perhaps the weaving of a basket; for you, perhaps preparing a meal. It is possible to regain this sense, to come to feel that the way one breathes makes a difference – that with it, you co-create the present and the future, and you may even be a blessing on the past. In every moment we receive the co-creation, the work, of innumerable beings, of innumerable moments, and innumerable interactions of the elements, in everything we touch … and so are we touched by them. The local is our touchstone to the Cosmos – it is not separate. Ritual may be a way into this awareness, into strengthening it.

Starhawk says that “to do ritual, you must be willing to be transformed in some way”[i], because that is its very nature, that is, it is “trans-forming”. Ritual can be as simple as having a cup of tea or reading a poem, or high drama like classical theatre or a rave concert; in either case it is “time out” – entering another realm, to a greater or lesser degree. As with having a cup of tea, it is done with the expectation of rejuvenation/renewal. Humans actually do ritual all the time. Starhawk notes that “ritual is the way culture enacts and affirms its values”[ii]. But this enactment and affirmation is usually unconscious, and thus the participants remain unaware of what is actually being activated; for example, going to the pub or bar is a popular sanctioned ritual – time out, imbibing “spirit”. And whereas once, the ancestors used to sit around the fireplace and tell the cosmic stories; now most often humans sit around the TV in the modern cave, and the story that is told is that the world is a collection of objects to be consumed[iii]. As ritual is done consciously more often, we become aware of the symbols and myths that we live and can choose more consciously the tools with which we shape our lives. Ritual at its best is the art form of a living cosmology.

Ritual is actually “doing”, not just theorizing. We can talk about our personal and cultural disconnection endlessly, but we need to actually change our minds. Ritual can be an enabling practice – a catalyst/practice for personal and cultural change. It is not just talking about eating the pear, it is eating the pear. It is not just talking about sitting on the cushion (meditating), it is sitting on the cushion. It is a cultural practice wherein we tell a story/stories about what we believe to be so most deeply, about who and what we are. Ritual can be a place for practicing a new language, a new way of speaking, or “spelling” – a place for practicing “matristic storytelling”[iv] if you like, that is, for telling stories of the Mother, of Earth and Cosmos as if She were alive and sentient. We can “play like we know it”, so that we may come to know it[v]. Ritual then is a form of social action.

I find it useful to describe ritual using and extending Ken Wilber’s words to describe a “transpersonal practice” that is needed for real change: as one that discloses “a deeper self (I or Buddha) in a deeper community (We or Sangha) expressing a deeper truth (It or Dharma)”[vi]. It discloses a deeper beautiful self (the “I”/Virgin/Buddha), in a deeper relational community (the “We”/Mother/Sangha), expressing a deeper transformative truth (the “It”/Old One/Dharma)”. This is the “unitive body”, the “microcosmos” that Charlene Spretnak refers to[vii].

According to Swimme, the Universe is one huge celebration – expanding, exuberantly rushing away from a center with news of that center … an urgent unfolding of being[viii]. Thus, he says, “Self-expression is the primary sacrament of the universe. Whatever you feel deeply demands to be given form and released”[ix]. He describes this innate dynamic of celebration as a “generosity of being” that “insists upon song and dance”. Ritual must be a space where something deep in the self is free to be expressed – a space free of judgement and coercion – a space felt to be “safe” which allows and invites individual uniqueness, while affirming community.

Since ritual is an opportunity to give voice to deeper places in ourselves, forms of communication are used that the dreamer, the emotional, the body, can comprehend, such as music, drama, simulation, dance, chanting, singing[x]. These forms enable the entering of a level of consciousness that is there all the time, but that is not usually expressed or acknowledged. We enter a realm that is “out of time”, which is commonly said to be not the “real” world, but it is more organic/indigenous, and at least as real as the tick-tock world. It is a place “between the worlds”, wherein we may put our hands on the very core of our lives, touch whatever it is that we feel our existence is about, and thus touch the possibility of re-creating and renewing ourselves.

NOTES:

[i] Starhawk. Truth or Dare, p.100.

[ii] Starhawk. Truth or Dare, p.98.

[iii] Brian Swimme, The Hidden Heart of the Cosmos , p.8-20.

[iv] A term used by Gloria Feman Orenstein in The Reflowering of the Goddess.

[v] As Dr. Susan Murphy described it to me in conversation.

[vi] Ken Wilber, A Brief History of Everything, p.306-307.

[vii] Charlene Spretnak, States of Grace, p.145.

[viii] Brian Swimme, The Universe is a Green Dragon, p.144-145.

[ix] Brian Swimme, The Universe is a Green Dragon, p.147.

[x] Starhawk, The Spiral Dance, p.36.

REFERENCES:

Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005.

Orenstein, Feman Gloria. The Reflowering of the Goddess. New York: Pergamon Press, 1990.

Spretnak, Charlene. States of Grace: The Recovery of Meaning in the Postmodern Age. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993.

Starhawk, The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. NY: Harper and Row, 1999.

________ Truth or Dare: Encounters with Power, Authority, and Mystery.

SF: Harper and Row, 1990.

Wilber, Ken. A Brief History of Everything. Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1996.

Swimme, Brian. The Hidden Heart of the Cosmos. New York: Orbis, 1996.

_____________ The Universe is a Green Dragon. Santa Fe: Bear & Co., 1984.

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(Art & Prose) So Below: Post Traumatic Growth and the Underworld Sun Goddess by Claire Dorey

So Below: Post Traumatic Growth and the Underworld Sun Goddess, Art 1 by Claire Dorey As early morning sunlight dances on cobweb, the solar Goddess is preparing to guide us through the yoni-verse of lessons taught in her classroom. She will not be hurried into shedding her cobwebs and veils. To move through the curriculum, where cosmology, mythology and psychology entwine, is to enter the labyrinth. Lessons spiral from revolutions of female consciousness, to a continuum of unfettered coiling and unwinding of the void, in all its interconnectedness; from the language of stars, to the discourse of the underworld. To enter the classroom is to enter the realms where the invisible becomes visible. Seated upon a cloud, I rose with the morning sun, gazing down at Earth, long shadows revealing the outlines of mass graves and burial mounds, where stories are buried so deep. We travel all day, arcing across the sky, following the sun, until we dip toward the horizon, slipping into a cave, just as Venus is rising. The underworld sun Goddess exists because ‘where she goes at night’ and ‘anxiety for her return’ sparked the imagination ancient peoples. Night sky cosmology is encoded within her symbolism Journeying with the underworld sun Goddess into the cavernous folds of Mother Earth illuminates the potential for Post Traumatic Growth. Visits to the underworld and fertile corners of the dark subconscious, to face unprocessed trauma and our own mortality, is wisdom hard-won. Embrace the shadow as it follows you, it is part of your soul journey. Imagine both seed and psyche, lying dormant and forgotten, trod down in the cold earth, being tickled and coaxed by golden fingers into a ‘great bursting forth.’ There is hope in the darkness when we acknowledge of the existence of the underworld sun Goddess. The underworld sun Goddess described by Jeanine Hall Gailey, in her poem, Amaterasu, The Sun Goddess, Returns [1], “hides from violent fists underground, taking with her the warmth of her breath and her gold fingers.” If I were to draw her “chthonic raw,” I’d paint her in placenta-red, as spontaneously as a blood splat [my image above is a homage to this image I can’t verify ][2]. I see her as a sprouting seed, solar head in the cosmos, umbilical root stretching down into the underworld, shamanic fingers, bloody and engorged, tickling life into underground souls and seeds. She speaks of magic and ceremony and ancient energies luring us to the underworld. Across the eons the artist speaks to the observer, knowing perceptions vary. In the absence of written language art is “visual language.” Many caves, separated by time and geography, unite us in a galaxy of hand prints: Ancestors touching rock, recording their presence, having entered the “transformative cool” of Mother Earth. Ancient hand prints and stencils adorn rock the world over. Some were made by women and children, raising questions about patriarchal assumption that artists were male. Some hand prints have mutilated fingers, also raising questions: Was this ritualistic, or did they stencil over bent fingers as part of a pre-historic sign language, (bent fingers felt in dark caves when silence was sacrosanct)? [Asamyuta hasta mudras (single hand gestures) convey thoughts and ideas; Yubitsume (finger cutting) is a form of atonement; the Dani sacrifice fingers to honor the deceased.] So Below: Post Traumatic Growth and the Underworld Sun Goddess, Art 2 by Claire Dorey Anyway I’ve been sidetracked. The intention here was to write about ceilings of caves as reflections of the cosmic womb space. In the Altamira cave images of bison are drawn hunched over like seeds, dormant yet ready to “burst forth” from the Great Below. [click to see a panorama of the ceiling]. Some caves, including Lascaux, France, are peppered with celestial imagery if you know how to read it, including the Pleiades; possibly the looping path of Mars in retrograde; sun analemmas and/or moon phases (drawn arching along a horse’s neck) [scroll through text to see possible examples on the horse image]. The dots around this Bull’s eye, from the Hall of Bulls, Lascaux II, may represent the Pleiades (the Seven Sisters) or the eye as sun around which the seven visible planets orbit. [Compare with the layout of this Sumerian clay map of the solar system depicting the Sun as a central star and the orbits and positions of the planets.] If so, the bull may have been considered to be an oracular deity or psychopomp, chosen for its celestial markings, similar to the way the sacred Apis Bull, son of Cow Goddess Hathor, was selected. Apis was conceived by a ray of light and was caught in a perpetual cycle of sacrifice and rebirth. He was considered a reincarnation of Osiris, ruler of the underworld. Once seen, it’s hard to not to see similarities between Old Stone Age imagery and mythologies and symbolism spiraling forward in time and geography, including: Horses: Epona, protector of horses, a solar deity and Goddess of fertility and the underworld; Hecate, the underworld Goddess, possibly once an Anatolian underworld sun Goddess. Alexander Haggerty Krappe referred to Hecate as ‘the equestrienne,’ claiming the horse to be a chthonic animal.[3] Bulls/cows: The Seven Hathors, the celestial herd; Cow Goddess Hathor, oracle and wearer of the solar disc, whose original shrine was a cave; Mithraism, with its symbolic bulls, sun beams, celestial cloaks and rituals held in cave-like sanctuaries; Enki, the “true seed”24 [abundance] released by a magnificent bull; bucrania in houses at Çatalhöyük, skulls often plastered into East/West walls, aligning with sunrise or sunset. Ancestor’s bones were buried beneath the foundations. The pre-historic, master artists at Lascaux and Altamira possessed highly developed observational skills and anatomical knowledge, as well as the skill to paint in a ‘spontaneous’ style. Anyone who has studied calligraphy knows producing ‘spontaneous brushstrokes’ requires practice and discipline. Images in these caves were mostly painted in shades of red and black. I am reminded of Maori colors where black represents the void; white represents the world of light; and red represents …
(Poem) Lauds by Amy D’Amico

it is such a March as we haven’t had in a decade. mothball snow continues, the sun chilly, sky overcast for weeks at a time. this a.m. a tabby across the road yowled; the very echo of the dream I can’t let go from last night.
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 …
Meet Mago Contributor, Hearth Moon Rising

Hearth Moon Rising (U.S.A.) Hearth Moon Rising is a Dianic Priestess living in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. She blends goddess magic and folklore in her blog, http://hearthmoonrising.com/. She is the author of Invoking Animal Magic: A guide for the Pagan priestess. http://invokinganimalmagic.com. * * Previously Published Posts by Hearth Moon Rising Older Posts (Essay 4) The Old Sow by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 3) The Old Sow by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 2) The Old Sow by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 1) The Old Sow by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) When the Drummers Were Birds by Hearth Moon Rising (Interview) Women and Shamanism: An interview with Max Dashu by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 5) The Animal Mother Goddess by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 4) The Animal Mother Goddess by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 3) The Animal Mother Goddess by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 2) The Animal Mother Goddess, by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay 1) The Animal Mother Goddess by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) The Messages of Birds by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) The Linden Prophesy by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) The Magic Comb by Hearth Moon Rising (Radio Interview) Nature-based spirituality with Hearth Moon Rising by Susun Weed (Essay) Ninhursaga and the Fox by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) How to Create a Patriarchal Pagan Group in 12 Steps by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) Ratatosk, The Red Scoundrel by Hearth Moon Rising (Essay) ‘The Hard Side of Aphrodite’ by Hearth Moon Rising ‘Ereshkigal Pronounces a Verdict’ by Hearth Moon Rising The Forest Queen: Mielikki and the Bear by Hearth Moon Rising
The Forest Queen: Mielikki and the Bear by Hearth Moon Rising

We are joyfully anticipating thunderstorms where I live, the reprieve from a rare drought. As the dryness has delayed summer berries, bears have raided campsites and cabins for food. If the bears don’t get fat enough over the summer, they will starve during hibernation. Though I eagerly await the storm, I am prepared to spend time comforting a frightened cat. The instinctual fear of thunder seems to afflict most animals. The goddess Mielikki (MEE-uh-lick-KEY) used this fear to her advantage when putting the finishing touches on her prize creation, the bear. She made the trembling animal kneel before Ukko (OO-koh), the sky god who wields his hammer so sharply that light flashes. She told the bear she would not give him claws or teeth unless he swore to Ukko that he would never misuse them. The bear made his vow to the terrible Ukko. Mielikki is not only guardian of the bear, but of the whole forest. Finnish hunters used to pray to Mielikki for all types of game. If the timing of the hunt was auspicious, Mielikki would appear wearing gold bracelets, gold earrings, and her signature gold buckle. If the hunt was ill-advised, Mielikki appeared to the petitioner in rags. Mielikki holds the wealth of the forest — not only the animals but the trees and all the plants. With her child gods and her husband Tapio (TAH-pee-oh), who has a twig hat and a moss beard, she manages the health of the forest. Mielikki undoubtedly favors the bear of all her creatures. Bears are called “Mielikki’s dogs” because they are so dear to her, and because only she can truly control them. Mielikki traveled far into the sky, far past the moon, to gather the materials from which she made the first bear. She sewed the fragments of wool together and placed the bundle in a birch basket, which she tied with gold chains to the highest pine tree. There she rocked the basket back and forth until the little bear stirred with life. The idea of the bear coming from the sky is the opposite of the Greek story of Callisto, who was banished to the sky after breaking her vow of chastity to Artemis. She became the Ursa Major or Great Bear constellation, and her child became Ursa Minor. Many have wondered at the similarities between Artemis and Mielikki. I think forest goddesses naturally develop a special relationship with the bear. If the lion is “King of the Jungle,” the bear is Queen of the Forest. She stands regally on two feet when she chooses, and she has a mighty roar. She is large and scary, with no predators in adulthood, other than humans. Her main enemy is hunger. That and maybe lightning, if she isn’t careful about those claws… Sources Abercromby, John. Magic Songs of the West Finns, vol. 2. 1898. At Sacred Texts. http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/ms2/index.htm Graves, Robert. The Greek Myths. London: Penguin Books, 1960. Lonnrot, Elias. The Kalevela. John Martin Crawford, trans. 1910. At Sacred Texts. http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/kveng/kvtitle.htm Stone, Merlin. Ancient Mirrors of Womanhood. Boston: Beacon Press, 1991.
(Essay 3) Circe the Island Witch by Hearth Moon Rising

Third in a series. Earlier segments are here and here. I call Circe’s mythical island, Aeaea, The Island of Vowels, but Robert Graves says the name means “wailing.” If so, perhaps the wailing refers to the falcon colonies which nest on islands in the Adriatic Sea. Graves claims Circe’s name means “falcon.” There is some confusion as to whether Circe is really a goddess, a demi-goddess, a mythical heroine, or a historical woman. Circe’s parents are supposedly a god (Helios) and queen (Pasiphae), suggesting a demi-goddess (half-human, half-god). Alternatively, Circe’s mother is an ocean-deity, which would make her a goddess. Roman oil lamp depicting Odysseus and Circe. Photo: Matthias Kabel/Wikimedia Commons. Circe marries the prince of Colchis, a city-state along the Black Sea, and rules there for a time, again suggesting she is human. As queen, she kills her royal husband, which is a mythic trope. In Celtic romance, this sequence is read as goddess-of-the-year vanquishing the winter god, who will be reborn as the summer god. But Circe appears in Classical mythology, where allegoric subterfuge to escape Christian censors is not necessary. She could be read straightforwardly as a heroine performing a well-worked theme. Yet Circe presides over a willow cemetery in Colchis, which might suggest she is a priestess of Hecate. At least one Classical scholar argues that Hecate is the mother of Circe, making Circe, once again, a goddess. Legend has it that Circe is whisked away in the chariot of her father Helios to the island of Aeaea, as punishment for killing her husband. Leaving aside the fantastical method of transportation, Circe behaves much like a stereotypic sorceress on Aeaea, living apart from male rule while blending potions that heal or wound. Turning men into animals suggests an above-average level of magical proficiency, but she is nearly human when she meets Odysseus. Her assistance in his travels is classic shamanic work: she prescribes a journey to the land of the dead; she makes an animal sacrifice for a propitious journey; she provides counsel and framework for his journey to the underworld; and she interprets his experiences for him upon his return. In her most famous appearance in Greek myth, it’s hard to see Circe as anything but a priestess, albeit an extraordinarily powerful one. Scylla. Boeotian red-figure bell-crater, 450–425 BCE. Photo: Jastrow/Wikimedia Commons The appearance of Scylla dashes upon the rocks the theory of Circe nothing more than a mortal sorcerer. Scylla is a sea nymph transformed by Circe into a dangerous beast: beautiful from above, a many-headed death hound from below. Scylla characteristically captures sailors and vessels and savagely wrecks them, and circumventing her is one of the obstacles Odysseus most manage on his route home. Circe offers Odysseus advice in escaping Scylla’s clutches. It doesn’t take much imagination to see Scylla as the spirit embodying a rocky outcrop in the Adriatic Sea, an outcrop with a strong multi-faceted whirlpool. It does seem a stretch to give credit for Scylla’s monstrosity to any mortal woman. Perhaps Circe is given credit for creating Scylla’s fate because she “owns” Scylla by revealing to Odysseus how to escape her. Perhaps the sorceress Circe, as animal shapeshifter, is presumed to have shapeshifted Scylla, since this Scylla supposedly yelps like a dog. The geological formation that is Scylla’s body was reported to emit a hound-like sound, and hounds are associated with the Greek underworld. Another explanation is that Circe is a death goddess, like Hecate, who creates other manifestations of death. Men on Aeaea being turned into animals. 560-550 BCE. Photo: Lucas aka Ancient Art Podcast//Wikimedia Commons The island of Aeaea itself seems to embody divinity. It is surrounded by Alder trees, which, because they bleed red, are considered trees of death. Odysseus senses a bewitching atmosphere about the island as he moors his vessel. He soon kills a deer to feed his crew, a propitious sign the mistress of animals is disposed to help him. On his way to meet Circe, Odysseus is given the mysterious life-giving “moly” herb, offered by Hermes, who is known as Messenger of the Gods. Is Hermes thwarting Circe or conveying her protection? We now have a very complex Circe archetype, one that stretches from the Black Sea to the Adriatic. She is a legendary queen, a semi-divine priestess, and a bona fide goddess – mistress of animals and ruler of death. Beneath all of this we have the word “falcon.” There are reasons for considering Circe a falcon goddess independent of Graves’s etymology. The next essay will examine a denizen of the Mediterranean called Eleonora’s Falcon. https://www.magoism.net/2013/04/meet-mago-contributor-hearth-moon-rising/
Nané Jordan

Read all posts by Nané Jordan. I am a scholar, artist, and mother with a working background in midwifery and birth care. I have a life-long concern for women’s empowerment, in particular during pregnancy, birth, early mothering and beyond. I am inspired to re-weave human/ecology interconnections by awakening my own and others’ sense of the sacred. I have long associated with ecofeminist philosophies, and experience a devotional interconnection with the Earth as Mother. I am passionate about freeing creative expression through the arts and co-creating ritual practices. My doctoral studies were in the field of Education at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. I completed a Master’s degree in Women’s Spirituality at New College of California in San Francisco. Going back and forth from Vancouver to California over a period of years was an ongoing ‘pilgrimage’ for me, into studies of the divine feminine, and S/he of so many names and places. These travels, as well as attending scholarly conferences, fed wonderful connections with women’s spirituality and goddess studies folk in the Bay area and beyond, and opened and confirmed my own Goddess and earth-based spiritual yearnings. My scholarship explores women’s narratives, storytelling, artistic practices, and life writing in navigating life’s highways and byways. My doctoral dissertation inquired into the transformative, Goddess- and women-centred dynamics of the Women’s Spirituality MA in the lives of students and faculty. I found that this inspirited education is inseparable from the yearnings of women to live authentically and with purpose, where women can self-authorize and awaken into feminist consciousness. Women-centred spirituality and education provides a creative means to express and renew one’s whole self, while navigating the many challenges of these still patriarchal times (see: https://circle.ubc.ca/handle/2429/39810). I am a co-founder of Gestare (http://www.gestareartcollective.com/), an artists’ collective whose name means: to carry in the womb. We are committed to process-based artistic practices, Earth communion/healing, living with/in the divine feminine, and the practice of ritual arts such as labyrinth walking. I have published and collaborated on many essays and book chapters, including in journals and anthologies such as: The Journal for Research on Mothering; She is Everywhere! An Anthology of Womanist / Feminist Spirituality, Vol.3; Reconciling Art and Mothering; A Heart of Wisdom: Life Writing as Empathic Inquiry (some papers available at: https://ubc.academia.edu/NanéJordan). I live with my husband and two daughters in Vancouver, Canada—where nurturing my family life is a great source of meaning, adventure, and love.
(Essay 1) The Kiss of Nong Toom by Matthew Chabin

If I call this a love letter, I do not (I must assure my wife) mean it in the usual sense, as a missive of personal, amorous courtship. If I call it an exposition on culture, gender, mythology and blood sports, I hit the limbs and miss the heart. If I call it a tribute to a wise and beautiful person I condemn my efforts to redundancy, for ample tributes have already been made. Let us then call the spirit of the thing erotic, in the precise sense of the term, which is something I also hope to clarify. Let us start with that, and see where it takes us. I do not recall exactly how or when I first heard of Parinya Charoenphol, aka Nong Toom, aka the Beautiful Boxer, only that my initial reaction was not very positive. A transvestite kick-boxer? Whatever dude. More things in heaven and earth, right? I was young, and my sense of hetero-normative manhood looked askance at the derangement of reliable binaries—man/woman; warrior/drag queen. It did not occur to me that certain of my most actively cultivated values—individualism, mental and physical toughness, self-awareness, creative adaptability—could hardly be more radically manifest than in the example of this remarkable person. My course in seeing things differently, how I came to admire, even revere, Ms. Charoephol, is a tale for other pages. My aim here is only to demonstrate why she, Nong Toom, merits inclusion in an elite circle of modern, mythic heroes, people who, in transforming themselves, have wondrously transformed their world. But first, a bit of fun with semiotics (oh, just a bit). What you see above is a modified semiotic square, or cube, to be precise. The forward plane is standard, representing the familiar social handles of male (M) and female (F), and their immediate negations/implications of not-male (-M) and not-female (-F). The background plane explores the extended, both/neither implications. The priorityof terms in the hybrid and double-negative categories may be variously interpreted, e.g. the difference between (M/F) and (F/M) may be taken in atransgender context to signify gender transitioning—female from male, male fromfemale—or as two instances of a freely fluctuating, gender-fluid identity.[1] The negative corollaries may refer to aperson of either sex who is stigmatized as lacking, or having lost, someessential gender marker, an effeminate man disavowed by his fellows or a woman shamed by some (generally sexual) indiscretion.[2] Or they may represent transgender individuals closeted by the pressures of family, religion or culture, forbidden fromexpressing their inner experience. Yet athird possibility is that they represent “gender clowns,” individuals who ape the stereotypes of the opposite gender for reasons having little or nothing todo with authentic identity, such as profit, satire, deception, or ticks of deeppathology.[3] Thisclown figure will be of special interest as we return to the story of NongToom. Because when a demure, muscular, sweet-faced teenager first took the ring conspicuously marked with in lipstick and rouge, the question her audiences asked was is this for real? Transvestites and transwomen in Thai society are often entertainers or prostitutes, and are widely accepted as such, but few people were ready to believe that a transwoman could also be an authentic Muay Thai boxer. They assumed her fights were staged, a ploy to boost ticket sales (not an unreasonable assumption given the shady profiteering that notoriously dogs the sport). It’s true that Nong Toom’s motives were largely financial; she, like many of the poor country boys she trained with, was trying to earn money for her impoverished family. But no one was laying down for her. On the contrary, her opponents were positively desperate to win, as the macho culture of Muay Thai made them afraid of losing to a “ladyboy.” And yet lose they did, one after another, laid low by Toom’s heavy kicks and cutting elbows. A devout Buddhist and truly gentle soul, Toom liked to give her defeated foes a kiss on the cheek (if they were still standing, that is), a way of saying “I was rough on you, I’m sorry.” Soon, nothing in the brutal sport was more feared than the shy, apologetic kiss of Nong Toom. His audiences quickly evolved a new theory to accommodate the evidence of her ability: if Nong Toom was a real fighter, she must then be a fake transwoman. This was an aspersion cast on her interiority, and in the nasty way of such things, she found herself internalizing it. She had started wearing makeup as an expression of what she felt to be her true self, but now, in the sight of the rowdy, taunting mobs, she had her moment of doubt. She began to wonder, am I a clown? It is here thatthe story of Nong Toom gets really interesting from a mythic/psychologicalstandpoint, right at the crux where the inner and outer conflicts spin out froma common paradox, and an inner/outer doubling begins to complicate thepicture. But what exactly are themythic/psychological taproots of this doubling? (Meet Mago Contributor) Matthew Chabin.
(Book Excerpt 2) Pressing out the Pure Honey by Frances Guerin

In fairy stories a forest is the site of transformation. Unexpected encounters with shadow and benign figures take the protagonist from one state of being to a state of wholeness so a marriage can take place – ultimately giving birth to a golden child. The story of The Handless Maiden is one such story. It is a tale of endurance over a lifetime through repetitions of loss, sacrifice and renewal. Her father is tricked into selling her to the devil for riches and plenty. When the devil comes to take her, her purity of heart throws him across the yard. The devil threatens her father with ruin and tells him to cut off her hands and to not let her bathe. But the girl and the father both cried so many tears that the stumps of her arms were clean and again when the devil tried to seize her, he was thrown across the yard.

(Special Post) Discussion on Mother-Daughter Wound by Mago Circle Members

[Mago Circle members discussed and answered the question, “What do you think of this (the topic article below)? If you are a feminist, it is something that you would promote? If so, why? If not, why not?” The discussion took place on May 15, 2017 and shortly thereafter in The Mago Circle.] Topic Article: “For The Daughters Who Don’t Love Their Mothers – Screw Mother’s Day” by Sade Andria Zabala Everyone talks about a mother’s unconditional love. But what if it doesn’t exist? Daughters are socially expected to be close with their mothers. But are you one of the women who aren’t? Mother’s Day isn’t just for celebrating moms. It’s a day some of us dread because we are reminded we grew up (or are still) unloved, not good enough. (Read the whole article here.)
(Special Post Mother Teresa 3) A Role Model for Women? by Mago Circle Members

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

(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.
A PaGaian Wheel of the Year and Her Creativity by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 2 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. for larger image see: https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ Essentially a PaGaian Wheel of the Year celebrates Cosmogenesis – the unfolding of the Cosmos, none of which is separate from the unfolding of each unique place/region, and each unique being. This creativity of Cosmogenesis is celebrated through Earth-Sun relationship as it may be expressed and experienced within any region of our Planet. PaGaian ceremony expresses this with Triple Goddess Poetry understood to be metaphor for the creative dynamics unfolding the Cosmos. At the heart of the Earth-Sun relationship is the dance of light and dark, the waxing and waning of both these qualities, as Earth orbits around our Mother Sun. This dance, which results in the manifestation of form and its dissolution (as expressed in the seasons), happens because of Earth’s tilt in relationship with Sun: because this effects the intensity of regional receptivity to Sun’s energy over the period of the yearly orbit. This tilt was something that happened in the evolution of our planet in its earliest of days – some four and a half billion years ago,[i] and then stabilised over time: and the climatic zones were further formed when Antarctica separated from Australia and South America, giving birth to the Antarctica Circumpolar Current, changing the circulation of water around all the continents … just some thirty million years ago.[ii] Within the period since then, which also saw the advent of the earliest humans, Earth has gone through many climatic changes. It is likely that throughout those changes, the dance of light and dark in both hemispheres of the planet … one always the opposite of the other – has been fairly stable and predictable. The resultant effect on flora and fauna regionally however has varied enormously depending on many other factors of Earth’s ever-changing ecology: She is an alive Planet who continues to move and re-shape Herself. She is Herself subject to the cosmic dynamics of creativity – the forming and the dissolving and the re-emerging. The earliest of humans must have received all this, ‘observed’ it in a very participatory way: that is, not as a Western industrialized or dualistic mind would think of ‘observation’ today, but as kin with the events – identifying with their own experience of coming into being and passing away. There is evidence (as of this writing) to suggest that humans have expressed awareness of, and response to, the phenomenon of coming into being and passing away, as early as one hundred thousand years ago: ritual burial sites of that age have been found,[iii] and more recently a site of ongoing ritual activity as old as seventy thousand years has been found.[iv] The ceremonial celebration of the phenomenon of seasons probably came much later, particularly perhaps when humans began to settle down. These ceremonial celebrations of seasons apparently continued to reflect the awesomeness of existence as well as the marking of transitions of Sun back and forth across the horizon, which became an important method of telling the time for planting and harvesting and the movement of pastoral animals. It seems that the resultant effect of the dance of light and dark on regional flora and fauna, has been fairly stable in recent millennia, the period during which many current Earth-based religious practices and expression arose. In our times, that is changing again. Humans have been, and are, a major part of bringing that change about. Ever since we migrated around the planet, humans have brought change, as any creature would: but humans have gained advantage and distinguished themselves by toolmaking, and increasingly domesticating/harnessing more of Earth’s powers – fire being perhaps the first, and this also aided our migration. In recent times this harnessing/appropriating of Earth’s powers became more intense and at the same time our numbers dramatically increased: and many of us filled with hubris, acting without consciousness or care of our relational context. We are currently living in times when our planet is tangibly and visibly transforming: the seasons themselves as we have known them for millennia – as anyone’s ancestors knew them – appear to be changing in most if not all regions of our Planet. Much predictable Poetry – sacred language – for expressing the quality of the Seasonal Moments will change, as regional flora changes, as the movement of animals and birds and sea creatures changes, as economies change.[v]In Earth’s long story regional seasonal manifestation has changed before, but not so dramatically since the advent of much current Poetic expression for these transitions, as mixed as they are with layers of metaphor: that is, with layers of mythic eras, cultures and economies. We may learn and understand the traditional significance of much of the Poetry, the ceremony and symbol – the art – through which we could relate and converse with our place, as our ancestors may have done, but it will continue to evolve as all language must. In PaGaian Cosmology I have adapted the Wheel as a way of celebrating the Female Metaphor and also as a way of celebrating Cosmogenesis, the Creativity that is present really/actually in every moment, but for which the Seasonal Moments provide a pattern/Poetry over the period of a year – in time and place. The pattern that I unfold is a way in which the three different phases/characteristics interplay. In fact, the way in which they interplay seems infinite, the way they inter-relate is deeply complex. I think it is possible to find many ways to celebrate them. There is nothing concrete about the chosen story/Poetry, nor about each of the scripts presented here, just as there is nothing concrete about the Place of Being – it (She) is always relational, a Dynamic Interchange. Whilst being grounded in the “Real,” the Poetry chosen for expression is therefore at the same time, a potentially infinite expression, according to the heart and mind of the storyteller. NOTES: [i] See Appendix C, *(6), Glenys Livingstone, A Poiesis of the Creative …
(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
(Art & Poem) Candelmas/Imbolc by Sudie Rakusin & Annie Finch

IMBOLC DANCE From the east she has gathered like wishes. She has woven a night into dawn. We are quickening ivy. We grow where her warmth melts out over the ice. Now spiral south bends into flame to push the morning over doors. The light swings wide, green with the pulse of seasons, and we let her in We are quickening ivy. We grow The light swings wide, green with the pulse till the west is rocked by darkness pulled from where the fire rises. Shortened time’s reflecting water rakes her through the thickened cold. Hands cover north smooth with emptiness, stinging the mill of night’s hours. Wait with me. See, she comes circling over the listening snow to us. Shortened time’s reflecting water Wait with me. See, she comes circling From Calendars (Tupelo Press, 2003) Art is included in Celebrating Seasons of the Goddess (Mago Books, 2017). (Meet Mago Contributor) Sudie Rakusin (Meet Mago Contributor) Annie Finch
Beltaine/High Spring within the Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

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

Photo by Carolyn Lee Boyd In times past, Creation’s Winter cupped me in her icy hand of sanctuary Gathered in, I sucked dormant life, and slumbered Till Earth’s rebirthing groans awakened my new body Now, older and full of life’s weeping and wondering awe At all that has happened in my decades on Earth I must shake myself into consciousness My seed’s opaque, blinding hull disintegrates and Bodyless, at last I can see through Goddess eyes I ache as my blood paints each flower petal I spin the whirlwind that cannot stop creating abundance I push the seasons through the year that mortals believe revolve of their own accord. Through Goddess eyes I can see me, I inhabit Winter’s hand as my own. I make the cold to slow creation of outside of me To gather the seed into fertile stillness within. That burgeons in my own time. https://www.magoism.net/2016/08/meet-mago-contributor-carolyn-lee-boyd/

(Tribute) In Loving Memory of Lydia Ruyle (1935-2016) by Mago Circle Members

We posthumously honor Lydia Ruyle (August 5, 1935-March 26, 2016) as Patron of Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality. Mago Circle Members on June 11, 2016. Glenys Livingstone I feel blessed to have known Lydia and to have been in occasional personal communication with her for several years … initially via the Goddess Scholars list. Lydia sent me great information of some of her journeys, was always encouraging and generously supported my CD crowdfunding project in 2015. I feel honoured to have carried her Goddess banners to Australia in 2014.
(Essay 2 Part 2) Why Do I Love Korean Historical Dramas? by Anna Tzanova, M.A.

Part 2 ENGAGING THE MIND It makes me cringe every time someone calls Korean drama, especially the historical genre, a soap opera. The fact that they are TV series doesn’t necessarily make them foamy. Quite the contrary, they are full of substance. They don’t go on and on for years, season after season. On average, most of them are 24 to 60, one-hour-long episodes. Some have fewer episodes, some have more episodes, but after they are done—we move on. It’s a good way to learn non-attachment. Korean historical drama is thought provoking. It is multidimensional in the way it presents characters and stories. Plots are well developed, intelligent, intriguing, and entertaining. Yes, there are some predictable outcomes, but there is also a lot of substance and artistic craftiness, as well as clever twists and fascinating surprises. Sageuk (Korean Historical Drama) can teach about history and culture, and also about mythology, philosophy, and spirituality. It reminds us of the values that are fading or have vanished in Western culture in the 21st century. The importance of subtleties in life is shown through plot development, rhythm, and acting. Reoccurring themes convey lessons like patience, acceptance, forgiveness, trust, integrity, perseverance, and courage… That is, the true meaning and practice of those. There is depth in the understanding of the writers, as well as in the corresponding depiction by actors. There is profundity, which evokes a reciprocal reaction in the viewers’ mind. The characters are likable—and their outlook on life and their behavior are admirable. They evolve and influence each other and their environment. There is this definitive sophistication in expression of emotion. Something akin to meditation. In Sageuk, “silence speaks”. Thus, the experience is not only pleasant, relaxing and/or exciting, but many times healing and enlightening. Confucian ideas mixed with Buddhist and Daoist ideals motivate the protagonists’ kind and considerate actions. A particularly valued quality in Korea is “착하다/착한 [chakhada/chakhan]”. I first heard it mentioned in an interview[i]/book[ii] presentation of Euny Hong. The translation in the dictionary reads, “good, nice, good-natured, kind-hearted, meek, obedient, docile, gentle, quiet.” Actually, it is all this and much more. It is a trait that when faced with, being cynical—as we often are in the 21st century—we can easily dismiss as being naive, gullible, submissive, and even foolish. However, in the words of Rumi, “Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates: at the first, you ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second gate ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask, ‘Is it kind?’”. The heroines and heroes in Korean historical drama follow this teaching in words and action. Most epitomize pure heartedness. There is a child-like sweetness about many of them—come to think of it, by losing innocence, has humanity really gained wisdom? In the online edition of Entertainment Weekly, I encountered a quote by Jacqueline Sia, Director of Video Operations of New York based DramaFever—one of the largest databases of subtitled Asian films and TV programs. In speaking about Korean drama she states: “Portrayal of love is a little more PG,”[iii] an observation that strikes any novice in the genre. We have become used to quick climaxes, crash-and-burn liaisons, as well as media glorified dysfunctional relationships. The predominant understanding of sex (and certainly the one staring at us from the TV and cinema screens) is hurried, flat, and linear. There is a disconnect between sex and love. Profanity and violence pour daily from everywhere. Exhibiting symptoms of an empath can easily be diagnosed as a psychiatric condition, and yet we are conditioned to be less and less sensitive. In this background, complex and refined emotional states, longing, embodied sacredness, and the act of leaving much to the viewers’ imagination, seem to be suitable only for children. Are we awake and mature enough to realize that all the psychological and social implications of the well-manipulated programming we are subjugated to is already bearing fruit in ‘real life’? (Read Essay 2 Part 1. To be continued in Essay 2 Part 3.) Notes: [i] The Korean Society, “Euny Hong discusses with WSJ columnist Jeffrey Yang her first nonfictional book,” YouTube (November 6, 2014). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxHv2gT539o [ii] Euny Hong, “The Birth of Korean Cool: How One Nation Is Conquering the World Through Pop Culture,” Simon and Shuster (2014). [iii] Hillary Busis, “Korean Dramas: A Beginner’s Guide,” Entertainment Weekly (April 11, 2014). Description of Korean Historical Dramas: This course offers a series of Korean Historical TV-dramas or Sageug (사극) and discusses the traits of female characters as well as general features of Korean history, culture, art, aesthetics, thought, customs, and people. What makes Korean drama so unique? What is the “secret recipe” that makes it so popular internationally? Why is it that, after a few episodes, one can‘t wait to see the next one or the next new drama? Those questions have made many wonder, from audiences to journalists and critics. Participants are invited to explore answers to these questions and more. Our emphasis is on woman’s place in history, as well as her role as creator, healer and leader; her strife to discover and reinvent herself, her inherent wisdom, her abilities to surrender, without giving up, and her potential to adapt, thrive, and ultimately transform the world she is in. Our selection of dramas qualifies high criteria in story content, character development, actor portrayal, multiplicity of ideas and values, and abilities to educate, while engaging and entertaining the viewer. Facilitators (Dr. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang and Ms. Anna Tzanova) will provide articles and audio-video materials concerning salient themes. (For more, see here) Info on online class, Korean Historical Dramas. See Meet Mago Contributor Anna Tzanova.
(Essay 3) 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.] THE SECOND CALENDAR Then, the Earth had increasingly so much work in all regions. Biodiversity went overboard. The terrestrial song became uncontrollable. The initial calendar became defunct. Lifeforms were left uncoordinated. The Earth fell into disorder, as she had no one to tune the song of earthlings in harmony with the cosmic music of creativity. The Earth was in need of sentient beings who could undertake the task. Mago’s descendants were to be born. Humans were entrusted to cultivate the earthly sound property by the Nine Mago Creatrix. The Budoji writes: