December 15, 2022November 15, 2022 Kaalii Cargill

(Photo Essay 5) We Remember by Kaalii Cargill

There are places in the world that recognize you and can call you by name, even if you’ve never been there. Our ancestors live in the land, and are the land. Their voices speak to us when we remember and we ask to hear. Robyn Philippa, “Animism of the British Isles”, sacredearthgrove.com

In my pilgrimages to visit with the Grandmothers at ancient Goddess sites, there have been moments when the extraordinary is present in the ordinary, a reminder that it is not just the sites themselves but also the land I’m standing on, the air I’m breathing, the sounds I’m hearing, the sights that stay with me. Here are some of those moments in my journeys to sacred places, moments that call me to remember . .

Water is especially timeless:

The river is flowing

Flowing and growing

The river is flowing

Down to the sea

Mother carry me

Your child I will always be

Mother carry me

Down to the sea

Lyrics by Lindie Lila, also performed by Abbi Spinner McBride, Return of the Goddess: Sacred Chants for Women.

The Blautopf (German for “blue pot”), a small lake fed by an underground spring in the Swabian Jura, Germany, about 7 kilometres from the Hohle Fels cave.

Hand-shaped rock pools near Kardzhali, Eastern Rhodope mountains, Bulgaria. From the Neolithic until the Middle Ages the area was inhabited by people who carved altars, cisterns, and pools in the rock.

Bafa Lake from Mount Latmos, Anatolia. Since Neolithic times, Mount Latmos has been a sacred place – there are cave paintings dated from around 6000 BCE, sanctuaries to storm gods, and early Christian monasteries. The early Greeks believed the moon goddess descended to this site to meet her lover.

Sacred spring at Temple of Hecate, Lagina, Anatolia, flowing here or more than 2000 years.

Meet MAGO Contributor Kaalii Cargill

1 thought on “(Photo Essay 5) We Remember by Kaalii Cargill”

Caryn MacGrandle says:

December 16, 2022 at 3:31 AM

Lovely. Thank you. Sharing (and linking) on the divine feminine app.

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(Book Review) Kaarina Kailo. Finnish Goddess Mythology, the Golden Woman and Traditional Ecological Knowledge from Climate Change to Indigenous Earth Democracy and the Gift. Reviewed by Krista Rodin

[Editor’s Note: This book review was first published in S/HE: An international Journal of Goddess Studies Vol 1 No 2, 2022.] Dr. Kailo’s recently reprinted her 2018 work. Finnish Goddess Mythology is a detailed analysis of how indigenous Finnish and Ugric female spiritual figures fit within the broader context of pre-Christian societies’ approach to the natural world. Pre-Christian sacred female figures are not widely portrayed in many accounts of Finnish history. Even the main National Museum in Helsinki lacks substantial references to the indigenous goddesses of the region, and starts their history section with the country’s Swedish heritage. Dr. Kailo’s work, however, fills this gap by structuring her book into five main themes that lead into her presentation of the regional goddesses and feminine figures. She starts with a brief introduction of Modern Matriarchal structures as understood by people she has worked closely with including American Peggy Reeves Sanday, Ohio Bear Clan Seneca Barbara Alice Mann and German Heide Goettner-Abendroth. This cross-continent approach highlights these three authors agreement that matriarchy is not the direct opposite of patriarchy, but rather a different form altogether; one that stresses the equitable role distribution and respect for both, and all, genders. This leads into the second chapter, which is an examination of how the equitable distribution is based not on an exchange economy, but rather on a gift economy as framed by Genevieve Vaughan and her International Network of Feminists for a Gift Economy. Kailo goes a bit further to coin the term Gift Imaginary to describe “indigenous matriarchies that offer more mother-woman, and nature friendly attitudes than the hegemonic ones” (11). Her premise with the second chapter is that the exchange economy of patriarchy has led to the current climate crisis and depletion of natural resources and that a return to a gift economy, based on giving and giving back rather than on taking and depleting would create a more balanced approach thereby helping the planet and all those who live on it heal. She stresses a Traditional Ecological Knowledge system (TEK) throughout the chapter. The third chapter is on Indigenous Knowledge and Earth-Based Feminism. Here she discusses the work of primarily North American indigenous wisdom keepers including Lakota Vine Deloria, Jr. and Seneca Chief Oren Lyons. After introducing their ideas, as well as those of many other authors, she places them a local Finnish geographical context of a place she visited every summer as a child. These three introductory chapters form the general, yet highly personalized and therefore detailed, background investigation into Finnish herstory as regards a Finnish relationship with the land. She recognizes that not a few authors have mentioned that the Finns hate and fear their woods, but she clearly demonstrates that this attitude is neither ubiquitous nor, in most cases, accurate. These three chapters also set the stage for new perspectives on the female figures in the Finnish national epic, The Kalevala, which is the subject of chapter four, The Golden Women – Earthbody Warnings from Prehistory. The Kalevala is a mid-19th century epic poem by Elias Lönnrot that consists of compilation of Finnish oral folktales and myths. It starts with the story of the Creation of the Earth and then goes into the battles between the peoples of Kalevala and the “realm of women” Pohjola that include the fight for Sampo, a mythical machine that brought ‘good luck’ to its owner. How this ‘good luck’ brought through a blacksmith’s tool is defined is one of the many alter-native (this is the way she writes the term) perspectives Kailo raises in her interpretation of the work. She also reinterprets the realm of women, Pohjola, as follows: “Pohjola for its part refers to the vast cross-cultural areas of history when different ethnic and language groups shared mentifacts and artifacts, i.e. ideas, concepts, beliefs, values, and the diverse artifacts that expressed these worldviews (bronze casts, jewellery, rock art, etcetera)” (16). This interpretation is in line with a aforementioned gift economy. Throughout the first three chapters and now more focused in the fourth, she mentions “Terra Feminarum,” a mythical place in Antiquity that was supposedly run by women. Tacitus, among others, mentioned it. As to date, no archeological evidence of its existence has been found. It is generally considered to be fable-based. Kailo, on the other hand, believes that it really existed somewhere between current day Estonia and Finland. She plans an upcoming book on the topic, but uses chapter four to introduce her findings and explain how the oral transmissions mutated over time, especially since the Middle Ages when Christianity either coopted or demonized indigenous female figures. Her work on “Terra Feminarum and the Golden Woman” is a key element to the reconceptualization of the figures in The Kalevala. The final chapter introduces and analyses Finnish Goddesses and Great Mothers, based on Kailo’s proposed Finnish Traditional Ecological Knowledge system. She includes figures from the Kalevala including the Creators, Ilmatar and Veen emo, the Three Sisters, Helka, Pälvätär and Kuutar, the Sun and Moon goddesses, Hongatar, the Bear Mother, Louhi and others. She goes into detail about the connection between sacred female figures and bears as an example of the close interspecies connections that are part of TEK. Kailo has also written extensively elsewhere on this topic. This book concludes with a list of Finnish Guardian Spirits, Haltijas, and Goddesses to show the transition from one way of understanding to another. In her words: I emphasize that Totemistic Animal Mothers, Mother Goddesses, Spirit Guardians and Great Mothers are historically and geographically contingent references to the primordial feminine life force which has shifted from being expressed with animal metaphors to supernatural Spirits, and then the more anthropocentric concepts of human deities. (16) Finnish Goddess Mythology and the Golden Woman is not the usual compendium of goddesses that the title might presuppose, but rather an introspective introductory inquiry into the pre-Christian ecological and spiritual knowledge of the Finns, in other words, a Finnish Traditional Ecological Knowledge system, that Kailo intends to build upon in …
(Art poem essay) In Praise of Her by Yvonne M. Lucia

IN PRAISE OF HER I pledged my life to God in the back seat of our ’57 Rambler when I was seven, as my dad drove home from the 6AM Latin Mass. When Sister Renata taught us the catechism in first grade, the Doctrine of Limbo made me cry. That same year she chose me to lead the May Procession – the special girl who got to wear the special dress reserved for the occasion. I crowned the alabaster Mary with a wreath of baby’s breath, then joined the others in the Living Rosary encircling the altar. Today I worship the Feminine Divine – the seeds of my rebellion were sown, it seems, around the age of reason, with talk of “Pygmies” who, unbaptized, upon their death might live happily ever-after but could not meet God. The pastel velvet dress I wore for Mary’s coronation – that domesticated Rite of Spring- was the tiny spore of my unfurling. The child is mother of the woman. Now, I’m whirling in the circle dance in praise of Her. The poem “In Praise of Her” is my attempt to crystalize the experience of my journey with the Divine Feminine, encountered in the figure of Mary, from childhood to the present. I have been a lover of Mary for as long as I can remember. As a young girl I used to recite the prayer “Lovely Lady Dressed in Blue” each night before falling asleep. I felt held and comforted by the words and the images I saw in my mind’s eye. The series of paintings that I began in January 2012, Contemporary Images of the Feminine Divine, is a culmination of many threads of my life being woven together into a public offering of my personal theology. The paintings explore images of the sacred feminine, primarily symbolized in the archetypal figure of Mary. They are visual contemplative prayers offered as a healing balm for our broken selves and for our dying Mother earth. The images are intended as reflections and mirrors of the sacred feminine that resides within each of us, male and female alike.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sandra Torrez

Sandra Torrez is a poet, fiction writer and digital photographer. She writes regularly with the Tumblewords Project, and has also been featured in readings and as a workshop provider. She proudly supports local art exhibits, cultural events and poetry readings and enjoys an excellent cup of coffee. Sandra received her B.A. in Psychology from the University of Texas at El Paso and has served in the United States AmeriCorps. We, the co-editors, contributors, and advisers, have started the Mago Web (Cross-cultural Goddess Web) to rekindle old Gynocentric Unity in our time. Now YOU can help us raise this torch high to the Primordial Mountain Home (Our Mother Earth Herself) wherein everyone is embraced in WE. There are many ways to support Return to Mago. You may donate to us. No amount is too small for us. For your time and skill, please email Helen Hwang (magoism@gmail.com). Please take an action today and we need that! Thank YOU in Goddesshood of all beings! (Click Donate button below. You can donate by credit card or bank account without registering PayPal. Find “Don’t have a PayPal account?” above the credit card icons.)
(Poem) Tarantella by Susan Hawthorne

Livia’s outdone herselfthe room is aliveleaves shimmer in lightbirds all a-twitterluscious balls of fruit hanging our favourite goddessesappear as plantsquince brings luck in lovepomegranate binds love and deathpoppy a favourite from Eleusis Diana Venus and Ceres are dancingin a circle withHecate Aphrodite and Demeterthe first triad from Romathe second from Greek Sicilia Cybele appearswild iris entwinedin a pine branch processionsome women need pageantryuna processione femminile Diana why the ilexis there something we should know?others enter bearing a veritable pharmacopœia from shrubs and herbs the nieces of Sicilian Medusaand a group of Maori girlsare trading tongue gesturesfor now it is playfulbut each knows how fear can kill Olympias and Agave arm in armsnake-braceleted mænads twirl dust stormsthe world is awhirl Psappha shoutswe are the ones I wrote aboutsomeone in some future time will remember me una processione femminile: Italian: a procession of women Cover art by Suzanne Bellamy, ‘Starship’, porcelain, 1989. Notes The tarantella is an ancient Italian dance possibly connected to Dianic rituals. I first heard about the tarantella when Australian author, Finola Moorhead, was writing her feminist novel Remember the Tarantella in the late 1970s. The novel ends with a dance that takes place in 4553 BC. Fifty women gather under a full moon between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. The women dance and at the end of the dance “each woman releases her menstrual flow into the pit of smouldering wheat.” (p. 306). My poem ‘tarantella’ is a memory of a party held by Empress Livia of Rome. The party includes women from many eras, from the Mediterranean to the Pacific Ocean. At this imagined party women share and celebrate their understanding of the universe, of plants and birds and most of all, of women’s history. It is from my collection Lupa and Lamb which was written when I was a Literature Resident in Rome for six months. © on Finola Moorhead, 1987 and 2011 © on Susan Hawthorne, 2014 https://www.magoism.net/2013/12/meet-mago-contributor-susan-hawthone/
(Poem) Red Oak Prayer by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright All Hallows 2020 Guardians… Cranes, Lizard who drinks from both fire and water and has a passionflower tail (with “buds and balls” – wow both genders – ‘he’ used to be male. Great Bear, Awi Usdi Red Oak you were a patient seedling who waited years for a green door to open beyond a cobalt sky. The fallen pine offered you ‘the way.’ At last you shine! Bittersweet orange and scarlet, oversized leaves tenaciously holding on when most others are withering away. Light winds, gifts of rain, maple leaves and scented needles compost your future. Deep roots meet with Pine People Your friends I’m told, fusing mycorrhizal threads into complex patterns that stretch across the forest floor, All search for minerals: nitrogen, phosphorous, precious water too. Nourished, you thrive. Not even insect damaged leaves can still your will to live. I feel you singing a love song to the sun. Eat all the light you need during this golden autumn before winter slows your blood and you fall asleep. Dreaming Our Future. I hug you with hungry eyes wondering who planted your seed. Was it cached by Squirrel or Jay? From acorn to tree – From DNA to Form. Horizontal Gene Transfer? Grow straight and tall. Leaf out, unfurl pointed fingers. Deep verdant green is summer shade. Come fall the Oak Fields of Yore will strengthen each limb prepare you to sleep, nurturing and protecting the Wise Wo/Man you already are. Working Notes/Prayer: I turn towards the steadfast oaks in my deepest distress. May I stand tall, stay with unwelcome betrayals, deep loneliness, a monster at the helm, insanity, murders, wars, bow again and again to ‘what is’. Like the druids and wise women healers who came before them, may I find refuge and strength within your groves, gain further perspective, and never forget how grateful I am to be alive and living among so many wise beings – both plant and animal and those invisible ones who inhabit the spaces in between. This year comes to an end in human induced chaos and communal exile – cultural realities that are inescapable unless virtual reality has stolen the human soul. With a madman’s insanity, the word ‘future’ loses meaning. Or creates terror of monumental proportions… We have lost so many animals, trees, roots, and people to death, indifference, dishonesty, cruelty, or starvation of one kind or the other. Our precious planet screams and still we refuse to listen…. Fires and Floods – Killers abound. Too many with guns. Our Greed has gone viral like Covid 19, killing millions, and now there is no turning back. It is spiking in Maine (first time since spring – now it’s a real threat here) and the rest of the country. Some of us have stayed awake through this holocaust, but I am one who must force herself to climb into each day with a resolve that is slowly eroding, collapsing a floor that once held me secure. I am sinking into mold, fog bound, marshy oblivion… So I cry out for the comfort of trees who bend love over bare branches, listening for the Messenger who clasps his heart around my dreams. In Greek mythology we uncover a totally different story. Oak trees were associated with thunder and lightening. The tree was sacred to Zeus and the gods of the sky most of which were war gods. Curiously, Oaks often survive being hit by lightening. I can’t help wonder if the oak tree that I am growing inside might be able to withstand being hit by lightening? With a full moon dimming the stars in the sky I cry out to the Great Bear: What will the Hunter’s Full Moon reveal? COYOTES HOWL NIGHT OF 10/30 – full moon 9 am tomorrow… trickster’s reign begins… Water Blessing (1): Release: shame that I need so much help now to the fire Water Blessing(2) : Blessing of the House – 4 corners… House, self – health of my BODY, animals, friends. Breathing and Prayer (1) Prayer that the floors of our house will hold…that we will be safe… that my body will manage the mold – somehow. That our bodies like the house body will get the help we need… (2) Prayer that I might become the oak who can withstand fire and lightening strikes…whose strength will help me deal with the future . (3) a prayer for RAIN… (4) a fervent prayer to stay emotionally attached – emotionally to a few people to help with loneliness… Giving thanks for surviving this year, for every act of courage I have mustered to live with the hole that permeates body and soul as well as my house. A hole and rotting timbers. Honoring myself. Giving thanks for trees, for finding “home” after four years of desert wandering… giving thanks for appreciating each breath I take inside and out. For seeing and hearing Sandhill cranes! And at this 11th hour I give thanks for Marcus and Mark – the Son and his Father who have come into my life – a slender but tough and honest thread of hope that now interrupts my fear… (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright
(Vernal equinox essay 2) Call in the Guardians by Sara Wright

Call In the Guardians (For this ritual I always pick a crocus or two or if none are up I buy a hyacinth or some kind of flower to honor Persephone’s return from the underworld) Invocation: In the start of time Splendor appeared Nature She was all there was. She divided the sky from the sea, and danced upon the waves. A wind gathered behind her from her swift dancing. When she rubbed the wind between her hands it became a great Serpent. She took the Serpent to her and loved him, and a great egg grew within her and she became a Dove
Moving towards the Dark… “Elder”berry Musings… by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright “I wake up under a tropical dome that has been with us most of August. The thick air feels like it is smothering me, and with emphysema that may not be my imagination. I can no longer walk or hike in this weather. Migraines and other peculiar headaches come and go – dizziness too – the former probably due to changes in pressure; As yet I have no diagnosis for the latter. I am feeling old because I am getting old. I move into my 77th year trying to adjust to increasing physical limitations.” On the first harvest moon that occurs in August, (according to ancient teaching by Northern Indigenous peoples) I harvested elderberries under a burning sun, sloshing through mud, thorny bushes and cattails to reach the clusters of ruby beads that would soon become a tincture that I knew would help me resist colds flu and perhaps also the Covid variants. The world health organization in Europe is presently researching elderberry because studies have indicated that it apparently block viruses from entering cells (it does with H1N1 virus), but I have been using this remedy for years and know that it mitigates the effects of colds and prevents flu, at least for me. While removing the berries from their tree –like stems my fingers were stained the most beautiful purple, reminding me of a story I had written when I turned 70 about becoming an old woman… In this tale I imagined that an Elderberry woman came to guide me into the future. My 82 year old friend Blaine, a veritable fountain of historical/wild orchid knowledge and fellow hiker calls me ‘Sunshine’ often remarking that aging requires a special kind of courage. He has demonstrated this in own life in concrete ways. Always an outdoors person and once an avid mountain climber who has topped every peak here in Maine he continues to hike today even after two hip replacements. I have been hiking with him and his wife for the past 15 years. These days we have to restrict our outings to cool mornings and make slow, sometimes labored climbs but these outings have been the highlight of this difficult summer. I have mentioned that I am worried about the future, and he and Margaret know first hand about some of this fear, although they have a support system that I do not. … It does take courage – enormous courage to stay with the truth of what is. And certainly I am not alone facing this dilemma. Aging is hard, not just on body but also on psyche soul and spirit because all are intimately interconnected. Lately I have been asking myself why I haven’t written about the perils of aging even though I am aware of the answer. SHAME. Shame silences us. The most humiliating part of growing old is the shame I feel at not being able to take care of myself like I used to. I also feel shame when I have to ask for help even when I PAY people. I have been self sufficient for perhaps too many years. Ironically, I am also an extremely generous person who is always ready to help others. Generous to a fault. How do I develop the ability to ask for help without feeling shame? At present I have no answer to this burning question, although I carry the awareness that it’s up to me. Today is September first, my birth month, and it is blessedly cool. Yesterday’s river walk catapulted me into the moment taking much joy from passing the beaver ponds, inspecting moss covered trunks, hearing the bear crash through the woods knowing that on this land at least, the bear would be safe. Generous people bought up mountains and valleys protecting the protecting the forests and allowing them to thrive… I offer them gratitude every time I walk on this hallowed land. These hikes and others I have taken alone helped me move through a difficult summer. For a time at least, all worries cease… As I move towards the dark of the moon, a few days away, I lean into the dark that hopefully will allow me to sleep deeply… Perhaps then the Elderberry woman might send me a dream. (Meet Sara) https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright/
What Was Never Spoken by Carolyn Lee Boyd

[Author’s Note: This story is a tribute to those all over the world who are courageously reclaiming women’s roles of spiritual power.] Illustration: NASA.Mrshaba at en.wikipedia, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons The seer was both coming home and making yet another journey to the farthest bounds of existence. She entered through the door of a small thatched round dwelling that had been her first gateway to those realms where time is an open horizon and strength emanates from the soul rather than the sword. Her blue cloak, heavy silver brooch, red wool dress, and ornate iron staff were outward symbols of her high status but in this simple house she was still an apprentice. The home belonged to the woman who had taught the seer to peer into the future, to make the rain fall or storms vanish, and to heal or curse, but who had chosen to live out her own last days in her simple gray, roughly woven tunic and bare feet, spinning at her wheel. The elder woman had summoned the seer, simply saying she wished to know the future. The seer settled on a stool by the fire, arranged her cloak around her, laid her staff across her lap, and closed her eyes. She began to chant, riding on the rhymes and intonations, then fell into a silent trance. After a moment, she flinched awake and grabbed her teacher’s hands. “What vision is this?” she asked. “My sight has gone far beyond your fate, deep into the future of our people, and there are no seers, no women prophesying, no one to intervene when the powers of the cosmos threaten, no place for women like us! How can this be? How can those who live in such bereft times survive?” “It is what is never spoken,” the old woman said. “What you see is true. In other lands women seers continue, but not in ours. I saw this myself, right before I retreated to this little hut. I then closed my inner eye and told myself not to speak of this, to let the people of the future make their own way.” The seer left the house, folded away her robes and jewels, and wandered the primeval forest. Her ancestor heart ached for her descendants who would never be able to peer beyond their own narrow lives as she did. She closed her eyes, sang holy songs, and danced until she fell into a trance, then powered her soul forward in time to not just witness, but to be with, the women in the forlorn future. When she opened her eyes, the forest was no more and she stood on a lawn with short grass enclosed by a chainlink fence. She was alone, yet in her heart she could hear the mourning cries of the women from many different centuries and places, heartbroken, emptied out, barren with grief at the loss of that which they could not even name, did not even know had ever been. To never see their own holiness embodied in the women seers, to never know that flights to other realms could happen right in their own kitchens, and to live without the understanding that they and all beings were embedded in a cosmos infused with magic were voids too deep to bear. The seer fell on her knees, grabbing her belly where all the trauma was flowing in. She had not the vigor to intone a blessing, to fall into a trance and prophecy, so she simply laid her hands on the Earth and let the women’s pain flow there, where it could be transfigured. Then she decreed that when she died her grave would lie untouched until the right time when women would find her with her clothes, jewels, amulets, and herbs and know that they, too, held great spiritual power. Maybe then they would begin to hear their own song, to see with their own prophetic eyes, and to hold the staff of their own century. And, indeed, after many centuries her grave, with all the symbols of her office, was excavated, confounding the archeologists who always assumed that only men would lie in such magnificent tombs. But the everyday women who learned of the find recognized their own household tools in the distaff-shaped iron staff, symbols of their own inner spiritual sovereignty in the glorious clothing and jewelry, and their own poignant humanity in the bones of a woman just like them. The seer travelled back to her own time and returned to the old woman’s house a year later for another vision of the far distant future to see what her visit there may have wrought. Her mind’s eye was filled with a burst of blazing light. What did it mean? The elder woman said “Maybe it is the sun and earth exploding, or being born again. Maybe it is the passageway into paradise. Perhaps it is the sacred fire emerging in the souls of those future women again, thanks to you. I think it is all these things and more.” In time, the seer retired to her own small cottage and put away her clothes, jewels, and staff until she would be buried with them. She still sang and danced her way into trances, but this time traveling to the future not to tell what would be, but to create what will be. When she saw a woman just beginning to understand the power within her, she would whisper encouragement and advice. When a circle gathered, she would send into their minds images of her own rituals and chants, that they might know the proper ways, just as her teacher had shown her so long ago. When a barrier was placed in the way of truth, love, and justice, she would offer courage and persistence. Have you heard her voice, received her visions, felt her faith in you on your path? Endnote: Max Dashu’s Witches and Pagans: Women in European Folk Religion, 700-1100, (Veleda Press, …
(Essay 1) Through a Darkened Door—Light by Mary Ann Ghaffurian PhD

Radiant Sun Figure. Revolutionary context, c.4000BCE[i] Introduction My name is Mary Ann Ghaffurian, aka Dr MAG; my work unheralded on the world stage or any stage, in particular. During postgraduate years, my research focused, over a broken 30 year period, on the psychoetechnologies and archaeology of human consciousness; the structure of mind, soul and psyche over historical periods; and the interior passage or alchemic journey of the individual, then society in an atmosphere of nightmare and awakening. However, an academic journey into the undercurrents of time, space, history and consciousness was something I didn’t foresee, when suddenly catapulted into a luridly, stark awareness before the age of 3. Up until then, I lived in a watery, cocooned world of motheriness and hovering, benevolent faces in a leafy place opposite a beach. But something changed, dramatically. It was not just the appearance of a new baby in the family (a very sick baby), but because the cocoon of care I lived in was summarily snatched from me. Deposited in a hospital to be looked after by unfriendly people (probably because I was screaming continuously) while my mother recovered, I was left to fend emotionally in a sterile environment without parents or visitors. The rush of the outside world hit me with all its detached anonymity and separativeness. It was an experience of the ego of the child, who as the sun of itself, abiding in glowing beneficence, is suddenly and summarily expelled from its orbit, as the thing around which everything else turns, capitulating the solar being into the impossible— cold, empty space. From cushioned padded warmth and the wholeness of oneself unconditionally, to the outside crushing in with its abject Newtonian mental constructs of imprisonment. I became super-aware of different mentalities, barriers separating human to humans, without flow and each as a separate world with vast gulfs between. So outside reality hit, not just as separation, but as existential catastrophe. Once the floodgates to this awareness were opened, they remained open and I began from that time to deal with the conflict of inner and outer, internal and external, self and other, abyss and connection, coexisting uncomfortably together. Of them alone, that was enough, but the floods brought more, the multidimensional cacophony of memes and memories with the plight of child-consciousness being pressed up against a membrane of existence-as-it-was, as well as memory itself that was much longer and larger than the memory of the singular child. This last was the hardest to abide. Day or night I felt perniciously close to the thumping heart of milliard existences clambering for attention in memory, if I, just a little, dipped in to that drum-skin membrane that separated my little world from a vast teeming ocean of life just bustling to get in. At the same time I could not discern who or what memories, voices, memes were in that swill, because it wasn’t sorted, so the child became overwhelmed and exhausted. So there was a notional 3 year old struggling to get on in a household of adults and a new brother struggling with life, plus the new inner and outer world opened up to a child who had no-one to talk to, and indeed was just beginning to talk coherently herself. This beginning set the stage for the unravelling of a dedicated, seeking life. But it wasn’t just that I was alone in my new state of the inner and outer being merged somewhat, or threatening to merge all the time, and my valiant efforts to keep them apart, so I could get on with a normal kid life. No, many other scenarios developed out of that prescient clarity which was completely undesired by the child. I also felt interferences from another world, domain, dimension, technological intrusion, or worlds, with no apparatus of incarnate maturity to deal with it. And that was the thing, I was completely aware that the membrane that separated me from the deluge behind the screen was also the gift of forgetfulness that came with coming into this world, yet again. And there was the rub. Existential anguish at 5. Yes, there was the world of Father Christmas, The Nativity, Easter Bunny, Birthdays, Mickey Mouse Club, kindergarten, Mass on Sunday; books of Binkle and Flip and The Faraway Tree, although the story of Terra, the terrapin, remained the most significant (a book I never found again later, no matter how hard I searched). Then there was that other world, the world of the dead of night, when dark doors of dimensions opened and I (psyche, emotions, and vital energy) was at the mercy or behest of forces, powers, I had no vocabulary of skills to manage the terror of. “They” were without respect of person, violating one’s “personal space” uninvited. No boundary was holy or sacrosanct then. How do you deal with lack of boundaries or “no boundaries”— introduced from the “other side,” —when you are 4 or 5. The beautiful sanctum of non-interference is what babe and children revel in, in total enveloping trust: warm smiles, snuggly toys, nice smells, shining eyes and hugs. To whom do you turn when you call out to an adult, “Mummy!” who switches on the light and no one, no one else at all is there in the room? Night paralysis began and became continual. But there was more, there was always more. In hindsight I can look back and show you how I dealt with each issue case by case, unravelling the core of each situation incrementally by the grit of struggling awareness, and by digging into and clinging to the seed of my being. It coexisted in the experiential melange one was hurled into body and soul before one could barely give utterance to what was happening, and there were no mentors to help. Beside the bereavement of being in that condition, it is important to tell, there was a very narrow band of a sense one could talk to someone or something else, very …

(Special Post 1) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, or Spirituality? A Collective Writing

[Editor’s Note: This was first proposed in The Mago Circle, Facebook Group, on March 6, 2014. We have our voices together below and publish them in sequels. It is an ongoing project and we encourage our reader to join us! Submit yours today to Helen Hwang (magoism@gmail.com). Or visit and contact someone in Return to Mago’s Partner Organizations.] Introduction by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang and Wennifer Lin-Haver Helen Hye-Sook Hwang I am asking each of us to consider writing a sentence or paragraph on “Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, or Spirituality?” This idea is prompted by Wennifer Lin-Haver, Founder of Mother Tree Sanctuary, and I agree that we need to and can create a sort of collective writing on the topic. What we write below will be included and published in The Girl God, Mother Tree Sanctuary, and Return to Mago. As a subaltern minority as we seem at the current point of time, Goddessians/Magoists [the term Mago means the Great Goddess] need to make extra efforts to make our voices and presences exposed to the public and inner circles. Length and style are open. Please also include your name, region/state/country, title, and/or website URL. We strongly encourage you if you are located in a place where Goddessians are rarely around. We intend to make a collective testimonial tapestry of WE as Goddessians/Magoists! Please keep this in your mind and join us in this collective effort. Thank you in advance. March 6, 2014 AF (Archaic Future)! Wennifer Lin-Haver Our “call” started as a conversation between Helen and me where I was expressing to her the real need for Mother Tree Sanctuary to be more articulate with exploring the significance and importance of Goddess in our lives. I was prompted to give such a response, when asked “why” we had to differentiate God and Goddess. “Isn’t everything God?” She asked. And “Isn’t Goddess also God?” “Isn’t it all the same as long was we’re all coming from our ‘higher’ self?” she asked. So I saw this warranted a longer and much deeper discussion. I initially thought I should formulate a response and post it as a Page or Tab in our website, but after some reflection with Helen, I saw how much better it would be if we replied to this question as a diverse and creative collective. I surely do not have all the answers as an individual but perhaps together, we can come up with something more whole, colorful and satisfying. I do hope you will contribute a little something! We are always grateful for all that you have to share.
(Special Post) BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FOR EL PASO ARTIST MARIO COLÍN by Donna Snyder

Born in Juárez in 1959, Mario Colín lived his entire life in the Five Points area of Central El Paso, where he attended Houston Elementary and Austin High School. From the age of fifteen, he worked as a construction worker, building silos and other large construction projects across the U.S.A., at some point hitch hiking from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic shores. In his late twenties, he began to focus all his attention and energy on art, which had been an interest since early childhood, working as a muralist and portrait painter. Much of his art is of a religious nature, although he also painted secular art, portraits, and historical scenes. Colín painted his first mural of the Virgin of Guadalupe in collaboration with deceased artist Chuck Zavala in 1987 at Esparza’s Grocery, a small store in Central El Paso. It has now become a shrine, with community members building a stone arch and bringing flowers and candles, and has been pronounced a religious site by the parish church. Since that first mural, Colín has painted over 40 pieces of public art, many of which have become landmarks. Many of those murals are in that same Central El Paso neighborhood, on or near Piedras, including the House of Pizza, Los Alamos Grocery, The Elbo Room bar, the former Sanitary Plumbing at Piedras and Fort Boulevard. Colín twice painted a 25 foot mural of the Virgin of Guadalupe, at Alameda and Zaragoza, across from the Ysleta mission. The first version, painted in 1997, became decayed, but was a popular landmark. That mural has appeared in periodicals, art books, calendars, many newspaper articles, and in photographs exhibited in the El Paso Art Museum and galleries. In 2004, Señor José Villalobos donated and members of the community contributed money to pay laborers to replaster the wall of the century-old adobe building where it is located, and Colín repainted the entire mural for donations from passers-by and community members. Colín’s work has also been featured on the International History Channel and Canal 44, XHUI TV, in a Ford television commercial, and numerous times in the El Paso Times and the defunct El Paso Herald-Post, as well as in periodicals such as Texas Monthly, Dallas Morning News, Texas Observer, Austin American Statesman, Stanton Street magazine; literary journals such as Mezcla and GypsyMag.com; in documentaries including Walls that Speak: El Paso’s Murals, directed by Jim Klaes; in art books such as Colors on Desert Walls: The Murals of El Paso and Texas 24:7, and in various editions of Chicano Studies: Survey and Analysis, a text book used throughout the country.
(Special Post 3) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, or Spirituality? A Collective Writing

[Editor’s Note: This was first proposed in The Mago Circle, Facebook Group, on March 6, 2014. We have our voices together below and publish them in sequels. It is an ongoing project and we encourage our reader to join us! Submit yours today to Helen Hwang (magoism@gmail.com). Or visit and contact someone in Return to Mago’s Partner Organizations.] Helen Hwang I study and advocate Goddess feminism or Magoism because it is a way of living for me. I find myself in Mago (the Great Goddess) who in turn leads me to the Way wherein I learn how to become the person who I can be. It has to be Mago, the Female Divine, because She is real! She is the Primordial Mother who is the Beginning and the End of everything to us on the planet Earth. She teaches me the real. I can’t negotiate Her to anything less. Helen Hye Sook Hwang, Ph.D. California http://magoism.net Bridget Robertson A Goddessian I was introduced to a form of meditative journeying by a resident in my grandmother’s retirement community. She approached to me. I know she was at least part Native American, and that alone made her the topic of much gossip in the building. Her Rose colored lipstick, deep brown eyes, wrinkles that only helped illuminate her face and a chiffon scarf that matched none of her clothes. I thought she needed help with her groceries. She didn’t. She had me stop the elevator. and directly asked about my looking tired. My response was about being, busy balancing all the areas of my life. In fact I was exhausted doling out time like pieces of pie.

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.
(Essay) The Wheel of the Year and Climate Change by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ The Wheel of the Year in a PaGaian cosmology essentially celebrates Cosmogenesis – the unfolding of the Cosmos, in which Earth’s extant Creativity participates directly, as does each unique being. The Creativity of Cosmogenesis is expressed through Earth-Sun relationship as it may manifest and be experienced within any region of our Planet. In PaGaian tradition this is expressed with Triple Goddess Poetry, which is 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 it does in the Seasons, happens because of Earth’s tilt in relationship with Sun: and that is because this tilt 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, 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[i]. 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 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[ii], and more recently a site of ongoing ritual activity as old as seventy thousand years has been found[iii]. 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. https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ 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 our 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[iv]. 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. At the moment the dance of dark and light remains predictable, but much else is in a process of transformation. As we observe and sense our Place, our Habitat, as our ancestors also did, we can, and may yet still make Poetry of the dance of dark and light, of this quality of relationship with Sun, and how it may be manifesting in a particular region and its significance for the inhabitants: we may still find Poetic expression with which to celebrate the sacred journey that we make everyday around Mother Sun, our Source of life and energy. It has been characteristic of humans for at least several tens of thousands of years, to create ceremony and symbol by which we could relate with the creative dynamics of our place, and perhaps it was initially a method of coming to terms with these dynamics – with the apparently uniquely human awareness of coming into being and passing away[v]. Our need for sacred ceremony of relationship with our place, can only be more dire in these times, as we are witness to, and aware of, …
(Poem) Samhain by Annie Finch

In the season leaves should love, since it gives them leave to move through the wind, towards the ground they were watching while they hung, legend says there is a seam stitching darkness like a name. Now when dying grasses veil earth from the sky in one last pale wave, as autumn dies to bring winter back, and then the spring, we who die ourselves can peel back another kind of veil that hangs among us like thick smoke. Tonight at last I feel it shake. I feel the nights stretching away thousands long behind the days, till they reach the darkness where all of me is ancestor. I turn my hand and feel a touch move with me, and when I brush my young mind across another, I have met my mother’s mother. Sure as footsteps in my waiting self, I find her, and she brings arms that hold answers for me, intimate, waiting, bounty: “Carry me.” She leaves this trail through a shudder of the veil, and leaves, like amber where she stays, a gift for her perpetual gaze. From Eve (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2010) (Meet Mago Contributor) Annie Finch
(Book Excerpt) Held in the Womb of the Wheel of the Year by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

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

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

The Autumnal Equinox occurs each year in the range of March 20-23 in the Southern Hemisphere, and in the range of September 20 -23 in the Northern Hemisphere. Autumn Equinox is a point of sacred balance: it is the point of balance in the dark part of Earth’s annual cycle. Sun is equidistant between North and South as it was/is at Spring Equinox, but in this dark phase of the cycle, the trend is toward increasing dark. Henceforth the dark part of the day will exceed the light part: thus it is a Moment of certain descent … and a sacred Moment for feeling and contemplating the grief and power of loss, for ceremoniously joining personal and collective grief and loss with the larger Self in whom we are. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcZflKLkvP8 Below is the text of the video. It is based on the traditional poetry for PaGaian Autumn Equinox/Mabon ceremony[i]. This is the Moment of the Autumnal Equinox in our Hemisphere – the moment of balance of light and dark in the dark part of the cycle. The light and dark parts of the day in the South and in the North of our planet, are of equal length at this time. We feel for the balance in this moment – Earth as She is poised in relationship with the Sun … breathing in the light, swelling with it, letting our breath go to the dark, staying with it. In our part of Earth, the balance is tipping into the dark. We remember the coolness of it. This is the time when we give thanks for our harvests – all that we have gained. And we remember too the sorrows, losses involved. The story of Old tells us that Persephone, Beloved Daughter, is given the wheat from Her Mother – the Mystery, knowledge of life and death. She receives it graciously. But she sets forth into the darkness – both Mother and Daughter grieve that it is so. Demeter, the Mother, says: “You are offered the wheat in every moment … I let you go as Child, most loved of Mine: you descend to Wisdom, to Sovereignty. You will return as Mother, co-Creator with me. You are the Seed in the Fruit, becoming the Fruit in the Seed. Inner Wisdom guides your path.” We give thanks for our harvests – our lives they are blessed. We are Daughters and Sons of the Mother. Yet we take our Wisdom and all that we have gained, and remember the sorrows – the losses involved. We remember the grief of the Mother, of mothers and lovers everywhere, our grief. Persephone descends. The Beloved One is lost. Persephone goes forth into the darkness to become Queen of that world. She tends the sorrows. The Seed represents our Persephones, who tends the sorrows – we are the Persephones, who may tend the sorrows. We go out into the night with Her and plant our seeds. Persephone blesses us with her fertile promise: “You have waxed into the fullness of life, And waned into darkness; May you be renewed in tranquility and wisdom[ii].” These represent our hope. The Seed of life never fades away. She is always present. Blessed be the Mother of all life. Blessed be the life that comes from Her and returns to Her. We tie red threads on each other: we participate in the Vision of the Seed – of the continuity of Life, that continues beneath the visible. The Mother knowledge grows within us. Our hope is in the Sacred Balance of the Cosmos – the Thread of Life, the Seed that never fades away: it is the Balance of Grief and Joy, the Care that we may feel in our Hearts. NOTES: [i] Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, p. 239-247. [ii] Charlene Spretrnak, Lost Goddesses of Early Greece, p. 116. REFERENCES: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. Spretnak, Charlene. Lost Goddesses of Early Greece: a Collection of Pre-Hellenic Myths. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992/1978.

(Essay 2 Part 3) Why Do I Love Korean Historical Dramas? by Anna Tzanova

Part 3 UNIVERSAL APPEAL The worldwide success of Korean historical drama began in 2004, when Dae Jang Geum (대장금), “The Great Jang Geum”, or “Jewel in the Palace”—a Sageuk relating a compelling story about the life of the legendary first woman who became a supreme royal physician in 16th century Joseon—was aired in over 60 countries around the world. Since then, the number is much higher, not taking into consideration DVD sales, pirated DVDs, plus the millions who have seen the drama globally via the Internet. In Iran, Dae Jang Geum was so popular that reports claim Iranians began organizing their mealtimes so as not to interfere with the show’s broadcast. In India, after seeing the series one prisoner wrote an open letter to the broadcast company in Korea saying, “This serial has been of great influence in my personal life, as well adding a lot to my positive approach towards life. I dare say it is not a motivation for only people like me, but for everyone.”[i] In Zimbabwe, the audience protested to a TV station and requested the airing of Dae Jang Geum instead of the Olympic Games when the two timetables clashed.[ii] To me, “Jewel in the Palace” is not just a very beautiful and inspirational piece of art. Seeing it from a personal angle, it is a great reminder of all that is wrong with our medical science, health care, and industrialized food production. How science needs to be as much cerebral as cordis. All the good that can come of turning our eyes and respect back to Mother Earth and all her sentient beings. The importance of not only quality food, but also the way the ingredients are grown, nurtured, collected and stored; the way food is prepared; the thoughts and feelings food is infused with, and how it affects not only the taste, but also the health of those who would consume it. The true holistic approach to health and well-being, as well as how titles and following institutional protocols, doesn’t secure quality of care. The natural curve in the onset and development of every disease, and how its abrupt interruption leads to dire consequences in the long run. The compassion and inner qualities of character a true healer should pursue and cultivate. Korean historical drama offers layers of meaning and understanding. The viewers are not only gently guided to open their hearts and feel, but also to think. Stories are not only well told; internalization by the audience is encouraged. Thus, the experience becomes very personal, and a deep connection between the creators and the spectators is established. Hwang Seongbin quotes a science and technology researcher who shared his opinion on Korean period drama when they met at an international conference reception: “I like Korean historical drama, because the story is told from the perspective of the people, rather than from that of those in power.”[iii] The transnational issues we all face, such as greed, corruption, deceit, conspiracies, abuse, and war, are depicted in their cruelty as shared experiences. Through that and the exploration of universal themes like love, kindness, loss, yearning, overcoming adversities, following one’s passion, achieving one’s dream, and many more, our global communality is fortified. Another trait worth noting is the depiction of traditionally oppressed women. It is a growing tendency in Sageuk to give center stage to heroines. Even when they are not the protagonist, they play significant roles supporting or guiding the protagonist’s efforts: creating nurturing environments, serving as examples of right action, and assisting the protagonist in his growth. There is a fascination, respect, honor, and affection that female leads are surrounded by or treated by the hero. Women in Korean historical drama are strong in a graceful way, using skill and genuine power as opposed to aggression and brutal force. They are persistent in their efforts and courageous in their actions. Despite being sidetracked by hindrances, they never lose focus on their goals. Ultimately, they are never deterred from accomplishing their dreams, transforming or inspiring everyone else in the process. In that regards, women in Sageuk serve as great initiators of change. They embody the most pliable element of all—water—nourishing, never stagnant, unstoppable, constantly adaptable, following its course through and around obstacles, cleansing, reshaping, and renewing. In the words of Clair Webber: “Undoubtedly, there is something inexplicable about K-pop and K-dramas. Whether it is the courage of civil disobedience in North Korea, peace in the Middle East, or female empowerment in Pakistan—South Korean cultural imports have the uncanny ability to foster hope in some of the most seemingly hopeless situations.”[iv] This is what “soft power”, a term coined in 1990 by Harvard political scientist Joseph Nye[v], truly is. “They fight with arms, but we—with our hearts,” states Empress Ki in the Sageuk with the same name. I’d love for humanity to hear this message and finally learn how to avoid or deal with conflicts. I am not going to quote or start analyzing different dramas one-by-one. I will leave you to find your own point of view and preferences. Signing up for Mago Academy’s Korean Historical Drama course would be a good place to start. I hope you will consider joining and experiencing first-hand everything I mentioned above, and much more. Korean culture has a specific flavor that distinguishes it from other Asian cultures. It is humble, but resilient. It is charming, heart-centered, perceptive, thoughtful, and caring. It has a lot to offer. Give it a try. But I have to warn you, it might be addicting. (Read Essay 1, Essay 2 Part 1, Essay 2 Part 2) Notes: [i] Busis, Hillary, Korean Dramas: A Beginner’s Guide, Entertainment Weekly, (April 11, 2014) [ii] Gowman, Philip, The Redemptive Power of Lee Young-ae, London Korean Links, (January 13, 2008) [iii] Voluntary Agency Network of Korea blog, Hallyu Report III – Korean Drama, Friendly Korea, My Friend’s Country, (01/09/2013) http://korea.prkorea.com/wordpress/english/2013/01/09/hallyu-report-ii-korean-drama/ [iv] Weber, Clair, K-Pop, K-Dramas, Hallyu – South Korean Culture Around the Globe, About Education, (2015) [v] …
(Mago Essay 3) Toward the Primordial Knowing of Mago, the Great Goddess by Helen Hwang

[The following sequels including this one are a modified version of my paper presented to Daoist Studies, the American Academy of Religion (AAR) in 2010.] Part 3 Daoist Rendition of Mago, the Great Goddess Being the creatrix, progenitor, and ultimate sovereign, Mago has been addressed by many names. Her derivative names include Samsin Halmeoni (Triad Grandmother/Goddess), Cheonsin (Heavenly Deity), Daejosin (Great Ancestor Deity), Nogo (Crone/Grandmother), Gomo (Goddess Mother), Magui (Devil), Seogo (Auspicious Goddess), Seonnyeo (Female Immortal), Seonja (Immortal Person), and simply Halmi (Grandmother/Crone/Goddess) especially in Korea. To say the least, these names, respectively embedded in a particular cultural and historical background, reflect a complex and enduring feature of Magoism. One may wonder: How is it possible to assess that these goddesses with different names refer to the same goddess, Mago? While such a query is legitimate, its answer entails a prolix explication of inferences based on the comprehensive analysis of a large volume of data, a technique that requires all human faculties, not just rationality. Foremost, the name “Mago” is the primary defining factor to identify Her transnational manifestations in East Asia. This name crisscrosses otherwise seemingly unrelated data including folklore, arts, literature, poetry, and religious and historical records. Such toponyms as Mt. Mago, Rock of Mago, and Cave of Mago presently extant in Korea, China, and/or Japan further substantiate the coherence of Magoism in East Asia. Having established the patterns and styles of Mago stories, the researcher is able to identify a common motif that is shared by the stories and place-names of the goddesses with derivative names. In short, these stories are organically interconnected, reflecting the universality and particularities of Magoist theism. As with Her many names, the researcher or art historian requires the same technique to assess a broad range of Her visual representations. One can begin with a good number of paintings whose colophons designate Mago. Two of the most conspicuous colophons are “Magu gathering medicinal herbs” and “Mago presents longevity.” However, many icons including sculptures and embroideries do not have such an indication. In that case, one can tell the Mago icon by its pictorial themes recurring in the images that are identified as Mago. That said, there is no doubt that the Mago icon stands as the prototype of its numerous variations, which are beyond my documentation at this point. A large portion of Mago visual representations I have documented is casually referred to as “The Immortal Magu (麻姑仙, Magu Xian or Mago Seon)” by moderns. As such, it is assumed that She is a Daoist goddess. Would the Daoist appropriation of Mago’s visual images be accurate? I hold that the Daoist rendition of Mago is a specious stopgap, leaving many issues unattended. When B is derived from A, B alone can explain neither A nor B. Not only Her pre-Daoist origin but also Her supreme divinity as the Great Goddess remains unexplained. Furthermore, Daoism has offered no framework to explain the transnational dissemination of Magoist material culture in Korea, China, and Japan.
(Poem) Knowing Mago Calendar by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This poem was an offshoot of an essay on Magoist Calendar and Nine Numerology, to be included in the forthcoming anthology, Celebrating Seasons of the Goddess (Mago Books, 2017). I thank Genevieve Vaughan, Danica Anderson, and Harriet Ann Ellenbeger who have given me feedback to the article and inspiration to this poem.] Mago Calendar is the umbilical cord of the Great Goddess, the umbilical cord that re-members the Beginning Story of us all terrestrial beings, that enables the one and many songs/dances of the Earth, and that nourishes the human world to sing the chorus to the cosmic lullaby. Mago Calendar is the grand wheel of the Great Mother, the grand wheel that spirals the inter-cosmic orbit of truth, goodness, and beauty, that carries all earthlings to the fullest becoming, and that builds bridges into the inter-protonic galaxies. Mago Calendar is the everlasting blessing of the Nine Mago Creatrix, the everlasting blessing that scripts the ecstasy of Heavenly Numerology, that charts the Earth’s metamorphosis from the infinite to the physical, and that unfolds the Reality of the Mago Time, WE/HERE/NOW. (Meet Mago Contributor) Helen Hye-Sook Hwang.