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(Meet Mago Contributor) Meghanaiyegee Venketasamy (Megha)

Meghanaiyegee Venketasamy (Megha), a daughter born and raised in Mauritius – an island loaded with a deep legacy of slavery, colonization, people of colors from around the globe. Such diversity could only enhance her growth, her believes, her values in the most profound way as she has come with an innate knowingness that deep within is a red thread that runs through each one of us, a Red thread that connects us all, whether we know it or not.
(Essay 3) Red Poppies Among the Ruins by Mary Saracino

[Author’s Note: Originally published in TRIVIA: Voices of Feminism, Issue 6, September 2007, www.triviavoices.net.] Red Poppies Tharros, Sardinia in 2004, photo by MarySaracino The Kurgan legacy survives to this day. Too often humankind worships the warrior culture, the power and might of dominium. From sports icons to corporate raiders and political strategists we laud and celebrate the principle of conquest. Our history books teach war, not peace. We learn of military campaigns, famous battles, esteemed generals with their prowess of might and destruction. The progress of civilization is measured in lives lost, blood shed, peoples oppressed. The more ancient legacy of peaceful coexistence is silenced. How did it come to be that 7,000 years of violence could wipe away 50,000 years of accord, erase it from our collective memory? Where are the history book chapters about peaceful resolution to conflict? About cultures co-existing in harmony? Where are the tales of societies like that of early Tharros? Or of the Nurgahi of Sardegna, people whose day-to-day living made no room for slavery, social stratification, or inequality between men and women? History chronicles the exploits of the conquerors even as it silences the subaltern ways of the conquered. In June 2004, in Rome, en route from Sardegna to my life in America, I walked the city streets, mere days after then President George W. Bush had visited the city. Everywhere, hanging from windows on buildings large and small, from wrought-iron apartment balconies, the facades of public office buildings, the stone arches of church entryways, I saw rainbow-colored banners waving in the smoggy breeze. In white letters, against a prism field of hope (bright rows of violet, blue, green, yellow, orange and red) blazed the word: Pace. Peace. A clarion call for sanity in an insane, out of control world. A prayer for harmony, for humanity, for grace. The Pace flags mirrored the hopes of people seeking to create a different resolution, establish a new pathway, disinherit humanity’s 7,000-year-old Kurgan legacy. On city walls throughout Rome, red and black graffiti screamed its paint-stained resounding truth: war harms the warriors as well as the warred against. Unambiguous, stark images leapt from stone walls and the sooty sides of buildings; war, and warmongers, were not welcome. Stop Global War; Bushladen; Bush Go Home; Bush Terrorista, No War for Oil; No Justice No Peace; No Bush, No War. I stood on street corners, reading these spray-painted messages, my heart pounding with urgency. The memory lives, I heard myself say. In Sardegna, I had waded through a field of knee-high grasses to reach ancient tombs and gaze upon graffiti of another kind: ochre-red carvings, symbols etched into rock tombs 1000s of years before. The spears of thistles pierced my socks, lingered like acupuncture needles, touching the essential points of Qi, conjuring vitality, coaxing life back to essential balance. Eco-activists tell us the Earth is out of balance and I agree. But the human spirit is awry as well. We cannot begin to save Mother Earth, and all her rich bio-diversity, until we save our own souls. Can humanity turn away from the cycle of victim and oppressor? Can we re-invite the ethos of justice with compassion, non-hierarchical social structure, and equality among all peoples to take root once more? In remembering and honoring our ancient past, can we begin to sow the Dark Mother’s aspiration of peace and well-being for all Her children? Among the ruins at Tharros and the cave-tombs of Montessu, I began to remember: the dream within the dream is as real and as tangible as breath. There was an age, before this violent one, in which the peoples of the Earth fashioned metal into useful tools and jewelry, not weaponry. There was a time before this one when men and women resolved conflicts without bloodshed, where humans lived in harmony with animals and plants. On that granite and basalt island in the Mediterranean, I beheld a four- thousand- year-old olive tree whose limbs embraced the sky, whose thick roots burrowed into the deep belly of the Mother and I remembered that there was a time, before dogma reigned, when Spirit was not separate from Body, when eyes shone with certainty and ears rang with sustaining lore. Rippling streams coursed through the parched land, giving sustenance. The waters of the turquoise sea lapped the shoreline, caressing beaches under the push and pull of the moon tide. Stones spoke to the wind, the sea, and to every willing listener. In Sardegna, beneath layers of sediment, eons of submission, the stony lips of ruins loosened, howling their stories among the tasseled grasses. Slowly, steadily, memories erupted with insistent defiance. Once, long, long ago, we humans could read the stars and portent the future. Once, long, long ago, we could witness the seasons, accept our place within the larger, all-encompassing circle, and reflect the Divine back to our receptive faces. Something deeper resides beneath the silence and the half-truths we contemporary humans tell ourselves, seeking to comfort our overwhelming sense of powerlessness, our disconnection from self and others. That’s the way it’s always been, we lie. People are violent by nature, we fool ourselves, hoping to feel less burdened by the responsibility to change our lives. Knowing better, our hearts shudder: how can this be true? Conflict is part of life, of course, for human harmony does not preclude disagreement or the need for mediation. But war and its twin, the violent subjugation of other peoples, is the anomaly—not peace. Violence is the mutant strain, the dismembered spirit. Peace is our birthright, our better choice. Peace begets transformation and transformation is the desire of each and every soul. Under the Sardegna sun, on a cloudless day, I sat among the ruins and listened to the songs of stones, the stories of poppies, those blood red tongues of memory. I know in my bones that there is hope for the human race. The ruins ask us to embrace the mystery, seek a different way, remember a time …
(Poem & Photography) Inspiration is Always Present by Sara Wright

Copyrighted by Sara Wright I walk with care clearing paths iced over lead feet dragging a broken foot my companion Listen to first spring bird song – chickadees and doves! January thaw a steel fixture punctuated by frozen slippery hell – Temperatures soar and dip swelling wild waves – Soul stay attached to body Be Octopus* Sensing feeling tasting her way befriending the Other – Keep a keen eye on shifts one is coming perhaps relief from nightmares too. I look to rushing brook for inspiration natural joy open waters flowing stone sooth muscles loosens old bones. Rigidity will not do! See the Hemlock bent so low She won’t break My Talisman As mystic she reminds me Endurance Is All. *There is a moving documentary that I have watched a number of times called: “My Octopus Teacher” about a man who befriends an octopus who in turn becomes attached to him… A naturalist who is thrilled by the wonder of his experience with this animal he remains stuck in the colonized western thought process. “An octopus shouldn’t be this intelligent” he states after saying that 2/3rds of the octopus brain is in its tentacles, only a 1/3 in actual brain – here we see the colonization. Humans are STUCK on brains and measure every other species by brain capacity – refusing to acknowledge that many creatures don’t even have brains and yet they do fantastically intelligent things – if we have brains – brain and body create intelligence as a whole. BODY carries everything intellect does not – inner knowing – intuition – feeling – sensing – experiencing ALL WAYS OF KNOWING THAT COMPLIMENT THE BRAIN IF THERE IS ONE – Materialistic science calls befriending ‘ lower animals’ nonsense – informs me that receiving communication from a tree or dog or fern is just fantasy – when I am using ALL MY DESNES TO DISCERN WHEN OTHERS DO NOT… IF CREATURES HAVE BRAINS IN THEIR SKULLS FINE – IF THEY ARE LIKE THE OCTUPUS THEIR BRAINS ARE IN THEIR TENTACLES. I use my brain and all my senses…This man falls in love with his octopus but doesn’t acknowledge it beyond saying he feels wonder and grief… This film could show us other ways of seeing if we would just allow ourselves to move beyond the stupid brain box we are stuck in Not all species are interested in technology – humans are – that’s fine – we have created marvels but just because animals choose NOT to doesn’t make them less intelligent… human have brought the earth into crisis – not the rest of nature – does this give us a hint? https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright/
(Prose) The texture of your life by Nane Jordan

What is the texture of your life? Text-ure – from the root “text” with the -urrrreeeeeee. Texture is a feeling, in fingers touching fabric, rubbing to discern the sensation of crisp, soft, bristly, wrinkled, or firm. The texture of our lives is not something we work towards, or even earn. It’s not a goal, or a choice we make. It’s not owning a house, getting the right or wrong job, being in love, or being very, very, ill. Falling asleep last night I felt it, the texture of my life. Lying content in my own bed, at home at last, gazing at the dimming summer light through our window curtains, I was enjoying this stillness at the end of the day. And there (and then) it was, my texture, flowing out in all directions. There was/is peace in this sensing. Words miss what it is to sense one’s texture. Like a quilt or patterned design, I could see/feel all my various elements at work, a choreography of people, relations, places and time. Those I was born into, those I have given birth to. Those I love and have loved. Tragedies and triumphs are all equal in texture, it’s all part of the feel of the fabric. There is no judgement in texture. Texture might include my sense of going to Paris, or my simple gratitude of living in this East Vancouver neighbourhood. It’s made of all that, but it’s not about that exactly. Texture arises of its own accord. In texture, there is no worrying, manipulating, or making of circumstances and events, or feeling in the ways we might habitually feel about others in our lives. One simply rests in texture, recognizing it all, including the self you were meant to be-come in relation to all those selves around you, without having to pursue anything about this. Maybe it’s the passage of time that brings forward our textures. Is it a middle-age thing to know? In shedding form, we more and more recognize form. Texture is the ALL-ness of life, the good, the bad, the happy, the sad, the mediocre, the just-as-it-is. We don’t make it, yet we very much are it. It’s there in the weaving of life’s threads. One senses who one is, who is around us, the forces of what and who forms and gives us our particular shape, just as we form and give shape. And it is all good, good in the sensing of it all. https://www.magoism.net/2014/03/meet-mago-contributor-nane-jordan/ (Meet Mago Contributor) Nane Jordan.
(Photo Essay 10) Goddess Pilgrimage 2018

[Author’s Note: In May 2018, I set out on a 3 month pilgrimage to Greece, Turkey and the prehistory sites of “Old Europe”. Once again my main focus was “visiting with the Grandmothers”.] As well as visiting with the Grandmothers in museums, I visited archaeological sites in Anatolia and Bulgaria where many of the Grandmother figures have been found. Göbekli Tepe, Şanlıurfa, Anatolia (Turkey). The archeological site of Göbekli Tepe is a tell (hill) on a plateau in southeastern Anatolia. Surface surveys have found many other hills with T-shaped stone pillars in the surrounding area. The road to Göbekli Tepe Göbekli Tepe dates back to the earliest Neolithic, with radiocarbon dating at 9000 BCE, and there are indications that the tell may have been used as a sacred site around 11,000 BCE or earlier. The patriarchal his-story of progressive masculine evolution says that the T-shaped pillars predate pottery, metallurgy, and the invention of writing or the wheel. In other words, so far there have been no discoveries of these things predating the Göbekli Tepe site. It does not, however, mean that they did not exist – absence of proof is not proof of absence. One of the circles of t-shaped pillars with what may be a processional way around the circle According to his-story, the Göbekli Tepe temples were built before the “Neolithic Revolution”, the apparent beginning of agriculture around 9000 BCE. Prior to excavations at Göbekli Tepe, it was assumed that temples followed on from agriculture and settlements; what Göbekli Tepe indicates is that the construction of these temples was not dependent on sedentary settlement. Evidence from Australian indigenous culture is that so-called “hunter-gatherers” were cultivating food crops and managing the landscape in sustainable ways for thousands of millennia [Bill Gammage, 2013. The Biggest Estate on Earth: How Aborigines made Australia]. This challenges ideas of progressive development from “primitive” to “civilised”. As Marija Gimbutas said: “With weapons, with hill forts, with war. That is a civilisation? Only then we call it a civilisation [chuckle] – when weapons were used. But if there was beautiful art and another type of social structure, then it was not a civilisation.” [“The Language of the Goddess”, a conversation with James Powell. http://thebestofhabibi.com/4-vol-12-no-4-fall-1993/marija-gimbutas/] Figurine from Göbekli Tepe – Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, Ankara. Figures from Göbekli Tepe. The small figure at bottom left is a woman with a baby on her back (see illustration on the right). Şanliurfa Archaeology Museum. It has been suggested that the images of flowing water and serpents carved on pillars at Göbekli Tepe may represent the flowing blood of menstruation. Göbekli Tepe pillar with multiple serpents “A word should be said about the many references to water by the ancient cultures. In the Popul Vuh it is stated that ‘… Water was their blood. It became the blood of humanity’. This equation of water to blood may also have been in reference to the water of the Female-earth and the references to her flowing streams (the multiple Serpents) and may have been a metaphor for menstruation. Seasonal rain water flowing down the side of the Gobekli Tepe hillside and filling the cisterns may have been, metaphorically, conceived as the Female-earth’s periodic menstruation.” [Cliff Richey: Gobekli Tepe” The Navel, The Center of the Earth.” https://www.academia.edu/35934540/Gobekli_Tepe_The_Navel_The_Center_of_the_Earth] Meet Mago Contributor KAALII CARGILL
(Art) The Empty Womb by Liz Darling

The experience of becoming a mother transformed the way I view the female body and the creation of life. Inspired by performing in Eve Ensler’s “The Vagina Monologues,” I use the vulva as a symbol of female power. This work reflects my disgust with the Christian Church’s role in male-dominated societies. Patriarchal religion has relegated women to inferior, subservient roles both in worship and domestic settings. Due to the vast influence of Abrahamic faiths, this damage to women extends beyond communities of worship and pervades secular society. I was raised in Christianity, and although I am now agnostic, I have been profoundly influenced by Christian ideas and teachings, both positive and negative. I juxtaposed vulvas with the traditional style of religious iconography to connect the spiritual and visceral aspects of my experience as a woman as well as provoke thought about how Christianity has been used to dominate and marginalize women for centuries. Regardless of personal belief, acknowledging the divine in female form has potential for profoundly affecting social change and empowering women and girls to view their lives as sacred and significant. (Meet Mago Contributor) Liz Darling.
(Book Review) Barbara Robidoux’s The Storm Left No Flowers by Sara Wright

When “The Storm Left No Flowers” During the last year I have been struggling with the catastrophic effects of Climate Change like never before as I witness the continuation of a drought that is withering plants, starving tree roots, shriveling our wildflowers and wild grasses, leaving our mountains barren of snow, and changing the face of the high desert for the foreseeable future. With forest fires leaving me literally breathless from plumes of thick smoke that turn the sun into a ball of orange flames at dawn, unable to cope with 100 plus degree heat, my body forces me to surrender: I will not be able to make my permanent home here. Instead I will migrate like the birds do – from south to north and back again. Coming to terms with the ravages of Climate Change brought me to my knees; it has been one of the most difficult adjustments I have ever had to make. I mourn the death of the trees, plants, the loss of precious frogs and toads, insects, birds, lizards – every plant and creature is under attack and few of us can thrive (let alone survive) in such an unforgiving climate. By far the worst manifestation of desert drought is painfully obvious – the astonishing lack of rain (In my front yard here in Abiquiu, New Mexico I measured three inches of rain for the entire year of 2018). Red Willow River has shrunk into stone. Almost never having the luxury of smelling the unbearably sweet scent of rain, gazing at scrub that glows sage green after being bathed by the Cloud People, or just listening to the healing sound of a precious deluge as it soaks into parched ground creates a longing in me that runs deeper than the deepest underground river. I know now that I had to come to the desert to face what is. To paraphrase poet and writer Barbara Ribidoux ‘the world as we know it is broken.’ When I read this little book of poems with which I am now in intimate relationship with, I know there is another Indigenous woman out there that is living with what is. Barbara’s words bring me hope – not hope that all will be well – but hope in the sense that I am not alone in either my grief – or in my belief that I must take refuge in the present in order to survive this holocaust. What ‘taking refuge’ means to me is to be strong enough to stay with what is and to find joy in each moment spent appreciating each bird or tree that still lives on this precious blue – green planet that is also my home. Barbara reminds me “ the elements of earth, wind, fire and water all contribute to an ever shifting landscape that displays tremendous beauty (italics are mine) in these changing times.” I think of her as I begin each day watching the sky turn golden or crimson in the pre –dawn hours as I kneel before my wood stove giving thanks for warmth, and the gift of one more precious chance to feel Life and Love in motion. The bittersweet orange wings of Flicker in flight evokes a gasp of wonder. Barbara also notes that this is a confusing time for some bringing me closer to accepting that many simply don’t see. “Fire and Water rage. Murderous storms kill thousands. With every massive earthquake the earth changes the tilt on her axis.” Barbara also tells stories that might speak to a future as yet unknown (excerpt from Out of the Ashes): Tonight the crescent moon holds water, refuses to release rain on this dry town. The old ones tell stories in time the earth will dry fires will transform the land. Out of the ashes we will live again… “The Storm Left No Flowers” is an unforgettable book of poems that will accompany me on the journey through these last years of my life, bringing me comfort and joy, assuaging loneliness, reminding me that living in the truth of what is can be endured with integrity, dignity, and honor. I encourage anyone who loves this Earth, who grieves her losses, who fears for an incomprehensible future to be-friend this collection of poems that speak in tongues of flame, grace, and splendor. Barbara Robidoux’s book can be ordered from Amazon. (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.
(Poem) This Time by Melissa La Flamme

“To passively accept an unjust system is to cooperate with that system, and thereby to become a participant in its evil.” —Martin Luther King This time, we resist the reflex to normalize what dehumanizes, corrupts the core of the soul of a nation in distress.
(Essay) Deeper Down Under: and Moonwalking on Uluru, by Taffy (Robert) Seaborne

This essay was originally written by the author in Spring of 2006, and was published in Gaian Voices Volume 4, Number 3 & 4 Uluru Kata Tjuta National Park is a World Heritage Area listed for both its natural and cultural values, yet many living outside Australia still only know it by its European name – Ayers Rock. Here, even during a brief stay of only a few days, visitors can and do experience a profound sense of being in a sacred place. For the Anangu, traditional owners of Uluru, and for others who are fortunate enough to live in its presence, and who choose to dwell there in a receptive manner, it can be a place for deepening awareness of the manta – the Earth, as sacred.

(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.
(Special Post 2) "The Oldest Cilivization" and its Agendas by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: The following discussion took place in response to an article listed blow by the members of The Mago Cirlce, Facebook group of Goddessians/Magoists from May 6 to May 10, 2016. Readers are recommended to read the original article linked below that has invoked the converation.] “The Danube Civilization: Oldest in the World” in The Ancient Ones upon the ruins of our ancestors, published April 3, 2016.
(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.

Samhain: Stepping Wisely through the Open Door by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Day of the Dead altar, via Wikimedia Commons According to Celtic tradition, on Samhain (October 31 for those in the north and April 30 for those in the south) the doors between the human and spirit worlds open. Faeries, demons, and spirits of the dead pour out of the Otherworld to walk the Earth. In the past, some would try to hurry ghosts past their houses or ward off evil spirits by setting jack o’lanterns in their windows. They avoided going outside, especially past cemeteries, lest they be snatched away to the Otherworld. In ancient times, some offered sacrifices to propitiate deities. However, others have invited in the souls of friends and family who have passed away. In Brittany, according to W.Y. Evans-Wentz’s Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries, people would provide “a feast and entertainment for them of curded-milk, hot pancakes, and cider, served on the family table covered with a fresh white tablecloth, and to supply music” which “the dead come to enjoy with their friends” (p. 218). Other cultures also have such welcoming traditions. In Korea, as so beautifully described by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang in her posts about her family’s mourning for her father (Part I and Part II), in Mexico on the Day of the Dead, and elsewhere, food and flowers are brought to cemeteries to honor those no longer in the realm of the living. Many of us live in a society where death is pushed out of sight and Samhain’s sacred traditions have devolved into Halloween, a commercialized children’s holiday. Still, it seems to me that the pandemic, climate catastrophes, and war have made death much more present in our everyday thoughts over the past couple of years than before, so perhaps this year’s Samhain offers us the opportunity to re-examine Celtic and other practices of the past and present to see what insights and meaning they may have for us. Jack o lanterns: By Mihaela Bodlovic, via Wikimedia Commons All these ancient practices respect the spirit world and its power. Whether you believe that the Otherworld can wreak havoc on us at Samhain or not, the realm where spirits dwell clearly has power. Its allure can take us away from focusing on mundane, daily challenges or, more positively, open our eyes to the value of relating to forces that can give richness and meaning to our lives. At the same time, we must remember that each domain has its own power. We can use our physical bodies in beneficial ways that those in the Otherworld cannot. We must respect the power of the Otherworld as well as our own. Some kinds of healing are only possible when we welcome those from the Otherworld into our lives in a healthy way, whether through holiday visits or every day through remembrance, meditation, prayer, or other means. I’m of an age when many of my beloveds are in the Otherworld and so I am beginning to find that the idea of being able to sit with someone I have lost is cause not for fear, but rather joy and comfort. Perhaps those who have longstanding wounds from the past can heal by remembering those we have lost at Samhain and forgiving them or ourselves or realizing that we are no longer bound to those who have hurt us and are now gone. Samhain can also reassure us of the truth of our intuitive sense that our beloveds who we grieve are with us still, in some way, on this night and throughout the year. When we participate in the celebration of Samhain’s opening of doors to the Otherworld, if only for a day, we are honoring our own participation into the great cycle of life, death, and rebirth. We are expanding our vision of ourselves to be more than our bodies on the Earth and experiencing ourselves as connected to many realms, seen and unseen, spirit and human. We are accepting that at some time we will also become ancestors, with all the responsibility that entails and the fulfillment of taking our place in the complex matrix of being that is our universe. When we interact with the souls of those we have lost in ways that are healthy for us, however we may choose and believe that happens, we can also better celebrate the realm of the living. Just as we may listen in various ways for positive messages from those whom we have lost, we can ensure that we are expressing important guidance to those who will come after us by who we are and how we live our lives. We can express that life is worth living, even with all its traumas, and that we respect both the boundaries and the doors between the worlds so that we may continue living fully in our physical bodies on our beautiful, awe-inspiring Earth. I hope my message to my descendants will be: Love your lives. Build on what we have done and do better. Leave behind what we left you that no longer serves. If you feel alone, remember that you have thousands of generations of mothers sending you unconditional love and also generations of women coming after you eager to pick up where you left off. According to Mary Condren in The Serpent and the Goddess, in the most ancient times, “Samhain had been primarily a harvest feast celebrating the successful growth and gathering of the fruits of the past year” (p. 36). While we in the north are coming into the season of death, those in the south are experiencing Beltane, the first moments of spring when the doors between the worlds are also open. The eternal cycle of life, death, and regeneration turns again. Whether you are celebrating Samhain or Beltane, know that this holy time offers us all a chance to enter into the task of maintaining harmony with those we have loved before and for bringing balance between life and death, winter and summer, and the realm of the living and …
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) 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.
(Music) Songs for Samhain by Alison Newvine

The season of Samhain is upon us. This playlist is an offering for this descent into the sacred darkness, and a companion for the journey into the underworld. Invocation of Witches features music by Loreena McKennitt, Marya Stark, Inkubus Sukubus, Wendy Rule, my band Spiral Muse, and many others. It is a soundtrack for ceremony and each song expresses a different face of the spirit of the witch. May this Samhain season guide you gently into the dissolution of what no longer serves, the honoring of what is complete and the cultivation of the inner space that will gestate what is yet to come. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2CFNoH9exhloz3w95P3Rlb?si=270cf01fabb8421c https://www.magoism.net/2023/10/meet-mago-contributor-alison-newvine/
Artful Ceremonial Expression by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

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

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVRoK2XNeqw The purpose of the video is for ceremony and I suggest pausing the video where it suits you, to add your own processing, embellishments and/or your own drum, percussion and voice wherever you please. I have made short spaces in the video where it could be paused. For more full participation in the ceremony, you could have some past photos of yourself, an altar with ancestor photos, a gingerbread snake, some apples sliced up, and some apple juice. The script for this Samhain ceremony is offered in Chapter 4 of my book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony, with all acknowledgements and references there. However I want to acknowledge here the inspiration and some text of Robin Morgan’s poem “The Network of the Imaginary Mother” in her book Lady of the Beasts, for which I was given permission in my book. I also acknowledge here the paraphrase of some words by Starhawk in her book The Spiral Dance, used in the rite of Sailing to a New World. I also use a line from the poem Song of Hecate by Bridget McKern. The elements of Water, Fire, Earth and Air on the altar in this video are placed in directions that are appropriate to my region in the Southern Hemisphere, and East Coast Australia: you may place yours differently, and transliterate when I mention the direction (which I do minimally). For the rite of the Transformation Journey (remembering old selves) I use an adaptation of a children’s game “In and Out the Windows”, where each participant travels in and out of upraised and linked arms of the circle, and when ‘in’ may speak and /or show photos of themselves from the past. Some may choose to remember any self from the entire evolutionary story, with whom they would like to identify. The game seems appropriate to what each being does existentially in so many ways, over the eons as well as in our personal lives. The chant can be found on YouTube. The photos used are a collage of footage and photos from the 2024 Samhain ceremony at my place in Wakka Wakka country, South East Queensland Australia, and from previous Samhain ceremonies I facilitated over the decades in MoonCourt, Goddess ceremonial space in NSW Australia, Darug and Gundungurra country. Music credit: All music used in this video is by Tim Wheater, which has previously generously allowed me to use in my work. The pieces used are from Tim’s CD Fish Nite Moon: they are Ancient Footsteps, Fish Nite Moon, Spiritbirth, and Conception. I thank my partner Robert (Taffy) Seaborne for his participation in the creation of the video.

(Book Excerpt 5) The Mago Way by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

[Author’s Note] The following is from Chapter One, “What Is Mago and Magoism and How Did I Study HER?” from The Mago Way: Re-discovering Mago, the Great Goddess from East Asia, Volume 1. Footnotes below would be different from the monograph version. PDF book of The Mago Way Volume 1 download is available for free here.] How My Education and Experience Helped Me Study Mago The topic of Mago came to me in time for writing my doctoral dissertation for the Women’s Studies in Religion program that I was enrolled in at Claremont Graduate University. My graduate education, which I crafted to be a feminist cross-cultural alchemical process of de-educating myself from the patriarchal mode of knowledge-making, led me to encounter the hitherto unheard-of Goddess of East Asia, Mago. I came to read the Budoji, the principal text of Magoism, in 2000 and did some basic research to find out that Mago was known among people in Korea and that S/HE was also found in Chinese and Japanese sources.
(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.
(Italian language essay) Corea: la Musica cosmica di Mago by Luciana Percovich

[Author’s note: From Colei che dà la vita. Colei che dà la forma. Miti di creazione femminili, Venexia, Roma, Italia, 2009] Capitolo 3 Corea: la Musica cosmica di Mago Mago Nell’Età del Primo Cielo, esistevano solo la luce del sole e l’acqua. Quando Ryoe Ryul (la Musica cosmica armonizzata) risuonò più volte, emersero le stelle. Da Pal Ryoe (la Musica cosmica otto volte avvolta), si generarono Mago e il paradiso di Mago (Mago Sung). Fu un evento che ebbe luogo nell’Età Cosmica di Mezzo chiamata Jim Se (il Suo/Loro mondo). Mago preparò l’età che si chiama Ultimo Cielo. Mago non provava sentimenti né di piacere né di dolore. Nell’Età del Primo Cielo la grande cittadella di Mago stava sopra il SilDal (la Terra reale) e vicina all’HeoDal (la Terra ideale). Anche queste erano emerse dalla musica. Quando il Jim Se ebbe compiuto i suoi cicli per molto tempo, prima dell’Ultimo Cielo (il Nostro/Questo mondo), Mago generò da sola due figlie, Kung Hee (volta) e So Hee (nido) e affidò loro l’Oem Chil Jo (le cinque note e i sette toni). E mentre praticavano l’arte di vivere, dalla terra sgorgava il latte; Kung Hee e So Hee generarono ciascuna due figlie e due figli. In seguito, Mago affidò Ryoe (la Musica cosmica femminile) alle quattro nipoti femmine e Ryul (la Musica cosmica maschile) ai quattro nipoti maschi. Il paradiso di Mago, Mago Sung (la cittadella di Mago), che onorava l’Emblema celeste, seguì al Primo Cielo. Le quattro coppie, chiamate Hwang Gung (volta gialla), Baek So (nido bianco), Chun Gung (volta azzurra) e Heuk So (nido nero) furono posizionate ai quattro angoli della città. Ed esse costruirono i tubi (flauti) e composero musica. Il ciclo dell’Ultimo Cielo si srotolava. Ryul e Ryoe tornavano a risuonare. Si formò Hyang Sang (la rappresentazione dell’eco), suoni e musica si mescolavano. Mago tirò la grande cittadella di SilDal e la immerse nella regione dell’Acqua celeste. L’energia del SilDal salì e coprì la nuvola d’acqua. Quando il corpo del SilDal si espanse, comparve la terra in mezzo all’acqua. Terra e acqua stavano parallele, sorsero le montagne e le correnti si allungarono. La regione dell’Acqua celeste divenne terra e le due nuove regioni di acqua e terra ruotarono ripetutamente, finché il sopra e il sotto si rovesciarono. Da qui iniziarono numeri e calendario. Energia, fuoco, acqua e terra si generavano, mescolavano e equilibravano in mutua relazione. Da quel momento la luce separò il giorno dalla notte e le quattro stagioni. Piante e animali crescevano in abbondanza. C’era tanto lavoro da fare sulla terra… Poiché non c’erano altri se non i quattro uomini e le quattro donne celesti che amministravano la musica originale e la rappresentazione dell’eco, le cose apparivano e sparivano rapidamente senza tenersi in equilibrio. Mago allora mostrò loro come procreare dalle ascelle. Fu allora che i quattro uomini celesti si unirono alle quattro donne celesti. E ciascuna generò tre figlie e tre figli: gli antenati umani che apparvero per la prima volta sulla terra. Tutti gli abitanti di Mago Sung avevano disposizioni di cuore e di mente pure e sincere e conoscevano l’armonia. Bevevano il latte che sgorgava dalla terra e il loro sangue era energia pura. Avevano oro nelle orecchie e sentivano la musica celeste. Correvano e camminavano a loro piacere, erano liberi nei movimenti. Alla fine della loro vita, diventavano polvere dorata. L’essenza dei loro corpi si conservava. Con l’hon (spirito dell’aria) risvegliato, sapevano parlare senza voce e muovendo il baek (spirito del corpo) sapevano agire senza forme. Vivevano sparsi tra le energie della terra e la lunghezza delle loro esistenze era infinita… Quando ogni clan raggiunse il numero di 3000 … Ji So (nido di ramo), del clan dei Baek So (nido bianco), non riuscì più a bere il latte della terra. La sorgente del latte era così piccola e affollata che Ji So perse il suo turno più volte. Così Ji So per la fame assaggiò l’uva e invitò altri a farlo e fu così che un gruppo fu mosso a provare questa nuova esperienza… Il loro sangue e il loro corpo cominciarono a diventare torbidi, crebbero loro i denti, gli si aprirono gli occhi … stavano perdendo la loro natura celeste. Cominciarono a morire e la morte non fece più parte della vita. Nacquero creature bestiali. L’ordinato calendario cadde nel disordine. La comunità si divise e quelli che mangiavano l’uva lasciarono Mago Sung con vergogna, disperdendosi in luoghi diversi … . Fu allora che Mago chiuse i cancelli e ritirò le nuvole attraverso cui la gente poteva restare in sintonia con la Musica cosmica.