June 4, 2020June 4, 2020 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poetry) Talk with peasants by Maya Daniel

When today’s march ends by sunsetAnd the night’s doors start to openYou stretch your weary feetWhat words can you say and write tonightThan wishing a good meal On the peasant’s bamboo Read More …

February 20, 2020February 20, 2020 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poetry) woman by Maya Daniel

she went through them–twisting her spine, bleedingand the baby’s cry is getting louderher journey has come to thisshe’s awake and the wilds followed herthe seed grows on her handshe is Read More …

September 19, 2019October 2, 2019 Kaalii CargillLeave a comment

(Goddess Writing 2) Notes by Kaalii Cargill

Excerpt from my speculative/historical novel Daughters of Time https://www.amazon.com/Daughters-Time-Kaalii-Cargill/dp/1482616971 . . .Haleli frowned. “There is more to this than you know. The prophecy is a warning. Global warming, degradation of Read More …

August 29, 2019October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poetry) Provincial Capitol Grounds (Iloilo City) by Maya Daniel

In summers, or in rainy season, Anytime of red letter daysYour air holds the people’s cries of mass protestsHow many decibels of voices can your air fairly absorb?And your streets carry Read More …

April 17, 2019November 9, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Essay 2) A Mixteca Woman Saving the Lives of First Peoples in the Autonomous Territory of San Juan Copalá, Oaxaca, Mexico by Swami Pujananda Saraswati

[Author’s Note: Initially submitted in 2012, as part of the course material for the Master’s Program in Women’s Spirituality at the California Institute of Integral Studies. At the time of Read More …

March 12, 2019November 9, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Essay 1) A Mixteca Woman Saving the Lives of First Peoples in the Autonomous Territory of San Juan Copalá, Oaxaca, Mexico by Swami Pujananda Saraswati

February 22, 2019October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poetry) package of bones by Maya Daniel

this poor community has a nightmare from the sounds of guns and dying voice in pain, right the corners of defenseless homes,squatters areas, they call, with watery alleys towards a dead end, so Read More …

January 25, 2019October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poetry) rising like freedom birds by Maya Daniel

a new plane in the wildernesswhere trees hold the rocks and the social terrain holds the red armywe trace the stories of the pastalmost forgotten, but we have to know in part, Read More …

June 24, 2016October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Art) India Oaxaqueña by Ramón Cano Manilla

Painting by Ramón Cano Manilla (1888-1974). This work is dated 1928, and is held in the Museo Nacional de Arte, Mexico. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike Read More …

(Essay 2) The Giant Huwawa by Hearth Moon Rising

This essay can be read on its own, or first part is here. Gilgamesh’s assault on the forest giant Huwawa has several written forms. The later Akkadian version is most widely known, as it forms part of the much longer Epic of Gilgamesh. There are other extant versions in the earlier Sumerian, however. They are part of a collection of stories about Gilgamesh and his servant Enkidu that emerged at the beginning of written narrative poetry, sometime before 2000 B.C.E. Gilgamesh was king of Sumer (now southern Iraq) around 2700 B.C.E. Dead kings of this period had ritual cults, and there were special hymns to Gilgamesh recorded in the centuries after his death. The Sumerian Gilgamesh stories as a whole are not integrated, but they have some repetitive themes. These include heroic impulses, apprehension of death, and appreciation of wilderness. Sumerians were justly proud of their wealthy cities, yet there is a strain of recognition in even the earliest stories that something has been sacrificed in the pursuit of civilization. Slaying of Huwawa. Photo: Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin. In the longest Sumerian version of “Gilgamesh and Huwawa,” our hero, like generations of Kilroys to follow, feels inspired to put his name on a faraway place. He will make his mark on the Land of the Living One’s Mountain, also called the Cedar Forest, through an expedition. The sun god Utu (Shamash in Akkadian) does not think much of this plan. He chides Gilgamesh to remember that he has a prominent place in his city of Uruk but is a nobody in the Cedar Forest. Gilgamesh responds by whining that he has seen men die and knows he cannot escape death. Can’t he just have this one thing? In Akkadian and Sumerian texts, Gilgamesh does a lot of whining, and his favorite thing to whine about is the inevitability of his distant death. While most of his countrymen are resigned to an eventual one-way journey to the world below (just not today, please!), Gilgamesh is a farseeing man. Utu takes pity on his tears and grants Gilgamesh his blessing, which includes seven divine warriors to accompany him and his servant Enkidu to the Cedar Forest. These are believed by scholars to be constellations used for navigation and protection. Gilgamesh appeals for volunteers in his quest, and fifty young men from Uruk form a regiment. The party encounters a variety of hardwood trees (translations vary), which are cut down by and for the fifty men. Gilgamesh has his own heart set on a cedar of magnificent quality, and the group passes through six cedar ranges before Gilgamesh finds an acceptable tree at the seventh. So far, the biggest danger on this trip is getting hit by a tree branch or taking the wrong road. That changes when the chosen cedar hits the dirt. Huwawa, guardian of the Cedar Forest, is now alerted, and he is incensed. Text of the story. Photo: Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin. Huwawa is one scary dude. He has the face of a lion, with dragon teeth, and a forehead of fire. He rushes at his prey with a wide chest, and his tongue is never sated with blood. Moreover, he is protected with seven “divine radiances” that he hurls at his foes. The first of the radiances sends Gilgamesh into a stupor. Enkidu shakes him awake, crying that it’s time to retreat, but Gilgamesh’s fears seem to desert him at curious times. He insists that the two of them can beat the giant. Gilgamesh’s tactic for conquering Huwawa is variously called “trickery” or “cunning,” but a more accurate word would be “lying.” He bends over and puts his hands on the ground to appear less threatening, then tells Huwawa that in exchange for one of the radiances, he will give the giant his oldest sister in marriage. (What?!! you say. Calm down, he doesn’t mean it.) Huwawa accepts the offer and relinquishes his first line of defense. These radiances of Huwawa’s are rather mysterious. They are also translated as “defensive auras.” They seem to be some kind of a psychic shield, but when surrendered they are trimmed and stacked as if they are trees. One by one Huwawa relinquishes one of his defenses in exchange for (the promise of) a present: another sister, food, shoes, precious stones. When all seven radiances have been surrendered, Gilgamesh and Enkidu win the battle with Huwawa. Gilgamesh almost succumbs to pity as Huwawa pleads for his life. The giant appeals to Utu and to Gilgamesh himself, bemoaning the treachery that seduced him. Gilgamesh contemplates freeing the now helpless giant, but Enkidu will not hear of it, arguing that, once free, Huwawa will seek revenge and Gilgamesh will not return home alive. As in the later epic, Huwawa curses Enkidu as Enkidu cuts off his head. Huwawa. Photo: Osama Shukir Muhammad Amin The two take the head back to Sumer, to the city of Nippur, to the temple of the divine couple Enlil and Ninlil. They present the head of Huwawa as an offering, but the god Enlil is incensed. He berates Gilgamesh for killing Huwawa, exclaiming that the giant should have been treated with respect and offered good food and water. Enlil takes the seven radiances and distributes them to the fields, rivers, thickets, lions, forests, temples, and the underworld goddess Nungal. Radiances still remain, and these Enlil keeps for himself. The tale ends with the standard lines of praise, in this case to Gilgamesh and the writing goddess Nissaba. The Sumerian versions differ from the standard Akkadian Epic in several ways, aside from the obvious fact that they are not excerpts from a longer narrative. Gilgamesh sets out to obtain a prize cedar tree, and the killing of Huwawa is incidental to that objective. Taking the cedar is an appropriation on Gilgamesh’s part, as the god Utu reminds him at the outset. Invading the forest and stealing the forbidden tree precipitates the killing of Huwawa. It’s interesting that this is …
(Photo Essay 4) ‘Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess of Korea’ by Helen Hwang

Part IV: Revival of the Gurang (Nine Maidens) Gaeyang Halmi There is more to reveal. As I write this part of the photo essay, I have encountered new information, previously made available online by individuals and organizations. It is reported that the “Suseong-dang” (水聖堂, Sea Saint Shrine) was once called the “Gurang-sa” (九娘祠, Nine Maidens Shine), of which I never heard before.[i] That Suseong-dang is a fake name blew my mind! Note the difference of gender between “the Nine Maidens Shrine” and “the Sea Saint Shrine”! The female-connoted term was stolen just like that! “Gurang-sa,” a female-referenced term as the character “rang” means a maiden, had to go due to its overt female representation. It is not without grounds that I was taken aback to see its present logography, “the Sea Saint Shrine,” on the information board.[ii] I almost heard a voice warning me, “This is not the place that you think it is!” That voice attempted to force me to leave the place without further investigation. However, I intuitively took a mental note, “Something is not correct here.” And I was right! Its name change sheds a consistent light on the meddling of patriarchal distortion/deception done to the tradition of Gaeyang Halmi. Readers are reminded of the lost painting of Gaeyang Halmi, which was replaced by that of the Sea God explicated in Part 2 of this photo essay (also Part 3). Like “the Sea God,” “the Suseong-dang” constitutes no reality. It is not only a conceptual deception but also a theft of the intangible cultural heritage, righteously committed by faceless patriarchal men disappeared into the lapse of time. It is clear that systematic erasure of the Female/Goddess has been in operation. Female power embodied whether in the name of the shrine or in the iconography was stripped away. However, it is proven once again that the Female is immortal because it constitutes the root of patriarchy. People smuggled the forbidden knowledge of the Female to later generations through oral stories. Thus, we find the folklore of the Female subversive.
(Poetry) Peace in Connection by Belinda Subraman

Memories like bullets lifeless until held or loaded… The wind comes around again magnified from different angles. Crystals are in the net, an elephant in the room. A gun reaper steals joy. But it waits by a stream in the woods where a voice in the wind sways the trees, where harmony hums through feet on the ground, arms swaying overhead with infinite connection and awe… where a voice in the wind sways the trees. Meet mago contributor Belinda Subraman
(Book Excerpt 3) Re-Membering with Goddess: Healing the Patriarchal Perpetuation of Trauma by Trista Hendren

https://thegirlgod.com/re-membering.php Surviving “Traumarchy” Sharon Smith I grew up traumatized by Patriarchy. I didn’t know it at the time, but now I can see clearly the negative effects this androcentric Dominator System had on my body, my mind, and my soul as a girl growing into womanhood during the ‘60s and ‘70s. My first experience was physical abuse at the hands of my mother who had been, herself, the victim of child abuse perpetrated by her own mother who told her (as she beat her), “Girls are no goddamned good! Only boys are good!” She was the only daughter in a family of eight children. And she was the only one who ever got beaten. This abusive domination of my mother undoubtedly traumatized her. But it was also an early and destructive imprint upon her “love map,” and it dictated what kind of mother she would be to her own daughter. And then I was born, the second child and only girl of three children. The first beating I recall was when I was still in a highchair. I remember this event clearly. Pain has a way of etching itself upon body and mind. My mom had sat me in the highchair and given me a bowl of jello. I was expecting the little wiggly cubes she usually cut it into, but this time she had whipped the dessert into a frothy substance that I didn’t recognize. So, I pushed it away to let her know I didn’t want it. Unfortunately, I pushed the bowl a little too hard and it went crashing to the floor, spilling the frothy jello all over the linoleum. My mom was furious! She got one of dad’s belts, and then she grabbed me by the arms and yanked me out of the highchair. She lashed the belt across my back and buttocks hard… with the buckle end. I remember screaming in pain. But she kept on whipping me till my body shook. Finally, when she stopped, the pain had spread itself into a total body numbness. That was my first memory of dissociating from my body. My mom apparently had internalized the patriarchal belief that “girls are no goddamned good; only boys are good” which had been beaten into her. And she taught me in return. “Traumarchy”—that’s a word coined by Meera Atkinson, author of the book, Traumata. She describes it thus: “the way patriarchy perpetuates trauma, making it ‘inherently traumatic’ and giving rise to a multitude of sufferings and strife.” My life has been a struggle to overcome traumarchy in more than just physical abuse. At age three I also suffered child sexual abuse at the hands of an uncle, who digitally raped me… and then threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I was so frightened that I began to cocoon myself under the covers in my bed each night, thinking I’d be “hidden and safe” if he came through my bedroom window. I also began to bed wet, which had the unfortunate consequence of angering my mother, which resulted in more beatings. But the trauma didn’t end there. Throughout my youth, I was subjected to the groping hands of neighborhood boys and even some of my own male cousins. One teenage cousin asked me to go into the woods with him so we could “fuck.” I was too young at the time to know what “fuck” meant, but it didn’t seem like anything I wanted to do, so I said “No” and ran home. The boys always got away with their harassment and assaults, because—and who hasn’t heard this one?—“boys will be boys!” Sad thing is, the boys who groped my body (without my permission, of course)—sometimes grabbing my breasts or my crotch or pinching my behind—talked dirty about me and spread lies and rumors, so, of course, I was called a “slut” and a “whore.” Funny, because I hadn’t even “fucked” yet. But that didn’t matter. Boys could say whatever they wanted to shame and blame girls. And girls just had to keep their mouths shut. Traumarchy: Patriarchal trauma. It left me feeling ashamed and dirty. And I hadn’t really done anything worthy of it. Except be born a girl. After high school, I, like many girls of that time period, got married. I had met my husband in my senior year (he had already graduated and was working as a stock boy at a local grocery store) and we had “fallen in love.” We got engaged during that final year of school and “tied the knot” (wonderful saying, no?) in August of 1972. The “honeymoon” didn’t last long. I found myself going from an abusive home-life to an abusive marriage. Except this time, the abuse wasn’t physical. It was mental and emotional abuse and neglect. And, in many ways, it hurt far worse. For most of my 28-years with this man, I was neglected and mentally/verbally abused. For instance, while I was very pregnant with his child—belly large and protruding—he seemed to get a kick out of focusing on my weight gain. On one occasion (at church, no less), he saw me walking toward him and exclaimed aloud while our church friends looked on: “Hey, Hey, Hey: Here comes Faaaaaat Albert!” in the cartoon voice. I wanted to disappear through the cracks in the floor of that “sanctuary.” He thought it was “funny;” I found it humiliating and demeaning. He laughed… I went into the bathroom, locked the door, and cried. After about the third year of our marriage, my husband stopped getting me cards for any occasion—not even my birthday or Mother’s Day (although I had two beautiful daughters with him). And no gifts either. Not even at Christmas. I continued to buy him cards and gifts, and I strived to be a “Proverbs 31 Woman,” according to my Fundamentalist Christian beliefs. I was a stay-at- home Mom and did my utmost to make that man feel like the King of His Castle, as we were taught …
Understory – Spring Meditation by Sara Wright

Mary’s Green Waters, Photo by Sara Wright Time stretches, folds back on herself as I gaze out the window squared by the four directions. A slanted sun glows golden green in early twilight. How comforting to see the trees rotting on the ground and new green wrapped all around me like a cape. The hemlock branches are almost black against the sun that sets early in the gorge. The phoebes are still – a few leaves flutter – lemon lime emerald – we haven’t names for all the impossible hues of green. I am suspended. All thought disappears into shadowy sheltering hemlock and pine against a darkening sky – the day is fading into twilight…. To be steeped in green is to be blessed by the trees who will get to live out their lives as Nature intended because of the people who cared enough to save these forests – a gift for all who see…. Beyond the window a steep gorge has sprung to life – jewelweed and oxalis bubbling out of stone. Crystalline water flows down the hillside…It is clear to me why springs were experienced as holy places. The crisscrossing of downed trees fallen under wind and winter weather is nourishing the next generation of seedlings. Fallen birches send anti- bacterial mycorrhizal mycelial fungal threads to protect other trees and plants from disease. We know almost nothing except that the skin of this precious earth holds the seeds of new life. No wonder I can sleep… The last week in May is betwixt and between the first showering white stars and the burst of wild lavender blue. A flush of fragile wild columbine and corydalis spring up along the ledges of the mountain. Tiny white marsh violets appear in clusters here and there in the lowlands where I stay. Around me emerald is all I see. Along the road (recovering from logging devastation) young elderberry bushes appear among unfurling gray green ferns. Wild sarsaparilla is burnished almost dark crimson. How easy it is to miss this time. In a week most of the understory will become an impossible joyful tangle of summer greens. Parting the veil, I enter the forest in light rain. The river is low. Green is reflected by gray skies and crystalline seeps streaming into a river of stones. One day these ledges and river stones will become specks of sand… A swallowtail dips and soars into the understory. One mourning cloak too. Who might these two might be visiting? Only a couple of bumblebees are around. Most other bees avoid wet weather. A few anemones might be calling, starflowers too? The canopy overhead protects me from the raindrops that create widening circles in the still pools left behind when the water level dropped so low. An American toad hops across the path; almost invisible he is that well camouflaged. A Blackburnian warbler converses with an Ovenbird. Red eyed vireos and common yellowthroats – witchitu witchitu – provide musical accompaniment. I keep my eye out for a particular fern that I don’t see anywhere. I hoped to take another look at yesterday’s astonishing find – an old, tarred pole lying on the ground sprouted unusual lacy ferns that I have only seen in the small terrarium that I created out of bits of this place. The pole is also festooned with red tipped moss, sheet moss, and two kinds of lichens, the very first plants to colonize dry land maybe 400 million year ago. That these plants including the ferns managed begin new life despite the poisoned tar demonstrates the power of nature to heal human devastation over time. However, this remark must be tempered by the powers of place; this is cherished protected land where burgeoning life has a chance. If only we hadn’t destroyed so much forest before we ran out of time. Now integrity demands that we must save what little is left. I spy a cluster of blooming Starflowers, a few painted Trillium left over from the hundreds I saw last week capture my attention. Bluebead lilies and Indian cucumbers are not yet in bloom, but masses of wintergreen and partridge berry creep towards the river, or climb old moss covered tree stumps bursting with seedlings and lichens. Wild oats droop with pale bells gathering in convocation. I note a couple of twisted stalks on the hill. Lime green lungwort hugs a large maple near the water’s edge. This lichen is so sensitive to pollution that it is disappearing. Crushed lady slippers broken by blind feet before blooming sadden me. It will be years before they blossom again. Trailing arbutus is sinking into the ground now that its fragrant flowers have passed by. Giant ostrich Ferns are unfurling with all the others, and I am keenly aware of the roots of trees under each step I take… always wondering who supports who and by what means – nitrogen and carbon surely, water too, other nutrients, but only the fungus knows for sure. I peel back a small piece from a pine stump to gaze at extraordinary white threadlike patterning, replacing the bark gently. The workings of the mycelial network are a source of mystery to humans including me. We do not know how nature works, just that every twig and root is in some relationship with another or others. Only under hemlocks does the earth seem relatively bare, with the hobblebush spreading her ribbed almond shaped leaves to cover moist earth S/he spreads underground. Hemlocks are a foundational tree that mediate flooding and keep the rivers full of trout because of her/his ability to keep the forest’s brooks and streams cool. These trees are healthy because they are part of a biome that has been left alone for more than forty years. I spend time between a hemlock and yellow birch whose roots are still visibly entwined in conversation because the flood tore away topsoil. Mosses hug stream edges. Gray tree frogs are still trilling but not as poignantly …
Strike the Ground with Thunder and Lightning, Bring Forth the Gentle Spring by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Brook, photo by Carolyn Boyd Strike the Ground with Thunder and Lightning, Bring Forth the Gentle Spring by Carolyn Lee Boyd Drought has dropped a mantle of lifelessness over the land where I live in New England. On every inch of dusty soil, thirsty mouths and desiccated roots cry for water under an ever-luminous blue sky. In my 34 years of living here, I have never experienced a drought where trees fall over because their roots have shriveled up, where rivers and brooks have stopped flowing, where farmers are unsure whether they can produce the food I eat every day. Each morning I have anxiously searched for life-giving rain in the ghostly, wispy clouds. Finally, late summer thunder and lightning storms have appeared like a miraculous maelstrom gift from the cosmos Herself. I stand in the midst of the falling rain and booming clouds, in the soundbox of the planet’s drumming, and begin to vibrate with the energetic resonance of the furor playing on the planet’s surface. In the mist of the downpour, I think of the Celtic lightning goddess Tlachtga. Her name means Earth Spear. She gave birth to triplets, then died, bestowing her power on the land. In ancient times, Ireland’s people gathered on the hill at Samhain to honor the sacred bonfire that evoked both light in the coming darkness and the promise of rebirth. Other goddess stories also speak of the connections between lightning and thunder, power, and renewal. Japan’s Naru-Kami made the land sacred by throwing lightning bolts. The Etruscan Uni tosses thunderbolts when angry, but eases childbirth when she is pleased while the Finnish thunder goddess Rauni incarnated in a rowan tree and brought forth plant life on Earth. These goddesses who sanctify the land and renew life mirror the benefits of thunder and lightning storms on the Earth’s environment in yet another example of 21st century science echoing ancient knowledge. Thunderstorms cool and soothe the Earth’s atmosphere. They also keep Earth’s positive and negative charges in balance. Lightning frees up nitrogen which falls in the rain, combining with minerals to form nitrates, an essential fertilizer for plants. Electrical storms even help stop climate change and protect the ozone layer. I feel the effects of the drought on the living beings around me in my bones. As the life force of the plants and animals ebbs, so does my own spirit. I began to ponder what these storm goddesses may tell us about spiritual droughts, those times when faith in life’s renewal seems to have abandoned us. This faith, this wellspring of spirit, is how we transform ourselves, each other, and the world. It is the foundation of hope that keeps us on our life paths each day. At one time I thought that this wellspring of spirit was a component of myself within me; it was something that I “owned,” and was just waiting to be discovered. But the wisdom of these goddesses tells a different tale. In fact, like physical lightning and thunder, if you try to grab it and hoard it, it will dissipate, even wound. How many times have I felt a connection to the Earth and the essence of regeneration only to have it disappear in isolation from others with whom to celebrate it, then felt despair because of my loss? Only if I use this wellspring to heal the Earth, myself, and other beings will its gentle, sweet strength restore and revive me. The symbol of lightning and thunder for this wellspring is especially apt because it is a flow, like electricity or the movement of air. It is most powerful when we receive it from someone else, amplify it, and pass it along. So often in women’s circles I am stunned by the energy that moves through the circle when women are speaking truth, or singing, or dancing together. It fills me with well being and I am energized for days. In fact, I remember one circle from 20 years ago where the leader said that we can all return to the energy of the circle any time after it is over, and I have found that to be true. This wellspring connects us to the universal cycle of birth, death, and rebirth that is part of goddess traditions around the world. Lightning and thunder are essential to the Earth’s water cycle in which rain falls, evaporates, then comes back to the Earth. And, so, too, we need to remember that sometimes we need to let what no longer serves us pass away before we can be renewed. We have to be able to let go, to allow some things to evaporate from our lives, before we can experience rebirth. Finally, once the storm has passed, the water that lightning and thunder have bestowed on the Earth flows gently into streams, brooks, and oceans. Sometimes we need to be mighty and fierce like the storms, telling the truth, advocating for change, being steadfast in our demands for the health of the Earth and those who live on Her. But sometimes a spring that bubbles up is as much a manifestation of this wellspring as the clamor and roar of the ferocious storm. Sometimes what is needed is a quiet touch or gentle speech. It is our task to know what is needed and channel that which is most beneficial. Could it be that the goddesses of thunder and lightning are giving us an answer as to how we can change the course of climate change that is causing the global droughts and floods as well as our own spiritual droughts? Only by allowing ourselves to be refreshed occasionally from our spiritual wellsprings can we find the hope and energy to get down to the advocacy and everyday hard fieldwork needed to revive our planet and ourselves. I am reminded of those forests destroyed by fire that in a year or two are full of new saplings and wildflowers and see both the Earth’s fate and myself …
(Poem) Compassion goddess hears the cries of the world and descends to help those in need by Donna Snyder

I came here on the back of an extinct crane Its slender neck Wings fierce and gilded with the feathers of the north wind I heard the needs of the people and the tormented world I fled the other place and came to the border of here and there Don’t measure my strength by the standards of your own desires Do not judge my beauty by the light of the eyes you behold when you look into the obsidian mirror Plumb my darkness and encounter your own illumination Herald my compassion and celebrate the outrage in my heart Look me in the face and dare to see me Now sorrowful Now ashiver with ecstasy You may be blinded by the stars about my head Twist my hair into a knot and bind me to your fate You may be blinded But I will not look away There is no existence without the “I” There is no authenticity without the “now” this poem previously appeared in my poetry chapbook “I Am South” which was published in 2010 by VirgoGray Press. http://virgograypress.com/2010/03/30/i-am-south-donna-snyder/
(Meet Mago Contributor) Dr. Adrian Cooper

Dr Adrian Cooper was elected as a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society in September 1999. He has worked as a Consultant to the BBC TV Natural History Unit, and as a Writer / Presenter for the BBC World Service. He was an Associate Research Fellow in the Department of Geography, Birkbeck College, London University between 1992 – 2013.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Cinzia Marongiu

Cinzia Marongiu has a Laurea in English literature from Università degli Studi di Genova and a MA in Italian literature from Indiana University. She is currently a Ph.D. candidate at Johannes Gutenberg-Universität in Mainz at the American Studies Department studying Italian American literature. Her dissertation, which explores the relationship between Italian Americans and African Americans narrated by female authors, is a transdisciplinary project engaging with the American Studies and Italian Studies Departments of the Johannes Gutenberg-Universität. She is also interested in post-colonial studies, Italian transnational literature and Black diaspora studies.

(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 6) 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.] Esther Essinger “Why Goddess, when “GD” is perpetrating so much grief? 1) First, it’s vital to know that Goddess is NOT “GD” in a skirt. It is demanded of NO one that they “believe” or “have faith”, so there can be no guilt (and no punishment! (No Hell below us, thank you John) in NOT choosing to interest oneself in these particular Stories, myths, legends and tales which center the Cosmic Female, the Universal Mother, Mother Earth /Mother Nature at their core. No evangelism happening here!
(Special Post 1) "The Oldest Civilization" 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.

Summer Solstice Poiesis by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Seasonal Wheel of Stones Both Summer and Winter Solstices may be understood as particular celebrations of the Mother/Creator aspect of the Creative Triplicity of the Cosmos (often named as the Triple Goddess). The Solstices are Gateways between the dark and the light parts of the annual cycle of our orbit around Sun; they are both sacred interchanges, celebrating deep relationship, communion, with the peaking of fullness of either dark or light, and the turning into the other. The story is that the Young One/Virgin aspect of Spring has matured and now at Summer Solstice her face changes into the Mother of Summer. Summer Solstice may be understood as a birthing place, as Winter Solstice may also be, but at this time the transiton is from light back into dark, returning to larger self, from whence we come: it is the full opening, the “Great Om”, the Omega. I represent the Summer Solstice on my altar wheel of stones with the Omega-yonic shape of the horseshoe. I take this inspiration from Barbara Walker’s description of the horseshoe in her Woman’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets, as “Goddess’s symbol of ‘Great Gate’[i]”; and her later connection of it with the Sheil-na-gig yoni display[ii]. Sri Yantra. Ref: A.T. Mann & Jane Lyle, p.75 Summer Solstice is traditonally understood as a celebration of Union between Lover and Beloved, and the deep meaning of that is essentially a Re-Union: of sensed manifest form (the Lover) with All-That-Is (the Beloved). This may be understood as a fullness of expression of this manifest form, the small selves that we are, being all that we may be, and giving of this fullness of being in every moment: that would be a blissful thing, like a Summerland as it was understood to be. The boundaries of the self are broken, they merge: all is given away – all is poured forth, the deep rich dark stream of life flows out. It is a Radiance, the shining forth of the self which is at the same time a give-away, a consuming of the self.In traditional PaGaian Summer ceremony each participant is affirmed as “Gift”[iii]; and that is understood to mean that we are both given and received – all at the same time. The breath is given and life is received. We receive the Gift with each breath in, and we are the Gift with each breath out. As we fulfill our purpose, as we give ourselves over, we dissolve, as the Sun is actually doing in every moment. The “moment of grace”[iv]that is Summer Solstice, marks the stillpoint in the height of Summer, when light reaches its peak, and Earth’s tilt causes the Sun to begin its “decline”: that is, its movement back to the South in the Northern Hemisphere (in June), and back to the North in the Southern Hemisphere (in December). Whereas at Winter Solstice when out of the darkness it is light that is “born”, as it may be expressed: at the peak of Summer, in the warmth of expansion, it is the dark that is “born”. Insofar as Winter Solstice is about birth, then Summer Solstice is about death, the passing into the harvest. It is a celebration of profound mystical significance, which may be confronting in a culture where the dark is not valued for its creative telios; and it is noteworthy that Summer Solstice has not gained any popularity of the kind that Winter Solstice has globally (as ‘Christmas’). The re-union with All-That-Is is not generally considered a jolly affair, though when understood it may actually be blissful. Full Flowers to the Flames Summer is a time when many grains ripen, deciduous trees peak in their greenery, lots of bugs and creatures are bursting with business and creativity: yet in that ripening, is the turning, the fulfilment of creativity, and it is given away. Like the Sun and the wheat and the fruit, we find the purpose of our Creativity in the releasing of it; just as our breath must be released for its purpose of life. The symbolism used to express this in ceremony has been the giving of a full rose/flower to the flames. Summer is like the rose, as it says in this tradition[v]– blossom and thorn … beautiful, fragrant, full – yet it comes with thorns that open the skin. All is given over. All is given over: the feast is for enjoying With the daily giving of ourselves in our everyday acts, we each feed the world with our lives: we do participate in creating the cosmos, as many indigenous traditions still recognise. Just as our everyday lives are built on the fabric of the work/creativity of all who went before us, so the future, as well as the present, is built on ours, no matter how humble we may think our contribution is. We may celebrate the blossoming of our creativity then, which is Creativity, and the bliss of that blossoming, at a time when Earth and Sun are pouring forth their abundance, giving it away. In this Earth-based cosmology, what is given is the self fully realized and celebrated, not a self that is abnegated – just as the fruit gives its full self: as Starhawk says, “Oneness is attained not through losing the self, but through realizing it fully”[vi]. Everyday tasks can be joyful, if valued, and graciously received: I think of Eastern European women singing as they work in the fields – it is a common practice still for many. We are the Bread of Life Summer Solstice celebrates Mother Sun coming to fullness in Her creative engagement with Earth, and we are the Sun. Solstice Moment is a celebration of communion, the feast of life – which is for the enjoying, not for the holding onto. We do desire to be received, to be consumed – it is our joy and our grief. Brian Swimme says: “Every moment of our lives disappears into the ongoing story of the Universe. Our creativity is energising the whole[vii]”. As it may be ceremoniously affirmed: we are (each is) …
(Essay and Video) Cosmogenesis Dance: Celebrating Her Unfolding by Glenys Livingstone

The dance begins with two concentric circles, which will flow in and out of each other throughout the dance, resulting thus in a third concentric circle that comes and goes. The three circles/layers are understood to represent the three aspects of Goddess, the Creative Triple Dynamic that many ancients were apparently aware of, and imagined in so many different ways across the globe. In Her representation in Ireland as the Triple Spiral motif, which is inscribed on the inner chamber wall at Bru-na-Boinne (known as Newgrange)[1], She seems to be understood as a dynamic essential to on-going Cosmic Creativity, as this ancient motif is dramatically lit up by the Winter Solstice dawn. It seems that this was important to the Indigenous people of this place at the time of Winter Solstice, which celebrates Origins, the continuing birth of all. Thus I like to do this Cosmogenesis Dance, as I have named it[2], at the Winter Solstice in particular. The three aspects that the dance may embody, and are poetically understood as Goddess, celebrate (i) Virgin/Young One – Urge to Be as I have named this quality – the ever new differentiated being (also known as Fodla in the region of the Triple Spiral)[3]. This is the outer circle of individuals. (ii) Mother – the deeply related interwoven web – Dynamic Place of Being as I have named this quality – the communion that our habitat is (also known as Eriu in the region of the Triple Spiral)[4]. This is the woven middle circle where all are linked and swaying in rhythm. (iii) Crone/Old One – the eternal creative return to All-That-Is – She who Creates the Space to Be as I have named this quality (also known as Banba in the region of the Triple Spiral)[5]. This is the inner circle where linked hands are raised and stillness is held. The three concentric layers of the dance may be understood to embody these. The Cosmogenesis Dance represents the flow and balance of these three – a flow and balance of Self, Other and All-That-Is. It may be experienced like a breath, that we breathe together – as we do co-create the Cosmos. Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme have named the three qualities of Cosmogenesis in the following way: – differentiation … to be is to be unique – communion … to be is to be related – autopoiesis/subjectivity … to be is to be a centre of creativity.[6] The three layers of the dance may be felt to celebrate each unique being, in deep relationship with other, directly participating in the sentient Cosmos, the Well of Creativity. The Cosmogenesis Dance as it is done within PaGaian Winter Solstice ceremony expresses the whole Creative Process we are immersed in. It is a process of complete reciprocity, a flow of Creator and Created, like a breath. There is dynamic exchange in every moment: that is the nature of the Place we inhabit. The dance may help awaken us to it, and to invoke it. The Cosmogenesis Dance on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dR73MDMM9Fk For more story: Cosmogenesis Dance for Winter Ritual For Dance Instructions: PaGaian Cosmology Appendix I Meet Mago Contributor Glenys Livingstone NOTES: [1] The Triple Spiral engraving is dated at 2,400 B.C.E. [2] This dance is originally named as “The Stillpoint Dance”, or sometimes “Adoramus Te Domine” which is the name of the music used for it. I learned it from Dr. Jean Houston in 1990 at a workshop of hers in Sydney, Australia. I began to use the dance for Winter Solstice ceremony in 1997, and it was only in the second year of doing so that I realised its three layers were resonant with the three traditional qualities of the Female Metaphor/Goddess, and also the three faces of Cosmogenesis. I thereafter re-named and storied the dance that way in the ceremonial preparation and teaching for Winter Solstice. See Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology: pp. 280-281 and 311. [3] Michael Dames, Ireland: a Sacred Journey, p.192. [4] Michael Dames, Ireland: a Sacred Journey, p. 192. [5] Michael Dames, Ireland: a Sacred Journey, p. 192. [6] Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry, The Universe Story, p. 71-79. I have identified these qualities with the Triple Goddess, and the Triple Spiral in the synthesis of PaGaian Cosmology: see Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, particularly Chapter 4: https://pagaian.org/book/chapter-4/ References: Dames, Michael. Ireland: a Sacred Journey, Element Books, 2000. Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. Lincoln NE: iUniverse, 2005. Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era. NY: HarperCollins, 1992.
(Prose & Photography) Equinox Reflection by Sara Wright

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

This essay is an edited excerpt from Chapter 10 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Southern Hemisphere – Feb. 1st/2nd, Northern Hemisphere – August 1st/2nd These dates are traditional, though the actual astronomical date varies. It is the meridian point or cross-quarter day between Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox, thus actually a little later in early February for S.H., and early August for N.H., respectively. a Lammas/Late Summer table The Old One, the Dark and Shining One, has been much maligned, so to celebrate Her can be more of a challenge in our present cultural context. Lammas may be an opportunity to re-aquaint ourselves with the Crone in her purity, to fall in love with Her again, to celebrate She Who creates the Space to Be. Lammas is a welcoming of the Dark in all its complexity: and as with any funerary moment, there is celebration of the life lived (enjoyment of the harvest) – a “wake,” and there is grieving for the loss. One may fear it, which is good reason to make ceremony, to go deeper, to commit to the Mother, who is the Deep; to “make sacred” this emotion, as much as one may celebrate the hope and wonder of Spring, its opposite. If Imbolc/Early Spring is a nurturing of new young life, Lammas may be a nurturing/midwifing of death or dying to small self, the assent to larger self, an expansion or dissipation – further to the radiance of Summer Solstice. Whereas Imbolc is a Bridal commitment to being and form, where we are the Promise of Life; Lammas may be felt as a commitment marriage to the Dark within, as we accept the Harvest of that Promise, the cutting of it. We remember that the Promise is returned to Source. “The forces which began to rise out of the Earth at the festival of Bride now return at Lammas.”[i] Creativity is called forth when an end (or impasse) is reached: we can no longer rely on our small self to carry it off. We may call Her forth, this Creative Wise Dark One – of the Ages, when our ways no longer work. We are not individuals, though we often think we are. We are Larger Self, subjects within theSubject.[ii] And this is a joyful thing. We do experience ourselves as individuals and we celebrate that creativity at Imbolc. Lammas is the time for celebrating the fact that we are part of, in the context of, a Larger Organism, and expanding into that. Death will teach us that, but we don’t have to wait – it is happening around us all the time, we are constantly immersed in the process, and everyday creativity is sourced in this subjectivity. As it is said, She is “that which is attained at the end of Desire:”[iii] the same Desire we celebrated at Beltaine, has peaked at Summer and is now dissolving form, returning to Source to nourish the Plenum, the manifesting – as all form does. This Seasonal Moment of Lammas/Late Summer celebrates the beginning of dismantling, de-structuring. Gaia-Universe has done a lot of this de-structuring – it is in Her nature to return all to the “Sentient Soup” … nothing is wasted. We recall the Dark Sentience, the “All-Nourishing Abyss”[iv] at the base of being, as we enter this dark part of the cycle of the year. This Dark/Deep at the base of being, to whom we are returned, may be understood as the Sentience within all – within the entire Universe. The dictionary definition of sentience is: “intelligence,” “feeling,” “the readiness to receive sensation, idea or image; unstructured available consciousness,” “a state of elementary or undifferentiated consciousness.”[v] The Old Wise One is the aspect of the Cosmic Triplicity/Triple Goddess that returns us to this sentience, the Great Subject out of whom we arise. We are subjects within the Great Subject – the sentient Universe; we are not a collection of objects, as Thomas Berry has said.[vi] This sentience within, this “readiness-to-receive,” is a dark space, as all places of ending and beginning are. Mystics of all religious traditions have understood the quintessential darkness of the Divinity, known often as the Abyss. Goddesses such as Nammu and Tiamat, Aditi and Kali, are the anthropomorphic forms of this Abyss/Sea of Darkness that existed before creation. She is really the Matrix of the Universe. This sentience is ever present and dynamic. It could be understood as the dark matter that is now recognized to form most of the Universe. This may be recognized as Her “Cauldron of Creativity” and celebrated at this Lammas Moment. Her Cauldron of Creativity is the constant flux of all form in the Universe – all matter is constantly transforming. We are constantly transforming on every level. a Lammas/Late Summer altar These times that we find ourselves in have been storied as the Age of Kali, the Age of Caillaech – the Age of the Crone. There is much that is being turned over, much that will be dismantled. We are in the midst of the revealing of compost, and transformation – social, cultural, and geophysical. Kali is not a pretty one – but we trust She is transformer, and creative in the long term. She has a good track record. Our main problem is that we tend to take it personally. The Crone – the Old Phase of the cycle, creates the Space to Be. Lammas is the particular celebration of the beauty of this awesome One. She is symbolized and expressed in the image of the waning moon, which is filling with darkness. She is the nurturant darkness that may fill your being, comfort the sentience in you, that will eventually allow new constellations to gestate in you, renew you. So the focus in ceremony may be to contemplate opening to Her, noticing our fears and our hopes involved in that. She is the Great Receiver – receives all, and as such She is the Great Compassionate One. Her Darkness may be understood as a Depth of Love. And She is Compassionate because of …
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 …
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 …

(Photo Essay 2) ‘Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess of Korea’ by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part II: The Lost Iconography of Gaeyang Halmi We visited the Suseong Shrine a second time on July 11, 2012. I looked inside the Shrine wherein a shaman ritual was being performed by a Mudang (Korean Shaman)[i] and her assistants. The Mudang in colorful ritual outfit appeared to console her female client on behalf of the spirit. The ritual continued another hour or so and we waited outside until she finished her performance. We had come here on the day of arrival in Jungmak-dong, Buan. The shrine was locked, apparently not being in use. On our second visit, the shrine was packed with four people and their instruments and equipment. It was so compact that it left no room for another person to sit; however, it was pumping up the sober energy. In fact, I have no recollection of which musical instruments were being played inside the shrine. Nonetheless, it feels like that I was hearing the sharp and high banging of the kkwaenggwari (gong) accompanied by the janggu (hourglass drum) rhythm [symbolizing the sound of thunder and rain respectively]. The “musical” sound that I heard shook off the debris of ordinary thoughts and took me to the Other Side of Reality. I began to see things clearly the way they are. I was stepping into the history of this place that I was going to discover.
(Mago Stronghold Essay 3) The Forgotten Primordial Paradise by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

Part 3: Indelible Old Magoism Encrypted in China’s “Mago Stronghold” The Mago word “Mago Stronghold” has narrowly survived patriarchal linguistic censorships. Sometimes it is preferably or deliberately employed as a euphemism. Other times, it is replaced with random words. But it has never been completely wiped out from written and oral texts. The Mago term, constituting the very foundation of patriarchy, is indestructible. Having survived, the term “Mago Stronghold” debunks the plot intent to magna-matricide. It unearths the buried and re-members the severed. Extant Mago Strongholds in Korea and in China differ not only in number but also in implication. Just like Magoist data in general, Korea surpasses China by a large number of extant Mago Strongholds. It is a corollary that China does not have much to do with Mago words in that ancient China “entered the stage of the patriarchal society around 5,000 years ago”.[1] Magoist materials are systematically dismissed as dubious or apocryphal data, as pre-Chinese Old Magoist Korea remains uncharted in Sinocentric East Asian historiography. Readers are reminded of the meaning of Old Magoist Korea, the socio-political-religious conglomeration of the People of the Great Goddess originated from pre-Chinese times. It is by definition non-ethnocentric and pre-nationalist.[2] Magoism substantiates the derivative nature of ancient Chinese history from Old Magoist Korea. It unveils that Old Korea was there long before the establishment of the Chinese patriarchal rule. The Mago Stronghold talk debunks the fantasy of ancient China as the forerunner rule. It is unknown how many Mago Stronghold places may have existed before or survived today in present China. One I found is located in Cangzhou, Hebei Province, according to the Atlas of Heavenly Harbor Government (天津府總圖, Tianjinfuzongtu) published in 1805. The historical accuracy of this place is backed by an earlier account in the Records of the United Great Ming (Damingyitongzhi 大明一統志), a fifteenth century geography book from the Ming dynasty. Its brief record concerns the visit of Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty (206 BCE-220 CE) to Mago Stronghold, as it reads: Mago Stronghold is located in Cangzhou on the border of old Qingchi-xian (Clear Lake County). Emperor Wu of Han took an administrative tour to this place and offered rites. Thus came the place-name, Mago Stronghold.[3] The Cangzhou Mago Stronghold, noted for the second century BCE anecdote, makes its history two millennia old at the least. When Magoism is made invisible, however, the long history or the royal association of Mago Stronghold is systematically censored as non-data in official historiography of China, which is the norm for East Asian historiographies. Given that Emperor Wu (141-87 BCE) of Han is known as one of the most accomplished rulers in Chinese history, it may appear odd that he is associated with the Mago term, “Mago Stronghold.” Indeed, the account may seem to mismatch Emperor Wu of ancient China with Mago Stronghold. And Chinese scribes would not have fabricated the anecdote. It is indeed a rare case that the Mago term has survived in Chinese official documents. That said, we want to ask if the two terms, Emperor Wu of Han and Mago Stronghold, are irreconcilable per se? My answer is no. They appear to be at odds only to the modern Sinocentric mind. In fact, the above anecdote is highly evocative of the concept of Heaven (天 Tian) worshipped by ancient Chinese rulers. Emperor Wu’s visitation and officiation at Mago Stronghold, which may have been known as Heavenly Stronghold (天城 Tiancheng),[4] account for the ancient ruler’s worship of Heaven. It is of utmost importance for Chinese rulers to observe rites and customs that venerate Heaven, for it is deemed that Heaven selects rulers and endows them with the right to rule. Accordingly, ancient Chinese rulers are known to have taken the title of “the Son of Heaven 天子” and ruled with “the Mandate of Heaven 天命.” Nonetheless, the problem with the Chinese thought of Heaven lies in the fact that Heaven is equated with the supreme god (上帝, Supreme Emperor) or an impersonal quality of the divine. That Heaven is a euphemism for “Mago” was known to the populace. In various sources, Mago is referred to as “Heavenly Deity.”[5] S/HE and Magoism are sometimes equated with the impersonal term, “Heaven.” For example, Mago Lake (Maguji in Chinese) is also called Heavenly Lake (天池 Tianchi in Chinese) in oral tradition.[6] The fact that, according to the Budoji, Heavenly Mountain is known as the residence of the Hwanggung, the eldest clan community in the post-paradise world, is no accident. When its semantic tie to “Mago” is lost, “Heaven” is stripped of the Magoist implication. The surviving term, “Mago Stronghold,” however, debunks magna-matricide in the modern mind. It is inferred that Emperor Wu officiated the Magoist rite at Mago Stronghold as the Son of Heaven according to the Mandate of Heaven. The scheme of Old Magoism puts the above anecdote into a context: Emperor Wu emulated the royal tradition of ancient Magoist shaman queens, the representative of the Great Goddess who is the ultimate sovereign of the Earth, Mago Stronghold. Emperor Wu and Mago Stronghold were not at odds with each other in an earlier time of ancient Chinese history. Written together, they indicate that Magoism was acknowledged by Emperor Wu of Han. Put differently, magna-matricide was not committed or completed in the second century BCE China. Were ancient Chinese rulers including Emperor Wu of Han Magoist? This question is difficult to answer, for each ruler of ancient China may have taken an ambivalent attitude toward Magoism to a varying degree. Some may have been pseudo-Magoists. Ancient Chinese rulers, representing the establishment of Chinese monarchy, which marked the onset of patriarchal history in East Asia, are distinguished from traditional Magoist shaman queens who defended the Magoist confederal system of Old Korea. Nonetheless, they needed the Oracle of the Great Goddess to legitimize themselves as rulers. In pre-patriarchal East Asia, Old Magoist Korea was the source of power, technology, and civilization for any ruler to draw from. Evidence shows that …
(Essay 1) The Magoist Calendar: Mago Time inscribed in Sonic Numerology by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

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

Category: resistance

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