May 12, 2023April 14, 2023 Carolyn Boyd2 Comments

Reclaiming Our Place in the Cosmos with the Carmina Gadelica by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Not so long ago, in the living memory of my great-grandparents in fact, people of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland revered the spirits of land, sea, and sky, blessed Read More …

(Prose) What Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality means to me by Joanna Kujawa

My encounter with Mary Magdalene My encounter with Mary Magdalene was unexpected. Being brought up a Catholic, I was aware of her though I believed the dominant narrative of Mary Magdalene as a penitent adulteress. When I was growing up, there was not really much spoken about her being a prostitute but rather she was viewed as a young adulteress. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, I had always liked her. She seemed to me, even in those days of dogmatic ignorance, the only real person in the narratives around Jesus’ life. I thought of her as a sensual rebel who did not give in to the limitations of her time, who made her own choices. I liked this view, and she was also so very different from the very obedient Virgin Mary. “The good girl’’ of the Virgin had no appeal for me, as she was forever surrendering to whatever Fate had brought her, a passive female of the patriarchal imagination. Just as Mary Magdalene was very real to me, the Virgin had always felt like a figment of that imagination. It was not until I was well into my 30s that I began to learn the truth about Mary Magdalene, firstly through contact with the Gnostic Gospels. I remember well the moment when a friend passed me the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. I gasped at the fact that she had her own Gospel. Even in my former religious indoctrination, Mary Magdalene having her own Gospel somehow suited her. Mary Magdalene the independent woman, the woman in charge of her destiny, the woman in charge of her sexual choices. By the sheer presence of its existence, the Gospel of Mary Magdalene has changed my life. I began to research, first about her Gospel and then about her. The Gospel of Mary Magdalene was first discovered in 1896 in Egypt by a British adventurer, then other parts of the Gospel continued to be discovered in the area of Akhmin in Egypt. Scholars argue about the dating of the Gospel, as some fragments are written in Coptic but were translations of earlier Greek versions. Eventually, the first edition of the Gospel was placed at sometime around 150 CE. This dating is not surprising, as even the so-called canonical Gospels of the Bible were not written by the disciples themselves but by their disciples. Similarly, the Gospel of Mary Magdalene was most likely originally present in oral form and then put on paper for the benefit of posterity – very much the same way as the canonical Gospels were. And here she speaks to us in her own words, not those of some dogma and indoctrination, but words reflecting the inner knowledge of a bearer of secret teachings that were not given to other disciples. Soon I also learned that Mary Magdalene was never a prostitute, that it was Pope Gregory, who in the year 591 CE in his Homily 33 made convenient ‘scriptural mistakes,’ and that even the Catholic Church denied her connection to prostitution in 1969. Yet this seems too little too late. Many other documents have been discovered which confirm Mary Magdalene’s status as an independent woman and the receiver of the most secret teachings. These documents include another Gnostic Document, the Gospel of Philip, discovered in nag Hammadi, Egypt in 1945. In both of these documents she was the favoured and most spiritually evolved disciple who was envied by the male disciples, especially Peter. It is interesting that in the Christian tradition it is Peter who is revered and not Mary Magdalene. It is even more interesting that all documents stating Mary Magdalene’s position as the Apostle of the Apostles, or the first among them, were deemed as heretical at the Council of Nicea in 325 CE while the ones with Peter leading were considered ‘true’. But this is not the only betrayal that Mary Magdalene and her name have endured. Apart from the exclusion of the Gospels which claim she was the prominent figure in the movement, and even apart from the ‘mistake’ of Pope Gregory in the sixth century that made her into a prostitute. Jane Schaberg, an ex-nun, in her book Resurrection of Mary Magdalene traces how the Biblical removal of Mary Magdalene as the ‘beloved disciple’ was gradually carried out until she was completely replaced by John through a process of sheer speculation because – who else it could have been? In the patriarchal minds, certainly not that woman, right? So my encounter with Mary Magdalene has awakened in me a desire to know the truth. It has awakened in me a sense of justice. It has awakened me to the fact that greater social powers, often disguised as the ‘leaders’ of society, manipulate the truth to their advantage, that they want some of us to be disempowered. Moreover, my encounter with Mary Magdalene has taught me that this kind of manipulation of the truth is no longer possible and, as with all forms of suppression, the truth is coming up to the surface with a greater power than ever before. It has taught me that activism also has a spiritual and scholarly aspect to it and that both are powerful tools in making a shift in global consciousness. And that there is no stopping now. [This piece was previously published in She Rises: What… Goddess Feminism, Activism and Spirituality? Volume 3 (Mago Books, 2019).] (Meet Mago Contributor) Joanna Kujawa, Ph.D.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Nicole Shaw

Among other things, Nicole Shaw is a farmer, feminist, artist, founder of a women’s time barter group, Past President of the Nanaimo Women’s Resources Society which operates a women’s centre, President of the Errington Farmers’ Market, and founding member of the Bowen Road and Farmers’ Market. Her life purpose is creating deeper awareness. This is what motivates her and is the thread that weaves through her artwork, writing, activism, organic farming, advocating for local food production, and founding groups and organizations.
(Prose) Language makes us by Susan Hawthorne

Artwork by Suzanne Bellamy, Road Map, © 2004 Language makes us. But we too remake language. And ourselves. If we listen, imagine, invent. Listen to me. Listen to my language. Once upon a time it was the language of the birds. Did you listen then? Are you listening now? I’m a person out of place. Perhaps a person without a place. But that cannot be. Surely, everyone has a place? But is the place in this time? Let me begin again. Once upon a time … it was a very long time ago. More generations than you can count on your hands and your toes. It was in the time when the first stirrings of language were in our throats. A time of gurgling and burbling, of whistling and of singing. It was the singing that began language. We imitated the birds. And slowly, so very slowly, words began to take shape. Words formed from the electrical charges in our brains. Concepts arising with each new song. And so, in a way, we sang ourselves, our communities into being. This is an extract from my novel, Dark Matters. Note When I was finishing my novel Dark Matters, I asked Suzanne Bellamy if I could use this work of art on the cover. It reminds me of labyrinths. She responded and said she thought it was like brain pathways and then discovering that it was based on mitochondria made me even more excited to use it. Suzanne and I have worked together on many occasions, including working on the book Unsettling the Land with art by Suzanne and poetry by me. You can find some of her work here http://suzannebellamy.com/ Artwork by Suzanne Bellamy, Road Map, © 2004. All Rights Reserved. Etched embossed monoprint on Fabriano paper. The image interprets a photograph of Mitochondria, the Motherline DNA, from an old Scientific American photograph. This art was used on the cover of Dark Matters: A Novel by Susan Hawthorne, 2017. https://www.magoism.net/2013/12/meet-mago-contributor-susan-hawthone/
(Tribute) Midsummer Births a Goddess, Carol P. Christ (1945-2021) by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright [Author’s Note: I wrote the prose and poem this morning July 14th for Carol’s blog not knowing at that time that this most compassionate woman, feminist scholar, mentor, friend had died shortly after midnight. When I saw the notice on the Internet I was stunned. It seemed so impersonal to receive such heartbreaking news in this manner. When I came back to read this piece I realized that indeed, Midsummer had given birth to a Goddess and her name was Carol Christ.] This year more than ever before I note a very subtle shift that is occurring as we approach the middle of July. Lots of humidity – and I confess – I love the sweet summer scent as long as it isn’t hot. The days are losing a minute or two of light. Instead of slamming out of bed in the pre-dawn hour I find myself sleeping until 6AM and my dogs want to sleep in until 9 on gray foggy mornings like today. The birds are quieter, their songs less intense although my feeder is visited by hoards of youngsters, many of which are still being fed by their parents. The Wood thrush has moved deeper into the forest, so it the Mourning doves who begin my day with song. Most of all, I notice the richness, the vibrancy of deep summer green. Even though my flower garden is on fire with primary colors, I can’t seem to soak in enough greening to satisfy my hungry heart.. Subtle changes like this probably go unnoticed by most but for me they are signs of the goddess coming into her own…I am curious if anyone else senses this shift of energy. ______________________________________________________________________ Midsummer births a Goddess She comes to life dressed in ferns – maidenhair, sensitive, royal, hay scented, each a different shade of green. She hides under graceful hemlock fronds, a lacy cedar. As Partridge berry She winds her way around a rotting trunk, fruit not yet fully formed. Cherry tree, drops pale leaves in light winds, her life force spent after early April blooms. Her gift of perfect crimson pearls loved and eaten by birds and bears. Each Tree bares her name smooth and ribbed limbs, verdant leaves capture shimmering drops of dew. Silver slips through stone so eerily still – it’s hard to recall rushing waters until thunder cracks open the sky, and churning rivers run brown, peeling away unprotected hills. When the Cloud People cast shark gray shadows I call up Her gentle, soaking rains to temper wild and white lightening strikes. She courts Peace, repairs tortured splits between earth and sky with Love… She calms all who seek her in that Sea of Emerald Grace.
(Poem) December by Yvonne M. Lucia

Long past its usefulness, a robin’s empty nest nestles in the dormant branches of our dwarf magnolia tree – now, after the first snowfall, a woven bowl filled to the brim with downy whiteness. Fledglings incubated here a few short months ago, held in the circular enclosure of this perfectly constructed straw container. I observe the incongruous juxtaposition. A bitter north wind stings my face; autumn’s long, slow descent into cold and darkness roosts silently. The wheel of the year turns. Words & image © Yvonne M. Lucia 2013 Meet Mago Contributor, Yvonne M. Lucia
(Prose) A Beary Peaceful Day by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright It is overcast and a few drops of rain are falling. I have been out talking to Tree Bear (TB), a yearling who has brightened my life in these dark soul days. Tree Bear comes up the mossy pine strewn path to the clearing and peeks at me from behind his white pine intermittently as he snacks. There are so many old felled trees full of tasty grubs and ants now that the spring grasses have matured and gone by; soon the berries will ripen and Tree Bear will begin to put on weight. Acorns will be the choice of food for fall. Few people know that Black Bears are 93 percent vegetarian. The other night I watched TB in the cherry tree, sitting in the branches like a monkey calmly combing out his thick under fur as he munched on cherry leaves and hard green cherries. He is a healthy looking and very beautiful yearling with brown eyebrows and a bump in his nose that is only visible from some angles. He probably weighs 50 – 60 LBs and has some brownish fur in places. He was recently separated from his mother who left him because she needed to mate and his little sister has also disappeared. His face is so full of compassion that it takes my breath away. I say compassion because my personal experience has taught me that some (if not all) of these animals understand human suffering and respond to it by taking concrete actions. One slept outside my window while my dog was dying, another came to sit by me one night while I was wildly weeping outside in the dark. Stark and hopeless depression brings them in. Empathy flows like a deep underground river between us – why – because bears like other animals have deep feelings that are not mediated by abstract intellectual rational thinking. This is not to say that all bears respond to people this way. But some do, and Tree Bear is one of these animals. Bears are demonized by humans, shot and wounded on sight (legally and illegally) often in the gut so they will die slowly and painfully. In Maine we hunt them for four months; with hounding ‘practice’ four months becomes five. What is truly amazing is that these animals do not retaliate in kind, except on rare occasions. A human has a million to one chance of being killed by a bear. Bears use remarkable restraint, utilizing peacekeeping practices for themselves and humans alike. If Ursus americanus ruled the Earth there would be no wars. All bears utilize a matriarchal family system with mothers and daughters sharing territories; males roam the peripheries. This morning I quietly spoke to TB while slowly approaching his tree. I know his language; he huffs to remind me how much he disapproves of close encounters. Yesterday, he eluded me each time I tried to film him. He’s wary, full of curiosity, and uncertainty. Fear when it comes to other bears. He stands on two feet in alarm when he glimpses his own mother. He does not trust me, but allows me to approach him if I do so respectfully. He moans when I get too close even though I keep reassuring him that I am his friend. Sometimes TB is a clown. Late yesterday afternoon he lay on his back with a can positioned between his paws poking his nose into its cavity. Next he chased it down the hill. I have to find other toys to amuse him. His trickster aspect is most evident when he sees me with the camera. He turns his head away, ducks behind a branch, runs down to the brook or disappears down the path in a flash. TB is also developing a habit of peering around tree corners to see who I might be talking to. TB and I both love trees. Black bears are native to this continent and co evolved with trees. They cannot live in treeless places because they are a prey animal who must have trees to protect themselves and their young. Obviously Black Bear territory is shrinking, not good news for the bears. TB and I have such a brief moment in time to be together. Even now each gun shot, or semi automatic blast slams a hole in my heart. The future for this bear is grim. Most of the bears that are slaughtered are yearlings (18 – 22 months old) when they are first on their own. All this to become a trophy or rug, a badge of “manhood” on some idiot’s wall. Perhaps because of the rapidly approaching hunting season each moment spent observing TB’s behavior is that more precious. Befriending this bear brings me to the edge of possibility. We could find a way to live together, if only we would. I close with a quote from Leslie Marmon Silko that mirrors my own experience: “It is very peaceful with the bears; the people say that’s the reason human beings seldom return.” (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.
(Prose & Poem) Surabhi and Nandini by Susan Hawthorne

Kamadhenu, The Wish-Granting Cow Made in Rajasthan, India c. 1825-55 Artist/maker unknown, India, Rajasthan, Jodhpur or Nathadwara Opaque watercolor and metallic pigments on paper 5 x 5 inches (12.7 x 12.7 cm). Wikimedia Commons. I have been studying Sanskrit for a little more than decade. I took it up because I love ancient languages. But more than that, I wanted to have direct access to myth and poetry, to be able to translate these for myself and give them my own spin. I discovered the joy of this some thirty years ago when learning Ancient Greek. This year we have been translating the Raguvamsha of Kalidasa. The story concerns a king and his wife who are having trouble conceiving a child. It doesn’t sound like much of a story for a feminist take informed by lesbian-centric thinking. But that is until you take into account the cow who was previously disrespected because the king was preoccupied with other things and failed to act appropriately. In order to reverse this he has to spend time doing her bidding, protecting her and spending all day and night with Nandini for three weeks. I have been writing about mythic cows since 2009 when the figure of Queenie came to me. She is a universal cosmic cow with knowledge that goes back through the ages. She claims to have created the universe and her evidence is contained in language: galaxy a word that is derived from the Greek for milk; indeed the Milky Way. While Queenie does not make an appearance in this poem, any poem I write about cows has her looking over my shoulder. In the front of my book Cow (2011) you can find the etymological connection between Gau (Skrt: cow) and Queen (a word derived from Skrt: cow who is a woman rich in cows). Surabhi is a wish-fulfilling cow and Nandini is her daughter. Surabhi is also referred to as Kamadhenu. What I like about the story is that there are no temples to her, rather it is the cow herself who is sacred. It is an interior worship. In my retelling in this poem, I decided not to tell it forwards but instead backwards, as you would expect from a lesbian. The section I am telling comes from the end of Canto 1 and the beginning of Canto 2 (backwards). The wish-fulfilling cow and her calf. Her body contains images of other Hindu deities.Photo © Susan Hawthorne, 2019 Surabhi and Nandini it’s a story that can be told in reverse how we orbit the cosmic cow to solve our aridity her udder full spilling milk across the sky her dugs as big as jugs death is an event on the horizon when Nandini enters the Himalayan cave her bellow reverberates in the hollow a sound chamber of rumbling echoes twenty-one days we sleep with her waiting on this wish-fulfilling cow day and night the interstellar space between her horns is a fissure to other worlds at dusk in the space between light and dark she shines red like the star on the forehead of Taurus Rohini visible in between worlds like the sound of the wind-fluting bamboo singing life walking in the apron of the forest our eyes dry from fasting flowering trees shower us with falling blossoms birdsong echoes as the vines hold fast to the trunks there are many acts of worship for a cow offer her sweet grasses and scratch her red hide wave away the flies that settle on her wide shoulders become her shadow standing stopping when she does move on sit down drink water when she does by these means you will follow the way of the cow follow in her dusty wake her four dugs are the four oceans filled with unending seas of milk This poem is from Susan Hawthorne’s forthcoming collection of poems, The Sacking of the Muses which will be published in 2019. (Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthorne.
(Essay) It matters what stories tell stories by Annukina Warda

It matters what stories tell stories. It matters what thoughts think thoughts. It matters what worlds world worlds. Donna Haraway What if Nature does more than speak… – what if it also reads and writes, calculates and creates, copulates with itself in the most perverse, creative and also destructive ways? What if it is political through and through? Vicki Kirby Multiculturalism is about including stories of difference. Se trata de otras narrativas. It is about alter-narratives. The stories of multiculturalism are stories of identity, and narratives of identity are stories of location. A story is always a retelling of an older story. This is my retelling. Gloria Anzaldua I have always understood myself through story. The importance of language and finding just the right words is a point I often consider. I grew up loving picture books and thesauruses and asking my tri-lingual mother “What’s the word for…” and “How do you say…” Sometimes I find myself not being able to find the right words. Other times I take the liberty of creating new ones. Finding alternative ways of saying things that seem closer to the truth as I understand them is critical intellectual labour. Words are powerful. They write us into being. I am a person who grew up in-between worlds – worlds of culture, of class, of legitimate and invisible identities. The borderlands, Chicana feminist-poet and scholar Gloria Anzaldua called this location. Finding my own voice to articulate an answer to the ubiquitous “Who are you and where do you come from?” has been an ever-shifting, challenging and often-painful residence in the borderlands. Anzaldua says we overcome this marginalisation by code-switching, by crossing borders. I have mumbled my way through the codes of the different spaces I have occupied in my life as a body in a world that privileges mouths and voices as speakers. I have screeched with rage within that same world that privileges certain mouths and particular kinds of voices that get to speak, and when spoken in particular tones. I grew up as a Syriac-speaking person, a guest on the unceded ancestral territories of the Darug nation. I spent my childhood in the working-class-meets-welfare communities of Fairfield. And I was told, over and again by the old people in my community ‘Loup leshana’ – learn language. I say Syriac-speaking, and not Assyrian, because my ancestral community, the ancient tribes of the Land of Two Rivers (Beth-Nahr-Ain), have been trying to find the just the right words, just the right stories, to explain who we are and where we fit into someone else’s code. Before British anthropologist Layard began to research us in the mid 1800’s to discover we were speaking a very old language, we understood ourselves by our tribal affiliations in a world prior to nations and borders and flags. In the new world, we are still arguing over just the right name that could represent us to those who demand it. Through the new lens of nationhood, for a people with no land-rights, my community has been re-articulating our stories ever since. Cultural identity was the first narrative to code my experience. For me, land (and what country you are from) constructed one of the most crucial parts of my identity. For Assyrians, like many Indigenous folk around the world, ‘your country’ is not a border or a flag or a government, it is a piece of earth, or river or sky. In my language, we call this country Atra. And so by the time I went to primary school I already knew that what I was named and what we name ourselves reflects not only our dignity and our sovereignty but might determine the conditions of our lives. I already knew that colonial notions of sovereign states did not represent my understanding of who I was, but there was no space for that language then, under 1980’s multicultural policy which fixated on flag waving and food fairs. As I grew I learnt that life in the body of a woman – and its subsequent re-presentations – is a complex entanglement of agency, injustice, creativity and destruction. Contrary to the Cartesian binary split between mind and body, I understood my earth story as a very concrete, and sometimes ineffable materiality. It is the materiality of our body-as-existence that I wish to expand upon within this provocation. I want to rethink the ways that the stories we tell about our material world and our place within it author that world. Our bodies have a power and an agency that functions not merely as a resource for the brain that commands it into being the way colonial Europe imagined it. Elizabeth A. Wilson explored the gut as more minded than the brain in her work Gut Feminism. Inspired by her, and a school of thinking called ‘new materialist feminism,’ I am going to uncover how the material world shapes and writes us. I want to do this to blur the boundaries between who (or what) gets to ‘author the text’ about our lives. I want to disrupt the understanding that the mind or thought is more ‘reasoned’ than the rest of my body and for the sake of this publication, the lives and bodies of young people. We often hear that young people are under-represented in public life, that their voices ‘need to be heard’ in the context of social policy making and institution-building. Some work is done in this arena, not nearly enough. Critics abound about whose voices even get to be heard in community consultations. That only certain articulations are ‘heard’ – think translated – because the one asking has programmed a code that young people must decipher in order for dialogue. This highly sophisticated skill of code-translation is wielded by many Aboriginal, Indigenous, Black and Peoples of Colour. In the land of youth services we design consultations, focus groups and surveys in order to ‘increase access’ of the most vulnerable (the most oppressed) to social support services. And rightly so. …
(Art) Lotus Heart by Glen Rogers

Glen Rogers, “Lotus Heart”, monoprint with gold leaf, 22” x 14” In Lotus Heart, I continue my series offigurative prints focusing on women in their power. She deserves a halo for all the mistreatment she has put up with from the patriarchy, don’t you think? Yet, she goes forward in her life, connected to Spirit, the Great Goddess energy that guides her.A lotus blossom, symbol of renewal and generation, opens over her heart. I return to the lotus as spiritual symbol in my art again and again to connect with that sentiment. In my book, Symbols of the Spirit: A Meditative Journey Through Art, I offer this meditation on the lotus. “Visualize the sacred lotus blossom over your heart. As the flower gradually unfolds, imagine your heart opening and awakening to the love of the Universe.” https://www.magoism.net/2021/01/meet-mago-contributor-glen-rogers/

(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) 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.
(Special Post Isis 1) Why the Color of Isis Matters by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s note: The discussion took place in Mago Circle during the month of July, 2013. Our heartfelt thanks go to the members who participated in this discussion with openness and courage.] Part 1 Is Isis White (European) or Black (African)? Harita Meenee What could Isis have to do with the political situation in Egypt? Read on to find out! Isis, Egypt and the Revolution For the past few years Egypt has felt like a second home to me. Some cherished friends and co-workers live there, to whom my thoughts often travel. Also, Isis, the Egyptian great goddess once worshiped all over the Mediterranean, has been an ever-present source of inspiration… By: Harita Meenee, Author https://www.facebook.com/notes/harita-meenee-author/isis-egypt-and-the-revolution/457348724361326 Rick Williams Isis and that picture for me is kind of offensive in 2013. KMT [Kemet, Egypt] and AUSET [Isis] “worship” is an oxymoron. Kahena Dorothea Can you explain, Rick Williams, how it is an oxymoron? I am curious. Rick Williams First, Auset as a deity was not a singularly honored symbolic personage. KMT taught principles of BALANCE and UNIVERSAL COSMOLOGICAL TRUTH. There are NO images from the dawn of that age depicting her as EUROPEAN. [Threads curtailed] Helen Hwang I would strongly suggest that Rick and others who see Rick’s point educate us in Mago Circle. I know this is very difficult but we are here to learn and express differences from each other. We are all centers and please share your perspective and knowledge so that others can learn. I am doing that with patience and tolerance as well. Thank you all! Rick Williams I try to be as honest and respectful when I can, Helen. I only personalize things when ONE person says something. Yet there are those who know that the people of that land now weren’t the same people who honored the deities of mythology and that image isn’t of Auset. When will folks stop promoting fictitious images and uneducated observations? I could have beat around the bush and politely asked about the statue, why that one isn’t truly the same of Auset’s time? Helen Hwang Okay, conflicts and contradictions are everywhere. Nonetheless, we can’t be beat by those. We are exploring ways to be empowered by addressing our differences in Mago Circle. We trust that we have good intentions and yet we are not perfect. I do Mago Circle and Return to Mago because I believe there is a way for us to meet and talk with our differences, I can’t let that hope go! Thank us for talking to each other. Naa Ayele Kumari I can see both points. Egypt has a long and ancient history… One filled with invaders.. wars.. people who stole the magic and manipulated it for their own purposes… Those invaders changed images to make them in their own reflections all the while slowly destroying the indigenous images of power and strength as well as the sacred tradition they were built on.. As a woman of African descent, it is sometimes difficult to see the Hellenistic images of our mother.. because her original images were a woman of color. Racism… whether we chose to admit it or not has played an immense part in our oppression as a people and that includes the struggle for Egypt today. It is especially a sensitive issue because those images play a role in how people see and view black women… even today. The dark goddess is stereotyped as being a part of our shadow while the white goddess is caste as being all that is good in the world. What black women struggle to tell the world is that those projections are simply racist projections… and so we reject them. Still, I recognize that people like to experience the divine in their own image and that our Mother has been taken around the world… and by extension absorbed many names and faces because after all, she is mother not to just Africans… but to the World. Right now, we have dominant tradition of Islam… that at its roots has a feminine basis… (Islam came from the word Isis) all the while oppressing women by its dogma. The indigenous people of Egypt, the Badarians and Nubians… are oppressed by Arab invaders who have taken control, projected their own religions all the while wanting to destroy the remainder of the images of the ancients. Injustice recognizes injustice… and all the ways that it shows up. At the root of Egypt…is Isis… called also Esi and Auset by the indigenous people. She has been oppressed by many layers of invaders… Her daughter’s voices have been muted… Timeless icon that she is, as the tides are turning, so are the heavy oppressions being lifted. Women are finding and re-remembering their power… and as they do… Mama Esi.. is taking back her throne. Naa Ayele Kumari This is the Isis on the walls and temples of Egypt. Harita Meenee Seeing the people of Egypt as all white or all Black means stereotyping them. In fact the inhabitants of Egypt are of different colors: some are white, others are Black and many others are something in-between. The same was true in antiquity and it’s reflected in Egyptian art. Rick Williams Harita, really? What does that have to do with your choice of misrepresentation of that image? Please enlighten me, thank you. Harita Meenee Τhere is no misrepresentation, dear Rick Williams. If you read my note carefully, you’ll see that it talks about Isis as a goddess who was worshiped all over the Mediterranean–I’m not referring to just her Egyptian manifestation. The statue depicted is in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, Greece. I took this picture and processed it slightly so that it looks more like a painting than a sculpture. No change was made to the actual form or color of the statue. I’m attaching a photo of the museum label of this work of art. It may not be clearly visible, but it reads: Marble statue of the goddess Isis-Tyche-Pelagia. 1st-2nd century AD. The composite name means that, as was often the case in […]

(Video) An Autumn Equinox Ceremony by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Autumn Equinox/Mabon Northern Hemisphere – September 21-23 Southern Hemisphere – March 21-23 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRJNY1LSvIs&t=1175s …oOo… The purpose of this 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. The script for this Autumn Equinox/Mabon ceremony is offered in Chapter 11 of my book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony, with all acknowledgements and references there. In particular I mention here, credit for the story of Demeter and Persephone as told by Charlene Spretnak in her book Lost Goddesses of Early Greece. For more full participation in the ceremony, you could have one or more stalks of wheat or native grain tied with a red thread/ribbon, a garden pot with soil, a small garden trowel, a flower bulb (daffodil type), food and drink, that may represent your “harvest” – ready for eating and drinking. 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). The images used are a collage of footage and photos from the 2024 Autumn Equinox ceremony at my place in Wakka Wakka country, South East Queensland Australia, and from previous Autumn Equinox ceremonies I facilitated over the decades in MoonCourt, Goddess ceremonial space in NSW Australia, Darug and Gundungurra country. My partner Robert (Taffy) Seaborne who has participated in all the Seasonal ceremonies since Samhain 2000, adds his voice to this video. Image credits: Demeter and Persephone (500 B.C.E. Greece). Hallie Iglehart Austen, The Heart of the Goddess, p.72. Art of Demeter and Persephone on MoonCourt wall: Cernak Herself Music credit: “Gentle Sorrow” by Sky: which he has previously allowed me to use in my work. This piece of music is also used in the Autumn Equinox meditation on my PaGaian Cosmology Meditations published 2015.
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) …
(Book Excerpt) Imbolc/Early Spring within the Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 6 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Traditionally the dates for Imbolc/Early Spring are: Southern Hemisphere – August 1st/2nd Northern Hemisphere – February 1st/2nd though the actual astronomical date varies. It is the meridian point or cross-quarter day between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, thus actually a little later in early August for S.H., and early February for N.H., respectively. Some Imbolc Motifs In this cosmology Imbolc/Early Spring is the quintessential celebration of She Who is the Urge to Be. This aspect of the Creative Triplicity is associated with the differentiation quality of Cosmogenesis,[i] and with the Virgin/Young One aspect of the Triple Goddess, who is ever-new, unique, and singular in Her beauty – as each being is. This Seasonal Moment celebrates an identification with the Virgin/Young One – the rest of the light part of the cycle celebrates Her processes. At this Moment She is the Promise of Life, a spiritual warrior, determined to Be. Her purity is Her singularity of purpose. Her inviolability is Her determination to be … nothing to do with unbroken hymens of the dualistic and patriarchal mind. The Virgin quality is the essential “yes” to Being – not the “no” She was turned into. In the poietic process of the Seasonal Moments of Samhain/Deep Autumn, Winter Solstice and Imbolc/Early Spring, one may get a sense of these three in a movement towards manifest form – syntropy: from the autopoietic fertile sentient space of Samhain, through the gateway and communion of Winter Solstice to differentiated being, constant novelty, infinite particularity of Imbolc/Early Spring. The three are a kaleidoscope, seamlessly connected. The ceremonial breath meditations for all three of these Seasonal Moments focus attention on the Space between the breaths – each with slightly different emphasis: it is from this manifesting Space that form/manifestation arises. If one may observe Sun’s position on the horizon as She rises, the connection of the three can be noted there also: that is, Sun at Samhain/Deep Autumn and Imbolc/Early Spring rises at the same position, halfway between Winter Solstice and Equinox, but the movement is just different in direction.[ii] And these three Seasonal Moments are not clearly distinguishable – they are “fuzzy,”[iii] not simply linear and all three are in each other … this is something recognised of Old, thus the Nine Muses, or the numinosity of any multiple of three. Some Imbolc/early Spring Story This is the Season of the new waxing light. Earth’s tilt has begun taking us in this region back towards the Sun. Traditionally this Seasonal Point has been a time of nurturing the new life that is beginning to show itself – around us in flora and fauna, and within. It is a time of committing one’s self to the new life and to inspiration – in the garden, in the soul, and in the Cosmos. We may celebrate the new young Cosmos – that time in our Cosmic story when She was only a billion years old and galaxies were forming, as well as the new that is ever coming forth. This first Seasonal transition of the light part of the cycle has been named “Imbolc” – Imbolc is thought to mean “ewe’s milk” from the word “Oimelc,” as it is the time when lambs were/are born, and milk was in plentiful supply. It is also known as “the Feast of Brigid,” Brigid being the Great Goddess of the Celtic (and likely pre-Celtic) peoples, who in Christian times was made into a saint. The Great Goddess Brigid is classically associated with early Spring since the earliest of times, but her symbology has evolved with the changing eras – sea, grain, cow. In our times we could associate Her also with the Milky Way, our own galaxy that nurtures our life – Brigid’s jurisdiction has been extended. Some sources say that Imbolc means “in the belly of the Mother.” In either case of its meaning, this celebration is in direct relation to, and an extension of, the Winter Solstice – when the Birth of all is celebrated. Imbolc may be a dwelling upon the “originating power,” and that it is in us: a celebration of each being’s particular participation in this power that permeates the Universe, and is present in the condition of every moment.[iv] This Seasonal Moment focuses on the Urge to Be, the One/Energy deeply resolute about Being. She is wilful in that way – and Self-centred. In the ancient Celtic tradition Great Goddess Brigid has been identified with the role of tending the Flame of Being, and with the Flame itself. Brigid has been described as: “… Great Moon Mother, patroness (sic … why not “matron”) of poetry and of all ‘making’ and of the arts of healing.”[v] Brigid’s name means “the Great or Sublime One,” from the root brig, “power, strength, vigor, force, efficiency, substance, essence, and meaning.”[vi] She is poet, physician/healer, smith-artisan: qualities that resonate with the virgin-mother-crone but are not chronologically or biologically bound – thus are clearly ever present Creative Dynamic. Brigid’s priestesses in Kildare tended a flame, which was extinguished by Papal edict in 1100 C.E., and was re-lit in 1998 C.E.. In the Christian era, these Early Spring/Imbolc celebrations of the Virgin quality, the New Young One – became “Candlemas,” a time for purifying the “polluted” mother – forty days after Solstice birthing. Many nuns took their vows of celibacy at this time, invoking the asexual virgin bride.[vii] This is in contrast to its original meaning, and a great example of what happened to this Earth-based tradition in the period of colonization of indigenous peoples. An Imbolc/Early Spring Ceremonial Altar The flame of being within is to be protected and nurtured: the new Being requires dedication and attention. At this early stage of its advent, there is nothing certain about its staying power and growth: there may be uncertainties of various kinds. So there is traditionally a “dedication” in the ceremonies, which may be considered a “Brigid-ine” dedication, or known as a “Bridal” dedication, since “Bride” is a derivative of …
(Poetry & Photo Essay) Pongal by Susan Hawthorne

I am a secularist rather than a ritualist, but I can’t help but be drawn into the celebrations that people make when they honour the passing of the seasons. Even as a child I felt the disconnect between Christmas and the hot dusty days of summer. When Christians invaded and colonised Australia they brought their holidays but did not consider changing the dates to match the seasons. I was in India recently, invited as a speaker at the Hindu Lit For Life Festival in Chennai where I had lived ten years ago. The last day of the festival was the first day of Pongal. A friend, feminist economist Devaki Jain, who had grown up in Chennai eighty years earlier invited me to join her in a car ride to see Pongal celebrations in the streets. This is a Tamil festival dating back at least a thousand years, a sun festival, welcoming the next six months of the sun’s journey, also a harvest festival. During this time many women produce beautiful drawings, known as kolam. In my book Cow I wrote a poem about kolam which I think says more than I can explain here. what she says about kolam where they are drawn and when is all important early morning is auspicious it sets the shape of the day the hard ground is cleaned points of white grain sprinkled she works quickly she knows her design for the day runs the powdered grain from point to point it is a mandala a yantra a sign so the forces of the universe align themselves with her intentions Back to Pongal. The festival goes for four days. On the first day, which is called Bhogi, people are on the streets with the fruits of harvest, piles of tumeric and stacks of sugar cane tied in bunches. My friend, Devaki, bought flowers to take back to her room in the hotel. The second day, called Thai Pongal, I was invited to a harvest lunch at the house of my friend Mangai who is a playwright, theatre director and human rights activist. The word ‘pongal’ means ‘boiling over’ or’ overflow’ and I saw this in the cooking of the sweetened rice dish into which each of the twelve people present poured some water and milk as it almost overflowed the pot. This sweet rice dish was added to the collection of other dishes on the table. I cannot tell you what they were, but the meal was delicious. After lunch everyone relaxed, someone sang, we talked and caught up on news. The third day, is called Maatu Pongal, and cattle are at the centre of celebrations on that day. I don’t know if this line up of cattle had anything to do with the day’s celebration but there they were tied up alongside a very busy main road. These were not cows and I did not see any cows with decorated horns and flowers on their heads. on that day as I have on other occasions. On the fourth day, Kaanum Pongal, things begin to wind down. One of my co-speakers at the festival said she would be visiting family members on that day. The kolams are drawn again, sugar cane is consumed and people go back to their daily lives. What I liked about being in Tamil Nadu during the Pongal festival is that it felt absolutely right. The time of the year, the connection with harvest, so I did not feel the discomfort I so often feel in the midst of the out-of-season commercialised holidays as they are celebrated in Australia. Susan Hawthorne’s book Cow is available worldwide from distributors in USA, Canada, UK, from all the usual online retailers or from Spinifex Press. http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/Bookstore/book/id=215/ © Susan Hawthorne, 2019 (Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthorne.
(Essay) Ceremony as “Prayer” or Sacred Awareness By Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 3 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. MoonCourt Ceremonial Space set for Autumn Equinox ceremony, 2013 Ritual/ceremony is often described as “sacred space.” I understand that to mean “awareness of the space as sacred”: all space is sacred, what shifts is our awareness – awareness of the depth of spacetime, and of the depth of all things and all beings. I understand “sacred awareness” as an awareness of deep relationship and identity with the very cosmic dynamics that create and sustain the Universe; or an awareness of what is involved in the depth of each moment, each thing, each being. Ceremony is a space and time given to expression, contemplation and nurturance of that depth … at least to something of it. Ceremony may be both an expression of deep inner truths – perceived relationship to self, Earth and Cosmos, as well as being a mode of teaching and drawing forth deeper participation. Essentially, ceremony is a way of entering into the depth of the present moment … what is deeply present right here and now, a way of entering deep space and deep time, which is not somewhere else but is right here. Every-thing, and every moment, has Depth – more depth than we usually allow ourselves to contemplate, let alone comprehend. This book, this paper, this ink, the chair, the floor – each has a history and connections that go back, all the way back to Origins. This moment you experience now, in its particular configuration, place, people present, subtle feelings, thoughts, and propensity towards certain directions or outcomes, has a depth – many histories and choices that go back … ultimately all the way back to the beginning. Great Origin is present at every point of space and time – right here. In ceremony we are plugging our awareness into something of that. In this holy context then – in this mindframe of knowing connection, everything one does is a participation in the creation of the Cosmos: for the tribal indigenous woman, perhaps the weaving of a basket; for another, perhaps preparing a meal; for you, perhaps getting on the train to go to a workplace. It is possible to regain this sense, to come to feel that the way one breathes makes a difference – that with it, you co-create the present and the future, and you may even be a blessing on the past. In every moment we receive the co-creation, the work, of innumerable beings, of innumerable moments, and innumerable interactions of the elements, in everything we touch … and so are we touched by them. The local is our touchstone to the Cosmos – it is not separate. Ceremony may be a way into this awareness, into strengthening it. Ceremony is actually ‘doing,’ not just theorizing. We can talk about our personal and cultural disconnection endlessly, but we need to actually change our minds. Ceremony can be an enabling practice – a catalyst/practice for personal and cultural change. It is not just talking about eating the pear, it is eating the pear; it is not just talking about sitting on the cushion (meditating), it is sittingon the cushion. It is a cultural practice wherein we tell a story/stories about what we believe to be so most deeply, about who and what we are. Ceremony can be a place for practicing a new language, a new way of speaking, or spelling – a place for practicing “matristic storytelling”[i] if you like: that is, for telling stories of the Mother, of Earth and Cosmos as if She were alive and sentient. We can “play like we know it,” so that we may come to know it.[ii] Ceremony then is a form of social action. I have found it useful to describe ceremony using and extending words used by Ken Wilber to describe a “transpersonal practice,” which is needed for real change: he said it was a practice that discloses “a deeper self (I or Buddha) in a deeper community (We or Sangha) expressing a deeper truth (It or Dharma).”[iii] My extension of that is: ceremony may disclose a deeper beautiful self (the I/Virgin/Urge to Be/Buddha), in a deeper relational community (the We/Mother/Place of Being/Sangha), expressing a deeper transformative truth (the It/Old One/Space to Be/Dharma). This is the “unitive body,” the “microcosmos” that Charlene Spretnak refers to in States of Grace.[iv] Since ceremony is an opportunity to give voice to deeper places in ourselves, forms of communication are used that the dreamer, the emotional, the body, can comprehend, such as music, drama, simulation, dance, chanting, singing.[v] These forms enable the entering of a level of consciousness that is there all the time, but that is not usually expressed or acknowledged. We enter a realm that is ‘out of time,’ which is commonly said to be not the “real” world, but it is more organic/indigenous to all being and at least as real as the tick-tock world. It is a place “between the worlds,” wherein we may put our hands on the very core of our lives, touch whatever it is that we feel our existence is about, and thus touch the possibility of re-creating and renewing ourselves. NOTES: [i] A term used by Gloria Feman Orenstein in The Reflowering of the Goddess (New York: Pergamon Press, 1990), 147. [ii] As my doctoral thesis supervisor Dr. Susan Murphy once described it to me in conversation. [iii] Ken Wilber, A Brief History of Everything (Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1996), 306-307. [iv] 145. [v] As Starhawk notes, The Spiral Dance, 45. REFERENCES: Livingstone, Glenys. A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Girl God Books: Bergen, Norway, 2023. Orenstein, Gloria Feman. The Reflowering of the Goddess. New York: Pergamon Press, 1990. Starhawk. The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. New York: Harper and Row, 1999. Wilber, Ken. A Brief History of Everything. Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1996.
(Photography & Poetry) Thoughts of Spring by Deanne Quarrie

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

(Budoji Essay 5) The Magoist Cosmogony by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part 5: Magoist Cosmology “The primary aim of Magoist cosmology lies in lifting up the conceptual veil in people’s mind so that they can see what is given at birth.” [This is a translation and interpretation of the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City), principal text of Magoism. Read the translation of Chapter 1 of the Budoji.] Magoist cosmology: Magoist cosmology, knowing of the female principle of Magoist cosmogony (story of the Female Beginning), reconstitutes, heals, and maintains the original vision of gynocentric soteriology. Its primary function is to guide humanity according to the law of nature whereby all things are born and evolve into their greatest potential. In short, Magoist cosmology is a gynocentric mode of thinking that shows the Way of all beings. By extension, it is an inherent principle of nature- and women-honoring civilizations. I suggest Magoist cosmology, underpinning of the Magoist cosmogony, as an antidote to the detriments of patriarchal consciousness. Its female principle restores the original unity among all entities, which has been thwarted by patriarchal cosmologies. Comprising the most foundational program of human consciousness, so constitutive that no one is born without it, Magoist cosmology is ever active and accessible to people. Nonetheless, it is made dormant in the conscious mind of people under patriarchal cultures. Thus, the primary aim of Magoist cosmology lies in lifting up the conceptual veil in people’s mind so that they can see what is given at birth.
(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.
(Poem) Just Remember WE in S/HE by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Just Remember WE in S/HE Remember the Universe is without the beginning or the end. Remember the Creatrix is the Music of the Universe.