November 10, 2022November 11, 2022 Jude LallyLeave a comment

(Prose 1) The Story of a Doll by Jude Lally

I gathered sticks from an ancient bridle path, one that many have walked through over the centuries. Her wool is from a sheep from the Scottish Isle of Colonsay, a Read More …

(Prose) Halcyon for the Season by Deanne Quarrie

A bird for this season is the Kingfisher, also known as the Halcyon. The Kingfisher is associated in Greek myth with the Winter Solstice. There were fourteen “halcyon days” in every year, seven of which fell before the winter solstice, seven after; peaceful days when the sea was smooth as a pond and the hen-halcyon built a floating nest and hatched out her young. She also had another habit, that of carrying her dead mate on her back over the sea and mourning him with a plaintive cry. Pliny reported that the halcyon was rarely seen and then only at the winter and summer solstices and at the setting of the Pleiades. She was therefore, a manifestation of the Moon-Goddess who was worshiped at the two solstices as the Goddess of Life in Death and Death in Life and, when the Pleiades set, she sent the sacred king his summons for death. Kingfishers are typically stocky, short-legged birds with large heads and large, heron-like beaks. They feed primarily on fish, hovering over the water or watching intently from perches and they plunge headlong into the water to catch their prey. Their name, Alcedinidae, stems from classical Greek mythology. Alcyone, Daughter of the Wind, was so distraught when her husband perished in a shipwreck that she threw herself into the sea. Both were then transformed into kingfishers and roamed the waves together. When they nested on the open sea, the winds remained calm and the weather balmy. Still another Alcyone, Queen of Sailing, was the mystical leader of the seven Pleiades. The heliacal rising of the Pleiades in May marked the beginning of the navigational year and their setting marked the end. Alcyone, as Sea Goddess protected sailors from rocks and rough weather. The bird, halcyon continued for centuries to be credited with the magical power of allaying storms. Shakespeare refers to this legend in this passage from Hamlet: Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow’d and so gracious is the time. Hamlet, I, i 157 When I was a young mother, and my children were little, we lived in a house that had a creek in the back yard. There were small trees along the far bank of this creek and every day, a kingfisher would sit in the branches overlooking the creek. Sometimes he sat there very quietly for a very long time. Suddenly he would dive from his perch straight into the creek. Every time he did he came out and up into the air with a fish. It gave me great pleasure to watch him from my kitchen window. I love birds. I love learning about their habits because it teaches me ways of being that are closer to nature. I love drawing birds as well. When I was a young and more able, I was an avid bird watcher, out with my friends hoping for a sight never seen before. I love the story of the kingfisher and her connection to the Halcyon Days of the Winter Solstice. It is for most of us the busiest time of year. Whether it is for the Solstice or Christmas (often both) we are in a frenzy to get things done, making sure everything is just right and perfect. I celebrate the Winter Solstice. As a priestess, my days right now are very busy creating ritual. It is at the Solstice that many passage rites are happening with the women I work with. And of course, I celebrate with my family with our magical Yule Log each year. But I try to honor those seven days before and the seven days after by trying to have the frantic moments before the Halcyon Days begin and then even when busy, hold the peace and calm of that beautiful smooth sea in my mind. Peace and love and joy surrounding the Winter Solstice make it perfect. May the Peace of a Halcyon Sea be yours in this Solstice Season. Do hold the image of that little kingfisher in mind! Meet Mago Contributor, Deanne Quarrie
(Poem & Art) Vision Weaver by Arlene Bailey

Vision Weaver by Arlene Bailey On the longest night of the year,as seeds sleep deep within the dark moist Mother,out of the void I step. Mirroring the essence of the moon,symbol of my own birth, death and rebirth,millennia of lunations course through meas I quietly step fully and completelyinto my visceral raw powerand cosmic sovereignty. Marked by the forest,my very skin the bark of theHallowed Yew, Hemlock and Oak,I send my roots deep and wide. Full moon light guides me asI embody the knowing thatNature’s cycles are my cycles,ancient and woven intricately intothe pattern of all that is. With golden antlers that reach toward the starsconnecting me to ancient wisdom,I am a woman who does not fear death,a woman who goes willing into the depthssubmitting to the alchemy of the void.Death and birth bothportals to my next incarnation.Light and Dark my alchemy. The Flower of Life holding the seedsof all that is yet to come. Each taking, each givingwhatever I need.Each time reborn stronger,I am the Virgin Huntress.A Woman Unto Herself. Complete.Wise.Sovereign.Still. Created from wet, moist, verdant earthas the Sun enters CapricornI am Daughter of both theAbove and Below.I AM the Without and Within. In this time when the Sun stands stilland all outward movement slows,the quiet, gentle light of the growing Moonturns me inward toward the Stillpoint.As a Hallowed birth comes callingon this Winter Solstice eve,I weave the visions of morning’s light. https://www.magoism.net/2020/04/meet-mago-contributor-arlene-bailey/ _______________________________Vision Weaver, Art and Words by Arlene Bailey ©2018, 2020
(Art & Prose) Becoming Safe to Feel by Lucy Pierce

“After the Fire” art by Lucy Pierce We need all of our feelings, they are there for a reason and they need to be felt. We need to know we’re big enough to feel them all, even the most excruciatingly uncomfortable ones, even the ones that mean we have to disrupt the expectations of life and other people and our own limitations to feel them. I was raised in a culture, at a time, when I was taught it was not safe to feel my own feelings, not acceptable to express all the hues and shades and textures of my human emotions as they arose. What happened for me was that then my body became so full of all the suppressed feelings that couldn’t be felt, that I had to leave my body because it had become a toxic dumping ground. Because I knew I would not be loved and held through the process of releasing the painful and uncomfortable or raucously jubilant emotions that perpetually bubbled up from within, I swallowed them down in a constant imperative to suppress. I used any means I had to spread wings and fly from the impossibility of being full of things one could not be loved for, but that had nowhere else to go. I formed addictions which further added to the toxicity of my body as a place of residence. The perception that I was not safe to express who I was led to a sense of immense insecurity and self-loathing, I could not know myself in all my colors and so I couldn’t truly know or trust others. I was so isolated and alone, I couldn’t express my needs and so I did not feel safe, ever. Everything of value to me, everything life-giving, like creativity, sensuality, sexuality, boundaries, ambition, desire, intimacy, connection was all bound up with all the things I couldn’t let out and so became inaccessible to me, became dangerous. I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself let alone how to ask for it. I had a vast pain body and mountains of shame and a seemingly bottomless self-loathing. Throughout my early life, adolescence and early twenties, more insults and injuries were incurred along the way, but the vastness of my withheld pressure cooker of rage and grief and panic and fear and love and joy was so densely packed in. How does one even begin to address the backlog, let alone attend affectively to the slights of the moment? I was tied, bound and gagged internally, crippled and contorted, hiding in my own skin. When I first became a mother at the age of 25, I had only just begun to address this dire dissociated state of shame and toxic suppression of emotion. I was voiceless and isolated from my own body, because of the things that hadn’t been shared and accepted. Motherhood changed the landscape of my psyche in such a fundamental way. Simultaneously I understood great love and saw the depths of my own trauma. For the first time in my life I felt a dimension of fierce love and responsibility that blew my mind. It showed me that to love and to hold my baby, I would have to begin to feel all the feelings that hadn’t yet been felt, in order to offer true advocacy and a deep container of loving compassionate acceptance for all that moved in my child. I had to learn to love myself. It also made me see that those who are suppressed will suppress in order to avoid feeling the feelings they have been indoctrinated to suppress, in order not to feel the terror and threat of death, abandonment and annihilation, that becomes associated with one’s own emotional expression. The powerful instinct of my children to use their emotions to get their needs met was deeply triggering to the wounded child within me. Their anger triggering a deep fear and discomfort that would then lead me to unconsciously control their behavior in order not to feel so overwhelmed by my own toxic response to the purity of emotional expression. This paradox was so excruciating for me to live with, as I saw my own toxicity impacting on my pure and perfect children. I began to walk the long road toward a restoration of selfhood and healing, one I am still growing and learning upon in each living moment. The story that it was not safe to be who we are, not safe to feel and be that which rises and falls like the magnificent waves of oceans or storm clouds or spring blooms, began back in the far reaches of our ancestral history, in the intricate twists and turns of our epigenetic traumas. The contortions of our complicit pretense, seeded in the fertile ground of our innocence, began long before our mother’s mother’s mother walked the Earth. I have been mothering my three children for 17 years now and I have made more mistakes than you could poke a stick at, just as I have loved them as fiercely always as I have known how to. In the years that have ensued, living inside the paradox of needing to fall apart and own my rage and grief and love and fear, let myself be undone, spill open, dismantle the iron maiden of my own withholding, whilst simultaneously holding space for small, vulnerable humans and trying to maintain healthy adult relationships has been fraught with times of chaos and immense vulnerability. One who is suppressed has no idea who they might be on the other side of their expression, one only knows one’s self for the shame of not being true. Over the years I have allowed myself to feel it all, rivers of tears, snot and spit. Violent rage ripping through my body, spewed out to self and other. Tender apology, stripped back remorse. Cycling in, cycling out. There have been times when I have longed to medicate myself, times when I have felt I was …
(Essay 3) Open, Please!: Persian & Islamic Tales of Women Rescued by Mountains by Krista Rodin, Ph.D.

[Editor’s Note: All photos are taken by the author.] The Pir-e Banu legend has been intermingled with the story of Bibi Shahrbanu, (Bib Sharbanu) whose pilgrimage site lies in the ancient Persian city of Rey (Raay) just south of modern day Tehran. Mary Boyce has effectively shown the relationship between the Pir-e Banu story and the Shahrbanu legends. In her article, “Bibi Shahrbanu and the Lady of Pars” she discusses how the literary tradition regarding Shahrbanu has her as Imam Hussyn’s wife/mother whereas in the oral tradition she is both the daughter of Yazdegard III and Hussyn’s wife/mother. There are multiple versions of her story, but she was most often considered another of King Yagdegird III’s daughters who: was captured by the Arabs and taken to Madina, where she became the wife of Husayn, son of Ali. To him she bore a son, “Ali Zayn al-Abidin, who became the fourth Shia Imam. After the tragedy of Karbala, the Persian princess fled, as Husayn himself had bidden her, on her dead husband’s horse, and rode for her life back to Persia, with her enemies in hot pursuit. They were close upon her as she drew near Ray, and in desperation she tried to call on God; but instead of Yallahu” O God! Her weary tongue uttered instead Ya kuh! O mountain!, and miraculously the mountain opened before her and took her living into its rocks. A piece of her veil was caught in the stone and remained an object of veneration for centuries.viii An early mid10thC rendition by Kulini states: …Ali’s mother brought, not before Uthman, but before Umar, hated by the Shia; ignoring thereby two historical facts, one, that “’Umar died in 644, whereas ‘Ali was not born until 657, the year after Uthman’’s death; the other, that Khorasan was conquered during the caliphate of Uthman. According to Kulini, “Umar sought to harm the princess, but Ali father of Husayn intervened, and bade him let her choose for herself a husband among those assembled. She went at one to Husayn. Being questioned by Ali, she declared her name to be Shahrbanu, wherat he replied: ‘No, you are Jehanshah’.ix A later 10th C version in the Tarikh-I Qum relates: that the mother of the Imam Ali, son of Husayn, was Sharhbanoe, daughter of Yazdigird, and that she died giving birth to Ali. … there is some agreement among the texts for the name of Ali’s mother and that she was a slave by capture, but her identity and fate differ according to Shi’a and Sunni versions.x In all of them there is some overlap. Basically, according to Boyce, “the princess was brought before Umar, threatened by him (usually with being sold as a slave), and rescued by Ali; and that she was either given by Ali to Husayn, or herself chose Husayn as husband. In none of these accounts is anything said about the ultimate fate of the princess.”xi Similar to Chak Chak, there is a spring at the foot of the arid mountain where Bibi Shahrbanu’s cave is situated with a mulberry wishing tree nearby. The actual pilgrimage shrine is across a courtyard from the cave with supposedly Bibi Shahrbanu’s handprints on the inside walls. The shrine itself is now more like a typical Shiite mausoleum. There is no archeological evidence to indicate that the structures are older than about 200-300 years, but there is reason to believe that the site has been used as a place of worship for Shiite Muslims at least since the 9th C. The generic oral tradition tie to the older Sassanian legend is perhaps a way to assert Persianness over the Arab invaders while building a bridge between ancient Anahita worship and the new religion.xii Bibi Shahrbanu’s Shrine, Rey (Ray), Iran The worship of Anahid became disreputable, while the story of Husayn’s Sassanian wife gained currency. With her, ‘the Mother of the Nine Imams’, a princess of the Persian blood royal, a human figure came into existence remote enough and exalted enough to be identified with ‘the Lady’ of Ray. Once the identification was made, then it became necessary to forge a link between the wife of the long-dead martyr of Karbala and the mountain shrine where ‘the Lady’ was still venerated as a living presence; and so, one may suppose, the legend was shaped that brought the princess to find refuge alive in the rocks of the sanctuary.xiii Later the Zoroastrian elements were overridden, and the site became regarded as the grave of Shahrbanu in line with the worship of saints in Shiite Iran. “Inside the inner sanctuary there is an inscription, ‘This tomb of the Mother of Believers, the most excellent of princesses, my Lady Shahrbanoe. May Allah sanctify her secret!’”ix Plaque and Pilgrims at Bibi Shahrbanu’s Shrine and Cave, Rey, Iran The basic story is that of a woman seeking refuge from invading non-believers. She is lost and desperate when she begs a desert rocky mountain to provide her shelter and maintain her purity. Beyond the scope of human reasoning, the earth barren rock opens to save her. This pattern is the same at all of these five sites. The caves where the women were sheltered are indicative of the earliest symbols of the womb of mother earth while the caverns are each on steep and difficult to reach mountain slopes, the traditional home of the gods. Each of them also has a water source, indicating abundance. This ancient symbolism, also indicated by the animals associated with the earliest sites, sheep and cows, harken back to elements of the pre-Zoroastrian goddess Anahita, who was adopted into the Zoroastrian temple and formal religious system by Artaxerxes II (404-358 BCE). He adopted the Babylonian kings’ concept of building temples and placing a tax on the people of the neighboring villages to pay for the sacred sites as well as fill the royal coffers. Artaxerxes II built temples to Anahita at Susa, Echabatana, and perhaps the largest at Kangavar. Anahita is aligned …
(Essay 2) Cosmogenesis and the Female Metaphor: Goddess as Cosmological Creativity by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D

This essay is part 2 of an edited excerpt from Chapter 4 of the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. Charlene Spretnak has noted that: When a woman raised in patriarchal culture … immerses herself in sacred space where various manifestations of the Goddess bring forth the Earthbody from the spinning void … She will body the myth with her own totemic being. She is the cosmic form of waxing, fullness, waning: virgin, mature creator, wise crone. She cannot be negated ever again. Her roots are too deep – and they are everywhere.[i] I propose that this may be true also for any person, who immerses their self in sacred space where various manifestations of Goddess bring forth Earthbody, where they may body the myth, the story, with their own totemic being, for She – the Female Metaphor – is the cosmic form of waxing, fullness and waning: a Dynamic that is everywhere, omnipresent. Brian Swimme has affirmed that “when he had reflected and meditated on the pre-Hellenic myths until he ‘became filled with a myth’”[ii], that his thinking about “natural phenomena and the entire universe were qualitatively different” from a “patriarchal, industrialized, competitive … frame of reference.” His experience led him to conclude that the myths had a very deep biological basis, that could alter our relationship to the universe, and thus the universe itself, if we allowed ourselves to be filled with them. aligning with Her entrancing qualities Swimme and Berry have noted often in their reflections on the story of the unfolding Universe, that Western industrialized peoples have become dissociated from, or autistic to, the Earth community and the Cosmos. Berry has suggested that the only effective restoration of a viable mode of human presence on the planet is through a renewal of human intimacy “with the great cosmic liturgy of the natural world”[iii]. He suggests that the coordination of ritual celebrations with the transformation moments of the natural world – such as the “entrancing sequence” of the seasons – gives promise of a future “with the understanding, the power, the aesthetic grandeur, and the emotional fulfillment needed”[iv]. He suggests that such are the “entrancing qualities needed to endure the difficulties to be encountered and to evoke the creativity needed”[v]. Berry believed that although we – the human and the entire planet – are in a moment of dangerous transition to a new era, a moment of significance far beyond our imagination, that we are “not lacking in the dynamic forces needed to create the future”, that we need only invoke the abundant sea of energy in which we are immersed[vi]. If the Universe is understood to be “a single, multiform celebratory expression” as Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme affirm in their cosmic story, then we are the very Dynamics of Creativity, and only need to invoke these powers – these “originating powers” that permeate “every drop of existence”[vii]. As Charlene Spretnak affirms in States of Grace, we exist as participants in the greatest ritual: the cosmic ceremony of seasonal and diurnal rhythms framing epochal dramas of becoming … and further, When people gather in a group to create ritual, they form a unitive body, a microcosmos of differentiation, subjectivity and deep communion[viii]. We may with practice – of a religious kind, as in a connecting kind – embody consciously, and grow into, our Earthly and Cosmic nature. This microcosmos – that we each are and that we may collectively express – of differentiation, subjectivity and communion are three faces of Gaia’s Cosmic method of Creativity, used everyday on planet Earth and throughout time and space in Her ever-transforming Cosmogenesis. In my Poetic Search, I have associated these three faces of Cosmogenesis with the three faces of the Female Metaphor (Goddess)[ix] – the three faces that the ancients noticed reiterated all around them. The dynamic was everywhere as I describe (in this chapter), and the ancients who were scientists in their observation of the world, of which they felt a part, noticed its dimensions. NOTES: [i] Charlene Spretnak, States of Grace, p.143. [ii] Charlene Spretnak, Lost Goddesses of Early Greece, p.xvii. [iii] Thomas Berry, The Great Work, p.19. [iv] Thomas Berry, The Great Work, p.18-20. [v] Thomas Berry, The Great Work, p.20. [vi] Thomas Berry, The Great Work, p.175. [vii] Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry, The Universe Story, p.78. [viii] Charlene Spretnak, States of Grace, p.145. [ix] as described in my book PaGaian Cosmology. REFERENCES: Berry, Thomas. The Great Work. NY: Bell Tower, 1999. Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. Spretnak, Charlene.States of Grace: The Recovery of Meaning in the Postmodern Age. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993. Spretnak, Charlene. Lost Goddesses of Early Greece: a Collection of Pre-Hellenic Myths. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992/1978.
(Poem & Photography) Ephemeral Emergence by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright Ephemeral Emergence Arbutus trumpets seduce bumblebees three lobed trillium wings streak rose shining stars pearling forest floors wild oats bow bluebead swords unfurl wild lily leaves clasp palms in prayer stained glass hemlock sky filters light fragrant needles fracture white sun glare…. ‘spring beauties’ rise… Photo by Sara Wright Photo by Sara Wright I have taken to the forest. If any month calls up the goddess in her wild aspect it is May when the forest floor is covered in wild flowers and bird migration is under way. Every spring I used to allow this month to be stolen by chores. With the forests disappearing so rapidly across the globe I am keenly aware that we are losing our songbirds and wild flowers too. No one mentions the loss of these birds and ephemerals who need the complexity of natural forests to thrive – is this because no one knows that we have lost 3 billion song birds or that wildflowers are with us for such a brief moment in time? I think of the hikers that now swarm well – known trails of stripped or partially cleared logged woods. People who know nothing about the birds singing their hearts out around them, the plants under their feet, or the saplings that struggle to live on without their kin. If we don’t care about our forests then why pay attention to the birds and flowers that greet us each spring? Because I care deeply about all – birds, forests, and wild flowers – I am spending all my time in the woods. I am no longer interested in maintaining gardens, especially not one for food – our air, water and soils are polluted – ‘organic,’ an expensive consumer catchword, is relative. And I am also ready to let my cultivated flower garden go because the spikes in temperature related to climate change have made it hard to keep up with watering from a dug well, not to mention the hard flash freezes. What interests me the most is that in my late 70’s I am closing a circle. I started my life loving birds and wildflowers fiercely, learning all the names of those I met as soon as I could talk. My first word was flower (for wild buttercups). Now I am returning to my first two loves, with, if possible, more appreciation than ever. May is peak migration month here in Maine. Last night more than 33,000 birds migrated through this area, and this morning I heard my 2nd warbler’s song. In the forest wild flowers bloom, the very first before leaf out, the rest before the sun gets too hot and temperatures rise. By the summer solstice, wild flowers have faded; many have already set seed. I love being present for Ephemeral Emergence and for a time I am possessed by a joy beneath words. Just like my phoebes! https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright/
Elderberrying with the Yei by Sara Wright

Every year at the end of August I celebrate the Wild Harvest by gathering elderberries to make a medicinal tincture that I use all year long and share with close friends. This gathering is a process that begins in the spring as I search for new bushes and then later blossoming elderberry flowers in old and new places. As the summer progresses, I continue to monitor the bushes searching for those with berries. Beginning in early August I am on alert for ripening. I am especially mindful because our weather is changing rapidly. If the trend of bad air, fog, too many deluges continues unabated it’s probable that the times for harvesting berries may shift. In addition, many of the wild places that once supported elderberry bushes have been manicured to get rid of the wild plants by mowing them down, bulldozing the soil to remove all greenery, etc. The rape of wild nature has escalated with time. This year I have been especially fortunate because I found new clusters bursting out in places they weren’t before. I think the Elder – Berry Woman is helping me. Destroying these precious wild plants and their habitat means that a once common ancient Native plant remedy may be disappearing. Despite horticultural advertising our elderberry bushes do not do well in cultivation, if they survive at all. I know enough (which a almost nothing) about the mycorrhizal fungal network to know that just the right combination of plants and fungi must be present for these plants to thrive, even if I don’t understand what those relationships could be. Westerners have yet to return sovereignty to the soil as Native Peoples did from the beginning thousands and thousands of years ago. All Indigenous peoples have names for the fungal power that lies beneath our feet. One such name according to Robin Wall Kimmerer is Puhpowee, an Anishinaabe word for the spirit or force that causes fruiting fungi (mushrooms) to appear out of earth overnight. Ever since I first dreamed that I needed to use this plant for my well-being many years ago, I have heeded that call. The winters I spent in NM were the only years I didn’t use this tincture. I became desperately ill. Up until this year I have always done my gathering alone calling upon the Grandmothers to be present for me during this process. Before we began last week I called up the “Elderberry Woman” to be present for our prayers of thanksgiving as Gary joined me as a gatherer. The actual process took eight days in all. Our first gathering included too many berries that were not yet ripe. After checking my secret places during the remainder of the week I picked another quart and a half determining that this Monday would be just the right day – and it was! Within an hour Gary and I had all the berries we needed! Yesterday, was the last winnowing day for me. Four in all. The first was frustrating. I lost my glasses, couldn’t see the berries and ended up throwing at least 2/3rds away because so many were unripe (I hate waste). The second time included a brief magical moment, the result of discovering that deadly machines had not wiped out an entire elderberry patch probably because the destructive road work was done above ground. Just finding a couple of tablespoons of ripe berries reminded me of the fact that nature is above all focused on renewal, and if the underground networks aren’t destroyed S/he will rise again. That evening I sat out with the Yei* as I winnowed the few berries feeling the presence of the Ancestral Navajo Woman Spirits floating around my joy. The third time I found berries was the day before Gary and I went gathering for the second time. I was checking a couple of places just to be sure the harvest was at its peak picking a small basketful of ripe berries in the process. After winnowing them, I had a good idea of just how much we still needed. Knowing just how much was important because I was also focused on not taking more berries than we needed. Some must always be left for regeneration and the birds and animals who eat them. Animals and birds who then deposit seeds that hopefully will end up in another wild place. Monday’s gathering was a golden moment for both of us with Gary able to walk and reach into inaccessible places that I can no longer reach. We came home elated; the job was done – at least for him. Yesterday I hoped to winnow the remainder outdoors in the sun, but as usual the air was so poisoned with pollutants (127 – dangerous for everyone to breathe) that I came inside to finish winnowing and bottling the rest, a job that took most of the day. I always associate this harvesting of Elder – Berries with the late summer sun, so retreating indoors to celebrate a summer harvest was an unwelcome change. Our summers no longer usher in fresh clean air but layers of fog, drizzle, deluges and hazy humid sun and heat. Pollutants abound. I confess I am still in mourning for clean fragrant mountain air that I never took for granted in the first place. To make the adjustment to ‘what is’ requires moving through this grief. But for the moment I am steeped in gratitude, grateful for a bountiful harvest and giving thanks for Gary’s help. I am getting old and having such loving assistance has become necessity, at least in some gathering areas which are now too dangerous for me to traverse safely. Additionally, I was able to show Gary how to determine when the berries were ripe and how to winnow them, passing on a beloved harvesting practice to a man who is a powerful healer in his own right. A joyful moment for me. Every year this particular harvest attaches me to the Ancestral Spirits, …
Shifting Landscapes by Sara Wright

2nd pond at the sunset, photo by Sara Wright Adjusting to earth changes is as much of a personal challenge as is my aging process… The earth and I are both struggling to survive the age of the Anthropocene. Hard times. It’s late October and the next turning of the wheel will soon be upon us. The Days of the Dead. Honoring the Ancestors, those who came before… I think of the Sandhill cranes flying south in loose family aggregations and believe some of my ancestors must be these birds… I missed seeing them this year due to an accident, but say earth prayers for their safety on the wing… I remember my Grandmother. Coming home to faded insect ridden leaves, many withered and brown covering the ground, I discovered that this year I expected what I witnessed, so genuine acceptance is creeping into my psyche as I sadly acknowledge an earth that is demonstrating her struggle on a visceral level. With so few brilliant fall leaves, I still take pleasure out of every single one regardless of color, the curling ochre ferns, and the brilliant yellow witch hazel bush by the brook. After dropping her oval leaves witch hazel will produce gorgeous yellow fingers- sparkling bursts of light – flowers at this time of year are scarce and each is a treasure. The birds are absent for the most part, feasting in the newly cut field. Acorns are plentiful keeping turkeys, squirrels, and jays in the forest. The chickadees are seeking the last of the insects on my fruit trees. Protein rich, these foods will help these little birds as well as the titmice, nuthatches, woodpeckers, juncos, and others survive the coming winter. My beloved little girls (dogs) are still living elsewhere lovingly cared for by my heroic Vet – the one person who came to see me during my incarceration. Because of him they finally let me go… Now I am doing my best to accept being a housebound person for the foreseeable future. I love the early mornings when I can step carefully out onto the porch perched on a walker to catch glimpses of the early morning light while listening to the chickadees animated conversation. I am grateful to be alive. I have one neighbor across the road that I asked to buy food for me, but her curt response to my query was “find someone else”. While in the house of horrors this woman said she would water my plants. For the first time in my life, thanks to her negligence mold is killing my indoor friends. Once I cared for this woman’s dog for 14 months. Now, when I so needed help the hidden ‘woman hater’ suddenly appeared. Why am I stunned? Cruelty and indifference are everywhere I remind myself. Just let go. Others, genuine caring people stepped in. Two women I barely know have been bringing me food though they live in neighboring towns, and yesterday they took me to a doctor’s appointment. Such a blessing to have found this level of kindness operating in some women I barely know. I do have friends out of state who have come to visit and help when they can. People I care for deeply; each visit is a gift. After too many deluges to count all summer, my little wooden cabin is saturated with moisture. The skies are changing. We rarely have a sunny day – almost always clouds of one kind or another, but at least the air quality improved for a while this month. I love listening to the brook at night through my open window… The occasional gray tree frogs are still singing here in the hollow. It continues to rain. High humidity is still the norm. I tell myself daily to expect anything in terms of weather as well as the loss of species. Geoengineering is no ‘conspiracy’ theory but the reality of the skies. If you pay close attention to the cloud ridden dome over our heads you will note the changes. Fog has been relentless. When this polluted blanket settles over the valleys and mountain hills it brings in what I call ‘dead air’ – the sweet scent of moisture is absent – completely. I noted this trend all summer long with cloud cover and heavy moisture coming from both the flooded and saturated ground and the lower atmosphere above. I am not a meteorologist, but it is obvious that there is a relationship between the strange low cloud cover and air pollution – every night I sleep with my windows open now that we are well into fall but last night the dead air woke me up. Checking the air quality monitor, I realized that we were almost up to a hundred, supposedly “not dangerous to most humans”. The air quality index does not measure the most threatening particles of all. Micro-plastics are entering our lungs, clogging our arteries with every breath we take; our bodies are riddled with plastic. Air pollution has become one of the worst threats all living beings face…the usual ruse is to remind people it’s worse elsewhere. Two nights ago a murderer who is still at large despite a frantic state-wide search killed 18 people and seriously wounded 13 others in a nearby city. Schools are closed, banks, restaurants etc. are still shut down two days later and people are afraid. The news tells us that this kind of mass murder just doesn’t seem possible here in Maine… and yet hear we are. Banning semi – automatic rifles is something the State of Maine WILL NOT DO. I do my best to stay as much in the present as possible. We are not only living the unknown but through breakdown, and yet there are fierce little firefly lights like the women who have come to my aid. As winter sets in I expect to have more challenges, but today I am waiting for my little dogs to visit, and soon they may …
(Prose) The Body of Goddess by Deanne Quarrie

In the earliest of times, I believe humans did not see themselves as separate from all that was around them. All of life was interdependent. I see this in my own practice today. When we are born, we are born to a mother. Our lives are solely dependent on her for survival. We are birthed by her, nourished by her, protected by her, and sometimes forced out to experience on our own, by her. She is at first, our own Original Uncultured Mother. Once we move from her shelter, we begin to experience our world in the same way, looking not only for what nourishes, what protects and what shelters, but also for what we need to be mindful of for our own safety, those forces far out of our control. Those forces, which were uncontrollable, the ancients held in high esteem, and honored with reverence.

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

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

(Essay) Conceiving, Imagining the New at Samhain by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

It is the Season of Samhain/Deep Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere at this time. In the PaGaian version of Samhain/Deep Autumn ceremony participants journey to the “Luminous World Egg” … a term taken from Starhawk in her book The Spiral Dance[i], where she also names that place as the “Shining Isle”, which is of course, the Seed of conception, a metaphor for the origins of all and/or the female egg: it is the place for rebirth. Artist: Bundeluk, Blue Mountains, Australia. The “luminous world egg” is a numinous place within, the MotherStar of conception: that is, a place of unfolding/becoming. The journey to this numinous place within requires first a journey back, through some of each one’s transformations, however each may wish to name those transformations at this time. The transformations for each and every being are infinite in their number, for there is “nothing we have not been” as has been told by Celts and others of Old, and also by Western science in the evolutionary story (a story told so well by evolutionary biologist Elisabet Sahtouris, particularly in her video Journey of a Silica Atom.) Ceremonial participants may choose selves from biological, present historical self, or may choose selves from the mythic with whom they feel connection; from any lineage – biological or otherwise. Selves may also be chosen from Gaia’s evolutionary story – earlier creatures, winged or scaled ones … with whom one wishes to identify at this time. Each participant is praised for their “becoming” for each self they share. When all have completed these journeys/stories of transformation, the circle is lauded dramatically by the celebrant for their courage to transform; and she likens them all to Gaia Herself who has made such transitions for eons. The celebrant awards each with a gingerbread snake, “Gaian totems of life renewed”[ii]. gingerbread snakes Participants sit and consume these gingerbread snakes in three parts: (i) as all the “old shapes” of self that were named; and (ii) remembering the ancestors, those whose lives have been harvested, whose lives have fed our own, remembering that we too are the ancestors, that we will be consumed; and (iii) remembering and consuming the stories of our world that they desire to change, the stories that fire their wrath or sympathy: in the consuming, absorbing them (as we do), each may transform them by thoughts and actions – “in our own bodyminds”. When all that is consumed “wasting no part”, it is said that “we are then free to radiate whatever we conceive”, to “exclaim the strongest natural fibre known” – our creative selves, “into such art, such architecture, as can house a world made sacred” by our building[iii]. This “natural fibre” is a reference to the spider’s thread from within her own body, with which she weaves her web, her home; and Spider has frequently been felt in indigenous cultures around the globe as Weaver and Creator of the Cosmos. Spider the Creatrix, North America, C. 1300 C.E., Hallie Iglehart Austen, The Heart of the Goddess, p.13 In the ceremony, participants linked with a thread that they weave around the circle, may sail together for a new world “across the vast sunless sea between endings and beginnings, across the Womb of magic and transformation, to the “Not-Yet” who beckons”[iv]: to the Luminous World Egg whereupon the new may be conceived and dreamed up. Samhain/Deep Autumn ceremony is an excellent place for co-creating ourselves, for imaginingthe More that we may become, and wish to become. This is where creation and co-creation happens … in the Womb of Space[v], in which we are immersed – at all times: and Samhain is a good season for feeling it. References: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005 Sahtouris, Elisabet. Earthdance: Living Systems in Evolution. Lincoln NE:iUniversity Press, 2000. Starhawk, The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. NY: Harper and Row, 1999. Swimme, Brian. The Earth’s Imagination.DVD series 1998. NOTES: [i]p.210 [ii]a version of this Samhain script is offered in Chapter 7 PaGaian Cosmology [iii]These quoted phrases are from Robin Morgan, “The Network of the Imaginary Mother”, in Lady of the Beasts, p.84. This poem is a core inspiration of the ceremony. [iv]“Not-Yet” is a term used by Brian Swimme, The Earth’s Imagination, video 8 “The Surprise of Cosmogenesis”. [v]note that creation does not happen at the point of some god’s index finger, as imagined in the Sistine Chapel – what a takeover that is!
(Mago Almanac Excerpt 7) Introducing the Magoist Calendar by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A) at Mago Bookstore. YEARLY LEAP DAY AND EVERY FOURTH YEAR LEAP DAY Each Sa includes a Dan of the big Sa. A Dan is equal to one day. That adds to 365 days. At the half point of the third Sa, there is a Pan of the big Sak (the year of the great dark moon). A Pan comes at a half point of Sa. This is of Beopsu (Lawful Number) 2, 5, 8. A Pan is equal to a day. Therefore, the fourth Sa has 366 days. Each year has a leap day (Dan), which makes a total of 365 days. Every fourth year is a leap year that has a leap day (Pan), which makes a total of 366 days. The Dan day comes before the New Year in the winter solstice month. And the Pan day comes before the first day of the summer solstice month in the fourth year. The above, however, does not indicate when the New Year comes. Logographic characters of Dan and Pan each suggest their meanings. While each year includes the Dan day (the morning), every fourth year has the Pan day. A unit of four years makes the Big Calendar. Dan (旦 Morning) Leap day for every first three years Pan (昄 Big) Leap day for every fourth year I have postulated that the year begins on the Dan day (one leap day), a day before New Year that comes in the month of Winter Solstice in the Norther Hemisphere. And the Pan day comes on the day before the first day of the 7th month that has Summer Solstice in the fourth year in the Norther Hemisphere. Years Year 1 Year 2 Year 3 Year 4 Months Dan Dan Dan Dan 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 6 6 6 6 Pan 7 7 7 7 8 8 8 8 9 9 9 9 10 10 10 10 11 11 11 11 12 12 12 12 13 13 13 13 Days 365 365 365 366 The Magoist Calendar’s intercalation involves one leap day every year and one leap day every four years. That is, each year has one extra day to make it 365 days. Every fourth year has an extra day to make it 366 days. Four years has a total of 1461 days (365×3+366), which makes the mean of 365.25 days. Considering that the month is following the sidereal period rather than the synodic period, it is inferred that the year also follows the sidereal year rather than the solar year. In fact, Magoist Calendar’s one year is very close to today’s 365.25636 days of the sidereal year compared to 365.24217 days of the solar year or the tropical year. Given that, as seen below, the Budoji mentions the tiniest discrepancy of one leap day for 31,788,900 years, the discrepancy between 365.25 and 365.25636 (0.00636 day) can be explained that the year was actually 365.25 days at the time of Budo circa 2333 BCE, 4440 years ago. In other words, there is a discrepancy of 0.12375936 seconds between 2017 CE and 2333 BCE. Regarding Lawful Numbers 2, 5, 8, it is involved as follows: 365 days (3+6+5=14, 1+4=5) Lawful Numbers 2, 5, 8 refers the unit of 365 days (364 days with one intercalary day). Further dynamics are unknown. The sidereal year refers to the time taken by the Earth to orbit the sun once with respect to the distant stars. In contrast, the solar or tropical year means the time taken by the Earth to orbit the sun once with respect to the sun. The sidereal year, 365.25636 days, is about 20 minutes and 24 seconds longer than the mean tropical year (365.24217 days) and about 19 minutes and 57 seconds longer than the average Gregorian year of 365.2425 days. The difference occurs primarily because the solar system spins on its own axis and around the Milky Way galactic center making the solar year’s observed position relative. Time is no independent concept apart from space and the agent. The very concept of time is preceded by the agent bound in a space. It is always contextualized. In Magoism, both calendar and time are born out of the cosmogonic universe, the universe that is in self-creation. Like calendar, time is to be discovered or measured. It is a numinous concept. The very concept of time testifies to the reality of the Creatrix. Time proves the orderly movement of the universe into which we are born. Calendar patterns time, whereas time undergirds calendar. How can we measure time? We are given the time of the Earth that comes from its rotation, revolution, and precession in sync with the moon and the sun (and its planets). One type of time is the solar time. The solar time is a calculation of time based on the position of the sun. Traditionally, the solar time is measured by the sundial. The solar time is, however, specific to the Earth only. It is valid only for the-same-observed-location. It is not made to be used for the time of another celestial body. For example, Mars’ solar time has to be measured independently based on its own rotation and revolution rates. The solar time is an isolated time. It is static and exclusive, not made for the time of other celestial bodies. By nature, it is unfit for connection and communication across celestial bodies. The second type is the sidereal time. The sidereal time is a time scale based on the rate of Earth’s rotations measured relative to the distant stars.[29] Because the observed position is in the far distant stars beyond the solar system, the sidereal time may as well be called an extrasolar stellar time. We can think of the observer’s position of an imaginary cosmic bird far out there, infinitely far beyond not only the solar system and …
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) …
Samhain: Stepping Wisely through the Open Door by Carolyn Lee Boyd

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

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

Lammas, the first seasonal transition after Summer Solstice, may be summarised as the Season that marks and celebrates the Sacred Consuming, the Harvest of Life. Many indigenous cultures recognised the grain itself as Mother … Corn Mother being one of those images – She who feeds the community, the world, with Her own body: the Corn, the grain, the food, the bread, is Her body. She the Corn Mother, or any other grain Mother, was/is the original sacrifice … no need for extraordinary heroics: it is the nature of Her being. She is sacrificed, consumed, to make the people whole with Her body (as the word “sacrifice” means “to make whole”). She gives Herself in Her fullness to feed the people …. the original Communion. In cultures that preceded agriculture or were perhaps pastoral – hunted or bred animals for food – this cross-quarter day may not have been celebrated, or perhaps it may have been marked in some other way. Yet even in our times when many are not in relationship with the harvest of food directly, we may still be in relationship with our place: Sun and Earth and Moon still do their dance wherever you are, and are indeed the Ground of one’s being here … a good reason to pay attention and homage, and maybe as a result, and in the process, get the essence of one’s life in order. One does not need to go anywhere to make this pilgrimage … simply Place one’s self. The seasonal transition of Lammas may offer that in particular, being a “moment of grace” – as Thomas Berry has named the seasonal transitions, when the dark part of the day begins to grow longer, as the cloak of darkness slowly envelopes the days again: it is timely to reflect on the Dark Cosmos in Whom we are, from Whom we arise and to Whom we return – and upon that moment when like Corn Mother we give ourselves over. This reflection is good, will serve a person and all – to live fully, as well as simply to be who we are: this dark realm of manifesting is the core of who we are. And what difference might such reflection make to our world – personal and collective – to live in this relationship with where we are, and thus who we are. We all are the grain that is harvested and all are Her harvest … perhaps one may use a different metaphor: the truth that may be reflected upon at this seasonal moment after the peaking of Sun’s light at Summer Solstice and the wind down into Autumn, is that everything passes, all fades away … even our Sun shall pass. All is consumed. So What are we part of? (I write it with a capital because surely it is a sacred entity) And how might we participate creatively? We are Food – whether we like it or not … Lammas is a good time to get with the Creative plot, though many find it the most difficult, or focus on more exoteric celebration. May we be interesting food[i]. We are holy Communion, like Corn Mother. Meet Mago Contributor Glenys Livingstone NOTES: [i] This is an expression of cosmologist Brian Swimme in Canticle to the Cosmos DVD series.

(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.
(Essay 2) Why Reenact the Nine-Mago Movement? by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: The sequel of this essay is released in preparation for 2015 Nine-Day Solstice Celebration Project.] Part 2 Goddess Goma, the Magoist Shaman Ruler, and Her Nona-Mago Tradition Not until the autumn of 2012 did the pervasive manifestation of the number nine symbolism in Magoism surface in my consciousness. The information that the shrine of Gaeyang Halmi (Gaeyang Grandmother/Goddess), the Sea Goddess of Korea, was once called the Temple of Gurang (Nine Goddesses 九嫏祠) awakened a deep memory in me. It was a revelation to me and I began to connect the dots! That summer, I had joined the field research team of Konkuk University’s Korean Oral Literature graduate program. With them I visited the Shrine of the Sea Saint (Suseong-dang 水聖堂) in Buan, North Jeolla, S. Korea to collect folklore from the locals. Only when I was processing the data that the team gathered to write a report, did I come across the original name of the shrine, the Temple of the Nine Goddesses. And the Nine Goddesses refer to Gaeyang Halmi and her eight daughters. It is unknown how and when it was replaced by the current name, the Shrine of the Sea Saint. It is evident, however, that a linguistic femicide took place; the female-connoted term, the Nine Goddesses, was replaced by the sex/gender neutral term, the Sea Saint.
(Essay 1) Magoist Cetaceanism and the Myth of the Pacifying Flute (Manpasikjeok) by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

Pod of narwhals, northern Canada, August 2005. Image courtesy of Kristin Laidre. Wikemedia Commons Manpasikjeok (the pacifying flute that defeats all) is a legendary flute, purportedly made from a narwhal’s tusk, originating in the 7th century Silla (57 BCE-935 CE). King Sinmun (r. 681-692) had a revelation concerning “a bamboo tree” growing on a mysterious mountain floating in the Sea of Whales, today’s East Sea of Korea. From this tree, a flute was made with which he was able to protect the whole world. As a national treasure of Silla, this instrument was famed to defeat all enemies at the time of troubles. What we have is the accounts of the pacifying flute recounted in Korea’s official historical texts. Two sources from the Samguk Sagi (Historical Records of the Three States) and the Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three States) shall be examined. Not surprisingly, whales are made unrecognizable not only within the story but also in the official history books of Korea. Magoist Cetaceanism was subjected to erasure in the course of Korean official history, but apparently not in the time of King Sinmun of Silla. The myth of Manpasikjeok testifies to Sillan Magoist Cetaceanism upheld by 7th century Sillan rulers. We are reading a Magoist Cetacean myth, however, told by people of a later time when Magoist Cetaceanism was no longer recognized. The fact that these two official historical texts of Korea recount the narrative of Manpasikjeok speaks to its significance: The story is told with a sense of mystery or suspicion. While the Samguk Sagi overtly treats the author’s sense of disbelief, the Samguk Yusa provides a full narrative in tantalizing but mystified details. How was Manpasikjeok 萬波息笛 created in the first place? Below is the Samguk Sagi version of the story: According to Gogi (Ancient Records), “During the reign of King Sinmun, a little mountain emerged in the East Sea out of nowhere. It looked like a head of a turtle. Atop the mountain there was a bamboo tree growing, which became two during the day and became one at night. The king had his subject cut the bamboo tree and had it made a flute. He named it Manpasik (Pacifying and Defeating All).” Although it is written so, its account is weird and unreliable.[1] Written by Gim Busik (1075–1151), a Neo-Confucian historiographer, the above account betrays an unengaged author’s mind in the story. For Gim, Korean indigenous narratives like Manpasikjeok are anomalous, if not unreliable, by the norms of Chinese history. In contrast to the former, the Samguk Yusa details the Manpasikjeok story in a tantalizing sense of mystery. Its author Ilyeon (1206-1289) was a Buddhist monk, a religious historian who saw the history of Korea as fundamentally Buddhist from the beginning. He elaborates the story with factual data but fails to bring to surface the cetacean underpinning of the myth. It is possible that Magoist Cetaceanism had already submerged much earlier than his time. King Sinmun (r. 681-692) had built the temple, Gameun-sa (Graced Temple), to commemorate his late father King Munmu (r. 661-681) who willed to become a sea dragon upon death. The relic of King Munmu had been spread in Whale Ferry (Gyeongjin 鯨津), also known as the Rock of Ruler the Great (Daewang-am) located in the waterfront of the East Sea also known as the Sea of Whales. Evidence substantiates that King Munmu was a Magoist Cetacean devotee clad in a Buddhist attire. Or today’s Buddhologiests call it Esoteric Buddhism. The Manpasikjeok myth may be called the story of King Sinmun’s initiation to Magoist Cetaceanism. Before explicating the Samguk Yusa account, which is prolix and complex, I have summarized the Samguk Yusa’s account as follows: (Summary of the Manpasikjeok Myth) King Sinmun ordered the completion of Gameunsa (Graced Temple) to commemorate his deceased father, King Munmu. The main hall of Gameunsa was designed at the sea level to allow the dragon to enter and stroll through the ebb and flow of the sea waves. In the second year of his reign (682 CE), Marine Officer reported that a little mountain in the East Sea was approaching Gameunsa. The king had Solar Officer perform a divination. The divination foretold that he would be given a treasure with which he could protect Wolseong (Moon Stronghold), Silla’s capital. This would be a gift from King Munmu who became a sea dragon and Gim Yusin who became a heavenly being again. In seven days, the king went out to Yigyeondae (Platform of Gaining Vision) and saw the mountain floating like a turtle’s head in the sea. There was a bamboo tree growing on its top, which became two during the day and one at night. The king stayed overnight in Gameumsa to listen to the dragon who entered the yard and the substructure of the main hall. Then, there was darkness for seven days due to a storm in the sea. After the sea calmed, the king went into the mountain to meet the dragon. The dragon told him that, if he made a flute out of the bamboo tree, the whole world would be pacified. The king had the bamboo tree brought out of the sea and made it into a flute, which became a treasure of Silla. The mountain and the dragon disappeared. The flute, when played during times of the nation’s trouble, brought peace. Thus comes its name, Manpasikjeok (the pacifying flute that defeats all). During the reign of King Hyoso (r. 692-702), his son, the flute continued to make miracles. Thus it was renamed Manmanpapasikjeok (the pacifying flute that surely defeats all of all). One day, it was reported to King Sinmun that a little mountain was approaching Gameunsa. That mountain had a mysterious bamboo tree atop. On the seventh day from then, he went out to Yigyeondae (Platform of Gaining Vision), the whale watch place near Gameumsa. Then, he stayed overnight in Gameunsa to hear the dragon who entered the temple yard through the ebb and flow of the …