April 24, 2015October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Art) May Day 2005 in Istanbul (with Amazon) by Eileen Haley

Young May Day marchers dance in the street with heads uncovered, hair streaming and banners waving.

(Prose) Mary’s Garden by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright Opening the doors to mist ‘Mary’s Garden’ each morning is entering a magic realm. My nose sniffs the scent of fertile woodlands even as I gazed out at an impossibly deep white shroud for months, and presently peer out at pale green earth, bees, and budding trees. All the original contents of Mary’s Garden, mosses, lichens, liverworts, hemlock seedlings, stones and pieces of bark are buried or supported by the richest detritus and soil that I gathered with such care from a protected forest of thousands of acres just before the snow set in last November. There is a small pond in the center of the four-sided container, edged with emerald moss. Two of my animal fetish friends, a Zuni bear and frog live among the greenery. All throughout the winter this lively miniature woodland created a living link to ‘my’ beloved forest, a place I longed to be part of but could not traverse during winter months. Mary’s garden has been a source of endless enchantment and comfort during the coldest winter days. I have created and kept woodland terrariums since I was a child, but always returned the plants to their original homes in the spring. Mary’s Garden will be an exception. Unless/until the plants outgrow their home, I will not be returning them to the wild. What I learned this winter from entering into relationship with the living beings of this small space is that terrariums, if attended to with keen attention and kept long enough, have very distinct seasons. In January I noted the first new growth. Sphagnum moss puffed up and out. Ferns I never planted gradually began to unfurl ever so slowly. New lichens, some with tiny trumpets appeared on an old piece of bark. Two hemlock seedling developed emerald bristles on the tips of their needles; the ground hugging partridgeberry began to tentatively sprout round leaves. Changes were slow and steady. Each gem could be easily missed unless observed daily! Most recently, less than a month before they will appear outdoors, twin flowers emerged, unknown seeds are sprouting from healthy moss beds, fungi continue to come and go, shield lichens appeared, new usnea cascades from old hemlock heartwood. One birch bark shaving supports a new treelike species of liverwort. What I find so compelling is that now that the ground is bare, and green shoots are appearing in my outdoor garden my love for this terrarium pulls me through its doors each morning with the same urgent call. Every plant is asking only to be seen and cared about…and I am only too happy to oblige. Many times a day! Not only has my attention not diminished but I feel the same kind of excitement peering into Mary’s Garden that I experience outdoors as I investigate each plant’s emergence or check on my frog pond that is currently supporting tadpoles. I am thinking about keeping a journal so I can keep track of what’s going on in my little forest as s/he passes through the next three seasons. I can’t wait to find out what happens next! A bridge from this diminutive woodland to thousands of acres of forest has been forged between us. Attached by invisible threads that are stretched between the terrarium and the woods is presently conjuring up memories I can barely contain…I cannot wait to visit Hemlock Hollow, touch the peeling bark of aging yellow birches, sit against the swaying pines, hunt for rare orchids, and listen for the birds who like me find refuge there. I climb granite ledges by the river to sit and listen, lean into learning from my elders, trees and birds, bees, and flowers. I cross bridges to converse with beavers who work so diligently to create the ponds that will support forest folk, from water bears to moose. I sit by flowing waters among the mosses that glow like emeralds even in the dark. No matter how despairing I may feel about the times ahead, as soon as I part the invisible veil to enter the forest, a cloak of peace descends. Because of the great generosity of a family who had a visionary capacity and the financial resources to begin protecting forests in the early 70’s I discovered this place where Silence stills my mind. Healthy hemlocks bow to streams moderating the flooding of lowlands. The forest floor and thick understory support all manner of trees – conifers and hardwoods – plants and shrubs a multitude of spring, summer, and fall flowers – partridgeberry, hobblebush, viburnum, laurels, clubmosses, and an incredible array of fruiting fungi. The underlying mycelial network is teaming with insects, bacteria, and microbes we know nothing about but happen to make up 2/3rds of life on this planet. Lichens thrive on supine logs bursting with new life. The banks of seeps streams and rivers wear a gray or green mossy coats. Wood frogs, green frogs, leopard frogs, peepers, red efts, and salamanders are nestled under damp logs and stones. Water striders ripple quiet waters. Ruffed grouse, wild turkeys are hidden in tree boughs. Glacial boulders stand as sentries to the past. Vultures and hawks peruse the skies in open places and can almost always be seen, the former year – round. A few of the songbirds that live here can be found nowhere else. Weasels, mink, beavers, porcupines, squirrels, raccoons, coyotes, moose, deer, bobcat, lynx, wolves, and bears make their homes in this place. It’s almost the end of April and by now, thanks to the mercifully brief heat wave the paths are finally clear of snow. Soon it will be time to revisit my wildflower friends – trailing arbutus, trout lilies, bloodroot, wild violets, jack in the pulpit, marsh marigolds, spring beauties, twin flowers and oh so many others! Without this place ‘to become one with all that is’ I wonder how I would survive, because on some days the grief I am experiencing over the loss of our precious forests along …
(Poem) The Secret Ways by Angelika Heike Rüdiger

inspired by, and written for, B.A. and our musings about the powers of prayers synchronized and how to synchronize them if it cannot be done in the realm of mundane time… Blessings I speak in blissful hours under green branches. My humble prayers drop like dew upon the verdant ground, soak in the moss, meander through the tiny leaves dive deep into the unknown to find purification and enrichment by healing powers -herbal gifts- to join the hidden flow beneath the fern, to vanish all from mundane sight; and finally they break the doors at the appointed hour: a springing fountain reaching for the light, dissolving in a thousand droplets each apt to bear a rainbow.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Louise M Hewett

Louise M Hewett is a writer, artist, carer, and Goddess feminist. When the initiations of motherhood arrived in 1993 she began the journey of a transformative spiritual crisis, enriching her long held interests in Paganism and Goddess Feminism. She is currently working on the Pictish Spirit series of novels, including a companion book, Nine Drums, which explores the Pictish Spirit path central to the story. She also facilitates sacred space, the Hearth of the Antlered Mother, in her desire to support others, particularly women, in a mutual process of learning and healing.
(Commemorating Feminist Ancestors) Judy Chicago, the Cosmic Weavers and a Fragmented Past by Claire Dorey

Fallopian Florals by Claire Dorey Judy Chicago – American Feminist Artist, renowned for exploring the role of women in history. Born 1939. A naked woman crouches in the Californian desert, head bowed towards the Earth. Her body is painted in Evergreen, and she sits, as serene as a Goddess, in the center of a circle of fireworks. Plumes of coral smoke billow across the landscape. Perhaps the body paint represents Woad, the anesthetic plant dye that Warrior Queen Boudicca covered her skin with, before she went into battle, naked. The photograph, Immolation, 1972, was exhibited at Still I Rise: Feminisms, Gender, Resistance, Act 2, at the La Warr Pavillion Art Gallery, 2019 and that is where I saw it. This image haunts and touches me in ways I cannot explain. It makes me feel as if part of myself that I had rejected or stepped away from, left to fend for itself like an orphan in some far-off galaxy, has found its way back home to me. The image is part of Chicago’s Atmospheres, a series of pyrotechnic performances that feminize the landscape, whilst rejecting a male- centric art world. At the De La Warr Pavillion there was a fantastic, kaleidoscopic collection of Fanzines. Flicking through the pages of these beloved 80’s protest comics I was transported back to the Fibre Arts course I had enrolled myself on, decades before. I felt trapped on that course, stuck with the women, the spinners, and weavers, when I wanted to be like the male painters across the hall. I wanted to be part of that male-centric world. I wanted to wear a man’s suit; have men’s opinions and rant about Marxism like they did! I honestly thought that being like a man was the route to empowerment! The Eighties were a difficult time for a flowerchild like me. It was a time of efficiency; the Personal Organizer; self-importance; the height of the cult of the individual, the era of the Yuppy. Women took on the world as if we were men. We tried to prove we could have it all, whilst defending ourselves against outrageous and toxic beliefs such as why wearing a short skirt meant you were asking to be raped. I struggled with 80’s fashion, struggled to hide my curves beneath horrible suits with oversized shoulder pads. I hated geometric tailoring and primary colours and I did not want to be ‘pale and interesting’! Even now I seek out the nourishment of sunlight and prefer to waft and flow in layers of chiffon. When I was young, I rejected myself in the same way as I rejected the images on Judy Chicago’s dinner plates, in her iconic artwork The Dinner Party, completed in 1979. In reality these rippling feminine images were more ‘me’ than anything I had ever seen before: billowing pattern; Earth and jewel tones; wafty, petal edges curling round blossoming vulvas, ripe with seeds. Chicago’s dinner plates imagine the vulva of the Primordial Goddess, Ishtar, Kali, Hypatia, Emily Dickinson and the Fertile Goddess (a plate that recognizes the work of Marija Gimbutas). In total, place settings for thirty-nine potent women and Goddesses from history invite the viewer to gorge on their knowledge, as the divine portal opens like a flower bud. Embroidered table runners and woven tapestry Entry Banners make the installation feel like a temple. At college I struggled with belonging to ‘the collective’ and with the geo-politics of radical feminism. In denial, resistant, I passed through the phases of my life as if I were shedding a veil that fell to the ground each time I stepped forward. I left a part of myself behind as each layer peeled away. “What am I going to do with this kind of knowledge?” was a question that really concerned me. Recently I came full circle and returning to my radical feminist past, I curated a trilogy of group art exhibitions about recognizing abuse, healing, and empowerment. We all need to heal from surviving the dominator culture, that is patriarchy. I want women to see themselves as their own heroes! Doing this work I felt that finally I was finding myself! I learnt from the Goddess that shedding layers, like a serpent, is a necessary journey, part of self-growth. In the past the voices of the Second Wave of Feminism spoke to me and opened the way for the Goddesses of the Primordial Wave of Feminism to impart their wisdom. The cosmic weavers wove history into cloth in the form of language and pattern. They were the powerful spinners of destiny, weaving the entire universe, cutting the cord of human attachment. The more I learnt about the cosmic weavers the more I recognized the value of my education, and I began to see why Fibre Art challenged patriarchy, stitch by stitch! I completely understand why Chicago sought to feminize the landscape. I interpret Atmospheres as being an early warning for the climate crisis we are facing now, as the expansionism, imperialism, exploitation, colonization, violence and ownership of patriarchy pushes Mother Nature and Gaia to breaking point. As we desperately ‘unweave’ our patriarchal conditioning it becomes obvious that the landscape needs feminizing. Years ago, Judy Chicago’s art introduced me to the brooding power of the Goddess! Now I long for the time when the Primordial, Creator and Fertility Goddesses rise once more, and Earth balance is restored. You can try to silence and cut back the Feminine but, like Wild Nature, She will grow back stronger! (Meet Mago Contributor) Claire Dorey https://www.magoism.net/2021/12/meet-mago-contributor-claire-dorey/ References: Elizabeth A Sackler Centre for Feminist Art. Brooklyn Museum. Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party. https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/eascfa/dinner_party/place_settings Judy Chicago. Atmospheres/Fireworks/Dry Ice. Still I Rise: Feminisms, Gender, Resistance, Act 2. De La Warr Pavilion. https://www.dlwp.com/exhibition/still-i-rise/
(Art & Prose) She Who Runs With the Herds by Jude Lally

My dolls are born on the thresholds, one foot in this world and a foot in the otherworld. As I create a doll and build up the layers of wool and fabric I am also digging down to her bones, hearing her stories of her people and the landscape. The inspiration for this doll was born in a time of ice, a time when great herds of reindeer were able to cross from mainland Europe across to Britain. She was there with her people guiding them as they tracked the reindeer. The female reindeer, like the male, grows antlers. She is the leader of the herd, following the ancestral deer paths over the land that her mother led the herd on and her mother before that – stretching back thousands of years.There is an ancient connection between women who led her people and these female reindeer – one which has been honored and respected. The wise women of these clans were the women who went into trance to contact this Great Mother of the herds to ask for a sign of where to find the herds and in ritual gave thanks for using them for food, shelter, for sacred objects and clothing. Even today many women see the wisdom in this great Mother of the Herds, they search out her knowledge, dream of their foremother’s rituals and ceremonies. Visiting the Cairngorm Reindeer herd, Scotland Our spiritual journeys, too, take us through bogs of unconsciousness. We too must pass through raging rivers of grief, tread carefully over areas of icy despair, cross craggy ravines that reflect our terror of the unknown, and face feared enemies that threaten to devour us, like hungry wolf packs. As the earthly reindeer struggles to dig up grass and lichen for food to fuel her journey, so we must strive to find what nutures our spirit’. Linda Schierse Leonard. Creation’s Heartbeat. Following the Reindeer Spirit. It is not hard today to lose hope, to be overwhelmed by all that is unfolding and sink into despair and apathy. Wherever you are in the world we can be inspired by the Wise Woman who led her people and when they lost the herd it was she, She Who Runs WIth the Herd that moved into the threshold, shapeshifted into deer and ran through the snowfields of the otherworld to find the herd. Once she found them she ran with the reindeer, body running with body, heels clicking in the noise they make which allows them to hear where each reindeer is. She runs with them through valley, through forest recognizing both the reindeer and the terrain so she can return to her people and know which path to take. Transforming hopelessness into faith requires digging into the depths of the soul, just as the reindeer must dig deep in the snow for lichenLinda Schierse Leonard. Creation’s Heartbeat. Following the Reindeer Spirit. Yet running with the herd also allows you to dig deep for what is required to nourish your soul. To find that much-needed magic, the fodder that feeds the soul for this dark journey offers a rebirth of the soul. Click on the file below to take this journey to run with the herd. Perhaps take some time before you make the journey – consider your intention for your journey. Take some time to journey alone and keep a journal and pen by your side to record any insights or inspirations. (Meet Mago Contributor) Jude Lally https://soundcloud.com/sisterhood-of-the-antlers/she-who-runs-with-the-herds
Autumn as a Time of Rebirth and Renewal by Francesca Tronetti

From Wikimedia Commons Autumn has always been described as the end of the life cycle. The harvest must be collected before the plants wither back and die. Seeds are gathered and stored in a cool, dry, dark place until it is time to return them to the soil. The leaves fall, leaving the trees bare and dead-looking. Many birds migrate to spend the winter in a warmer climate. Where I live, I say goodbye to the hummingbirds and the turkey buzzards. The rest will gather around my bird feeders every day, looking for the food they need to survive. The days get shorter and cooler, and while I still do have some trips planned to enjoy the beautiful autumn foliage, it’s not the same as in summer. I plan more day trips to walk on trails that would typically be too hot during the summer. But most of the small towns I like to visit have closed down, and the beach shops and restaurants are boarded up, waiting for Memorial Day and the return of the summer tourists. Even if some shops or eateries are open, they sit along deserted roads once thronged with people and families. It is a depressing site to go along with the damp chill that blows in off the lake. In Greek mythology, the dying of the plants is a sign of Demeter’s mourning for the loss of her daughter, who must return to Hades in the Underworld. As her daughter descends into the realm of the dead, the earth’s vegetation joins her. Some plants die off, dropping their seeds so their descendants may rise next spring. Others wither back while in the soil, hibernating under the ground. Their roots remain active, spreading and growing to help them survive quietly until it is time to bloom again. Across the globe, autumn has the same meaning to human lives. It is when we must bring in the harvest and prepare to wait out the long, cold winter. Or some would follow the example of the birds and move further south, where they could continue to hunt and would not have to worry about the dangers of ice and snow. Either option meant a change in people’s lives and schedules dictated by the early darkness and the cold days. Most of us don’t move with the seasons anymore; we stay put and endure, but we plan for the winter, stocking up like our ancestors did. We ensure we have fuel to heat our homes, pellets for the stove, or propane deliveries. We stock the pantry with pasta, soups, and sauces to make hearty, filling meals. Other necessities are bought and stored in case we get stuck inside for several days due to a blizzard. It’s our version of hibernation; the house is full of food and warmth, and we are ready to Netflix our way into spring when we can get outside again. While I understand why autumn is the beginning of an extended downtime from an agricultural point of view, I also think that autumn can be a starting time and a time of renewal for our more creative side. During the summer, we want to be out and about, visiting places and enjoying nature and people. In America, summer is a time for many gatherings to share food and fun with family and friends. And while autumn and winter also have gathering times, they are often limited to a few weeks for parties. But, for the artistic person, autumn is when you can return to your creative mindset. While some see themselves as being trapped inside by bad weather, we see it as uninterrupted hours or even days we can dedicate ourselves to our craft. During fall, we pull out the projects we didn’t finish before the summer, writing projects, quilts that need finishing, or knitting we put on hold because who wants to work with a heavy afghan on their lap when it’s 90 degrees out? Autumn marks the beginning of the ‘me time; for the creative. Holidays follow one after the other quickly, and the warm colors of red and orange are soon covered by an icy blanket of snow, which can be menacing or nostalgic, depending on your artistic mood. This mood can inspire poetry and short stories or encourage us to take up a new hobby, to make a blanket against the cold. From Wikimedia Commons It is also when many return to their kitchens to recreate the foods they grew up on. Autumn and winter are when most people will try their hand at baking bread for the first time. Or they will enter a sugary wonderland of more than 200 Christmas cookie recipes to give to others this season. It is a rebirth into the traditions of our mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers who taught their daughters how to make the bread they grew up eating. Or it is where we create new traditions with our daughters or friends and family who gather around the stove’s warmth. Autumn is when we renew the promises we made to complete projects, literary, artistic, or crafty. It is no wonder to me that November is National Novel Writing Month. This long month of cold, wet days, with snow at the end, is the perfect time to sit down and write the stories that have been bubbling up in our psyches and filling our notebooks all year with scenes and dialogue. Do not mourn the passing of Persephone into the Underworld nor the end of the warmth of summer. Embrace autumn as a time to renew your commitment to your creative and spiritual side. Write poems, prose, and stories. Create art even if only you see its beauty or fully understand its meaning. Autumn may be the end of the plant’s life cycle, but for humans, it can be the beginning of our creative one. https://www.magoism.net/2018/11/meet-mago-contributor-rev-francesca-tronetti-ph-d/
(Book Review) Hendren & Baartz’s New Love: a reprogramming toolbox for undoing the knots, reviewed by Elizabeth Hall Magill

I have often written of the work of undoing patriarchal thought—facing our assumptions, our fears, our wounds. While we all must do this inner work, to face patriarchal thought as a woman is to touch upon the core of the matter: to define and honor self in a society that degrades female self. Doing this work means opening yourself up to grief—to deep sadness, to fear and rage, to the contempt that culture holds for woman. It also means opening yourself up to great power and peace—a gift of grace that is your birthright as a human being. This work is a process, and at its core is self-knowledge: this is who I am, you must say. This is where I hurt, and where I dream. This is how I would spread my wings, if only I thought I could. I accept myself, and I love myself. Standing on the ground of self-love is a truly transformational experience. But you can’t do it alone—you need a guide, or more than one. Sometimes the guide is a professional, sometimes a friend or a sister. Sometimes the guide is a book that allows you to gently meet yourself in sacred recognition. New Love: a reprogramming toolbox for undoing the knots, by Trista Hendren and Arna Baartz, is just such a guide—this wonderful book will lead you straight to yourself, and to freedom.
(Special Post 8) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?

[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. Special thanks to Trista Hendren, founder and author of The Girl God, who passionately and painstakingly promotes the message of each contributor via Facebook’s memes. Without Trista’s devotion to the advocacy, this collective effort would not have continued. 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.] Marija Krstic-Chin To remember who we really are (nature, cycles, network, creative force, one, infinite…) for the benefit of all of humanity and all living things; and to unite and unify as we broadcast, hand down, protect and defend this truth and each other against the oppressive intentions and actions of patriarchal perpetrators, puppets, and pawns who seek to enslave us by various old and new divide-and-conquer strategies.
What Was Never Spoken by Carolyn Lee Boyd

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

(Special Post) To Contributors: Strengthening Our Roots by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Dear Contributors, Do you know that Return to Mago (RTM) E*Magazine is entering its fifth year this fall? And, thanks to our collective effort, we are still growing! As of today, our contributors have grown to more than 130 in number and our readership is from about 140 countries around the world. We have some hundred email followers as well as Wordpress blog followers. We draw 3000-4000 clicks per month on average; that is no small accomplishment for a Goddess blog that is named after a yet-to-be heard word, Mago (the Great Goddess), and that began from scratch.
(Special Post 8) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?

[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. Special thanks to Trista Hendren, founder and author of The Girl God, who passionately and painstakingly promotes the message of each contributor via Facebook’s memes. Without Trista’s devotion to the advocacy, this collective effort would not have continued. 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.] Marija Krstic-Chin To remember who we really are (nature, cycles, network, creative force, one, infinite…) for the benefit of all of humanity and all living things; and to unite and unify as we broadcast, hand down, protect and defend this truth and each other against the oppressive intentions and actions of patriarchal perpetrators, puppets, and pawns who seek to enslave us by various old and new divide-and-conquer strategies.
(Special post) The Goddess Inanna: Her Allies and Opponents by Hearth Moon Rising

Inanna’s Descent to the Underworld is one of the most fascinating myths ever told. Not just because it is profound and enlightening, although it is certainly that. It’s an exciting journey that ignites the imagination, and female characters are at the hub of the action. This is a tale of power: power that is demanded, power that is won, power that is appropriated, and power that cannot be escaped. The story follows the fertility goddess Inanna, who brought civilization to Mesopotamia, as she seeks to expand her realm by venturing into the world below. Inanna’s experiences in the great below, her escape, and the wild events that unfold as a result of her caper are the focus of the tale.

Lammas/Late Summer within the Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

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

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

https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ The Wheel of the Year in a PaGaian cosmology essentially celebrates Cosmogenesis – the unfolding of the Cosmos, in which Earth’s extant Creativity participates directly, as does each unique being. The Creativity of Cosmogenesis is expressed through Earth-Sun relationship as it may manifest and be experienced within any region of our Planet. In PaGaian tradition this is expressed with Triple Goddess Poetry, which is understood to be metaphor for the creative dynamics unfolding the Cosmos. At the heart of the Earth-Sun relationship is the dance of light and dark, the waxing and waning of both these qualities, as Earth orbits around our Mother Sun. This dance, which results in the manifestation of form and its dissolution, as it does in the Seasons, happens because of Earth’s tilt in relationship with Sun: and that is because this tilt effects the intensity of regional receptivity to Sun’s energy over the period of the yearly orbit. This tilt was something that happened in the evolution of our planet in its earliest of days – some four and a half billion years ago, and then stabilised over time: and the climatic zones were further formed when Antarctica separated from Australia and South America, giving birth to the Antarctica Circumpolar Current, changing the circulation of water around all the continents … just some thirty million years ago[i]. Within the period since then, which also saw the advent of the earliest humans, Earth has gone through many climatic changes. It is likely that throughout those changes, the dance of light and dark in both hemispheres of the planet … one always the opposite of the other – has been fairly stable and predictable. The resultant effect on flora and fauna regionally however has varied enormously depending on many other factors of Earth’s ever changing ecology: She is an alive Planet who continues to move and re-shape Herself. She is Herself subject to the cosmic dynamics of creativity – the forming and the dissolving and the re-emerging. The earliest of humans must have received all this, ‘observed’ it, in a very participatory way: that is, not as a Western industrialized or dualistic mind would think of ‘observation’ today, but as kin with the events – identifying with their own experience of coming into being and passing away. There is evidence to suggest that humans have expressed awareness of, and response to, the phenomenon of coming into being and passing away, as early as one hundred thousand years ago: ritual burial sites of that age have been found[ii], and more recently a site of ongoing ritual activity as old as seventy thousand years has been found[iii]. The ceremonial celebration of the phenomenon of seasons probably came much later, particularly perhaps when humans began to settle down. These ceremonial celebrations of seasons apparently continued to reflect the awesomeness of existence as well as the marking of transitions of Sun back and forth across the horizon, which became an important method of telling the time for planting and harvesting and the movement of pastoral animals. https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ It seems that the resultant effect of the dance of light and dark on regional flora and fauna, has been fairly stable in recent millennia, the period during which many current Earth-based religious practices and expression arose. In our times, that is changing again. Humans have been, and are, a major part of bringing that change about. Ever since we migrated around the planet, humans have brought change, as any creature would: but humans have gained advantage and distinguished themselves by toolmaking, and increasingly domesticating/harnessing more of Earth’s powers – fire being perhaps the first, and this also aided our migration. In recent times this harnessing/appropriating of Earth’s powers became more intense and at the same time our numbers dramatically increased: and many of us filled with hubris, acting without consciousness or care of our relational context. We are currently living in times when our planet is tangibly and visibly transforming: the seasons themselves as we have known them for millennia – as our ancestors knew them – appear to be changing in most if not all regions of our Planet. Much predictable Poetry – sacred language – for expressing the quality of the Seasonal Moments will change, as regional flora changes, as the movement of animals and birds and sea creatures changes, as economies change[iv]. In Earth’s long story regional seasonal manifestation has changed before, but not so dramatically since the advent of much current Poetic expression for these transitions, as mixed as they are with layers of metaphor: that is, with layers of mythic eras, cultures and economies. We may learn and understand the traditional significance of much of the Poetry, the ceremony and symbol – the art – through which we could relate and converse with our place, as our ancestors may have done; but it will continue to evolve as all language must. At the moment the dance of dark and light remains predictable, but much else is in a process of transformation. As we observe and sense our Place, our Habitat, as our ancestors also did, we can, and may yet still make Poetry of the dance of dark and light, of this quality of relationship with Sun, and how it may be manifesting in a particular region and its significance for the inhabitants: we may still find Poetic expression with which to celebrate the sacred journey that we make everyday around Mother Sun, our Source of life and energy. It has been characteristic of humans for at least several tens of thousands of years, to create ceremony and symbol by which we could relate with the creative dynamics of our place, and perhaps it was initially a method of coming to terms with these dynamics – with the apparently uniquely human awareness of coming into being and passing away[v]. Our need for sacred ceremony of relationship with our place, can only be more dire in these times, as we are witness to, and aware of, …
(Essay) Contemplating How Her Creativity Proceeds by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from the conclusion of chapter 5 of the author’s book, PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. It is a chapter on the process of the Wheel of the Year. for the Northern Hemisphere version: https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ It seems to me that the main agenda of the Cosmos is ongoing Creativity, “never-ending renewal” it may be termed, and that this is expressed in Earth’s Seasonal Wheel through the transitions of Autumn,Winter, Spring, Summer; and in the ubiquitous process of a Cosmic Triplicity of Space to Be, Urge to Be and this Place of Being, a dynamic that has often been imagined as the Triple Goddess. In the flow of the PaGaian Wheel of the Year, the Seasonal transitions of the Wheel and the Triplicity of the Cosmos come together. There are two celebrations of the Old One/Crone or the Cosmogenetic quality of autopoiesis creating the Space to Be; and they are Lammas/Late Summer and Samhain/Deep Autumn, which are the meridian points of the two quarters of the waxing dark phase. At Lammas, the first in the dark phase, we may identify with the dark and ancient Wise One – dissolve into Her; at Samhain, we may consciously participate in Her process of the transformation of death/the passing of all. The whole dark part of the cycle is about dissolving/dying/letting go of being – becoming – nurturing it (the midwifing of Lammas/Late Summer), stepping into the power of it (the certain departure of Autumn Equinox/Mabon), the fertility (of Samhain/Deep Autumn), the peaking of it (at Winter Solstice). The meridian points of the two quarters of the waxing light phase then are celebrations of the Young One/Virgin or the Cosmogenetic quality of differentiation, the new continually emerging, the Urge to Be; and they are Imbolc/Early Spring and Beltaine/High Spring. At Imbolc, the first in the light phase, we may identify with She who is shining and new – as we take her form; at Beltaine, we may consciously participate in Her process of the dance of life. The whole light part of the cycle is about coming into being: nurturing it (the midwifing of Imbolc/Early Spring), stepping into the power of it (the certain return of Spring Equinox/Eostar), the fertility (of Beltaine/High Spring), the peaking of it (at Summer Solstice). In the PaGaian wheel of ceremony there are two particular celebrations of the Mother, the Cosmogenetic quality of communion; and they are the Solstices. If one imagines the light part of the cycle as a celebration of the ‘Productions of Time’, and the dark part of the cycle as a celebration of ‘Eternity’, the Solstices then are meeting points, points of interchange, and are celebrations of the communion/relational field of Eternity with the Productions of Time. This is a relationship which does happen in this Place, in this Web. This Place of Being, this Web, is a Communion – it is the Mother; the Solstices mark Her birthings, Her gateways. The Equinoxes then – both Spring and Autumn – are two celebrations wherein the balance of all three Faces/Creative qualities is particularly present: in the PaGaian wheel, the Equinoxes have been special celebrations of Demeter and Persephone – echoing the ancient tradition of Mother-Daughter Mysteries that celebrate the awesomeness of the continuity of life, its creative tension/balance. Both Equinoxes then are celebrations and contemplations of empowerment through deep Wisdom – one contemplation during the dark phase and one during the light phase. The Autumn Equinox is a descent to Wisdom, the Spring Equinox is an emergence with Wisdom gained. I like to think of the Equinoxes, and of the ancient icons of Demeter and Persephone, as celebrations of the delicate ‘curvature of space-time’, the fertile balance of tensions which enables it all. Her Creative Place The Mother aspect then may be understood to be particularly present at four of the Seasonal Moments, which are also regarded traditionally as the Solar festivals; and in this cosmology Sun is felt as Mother. I recognize these four as points of interchange: at Autumn Equinox, Mother is present primarily as Giver – She is letting Persephone go, at Spring Equinox, She is present primarily as Receiver – welcoming the Daughter back, at Winter Solstice the Mother gives birth, creates form, at Summer Solstice, She opens again full of radiance, and disperses form. The Mother is Agent/Actor at the Solstices. She is Participant/Witness at the Equinoxes, where it is then really Persephone who is Agent/Actor, embodying an inseparable Young One and Old One. The Old One is often named as Hecate, who completes the Trio – all seamlessly within each other. Another possible way to visual it, or to tell the story, is this: The Mother – Demeter – is always there, at the Centre if you like. Persephone cycles around. She is the Daughter who returns in the Spring as flower, who will become fruit/grain of the Summer, who at Lammas assents to the dissolution – the consumption. At Autumn Equinox She returns to the underworld as seed – Her harvest is rejoiced in, Her loss is grieved, as She becomes Sovereign of the Underworld – Her face changes to the Dark One, Crone (Hecate). As the wheel turns into the light part of the cycle She becomes Young One/Virgin again. Persephone (as Seed) is that part of Demeter that can be all three aspects – can move through the complete cycle. The Mother and Daughter are really One, and embody the immortal process of creation and destruction. Demeter hands Persephone the wheat, the Mystery, and the thread of life is unbroken – it goes on forever. It is immortal, it is eternal. Even though it is true that all will be lost, and all is lost – Being always arises again: within this field of time there is never-ending renewal, eternity. This is what is revealed in the ubiquitous three faces of the Creative Dynamic/ She of Old, the Triplicity that runs through the Cosmos. The Seed of Life never …
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) …

(Goma Article Excerpt 1) Goma, the Shaman Ruler of Old Magoist East Asia/Korea and Her Mythology by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This essay was first included in Goddesses in Myth, History and Culture, published in 2018 by Mago Books.] This essay may be called a Magoist study of the Korean foundation myth, also known as the Dangun myth. It reinstates Goma, better known as “Ungnyeo (Bear/Sovereign Woman),” the shaman ruler of pre-patriarchal Korea, who is the main character of the Korean foundation myth. Here “Mago” stands for the Creatrix and “Magoism” for pre-patriarchally originated indigenous tradition of East Asia that venerates the Creatrix.[1] Identifying Goma as the ruler Goddess of Old Korea/East Asia is by no means a new effort. She is, although few in number, alluded to the eponymous Goddess of ancient Korean States (Goma State, for example) in both historical sources and modern research. In fact, “Ungnyeo” is one of the most studied topics by Korean linguists, mythologists, and historians for it concerns the identity of the Korean people. Nonetheless, those studies tend to be monodisciplinary or androcentric in their approaches and consequently fail to assess her full-fledged supreme identity as the ancestor ruler of East Asian nations. This chapter engages in transdisciplinary, comparative, and feminist approaches to elucidating the Goma myth. At the outset, we will rename “the Korean foundation myth” “the Goma myth.” That is corollary in that she is the central figure of the story. Also it introduces Old Korea as the One People of the Creatrix, anciently known as Nine Hans (九桓 Guhan). The Goma myth restores the gynocentric multi-meaning of “Nine Hans” and “Magoist Koreans/East Asians,” which is non-ethnocentric and supra-nationalist in origin. The character, “Han (桓),” in “Nine Hans” and “Hanguk,” is complex in meaning as it connotes “one,” “whole, “great,” “good,” “same,” “bright,” “many,” “correct,” “middle,” “full” and the like. Thus, “Nine Hans” refer to the People of the Creatrix who have those qualities of the character “Han.” Koreanists have designated as Hanism (the Han thought) this inclusive and polysemic nature of the word “Han” characteristic of traditional Korean worldview.[2] Although naming it Hanism is insightful, it may be misleading without a full-fledged hermeneutics of Goma mythology. Goma, known as Ungnyeo or Gom, remains underestimated and misrepresented among modern Koreans. A common understanding of the Korean foundation myth goes that she was the bear who became a woman and married Hanung, the divine sage ruler of Old Korea, and gave birth to a son, Dangun, the founder of the proto-Chinese Joseon dynasty (2333 BCE-232 BCE). Goma is diminished to the role of a mother of an assumed male hero at best. Consequently, she is redacted from the mytho-historical context of Old Magoist Korea/East Asia (the pre-patriarchal gynocentric people of the Creartrix), and divested of her supreme identity as the dynastic founder of Danguk (3898 BCE-2333 BCE). Given the immensity and complexity of the topic and its data, it is admittedly impossible to treat them comprehensively within a chapter. While many salient themes are discussed, many others are not treated. Among the untreated are Nine Numerology and its cross-cultural manifestations beyond East Asia. This essay aims the following: (1) It provides some pivotal background discussions as well as overall characteristics of the Goma myth. (2) It introduces and delineates the four narratives of the Goma myth selectively chosen from various written texts. The fact that the topic of Goma has rarely been brought to light in its own right in the West adds to the difficulty. This has to do with the fact that pre-Chinese Korean/East Asian history is deemed heterodox, if recognized, in mainstream (read Sinocentric and patriarchal) East Asian Studies. Not only her supreme identity but also her Magoist mytho-historical context remains as non-data in the institutionalized practice of Korean Studies. Our task necessarily involves a controversial feminist methodology, debunking conventional interpretations as a product of Sinocentrism. Mainstream Koreanists have endorsed or internalized the Chinese ethnocentric worldview that is patriarchal and imperialist. Reversing the multiple reversals, the current work, as a result, exposes what is written out of the official East Asian mytho-historiography. Summary of the Goma Myth Goma had a great spirit from birth. Because of her vision of “benefiting the human world widely,” she was entrusted by the last shaman queen, Hanin of Hanguk (桓國 State of One People, c. 7199 BCE – 3898 BCE), with the task of restoring the Reign of the Creatrix. Toward the end of the Hanguk confederacy, clan names and their customs grew apart. And a belligerent tiger clan rose. They raided and plundered neighboring tribes. Goma conceived a will to pacify a social problem caused by this unruly patrilocal clan. Determined to constrain the tiger clan, she requested Hanin to send her to the troubled region. Hanin granted her wish and sent her to the region, Mount Taebaek (Great Resplendence). Leading the royal bear clan of 3,000 people, Goma arrived at Mount Taebaek and settled adjacent to the tiger clan. Rather than a military solution, she proposed a covenant for both the bear clan and the tiger clan to observe. Both clans underwent a trial, which was to dwell in a cave hall and endure 100 days without seeing the sunlight, living on mugwort and chive. I call her proposal the cave initiation, a socio-spiritual pledge to undergo the ordeal of the cave environment in order to tap into one’s innate power of restoring true human nature. The cave is a physical and metaphorical place for the womb of the Primordial Mother, the sacred space/time of unity, wholeness, and rebirth, wherein everyone once dwelt. The cave initiation represents a returning to the knowing of the common origin of all beings, the Crearix. Goma proffered the tiger clan an option of changing their predatory behaviors but they could not endure the cave initiation. The bear clan endured for three seven days (21 days) and attained the female character, the true human nature. The tiger clan was expelled to a remote designated land outside Four Seas, the territory of Old Magoist East Asia, by verdict of the law that Goma legislated. …
(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.
(2015 Mago Pilgrimage) Neuk-do (Serpent Island) by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

I wanted to visit Neuk-do because of the Mago story told in the region. Its name Neuk-do, which means the Serpent Island (구렁이섬), whispers a deep memory of the gynocentric past. However, people today seem to be oblivious to this. Our guides did not inform us of the meaning of the island’s name. I relished being surrounded by an air of mystery about the island during our visit. Also I was drawn to Neuk-do because it is under the administration of Sacheon City. The place-name, Sacheon (泗川 or 四川 Xichuan in Chinese), is no unknown place in the mytho-history of Magoism. Like many other place-names, “Sacheon,” recurs in both present-day China and the Korean peninsula. They, although written in slightly different characters, concern Magoism (stories, place-names, or topographies). In the case of the Chinese “Sacheon,” Magoism is systematically suppressed and replaced by Daoism. Today China boasts of Xichuan Province as a birthplace of Daoism. Mt. Qingcheng (青城山) in Dujiangyan City, is known as one of the ancient Daoist centers. Our data are, albeit often sketchy, ample to indicate the importance of Mt. Qingcheng in Daoist history. It is a place wherein Zhangling (34-156) or Zhang Daoling, the founder of Tianshi (天師 Celestial Master) Daoism, founded the doctrine of Daoism and died. Yellow Emperor, the pre-dynastic hero of the third millennium BCE, is commemorated. The Temple of Eternal Dao(常道觀 Changdao Guan) located in Mt. Qingcheng is noted for its oldest hall, the Shrine of the Yellow Emperor, built during the Sui dynasty (605-618).[i] Also the place-name, Dujiangyan(都江堰), reflects the ancient irrigation system originally constructed in circa 256 BCE during the Qin dynasty.[ii] Alongside a number of Daoist temples extant today, there are Magoist place-names and topographies, Magu Cave (麻姑洞 Magu-dong) and Magu Lake (麻姑池 Magu-chi) also known as Heavenly Lake (天池). Located adjacent to Shangqing Palace (上清宫 Supreme Clarity Palace), Magu Lake has a story that Magu collected water for her alchemical practice.[iii] “Mago” is alternatively used with “Cheon (Heaven, 天 Tian in Chinese),” as is in “Heavenly Lake.” As in other places, such Magoist place-names in Xichuan have survived Chinese mytho-historiography that has obliterated pre-Chinese Magoism and replaced it with Daoism. Note that Magu is never articulated as the Creatrix in Chinese historiography, whereas her supremacy is adumbrated in Chinese folklore and place-names. Chinese mytho-historiography has paid the price for its matricide: Its origin will never be explained. To say that Xichuan is a Daoist birthplace is a misleading. Xichuan is a pre-Daoist center of Magoism whose origin possibly dates to the time of Danguk (3898-2333 BCE). From the Korean sources, fortunately, we are able to assess that Xichuan was a place of significance from pre-Dangun times. According to the Handan Gogi (Archaic Histories of Han and Dan), Daeeup extant today near Mt. Qingcheng, Xichuan Province, was a place wherein Dangun began her career. The Handan Gogi reads, “Dangun began her career in Daeeup (大邑 Great Town, Dayi in Chinese). All people feared and obeyed her virtue as a divine being. When she was at age 14 in the year of Gapjin (2357 BCE), Sovereign Ungssi, upon hearing her divine virtue, appointed her as Biwang (Auxiliary Ruler) to administrate Daeeup (Great Town) [Female connoting words are mine].”[iv] Thomas Yoon points out that Daeeup is not a fictitious place-name but an actual site extant today in Chengdu, Sichuan.[v] Mr. Kigap Kang, former politician but now an orchard owner who experiments with nature-based farming for fruit trees in Sacheon City, arranged our meeting with the Director of the Sacheon City Cultural Center. The Director alongside his companion met us in his office. They told us Neuk-do’s stories of Mago Halmae. Then, we drove to the road off the shore where we could look out across the stepping stones in the sea that were said to have been placed by Mago Halmae. The tide was high and we could see only the tips of rocks. I could see the island across the adjoining water. Neuk-do had unusual topography as it was an elongated island conjoined by two mountainous isles. From such topography the name, the Serpent Island, may have derived. Houses are populated in the conjoined area. We drove to Neuk-do via a modern bridge with the hope of running into someone who could guide us to the site of Mago stepping stones. A native of Neuk-do, our guide-to-be, happened to be right there, when we got off the car. Mr. Gyeung Jang, a 61 year-old fisherman and native of Neuk-do, showed us the site in the sea where Mago is said to have placed stepping stones. Due to the high tide, we could only see the top parts of Mago’s stepping stones upper edge over the waterline. He also led us to peeking Mago Halmi’s washing laundry rock and estimated its size to be about two meters high at the low tide. He added, Mago Halmi was so tall and giant that she needed a tall rock. The motif that the giant Mago Hami carried a boulder to construct standing stones or dolmens and the story of Mago’s laundry rock commonly recur in other regions. During dinner at a seafood restaurant in Neuk-do, our conversations grew. Mr. Jang informed us of the fact that the whole island of Neuk-do is designated as a cultural and notable site by the province and the state. Its archaeological unearthing began in the early 1980s and has brought out numerous multi-period findings (about 13,000 items) ranging from the Neolithic to the early Iron Age. The unearthed include shell mounds, house sites, human and animal burials, pottery, and daggers that originated from not only Korea but also Yayoi Japan and Nangnang China. As such, Neuk-do has come to be known as a site of ancient transnational maritime centers in East Asia.[6] As I write this, the Mago story turns out to have several versions. I will share three versions here. In one account, Mago Halmae, so tall and giant, walked around the sea. She brought rocks …