The opening and closing of arms is the clearest, most true indicator that racism is real. We panic. We shut out those who are different, for they bring fear and the unknown. People who are similar to us culturally or ethnically are deemed safe. The world has become bleakly black and white. You are in or out, which is why passing is such a privilege. It’s the best of both worlds where one day you can feel special because you are different, and the next you can be plain Jane.
This was all very curious to me. How tolerant are we really? Or are we tolerant when it works for us, when we connect in our differences and see that someone is of or against the same grain as us? We Continue reading
Most of us know the story of Inanna’s descent into the Underworld to visit with her sister Erishkigal. The reason for her visit is that Erishkigal’s husband has died and Inanna was a childhood friend of his and she will visit to pay her respects. As she travels to meet her sister, Inanna must pass through seven gates where they ask her to remove and part with aspects of herself so when she approaches Ereshkigal.
Upon arrival, her sister, who is angry because she believes that her husband loved Inanna, hangs Inanna from a meat hook to die.
While Inanna was in the Underworld, Ninshubur waited three days for Her to return, and when she did not she thought all was lost and began to mourn for her. She visited the temple of Enki who agreed to help her. Enki knows the nature of the underworld and its rule by a jealous, anguished Erishkigal. As a god he has the power to create and ease hardship. From the dirt under his fingernails, he creates the kurgarra and galatur, instinctual, asexual creatures Continue reading
Art by Shilo Sophia
Do you tell yourself the lie that you are not creative? Read this.
All your bones are creative bones darlin’ ~ Sue Hoya Sellars Continue reading
In the aftermath of the bloody Balkan War in the 1990s, I asked many stari Babas (elder women) what was in their apron pockets. South Slavic storied aprons are the first-person stories of daughters, mothers, and grandmothers mirroring the biological miracle of female mitochondrial DNA. The mitochondrial DNA, the unbroken line of genes passed down from mother to daughter, allows geneticists to trace back to the first mother. The Slavs embroidered pockets to hold dolls, keys, and jewelry to be passed on to their daughters is an unbroken ritual despite wars and holocaustic events. Continue reading
This essay is from She Rises: How Goddess Feminism, Activism and Spirituality? Volume 2 edited by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Mary Ann Beavis and Nicole Shaw, Mago Books, 2016.
A poetic map or Her seasonal wheel
My Goddess devotional practice of celebrating Her in the Seasonal wheel of the year grew over decades, from small humble occasional affairs to elaborate consistent well-planned events; as I came to be aware of the power of conversing with Her in this way, and also with others who desired to participate.
Participation in the annual Seasonal wheel process, particularly when practised as a whole year-long experience and over the period of years, re-identifies one’s small self with the larger Gaia-Self. It is a practice of coming to know Her … it may be at times “playing like we know, until we know”. Continue reading
The prose poem, Cassandra, is a summary of a long-standing interest I have in the interaction between the structure of knowledge and belief systems. In the late 1970s I wanted to write a PhD on the structure of belief systems in the ancient world. In a way I am still working on this. At the time, no one in the academic milieu I inhabited understood what I wanted to do, so I left and wrote my novel, The Falling Woman.
Growing up with an Agnostic English mother and a Muslim Pakistani father has taught me a lot, to say the least. It’s taught me everything is deeper than it seems, always. There is always more to know, more to see, and more to think about. It’s taught me people assume I am white because I look white. For that, I am a child of passing and of privilege.
I was in Morocco a couple of years ago. As I wondered through the maze like markets, smelling the cumin and garlic, fresh naan and mint tea, I realized I grew up with these smells. One would think I’d feel at home in Morocco because it all felt familiar. But I was disconnected. A white girl, with green Continue reading
Art by Jhilmil Breckenridge
A visit to Goa showed me beauty everywhere, blossoms and sea breezes. But under the beauty is the Continue reading
[Author’s Note] The following is from Chapter One, “What Is Mago and Magoism and How Did I Study HER?” from The Mago Way: Re-discovering Mago, the Great Goddess from East Asia, Volume 1. Footnotes below would be different from the monograph version. PDF book of The Mago Way Volume 1 download is available for free here.]
Magoism, East Asian Religions, and Magoist Mudangs
As mentioned above, Magoism refers to the totality of human civilization that is ultimately gynocentric. Speaking from a narrow perspective, Magoism is the primordial matrix from which such East Asian religions as Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism were derived. In the light of Magoism, a patriarchal religion is redefined as a pseudo-Magoism that which has co-opted the Way of the Great Goddess (Magoism) with the androcentric reversal of the female Continue reading
The three-colored circles in nine corners represent the sun ray, gynocentric creativity in a full blossom.
Editorial Update: Meet Ongoing Contributors!
Mondays: Glenys Livingstone, Sara Wright, Deanne Quarrie, Jhilmil Breckenridge
Wednesdays: Liz Darling, Shiloh Sophia, Sudie Rakusin, Jassy Watson
Fridays: Susan Hawthorne, Phibby Venable, Andrea Nicki, Maya Daniel
All contributions are welcome! If you are a new contributor or guest contributor, your recurring contributions are welcome anytime. We are perennially open for new contributions. For submission details, please refer to Call For Contributions.
Focus: Meet new contributors in February, 2017!
Aisha Monks-Husain (Continue Reading)
Your song will never be lost
With the coming of sundown
The night will be revolting
From the thoughts that the enemies
Are assaulting, in colorless image,
Cursing the peacemakers
Desecrating agreements and
Strangle our desires of just peace
The armed enemies aim to silence us,
Our voices, may it be a whisper
Or the loud cries of the street crowd
The killing is on, silently, as hunger
And poverty eat the fibers of their victims
We protest and curse the naked brutalities
Of various forms of state fascism
The stink of social injustice
The night is revolting and your song
Is the enemies’ nightmare. Continue reading