February 10, 2017August 31, 2017 RTM Editor

samhain-altar

Leave a Reply to the main postCancel reply

(Poem) Gossamers by Phibby Venable

Wikimedia Commons Some mornings I steal the sky and take it back I stash clouds of illumination I plot a good life, not in a quarry, but in a song I may recognize and add to the long festival that is my life. This morning I saw the sweet grass by the same old river, the habits in my heart, the flyaway of dreams I am interviewing birds, the ones with softened songs I am walking in fragments of myself, stepping hard through blue stones, clinging to the sky God by invisible strings I don’t believe it is bad luck for a woman to whistle https://www.magoism.net/2015/01/meet-mago-contributor-phibby-venable/
(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.
(Book Excerpt 1) How to Live Well Despite Capitalist Patriarchy by Trista Hendren

Why I wrote this book… an Introduction Capitalist Patriarchy sucks for women. Two years ago, I almost died. Eight weeks before that, the father of my children died suddenly—or rather not-so-suddenly for those who knew his struggles with addiction well. It was, I suppose, a long-time-in-the-making filled with pain and consequences for those who knew (and loved) him best. I decided promptly before my emergency surgery that I could not die. For the sake of my children, I had to get through it—and I had to get better. I called them—fighting back tears that I vowed not to let them hear—to tell them I had to go in immediately. My son stuttered, “Wait, what? ” “I will be OK,” I told him—perhaps a little too harshly. “You can come see me afterwards. I love you.” It was too late in the evening for them to come by the time I was out of the recovery room. I was very happy to find myself awake however—and able to call them. I broke down and cried like a baby several times that day. I made it through the next week in the hospital with endless YouTube healing meditations and comedies. I will never forget the kindness of the Norwegian doctors and nurses. The doctor who broke the news to me about the tumor looked just like my beloved friend Elisabeth Slettnes, who illustrated the first three Girl God books. “Don’t worry,” she comforted me—as if she were my dear sister and not a total stranger. “We will take care of you just like you were one of our own.” A nurse took my hand as they were putting me under and asked how old my children were. She gave me a knowing look while stroking my arm and telling me hers were the same age. I drifted off knowing she understood exactly what was at stake. The thought has never left me that had I been ‘home’ in America then, I would have been left to die—or at least bankrupt by that week in the hospital, given that they did catch it just in time. In fact, I probably would not have gone to the doctor at all. I could barely stay above water as it was. There was no option for a hefty hospital bill. I left the United States broke, after years as a single mother. I did not have health insurance for a long time. In America, I was not even worthy of receiving child support. I was a nothing. Just another mother forced to figure out how to take care of her children—with little help from anyone, except my own mother. I had done nothing to earn the kindness of these Norwegian doctors and nurses. I had not paid into their system. I was simply a human being, deserving of care on that basis alone. This is the Socialist system so many Americans are taught to be afraid of. Angela Davis once said, “I still believe that capitalism is the most dangerous kind of future we can imagine.” I finally heard her—loud and clear—laying in that hospital bed. I had spent the prior years on auto-pilot after 6 months of family court with my ex, and then a move to Norway. Despite our ecstasy at finally being able to move abroad, it took some time for my nervous system to relax again. In my heart, I did not believe that my ex-husband would ever recover from his additions, which would enable him to have parenting time again. However, being that he came from a family with money, I also worried that we might be pulled back into some sort of family court drama again. The stress of having little say in protecting my children all those years had taken an enormous toll on me. Before and during my 2nd marriage, I had lived in relative comfort and wealth—wanting to believe that I had somehow made it out of the confines of patriarchy. I thought I was safe as someone with an MBA, good income, marriage to a wealthy partner—and all the perks that come with that. But as Nawal El Saadawi reminds us, there are much larger structures at play than our individual (and sometimes privileged) lives. “The most dangerous shackles are the invisible ones, because they deceive people into believing they are free. This delusion is the new prison that people inhabit today, north and south, east and west… We inhabit the age of the technology of false consciousness, the technology of hiding truths behind amiable humanistic slogans that may change from one era to another… Democracy is not just freedom to criticize the government, or to hold parliamentary elections. True democracy obtains only when the people—women, men, young people, children—have the ability to change the system of industrial capitalism that has oppressed them since the earliest days of slavery: a system based on class division, patriarchy, and military might, a hierarchical system that subjugates people merely because they are born poor, or female, or dark-skinned.”1 I used to blame myself incessantly for everything that was wrong in my life. As I grew older and began to speak more openly and honestly with other women, I began to connect the dots that make so many of us miserable. My hope is that as more women begin to wake up and share with each other, we will heal ourselves and weave our way out of this hellish maze together. Capitalist Patriarchy thrives when women shut up and do as they are told. While it would appear (for some of us at least) that if we play by the rules, we will be safe—those of us who begin to rock the boat with our questioning and refusal to STFU know how easy it is to be thrown off the boat altogether—children and all. Everything within Capitalist Patriarchy is designed to keep your inner-knowing and body wisdom suppressed. Therefore, in order to thrive despite this system, you must come …
(Pilgrimage 4) Eight Devi Temples in Kumaon, Uttarakhand, India by Krista Rodin

[Editor’s Note: This and forthcoming parts are the report of pilgrimage visits made during October 2022.] Baijnath Shiva/Parvati Marriage site Baijnath is one of the most famous temple complexes in Kumaon. This is the place where Shiva is supposed to have married Parvati. The medieval complex dedicated to Shiva is directly on a bend in the Gomati River. The main temple commemorates the occasion and includes Ganesha, which is why it is called the temple of The Holy Trio. In front of it is a pond called “Golden Mahaseer,” which is an extension of the river. The goldfish in the pond are famous. The temple looks out at the surrounding mountains and hills, with the river, it would make an idyllic spot – prior to all the contemporary construction – for the legendary marriage to take place. There are eighteen shrines/temples of various sizes in the complex. One that was locked up while I was there, was dedicated to the Goddess Brahmani. This was perhaps the oldest of the group as it was constructed in the 9th c. The complex was built by the Katyuri kings, who ruled from the 7th to 13th c CE, and the area surrounding the temple complex was their capital, Karthikeypur. The majority of the construction probably occurred around 1150 CE. The main temple was built in a Dravidian style, which is a bit unusual for the region. It, and the Parvati temple, are the only two that are still functioning worship spaces, but the complex as a whole is an official Kumaon pilgrimage site.[1] Photo by Krista Rodin Dunagiri Devi To get to the Dunagiri Temple, there is a turn off heading up the mountain from the main road. This road is somewhat smaller, but also in very good condition as it leads to another major pilgrimage site. The road ends after about 16 km at the base of the Dunagiri Devi Temple. Upon arriving, a small temple to Ganesha greets the visitor before they start the ca. 500 broad step climb to the temple complex. There is a path through the woods as well, but as it was raining, I chose the covered staircase lined with bells. Before going I didn’t know how many steps were involved, so it came as a bit of a surprise that the staircase never seemed to end. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way either given what the others at the site were saying. There are many legends about the origin of the Dunagiri Devi Temple. One from the Mahabharata era (9-8th c BCE) states that the original site was built by the Pandava brothers during their exile. Later during the Ramayana period (5th-1st c BCE), Hanuman’s search for the Himalayan life-giving herb to save Lord Laxman led him to carry part of the mountain away and take it to Sri Lanka. A small piece fell to the ground at the spot of the later Dunagiri Temple. Dunagiri mountain is part of the Nanda Devi Mountain Group. Like Nanda Devi mountain, Dunagiri mountain has its own temple and both are dedicated to a form of the Goddess Durga. The temple is also known as Dronanchal or Dronagiri, which relates back to the Mahabharata story about how Guru Dronacharya of the Pandavas used to meditate here. Later other gurus and swamis were known to meditate under the Banyan tree in the middle of the courtyard. The temple itself is a square building with a rather smallish shrine space. There is a poster of Durga on the wall and room for the priest to perform pujas. Along a side wall is a glass cabinet with puja offerings. Just below the main platform to the left is another puja site. The entire area is in the middle of the forest. Off the left side in front is a bench where one can sit and admire the view of the Himalayan peaks all the way to Mt. Kailash on a clear sunny day. Unfortunately, I was there in the midst of rain and clouds, so I wasn’t able to get the fabled view, but what I was able to see was still pretty amazing. Photo by Krista Rodin (To be continued) [1] https://misfitwanderers.com/baijnath-temple-uttarakhand/ Accessed October 8, 2022. https://www.magoism.net/2018/09/meet-mago-contributor-krista-rodin-ph-d/
(Art) Setting the Stories Free, an INTUIT Card collage meditation by Cynthia Tom

Art by Cynthia Tom In case of chronic heartache: Rx – sit quietly and ask who wants your attention. Your little self will metaphorically tap you on the shoulder. Let him/her/they spend time with you to gather a hug and reassurance that you are there for you. Self-sooth your little self to heal into and celebrate who you have become. https://www.magoism.net/2021/07/meet-mago-contributor-cynthia-tom/
Luciana Percovich

Read all posts by Luciana Percovich. A member of the Italian Feminist Movement since the Seventies, she has lived and worked in Milano as a teacher, an editor, a translator and an author, before leaving for the country. She is part of the Libera Università delle Donne di Milano (www.universitadelledonne.it), director of a series of books on women’s history and spirituality (www.venexia.it), and contributor to women’s reviews on women’s health, science, anthropology and mythology.
(Poetry) Sanctuary by Frances Guerin

Birthing Tree, Wheatsheaf 2020 Corona came shouting STOP! You heard Greta Thunberg say, How dare you! Dear David Attenborough agreed then Jane Goodall said she was going to plant five million trees. Stop the traffic, stop the pollution, the bombing, the rocket launches, the oil tanker spills, the logging and manufacturing all that junk. Corona said, And most of all stop torturing and killing animals in the way you do as if they can’t feel pain, as if they don’t experience love, bawling, chasing the trucks carting away their newborn to be slaughtered. Lamb of God! They are sentient, intelligent, the essence of beauty. Listen, clean your house, take care with people, watch yourself because if you don’t, I just might kill you. Smoke haze over the big cities clears. In Delhi you can see the Himalaya again. America burns. In the sanctuary of the Wombat forest. I rake the debris on the forest floor and burn off praying that summer will not breathe her fiery breath on this place, all hell breaking loose. Under the ancient trees where the Dja Dja Wurrung women gave birth, I see an archway Something moves amongst the leaves, the wind perhaps The spirits of those not considered worthy of life, chanting their song of the Dreamtime. The trees remember them. Listen! I place my head against the gnarled lumps of bark about the size of an infant’s head The hollow interior of the tree is quiet The sun shines its rays through of the dense lofty branches of the forest that meet like a vaulted ceiling of Gothic architecture. This is my chapel, this is my cathedral. https://www.magoism.net/2014/03/meet-mago-contributor-frances-guerin/
(Essay) Religious Rites for a Girl in Bozen 1930’s By Claire French Ph.D

[Editor’s Note: We are grateful for the life and work given by late Claire French, Ph.D. and entrust that she is in the bossom of the Great Mother ever.] A translated excerpt from the author’s book: Meine verkehrte Welt: von Bozen nach Australien Mutti, who was still staying with me at Bozen, was heartbroken because I did not receive the Lord’s Supper according to the Lutheran rite as she herself had received it, dressed in black like a penitent sinner. She could not bring herself to be present at the Service and felt as if she had betrayed the whole Reformation. I felt very sorry for her. In the meantime there was some important shopping to be done, and that was the duty of Patin, my godmother. I needed a white Communion dress (but not a long one as the Italian girls used to wear for the occasion) a veil with a wreath of orange blossoms, a large Communion candle, a Missal and a rosary. Everything had to be of the best quality and was bought in the most expensive shops under the Arcades. I can remember that shortly before the great day I was to be presented to the Dean, which was a great honour. Sr Direttrice explained to me the prescribed etiquette. I was to bend my knee to the Dean and kiss his amethyst ring. This was asking too much for my Lutheran upbringing. I just could not bring myself to do it and feigned to be sick. The nuns were putting it down to my excitement and did not insist. On the great day I climbed the stairs to the chapel feeling as if I was ascending to paradise. My teachers and class mates as well as Patin and Uncle Othmar followed. This day of my First Communion had the effect of an initiation. From this day on the Sunday Mass and Fr.Gandolf’s sermon to us children always made a deep impression on me. So did the atmosphere of the church, which was built in Neo Romance style from big blocks of purple porphyry. The main altar was overshadowed by a large gold monstrance containing the consecrated oblate. The holy vessel looked like a huge mandala to remind us of Christ’s everlasting presence. The inside walls of the church nave were decorated with mosaics in the Romance style and the high set windows left it in semidarkness. Each time I entered this church I was filled with a deep devotion. In those early years I had not yet learnt about meditation, but I must have practiced it unconsciously. As I had been told that the church had been built by my late paternal grandfather and my late uncles, it was to me like my family’s own temple. After the service we arrived home to a festive luncheon which Mutti had prepared, but I noticed that she had been crying. That dampened my happiness. Uncle Othmar and Patin had made it a condition that I shared a room with my Grandmother, Maria Wieser nee Danay, a septuagenarian who had born eleven children and had lost eight of them. She was lamed because of a broken hip and lived now at her daughter’s home. Tied to a wheelchair she was visited daily by Sister Clara, a private nurse of the Third Order of St.Francis. Soon we became good friends. Father Eugen from the Franciscan monastery was Grandmother’s confessor and each first Friday of the month he brought her Holy Communion. At these occasions Sister Clara acted as substitute altar boy and I admired the way she recited the ritual prayers in flawless Latin. Soon I had memorised the whole Confiteor and would have loved to be an altar girl. Yet at that time, decades before the Second Vatican Synod, altar girls were never heard of. Father Eugen laughed at me and explained that Sr. Clara occupied a special position, but as a mere girl I would never be allowed to serve at the altar, no matter how perfect my Latin was. For the first time I was filled with rage and anger to be born a mere girl, a second class person. Surely that could not be God’s will. My passionate feminism in later life had its origin in this injustice. Patin was not a very affectionate person and neither was Uncle Othmar. So I tried to find a little loving kindness elsewhere. In the basement of the house there lived Uncle’s mother, Josepha Leitner, a widow from Bichlbach in Ausserfern, a Swabian speaking enclave in the Tyrolean speaking country. She was over eighty and had lost her elder son in Russia and her two daughters Theresa and Rosina had died of the Spanish flue. I called her Grosstante, great- aunt, and she gave me all the love her old heart could give me. In return I loved her more than all my other Tyrolean relatives. Meet Mago Contributor Claire French Ph.D.
(Prose) Embody the Sacred – Engaging Through the Senses by Deanne Quarrie

If you are like me and view Goddess as everything – the entire web of life – then we cannot be connected to Goddess only in our heads. We must see Her, hear Her, feel Her, dance with Her, taste Her, smell Her and finally we must KNOW HER. Somehow we drifted away from our natural state, engaging in life with our natural senses, including the intuitive. Once we were right-brain functioning species but over time, with the development of written alphabets and a fast paced, artificially constructed environment we have become mostly left brained in our approach to life. This keeps us in our heads and out of touch with our bodies. Yes, we use our senses but we are not aware of using them!

(Special Post Mother Teresa 4) A Role Model for Women? by Mago Circle Members

Part IV: Illumination and Consensus Reached [Editorial Note: The following is an edited version of the discussion that took place spontaneously on Mago Circle from March 1, 2013 for about two weeks. It was an extensive, heated, yet reflective discussion, now broken into four parts to fit the format of the blog. We thank each and all of the participants for your openness, generosity, and courage to stand up for what you believe and think! Some are marked as anonymous. As someone stated, something may have been “written in the heat of the moment” and some might like to change it at a later time. So we inform our readers that nothing is written in stone. As a matter of fact, the discussion is ongoing, now with Magoism Blog readers. Please comment and respond as you wish.] Diane Horton: [C], how is it that you do not see that MT had no right to sacrifice other people for any purpose whatsoever? None of us have the right or the place to “sacrifice those we care about” for anything. She was not “above them”. And she had abundant means to do far more for them, to cure and comfort them. If indeed she imagined she had some lofty motivation as you so fervently believe, to use the power she had to withhold medical care from the poverty stricken sick and dying in some misguided and ultimately cruel attempt to bring the world’s attention to their suffering and produce compassion within those who would not otherwise feel it is the most monstrous miscarriage of any expression of what you might refer to as “love” that I have heard of outside of Jim Jones killing all of his followers in Ghana. That’s not Love. That’s not Compassion. That is Manipulation, and manipulation is ego-based. Anne Wilkerson Allen: Yes. It is an indoctrination so deep and so prolonged that it takes a lifetime to overcome…and we rely on the love and compassion of others to help bring us to this understanding….thanks, Diane. Diane Horton: Love you, Anne. [C]: Is thinking that any human being sacrificing inside their very soul, their morals, & all that entails, is actually of lesser value than outside human pain, suffering, even death itself, right? Diane Horton: I’m not sure I understand the question really, but I’ll try a response: one’s inner and outer life are of equal importance because they are all the whole person.
(Special Post) BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE FOR EL PASO ARTIST MARIO COLÍN by Donna Snyder

Born in Juárez in 1959, Mario Colín lived his entire life in the Five Points area of Central El Paso, where he attended Houston Elementary and Austin High School. From the age of fifteen, he worked as a construction worker, building silos and other large construction projects across the U.S.A., at some point hitch hiking from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic shores. In his late twenties, he began to focus all his attention and energy on art, which had been an interest since early childhood, working as a muralist and portrait painter. Much of his art is of a religious nature, although he also painted secular art, portraits, and historical scenes. Colín painted his first mural of the Virgin of Guadalupe in collaboration with deceased artist Chuck Zavala in 1987 at Esparza’s Grocery, a small store in Central El Paso. It has now become a shrine, with community members building a stone arch and bringing flowers and candles, and has been pronounced a religious site by the parish church. Since that first mural, Colín has painted over 40 pieces of public art, many of which have become landmarks. Many of those murals are in that same Central El Paso neighborhood, on or near Piedras, including the House of Pizza, Los Alamos Grocery, The Elbo Room bar, the former Sanitary Plumbing at Piedras and Fort Boulevard. Colín twice painted a 25 foot mural of the Virgin of Guadalupe, at Alameda and Zaragoza, across from the Ysleta mission. The first version, painted in 1997, became decayed, but was a popular landmark. That mural has appeared in periodicals, art books, calendars, many newspaper articles, and in photographs exhibited in the El Paso Art Museum and galleries. In 2004, Señor José Villalobos donated and members of the community contributed money to pay laborers to replaster the wall of the century-old adobe building where it is located, and Colín repainted the entire mural for donations from passers-by and community members. Colín’s work has also been featured on the International History Channel and Canal 44, XHUI TV, in a Ford television commercial, and numerous times in the El Paso Times and the defunct El Paso Herald-Post, as well as in periodicals such as Texas Monthly, Dallas Morning News, Texas Observer, Austin American Statesman, Stanton Street magazine; literary journals such as Mezcla and GypsyMag.com; in documentaries including Walls that Speak: El Paso’s Murals, directed by Jim Klaes; in art books such as Colors on Desert Walls: The Murals of El Paso and Texas 24:7, and in various editions of Chicano Studies: Survey and Analysis, a text book used throughout the country.
(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.

Lammas/Late Summer in PaGaian tradition By Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from Chapter 5 of the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. Traditionally the dates for this Seasonal Moment are: Southern Hemisphere – Feb. 1st/2nd Northern Hemisphere – August 1st/2nd however the actual astronomical date varies. See archaeoastronomy.com for the actual moment. Lammas table/altar Lammas, as it is often called[1], is the meridian point of the first dark quarter of the year, between Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox; it is after the light phase has peaked and is complete, and as such, I choose it as a special celebration of the Crone/Old One. Within the Celtic tradition, it is the wake of Lugh, the Sun King, and it is the Crone that reaps him. But within earlier Goddess traditions, all the transformations were Hers[2]; and the community reflected on the reality that the Mother aspect of the Goddess, having come to fruition, from Lammas on would enter the Earth and slowly become transformed into the Old Woman-Hecate-Cailleach aspect …[3] I dedicate Lammas to the face of the Old One, just as Imbolc, its polar opposite on the Wheel in Old European tradition, is dedicated to the Virgin/Maiden face. 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. I state the purpose of the seasonal gathering thus: This is the season of the waxing dark. The seed of darkness born at the Summer Solstice now grows … the dark part of the days grows visibly longer. Earth’s tilt is taking us back away from the Sun. This is the time when we celebrate dissolution; each unique self lets go, to the Darkness. It is the time of ending, when the grain, the fruit, is harvested. We meet to remember the Dark Sentience, the All-Nourishing Abyss, She from whom we arise, in whom we are immersed, and to whom we return. This is the time of the Crone, the Wise Dark One, who accepts and receives our harvest, who grinds the grain, who dismantles what has gone before. She is Hecate, Lillith, Medusa, Kali, Erishkagel,Chamunda, Coatlique – Divine Compassionate One, She Who Creates the Space to Be. We meet to accept Her transformative embrace, trusting Her knowing, which is beyond all knowledge. Lammas is the seasonal moment for recognizing that we dissolve into the “night” of the Larger Organism of whom we are part – Gaia. It is She who is immortal, from whom we arise, and into whom we dissolve. This celebration is a development of what was born in the transition of Summer Solstice; the dark sentient Source of Creativity is honoured. The autopoietic space in us recognizes Her, is comforted by Her, desires Her self-transcendence and self-dissolution; Lammas is an opportunity to be with our organism’s love of Larger Self – this Native Place. We have been taught to fear Her, but at this Seasonal Moment we may remember that She is the compassionate One, deeply committed to transformation, which is actually innate to us. Whereas at Imbolc/Early Spring, we shone forth as individual, multiforms of Her; at Lammas, we small individual selves remember that we are She and dissolve back into Her. We are the Promise of Lifeas was affirmed at Imbolc, but we are the Promise of Her- it is not ours to hold. We identify as the sacred Harvest at Lammas; our individual harvest isHer Harvest. We are the process itself – we are Gaia’s Process. Wedo not breathe (though of course we do), we borrow the breath, for a while. It is like a relay: we pick the breath up, create what we do during our time with it, and pass it on. The harvest we reap in our individual lives is important, andit is for us only short term; it belongs to the Cosmos in the long term. Lammas is a time for “making sacred” – as “sacrifice” may be understood; we may “make sacred” ourselves. As Imbolc was a time for dedication, so is Lammas. This is the wisdom of the phase of the Old One. She is the aspect that finds the “yes” to letting go, to loving the Larger Self, beyond all knowledge, and steps into the power of the Abyss; encouraged and nourished by the harvest, She will gradually move into the balance of Autumn Equinox/Mabon, the next Sesaonal Moment on the year’s cycle. References: Durdin-Robertson, Lawrence. The Year of the Goddess.Wellingborough: Aquarian Press, 1990. Gray, Susan. The Woman’s Book of Runes.New York: Barnes and Noble, 1999. Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. McLean, Adam. The Four Fire Festivals. Edinburgh: Megalithic Research Publications, 1979. Notes: [1]See note 3. [2]Susan Gray, The Woman’s Book of Runes,p. 18. This is also to say that the transformations are within each being, not elsewhere, that is the “sacrifice” is not carried out by another external to the self, as could be and have been interpreted from stories of Lugh or Jesus. [3]Lawrence Durdin-Robertson, The Year of the Goddess, p.143, quoting Adam McLean, Fire Festivals,p.20-22. Another indication of the earlier tradition beneath “Lughnasad” is the other name for it in Ireland of “Tailltean Games”. Taillte was said to be Lugh’s foster-mother, and it was her death that was being commemmorated (Mike Nichols, “The First Harvest”, Pagan Alliance Newsletter NSW Australia). The name “Tailtunasad” has been suggested for this Seasonal Moment, by Cheryl Straffon editor of Goddess Alive! I prefer the name of Lammas, although some think it is a Christian term: however some sources say that Lammas means “feast of the bread” which is how I have understood it, and surely such a feast pre-dates Christianity. It is my opinion that the incoming Christians preferred “Lammas” to “Lughnasad”: the term itself is not Christian in origin. The evolution of all these things is complex, and we may evolve them further with our careful thoughts and experience.
(Essay and Video) Cosmogenesis Dance: Celebrating Her Unfolding by Glenys Livingstone

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

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

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

Winter Solstice/Yule Southern Hemisphere – June 20 – 23. Northern Hemisphere – December 20 – 23 Winter Solstice is a celebration of the Mother/Creator aspect of the Triple Goddess in particular – as both Solstices may be, as dark or light come to fullness. Winter Solstice Moment celebrates the ripe fullness of the Dark Womb, and the gateway from that fullness back into new growing light. It is a Birthing Place – into differentiated being, and Her birthing happens in every moment in the breath, and is seamlessly connected with all layers of being – of self, Earth and Cosmos. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDsVZzXtoyM The Text in the Meditation[i] Take a deep breath and let it go. Notice the Void at the bottom of emptying your breath … feeling it, and feeling the Urge to breathe as it arises. And again … feeling it over and over – this breath that arises out of the full emptiness in every moment, birthing you in every moment. – Recall some of the birthings in your life, your actual birth – see it there in your mind’s eye … you coming into being – your Nativity, your Nativity. Recall projects you have brought into being, new beings within yourself, perhaps children, new beings in others, how you have been Creator and Created – even at the same time … who was birthing who? Staying for a while with the many, many birthings in your life. – recalling now Earth-Gaia’s many birthings out of the Dark everyday … the dawn is constant as She turns. See Her in your mind’s eye – the constant dawning around the globe, the constant birthing. Recall Earth’s many births right now of all beings – as day breaks around the globe – the physical, emotional, spiritual births. Her many, many birthings everyday, and throughout the eons. recalling now Universe-Gaia’s many birthings – happening in every moment – right now in real time and space … supernovas right now, stars and planets being born right now. Her many, many birthings in every moment and throughout the eons. – recalling now Universe-Gaia’s many birthings – happening in every moment – right now in real time and space … supernovas right now, stars and planets being born right now. Her many, many birthings in every moment and throughout the eons. Come back to your breath – this wonder – none of it separate … the Origin Ever-Present, birthing you in every moment – out of Her Fertile Dark, in real time and space. Feeling this breath, Her breath. NOTES: [i] Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, Winter Solstice ceremonial script, p. 195-196. Reference: Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology. Music: Fish Nite Moon by Tim Wheater, permission generously given Images: – Birth of the Goddess, Erich Neumann, The Great Mother, pl. 155. See https://pagaian.org/book/cover-goddess-image/ – Winter Solstice window, MoonCourt Australia 2016 – some sources unknown

(Video) 2013 Mago Pilgrimage to Korea by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s note: The first Mago Pilgrimage to Korea took place June 6-19, 2013. We visited Ganghwa Island, Seoul, Wonju, Mt. Jiri, Yeong Island (Busan), and Jeju Island.] Read Mago Pilgrimage Essay 1 and Mago Pilgrimage Essay 2. See Meet Mago Contributor, Hae Kyoung Ahn for “Ma Gaia Womb” chant music and Meet Mago Contributor, Helen Hwang Ph.D.
(Essay 2) The Magoist Calendar: Mago Time inscribed in Sonic Numerology by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This is my latest research that has led me to restore the 13-month, 28-day Mago Calendar, which will be included at the end of its sequels. See Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A), published in 2017.] CALENDARICS AND THE MAGOIST COSMOGONY Calendar is the harmonic numerological chart that indicates specifics of the terrestrial time/space relative to the extrasolar universe. As a cosmic almanac of our terrestrial home, calendar teaches the human world to do the right thing at the right timing, determined by the song/dance of the universe. We humans, part of the calendar, are the guardian of the calendar. Calendar is not and should not be an arbitrary arrangement invented to serve the purpose of a particular group of people, the Budoji says. It is
(Pilgrimage Essay 2) Report of First Mago Pilgrimage to Korea by Helen Hwang

[Author’s note: The first Mago Pilgrimage to Korea took place June 6-19, 2013. We visited Ganghwa Island, Seoul, Wonju, Mt. Jiri, Yeong Island (Busan), and Jeju Island.] Part 2 Traditional Korea and the Primordial Home of Magoism It was the time for the sacred, ancient mystery of Magoism to be reenacted once again for the Race of WE! Mago Pilgrimage was an open invitation to the deep knowing that Korean Magoism unfolds beneath the surface of patriarchal consciousness. It was a call from the Background [to borrow Mary Daly’s term, which, I explicate, refers to the biophilic reality wherein the deep memories of Goddess are alive, unfettering from the foreground, patriarch reality] to be present with Mago, the Great Goddess, Here and Now! Third eyes flashed, while open hearts unlocked the doors to the path. We heard the whisper, the chorus of the natural, cultural, and historical landscapes of Korea, the arcane music of the Female Beginning. The magic worked its own feats. As could be expected, undertaking the Mago pilgrimage entailed daunting tasks for me. Nonetheless, it was proven to me time and again that the purpose creates the means. The Korean saying, “Where there is a will, there is a way,” spoke to it well. We, the intercontinental pilgrims, were made welcome by supporters, organizers, and volunteers from the locale. We attracted fabulous scholars, teachers, artists, administrators, and activists along our paths. It was the first cross-cultural and cross-gender goddess event to be held in Korea in modern times! Excitement and anticipation were high. As a researcher of Mago and Magoism, I knew the Mago pilgrimage was the right thing to do. In fact, I had been faithfully following the direction that my heart beckoned to throughout my life. The consequences were the actions that I took. This time, however, I was rewarded with the fate-ful encounter; the very research of Mago came as a revelation to me. The topic of Mago emerged from nowhere at the juncture of my labyrinthine journey to non-patriarchal [gynocentric] consciousness. I was a student of feminist studies in religions. Without knowing what was in store for me, I knew that I was not content with the feminist theology of patriarchal religions of the West and the East. If any theme of these religions had appealed to me — I wished at times, to confess to my readers — during those years, my path would not have crossed with Magoism. My radical feminist quest was the cause for encountering Mago.