Guadalupe has an arm around quotidian Mary
they have begun to howl not worrying
that the moon is not in the right phase
it’ll come says the second Mary
when we reach BE
that is what matters
–Susan Hawthorne, “wolf pack” in Lupa and Lamb (Spinifex Press, 2014)
30 January 2017 BE (Biophilic Era, time of the life-lovers) Continue reading
Pair of Wild Turkeys. Photo by Mr. Bear, Dec. 2016
If you were within the polar vortex,
high above earth,
the breath in your lungs would freeze.
Read all posts by Harriet Ann Ellenberger.
Harriet Ann Ellenberger
Harriet Ann Ellenberger was an activist in the U.S. civil-rights, anti-war and women’s liberation movements before immigrating to Canada at the age of forty. She was a founding member of the Charlotte (North Carolina) Women’s Center (1971), co-founding editor of the journal Sinister Wisdom(1976-81), a founding partner in the bilingual feminist bookstore L’Essentielle (Montreal, 1987), editor of a small web publication She Is Still Burning (2000-2003), and co-editor (2004-8) of Trivia: Voices of Feminism. She lives in rural New Brunswick, where she writes, practices piano and helps her partner rebuild their old farmhouse. She blogs at http://www.harrietannellenberger.wordpress.com/
Recently published posts:
The Creatrix represented by the three-color rays of light, patterned in nine corners.
It took many years for me to pronounce the communal nature of the Mago Work. Defining the Mago Work necessarily endows us with the bird’s eye view of the Great Goddess, the primordial consciousness of WE in S/HE. Early this year, I asked people to define the Mago Work and their definitions are illuminating about what this book ultimately seeks to achieve. Continue reading
From Harriet Ann Ellenberger: TO BARBARA MOR — BRAVE CAPTAIN, FAITHFUL FRIEND
March 8, 2015
International Women’s Day
Now that you’ve flown free of your body, I won’t bother with e-mail — I’ll just talk to you.
Listen, Barbara, you fought the good fight for women and for earth and for all of earth’s children. What that English soldier said of Jeanne d’Arc, I say of you: you were a brave captain.
“Re-enter the fullness of the world, they say; rejoin the children of earth.”
This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.
People you love
build a small house for you,
cover the dirt floor with hay,
hook a long chain to the cowhide
that circles your throat,
fix the chain to a stake in their yard.
May the earth live,
May we live on the earth,
May love in our life flower,
May the transformation be realized.
May it be stone that we stand on,
May winds bring us fast-moving thought,
May our heart bathe in salt waters,
May spiral galaxies light our way home.
– Harriet Ann Ellenberger
Read Meet Mago Contributor Harriet Ann Ellenberger.
We, the co-editors, contributors, and advisers, have started the Mago Web (Cross-cultural Goddess Web) to rekindle old Gynocentric Unity in our time. Now YOU can help us raise this torch high to the Primordial Mountain Home (Our Mother Earth Herself) wherein everyone is embraced in WE. There are many ways to support Return to Mago. You may donate to us. No amount is too small for us. For your time and skill, please email Helen Hwang (firstname.lastname@example.org). Please take an action today and we need that! Thank YOU in Goddesshood of all beings!
(Click Donate button below. You can donate by credit card or bank account without registering PayPal. Find “Don’t have a PayPal account?” above the credit card icons.)
Kathryn Louise Truitt Ellenberger
On 19 May 2013, my mother died, four days after her hundredth birthday.
She’d been living for weeks on ice chips and low-dose morphine, regularly leaving her body to walk and talk with my father, then returning to report to my brother at her bedside and to me via long-distance phone. No one knew when she would leave and not return, but everyone believed that her departure was imminent.
Five days before her centennial, however, she suddenly said to my brother, “It’s only a week away; maybe I can make it.” And she revived, sending the nursing-home staff into a frenzy of last-minute party planning. When the morning of her birthday dawned sunny and warm, they came to dress her for a convertible ride around the small town of Reinbeck, Iowa, and she said, “Hallelujah, I thought I’d never get out of this place alive.”
The convertible was a bright yellow muscle car with the top down, and the route had been planned so that town residents could come out on the curb to sing “happy birthday” to her at various stops along the way. It all worked like a charm, and she made the driver stop three times in addition, to listen to the birds singing and to watch squirrels run up and down the tree trunks. After a half-hour ride, they returned to her room, which had been transformed into a festival of balloons and cakes and flowers and visitors with cameras.
The next morning, she slipped into a coma and was gone three days later. And the morning following her death, I woke with the realization that there was no one left but me who knew the stories of her early life. In a rush to send something to my brother before her grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered for her funeral, I wrote the following:
Some Things You May Not Know About the Young Kathryn Louise Truitt Ellenberger: