(Special post) What It Means to Be Co-Founder of RTM by Rosemary Mattingley

Rosemary Mattingley

Rosemary Mattingley

[Editor’s Note: In retrospect, Dr. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Founding Director and Co-editor of RTM, has recently nominated Rosemary Mattingley as Co-founder of RTM for her essential role with an unflagging commitment at the time of beginning years and to this day. This essay is a response to that nomination. We are truly blessed and privileged to have Rosemary with us! Thank you, Rosemary!]

Thank you deeply and sincerely, Helen, for the honour of nominating me as Co-Founder and Co-Editor of the Return to Mago E-Magazine. Continue reading

Update & Happy 4th Birthday to Return to Mago E-Magazine!

RTM 4th Ann

Happy 4th Birthday to Return to Mago E-Magazine!  Continue reading

(Book Announcement 3) Introduction (part 1) to She Rises Vol 2 by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

front cover 6[Editor’s Note: This Introduction is from She Rises: How Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality? Volume 2.]

Pre-order available now!

 

She Rises: How Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality? is a proud sister book to She Rises: Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality? Inheriting the legacy of Volume 1, it continues to interweave the warp (the theme of the book) and the weft (our stories). What we present in this book is a tapestry collectively interwoven by twenty-first century Goddessians/Magoists. As many as 96 contributors from around the world have provided captivating motifs in multi-genres of prose, poetry, and art. This tapestry is no ordinary one; it stands as the genome map of the primordial consciousness of WE in S/HE to those who will discover it. It charts out ways to undo patriarchal programs at personal, cultural, and cosmic levels and to enter the Way of the Primordial Mother, or the Creatrix.

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2016 Mago Work Three Books Projects by Mago Sisters

 

Go to the Crowdfunding Campaign to Support.

“The Mago Work is committed to the collective cultivation of the consciousness of WE in S/HE, the Great Goddess/Mago, through publication, self-education, and networking conducted by volunteers. In the process, we become whole in our body, mind, and spirit, regaining nature’s power of self-evolution in ourselves. We know deep down that the gynocentric force of Life is leading the Way. That is the Source of our love, creativity, and compassion.” Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D., Founding Director of The Mago Work

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2015 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 39,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 14 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

(Essay) 2014 Mago Pilgrimage by Rosemary Mattingley

mago triad 6x4

The Mago Pilgrimage in Korea in 2014 was a journey of connection and reconnection for me at different levels. Mago is the primordial goddess of east Asia. Her energy clearly underlay our pilgrimage and enabled such a profound journey, events, insights and effects, both at the time and since then in what I’m called to do.

It was 25 years since I’d lived in Japan for eight years and travelled in east Asia, and 32 years since I had visited Korea for two weeks. Korea was my second love at quite an early age; Mongolia was my first. It was exciting to return at a different level of life’s spiral – not for study, work or sightseeing, but this time to consciously experience my spirit interacting with place and energy.

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(Meet Mago Contributor) Rosemary Mattingley

rosemary-mattingley-2-oct-2016-2

Rosemary Mattingley

Rosemary has been on the editorial team of the Return to Mago E-Magazine since its inception. She returned to Australia 11 years ago after 24 years of study, work and travel abroad. She received a M.Ed. in Japan, worked at the international Girl Guide centre in India, taught at a primary school in north-west Pakistan, and was a Japanese-speaking tourist guide and co-facilitator for the Quaker Alternatives to Violence Project in South Africa. She now works as an editor, Japanese interpreter, peace and interfaith activist, bridge-builder, and intuitive massage therapist.

Rosemary is the Co-Founder and Co-Editor of the Return to Mago E-Magazine and copy-editor for Mago Books.

Her blog is: nur810.wordpress.com

(Poem) Motherlines by Mary Saracino

1. Margaret

On the day I was born you nearly bled to death

perhaps a sign that our lives were marked for strife

but a mother’s womb is a thing of power

a proving ground for life and all its mysteries

you called me first-daughter and I shouldered

that responsibility, sometimes bearing

too many of your sorrows

always bearing mine.

Our lives are as entwined as our DNA

that mitochondrial ribbon of memory

tethers us to the long sighs of mothers and daughters —

Maria Fiora Petronilla Lazurri

Maria Assunta Rocchiccioli — and other

more ancient daughters, mothers,

grandmothers, great grandmothers –

whose names we do not know

strong women who loved and lost, laughed and cried

dreamed and despaired and lived —

always lived, knowing that blood runs deep

and primeval bonds are never severed.

Whether our days are carefree or fraught with pain

something carries us forward

something that knows mothers are imperfect

and daughters are too

something that knows us each by heart

celebrates the joys and sorrows

blesses us all the way through.

 

2. Rose

Not mother by birth, but second mother by chance

your fierce spirit a reminder

that a woman strong is a mighty beauty —

though some would not agree.

When first you married my father

my twenty-something eyes had already

seen too much, yet much more lay ahead.

At your table I have feasted on roasted chicken

with potatoes, polenta simmering in red sauce,

savory meatballs and homemade fried dough

listening to stories about your sisters,

heeding your reminder to always cherish mine.

There’s something in a woman’s bones that celebrates

the twin sustenance of food and sisterhood,

something that honors the balm that resides

in the love of mothers—biological or not —

that knows life is painful and bearable

knows, too, that only love sustains us

through the long walk home

 

3. Rosemary

When first I met you my life lay in shards.

Splinters of mirrored glass reflected

worry and woe back at my astonished eyes

discontent called my name.

You asked me to look closely

wait and listen for my truth, for answers.

I never cried in front of you

yet the kindness in your eyes

called my name

steeled my courage

led me home.

Together we mended

the fragile fragments

fashioned woe into a window

a doorway

a way in & out

of my delicate, willing heart

 

4. Laura

Voice clenched in terror

I sat before you

too many secrets trapped

in too many memories

my lips afraid to speak

my brain shattered by shock;

I wanted to shout, but could not

I wanted to silence years of no-no-no

dive, singing, into the boundless sea of yes-yes-yes;

I longed to drown in epiphany, be reborn

a woman whose tongue was ablaze

with voluptuous vowels

loose-limbed consonants;

I could not have known

the way out was strewn

with prayers and poems

pictures drawn of fierce, howling mouths

the dark eyes of a young girl staring back at me

her twisted mouth clamped shut

her lonesome hands reaching

for something it would take me years to recognize.

When at last the stifled air stirred

I began to cry and sculpted Amazons of clay

fists clenched against injustice, wanting — always wanting —

to laugh, to dance, to say what I needed to say

without censor, without regret, without retaliation

and you, a patient midwife,

witnessed my bloody birth without flinching.

Breath after precious breath you stood resolute

as I gathered the lost syllables

reclaimed the nouns, verbs, plump sentences

of my mother tongue

the native language of my soul.

 

5. Lucia

Mother of mothers dark and divine

your secret keys unlocked ancient doorways

ushering me down dusty roads

peppered with red poppies and parched ruins.

Sicily captured me, cradled me in her fragrant arms

coaxed my soul from its too-long slumber.

Your audacity, your heart, your laughter

spoke of things long forgotten

daring me to speak as well

and to remember

remember

always

remember

Her name

Her name

Her name.