Per Wikipedia, Datura “was known as an essential ingredient of potions and witches’ brews.” The word witch was first coined by the King James version of the Bible, which appeared in the 1600’s. A women’s holocaust occurred in Europe and the United States (Salem, Massachusetts, Abiquiu, New Mexico) in the 16th and 17th centuries when thousands, perhaps a few million rural women of all ages were burned as witches. In a nutshell, women have been healers since ancient times. When men became “doctors” they took over the role of healer from women, and conveniently dispensed with the latter by burning them alive.
There she is in flight,
a shooting star on fire.
There she spirals eyeless
her blue wind births chaos.
There she moans bitterly
churning up dark waters.
There she plows fiercely
heaving up mountains. Continue reading
Lupita, Guadalupe –
Your agave points of light glow in grave darkness.
Hecate’s Moon is Red.
The Raven slices the sky into shards.
The River catches shivering stars.
We remember the First Mother… Continue reading
Election Dream: November 9th
Just an image: I see bleached, broken, slashed, and severed tree roots scattered over the entire horizon – which seem to stretch out in front of me in all directions – the ground, as far as I can see, has become a wasteland.
I took this photograph during the last full moon (12/24/2015), the “Earth’s Renewal Moon” according to the Blackfoot Nation. This moon belongs to Waboose, the Spirit Keeper of the North and it is considered to be the first moon of the New Year; it can occur anytime during the period that extends from December 22nd until January 19th.
Each December I feel as if I am participating in an ancient rite when I tip the aromatic branches of our native balsam tree to bag and bring home to make a wreath.
Each year as I cut the twigs I ask to be forgiven if this act hurts the tree.
Each year standing in front of the balsam I give thanks for all trees, but especially for this one because of her fragrance…
Sara is a Jungian therapist, a naturalist, ethologist, ritual artist, animist, and a writer who lives in the western mountains of Maine and writes about animals and plants in Nature, and the relationship between Nature and herself. She has Native American Roots.
I am a naturalist and a writer; I live in a little log cabin in the woods by a brook with two small dogs and two doves. I write stories about the animals and plants that live here on my property in the western mountains of Maine and publish them regularly in my nature column in the local paper. I am also an independent black bear researcher who uses “trust based” research to study the bears that have visited me here. Trust based research/fieldwork allows me to apprentice myself to Nature through any of its individuals if they are willing. I am the student; each species is the teacher. I have Native American roots, which may or may not be why I have dedicated my life to speaking out on behalf of the slaughtered trees, dying plants and disappearing animals. This is the only work that matters to me.
“Over the Edge and Beyond: Journal of a Naturalist”
I think it’s very important to support the creative works of other women in a feminist context. I also think that it’s important to comment on what others have written to help them to feel seen and heard. We feminists must work harder than others to be acknowledged and MAGO has been a beacon in the night for those of us who continue to choose this life -path.
This winter has been so mild that I feel that I am already perched on the edge of the next season. The brook has never been completely frozen and all through the winter I have had the pleasure of listening to flowing waters whenever I am snow shoeing or walking around my property. The birds and other animals can easily bathe (yes birds do bathe even in the winter if the temperatures are mild). Around the foundation of the house and next to my rock garden the sun melts the snow quickly and bare ground keeps appearing after every storm. Every time I am outdoors my eyes seem to seek out these spots to see if I can glimpse a blade of green. These are the first places that I usually look for crocuses in April, but this year I am already longing to see them!