January 4, 2018October 2, 2019 Mago Work Admin1 Comment

(Prose) Language as Serpent by Lizzy Bluebell

The ancient Egyptians used the symbol of a Horned Snake called Cerastes to designate the symbol for “word”. This horned snake hides itself in the sand, with only its horns Read More …

(Essay 1) We Need to Talk Frankly About Sexual Abuse in Paganism by Francesca Tronetti, Ph.D.

Talking about sexual abuse of children or adults is hard. And it’s especially hard when the abuse occurs in a minority group, whether from leaders or members of the group. We don’t ever want to discuss abusers in marginalized groups out of fear that it will be used against the group. Talking about sexual abuse committed by members of minority groups is taboo. Women, children, and men have been told to keep quiet. Discussing abuse would reflect badly on their community and could be used to justify over policing and violence. Many books have been written by women of color about their experiences. They were told to keep their abuse quiet because the rape of women and children fed into the racist stereotypes about non-whites. The same thing has happened in the LGBT community. British accused rapist and convicted pedophile Karen White, a trans-identified woman who retained male genitalia, was housed in a female jail and within days had sexually assaulted four other inmates. Canadian serial rapist Christopher Hambrook, who claimed to be transgender to get into women’s shelters, was overlooked for a long time because of his “identity.” It was hard to discuss a person who identified as trans as being a serial rapist; it fit so well into the anti-trans bathroom bill talking points. Someone said they were trans to get into women’s only space and raped women. Some people I know have been called TERFs when they call out abuse by a member of the trans community, the fact that the women called TERFs are themselves trans women is overlooked. They said something bad about a trans person. Therefore they hate all trans people. That has been the mindset for too long, and this mindset must end. I bring it these examples up because they highlight the importance of identifying abusers in minority groups and because we can no longer continue to deny the existence of these abusers. This is the age of MeToo, the gags have been removed and the blinders are off. The Catholic church in the United States is being forced by the courts to release thousands of documents showing a long-term abuse of children at the hands of the clergy. Women who we see in positions of power and prominence in the media and politics are coming forward with stories of abuse at the hands of male colleges or bosses. Anonymous online advocates are standing up for young girls who were raped in small towns in America and Canada and calling out law enforcement for ignoring their claims. Sometimes even going so far as to find evidence themselves and sharing it with the media to force the hand of prosecutors. As part of my dissertation, I very briefly discussed sexual abuse in the broader pagan community. Following the revelations of what went on in the Catholic Church in my home state of PA, several friends and colleagues talked about how they knew several of the priests involved, how they had heard stories for years. Sometimes this was an open secret and, for one priest who had a speedboat and lots of girlfriends, it was a joke. My grandfather once went off on a Monsignor for his actions with women; the man was later named in the suit. I’m so proud of my grandfather. The ongoing discussion about sexual misconduct in the Catholic church and private schools, and what I had read about during my research, compelled me to write this article. I am calling out the leaders of the pagan community for ignoring sexual abuse out of fear that it played into stereotypes about pagans. It’s time for us to openly communicate with each other to identify abusers and protect our sisters and brothers from sexual predators. It’s time to confront the monsters among us head on and not be part of the “keep your mouth shut” culture. It’s time to talk about abuse in Paganism and Goddess-centered communities. (To be Continued) (Meet Mago Contributor) Rev. Francesca Tronetti Ph.D.
The Blackbird and the Sea by Samantha Ledger

Between the moon, the sea and the sky I have swum or navigated with sail and rigging. Now into this vastness of voyeuristic openness I have come to rest. This is not the terminus, but a suspension of a journey that has strained the facets of imagination. We are all dreamers; you know this to be true, you live it every day. She said all these things in the dark, hidden under wreck wood left behind from the storm that raged through the eastern bank of shoreline, ripping flesh from limbs. We have not touched. Ever. You imagine it to be some reality that you can quantify though skin and bones. We are binary and dance in waves of electrical impulses. It is an impulse derived from the singular feminine thought, She. We have witnessed, through a singular eye, stitched to flags flailing in the winds, the banal retrospection of hatred. I have tasted it in her words and my own blood, drawn from pursed lips. To understand us, you must know your biology. No texts, ancient or otherwise can contain the over ripened fury. We are all as infertile as the other when our fingers lay still. Seabirds have come inshore to weather the storm. Bitter pills stick to the roof of my mouth. I have not yet mastered the art of swallowing. Assumption proclaims it will come in time. As will everything else, eventually. The sensation of moving, while standing still, will dissipate into the waves that lap at my feet. No longer marooned on the shore, again we will sail to new waters. She has spoken to me across the divide, and whispered the sincerest of truths straight to the heart of the matter. To the heart.
La Boca, a Travel Poem and Photos by Susan Hawthorne

In 2016, I travelled to Argentina and Chile to do research for my novel Dark Matters. One of the great things about travel is being immersed in a different environment. This one is part of Buenos Aires. The colours of the footpaths, the buildings and the decorated cows made me smile (the cow in the poem is the character Queenie from my book Cow). A simple joy, one we all need. coloured footpaths welcome our feetto these old streets vividly painted they say its a camanita of lost lovesthe corrugated iron wallsin bright colours will cheer youalong with the tango dancerscalling up memories as you eat after lunch I stroll into an arte studioand who do I meet but Queeniewho has taken off time from the exhibitionto hang cool with the residents of La Boca they want me to teach yoga she saysthe latest fashion to watch us animalsafter whom most of the moves are named sit comfortably bend your left leg underyour buttocks your right leg over yourleft knee clasp the fingers of both handsbehind your back and sit in good postureif you do it well you’ll look just like me my feet take me back down the streetsof lost loves bright minds and new yoga © Texts and photos, Susan Hawthorne 2016. https://www.magoism.net/2013/12/meet-mago-contributor-susan-hawthone/ (Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthorne
(Poem) Ancient Mother by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright On the path through the pines I see clumps of moss scattered, an old tree trunk is raked as if with claws; clumps of downed bark food for the earth. My heart soars. Wild hope pours through me like honey. Guns split the air with with fiery blasts – machines scream. Trickery abounds. Acting out their man Hatred and Rage, supported by ‘their’ women, (betrayers of our kind) so many have lost access to being human. Power and Ego are all. Never wrong, or accountable Apology is an anathema – Compassion a quality without meaning. Always “right” no matter how ignorant, He spews directives – incapable of honest exchange. Resorting to boring platitudes – repetitive lies, He imagines his nose doesn’t give him away. A woman is only an appendage to be used. A social secretary a cook – or selfless mother she’s supposed to remember his birthday when he forgets hers. These are the jobs of women. But the worst lies Under The Covers – “Put out” he says with disgusting distain. And if she refuses she pays…. Ah, the stupid tantrums of men who throw spewing dog cans across the airport floor. There are exceptions. Both men and boys who are wise in the ways of Nature. Having lived in the Forest, they learned the art of listening. She taught them how to be men. The word integrity has meaning – Compassion is strength. “Protect the old people, the innocent,” they demonstrate with their actions. “Are you all right?” “I’m worried about your breathing…” Women of all ages rank high on their scale. Questions like this bring me to tears. Oh, I see Her now hiding in the tree, casting an ancient and powerful spell to protect them, – these men whose humility stands before them. These men who know how to love. (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright
(Photo Essay 5) Goddess Pilgrimage 2017 by Kaalii Cargill

[Author’s Note: In July 2017, I set out on a 4 month pilgrimage to the Unites States, Italy, France, Spain, Lebanon, Jordan, and Egypt. I name it a “pilgrimage” because my main focus is what I call “visiting with the Grandmothers”, although I also encountered many other wonderful people and places. This series of Photo Essays is an invitation for you to visit with the Grandmothers I met on my journey . . .] Pompeii and Naples Turn a corner in Pompeii and the past whispers secrets, reminding us that everything She touches changes, She changes everything She touches . . . The Temple of Isis in Pompeii included frescoes of mythological scenes, snakes, and lunar symbols. Isis was associated with fertility and honoured as a Mother Goddess and for Her powers in healing and magic. There is still a hint of the ceremonies in celebration of the Goddess Isis in current Marian processions. My Calabrese father (b1922) carried a superstitious fear of Naples from his childhood. I believe this fear came down through the generations from the days when Naples was the centre of practices involving magic and the mysteries of death. Visitors to Pompeii can see the Temple of Isis, but most people do not know that there is also a small square in Naples where a statue of a Nile river God marks the centre of the Egyptian quarter of the ancient Greek city. The Egyptian collection at the Naples National Museum of Archaeology is one of the most important in the World for Roman era history. Meet Mago contributor Kaalii Cargill
Cerridwen in the Woods by Alision Newvine

[This essay is from the anthology entitled The Wisdom of Cerridwen: Transforming in Her Cosmic Brew, published by Girl God Books (2024).] Cerridwen follow me Cerridwen change with me Til I dissolve in you Cerridwen hunt for me Cerridwen consume me Til I be born through you Cauldron I went to the mountains to face my demons. The first time I’d gone there it had been summer and the days were beautiful. My little drum and I would go into the woods at sunrise to create sound. I’d unleash from within me the awe, gratitude, longing and some sadness too. Nights were passed serenely with stars and crickets. In the peace of life in these woods, I entered cauldron space. Something was brewing slowly within me from the sublime concoction of ingredients the woods provided. I was able to encounter the muse, to feel the sacred creative impulse throb within me. There was no pavement between my feet and the soft, red earth. My voice, so often self-censored and stifled, got a little taste of freedom and bliss. Anger Between summer and winter, the trappings of modern life had taken hold of me and I went back with my partner to his cabin in the wooded mountains to cleanse from it all. I had been struggling with confusion over which path I should take. I was frustrated that I kept going in circles, making the same mistakes, with my addiction to coffee and sugar. I was exhaustion by swinging between confidence and insecurity. I expected the magic of the woods to smooth out the jaggedness of my angst and to provide easeful insight. I remembered how the muse had danced with my drum and me in the morning woods and I longed to meet her once more. Of course, things did not go as planned. I felt depressed, groggy and severely impatient with the hardships of a simple life. I tried to deal with my emotions. I kept up with my yoga practice, journaled, exercised. I sawed wood, drank tea and rested. These actions helped to take the edge off, temporarily, but the edge would quickly return like a thin layer of dust on a shelf. The moment I had completely wiped it away, new specks would start to accumulate, making it harder to breathe, harder to see what was beneath the dust. The cold was ruthless. I didn’t drum. I didn’t sing. I didn’t talk about my brewing discontent. My voice felt even more constrained than it had back in the city. One morning, after a particularly bad night’s sleep, I awoke cold and bitter. I attempted to light the fire, irritated that warmth wasn’t available at the press of a button. It would not light and I was getting frustrated. Anger at my own helplessness overcame me. I threw the matches against the wall, pulled on my boots and jacket, and ran out of the cabin towards the woods. Below the surface frustration was a deeper rage that had been boiling in that cauldron. Rage at the theft of my sacred empowerment, stolen from me bit by bit by the Prince Charming narratives and Father God threats that created in me a belief in my inferiority, helplessness and desperate need to be saved. Hare It felt good to run, to move what my body was holding. The hut was still within my sightline when sharp pain in my heart stopped me in my tracks. I was still pulsating with fury that was about so much more than not lighting the fire. I sat down on a rock and had a good cry. Or maybe it was a bad cry. I’d had a few of those over the past couple of days, the kind that go on too long so that rather than purge the toxic emotion, the cry just exacerbates it and gives one a splitting headache and swollen face. Whichever kind of cry it was, it stopped when I saw something move in the brush a short distance away. The something was gray and about the size of a large rabbit. My attention was immediately refocused on this living being near me, a mammal, with red blood coursing through its veins just like mine, a being I had never met and would probably never encounter again. I began to really look at what was around me. Snow had fallen during the night, coating the branches of the trees. The skinny, spindly ones and the thick and sturdy ones were enfolded in glittering white dust. The snow was sparkling in the bits of sun that were peaking through the clouds. This is amazing. Its absolutely beautiful and alive and every bit of it is conscious. After days feeling foggy minded, frustrated and lethargic, I was suddenly pulsating with energy. The woods had breathed life into me and I was delighted by all there was to see and feel. I felt soothed by this circle of wood, earth and snow around and beneath me. The soft, muted sun above me felt like the whisper of a kiss. My focus shifted from my own misery and was redirected out to the living, breathing woods and what it was telling me. Stories I knew I’d never be able to relay, wisdom I couldn’t translate into words. I looked back and saw the brown siding of the cabin peeking between the trees. A sisterhood of pine drew me further in, or maybe it was just one tree that caught my eye, or perhaps only a single branch, bent like a wise old woman’s finger, beckoning me nearer. The next time I looked back towards where I’d come from, I couldn’t see the hut anymore, nor could I pick out the brush where I’d seen the gray or white rabbit. I set off in the direction I thought the cabin was hiding and looked for my footprints in the snow. That should be easy, just follow my footprints back the way I …
(Tribute 1) My Loving Father Hwang Jong-Hwan (黃鍾煥 7/31/1935-10/10/2020) by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

Dad in 2020 My Father and His Return to WE/HERE/NOW My loving father passed on Oct. 10, 2020 in South Korea. It feels like a big portion of my core is torn away. In memories and sorrows, I thank him for his love for me, comfort him for the pains and sufferings his life caused, and celebrate the gift of himself to the world. I unite with him in spirit, as he has embarked his eternal journey of being beyond the visible world. I send him off to WE/HERE/NOW in a traditional Magoist Korean way, which I have encountered through my research. He seems gone from the physical world but is fully HERE/NOW with All in WE, the Mother World!My task is to pave his way as much as possible. So I begin with a little about the life he had in this fragile visible world: Dad in Youth Hwang Jong-Hwan (黃鍾煥 July 31 or July 2 on Lunar, 1935-October 10, 2020) was a gifted man, a proud father, and a devoted husband. His name Jong-Hwan, which means the Splendid Bell, was given by his father according to the naming custom of the Hwang clan. His childhood name was Yong-Hwan (the Splendid Dragon). Born and grew up under the Japanese colonial rule, survived the Korean War, and endured the harsh reality of modern Korea’s economic re-building in the 1960s and 1970s. He was the first of four siblings (three sons and one daughter). He was born as the promising son of a self-made businessman (my grandfather) who owned a bike store (sales and repairs) in a historical township, Seonsan in North Gyeongsang Province. However, his happy childhood could not last long. His father’s sudden death (my father was seven-year old) left his wife and children unprotected and in poverty. As his mother (my grandmother) returned to her in-law’s village (I was born there too) with her children and lived as a farmer in the household of her mother-in-law, he grew up as the young widow’s oldest son. Wasn’t able to pursue his educational dream beyond primary school, which hit him hard throughout his life. He kept a drawing journal with a beautiful color drawing (the moon, the village surrounding, and the hind view of a lady with a long braided hair dangling on her back dressed in Korean traditional clothes depicted in a pastel tone, as I recall; its serenity and beauty mesmerized me as a child) and poetic verses during his youth years and carried it with him until his 30s, a book which his children were able to see. In fact, that may have been my first book to read. He was an artist and a poet, I gather now. Married a woman (my mother) from a well-off family in the same village. My maternal great-grandfather had chosen him for his granddaughter (my mother). He was 6 years older than her. They had three children (a daughter and two sons). Together with his wife and with the support of his in-laws family, he began as a vendor in Seoul to support his family but was not successful at all. That made my mother stronger. He was supportive of his wife and later opened a grocery store, owned a family tailor shop making himself a tailor, and conducted clothing business on and off. He was gifted in repairing household appliances and enjoyed providing his family with external wound care. He even enjoyed cooking for the family especially during family trips in nature. He designed and built a two-story family home in his 50s. He lived frugally and diligently so that they (my parents) could put their three children through prestigious private universities. Two of them achieved a doctoral degree and beyond. He was very proud of his children and enjoyed their successes on many levels. Loved traveling nationwide and listening to songs. Liked many things among which are gardening, biking, and outdoor-exploring. He held the city’s chess championship and continued to enjoy watching and playing chess matches till his last year. He was diagnosed with kidney failure in his 60s and under dialysis for 16 years. He endured it with an amazing spirit and tenacity for which we, his family, admired and respected him. He had undergone a series of near death crises over the years. Each time he returned with his mind intact and with his body functional. I called him the phoenix. We in our family knew that the farewell was approaching but did not know how soon. He left the visible world at 4:52 AM on Saturday October 10. On the same day, his body was moved to another hospital for the funeral. My mother had hoped to bury him so my brothers honored her wish. Survived by his spouse, three children, and three grandchildren as well as his brothers and their in-laws. We who are his family, relatives, and have known him are grateful for his life of caring, enduring, and giving. His funeral organized by my younger brother’s family was attended by many under the courteous observance of the Covid19 order. Funeral altar at Seoul National University Hospital in Bundang. Flower stands sent by visitors His grave yard, October 13, 2020 First visit to my father’s grave by my younger brothers (mother next to them invisible) Through the passing of my father, our family members bonded anew and exchanged one another heartfelt sorrows and encouragements, a huge comfort for me. I could not but thank my brothers and their families for I wasn’t there at all physically. And I couldn’t contribute to the expense monetarily. Everyone in the family knows my lifestyle, which barely makes my own living, while leading the life that I am called to. Alas, I am broken-hearted by not being able to see him in his last days and moments. It seems a bit too late to realize that I have taken his love for granted. I, his first and only daughter, am indebted for his love and the …
(Poetry & Art) My Body, Her Body by Arlene Bailey

The Coming of Lilith by Arlene Bailey, © 2018Art and Writing previously published in Original Resistance: Reclaiming Lilith, Reclaiming Ourselves, Girl God Books 2019 I walked barefoot on the earth My feet touching the body of my mother My body, Her body. I bathed under silvery moonlight In waters glimmering from her shine My body touching Her body. Once a month when the moon released I too released Giving my life blood back to the Mother Nourishing her as she nourished me Mother and daughter in synchronous alignment My body, Her body. Then the sky god came And his people told me I was evil That my body was shameful and I should cover it That to bathe naked under the moonlight was satan’s work And I should cover my body. That my lifeblood released with the dark moon Was the most evil of all And during this time I was unclean And I should be hidden away And my body covered. No longer was I allowed to connect to my Mother No longer was I allowed to stand in my nakedness Or to revel in the shimmering moonlight Or release my moon blood back upon the earth. They told me I was evil. They told me I was shameful. They told me I was dirty. Then they tossed me out of the garden My body, Her body. Well no more! The veil has fallen from my face No longer will I cover my hair, my body I am ALL the things they told me NOT to be ALL the things they told me I COULD not be. I AM Lilith And I stand in MY Sovereignty. Screaming forth… I. Will. Not. Submit. AND… You will not get my anger You will not label my juice parts evil Nor will you culturally codify them as shadow Something to be feared Something to be hidden. I am ALL the things you told me NOT to be All the things you told me I COULD not be All the things that make me woman. AND… I will dance under the light of the full moon Illuminating the ALL of woman. I will revel in my divinity, my dark, moist woman-ness I will shine like the stars from whence I came I will walk naked on the wet, moist earth For My body is Her body. Standing in my sovereignty I re-claim all. My body. Her body. The Light AND The Dark. No longer will I live in the Shadows For now I dance in the Full Moon light. Embracing all your namings of me… Dark Moon Lilith. Black Moon Lilith. I. AM. LILITH! Let the Revolution begin. _____________________________________________________________________ Arlene Bailey, ©2018 https://www.magoism.net/2020/04/meet-mago-contributor-arlene-bailey/ (Meet Mago Contributor) Arlene Bailey.
(Art) March 2003 Ouyen Women’s Rain Dance (with Dorothea Mackellar) by Eileen Haley

Women of the Mallee district of Western Victoria dance for rain during the long drought of the early years of this century. They are accompanied by Dorothea Mackellar, Australia’s foremost and most popular poet of the land.

(Special Post Isis 3) Why the Color of Isis Matters by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s note: The discussion took place in Mago Circle during the month of July, 2013. Our heartfelt thanks go to the members who participated in this discussion with openness and courage.] Part 3 Isis, Arab Women Revolution, and Black Goddesses Naa Ayele Kumari Going back to the original topic of the post…. Some quotes ” Women are in half the society… How come there are only 7 in the Assembly… and they are all Islamist! ” I can’t beat up my wife and almost kill her and call it discipline… this is not discipline… this is abuse and insanity” http://youtu.be/y4umifTLSII 12-Year Old Explains Egyptian Revolution in Under 3 Minutes www.youtube.com Max Dashu It is tremendously heartening to see these insights being expressed, and spread. The Salafis have made such inroads, and now the pushback is happening. Harita Meenee Dear Naa Ayele Kumari, thank you actually reading my post and commenting something relevant to it. It’s refreshing when someone does hear what we have to say instead of projecting their own notions. Building a solidarity movement with those who are oppressed but fighting is very important during these critical times! Harita Meenee See also: https://www.facebook.co/intifadat.almar2a?fref=ts The uprising of women in the Arab world انتفاضة المرأة في العالم العربي حرية الفكر ، حرية التعبير ، حرية الاعتقاد ، حرية التنقل ، حرية الجسد ، حرية اللب…See More Glenys Livingstone … as you say Max …” way too much of it going on” – amongst people who should know better (I would have thought): “Dark goddess as terrifying, challenging, white goddess as benign; “black magic” as harmful; I see way, way too much of this going on out there.” And related to that in my mind is all the “love and light” business that is so common: the Ground of Being is Dark … it seems to me that mystics have always understood the quintessential darkness of Love/Deity. Max Dashu Sure. I would just like to add that the critique raised here addressed issues much broader than the substance of the article, which made some good points. But once the choice of graphics flagged the issue of representation, people had much more to say about that old yet still very fresh wound which is constantly reopened by the cultural habit of whitening Egypt, or interpreting Africa through a eurocentric lens. It is not on any one person to carry the weight of that; we all have a responsibility to address the issues, but especially those of us of European heritage need to familiarize ourselves with how this plays out over and over. Just as men have a responsibility to speak up in support of women when patriarchal assumptions are on board. We all can learn something from each other, along all the various axes of domination, and overthrow them in coalition. Naa Ayele Kumari I have often considered where the roots of this psychology comes from. It is dualistic thinking that causes us to compare and contrast, then sum up judgement of good or bad and place a value on each. It extends into competition and justification for war. It also doesn’t escape me that often this came with certain civilizations who systematically destroyed others. It didn’t just happen with blacks in Africa… but blacks in Asia and the Indus Valley as well. With the Aryan invasions of India, came the eventual introduction to lighter divinities and more emphasis on male divinities. Southern Indians, Sri Lankans are very dark… even more so than many African Blacks. The caste systems implemented by the Aryan invaders did the same thing to them casting them as “untouchables”. With that came the marginalization of their black female divinities such as Kali. Kali actually has 10-16 forms… from compassionate mother, the fountain of wisdom, to she of great beauty but she is minimized as just destructive and terrifying… especially as Brhaman, Vishnuu, and Shiva grow in popularity. One of Kali’s statues has her black self standing on top of Shiva because she conquered him. Later there is a discussion in on of the Hindu text explaining Kali (as Parvati) after being subdued by Shiva she becomes lighter. Further they have stories about him rejecting her and calling her blackie which made her do austerities to rid herself of her black skin. Naa Ayele Kumari It should not be overlooked that in the Story of Alice in Wonderland… a story intended to keep Goddess elements for future generations, has the Elder sister ( the Queen of Hearts) portrayed as man, ego, and power driven who cuts off heads and has a fierce dragon…a clear reference to Kali. The White goddess as the younger sister is her opponent… and her mission is to usurp the throne of the Queen of Hearts even though she was the rightful heir as the oldest … or primordial. Stories like these also reinforce the stereotypes and negative iconography. Max Dashu Yes, it is pervasive in many cultures of domination. Demons are portrayed as black not only in Europe, which we know well, but also in China and in a lot of Buddhist iconography. In modern India, the sweet goddesses are shown as pink, the wrathful as black; and Krishna (name means “dark”) is turned powder blue. (Another of his titles, s’yam, also meaning dark, is the word translated as “green” in Green Tara.) The countercurrents (Black Mazu, loving Kali – esp in Bengal and south India, Black Madonna) bubbled up from the common people, who knew and longed for something other than the dominant racialized hierarchy. Naa Ayele Kumari I am just discovering Mazu ( Matzu/LuShui) in China today! Never knew about her. This discussion has led me to look deeper for black goddesses in Asia. Max Dashu Taoist spiritual tradition often refers to Xüan Nü, which can be translated in several ways. You’ll usually see it rendered as “the Mysterious Female,” a phrase that occurs in the Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching), and this is a valid translation; but what is less emphasized is that it also means “the Dark Woman.” In […]
(Special Post 2) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, or Spirituality? A Collective Writing

[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. 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.] Harriet Ann Ellenberger I got involved with women’s liberation in the early 1970s, so involved that it became my life for many years. During those beginnings of what is now called “the second wave of feminism,” everything was new to us and everything was mushed together — the political, the economic, the intellectual, the emotional, the spiritual. I liked that a lot; it felt as if all the parts of myself were coming together. During that time, I learned something crucial the imagery and concepts of patriarchal religion justify and are embedded in the material structures of oppression. I don’t know which came first, institutionalized oppression (of everyone; I’m not speaking here only of women) or the religious expression of that oppression. All I’m certain of is that patriarchal religion permeates, for example, the Oxford English Dictionary, which I use all the time, in conjunction with Websters’ First New Intergalactic Wickedary of the English Language, conjured by Mary Daly in cahoots with Jane Caputi.
(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.

Lammas – the Sacred Consuming by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Lammas, the first seasonal transition after Summer Solstice, may be summarised as the Season that marks and celebrates the Sacred Consuming, the Harvest of Life. Many indigenous cultures recognised the grain itself as Mother … Corn Mother being one of those images – She who feeds the community, the world, with Her own body: the Corn, the grain, the food, the bread, is Her body. She the Corn Mother, or any other grain Mother, was/is the original sacrifice … no need for extraordinary heroics: it is the nature of Her being. She is sacrificed, consumed, to make the people whole with Her body (as the word “sacrifice” means “to make whole”). She gives Herself in Her fullness to feed the people …. the original Communion. In cultures that preceded agriculture or were perhaps pastoral – hunted or bred animals for food – this cross-quarter day may not have been celebrated, or perhaps it may have been marked in some other way. Yet even in our times when many are not in relationship with the harvest of food directly, we may still be in relationship with our place: Sun and Earth and Moon still do their dance wherever you are, and are indeed the Ground of one’s being here … a good reason to pay attention and homage, and maybe as a result, and in the process, get the essence of one’s life in order. One does not need to go anywhere to make this pilgrimage … simply Place one’s self. The seasonal transition of Lammas may offer that in particular, being a “moment of grace” – as Thomas Berry has named the seasonal transitions, when the dark part of the day begins to grow longer, as the cloak of darkness slowly envelopes the days again: it is timely to reflect on the Dark Cosmos in Whom we are, from Whom we arise and to Whom we return – and upon that moment when like Corn Mother we give ourselves over. This reflection is good, will serve a person and all – to live fully, as well as simply to be who we are: this dark realm of manifesting is the core of who we are. And what difference might such reflection make to our world – personal and collective – to live in this relationship with where we are, and thus who we are. We all are the grain that is harvested and all are Her harvest … perhaps one may use a different metaphor: the truth that may be reflected upon at this seasonal moment after the peaking of Sun’s light at Summer Solstice and the wind down into Autumn, is that everything passes, all fades away … even our Sun shall pass. All is consumed. So What are we part of? (I write it with a capital because surely it is a sacred entity) And how might we participate creatively? We are Food – whether we like it or not … Lammas is a good time to get with the Creative plot, though many find it the most difficult, or focus on more exoteric celebration. May we be interesting food[i]. We are holy Communion, like Corn Mother. Meet Mago Contributor Glenys Livingstone NOTES: [i] This is an expression of cosmologist Brian Swimme in Canticle to the Cosmos DVD series.
Imbolc: Through Goddess Eyes by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Photo by Carolyn Lee Boyd In times past, Creation’s Winter cupped me in her icy hand of sanctuary Gathered in, I sucked dormant life, and slumbered Till Earth’s rebirthing groans awakened my new body Now, older and full of life’s weeping and wondering awe At all that has happened in my decades on Earth I must shake myself into consciousness My seed’s opaque, blinding hull disintegrates and Bodyless, at last I can see through Goddess eyes I ache as my blood paints each flower petal I spin the whirlwind that cannot stop creating abundance I push the seasons through the year that mortals believe revolve of their own accord. Through Goddess eyes I can see me, I inhabit Winter’s hand as my own. I make the cold to slow creation of outside of me To gather the seed into fertile stillness within. That burgeons in my own time. https://www.magoism.net/2016/08/meet-mago-contributor-carolyn-lee-boyd/
The Ceremonial Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 3 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. The Cosmos is a ceremony, a ritual. Dawn and dusk, seasons, supernovas – it is an ongoing Event of coming into being and passing away. The Cosmos is always in flux, and we exist as participants in this great ritual event, this “cosmic ceremony of seasonal and diurnal rhythms” which frame “epochal dramas of becoming,” as Charlene Spretnak describes it.[i] Swimme and Berry describe the universe as a dramatic reality, a Great Conversation of announcement and response.[ii]Ritual/ceremony[iii] may be the human conscious response to the announcements of the Universe – an act of conscious participation. Ceremony then may be understood as a microcosmos[iv] – a human-sized replication of the Drama, the Dynamic we find ourselves in. Swimme and Berry describe ritual as an ancient response humans have to the awesome experience of witnessing the coming to be and the passing away of things; they say that a “ritual mode of expression” is from its beginning “the manner in which humans respond to the universe, just as birds respond by flying or as fish respond by swimming.”[v] It is the way in which we as humans, as a species, may respond to this awesome experience of being and becoming, how we may hold the beauty and the terror. Humans have exhibited this tendency to ritualize since the earliest times of our unfolding: evidence so far reveals burial sites dating back one hundred thousand years, as mentioned in the previous chapter. We often went to huge effort in these matters, that is almost incomprehensible to the modern industrialised econocentric mind: the precise placing of huge stones in circles such as found at Stonehenge and the creation of complex sites such as Silbury Hill may be expressions of some priority, indicating that econocentric thinking – such as tool making, finding shelter and food, was not enough or not separate from the participation in Cosmic events. Ritual seems to have expressed, and still does actively express for some peoples, something essential to the human – a way of being integral with our Cosmic Place, which was not perceived as separate from material sustenance, the Source of existence: thus it was a way perhaps of sensing “meaning” as it might be termed these days – or “relationship.” Swimme and Berry note that the order of the Universe has been experienced especially in the seasonal sequence of dissolution and renewal; this most basic pattern has been an ultimate referent for existence.[vi] The seasonal pattern contains within it the most basic dynamics of the Cosmos – desire, fullfilment, loss, transformation, creation, growth, and more. The annual ceremonial celebration of the seasonal wheel – the Earth-Sun sacred site within which we tour – can be a pathway to the Centre of these dynamics, a way of making sense of the pattern, a way of sensing it. One enters the Universe’s story. The Seasonal Moments when marked and celebrated in the art form of ceremony may be sens-ible ‘gateways’ through the flesh of the world[vii] to the Centre – which is omnipresent Creativity. Humans do ritual everyday – we really can’t help ourselves. It is simply a question of what rituals we do, what story we are telling ourselves, what we are “spelling”[viii] ourselves with – individually and collectively. Ceremony is actually ‘doing,’ not just theorizing. We can talk about our personal and cultural disconnection endlessly, but we need to actually change our minds. Ceremony can be an enabling practice – a catalyst/practice for personal and cultural change. It is not just talking about eating the pear, it is eating the pear; it is not just talking about sitting on the cushion (meditating), it is sittingon the cushion. It is a cultural practice wherein we tell a story/stories about what we believe to be so most deeply, about who and what we are. Ceremony can be a place for practicing a new language, a new way of speaking, or spelling – a place for practicing “matristic storytelling”[ix] if you like: that is, for telling stories of the Mother, of Earth and Cosmos as if She were alive and sentient. We can “play like we know it,” so that we may come to know it.[x] Ceremony then is a form of social action. NOTES: [i] Spretnak, States of Grace, 145. [ii] Swimme and Berry, The Universe Story, 153. [iii] I will use either or both of these terms at different times: I generally prefer “ceremony” as Kathy Jones defines it in Priestess of Avalon, Priestess of the Goddess, 319. She says that ritual involves a repeated set of actions which may contain spiritual or “mundane” elements (such as a daily ritual of brushing one’s teeth), “whereas ceremony is always a spiritual practice and may or may not include ritual elements.” The PaGaian seasonal celebrations/events are thus most kin to “ceremony,” although I do not perceive any action as “mundane.” However, “ritual” is more commonly used to speak of how humans have conversed with cosmos/Earth. [iv] Spretnak, States of Grace, 145. [v] Swimme and Berry, The Universe Story, 152-153. [vi] Ibid. [vii] Abram speaks of “matter as flesh” in The Spell of the Sensuous, 66, citing Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Invisible and the Invisible (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1968). [viii] Starhawk used this term on her email list in 2004 to describe the story-telling we might do to bring forth the changes we desire. [ix] A term used by Gloria Feman Orenstein in The Reflowering of the Goddess (New York: Pergamon Press, 1990), 147. [x] As my doctoral thesis supervisor Dr. Susan Murphy once described it to me in conversation REFERENCES: Abram, David. The Spell of the Sensuous. New York: Vintage Books, 1997. Jones, Kathy. Priestess of Avalon, Priestess of the Goddess. Glastonbury: Ariadne Publications, 2006. Orenstein, Gloria Feman. The Reflowering of the Goddess. New York: Pergamon Press, 1990. Spretnak, Charlene. States of Grace: The Recovery of Meaning in the Postmodern Age. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993. Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era. New York: HarperCollins, 1992.
(Poem) Samhain by Annie Finch

In the season leaves should love, since it gives them leave to move through the wind, towards the ground they were watching while they hung, legend says there is a seam stitching darkness like a name. Now when dying grasses veil earth from the sky in one last pale wave, as autumn dies to bring winter back, and then the spring, we who die ourselves can peel back another kind of veil that hangs among us like thick smoke. Tonight at last I feel it shake. I feel the nights stretching away thousands long behind the days, till they reach the darkness where all of me is ancestor. I turn my hand and feel a touch move with me, and when I brush my young mind across another, I have met my mother’s mother. Sure as footsteps in my waiting self, I find her, and she brings arms that hold answers for me, intimate, waiting, bounty: “Carry me.” She leaves this trail through a shudder of the veil, and leaves, like amber where she stays, a gift for her perpetual gaze. From Eve (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2010) (Meet Mago Contributor) Annie Finch
(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!
(Mago Almanac Excerpt 3) Introducing the Magoist Calendar by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A) Free PDF available at Mago Bookstore. MAPPING THE MAGOIST CALENDAR According to the Budoji, the Magoist Calendar was fully implemented and advocated during the period of Old Joseon (ca. 2333 BCE-ca. 232 BCE) whose civilization is known as Budo (Emblem City). Indeed, the Magoist Calendar is referred to as the Budo Calendar in the Budoji. Budo was founded to succeed Sinsi and reignited Sinsi’s innovations including the numerological and musicological thealogy of the Nine Mago Creatrix. The Budoji expounds on the Magoist Calendar as follows: The Way of Heaven circles to generate Jongsi (a cyclic period, an ending and a beginning). Jongsi circles to generate another Jongsi of four Jongsi. One cycle of jongsi is called Soryeok (Little Calendar). Jongsi of Jongsi is called Jungryeok (Medium Calendar). Jongsi of four Jongsis is called Daeryeok (Large Calendar). A cycle of Little Calendar is called Sa (year). One Sa has thirteen Gi (months). One Gi has twenty-eight Il (days). Twenty-eight Il are divided by four Yo (weeks). One Yo has seven Il. A cycle of one Yo is called Bok (completion of a week). One Sa (year) has fifty-two Yobok. That makes 364 Il. This is of Seongsu (Natural Number) 1, 4, 7. Each Sa includes a Dan of the big Sa. A Dan is equal to one day. That adds up to 365 days. At the half point after the third Sa, there is a Pan of the big Sak (the year of the great dark moon). A pan comes at a half point of Sa. This is of Beopsu (Lawful Number) 2, 5, 8. A Pan is equal to a day. Therefore, the fourth Sa has 366 days. At the half point after the tenth Sa, there is a Gu of the big Hoe (Eve of the first day of the month). Gu is the root of time. Three hundred Gu makes one Myo. With Myo, we can sense Gu. A lapse of 9,633 Myo-Gak-Bun-Si makes one day. This is of Chesu (Physical Number), 3, 6, 9. By and by, the encircling time charts Medium Calendar and Large Calendar to evince the principle of numerology.[12] KEY TERMS Calendric Cycles Jongsi (終是 Ending and Beginning): Cyclic periods Soryeok (小曆 Little Calendar): One year Jungryeok (中曆 Medium Calendar): Two years Daeryeok (大曆 Large Calendar): Four years Names of Year, Month, Day, Week Sa (祀 Rituals, year): One year refers to the time that takes to complete the cycle of rituals. Gi (期 Periods, month): One month refers to the period of the moon and menstruation cycle. Il (日Sun, day): One day refers to the sun’s movement due to Earth’s rotation. Yo (曜 Resplendence of seven celestial bodies, Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, week): Each weekday is dedicated to seven celestial bodies. Bok or Yobok (曜服 Duties of the Celestial Bodies, completion of a week): One week refers to the veneration of the seven celestial bodies. Names of Monthly Transition Days Hoe (晦 Eve of the first day of the month, 28th) Sak (朔 First day of the month, 1st, the dark moon) Names of Intercalation Days Dan (旦 Morning): Leap day for New Year Pan (昄 Big): Leap day for every fourth year Names of Time Units Gu (晷 sun’s shadow): Time measure, 1/300 Myo Myo (眇 minuscule): Time measure, a total of 300 Gu Myo-Gak-Bun-Si (眇刻分時 minuscule, possibly 15-minutes, minute, hour): Time measure, 9,633 Myo-Gak-Bun-Si is equal to a day Names of Three Types of Numbers in Nine Numerology Seongsu (性數Natural Number): 1, 4, 7 in the digital root Beopsu (法數 Lawful Number): 2, 5, 8 in the digital root Chesu (體數 Physical Number): 3, 6, 9 in the digital root THREE SUB-CALENDARS The Way of Heaven circles to generate Jongsi (a period, an ending and a beginning). Jongsi circles to generate another Jongsi of four Jongsi. One cycle of jongsi is called Soryeok (Little Calendar). Jongsi of Jongsi is called Jungryeok (Medium Calendar). Jongsi of four Jongsis is called Daeryeok (Large Calendar). The universe is infinite without beginning and ending. Everything runs the course of self-equilibration in relation to everything else. The Way of Heaven or the Way of the Creatrix circles and makes possible the infinite time/space to be measured and calculated. As the Way of Heaven circles, we are able to perceive Our Universe in finite measures of time/space. Time becomes measurable, as space is stabilized. Seasons and days-nights are demarcated in cyclic patterns, as the Earth makes the three cyclic movements of rotation, revolution, and precession. Calendar, born out of the inter-cosmic time, synchronizes human culture with the song/dance of the universe. The term Jongsi, which means an ending and a beginning, is equivalent to “a cyclic period” that is marked by the beginning and the end. Time (a day, a month, and a year) circles, as space (the Earth, the Moon, and the Sun) spirals. The Magoist Calendar has three sub-calendars: The period of one yearly cycle is called Little Calendar, whereas the period of two yearly cycles is called Medium Calendar and the period of four yearly cycles, Large Calendar. To be continued. (Meet Mago Contributor, Helen Hye-Sook Hwang) Notes [12] Budoji, Chapter 23. See Bak Jesang, the Budoji, Bak Geum scrib., Eunsu Kim, trans. (Seoul: Gana Chulpansa, 1986).

(Art) Mago by Lydia Ruyle

Mago of old Korea and East Asia, also known as Magu, Mako, Samsin Halmeoni (Triad Grandmother Goddess) and Cheonsin (Heavenly Deity), is the Great Goddess. Mago is the progenitor, creatrix, and ultimate sovereign. Early gynocentric cultures venerated Her in many forms. Her multivalent identities include an immortal, mendicant, crone, shaman, and/or nature-shaper of mountains, rocks, caves and seas. In art, Mago often carries a basket of lingzi mushrooms, medicinal herbs and flowers–all symbols of immortality. Source: Painting c. 1400 CE by Seokgyeong. Joseon Dynasty. Korea Meet Mago Contributor, Lydia Ruyle.
(Budoji Essay 4) The Magoist Cosmogony by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part 4: Magoist Origin of Immortals “I maintain that Immortals originally refers to Mago’s descendants in Mago Castle, the Primordial Paradise. They are the primordial clan community of the Mago Species, comprised of the divine, demigods, and humans.” [This is a translation and interpretation of the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City), principal text of Magoism. Read the translation of Chapter 1 of the Budoji.] Magoist Origin of Immortals: All in the Mago Species are given the original nature of immortality or transcendence. Readers are advised to set aside the literal meaning in the English language of the words immortals or transcendents. Immortals is a translation of the East Asian term seon (仙, xian in Chinese). I choose the translation immortals over transcendents not because it is a better translation but because it is the most commonly used term by Western Daoist translators.[i] Although it is known as a Daoist term, I hold that it is pre-Daoist, namely Magoist, in origin. Primarily, it refers to the Mago Species (Mago and Her descendants) who dwelt in Mago Castle, the primordial home, to be discussed in detail in later chapters. Likewise, historical figures known as Immortals are Magoist rather than Daoist.
(Essay 2) Making the Gynocentric Case: Mago, the Great Goddess of East Asia, and Her Tradition Magoism by Helen Hwang

[Editor’s note: Numbers of endnotes differ from the original ones in the article] Reconstructing Gynocentric Korean Identity Scholars in the West, upon assessing a religion or deity of the non-Western world, tend to pair the topic with a modern nation. Thus, they often project their modern knowledge of the nation or culture onto the indigenous religion or deity they study. Such a methodology betrays the assumption that the modern notion of national identities is time-proven and bias-free. In this process, one’s perception of other people’s cultural expression is molded by Western-made modern knowledge of that people. This kind of knowledge ceases to exist outside the Western mind. Some go further to point out that the religious expression of a non-Western country in point is colored by the air of nationalism that is culturally on the rise in that country. This kind of assessment suggests the idea that a cultural expression fostered by nationalist zeal is inauthentic or impure and therefore of less value for study. While such conclusions are not necessarily wrong, I find it misguided. Done so, it prepares the ground for Western scholars to wield the authority of Western hegemony over the non-Western world. Precisely, it is blind to the fact that no cultural expression in modern times is free from nationalist ethos. Modern life is inherently shaped by the shade of nationalism whether it is in a non-Western world or a Western world. In my view, the question to be asked is: How can we assess a religious expression of a people beyond the modern notion of national identities? Or how can we go beneath the modern notion of national identities in order to assess a religious expression of a people? I hold that the modern category of national identities in particular causes harm to the study of the goddess. Modern nationalities go hand in hand with the impetus of patriarchal religions that do away with the female principle. There is an unmistakable difference between the male divine and the female divine when their manifestations are found cross-nationally. It is generally assumed that exchange of cultures between nations allows the male divine to be disseminated from one people to another. It is true that patriarchal religions have traveled around the globe and disseminated their gods into other nations. When it comes to the goddess whose worship is widespread across nations, such as the case of Mary in the West, however, this kind of reasoning proves to be inadequate. Antithetical is the idea that patriarchal religions actively promote the transmission of the great goddess from one nation to the other. Thus, the very perception of the transnational goddess is systematically thwarted in the realm of patriarchal religions. Androcentric researchers may choose to either dismiss as anomalous the topic of the goddess whose manifestation is found cross-nationally or treat her as a local deity severing her from her transnational context. This has been done to the topic of Mago. While Mago’s manifestation exists across the national boundaries of Korea, China, and Japan, it differs in nature, density, and complexity in these countries. Likewise, primary sources also show different traits according to the country. Korean sources surpass her Chinese counterparts not only in number but also in density and complexity. Mago’s supreme divinity is essentially affirmed in Korean sources, whereas it is treated as unknown in Chinese and Japanese counterparts. More to the point, the Budoji, the principal text that re-emerged in Korea in 1986, asserts that Koreans were the defenders of Old Magoism (Magoism in pre-patriarchal times) against the pseudo-Magoist Chinese regime. How can we understand the primacy of Korean Magoism without resorting to the modern notion of nationalist identities?