June 27, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poem) What Happens When Hate Wins? by Sara Wright

What happens when Hate wins? Do the Sandhill cranes stop singing? Do the junipers cease to release their scent? Do the stars fall into the sea? Does the white moon Read More …

June 22, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Song) Mother Earth by Genevieve Vaughan

Mother Earth, Mother Earth We are grateful for our birth

June 13, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Song) Off to work we go; we walk through the night in darkness by Janie Rezner

June 8, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Prose) Cardea by Deanne Quarrie

“Ovid says of Cardea, apparently quoting a religious formula: ‘Her power is to open what is shut; to shut what is open.’ …” Robert Graves, in the White Goddess The Read More …

June 6, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Book Excerpt 2) Single Mothers Speak on Patriarchy Ed. by Trista Hendren & Pat Daly

Introduction by Trista Hendren Many people have wondered why I am going off track with my Goddess work to write about single mothers. To me, it’s all related. The way Read More …

June 2, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Art) Shamanism and Alchemy by France Guerin

This work ‘Shamanic Angel’ evolved from cleaning up fallen branches in the forest and found one that evoked a human gesture which I cut so that it stood upright Read More …

May 30, 2017October 2, 2019 RTM EditorLeave a comment

(Prose) Re-membering Women’s Wisdom by Kaalii Cargill

Once upon a time, when “God was a woman”[i], anywhere from 35000 years ago until about 3500 years ago in some parts of the world, the life-giving power of Goddess Read More …

May 25, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Essay) What can we do to create a peaceful revolution? by Genevieve Vaughan

Realize that we are telling ourselves what is wrong all the time, but without understanding it. Understand why the urge towards domination and exploitation happens. Devalue the values that motivate Read More …

May 24, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poetry) Prayer to the Mother by Amina Rodriguez

I feel deeply troubled and a bit unsettled. I feel strongly a pull in two directions. Loving passionately and despising at once. I fear to look at what is hiding Read More …

May 23, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Prose) A Wake Up Call from Mother God by Janie Rezner

A Proclamation! A chapter from my life . . . I should write a letter to Polly Shakas, thanking her for helping me get out of my marriage. I could Read More …

May 19, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Poem) Lavender by Andrea Nicki

You have come to understand that if women are like flowers you are most like lavender: wild, earthly, resilient, abundant

May 12, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Essay 2) Poet as Initiate: A Rebirth of the Goddess & The Darkmother in Women’s Poetry in the 70’s by Louisa Calio

Redemption Ntozake Shange did the same work of redemption when she created her choreopoem in the San Francisco Bay area: For Colored Girls who have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Read More …

May 10, 2017October 2, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Book Excerpt 1) Single Mothers Speak on Patriarchy by Trista Hendren & Pat Daly

My Very Own Mother’s Day Proclamation Brenna Jean Richart I SOBBED FOR THE FIRST TIME in six months today. Throat aching loud, heaving sobs that come when someone dies. Read More …

(Poem) Sometimes We Love Monsters Too by Phibby Venable

Public domain image Sometimes we lie and say, you are not a monster, Everything they said to me, I said yes back, I said no, I climbed on a stool to study monsters up close Oh, I said, it’s true, sometimes you can love a monster too I said yes, I said no, I stood before them, a composer, a musical prodigy of wounded sounds Each melody disguised itself to their growls, hearts of raging chocolates, flowers in a unique medley of lies I accepted it all with half-closed eyes Some lies clapped their hands, some grew so rough I could not listen, some too embarrassed to say a thing, they used an essence of sweet silence, they used artificial bouquets of blame. I told them I could dance. They stopped to watch with suspicion and scorn I danced on an empty floor, I danced swiftly into a maze On good days I danced my own rescue out heavy doors https://www.magoism.net/2015/01/meet-mago-contributor-phibby-venable/
After the Crowning by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright After the Crowning Emerald and lime chartreuse lemon burgundy burnt umber leafy green breath transformer palms and needles raining light. magic bean spirals skyward star gazing ferns feather paths pearls at my feet wild lilies woodland valley brook scarlet roots hug weeping fruit trees conversing underground pollinated rose petals nourish moist earth each tear slips away bowed deep gratitude, a grieving moment a thousand bees hum as One. This cycle ends even as another has begun. May is such a tender month that ends on a poignant note – ‘the travelers’ (migrating birds) bring in each day with a symphony, bare branches are budding, bloodroot unfurling, arbutus trailing, violet hearts breaking ground, Solomons seal, three lobed trillium, ajuga spikes, stately Jack in the pulpits, bouquets of buttery button marsh marigolds, trilling gray tree frogs, tadpoles swarming in the pond, one green frog I name Hunter is visiting with the tadpoles and hunting on warm stones. All this precedes the Crowning, which comes at the end of May when every fruit tree cluster opens her blossoms to the bees, and I become one with all there is under a flowering rose crabapple just outside my door. Between intoxicating scent and bee hum… we are bound as one. Today light rain breaks the stillness rustling leaves as I stand at the door watching withering blossoms, mauve, and burgundy, pale pink and pearl white petals drift reluctantly to the ground. Yet under every fruit tree summer snow tears will nourish mycelial threads, worm rich soil and the fungal network below. Although this isn’t the end of spring, the crowning of the fruit trees has been accomplished, and I am never ready to let go. The next round has already begun with the rain that turns each deciduous leaf a deeper shade of emerald or lime. All deciduous tree limbs sway gracefully bending with butterfly leaves that bow to airy southern breezes. Hay Ferns create a graceful edging inviting me down a mossy path to listen to the soothing sound of water on stone. Maidenhair fern is still unfolding and mayapple blossoms come and go, five petaled flowers always hidden under scalloped umbrellas. Although some wildflowers like the trillium have gone by the forget me nots ajuga and columbine are just beginning, bleeding hearts arc and bow to the burgeoning green and my paths are thick with verdant almond leaves – wild lily of the valley is replacing the twinflowers along with pyrola bells and lady slippers and a thousand other ephemeral beauties. Later canada mayflowers and stars of bethlehem will grace the green. Lupine spires violet, blue, purple, pink and lavender become steeples in the field. Wild roses are still prickly canes. At the end of next month just as the solstice passes lemon lilies will mark one of the most endearing fragrances of the season. Milkweed balls not only bring in the butterflies but mark the last sweet fragrance when they appear in early July. After this there is a natural break for late July and August heat before fall wildflowers begin to bloom, pale blue and violet asters float through sprays of goldenrod, milkweed pods sail away in tiny parachutes, one seed makes a landing caught by a tree. Nature’s native plants move in perfect time with the seasonal changes. In another week I will take to the woods splitting my time between here and there. For the week of the Crowning and until the last petal drops, I am fully present to now, celebrating this jewel of field, stream and forest, my home. June is lady slipper month with delicate anemones still in bloom in shaded nooks, wild cucumber rounds, blue bead lilies, partridge berry trumpets. Too many to mention. Many woodland flowers will be pollinated by the same bumblebees that have been gracing fruit trees here. But not until the old – fashioned hydrangea blooms will they gather by the thousands to sing again in one collective hum bringing summer to an end. It fascinates me how nature plans for summer’s fierce light and heat – birds migrate, nest/give birth in the spring – all trees leaf out but native trees and shrubs and wildflowers bloom throughout the spring. Almost all have set seed by the solstice (with some exceptions). My cherry trees are already seeding up as are the buttery celandine. After the solstice the trees will shut down their photosynthesizing on hot summer afternoons… birds trees plants and other wildlife are still, resting – nature loves mornings and evenings – noonday she can do without – it’s the same with me! I am forever grateful that the forests hide rare wildflowers for those who cherish them. Gray frogs have been singing for two months; soon toads will be thrumming. In the lowlands hobblebush is birthing fruits that turn bittersweet or crimson. Some nesting warblers and other birds continue conversing with young; others like one titmouse is still lining a nest. Migration has peaked but this one is not a traveler. In the bogs the first orchids stick out fuzzy white and pale pink tongues. Pitcher plants seduce the unwary sending burgundy flowers into the air to attract their prey. Turtles dig deep in sand to lay their eggs. Viburnum clusters are blushing. There is so much to look forward to, and yet today I mourn one moon cycle that that passed by too soon… https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright
(Essay) Guadalupe by Sara Wright

Last year on December 12th, Guadalupe’s Feast Day, I lit the retablo that sits in the one dark corner of the living room, yet I couldn’t feel Her Presence, this Lady who unites all peoples and is often called the Mother of the Americas. As I gazed up at her dark Indian face sculpted out of wood, cloaked in a blue green garment and held aloft by what appeared to be a young Indian boy (this figure was an angel, I learned later), a profound yearning sprung out of the deepest recesses of my heart, much as I imagined the spring that had once bubbled out of the barren ground at Guadalupe’s feet.
(Music 2) Singing to Hathor: Spiritual and Historical Reclamations Through the Muses of Memory, History, and Music by Jen Taylor

Archetypes that Activate & Disruptive Art Holy Cow Hathor was the golden goddess who helped women give birth, the dead to be reborn, and the cosmos to be renewed.(1) I am a bit in love with the cow and her ubiquitous appearance as a holy cow in cultures the globe over and throughout time. Cows’ treatment in modern factory farming is well documented. Among the hardest to take in, their udders bleed from overuse. Instead of giving dairy cows a well-earned break, their bleeding udders are injected directly with antibiotic-delivering needles to maximize output and profit. What makes me rage in anger is the insanity of patriarchal logic, turning the female site of ecstasy/creation/nourishment into a site of torment. The archetype of the cow here holds power for this moment in time. The million-dollar question is, how did we go from a near ubiquitous treatment of the cow as divine throughout the Neolithic era, to her degraded and deontologized status today? Healing this will heal something bigger. The story of the cow, in some measure, encapsulates the story of colonial terrorism against Indigenous values and colonial terrorism against the female creative principle. The cow is still sacred in India today and was revered in ancient Egypt as the Goddess Hathor. The Dogon revered her on the plains of Nabta Playa before that. Max Dashu has traced the ancient Cow Goddess’ image back to 8,000 B.C.E. in the Sudan. The Primordial Mother of Neolithic Anatolia merges with the cow, as Redmond observes of the dominant figure of the art of Catal Huyuk.(2) For over 10,000 years, the cow has been sacred and even considered a Goddess. One of my first encounters with her occurred while reading Homer’s description of Hera as “cow-eyed” in the Iliad.(3) My curiosity was struck. Egyptian temple complexes celebrate the Cow Goddess Hathor; hers is the only head of a god or goddess that flutes the top of Egyptian temple columns. The cultural exchange between ancient Egypt to the newly birthed Greece is not disputed. The best minds of ancient Greece studied in Egypt, up to Alexander. Within the new patriarchal order of Greco-Roman times, there was still a remembrance of the Cow Goddess through descriptions of Hera. Reverence for cows’ wild ancestors is well-documented in Paleolithic cave art the world over, dating back to 40,000 B.C.E. at least. In Paleolithic and Neolithic spiritual practice, humans identified with animals, practicing a kind of Totemism, an expression of the mystical oneness and interconnection of the cosmos. We connected with animals because we understood that they hold deep wisdom unlike what a human might arrive at alone. One can see the ancient mind’s deep affinity with the gifts of the cow because she also partakes in the mysterious transformation of water and blood to milk.(4) Hathor is commonly depicted feeding humanity in Egyptian art, in the pictorial metaphor of a tiny human drinking from the udder of the giant cow, a Blue Hathor riddled with gold stars. This song is a meditation on the demotion of the ancient cow goddess in Greco-Roman times, its consequences for Helen, and those who fought for her. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vezOTXkACTs Holy Cow There is an eye, there is a feather. There is a moon that sits in her head-dress. There is a soul who could have done better; she gives the dead chances forever. Oh holy cow, oh holy cow- dear god will see you now. I left a place of weightless illusion, taken by grace to gravity’s confusion. I seek a place and I seek a solution; I saw a face and I also heard music. Oh holy cow, dear god will see me now. Who plays for keeps when times are a-changing? Rise to your feet, saddles are blazing. Look to the east, ask what is Nabta Playa? What does it mean and why is it forgotten? Oh holy cow, dear god we see you now. Hathor, Isis is hiding- Hathor, do you still laugh at dying? Hathor, stargazer’s secret.(5) Hathor, it’s really nice to see you. Helen’s face launched 1,000 ships- I’ve heard it said it was really her hips. Some people thought a woman could be stolen. Some people fought so no one could own her. Oh holy cow, dear god I see you now. Amazons came to the aid of the Trojans; they met their match on the field in their boldness. Achilles took Penthesilea down- he cried afterwards, her beauty bummed him out. Oh holy cow, dear god will see you now. Now. (To be continued…) Olga Sohmer, “The Mythic Cow and the Dairy Industry: An Archetypal Activist Exploration,” Olga Rose Sohmer, December 16, 2015, http://olgasohmer.com/on-mythic-cows-and-the-dairy-industry-an-archetypal-activist-exploration/, 19/27. Redmond, 55. Homer, Iliad, I:551. Redmond, 49. The Dogon were a stargazing culture, referred to in the lore as “stargazers.” The Dogon tribe lived in the Nubian desert and built Nabta Playa, the world’s oldest discovered astrological site, 7,000 years ago. (Meet-mago-contributor) Jen Taylor https://www.magoism.net/2021/10/meet-mago-contributor-jen-taylor/
(Poem) Daffodils by Andrea Nicki

Their heads hang low from weeks of battering rain. They must find it hard to trust, meet the gaze of the new sun. Still, they hold their mouths open– a faithful chorus with perfect pitch yellow.
(Book Excerpt 6) On the Wings of Isis: Reclaiming the Sovereignty of Auset, ed. by Trista Hendren et al.

The Rulers of Our Own Damn Lives Monica Rodgers It was so quick, I would later call the episode a “stress hallucination.” In that moment, as my six-year-old daughter clung to my leg silently begging me to protect her from her father’s rage, I was shown a line of females from a pyramid, through myself, and ending with my beloved daughter. While my daughter cleaved, my three-year-old son hid behind the heavy curtains, rocking silently. In the midst of what felt like a hurricane, a great eye of stillness seemed to envelop me, and in it appeared a hologram, streaming forth a firm reminder from some other realm that stated with clarity and conviction: “You are the ruler of your life.” In that moment as I stared down into the pleading eyes of the female child I had birthed, I knew that I would continue the chain of pain and sorrow if I did not break it, right then and there. Although I had never before uttered the words, I declared my decision to get a divorce, and just like that—after almost ten years living in fear and misery—I was free. The Goddess had just begun her work with me. Following the dissolution of my marriage, I fell deep into a dark night of the soul, becoming bed-ridden as all the misaligned pieces of my life came crashing down around me. It was in that bed that I descended into to other realms, retrieving pieces of myself from childhood and beyond. I found guides—a medicine woman and a shaman—to help me on my healing journey. Eventually, I began searching for stories of the Goddesses, which would lead me back to the one I had briefly experienced the afternoon my world had begun to change. Isis visited me through symbols and clues that seemed to intimate my lineage to her. Her name or image would continually show up in Oracle cards, dreams, on jewelry or in books. Each offered me pieces of a larger puzzle that had not fully come into view. Last summer, I was visiting my childhood home in Maine and felt a deep and desperate urge to drive 45 minutes into Portland to walk the streets by myself. I felt rather silly, but a familiar restlessness seemed to propel me in search of something I could not name. Eventually I found myself in front of an antique store and felt a giant invisible magnet pulling me inside. I walked directly to a jewelry case in the back, and in that case that had beckoned me, a beautiful small gold Ankh gleamed at me from a black velvet box. As the woman behind the counter fitted it with a matching chain, she mentioned that she’d never seen such a simple version and that it had just come in the day before. The same day I downloaded the book Mary Magdalene Revealed by Meggan Watterson. The same day I’d listened, mesmerized, as she shared her own journey of discovery articulating the link between the suppressed divine feminine and the lineage that led her back to Isis. Every cell in my body felt on fire. Shortly after this divinely inspired “coincidence,” I had the privilege of working with Sophie Bashford, author of You are A Goddess for a channeled reading. During the reading, she guided me through a meditation that led me to Mary Magdalene who, in turn, brought me to the feet of Isis. The energy I felt coursing through my body as this meditation proceeded was intense. Tears poured down my face as Isis touched my forehead with her finger in the meditation, her image seeming to superimpose upon Mary Magdalene, making me wonder if she was not somehow showing me the reincarnation of her own spirit. Without words, she told me that I had to forget who I was in order to remember who I was. That we all carry her message inside of us and that we are here to alchemize the spirit (divine) with the matter (human). That we all carry a the divine story within our human bodies. When women remember who we truly are—discarding notions of what we should be—we also remember our lineage. We remember Isis and every woman who has come to honor our vow as divine creators. We claim their stories as our own, we gain the mastery to overcome the deeply rooted masculine-feminine imbalance of the patriarchy. We stop giving our power away, and we begin to know that we are the rulers of our own damn lives. (To be continued) Details of On the Wings of Isis are found here. https://www.magoism.net/2013/08/meet-mago-contributor-trista-hendren/
(Book Excerpt 6) How to Live Well Despite Capitalist Patriarchy by Trista Hendren

Ditch Your Car My reformation from country club princess to granola mama didn’t happen all at once. I had been slowly evolving for a while, but things changed drastically for me when I met Anders and experienced his culture in Norway. As with most travel and exposure to other cultures, it’s what I noticed about what we took for granted as “normal” here that opened my eyes the most. I didn’t realize how badly we denigrated those who don’t drive cars in the U.S. until I re-watched The 40-Year-Old Virgin with Anders. While I still find that movie hysterical, it is interesting social commentary that the nerdy virgin rides a bike. Anders noticed it right off the bat. “Men who don’t drive cars here are really treated like losers aren’t they?” I realized he was right. How many times are people completely identified with their cars? How many times has a woman turned down a nice guy because she didn’t like what he was driving? And how do men complete the role of “man” if they cannot pick up a woman for a date? Let’s be honest: It does seem weird. We take it for granted in the U.S. that people own cars. And the richer they are, the nicer that car should be. The owning part of that usually means they have financed a car—or rather, that they’re indebted to someone else for their sense of self. On my first trip to Norway, it was wet and rainy every day. We traveled by foot, bus or train. Every excursion required that we walk at least 10 minutes up or down a steep hill. I saw many people of all ages walking up and down the hill all day long, many carrying heavy bags of groceries. It wasn’t so bad. I got used to the rain and the exercise felt good throughout the day. I have always believed that you had to have a car. My second husband was a high-end car dealer for most of our marriage. Seeing how people lived in Norway was the first time I actually stopped and thought about whether having a car was necessary. When I came home, I decided to sell my car. In the suburban community I previously lived in, it would have been nearly impossible to live without a car, so I eased into it. During the transition, I got used to walking more. In the suburbs, when you walk, people assume you must be having car problems. I can’t tell you how many times a friend stopped, worried that my car had broken down. While I appreciated the sentiment, I found it quite amusing! I decided to move back to a flatter, more urban part of Portland where I could walk nearly everywhere. I sold more than half my belongings and moved into a smaller space we shared with another family. We walked to and from school every day, stopping on the way home for groceries. It was easier than I ever thought it could be. Americans spend an average of 75 minutes a day in their cars—butI always hated driving. It made me tired and cranky to sit in traffic. I now spend an average of 75 minutes a day walking, which means I’m in fairly good shape without a gym membership. When I need to go somewhere distant, I take public transport. On some occasions, I borrow a vehicle—but that’s more and more uncommon. I have also used Uber and Zipcar at times, which gave me a few more options. I have now spent more than 7 years without a car, and I rarely miss it. I have not done all the math, but I know I have saved tens of thousands of dollars every single year. I don’t have insurance, car payments or gas and maintenance expenses. And, I’m in a good mood from all the daily exercise I get. I don’t plan to own a car again. This frees up quite a bit of money for other things that are more important to me. I know many people will find the thought of not owning a car practically insane. But consider this: Driving a car is the most air polluting act an average citizen commits.39 If you cannot fathom life without a car, at least consider driving less if you are able-bodied. You will save money, gain health and stop participating in the destruction of Mother Earth. Find more info on this book here.(Meet Mago Contributor) Trista Hendren.
(Essay) The Elder by Sara Wright

I walk by her every day. This past summer a golden yellow spider took up housekeeping in the hole at her center; now a gossamer web stretches across the entrance of what once was a hairy woodpecker’s home. An emerald canopy shades the ground beneath her feet. In the fall, she burns fire and gold into the sky surrounding her. All winter she sleeps leafless, a startling angular silhouette, pressed against the sky. Snow birds take shelter in her deep cavern. Early spring brings robins to her door as miniature leaflets unfurl.
(Poem) Goodbye Vermont by Francesca Tronetti

Omar Rodriguez organizes bodies in the Gerard J. Neufeld funeral home in Elmhurst on April 22, 2020. New York Magazine. 610,000 dead in early August as county fair season starts While we argue over mask mandates in our schools As we fill restaurants and walk into stores faces uncovered While we try to squeeze in a few last weeks of fun in the sun 618,000 dead on August 11 while the Delta variant sweeps through As parents start moving their children into college dorms Stores advertise sales, trying to get people to buy out the stock And now we are hearing about the Lambda variant making a surge School boards vote on mask mandates in community meetings Which are disrupted by shouts and threats, ‘we know who you are’ People wave around copies of the Constitution, The Bill of Rights, the Declaration of Independence, the Federalist Papers, and the Bible. 624,000 dead on August 18, one thousand more that live in Vermont Another state has fallen to Covid-19, the Pandemic, the life changer American lives have been taken, American work may never be the same But the trauma does not encourage unity and safety, only anger. A hospital in Brevard County Florida sends out an SOS desperate for help Calling in refrigerated trucks which can hold up to 30 bodies each Doctors volunteer to run lab reports back and forth or sit with patients It still is not enough to help an overwhelmed system or nurses in the end. 2021 is surpassing 2020, the Delta variant is more easily communicable But 99% of those who are infected were never vaccinated, it wasn’t real Even now, knowing those who have died, or who have lasting effects of the virus They refuse to get vaccinated, because it’s a hoax, and they still have questions. It will be another year of working from home and online learning Another year of people being unable to pay their rent as the bills pile up But policies which could help, like loan forgiveness, or continued unemployment Are pushed to the side, ridiculed, and dismissed, those in power aren’t hurting. Politicians are entrenched, the Big Lie cannot be countered lest the profit fall So cultists continue to take the microphone, spouting buzzwords and rhetoric Plandemic, it’s all about the children, you will be tried for treason, Trump won I shake my head, how can you be so crazy, how do you not know someone who died? But they do know someone who died, they just don’t care anymore It’s not about taking care of each other, of getting through this nightmare together The madness has set in, the battle lines drawn, and no man’s land is outside the door The next fight will be over boosters, added to the passport I don’t want to write these poems anymore, not for another state They are no longer an outpouring of sadness, a reminder of the dead Instead, now they are my anger and my disbelief at what has happened My country has fractured, a cult has taken the minds of my neighbors. But we cannot deprogram them nor free them from its grasp Because to deprogram them we must stop the leader’s messages We must give them truth, hard facts, show them they have been hurt How can we do that when they have been told they cannot trust truth? We have lost two states worth of people, but they are small states Barely populated, only ranchers and hardy folk who love the elements The next Washington DC, a major metropolis, could fall by Christmas Would that be enough to shake the people out of the fog I wonder. Goodbye Vermont, with your college towns and university campuses No more Vermont cheddar, maple syrup, or Ben and Jerry’s ice cream If only that were true, if only this were confined by the borders of a state Would people care then, if they saw how many we’d lost? A state’s worth? (Meet Mago Contributor) Francesca Tronetti https://www.magoism.net/2018/11/meet-mago-contributor-rev-francesca-tronetti-ph-d/

(Special Post 3) Nine-Headed Dragon Slain by Patriarchal Heroes: A Cross-cultural Discussion by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: This and the ensuing sequels are a revised version of the discussion that has taken place in The Mago Circle, Facebook group, since September 24, 2017 to the present. Themes are introduced and interwoven in a somewhat random manner, as different discussants lead the discussion. The topic of the number nine is key to Magoism, primarily manifested as Nine Magos or the Nine Mago Creatrix. Mago Academy hosts a virtual and actual event, Nine Day Mago Celebration, annually.] Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Xiang Yao or Xiangliu is the Chinese equivalent to Hydra in Greek mythology. And Hercules is to Yu, the Great, founder of the Xia dynasty. We will see in the course of this discussion that the myth of Yu, the founding ruler of Xia, the oldest dynasty of China, who slains the nine-headed snake, is only a variation of its older prototype, the myth of Huangdi who fought Chiu, the alliance of the Nine Han Giants (East Asian/Korean Magoists). “According to the Classic of Mountains and Seas, Xiangliu was a minister of the snake-like water deity Gonggong. Xiangliu devastated the ecology everywhere he went, leaving nothing but gullies and marshes devoid of animal life. Eventually, Xiangliu was killed by Yu the Great, whose other labors included ending the Great Flood of China. In other versions of the story, Xiangliu was killed by Nüwa, after being defeated by Zhurong, but his blood was so virulently poisonous that the soil which it soaked could no longer grow grain.[1] An oral version of the Xiangliu myth was collected as late from Sichuan as 1983, in which Xiangliu is depicted as a nine-headed dragon, responsible for floods and other harm.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xiangliu Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Ancient China had to demonize the pre-Han myth of the nona Mago because it bespeaks the matriarchal/gynocentric history that it overthrew… the past that had to be severed in order to fake patriarchal originality. With this in mind, we have a better look on patriarchal mythopoeia, which appears to be complex but, nonetheless, transparent in its motive to hide/hijack pre-patriarchal gynocentric histories. “One of the most harrowing myths from ancient China is the story of Gonggong’s rebellion. You can revisit the whole story here, but the quick version is that the evil water god Gonggong attempted to drown the world and was only prevented from doing so by the heroic last resort actions of the beneficent creator goddess Nüwa, who cut the legs off the cosmic turtle in order to set things to rights. In the chaos of the climactic battle, however Gongong’s chief minister and partner in crime Xiangliu the nine-headed snake monster completely escaped. Filled with bitterness about Gonggong’s failure, Xiangliu crawled away across the soggy lands of Szechuan (which were water-logged after the nearly world-ending floods). Wherever he went, the snake monster left permanent fens and swamps which were toxic to life. His very being had become steeped in poison, and his progress through the damp and moldy world had to be stopped. Yu the hero, the third of the three sage kings, finally caught up with the nine-headed monster and killed him in a pitched battle. Yet still there was a problem: Xiangliu’s pestiferous blood has poisoned the whole region, which now stank of rot. Crops would not grow and civilization began to falter. Yu dug up the blood soaked soil again and again, but the corrupted blood of the monster just sank deeper into the ground. Finally, Yu excavated a deep valley by Kunlun mountain and rid the world of Xiangliu’s toxins. With all of the land he had excavated he built a great terraced mountain for the gods. Yu then went forth to found the kingdom of Xia, the first civilized state in Chinese history. Of course some people say that Yu did none of this, that, it was the goddess Nüwa who once again came forth to battle the monster and undo the damage he had caused. Then, with accustomed modesty she let Yu take the credit and begin his kingdom (for Nüwa cared not for empty praise and hollow glory but only for the well-being of her children).” https://ferrebeekeeper.wordpress.com/2013/09/24/xiangliu-the-nine-headed-snake/ Max Dashu: These patriarchal heroes! Nova Scheller: What a fascinating thread…that the nine headed hydra correlates to the nine headed dragon as a linkage to patriarchy or gynocentric/ matriarchal beginnings…the root being in Korea! Dropping into your work of so many years…a privilege as well as informing some of my personal awareness. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Nova Scheller, indeed! The myth of slaining the nine-headed snake/dragon across cultures shows; (1) The onset of patriarchy did not come naturally but forcefully, which proves that patriarchy is not original. It was a reaction to what had been before, its matrix. Patriarchy faked its originality by inventing the myth of demonizing and killing the female principle. (2) Patriarchal rules established across cultures adopted the mythic motif of slaining the nine-headed snake or dragon, which appears to be of Chinese origin. (3) The Nine Mago mythic system preserved in Korean Magoism testifies to gynocentric/matriarchal beginnings, which were remembered by peoples of the ancient world. (4) Furthermore, Korean Magoist mythology explains the origin/meaning of the nona Goddess symbol. Let’s explore how the Nine Mago pantheon was remembered in East Asian myths and religions. For this, we need to unravel the patriarchal mythopoeia of Goma, the Shaman ruler of Old Magoist East Asia/Korea. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: In principle, we can tell if an ancient rule/culture was patriarchal or gynocentric by the myth of the nine-headed snake/dragon. In the case of ancient China whose heroes are told to have killed the opponent, the nine-headed snake. Nonetheless, the people’s memory of pre-patriarchal gynocentric history never dies. The nine symbolism is still described as auspicious. It revives time and time again throughout history. In other words, ancient China was a small regional power, only modern scholarship seals it all mighty China. Find out what other ancient myths concern about the nine female symbolism. (To be continued) Join us in The Mago Circle https://www.facebook.com/groups/magoism/.
(Special Post 1) Multi-linguistic Resemblances of “Mago” by Mago Circle Members

“Ma” in “Mago” and “Ma-Gaia” Mother Goddess, ca.7250-6700 BCE, Catal Huyuk Turkey [Conversation between Carol P. Christ, Ph.D. and Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.] Carol P. Christ (CPC): Below is culled from “Gaia” in Wikipedia: The Greek word γαῖα (transliterated as gaia) is a collateral form of γῆ (gē, Doric γᾶ ga and probably δᾶ da) meaning Earth, a word of uncertain origin. R. S. P. Beekes has suggested a Pre-Greek origin. In Mycenean Greek Ma-ka (trans. as Ma-ga, “Mother Gaia”) also contains the root ga-. Helen Hye-Sook Hwang (HHH): “Mago” and “Goma” are closely linked. Gom or Goma means the bear and Magoist shaman queen of the late fourth millennium BCE. She is also related with the Big Bear constellation. “Go” is used as a modifier referring to Mago or the Goddess in various texts of East Asia. “Mago” is related with “magi,” whose singular form is “magus” or “magos.” Will have to check for more details and the source. CPC: My intuition is that “ma” and “na” are baby talk for mother. In other words, preceding any language. Mycenean is IE language, “Pre-Greek” is not IE. CPC: Below is “Mother” from Wikipedia: Synonyms and translations The proverbial “first word” of an infant often sounds like “ma” or “mama”. This strong association of that sound with “mother” has persisted in nearly every language on earth, countering the natural localization of language. Familiar or colloquial terms for mother in English are: Aama, Mata used in Nepal Mom and mommy are used in the United States, Canada, South Africa, Philippines, India and parts of the West Midlands including Birmingham in the United Kingdom. Mum and mummy are used in the United Kingdom, Canada, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, India, Pakistan, Hong Kong and Ireland. Charles, Prince of Wales publicly addressed his mother Queen Elizabeth II as “Mummy” on the occasion of her Diamond Jubilee. Ma, mam, and mammy are used in Netherlands, Ireland, the Northern areas of the United Kingdom, and Wales; it is also used in some areas of the United States. In many other languages, similar pronunciations apply: Maa, aai, amma, and mata are used in languages of India like Assamese, Hindi, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu etc. Mamá, mama, ma, and mami in Spanish Mama in Polish, German, Russian and Slovak Māma (妈妈/媽媽) in Chinese Máma in Czech and in Ukrainian Maman in French and Persian Ma, mama in Indonesian Mamaí, mam in Irish Mamma in Italian, Icelandic, Latvian and Swedish Māman or mādar in Persian Mamãe or mãe in Portuguese Mā̃ (ਮਾਂ) in Punjabi Mama in Swahili Em (אם) in Hebrew A’ma (ܐܡܐ) in Aramaic Má or mẹ in Vietnamese Mam in Welsh Eomma (엄마, pronounced [ʌmma]) in Korean In many south Asian cultures and the Middle East, the mother is known as amma, oma, ammi or “ummi”, or variations thereof. Many times, these terms denote affection or a maternal role in a child’s life. HHH: The name for Goddess seems as ancient as the language itself. [“Ma” being the first intentional word to be spoken by a baby.] Helen Hye-Sook Hwang: Scholars and mythologists agree that “ma” means both one’s mother and the Goddess, I quoted it in my dissertation written in 2004. Judy E Foster: Brilliant discussion, Helen and Carol! So many revelations… hard to keep up! But do continue, its fascinating – makes so much sense. (To be continued)Join the discussion of this and other topics in The Mago Circle, Facebook Group.
(Special Post Mother Teresa 1) A Role Model for Women? by Mago Circle Members

[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.] Part I: Why are we talking about Mother Teresa? [The conversation began among Anne Wilkerson Allen, Helen Hwang, and Wennifer Lin in a personal message and editor’s group. We agreed that Mother Teresa’s Western (Albanian) identity is hardly taken into consideration in the public perception of her as a secular and religious leader. Then, we decided to bring the topic to the Mago Circle.] Anne Wilkerson Allen: [A] posted this today and I think it is discussion worthy. Mother Teresa: Anything but a saint… scienceblog.com The myth of altruism and generosity surrounding Mother Teresa is dispelled in a paper by Serge Larivée and Genevieve Chenard of University of Montreal’s Department of Psychoeducation and Carole Sénéchal of the University of Ottawa’s Faculty of Education… http://scienceblog.com/60730/mother-teresa-anything-but-a-saint/#IdkpoWrDtMAAVCAg.99 Anne Wilkerson Allen: It is not my desire to bash the Church – I think everyone here is fully aware of the evils of patriarchy and the way the Church has used women, abused and killed women…but Teresa is an icon in the West, in particular, of saintliness. Even non-Catholics love her. Why? And is what she did really worthy of role modeling? Anne Wilkerson Allen: This was also on the thread. Not a huge fan of Hitchens, and I think calling her work a “death cult” is extreme, but I am interested in your opinions please. Christopher Hitchens – Mother Teresa: Hell’s Angel [1994] In 1994, three years before her death, journalist Christopher Hitchens made this documentary asking if Mother Teresa’s reputation was deserved… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76_qL6fiyDw Anne Wilkerson Allen: I would also like to talk about altruism and some of the areas we have touched on before…at what point is my “help” an imposition in a third world country? Is my desire to “help” spurred by years of programming or heart? I honestly don’t know anymore. Anne Wilkerson Allen: There is also a part of me that wonders if this deflection of blame and highlighting of Teresa’s faults now is yet another “Let the women take the fall” action. Anne Wilkerson Allen: NOT that I find her blameless – her advocacy against contraception and abortion is decidedly anti-female, but there is so much focus on the Pope and the priests now….I keep wondering when the abuses of the nuns is going to come to light. Anne Wilkerson Allen: I think Ireland recently had something in the news about this… Ireland apologizes for Catholic laundry scandal Ireland’s premier has issued a state apology to the thousands of Irish women who spent years working without pay in prison-style laundries run by Catholic nuns. Former residents of the now-defunct Magdalene Laundries have campaigned for the past decade to get the government to apologize and pay compensation to an estimated 1,000 survivors of the workhouses. Two weeks ago the Irish government published an investigation into the state’s role in overseeing the laundries. It found that more than 10,000 women worked in 10 laundries from 1922 to 1996, when the last Dublin facility closed down… http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-202_162-57570107/ireland-apologizes-for-catholic-laundry-scandal/ Anne Wilkerson Allen: One of my friends was one of these girls. [Z]: I have wanted to bring attention to this issue for a long time but did not have a chance or was biting my time. Now Anne is pointing out some of the crucial issues about her, Mother Teresa, I am so thankful for this opportunity for us to sort out and think collectively. Thank you Anne! [Z]: Yes, the Catholic Laundry Scandal was shared here too!!! Anne Wilkerson Allen: It’s hard. She is iconic for many women. I did not know the sordid details or the horrors – not that it excuses anything….but when I was young, I saw her as someone to emulate….and thus became immolated…. [Z]: I have been thinking all along the way that she should not be a role model for women. Can you believe that I did even as a once Catholic Sister?!!! I know that many religious women out there will agree with me too. [Z]: My critique is not much on her as a person. But the fact that she represents morality for especially women makes me mad. Oh, there seems a lot more about reasons why we should debunk the mystique of Mother Teresa. Anne Wilkerson Allen: One of the things Hirchens pointed out was that it made Westerners feel good that this wonderful white woman was helping the poor in Calcutta….though she rarely seemed to be in Calcutta. Another friend told me that he knew one of the sisters of charity and that she told him they were encouraged to flog themselves on a regular basis….sick sick sick Anne Wilkerson Allen: This is why I have a problem with the mentality that says evil exists to teach us something…..that suffering exists to highlight our joy….there is just something WRONG with that. Anne Wilkerson Allen: We are all dark and light and in-between. [Z]: I am not surprised. Yes, definitely. What a waste of time and intelligence if not already damaging many turning the navigation backward!!! [Helen Hwang calls out the individual names to join the discussion, and is responded by what follows.] [B]: In Minneapolis there is a charity founder, Mary Jo Copeland, who helps the homeless & hungry. She just received an award from the President. She seems selfless, like Mother Teresa did (at least in […]

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.
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.
(Prose & Photography) Equinox Reflection by Sara Wright

Photography by Sara Wright I gaze out my bedroom window and hear yet another golden apple hit the ground. The vines that hug the cabin and climb up the screens are heavy with unripe grapes and the light that is filtered through the trees in front of the brook is luminous – lime green tipped in gold – My too sensitive eyes are blessedly well protected by this canopy of late summer leaves. The maples on the hill are losing chlorophyll and are painting the hollow with splashes of bittersweet orange and red. The dead spruces by the brook will probably collapse this winter providing Black bears with even more precious ants and larvae to eat in early spring. I only hope that some bears will survive the fall slaughter to return to this black bear sanctuary; in particular two beloved young ones… Mushrooms abound, amanitas, boletes morels, puff balls, the latter two finding their way into my salads. The forest around my house is in an active state of becoming with downed limbs and sprouting fungi becoming next year’s soil. The forest floor smells so sweet that all I can imagine is laying myself down on a bed of mosses to sleep and dream. The garden looks as tired as I am; lily fronds droop, yellowing leaves betraying the season at hand. Bright green pods provide a startling contrast to fading scarlet bee balm. Wild asters are abundant and goldenrod covers the fields with a bright yellow garment. Every wild bush has sprays of berries. My crabapple trees are bowed, each twig heavy with winter fruit. Most of the birds have absconded to the fields that are ripe with the seeds of wild grasses. The mourning doves are an exception – they gather together each dawn waiting patiently for me to fill the feeder. In the evening I am serenaded by soft cooing. One chicken hawk hides in the pine, lying in wait for the unwary…Just a few hummingbirds remain…whirring wings and twittering alert me to continued presence as they settle into the cherry tree to sleep, slipping into a light torpor with these cool September nights… Spiders are spinning their egg cases, even as they prepare to die. I can still find toads hopping around the house during the warmest hours of the day. Although the grass is long I will not mow it for fear of killing these most precious and threatened of species. I am heavily invested in seeing these toads burrow in to see another spring. My little frogs sit on their lily pads seeking the warmth of a dimming afternoon sun. Soon they too will slumber below fallen leaves or mud. I am surrounded by such beauty, and so much harvest bounty that even though I am exhausted I take deep pleasure out of each passing day of this glorious month of September, the month of my birth. Unlike many folks, for me, moving into the dark of the year feels like a blessing. Another leave -taking is almost upon me, and I am having trouble letting go of this small oasis that I have tended with such care for more than thirty years… I don’t know what this winter will bring to my modest cabin whose foundation is crumbling under too much moisture and too many years of heavy snow. In the spring extensive excavation will begin. A new foundation must be poured and this work will destroy the gardens I have loved, the mossy grounds around the south end of the house that I have nurtured for so long. In this season of letting go I must find a way to lay down my fears, and release that which I am powerless to change. Somehow… I have no idea what I will return to except that I have made it clear that none of my beloved trees be harmed. I am grateful that Nature is mirroring back to me so poignantly that letting go is the way through: That this dying can provide a bedrock foundation for another spring birth. As a Daughter of the Earth I lean into ancient wisdom, praying that this exhausted mind and body will be able to follow suit. (Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.
Imbolc/Early Spring – a Season of Uncertainty by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Traditionally the Seasonal transition of Imbolc/Early Spring, celebrated in early February in the Northern Hemisphere, and in early August in the Southern Hemisphere, has been a time of nurturing the new life that is beginning to show itself, around us and within. It is a time of committing one’s self to the new life and inspiration – in the garden, in the soul, and in the Cosmos. We may include in our celebrations and contemplations of this Season the beginnings of the new young Cosmos as She was, that time in our cosmic story when She was only a billion years old and galaxies were forming; and also the new which has continually emerged throughout the eons, and is ever coming forth. The flame of being, as it has been imagined by many cultures, within and around, is to be protected and nurtured: the new being requires dedication and attention. In the early stages of its advent, there is nothing certain about its staying power and growth: it may flicker and be vulnerable. There may be uncertainties of various kinds. There is risk and resistance to coming into being. The Universe itself knew resistance to its expansion when it encountered gravitation in our very beginnings, in the primordial Flaring Forth[i]. The unfolding of the Universe was never without creative tension. The Universe knows it daily, in every moment: and we participate in this creative tension of our place of being. Urge to Be budding forth Imbolc/Early Spring can be a time of remembering personal vulnerabilities, feeling them and accepting them, but remaining resolute in birthing and tending of the new, listening for and responding to the Urge to Be[ii]of the Creative Universe within. Brian Swimme has said (quoting cultural anthropologist A.L. Kroeber) that the destiny of the human is not “bovine placidity” but the highest degree of tension that can be creatively born[iii]. many flames of being, strengthening each other These times are filled with creative tension, collectively and for most, personally as well; there is much resistance, yet there is promise of so much good energy arising. We may be witness to both. This Season of Imbolc/Early Spring may encourage attention, intention and dedication to strengthening well-being: in self, and in the relational communal context, and opening to our direct immersion in the Well of Creativity. We may be strengthened with the joining of hands, as well as the listening within to the sacred depths, in ceremonial circle at this time. NOTES: [i]As our origins (popularly named as “the Big Bang”) are named by Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme in The Universe Story. [ii]As I name this determined Virgin quality in PaGaian Cosmology. [iii]The Canticle to the Cosmos, DVD #8, “The Nature of the Human”. References: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era. New York: HarperCollins, 1992. Swimme, Brian. Canticle to the Cosmos. DVD series, 1990.
(Video) An Autumn Equinox Ceremony by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Autumn Equinox/Mabon Northern Hemisphere – September 21-23 Southern Hemisphere – March 21-23 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRJNY1LSvIs&t=1175s …oOo… The purpose of this video is for ceremony, and I suggest pausing the video where it suits you, to add your own processing, embellishments and/or your own drum, percussion and voice wherever you please. I have made short spaces in the video where it could be paused. The script for this Autumn Equinox/Mabon ceremony is offered in Chapter 11 of my book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony, with all acknowledgements and references there. In particular I mention here, credit for the story of Demeter and Persephone as told by Charlene Spretnak in her book Lost Goddesses of Early Greece. For more full participation in the ceremony, you could have one or more stalks of wheat or native grain tied with a red thread/ribbon, a garden pot with soil, a small garden trowel, a flower bulb (daffodil type), food and drink, that may represent your “harvest” – ready for eating and drinking. The elements of Water, Fire, Earth and Air on the altar in this video are placed in directions that are appropriate to my region in the Southern Hemisphere, and East Coast Australia: you may place yours differently, and transliterate when I mention the direction (which I do minimally). The images used are a collage of footage and photos from the 2024 Autumn Equinox ceremony at my place in Wakka Wakka country, South East Queensland Australia, and from previous Autumn Equinox ceremonies I facilitated over the decades in MoonCourt, Goddess ceremonial space in NSW Australia, Darug and Gundungurra country. My partner Robert (Taffy) Seaborne who has participated in all the Seasonal ceremonies since Samhain 2000, adds his voice to this video. Image credits: Demeter and Persephone (500 B.C.E. Greece). Hallie Iglehart Austen, The Heart of the Goddess, p.72. Art of Demeter and Persephone on MoonCourt wall: Cernak Herself Music credit: “Gentle Sorrow” by Sky: which he has previously allowed me to use in my work. This piece of music is also used in the Autumn Equinox meditation on my PaGaian Cosmology Meditations published 2015.
Summer Solstice Poiesis by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Seasonal Wheel of Stones Both Summer and Winter Solstices may be understood as particular celebrations of the Mother/Creator aspect of the Creative Triplicity of the Cosmos (often named as the Triple Goddess). The Solstices are Gateways between the dark and the light parts of the annual cycle of our orbit around Sun; they are both sacred interchanges, celebrating deep relationship, communion, with the peaking of fullness of either dark or light, and the turning into the other. The story is that the Young One/Virgin aspect of Spring has matured and now at Summer Solstice her face changes into the Mother of Summer. Summer Solstice may be understood as a birthing place, as Winter Solstice may also be, but at this time the transiton is from light back into dark, returning to larger self, from whence we come: it is the full opening, the “Great Om”, the Omega. I represent the Summer Solstice on my altar wheel of stones with the Omega-yonic shape of the horseshoe. I take this inspiration from Barbara Walker’s description of the horseshoe in her Woman’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets, as “Goddess’s symbol of ‘Great Gate’[i]”; and her later connection of it with the Sheil-na-gig yoni display[ii]. Sri Yantra. Ref: A.T. Mann & Jane Lyle, p.75 Summer Solstice is traditonally understood as a celebration of Union between Lover and Beloved, and the deep meaning of that is essentially a Re-Union: of sensed manifest form (the Lover) with All-That-Is (the Beloved). This may be understood as a fullness of expression of this manifest form, the small selves that we are, being all that we may be, and giving of this fullness of being in every moment: that would be a blissful thing, like a Summerland as it was understood to be. The boundaries of the self are broken, they merge: all is given away – all is poured forth, the deep rich dark stream of life flows out. It is a Radiance, the shining forth of the self which is at the same time a give-away, a consuming of the self.In traditional PaGaian Summer ceremony each participant is affirmed as “Gift”[iii]; and that is understood to mean that we are both given and received – all at the same time. The breath is given and life is received. We receive the Gift with each breath in, and we are the Gift with each breath out. As we fulfill our purpose, as we give ourselves over, we dissolve, as the Sun is actually doing in every moment. The “moment of grace”[iv]that is Summer Solstice, marks the stillpoint in the height of Summer, when light reaches its peak, and Earth’s tilt causes the Sun to begin its “decline”: that is, its movement back to the South in the Northern Hemisphere (in June), and back to the North in the Southern Hemisphere (in December). Whereas at Winter Solstice when out of the darkness it is light that is “born”, as it may be expressed: at the peak of Summer, in the warmth of expansion, it is the dark that is “born”. Insofar as Winter Solstice is about birth, then Summer Solstice is about death, the passing into the harvest. It is a celebration of profound mystical significance, which may be confronting in a culture where the dark is not valued for its creative telios; and it is noteworthy that Summer Solstice has not gained any popularity of the kind that Winter Solstice has globally (as ‘Christmas’). The re-union with All-That-Is is not generally considered a jolly affair, though when understood it may actually be blissful. Full Flowers to the Flames Summer is a time when many grains ripen, deciduous trees peak in their greenery, lots of bugs and creatures are bursting with business and creativity: yet in that ripening, is the turning, the fulfilment of creativity, and it is given away. Like the Sun and the wheat and the fruit, we find the purpose of our Creativity in the releasing of it; just as our breath must be released for its purpose of life. The symbolism used to express this in ceremony has been the giving of a full rose/flower to the flames. Summer is like the rose, as it says in this tradition[v]– blossom and thorn … beautiful, fragrant, full – yet it comes with thorns that open the skin. All is given over. All is given over: the feast is for enjoying With the daily giving of ourselves in our everyday acts, we each feed the world with our lives: we do participate in creating the cosmos, as many indigenous traditions still recognise. Just as our everyday lives are built on the fabric of the work/creativity of all who went before us, so the future, as well as the present, is built on ours, no matter how humble we may think our contribution is. We may celebrate the blossoming of our creativity then, which is Creativity, and the bliss of that blossoming, at a time when Earth and Sun are pouring forth their abundance, giving it away. In this Earth-based cosmology, what is given is the self fully realized and celebrated, not a self that is abnegated – just as the fruit gives its full self: as Starhawk says, “Oneness is attained not through losing the self, but through realizing it fully”[vi]. Everyday tasks can be joyful, if valued, and graciously received: I think of Eastern European women singing as they work in the fields – it is a common practice still for many. We are the Bread of Life Summer Solstice celebrates Mother Sun coming to fullness in Her creative engagement with Earth, and we are the Sun. Solstice Moment is a celebration of communion, the feast of life – which is for the enjoying, not for the holding onto. We do desire to be received, to be consumed – it is our joy and our grief. Brian Swimme says: “Every moment of our lives disappears into the ongoing story of the Universe. Our creativity is energising the whole[vii]”. As it may be ceremoniously affirmed: we are (each is) …

(Poem) Just Remember WE in S/HE by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Just Remember WE in S/HE Remember the Universe is without the beginning or the end. Remember the Creatrix is the Music of the Universe.
(Bell Essay 5) The Ancient Korean Bell and Magoism by Helen Hwang

Part V: The Nine Nipples and Korean Magoist Identity Part V demonstrates the difference in bells of Korea, China, and Japan with regard to the relief of nine nipples. Chinese bells after the Han dynasty (206 BCE-220 CE) got away with the nipples wholesale, whereas Japanese bells inaccurately mimicked nine nipples. On the other hand, the nine nipples continued to be sculpted on Sillan Korean bells and throughout history. In fact, the nine nipples became the hallmark of Korean bells. Why did post-Han China discontinue the nine nipples, a legacy from Shang and Zhou times? What made Japan mimic the nipples on the bell? What does it mean that Korean bells kept the nine nipples intact throughout history? These questions remain unanswered without the framework of the mytho-history of Old Magoism that defines ancient Korea as the creator and defender of Magoism in pre- and proto-Chinese times. The fact that bells with the nine nipples re-emerged during 7th-8th century Silla (57 BCE-935 CE) is no accident. In fact, it supports the premise that Old Magoism during which Magoist female shamans ruled was revived by Sillan leaders. Silla Koreans took the role of witness to the legacy of Old Magoism before it vanished into the subliminal memory of history once and for all. Like other symbols of the number nine such as the nine dragons, nine-tailed fox, and nine maidens that I have shown in a series of preceding essays, the nine nipples are the cultural/conceptual relic from the bygone Magoist history underlying Sinocentric historiography of East Asia. On one level, the relief of nipples forged on the bells from Korea, China, and Japan in one way or another at some point of history substantiates the cultural influence of Old Magoism across the national boundaries of East Asia. On another level, the fact that the nine nipples characterize Korean bells throughout history suggests the primary association of ancient Koreans with Magoism. Korean bells have served the mission of carrying the cultural memory of Old Magoism. Let us backtrack a bit and ask: Is it possible to conclude that the Zhou bell was the original model of the Sillan bell? It is dubious to deem that the Sillan bell took the model of the Zhou bell solely. That is primarily because the Sillan bell is far more explicit than the Zhou bell in female symbology. The Zhou bell’s nipples are not even called nipples. Foremost, official history of ancient China has no explanation for the female principle embodied in the nine nipples of Zhou and Shang bells. It appears that the Han dynasty (206 BCE-220 CE) was the landmark that defined China without regard to its attitude toward Old Magoism. The umbilical cord was not only cut off but also used to matricide, marking the birth of full-fledged patriarchy. The bloody hand was washed in falsified historiography. The Han dynasty marks the period of transition from the pseudo-Magoist to the anti-Magoist for China. In other words, China as a political force began, or rather continued, to abandon the legacy of Old Magoism and forged a new identity of patriarchal rulership in writing. In about four centuries thereafter, we find the bells of the Dang dynasty (618-906) utterly non-traditional in style, showing no sign of female symbology. Bell, Chen Dynasty (575), China Jingyun Bell, Tang Dynasty (711), China Protruded knobs are expressed in Jingyun bell cast in 711 CE but hard to associate them with nipples. The number nine symbology is no longer included. Instead, the magnitude in size and weight (247 cm and 6,500 kg) was there to adumbrate what has gone into oblivion, the magical work of epiphany. Discontinuity between Zhou bells and Dang bells cannot be more overt. As seen in above images, Chinese bells of the post-Dang period are adorned in entirely new styles among which the convoluted end-lines are one of the most distinctive features. Creativity without harmony is no ingenuity but an expression of confusion. Power without harmony is only a disguise of fear and guilt. And harmony comes from the Great Goddess, Mago. The contrast of the Dang bell is heightened when it is juxtaposed with the contemporaneous Sillan counterpart. It is unequivocal that the Sillan Korean bell is closer to the Zhou bell in appearance than the Dang bell to the Zhou bell. Experts may deem this as a corollary that ancient Silla was under the influence of Zhou culture. However, I suggest that both Silla and Zhou took the footstep of the pre-Chinese tradition of Old Magoism. Put differently, there were older models that are not fully exposed at this time. Precisely, Sinocentric thinking is under investigation. On the part of proto-Chinese Korean history, according to mainstream historians, Joseon (2333 BCE-232 BCE) is rendered a myth lacking historicity. Silla not only duly inherited the heritage of Old Magoism but also sought to revive the rule of Old Magoism whose political stance strikingly differed from her contemporaneous neighboring state, Dang China. In fact, the Dang dynasty (618 CE-906 CE) coexisted with the united Silla period (668 CE-936 CE), shorter than the last third of the Silla period (57 BCE-935 CE). What prevents one from thinking that Silla inherited the symbolism of nine nipples directly from pre-Chinese East Asian/Korean Magoist Culture? Interestingly, Japanese bells have nipples whose numbers are, nonetheless, inconsistent, more than nine. While showing no overt symbology of female sexuality, the Japanese bell displays the nipples in the four corners aligning with its predecessors. In comparison with Korean bells, nonetheless, they are evidently monotonous in artistry. Absent are the breast circumferences as well as the seats for nipples. Neither goddess images nor intricately designed rinceau designs are employed. However, a hue of mimicry is echoing. The lack of originality in Japanese bells seemed plainly noticed by the Japanese themselves upon encountering Korean bells. More than fifty Korean bells were taken to Japan during the colonial period (1910-1945) and even before then and still remain there. Among them, six bells are known from Silla, cast before the 10th century CE. In fact, the bell in Unjuji, Japan, is alleged …
(Photo Essay 3) ‘Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess of Korea’ by Helen Hwang

Part III: Archaeology Bespeaks What Ideological Hetero-sexuality Can’t Do Our story-tellers informed us that Gaeyang Halmi is venerated and celebrated on January 14th annually on the lunar calendar. There are two separate rituals performed on that day. Villagers, both men and women, offer their ritual ceremony in the morning in Confucian style. The officiant must preserve the purification ritual, confining oneself to home to avoid ominous affairs for a week prior to the ceremony. After the ceremony of the villagers, Mudang groups come from outside the town and offer their Shaman rituals. A cleavage between two groups is still freshly detected in their narratives. While villagers conform to the Confucian style rituals with a despising but curious eye for the female-centered Shaman rituals, Mudangs are much more powerful in their capacities to command people, spirits, and materials. The Shamanic ritual celebration is fairly well-known domestically as well as overseas to the Chinese and the Japanese, according to our lore transmitters. People from China and Japan come to join the Mudang rituals, a vestige of the intercultural celebration that may have originated in ancient times, a point to be elaborated later. What caught my attention was the fact that the ritual celebration is known as the Ritual of Yongwang (the Dragon King) not the Ritual of Gaeyang Halmi. Our two narrators, Mr. Jeong Dong-Uk and Ms. Jeong Si-Geum, brother and sister, testified contradictorily vis-à-vis the Dragon King. Mr. Jeong mentioned that Gaeyang Halmi is the wife of Dragon King,[i] whereas Ms. Jeong spoke of Gaeyang Halmi as a solo deity without spouse. Ms. Jeong sternly said, “She was alone [without spouse]. She had eight daughters.” “It is said that there used to be a house wherein Gaeyang Halmi and her eight daughters lived together. I saw the cooking pots and household things in the ruin,” added Ms. Jeong. [Interestingly, the motif that she saw the cooking pots and other kitchen items in the ruin reminded me of other Mago folk stories from other regions. People seem to take such artifacts as pots and household things discovered in the ruin as an indication that the myth of Mago Halmi who is told to have lived in the place is plausible.] The topos of “the dragon king” was likely added later on to comply with Confucian ideology. In fact, none of our narrators mentioned the dragon king as the main deity of the Suseong Shrine. The fact that it is called the ritual of the dragon king suggests another layer of erosion/castration/dethronement done to the supreme divinity of Gaeyang Halmi.

Category: Feminism

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(Book Excerpt 2) Single Mothers Speak on Patriarchy Ed. by Trista Hendren & Pat Daly

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(Art) Shamanism and Alchemy by France Guerin

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(Poetry) Prayer to the Mother by Amina Rodriguez

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(Poem) Lavender by Andrea Nicki

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(Essay 2) Poet as Initiate: A Rebirth of the Goddess & The Darkmother in Women’s Poetry in the 70’s by Louisa Calio

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Mago Almanac Year 9 Monthly Wheels

S/HE: IJGS V4 N1-2 2025 (B/W Paperback)

Mago Almanac Year 8 (for 2025)

Program Booklets

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