March 11, 2020February 24, 2020 Mago Work2 Comments

(Essay 2) What It’s Like to Live on Wimmin’s Land by Hearth Moon Rising

Part 1 is here I loved living on wimmin’s land. And I hated it. The thing I hated most about living on the land was the fighting. Well, that and Read More …

January 8, 2020January 8, 2020 Mago Work1 Comment

(Essay 1) What It’s Like to Live on Wimmin’s Land by Hearth Moon Rising

There’s been a lot of discussion on social media over the past year about reviving wimmin’s land. Many women are proposing establishing all-woman living collectives in rural areas, a phenomenon Read More …

November 13, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago Work1 Comment

(Essay) Birth of the Moon by Hearth Moon Rising

Many devotees of the Goddess are familiar with the story of Inanna’s Descent, yet this is not the only surviving Mesopotamian myth about the underworld. Offhand, I can think of Read More …

September 11, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Essay) The Brewer was a Lady by Hearth Moon Rising

Like the swelling of the Tigris and Euphrates,You pour the filtered beer.Like the onrush of the sacred rivers, Ninkasi,You pour the filtered beer.~ Hymn to Ninkasi The grocery chain where Read More …

July 10, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago Work3 Comments

(Prose) Healing Medicine From the Woods by Hearth Moon Rising

Is your heart weary? Is your spirit longing for beauty? Does sorrow consume your thoughts? Are you lonely? The woodland thrush has the antidote for you. The most evocative of Read More …

May 8, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Essay) The Twins of Cerridwyn by Hearth Moon Rising

In Western astrology, the sun is in the sign of Gemini May 21st to June 21st. Gemini is known as the sign of the twins. Stories about divine twins are Read More …

March 13, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago Work1 Comment

(Essay) Cundrie the Sorceress by Hearth Moon Rising

The exceedingly ugly and scary woman is ubiquitous in European fairytales. Tales such a Hansel and Gretel and Vasalissa the Beautiful cast her as evil, but this is a later Read More …

January 9, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago Work1 Comment

(Prose) The Cat Goddess in Ancient Egypt by Hearth Moon Rising

Ancient Egypt is rightfully seen as the apogee of cat worship. Less well known is the ideological basis of that worship. Even as superstitions of cats as purveyors of evil Read More …

September 12, 2018November 8, 2019 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Essay) Back in Matriarchal Times by Hearth Moon Rising

Back in the back woods, back in the holler, back when I was a little girl absorbing values that would prepare and frustrate me in my life ahead, my mother Read More …

July 11, 2018November 8, 2019 Mago Work1 Comment

(Essay) Nine Worlds I Knew by Hearth Moon Rising

The following is an excerpt from Divining with Animal Guides: Answers from the World at Handby Hearth Moon Rising, recently published by Moon Books. It is available online in paperback Read More …

May 9, 2018November 8, 2019 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Essay) Hex to Perfection by Hearth Moon Rising

The following is an excerpt from Divining with Animal Guides: Answers from the World at Hand by Hearth Moon Rising, recently published by Moon Books. It is available online in Read More …

March 23, 2018November 8, 2019 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Essay) Counting to Three by Hearth Moon Rising

The following is an excerpt from Divining with Animal Guides: Answers from the World at Hand by Hearth Moon Rising, recently published by Moon Books. It is available online in Read More …

August 25, 2017November 8, 2019 Mago Work2 Comments

(Essay) This Disease Cannot Be Excised: Countering Patriarchal Religion by Hearth Moon Rising

It is clear to many feminists that the most important and challenging avenues for pursuing women’s liberation in the twenty-first century are elimination of poverty and freedom from violence. Violence Read More …

(Book Review) Susan Hawthorne’s Dark Matters: a novel by Harriet Ann Ellenberger

LOVE IN THE CROSSHAIRS Reflections on Susan Hawthorne’s Dark Matters: A Novel I am asking myself what accounts for the haunting power of Dark Matters, this latest in a long line of books of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction by Susan Hawthorne. One clue may simply be the length of that trail of published work which precedes Dark Matters. No one creates a profound work of art by staying on the surface of life, but it is equally true that no can do it before they’ve taught themselves to be at home in their own language. Each sentence of Susan Hawthorne’s Dark Matters says what it says — and it also says, “my writer knew what she was doing.” Dark Matters vibrates through time, in part because the line of writing which leads to it includes more than Hawthorne’s own: that line begins with Sappho, the tenth muse, the rockstar of the Mediterranean, of whose multitudinous lyrics only fragments have survived the attempts to eradicate them, along with the memory of her and her companions. A whole machinery of cultural destruction has been brought to bear on the poet of love, and we are left with bits and pieces that nonetheless retain their power to evoke and to move. Like the remnants of Sappho’s lyrics, the novel Dark Matters itself is made up of fragments. Its structure echoes the story being told as well as the background story of lesbian history, a zigzag trail through landscapes and timescapes of erasure and memory. Telling the love story of Kate and Mercedes in fragmented episodes allows for intensity (both in the scenes of beauty and in the scenes of terror), alternating with relief from intensity. And the fragments are arranged in such a way that the reader, along with Kate’s niece Desi, gradually moves through a mist of unanswered questions and mysterious gaps toward a feeling for what drew Mercedes and Kate together and a comprehension of the forces that tore them from each other’s arms. The love story that is the heart of Dark Matters begins with Mercedes teaching Kate the tango, and from there they dance their way into a shared life. Mercedes’ family has fled torture in Chile to resettle in Australia, but when things go bad politically in her new home, the torturers show up again. In a dawn raid, armed and hooded intruders kill Priya (Kate and Mercedes’ beloved dog), shoot Mercedes, and seize Kate, transporting her to a remote detention center, where she is subjected to the textbook methods of torture, which few survive. For Kate, the lesbian and feminist, however, there is an added twist. The most sophisticated of the torturers, the one she calls Velvet Voice, is a man who has gone beyond his job description. He’s been tracking Kate as obsessively as a rejected suitor bent on revenge: he’s read her poetry and her political writings; he’s gone through her library and studied her performances. When he grinds his heel into her left hand, breaking the bones, he calls her “sinister sister.” He knows Kate, and breaking her spirit along with her body is not only his work, it’s his pleasure. He intends to turn everything she’s ever loved against her. Kate doesn’t know where she is, why she’s there, who authorized her being there, who else is being held in the building nor what is being done to them. She doesn’t know if Mercedes has survived. She doesn’t know what to expect next. She has been systematically robbed of situational awareness, the cues to orient herself in time and space blocked by her captors. All she has is her mind and her memory. And this is where the great richness of Dark Matters comes in because, as it turns out, Kate’s mind is very full. There are the memories of her life as a child, memories of her travels to her mother’s Greek homeland, later memories of journeys and conversations with Mercedes, and then there are the memories extending back thousands of years, to the time of the Eleusinian rituals, to a time when women had not yet been de-authorized, to a time when the old goddesses were a living presence in the life of the Mediterranean peoples. Memory is the mother of the muses, and as Kate remembers, she begins to write archaic-sounding poems in her head and one night she dreams, like her grandmother, in the old language of Classical Greece. To tell more of Dark Matters might be to ruin it for new readers, so I’ll stop here with one last thought: there is so much wisdom woven into this book, you can spend weeks teasing out the strands and pondering them. As Desi says, “Those goddesses are not dead. I mean not dead-dead! Not really dead! They keep coming back in cycles. It all depends on who you talk to.” Meet Mago Contributor, Harriet Ann Ellenberger
(Poem & Photography) Christmas Grouse by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright I left seed for you. A pomegranate too. Would you come Christmas day? The veil was thin last night. This morning Madonna’ s Feathered Body Spoke. When you ran across the snow I remembered the song from long ago… Partridge in a Pear Tree. Twelve days begun in earnest conversation bridging difference in Love. Ever widening circles… Soul, spirit and body entwine underground, weaving many into One. Mother Root Father Root. And then, You were Three! Postscript: I have Ruffed grouse who live around the house. Sometimes a week goes by and I don’t see one, and I fear they have left me, but lately I have been flushing them in the woods, or have followed three towed hieroglyphics in the snow. Occasionally I have a momentary glimpse. Just to know they are here is enough. Last fall I found a dead grouse on the road, held him tenderly, cut mole brown and black striped tail feathers and his shining henna ruff into a fan, knowing the ‘crown’ would grace my Norfolk pine when November came around… Yesterday late in the afternoon I scattered some seed around, cut up a pomegranate in the hopes that the partridge would find the food. Lily, my dove, told me the partridge would come. An evening call from my cousin lit up the night after I had lit the Madonna’s candles, and set intentions for widening visions. We two, so different are so alike! Such a paradox. Oh the Italian is running strong. Family healing is afoot. Devout Catholic and Nature Mystic meet as more than close relatives – almost brother and sister now – each is an authentic expression of the divine thread. Today that thread manifests for me as not just one partridge but three walking under evergreen cover just outside my door. The most I have ever seen! A trinity of partridge? Why is the partridge such a symbolic earthly – spirit presence? What comes to mind is that partridge/grouse are heavy bodied; they fly low through the trees and spend much of their time foraging on the ground. They are embodied birds – in close relationship with the earth – Unlike the soaring eagle for example, these birds literally hug the earth with feathered grace. Becoming a meal for men who hunt, these wild birds are prey animals not predators. It is worth mentioning that we honor avian predators as a culture. We don’t hunt the predatory birds; we hunt the prey. I think the song ‘partridge in a pear tree’ is trying to tell us story of how important it is to be attached to both spirit and body in a non – predatory way… I see the bird as embodied spirit, the tree is Life.(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright/
(Meet Mago Contributor) Joan Powell

Joan Powell is a fourth generation Australian and lives in central Queensland. Since discovering the Creativity of Mary, Joan has spent recent years retracing her ancestors stories and travels.
(Call for Contributions) Commemorating our ancestor feminists: Matilda Joslyn Gage (1826-1898), Marija Gimbutas (1921-1994), Mary Daly (1928-2010), Audre Lorde (1934-1992), Paula Gunn Allen (1939-2008), Gloria Anzaldua (1942-2004), and Your Hera

Dolmen, Ganghwa Island, S. Korea (from Wikimedia) What is feminism to you? Do you have a feminist ancestor? How do you see your feminist ancestor in your life and work today? And what does it mean that we commemorate our feminist ancestors collectively? Return to Mago (RTM) co-editors, Helen Hye-Sook Hwang and Jen Taylor, are seeking stories, essays, poems, songs, tributes, artworks, and creative works in memory of our feminist ancestors including Matilda Joslyn Gage (1826-1898), Marija Gimbutas (1921-1994), Mary Daly (1928-2010), Audre Lorde (1934-1992), Paula Gunn Allen (1939-2008), Gloria Anzaldua (1942-2004), and Your Hera.Tell us and the world something about her or her works that have influenced you in a particular way. You may go further to share how you have encountered your ancestor feminist(s), and how your life has evolved because of your ancestor feminist. These questions may be helpful: (1) Who she was/is to you? (2) What has touched you to your core? (3) How have you grown deeper and wider with or through her visions in the course of time? (4) How do you find her influence in you today the same or different from the time when you first encountered it? We are proud of our feminist ancestors. By calling for contributions for this special project (commemorating our ancestor feminists collectively), we co-editors intend to create a timespace wherein a new consciousness may take shape that serves the All (not just women or humans but also the non-human beings). We acknowledge that feminism is a beacon not the destination. No feminist is flawless or stands outside her own cultural and historical contexts. Our individual commemorations do not have to aim at a final statement. Contrarily, our words would always be ephemeral. We are not here to judge our ancestors but acknowledge who they were and how they left an impact on us. “I am grateful for my feminist ancestors. Your fights and struggles, ultimately a gift to ALL, have made it possible for me to become myself and discover the matricentric reality of WE/HERE/NOW. A feminist consciousness reset my life in my late 20s. Feminism was an indispensable and powerful tool for me to carve out my own identity, a Magoist Cetaceanist or a matricentric naturalist advocate. I began to ask hard questions, who I am and how I should live my life. I longed for ultimate freedom and peace in mind/heart. My encounter with Mary Daly, the U.S. post-Christian feminist thinker, in the mid-1990s was destined. Her feminist thought paved my feminist path, a shortcut to my destination. It was an incubator for my own thinking to shape and unfold. For a few years, I could not tell the difference between Daly’s thinking and my own thinking. I was able to break the shell of my own egg from within, thanks to your courage to be and become a Woman. Like you, I never forgot who I was/is, a Korean-native feminist. I am humbled to say that owning my own ethnic and cultural identity is the source of my empowerment, which I extend to you and your intellectual daughters. Our collective consciousness is alive and continues to evolve!” Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.“Growing up, I had the sense that something was missing, but I didn’t know what. In my twenties, studying philosophy, I found comfort in the question of a pre-Socratic named Meno, “How will you go about finding that thing the nature of which is totally unknown to you?” For me, unearthing feminist ancestors lost to history was not driven by accident but destiny. Walking to my apartment in Brooklyn at age 25, I stopped to peruse a pile of books left out on the sidewalk. One in particular caught my eye: The Politics of Women’s Spirituality, edited by Charlene Spretnak. I opened it and found an inscription on the first page, “For Mom – The work is only now beginning… May 1990 Love, Lynn.” I knew I had found a treasure. The book was a portal and opened the world of so many feminist ancestors to me. Ntozake Shange’s declaration, “i found god in myself & i loved her fiercely,” sounded a trumpet call. Marija Gimbutas, Merlin Stone, Mary Daly, and so many others spilled from the pages. I read Gimbutas first because, at the time (1997), I was culturally conditioned to cringe at the concept of women’s spirituality. The word Goddess was unutterable. Gimbutas’ fierce scholarship fusing archeology and mythology broke my spell. My life was forever changed. I could name what was missing. The rest of the feminist ancestors in the book opened up to me, and the breadcrumb trail to so many others lay revealed like glistening stones in the moonlight.” Jen Taylor, Doctoral Student at CIIS We are also seeking reviewers who could give editors your feedback about a submission that we will receive. All inquiries must be directed to Dr. Hwang (ninemagos@gmail.com) and/or Ms. Taylor (jentaylor13@yahoo.com) via email. How to submit your contribution, please see here, Call for Contributions.
(Art) Nuestra Senora de Montserrat by Lydia Ruyle
The Crow’s Nest by Sara Wright

Photo by Sara Wright Bare tree shadowy veil old snow won’t let go. Beaded Judges shift spring tides hide predators with eyes. Crows reveal old bones… March is the month when crows scream, screeching and mobbing as they soar through indigo skies – their harsh declarations hurt my ears though I know they are mating and nesting. Although crows are as bright as the rest of the Corvids they are also mobsters, bullies who haunt the forest to harass sleeping owls; next month they will be stealing birds’ eggs or killing the songbirds themselves. With three billion birds extinct, their predatory nature might be considered a threat. And unlike most avian species their numbers are not decreasing. Crows will consume virtually anything; carrion is a favorite. And the latter quality, much like their intelligence reveals a more ‘positive’ side because crows strip the flesh from the bones of the dead. But overall, these ‘hooded’ (European terminology) birds are associated with death ‘A murder of crows’ is an apt description. Even new age folks associate them with the presence of the Shadow side of Reality. Women are often described as ‘old crows’ even if age is not a factor, and I believe there is truth behind this description. Patriarchal women, that is women who have rejected their own Motherline for the ‘Power of the Fathers’ fall prey to patriarchal domination, a system that is presently extinguishing the lives of humans and non – human species alike through capitalistic greed and indifference. The effects of this destructive way of life may manifest differently for men and women. Here I focus on women. The astounding absence of compassion, harsh judgments, the use of silence or screaming as a means of control, rigidity, bullying, knifing other women in the back, an unwillingness to wander across the isles, a refusal to examine personal shadow are qualities that reveal the character of ‘crow women’ who often obscure themselves by acting ‘Nice’. That is, until they strike with vengeance. I’ve known too many. Every year when I come round to March I face the dark side of the serpent, as I relive my mother’s absence in my life. I was an unwanted child, and because the mother – daughter bone was broken I floundered, and flounder still while enduring a seasonal spring descent as best as I can. Persephone rises but in my story no mother rejoices at this daughter’s return. As an adult I acquiesced, raged, mourned, and eventually held my mother and myself accountable for damages done. Then I tried to let go and couldn’t. Because I did the necessary work I didn’t know why. Enter the crows who helped enlighten me… Acknowledging the powers of death is important; feeding those powers is not. Once my mother fed the crows… and her mother did too. Now I have a neighbor who feeds her crows too.. years ago I periodically left food for these corvids before I lived here until I understood that by feeding the crows I was repeating an old patriarchal story, one that fuels the serpent who has wrapped itself around the earth four times and is gradually squeezing the life out of our planet (Martin Shaw). We are destroying Our Mother. I will not destroy mine. I continue to search for memories of my mother that are not associated with betrayal, confusion, silence, or loss. To my great surprise there are some and as each one surfaces, I wonder how I could have ‘forgotten’. A poignant example is a brief essay on wildflowers that I wrote for publication in which I ‘re -membered’ that my mother’s love for wildflowers was a gift that she bequeathed to me as a child. Yesterday, to celebrate this bond between us, I bought spring flowers. And remembered a son who once carried a giant stone egg from one side of an island to the other… Old crows are picking the bones… https://www.magoism.net/2014/12/meet-mago-contributor-sara-wright/
(Book Review) Jezebel: the Untold Story of the Bible’s Harlot Queen by Max Dashu

A very short review of Lesley Hazelton’s book Don’t let that last part of the title fool you. Hazelton shows that this ancient queen of Israel, a Phoenician princess married to king Ahab in Samaria, was never a harlot. She is not only reclaiming Jezebel but lays bare the way fundamentalist totalitarianism works. She provides a really important analysis of the way that Elijah and Elisha dragged down the Israelite kingdom by their attacks on religious pluralism and on the queen specifically. (Jehu to Yoram: “What peace, when your mother Jezebel’s harlotries and sorceries are so many?”) Their actions turned two allies, Phoenicia and Syria, into enemies and quickly resulted in Israel (the northern kingdom) being made into a tributary province of the fell Assyrian empire. There are some errors in the book, most of them minor. The most serious is her casting Astarte as wife of El (that’s actually Athirat, Asherah in Hebrew, who is not the same as Ashtart) but this does not affect her main thesis. She does a good job of breaking down the equation of polytheism with “harlotry” (zanah) and how this eventually made Jezebel to be regarded as a whore in the historical record and still today in popular cultures. On this topic, she has a wonderful discussion of how the notion of “sacred prostitution” was canonized by 19th and early 20th century (European/American) scholars, a development we are still seeing the effects of even among some Goddess-oriented scholars today. It’s worth quoting her on this: “The old-style gentlemen scholars, hampered by Orientalism and blinkered by misogyny, simply could not conceive of women as priests. To the, there was only one possible explanation for the presence of women officiating in the temples of the Middle East: a consecrated woman could only be consecrated to sex.” (75) Also, she identifies the “Jezebel, who calleth herself a prophetess” that John of Patmos denounced in Revelations 2:20-23, as the popular Christian teacher Thyatira. The true name of the original Jezebel is Ithabaal, “woman of Baal (lord)”. Hazelton says that the Bible writers twisted this name into a form that translates as “woman of dung.” She has something to say about that too. Although the book has extensive endnotes, it is written in an easy to read style, at times journalistic and occasionally poetic. She doesn’t fail to draw parallels to modern fundamentalisms. (Originally published here: http://www.suppressedhistories.net/articles/jezebel.html)
(Book Excerpt 4) On the Wings of Isis: Reclaiming the Sovereignty of Auset, ed. by Trista Hendren et al.

Daring to Sit in the Red Throne deTraci Regula In the early years of my devotion to the Goddess Isis, I was fascinated by the “staircase” on her head. I quickly learned that this was the Throne symbol, and that the Throne of Isis supported, delineated, and held the rulers of Egypt during the long path of Egyptian history. It was a strong symbol of sovereignty, and like the ankh-like tyet or the amulet of Isis, was often considered to be colored red. Some see Isis as merely a personification of the throne, but to me her complex mythology indicates that she was quite a bit more than just a chair imbued with divine energy. She was the female throne, the female seat, the embracer and birther of the pharaoh or of whomever took their place at that seat. This “red throne” has emerged for me at various moments in my journeys to explore ancient sites of Isis. On one visit to Greece, I encountered an actual “red throne” while visiting the ancient site of Cenchreae where the ruins of the famed temple of Isis described by Apuleius in his “Metamorphoses, or the Golden Ass” stands. There, the throne was a vivid red plastic chair sitting by the submerged outline of the temple, looking out onto the bay. It seemed to be waiting for a goddess – or, I hoped, one of her priestesses – and so I sat down on it and gazed at the water. In Apuleius’ novel, the scene at Cenchreae takes place at night when Lucius, despondent at being magically trapped in the form of an ass, pleads for help. A magnificent vision of Isis takes form in front of him, and the Goddess offers him words of comfort and describes how she has arranged that he will lose his asinine form by eating roses carried by one of her priests in the sacred procession that launches the season of navigation. When I sat down on that red throne, it was not midnight, but midday. In Greece, noon is an equally magical time as the middle of the night. It is considered dangerous to be in the full, sharp sunlight, and it is seen as a time when many spirits are abroad and can do mischief. Even vampires are said to walk at noon in Greece. My experience, fortunately, was different. As I gazed at the water, the sparkling sunlight gleamed so bright that it seemed to wash away my ability to see any colors at all. The water turned grey, the sky turned white, and the obelisk-like shape of the sunbeam on the water directly in front of me looked like moonlight on a night sea. Though it was high midday on a beach in the heart of summer, Isis was transforming the moment into Lucius’ midnight vision. Every sparkle seemed to be a word, a hint of the mysteries beyond. I sat frozen in the “red throne” for a long time. When I finally moved, even the bright red chair had for the moment lost its color. I closed my eyes for a time, and finally, when I opened them, the world was back to normal, in full color. A strong wind came up after I rose from the chair, shaking it and tipping it over. In the stiffening breeze, It seemed amazing that this symbol of the throne had remained perfectly upright on the beach as if waiting for my moment and had not blown away before. I had another encounter with the experience of sovereignty that the Throne can convey. This was a number of years ago at the Throne Room of the Minoan Palace of Knossos. This divine chair was often described as the “Throne of Minos,” the controversial, erratic, womanizing king of ancient Crete. At that time, it was possible to sit for an instant on a replica of the throne nearby in the anteroom. But the replica chair was narrow and rounded, carved in wood after the design of both the ancient stone, one which still stayed in place in the room beyond, and of the charred image of a throne chair that had left its imprint against an interior wall on that spring day long ago when Knossos had burned. Years later, a savvy guide at Knossos would point out that the proportions of the chair were made for a woman, not a man, and he suggested it was made for a queen or a high priestess. Sitting in this chair gave me several sensations. There was, first of all, the sense of apartness. Only one could be in the chair at a time, and though there was a line of those ready to take my place, for that instant it was indeed mine. But that was not all. There was also the sense of concentration and containment, of restricted movement and because of that, focused attention. One would look ahead at what was in front of the throne. You could not easily escape this. Finally, there was the sense of support. The form of the throne may have restricted me, but it also relaxed my limbs and held me in a posture suitable for meditation and inner attentiveness. All of these traits I find in the energy of Isis as I explore her in personal and direct worship. I returned to Cenchreae last fall with a group of priestesses. This time, it was late afternoon. There was no red plastic throne chair; only the ruins which had been covered with a tidal flow of water at my first visit were fully visible now. We frolicked on the shore and said our blessings. I did not experience the day-to-night effect again, but instead enjoyed the lively spirit and perhaps something of the festival spirit that Apuleius had described. While Isis may have acquired the meaning of being the throne, supporting, guarding, and guiding the usually-male occupant, I think the earliest occupant of the Throne would be Isis …
Sandhill Cranes – a Nation of Women with Wings by Sara Wright

Sara wright in NM at the Bosque del Apache, photographer unknown Historically they used the Eastern flyway but were extirpated by hunting… a slow recovery is in process and the stately Sandhill cranes are once again returning to breed in Maine… so far only birders have been keeping track of their numbers but these majestic pre-historic birds have haunting cries that are often described as bugles, rattles, croaks and trumpets and can be heard 2 -3 miles away. They also utter sounds that combine a kind of brrring in unison. Their impending arrival next month calls up a chant I love… “There’s a river of birds in migration, a nation of women with wings.There’s a river of birds in migration, a nation of warriors with wings.” I remember the chill that crawled up my spine as those words seeped into my body all those years ago… I wept, not knowing why. I had exactly the same experience when I first heard the brrring cries of Sandhill cranes heading towards the river to roost in New Mexico seven years ago. Entranced, I stood there struck dumb – awed as tears slid down my face. I re -membered, felt something – but didn‘t know what it was… and whatever it was/is still haunts me when I hear that song or recall the cries of the Sandhills circling round in the sky to orient themselves to the right direction before heading to their northern home to breed. I am a woman in migration, a woman with wings…. Today when I listen to the cranes on You Tube, – I‘m impatient thinking about them and need to hear their eerie unearthly calls before they arrive – I am keenly aware that we have lost three billion birds. And even in the fields I visit to watch Sandhills feeding on old grain and corn I also see the signs: POISON STAY OUT. This vulnerable population is ingesting pesticides that are sprayed on the fields – not just here but everywhere. Not one birder I know who visits these fields to watch the cranes ever mentions those signs. The cranes are also actively hunted in the fall and spring along the Eastern (Tennessee and Kentucky) and Central Flyways (fourteen more states situated on or near the central highway – the route most heavily traveled). In Maine there is not enough evidence to be certain about just how the Sandhills get here, but my guess is that they use the Eastern Flyway because they remember the route from long ago when they once migrated to Maine in healthy numbers. Some observers in Maine and other New England states believe they are seeing the same flock (s) migrating north and south. These birds, like so many species, were extirpated by hunters… it’s taken a couple of centuries for them to begin a cautious return. That we have Sandhills nesting so close to my home is a source of poignancy and pure joy. I am a woman who sees… Women and Birds belong together: we are the hunted ones, dismissed despised, invisible, murdered. Like birds. Who will notice when we are gone? I am only too aware of how many women we have lost to violence, rape, and murder – the reality that patriarchy perpetuates. Men must have their guns. Women must remain silent or be silenced … We could rise up as ‘a nation of women’ to stop the carnage but as things stand now most women can’t even be civil to one another across the isles. Our resistance to quelling the bird and animal hunting massacre speaks to our tacit acceptance of the superiority of man, the rightness of his love of guns and lust, our acceptance of the worst objectification women have ever been subjected to, and the need to allow the killing machine to continue. Just like the birds we are under attack by the NRA. Is our only viable option flight? What I have learned from the various women’s movements is that taking to the streets is not enough, standing up for our beliefs is not enough. Truth telling is not enough. Endurance is not enough. Patriarchy isn’t crumbling – Yet. I’d like to think it might be in its death throes because this destructive system is now turning on itself – like a dragon swallowing its own tail. Nature is also intervening to redress hubris and imbalance, graphically demonstrating to humans how stupid we have become as a species. As we poison the fields the Sandhills feed in, we poison ourselves. The elements of wind and water make certain that no home grown food or field will be spared. I am a woman in flight. I dream of joining the cranes, who in their most ancient wisdom understand that no species survives without genuine community. Not pockets of like-minded folks, but the kind of community that embraces all differences, in deference to the whole. Our culture praises human endeavors and independence while I look to cranes who reveal and reflect the interdependence that all of us need to survive. Leave until it’s safe to return? I‘m learning how to listen…. During the month of March I don my feathery cape, becoming a bird woman who is obsessed by bird migration. Even with masses of snow covering the ground my beloveds are starting to migrate to their summer homes and breeding grounds. Each morning I consult Cornell’s bird cast to find out which birds flew over my county last night. At First Light, long before dawn I am outdoors standing in the snow recording a new migrant call, a cardinal song, a courting male dove, turkey twittering, gobbling, chickadee convocations – embracing a chorus of avian concertos. I watch the pair of ravens fly through a deep blue crack between twilight and dawn, silent, perhaps praying for all. Messengers in flight. I scatter the first round of seed. Once inside I place some on my windowsill so that the chickadees and I are …

(Special Post 6) 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.] Esther Essinger “Why Goddess, when “GD” is perpetrating so much grief? 1) First, it’s vital to know that Goddess is NOT “GD” in a skirt. It is demanded of NO one that they “believe” or “have faith”, so there can be no guilt (and no punishment! (No Hell below us, thank you John) in NOT choosing to interest oneself in these particular Stories, myths, legends and tales which center the Cosmic Female, the Universal Mother, Mother Earth /Mother Nature at their core. No evangelism happening here!
(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 […]
(Special Post Mother Teresa 2) 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 II: We Disagree! Stand up for what you believe but be open-minded! Naa Ayele Kumari: I am going to step away from the common responses and say this… Binary is only no in betweens if you choose sides and can’t see the whole. I have been a part of black consciousness movements and women’s movements and both have the capacity for progress as well as extreme viewpoints. Both have the capacity to become so hypercritical that the movement itself transcends common human compassion and understanding. Mother Teresa was a human being with flaws and goodness. She had a public image and private fears and insecurities.. l like all of us. She lived her life the best way she knew how.. Like all of us. She made mistakes.. misjudgments.. Like all of us. But she also DID help and inspire others to help too. It is this dualistic thinking that forces people to feel like they have to assign the label of good or bad and no in between. None of us are all good or all bad.. so it seems to me that to label her has an evil traitor who let people die is no better than labeling her an Angel of god who did no wrong. She was a woman who lived her life and managed to come to worldwide fame and inspire others to love at a time and in an institution that was highly patriarchal and women were not raised up at all. Mother Goddesses in Africa were known for great nurturing and care symbolized by carrying a baby and also carried a machete on the other side for justice. This was the fine balance of wholeness…she was the gentle rain and the storm.. This was binary, but not one or the other but both.. Opposite ends of the same pole. [H]: I’m having a powerful visceral effect from this conversation. I feel as if I’m going to vomit violently. Mother Teresa comes to me in dreams and meditations. Makes me wonder what kind of person I’m seen as if I attract her energy. I have always felt so much love for her. Naa Ayele Kumari: If she comes in your dreams and it has been healing for you… Allow it/ her to continue to be healing for you. Its all about love and anything that is not love… Leave it be.. Vomiting is rejecting something that doesn’t belong with you. Embrace love my sister. Antonia McGuire: I think we may all agree that all belief systems initially began to promote a sense of goodness or fairness to some degree, but over time they are corrupted and produce both advantages and disadvantages. Donna Snyder: Yes, Gandhi, too. Back in the 90’s when I was in a band/performance art troupe called Central Nervous System, I shocked all the guys in the band coming out with an improv in response to a melody played on a banjo tuned like a sitar, called exactly that-Yes, Gandhi. Now make no mistake, he is one of my heroes, devoid of the falsified sentimentality that clings to MT. Gandhi’s work was for the world, for the masses, not for the appropriately humbled. Yet I spoke out about his sexual practices, his use of female bodies. Telling the truth about a hero requires courage. Retreating into a blind defense of a myth is a form of ethical cowardice. Anne Wilkerson Allen: Strangely I had a discussion with someone about the “hero’s journey” moving from metaphorical to physical being part of the problem…..when the “demons” are human instead of our own flaws, there seems to be a tendency to point the finger (and gun barrel) elsewhere. [B]: Fascinating & thought-provoking conversation, all. I think the biggest stumbling block I have with MT is how her acceptance of the dogma of the Catholic church blinded her to seeing and then being moved by the suffering of others enough to do something to alleviate & not vicariously celebrate it. No wonder she “suffered a lack of connection with the Divine”. This crisis with her spirituality seems to have been divorced from her and others’ body wisdom. Self-abnegation (perhaps not the same as “sacrifice”) ultimately backfires because some small part of us insists, “I am worthy!” To which I say, “We are all worthy!” [H]: I do not see or feel that she vicariously celebrated the suffering of others. I feel that she devoted her life to deeply loving and serving the poorest of the poor. I have not been to Calcutta and I have also seen some unimaginable poverty in India that is not like anything that I’ve been exposed to before. I truly believe that she had a very deep way of working with suffering that is not necessarily visible to those more accustomed to modern medical intervention and the resources available for such. I have participated in a very small amount of poverty medicine and the resources that we take for granted are just not readily available to MANY. I learned very powerfully from my experience how blessed and fortunate and often very careless we really are with our precious resources. This discussion has been a learning experience for me. I am trying to not take the critical comments […]

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.
(Mago Almanac Excerpt 7) Introducing the Magoist Calendar by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A) at Mago Bookstore. YEARLY LEAP DAY AND EVERY FOURTH YEAR LEAP DAY Each Sa includes a Dan of the big Sa. A Dan is equal to one day. That adds to 365 days. At the half point of 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. Each year has a leap day (Dan), which makes a total of 365 days. Every fourth year is a leap year that has a leap day (Pan), which makes a total of 366 days. The Dan day comes before the New Year in the winter solstice month. And the Pan day comes before the first day of the summer solstice month in the fourth year. The above, however, does not indicate when the New Year comes. Logographic characters of Dan and Pan each suggest their meanings. While each year includes the Dan day (the morning), every fourth year has the Pan day. A unit of four years makes the Big Calendar. Dan (旦 Morning) Leap day for every first three years Pan (昄 Big) Leap day for every fourth year I have postulated that the year begins on the Dan day (one leap day), a day before New Year that comes in the month of Winter Solstice in the Norther Hemisphere. And the Pan day comes on the day before the first day of the 7th month that has Summer Solstice in the fourth year in the Norther Hemisphere. Years Year 1 Year 2 Year 3 Year 4 Months Dan Dan Dan Dan 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 6 6 6 6 Pan 7 7 7 7 8 8 8 8 9 9 9 9 10 10 10 10 11 11 11 11 12 12 12 12 13 13 13 13 Days 365 365 365 366 The Magoist Calendar’s intercalation involves one leap day every year and one leap day every four years. That is, each year has one extra day to make it 365 days. Every fourth year has an extra day to make it 366 days. Four years has a total of 1461 days (365×3+366), which makes the mean of 365.25 days. Considering that the month is following the sidereal period rather than the synodic period, it is inferred that the year also follows the sidereal year rather than the solar year. In fact, Magoist Calendar’s one year is very close to today’s 365.25636 days of the sidereal year compared to 365.24217 days of the solar year or the tropical year. Given that, as seen below, the Budoji mentions the tiniest discrepancy of one leap day for 31,788,900 years, the discrepancy between 365.25 and 365.25636 (0.00636 day) can be explained that the year was actually 365.25 days at the time of Budo circa 2333 BCE, 4440 years ago. In other words, there is a discrepancy of 0.12375936 seconds between 2017 CE and 2333 BCE. Regarding Lawful Numbers 2, 5, 8, it is involved as follows: 365 days (3+6+5=14, 1+4=5) Lawful Numbers 2, 5, 8 refers the unit of 365 days (364 days with one intercalary day). Further dynamics are unknown. The sidereal year refers to the time taken by the Earth to orbit the sun once with respect to the distant stars. In contrast, the solar or tropical year means the time taken by the Earth to orbit the sun once with respect to the sun. The sidereal year, 365.25636 days, is about 20 minutes and 24 seconds longer than the mean tropical year (365.24217 days) and about 19 minutes and 57 seconds longer than the average Gregorian year of 365.2425 days. The difference occurs primarily because the solar system spins on its own axis and around the Milky Way galactic center making the solar year’s observed position relative. Time is no independent concept apart from space and the agent. The very concept of time is preceded by the agent bound in a space. It is always contextualized. In Magoism, both calendar and time are born out of the cosmogonic universe, the universe that is in self-creation. Like calendar, time is to be discovered or measured. It is a numinous concept. The very concept of time testifies to the reality of the Creatrix. Time proves the orderly movement of the universe into which we are born. Calendar patterns time, whereas time undergirds calendar. How can we measure time? We are given the time of the Earth that comes from its rotation, revolution, and precession in sync with the moon and the sun (and its planets). One type of time is the solar time. The solar time is a calculation of time based on the position of the sun. Traditionally, the solar time is measured by the sundial. The solar time is, however, specific to the Earth only. It is valid only for the-same-observed-location. It is not made to be used for the time of another celestial body. For example, Mars’ solar time has to be measured independently based on its own rotation and revolution rates. The solar time is an isolated time. It is static and exclusive, not made for the time of other celestial bodies. By nature, it is unfit for connection and communication across celestial bodies. The second type is the sidereal time. The sidereal time is a time scale based on the rate of Earth’s rotations measured relative to the distant stars.[29] Because the observed position is in the far distant stars beyond the solar system, the sidereal time may as well be called an extrasolar stellar time. We can think of the observer’s position of an imaginary cosmic bird far out there, infinitely far beyond not only the solar system and …
Samhain: Stepping Wisely through the Open Door by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Day of the Dead altar, via Wikimedia Commons According to Celtic tradition, on Samhain (October 31 for those in the north and April 30 for those in the south) the doors between the human and spirit worlds open. Faeries, demons, and spirits of the dead pour out of the Otherworld to walk the Earth. In the past, some would try to hurry ghosts past their houses or ward off evil spirits by setting jack o’lanterns in their windows. They avoided going outside, especially past cemeteries, lest they be snatched away to the Otherworld. In ancient times, some offered sacrifices to propitiate deities. However, others have invited in the souls of friends and family who have passed away. In Brittany, according to W.Y. Evans-Wentz’s Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries, people would provide “a feast and entertainment for them of curded-milk, hot pancakes, and cider, served on the family table covered with a fresh white tablecloth, and to supply music” which “the dead come to enjoy with their friends” (p. 218). Other cultures also have such welcoming traditions. In Korea, as so beautifully described by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang in her posts about her family’s mourning for her father (Part I and Part II), in Mexico on the Day of the Dead, and elsewhere, food and flowers are brought to cemeteries to honor those no longer in the realm of the living. Many of us live in a society where death is pushed out of sight and Samhain’s sacred traditions have devolved into Halloween, a commercialized children’s holiday. Still, it seems to me that the pandemic, climate catastrophes, and war have made death much more present in our everyday thoughts over the past couple of years than before, so perhaps this year’s Samhain offers us the opportunity to re-examine Celtic and other practices of the past and present to see what insights and meaning they may have for us. Jack o lanterns: By Mihaela Bodlovic, via Wikimedia Commons All these ancient practices respect the spirit world and its power. Whether you believe that the Otherworld can wreak havoc on us at Samhain or not, the realm where spirits dwell clearly has power. Its allure can take us away from focusing on mundane, daily challenges or, more positively, open our eyes to the value of relating to forces that can give richness and meaning to our lives. At the same time, we must remember that each domain has its own power. We can use our physical bodies in beneficial ways that those in the Otherworld cannot. We must respect the power of the Otherworld as well as our own. Some kinds of healing are only possible when we welcome those from the Otherworld into our lives in a healthy way, whether through holiday visits or every day through remembrance, meditation, prayer, or other means. I’m of an age when many of my beloveds are in the Otherworld and so I am beginning to find that the idea of being able to sit with someone I have lost is cause not for fear, but rather joy and comfort. Perhaps those who have longstanding wounds from the past can heal by remembering those we have lost at Samhain and forgiving them or ourselves or realizing that we are no longer bound to those who have hurt us and are now gone. Samhain can also reassure us of the truth of our intuitive sense that our beloveds who we grieve are with us still, in some way, on this night and throughout the year. When we participate in the celebration of Samhain’s opening of doors to the Otherworld, if only for a day, we are honoring our own participation into the great cycle of life, death, and rebirth. We are expanding our vision of ourselves to be more than our bodies on the Earth and experiencing ourselves as connected to many realms, seen and unseen, spirit and human. We are accepting that at some time we will also become ancestors, with all the responsibility that entails and the fulfillment of taking our place in the complex matrix of being that is our universe. When we interact with the souls of those we have lost in ways that are healthy for us, however we may choose and believe that happens, we can also better celebrate the realm of the living. Just as we may listen in various ways for positive messages from those whom we have lost, we can ensure that we are expressing important guidance to those who will come after us by who we are and how we live our lives. We can express that life is worth living, even with all its traumas, and that we respect both the boundaries and the doors between the worlds so that we may continue living fully in our physical bodies on our beautiful, awe-inspiring Earth. I hope my message to my descendants will be: Love your lives. Build on what we have done and do better. Leave behind what we left you that no longer serves. If you feel alone, remember that you have thousands of generations of mothers sending you unconditional love and also generations of women coming after you eager to pick up where you left off. According to Mary Condren in The Serpent and the Goddess, in the most ancient times, “Samhain had been primarily a harvest feast celebrating the successful growth and gathering of the fruits of the past year” (p. 36). While we in the north are coming into the season of death, those in the south are experiencing Beltane, the first moments of spring when the doors between the worlds are also open. The eternal cycle of life, death, and regeneration turns again. Whether you are celebrating Samhain or Beltane, know that this holy time offers us all a chance to enter into the task of maintaining harmony with those we have loved before and for bringing balance between life and death, winter and summer, and the realm of the living and …
(Essay) The Emergence celebrated at Spring Equinox by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

The Spring Equinox Moment occurs September 21-23 Southern Hemisphere, March 21-23 Northern Hemisphere. The full story of Spring Equinox is expressed in the full flower connected to the seed fresh from the earth; that is, it is a story of emergence from the dark, from a journey, perhaps long, perhaps short, through challenging places. The joy of the blossoming is rooted in the journey through the dark, and an acknowledgement of the dark’s fertile gift, as well as of great achievement in having made it, of having returned. Both Equinoxes, Spring and Autumn, celebrate this sacred balance of grief and joy, light and dark, and they are both celebrations of the mystery of the seed. The seed is essentially the deep Creativity within – that manifests in the Spring as flower, or green emerged One. the full story: the root and the flower As the new young light continues to grow at this time of Spring, it comes into balance with the dark at Spring Equinox, or ‘Eostar’ as it may be named; about to tip further into light when light will dominate the day. The trend at this Equinox is toward increasing hours of light: and thus it is about the power of being – life is stepping into it. Earth in this region is tilting further toward the Sun. Traditionally it may be storied as the joyful celebration of a Lost Beloved One, who may be represented by the Persephone story: She is a shamanic figure who is known for Her journey to the Underworld, and who at this time of Spring Equinox returns. Her Mother Demeter who has waited and longed for Her in deep grief, rejoices and so do all: warmth and growth return to the land. Persephone, the Beloved Daughter, the Seed, has navigated the darkness successfully, has enriched it with Her presence and also gained its riches. Eostar/Spring Equinox is the magic of the unexpected, yet long awaited, green emergence from under the ground, and then the flower: this emergence is especially profound as it is from a seed that has lain dormant for months or longer – much like the magic of desert blooms after long periods of drought. The name of “Eostar” comes from the Saxon Goddess Eostre/Ostara, the northern form of the Sumerian Astarte[i]. The Christian festival in the Spring, was named “Easter” as of the Middle Ages, appropriating Goddess/Earth tradition. The date of Easter, which is set for Northern Hemispheric seasons, is still based on the lunar/menstrual calendar; that is, the 1st Sunday after the first full Moon after Spring Equinox. In Australia where I am, “Easter” is celebrated in Autumn (!) by mainstream culture, so we have the spectacle of fluffy chickens, chocolate eggs and rabbits in the shops at that time. There are other names for “Eostar” in other places …the Welsh name for the Spring Equinox celebration is Eilir, meaning ‘regeneration’ or ‘spring’ – or ‘earth’[ii]. In my own PaGaian tradition, the Spring Equinox celebration is based on the Demeter and Persephone story, the version that is understand as pre-patriarchal, from Old Europe. In the oldest stories, Persephone has agency in Her descent: She descends to the underworld voluntarily as a courageous seeker of wisdom, and a compassionate receiver of the dead. She represents, and IS, the Seed of Life that never fades away. Spring Equinox is a celebration of Her return, Life’s continual return, and thus also our personal and collective emergences/returns.We may contemplate the collective emergence/returns especially in our times. I describe Persephone as a “hera”, which of old was a term for any courageous One. “Hera” was a pre-Hellenic name for the Goddess in general[iii]. “Hera” was the indigenous Queen Goddess of pre-Olympic Greece, before She was married off to Zeus. “Hero” was a term for the brave male Heracles who carried out tasks for his Goddess Hera: “The derivative form ‘heroine’ is therefore completely unnecessary”[iv]. “Hera” may be used as a term for any courageous individual: and participants in PaGaian Spring Equinox ceremony have named themselves this way. The pre-“Olympic” games of Greece were Hera’s games, held at Her Heraion/temple[v]. The winners were “heras” – gaining the status of being like Her[vi]. At the time of Spring Equinox, we may celebrate the Persephone, the Hera, the Courageous One, who steps with new wisdom, into power of being: the organic power that all beings must have, Gaian power, the power of the Cosmos. This Seasonal ceremony may be a rejoicing in how we have made it through great challenges and loss, faced our fears and our demise (in its various forms), had ‘close shaves’ – perhaps physically as well as psychicly and emotionally. It is a time to welcome back that which was lost, and step into the strength of being. Spring Equinox/Eostar is the time for enjoying the fruits of the descent, of the journey taken into the darkness: return is now certain, not tentative as it was in the Early Spring/Imbolc. Demeter, the Mother, receives the Persephones, Lost Beloved Ones, joyously. This may be understood as an individual experience, but also as a collective experience – as we emerge into a new Era as a species. Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme speak of the ending of the sixty-five million year geological Era – the Cenozoic Era – in our times, and our possible emergence into an Ecozoic Era. They describe the Ecozoic Era as a time when “the curvature of the universe, the curvature of the earth, and the curvature of the human are once more in their proper relation”[vii]. Joanna Macy speaks of the “Great Turning” of our times[viii]. Collectively we have been away from the Mother for some time and there is a lot of pain. At this time we may contemplate not only our own individual lost wanderings, but also that of the human species. We are part of a much bigger Return that is happening. The Beloved One may be understood as returning on a collective level: …
(Prose) Desire: the Wheel of Her Creativity by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an edited excerpt from the concluding chapter (Chapter 8) of the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. Place of Being is a passionate place, where desire draws forth what is sought, co-creates what is needed[1]; within a con-text – a story – where love of self, other and all-that-is are indistinguishable … they are nested within each other and so is the passion for being. I begin to understand desire afresh: this renewed understanding has been an emergent property of the religious practice of seasonal celebration: that is, the religious practice of the ceremonial celebration of Her Creativity. It has been said She is “that which is attained at the end of desire[2].” Within the context of ceremonial engagement and inner search for Her, I begin to realize how desire turns the Wheel. As the light part of the cycle waxes from Early Spring, form/life builds in desire. At Beltaine/High Spring, desire runs wild, at Summer Solstice, it peaks into creative fullness, union … and breaks open at that interchange into the dark part of the cycle – the dissolution of Lammas/ Late Summer. She becomes the Dark One, who receives us back – the end of desire. It has been a popular notion in the Christian West, that the beautiful virgin lures men (sic) to their destruction, and as I perceive the Wheel, it is indeed Virgin who moves in Her wild delight towards entropy/dissolution; however in a cosmology that is in relationship with the dark, this is not perceived as a negative thing. Also, in this cosmology, there is the balancing factor of the Crone’s movement towards new life, in the conceiving dark space of Samhain/Deep Autumn – a dynamic and story that has not been a popular notion in recent millennia. Desire seems not so much a grasping, as a receiving, an ability or capacity to open and dissolve. I think of an image of an open bowl as a signifier of the Virgin’s gift. The increasing light is received, and causes the opening, which will become a dispersal of form – entropy, if you like: this is Beltaine/High Spring – the Desire[3]that is celebrated is a movement towards dis-solution … that is its direction. In contrast, and in balance, Samhain/Deep Autumn celebrates re-solution, which is a movement towards form – it is a materializing gathering into form, as the increasing darkness is received. It seems it is darkness that creates form, as it gathers into itself – as many ancient stories say, and it is light that creates dispersal. And yet I see that the opposite is true also. I think of how there is desire for this work that I have done, for whatever one does – it is then already being received. Desire is receiving. What if I wrote this, and it was not received or welcomed in some way. But the desire for it is already there, and perhaps the desire made it manifest. Perhaps the desire draws forth manifestation, even at Winter Solstice, even at Imbolc/Early Spring, as we head towards Beltaine – it is desire that is drawing that forth, drawing that process around. Desire is already receiving; it is open. Its receptivity draws forth the manifestation. And then the manifestation climaxes at Summer and dissolves into the manifesting, which is perhaps where the desire is coming from – the desire is in the darkness, in the dark’s receptivity[4]. It becomes very active at the time of Beltaine, it lures the differentiated beings back into Her. So the lure at Beltaine is the luring of differentiated beings into a Holy Lust, into a froth and dance of life, whereupon they dissolve ecstatically back into Her – She is “that which is attained at the end of Desire.” And in the dissolution, we sink deeper into that, and begin again. All the time, it is Desire that is luring the manifest into the manifesting, and the manifesting into the manifest. Passion is the glue, the underlying dynamic that streams through it all – through the light and the dark, through the creative triplicities of Virgin-Mother-Crone, of Differentiation-Communion-Autopoeisis[5]. Passion/Desire then is worthy of much more contemplation. If desire/allurement is the same cosmic dynamic as gravity, as cosmologist Brian Swimme suggests[6], then desire like gravity is the dynamic that links/holds us to our Place, to “that which is”, as philosopher Linda Holler describes the effect of gravity[7]. Held in relationship by desire/allurement we lose abstraction and artificial boundaries, and “become embodied and grow heavy with the weight of the earth[8].” We then know that “being is being-in relation-to”[9]. Holler says that when we think with the weight of Earth, space becomes “thick” as this “relational presence … turns notes into melodies, words into phrases with meaning, and space into vital forms with color and content, (and) also holds the knower in the world[10].”Thus, I at last become a particular, a subject, a felt being in the world – a Place laden with content, sentient: continuous with other and all-that-is. Notes: [1]“…as surely as the chlorophyll molecule was co-created by Earth and Sun, as Earth reached for nourishment; as surely as the ear was co-created by subject and sound, as the subject reached for an unknown signal.” As I have written in PaGaian Cosmology, p. 248. [2]Doreen Valiente, The Charge of the Goddessas referred to in Starhawk, The Spiral Dance, p.102-103. [3]I capitalize here, for it is a holy quality. [4]Perhaps the popular cultural association of the darkness/black lingerie etc. with erotica is an expression/”memory” of this deep truth. [5]These are the three qualities of Cosmogenesis, as referred to in PaGaian Cosmology, Chapter 4, “Cosmogenesis and the Female Metaphor”: https://pagaian.org/book/chapter-4/ [6]Brian Swimme, The Universe is a Green Dragon, p.43. [7]Linda Holler, “Thinking with the Weight of the Earth: Feminist Contributions to an Epistemology of Concreteness”, Hypatia, Vol. 5 No. 1, p.2. [8]Linda Holler, “Thinking with the Weight of the Earth: Feminist Contributions to an Epistemology of Concreteness”,Hypatia, Vol. …
(Art & Poem) Spring Equinox by Sudie Rakusin & Annie Finch

A SEED FOR SPRING EQUINOX . . . till I feel the earth around the place my head has lain under winter’s touch, and it crumbles. Slanted weight of clouds. Reaching with my head and shoulders past the open crust dried by spring wind. Sun. Tucking through the ground that has planted cold inside me, made its waiting be my food. Now I watch the watching dark my light’s long-grown dark makes known. Art and poem are included in Celebrating Seasons of the Goddess (Mago Books, 2017). (Meet Mago Contributor) Sudie Rakusin (Meet Mago Contributor) Annie Finch

(Essay) Reviving and Celebrating the Nine-Goddess Symbolism by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

In my ongoing research on the Great Goddess known as Mago, I have discovered the number nine gynocentric symbolism as the most prominent current that constitutes Magoism and named it the Nona (Number Nine) Mago religion/civilization/mythology. Like other civilizational inventions such as the calendar and musicology, numerology is an intellectual system of knowing the Way of Nature/Universe/Creatrix. And the number nine is no arbitrary number but is the numeric code of the Creatrix or the Primordial Mother. It codifies the cosmogonic beginning of the Primordial Mother, that is, the Primordial Mago Household. It refers to the primordial principle of the solar/terrestrial beginning.
(2015 Mago Pilgrimage) Neuk-do (Serpent Island) by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

I wanted to visit Neuk-do because of the Mago story told in the region. Its name Neuk-do, which means the Serpent Island (구렁이섬), whispers a deep memory of the gynocentric past. However, people today seem to be oblivious to this. Our guides did not inform us of the meaning of the island’s name. I relished being surrounded by an air of mystery about the island during our visit. Also I was drawn to Neuk-do because it is under the administration of Sacheon City. The place-name, Sacheon (泗川 or 四川 Xichuan in Chinese), is no unknown place in the mytho-history of Magoism. Like many other place-names, “Sacheon,” recurs in both present-day China and the Korean peninsula. They, although written in slightly different characters, concern Magoism (stories, place-names, or topographies). In the case of the Chinese “Sacheon,” Magoism is systematically suppressed and replaced by Daoism. Today China boasts of Xichuan Province as a birthplace of Daoism. Mt. Qingcheng (青城山) in Dujiangyan City, is known as one of the ancient Daoist centers. Our data are, albeit often sketchy, ample to indicate the importance of Mt. Qingcheng in Daoist history. It is a place wherein Zhangling (34-156) or Zhang Daoling, the founder of Tianshi (天師 Celestial Master) Daoism, founded the doctrine of Daoism and died. Yellow Emperor, the pre-dynastic hero of the third millennium BCE, is commemorated. The Temple of Eternal Dao(常道觀 Changdao Guan) located in Mt. Qingcheng is noted for its oldest hall, the Shrine of the Yellow Emperor, built during the Sui dynasty (605-618).[i] Also the place-name, Dujiangyan(都江堰), reflects the ancient irrigation system originally constructed in circa 256 BCE during the Qin dynasty.[ii] Alongside a number of Daoist temples extant today, there are Magoist place-names and topographies, Magu Cave (麻姑洞 Magu-dong) and Magu Lake (麻姑池 Magu-chi) also known as Heavenly Lake (天池). Located adjacent to Shangqing Palace (上清宫 Supreme Clarity Palace), Magu Lake has a story that Magu collected water for her alchemical practice.[iii] “Mago” is alternatively used with “Cheon (Heaven, 天 Tian in Chinese),” as is in “Heavenly Lake.” As in other places, such Magoist place-names in Xichuan have survived Chinese mytho-historiography that has obliterated pre-Chinese Magoism and replaced it with Daoism. Note that Magu is never articulated as the Creatrix in Chinese historiography, whereas her supremacy is adumbrated in Chinese folklore and place-names. Chinese mytho-historiography has paid the price for its matricide: Its origin will never be explained. To say that Xichuan is a Daoist birthplace is a misleading. Xichuan is a pre-Daoist center of Magoism whose origin possibly dates to the time of Danguk (3898-2333 BCE). From the Korean sources, fortunately, we are able to assess that Xichuan was a place of significance from pre-Dangun times. According to the Handan Gogi (Archaic Histories of Han and Dan), Daeeup extant today near Mt. Qingcheng, Xichuan Province, was a place wherein Dangun began her career. The Handan Gogi reads, “Dangun began her career in Daeeup (大邑 Great Town, Dayi in Chinese). All people feared and obeyed her virtue as a divine being. When she was at age 14 in the year of Gapjin (2357 BCE), Sovereign Ungssi, upon hearing her divine virtue, appointed her as Biwang (Auxiliary Ruler) to administrate Daeeup (Great Town) [Female connoting words are mine].”[iv] Thomas Yoon points out that Daeeup is not a fictitious place-name but an actual site extant today in Chengdu, Sichuan.[v] Mr. Kigap Kang, former politician but now an orchard owner who experiments with nature-based farming for fruit trees in Sacheon City, arranged our meeting with the Director of the Sacheon City Cultural Center. The Director alongside his companion met us in his office. They told us Neuk-do’s stories of Mago Halmae. Then, we drove to the road off the shore where we could look out across the stepping stones in the sea that were said to have been placed by Mago Halmae. The tide was high and we could see only the tips of rocks. I could see the island across the adjoining water. Neuk-do had unusual topography as it was an elongated island conjoined by two mountainous isles. From such topography the name, the Serpent Island, may have derived. Houses are populated in the conjoined area. We drove to Neuk-do via a modern bridge with the hope of running into someone who could guide us to the site of Mago stepping stones. A native of Neuk-do, our guide-to-be, happened to be right there, when we got off the car. Mr. Gyeung Jang, a 61 year-old fisherman and native of Neuk-do, showed us the site in the sea where Mago is said to have placed stepping stones. Due to the high tide, we could only see the top parts of Mago’s stepping stones upper edge over the waterline. He also led us to peeking Mago Halmi’s washing laundry rock and estimated its size to be about two meters high at the low tide. He added, Mago Halmi was so tall and giant that she needed a tall rock. The motif that the giant Mago Hami carried a boulder to construct standing stones or dolmens and the story of Mago’s laundry rock commonly recur in other regions. During dinner at a seafood restaurant in Neuk-do, our conversations grew. Mr. Jang informed us of the fact that the whole island of Neuk-do is designated as a cultural and notable site by the province and the state. Its archaeological unearthing began in the early 1980s and has brought out numerous multi-period findings (about 13,000 items) ranging from the Neolithic to the early Iron Age. The unearthed include shell mounds, house sites, human and animal burials, pottery, and daggers that originated from not only Korea but also Yayoi Japan and Nangnang China. As such, Neuk-do has come to be known as a site of ancient transnational maritime centers in East Asia.[6] As I write this, the Mago story turns out to have several versions. I will share three versions here. In one account, Mago Halmae, so tall and giant, walked around the sea. She brought rocks …
(Essay 1) Returning Home with Mago, the Great Goddess, from East Asia by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This essay was first published in Trivia, Voices of Feminism, Issue 6, September 2007.] I come from Korea. When I say I came from Korea, I do not mean “Korea” in a nationalistic sense. Nationalism, reinforced by international politics as a cardinal rule of the global community, precludes the agency of women; it is a game of the patriarchal controllers. When I say I am Korean, I mean I am a Magoist Korean, a gynocentric Korean. My Korean identity refers to my cultural and historical root. Fortunately, I have found my Korean gynocentric root in the tradition of Mago, the Great Goddess, from East Asia.1

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