September 11, 2023August 29, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Prose) Earth Stories by Sara Wright

Every day I send a FB post into what feels like a Great Void including nature photos that I took around the house or in the woods that morning or Read More …

June 28, 2023June 23, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Prose) Mary’s Garden by Sara Wright

Opening the doors to mist ‘Mary’s Garden’ each morning is entering a magic realm. My nose sniffs the scent of fertile woodlands even as I gazed out at an impossibly Read More …

June 12, 2023June 12, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

Why Do So Many People Hate Rain? by Sara Wright

People can’t make NOISE in rain Machines seize up and rust Screaming Motorcycles sit silenced Chainsaws sputter Weedwhackers clog Lawnmowers spit Power boats gasp Hunters stay home Gray sky blesses Read More …

May 24, 2023April 20, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

Sandhill Cranes – a Nation of Women with Wings by Sara Wright

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… Read More …

May 9, 2023May 9, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

May Day Celebration by Sara Wright

Warms spring rain. The flooding fractured a poorly built bridge, rising waters overflowed moss covered banks – roads disappeared under the deluge, and I was out transplanting the last of Read More …

April 26, 2023March 30, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

The Crow’s Nest 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 Read More …

March 13, 2023February 20, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Prose) Answering a Call by Sara Wright

Answering a Call “Shamans bridge the night flow…” the first lines from a poem I wrote long ago keep coming into my mind. Frustrated because I can no longer access Read More …

February 22, 2023February 22, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Prose) Feeding the Birds…. Refuge by Sara Wright

It’s another gray snowy day with large white flakes falling from the sky… January lasts “forever” every single year. I feed chickadees on my window ledge until the squirrels show Read More …

February 13, 2023February 23, 2023 Mago WorkLeave a comment

(Poem & Photography) Inspiration is Always Present by Sara Wright

I walk with care clearing paths iced over lead feet dragging a broken foot my companion Listen to first spring bird song – chickadees and doves! January thaw a steel Read More …

January 25, 2023January 13, 2023 Mago Work2 Comments

(Prose) January 6, A New Year Begins by Sara Wright

This morning at dawn I quartered the ripe pomegranate that had been sitting in the center of my wreath since early in December, remembering the night my dad brought Read More …

January 9, 2023December 28, 2022 Mago Work3 Comments

When Betrayal Makes Sense by Sara Wright

When I was a young woman, a divorced mother of two, working as a waitress I became obsessed by a window hanging in a local store. This cluster of grapes Read More …

December 20, 2022December 13, 2022 Mago WorkLeave a comment

Hemlock Haunting by Sara Wright

When I stand under one of these giants I sink into the dark spiraling into Deep Time. If Hemlock does not succumb to insects a poisoned sky this tree might Read More …

December 12, 2022December 12, 2022 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

Winter Turns the Tide… by Sara Wright

[Editor’s Note: This was written last year. Sara Wright was so prolific that we missed timing for this piece of her writing last year.] This winter has been most challenging Read More …

(Essay 1) The Norse Goddesses behind the Asir Veil: The Vanir Mothers in Continental Scandinavia by Kirsten Brunsgaard Clausen

[This part and the forthcoming sequels are an elaborated version of the original article entitled “The Norse Goddesses behind the Asir Veil: The Vanir Mothers in Continental Scandinavia—a late Shamanistic Branch of the Old European Civilization?” by Märta-Lena Bergstedt & Kirsten Brunsgaard Clausen, included in Goddesses in Myth, History and Culture (Mago Books, 2018) Edited by Mary Ann Beavis and Helen Hye-Sook Hwang.] Fig. 1. Bronze Age Stronghold, Stockholm “Once, something else existed”[1] In the beginning there was a war …, so the Icelandic Eddas on Norse mythology of the Asir-belief state for the beginning of time.[2] But the fact is that before this first war, there was peace in Scandinavia, and peace for millennia – society was not yet organized and dominated by warfare values.[3] Instead another type of society, akin with the Old European Society lingered on in Scandinavia until the decline of the Roman Empire. In this society, Norse goddesses like Hel (Hell); Natt (Night); När/Njärd (Nerthus, Earth); Freya/Fröja (Völva/shaman and guardian of Growth); Ran (Mother of the Sea); Idun, the Apple Maiden, and many others are primarily known from medieval scripts, dating 11th‒13th century were neither Asirs, nor goddesses. The Mothers of Old were knitted into the new and rather late 4th century Asir world of gods, and Asir mythology itself reports that in principle all their new goddesses originated from an earlier layer of cosmology – that they belonged to Vanaheim (Vanir Home), Alfheim (Elven Home), and some to Jotunheim (Giants’ Home). And further, they were all taken into Asgård (the Asir Court) as hostages in the peace-agreement that followed the first Asir-Vanir war, which, seemingly on purpose the Asir High-god, Odin, ended in a draw.[4] Our research has set out to find out, who these Norse goddesses may once have been in their original Vanir cultural and mythological context, predating Asir mythology. By means of different disciplines and based on a mytho-historical-archaeological perspective, the main aim of this article is to present some of the most well-known Vanir mothers. In order to find the Old Mothers, we have had to work our way through layers of patriarchal, war dominated history of Scandinavia, as well as Christianity and Asir religion. Scandinavian Pagan religion – two, not one Although the Old Norse (ON) texts themselves make clear references to two different systems and orders of society in Scandinavia – the Vanirs and the Asirs – Nordic pre-Christian religion is traditionally portrayed as one single pagan religion based on war and fertility. At times, references are made to an underlying culture of fertility and wealth, predating Asir religion, but with no further explanations concerning its substance.[5] We will review this perception by means of archaeology and religious history, and other fields. Already for decades the possibility of a substantial shift of power and ruling structure taking place in Scandinavia around 400CE has been discussed.[6] Today, there is quite a widespread acceptance that a new kind of warrior-based and elitist dynasty did establish itself in this period, radically changing society into a hierarchical and military stratified system not seen before in Scandinavia. Design and framework for the new society took its inspiration mainly from the Roman Empire itself, but also adopted ideas from different European cults further south, associated with the Roman Empire, e.g. the Mithras cult, Christianity, and thereto from the Huns.[7] The new system overrode former borders and authority. In Scandinavia, this meant that former loyalty to one´s own clan and tribe was now challenged by the quick expansion of the house-carl system (följeväsen, hird), where young warriors swore their oaths of loyalty to non-kindred or foreign kings. The profound change in mentality does show even in landscape as the new Asir religion and ideology manifested itself in the building of strongholds dating from c. 450, and later halls and royal estates and temples. Although new strongholds were carefully erected close to the much older Bronze Age borgs or hill-forts, the two differed considerably in function. The older Bronze Age borgs were once used in a society, characterized by archaeologist Åsa Wall as collective and mythic,[8] peaceful and female led, whereas the new 4th century forts are generally suggested as military camps for training and initiation of youngsters into the closed and exclusive warrior brotherhood of the Asir-belief, modelled with unmistakable inspiration from the Mithras and Roman Emperor Cult, which will be discussed further below. The military forts were soon after succeeded by the first royal halls and temples.[9] A hierarchical pantheon of Asir warrior gods naturally challenged the old Vanir-belief system. In the beginning of this era the old tradition of laying down gifts of sharing into lakes and sacred groves at ancient holy places was abandoned,[10] simultaneously the first findings of war-trophic offerings appear in Scandinavia.[11] Archeologists like Lotte Hedeager and Charlotte Fabech and others suggest a dramatic shift in the 5th Century, meaning that a new kind of elite took control and birthed territorial thinking for the first time.[12] Religious history points to a phenomenon designating patriarchal take-overs world-wide, that this is accompanied also by a new hierarchical religion. The new patriarchal religion will most often keep certain core elements from the older layer of local divinities and legends, and knit them into the new construction, for the sake of stability and legitimacy. Local older icons is dressed in new garments and given partly old, partly new legends about them, as well as they are equipped with new or supplementary areas of function. This process is generally known as the acculturation or syncretistic process.[13] We will argue that the patriarchal take-over in Scandinavia was no exception. For legitimacy, the 5th Century elite initiators of Asir religion found good reasons to interweave spiritual entities from the local, pre-existing Germanic culture. Professors of Archeology Kristiansen and Larsson indirectly confirm the syncretic process of the Asir belief, putting it like this: “It is remarkable that this central Bronze Age myth should not [?] be …
(Art) Rhiannon by Pegi Eyers

The Celtic Moon Goddess Rhiannon is the patroness of horses and riders. It is said that the song of her three magic birds can bring the dead back to life, put the living to sleep and heal all pain. “Her soul message encourages you to ask for divine guidance as you manifest your goals.” (This is included in She Rises: What… Goddess Feminism, Activism and Spirituality? Volume 3)(Meet Mago Contributor) Pegi Eyers.
(Video) ‘A Journey to the Heart of Things’ by Janie Rezner

A Journey to the Heart of Things https://vimeo.com/47905631 The video is my 20 minute performance at the Matriarchal Studies Conference held at San Francisco’s Fishermans Wharf on May 10, 2012. I am singing, accompanying myself on synthesizer, and also playing my ocarina.
(Video Essay) Medusa-The Gaze that Kills and Heals: The Collaboration of Maya Deren and Jean Erdman by Dr. Lila Moore

In 1949 the film-maker Maya Deren and the dancer-choreographer Jean Erdman began working together on a filmed version of Erdman’s solo piece The Transformations of Medusa, first performed in 1942. Deren and Erdman were creative explorers of the invisible realms of the psyche and processed mythological archetypes and ritualistic forms inspired by archaic and shamanic cultures. Evidently, they were both interested in feminine mythic motifs and the realms of goddesses. Although their film project was not completed, it illustrates a relevant example of the involvement with the goddess and mythic themes relating to female characters among women artists during the first part of the twentieth century. Deren and Erdman sought to manifest and embody the invisible through their different art forms, i.e., film in the case of Deren and dance in the case of Erdman. Regardless of their different approaches, they found in the Medusa archetype and myth generative metaphors and creative forms through which the repressed and violent aspects of the psyche could be mirrored, evolved and transformed. The two women engaged with the female body and psyche by the interrelations of opposites which they recognized in the goddesses and archetypes of Athena-Medusa and Medusa-Erzulie. They both utilized the woman’s body and the woman’s gaze to re-write myths and trigger alternative meanings from feminine perspectives. Erdman’s choreography transforms the Medusa myth into a challenging experiment in feminine self-empowerment. Through her dance, the Medusa claims her killing gaze. She is no longer a mirror image that kills those who look at her directly but the sole owner of her look and ultimate power. Thus, she can bring death in an active way through her gorgon eyes and not only serves death in a passive way by killing involuntarily those who happen to encounter her stare. While she holds and controls the opposites of life and death in her body, her powers cease to be manipulated by the psychic mirror projections of those who cannot tolerate them. Erdman’s choreography returns Medusa’s mirror image and gaze back to her so that she is the bearer of her look and can no longer kill against her will. She therefore recreates the myth from a feminine and early feminist perspective by turning the passive and cursed Medusa into a feminine character with independent mind and agency. For Deren, the Medusa is an integral part of a cosmic serpentine movement; nexus of an unstable balance that is regained through ritual, trance and possession. She moves in infinite spirals that spin in opposite directions like the bitter and wise aspect of the beautiful goddess Erzulie. The serpentine forms of Medusa are most ancient and reflected in the dance of the waters of heaven which are stirred by the Voudoun deities, the benevolent father serpent Damballa and his counterpart Ayida. In Divine Horsemen, The Living Gods of Haiti (1953:144), Deren writes on the loa’s cosmic forces which are required for the achievement of ‘some natural cosmic balance’. In the case of the goddess Arzulie as loa, the labor needed for achieving balance and perfection is infinite and is compared by Deren to the merciless and unhappy muse Medusa. Deren correlates Medusa and Erzulie as the latter drives humans to attain that which is beyond their capacity through dreaming. Endlessly, Erzulie-Medusa perpetuates in humans a sense of dissatisfaction and imperfection that demands new dreams, quests and achievements. It is the Medusa in Erzulie that maintains the sense of frustration in the devotees and send them to quest further and dream more. Deren writes on the challenging Medusa-infused nature of Erzulie: She is the divinity of the dream, and it is in the very nature of dream to begin where reality ends and to spin it and to send it forward in space, as the spider spins and sends forward its own thread. The imagery of the thread, weaving and spinning, was already part of Deren’s filmic vocabulary before she encountered the attributes and ceremonial powers of Erzulie as an artist, researcher and an initiate of the great goddess of Haitian Voudoun. The film project, which was after some attempts cancelled by Deren, was described by her as too easy. Art should not be easy, she expressed in her notes, emphasizing the Medusa’s challenging aspect of the goddess. https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=8oyl4OsJcY4 The Transformations of Medusa (1942) Commissioned score by Louis Horst, performed by Jerry Benton Danced by Muna Tseng What can we learn from the Medusa archetype at this day and age? Can her gaze transform us through new knowledge and art forms? Can she, who is associated with the mechanism of fear and killings, show us how to untangle the prevalent narrative of violence? (Meet Mago Contributor) Dr. Lila Moore. References Deren, M. (1953) Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods and Haiti, New York: McPherson & Company Keller, S. (2015) Maya Deren: Incomplete Control, New York: Colombia University Press Subscribe to Dr Lila Moore’s newsletter for the forthcoming online course and e-book on Maya Deren and the Goddess. Also, watch the free introductory lectures, here: http://www.cyberneticinstitute.com/online-courses-1
Women, Birds, and Feminism by Sara Wright

Photography by Sara Wright When I was about forty years old I discovered a clay deposit on a beach that I visited frequently. Intrigued, I sat down and began working with the river’s gift. I remember my astonishment when a beaked bird – woman emerged out of the clump of damp earth. I could feel a surge of fire pulsing through my body so I took the figure home and placed it on my bedside table, hoping to discern its message. Shortly thereafter I discovered the work of Marija Gimbutas in the book The Language of the Goddess. There were a number of beaked goddesses pictured in this volume, some uncannily similar to mine. Had I tapped into the world of the ancient bird goddesses? I believed so. Although I had no idea what this might mean these images of Marija’s captured my imagination and kept me questioning. It wasn’t long before I also dreamed other bird goddess images and rendered each of them in clay… Some of my earliest memories were tied up with birds because my grandmother loved them, and watching birds was something we did together. To this day I can recognize a bird I haven’t seen since I was a child; all birds are treasured by me. During my mothering years when I was so distracted, I still fed whole flocks of Mourning doves outside my door every morning. Later, after my children were grown and I moved to the mountains, I acquired Lily b, my free flying African Ring Necked dove. Each dawn when writing in my journal, Lily b would reinforce any important insight I had with a certain call. Within six months I was forced to acknowledge that Lily b read my mind. When I learned that scientist Rupert Sheldrake was doing research on animal telepathy I began to correspond with him, and my experiences with Lily b became part of his data bank. This communication between Rupert and I reinforced my belief that Lily b and I had an unusual relationship. My powerful patriarchal conditioning was still insisting that birds don’t read human minds. I loved birds, animals, and plants – fiercely – after all, I was a naturalist. Now that my children were grown I was advocating for all non – human lives through teaching and writing. Yet that internal voice continued to try to dismiss my experiences with Lily, as well as other unusual encounters I had with animals. For the longest time I believed that my relationship with Lily b was an anomaly. In retrospect it is clear that Lily b opened a psychic door that allowed me to cross a threshold into the world of birds, animals and plants on a deeper and more intimate level than I had ever experienced before. When I moved into my log cabin a few years later a glorious crimson Cardinal began coming to my feeder. Oh, I was transfixed, experiencing the same kind of fire that I had when I sculpted my first bird goddess. Soon I had a family of Cardinals who fed their two fluttering nestlings each summer. In the winter I would stand at the door and watch for the pair to come in to feed when it was almost dark, and if they didn’t appear during inclement weather I experienced inexplicable grief and longing. My love for these particular birds rivaled my love for Lily B. One summer tragedy struck. One of the male nestlings was mauled by a cat. Although I attempted to save the bird’s life he died three days later. When the parents disappeared, I was beyond bereft. For two years I heard Cardinal songs up the road but my beloved birds did not return. Every Cardinal song broke my heart. Early in September of the third year a female Cardinal materialized ‘clicking’ outside my open window. I begged her to stay, telling her how lonely I had been for her company. She regarded me solemnly with one beady eye as she listened to my plea. The next morning she appeared again, and afterwards the female began to visit me every day at which time I would race out the door with special food just for her. Six months later she arrived at dawn with a male cardinal who immediately began to sing his ethereal mating song. I was overjoyed. That summer the pair raised a brood that didn’t disperse in the fall. The following winter I had four. I don’t know why it took me so long to begin to converse with Cardinals in an ordinary voice since Lily b and I bid each other good morning every day; he coos and I return his greeting in English. We also coo back and forth because he likes it when I mimic his voice. Once I began communicating out loud with the Cardinals they always responded; they also initiated contact like the day the male warned me NOT to go witness the slaughtered trees at the spring. The females simply click, but the males start singing, pause, wait for me to tell them they are beautiful (!) and then reply, accentuating certain notes each time. The other night one of these exchanges lasted for about 20 minutes. It is normal for me to be awakened by one of the male cardinals every morning at 4:15 AM because it’s summer, and they are early risers ( I have to bring in the feeder every night at dark or raccoons will raid it). If they come during the day when I have temporarily removed the feeder because of squirrel predation, both males and females call out with short irritated chirps and clicks arriving at whatever window is closest to where I am in the house until I return their feeder! It is uncanny how they know which room I am in. I also note that is the male that teaches the youngsters how to get my attention, so the routine is passed on intergenerationally. Although …
(Essay) The Pandemic and the Magic of Solidarity by Harita Meenee

How can we deal with the coronavirus pandemic while also pursuing our dreams of a different world? Here are some thoughts from an introvert spiritual activist. Photo by Evgeni Tcherkasski on Unsplash It’s the April of 2020 and this is by far the strangest spring we’ve ever experienced. Greece too has been affected by the novel coronavirus pandemic, just like many other countries. Every day we hear about the growing number of those infected and those killed by the virus. Hospitals are already overloaded. We’re repeatedly warned to stay at home and those who venture outside without proper justification have to pay a fine. Restaurants, coffee shops, bars, and most retail stores have closed and the whole country is under lockdown. The police are everywhere in downtown Athens and our civil liberties have been significantly curtailed. Our everyday life has been seriously disrupted and many people are losing their livelihood. Others are forced to stay at home with toxic partners or relatives while relationship abuse is escalating. Mental health issues had already been on the rise after a 10-year financial crisis; now they are being exacerbated by fear, stress and loneliness. I feel lucky because for years I’ve been working from home. I’m an introvert and I live alone by choice; thus, social distancing isn’t particularly hard for me. I count my blessings because over the years I’ve learned how to turn loneliness into solitude. With lots of practice, I’ve developed the precious skill of meeting my own emotional needs by meditating and generating plenty of self-love. It hasn’t always been easy. Staying at home comes naturally to me—my house is my temple and I’m its priestess. I feel an affinity with Hestia, the Greek Goddess of the Hearth; she may be little known today, but in antiquity she was the first to be given offerings in any ritual. Hers was the sacred fire of the city. She was the eldest of the Olympians and a virgin as she chose to never marry. Virginity, from a psychological perspective, is not a physical state but a demonstration of independence. For feminist Jungians, she symbolizes the archetype of the Self, being complete in herself. Jean Shinoda Bolen, a Jungian analyst and one of my favorite authors, has written extensively about the Hestia archetype in her books Goddesses in Everywoman and Goddesses in Older Women. She points out that the Hestia archetype is manifest in the women who choose to become nuns. Interestingly, an old friend used to tease me by calling me “Sister Harita.” In a way, he was right: I sometimes feel like a hermit, withdrawn from the hustle and bustle of mundane life. My home is my sanctuary where I can feel safe. In it I can distance myself from the chaos around me and focus on my inner world. In a sense, staying at home these days feels like a gift that allows me to deepen my spirituality and practice self-care. Finding inner peace amid a chaotic situation is no small feat, but I can’t allow myself to fall into escapism. During these harsh times, caring for others is just as important as caring for ourselves. The pandemic has highlighted how we’re all interdependent; now we can clearly see how one’s health condition can affect that of others. We no longer have the luxury of ignoring other people’s suffering. I have been an anti-racist activist for a long time, so I know firsthand that one of the most vulnerable groups is the population of refugees. Thousands of people from Syria, Iran, Afghanistan and other places have arrived in our country in recent years; Greek governments have put many of them in crowded camps, where they mostly live in tents, with little access to basic hygiene and healthcare. In the time of the novel coronavirus, it’s only a matter of time before this situation turns into a bomb, not just for refugees but for all of us. To avoid this catastrophe, the antiracist movement is demanding that the government provide safe housing for all. You can read more about this situation here: https://tinyurl.com/y9sck5a9. (Please consider signing the petition by filling out the form on the bottom of the page. Every signature matters!) The pandemic has exposed many of the weaknesses of the social and economic system we live in; healthcare is exploited for profit, public hospitals have been left underfunded, and countless lives are put at risk. But the problem goes a lot deeper. Rob Wallace, an evolutionary biologist and public health phylogeographer, has shown in his book Big Farms Make Big Flu how capitalism creates modern epidemics. In an interview entitled “Where did coronavirus come from, and where will it take us?” he points out the following: Capital is spearheading land grabs into the last of primary forest and smallholder-held farmland worldwide. These investments drive the deforestation and development leading to disease emergence. The functional diversity and complexity these huge tracts of land represent are being streamlined in such a way that previously boxed-in pathogens are spilling over into local livestock and human communities. In other words, big companies invading forests aren’t only destroying nature; they’re also exposing humans to viruses they would have never contracted otherwise. Wallace also highlights in his book how large-scale agribusiness, which includes the meat industry, contributes to the creation and propagation of new diseases: large numbers of domesticated animals crammed together (think of thousands of chickens one right next to the other) lead to high rates of transmission and weakened immune systems. It’s easy to sink into despair when considering how the kind of world we live in leads to disease, destruction and death. But the pandemic also has its positive side. Strikes are happening in many countries around the world as workers realize that their working conditions are putting their lives are at risk. Here in Greece many people are stepping up to stand in solidarity with others any way they can. Some of them are offering food the homeless or …
(Poetry & Photography) Witness by Sara Wright

It was dark when I first heard Her whooing overhead bearing witness, ushering in the First of the Harvest Moons. The seasonal wheel turning towards ripe fruit and swelling seeds. Summer’s Bounty. This goddess is cloaked in feathery mole brown splendor a Sphinx flying through the night. S/he heralds the Gift of Water answering earnest prayers… As ‘Changing Woman’ she brings rain to soften cracked desert ground… Hidden in a tangle of branches Owl observes my approach… When I pass under the Cottonwood tree she takes flight in silence. lands on a snag – luminous eyes glowing. Fiery embers sweeten the night. Her beneficent Presence floods me with wonder – Oh, I know Her well. Love seeps through a body punctured by holes. Seen at last by my Beloved I give thanks for Owl whooo calls my name. Working notes: Last fall on the night of my birthday I was serenaded by three Great Horned owls conversing outside my window. In the thirty years I had lived in my cabin these owls had never visited me before. The hair stood up on my arms – an omen, I was sure. The owls felt like an embodiment of my mother for reasons I will explain in a moment. Every night after my birthday the owls whooed outside my window until I left Maine for New Mexico six weeks later. The night after I arrived great horned owls began hooting. I couldn’t escape the irrational thought that the owls had followed me here. I felt confused because although I loved hearing them, each time I did I was flooded by conflicting thoughts about my mother, and what this omen might portend… When I was a child I adored my mother – the first woman I ever loved…Unfortunately, my mother didn’t seem to have much use for her daughter, though I did everything I could to please her. A gifted visual artist, my mother loved great horned owls and often drew them. I imitated her, drawing stylized images but I also feared them. The rational explanation for this feeling is, of course, that I feared my mother and equally feared her abandonment of me, so owls became associated with both a fear of women and death. This love and fear of my mother – a distant, cool, unattainable woman dominated my childhood, adolescence and young adulthood. It wasn’t until mid-life that I began to separate from her emotionally. It was only then that I began to see her. I recognized that her inability to see me as a person separate from herself ran both ways with disastrous results for both of us. Betrayal characterized our relationship. We gradually became more estranged, and for the last twelve years of her life she refused to see me at all. When she died, initially, all I felt was relief. It was during mid-life and long before my mother’s death that owls first came into my life. One barred owl flew into the house through a window. Others serenaded me at night. A Snowy owl flew head on almost hitting my windshield. Saw whet owls peered at me during the day and the nights were punctuated by Barred owls whooing at night. I found dead owls on the road, collected their feathers, attended a weekend with a well known Lakota -Souix Medicine Woman who wouldn’t allow me near her because I had “Owl Medicine,” and for these Indigenous peoples, the presence of the owl portended certain death. Because I still associated all owls with my mother these occurrences left me with feelings of dread. However, during the next 25 years a great horned owl never appeared to me, and that was a huge relief. Up until 11 months ago. When a convocation of three Great Horned owls surrounded my house and started singing the night of my birthday I sensed that I was crossing a threshold and that my mother was on the other side. Their night calls thrilled me even as I struggled to deal with my fright. The owls kept up their symphony until I left Maine for New Mexico six weeks later. Amazingly, I had only been in Abiquiu one day when Great Horned owls started whooing in the cottonwood forest in the predawn hours. I couldn’t escape the uncanny feeling that the owls and maybe my mother had followed me here… Because I have had intimate relationships with animals all my life I befriended the owls, taking deep pleasure out of their calls, even as I attempted to deal with my fears and reflected over what their continued presence might mean. I arrived in Abiquiu in a destabilized condition not having any idea what the winter would bring, whether I would make my home here, unsure of whether to sell my house. I was moving into the last years of my life and I wanted them to count. When I look back now it is easy to see that I was in crisis but at the time the obvious escaped me. As it turned out the winter months were very difficult with me wondering if I had made a terrible mistake. I was walking on air. At dawn or at night owls continued to serenade me throughout the winter and spring. In late May just before moving into my present home I found one owl feather outside of the east window. The owl’s feather graced the first Nicho in the house, followed by a second discovered and given to me by the builder a day or so later. The first night I spent here the owls sang from the cottonwoods. A few days later I found and added three more owl feathers to the Nicho. All summer I have been graced by owl presence, especially during the full moons when owls have let me see them in the predawn mornings. On the morning of September 1st almost one year after hearing them for the first time, a hooting owl awakened …
(Poem) Earth Day by Donna Snyder

If I were the earth,I would lose myselfto intermittent plagues of despair.How could I not?I travel among my People,in the lands of canyons, mesas, buttes.Here I weep and rage (have you heard?)to see the ravages of wars of attritionwaged in the name of energy and its profitability.I travel among my Peoplein the lands of this once grand river valley,my fragile desert, and dying mountains.Here I weep and rage (have you not seen?)for toxins replace nutrients necessary to harbor life.I am exhausted by the ravages of wars,waged in the name of progress.Poisonous disregard and knowing actsfoul the flow of my big river.Babies are born without brainsbecause mamas drank brave waters,corrupted by evil both seen and unseen-pesticides, radioactive isotopes, carcinogensBabies born with kidneys outside the bodyrather than their natural place.Perhaps I could become inuredto tragedy and comedy, andoblivious to horror and terror.If I were the earth,I would sometimes succumbto violent rages against perverse perpetrators,their flippant disregard for these senseless horrors.But then I might regretthat greater harm befalls methan befalls the villain of this story.But as long as I can becataclysmically annoyed, maybeI can regain my strength.If I were the earth,I would long for sleep–the kind of sleep where breezescaress me with clean airand all my dreams show mehow I am blessed. Perhaps I can persist,continue to have random flashesof lucid dreams and surreal clarity,fortuitous gushes of brine,and floods of clear water.If I were the earth,I would fling off gravity’s leash,careen wildly through the universeuntil I found a safe placewhere I could sing and play,rain sweet waterinto my own waiting body,dance againamong my sister stars.First written for Earth Day 1996.
(Book Excerpt 2) Rainbow Goddess: Celebrating Neurodiversity ed. by K. L. Aldred, P. Daly, T Albanna, and Trista Hendren

[Editor’s Note: This anthology was published by Girl God Books (2022).] “Broken Glass, Spiderwebs and Rainbows” by Deborah A. Meyerriecks Never fitting in. Never feeling good enough. Trying to do everything on my own. No one sees the hours or days or months or years it takes to start something or finish something. Never being able to ask for help because I haven’t figured out what I need next and when I do figure it out in a sudden flash of either understanding or inspiration, if I don’t handle it right away… it’s lost. No one understanding why I can’t just say what I need help with so they can help. They take it upon themselves to decide I didn’t actually need help; I just like to procrastinate. After all, whatever it was is done and in their opinion, perfect. Parents praise the easy A’s though high school while getting everything they asked for to be done, done. Never actually seeing any homework getting done. Proud praises became confirmation of meeting expectations. Honor Roll Society, again, naturally, of course Deborah got Honor Roll. The tedium of successful repetition became an expectation that bred boredom. Not understanding why I was floundering in college. Realizing I never learned how to study and in high school, you are told exactly what they will test you on. In college, it’s conceptual with an attention to detail you provide yourself. Learning how and where to get the necessary information – and how to process and regurgitate it – breeds Impostor Syndrome. Whether it was in small study groups or metaphysical subjects or the NYC*EMS Academy. As people would show up to my study table the hour or three before exams and I would share what notes I created for myself and my tips and tricks to remember what to do and in what order… Order of operations; same for mathematics, chemistry, and patient assessment. Trust me on this. I never felt good enough to be the teacher, but I could share what I was studying and learned thus far. This became impromptu pop-up classes on everything from Calculus to Trauma Assessment to Basic Astrology and How to Be a Witch. People would call me a teacher. I wouldn’t. I was sharing what I read, what I learned. My view of looking at the information, analyzing the data, and sharing the resulting information. If I can do this, anyone can do this. Right? Imposter Syndrome grows. Learning to be cautious never to take credit. Always citing sources and references. Completely missing the point of what a teacher is and does. Year after year, month after month, day after day, I was astounded that anyone would come to me to learn anything. If I knew it, everyone would already know it. If I can look it up and learn about it, I’m probably the last to know about it. They think I’m humble. I’m really scared. What if, just like the transition from high school to college, I fall on my face, get overwhelmed, and fail. I know I can just withdraw from classes I’m due to teach just like I withdrew from my 2nd semester of college. Walk away and disappear. No one would miss me. Who even thinks about me when I’m not there? Who loves me when I’m not useful? What if I screw up while acting as a guardian and guide while the person who entrusted me dives deep and starts to do the work of learning what they need for their own productive shadow care? What if their trust in me is misplaced? How much was from the trauma I was subjected to and how much was actually my brain processing things differently but being told I was never going to succeed and, “if you worked for me, I’d fire you.” (Yep, that was my mother). And so often never being allowed to begin – unless you not only could see the end, but all the steps and stages in between. My daughter is an absolute Rainbow Warrior Goddess. I’d like to believe that doing my own shadow work and shadow care enabled my amazing Dynamic Duo to become the creative, intelligent, insightful, and considerate adults they are today. That I’ve given them their space to develop their own communication style as well as helped them to learn common communication skills to help communicate with “normal people.” My daughter has ADHD. Her willingness to talk with her friends about what she was feeling and experiencing, especially when feeling overwhelmed, led to shared experiences and language to use to best explain and represent what is helping and what is making things harder for her. Day to day, class to class. Her doctor listened. Suggestions were made. Medication offered as part-time help but not touted as a cure or a solution. Reassurance that what she lives with is a gift as well as a curse. Gift and curse. The openness and willingness to let my Dynamic Duo tell me anything without interjecting or correcting or “helping” unless asked. It led to her sharing her diagnosis with me. But not until after she shared what she does and how she does it with interjections from both of us that I do the same thing. She let me know that although a doctor would have to diagnose, I most likely have high-functioning ADHD with burnout. Oh My Goddess! I believed she was right. Now, I have more to read and research and digest and either incorporate into my living routine or discard as not relevant or helpful for me. It matters. It helps. I don’t have writer’s block; I need to catch the right understanding of how to get to what I need to write about and how I want to express it. It’s not that I’m a slob or lazy. Executive Dysfunction. It’s why I can find an unconscious patient and figure out what they need and where to take them in split seconds …

(Special Post 8) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?

[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. Special thanks to Trista Hendren, founder and author of The Girl God, who passionately and painstakingly promotes the message of each contributor via Facebook’s memes. Without Trista’s devotion to the advocacy, this collective effort would not have continued. 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.] Marija Krstic-Chin To remember who we really are (nature, cycles, network, creative force, one, infinite…) for the benefit of all of humanity and all living things; and to unite and unify as we broadcast, hand down, protect and defend this truth and each other against the oppressive intentions and actions of patriarchal perpetrators, puppets, and pawns who seek to enslave us by various old and new divide-and-conquer strategies.
(Special Post Isis 2) Why the Color of Isis Matters by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s note: The discussion took place in Mago Circle during the month of July, 2013. Our heartfelt thanks go to the members who participated in this discussion with openness and courage.] Part 2 The Color Talk in Goddesses Kahena Dorothea Athena was also whitened which is sad. However the statues were worshiped by many women to whom they brought comfort. And their origins were later remembered by the abundance of Black Virgins that became important in Italy and other parts of Europe. I don’t see Dark Goddesses as shadows but as having depths of Creativity and Knowledge. My main Goddess is Kirke and the bast relief I have of her is a chocolate brown. Diane Horton The worship of Isis broadened from Egypt to all the countries bordering the Mediterranean, as well as the Middle East and the isles called now the British Isles. She and Her worship were virtually everywhere in the westernly known world of the time! She IS the Goddess of 10,000 Names! And as such she was adapted to each culture’s vision of Her. She was the basis of all the” Black Madonnas”. I do not think of this as Isis/Auset representing the “dark” Goddess as something somehow bad or to be dealt with, but rather that ancient darkness represents infinite potential, eternal creativity/fertility, the beginning and ending of all things, and the always deepening knowledge of magick. Max Dashu However, there is a politics of representation that we all need to be aware of, that pushes original African iconography down and away, and fronts Europeanized images. There is no possibility of “colorblindness” in such a system; a restoration of the original must be actively striven toward. This is incumbent on all of us not of (recent) African descent. Otherwise we perpetuate the injurious status quo, instead of overturning it. Harita Meenee I agree with those who say that race is largely a social construct. Its roots seem to lie in colonialism and the slave trade. I would also like to add that racism is used to oppress people of different nationalities and colors. Ηere in Greece the IMF neo-liberal policies are destroying our economy (and lives); they go hand in hand with a vicious racist campaign against immigrants, along with the rise of a neo-Nazi party. This is part of an effort to redirect people’s anger away from the government and bankers, towards those who are poor and foreign and often have a different color or religion. Fortunately, many grassroots activists are responding to this by building a strong anti-racist, antifascist movement. You can see our Facebook page below. It’s in Greek but the photos are quite revealing. If anyone is interested in learning more about the situation here, please message me and I’ll try to find some articles in English for you. https://www.facebook.co/19JanuaryATHENSvsFASCISM?fref=ts 19 Γεναρη – ΑΘΗΝΑ ΠΟΛΗ Αντιφασιστικη Μπροστά στη κλιμάκωση της φασιστικής απειλής και της ρατσιστικής βίας, στη εμφάν…See More Naa Ayele Kumari Let me put this in the context of something you might understand. This is a goddess group that honors the feminine and the power it represents. People in this group understand the oppression and misrepresentation of women. We understand the implications of misogynistic patriarchal thinking. We understand the implications of stealing the information, rites, and traditions from goddess centered cultures and rephrasing them into male dominated themes… especially those that then went on to oppress women today. This is the same thing that has happened as it related to race and our cultures. It infuriates us when a man may say… why do we have to focus on the goddess? Let us just accept that we are all human and no special consideration should be given to anyone because of their gender. Or, this is just a distraction or social construct and it really doesn’t matter. We understand the blatant disregard and ignorance of those statements. Yet, the same is true for race and people of other races. Your attitude and casual disregard perpetuates a lie that you are comfortable with and don’t wish to move from that comfort zone. It means you don’t have to be accountable for the injustices or oppression it continues to perpetuate in the larger culture toward people who do not look like you. As far as I am concerned, I truly believe that the dark goddess for many with white skin IS their shadow… It is the part of themselves that they deny and fear. That you may have come from black people may scare you… even when the science proves it. That deep down… you fear what you don’t understand. To even confront it is frightening… something that you would rather ignore and deny… Yet… here we are. Black, Yellow, Red… people.. women… who have been oppressed for thousands of year because of this… and are asking… to be seen in their true likeness… not as you wish them to be… or fear them to be. Naa Ayele Kumari Thank you Max Dashu, I so appreciate your scholarship and dedication to the truth where ever you find it… and Helen Hwang for staying open to it as well. [Someone withdrew the threads.] Rick Williams No, you can’t passively aggressively slither your way out of this, reread your own statements and that last post contradicts most of your ascertains. I can’t believe that you honestly say fire away at you like you’re some sort of martyr and VICTIM of being misunderstood, not at all, I understand you very well. I don’t think you understand yourSELF. That’s the real tragedy. Rick Williams “The Lips of Wisdom are Closed except to the Ears of Understanding.” It is in quotes, and it’s part of Ancient Wisdom, of Tehuti, DJehuti, or Hermes Trimegitus… The Great Scribe of KMT.. they have alot of pretty pictures of him all over KMT(Egypt).. still have no idea what you are saying have the time. Max Dashu Thank you Naa Ayele for taking the time to make the extremely apt analogy of women’s oppression to clarify the politics of race oppression […]
(Special post) The Goddess Inanna: Her Allies and Opponents by Hearth Moon Rising

Inanna’s Descent to the Underworld is one of the most fascinating myths ever told. Not just because it is profound and enlightening, although it is certainly that. It’s an exciting journey that ignites the imagination, and female characters are at the hub of the action. This is a tale of power: power that is demanded, power that is won, power that is appropriated, and power that cannot be escaped. The story follows the fertility goddess Inanna, who brought civilization to Mesopotamia, as she seeks to expand her realm by venturing into the world below. Inanna’s experiences in the great below, her escape, and the wild events that unfold as a result of her caper are the focus of the tale.

The Ceremonial Creative Cosmos by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

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

I am a secularist rather than a ritualist, but I can’t help but be drawn into the celebrations that people make when they honour the passing of the seasons. Even as a child I felt the disconnect between Christmas and the hot dusty days of summer. When Christians invaded and colonised Australia they brought their holidays but did not consider changing the dates to match the seasons. I was in India recently, invited as a speaker at the Hindu Lit For Life Festival in Chennai where I had lived ten years ago. The last day of the festival was the first day of Pongal. A friend, feminist economist Devaki Jain, who had grown up in Chennai eighty years earlier invited me to join her in a car ride to see Pongal celebrations in the streets. This is a Tamil festival dating back at least a thousand years, a sun festival, welcoming the next six months of the sun’s journey, also a harvest festival. During this time many women produce beautiful drawings, known as kolam. In my book Cow I wrote a poem about kolam which I think says more than I can explain here. what she says about kolam where they are drawn and when is all important early morning is auspicious it sets the shape of the day the hard ground is cleaned points of white grain sprinkled she works quickly she knows her design for the day runs the powdered grain from point to point it is a mandala a yantra a sign so the forces of the universe align themselves with her intentions Back to Pongal. The festival goes for four days. On the first day, which is called Bhogi, people are on the streets with the fruits of harvest, piles of tumeric and stacks of sugar cane tied in bunches. My friend, Devaki, bought flowers to take back to her room in the hotel. The second day, called Thai Pongal, I was invited to a harvest lunch at the house of my friend Mangai who is a playwright, theatre director and human rights activist. The word ‘pongal’ means ‘boiling over’ or’ overflow’ and I saw this in the cooking of the sweetened rice dish into which each of the twelve people present poured some water and milk as it almost overflowed the pot. This sweet rice dish was added to the collection of other dishes on the table. I cannot tell you what they were, but the meal was delicious. After lunch everyone relaxed, someone sang, we talked and caught up on news. The third day, is called Maatu Pongal, and cattle are at the centre of celebrations on that day. I don’t know if this line up of cattle had anything to do with the day’s celebration but there they were tied up alongside a very busy main road. These were not cows and I did not see any cows with decorated horns and flowers on their heads. on that day as I have on other occasions. On the fourth day, Kaanum Pongal, things begin to wind down. One of my co-speakers at the festival said she would be visiting family members on that day. The kolams are drawn again, sugar cane is consumed and people go back to their daily lives. What I liked about being in Tamil Nadu during the Pongal festival is that it felt absolutely right. The time of the year, the connection with harvest, so I did not feel the discomfort I so often feel in the midst of the out-of-season commercialised holidays as they are celebrated in Australia. Susan Hawthorne’s book Cow is available worldwide from distributors in USA, Canada, UK, from all the usual online retailers or from Spinifex Press. http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/Bookstore/book/id=215/ © Susan Hawthorne, 2019 (Meet Mago Contributor) Susan Hawthorne.
(Video) Autumn Equinox/Mabon Poetry by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

The Autumnal Equinox occurs each year in the range of March 20-23 in the Southern Hemisphere, and in the range of September 20 -23 in the Northern Hemisphere. Autumn Equinox is a point of sacred balance: it is the point of balance in the dark part of Earth’s annual cycle. Sun is equidistant between North and South as it was/is at Spring Equinox, but in this dark phase of the cycle, the trend is toward increasing dark. Henceforth the dark part of the day will exceed the light part: thus it is a Moment of certain descent … and a sacred Moment for feeling and contemplating the grief and power of loss, for ceremoniously joining personal and collective grief and loss with the larger Self in whom we are. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcZflKLkvP8 Below is the text of the video. It is based on the traditional poetry for PaGaian Autumn Equinox/Mabon ceremony[i]. This is the Moment of the Autumnal Equinox in our Hemisphere – the moment of balance of light and dark in the dark part of the cycle. The light and dark parts of the day in the South and in the North of our planet, are of equal length at this time. We feel for the balance in this moment – Earth as She is poised in relationship with the Sun … breathing in the light, swelling with it, letting our breath go to the dark, staying with it. In our part of Earth, the balance is tipping into the dark. We remember the coolness of it. This is the time when we give thanks for our harvests – all that we have gained. And we remember too the sorrows, losses involved. The story of Old tells us that Persephone, Beloved Daughter, is given the wheat from Her Mother – the Mystery, knowledge of life and death. She receives it graciously. But she sets forth into the darkness – both Mother and Daughter grieve that it is so. Demeter, the Mother, says: “You are offered the wheat in every moment … I let you go as Child, most loved of Mine: you descend to Wisdom, to Sovereignty. You will return as Mother, co-Creator with me. You are the Seed in the Fruit, becoming the Fruit in the Seed. Inner Wisdom guides your path.” We give thanks for our harvests – our lives they are blessed. We are Daughters and Sons of the Mother. Yet we take our Wisdom and all that we have gained, and remember the sorrows – the losses involved. We remember the grief of the Mother, of mothers and lovers everywhere, our grief. Persephone descends. The Beloved One is lost. Persephone goes forth into the darkness to become Queen of that world. She tends the sorrows. The Seed represents our Persephones, who tends the sorrows – we are the Persephones, who may tend the sorrows. We go out into the night with Her and plant our seeds. Persephone blesses us with her fertile promise: “You have waxed into the fullness of life, And waned into darkness; May you be renewed in tranquility and wisdom[ii].” These represent our hope. The Seed of life never fades away. She is always present. Blessed be the Mother of all life. Blessed be the life that comes from Her and returns to Her. We tie red threads on each other: we participate in the Vision of the Seed – of the continuity of Life, that continues beneath the visible. The Mother knowledge grows within us. Our hope is in the Sacred Balance of the Cosmos – the Thread of Life, the Seed that never fades away: it is the Balance of Grief and Joy, the Care that we may feel in our Hearts. NOTES: [i] Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, p. 239-247. [ii] Charlene Spretrnak, Lost Goddesses of Early Greece, p. 116. REFERENCES: Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005. Spretnak, Charlene. Lost Goddesses of Early Greece: a Collection of Pre-Hellenic Myths. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992/1978.
Artful Ceremonial Expression by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This article is an edited excerpt from Chapter 7 of the author’s book PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. I always wore a special headpiece for the Seasonal ceremonies when I facilitated them over the years, and I feel that any participant may do so, not just the main celebrant. My ceremonial headpiece with its changing and continuous Seasonal decoration took on increasing significance over the years; it became a personal central representation of the year-long ceremonial art process of creating, destroying and re-creating. For the research period of my doctoral studies particularly, when I was documenting the process, I realised that this headpiece came to represent for me the essence of “She” – as Changing One, yet ever as Presence – as I was coming to know Her. In my journal for the Mabon/Autumn Equinox process notes one year I wrote: As I pace the circle with the Mabon headpiece in the centre, I see “Her” as She has been through the Seasons … the black and gold of Samhain, the deep red, white and evergreen of Winter, the white and blue of Imbolc, the flowers of Eostar, the rainbow ribbons of Beltane, the roses of Summer, the seed pods and wheat of Lammas, and now the Autumn leaves. I see in my mind’s eye, and feel, Her changes. I am learning … The Mother knowledge grows within me. The headpiece, the wreath, the altar, the house decorations, all participate in the ceremony: they are part of the learning, the method, the relationship – similar to how one might bring flowers and gifts of significance to a loved one at special moments. Then further, the removal and re-creation of the decorations are part of the learning – an active witness to transformation through time.
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.
(Photography & Poetry) Thoughts of Spring by Deanne Quarrie

Spring At the highest point on the tree, you stretch, reaching for the sun. Your pink petals elegant in their grace, you stand alone. Bravest of all, for leaves have yet to come to offer shade Branches bare except for furry buds that will soon follow in imitation of your daring first move. Intrepid flower of Spring, I feel like you in my yearning for the Sun!

(Essay 2) The Magoist Calendar: Mago Time inscribed in Sonic Numerology by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: This is my latest research that has led me to restore the 13-month, 28-day Mago Calendar, which will be included at the end of its sequels. See Mago Almanac: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Book A), published in 2017.] CALENDARICS AND THE MAGOIST COSMOGONY Calendar is the harmonic numerological chart that indicates specifics of the terrestrial time/space relative to the extrasolar universe. As a cosmic almanac of our terrestrial home, calendar teaches the human world to do the right thing at the right timing, determined by the song/dance of the universe. We humans, part of the calendar, are the guardian of the calendar. Calendar is not and should not be an arbitrary arrangement invented to serve the purpose of a particular group of people, the Budoji says. It is
(Mago Almanac Basics) What is the Magoist Calendar? by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

[Author’s Note: I have created 13 basics of Mago Almanac, which are included in Mago Almanac Planner for Personal Journey: 13 Month 28 Day Calendar (Volume 6), Year 6 or 5920 MAGOMA ERA (Equivalent to 2023 CE). These 13 basics constitute the backbone of Magoist Cetaceanism as well.] It is a 13 month 28 day luni-menstrual-solar calendar of Old Magoist Korea. Insofar as one year marks about 365.25 days, a time taken for the earth to revolve around the sun, it is a solar calendar. The fact that both the moon and the female menstruation cycle mark 28 days, which makes 13 months or 364 days for one year. This makes approximately 1.25 a surplus. Thus, we have days outside the calendar grid. Each year has one extra day on the day before the New Year’s day. The New Year of Year 1 or 5915 Magoma Era was set on the new moon date before Winter Solstice in 2018 by the Gregorian Calendar. With one extra day, the year makes 365 days. Given that the actual period of the Earth’s revolution is approximately 365.25 days, we have the second extra day every fourth year. Setting aside the extra days, we have 364 days for one year. 364 days divided by 28 days is 13. That is how we have 13 months in a year. The Magoist Calendar championing the matricentric worldview is the very indication that our Mother Earth is stabilized in her own voyages. https://www.magobooks.com/update-on-mago-books/mago-almanac-13-month-28-day-calendar-book-a https://www.magoism.net/2013/07/meet-mago-contributor-helen-hwang/
(Pilgrimage Essay 2) Report of First Mago Pilgrimage to Korea by Helen Hwang

[Author’s note: The first Mago Pilgrimage to Korea took place June 6-19, 2013. We visited Ganghwa Island, Seoul, Wonju, Mt. Jiri, Yeong Island (Busan), and Jeju Island.] Part 2 Traditional Korea and the Primordial Home of Magoism It was the time for the sacred, ancient mystery of Magoism to be reenacted once again for the Race of WE! Mago Pilgrimage was an open invitation to the deep knowing that Korean Magoism unfolds beneath the surface of patriarchal consciousness. It was a call from the Background [to borrow Mary Daly’s term, which, I explicate, refers to the biophilic reality wherein the deep memories of Goddess are alive, unfettering from the foreground, patriarch reality] to be present with Mago, the Great Goddess, Here and Now! Third eyes flashed, while open hearts unlocked the doors to the path. We heard the whisper, the chorus of the natural, cultural, and historical landscapes of Korea, the arcane music of the Female Beginning. The magic worked its own feats. As could be expected, undertaking the Mago pilgrimage entailed daunting tasks for me. Nonetheless, it was proven to me time and again that the purpose creates the means. The Korean saying, “Where there is a will, there is a way,” spoke to it well. We, the intercontinental pilgrims, were made welcome by supporters, organizers, and volunteers from the locale. We attracted fabulous scholars, teachers, artists, administrators, and activists along our paths. It was the first cross-cultural and cross-gender goddess event to be held in Korea in modern times! Excitement and anticipation were high. As a researcher of Mago and Magoism, I knew the Mago pilgrimage was the right thing to do. In fact, I had been faithfully following the direction that my heart beckoned to throughout my life. The consequences were the actions that I took. This time, however, I was rewarded with the fate-ful encounter; the very research of Mago came as a revelation to me. The topic of Mago emerged from nowhere at the juncture of my labyrinthine journey to non-patriarchal [gynocentric] consciousness. I was a student of feminist studies in religions. Without knowing what was in store for me, I knew that I was not content with the feminist theology of patriarchal religions of the West and the East. If any theme of these religions had appealed to me — I wished at times, to confess to my readers — during those years, my path would not have crossed with Magoism. My radical feminist quest was the cause for encountering Mago.

Category: Sara Wright

(Prose) Earth Stories by Sara Wright

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S/HE: IJGS V5 N1 2026 (B/W Paperback)

Mago Almanac Year 9 Monthly Wheels

(Proposal Invitation) Join the November “Nine Poets Speak” Salon

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