December 18, 2019November 8, 2019 Mago Work AdminLeave a comment

(Essay 2) Private Religion in Pompeii: An examination of two lararia from Pompeii by Francesca Tronetti, Ph.D.

Two Lararia from Pompeii The intermingling of deities, both insiders and outsiders, is most evident in private contexts, where no formal stricture limited personal religious expression, most notably in Read More …

(Meet Mago Contributor) Lizzy Bluebell

Lizzy Bluebell is a Scots-born, independent writer, researcher, artist, photographer, and Specialist in Neologisms for 13 years. Lizzy works for The Cosmic Mother, supporting the Works of Mago. Her professional background is Canadian T.V. Journalism, Production, and Marketing. Now happily retired in the peaceful beauty of the Ozarks, she raises flowers, vegetables, and stray cats, along with her husband and partner of 20 years. Lizzy is a tireless advocate and activist blogger on Facebook Pages and Groups on various topics, but always with an eye to the issue of the false spells in patriarchal English Language. Lizzy began her passion for blogging one early May Day morning in 2004 when a dream awoke her at 4:00 a.m. with a revelation from the Cosmic Mother which prompted her onto the worldwide web, where she has been writing ever since.
‘Logbook of a Mother Who Strives for the Mother Earth Sanctuary’ by Wennifer A. Lin

For the past 20 years, I’ve been rather obsessed with the vision of creating a sustainable, matristic eco-sanctuary for birthing consciously, balancing body/mind/spirit wholistically, growing food biodynamically, and living communally. I had such a “calling” before I became a mother and had kids, and the irony of it is that now that I have three, I see the importance and urgency of it more than ever, but I struggle with having enough time, resources, energy to start one up when my plate is already so full with just being a “mom” and trying to do it all as best as I can, and yet, feeling like I never do it good enough, or fast enough, or thoroughly enough. I’ve always been a perfectionist and I thrive on working myself to the bone (not necessarily a healthy thing), but I must say, motherhood is the toughest, most humbling, unpaid, and undervalued job ever, where the workload simply seems never ending. Don’t even talk about working “over-time” because it’s a daily occurrence … you just never get paid for it … sometimes not even in gratitude, and yet, there’s a sweetness and a pricelessness to it all. So this is a rather huge dilemma I’ve been wrestling with for quite some time now. In matriarchal/native societies, families lived and worked together communally …. women (and men) shared the joys and burdens of raising kids, making food, keeping the household, the clan, running smoothly. Now, each woman in nuclear family households is expected to do everything on her own (as well as be a wife, a daughter, a sister, an auntie, a school volunteer, a girl scout leader, and a working professional … and even with the best of husbands who do help out, it’s still endless work in and out of the house). Add to that the time-consuming, labor-intensive approaches to living organically, wholistically, wholesomely [ie, conscious conception = conscious birthing = conscious raising of kids (ie, baby-wearing, co-sleeping, on-demand nursing, elimination communication, aka diaper-free method, something native people have done rather universally and very successfully until the disposable diaper companies started brainwashing everyone and polluting the landfills in the process, etc) = conscious preparation of foods and not relying on pre-packaged, preservative-laden “fast” foods, etc.]. Basically, and this is the crux of my recent talk this summer at the East-West Center at UH Manoa in Hawaii where my cohort and I gave a joint lecture on food and community …. while it is ultra important to preserve food sovereignty and squash out biopiracy (Vandana Shiva – love her work), we forget that just as quickly as our rights to clean soil, clean water, clean foods (ie, non-GMO seeds) are being corrupted and/or taken away by hegemonic governmental and corporate greed, our societal structure, one that really nurtures the community as a whole …. one that I would see as matristic or matriarchal … is quickly becoming extinct, leaving the mothers and the children, as well as the fathers, with very little support and all too much work to do single-handedly. So for instance, even when we succeed in procuring nutrient-rich, organically-grown veggies and store them in our fridge, who is going to then take out these ingredients, prepare them in a “slow food” manner and give these ingredients the love and attention they demand to make a truly well-balanced, tasty, homecooked meal? WHO?!?! The mother who is rushing all day from point A to point B, driving the kids to and from school, to and from extra-curricular activities, volunteering, working, coming home at dinner-time feeling starved, dehydrated, and fatigued and wishing she had 3 of herself so a decent meal could have been prepared in a timely manner? So she throws up her hands and caves in to buying “fast food” to get by at least one more meal, hoping that perhaps, tomorrow will be less hectic and she can finally make good use of those organic veggies in the fridge before they spoil. The modern, Western ethic to be “independent” (rather than “inter-dependent”) at all costs to prove one’s worth is sought after at a very high price, and essentially, no one wins. It’s a lonely, isolating, and disconnecting process, where kids, like the organic veggies, are coveted and cherished, but often more in thought than in action simply because it’s impossible to do everything and do it all in a timely manner when there’s just one of you. Recently, I was advised by a Waldorf kindergarten teacher that the little kids need to be kept away from TV and not be allowed to watch more than one hour per week, if that. I told her that I wholeheartedly agree, but that it’s easier said than done, especially in a nuclear family household. I shared with her that when I was raised in an extended-family, quasi-matriarchal (I say “quasi” because our family was also influenced by Confucian patriarchal values) household in Taiwan, and later, even here in the US, we all lived together, under one roof, in community, where we had not only our siblings and cousins to play with, but also had multiple uncles and aunties and grandparents to watch after us, so we NEVER felt this “need” to zone out in front of TVs because our household was big, connected, and always bustling with life and interaction. TV shows and their dramas faded in comparison to our own. So I asked this Waldorf teacher, do you realize that while all parents would LIKE to entertain and instruct and dote over their kids 24/7, there simply isn’t “enough” of them to do so? And that our problem with kids watching too much TV isn’t even the TV (or computer) itself, but our screwed up societal structure? She was rather stumped by my rebuttal. Within these past couple of years, I have been more proactively searching for others to potentially collaborate with to create this (for lack of a better title) Mother Earth Sanctuary …. “a webwork of sustainable, …
(Meet Mago Contributor) Yuan Changming

Yuan Changming grew up in a remote village, started to learn the English alphabet in Shanghai at age 19 and published monographs on translation before leaving China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver; credits include ten Pushcart nominations, the 2018 Naji Naaman’s Literary (Honour) Prize, Best of the Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1,449 others across 42 countries.
(Poems) Old Selves I Have Been by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

Poem 1, May 26th 1980 Planets away I’ve travelled light years from my mother’s womb Where are you my mother? I need your love – I want to return to you But oh I don’t. I don’t. … I have travelled into myself into the depths into the universe into the stars to that heart to that black hole my own home your home is somewhere near. … “I am the mirror – blastula reflected in the newest nova.”[1] … My home – I am coming. I am coming unto you. oOo Poem 2, May 26th, 1980 My life – … I hold it to the light I feel it its shape its corners its smooth surfaces its colour … what is it how is it this gem … who can cut it? only me … I hold it in my hands I feel it in the dark as a blind person I sense it. … Discovering, seeking remembering(?) … My skin absorbs it and is it. oOo Poem 3, May 30th, 1980 This is a profound time my friend a stopping point a period of life complete a road we’ve shared seen through a time of passing, of death A process, an era turning its last turns A winter, a death the last leaves falling. … We cry we feel pain we sense deeply the ebb and the flow Each soul bared and touched sensing itself. Lonely yes, but pure and free. … So long have I longed not knowing. … Now I am doing it sailing to be free. … I am doing it See how I spread my wings See how I glide See how I turn … Rising Rising I am flying. … This life how much is it worth? … what can it? how can it? … I sense it small. against the greatness of the sky. oOo References: Morgan, Robin. Going Too Far: The Personal Chronicle of a Feminist. NY: Vintage Books, 1978. NOTES: [1] Robin Morgan, Going Too Far, p.314.
Drowning in Woman’s Wisdom – A Birth in Reverse by Claire Dorey

[Extract from a work in progress.] Drowning in Woman’s Wisdom 1 / Claire Dorey Slipping into the lake intending to drown, a birth in reverse, she returns to source. She has no fear of the depths. It is the shallows that frighten her. She embraces the blackness, bitter cold lapping the nape of her neck. A cold kiss. Ice teeth snapping shut, sealing her into a liquid coffin of numb. Black is the warmest colour when you want to forget. Saw tooth pain of a lacerated back. Saw tooth wounding witnessing rape. The pain of ice water is a relief from all that. Below, slippery eels, the silt of the river bed and life ebbing away. Above, life and a slither of dawn reflecting on water. Surrender. Anguish. Time slowing down. She invites stagnation and decay to flow into her lungs. Hypothermia is red, blue and black. Red is a broken heart. Blue is a weak pulse. Black is consciousness slipping away. Near death experience opens the mind. Held by the water and dreaming of death she floats through the portal to connect with wild woman consciousness because this is where the wisdom and memory of drowned women are stored. Water is a sentient being. Water is a battery, a resonant library, an Akashic Record flowing with consciousness. Woman on land, seal in the sea, ancient tales of Selkies make sense to her now. “Be still,” whispers the Selkie, “I’ll stay with you a while.” On the way down she meets Ophelia. Haunting eyes staring upwards. Waterlogged dress weighing her down. Ophelia is dying an art establishment death…. a death in turquoise, encircled with water lilies! Our shero floats face down, arms out stretched, lake bed slipping away, sea weed hair flowing all around her. She is out of her depth and her screams are silent. It is very quiet and still down there! Part bird, part woman, part fish, the tug of love and loss as woeful melody unites all women, for this is where the Sirens are and they won’t let her drown. Where there is water there is life. “Where there is love there is life.” – Mahatma Gandhi. Down here the Sirens sing songs of love, loss and fear as emotion washes over them. The river’s soul melody resonates because when one woman is violated we all feel violated. Deep in our hearts all women know the patriarch has colonised our bodies and this is why we respond to the Siren’s sigh. The Siren’s sigh is death and darkness and time standing still, a place of reckoning, before a painful rebirth. It’s an amniotic blackness where ideas are born. It’s a portal to wisdom through a veil of mist. This precious water, the elixir of life, brings life to all it touches, awakening seeds. Seeds of consciousness. Seeds of resistance! Seeds of saying NO! Tales of Swan Maidens swirl at the surface. An ‘amorous voyeur’, let’s call him ‘sex pest’, has stolen the Swan Maiden’s wings and is hiding in the bushes watching her bathe. Trapped in the water, she urges us to strap our wings on and rise up in resistance. Head of a woman, tail of a fish, the Mermaid understands human emotion. “Trust the process,” she murmurs, “I know it has been hard for you.” Part woman, part dragonfly, water nymphs play in the water reeds, reminding us of our daughters. We cannot abandon them now. We must return to the surface and connect with the spirit of the rescued dragged onto land. Breath in. Breath out. Waterlogged lungs. Oxygen for the blood. Calm for the nervous system. Fear of life overcome! She connects to the spirit of menopausal women who have returned to the ocean. Women who embrace a cold north sea, anticipating skin against water, because they know it is the right place to be. Feeding on cold water endorphins they suffer bouts of extreme happiness. Buffeted by waves they enter the sea with a sense of of naughtiness. It’s a body reset. A cold water buzz. A cure all. Bliss. An antidote to flushing. A balance for the nervous system. We women are creatures of cycles. We belong to the great watery vastness, swaying with the tides, swelling with the moon and moving in waves. Returning to the sea, when our own cycles are over, feels like coming home. “Yes, we did many things, then – all Beautiful…” – Sappho, Come Close. When women unite, even in spirit, something beautiful happens. There is joy in sorrow. Power in vulnerability. Strength in unity. And freedom in acceptance! One day all women will return from the ponds to impart their wisdom. “Granddaughter we do hear you calling us.” So what became of the women who were murdered in the waters? The witches and healers? The crones and the brewers? The midwives and the pagans? The sick, the old and the ugly? The rich women whose land they seized? The women who spoke out? The cat owners? The women who annoyed their husbands? The Women whose intuition was turned against them? The women who were forced into the Swimming Test and ducking-stool? “Let’s strip them naked, shave their heads and strap them to the ‘stool of repentance’ with iron bands. Let’s dunk them in the pond so the watery womb of imagination turns on them.” Guilty if she rejects the baptismal water and floats. Innocent if she drowns. See how it works? They set impossible rules for games we could never win. No wonder trauma is still our default setting. No wonder the Siren’s sigh! I wonder how many of us ordinary women would have been ‘scolded as cuckolds’ and drowned by the mob if we’d been living then. The patriarch used holy water as a persecutory device. They turned water wisdom into a judge and used it to absolve themselves of their sadistic, voyeuristic pleasure of watching acts of social humiliation, torture and brutality. They watched women drown and blamed the women and the water, not themselves. The Siren’s sigh is a powerful lament, feared because it speaks the truth. Injustice flows …
Proserpina by Susan Hawthorne

Proserpina, Proserpina go home to your mother —Kate McGarrigle every mother’s haunting cry every daughter’s loss a carefree afternoon turned bleak because of him they refuse to speak about the crime she’s just a child wails her poor mother come home come home he has her in thrall her money in his hands she tries to please but she cannot leave the child seems safe she likes it here it’s no longer her call no food on the bench come home come home he’s in his locked shed there’s a stench of porn Prosperpina daughter won’t come home mother leave his scorn his hated shed mother come home to me come home come home Wikimedia Commons image Notes on Propserpina Last month I heard an interview with Martha Wainwright on Australian radio. The interview included a recording of Martha Wainwright singing the song on Q&A, an Australian TV show in 2013. The song Prosperpina was written by Martha Wainwright’s mother, Kate McGarrigle whose songs I have listened to for decades. It was Kate McGarrigle’s final song. I was moved not only by the interview, but especially by the song. I have written many poems about Persephone but this song gave me a new perspective in which an unknown figure is calling the child to go home to her mother. I hope you find the song as haunting as I do. Proserpina is the Latin name for Persephone. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Nywk08msOY https://www.magoism.net/2013/12/meet-mago-contributor-susan-hawthone/
(Book Excerpt 8) How to Live Well Despite Capitalist Patriarchy by Trista Hendren

Celebrate Everything! Life shouldn’t be a drudgery. Yes, patriarchy sucks, and there are a million ways it screws us over—but there is so much more to life! Enjoy every single thing you can. Celebrate even the smallest accomplishments! Eat cake! Take a long, leisurely walk! Make love! Sing your favorite song as loud as you want to! Belly-laugh! Pick a bouquet of flowers! Savor a long bath! Sue Patton Thoelle wrote: “We are daughters of life’s generosity, constantly surrounded by the altruism of Mother Earth and the myriad blessings present in work and relationships. It is our birthright to joyously claim this bountiful inheritance.”67 I believe the feeling of scarcity enforced on females robs us of more than just what it would seem on the surface. Joy seems almost gluttonous when you are a grown woman—especially if you have children. I try to celebrate at least one thing every day. On the days that I just can’t, I indulge myself by reading as much as I want or watching a funny show. We must begin to remember old ways of being, even if just by reading inspirational books. Robin Wall Kimmerer wrote this glorious passage: “The depths of the Feminine, languorous in the sun, embraced by beautiful connective tissue that is this moss: I want to stand by the river in my finest dress. I want to sing, strong and hard, and stomp my feet with a hundred others so that the waters hum with our happiness. I want to dance for the renewal of the world.”68 There is something really deep in what she said. Did you catch it? “I want to dance for the renewal of the world.” There is something about women dancing—really dancing, for themselves—that diminishes patriarchy. Same goes for laughing. My sister and I used to go into hysterics at the dinner table and it would drive my father insane. We literally could not contain ourselves, despite his best efforts to make us stop and be proper. Mary Daly touched on this in Gyn/Ecology: “There is nothing like the sound of women really laughing! The roaring laughter of women is like the roaring of the eternal sea. Hags can cackle and roar at themselves, but more and more, one hears them roaring at the reversal that is patriarchy… this laughter is the one true hope, for as long as it is audible, there is evidence that someone is seeing through the Dirty Joke.”69 When was the last time you had a good belly-laugh? When is the last time you danced your heart out? Don’t discount joy—it is our birthright after all! Terry Tempest Williams reminds us, “Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”70 (To be continued) Find more info on this book here.(Meet Mago Contributor) Trista Hendren.
Susan Hawthorne

Read all posts by Susan Hawthorne. Susan Hawthorne is the author of fourteen books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction. Her poetry collection Cow (2011) was shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor Poetry Prize in the 2012 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards and was also a finalist in the 2012 Publishing Triangle Awards for the Audre Lorde Lesbian Poetry Prize in the US. Earth’s Breath (2009) was shortlisted for the 2010 Judith Wright Poetry Prize. Her work has appeared in annual Best Australian Poems anthologies, been broadcast on National Radio, and been published in print and digital literary magazines in USA, Canada, India, Macau, Algeria, Germany, UK and Australia. In 2013 she was Literature Resident at the BR Whiting Studio in Rome where she wrote her most recent collection of poetry, Lupa and Lamb (2014) which focuses on the prehistory of the Mediterranean and ancient Rome. Her other collections of poetry include Valence: Considering War through Theory and Poetry (2011), Unsettling the Land (with Suzanne Bellamy, 2008), The Butterfly Effect (2005), and Bird and Other Writing on Epilepsy (1999). Her fiction includes a novel, The Falling Woman (1992), a verse novel Limen (2013) and she is currently working on a novel, Dark Matters which she hopes will be finished by 2017. She is Adjunct Professor in Writing at James Cook University, Director of Spinifex Press, and plays a leading role in independent publishing and eBook publishing. http//:www.spinifexpress.com.au She first began researching the ancient world in 1976. She enrolled to write a PhD on belief structures in the ancient world in 1979, but due to the institution’s incapacity to understand her project and active resistance to it, she left the university and instead wrote a novel, The Falling Woman (1992, reprinted 2004). She eventually completed a PhD in 2002, which forms the basis of her book Wild Politics: Feminism, globalisation and bio/diversity (2002, and published in India). Among her other non-fiction are The Spinifex Quiz Book (1993; translated into German and Spanish) and Bibliodiversity: A Manifesto for Independent Publishing (2004; translated into Arabic, French and Spanish, and to be published in German in 2017). She has also (co-)edited ten anthologies of fiction, poetry and non-fiction, including September 11, 2001: Feminist Perspectives (2002, with Bronwyn Winter), CyberFeminism (1999, with Renate Klein), several books on animals, and several lesbian anthologies. For more information go to the Spinifex Press website. After studying Ancient Greek for some years and receiving an MA (Prelim), in recent years she has studied Sanskrit and Latin. In 2009, she spent four months living in Chennai on an Asialink Residency and the result was her collection Cow. During 2016 she has participated in writing a poem a day, including several new sequences on rewriting mythology, among then a twenty-poem sequence on the Muses http://project365plus.blogspot.com.au/. She is a publisher at Spinifex Press which she co-founded with Renate Klein 25 years ago. In 2015, she received the George Robertson Award for her Services to the Publishing Industry.
(Essay) How the Frog Princess Created the World by Jeri Studebaker

I believe fairy tales are secret repositories of hidden information about how Medieval Europeans viewed and behaved toward their (hidden) goddesses. I believe fairy tales contain secret, hidden information about the nature of what I’ll call “goddess culture” as it existed in Medieval and early modern Europe. In other words, by studying fairy tales, I think we can glean clues about our European ancestors’ beliefs about, and behavior around female deity. Sometimes even scholars claiming no interest in thealogy or goddess history admit that this is so. For example, according to the folklorist Vladimir Propp, the Russian fairy tale “The Frog Princess” explains how a Great Goddess created the world. In “The Frog Princess” a king asks his sons to shoot arrows and marry the women who return the arrows. Unfortunately, the youngest son’s arrow is returned by a frog (spoiler alert: she’s really an enchanted “princess”). While dancing at her wedding, the frog princess creates forests, lakes and birds with a wave of her hand. Later, by using magic she wins all the contests and competitions set by the King. But one night the princess sheds her amphibian skin, and meets her husband at a dance — where she is revealed as a startlingly gorgeous woman. When he stumbles onto the frog skin, the prince burns it – to prevent his gorgeous wife from morphing into a frog again. But the moment her skin disappears, the princess disappears too. Only by completing a punishing task involving a spindle, gold thread, a locked box and a key, does the prince manage to win back his bride. But at this point their troubles begin in earnest: a man from the princess’ past begins to hound and pursue them. In the end the prince and princess are saved by an old woman who gives them a magic carpet. On this “they took off and flew like birds” and soon “…began to live and prosper, for the glory of all the people” (Afanas’ev 1973: 123). Propp thinks that originally this princess was a very old, pre-agricultural goddess who created the world via her dancing: “’She danced and danced, whirled and whirled, and everyone was amazed. She waved her right hand, and forests and lakes appeared; she waved her left hand, and all sorts of birds began to fly.” This very ancient, totemic princess-goddess belonged to people still following the old hunting-gathering way of life, says Propp. Although the frog princess is the giver of water, sometimes she’s also water itself. “And he noticed that wherever the princess went, wherever her horses stepped, springs appeared, and he followed her by the trail of springs she had left.” And even though it is the princess-goddess who chooses her husband – by returning his arrow – the chosen man nevertheless must pass a test before winning the right to marry her. In the end, as we saw above, both the goddess and her consort “prosper for the glory of all the people” (Propp 1984: 143). Modified excerpt from Breaking the Mother Goose Code: How a Fairy Tale Character Fooled the World for 300 Years, to be published this coming fall (2014). Read Meet Mago Contributor Jeri Studebaker.
(Video) Commemorating the Bombing of Hiroshima by Janie Rezner

https://vimeo.com/107298904 Speaking at Rally to Commemorate the Bombing of Hiroshima, Aug 4, 2001 in Fort Bragg
(Poetry & Art) My Body, Her Body by Arlene Bailey

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

My Mother is: The Stories We Tell Ourselves and the Divine Dreams that Change Them “My grandfather used to tell me that life was a dream. He also said that when people finally realized this, the dream could be changed, and then humanity would change.” ~ Don Miguel Ruiz My mom left me when I was four. At least that’s the story I told myself most of my life. It was the story that I had been told and it was the story I identified with, whether it was true or not. The last memories I have of being close to my mom are from when I was four. And those are the pictures of us together, before the rift that I have cherished. It’s not that I did not love my mom after that. Quite the opposite. I remember clearly lying in my bed alone at night, crying my eyes out when my dad and stepmom thought I was asleep. I was crying for my mother. All I wanted was my mom. In those moments of feeling sorry for myself, I told myself she did not love me enough to take me with her, or at the very least, that she had chosen someone else. I felt invisible around my dad. In fact I still do. I know he loves me, deeply. But I don’t feel like he has ever really seen me. He doesn’t know me. I was his loyal little girl for most of my life, well into adulthood. I wanted to please him, and oftentimes, I felt like pleasing my dad included showing disapproval towards my mom. Not that he ever said that, per se. Quite the opposite. I have never heard my dad badmouth anyone. I literally had the wicked stepmother. It took a long time for me to finally say that. For most of my life, I have tried to frame everything positively, even when it was not. My sister got most of her wrath because she was spunkier than me. I kept everything inside. I was easier to control. There are not a lot of moments that stand out to me from my childhood. But I do remember one day in particular with my stepmom when I was 12. We were in the supermarket. I had been going on and on about my real mom until her annoyance-level became unbearable. She turned to me and stopped me mid-sentence, stating with venom: “Your mother is a whore.” I cried my eyes out. I remember sitting in the car with her afterwards, unable to calm down and stop the heaving tears. That statement stung more than any words I had ever heard in my life. To this day, they still cut deep into my heart. My mother married when she was barely out of high school. To be brief, she ended up having an affair after years of living with my emotionally unavailable father. When he found out, it was painful and dramatic. He never showed her his love, but I remember walking in on him several times as he was crying over my mother. He wrote it all out in music that she never heard until years later. Those images stayed in my mind whenever I dared to side with my mother. Last month, I was supposed to go to my father’s birthday party. I got a migraine that morning, as I often do when I am avoiding something. And I decided for one of the first times in my life that I would not go to his party. Soon after that, I rallied. Since I rarely have a night without children, I decided to go out with my mother instead. My mom has been my only babysitter all these years, so this was the first time we had ever done this. We had a blast. We ate dinner at a local pub, went to see a funny movie, and were headed home when I said, “Mom, how often do we have a chance like this? Let’s go do Karaoke!” My mother, who rarely drinks, had a few cocktails with me and we sang our hearts out. We even danced. I can never remember dancing with my mother — ever. It’s a night I will always cherish. It got me thinking: we all ought to have an opportunity to dance with our mothers – at least once – if not often – before we die. On the way home, we talked. We rarely really talk. We talk about the kids, and we talk about work, but we rarely talk about what is really going on for both of us. She mentioned that she was sorry for being a supermom and trying to do it all. And I told her that was never a problem for me. For me it was something else. And I started thinking about the difficulties of mothers and daughters. Longing to be close, but remaining distant for whatever reason. Feeling sorry for things that never bothered the other person at all, and not realizing the things we had both done to hurt each other. We have a long history in our family of difficult mother-daughter relations, going back at least as far as my great grandmother. There is some sort of legacy there. It is time to break traditions of hurt and heal together. I recently submitted an article to be published anonymously that I had written years ago. And in that article I had written that I did not have the close relationship with my mother that I yearned for. I realized, gratefully, during our talk that that was no longer the case. It was first time I told my mom she was a great mother, and I meant it. Just before my daughter was born, over 6 years ago, I had a freak out moment with my mom. My first pregnancy was with a son, which jolted me into action – and therapy. I knew I had …
(Art) Synesthesia and “The River Song” by Belinda Subraman

Age four I was called by the wounded earth smell of a freshly trimmed hedge the way honey sounds under a full moon breathing my grandma’s scent of polka dots… At the portal to fluid reality my karma scope cast lights of glad kindness and legends seeping through me. I remember sickness every childhood disease and talking to aliens (probably delirious with fever) but I remember there was magic in a mimosa tree and a belting for sharing knowledge of my anointment. They cut the tree down and forbade the utterance of anything not Biblical. I said little for years afraid of my tongue and shadows greater than my own. I’m past the noise of tidiness, posted regulations through 40 translations and constant derailment of what I might have been without cruelty and jumbled senses. From tasting pain in everything picked and dying to now it is the voice of the rock not the river I hear… with cinnamon periscope eye (Meet Mago Contributor) Belinda Subraman.

(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. […]
(Special post) Laurie Baymarrwangga, Senior Australian of the Year 2012

Posted with permission in Return to Mago on ‘Australia Day’, 26 January 2014 (Australian time), […]
(Special Post) To Contributors: Strengthening Our Roots by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Dear Contributors, Do you know that Return to Mago (RTM) E*Magazine is entering its fifth […]
(Special Post 4) Nine-Headed Dragon Slain by Patriarchal Heroes: A Cross-cultural Discussion by Mago Circle Members

[Editor’s Note: This and the ensuing eight sequels (all nine parts) are a revised version […]
(Special Post 7) Why Goddess Feminism, Activism, and Spirituality?

[Editor’s Note: This was first proposed in The Mago Circle, Facebook Group, on March 6, 2014. […]
(Special Post 1) Multi-linguistic Resemblances of “Mago” by Mago Circle Members

“Ma” in “Mago” and “Ma-Gaia” Mother Goddess, ca.7250-6700 BCE, Catal Huyuk Turkey [Conversation between Carol P. […]

(Book Excerpt) Held in the Womb of the Wheel of the Year by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

This essay is an excerpt from the Introduction of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. Meditation cushion in circle of decorated stones My ancestors built great circles of stones that represented their perception of real time and space, and enabled them to tell time: the stone circles were cosmic calendars.[i] They went to great lengths and detail to get it right. It was obviously very important to them to have the stones of a particular kind, in the right positions according to position of the Sun at different times of the year, and then to celebrate ceremony within it. I have for decades had a much smaller circle of stones assembled. I have regarded this small circle of stones as a medicine wheel. It is a portable collection, that I can spread out in my living space, or let sit in a small circle on an altar, with a candle/candles in the middle. Each stone (or objects, as some are) represents a particular Seasonal Moment/transition and is placed in the corresponding direction. The small circle of eight stones represents the flow of the Solstices and Equinoxes and the cross-quarter Moments in between: that is, it represents the “Wheel of the Year” as it is commonly known in Pagan traditions. I have found this assembled circle to have been an important presence. It makes the year, my everyday sacred journey of Earth around Sun, tangible and visible as a circle, and has been a method of changing my mind, as I am placed in real space and time. My stone wheel has been a method of bringing me home to my indigenous sense of being. Each stone/object of my small wheel may be understood to represent a “moment of grace,” as Thomas Berry named the seasonal transitions – each is a threshold to the Centre, wherein I may now sit: I sense it as a powerful point. As I sit on the floor in the centre of my small circle of stones, I reflect on its significance as I have come to know the Seasonal transitions that it marks, over decades of celebrating them. I sense the aesthetics and poetry of each. I facilitated and was part of the celebration and contemplation of these Moments in my region for decades. It was always an open group that gathered, and so its participants changed over the years but it remained in form, like a live body which it was: a ceremonial body that conversed with the sacred Cosmos in my place. We spoke a year-long story and poetry of never-ending renewal – of the unfolding self, Earth and Cosmos. We danced and chanted our relationship with the Mother, opened ourselves to Her Creativity, and conversed with Her by this method. All participants in their own way within these ceremonies made meaning of their lives – which is what I understand relationship to be, in this context of Earth and Sun, our Place and Home in the Cosmos: that is, existence is innately meaningful when a being knows Who one is and Where one is. Barbara Walker notes that religions based on the Mother are free of the “neurotic” quest for indefinable meaning in life as such religions “never assumed that life would be required to justify itself.”[ii] I face the North stone, which in my hemisphere is where I place the Summer Solstice. From behind me and to my right is the light part of the cycle – representing manifest form, all that we see and touch. From behind me and to my left is the dark part of the cycle – representing the manifesting, the reality beneath the visible, which includes the non-visible. The Centre wherein I sit, represents the present. The wheel of stones has offered to me a way of experiencing the present as “presence,” as it recalls in an instant that, That which has been and that which is to come are not elsewhere – they are not autonomous dimensions independent of the encompassing present in which we dwell. They are, rather, the very depths of this living place – the hidden depth of its distances and the concealed depth on which we stand.[iii] This wheel of stones, which captures the Wheel of the Year in essence, locates me in the deep present, wherein the past and the future are contained – both always gestating in the dark, through the gateways. And all this has been continually enacted and expressed in the ceremonies of the Wheel of the Year, as the open, yet formal group has done them, mostly in the place of Blue Mountains, Australia. PaGaian Cosmology altar/mandala: a “Womb of Gaia” map Over the years of practice of ritually celebrating these eight Seasonal Moments – Earth’s whole annual journey around Sun, I have been held in this creative story, this Story of Creativity as it may be written – it is a sacred story. Her pattern of Creativity can be identified at all levels of reality – manifesting in seasonal cycles, moon cycles, body cycles – and to be aligned with it aligns a person’s core with the Creative Mother Universe. I have identified the placing of one’s self within this wheel through ceremonial practice of the whole year of creativity, as the placing of one’s self in Her Womb – Gaia’s Womb, a Place of Creativity. All that is necessary for Creativity is present in this Place. All may come forth from here/Here – and so it does, and so it has, and so it will. NOTES: [i] See Martin Brennan, The Stones of Time: Calendars, Sundials, and Stone Chambers of Ancient Ireland (Rochester Vermont, Inner Traditions, 1994). [ii] Barbara Walker, The Woman’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983), 693. [iii] David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous (New York: Vintage Books, 1997), 216. REFERENCES: Abram, David. The Spell of the Sensuous. New York: Vintage Books, 1997. Brennan, Martin. The Stones of Time: Calendars, Sundials, and Stone Chambers of Ancient Ireland.Rochester Vermont: Inner Traditions, 1994. Walker, Barbara. The Woman’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets. San Francisco: …
(Essay) Walking with Bb by Sara Wright

Walking with Bb: a story exploring the psychic connection between one woman and her bear. Preface: The black bear – hunting season in Maine is brutal – four months of bear hell – five if one includes the month where hunters can track bears for “practice” with hounds – separate mothers and cubs, terrorize them, tree them and do anything but legally kill them. During the legal slaughter, Hunters bait bears with junk food by putting old donuts etc. in cans and shoot the bear while he or she is eating. Most bears (82 percent) are slaughtered in this manner, the rest are killed by hounding and trapping. The season begins in August and lasts through December. Trapping, by the way, is illegal in every state but Maine. Black bears are hated, and that hatred will, of course, eventually result in their extirpation. I had a shy (male) year old black bear visiting my house this past summer with whom I developed a friendship, and what follows is part of our story: Last Saturday I was walking down the road when I remembered that I had not done my daily “circle of protection” imaging for Bb (standing as he was the day he visited me at the window early in August). When I began to do this another picture of Bb moving on all four feet with his face turned towards mine super-imposed itself over his standing image. I could almost see his expression, but not quite. I didn’t know what this imaging meant beyond that we were communicating in some unknown way, and he was in the area (not a good thing on hunting Saturdays). He had not been coming in most nights and I was worried… That night he came. He is still making nightly visits five days later, the most sequentially consistent visits since September 15th, the day I believed that he had been shot. This experience prompted me to write about telepathy and precognition. It is close to All Hallows and the full Hunter’s moon (Nov 3). I keep listening to Charlie Russell’ story which reminds me that loving bears (especially male bears) is hard, almost a sure recipe for disaster, and that I was not alone in this deep concern for and fear of losing Bb. I can barely stand to remember my other bear losses and I can’t stand feeling them. Even after I wrote about the incident with Bb, the experience seemed to carry a charge that didn’t dissipate. Had I missed something? Next I wrote “Root Healer,” exploring the possibility that as I continued to act as Bb’s “little bear mother” now employing psychic techniques to keep him safe (in some desperation as it was the only means left open to me to protect this very vulnerable yearling), that Bb’s presence might also include a gift for me and that it might involve some kind of root healing for my body because Nature thrives on reciprocity. One idea I missed completely, for it was so obvious. Bb’s image was communicating to me that we were having a psychic conversation in that very moment. It was the first time in three months of imaging protective circles that moved with him that I had confirmation from him that we were communicating effectively in this unknown way. This rarely happens. Normally when I do this kind of work, I just do it. I don’t get direct confirmation that it’s working from the animal itself (except with Lily b). Knowing this helped me make another decision I might not have made so intentionally. The hunting season will last into mid December, and I will be traveling during that last month. I keep thinking that putting actual physical distance between Bb and I might pose more of a threat for his life and I have to remind myself that psychic phenomena are not distance dependent. I should be able to image that protective circle every day and feel that it is working. Bb has already shown me that it can but I fear adding distance because I don’t completely trust my own perceptions.* I suspect believing might be an additional dimension of ensuring success when it comes to psychic protection for this bear. But how do I incorporate belief into a picture that is so clouded with personal/cultural doubt? Half the time I don’t believe myself and virtually no one except Rupert Sheldrake, Iren and Harriet have ever taken my experiences seriously. I have to remind myself that I have done this work many times dealing with doubt and it worked anyway. The point of writing this reflection might be to put me on a new edge of increasing Bb’s odds of survival. If it’s possible that an attitude that embraces believing in what I do could help me protect Bb more effectively until hunting is over and its time for him to den in peace I want to claim it. The question I need to answer now is how to go about moving into a more trusting self as a woman who continues to walk with a bear at her side? The night after I wrote the above paragraph I dream of the doubters in the roles of my parents, and in a friend. I take these dreams seriously as doubters inside me and out. These dreams may be telling me that it is unreasonable to expect me to believe that what I do works when no one else does? The problem with this idea is that on some level I do believe. I feel as if I am walking with this bear, every single day. I think about him constantly. The only thing that got me out of the house yesterday was that he was out of chocolate donuts. Something is intensifying my relationship with Bb although I never see him. I am caught in a field of bear energy and information, perhaps through some version of beauty and the beast. That an archetype is …
(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.
(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: …
Imbolc: Through Goddess Eyes by Carolyn Lee Boyd

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

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

This essay is an excerpt from Chapter 2 of the author’s new book A Poiesis of the Creative Cosmos: Celebrating Her within PaGaian Sacred Ceremony. for larger image see: https://pagaian.org/pagaian-wheel-of-the-year/ Essentially a PaGaian Wheel of the Year celebrates Cosmogenesis – the unfolding of the Cosmos, none of which is separate from the unfolding of each unique place/region, and each unique being. This creativity of Cosmogenesis is celebrated through Earth-Sun relationship as it may be expressed and experienced within any region of our Planet. PaGaian ceremony expresses this with Triple Goddess Poetry understood to be metaphor for the creative dynamics unfolding the Cosmos. At the heart of the Earth-Sun relationship is the dance of light and dark, the waxing and waning of both these qualities, as Earth orbits around our Mother Sun. This dance, which results in the manifestation of form and its dissolution (as expressed in the seasons), happens because of Earth’s tilt in relationship with Sun: because this effects the intensity of regional receptivity to Sun’s energy over the period of the yearly orbit. This tilt was something that happened in the evolution of our planet in its earliest of days – some four and a half billion years ago,[i] and then stabilised over time: and the climatic zones were further formed when Antarctica separated from Australia and South America, giving birth to the Antarctica Circumpolar Current, changing the circulation of water around all the continents … just some thirty million years ago.[ii] Within the period since then, which also saw the advent of the earliest humans, Earth has gone through many climatic changes. It is likely that throughout those changes, the dance of light and dark in both hemispheres of the planet … one always the opposite of the other – has been fairly stable and predictable. The resultant effect on flora and fauna regionally however has varied enormously depending on many other factors of Earth’s ever-changing ecology: She is an alive Planet who continues to move and re-shape Herself. She is Herself subject to the cosmic dynamics of creativity – the forming and the dissolving and the re-emerging. The earliest of humans must have received all this, ‘observed’ it in a very participatory way: that is, not as a Western industrialized or dualistic mind would think of ‘observation’ today, but as kin with the events – identifying with their own experience of coming into being and passing away. There is evidence (as of this writing) to suggest that humans have expressed awareness of, and response to, the phenomenon of coming into being and passing away, as early as one hundred thousand years ago: ritual burial sites of that age have been found,[iii] and more recently a site of ongoing ritual activity as old as seventy thousand years has been found.[iv] The ceremonial celebration of the phenomenon of seasons probably came much later, particularly perhaps when humans began to settle down. These ceremonial celebrations of seasons apparently continued to reflect the awesomeness of existence as well as the marking of transitions of Sun back and forth across the horizon, which became an important method of telling the time for planting and harvesting and the movement of pastoral animals. It seems that the resultant effect of the dance of light and dark on regional flora and fauna, has been fairly stable in recent millennia, the period during which many current Earth-based religious practices and expression arose. In our times, that is changing again. Humans have been, and are, a major part of bringing that change about. Ever since we migrated around the planet, humans have brought change, as any creature would: but humans have gained advantage and distinguished themselves by toolmaking, and increasingly domesticating/harnessing more of Earth’s powers – fire being perhaps the first, and this also aided our migration. In recent times this harnessing/appropriating of Earth’s powers became more intense and at the same time our numbers dramatically increased: and many of us filled with hubris, acting without consciousness or care of our relational context. We are currently living in times when our planet is tangibly and visibly transforming: the seasons themselves as we have known them for millennia – as anyone’s ancestors knew them – appear to be changing in most if not all regions of our Planet. Much predictable Poetry – sacred language – for expressing the quality of the Seasonal Moments will change, as regional flora changes, as the movement of animals and birds and sea creatures changes, as economies change.[v]In Earth’s long story regional seasonal manifestation has changed before, but not so dramatically since the advent of much current Poetic expression for these transitions, as mixed as they are with layers of metaphor: that is, with layers of mythic eras, cultures and economies. We may learn and understand the traditional significance of much of the Poetry, the ceremony and symbol – the art – through which we could relate and converse with our place, as our ancestors may have done, but it will continue to evolve as all language must. In PaGaian Cosmology I have adapted the Wheel as a way of celebrating the Female Metaphor and also as a way of celebrating Cosmogenesis, the Creativity that is present really/actually in every moment, but for which the Seasonal Moments provide a pattern/Poetry over the period of a year – in time and place. The pattern that I unfold is a way in which the three different phases/characteristics interplay. In fact, the way in which they interplay seems infinite, the way they inter-relate is deeply complex. I think it is possible to find many ways to celebrate them. There is nothing concrete about the chosen story/Poetry, nor about each of the scripts presented here, just as there is nothing concrete about the Place of Being – it (She) is always relational, a Dynamic Interchange. Whilst being grounded in the “Real,” the Poetry chosen for expression is therefore at the same time, a potentially infinite expression, according to the heart and mind of the storyteller. NOTES: [i] See Appendix C, *(6), Glenys Livingstone, A Poiesis of the Creative …
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.

(Special post) Interweaving Mago Threads by Mago Circle Members

“Mago” tradition Magoism is a new word to the modern Western vocabulary, yet it has its linguistic roots in many parts of the globe and in an ancient knowledge and know-how almost lost. Dr Helen Hwang determinedly and methodically is excavating the little-understood historical Mother-Goddess knowledge of Korea, and its traditions, the Mago, and Magoism, and in doing so is unlocking another previously invisible door, and replacing another ripped-off corner of the global map of significant, almost-lost tradition and forgotten knowledge. This is a most welcomed prospect. The newness of this discovery for those who learn of it fills them with excitement because every step to remember the ancient ways, particularly the lost Goddess ways, and those ways that hint of Source, are crucial to humanity remembering itself. Moderns have become accustomed to modes of mind that strip the soul and psyche of finer attunement to earth, sea, stars and each other. This renders most adrift on a sea of seeming limitless freedoms, to be picked up by any technological hook that would substitute for inner knowing. The map becomes the new computer wiring, insurance policy or bank regulation to follow. But once we scrape from our psyches the encrustation of mind most moderns have settled with (which calcifies the innate senses and finer antennae of knowing, emboldening technologically driven modes of mind and being to take their place), then we are on our way to a vivifying recollection. Here is an earlier presentation of the “mago” root word in “imago” or image. Not coincidentally, perhaps, it is connected to maps. (Mary Ann Ghaffurian, culled from Through a Darkened Door—Light, Part 2 by Mary Ann Ghaffurian PhD [http://magoism.wordpress.com/2012/11/26/through-a-darkened-door-light-part-2-by-mary-ann-ghaffurian-phd/]) A very special online, global group Dearest X, …Which brings to mind the “other” reason why I wanted to write to you … Other than just saying “hello” and letting you know that you are very much missed, I also wanted to share with you about a very special online, global group that I have had the honor of being a part of. This group is called Mago Circle and it was founded by my dear friend, “sister” and colleague, Helen Hwang. Helen’s work and commitment to restoring Mago, Ancestral Mother Goddess, to her rightful place as progenitor and creatrix of the Korean people, has not only been admirable but truly critical during a time when we are in real need for inspiration from thought leaders and scholars with a solid foundation in the arts and research of the sacred feminine. As you know, with the roots of Korean shamanism in the realm of women, it makes perfect sense that Korean spirituality must also have sprung within the womb of Woman … the great cosmic goddess, Mago. While Helen’s work is very much grounded in meticulous research — showcasing Korea to the rest of the world in all of Her depth, herstory, and vibrance — it is more importantly, founded in genuine intentions of love, transparency, and humility. I know that Helen can explain the depth, breadth, and height of her work much better than me so I think it will be better to have her directly share more of herself with you; what I simply hope to do through this letter is perhaps help serve as a familiar hand …. reaching out to you and letting you know that your presence and blessings as a well-regarded and much-admired Korean female shaman and scholar would be much appreciated in Mago Circle. Do you remember, X, … you once told me … about 20 years ago: “Sanity is insanity with a focus.” These words I still remember and hold true … they have helped me through times that were truly dismal and chaotic in my life, and with this reassuring and transformational way of looking at myself, looking at my life, looking at the world, I have made it through. My life continues to have its share of insanity, but I know that with focus, all sanity is restored. I know that my letter to you today may feel unexpected and random (especially after not having seen each other for so, so long), but as you know, somehow, life brings us through twists and turns that may seem awkward and strange at first, but upon retrospect, all makes complete sense. In closing, may I have the honor and pleasure of introducing Helen Hwang and the Mago Circle to you … I realize that you must be very busy, but it is my sincere hope that you will find a little time to acquaint yourself with Helen and this wonderful group of women (and men) who are very much dedicated to restoring the balance and peace of Korea and the world via Mago and her goddess sisters of many names… (Wennifer Lin, culled from her letter to her old friend) I share your call for staying connected with each other at a time of cultural and religious tensions. I too believe that all tensions arise from a patriarchal system of hegemony or domination. In the absence of patriarchal hegemony, there would be little or no tension among human beings. The belief in the Mother Goddess would remove the necessity for aggression and hence domination of other human beings or animals. In the eyes of the Mother, every living being is her creature. Hence love, kindness, nurturing and all that is beautiful would prevail everywhere. Am I sounding too idealistic or am I pining for a utopian society that is just not possible? But in theory, it is possible to return to the spirit of Mother, manifest in everything in nature and in our thoughts and actions. With admiration and preservation of Mother we can change the world for a better place. So with this in mind, I submit to all women (who are the living image of the Great Mother Goddess) and goddess lovers in the world to unite in our efforts to bring back the ideals of the Great Goddess. As an academic, I …
(Budoji Essay 1) The Magoist Cosmogony by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

“The Great Goddess Myth is the first and last revelation to humankind. Where the Primordial Mother is, there is Home!” Part 1 Introduction When I first read the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City), the principal text of Magoism, my life journey took an unexpected turn. The power of the Magoist cosmogony began to work on me, and suddenly I was returning Home with/to/in Mago, the Great Goddess! Before, “Home” had seemed an unreal destination, a mirage that lured voyagers to its abyss of nowhere. I had been stripped of “Home.” The Magoist cosmogony gifted me with a vision of what I had been seeking as a feminist voyager. I meant to return Home. In Mago, I felt no longer free-floating, but this was not without its price. My radical feminist searches brought me no material benefits; rather, to become Myself was the reward. Layer after layer of patriarchal deception had to be peeled off. And for women who, like me, came from the non-Western, formerly colonized world, reversing the reversals required a deeper analysis of racism, ethnocentrism, and colonialism. I underwent the process of becoming Me, a process which also led me to WE. Personally, Homecoming means an integration of myself within the mytho-historical-cultural context of Magoism. However, Homecoming in the Great Goddess can never be an isolated individual act. Magoism unfolds the Primordial Home wherein all beings are kindred. The Primordial Home is for everyone. Everyone is destined to return Home in the Great Goddess because She is Here for us all. She will be Here for as long as humanity survives. Homecoming is a harbinger; it signals the arrival of WE, a very old concept that was misconstrued if not tabooed in patriarchy. The nature of my life has changed. “I” is no longer in the way of “WE.” “I” and “WE” do not stand against each other. Furthermore, “I” is transformed by “WE,” just as are all things in the universe. Scalar turns to vector. Chaos yields to order. The labyrinth leads to the Source. My feminism is rewarded with gynocentrism, the Goddess Matrix in which the female principle by far surpasses patriarchy. As many admit, Myth, the story of the divine, is etiological, meaning it explains the origin of things. I hold that only the gynocentric cosmogonic myth can be fully etiological, shedding light on the primal beginning. Myth is inherently gynocentric, for it is derived from the perception of the Primordial Mother, the oldest divine in human history. Put differently, Myth tells us that the Divine is She, that Female is the original divine. Myth is ultimately inseparable from the Great Goddess. The Primordial Mother is the macrocosmic translation of a mother. She is the Metaphor for life-giver and life-raiser. Divinity issues from Her. In Her, everything, including the God, is endowed with divinity. The etiological and metaphoric nature of Myth is fully illumined only in the story of the female beginning. The Goddess Myth told to/by us testifies to what patriarchy can’t or doesn’t tell. It is a language distinguished from that of patriarchy, dominating if not violent. The nature of Its language is persuasive and pacific. The truth It tells awakens one to Home. It is intrinsically soteriological, and herein lies the urgency of Myth: It shows the Way that humanity needs to know and follow in order to survive and flourish. The Great Goddess Myth is the first and last revelation to humankind. Where the Primordial Mother is, there is Home! Mago is not necessarily the “creator” of things. In the Magoist cosmogony, there is no one who created or creates anything alone. (I have used the term “cosmogony” in place of “creation” to avoid the conflation of Magoist thought with the origin-stories of patriarchal religions.) Instead, all things are interdependent and the power of auto-genesis is embedded within the universe itself. In explaining that, the Magoist cosmogony does not employ a magical or a logical jump. In the time of beginning, cosmic rays dance in accordance with the law of nature. Mago and primordial matter are self-born through the movement of cosmic music. Mago is, above all, the Cause of human existence. All things on Earth are indebted to Mago for She initiated the process auto-genesis of the Earth itself. In short, She is the Source of Life on Earth. Without Her, nothing is possible for us.
(Budoji Essay 5) The Magoist Cosmogony by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang

Part 5: Magoist Cosmology “The primary aim of Magoist cosmology lies in lifting up the conceptual veil in people’s mind so that they can see what is given at birth.” [This is a translation and interpretation of the Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City), principal text of Magoism. Read the translation of Chapter 1 of the Budoji.] Magoist cosmology: Magoist cosmology, knowing of the female principle of Magoist cosmogony (story of the Female Beginning), reconstitutes, heals, and maintains the original vision of gynocentric soteriology. Its primary function is to guide humanity according to the law of nature whereby all things are born and evolve into their greatest potential. In short, Magoist cosmology is a gynocentric mode of thinking that shows the Way of all beings. By extension, it is an inherent principle of nature- and women-honoring civilizations. I suggest Magoist cosmology, underpinning of the Magoist cosmogony, as an antidote to the detriments of patriarchal consciousness. Its female principle restores the original unity among all entities, which has been thwarted by patriarchal cosmologies. Comprising the most foundational program of human consciousness, so constitutive that no one is born without it, Magoist cosmology is ever active and accessible to people. Nonetheless, it is made dormant in the conscious mind of people under patriarchal cultures. Thus, the primary aim of Magoist cosmology lies in lifting up the conceptual veil in people’s mind so that they can see what is given at birth.
(Essay 4) Magos, Muses, and Matrikas: The Magoist Cosmogony and Gynocentric Unity by Helen Hye-Sook Hwang, Ph.D.

[Author’s note: This paper is published in the journal, the Gukhak yeonguronchong 국학연구론총 (Issue 14, December 2014). Here it will appear in five sequels including the response by Dr. Glenys Livingstone. Numbers of end notes differ from the original paper.] (Part 4) Parallels between Magos and Matrikas The numeric fluidity of a particular pantheon of Goddesses from three to nine is no isolated phenomenon in Western Muse tradition only. Laura K. Chamberlain’s research on the Hindu Goddess Matrika, one of the major manifestations of Durga, bears a close resemblance to the counterpart in Magoism.[1] In the story of Mago Halmi, Mago had eight daughters and dispatched seven daughters to seven regions/islands who respectively became the shaman progenitor of the region. She lived with the youngest daughter, whose region was the center of Magoism.[2] The Mago pantheon is also addressed as Gurang (Nine Goddesses) in the case of Gaeyang Halmi (Sea Goddess/Grandmother).[3] Among others, a parallel between Chamberlian’s delineation of the worship of the Asta Matrikas (Eight Mother Goddesses) and folk rituals concerning Mago is striking with regards to the aniconic rituals offered at “crossroads, rivers, the sea, and mountains” to Matrika. In the case of Magoism, the veneration of rocks and mountains that may be seen as “animistic beliefs” is widespread throughout the Korean peninsula. The linguistic resemblance is also present between Matrikas and Magos. According to Chamberlian, Mai (mother) and Ajima (grandmother) are the “two of the oldest names for the goddess in Nepal.” [4] They appear analogous with the Korean words Eomma 엄마 (Omai 오마이, Omasi 오마시, and etc. for mother) and Ajime (아지매, a female relative or aunt), a dialect from which the modern term Ajuma (아줌마, neighbor woman often pejoratively referring to a housewife) is derived. Chamberlain also notes the varied number of Matrikas and writes: The inconsistency in the number of Matrikas found in the valley [Indus] today (seven, eight, or nine) possibly reflects the localization of goddesses [ ] Although the Matrikas are mostly grouped as seven goddesses over the rest of the Indian Subcontinent, an eighth Matrikas has sometimes been added in Nepal to represent the eight cardinal direction. In Bhaktapur, a city in the Kathmandu Valley, a ninth Matrika is added to the set to represent the center.[5] On the one hand, it is true that the indeterminate number of Matrikas, as Chamberlain points out, explains localization of Hindu Goddesses in the Indian Subcontinent. On the other hand, it is equally possible to posit that there was a Goddess myth once shared by the members of mother community in a remote past. A daughter community, which resided in the mother community, came to migrate farther away from the mother community. She herself became a mother and was known as the mother community by her own daughter communities. From the perspective of the original mother community, the memory of the original myth by granddaughter communities would be fragmented and flavored with their own cultural, historical, and linguistic backgrounds. After many generations passed, granddaughter communities would lose the memory of the original myth and that they would not recognize kindred communities all over the world. However, the first mother was wise. She chose one daughter to carry on the legacy of the original myth. This is exactly what Mago stories tells us. When all is said and done, the numeric similarity of three, seven, eight, or nine and the inconsistency of the number are only some of the fragmented testimonies by granddaughter communities. Under such circumstances, Mago’s lineage, especially the first three generations, works as a blueprint of the family tree lost among granddaughter communities. (Read Part 3, to be continued in Part 5, Dr. Glenys Livingstone’s response to this essay.) References: Bak, Geum (Bak, Jesang). Budoji (Epic of the Emblem City). Eun-Soo Kim, translated and annotated. Seoul: Hanmunhwa, 2002, 1986c. Baring, Anne and Julies Cashford, eds. The Myth of the Goddess: Evolution of an Image. London: Viking Arkana, 1991. Chamberlain, Laura K. “Durga and the Dashain Harvest Festival: From the Indus to Katmandu Valleys” in ReVision (vol. 25, no. 1, Summer 2002), 24-32. Chung, Yenkyu. Ancient Korea and the Dawn of History on the Pamirs. Seoul: Jimoondang, 2007. Daly, Mary. Pure Lust: Elemental Feminist Philosophy. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1984. Davis, Elizabeth Gould. The First Sex. New York, NY: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1971, 33. Hwang, Helen Hye-Sook. “Issues in Studying Mago, the Great Goddess of East Asia: Primary Sources, Gynocentric History, and Nationalism,” in The Constant and Changing Faces of the Goddess: Goddess Traditions of Asia, eds. Deepak Shimkhada and Phyllis Herman (Cambridge Scholars Publishing 2008), 10-33. ____________________. “The Female Principle in the Magoist Cosmogony.” Ochre Journal of Women’s Spirituality, (Spring 2007) [http://www.ochrejournal.org/2007/scholarship/hwang1.html]. ____________________. Seeking Mago, the Great Goddess: A Mytho-Historic-Thealogical Reconstruction of Magoism, an Archaically Originated Gynocentric Tradition of East Asia. Ph.D. Dissertation: Claremont Graduate University, 2005. Kim, Busik. The Samguk Sagi (History of Three Kingdoms). Translated and annotated by ByongSu Lee. Seoul: Elyu Munhwasa, 1977. Lee, Ki-baik. A New History of Korea. Translated by E. Wagner and E. Shultz. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1984. Smith, Barbara. “Greece” in The Feminist Companion to Mythology. Carolyne Larrington ed. Hammersmith, London: Pandora Press, 1992. Yoon, Thomas. BuDoZhi: The Genesis of MaGo (Mother Earth) and The History of the City of Heavenly Ordinance. Notre Dame, IN: Cross Cultural Publications, 2003. Walker, Barbara G. The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1983. [1] Levy 1990; Slusser 1982, cited in Laura K. Chamberlain, “Durga and the Dashain Harvest Festival: From the Indus to Katmandu Valleys” in ReVision (vol. 25, no. 1, Summer 2002), 24-32. [2] See Tales [9-1] and [5-3] in the Appendix, Hwang (2005), 391-8. [3] I was able to join a field research trip organized by the research team of Kunguk University’s Korean Literature Graduate Studies to collect the folk stories of Gaeyang Halmi, the Sea Goddess, in Buan-gun (Buan County), North Jeolla Province, South Korea July 10-12, 2012. Only after the trip, I realized Gaeyang Halmi with her eight daughters was …
(Essay 1) Making the Gynocentric Case: Mago, the Great Goddess of East Asia, and Her Tradition Magoism by Helen Hwang

Making the Gynocentric Case: Mago, the Great Goddess of East Asia, and her Tradition Magoism[i] This study documents and interprets a substantial body of primary sources concerning Mago [麻姑, also known as Magu or Mako] from Korea, China, and Japan. Much of this material has never been brought to light as a whole. In working with these various and sundry data including folklore, paintings, arts, literature, poetry, toponyms, rituals, historical and religious records, and apocryphal texts, I encountered an organic structure that relates these seemingly unrelated materials and named it Magoism. Magoism refers to an anciently originated gynocentric cultural and historical context of East Asia, which venerates Mago as supreme divine. Although “Magoism” is my coinage, its concept is not new. Magoism is referred to as the Way of Mago, the Origin of Mago, the Event of Mago, Reign of Mago, Heavenly Principle, or simply Mago in historical sources. In the West, its partial manifestation is known as the cult of Magu within the context of Daoism. One of the earliest verified records, the Biography of Magu (Magu zhuan) written by Ge Hong (284-364) dates back to proto-Daoist times.[ii] Nonetheless, “Mago” remains largely forgotten and misrepresented to the world especially in modern times. More incisively, her sublime divinity is made invisible despite strong evidence. No scholarship in the West has treated Mago as a topic in her own right. Mago’s multiple identities ranging from the cosmogonist to a grandmother, from the progenitress to the Daoist goddess, from the sovereign to a shaman/priestess in Korea, China, and Japan remain unregistered in modern scholarship. When mentioned, her transnational manifestation is not recognized cogently. She is often lumped together with other parochial goddesses from China. Other times, she is fetishized as a Daoist goddess of immortality. She is also known, among other representations, as the giant grandmother (goddess) who shaped the natural landscape in the beginning of time among Koreans. In any case, Mago is not deemed on a par or in relation with Xiwangmu (the Queen Mother of the West in Chinese Daoism) and Amaterasu, (the Sun Goddess of the Japanese imperial family), both of who represent the East Asian pantheon of supreme goddesses to the West. I hold that the paramount significance of Magoism lies in the fact that it redefines the female principle and proffers a gynocentric utopian vision to the modern audience. Its utopian cosmology is no free-floating abstract idea but imbedded in the mytho-historical-cultural reality of East Asia. I suggest Magoism as the original vision of East Asian thought. Put differently, Magoism is an East Asian gynocentric testimony to the forgotten utopian reality. In the sense that Magoism presents an East Asian gynocentric symbolic system, this study is distinguished from Western and androcentric discourse. In other words, its gynocentric universalism should not be subsumed under the discourse of Western or patriarchal universalism. Magoism prompts an alternative paradigm of ancient gynocentrism that redefine major notions of the divine, human, and nature in continuum. Mago, the great goddess, is the unifying and at the same time individualizing force in this system. Magoism enables a macrocosmic view in which all individualized parts are organically co-related and co-operating. As a religious system, it is at once monotheistic and polytheistic. That is, Mago is the great goddess in her multiple manifestations. Underlying the patriarchal edifices, the Magoist principle is the Source from which the latter is derived.
(Essay 1) 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.] Magoist Calendar is the inter-cosmic genealogical chart of the Creatrix in which all is found kindred. It unfolds the one standard unified time, which I call the Cosmic Mother’s Time or the Mago Time, wherein all beings in Our Universe from microcosmic quarts to macrocosmic celestial bodies are perceived in continuum. The Cosmic Mother’s Time is an inclusive time in which everyone is re-membered and celebrated. It is revelatory for its numinous nature, which some may call a mystery. The Mago Time is happening