Ivo! Evoe! Hail, Kore! Ivo! Evoe!

One of the morning prayers that I say is, "Mother, Wash away from my eyes the enchantment of forgetfulness. Allow me, as much as I can know, as much as I can see, to realize that we are all connected. Remind me Mother, that it's all just You pouring You into You." A bit of this prayer is based upon a quote from J. D. Salinger and I forget the source from which I borrowed the rest of it, but I'm grateful to that person for helping me to articulate how I feel about those times when we allow ourselves to be ensorcelled by the Overculture into thinking that the world can be divided into the Sacred and the Mundane, that there are "muggles," that magic and mystery and connection to the Ineffable is what happens only inside a sacred circle, censed with sage and inscribed with occult symbols. And I work hard most days, I do, to keep my eyes open, to see with True Sight, to remember that it's all one immense and breathtakingly beautiful and dangerous and perfect and safe and glittering Web and that I'm a node on that Web, but also that I am the Web and the Web is me. I work at it and some days I do better than others.

And then some days, Grace comes flooding through some phloem in the Universe and I'm synchronistically, randomly, at the right corner, on the right street, at the right moment and there's no work involved at all. The Web is so real and visible and crystal clear that I can't imagine, literally can't imagine, how it can ever seem otherwise. And then I'm the Web wondering how that node ever imagined itself anything but a part of the whole. And then even that is part, a perfect part, of the Web.

I had to go to my office this morning, Sabbat or no, but I left at 2:00 to head home, do some errands, and make ready for Ostara. Sitting at the light, I caught a glimpse of her: a girl at that exact age after her childhood and before her teens. She was reedy and thin, not self-conscious, but unconsciously conscious of herself in the way that no child can ever be. She carried some kind of a book or folder, up flat against her chest, and was skip-running a bit to catch up to her father. I looked away, waiting for the light to turn green, thinking of what needed to be done when I got home. I glanced back; she and her father were now at the corner, waiting for the same light to change. She said something to her father, I could see her braces.

And, then, it happened. All in a moment, all of the enchantment washed away from my eyes, and my body and all my senses were simply, perfectly, by Grace, a mechanism for perceiving the Web from inside the Web, the Web's own unconscious self-consciousness of itself. The sun got inside the girl's hair, which was that heart-wrenchingly beautiful color of carroty-red that is not replicated anywhere else in nature. Her hair was simply, perfectly, by Grace, a mechanism for the Sun to make itself manifest and to show its beauty; without that hair, that color, at that moment, on that girl, at that corner, the Sun could never have been all that it was born to be, and the Sun knew it and I knew it and we were both awed by it.

And there, sitting at the red light, surrounded by the city, headed for the Teddy Roosevelt bridge, there, I was -- and best of all, knew myself to be -- in the presence of The Kore, in the sunlight, on the day of Osara. Not, symbolically, not metaphorically, not in any of the ways that it would make sense to say that I was, just a few feet North of that girl, in the presence of The Kore, but, simply, in the presence of The Kore. Not that The Kore "rode" her or that she somehow pulled The Kore down into her. Not that she stopped being a flesh-and-blood girl with a history and a future and braces. Not that she had ever not been The Kore and not that . . . . Well, that is why the Goddess says, "And you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire." Words stop working.

And the light changed and I turned my eyes, full of tears and light, back to the road and, shaking, drove on, deeper into the Web.

May your Ostara be blessed, may all that is good and healthy and fresh bloom into your life, and may you have reason to exclaim, "Hail, Kore! Ivo Evoe!"

Picture found here.

Susanoo and Amaterasu

The shining sun Goddess Amaterasu had a brother, Susanoo, lord of storms and of the sea.

Susanoo was an uncontrollable man, often given to violence. When he quarreled with his sister, Susanoo lifted up Amaterasu's beloved pony and threw it at Amaterasu and her priestesses.

Amaterasu was so angry that she hid in the cave called Iwayado, and there was no warmth or light upon the Earth.

The other Kami, or Goddesses and Gods, tried to lure Amaterasu out of her cave, but her anger still burned, and she refused to come out. Ame-no-Uzume, the Kami of joy, knew what to do. She placed a mirror near the entrance of the cave. Then, she did a bawdy dance, which made all of the other Kami roar with laughter. Amaterasu was still angry at her brother, the Kami of the stormy sea, but she wanted to know what made everyone laugh. She crept to the edge of the cave and peeked out at Ame-no-Uzume and, angry as she was, Amaterasu had to laugh. In that moment, a ray of her sunlight escaped from the dark cave and reflected in the mirror. Amaterasu saw her own lovely face and could no longer remain angry. She returned to the world, bringing sunlight and warmth.

Today, in Japan, Susanoo's violence was great and the uncontrollable sea stormed over Amaterasu's land. It must seem to the people of Japan as if the lovely sun Kami has again withdrawn from them. My own heart is heavy with sadness at the loss of lives, homes, family altars, and pets and with fear for the damage done to Japan's nuclear plants. I'm going to go to my altar, light a candle to reflect in my scrying mirror, and dance like Ame-no-Uzume, in the hopes that the people of Japan will soon bask under Amaterasu's warm light, rather than Susanoo's angry seas.

You come too.

Picture found here.

May the Goddess Guard Her. May She Find Her Way to the Summerlands. May Her Friends and Family Know Peace.

Melin Stone passed away this week. Her book, When God Was a Woman, was one of the first 4 or 5 books that I read on Goddess religion, and it had a huge impact on me and, I believe, many other Dianic Witches.

Go well.

hat tip/Star Foster.

Picture found here.

My New Name for a Blog

What Medusa Coils Said.

Medusa does a fantastic job of covering topics important to Dianic Witches. If you don't check her out regularly, you should.

My New Name for a Blog

What Sara A. Said.

"Most witches don't believe in gods. They know that the gods exist, of course. They even deal with them occasionally. But they don't believe in them. They know them too well. It would be like believing in the postman." ~ Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was a cute little witchlet armed with a copy of The Spiral Dance in one hand and The White Goddess in the other. I dove in, like you do, with exuberance. Reading Tarot! Casting spells! Trance journeys! Rituals! Meditations! Communing with trees! I did a self-dedication rite that I wrote myself! My awesomely shiny ear-wet witchiness was a sight to behold.

Possibly because I was kicking up such a fuss, a being started talking to me. She said I should call her Rowan.

"Are you THE GODDESS?" I asked.

"No, I'm something you can talk to," was the reply.

"Well, how come I don't get to talk to the real thing?" I wanted to know.

Suddenly, I was aware of the vast, cosmically profound black and starry depths of the Universe, and the intelligence that permeates it all, an intelligence so immense and complex that it is impossible to apprehend even how immense, complex, and profound it really is, only that the least touch from it overwhelms.

My brain did that thing that computers do when you try to run too much information through them. I blue-screened. *BOGGLE BOGGLE BOGGLE BOGGLE*

. . . then it went away. Rowan said, "That's why."

You should definitely read the whole thing.

Hat tip: Angela Raincatcher

Picture found here.

Nekhbet's Children

My brilliant friend NTodd has a good post that shows the historical developments in the growing field of performing effective revolutions. One hopes that, as people gain more experience with the business of overthrowing repressive regimes, they'll pay attention to lessons learned from previous attempts. I've no idea what's really going on in Egypt (no one has, just now, not even the Egyptians), but NTodd's post provides reason to hope that the young people in Egypt have been paying attention.

Ever since this revolution began, several days ago, I've had this huge sense of Hecate floating gigantically over that part of the world. For me, Hecate is that magical power that creates the situation in which change (personal, political (of course, that's redundant), world-shaping, time-sensitive) can occur. She doesn't cause the change, She shifts the atmosphere, gets a butterfly to flap its wings in Brazil, moves the molecules of air just a bit farther apart so that something new can begin to infill, opens up a doorway, signals liminality. And that's what makes Her both a dangerous and a deeply-beloved Goddess. And I can see Her floating -- three-headed, key-bearing, sycle-weilding, filth-eating, and holding Her torches high -- over every map of Egypt that I've looked at.

I am not a devotee of the Egyptian pantheon, although I've called to Isis, Nekhbet, and Nuit in extremis and I see much to honor in all of those alien and strange deities. But I have a candle burning on my altar for Egypt, for the young people there who hope to affect positive change, and for the protection of the many ancient temples and artifacts. May mighty Hecate, who strode out of the Anatolian planes into Greece and thence to Egypt and the world shift the winds for positive change. Whoooosh.

Update:

Janet Kane says:

I hate to say I told you so, but for the last few months I have stated that the Uranus/Pluto Square is the next evolution of the Uranus Conjunct Pluto that we experienced in 1964 to 1969. Uranus/Pluto brings in revolutionary energy and the promise to totally transform society. Of course, all of the astrologers I know predicted the same thing. I didn’t realize that the revolutionary activates would take place in the Middle East.

At the same time that Uranus/Pluto is square, Saturn is opposing and squaring Pluto. Saturn turned retrograde on the day the protests started in Egypt. Saturn was opposite Uranus from 1917 to 1923 when we had the Russian Revolution. Also, Jupiter entered Aries on Jan 22. Jupiter is expansive and Aries is the energy needed to go out and express the need for freedom. This complex configuration of planets started in 2010 and will be with us for the next 4 years.

More Janet here. She's v good.
Picture found here.

This and That

Good on the Daytona Beach News Journal for an informative, correctly-capitalized article about Pagan Pride Day in New Smyrna Beach. None of the "they don't worship Satan" nonsense and a decent description of what "Pagan" means. More like this.


I've never seen conservatives as willing to accept witchcraft as some of Christine O'Donnell's fans are turning out to be.

It's been out for a bit and I'm still waiting to find it. Terry Pratchett's new and brilliantly-titled book, I Shall Wear Midnight, sounds great. I can't wait to get ahold of it.

I Shall Wear Midnight picks up Tiffany's story as she settles - or not - into life as "town witch" on The Chalk, taking care of the things people generally don't like to think about.

There, with the assistance of the spectacularly argumentative, kilt-wearing, wee but hardy Nac Mac Feegle, she tends to the needs of her village, always riding a knife-edge between being useful and being an object of suspicion who meddles in unmentionables.

But Tiffany's skills as a witch have caught the attention of the Cunning Man (surely one of Pratchett's spookiest villains), a no-eyed spectre who menaces our heroine as she goes about the business of seeing her village through a change in baron.

Archeologists have found a wall painting of Tyche, the Greek Goddess of fortune, during excavations on the east shore of the Sea of Galilee. The picture appears to date from the 3rd to 4th Centuries, C.E.

Her head is crowned, her youthful gaze is focused, and she has abundant brown hair beneath her crown.
. . .

Apart from goddess Tyche, researchers also found a wonderfully etched relief of a maenad, one of a group of female followers of Dionysus, the god of wine on a bone plate.

(I believe the author meant to say that researchers also found a wonderfully etched relief, on a bone plate, of a maenad, not that Dionysus was the God of wine on a bone plate. )

And, in Egypt, a recently re-discovered tomb includes paintings of astrological scenes and the Goddess Nut.

The room is in very good condition and contains beautiful painted scenes in vivid colors. Blue and yellow dominate the ceiling, as the goddess Nut welcomes with raised arms the body of the deceased.

(Not clear if the author meant "astrological" or "astronomical," at least from the article. )

Gardening with the Goddesses

Discussing how an experienced gardener isn't afraid to admit a mistake, pull out a plant, pitch it, move it, and start all over again, Michael Pollan compares the gardener's method to evolution.

[However, e]volution has a double rhythm: only after nature, in her promiscuous creativity, throws up countless new possibilities and combinations does natural selection (her critical impulse, if you will) step in to determine which work best under the circumstances. . . . Nature creates without an end in view; fitness is but an afterthought. The gardener in his own little world, like the artist in his, performs both functions, hatching the trials and then culling the errors. [Hint to Pollan, women exist.]

But as much as he seems like a god in his garden, practicing his own local brand of natural selection, the green thumb entertains no illusions of omniscience or omnipotence. If he's any kind of god it's a Greek god, one whose power is sharply circumscribed by the willfulness of men and other gods. Unlike Yahweh, Athena bargains, cajoles, even loses one now and then; mortals can keep secrets from her. [The experienced gardener] suspects that the garden over which he exerted absolute mastery would be a pallid, thin, uninteresting place.

~Michael Pollan in Second Nature: A Gardener's Education.

I think that's right, both about gardening and about the Goddesses/Gods. I'm lucky to work w/ the v patient Landscape Guy who never scowls when I say, "Well, I think we should dig up all those day lilies and all those ostrich ferns and switch them into each others' spot, now that I've had a year to watch them where they are." I'm still learning and still listening to the plants. When the day lilies don't bloom well and the ostrich ferns look a bit parched, they're telling me: "We need more sun," and "We need more shade."

In A World Full of Gods: An Inquiry into Polytheism, John Michael Greer says that, for polytheists:

The distinction between divine and human is real, but both exist in a common world defined by mutual relationships.

From this difference-in-relatedness unfolds the central concept of polytheist religious practice, which is reciprocity. Religion in the Pagan sense is a matter of exchange. While the gods are greater than human beings, they are not infinitely so, and humanity thus has the potential to bring something of its own to a relationship with divinity. Each participates in the relationship in a manner proportioned to their relative place in the cosmos, but the relationship is never merely one-sided. . . . If Pagan gods are verbs, as the Christian god is sometimes said to be, the verbs in question are some conjugation of "to give." Yet human beings and, indeed, all other entities have the capacity to give as well, and in giving, to imitate the gods. Once again, hard and fast lines become difficult to draw.

I think that Greer's point is similar to one that Pollan tries to make throughout his writing: Humans are part of nature. A garden is nature in interaction with a human. Sometimes, the plants control us and get us to do their bidding; sometimes we cajole the plants into doing what we want. When it works right, there's an exchange of gifts. The interaction, I think even Pollan would admit, can sometimes be that of his interactive, Greek god gardener and can sometimes be that of a destroying, I-Know-Best-Pesticide-Wielding Yahweh, but it's an interaction.

All of which argues, in my mind, and heart, and sore-from-weeding fingers, for the notion that you can come to know the Goddesses/Gods through gardening and that, through the Goddesses/Gods, you can become a gardener. How does your relationship with divinity influence your gardening? How does your experience as a gardener influence your relationship with the Goddesses and Gods?

Picture found here.

Must-Read

The brilliant Medusa (aka Judith Laura), Goddess spirituality expert, Tarot Goddess, and, as I have reason to know, orderer of v. good pizza lunches, is releasing a third edition of:

She Lives! The Return of Our Great Mother, which explores the return of the divine personified as female through myth-like stories, rituals for both personal and seasonal celebrations with songs and dances, and a variety of meditations. . . . [The book] describes how female divinity might return to people on diverse paths, and addresses a variety of issues in a number of different religions and in secular settings. Its seasonal rituals contain aspects of Pagan, Jewish, Christian and other traditions. What is commonly called belly dance, as well as other folk dance forms, are included the rituals and there is one individual meditation devoted to belly dance, which I call the "Dance of the Womb." The personal rituals for women and for men focus on sex-related life milestones.

The Women's Spirituality Book Review says of the book: "Judith's myths are gentle, but powerful. They make you smile.
They give you goose bumps."

Judith Laura donates

at least a third of her royalties from all her books to charities benefiting women

I plan to add the Third Edition to my library. As we move towards gift-giving season in Yule, you should consider not just your own library, but those of your friends, as well. As Medusa Coils says on her website, linked above,

[f]or more complete information about She Lives! The Return of Our Great Mother, including reviews, table of contents with links to excerpts, and also links to booksellers, please visit judithlaura.com/slgm.html

.

Picture found here.

Hymn to Hecate

O nether and nocturnal and infernal
Goddess of the dark, grimly, silently
Munching the dead.
Night. Darkness, broad Chaos, Necessity
Hard to escape are you . . . you're Moira and
Erinys, torment, Justice and Destroyer,
And you keep Kerberos in chains, with scales
Of serpents are you dark, O you with hair
Of serpents, serpent girded, who drink blood
Who bring[s] death and destruction and who feast[s]
On hearts, flesh eater who devour[s] those dead
Untimely, and you who make grief resound . . . .

~Papyri Graecae Magicae, quoted by Tim Ward in Bearing Torches: A Devotional Anthology for Hekate, published by Bibliotheca Alexandrina.

Picture found here.

An Unusual Way To Spend The Summer

Nice to see Minerva get some TLC.

Perched at Brooklyn's highest natural point (200 ft. above sea level) in Green-Wood cemetery, the Roman Goddess Minerva received a fresh waxing Tuesday morning, courtesy of a few French volunteers (and one American).

"I know that when I'm back in France I'll tell everybody that I know that there's this great cemetery and this great statue," said Ines Reulet, 21 from France, one of six volunteers in New York for the next two weeks with the Preservation Volunteers of America program.

. . .

She and the other volunteers spent the morning applying fresh coats of wax to Minerva and will be tidying up some granite tombstones for the rest of the afternoon.

Richard Moylan, president of Green-Wood Cemetery, says the statue was placed there by the local businessman Charles Higgins in 1920 to commemorate the Battle of Brooklyn. "She is saluting the Statue of Liberty. And that's especially important with our French volunteers, since the statue was a gift from France and France helped us with the Revolutionary War," Moylan says. "And Liberty is actually, we think, looking right at us, so Minerva is saluting her."

Gotta say that doing restoration work in a cemetery does sound cool. And who knew there were two Goddesses in NYC (Liberty and Minerva) facing each other?

Picture found here.

I May Have A Friend Or Two Who Loves Beautiful Shoes

Regular readers are well-aware of my periodic "Declutter!" declarations. (Speaking of which, here are some amazing and counter-intuitive suggestions. Hat tip: Christine Kane.) And since the beginning of 2010, I've been on an even more major "I'm not spending any money" campaign. The economy's crap and, sadly, the current administration shows zero understanding that it needs to actually stimulate the economy (hint: It's spelled W-P-A, not B-A-I-L-O-U-T-W-A-L-L-S-T-R-E-E-T). My current investment strategy is: horde cash and pay off the mortgage (which, at a bit above 4%, is way more than I can make anywhere else) in about triple time. And, a few years ago, I took a look at my shoe collection and realized that, other than a yearly new pair of walking shoes, and the occasional new flip flop (which is what I really live in, anyway, everywhere outside of work), I can probably live the rest of my life w/o buying any new shoes.

But I would pay good cash, tomorrow, on the barrel head, for these Tara hightops by Amanda Yoakum. Check out the soles!!!

Dear Ms. Yoakum, hie thee to Cafe Press or Zazzle or etsy.

Picture found here.

Evohe Hekate!

Hekate's Devotion

Blessed be the dark maiden
She who was born of the night
goddess trinity
reigning over the underworld, the celestial heavens and the deep earth
hail unto thee
guide of the Elysian fields
keeper of the keys of all the universe
guardian of the crossroads of fate
she who bears the blade that cuts the silver cords of life and death
Goddess of ancient wisdom, mistress of magick
By the serpent who carried the wisdom of the chthonic earth, I pray
by the night mare who runs wild with lunatic prophetic visions, I pray
Evohe Hekate, mother of witches
My goddess, my queen, my beautiful darkness
In thy honour, I burn this sacred flame.

~ Shay Morgan, in Bearing Torches: A Devotional Anthology for Hekate, edited by Sannion & the Editorial Board of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina

Picture found here.

Hail, Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga is one of the four Goddesses that I call whenever I sit at my altar. I'm still learning to "grok" her. But any old, muscled woman who can pick up house and move like that is a role model for me. I think she is old, strong, and unafraid to move. With my Moon in Taurus, learning to pick up and move when it's time to move is a good lesson for me.

What Goddess are you trying to know better?

At The Dawning Of This New Day

Demeter's Daughter

Saturday Poetry Blogging

A Penitent Considers Another Coming of Mary

BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS

For Reverend Theodore Richardson

If Mary came would Mary
Forgive, as Mothers may,
And sad and second Saviour
Furnish us today?

She would not shake her head and leave
This military air,
But ratify a modern hay,
And put her Baby there.

Mary would not punish men—
If Mary came again.

Picture found here.

Goddess Sexuality

I blogged a while ago about a festival in Kerala, a monthlong festival that begins in Kumbha (February-March) and finishes in Meena (March-April). It’s . . .the annual gathering for thousands of largely lower caste, practising oracles (among whom women appear to lead) from Kerala and Tamil Nadu. At the Bharani, old oracles offer themselves to the goddess again and new ones are chosen.


Here's an interesting discussion of the cultural issues inherent in the festival.

And, some additional information about the festival:

The festival is also unique for its ‘Bharani pattu’ – sexually explicit songs, meant to appease the Goddess. These songs deal with the sexuality of the Goddess and humans and emphasises sex as part of natural life, while deriding sexual hypocrisy – especially of upper caste women. The songs make it clear that sexuality is not only natural, but is also present everywhere. In a place like Kerala, with itfrighteningly crude mechanisms of sexual repression, the Bharani provides a venue for people to be freed of the need to pretend that the sexual does not exist.

Picture found here.

My State Has The Stupidest Attorney General In The Entire Country

No. Really. We do.

Good thing there's no crime or consumer fraud or anything here in the Old Dominion and we've got tons of tax dollars to spend on making colleges discriminate against gay people and covering up the Goddess on our state seal. Oh, wait.

I have come to understand that xianity is about nothing -- and I do mean nothing -- so much as control of sex and the female body.

May the Goddess Virtus (lovely naked breast and all) guard us.

Picture found here.

Largest Gathering Of Women Ever?

Hail Kali! Hail Saraswati!

BBC News is reporting on what it says may be the largest gathering of women ever seen on the planet.

Clad in traditional Kerala saris and bearing offerings of food, more than two million women - perhaps more - thronged the state capital Trivandrum on Sunday.
The women braved searing heat to offer a special meal at the Attukal temple to Hindu goddess Bhagavathy - one incarnation of the potent goddesses Kali and Saraswati.
Women howled shrilly, as is the custom at the culmination of this 10-day annual event, and they joined the chief priest in offering their earthenware pots overflowing with rice and jaggery - an unrefined sugar - to the presiding goddess.
They were seeking her blessing for the health and prosperity of their families - and the special meal, known as the pongala, was later distributed among family and friends back at home.

It sounds amazing: The legend goes that Bhagavathy once visited the spot where the temple stands today on the banks of the Killiyar river.
The goddess, in the guise of a girl, sought the help of the head of a local family to cross the river. He helped her - but she vanished soon after.

Imagine that many women coming together to worship a Goddess. The patriarchy just felt

I felt a great disturbance in the Force. sound bite  Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope sound bites

a great disturbance in the force.