Sexism

As NTodd points out in comments to one of my posts from yesterday, I overgeneralized. The Hillary Hatred didn't really extend to every white, male, 30-something blogger. Guilty, as charged.

There was, however, when you look back at it, a few months out, an absolutely AMAZING amount of hatred -- all out of proportion to reality -- directed towards "that woman" (and anyone foolish enough to speak up and support her or even suggest that perhaps the sexism was not too becoming for supposed liberals) and regular and v shrill demands, starting quite early, that she STEP DOWN RIGHT NOW in favor of the "more deserving" man. You couldn't go 15 minutes on some blogs without hearing that, by insisting that everyone get to vote in a primary and that every state mattered, Hillary Clinton was "destroying" not only Obama's only chance to beat McCain, but also the entire future of the Democratic Party. And all "for her own ego."

I said at the time, and I believe today, that any guy who'd done exactly what Hillary did would be celebrated for "having heart," being "a real fighter," having "what it took" to "stay in it to the end," for "never giving up, even in the final quarter," for "staying focused through the ninth inning, " [insert your sports metaphor here]. He'd also be the VP nominee for the Democratic Party. Cf., e.g., John Edwards.

Now, with 20/20 hindsight, it's pretty clear that, by forcing Obama to develop a ground game in all 50 states, by creating a situation where voters were seeing Obama ads months and months before McCain (who was doing his victory lap around the other Republican primary candidates and ignoring many states since they "no longer mattered,") Clinton did not only Obama, but also the entire party a favor. When you look at it, you can see it as a logical outcome of Howard Dean's 50 State Strategy. If Democrats show up in every state, spend money in every state, contest every state, not only can they win states that they never dreamed before that they could win, they can exhaust the Republicans by making them spend money, time, and energy defending what should have been "safe" states, even if, in the end, those states stay red.

So was there a lot of sexism behind the out-of-proportion hatred? Yes. Yes, there was. There certainly was. And many of the proponents believe to this day that they, of course, aren't sexist, at all. Some of their best friends are women and they would, of course, support the "right woman" -- if she ever came along. And paid her dues. And was "more qualified" than the man.

It's odd how many unintended good things often result from doing the right thing. Hillary Clinton was right to fight the primary out to the very end, even if it made that "more deserving" man fight harder for his job than he "should" have had to if only she'd been "gracious" and given up, as girls are taught to do. It was the right thing for her, for her supporters, for women, for Democrats. And it was the right thing for Obama.

Since the primaries ended, Hillary's also done the right thing. She gave a gracious and inspiring concession speech. She's supported Obama in state after state and and she's raising money for other Dems. And I've yet to hear nearly as much, "Gee, thanks, Hillary," as I heard "That Eviiiilllll Woman." But I have a long memory.

Jobs, Baby, Jobs

Her voice is almost gone. She's exhausted. And she's boosting the guy who beat her. Her fifty-state fight is what boosted him over the edge, making him run ads months ago in states he never dreamed that he'd win, months before McCain even thought of those states. And she, and her supporters, got raked over the fucking coals on every thirty-something male's liberal blog in left blogistan.

You guys SO owe us. I have a long memory.

I am just saying.

Wicca 202

Gather a group of witches and ask them where our religion is going and, within minutes, you'll hear the longing for material -- books, blogs, YouTubes, DVDs -- that goes beyond what's come to be called "Wicca 101." Not too many cradle Pagans among us -- yet -- and, so, many of us "came to Wicca" via some form of Wicca 101: A book by Llewellyn. A course at the local Unitarian church. A feminist studies course that sent us to a feminist bookstore where we saw a three-by-five card on the bulletin board that led us to an occult bookstore where we overheard a conversation and screwed our courage to the sticking point in order to introduce ourselves . . . .

It's not that there's a lack of serious literature. Christ writes it, Eisler writes it, Starhawk writes it, Sylvan tries to write it; hell, a bunch of the blogs linked right here write it. But there is a lack of information/direction/description of where you go once you've "got" the basics. (Not that any of us every really "gets" the basics. I maintain that, if you find a good teacher, you could take Reclaiming's Elements of Magic class (the true Wicca 101) over and over for a lifetime. But ,you know what I mean.) Growing up Catholic -- with several centuries of writing about how to meditate, how to pray, how to approach liturgy, how to integrate liturgy into a personal practice, how to spend each hour in worship, how to process mystical experience, how to grow within a spiritual tradition -- being an avid reader, and, named, as I am, for a Doctor of the Church, I've long felt this lack quite deeply.

T. Thorn Coyle has started a series of podcasts, available for free on iTunes, that help to address this gap. I'd link, but iTunes makes that fucking difficult, esp. if you don't want to reveal your name. If you go to iTunes, go to podcasts, and search under Thorn Coyle, you'll find them easily. She's basing the discussions around each of the elements and the discussions, so far, have been quite good. Her discussion of Air, with a ceremonial magician, was particularly good, IMHO. It's not an introduction to Pagan practice, but even someone w only a good basic understanding should get something out of it. She also discusses water and dream work with Anne Hill in an understandable and yet advanced way that would profit any witch no matter how experienced. I woke up this morning going, hmmmm. Dreams are so much richer when you go to sleep expecting them to be rich.

I'd love to see this same material up on YouTube, even if accompanied by no more than pictures of Thorn and her interviewee or by Powerpoint slides. Not everyone goes to iTunes for this sort of search.

Art, by Christopher Vacher, found here

I Want To Be An Old Woman

Lunea's right: this completely rocks. Get a mammogram and welcome your ancestresses on Samhein. In my circle, one of the things we do on Samhein is to call our female line back as far as we know it. How many old women are there in your line?

Sunday Trakl Blogging

In Autumn

Sunflowers shine near the fence,

Silently sick people sit in the sunshine.

Women strive singing in the acre,

Into which monastery bells chime.

Birds tell you a far away tale

Into which monastery bells chime.

From the courtyard the violin sounds softly.

Today they press the brown wine.

Now man appears glad and dulcet.

Today they press the brown wine.

The chambers of the dead are open wide

And beautifully painted with sunshine.

Picture found here.

Random Acts Of Kindness

Angela has a good idea:

Here’s the deal:

1) You have to have a blog to participate in this.

2) The first three people who sign up in the comments will receive some sort of kindness from me.

3) Those three people then blog about it at their place and offer the same to the first three people who sign up, who blog about it at their place, and offer kindnesses to the next three, &c., &c., &c., until the Kindness Revolution is unstoppable due to Newton’s Second Law, where f=ma.

4) The act of kindness can be whatever you like; it can be a little gift you mail to someone, or it can be something more intangible; whatever fits your circumstances, budget, or personality. It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant, certainly; just something to put a smile on a stranger’s face.

5) Link back to this post in your

My act of kindness: a one card tarot reading for the first three people to post.


Picture found here.

And By The Cold, Grey Novembers Of Life, We Transit From Autumnals, Etc.

Wind and rain announcing Autumn! A cat curled up on my lap. Fuzzy socks on my feet and ankles. Knitted mittens for G/Son, almost finished. Mittens for new great-nephew, planned from the scraps. Tea. Opera pouring from the iPod. Samhein with my circle of amazing women, within sight; the table already set, the firepit stacked with beech wood, the Innana candle standing ready.

May it be so for you.

PS: I stole this picture off the internets tubes, but I don't remember where. Whoever knit them, they are lovely!

Nov. 4, 2008. Don't Fuck This Up, America. Really. I Mean It.

Sometimes

Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.

~ Sheenagh Pugh


Picture found here.

What I Know For Sure

The purpose of ritual is to change the mind of the human being. It's a sacred drama in which you are the audience as well as the participant, and the purpose of it is to activate parts of the mind that are not activated by everyday activity. We are talking about the parts of the mind that produce psychokinetic, telekinetic power, whatever you want to call it -- the connection between the eternal power and yourself. As for why ritual, I think that human beings have a need for art and [that] art is ritual [and ritual is art]. . . . It has seemed to me that much of the modern Craft and the Neo-Pagan movement lacks real music and real dance, in comparison to indigeneous Pagan religious movements. . . . I attribute this [lack of authentic experience] to our loss of skill in the use of music, rhythm, dance, and psychogenetic drugs. In the Irish tradition, music was essential to the success of the rites. . . . Another thing that was essential to the rites in ancient times was ritual drunkenness and sex. And I find this also lacking. We have to create those ecstatic states again. We have to offer people an energy source and a theological alternative, and we can only do this by offering real experience. We have to introduce real sacraments. . . . Much of Neo-Paganism lacks the same content [that] I've described before. The raising of power is an accidental occurrence among most of us at the present time. I find that difficult for my own self-esteem. It makes it difficult to work with people. I don't like going through empty ritual with anybody, especially my closest friends. [A]nyone who calls themselves a Witch should have the capability to deal with different ecstatic states.

Sharon Devlin, as quoted in~Drawing Down the Moon by Margot Adler

Art found here.

This Is Going To Turn Into A Landslide

GoBama

Go Thou And Do Likewise

V creative friend K waited half an hour today to absentee vote in NoVa.

It's starting to look as if it will be a L-A-N-D-S-L-I-D-E.

Go vote.

Soul Work

Just a few days until Samhein.

For me, this time of year is about introspection. Samhein is the beginning of a new year for witches, and the days leading up to Samhein are a time to pause and consider what I've accomplished over the past year and what I failed to accomplish. And the "why" behind the things that I wanted to accomplish and, yet, didn't accomplish is an important question for me.

It seems to me that when I want to do something but "just can't" quite "get around to it," a Shadow is often involved. (Assuming, of course that I really do want to achieve that goal and didn't just adopt it because I thought that I "should" or because others wanted it for me.) And my Shadows will, if approached gently, respectfully, in a light trance, talk to me. Those are important conversations for me, not easy or fun, but important to the process of becoming who I want to become, to the process of stripping off the layers and revealing/becoming my Better Self. I sometimes ask a Shadow for its name, ask if we can do a joint Tarot reading, ask what I can do to help the Shadow feel safe enough to let me make desired changes.

The Shadow that I worked with this weekend showed me her picture: the Two of Pentacles. How do you read that card?


Art found here.

Duirweigh

Stickley

The Loss Of Everyday Divinity

Prayer for Peace

Let's gather round the
lake now
hold hands
and sing from
our luminous throats
our proud bellies
Let's charge up the
water molecules
with our Love
and send out a
current of healing
to the sleepy houses
all filled with TV static and
the loss of
everyday
divinity.

Let's.

~Shae Savoy

Photo found here.

If I Can't Dance, I Don't Want To Be Part Of Your Revolution

Dancing as Liberation

There are countries where it is a punishable crime to dance.

Women must cover their heads,
never riase their voice in song and
never ever display such immoral conduct s dancing.

Those who forbid the dance forbid life.

If they tied me in ropes
Held a gun to my head
And forbid me to dance
I would dance in my head.

If I woke up tomorrow
Without limbs that would move
I would dance in my soul.

If dance were taken from me
I would snatch it back.
I wold dance with my eyes.
I would dance with my breathing.
I would dance completely still.
I would dance with the atoms moving inside me.

I would dance in the mingling of voices around me
Layering transcendence swooping into each other.
I would dance n the red-blushed sky that caresses the tree line.
I would dance on the call of the geese
that cut through the sky above me,
my winged partners in the dance.

If dance was taken from me
I would snatch it back.

I would dance passion.
I would dance pain.
I would dance magick.
I would dance at my labor and dance at my rest.
I would dance my power.
I would dance my palpable joy of existence.

n some countries it is illegal to dance.
It is illegal to display such immoral conduct.

Dancing is an act of liberation.
It is for those who must dance in st

Phtot found here.

Being The River's Fingers

The River asked me
to be her fingers
her voice
her song.
I don't remember
saying "yes"
that day I offered
to help clean up,
but here I am dancing her
into wholeness and beauty.
Segments of my life
on seemingly unrelated
streams and branches
weave together
in a flowing
undulating tapestry as
the watershed
unveils herself
to me through me in me.

Burning desire
to know about her-story,
who drank from her waters
before
in birchbark,
in cabins, in mills,
in factories, in suburbs:

How can I feel her sense
of transformation
of the slime and dumps,
the stench
and cement banks
of the hopeless reputation
into greenbelts, wetlands,
joy-filled parks,
wild reserves?

When did I say
I would spend my days
connecting the places
opening my eyes
and their eyes
to her web of grace?
To come to know her
intimately
over hundreds
of square miles
to feel her voice
whisper or cry,
"Have you noticed this?
Show them this!
my colors, my offerings
my stories of Her-Story."

~Carly Dyer

Picture found here.

Seed Slavery. Doan Want.

We have a covenant w/ creation to carry on our responsibility, as those who have two legs, in relationship to our relatives that have fins, wing, hooves, and roots. And so we have this food. Manoomin, which means "the most wonderous seed." This food is a central part of our culture as Anishinaabeg people. We have cared for those rice beds, for our lakes and rivers for as long as we have been Anishinaabeg.

When the University of Minnesota cracked the DNA sequence for Wild Rice, that set us up for genetic engineering and genetic contamination. One of our chiefs said, "Who gave them permission?" And that is the ethical question, isn't it? Who gave anybody rights to change the DNA sequence of life forms?

I didn't understand what seed slavery was until I met up with Monsanto. And then I understood why we had to ensure that they did not patent our rice and they didn't own it. And so, we as indigenous people have formed this indigenous seed sovereignty coalition; with us are the taro farmers of Hawaii, who are saying taro is our relative and you can not patent it. Our relatives in New Mexico look at protecting the indigenous corn varieties as their relatives. These are essential parts of who we are.

Our traditional foods, those really old indigenous varieties, are much higher in antioxidants, fiber, amino acids than anything you can buy at the store. Those foods are medicine. those old biologically diverse seed stocks have the ability to adapt and will make it through climate destabilization. If we want to feed our people, we have to go back to our original heritage varieties, those original relatives that have roots.

~Winona LaDuke, Bioneers 2007 Conference, October 19-21, reprinted in the We'Moon 09 Calendar

When I Am Clear

when I am clear
with myself
clear
to the sold cavern
at my center
the world turns
luminous truly
in the truth telling
orbs and edifice
of sense
I become a bell
my body becomes
a bell the wind rings

~Marna 2005, reprinted in he We'Moon 09 Calendar

The Most Fun I've Ever Had

One of the loveliest books I ever read -- and should re-read -- is Pillar of the Sky by Cecelia Holland, which tells the story of the construction of Stonehenge. There's an amazing line in the story, when one of the builders looks at the partially-constructed monument and, explaining succinctly its purpose, says, "I am with my father's father's fathers and with my son's son's sons." It resonated with me the moment that I read it and I've never forgotten it. And there are moments in my life when it's the only verbal expression that I know for a deep and important experience that I'm having.

I got to spend time w G/Son last night and, having spent the night at his house, again this morning. I suppose that it's inherent in the business of being a grandparent, and it's even stronger for the fact that this little one carries such a clear genetic imprint of my pipple from out of the Arctic North, with ears that remind me of the Elvish blood from his grandfather's fey side of the family. But I cannot hold this child without being transported to that feeling: I am with my father's father's fathers. (And my blonde, fair-skinned mother's blonde mother's mothers.) And I am, literally, with my son's son's sons.

Son and DiL got home last night as the debates were starting and they allowed G/Son to stay up to see "Pweswident Obama." It's how we do things in my family; the only nights I can ever remember being allowed to stay up late were presidential conventions and debates, when I'd sit with my dad and get treated as if I were a thinking person and as if that were really OK. And I was watching McCain lose to Obama and realizing: I was wrong earlier this year. I figured that if, and it was an if, if Obama could win in the racist States of America, it would be by a v narrow margin. I was wrong. It looks as if not only is America poised to elect an African American president, but she's prepared to do it by a landslide. She takes her time, but every now and then, America makes you proud. Dr. King said that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice. He was right. I looked at my two-year old G/Son and realized that when Obama ends his second term, G/Son will be ten years old. The only president he will have ever known will have been an African American president. That will be the norm for him. The first president that I really remember was Kennedy, who died when I was seven. Johnson assumed office and was president until I was eight. G/Son's reference will be an America where the president is African American.

G/Son loves my iPhone. Ever since he was little, I've kept it loaded with YouTubes that he likes in order to, for example, keep him amused when the brunch order takes a while to come out of the kitchen or when, as this morning, his 'rents are running around getting things ready and packing things up. Over time, what's on my iPhone has morphed from mostly Elmo to mostly The Jungle Book to Dinosaurs. Last night, G/Son told me, "Nonna, I like Batman and Spiderman." When he was watching the Dinosaurs on my iPhone he said, "Nonna, can there be Batman on your iPhone?" Of course, there could be. G/Son is at that stage where he can watch the same three minute animation over and over and tell you the story each time. "Look. Two bad guys. They set a fire. That's bad; fires can hurt Bambi. Here comes Batman in his mobile car. He throws the boomerang at the bad guys. That's one of his special tools. Batman catches the bad guys and my mommy [the prosecutor] makes them go to jail. There's Batman standing on the roof." And then we do it again. Only, G/Son wants to manipulate the iPhone himself. "No. Me do it." And, he can. He can manipulate the virtual objects on the screen ("That's the screen. Don't touch it when it's playing; that makes it stop.") Again, I sit there, a child of the fifties, and realize, "I am with my son's son's sons."

It's going to be so much fun.

Light posting over the next few days and that only if blogger's "future posting" feature really works. Some v generous souls have offered me their cabin for the weekend and it's that time just before Samhein when, witch that I am, I need time alone in nature for introspection. Back on Tuesday.

McCain/Palin: Doan Want

Also, Japanese Temple Pines

I think that I am in love.

Western Autumn Sun Hitting My Japanese Maple

Part of my mad plan, which is mine, is to more or less turn my backyard into a small woodland around a little patio w a fountain and large Stone and undetermined Air Element and a fire pit. Today, Landscape Guy showed up at 7:00 am w Japanese Temple Pines and Japanese Maple Trees and American Wisteria, Amethest to begin that transformation. Around 4:45 pm, the Autumn Setting Sun hit the red leaves of one of the new Japanese Maples.

I believe that my ancient oak trees are v happy.

Do You Think This Culture Will Undergo A Voluntary Transformation To A Sustainable Way Of Living?

There is only one community, and it lives and dies as a unit. Any harm done to the natural world diminishes the human world, because the human world depends on the natural world not only for its physical supplies but for its psychic development and fulfillment. This is most important, because people talk about the need to destroy the natural world in order to advance the human world. Well, anything that diminishes the wonder and fulfillment we receive from the natural world spoils the human enterprise. We may get a pile of possessions, but it won't mean much if we can't go to the mountains or the seacoast, or enjoy the songs of birds or the sights and scents of flowers. What does it do to our children when they cannot enjoy such things?

The other dimension to this is that we have to somehow get beyond Western Civilization, which must be profoundly altered because it is so destructive in its present state. This alteration is so absolute and so deep in its implications that a person has to wonder about the continuity. In other words, Western Civilization itself is causing our difficulties, which makes this type of change hard to really comprehend. Transformations of this magnitude are generally associated with some type of religious change.

Thomas Berry, interviewed by Derrick Jensen in How Shall I Live My Life?

The Garden Just Before Samhein

Helibore is usually the v first thing to bloom and pineapple sage is usually the v last thing to bloom.

I don't grow many red flowers, but I can't help myself when it comes to pineapple sage.

Sunday Trakl Blogging

The Rats

In the farmyard the white moon of autumn shines.
Fantastic shadows fall from the eaves of the roof.
A silence is living in the empty windows;
Now from it the rats emerge softly
And skitter here and there, squeaking,
And a grey malodorous mist from the latrine
Follows behind them, sniffling:
Through the mist the ghostly moonlight quivers.
And the rats squeak eagerly as if insane
And go out to fill houses and barns
Which are filled full of fruit and grain.
Icy winds quarrel in the darkness.


~Translated by Robert Bly and James Wright

Picture found here.

Pretend You're A River

It was such an amazingly lovely Autumn day, that I debated going to my class today. Yeah, I wanted to learn more about knitting, but the whole "sitting inside" thing tore at me. In the end, I went, and I was glad. I learned something new, sat in a circle with women (no one could have anticipated), and then had the joy of coming home along the Western side of the beautiful Potomac River. I love that river. It blesses my life every single day.

Pretend you're a river
Pretend you are the mist who falls so fine, so gentle, that nothing separates water and air
You are the rain who falls in sheets, explodes onto the ground to leave pocks and puddles
You are the ground who receives this water, soaking it up, taking it in, carrying it deep inside
You are the cracks and fissures where the waters accumulate, flow, fall to join more water and more
in pools and rivers who move slowly through cavities, crevices, pores
You are the sounds and silence of water seeping or staying still
You are the meeting of wet and dry, the union of liquid and solid, where solids dissolve and liquids solidify
You are the pressure who pushes water through seams
You are the rushing water who bubbles from the earth
You are a tiny pool between rocks
You overflow, find your way to join others who, like you, are moving, moving
You are the air at the surface of the water
the joining of substantial and insubstantial
the union of under and over, weight and not weight
You are the riffle, the rapid, the tiny waterfall who turns water to air and air to water
You are the mist who settles on the soil
You are the plants who drink the mist, and you are the sun who warms and feeds them
You are the fish who feed on insects, who feed on plants, who feed on soil, who feed on fish
You are the fish who become soil, who become plants, who become insects, who become fish, who flow down the river
You are the river who joins other rivers to become a new river, who is all the rivers, and something else
You are the river
You do not stop at the banks where liquid turns to solid
You reach into the sky, and into the soil
Water moves through rocks, comes up to form pools far from the fast flow where the rivers move together
seeps down to join still waters beneath the surface
waters who sleep and wake and sleep, and mingle with the stones who are the river too
You are the river who is married to the mountains you have known since they were young
who have given themselves to you, as you have given yourself to them
You are the canyons you nestle into, each year deeper than the year before
You are the forests who give you their fallen trees
the meadows you flood and feed
and they feed you back their fruits and fine insects
who fly to your surface to be taken in by the fish
who again with their owns bodies feed the meadows
You are the river who feeds the ocean
who feels the tides pushing and pulling against your mouth
the waves mixing fresh and salt
you are that intermingling, that is who you are
that is who you have always been
You are the river
You have lived with volcanoes and glaciers
You have been dammed by lava and ice
You've carried log jams so large and so old that they grow their own forests, with you running beneath
You have lived through droughts and floods
You are the river
You miss the salmon, you miss the sturgeon, you miss the ocean
you miss the meadows, you miss the forests, you miss the beavers, and otters and bears
you miss the humans
You are the river, you want them back
You want to feel the tickling of the sturgeon and the thrusting of the Salmon
You want to carry food and soil to the ocean
You want to cover the meadows as you used to
and you want to give yourself to them
and you want them to give themselves to you
as you have done forever and as they have too

Now, pretend you are a forest
You are the bark of trees and the hairy moss who hangs from them
You are the duff, who becomes soil, who becomes trees, who becomes seeds, who becomes squirrels, who become owls who become slugs, who become shrews, who become soil
You are the trees who cannot live without the fungi, who cannot live without the voles, who cannot live without the trees
You are the fire, who cannot live without the trees, who cannot live without the woodpeckers, who cannot live without the beetles, who cannot live without the fire
You are the wind who speaks through the trees, and the trees who speak through the wind
You are the birds who sing, and the birds who do not
You are the salamanders, the ferns, the millipedes
the bumble bees who sleep on flowers, waiting for the morning to warm you so you can eat and fly on home
You to have lived through drought and flood, hot and cold
and you too miss the salmon
you miss the owls, the bears
you miss the rivers
you miss the people, the humans
you want them all back
you need them back
or you will die

-Derrick Jensen.

Not Fit For Office

Earth Talk

standing empty
once more

in the early morning chatter
of bird song and creek talk
the slow grinding whisper
of rocks, shifting
in the veiny fingers
of the earth

feeling it
come up through
word seeds
of love
of light
burst in the heart

catch me
in that shiny flow.

~Cathy Caser 1986, reproduced in the We'Moon 2009 Calendar

Art found here.

Prayer Vigil For The Earth

This weekend, if you're in DC, join in the Prayer Vigil for the Earth.


Join us for the Prayer Vigil for the Earth, held every autumn
on the mall near the Washington Monument.

Nestled near Native American Tipis
in the glow of a sacred fire, you are greeted
by the drums and rhythms of many nations...

The purifying sent of burning sage welcomes all
to this peaceful and prayerful space
to join in fellowship with new and old friends

At dawn on Sat. Oct 18, we will light the sacred fire that will burn throughout the Vigil.

Come anytime during this amazing weekend!

Families are welcome and there are activities
and blessings for children.


The website for the event says:

The Peace Village is designed in a circle to mirror the shape of our Earth.

A fire burns in the center of the circle like a fire burns in the center of the Earth. The circle and the fire symbolize life. They are sacred.

You enter the sacred Peace Village through the East Gate, place of the rising sun.

There are many activities going on in the Peace Village. There is an area for Silent Prayer for the Earth, a Children's Tipi, an Elder's Tipi, a chanting/singing tipi, a labyrinth, receive healing in Jyorei tipi, do prayers around the Hindu Yantra, a Tibetan stupa, Christian and African altars and a Jewish Sukkah. All of these can be visited. There is also a enriching program going on at the microphone.

Everyone you see has volunteered their time and talents.

Often there are children playing and adults talking quietly.

The entire community dances, chants or participates in story telling at periodic intervals.

Enjoy the wonderful evening programs under the stars with an opportunity to pray around the fire all night.
Everyone is invited to bring their musical instruments, songs, prayers, and chants on Sunday from 12:00 PM - 1:00 PM as we create the sound of people in Celebration and Prayer for Peace on Earth.

Click here to see our schedule of activities for 2008.

The Prayer Vigil for the Earth has met annually since 1993 arising from a vision on how to bring harmony to the peoples of the earth. Each year we meet to:

Seek Unity where there has been Division
Understanding instead of Conquering
Honoring where the need to Covet has prevailed
We come together to do this to seek out that commonality which links us to each other, the earth and to that expression of highest principle, which each tradition recognizes and yearns to share with each other.

From the Native Peoples – “We are all related”
From the Christian tradition – “Where two or more are gathered in God’s name”
From the Jewish and Islamic traditions – “There is only one God”
And from all other traditions not mentioned – “Unity and Understanding”
At the 2008 Prayer Vigil we are asking everyone to do the following:

To raise the level of tolerance to pioneer in a new consciousness.
To leave the dogma and proselytizing behind.
To allow yourself the opportunity to stretch to see other points of view.
To do more than share your faiths, traditions and customs – take it to the next level of honoring diversity.
To stretch beyond our own comfort zones to participate in the grand experiment to practice tolerance and peace.
To listen.
To be respectful and honor others without judgment.
To focus on our commonalities.
To focus on our relationship with the earth.
To let go of differences and separateness.
To BE in the place we are CHOSING to co-create.
To invite and encourage youth dialogues.
To participate in interfaith, multi-cultural dialogue.

My favorite part is: Often there are children playing and adults talking quietly. The entire community dances, chants or participates in story telling at periodic intervals. You know, we need lot more of that.

I'm taking a knitting class in the afternoon and then planning to head on over. Join me there, won't you?

/hat tip to my madcap friend, R.

All Acts Of Love And Pleasure Are Rituals Of The Goddess

Atrios says:

I do hope one day a bigger chunk of this country's population can be comfortable with the simple idea that there's nothing wrong with teenagers - even teenage girls! - having healthy and safe sex lives if they're so inclined. I think we've actually gotten more hysterical about the whole thing since I was a kid, and I grew up in the "if you have sex you will die" era.

Turns out that there's another country where the population already is comfortable with the idea that there's nothig wrong with teenagers -- even teenage girls! -- having healthy and safe sex lives if they're so inclined. It's in Holland:

In 1950s Dutch society, most young people began having sex when they were in their 20s and were married or engaged. During the 1960s, unintended teenage pregnancies rose alarmingly. Seeing this, family physicians and clinics were quick to make contraceptives easily accessible to youth. Dutch teen pregnancy and abortion rates are now among the lowest in the developed world.

National surveys show that most Dutch parents accept that young people choose to have sex in committed relationships during their later teens. Research I conducted found that a majority of Dutch parents are even willing to permit such couples to spend the night together in their homes, but only when they see that they have formed a loving relationship, feel ready for sex and understand how to use contraception responsibly. By accepting teen sexuality within these parameters, Dutch parents can stay involved, monitor relationships and urge proper contraceptive use.

This shift from a "marriage-only" to a "love-only" sexual ethic happened because parents, aided by honest and informative public conversations about sex, grappled with how to marry their aspirations -- about the children they wanted to raise and the relationships they wanted to foster -- to times that were changing. The result is an environment in which young people receive support from parents and other adults as they learn about relationships and wise sexual choices.

Look, as a society, we've decided that it's worth the costs for companies to be able to use sex to sell their products. Maybe that's good; maybe it's shitty, but it's not changing any time soon. We've decided that it's worth the costs for ranchers to be able to pump their animals full of hormones and antibiotics that cause teens to mature earlier than ever before. Maybe that's good; maybe it's shitty, but it's not changing any time soon. We've agreed that preserving patriarchy is so important that it's worth making young women grow up in a society where "having a boyfriend" may be the ONLY sign of personal validity. OK, I KNOW that's shitty, but it's not changing any time soon.

And then we act appalled when teen-age girls have sex. And then we deny them the information and the tools (aka condoms) that could help to prevent teen pregnancy. And then we all pay the costs of teen pregnancy, although the teen mothers and their kids pay a disproportionately high share of those costs and the ad agencies, ranchers, and patriarchs pay a disproportionately low share of those costs.

They're a lot smarter in Han's Brinker's land of tulips.

Mavericks In Washington And On Wall Street Got Us Into This Mess

Ancestors. At Samhein. No One Could Have Anticipated.

So, old news that on Wednesdays I get together w some other women, for ecstatic dance.

Last week and this week, we've been moved to do magic for America. It's one of the great blessings of my life that I get to live with these amazing women, to do magic and fix dinner and do laundry with them, to discuss driving voters to the polls with them.

This week, I've been worried about the racist shit that Palin's been stirring up and the real physical danger to Obama. And, so, that's where I've been directing my magic this week and it's where we dancers (how can you know the dancers from the dance?) directed our magic this evening.

Every morning, I drive past the Teddy Roosevelt Island, a wildlife sanctuary immediately across the river from Washington, D.C. (Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?) Every four or five months, I'm blessed to see, in the morning, the bald eagle who fishes snakes and fish and frogs out of the lazy estuary rivulet that forms the Eastern border of the island. (Oh body swayed to music, oh brightening glance) I saw the eagle soaring yesterday morning. It's a gift, it's Grace, it's god pouring god into god. That image figured in my working.

When I call North/Earth/Pentacles, I'm calling ancestors, bears, wolves, foxes, moose, caves, mountains, plains, stones, decomposing bodies, the power to be silent. What I learned, almost by accident, tonight, is that, if you call Obama's ancestors to come protect him, well, they will Show Up. No, really. They. Will. Show. Up. He can be protected from the racist hatred being stirred up against him. His ancestors -- from both sides -- will Show Up and deflect the danger.

I pass this along for others who are doing protective magic for him.

He stays safe through January 20th, when his own Secret Service, loyal to him, can take over. This is my will. So mote it be.

Photo found here.

Palin Manipulates Joe Sixpack

McCain Creates Palin To Preserve The Patriarchy

Fundies, They're LAUGHING At You!

You can't trust anything about this bitch. She's a complete and total phony.

You'd think Americans would get sick and tired of being played for fucking fools.


Fundies, I'm lookin' at ya.



Hat tip to Firedoglake, with thanks to montag.

Things That Give Me Hope

There's an old Joan Baez song that begs:

Bring me a rose in the wintertime, when it's hard to find,
bring me a rose in the wintertime, I've got
roses on my mind.
A rose is sweet, most anytime and, yet,
bring me a rose in the wintertime and how easy we forget.

Bring me a smile when I'm far from home, when it's hard to find,
bring me a smile when I'm far from home, I've got
smiling on my mind.
A smile is sweet, most anytime and, yet,
bring me a smile when I'm far from home and how easy we forget.

Bring me some peace when there's talk of war, when it's hard to find,
bring me some peace when there's talk of war, I've got
peace on my mind.
Oh, peace is sweet, most anytime and yet,
bring me some peace when there's talk of war and how easy we forget.


Today was a terrible day to be following the news. Our economy doing the one thing we all knew it would do, but hoped that it wouldn't, after decades of deregulation and greed. The McCain campaign going completely negative on Obama in the hopes that what worked for Bush and Rove will work again. The environment in a tailspin and every fifty-year-old I know walking around with the dazed look of one who really groks that she will NEVER be able to retire.

And so, here's a rose for you in the wintertime, a short list of things that give me hope:

Dinner w a dear old friend whose pursuit of her own v, v, v advanced degree a continent away from where she lived convinced me that I could, too, go to evening law school. We drank and ate and traded gossip and talked politics and discussed our children and grandchildren and just being at a table next to her gave me strength and made me feel better. May you have friends like her.

Freeway Blogger doing what only he does and what all of us ought to do.

Barefoot College.

Nudibranches. Honest; this site keeps me going when everything else seems grim. How can you possibly have incorporated on the same planet as a nudibranch and give in to despair?

Obama is 12 points ahead in Virginia. Hello, Sarah, did you enjoy your little rally in Falls Church the other week? Bring it, bitch.

And, of course, Jeff Skilling is still in jail.

Photo found here.

Hail Powers Of The East, Hail Athena, Hail Columbia

Isaac Bonewits, yes, THAT Isaac Bonewits, runs a great group called Spells for Democracy.

Here's one of his latest posts:

We're coming down to the end of the campaigns and the actual voting.
Here's what we need to be doing in the next few weeks to assure a fair
and honest election. Pick one and get to work!

Do the mundane stuff: Make sure you and your friends and neighbors are
registered to vote and have not been accidentally-on-purpose purged
from the voting rolls (see previous blog post). Volunteer to work at
the polls. If you have a legal background, volunteer with the ACLU and
other groups keeping an eye on the process.

Do the magical stuff:


Continue with protection spells on the candidates.

Continue with revelation spells on the candidates and the White House,
so that everyone's true intentions are made public.

Find your local polling place(s) and do protection and honesty spells
on the buildings.

Do binding spells on election officials to force them to keep their
oaths of office.

Do binding spells on the warmongers in the White House and the
Pentagon to prevent any last minute "surprises" that would "justify"
postponing or canceling the elections.


Remember, if the spell you want to do would be ethical if done
physically, then it's ethical to do it magically.

There was some sick fundie troll over at Eschatontoday wondering if any "lie-berals" ever prayed for their country. And I thought: more than you know, Motherfucker, more than you know. I've been doing magic w/ women to save this country for a number of years.

I'm especially liking the idea of protection spells on my local polling place. Bet I can walk deosil around that building as many times as I want w/o anyone seeing anything except an old woman out for a nice bit of exercise in the Autumn air.

Heh.

Jack 'O Lanterns

Inspiration for the OBAMA pumpkins found here.

Within The Circle We Conspire

What an amazingly perfect Autumn day it was here, today. May it be so for you.

Once a month, my amazing circle of amazing women gets together for what we call Stitch-n-Bitch. Over time, the membership in our circle (we live in DC, a transient town) has changed and there are fewer "stitchers." Our motto is: Stitching Is Optional. But Come Prepared To Bitch. I cannot underestimate the importance for a circle of women who plan to engage in magic of spending lazy time together "just" chatting. I think that it's key to effective magic.

And, of course we always do bitch. One woman works for a financial reporting service (how do you think HER week went?), one works w non-profits, one edits technical documents and just found a new job in this shitty economy because she has mad skillz, one teaches math to middle schoolers, one is retired from the White House, one is a disabled historian, and one is a lawyer in a white-shoe DC firm. And, we are aunts, mothers, grandmothers, sisters, wives, daughters, granddaughters, neighbors, women in the DC Pagan community. We have a lot to bitch about.

Today, we had potluck brunch, tea, coffee, etc. and caught up with each other. We sat out on the screen porch and carved pumpkins. We carved a jack-o-lantern face, bats, a goddess, O B A M A, and a witch on a broomstick. It was a lot of fun. N and K came early and helped me set up,and stayed late and helped me clean up. We talked politics and magic and family and career and made lists of who we would invite to our fantasy dinner parties.

I've lived my whole life surrounded by, uplifted by, supported by Grace. I've always thought that Volume One of my autobiography would be entitled: Receiving Assistance from Witnesses, and that Volume Two would be entitled: No One on the Ground Was Hurt -- both phrases from evening news programs. But one of the very best things that Grace ever arranged for me is this circle of amazing women, a life that includes them, lazy Autumn sunlight on my porch with them, mugs of coffee, pumpkins, and laughter. The laughter of sisters in the slanting Autumn light, lifting me up, helping me cope, listening to me bitch, making it all ok. My sisters, cleaning the pumpkin seeds for roasting, setting my table w/ cinnamon rolls and pumpkin bread, garlic spread, and fruit, my sisters helping me to clean up afterwards, assuring me that it's ok to plant wisteria on the shed, listening to my stories about the stories I read to G/Son last night on iChat.

I live such a wonderful life, a life so full of Grace, a life blessed by my sisters.

May it be so for you.

Cut Off Is Monday In Virginia

Hat tip: Sia

Register in Virginia.

Come On, You Know That You Want To

Like Nobody's Watching. Or, as if they all are, and you like that.



We're taking G/Son this weekend. (I used to take another little boy every Autumn.) I can't wait.


Go read Dancing in the Streets by Barbara Ehrenreich to remind yourself why it matters.

The Practice Of Magical Practice

I did magic tonight w an old friend of mine, a woman who used to be in my circle and with whom I still get together once a week, along with others, to do ecstatic dance, eat a common meal, chat.

It felt so good to be standing in the cool air of an Autumn evening, underneath a few bright stars peaking through the clouds, grounding, centering, feeling the way that my animal body becomes, because it is an animal body, a vessel for magic.

I may be wrong; there may be women for whom this comes early and easy, but it seems to me that there is a feeling born only of years of magical practice, that teaches the lesson from the charge of the Goddess: "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."

You can't set out doing magic in order to obtain this feeling, this cellular and organic understanding that you are a vessel for, and an opening into the world of, magic. But at some point -- after half a lifetime of grounding and centering and casting circles and calling the quarters and speaking intentions and chanting and dancing and drumming and visualizing and raising cones and releasing cones and being frustrated and being enchanted and returning daily to your altar, happy, sad, frustrated, disbelieving, coming, as Rumi said, yet again, come, come, even though you have abandoned your vows a thousand times, come, yet again, come, come -- you find the mystery within yourself. And it seems to me, not that I would know, that it's just like what they said about those who experienced the Mysteries of Eleusis: ever after, they had no fear of death. Ever after, you know that you have found within yourself what you could never find without: that which has been with you from the beginning and which is attained at the end of all desire.

And, yet, and here's only one more lovely paradox, you have to get up the next morning and practice again, sit zazen again, ground again, connect again with the mist in the Autumn garden and the squirrels in the trees and the current in the air and the Fifth Sacred Thing. Because what I imagine, not that I would know, is that what they taught at Eleusis was that it's a process, not an end result.

I suppose that I stopped making sense several paragraphs ago. There's a Rumi poem about that, too.

May it be so for you.

Art found here.

Thank You!

Thank you, thank you, thank you historyman, hunter of da snark, for the lovely book: Landscape as Spirit, Creating a Contemplative Garden! I am savoring each picture, especially the ones of Autumn and Winter gardens! I'm going to savor this book for a long time, and it comes at a perfect time, as Landscape Guy and I begin to get serious about designing the backyard contemplative garden as a ritual space.

Photo by the author

First Of The Month Bazooms Blogging

Ladies! Listen up! Detecting breast cancer early is the key to surviving it! Breast Self Exams (BSEs) can help you to detect breast cancer in its earlier stages. So, on the first of every month, give yourself a breast self-exam. It's easy to do. Here's how. If you prefer to do your BSE at a particular time in your cycle, calendar it now. But, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

And, once a year, get yourself a mammogram. Mammograms cost between $150 and $300. If you have to take a temp job one weekend a year, if you have to sell something on e-Bay, if you have to go cash in all the change in various jars all over the house, if you have to work the holiday season wrapping gifts at Macy's, for the love of the Goddess, please go get a mammogram once a year.

Or: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention pays all or some of the cost of breast cancer screening services through its National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program. This program provides mammograms and breast exams by a health professional to low-income, underinsured, and underserved women in all 50 states, six U.S. territories, the District of Columbia, and 14 American Indian/Alaska Native organizations. For more information, contact your state health department or call the Cancer Information Service at 1-800-4-CANCER.

Send me an email after you get your mammogram and I will do an annual free tarot reading for you. Just, please, examine your own breasts once a month and get your sweet, round ass to a mammogram once a year.

Merci!

Joy

The Garden In Early Autumn

The new herb bed, which went in late, is going gangbusters, with basil and lavender and French tarragon and rosemary and pineapple sage (about to bloom!) and German mountain sage and French thyme and woad and sunflowers.

The morning glories, both Carnivale and Grandpa Otts, are all over the place and starting to make seeds for next year.

And, datura. I planted datura from last years' seed in a spot that we then tore up to put in the herb bed and I figured, no datura this year. But one determined soul showed up in late August and I just couldn't bear to mow her down. Last night, she bloomed. A scent between vanilla and lemon and such gorgeous flowers; it's one of my favorite plants.

It's wonderful how, even now, as we head towards the dark, the plants are still soaking up sunlight and turning it into: everything.

You Pathetic, Oedipal Mess Of A Poor Excuse For A Human Being. Exit Stage Left.

Bush in 1999:

"He was thinking about invading Iraq in 1999," said author and journalist Mickey Herskowitz. "It was on his mind. He said to me: 'One of the keys to being seen as a great leader is to be seen as a commander-in-chief.' And he said, 'My father had all this political capital built up when he drove the Iraqis out of Kuwait and he wasted it.' He said, 'If I have a chance to invade·.if I had that much capital, I'm not going to waste it. I'm going to get everything passed that I want to get passed and I'm going to have a successful presidency." Herskowitz said that Bush expressed frustration at a lifetime as an underachiever in the shadow of an accomplished father. In aggressive military action, he saw the opportunity to emerge from his father's shadow. The moment, Herskowitz said, came in the wake of the September 11 attacks. "Suddenly, he's at 91 percent in the polls, and he'd barely crawled out of the bunker."

Bush in November 2004

And it's one of the wonderful -- it's like earning capital. You asked, do I feel free. Let me put it to you this way: I earned capital in the campaign, political capital, and now I intend to spend it. It is my style. That's what happened in the -- after the 2000 election, I earned some capital. I've earned capital in this election -- and I'm going to spend it for what I told the people I'd spend it on, which is -- you've heard the agenda: Social Security and tax reform, moving this economy forward, education, fighting and winning the war on terror.

Bush last week:


New details emerged over the weekend of a remarkably
tumultuous White House meeting on the bailout Thursday. With
the session breaking up in disarray, according to two
participants, Bush issued an appeal, saying, "Can't we just
all go out and say things are OK?"
The group around the table, which included congressional
leaders and the presidential nominees-Republican John McCain
and Democrat Barack Obama -spurned the request.

Bush, today:

President George Bush expressed disappointment Monday after the House failed to approve the $700 billion plan to bail out the U.S. financial markets.
"I was disappointed in the vote with the U.S. Congress on the economic rescue plan," Bush said during a joint media opportunity with the Ukranian president. "We put forth a plan that was big because we got a big problem."

The bipartisan plan meant to address the root of the financial crisis -- home mortgage-related assets that have lost value during the housing decline -- failed on a 205-228 vote, falling 13 votes shy of the 218 needed for passage.

Bush said he would be talking with his economic advisers and his administration would work with congressional leaders on the plan to stabilize U.S. financial systems.

"Our strategy is to continue to address this economic situation head-on," Bush said. "And we'll be working to develop a strategy that will enable us to continue to move forward."

Art found here.

My New Name For A Blog

Palin and the Patriarchy.


It’s a mistake to look at Sarah Palin and analyze her actions and her place in this campaign in terms of the struggle against patriarchy. She doesn’t struggle against it, she endorses it. That she has found a way to rig the patriarchal system to HER benefit and through her to that of those closest to her is to be expected, that’s what conservatives do no matter what group they belong to. Looking at Palin as any kind of first for women (second, actually, as we are not supposed to remember) only leads away from reality. She is out for number one, not for women in general. Her nomination is as meaningful for progress for women struggling against patriarchy as Clarence Thomas has been for the equality of black people or the Log Cabin Republicans for gay people. In the struggle against patriarchy, she’s just a patriarch in disguise. The use of her daughter in this campaign is rapidly approaching the level of depravity that Thomas’ use of his sister was. It is a warning of just how bad a Palin administration could get.


I've generally avoided discussions of Palin's child-rearing. I think that, in this society, making negative judgments about whatever women decide to do about/for/with their children comes far, far too easily (and liberals are almost as infected with this problem as conservatives). (Whether we're calling them "helicopter moms" or complaining that some woman is "willing to put career ahead of her children," whatever women do, it's wrong.) One never hears that Joe Biden left his young, injured children with caretakers all day. No, one hears how heroically he trained back home from DC every evening to be with them. And all politicians "use" their families as props, some, obviously, more than others. I remember how adorable the two young Edwards children were, how lovely and composed the older daughter was as she kind of helped corral them, how often we heard the very sad tale of their deceased son. And I just think there are a whole host of reasons why Palin shouldn't get anywhere near the presidency that don't involve judging her family choices. So, as noted, I'm reluctant to get into the issue.


Otherwise, I think olvlzl's post is spot on.

Palin: Not Even Ready To Give A Press Conference

Sunday Trakl Blogging

On The Marshy Pastures

A man who walks in the black wind;
the dry reeds rustle quietly
Through the silence of the marshy pastures. In
the grey skies
A migration of wild birds move in ranks
Catty-corner over dark waters.
Insurgence. In the collapsing houses
Decay is fluttering out with black wings;
Crippled-up birches breathe heavily in the wind.
Evening in empty roadhouses. The longing for home
settles about
The delicate despair of the grazing flocks,
Vision of the night: toads plunge from silver waters.

~Translated by James Wright and Robert Bly


Picture found here.