Teaching a child

I want to teach my goddessdaughter. I want to pass on some of what I know.

I would start with the 4 Elements: Earth, Air, Fire, Water. I would give her her first Book of Light and Shadows and ask her to draw her first sacred Circle. And onto that Circle we would place the Elements in order: Earth at the top, Air at 90 degrees, Fire at the root, and Water across from Air. And above and around that we would place the secret 5th Element: Spirit. That which binds us, one to the other, in the great Wheel of lifeanddeath.

We would investigate the Elements in a practical way, suitable to her age. A stone for Earth, breath for Air, a lit candle for Fire, and a mini-cauldron of Water. And our mantra: “Never leave a burning candle unattended.”

To keep her interested, I would teach her the Discordian tradition of The Sacred Chocolate: White for Air, semi-sweet for Fire, milk for Water, and dark for Earth. I suspect that will get her attention.

Over time I would teach her the layers of the sacred Circle. First the directions: North for Earth and then around the Circle. We would orient ourselves outside and learn how to find North no matter where we are.

Then the different Gods or guides that go with each marker. I would give her options from the world’s religions. I would explain the different characteristics of the Elements and ask her if she could think of her own guides. I would have her choose who should go where. I would let her know that those guides would likely change as she grows and changes.

Then the seasons: Winter in the North, then Spring, Summer, and Fall. We would draw pictures and tell stories about the different seasons and observe how Nature manifests herself in each.

Then the holy days of my tradition: Samhain in the North, then Imbolc, then Bealtainne, then Midsummer. We would learn these cross-quarter days and the solstices and equinoxes. I would teach her the difference between the two and how to observe the Sun and know the seasons. We would make wreaths of flowers and leaves, a Brighid’s cross, a May Day poppet.

I would teach her of the Moon and its journey through its thirteen cycles. I would teach her how to identify trees by their leaves and bark. We would listen for the song of the birds and follow their call.

Once she’s old enough, I would teach her the Tarot, beginning with the Major Arcana before learning the Minor. While the cheat sheets are helpful, I would teach her to trust her own intuitions and insights so that the cards serve her well.

When she is ten, I would begin taking her to different places of worship so she can be exposed to a variety of belief systems and forms of spiritual engagement. I would encourage her to follow her own heart, listening carefully to see if any one particular path beckoned.

I would teach her magic, beginning with the basics of visualization before moving on to simple charms and prayers. I would give her a book of Latvian dainas that she might know more of her people.

Above all, I would teach her ethics. “If it harm none, do what you will.” The Threefold Law. The deep commitment to justice and compassion that is a necessary aspect of any spiritual being.

Throughout our journey, I would listen to her. I would encourage her to speak from the heart and I would endeavor to hear the sub-text of what she’s saying. While providing a framework for the development of her spirit, I would encourage her to challenge me and herself to greater understanding, charity, compassion, and fairness.

While I might sometimes have her copy from my Book of Shadows, I would sometimes copy from hers to mine. She would teach me as I teach her.

This is my vision for her. It is a lesser version of how I wanted to teach my own daughters, had they manifested in this world. It is open to a multitude of spiritual paths while giving her a solid foundation. It would be creative. It would be fun.

It is not up to me to decide, of course. As her Goddessmother, I feel Called to nourish her spirit. Her parents may disagree with my choices or methods. It is for them to decide. A and J, what do you think?

Latvian dainas

I am going to be doing sumkinda priestessing at the upcoming Women Exposed show on the 29th.

As part of my prep, I’m researching prayers and such that might be useful. And I come back, as I always do, to my little book of Latvian dainas. When I worked at Feminist Teacher magazine in the ’90s, this book came in as part of a request for a review. I immediately snagged it and got permission to keep it. Dearest Goddess: Translations from Latvian Folk Poetry, written/translated by Eso Benjamin.

Because Latvia wasn’t Christianized until the 14th (15th?) century, many Pagan traditions survive. Dainas are little prayers–almost conversations–that Latvian women have with their Dearest Goddess. And yes, it’s primarily women who wrote and maintain these prayers. There are over a million on record.

Dearest Goddess is the Sun, shining on the Baltic sea. This is contrary to contemporary Pagan views of the Sun as masculine and the Moon as feminine. I like to see both as manifestations of the Goddess, giving us a more holistic view of what constitutes femininity (I’m not worried about the guys–they can figure out their own system ). The Dearest Goddess is known as Laima in Latvia, though I’ve also seen references to Laima as the daughter of the Sun. Those Pagans, always fluid! What is certain is that Latvian women in traditional dress as referred to as daughters of the Sun.

The dainas are very short but deal with everyday concerns. I love how they are so intimate and picky and bossy and joyful. They reflect the full range of life without limit. They are eminently practical. Here is a selection (with major props to Eso for bringing this heritage to light in the Western world).

++++++

I  have looked for her
here, there, everywhere,
but my Dearest Goddess
is playing games
with me:

She will not tell me
where I can find her.
She’s making me spin
in my chair.

+++++

You go first, Dearest Goddess.
I’ll follow in your footsteps.
Don’t let me step
into evil days.

++++++

I’m out of songs,
Dearest Goddess.
What shall I do?

I know.
Let me find an old bachelor.
Let me ride him
to find a new song.

++++++

Dance, Marsha, dance.
Take no worry.
Your Dearest Goddess guards you.
Your Dearest Goddess sits
in a silver boat
and wears a golden crown.

++++++

This mill is too much;
the wheel is too heavy.
Dearest Goddess,
it’s been a hard life.
I no longer wish
to keep walking in circles.

++++++

Some people are saying
that my Dearest Goddess
has died by drowning.
Well, I just saw her
walking over the waters
sowing handfuls of
gold and silver.

++++++

Give, Dearest Goddess,
what’s to be given.
I’ll take
what’s to be taken
with both hands,
without hesitation.

+++++++

Be my helpmate,
Dearest Goddess.
Let the roses I plant tonight
bloom into a rose garden by morning.

+++++++

Though we are not sisters,
we call ourselves sisters.
It makes some people mad.
It makes the Dearest Goddess glad.

++++++

My throat is like a trumpet–
I can compete even with brass.
My voice is like gold
and flows even through hard rock.

+++++++

My mother raised me
in a nightingale’s nest.
I grew up to sing
with a nightingale’s tongue,
to hear my songs
roll the echo from the mountain
down through the valley.

++++++

Unhappy people
will not get me down.
As soon as I can get away,
I’ll sing and dance again.

But do you know
what will stop a song?
A slap in the face,
a fist in the back.
Else, I will sing
even through tears.

++++++

My mother died singing,
and so did my father.
So will I.
And after I die,
I will go on singing
with my sister
from the top of our graves.

++++++

When I sing I sing happily;
when I cry I shed a river of tears.
I learnt my song
from the Dearest Goddess;
I learnt my tears
from being an orphan.

++++++

What’s wrong with my man?
He’s out barking with the dogs.
I’m smarter.
I walk singing.

++++++

The Unwelcome Goddess
gave me a present of fancy shoes for a party.

If you’ll be my chaperone Dearest Goddess,
I’ll be happy to dance barefoot.

++++++

The Dearest Goddess
gave me a thousand songs
at the tip of every wheel spoke.
Whenever I’m sad,
all I need to do is turn the wheel,
and song flows.

++++++

The leaves of the linden do not quake,
her daughters do not hate.
Dearest Goddess,
all the world weeps
if we don’t speak peace.

++++++

We are three sisters
with six ripe teats.
Dearest Goddess,
we’ve come to complain:
Where are the boys?

++++++

The wolf bragged
and the bear bragged
that they are strong.

Dearest Goddess,
I left them behind.
On my journey
I need only your company.

++++++

There are many, many more I can post but this should give you a flavor. Buy Benjamin’s book; it’s a treasure! Blessed Be, Dearest Goddess!

Who’s Who entry

Yowza, what a blast from the past! I did a vanity search on YouTube in the hopes of finding my speech for Tony Mullane’s induction into the Cinci Reds Hall of Fame, when I stumbled upon a video that claims to be a Who’s Who of the Pagan community. And I’m the first one listed! Right before Margot! WTF!!

I think this is based on a book published in the ’90s. I remember I got listed in one of these Who’s Who things at some point. The bio (at 1:05) is very brief and pulls on stuff I’ve already published elsewhere. It’s way outdated, since I don’t even know if PEN publishes Water anymore and the Wiccan Community Fund ended long ago. The only thing I do now is moderate the list and maintain the website for the Our Freedom Coalition.

Odd that I should stumble upon this now. This last week was the 10th anniversary of the first (and only) national Pagan Summit. Angie and Andras are making rumblings about my calling everyone together again. So I’ve had that on my mind, wondering how I would organize it, remembering the Great Event That Was.

I’ve done little for the movement since leaving PEN and starting my own business. I miss feeling part of something bigger. I don’t know if I’ll organize another summit but it would be nice to connect with my peeps in a deeper way. I miss my tribe!

Well, this has certainly given a nice jolt to the day. Makes me wonder who I am now and if I’m really on the path I should be. Did I consciously choose to be here? Augh, this is too deep for a Sunday afternoon! Must go drink milk and find chocolate….

Was Persephone abducted or raped?

I finally started writing my version of the Demeter/Persephone tale from ancient Greece. I’ve been researching on and off for almost 10 years. It’s going to take a long time to write and an even longer time to edit.

As I’ve researched, I’ve gathered key plot points and catalogued all the different versions of them. For instance, the set-up of Persephone’s encounter with Hades has at least 10 variations, such as

1. Persephone gathers flowers on a hillside alone in order to make a garland for Demeter.
2. Persephone plays with the sea nymphs. She runs to gather flowers in order to make necklaces for them but is soon far afield.
3. Persephone gathers flowers in the cool, moist woods with Demeter, then notices a narcissus. She wanders off in search of more.
4. Persephone gathers flowers in a meadow along with four river nymphs.

The variations go on. What’s clear is that each writer has hir own imagination, as well as hir own agenda. Whether she’s picking flowers by herself or with others may not have much portent, but what about the question of whether or not Hades rapes her?

Anyone with a passing knowledge of Greek religions knows how common male-on-female rape is. Zeus seems to be the greatest criminal in religion (well, maybe Satan is worse). The general consensus of feminist critique is that these stories of rape reflect the violent takeover of one region by a dominant Greek one. Invade a city-state, rape their goddesses. That sort of thing.

I grew up on stories of Persephone’s being abducted by Hades. It wasn’t until later that I became familiar with the feminist reading of that abduction as a cover story for rape. It makes a lot of sense, in both a historical sense and a mythic one.

A digression: One of the things I love about Paganism is that you can find a deity for any state of being. For instance, the physically challenged need only look to the Greek god Hephaestus, who was lame. This idea of making all facets of the human experience divine is one that I find endlessly fascinating as well as comforting. No matter what’s going on in one’s life, one can always find a story to go along with it.

In the case of Persephone, reading her abduction as a cover story for rape creates a powerful story. As I read in one feminist critique, it positions Persephone as incredibly powerful; she goes fully into a state of violation, despair, and negation—and she creates. This has echoes of the Hindu goddess Kali but it’s not quite the same. It tells us (women in particular) that we can be at the lowest point of our lives and still find the power of creation within ourselves. We may not believe it, but here’s a story that holds out a vision for us.

So I’m faced with the choice of which story point to use: abduction or rape? What strikes me as I collect the re-tellings is how many of them don’t mention rape. They don’t mention love. They don’t mention any motivation for Hades’ appearance at all. Of course, some depict him as hell-bent on wielding power over Persephone and some say he’s a victim of Cupid’s arrows, but most of the interpretations I’ve read don’t mention a motivation. I find that curious.

The story of Persephone’s descent to the Underworld is obviously a coming of age story. What I like about this lack of motivation for Hades’ actions is that it avoids casting him as an evil being who attacks Persephone. It tells a story where Persephone is not a victim per se; rather, the things that happen to her happen because they happen to her. They just do. In a sense, it’s just time for them to. When it’s time to put away childish things, it’s not always because some evil-doer comes along and oppresses you. Sometimes it’s just time.

This interpretation appeals to me because it allows broader identification with Persephone. I am telling the story from all three characters’ points of view, including Hades’. Everyone has trouble reconciling Persephone’s faithful marriage to Hades with the whole abduction thing, and that point becomes more problematic if he raped her. Keeping him as a more passive figure, as an agent of time rather than of evil, makes it easier to transition to the relatively balanced relationship they share.

Aside from all these storytelling niceties, one of my sources noted that the earliest Orphic tellings of the story make it clear that it was an abduction, and only later versions turn it into rape.

In a way, it’s analogous to Set’s place in the Egyptian pantheon. He is now often perceived as evil, but he originally was the destructive side of nature that makes it possible for creation to happen. He represents the flooding of the Nile each year that destroyed villages and livestock but which also left fertile soil in its wake. There are many reasons why he got a bad rap later on, but the earliest stories make it clear that he is not evil incarnate. That idea comes later, seems rooted in the Middle East, and seems to be a product of dualistic religions which split all the world into good or evil. Other religions’ deities are more nuanced—more like human beings.

Back to Persephone—I am writing a story about mental illness, about depression. She goes into the Underworld again and again—but she also comes out into the sun-lit world again. Yes, it’s a story of the seasons on the one hand, but on a psychological level it’s a very personal drama of the soul’s descent into madness and its eventual recovery—repeatedly. Her strength lies in how she navigates these cycles.

Lastly, I am writing the story in part for my nieces and goddessdaughters, and when it came time for me to decide whether it would be abduction or rape, I decided to go with abduction. They are young and will discover the realities of sexual violence soon enough. I don’t want it coming from me.

What do you think? Leave a comment below.

 

Spiritual ecstasy

I was recently  interviewed by Drema Baker of If… Journal for an article on spiritual ecstasy and awakenings. She drew from an interfaith pool and received fascinating feedback. It’s a nice article, entitled Wake Up! The Role of Ecstasy in Spiritual Practice.

It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my spiritual experiences with others. I was working regularly with my friend Don for about two years, but that ended when he got hisself a grrrlfrien’. Ahem. 

The first question posed was whether or not the ecstatic spiritual experience (ESE) was rare. Who knows? Well, Teresa of Avila, maybe. She definitely had something going on! While WASP culture looks down on any energized experience (reference the disdain for those who speak in tongues or who practice “Voodoo” or any number of other ecstatically based traditions), many other traditions actively embrace the ESE.

Tribal shamans use drumming, drugs, fasting, dancing, and other means to achieve ecstasy and travel to the Otherworld. These practices are found worldwide. And they’re even found in my living room! (OK, not the drumming, drugs, and fasting, but I do participate in ESEs.) 

ESEs are not limited to Pagan traditions. As noted above, the Catholic saint Teresa of Avila often channeled ecstasy. When I was growing up as a good Roman Catholic girl, I had ESEs at Mass on a regular basis. The golden-white light would come up from the Earth, through the soles of my feet, and out through my hands, head, heart, and even my hair. It felt like I was a vessel for divine light. I loved it. I always felt lighter and at peace after it passed. I felt total joy while I was in it.

The same phenomena happen now that I’m Pagan, but in more complex ways. I try to remain open to Spirit all the time, so I can become a channel at any time. I’ve had an uncanny number of ESEs in restaurants. I have no idea why. Perhaps my gods have a wicked sense of humor. Regardless, the light comes from the Earth or sometimes down my back and fills me up.

Rather than being confined to joy, however, I experience this connection to Spirit in a variety of settings, including tragic ones. It most frequently happens when I’m with someone else. If I sense something heavy coming on, I ask their permission before I begin speaking to them. As an example, a friend and I were out for dinner and I was overcome by Spirit. As I began to speak, I told her that her marriage was over. We cried our eyes out. I kept asking permission to speak until she finally said she wanted to hear the whole shebang. (Her marriage was indeed “dead” in the Tarot sense of the word; she and her husband went on to totally reinvent it.)

While some might call this a “negative” experience, I don’t. I still consider it an ESE. The process is the same, though the message may be different. I still feel full. I don’t always feel joy in the moment, but I feel a pure form of whatever emotion is appropriate; in the case of my friend, I felt a pure form of grief.

The most intriguing part of Drema’s article for me was when some interviewees cautioned against seeking such experiences, calling them “dangerous.” Hunh? I don’t understand this point of view at all. I don’t know what’s dangerous about it, unless maaaaybe you’re not grounded and you get totally freaked out. But the whole point of ESEs is to touch the divine as you see it. You access a part of your brain you don’t normally get to reach. You have a spiritual re-awakening. In my practice, this is a recurring phenomenon. For others, it’s a one-shot deal. Perhaps that’s why I consider it normal and desirable—I’m just used to it. Practice makes perfect!

For anyone interested in spiritual exploration, I suggest you read Drema’s article and then reflect on your own experiences. I do readings for people and am happy to serve as shaman in this capacity. Feel free to contact me if you want insight into your way of living or advice on how to open the door to a more in-depth relationship with Spirit. (That sounds like a commercial—not my intention. It’s just who I am and what I do.)