Exploring the F-word in religion at the intersection of scholarship, activism, and community.
Lion, ancient symbol of strength and courage, is found in cave art from our early days. From the Egyptians to the Medieval Christians, lion could represent danger and chaos or protection and triumph over chaos. But through it all lion’s traits of strength and courage – power and vitality – remain at the core.
Continue reading “Lion – Guide to the Power that Resides Within, by Judith Shaw”
She’s a Lover of Bears.
A poet, a dreamer,
enamored by beaded eyes
black and brown fur,
rotund bellies.
Heartrending cries.
Grunts, moans and huffs –
She’s a Lover of Bears.
She knows that
a Universal Language
is spoken by bears.
Each nuance
and gesture deepens
a story that she
longs to share…
She’s a Lover of Bears. Continue reading “A Lover of Bears by Sara Wright”
Yesterday at the Mid-Summer Turning I took a woodland walk in warm summer rain and then spent a quiet day at home. I visited with a few tadpoles and green frogs that inhabit my vernal pool, sat on the bridge and listened to the flow of water over stone at a woodland waterfall, a place so dear to my heart. I also spent quiet time reflecting…
For too long I have been a woman in waiting… waiting for diagnoses for myself and my dog, waiting for direction – I need to make a decision about where I am supposed to live – waiting for intuitive nudges, waiting for calls from loved ones that don’t come, waiting for this dark cloud to lift, praying for the power of the spirit and body of the earth to fill this empty vessel that has become who I am. Continue reading “Mid –Summer Musings: Lady in Waiting by Sara Wright”
When the two year old pulled the silvery gold fish out of the pond to the cheers of her five and seven year old siblings, parents, and grandmother, I shuddered involuntarily.
The young perch impaled by sharp hook was gasping for oxygen as the adults allowed the fish to hang helplessly while pictures were taken. Afterwards the group watched the fish flounder, still gasping, on the bottom of the boat. The toddler was applauded for her catch, while the terrified fish flipped over and over attempting to escape back into the water. It takes a while for a beached fish to die a death of asphyxiation. Continue reading ” Fish Tails: A Grandmother’s Legacy by Sara Wright”
I remember the first time I killed a living animal for food. I was a college student. I was traveling with other students on a month-long backpacking trip along the Sea of Cortez in Baja, Mexico. It was a very long time ago, yet the experience was so impactful that the memories are etched into my being.
Truth be told, my prey wasn’t all that sexy. It was scallops. There are certain benefits to “hunting” scallops. They have no legs or fins to force someone into a chase, no arms to fight back, and no reproving eyes to haunt dreams. All fairly milquetoast. Or so it appeared to me on the surface.
The way to harvest scallops is straightforward. They are made up of two shells, the lower one is plastered to rocks in the water. The upper one moves up and down by pivoting on a membrane. A diver plunges into the depths of the sea to find them. Then a diver inserts a knife between the two halves of the opened shells in order to cut the membrane at the back. There is delectable meat inside both shell halves. The top shell will come free to be taken to the surface. The meat is cut out of the lower shell, which is immovably attached to the rock.
Continue reading “Facing Life Part 1 by Janet Maika’i Rudolph”
She haunts me
little bear,
too slight,
too wary
to seek
seed I cast
for her
under
White Pine
in whose strong arms
she finds
comfort and safety,
if only for one night.
The animals are innocent
Where was she when
exploding fireworks
whitened a black velvet sky
split stars night after night?
Where was she
when mindless drones
spewed raging gunfire
screaming for Right?
Who comforted her
in her fright?
The animals are innocent
Dear Mini,
I wish, desperately, that you were still here. I miss you everyday. My body aches with grief. Tears run down my face.
It was so hard to say goodbye. Sometimes, I feel like I should have done more. I always thought you’d live to be older even though you made it to (nearly) 16. I couldn’t imagine life without you. Some days I still can’t.
But, the vet said you’d broken your jaw, probably from cancer. You struggled to walk from the arthritis and now your balance was off. The medication we put you on to help the infection in your jaw caused you to not eat for two days. You were so skinny. I couldn’t even keep you comfortable anymore. You cried so much. I knew, even though I didn’t want for it to be time, it was. Continue reading “Goodbye…and Hello by Ivy Helman”
Breathe in… 2…3…4… breathe out… 2…3…4…
Pay attention to your footfalls, make sure you are landing correctly, breathe and count…
Breathe in deep… fill your lungs… and breathe out the stress and the heaviness.
Over the last few weeks I have been trying to get back into running. A few years ago I discovered that I loved running. I loved being alone with my thoughts, focusing only on how my feet hit the ground and continuing to breathe as I ran far more consecutive miles than I ever would have imagined possible. I even ran a half marathon, which I never would have believed I would be capable of… but, somehow, I was… and actually it wasn’t too bad, I looked forward to doing it again and even started to day dream of the possibility of one day running a full marathon.
In the typical day to day busy-ness of life I hadn’t been able to run much last fall and then this winter I took a bad fall on the ice that left me barely able to hobble along at a walk let alone run any distance. After many months of physical therapy and (mostly) sticking to my stretching and strengthening routine, I finally decided I was brave enough (and trusted my knee enough) to try and get back into my running groove.
Eagle, with its soaring flight, its vision, and its courage, has inspired humans since our early days. Eagle, Lord of the Birds, is the ultimate symbol of grandeur, splendor and nobility.
When I look into his face
I wonder
what he is thinking
as he loses himself
in sweet mountain mist.
He’s alone now.
His fear of the unknown
keeps him vigilant
ears erect,
mouth tasting air
standing on two legs to see
beyond summer’s diaphanous veil.
No wonder he climbs trees.
He’s not yet two.
Did she warn him
about the others
before she left?
Two legged threats armed
with hatred,
the need to destroy life
men addicted to power,
who will gladly spew fire
through his gut,
strike out an eye, maim a paw
so he cannot flee?
Feminism and Religion 