Divine Feminine – Page 13 – Feminism and Religion

Painting, Privilege, and “Going Tiny” in Hawai’i by Angela Yarber

It started with Pelé, the Hawai’ian Volcano Goddess who governs fire, lightning, volcanoes, and the flow of lava. When my little family set off on a big adventure in June 2015, I knew I’d research and paint her as a Holy Woman Icon, but I wanted to get to Hawai’i first so that I could experience her power firsthand. After three months volunteering without running water in Vermont, a month in southern Virginia’s finest fall foliage, and a holiday season traversing the country from east to west in a camper named Freya, we crossed the Pacific in search of Pelé.

The long-term goal of nearly two years of full-time travel was to discern next steps for our queer little family, and to find land to open an intersectionally ecofeminist retreat center. We always imagined returning to the southeast, likely buying land and creating the retreat center in the North Carolina mountains. Pelé had something else in store.

After three wild months volunteering on the Big Island, we fell in love, enlivened by this place we now call home: its beauty, the diversity of people, access to living off-grid, access to growing your own food, its rich culture and history, access to a vegan lifestyle, and the ability to live the majority of our life outside. In short, all of our plans were upended and recreated in the most beautiful and challenging ways because we knew Hawai’i must become our home. Continue reading “Painting, Privilege, and “Going Tiny” in Hawai’i by Angela Yarber”

A New Story for the Summer Solstice by Barbara Ardinger

This year the summer solstice occurs on Tuesday, June 20 in the Northern Hemisphere. (In the Southern Hemisphere, it’s the winter solstice and it occurs on June 21.) For us in the Northern Hemisphere, the summer solstice is the longest day of the year. The word “solstice” means “sun stands still.” It’s when the sun reaches its highest point in the sky and seems to stand in the same place before it begins moving toward the winter solstice. We like to think that the primary solar deity is Apollo, but there’s a whole crew of solar gods who are born near the winter solstice and live for a season in great honor, after which they’re sacrificed, spend a season underground, and are reborn.

But before there were solar gods, there were solar goddesses. Patricia Monaghan’s New Book of Goddesses and Heroines (Llewellyn, 1997) lists 58 of them, from Aclla to Xatel-Ekwa, who have been honored all around the world. Monaghan also tells us that Cinderella and Rapunzel may have been goddesses before they became heroines of what the Brothers Grimm called household tales. (Not fairy tales—no fairies in their stories.) Cinderella might have been a goddess of fire, and fire includes the sun. Rapunzel might have been “a sun maiden who would bring spring if she were not held prisoner by the witch of winter” (p. 265). Let’s reimagine Rapunzel in a solstice story… Continue reading “A New Story for the Summer Solstice by Barbara Ardinger”

Sirens, Thunderstorms, and Bowling: The Divine on this Mother’s Day by Ivy Helman

untitled Let’s see if the following course of events makes sense. A few Wednesdays ago, I was thinking about possible topics for this post considering it would be Mother’s Day. In the midst of thought, the warning sirens in Prague began. They were only being tested but, nontheless, I immediately thought of tornados. You see tornados, as awful and devastating as they are, make me think of thunderstorms and lightning. I love a good thunderstorm, the louder the better.

A Wisconsin childhood supplies plenty of thunderstorms. I cannot tell you the number of times as I was growing up that I stood outside watching the sky turn into that distinctive greenish-purple and smelling the storm on the breeze. Nor could I count the umpteen times we gathered in the basement as the tornado sirens blared and the radio advised its listeners in no uncertain terms to seek shelter. Nor could I recall how many times I sat with my mom during more recent summers watching the storms come in or the lightning blaze across the sky like a spider’s web. We’ve been lucky. Never once did a tornado hit our neighborhood although a house or two has been hit by lightning. Continue reading “Sirens, Thunderstorms, and Bowling: The Divine on this Mother’s Day by Ivy Helman”

Painting Our Lady of Sorrows: Mother’s Day and Resurrection by Angela Yarber

The month of May finds those within the Christian tradition solidly within Easter season, reveling in the promise of resurrection, while simultaneously celebrating Mother’s Day. To be honest, I’d never seen much of a correlation between these two events in the past. But since my brother’s death in March, I’m viewing everything through the lens of grief, likely a new perspective that will color the way I see the world forever. Namely, until this year, I’d never really given much thought to what Jesus’ mother, Mary, was feeling in a post-resurrection world. Of course, the suffering, sorrow, and sadness of a mother who watched her child die is something that most Christian churches highlight during Holy Week, on Good Friday, or even on Easter Sunday. But then our liturgy shifts, as though Mary transitioned from weeping at the gruesome death of her child one day and then suddenly celebrates the reality of resurrection the next. At the risk of extreme blasphemy—a place where I consistently reside—when I place myself in Mary’s shoes as a mother, resurrection kinda sucks. Continue reading “Painting Our Lady of Sorrows: Mother’s Day and Resurrection by Angela Yarber”

Moonlight Reflections by Elise M. Edwards

As I post this, May 10, a full moon, known as the “Bright Moon” or “Flower Moon” is in the sky. This full moon occurs during a season of transition when living thing things renew and bloom. For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, it’s spring, but another transition is already underway. For many of us, spring is nearing close to summer in temperatures; in plant, animal, and insect life; and in our schedules. I am concluding a long, demanding spring semester and yearning for summer. Even though I welcome the transition, I know that like all change, it holds both opportunity and challenge. The full moon prompts me to look at the upcoming summer with clear, examining eyes

It’s strange–perhaps downright heretical–for a Christian to talk about the power of the moon. Continue reading “Moonlight Reflections by Elise M. Edwards”

Stories vs. What Is by Oxana Poberejnaia

I have recently watched one of these real life entertainment documentaries. This one was on plastic surgery. A woman went under the knife to enlarge her breasts. The female presenter, wearing sterile white, peeped into the operation theatre and, facing the camera, said excitedly: “This operation might be life-changing!”

I thought: “Yes, precisely.” The money that the patient spent on breast implants could have bought – what? A trip to a strange land. A course for her to improve her employment prospects or to broaden her horizons. Art supplies for her to create something. A water pump to provide clean water in a village somewhere in the world where children die from preventable diseases caused by dirty water. Part of a salary for a teacher who works in a school for girls somewhere in the world where girls need extra help getting education.

Life-changing.

What we choose to spend money, or indeed any resources (time, energy) on depends on our story of life. What is life for us: a race to the unattainable ideal of glossy magazine covers or a spiritual journey we share with every other creature on earth? Continue reading “Stories vs. What Is by Oxana Poberejnaia”

Finding Quantum Magic with the Wicked Witch by Barbara Ardinger

When El Presidente decided his war against his people was insufficient, his toadies began throwing very, very tremendous bombs at the university. When one of those very, very tremendous bombs blew up the university library, pages from exploded books floated far out into the country. Some of them spiraled down and landed on the wicked witch’s farm. Among the refugees driven away by this attack upon learning and knowledge were Professor Schroedinger, who had once owned a cat, and Professor Heisenberg, who had proposed that one could know either where a cat was going or how fast it was traveling, but not both. The two physicists and many other new refugees were welcomed by those who had escaped earlier, among whom were displaced performance artists, philosophers, musicians, and scientists.

The wicked witch and the senior refugees called a meeting the next day. As people from other farms arrived, the two ravens, Kahlil and Hamilton, also flew in to attend. Everyone gathered in the field where they had magicked the scarecrow.

“My friends,” said the witch to the crowd of newcomers, “you’re welcome here,” she looked around, “though I have no idea where you can sleep. It’s already too crowded. All the farms, indeed, all the small towns past the woods and the river are also overcrowded. Is the capital city empty?”

“It’s nearly empty of people,” said Professor Schroedinger. “It’s just ruins and rubble.”

Kahlil the prophetic raven had been walking around the circle looking for handouts. “Yo, folks,” he said, “like I been sayin’, you’re all in a world a hurt. Yer El Presidente’s got most a th’ army, but since he decided to destroy learning, what else has he got? Nada.” He plucked up a tiny scrap of something that might be edible, then dropped it again. “He’s gonna come to a bad end. An’ that’s my prophecy fer today.” He bowed as everyone applauded, then dived on an eyeball. No. It was a cat’s eye marble. “Phooey.”

“A bad end,” said one of the professors, “is devoutly to be hoped. Ignorance is a dangerous weapon.” He turned to the wicked witch. “Madame, what can we do to ensure that the bad end is ultimately his and not ours?”

By this time, of course, all the refugees both old and new were becoming enraged at El Presidente and his endless war. A muttering was arising among the gathered people, and pretty soon, someone shouted out, “Hey—you professors know how to build bombs, doncha?” “Isn’t that what physicists do?” someone else shouted. “So hows about we build a big ol’ bomb and give El Presidente a taste of his own medicine?” At which nearly everyone raised their fists and began cheering.

The witch raised her hand to try to stop the cheering. “Wait!” she cried out. “If we start hurling bombs, then we become as bad as he is. Do we want that?”

Some of the refugees cried yes, it’s the only way to get back at him, the only way we can go home, while others stopped cheering and considered her question. “No,” some called back, “no, we don’t want to be like him. But what else can we do?”

One of the older refugees tapped Professor Schroedinger on the shoulder. “You did that experiment with your cat,” he said. “How about you just build a bigger box and put El Presidente in it? Then release that fatal gas! Who cares what other universe he goes to as long as he’s not here anymore?”

The professor shook his head. “That was a thought experiment,” he said. “And Sweetums, my cat, lived to a fine old age. I have no definitive proof that the thought experiment would work on the macro level in what we call ‘real’ life.” “And,” said Professor Heisenberg, “we have no more scientific equipment.”

While everyone was thinking about this, one of the louder refugees pushed his way through the crowd. When he reached the center, he approached the witch. “You keep saying you’re a wicked witch. Well, prove it! Be wicked! Invent quantum magic! Find a way to send El Presidente to some other universe. Or chop him up into quantums and send parts of him to multiple universes.”

This set everyone to whispering and muttering again. The idea of quantum magic even got the two professors thinking. After a brief conversation, they nodded at each other and turned to the witch. “We may be renowned theoreticians, but you’re the witch. How would this work? Can thoughts become things?”

And so the wicked witch let herself be persuaded. “Build another scarecrow and we’ll see what we can do. Professors, will you assist?”

A few days later, on the spring equinox when light and dark are equally present, refugees from far around returned to the field and took their places in a huge circle that was many layers of people deep. A new scarecrow (wearing a nice red tie) stood in the center, and the two ravens were dancing on its shoulders. As the wicked witch took her place at the north and cast the magical circle, the ravens flew around the circle nine times.

“Let us begin our magic,” said the witch. “Our honored professors worked on the subatomic level, with particles and waves. One thing they learned is that the particles and waves like to change form and become wavicles. I don’t know what a wavicle looks like…but we have our imaginations! What do you think a wavicle might look like?” She was silent for several minutes as the people built images of wavicles in their minds. “And now we attempt our quantum magic,” she said. “Throw your wavicles at the scarecrow and visualize them going to El Presidente to punish him for his crimes by being dissolved and his parts sent to multiple universes.” A few minutes later, the scarecrow disappeared.

Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com), is a published author and freelance editor. Her newest book is Secret Lives, a novel about grandmothers who do magic. Her earlier nonfiction books include the daybook Pagan Every Day, Finding New Goddesses (a pun-filled parody of goddess encyclopedias), and Goddess Meditations. When she can get away from the computer, she goes to the theater as often as possible—she loves musical theater and movies in which people sing and dance. She is also an active CERT (Community Emergency Rescue Team) volunteer and a member (and occasional secretary pro-tem) of a neighborhood organization that focuses on code enforcement and safety for citizens. She has been an AIDS emotional support volunteer and a literacy volunteer. She is an active member of the Neopagan community and is well known for the rituals she creates and leads.

Join the Rebellion by Jessica Bowman

Like many other thousands of Americans, I watched the newest offering from the Star Wars legacy last autumn and was re-inspired to be an active part of the rebellion against oppression. Viewing the movie through my feminist lens I was cheered on by the choice of actors and actresses in lead roles and was reminded of Margaret Mead’s famous quote, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

It may be easy to compare the new president to Lord Vader because he is an easy target who encourages mockery and ridicule. However, tyranny, violence, and power trips have long been a part of world societies, for centuries. It is as evident as ever that we must continue to stand against such debilitating realities. We must stand together.

And, like millions of other people across the world, I had the privilege to participate in a Sister March to the Women’s March on Washington; shoulder to shoulder with passionate and caring people determined to make a difference. The experience generated feelings of elation, hope, and unity. I was most impressed by the kindness radiating from every person I came in contact with. Even though spaces were packed with people the overall atmosphere was conscientious, polite, and caring. Peaceful activism is critical to progress.

I also listened intently to the speeches made at the marches; especially by the women well known in popular culture. Gloria Steinem, a cornerstone of the modern feminist movement, spoke words that I believe reflect the change in values that I visualize in the form of a river current. “God may be in the details, but the Goddess is in connections. We are at one with each other, we are looking at each other, not up.” Women’s work is the creation of the web; the tapestry of connections between us all and the building of momentum in the stream bed. Continue reading “Join the Rebellion by Jessica Bowman”

She is Here by Mary Petiet

Mary Petiet photo On the morning of January 20, 2017, the world watched Donald J. Trump stand on Capitol Hill for inauguration as the 45th president of the United States. He did not stand alone. Timothy Michael Dolan, Catholic cardinal and archbishop of New York, also stood, and he invoked the divine feminine as he opened the inaugural ceremony with a recitation of King Solomon’s prayer from the Book of Wisdom.

As Dolan stood before the capitol building, which houses the US congress, he called upon the divine feminine with the words: “Now with you is wisdom, who knows your will and was there when you made the world, who understands what is pleasing in your eyes, what is conformable with your commands, send her forth from your holy heavens. From your glorious throne, dispatch her that she may be with us and work with us, that we may grasp what is pleasing to you. For she knows and understands all things and will guide us prudently in our affairs and safeguard us by her glory.”

She is here. Continue reading “She is Here by Mary Petiet”

The Need for Intersectionality: Repainting Sojourner Truth by AngelaYarber

angela I’ve long held that feminism, in order to be true and engaged and practical, must be intersectional. Such is also the case, I believe, for LGBTQ rights. The work of justice for women and LGBTQs people must also include justice for other marginalized groups. Because many LGBTQ people are also women, people of color, people with disabilities, Muslims, immigrants, and others marginalized for identities other than their sexuality. Paying attention to these intersections—of sexuality, gender, race, class, ability, religion—and acknowledging that many people have multiple intersecting identities for which they are oppressed is vital to the work of justice.

These thoughts remained at the forefront of my mind as I recently marched in one of the sister marches of the Women’s March in my home of Hilo, Hawaii. I heard many straight, white, cisgender women claim that women are not oppressed while mocking the march as irrelevant. I heard some gay men purport that such a march was unnecessary. And I wondered. Are not women of color also women? Muslim women? Immigrant women? Women with disabilities? Queer women? Further, are not women also part of LGBTQs? Are not there LGBTQ people of color? LGBTQs who are Muslim? LGBTQs who are immigrants? LGBTQs with disabilities? Of course there are. And even if there are not, are not our quests for liberation and rights and legal validity interrelated, mutually dependent, might I even say intersectional? Continue reading “The Need for Intersectionality: Repainting Sojourner Truth by AngelaYarber”