Earth-based spirituality – Page 14 – Feminism and Religion

Winter’s Wisdom: The Cailleach and Solstice Insights by Judith Shaw

How quickly the wheel of the year turns. Once again we have reached the dark and cold of the Winter Solstice, which occured on December 21st this year. Winter Solstice is an astronomical moment – the exact moment when our hemisphere tilts as far away from the sun as possible. But for the ten days after, the increase in daylight each day is only a few seconds So I think of this time as the Winter Solstice Season.

THE EARTH AS GRANDMOTHER by Sara Wright

I have become increasingly uncomfortable with the phrase ‘the earth is our mother’ used by so many westerners.

Indigenous peoples have been in an intimate relationship with the earth since the beginning of time so for them calling the earth “Mother” makes perfect sense (they know how to treat her with respect).

In my way of thinking westerners who appropriate the Native perspective, co -opting the sentiment to make it their own feels inauthentic and inappropriate.

The most glaring difference between the two perspectives is that Indigenous peoples consider all living beings their relatives, treating them with deep respect, honoring their individual and collective gifts and by NEVER taking more than they need, be it medicines, trees, animals, or plants for food.

The Webs We Weave, by Molly Remer

Each year, as fall peeks around the door tasting the air and sending cool tendrils of change slipping across the horizon and skimming across our shoulders, I feel clarity descend, a sharp and sudden certainty that I do know exactly what I want to do and where I want to focus.

In early September, we watched an orb weaver spider make her web by our studio. Much faster than we might have imagined, she tumbled gracefully through almost empty space, connecting long strands from porch gutter to hydrangea bush, returning to the center often to stabilize before launching into the next direction. The sun was setting and we stayed captivated by her dedicated intention, moving next around the middle and expanding from the center rapidly connecting her many threads. Finally, we walked on the road, watching the sunset illuminating the bluestem grasses in the field as the nighthawks darted bat-like above our heads on their annual migration. We returned to the web at dusk surprised to see how much finer the structure had become, each strand now laid very close to the one above it in a radiating circle. As we watched, I felt a sense of liberation chiming in my bones, freedom that comes from knowing with firm and dedicated awareness which way to go, trusting the threads of my own life to hold me as I make my way with both purpose and grace.

Winter Solstice: Celebration of the Powers of Fire by Sara Wright

I have a problem with the belief that Winter Solstice is primarily about celebrating ‘the coming of the light.’ This one – sided thinking negates the cross-cultural reality that this is a festival during which candles are lit to light up the night and roaring fires blaze inside and out bringing warmth to all. Winter Solstice is above all else a Festival of Fire.

Fire is an ambiguous element (as all the elements are) carrying both a positive and negative charge. On one level fire brings warmth and light on cold winter nights. On the other hand, fire also incinerates, destroying everything it touches. Approaching a Festival that celebrates the Element of Fire should be done with consciousness and caution.

Lilliputian Gardening by Sara Wright

This November morning a slate gray sky sprinkled raindrops on the dogs as I stood outdoors with them at dawn. A single Blue jay peered at us from a bare maple branch with obvious interest. Hairy was absent as were the chickadees. It is warm enough today for insects to be out and about, becoming delectable protein rich food for most birds in Fern Hollow, my home. Just two days ago I had a visit from a ruby crowned kinglet when he flew in the door!

Returning to the house, ‘Mary’s Garden’ cast a warm emerald glow lighting up the kitchen, now shrouded in winter gray. My terrarium, now one year old is moving into late fall, and yet many of her plants are still growing, albeit more slowly. The tiny hemlock seedling is bristling with new needles. A few ferns still unfurl; others have disappeared. The creeping partridgeberry has kept her crimson seeds for a whole year.

Winged Women Deeply Rooted by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Like deeply planted oaks, the women once dwelled together in peace,
Their feet covered with nourishing soil and arms outstretched,
Branches of flesh to connect with the living air.
Like laughing leaves swooping in the sky,
The women once jubilantly soared as one
Above the skin of the Earth.

As a young child, I dreamt that if I stood very straight,
Tensed all my muscles and closed my eyes,
I would slowly rise into the air a few inches,
Propel myself with my arms wherever I wished to go,
Then land again as gently as a rose petal on the wind.
But the only time I tried to ascend even a breath’s measure,
I failed, landbound, unsure and giftless.

A Recipe for Dancing Your Soul Home

When you hear the word ‘soul’, what is your first association?

Soul is a complex and much-debated word, that often brings up strong feelings. Without going into religious or philosophical discourse, it is often associated with the breath, and with that mysterious spark of life force that animates the body. I discussed soul in a previous post Untangling the Triad of Life Force, Spirit and Soul. Today I write about soul as a fluid concept, an essence that can get dispersed and also retrieved, and propose a light self-retrieval through dance as remedy that you can do by yourself.

For the Children by Sara Wright

“What you make from a tree should be just as miraculous as what you cut down”.

Richard Powers

November is the month of endings and beginnings – I am keenly aware of all trees as they prepare for winter sleep, and this is the season during which I begin to celebrate evergreens. Most deciduous trees are a tangle of sleepy gray branches, but the conifers are still breathing life. Herein lies the Deep Forest Green Religion of Hope. Many trees, both thin barked deciduous trees and conifers are still photosynthesizing.

I love gazing into the woods beyond my brook lush with balsam, fir and hemlock knowing that the animals and birds that are left will soon be nestled in thick undercover finding nourishment and protection from winter winds and snow.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: As It Might Have Been: Ancestor Stories in the Dreamtime

This was originally posted January 9, 2017

In the middle of the night in waking sleep, I asked my great-great grandmother Annie Corliss to tell me the story of how she met and married James Inglis. This story came through me in a place I have come to call the Dreamtime. The Aboriginal term feels right. As I understand it, this is not a place where the dead speak to the living but rather a space where boundaries blur as the ancestors speak in us.

Annie Corliss’s Story: As It Might Have Been

Shifting Landscapes by Sara Wright

(Written on Oct. 27)

Adjusting to earth changes is as much of a personal challenge as is my aging process… The earth and I are both struggling to survive the age of the Anthropocene. Hard times.

It’s late October and the next turning of the wheel will soon be upon us. The Days of the Dead. Honoring the Ancestors, those who came before… I think of the Sandhill cranes flying south in loose family aggregations and believe some of my ancestors must be these birds… I missed seeing them this year due to an accident, but say earth prayers for their safety on the wing… I remember my Grandmother.