Earth-based spirituality – Page 2 – Feminism and Religion

The Echo Makers 25 by Sara Wright

When I first heard the ‘trumpeting’ and ‘brrring’ it was less than an hour before dawn, but one aggregation was already on the wing headed west, away from the fields. Because their direction led away from the fields, I feared we would not see the Sandhills at all. It was All Saints Day, a time to give thanks to those creatures and people who have helped us along the way. (Sandhills have been been a beacon of Light in my own life). A bloody red sky turned deep rose as the sun shattered the charcoal outline of distant mountains, turning them carmen red. The wind was fierce as I walked up and down the sides of the open agricultural fields listening intently. Gunshots rang out and I wondered where these might be coming from. In Maine it is illegal to shoot migrating cranes. The sunrise was spectacular. Clouds spun themselves out of ruby, slate, and violet hues. Indescribable.

Although snow buntings, red winged blackbirds and two harriers were scrying the skies around the fields after dawn I only had eyes for sandhill sightings!

Water Dance by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

A woman’s water breaks before she gives birth. Holy water confers blessings. Water is the purifying agent of baptism. When we’re “in the flow,” we’re being creative. Water is often depicted with qualities that signify life and healing. But water is also violent and destructive.

Think of what Hurricane Katrina did to New Orleans in 2005, and Superstorm Sandy to the Northeast in 2012. The movement of the Earth shapes these violent tempests. Earth is in perpetual orbit and rotation thereby continuously invigorating the air and waters.

There is a mythological vision of a defined space where the mixing of elements occurs. It is a cauldron. Magical cauldrons contain the raw materials that are necessary for the creation and sustenance of life. Our precious Earth can be considered The Grand Cauldron of Creation, a vessel encircling all these elements. Add in motion, or agitation, or rotation and you not only get storms, but the recipe for genesis.

Witch Hazel, a Tree that Belongs to Women! part 2 by Sara Wright

Part 1 was posted last Tuesday. You can read it here.

Like all flowering plants, witch hazel must be pollinated to produce fruit and seeds, and for this, it relies on insects. These include late-flying gnats and flies as well as forest-dwelling owlet moths, all drawn to the scented flowers and sweet nectar. On warm days like the few we have had this week while surrounded by an annoying cloud, I hoped these flying gnats were also busy pollinating lemony witch hazel ribbons.

The owlet moth is a nocturnal pollinator. These moths remain active after most other pollinators have died or are missing in action. Biologist and naturalist Bernd Heinrich first documented the relationship between witch hazel and owlet moths in 1987 in an article published in Scientific American.

Witch Hazel, a Tree that Belongs to Women! part 1 by Sara Wright

Yesterday, I was on my way home at dusk when the clouds parted and the mountains were drenched in deep gold. Still waters mirrored earth, land, sky.

I soaked in the last of the fall color that is still striking in a few protected places, gathering in images of still waters to remind me that nature is home.

Why do I need this visual reminder?

Yesterday I read an article that queries the issue of human cruelty triggering the usual overwhelm. Every day it’s something. I force myself to stay present to what’s happening on a peripheral level. To do this, I need to keep myself grounded in the rest of nature to help me deal with what’s happening to this planet and her people. I am struggling hard to maintain some sort of balance despite the pain and chaos.

I have no answers to what is happening cross culturally on a global level unless we begin to re-establish a heart- level connection with humans and the rest of nature. The warnings I receive have become more dire making it impossible for me to block them out.

When I can surrender to nature’s beauty, I can also locate myself as a speck in the life of a five -billion year old planet even if it’s just for a few seconds at a time. My love for my dog, the birds at my feeder, free roaming bears, the kindness of neighbors and friends, also help me to feel that I am being given a gift.

Threshold Time, by Molly M. Remer

Step by step,
we make our way.
Breath by breath,
we choose.
Day by day,
we see where we are.
Let us remember
that we do not really finish anything,
we tumble with the turning
which is right where we belong.

It is now
in this liminal space
between the cauldron
and the cave,
as obligation struggles
to come roaring back
into center,
that we sense what we truly need
whispering beneath the surface
of all that clamors to co-opt our time
and all that howls
to claim our attention.
Stand steady.
Inhabit your own wholeness.
Cast a one word
spell of power: return.
Step into the sacred
right where you are.
Re-collect yourself.
Reclaim your right
to your own life.
Defend your edges.
Give clarity space
to crystallize
and your own knowing
space to emerge.
It is vital,
this work of reclamation.
Hold it holy.
Let the knots unravel.
Set yourself free.

The Doorway by Sara Wright

When my dog Hope told me it was her time I listened and immediately prepared for our leave taking. In 13 years, I had never had to pry Hope out of her carrier. But this time when we arrived at the vet I did. I knew that Hope knew that she was going to die and that she was afraid, although it was her decision that led us here.

Wrapping her in a fleecy blue blanket I remember little except the precious bundle I held in my arms. Our eight- month ordeal with her exploding heart was about to end.

Seconds before she slipped away Hope raised her head, stared into my eyes with liquid onyx as she kissed away a flood of tears. Always keyed into my every mood and behavior this final gesture of undying love was no surprise.

The grave was waiting, but I took my time, feeling the power of Hope’s presence as I bathed and anointed her with sweet lemongrass and then lay with her on the porch preparing us both for the final goodbye. Murmuring repeatedly the words ‘I love you -we will never be separated’. I believed.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: IS GODDESS “WITH US” OR “IN CONTROL” OF EVERYTHING? THE “THEOLOGICAL MISTAKE” OF DIVINE OMNIPOTENCE

This post was originally published on Feb. 24th, 2014.

How do we make sense of loss, great loss, and everyday disappointment? Some would tell us that “everything has a purpose” or that whatever happens “must be the will of God.” I have found that these answers to questions raised by life as we know it often do more harm than good. Yet they have a sticking power–we hear them all the time, sometimes even from other feminist seekers.

From the beginning feminists in religion rejected “the God out there” who rules the world from a throne in heaven. Most of us have insisted that “God” is more “in” the world than “beyond” or “outside it.” However we have not always been consistent in our convictions. When feminists are confronted with untimely death or great evil or just not getting what we think we want, we can sometimes be overheard to wonder, “Why did God (or Goddess) let that happen?” This question is based in the assumption that God or Goddess is omnipotent and rules the world from outside it. This is the theological idea I intend to question today.

The “zero fallacy” is a term philosopher Charles Hartshorne used to explain the “theological mistake” known as divine omnipotence. Hartshorne pointed out that if God is omnipotent, then God has “all” or “100%” of the power. If this is so, then human beings and all other beings have “zero” power. But if we have zero power, then do we even exist? Continue reading “Legacy of Carol P. Christ: IS GODDESS “WITH US” OR “IN CONTROL” OF EVERYTHING? THE “THEOLOGICAL MISTAKE” OF DIVINE OMNIPOTENCE”

Fire and Ice by Beth Bartlett

As I paddled the lake this morning, I found myself thinking this is what the end of the world looks like. The sun was rising red through smoke from Canadian wildfires and a smoky haze engulfed the lake to the point I could barely see the not-too-distant opposite shore. I was paddling by the state forest, where the March ice storm had stripped the tall pines of their upper branches, bent the birches, and uprooted and sent out to sea the largest of the trees. The camping spot at the spring was inaccessible so covered was it by downed trees and branches. All was bent, broken, and dying and the forest itself appeared to be weeping. Adding to the surreal aspect of this moment was the plethora of motorboats pulling skiers and jet skis bouncing along on what would otherwise be a quiet, calm lake – oblivious to or simply not caring that they were frivolously burning the very fossil fuels that had fueled this environmental crisis and catastrophe. It was as if I were watching an Octavia Butler dystopia play out with the rich and privileged burning up the last of the fossil fuels with disregard for the earth and disdain for earth’s advocates.

I began going to this lake in northern Michigan when I was two. Every year my mother would comment on how blue the sky was, how clear the air – such a contrast to northeast Ohio where we lived with its rubber factories, making the sky a hazy gray, even on the sunniest of days. We would marvel at the depth of the blue. This visit I never once saw a blue sky, nor even across the lake. I have hundreds of photos of the beautiful vista from the hill upon which our cabin sits, simply because of the stunning blues, but this year I took not a one.

Autumn Equinox 25: The Cutting Away and the Gathering In by Sara Wright

There is something very special about ‘the cutting away and gathering in’ … my very wild gardens are flattened, my wildflower field has just been mowed, trees are turning, and I am possessed by joy.

It’s at this time of year that the sky opens into a field of dreams. I walk down through the pines to watch the stars appear at dusk – the open field widens my vision. The Great Bear circumnavigates the sky and as other constellations crystalize, I can imagine that it’s possible to re- imagine, to re- weave the threads around the cross-cultural web that is broken. Ordinary perception fails.

I am also reminded that everything changes, and that the seasonal round is the foundation of life.

In this same field during daylight hours birds feast on thousands of scattered seeds that have been baked in summer heat.

I’m amazed by an illumination.

At both equinoxes near and far meet.

A Taoist View of Intention (Yi)

Choosing How We Show Up with The Inner Compass of Mind, Eye and Heart

What does it mean, to set an intention? In this piece, I explore the Taoist concept of Yi, the integration of mind, eye and heart as a practice of coming into alignment with life.

This essay invites a nuanced relationship with intention, away from the modern hype around manifestation, and instead rooted in choice, care and conscious participation in life.

Klara Kulikova, Unsplash

A common concern around the word ‘intention’, especially in spiritual or self-help contexts, is its suggestion that thinking the right thoughts or holding the right mindset, will miraculously give you what you want.*) When it doesn’t, the implied message is that you somehow fell short: you weren’t positive enough, not aligned, or evolved enough for it to work. In short, the burden of failing is placed on you, without recognising the complexity of life. Rest assured, that’s not the kind of intention I’m writing about here.