Earth-based spirituality – Page 20 – Feminism and Religion

Mary’s Garden by Sara Wright

Opening the doors to mist ‘Mary’s Garden’ each morning is entering a magic realm. My nose sniffs the scent of fertile woodlands even as I gazed out at an impossibly deep white shroud for months, and presently peer out at pale green earth, bees, and budding trees.

All the original contents of Mary’s Garden, mosses, lichens, liverworts, hemlock seedlings, stones and pieces of bark are buried or supported by the richest detritus and soil that I gathered with such care from a protected forest of thousands of acres just before the snow set in last November. There is a small pond in the center of the four-sided container, edged with emerald moss. Two of my animal fetish friends, a Zuni bear and frog live among the greenery. All throughout the winter this lively miniature woodland created a living link to ‘my’ beloved forest, a place I longed to be part of but could not traverse during winter months. Mary’s garden has been a source of endless enchantment and comfort during the coldest winter days.

From the Archives: Are Bees Begotten from Bull? by Judith Shaw

This was originally posted on June 23, 2021

At first glance the ancient belief that bees were birthed from dead bulls seems odd. But if we delve deeply into pre-historical artifacts we discover the mythopoetic roots of this idea.

Our Paleolithic ancestors lived immersed in nature within the cyclical nature of time. For them the moon, which revealed monthly, yearly and even longer cycles of time, became the symbol of the cycle of birth, death and regeneration.

By photo 120 – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5044488

Coming Home: The Goddess Rises…(part 2) by Sara Wright

Part 1 was posted last week, you can read it here.

I have been conversing with plants most of my life sensing the reciprocal nature of green beings and treating them as equals, so I was delighted by the bean’s behavior, although not surprised (western science has finally caught up with Indigenous knowledge as new studies indicate that plants listen/ and respond – see Gagliano, Simard). My magic bean is thriving, and every morning I make a promise to Scarlet Runner that the day will come when s/he will finally be free to climb to the stars… Relationships like this one sustain me.

Opening the door to mist ‘Mary’s Garden’ is entering another magic realm. Ferns I never planted are unfurling. Two hemlock seedling have emerald bristles on the tips of their needles, Partridgeberry is spreading, twin flowers are appearing, unknown seeds are sprouting, fungi come and go, lichens abound, some cascading from pieces of old wood. One old piece of pine bark supports the tiniest fungal trumpets. This terrarium is a source of endless enchantment and comfort on the coldest winter day.

My Powers are Growing: Are Yours? by Caryn MacGrandle

When I first found the Goddess and Women’s Spirituality almost a decade ago, my change and growth was painful. I hosted Women’s Circles, and often, they veered a tad towards venting but with self-realization and a determination to do better.

I did. And I watched the others in the Circles do so as well.

Powerful stuff. And it made me a believer in the strength of coming together while retaining our individual will and paths.

I am a different person today for all those Circles. They changed me in ways that no amount of counseling, journaling or pharmaceuticals ever could.

Community. Support.

Coming Home: The Goddess Rises…(part 1) by Sara Wright

The beginning of spring flies in on wings and croaks at my feet.

In four days, the landscape transformed from a dirty white shroud into a palette of heavenly browns. The goddess is manifesting on the first flights of the geese and ducks to open ponds, finally freed from ice. Crocus, emerging sage green bloodroot spikes, trillium, bloodroot, the arrival of phoebes, white throated sparrows, turkey convocations, the mating of the wood frogs, and the tiny amphibians we call spring peepers sing up the night.

Yet spring in the speed lane is deeply concerning. Temperatures skyrocketed instantly from mid 30’s to 80’s. Although the rivers and streams are still running there is no overflowing water. A few nights ago, we had the first round of light spring showers; then temperatures cooled down and now it is cold again. Many threatened wood frogs, salamanders, red efts, and toads were forced to migrate to ditches and vernal pools, their only breeding places, without warm rain; how this will affect these most vulnerable species remains to be seen. At present the earth is still moist but this drying trend is especially troubling since it has been consistent for several years. I am keenly aware of why the ancient pre -Christian goddess was first celebrated in the spring as the Rising Waters because adequate rain/flooding is the Source of all Life.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: The Beauty Way

This was originally posted on January 22, 2018

When I learned about the Navajo Beauty Way, I understood it to be a path in which human beings respect all beings in the web of life and live in harmony with them. But I didn’t understand why this path was called the “Beauty Way.” As a young woman, I knew that my worth was defined by many in terms of my ability to conform to ideals of female beauty promulgated in movies, tv, and advertising. I didn’t believe the Navajos were talking about beauty in that sense, but because of my conditioning, I was not yet able to fully grasp what they might mean by beauty. I would have called the way they were describing a “Way of Harmony” or a “Way of Respect for Life.”

Still, I wondered: why the Beauty Way?

Blue Ghosts: Are you Closing Your Eyes to the Mysteries of Life? by Caryn MacGrandle

I grew up north of Dallas Texas in a suburbia hell called Plano: a concrete, strip mall jungle devoid of nature and trees beyond the contrived and manicured ones. When I married an Airforce pilot and escaped to Minnesota, Mississippi, Colorado, California and then Illinois, I learned how much I needed nature.

Fast forward twenty years and on my second marriage, we moved just south of Huntsville, Alabama to a small valley community where the foothills surrounding it signal the beginning of the Appalachian mountain range.

Home. My cells sighed in relief.

Soon after moving to Alabama, my troubled second marriage ended. And I found myself, like so many other Americans, uninsured. I was able to get my blood pressure medicine online but not the Clonazepam prescription that I have always used for my anxiety. When my dad died suddenly in the 90’s, my panic attacks began, and since then my anxiety had been an always present force in my life.

Is A Balanced World Possible? by Judith Shaw

Are cruelty, violence and greed written into the human DNA? Are we destined as a species to continually and for eternity create our world in a hierarchical manner where the privileged few receive almost all of the goods and services while the masses live in slavery of one form or another?

Earth Day Remembrance by Sara Wright

“It is the Whole Earth You Are”

I was on my knees awash in the kind of grief that only people who have been torn from the same skin can begin to comprehend.

I sprinkled most of the ashes lovingly in the shallow depression that I dug into half frozen ground. I had never felt so alone. Unknown to me, once a beloved companion, my little brother’s ashes had spent 32 years stuffed into a cardboard box in my parents’ attic. Every year since his death my nightmares intensified… he was left wandering in the dark with no place to rest.

May Day Celebration by Sara Wright

Warms spring rain. The flooding fractured a poorly built bridge, rising waters overflowed moss covered banks – roads disappeared under the deluge, and I was out transplanting the last of my perennials! Working in the rain is a sensual experience – the scent of sweet earth grounds me, the sound of rushing waters not only stills inner chatter but reminds me that this is the time of year that every tribal culture used to celebrate the coming of the rains, the rising of the waters, and the blessing of wildflowers. Today, I know of no one that celebrates May Day but me, although some still honor this day as a Turning of the Wheel of the Year. And how can the latter not be?

After transplanting, moving stones, and feeding the tadpoles in my frog pond, I check on the progress of all the wild bee loving violets around the house. No flowers yet. I visit the brook to peer down at budded trillium and marsh marigolds. One golden blossom greets me in the rain; Mary incarnates! The first delicate trumpets of trailing arbutus glow like pearls. Too late for frog breeding, vernal pools are now overflowing.