Earth-based spirituality – Page 3 – Feminism and Religion

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.

Autumn Light by Sara Wright

Where are they?

September’s light
illuminates one butterfly
in flight
Bittersweet losses
cast slanted shadows
pierce cool nights

morning mist
lifts as
light streams
through translucent
leaves

one acorn falls…

autumn’s breath
a gift of
primal scent

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: “Immanent Inclusive Monotheism” with a Multiplicity of Symbols Affirming All the Diversity and Difference in the World

This post was originally published on March 10th, 2014.

In recent years monotheism has been attacked as a “totalizing discourse” that justifies the domination of others in the name of a universal truth. In addition, from the Bible to the present day some have used their own definitions of “exclusive monotheism” to disparage the religions of others. Moreover, feminists have come to recognize that monotheism as we know it has been a “male monotheism” that for the most part excludes female symbols and metaphors for God. With all of this going against monotheism, who would want to affirm it?

In response to some or all of the above critiques, many modern pagans define themselves as polytheists, affirming at minimum, the Goddess and the God, and at maximum a vast pantheon of individual deities, both female and male, from a single culture or from many, including divinities with animal characteristics. Other pagans define themselves as animists, affirming a plurality of spirits in the natural world. A group of Christian feminists have argued that the Christian Trinity, the notion of God Three-in-One, provides a multiple and relational understanding of divinity.

While also rejecting exclusive monotheism and male monotheism, Jewish poet, ritualist, and theologian Marcia Falk provided a definition of inclusive monotheism that I find compelling.

Monotheism means that, with all our differences, I am more like you than unlike you. It means that we all share the same source, and that one principle of justice must govern us equally. . . Continue reading “Legacy of Carol P. Christ: “Immanent Inclusive Monotheism” with a Multiplicity of Symbols Affirming All the Diversity and Difference in the World”

Legacy Of Carol P. Christ: The Great Commandment for Women: Love and Care for Yourself as You Love and Care for Others

This post was originally published on Feb. 3rd, 2014.

A rabbi known as Jesus of Nazareth taught that you should “love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself.” Charles Hartshorne, philosopher of relationship and a twentieth century advocate of the “two great commandments,” added that it should be understood that this means that God wants you to love yourself too.

I quote Hartshorne’s midrash on the great teaching often because, sadly, too many women—and some men too–have been taught to love their neighbors at the expense of themselves, to care for others, but not to care as much for themselves. Continue reading “Legacy Of Carol P. Christ: The Great Commandment for Women: Love and Care for Yourself as You Love and Care for Others”

“Over the Edge of the World” by Elizabeth Cunningham: A Book Review by Judith Shaw

Elizabeth Cunningham’s new book is a marvel you won’t want to miss. It’s subtitled, “A Fairytale Novel” which lets you know you are in for a magical experience. Fairytales have meaning and contain wonder, beauty and truth. Fairytales awaken new insights for the reader, inspiring us all to think more deeply about our world. “Over the Edge of the World” certainly does all that. It will leave you pondering the difficult reality of our world today and the sacrifice and grit needed to create it anew.

Emergence – Miracle Birth by Sara Wright

When my ‘good neighbor’ sent me the photo yesterday morning I could see the outlines of the butterfly, so my little dog Coal and I walked up to see for ourselves. It was hot – very hot though only around 9:30 AM. The capsule was already twisted and turning though not even the lightest breeze was in evidence. The outlines of the monarch were clearly etched through the now blackened but still translucent chrysalis.

Standing under the porch overhang that the caterpillar had chosen for transforming, a miracle was in progress. Before our eyes the capsule split as the butterfly emerged head-first, feelers extended and waving from the bottom of a rapidly shrinking chrysalis that had so recently been lime green tipped in gold. The wings were still quite small, but the butterfly was already pumping fluid into them readying for first flight. As the wings expanded before our eyes I cried out like a child exclaiming in my joy and excitement – “oh a miracle, a miracle”, and of course it was, the birthing of new life.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: What is the Nature of the Hope that Can Trump Despair in the New Year?

This was originally posed on December 20, 2013

“All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” These words posted on the gates of hell in Dante’s Inferno have an eerie resonance in our time.

Marie Cartier recently posted a blog on children and hunger with facts so devastating I could not finish reading it. Earlier in the month Jassy Watson wrote about her deep feelings of grief on hearing Luisah Teish’s “Prayer for Disappearing Species.” Grief, despair, and sadness about the injustices in our world can be overwhelming.

A friend of mine has recently fallen into a deep depression. When I try to talk her out of it, she repeats that they are threatening to cut down the last remaining old growth forest in her home state of Oregon and that she can no longer eat fish because radioactivity released in the Fukishima nuclear plant disaster is reaching the seacoast of Oregon.

When I tell my friend she should not dwell only on these things and that she must remember that the world is still a beautiful place, she responds, “I do not want to give up my feelings. I know I must find a way to acknowledge my sadness and make a place for joy, but I don’t know how to do it.”

I have been in the grip of deep grief about the planet myself, not once but many times. But this happens less frequently than it used to. When I think about the differences between how I once felt and how I feel now, I think the difference is that I have come to terms with and accepted the likelihood that “the world as we know it” is “going to hell in a handbasket”—as I put it.

I believe that the most likely conclusion of the choices human beings are making on planet earth today is massive environmental destruction leading to great suffering and probable extinction for human and many other species on planet earth. This is what I believe, but I also remind myself that I cannot know for sure. The earth and its species including human beings may have resources of resistance and survival, transformation and adaptation,that I do not know about and cannot imagine.

When I began to accept that the world I know and love (where spring follows winter, where birds sing, and where there is hope that injustice can be rectified) may not exist in the very near future, I had an astonishing insight. The death of the world I know and love will not mean the death of our planet or the end of the evolution of the universe.

Thinking about the disappearance of species and the death of human beings from starvation often feels too much to bear. None of this should be happening. Still, it can be strangely comforting to remind myself that the world I love is not the only possible world. There have been other worlds on this very planet—the time when the first cells were formed, the time of the dinosaurs, and many others. Evolution will continue on planet earth for several billion more years, and when our sun burns out, other suns will most likely still be shining in the universe.

This insight was followed by another. The reason for hope is not the conviction that we will be able to save the world we love. The reason for hope—and the reason to keep trying to save our world—is the deep knowing that it is right to try. Even if we cannot save the world we love for all time, we can savor the gift of life, and we can continue to try to create a world in which the gift of life is shared widely today and tomorrow.

I have written many times that we must learn to love a life that ends in death. I was speaking about accepting that each one of us will surely die. I do not fear death. Overcoming this fear has opened me to a greater and more clear-sighted love for life.

Can we learn to love life while accepting that the world we love may be dying? Can we continue to work to improve the conditions of life for individuals and species knowing that the world as we love it may not survive? Do we have any other choice?

For me the hope that can trump despair in our time begins in gratitude for a life that has been given to us, a life that has come down to us through the generations, and through billions of years of the evolutionary process on our planet.

Let us bless the Source of Life.

Let us bless the Source of Life, and the cycles of birth, death, and regeneration.

Let us turn back from despair.

Let us embrace the gift of life and share it with as many others as possible in the new year.

Carol P. Christ learned to be grateful for the gift of life in Crete on the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete she leads through Ariadne Institute. It is not too early to sign up for the spring or fall pilgrimages for 2014. Carol can be heard on a WATER Teleconference. Carol’s books include She Who Changes and Rebirth of the Goddess and the widely-used anthologies Womanspirit Rising and Weaving the Visions. She wishes you great joy in the new year.

Reflection on the Fourth of July by Sara Wright

Early Summer Days 2025

Hermit thrush’s trill and the bittern’s kerplunk are only two of the birds that mark this dawning with squawks or song. Red eyed vireo sings from the highest pine. My little Lucy (Lucia means Light in Italian, one of my mother tongues) and I bring in the day listening to bird symphonies as the sun star rises over the trees splashing verdant leaf tips in gold. First the ferns and then sparks of light sweep through the forest lighting patches of brook waters, lemony splotches appear here and there on deep humus, the rich soil that is conversing with the roots below the forest floor. Listen and you will hear that hum.

The phoebe family is fledging, and I feel privileged to be part of their story. Especially because they lost their first nest to a giant squirrel. Flicking their tails just like their parents the fledglings land on the little cherry growing just beyond my window before diving towards ground covers for tasty insect morsels.

The Mark of the Bear is upon us.