Ecofeminism – Page 6 – Feminism and Religion

Seeds of Life by Sara Wright

I have been involved with plants since I was a toddler. My first word was ‘fower’ for bright yellow buttercups, a nickname I was given by my grandfather that stuck.

I guess it’s no surprise that I started out with gardening as a three-year-old under my grandmother’s tutelage. Her large vegetable plot fed us for most of the year. I seeded my first yellow summer squash into rich moist earth and watched with wonder as the seed emerged with two emerald ears.

In college when students were decorating their rooms with drapes and bedspreads, I bought a pepper plant to brighten my cement surroundings and soon had a windowsill full of plants.

As a young adult I grew many house plants and often talked to them, noting that we seemed to have an uncanny personal relationship, a childhood reality that I had been educated out of. I also gardened with herbs outside my back door, because I loved to cook and needed tasty condiments. Soon I moved on to planting a full – fledged vegetable plot. I canned what I could like my grandmother still longing for the bountiful flower gardens of my dreams. I come from a lineage of female flower gardeners and farmers that stretched back three generations (that I know of) but as a young single mother who worked and one who was frozen from loss, I didn’t make the time.

What is Rematriation? by Sara Wright

“Rematriation centers Indigenous Women’s leadership for the restoration and regeneration of land and water. By revitalizing Indigenous knowledge, honoring traditions and renewing annual cycles of life, rematriation directly addresses harms caused by patriarchal extraction and violence.”
Bioneers

Bioneers, is a FREE online publication that has been around since 1990. in addition to its weekly programs this organization is now introducing the ‘Leading from the Feminine’ newsletter whose intent is to bridge divides and to celebrate connection invoking the feminine as leaders. This newsletter exists to bridge divides and celebrate connections within the rich tapestry of visionary women and men who are evoking/ invoking the feminine to lead with courage, vulnerability, intuition and empathy.

And Then Everything Changed: Part One: Mourning by Beth Bartlett

At the end of June, in clear contradiction to the Founders’ intent,[i] the Supreme Court ruled, 6-3, that the President has “absolute immunity from criminal prosecution for . . . all his official acts.”[ii] In other words, the President is above the law, or, as Justice Sotomayor said in her impassioned dissent: “The relationship between the President and the people he serves has shifted irrevocably. In every use of official power, the President is now a king above the law.”

The ruling left many outraged. The people at large do not want a presidency unchecked by law. The ruling becomes even more chilling given the real possibility of Trump – a self-proclaimed admirer of autocrats — returning to the office of the President, and the specter of Project 2025, the blueprint by the Heritage Foundation that lays out the sweeping changes Trump and a faction of conservatives have planned to put in place if Trump is elected.

Lowlands: Who Will Answer the Call? by Sara Wright

I live under a steep craggy mountain that is gushing with the sweetest mineral rich water that pours out of an old spring. On this piece of land feeder brooks stream down the mountain feeding hemlock and cedar before silvery clear water slides into a rushing brook (miraculously) still filled with trout. Sadly, the main artery of my brook comes from another mountain that has been brutally logged, dammed up for someone’s pleasure and is currently running amok. Silt ridden water floods this lowland routinely not only changing the course of the stream now riddled with dying trees, (collapsing trees must have soil to stay upright) but creating unusual vernal pools that are beginning to mature. As a result, this has been the best frog and toad year that I have had since my first magical year spent on this land before all the surrounding areas were chopped into parcels. Once I roamed free up and down this mountain through unbroken forests fields and fens, marshes, seeps, bogs and springs. I have never lost that feeling of belonging to this land not just the area I ‘own’ (oxymoron) but all of her.

It doesn’t surprise me that in most pre -christian traditions the Original Mother of Us All was and still is a mountain! When the other mountains all around me were first being raped by dirty yellow machines someone remarked to me quite sagely, “the bones of the mountains are still here”. And so they are, and so is She.

The Eye of the Goddess by Sara Wright

Spiraling In

I buried you today,
a fluff of earthly feathers
dipped in ebony
bronze
and gold.
He left you
on my road
innocent
already broken
Just a tiny bird
peeping pitifully
in fear and pain
cocooned in
deep distress.

I scooped you up
held you against
my heart

Instantly Still
I felt you knew…

Wild Mothering
kicked in
create a loving
space for
life or death

Above all
Be Present
for whatever
is ahead…

I dug a grave
where you were born
nestled under pines
fragrant roots
cradled what
was left
your bones are
made of light

Offering prayers
to Her
Our Bird Goddess*
I bowed my head
Ancient and Wise
She who Sees
She who holds
Abusers accountable
(as do I)
She watches
over us all
honoring the dead.

Chloe’s Shadow by Sara Wright

Gently nibbling seed
a bear bird’s
hind legs
charcoaled nose
glimpsed
through
shade fogged
windows…
Imagining…
Standing
where you just stood
matter is
frozen light
yours
a golden circlet
emerald star
circling
above us all
a beacon of
Cosmic Light
I weave a
crown of grape leaves
round and
round crafting
Prayers
for body soul –
Your
Protection
and mine…
Standing in your Shadow
One.
Still, Earth’s Keening
keeps us
awake at night.

After Words: A Reflection on the Fourth of July by Sara Wright

This morning, hummingbirds, hummingbird moths, honeybees with a thousand eyes, brilliant orange fritillaries are capturing nectar from my wild bee balm, butterfly weed, and milkweed. Bee balm stalks are almost as tall as the five-and-a-half-foot Guardian cedar – the latter only planted four years ago.

Early this morning on my daily walk I noted with pleasure the conversation between Yellowthroat and Indigo Bunting (yes they communicate across species) so absentee birds are once again singing after a week of diminishing song which began the morning after the first night of mindless explosions that split the night into fragmented shards of metal, raining down deadly particulate matter and adding even more pollution leaving our air choking with poisons. This kind of noise pollution damages all human cells. This is but one example of an early ‘celebratory’ 4^th of July bombing, machine gun fire, and were there fireworks too? I have no idea. The dogs and I left immediately. I always keep the car ready for instant evacuation for us even if I am at camp. A comfortable puff and pillow offer us a bed and netting stretched across the back of the open car making it comfortable to sleep no matter how hot the night is or wherever we end up.

After the Crowning by Sara Wright

Emerald and lime
chartreuse lemon
burgundy
burnt umber
leafy green
breath
transformer
palms and
needles
raining light
magic bean
spirals skyward
star gazing
ferns feather
paths
pearls
at my feet
wild lilies
woodland
valley brook
scarlet
roots
hug
weeping
fruit trees
conversing
underground
pollinated
rose petals
nourish
moist earth
each tear
slips away
bowed
deep
gratitude, a
grieving moment
a thousand
bees hum
as One.
This cycle
ends even
as
another
has begun.

Deep Time, Big Dream by Sara Wright

I am standing on top of a mountain looking over a landscape of unspeakable wild natural beauty that stretches as far as I can see. This is the ‘long view’ the dream -maker tells me. The trees are stretching out their lush green needles to the sky as if in prayer, and they are whole. The forests, clear waters, the animals, birds, insects, and All of Nature has been returned to a State of Grace.

An Old red skinned Indian Man appears. He is a Grandfather. He is on the mountain with me but also stands below (both and). He speaks to me.

“Sit, listen, this is the Song of Life”.

A finely crafted flowing red clay seat appears below (it flows like a wave) although it is situated a few inches above the earth. Almost hovering. I also see a drum made from deerskin and red clay on the ground. There is a four directional equilateral black cross on the skin of the drum. The cross is thick and around the cross an intricate design is etched/inked into its skin also highlighted in black.

Getting at the Roots: An Earth Day Reflection by Xochitl Alvizo

Last Monday on Earth Day I planted my little seeds (though I acknowledge Sara Wright’s point in her las post that every day is earth day!). I’m in a new apartment and don’t have the outdoor space I used to in my previous home. I live in a courtyard-facing apartment complex with a beautiful desert garden in the middle, but no outdoor space that the tenants are allowed to work in. I do, however, have a big, beautiful living room window that gets a lot of direct sunlight. For Earth Day, then, I started my little potted-plant garden. As I put together the tiny pots, pressed in the place for and placed the seeds, covered and watered them, I inevitably reflected on the magic of it all. The pots look empty except for the soil, and yet, I’m to expect lettuce from them in some weeks or months. A seeming impossibility, but it will happen—slow, but nonetheless, steady growth happens.