Feminism and Spirituality – Page 3 – Feminism and Religion

What, Together, We Are by Annelinde Metzner

It seems that the hearts of the whole world, and especially the hearts of women, are grieving now, as war and warmongering take over more and more of the Earth. Patriarchy rages on, like a monster in its death throes, and we wonder, “will they take us all down with them?” It is my hope that these poems will help us to keep on keeping on, keep on loving Her.

My grief, my love for the world

I watch the dancer, one arm framing her face,
one hip drawing upward in the belly’s rhythm.
The dance of mature women, Raqs Sharqi
born of the sensuous music of the Middle East.
Her hips pull us into infinity,
an inward-outward shout of beauty and desire.

My Pilgrimage to Crete – September 2023, Part 2 by Terry Folks

Part 1 was posted yesterday.

Stage Four – Mentor Appears

Joseph Campbell spoke of ‘mentors’ appearing to help the sojourner, and what Maureen Murdock called the gathering of allies. In my hybrid of these two archetypal journeys, there may be several mentors – human, power animals, divine guides or a combination. She could be a wise elder who helps the heroine prepare for the journey or gives her a gift for later use. In my case the wise elder was my 93 year old mom who became one of my mentors. When I expressed my excitement and fears, she said what she always says when I – one of her seven children – am facing a challenge: “Go get’em Tiger!” She also offered financial support so I could take time away from my psychotherapy practice.

Two other mentors showed up in what Carl Jung called my ‘active imagination’: Carol Christ and Marija Gimbutas. Both have transitioned so my active imagination conjured their support as divine intervention. I reread Carol’s reflections and teachings on the pilgrimage, and watched the videos she made as inspiration. I felt her invitation. I was ready to change.

My Pilgrimage to Crete – September 2023, Part 1 by Terry Folks

Carol Christ’s Legacy honored by Laura Shannon, and the Ariadne Institute

Adventure by Autumn Skye with permission of artist

When I teach the Heroine’s Journey in my Sophia Women’s Wisdom Group, I draw on Joseph Campbell’s idea of the mono-myth, an archetypal story that resonates with every human across time: The Hero’s Journey. I combine Campbell’s ideas with pieces of feminist Maureen Murdock’s heroine’s journey to recognize the unique pathway of the feminine. I call this my hybrid heroic journey. If you are not familiar with Maureen Murdock’s work, I invite you to see how she brought her feminist eye to Campbell’s iconic Hero’s Journey in her book The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest for Wholeness. After her conversation with Joseph Campbell six years prior to his transition, Murdock felt he missed “that the focus of female spiritual development was to heal the internal split between woman and her feminine nature” (p. 2). In my hybrid heroic journey, that split in the early stages is internalized negative masculinity. The rejection of our feminine nature may appear differently in each woman’s life but it is often characterized by treating ourselves how we imagine men perceive us.

My recent Pilgrimage to Crete was astonishing; my epiphany, gradual. As I share my adventure, imagine stages of your own heroine’s journey wherever you are in that cycle. I hope that by sharing this series, you will experience a real life example of Dion Fortune’s definition of magic: ‘The art of changing consciousness at will’. Starhawk, Truth or Dare, 1988.

My Life as a Prayer by Elizabeth Cunningham, book review by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Our own FAR sister, Elizabeth Cunningham has written her marvelous memoir which came out yesterday. It is titled My Life as a Prayer with the subtitle, A Multifaith Memoir. For those of you who may not know Elizabeth, she wrote regularly for FAR for many years. She is the author the The Wild Mother and the award-winning Maeve Chronicles. Her Chronicles envision the Celtic Mary Magdalen named Maeve. Throughout the four books of the Chronicles, Maeve is filled with vivacious energy and her own life of spirit. The books are Magdalen Rising, The Passion of Mary Magdalen, Bright Dark Madonna and Red-Robed Priestess (which in full disclosure is one of my favorite series of all time.)

In My Life as a Prayer, Elizabeth’s writing is lush and poetic, clever and clarifying, multilayered and depthful. I hope I can convey all those elements in this short blogpost?

Crete as the cradle of a culture of peace – Part Two by Laura Shannon

Part One of this article spoke of our collective yearning for peace, and the difficulty of imagining a peaceful world when we are taught to believe that “patriarchy and with it war and domination are universal and inevitable.” (Carol Christ, 2015)

But this is a myth. The peaceful civilisation of Bronze Age Crete lasted two thousand years with no sign of violence, slavery, or war. Most likely matriarchal, matrifocal, and matrilineal, ancient Crete embodied the final flowering of Old Europe. Art and archaeology reveal a life-loving people who honoured the earth, the Goddess, and nature, particularly mountains, caves, and trees. Key values and symbols of this culture of peace survive today in Cretan women’s dances and folk arts including pottery, textiles, baskets, and bread.

I Am Kaleidoscope by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Art work designed by Jaysen Waller – http://www.jaysenwaller.com/

FAR was founded in June 2011 by four women, Xochitl Alvizo, Cynthia Garrity-Bond, Caroline Kline, and Gina Messina. They are and have been revolutionary thinkers in the world of feminism. Below is a portion of what they write on our “About” page

“There is no single definition of feminism and this is a place of many voices. Important work in women’s studies in religion continues as more attention is paid to the intersection between gender, race, culture, and sexual identity, within feminism and religion.” They go on to say: “We establish this blog in the hope that feminist scholars of religion — and all who are interested in these issues — will use this forum to share their ideas, insights, and experiences, so that this community of thinkers will be nurtured as we explore diverse and new directions.”

Moon Worshippers by Beth Bartlett

You’d have thought it was the 4^th of July the way people were gathering on the shore of the great lake, Gitchee Gumee – some with coolers and lawn chairs, kids and dogs in tow, each claiming their spot — waiting for the viewing as if waiting for the fireworks. But what we awaited was far more spectacular – the “once in a very blue moon,”[i] the second full moon in a calendar month, but also a “super moon” – so named because at this time when it is closest to the earth in its orbit it appears larger than usual. Super moons happen a few times a year and blue moons happen every two to three years, but super blue moons are rare. This one was probably the last in my lifetime since the next one will occur fourteen years from now in 2037.

My husband, dog, and our son’s dog, aptly named Luna, made our way to the lake, finding our spot on the ancient rocks, joining the other moon gazers. A feeling of community celebration arose with the moon as we strangers to each other together watched the first light of rising moon with shared anticipation and appreciation. The “blue moon” in fact appeared red as it came up through the hazy atmosphere, but as it rose higher in the sky, just as in the lyrics to the song, “Blue Moon,” the moon turned to gold, casting its golden glow across the waters. As it rose, it seemed to grow even larger, rounder, brighter.

The Blue Beetle: “¡No contaban con mi astucia!” by Yara González-Justiniano

Literally, you did not count on my astuteness. Or in other words, you underestimated my intelligence. It is the perpetual trick of arrogance that white supremacy and classism plays on racially and ethnically minoritized people and the joke/yoke these people carry. It is the most frequent microaggression I experience in academia in the supposed –– disque–– compliment of “you are so articulate!”

El Chapulín Colorado (The Red Grasshopper) is a Mexican comedic superhero character created by artist Roberto Gómez Bolaños, better known as Chespirito (little Shakespeare), in the 1970s. Whenever Chapulín untangles a mess, whether on purpose or by chance, he says “¡No contaban con mi astucia!” The movie Blue Beetle, which pays homage to this beloved character across Latin America and Latinx people is ––entre otras cosas–– exactly that, astute! Puerto Rican director, Angel Manuel Soto, and Mexican writer, Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer, take the DC comic book story of Jaime Reyes’s Blue Beetle (2006) and transform it into a film that, more than responds to a Latino superhero gap, it takes representation, impact, and issues of capitalism seriously. The truck, the heart-shaped shield, the tools, and the crickets playing in the background of the outdoor scenes ––to name a few–– are an extension of the characters’ parallelisms and the possibilities of what it means to have higher numbers of representation in mass media-produced films with integrity and astucia. ¡Awiwi!

Elixir: In the Valley at the End of Time by Kapka Kassabova, Book review by Laura Shannon

Kapka Kassabova is an award-winning author of poetry, fiction and nonfiction, born in Bulgaria and now living in the Scottish Highlands. Her newest work of narrative nonfiction, Elixir, soars with the luminous prose and unflinching honesty we have come to expect from this brilliantly gifted writer.

Elixir is an extraordinary, profoundly moving book. The moment I finished reading it, I began again from the beginning, pausing only to order multiple copies for friends. Like Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass, Kassabova effortlessly integrates science and the sacred, addressing historical, ecological, and personal trauma with clarity, compassion, and hope. Elixir combines memoir, travel, history, ethnography, botany, philosophy, spirituality, eco-psychology, traditional Chinese medicine, and even alchemy, in a subtle, sophisticated exploration which defies categorisation.

Inanna’s Sisters, by Molly M. Remer

Sometimes I feel like my own Ninshubur.
I set up a lamentation in the street.
I call my own name,
beat the drum
to lead myself back home,
prepare the temple
for my own arrival.
I will not give up on myself,
will not abandon my own wholeness,
I refuse to sacrifice my Self.
I will not stay in the underworld forever.
We all need people in our lives who will say:
No, this will not do.
I’m coming after you.
I will help you to crawl back up,
back out, back through.
I will reach out to you.
I will boost you up.
I will rise with you into becoming.
You will not stay behind defeated
and alone so long as I,
your Ninshubur,
draw breath.
I will beat the drum for you.
I will call your name.
You are not alone.
Come back to me.
I see your power
and your strength.
I hear your longing.
Return,
return,
return.

I first met Inanna in the firelit darkness of a midwifery retreat in central Missouri. Toddler son at my breast, I watched, spellbound, as the charismatic, dark-haired midwife recounted the tale of Inanna’s descent into the underworld, through the seven gates we traveled, to the seat of our own wounding and our own medicine.