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From the Archives: Aren’t We All Divine Children? by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

This was originally posted March 18, 2021
Note from Janet: Thank you all who supported the launch of my book Desperately Seeking Persephone on May 19. Due to a printer’s error, the original books sent out were deeply damaged without formatting, editing and with uncertain content. If you received one of these books you are entitled to a free replacement. I have put instructions at the bottom of the post for anyone affected to receive their copy.

Consider the following four birth stories:

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.

Emerging from the Underworld: a book review by Eline Kieft

Desperately Seeking Persephone: A Shamanic Journey Through the Underworld by Janet Rudolph weaves together a healing journey from abuse and rape, a deep personal connection with the goddesses Inanna and Persephone, and the ups and downs of a long-term shamanic apprenticeship. These strands could have easily filled three separate books, but Janet masterfully crafts an integrated tapestry of personal and mythical strands. She integrates everyday life experiences, liminal space and the archetypal realms until something new emerges that is more than personal story, more than myth, and more than a description of discovering a shamanic path.

Hear Me! Redux by Winifred Nathan

She Said; He Said
And How
She won! He lost!

On May 9, 2023, in New York Supreme Court, “she said,” won. E. Jean Carroll was awarded a judgment of five million dollars in compensatory damages in her defamation and sexual abuse case against former President Donald Trump. YES, she won! He lost!

How did this happen?

The starting point is looking to a New York state change in its law regarding sexual assault. The assault took place in early 1969. Like many women, Ms. Carroll didn’t seek immediate legal help. She waited until 2019 to file a suit. Her explanation: at her trial, she opined, “I was born in 1943. Women like me were taught and trained to keep our chins up and not to complain.”

In November 2019, E. Jean Carroll did bring her first lawsuit against Donald Trump, which grew from his remarks when she accused him of sexual abuse. The suit was, however, limited to defamation. (Applicable statutes of limitation precluded any potential criminal action for sexual assault.) The Justice Department appealed the case.

Goddess Lost: How the Downfall of Female Deities Degraded Women’s Status in World Cultures by Rachel S. McCoppin; book review by Margot Van Sluytman

She Who Knows

What then is my repentance?
If not, by rote this repetition?
“Godde is.”
“Godde is.”
“Godde is.”
“Love.”
And my face tastes
The beating heart
Of the sun’s call
For reclamation of
SHE Who Is.
SHE Who Is: knows me.
She, who also, is.
©Margot Van Sluytman

From the moment I saw the title, Goddess Lost: How the Downfall of Female Deities Degraded Women’s Status in World Cultures, by Rachel S. McCoppin, I knew I would have to read it. When it arrived in my mailbox and I saw the cover, I was imbued with inspiration. Then I read two sentences in the Preface, which articulate what for me, and for many, is one of the most vital, powerful, and, as yet, under-addressed, facts.

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?

ESCORT SERVICE by Esther Nelson

These days, I spend most of my time in Roanoke, Virginia. I moved here—a three-hour drive west—from Richmond, Virginia. One of the ways I’m settling into my new community is by volunteering as an escort at Planned Parenthood.

The job is straight-forward: Greet people as they exit their vehicle when they arrive at the medical facility’s parking lot. Usually, there are several protestors in front of the building, and clients must drive past them before turning right into the driveway. Protestors wave pink, plastic bags filled with anti-abortion literature as well as pamphlets that outline a specific, Christian view of “salvation.” Not many drivers stop. If they do, I walk over to the line that divides Planned Parenthood property from public space and wave the cars forward. The drivers are grateful. So many clients are nervous, upset, and unsure of protocol. One woman asked me if I was associated with “those people out there,” pointing to the protestors. “Not at all,” I assured her. She smiled with relief.

Pride Season 2023 by Marie Cartier

Here you come again

Twenty-three states banning drag, 100 bills being considered

Just when I’m about to make it work without you

F*** you GOP

You look into my eyes and lie those pretty lies

Abortion is settled law

Gay marriage is settled law

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.