meditations – Page 2 – Feminism and Religion

Grown Up World: Sit in the Contradiction by Caryn MacGrandle

It occurred to me this morning in meditation that evidence of maturity and balance is being able to sit in the contradictions of this world.

We’re not all good. We’re not all bad. People can have good intentions and be bad for you. People can have bad intentions and be good for you.

‘All is well. Wellness abounds.’ Source (Abraham Hicks) says.

No it’s not. You respond.

Yes it is.

That is our task. To get back to ‘yes it is’ no matter what is going on in your life.

Finding that Feeling and Standing to Heal the Earth by Caryn MacGrandle

Something happened to me while listening to a song yesterday Mycelia by Yaima Music about the Mycelium Network: the largest living organism in the world underneath our feet, connected by synapses, communicating and assisting life. I found that feeling.

The one where you know you are on Path.

Laney Goodman who just passed, I remembered her singing and drumming. I remembered being at ALisa Starkweather’s Daughter of the Earth events, meeting the hundreds of Priestesses that ALisa has brought together and trained over the years. Being in awe. Wishing I was a person who could do that.

I remembered that I Am.

“Starting to Hear the Earth
Standing to Heal the Earth”

Hawaiian Adventure Shamanism by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Plumeria, one of the fragrant flowers often used in leis.

While my experience of Hawaiian spirituality isn’t explicitly feminist, I am attracted to it because of its loving and gentle nature. It doesn’t feed the patriarchy. It is a philosophy that doesn’t use dogma but rather principles. It doesn’t work as a top-down power system but rather as an internal power extending to the external world. This is reflected in one of our principles: “all power comes from within.”

I was ordained as an alaka’i (spiritual guide) in October 2016 by Serge Kahili King the founder of Aloha International. He teaches Hawaiian Adventure Shamanism or Huna for short. Huna means secret. It isn’t a secret in the sense of something that can’t be shared but rather something that is esoteric or hard to see. You can think of it like the mists of the sea, hard to distinguish and even harder to hold on to. But all real nevertheless.

Crawl Across the Sacred Circle and Take My Hand by Caryn MacGrandle

On Winter Solstice, I hosted a Return of the Sun event at the local healing arts center where I do my Circles. We had offerings and presentations all night long. It was the first time I have ever done anything that large or public, so it was a stretch for me.

At the end of the night, a friend said, ‘Oh my, I needed this. Let’s do it once a month.’

And I thought, ‘yea, right.’

And then I thought, ‘Yea. Right.’

I’ve already started thinking about ways we could do it better and things we could change.

I feel a bit like when I first started hosting Circles nine years ago. I’m tired and judging whether or not it was worth the stress and effort.

But this time around I know it’s worth the stress and effort.

Return to the Grandmothers and 2 Other Poems by Annelinde Metzner

This past summer, my family and I lovingly carried my brother’s ashes to a favorite spot of his, in the woods at our grandparents’ Catskill farm. My mind was on the simple, beautiful ritual, each of us stating memories and scattering some of the ashes around the tree, and singing a few songs. It had slipped my mind that this tree grew at the entrance of the very meadow where, at age 11, I felt urgently compelled to create a ritual for myself, just at puberty, where I connected with the Grandmothers of the four directions. No one had taught me this, and I am still in wonder at what we carry with us, undoubtedly from prior lives. I feel that this poem was my self initiating myself into the world of the Goddess, and preparing for my own future.

In this poem, the Grandmothers are speaking to me, with a bit of disdain and fond teasing.

The Norns, Spiritual Mystery and Me, Part 2 by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Part 1 was posted yesterday. You can read it here. The Norns were explaining the mess they had made when they got drunk at a Valhalla party.

The Norns looked at me with sadness. “We knocked over one of our looms/templates/arrangements”

Their tone changed, they looked at each other and I thought I could see emotion churning. They were arguing and then they stopped. They turned toward me and looked sheepish, that is if divinities can look sheepish. “It was a disaster/calamity/debacle.”

“Tell me then,” I was growing impatient.

Verdandi: “Well you see the loom we knocked over was . . .”

“What?” I almost shouted at them.

Urd: “It was the loom holding the pattern from Salim/Jerusalem.”

The Norns, Spiritual Mystery and Me, Part 1 by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

In 2020, I began writing my biography because some weird things were happening in my life including some which were time-bending. To help make sense of it, I wrote up “conversations” with the mythical characters of Persephone, Inanna and the Norns of the Norse. Throughout my bio, I speak to the Norns as an out loud meditation on the nature of time, fate and energy.

The three Norn sisters are Urd, Verdandi and Skuld. Their names come from Old Norse which is not a spoken language. The actual translation of their names is open to speculation. In general, here are their common meanings.

Urd – past
Verdandi – happening or present
Skuld – future or debt.

By mythological tradition, they show up at a child’s birth and then weave their “fateful” decisions about that child’s life into a tapestry. They are considered more powerful and fearsome than the gods because even the gods are ruled by the hands of fate (or Norns in this case). They were also treated as oracles where kings and warriors went to consult them much as was done in Delphi Greece.[1]

In Memoriam: Thich Nhat Hanh by Elizabeth Ann Bartlett

Yet another of my great spiritual teachers has died. Buddhist monk, peace activist, author, and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh died on January 22nd at Tu Hieu Temple in Hue, Vietnam. I have found wisdom in so many of his books, but it is his The Miracle of Mindfulness that has become almost a daily guide. I discovered it sometime in my four-year wait for a new heart after being put on the transplant list following my second cardiac arrest in my 30s. In that time of living with the ever-present fear of sudden cardiac death, it probably saved my life, and certainly my sanity and spiritual well-being.

The Gate by Sara Wright

Unaccustomed to joy

his kindness

barely torched

her cells still

under fierce attack

from too

many anti –bodies.

What registered was

quick – silver shining

a clasp so easily undone…

A golden sun

illuminated two

leaf strewn paths

gilded in bronze.

Welcomed by Hemlocks

at Mary’s House ,

Mary’s House by Sara Wright

Feminists have always found holy places in the forest, under trees, near springs or wells or by rivers and streams and this year my refuge has been the forest, where the goddess lives still…I have spent most of the summer visiting in a very special forest, one that has been protected by people who have bought up thousands of acres to protect the land from motorized vehicles and other machines that ruin the earth. Old trees shade an understory that is thick with new growth, ground cover and mushrooms abound. There are beaver ponds and springs, rivers, and bogs. When I enter the narrow winding barely discernable paths I feel as if I am parting a veil to enter a holy place because the trees have been allowed to grow and the forest is so healthy.