Spirituality

Margins for Magic, by Molly Remer

My ritual today
is to forgive myself
and to begin again
with what I have….

A rite of renewal:
Step out under the sky
whether it holds thunder or sun.
Rest your hands against your heart.
Say: I am here.
I am grateful.
Open your arms to the sky.
Feel air soothe you
and wind bless you.
Say: I am radiant in my wholeness.
I am loved.
Sweep your arms down
to touch the Earth (or the floor.)
Say: I am connected.
I belong.
Settle your hands against your belly.
Say: I am centered.
I am powerful.
I am strong.
Return your hands to your heart.
Wait.
The sacred will meet you here.

We pause today in the middle of the road to listen to a mockingbird perched in a crabapple tree by an abandoned house. In clear and rapid succession, it runs through its impressive repertoire: Phoebe, cardinal, chickadee, titmouse, laser-gun, a few extra trills and beeps and back again. We stand, heads cocked and silent, to experience the performance before walking on with a smile, pausing again to inhale deeply as we pass the wild plum trees so sweet and fleeting. I have been preoccupied with projects, feeling bright, creative energy burgeon inside me as it does around me, so many things tug at the mind and ask for time, leaving my dreams restless, my eyes wild, and my mind awhirl with both pressure and possibility, a persistent urgency that calls me on and away and out of being where I am. On the way back home, we stop again because there are five red winged blackbirds, conversing by the neighbor’s pond and we circle through the grass to examine white flowers in the pear trees and to check for peach blossoms (none). I love spring in Missouri, it restores and nourishes me. It reminds me I am home. I sit with my tea listening to a distant chainsaw and the wild turkeys in their rites of spring, a light rustle of wind, and the clinking of my flattened spoon wind-chimes from years gone by. A lone crow glides in to alight on an oak tree beneath the sun. It tips back and forth briefly, wings a satin shimmer in the sunbeams and then drifts away like a black kite through the spring sunshine. I have joked that the description of my next book could be: “I sat. I saw these things.” And, this is true, for I did, and this is my news for today.

Archives from the FAR Founders: Extending Compassion and Vegetarianism by Xochitl Alvizo

This was originally posted on June 26, 2013 and continues to be a story I love retelling!

“I did not know to recognize you as individuals when I bought you, but I know to recognize you as individuals now…”

I had been a vegetarian, and sometimes pescatarian, for more than 10 years before becoming vegan. Despite the length of my vegetarianism, in all that time I had not been inclined to go vegan. First, I really didn’t know too much about veganism and only began meeting a few vegans about five or six years ago here in Boston, none of whom had shared a compelling enough reason for their choice (at least not compelling to me). Further, I had no imagination for life without cheese or Cherry Garcia ice cream(!), and so I happily continued with my vegetarian ways. Then enters Carol Adams…

Touch, Intimacy, and the Christian Tradition by Stephanie Arel

I’ve been thinking more and more about physical touch, a subject I explore in my first book Affect Theory, Shame, and Christian Formation. The concept of touch – its presence and its frequent absence – beckons me again. In several posts, I will explore aspects of touch to get to my central concern – how good touch indicate, supports, and fosters intimacy, something confounding in human relationality. For this post, I consider the Christian tradition and touch.

In Tactile Engagements in Christian Understanding, Teresa Swan Tuite examines touch in biblical history as one way of “making explicit the ways in which bodies give sense to the theological landscape.” Swan Tuite brings to bear the notion of being known through touch, using as one example the disciple’s recognition of Jesus through touch in the Gospel of John. Caravaggio’s famous painting The Incredulity of St. Thomas depicts the scene which Shelly Rambo details in her blog post on this site.

Listening to Our Landscapes, by Molly Remer

Today the hawk is back, tail feathers lit gold and black by a bright and welcome sun. It stays only a moment before tilting out of the tree and continuing on its way, but this moment is enough to spark a sense of joy and wonder in my chest, the awake kind of glee that fuels and feeds me, that inspires and holds me. This feels like the Year of the Hawk to me, of clear focus and intentional commitment. I watch it glide away between the trees and take a deep breath of release and freedom. I re-center myself into my body and reconnect to the sacred What Is. I am open to clarity. I am open to trust. I am present with this day’s unfolding.

Navigating the Dark by Sara Wright

This morning I read an article about a woman who ‘forgot’ to light one of the candles on the Menorah or what I would call the ‘Tree of Life’ for the Jewish celebration of Hanukkah which takes place over a period of eight nights beginning in December. I was struck by her concern because she had forgotten one of the ‘rules’ and missed a night. Twice over a period of years…

While reading her reflection I noted that she seemed to get close to the underlying meaning behind the lighting of candles (present in every extant tradition) at the darkest time of year – she believed that she was bringing light into the literal darkness of night and kindling the divine spark within herself.

A Recipe for Dancing Your Soul Home

When you hear the word ‘soul’, what is your first association?

Soul is a complex and much-debated word, that often brings up strong feelings. Without going into religious or philosophical discourse, it is often associated with the breath, and with that mysterious spark of life force that animates the body. I discussed soul in a previous post Untangling the Triad of Life Force, Spirit and Soul. Today I write about soul as a fluid concept, an essence that can get dispersed and also retrieved, and propose a light self-retrieval through dance as remedy that you can do by yourself.

Label or Be Labelled Part 3: Toward Embodied Presence

In Part 1 of this series on labelling, I highlighted the difference between naming and labelling, and the search for a personal label as ‘participation ticket’ for life.

In Part 2 on professional and spiritual identity, I looked at what we can learn from the autoethnographic practice of disclosing various selves in research situations. I also discussed the effects of Christianity on the suppression of pagan traditions in northwestern Europe, and nature-based spirituality as part of our generic spiritual DNA.

Today I share a few final reflections including what groups celebrate their differences with ‘prides and games’, and which ones remain invisible? What are the effects of woke ideology on fear of expression and loss of voices, and an invitation for embodied presence as one characteristic of our shared humanity.

Label or Be Labelled Part 2: Professional and spiritual identity

This post continues from Part 1, where I situated this essay as a reflection on Xochitl Alvizo’s article Human, Just Human. There, I questioned the difference between the power of naming versus the pressure to label. I then described my search for a personal identifier as ‘participation ticket’ to life. This feels important nowadays to join the conversation and not be dismissed by default. However, I wondered whether looking for things that set us apart emphasises otherness rather than shared humanity.

Today, I question what can we learn from autoethnography about the many selves we bring to different professional situations and how they might hide more than they reveal. I also describe the challenges of naming nature-based practices in a geographical area where 2000 years of Christianity forced our pagan traditions underground.

Embracing the Dark Goddess – Empowering Paradigm Shifts, Part 1 by Judith Shaw

I always approach the Dark Goddesses with trepidation, preferring to focus on the bright, life affirming aspects of the Goddess. Yet now I find that the difficult break-downs and violent conditions of these days are calling me to explore the terrifying aspects of the ones called “Dark Goddesses.”

But who are the Dark Goddesses and why are they called dark? That question is one of controversy within the Goddess community. Carol Christ has written that the Dark Goddess only exists as a projection of patriarchal values onto the Goddess, turning the Goddess into a force of war and terror, in particular the War Goddesses found in various cultures. Christ views war as an abnormal desire for the Goddess. Whereas others view the Dark Goddess as a part of the one Great Goddess, who encompasses all.

A painting I did in 2013 inspired by Kali and in response to the destruction caused by oil drilling. “Gaia Wields Her Sword of Justice”

From the Archives: Artemis As Artemisia: Ancient Female Spirituality & Modern Medicine by Stuart Dean

This was originally posted on November 29, 2015

Detail of Artemis from a 5th century BCE Attic Vase

The 2015 Nobel Prize for Medicine was awarded in part to a Chinese woman (Tu) for her identification and isolation to treat malaria of a chemical known as Artemisinin. The name of that chemical derives from the fact that it is found in varying amounts in the ‘family’ (technically, genus) of plants known as Artemisia. The name of that family derives from its association with the goddess Artemis.

Because Tu’s work began in China in the 1960s it is understandable that even if she knew this about Artemisia (a term I use to refer to any one plant or all of the plants of that family) it would not have been a ‘careerbuilder’ for her to point it out to those for whom she was working. It was bad enough that she was a woman. At that place and time, however, if she had said or done something that could be associated with Western culture her name might not even be known today.