Tag: Barbara Ardinger

The Child of the Bog (continued) By Barbara Ardinger

The story so far. In the ancient land beside the river, the God-King lies in what appears to be death. No one can awaken him. In the house of a court Magician, the peasant girl Ubastet is dusting and conversing with a magical stork when two minor miracles occur. The Magician consults the Hierophant, but they cannot explain the miracles. Now the Queen has come into the room. She is determined to figure out what’s going on. (Where do they fly to? Romania, another land of great enchantment.)

Before the sun set that day, the Queen of the golden land called a convention of priests and wizards and magicians and astrologers and seers and prophets and physicians. When they had all assembled in the throne room, she set the matter before them. Day after day, the learned ones debated, night after night, they performed their high magics and gorgeous rituals. In their secret places, the animals gathered together as well and performed their own rituals. But the mirror, whose thousand pieces had been gathered up and cleansed and set back into the frame in a sublime mosaic, the mirror refused to speak again. The golden beetle remained cold and silent.

child of the bog, barbara ardinger
Isis

Continue reading “The Child of the Bog (continued) By Barbara Ardinger”

The Child of the Bog By Barbara Ardinger

Isis, She of Ten Thousand Names, was worshipped in ancient days for longer than any other deity. What is sometimes called her cult (remember, if it’s ours it’s a true religion; if it’s theirs, it’s only a cult) can be traced back six thousand years. Her worship spread throughout the lands around the Mediterranean and the Roman Empire, going as far north as London. The last temple of Isis was razed by fanatical Christians in the 6th century. But Isis did not die! As we can see in any representation of the Madonna and Child, the iconography of Isis—a mother nursing her son—was adopted by the early Christian church. Worship of Isis was reborn in the 20th century with the establishment in 1976 of the Fellowship of Isis to renew worship of the Great Goddess in modern times. Another temple of Isis, established in 1996, is located at the Isis Oasis in Geyserville, California. It is a legally recognized religion in California.

The name Isis is the Hellenized version of her Egyptian name, approximately Auset. If you want to know more, read The Golden Ass by the Roman author Apuleius (translated by Robert Graves) and Plutarch’s Of Isis and Osiris.

The story below is partly based on the myths of Isis and Osiris and partly on European fairy tales (which almost never have fairies in them) and comes from my imagination, although the motifs are, of course, common ones. Talking animals and miraculous births are common in fairy tales, and the animal gods of Egypt are well known, and storks and other birds are held to be sacred by many cultures. 

Continue reading “The Child of the Bog By Barbara Ardinger”

Gods of War by Barbara Ardinger

Let’s talk about Mars and Ares. It’s common to think the Greek and Roman pantheons were identical and the gods and goddesses just had alternate names. This is not true. The Roman gods and goddesses personified civic virtues, whereas Greek mythology was largely philosophical.

I’ve been thinking about Carol Christ’s two excellent blogs about patriarchy and its connection to war and our so-called heroes. We read or watch the news today and learn about “our heroes” serving in the Middle East, about warriors who’ve come home and are suffering from deep wounds both physical and emotional. Yes, these men and women do indeed deserve our support…but, still, I ask, Why are people who are trained to kill other people called heroes? It’s a very thorny problem, and I must set it aside as I write this blog. Continue reading “Gods of War by Barbara Ardinger”

A Meditation on the Shamrock By Barbara Ardinger

With the eyes of your imagination, see our bright goddess standing tall and fine at her anvil. Her holy and wholly unquenchable fire is burning in the forge. See her holding her hammer and tongs. Perhaps she’s beating a sword, for we sometimes need to defend ourselves, or perhaps she’s beating a sword into a plowshare, for we also need to feed the hungry.

February 2 is the pagan sabbat, or holy day, devoted to the great Celtic triple goddess Brigid (pronounced “Breed”). Brigid is the goddess of poetry, fire, and smithcraft. We’re told that she was converted to Christianity by St. Patrick and later canonized. Her temple was located at Cill Dara (better known as Kildare), where a holy fire was maintained for a thousand years. It was put out during the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII when that British king left the Roman church. The fire was relit, but extinguished again in the 18th or 19th century. Today there is an order of Irish nuns that keeps Brigid and her fire alive. As you read the following meditation, imagine that you’re hearing the voice of an elderly priestess. Continue reading “A Meditation on the Shamrock By Barbara Ardinger”

Illuminations: A Novel of Hildegard von Bingen By Barbara Ardinger

The Great Goddess and Divine Mother of Us All manifests where and to whom She chooses, no matter what faith we hold. In the 12th century, She manifested to a German nun named Hildegard. Hildegard’s story has been told in many places, including a highly detailed entry in the Catholic Encyclopedia, which is a wonderful resource for stories about saints. I’ve just finished reading Illuminations (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012), a splendid new novel about Hildegard by Mary Sharratt, who is the author of other excellent novels, including Daughters of the Witching Hill.

illuminationsHildegard, who lived from 1092 to 1179, was the tenth child of a family of minor nobility in the Holy Roman Empire. She’s a sturdy child who loves the outdoors and enjoys running through the forest with her brother. But early in the novel, she learns that she is to be her family’s tithe to the church. Her mother has already arranged for this bright and curious eight-year-old child to be the companion to Jutta von Sponheim, a “holy virgin” who yearns to be bricked up as an anchorite in the Abby of Disibodenberg. Being an anchorite means that, like Julian of Norwich (about 250 years later), this girl and her magistra are bricked in. There is a screened opening in the wall through which their meager meals are passed and through which they can witness mass and speak to Abbott Cuno, the other monks, and visiting pilgrims, but they can never go out. Never. In the Afterword, Sharratt writes that “Disibodenberg Abbey is now in ruins and it’s impossible to precisely pinpoint where the anchorage was, but the suggested location is two suffocatingly narrow rooms and a narrow courtyard built on to the back of the church” (p. 272). As Sharratt vividly shows us, Hildegard survived in that awful place for thirty years. Continue reading “Illuminations: A Novel of Hildegard von Bingen By Barbara Ardinger”

Happy Birthday, Solar Gods By Barbara Ardinger

Throughout history and all around the world, people have celebrated midwinter and the rebirth of the sun. My favorite night of the solstice-Hanukah-Christmas season is December 24, Modranicht. If we have Mother’s Day in the springtime, it seems only fair that we should celebrate Mother’s Night in the winter. We get the term Mothers’ Night from the English monk, Bede, who said that the Angles began their year on the night of December 24–25.

The winter solstice this year falls on December 21, though it can also occur on December 22 and December 23. The word “solstice” means “sun stand still.” No, it’s not Joshua’s long day again. On the solstice, the sun rises from the same point on the horizon for a couple days (this is the standing still), is at its lowest point in the sky at noon, and (in the Northern Hemisphere) is at its southernmost point. It’s the longest night of the year, and when the sun is reborn, it moves across the sky for six months to the summer solstice, where it’s at its northernmost point.

Continue reading “Happy Birthday, Solar Gods By Barbara Ardinger”

Thank You, Goddess By Barbara Ardinger

Actually, it’s very hard to say what the Goddess is. She’s ineffable. She’s both abstract and concrete at the same time. She created the universe, but she also brings destruction to beings and things whose time has ended. Even as she is (perhaps) the earth embodied and is (perhaps) a sort of universal spirit of loving-kindness and is (perhaps) the powers of life, death, and rebirth, she is as global as the oxygen we must breathe to live.

I do my end-of-the-month spending tables and balance my checkbook and find that there’s enough for me to send donations to politicians and nonprofits I want to support, like the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence. I write a couple checks, put stamps on the envelopes, and as I drop them in the mailbox, I say, “Thank you, Goddess.” Everybody who lives in Long Beach knows there is no place to park in the whole city. I rent a parking space in a driveway across the street. Thank you, Goddess. I have nice little chats with strangers in adjacent seats during the intermissions of Les Miserables and Spamalot. Thank you, Goddess. I’m breathing every day, I live with two friendly cats, I earn my living doing something I enjoy doing and that’s useful to the people I do it with. Thank you, Goddess.

Does the Goddess run my life? Not the way you may be thinking. Please don’t think I think the Goddess is a big fat woman wearing a crown and sitting on a big fat throne up in the sky and sending little goddessettes and superheros and superheras down to earth to chase editing clients to me, puff my lungs full of oxygen, and carefully arrange that I sit next to nice folks at the theater or find places to park when I need them. (I have a Magic Parking Place Word for that last item.) That’s not the Goddess. She’s not the Boss of the Universe, she doesn’t live “up there,” she doesn’t dictate how I should live my life. Continue reading “Thank You, Goddess By Barbara Ardinger”

Does Terpsichore Tapdance? By Barbara Ardinger

Goddesses of art and inspiration, the Muses gave their name to our museums, where they are (or should be) worshipped. I feel a special devotion to them. … The ones I really like, though, are the theatrical Muses—Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomene, and Terpsichore, plus maybe Calliope and Errato. I was a drama major (and possibly a drama queen) in college…. Today, I go to the theater as often as I can.

Although my greatest devotion is to the Great Goddess, who is said to have ten thousand names, I find myself more and more adoring the Muses: 

  • Clio, “Fame-giver,” ruler of history and shown with an open scroll
  • Euterpe, “Joy-giver,” the lyric Muse who plays the flute
  • Thalia, famous for her comic mask and wreaths of ivy
  • Melpomene, wearer of the tragic mask and vine leaves
  • Terpsichore, “Lover of dancing,” who carried a lyre and ruled choral music as well as dance
  • Errato, “Awakener of desire,” ruler of erotic poetry
  • Polyhymnia, “Many hymns,” shown as the meditating inspirer of hymns
  • Urania, “Heavenly,” ruler of astronomy who carries a globe
  • Calliope, “Beautiful-voiced,” ruler of epic poetry who carries a tablet and a pen[1] Continue reading “Does Terpsichore Tapdance? By Barbara Ardinger”

Yom Kippur as Seen (With Respect) by a Pagan By Barbara Ardinger

No matter which or how many gods we believe in, thinking about what we’ve done wrong and how we can set it straight is useful. The Day of Atonement, the Talmud says, “absolves from sins against God, but not from sins against a fellow man unless the pardon of the offended person is secured.”

 Back in the Stone Age, otherwise known as the early 1980s, I had jobs as a technical writer and editor in five different industries, including aerospace and computer development. Hey, I was trained as a Shakespearean scholar, but in those days—pretty much like today—there were almost no jobs in the academy for newly-hatched Ph.D’s. So I tried technical writing. At one of the aerospace jobs, I sat in the “bullpen”—me and nineteen middle-aged white guys—whereas all the other women slaved—on typewriters in that pre-computer age—in the typing pool. There was a major class distinction in that aerospace firm, and I was glad to be with the guys. (Yes, shame on me.) Those were the days of 9 to 5. As far as I’m concerned, that movie is nonfiction. Continue reading “Yom Kippur as Seen (With Respect) by a Pagan By Barbara Ardinger”

Rien n’est parfait  by Barbara Ardinger

What le renard teaches le petit prince is that when people tame each other, they spend time together and get to know each other. It’s not power-over, but power-with. We become important to each other…. The world is made more sacred. That’s what we pagans and good, honorable people in the other religions who talk to each other without preaching are doing.

In Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince) by the French writer and aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the little prince takes advantage of the migration of wild birds to leave his home, the tiny Asteroid B 612, because he running away from a vain and fickle rose. After he arrives on earth, he sees a whole garden of roses, and it breaks his heart because he thought his rose was unique in all the world. When he returns to the desert where he originally landed, he meets le renard, a very wise fox. The fox tells the prince that they should “tame” each other. “Apprivoise-moi,” he says, “tame me. Let us create ties so that we know each other.”[i]  Continue reading “Rien n’est parfait  by Barbara Ardinger”