connection – Feminism and Religion

The Field of Belonging, by Molly Remer

May we be resilient
in the face of conflict and change.
May we lean in,
reach out,
root down,
and deepen into
the practices that nurture us
and sustain us.
May we cultivate wise discernment.
May we persist in reclaiming our power
and our attention.
May we embody our prayers.
May we dance bravely
on the bones of the coercive systems
that try to drag us down.
May we lift our heads
to meet the eyes of life.
May we persist in seeing,
in being,
in lifting our resilient and stubborn joys
up to soar.

I know we are weary, overwhelmed by how much damage can be done by sweeps of pen and distant deciding, callous disregard seeming to seep into all the edges and change how the world feels to live in. We may feel frozen with indecision, unsure of what to do or how to help or what to say. So much asks for our attention and our time, asks us to look and to not turn away. We wonder what there is to celebrate in the face of so much anger and so much need. It is hard to feel so small and human, hard to keep hoping, to trust in our own inherent magic and that goodness and beauty are still at work amid the pain.

TikTok, Boom: My Ode to The Social Media App by Anjeanette LeBoeuf

Like millions of others, I downloaded a social media app called TikTok during the first few weeks of the Covid-19 Pandemic. I wrote a FAR post about the rising importance and threat that TikTok was back July 2020. And here we are five years later and the United States Government, while incompetent to stop the persistent gun violence, the rising costs of living, the erosion of democracy and personal freedoms, the dumpster fire that is our medical system CAN vote together to ban and remove a social media app used by millions.

On the Religious Nature of Connection in Star Trek: Discovery Season 3, by Ivy Helman

For the past two months, I have been exploring the religious elements of Star Trek: Discovery. Both seasons one and two have considerable religious elements. Of course that depends on how one exactly defines religion as well as how one interprets the actions of the characters. Season three is no different as the principle of connection becomes associated with religious rituals, behaviours, beliefs, and discussions.

By far, the most recognisably religious element of the season is the ritual bath that Adira participates in episode 4 in order to be able to commune (connect) with the symbiote. The ritual bath occurs in the sacred caves of Mak’ala. Adira, robed in white, enters the pool and spends considerable time learning to commune with the symbiote and its past hosts. After emerging from the pool of water, Adira is wrapped in a cloth that very much resembles a tallit.

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Welcome to the New Year by Natalie Weaver

Welcome to the New Year.

One year ago, on New Year’s eve, I buried my father’s ashes. It was an incredible experience to orchestrate the funeral and burial of the man who begat me. He was nowhere near a Hallmark greeting card kind of father. He was complicated and difficult in ways both minor and severe. Yet, this was the man I called “Dad,” and I was left to deal with the baggage of his life. I cried in a way I had not cried before and felt a kind of sadness that, when given over to, seemed fathomless. There is no real answer to grief like that. I decided that one must just confront it or become it or traverse it. And, there were things to do, practical things, such as repurposing clothes and rehoming cats, for which no one, I believe, could ever be totally prepared. I did not resent what I had to do; I just did it. These things were hard for me.

Yet, despite the pain, something in that loss was deeply freeing. There was no progenitor in the person of my father to come before me now, so there was suddenly no sense (however falsely constructed it may have been to begin with) that someone stood between me and whatever it is that was and is coming at me. There is no longer even the false perception of a windbreaker, no frontline, no wise man, no one to shield, no guide. There is just a naked sense of myself in the world, and though others surely came before me and stand around me now, on an existential level, I am not answering to him any longer.

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Winter Solstice Drama by Sara Wright

Last year I attended a bonfire on the night of the winter solstice at a friend’s house. As my companion and I walked towards the ledge where the fire had been the year before we were both astonished. Where was everybody? We stood in the dark confused. Minutes passed.

After suggesting we leave, my companion remarked with annoyance, “What the hell is going on here?” A Rhetorical question. I sure didn’t know.

Sudden hooting split the night and some dissonant musical sounds seemed to be coming from out of the bushes below us.

Following the sounds we descended the steep hill and discovered that the fire was at the river’s edge, and that a few people were already gathered there.

Unbeknownst to either of us the location had changed, and from our vantage point on the hill we couldn’t see the fire or hear any sounds. I had been looking forward to this celebratory turning, and liked the idea of sharing it with friends. Yet, now I felt uneasy.

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Let Us Now Practice Her Presence by Barbara Ardinger

I’m giving you a twofer this month: a poem and a ritual. I’m writing this a few days after the latest mass shooting in Texas by a crazy white man and a few days before the next debate by Democratic candidates. But you know what? I’m getting real tired of politics and…well, what’s going on around us. Tweets. Bullets. Fires. I’m a liberal, but I’m deciding that there must be a better definition of “conservative,” one that has nothing to do with politics. The OED defines “conservation” as “the action of conserving; preservation from destructive influences, decay, or waste.” Further down: “conservative: a preserving agent or principle.”

Back in the late 80s and into the 90s, I taught a class I called Practicing the Presence of the Goddess, which evolved into a ritual circle. As far as I know, most of the women in the class are still spiritual feminists (though the term hadn’t been invented then), a couple have died (cancer is an awful thing), and one is fading into dementia (but she still remembers our class). Among other assignments, I asked them to read Carol Christ’s splendid book Laughter of Aphrodite (1987), and once we went as a group to hear Marija Gimbutas speak on her newest book The Civilization of the Goddess (1991).

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All Are Our Teachers by Elisabeth Schilling

What can we learn from each other? Some people teach us that we need help with boundaries. Some remind us that we are easy to love. We can observe the way some lovers make us want to escape, simmering a queasy feeling in our stomach that we practice patience and non-attachment with so that we are not harmed too much whilst in their presence and other lovers are always ready with a supportive word, assuring us that what we desire is valid, that we do not need to justify our path.

The people who we react to the most intensely, most of the time negatively, are these people our lessons? That sounds rather crass when thought to apply to anyone in an extremely oppressive and/or abusive situation. I would not suggest we apply this to anyone but ourselves, if indeed, it works for us. This is not the fatalistic idea of people belonging in a certain state or being punished for something. This is more a strategic curiosity of looking at our own agency from a back door. For example, my body might contort in frustration and sadness with someone, which could indicate I need to not be in relationship with their energies, but until I can create another path (maybe due to work commitments, relational obligations, financial situations, etc.), I feel more empowered reflecting so that I can learn about myself and others so as to perhaps not invite the same energies in during the future or to not have them affect me so harshly so that it doesn’t matter.

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The Tree as Mother by Mama Donna Henes

Arbor Day, Earth Day, May Day and Mother’s Day are deeply connected conceptually, etymologically, culturally and emotionally.

The tree, with its roots buried deep in the earth and its branches reaching upward toward heaven, spread wide to embrace all of eternity, is a prime symbol of life in many cultures. Trees have long been worshipped as beneficent spirits of bounty. Trees, after all, shade and feed us. Supply and sustain us. Serve us in endless ways. Trees breathe life into our lungs, the source of endless inspiration.

Possessing the potent powers of fertility, growth, resilience and longevity, the tree is widely seen as the progenitor of the world Family Tree. The Tree of Life. The tree goddess was seen as a sylph, an airy tree spirit who resides among the green leaves, sustaining and nurturing the vegetative forces. She is the symbol of the flow of life, a Mother Goddess who is Herself the Tree of Life.

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The Sound of Silence: a mother’s day reflection 2019 by Sara Wright

Here in the high desert it has been raining off and on for the last few days. A giant puddle sits in the driveway and all the trees range in color from subtle shades of sage to emerald. Fringed Chamisa, spun gold and salmon wildflowers are bent low but stems are luminescent. Seedlings are sprouting in unlikely places.

I can’t think of a better mother’s day present for the desert than these ongoing cloud-bursts that are nourishing the earth with water and minerals from the sky. I am profoundly grateful for this year’s spring greening.

The earth is experiencing a sense of renewal. I wish I could say the same for me with respect to mothering and mother’s day. I cross this cyclic threshold with the same feelings of dread and grief that overpower me each year. Neither of my children acknowledge me as the mother who once loved them so fiercely, but oh so imperfectly in her own confusion and despair.

I was such a young wife, barely twenty when I became pregnant with my first child. Two years later I was a mother of two sons. Within five years I was divorced and on my own.

Although I tried to repair the damage as soon as I was able, neither child was willing to join me. I desperately suggested counseling – many times. As adolescents and young adults both Chris and later David, responded with chilling silence and apparent indifference to every frantic attempt I made to bridge the gap.

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Generosity and Community: the Alternative Worldview of Women’s Ritual Dances, Part 2 by Laura Shannon

Dr. France LeJeune Milchberg taking her turn to lead the dance line, Lesvos 2007. Photo: Sheryl Ackerman

Starhawk describes the work of her Reclaiming collective as the creation of ‘spaces of refuge from a harsh and often hostile world, safe places where people can heal and regenerate, renew our energies and learn new skills.’^[i] These words also apply to the women’s traditional dances. One participant on my courses expresses it thus: ‘In the circle no-one is left out, no-one is ignored, all are held and included, all have their place, all are connected.’^[ii]

Crucially, women’s ritual dances empower everyone to develop leadership skills. Every woman must know how to lead the line at the appropriate time, and she must also know how to pass on the responsibility afterwards. Continue reading “Generosity and Community: the Alternative Worldview of Women’s Ritual Dances, Part 2 by Laura Shannon”