trees – Feminism and Religion

The Music of Creation by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

I am excited to announce my latest book: The Music of Creation: Exploring Verse and Vibration in the Bible. In this book I present pagan translations of the Bible and then lay out spiritual practices based on those verses. The practices make use of “the triple secret” of manifestation which is Mudra (body or hand position), Mantra (chant) and Mandala (image). Each has power on their own. Together they become even more compelling. Below are two excerpts from the book. The first is a template of chanting and the power it can have in our bodies and in our lives.

Excerpt 1 – Below, I note four different ways to approach chanting. All have merit. They can be combined. In each, I use Hallelujah (in its meaning of praise) as an example.

First: Song, performance, vibration. Hallelujah has been a particular focus of song-writing with beautiful results. The top results which come to my mind are Leonard Cohen and Handel. Hallelujah is a wonderful example of a performance chant and a choral piece.

The Littlest Balsam by Sara Wright

Five years ago
I dug a seedling
in protest
ki’s deep green
needles
slender trunk
and roots
yielded
to sweet
spring earth
with prayers.

I believed.

One winter night
I will celebrate
your life
the lives of
thousands
with a
candlelit
spiral
of tiny white lights.

Tonight
white flames
adorn you
old longings
and heartbreak
we share the same
root
stilled by
simple beauty
a single
reflection
of Love.

From the Archives: Tree of Life: The Festival of the Trees in an Age of Treefall by Jill Hammer

This was originally posted on January 22, 2019

Almost every day, I walk in Central Park. There are certain trees there I’ve come to know: the gnarled cherry trees by the reservoir, the bending willows and tall bald cypress by the pond, the sycamores that drop their bark each summer, the hawthorn not far from Central Park West. Lately I’ve been taking photos of the trees to try to capture their essence, their posture in the world. The trees around me feel like friends, which is what an ancient midrash (interpretation/legend) called Genesis Rabbah says about trees: that they are friends to humankind. To me, they’ve always been a central manifestation of Mother Earth.

Currently, the national parks in the United States have no staff because of the government shutdown. Some people have taken the opportunity to cut down the rare and endangered Joshua trees in the Joshua Tree National Park—just for fun, I guess, or as a trophy of some kind. Meanwhile, President Bolsonaro of Brazil recently has indicted that he wants to remove protection for the rainforest, in order to allow development. It appears that my friends the trees have enemies. Sometimes the enmity is for personal/corporate gain, and sometimes the enmity seems to have no reason at all.

Big Mama by Arianne MacBean

I used to tell my dance students that the dance floor was like a Big Mama, aways there to catch them, always there to sink into, always there to press back. This was my way of teaching them to trust the floor, that it was not a place where they needed to fear crashing into, but a place that wanted to take them in, hug them, love them. As dancers, we spend much time focused on the floor, how to release into it with control, how to push off it, even how to defy it and manipulate it. It becomes our partner in all dances, this blanket beneath us. But I haven’t been in a dance studio for a few years and so I have found myself looking up, instead of down.

The Tree in my Front Yard by Marie Cartier

I have not been in this room for three years- except to run in and out -the pandemic made me claustrophobic and anyway I usually need a coffee shop environment to write and we were in lock down so my wife and I transformed our living room to a coffeeshop, Fig and Hillary’s- so named for the huge Hillary poster on the wall and the fig trees in the backyard. My office became a storage room piled high with—what? Stuff.

Then, finally… it seemed the pandemic –at least in terms of dire death prediction—was perhaps over. It took most of this post pandemic year to get up out of the living room where I had encamped to come back to here—my actual office. To put the bookshelves back and—to turn my desk around so I am not facing the door but facing the window.

Floods and Flexibility: Another Rainy Day Reflection by Sara Wright

As soon as I awakened, I set off for my predawn walk in light rain, a habit that I am re -forming after having lived in NM that one summer when the days were too hot, too windy, the air too polluted for me to stand being outdoors except in the predawn hours. It was even too damn hot to sleep at night…even my beloved wild lizards hid out during the fierce heat of the day.

I am adjusting to living in the tropics by becoming more and more flexible. I make no plans. I stay home when I need to, allowing the day to guide me. I will not walk in polluted air even at 4:30 AM. Fortunately, I love my simple cabin that is mercifully empty of ‘stuff’. I have evolved into a minimalist. Except for plants, dogs, and Lily b my bird, my closest friends and relatives not much has change here since I built this house except that I have less!

Aging and the Ancestral Dark? by Sara Wright

Unfortunately, an inner darkness has been with me all fall hiding in the corners of my mind and disturbing my body creating headaches and stomach troubles during the day. Although I attempt to protect myself from a culture that I cannot control by not listening to news, watching television, movies or perusing social media I am painfully aware of the fact that politicians on an international level cannot even agree to discuss what to do about climate change – this after 30 years of doing absolutely nothing – creating in me a mindless fury that leaves me in black despair. The time of acting locally and thinking globally is long past. Thinking and doing must occur on a global level. Novelist Richard Powers states the obvious: “People can better imagine the end of the end of the world before the end of Capitalism”. Then we can move to the moon.

I have also been forced to acknowledge how difficult this year has been on a personal level. Aging is affecting my energy level, increasing the severity of depressed states, my sense of inner and outer balance. I am vulnerable and know it although I do my best to begin each day with gratitude as I first peer out at my beloved trees, a little nuthatch or chickadee, gaze at a silver crescent, or celebrate a pale pink dawning.

Hemlock Haunting by Sara Wright

When I stand under

one of these giants

I sink into the dark

spiraling into

Deep Time.

If Hemlock

does not succumb

to insects

a poisoned sky

this tree might

live out a natural life…

800 years is eight to

ten times longer

than this piercing pain

of mine –

So why is

anguish

stretching me

into ‘forever’

mourning trees

without hope?

One difference

is that Hemlock

lives in community

with others that care –

the kindness of kin

both young and old

Roots entwine, support…

communicate.

Comfort seeds the air.

Hemlocks can tolerate

the darkest forest

gloom, the sparse

spongy needle strewn

floor stores

a multitude of seeds…

for hundreds of years…

Witch hobble thrives

above, golden

beech composts

future…

400 million years

of Life

buried a few

feet deep….

If nature’s patterns

wed to genes

story a future

when Earth

is ready to birth,

these trees

might rise again

as Blessed

Green Beings

once despised

and rejected

insect infected

Now thriving

in Balance

with All That Is…

___________________________________________________________________

Biblical Poetry – Trees by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Image from an Egyptian tomb ca. 1314-1200 BCE. Isis is giving nourishment in the form of fruit and drink,

In many cultures of the world, including our own, trees are considered the ancestors of humanity – own our ancestors.

Trees are connected with great goddesses throughout antiquity. We see this in the bible where, as I’ve noted before, the Tree of Life is Eve’s tree for the word Eve means life. It is, in essence, the Tree of Eve. Goddesses in trees feeding humans were common themes in ancient Middle Eastern art. The tree was Hers to give freely of as she wished.

Anthropologist and religious scholar, Mircea Eliade writes extensively about the associations of trees ancestral connection to humans. He calls them both mystical and mythical.[1] His examples include the Miao groups of Southern China and Southeast Asia who “worship the bamboo as their ancestor.” He also notes Australian tribes who view the mimosa as their progenitor. And there is a tribe from Madagascar, called Antaivandrika which means “people of the tree,” who considered themselves descended from the banana tree.

Upon Rising: Poems Call Out by Margot Van Sluytman

Moderator’s Note: Margot reads each of her poems aloud. They can be heard through the links in the titles.

“And what then is poetry?” We ask this time and time and time again. And poetry HERself answers. SHE needs no descriptor. Mimetic sagacity spells HER clarity.
~~~
Dreams be Fed
I am a body that remembers

The joys of falling into hues of

Brilliant blues and greens.

I am a soul that trades in
Cinnamon and spices.

Elevating chance.
Caressing mystery.
I am a will that conceives fat
Ebullient Moon as
Golden Goddess. Divine.

SHE who feeds our dreams.
SHE who teaches us