Memories of Morning Glory

From a party at Farida & Conly's house, July 2006

In my view, one of the most comforting activities one can do after a loved one has passed through the veil is telling stories about the deceased.  Stories tell us who we are, where we came from, what we might become.  They are our primary teaching tools.

“We're all made of stories.  When they finally put us underground, the stories are what will go on.  Not forever, perhaps, but for a time.  It’s a kind of immortality, I suppose, bounded by limits, it’s true, but then so’s everything.”
                                                                                                        ~ Charles de Lint

One of my first memories of Morning Glory was from 1981 when we were both at the first MerryMeet gathering that accompanied CoG’s Grand Council, held at Rodeo Beach in California.  Although time has dimmed my memory, I do carry many fond ones of this, one of my first larger witchen gatherings.  (See Judy Harrow.)

At that time she and Oberon (Otter then) were members of a CoG member coven called Holy Order of Mother Earth (HOME)[1], which is one of the best names for a coven I’ve ever come across.

Decompose & Recompose

We who were there collaborated on several rituals that weekend.  My then-coven, Holy Terrors, also offered a unique ritual celebrating the Wheel of the Year; that’s fodder for another feast.  However, there was one ritual the strongest memory of which I carry is the chanting of “Decompose and recompose and decompose and recompose and decompose and recompose.”  I’m not sure if Morning Glory was the one who came up with that power chant, for that’s what it was, but I do remember her flinging her head and body up and down while she chanted that phrase with great gusto.

Medusa & the Unicorn

Another early memory is from a Samhain event in Berkeley that was either one of Gwydion Penderwen’s Witches’ Balls or the first repeat performance (i.e., second) Spiral Dance ritual.  (Since Gwydion died in 1982 and the Spiral Dance debuted in 1979, it had to have been 1980 or ’81.)  Anyone who knew Morning Glory knows that she loved to dress up.  What better occasion to strut your stuff than at Hallows?  There she was, leading a live unicorn (Lancelot, methinks) dressed as Medusa.  She wore snake skin-printed close-fitting pants and top made of some kind of shiny nylon fabric.  Her face was painted green, and if memory serves, she wore some kind of blinking eyeglasses.  Spectacles or not, her hair served as her crowning glory.  Dozens of rubber snakes adorned her head, weaving and bobbing as she moved, and making an unforgettable and powerful image.   She darted her tongue in and out a lot, and when she spoke, she hissed the esses. We didn’t have digital cameras in those days, but I hope someone got a snapshot or three.  Perhaps my writing this will cause one to resurface from someone’s archives.

Roasting a Pig

Years later my then-lover and I went to Annwfn for Beltane.  The Zells and their entourage had recently returned from an expedition to the Caribbean in search of dugongs to explore a theory about mermaids.  We were eager to here their reports and view their photos.

The plan was to feed the assembled Pagans with a pig that was being roasted buried in a pit.  It seems that often hippies have more enthusiasm than real knowledge, because although the pig had been roasting all day, when exposed we found it to be raw.  The sun was setting, stomachs were beginning to growl, and there was no pig upon which to feast.  So by this time Morning Glory, myself, and maybe one or two others had taken the pig into the yurt where we began cutting the pig into smaller pieces and cooking them fast in a skillet.

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Let us tell our stories.  Let us celebrate our loved ones, those who are here and those who’ve gone to the Other Side.

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[1]   HOME is now the name of an Elvin nature sanctuary in Indiana.  That was 1981 and this is 2014 C.E.

Laura Janesdaughter: A Priestess Passes

The world has long another Pagan Priestess, my friend Laura Janesdaughter, Founder of the Temple of Isis in Los Angeles.

MaryScarlett Amaris, Caroline Wise, Laura Janesdaughter, Isadora Forrest, and Macha in front of "Mother Mary on the Halfshell" at a former Carmelite convent, current Buddhist monastery, in Long Beach Harbor. Photo by Lunnea Weatherstone

I first met Laura when she invited me to participate in an event she was producing called Isis 2000.  More about that event here.  I enjoyed our private time together at least as much as the public event.  Although I didn’t know Laura as well as many, I found her to be refreshingly low on drama and high on organization and follow-through, excellent qualities for a public priestess.  We share a love of cats and an appreciation for honest, straightforward communication.

Later in 2000, I presented a ritual called “A Rainbow of Goddesses,” sponsored by The Lilith Institute and the New College of California Women’s Spirituality Program.  This performance featured masks made by Lauren Raine of thirteen goddesses from many times and places.  The first to appear was Amaterasu Omikami, Japanese Sun goddess, embodied by Laura Janesdaughter.  Laura and her friend traveled all the way from Los Angeles in order for her to participate in this working; her friend sang in the small choir that accompanied the arrival of each goddess.  I was deeply honored that they should make this effort.  They evidently thought it was worth it.

Amaterasu Omikami, embodied by Laura Janesdaughter. Photo by Tom Lux © 2000

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Laura and I remained in infrequent by loving contact from then on.  When Lauren Raine began to make a new series of goddess masks in 2012, and they were debuted at the annual meeting of the Association for the Study of Women & Mythology in San Francisco, a wheelchair-bound but bright and eager Laura came and sat front and center.  Her encouragement of Lauren’s mask work and my ritual work was a source of solid support.

In my experience, Laura demonstrated responsibility and reliability, exuded good cheer and dedication to Isis, and took care of business with care and no drama.  Her loss leaves a tear in the multicolored tapestry of the Los Angeles goddess community.  Knowing Laura has enriched my life and I, too, will mourn her now and will remember her at every Samhaintide. "In love may she return again."

It's a Generational Thing: Musing on Our Youth

Greg Harder  © 2011

At this year's 32nd Annual Spiral Dance Samhain ritual, amidst about 15 glorious altars, the East altar in particular delighted me.  I found it beautiful with all the white and lights and several different kinds of knives.  One of my most valued magical tools, the blade clearly fosters discernment, allowing us to separate this from that, truth from fantasy, fact from fiction, the pertinent from the irrelevant.  With it we can delineate crisp boundaries when we want them.  We can envision blue flame when we trace sigils in the air with the tip of the blade..

Also on the altar were feathers and wings, a recorder and a violin and bow, an open book of musical notations, and other books.  Books!  Intellect!  Something I value highly and find undervalued and underused in many Pagan communities.

When I asked who created this altar, I learned it was the youth from Teen Earth Magic (TEM).  They obviously have learned their magical symbolism well.  From the looks of the altar, they also enjoy working together to create something of beauty to share with their larger community.

Calling the Beloved Dead

Once the ritual had begun, I sat watching various invocations being offered, waiting for the activity I had really come for, the big, intoxicating spiral dance itself, when I was shocked out of my complacency by a powerful invocation that stood out among all.  About six young adults came into the central circle amidst the big crowd, and they called, "Beloved Dead, we call you."  From various parts of the crowd arose black-veiled persons, each making her or his way to the center and joining one of the living callers in an embrace.  In silence.  The reverence, respect and love embodied in their invocation honored the memory of all those we love who have passed from this world of the living in a way not often seen.  With minimal words, masterful movement, and solemn silence.

I learned that this invocation of the Beloved Dead had been created by guess who?  The young people from TEM, with the help of dancer and performance artist Keith Hennessey.

These are kids who grew up in our community.  Many attended Witchlets in the Woods family camps with their parents when they were younger, then joined the older kids in TEM camp.  I know a few of them a bit and one well.  Many of their parents are the generation of my children.  When my contemporaries were young parents, our Craft was truly occult, being hidden deep in the dark recesses of the broom closet.  As a movement, we were comprised of younger adults rather than having grown up in Pagan families.  All of us had sought, and ultimately found (and/or created/co-created), an alternative, more spiritually satisfying religion from the ones, in any, in which we were brought up.  Most of us came to Craft from mainstream Abrahamic religions.

I'm heartened to know that these children are hearing our ancient, and new, stories, learning songs and magic, being steeped in Pagan ideals, all changes that enrich our Pagan culture.  As it behooves younger people to listen and learn from those who've walked a Pagan path ahead of them, so too it gladdens the hearts of those of us who are older to listen and learn from our vibrant youth.  Only when all of us -- the full spectrum of humanity, from the Beloved Dead through all the ages of the living, to the yet-to-be-born -- work and play in concert can we enjoy a religion that draws upon ancient wisdom, applies our knowledge and creativity to the present we inhabit, in pursuit of a sustainable world for all humanity.