Showing posts with label Gwydion Pendderwen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gwydion Pendderwen. Show all posts

Thursday, May 22, 2014

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.

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


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

Friday, February 11, 2011

Beth "Bone Blossom" Saunders

I am saddened to be writing about the passing of my old Holy Terrors coven sister, Bone Blossom (Ardath Elizabeth Saunders Stanford). We were very close for many years, yet in recent years we had less frequent contact. She had been ill for some time, and the last I heard from her in late October, she spoke of having been very ill but having just turned the corner and begun to recover. Since then she underwent emergency abdominal surgery, then died last night in ICU of a stroke as she was being weaned from a respirator. I'm comforted to know that her husband, Jim, and sons Silas (now Renzo) and Guthrie were with her during her final hours.

Born on the Winter Solstice of 1948 in Little Rock, Arkansas, Bone often spoke of her love for the crystals to be found in Mount Ida. She attended Carleton College in Minnesota, and later landed, with her two sons, in San Francisco, which is where our paths crossed. She became close friends with another psychonaut like herself, Terrence McKenna. She traveled often to Colombia, where she conceived her elder son Silas, and to other parts of South America to learn native weaving techniques and to explore native spiritual practices on their lands, particularly those involving entheogens.

We met in a class created by Starhawk and, IIRC, Lauren Liebling, called The Iron Pentacle, the first of its kind, in around 1979. Several people in that class joined together to form a coven we called Holy Terrors.[1] The four years during which we met every single Tuesday night, plus for sabbats and Reclaiming open rituals -- public rituals were a new thing in those days -- profoundly shaped the Witches we all became. Bone, along with Sophia Sparks, Cerridwen Fallingstar,[2] and myself, formed the nucleus of Holy Terrors.

Soon Bone followed her heart to Middletown, Connecticut, where she continued teaching what she had learned. A coven with the wonderful name of Ouroborous Isis Gnosis formed as a result of that teaching. I had the pleasure of meeting many of its members at CoG's MerryMeet in Amherst, MA, in 2006.

In the early '80s, Bone and Anna Korn co-taught a wonderful course in herbs and plants. In addition to learning specific plants and their uses for healing, dyeing, and such, we went on local herb walks and we created potions and salves and dyed eggs with natural dyes.

Bone had a huge loom in her living room upon which she wove all manner of wonderful cloth. For the direct action at Lawrence Livermore Labs at the maybe Brigit of 198? she created an open weaving into which demonstrators wove flowers, photographs, and other things; then we stretched the web across the road to the lab. It was for this demonstration that Starhawk wrote the chant, "We are the flow, we are the ebb, we are the weavers, we are the web."[CORRECTION] As we sang, a group of policemen on motorcycles tried to destroy the web by driving through it. Well, you know how strong webs are. Instead of rending the web, the cops became entangled in it. Our late friend Sequoia approached the officers and with profuse apologies tried to disentangle the cops, and their guns, from the weaving. Eventually we managed to toss the weaving over the fence separating lab property from the rest of Livermore, where it was charged to do its work.

For one Midsummer action at Livermore, Bone and I took lots of home-fried chicken and other food and designer coffee, with linens for the picnic table, to the park where the direct activists were camping. That night we burned a glorious wicker man. I especially remember Sequoia and me stripped to the waist, sweating, and dancing up the fire that was baking the sacred loaf.[3] Bone and I had young children at home so we weren't planning to be arrested; we came to do magic outside lab property and to support those who risked arrest.

At the very first MerryMeet[4] in 1981, CoG produced, at Rodeo Beach, we Holy Terrors offered a ritual as our contribution to the event. Called the Wheel of the Year, it featured one HT for each of the eight sabbats, with Meg Granito leading in introductory meditation and my late husband, Rod Wolfer, drumming. Needless to say, our Bone was the Hag of Winter.[5]

In 1984, at Harbin Hot Spring, California, where MerryMeet was produced by Glenn Turner as the first Ancient Ways Festival[6], Bone, Sharon Devlin,[7] and I created a ritual we called "Kali, the Terrible Mother, and Other Dark Goddesses." The reason I know it was in 1984 is because that's the year Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was released, and that film was one of the instigations for our doing the ritual. All three of us are devotées of the Dark Mother. Sharon in particular was offended at the portrayal of Kali in that movie. We decided She needed a proper revival.

We set the rite out in a triangle around a bonfire under old oaks in the middle of a meadow at the witching hour of midnight. Sean Folsom accompanied us for parts of the ritual on a thighbone trumpet. The late Paul Ehrhorn beat a huge Middle Eastern drum.

We began with Bone, dressed in white, leading celebrants into trance by evoking many bone-white goddesses, like Skadi. As she spoke, I carried an iron cauldron from person to person and had them reach inside and take a bone. (Bone had gotten lots of animal bones from a butcher.) They held these bones while she spoke.

Following Bone, I, dressed in red, spoke of many bloodier goddesses, Sharon passed around a skull chalice[8] containing pomegranate juice for each person to take a sip. Many were completely convinced that the cup contained blood.

Finally, Sharon, in black (big surprise), led celebrants deeper into the mysteries of the Dark Mother.

Then we three, all of whose faces had been veiled in our respective colors up to that point, lined up -- Bone, Macha, Sharon -- and, waving our arms up and down holding in our hands Kali's tools of flaying knife, skull, and other implements, swept off our veils, amidst shrieking, blast of thighbone trumpet, thunder of giant drum. We began a Kali chant --

Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Jai!
Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Kali! Jai Ma Jai!
Jai Ma! Jai Ma! Jai Ma! Jai Ma!
Jai Ma! Jai Ma! Jai Ma! Jai Ma!

over and over again, as each person passed through the tunnel made of our three sets of spread legs and emerged reborn.

After everyone had passed through, we refilled the skull chalice, only this time, in order to facilitate the return of the celebrants to a mundane state of consciousness, we poured in milk and salt. Ick, right? It did the trick.

Oh, the stories I heard afterward from people who participated! Sequoia, who was traveling in India at the time, even heard of it there from someone here. Evidently, it was quite effective. The chant we used has been widely shared around the California Pagan scene and beyond.

In 1987 MerryMeet was again held California, this time at Camp Swig in Saratoga. We were asked to reprise "Kali, the Terrible Mother," except that Sharon had moved and was unable to come, so Bone and I recruited Sequoia to complete our triad. This time Sophia Sparks created a stunning central altar around the bonfire, using lots of bones found in the wild, and we had different musicians. Sequoia had brought home from Bali three demon masks in our three colors.[9] We wore these masks on the backs of our heads, with the veils covering our faces in the front until the time when we unveiled.

When were were dressing for the ritual in the women's shower room, we conscripted a lovely red-haired woman who'd come inside to use the facilities and solicited her help in arranging and fastening our costumes. I remember that in our state of gearing up to perform the rite we were rather demanding. Yet she took it all in good spirits and helped us. Later I learned that our helper was Tarot authority Mary Greer.

By all accounts, this ritual also gave participants a powerful experience. This happened to be during a time when California was being devastated by wildfires. Some people claimed that we should not have performed our ritual because it was exacerbating the fires. Pffft!

Another story about Bone concerns the multicolored weaving she made for magical use in our coven. Mainly, we placed those in need of healing upon the weaving, which we called a magic carpet. One Tuesday night I arrived at coven in a state of agitation. I had just left fighting with my husband at home. My HT sisters insisted I sit upon the magic carpet and chill. We got to some idle chat about Craft names. I had been reading about Macha, and having just been in a state with Rod, I said, "I feel like Macha tonight!" From then on that was what they called me, and it still is.

For some time, when I was living in North Beach and Bone was working nearby on Russian Hill, she would come by most afternoons for coffee and conversation.

There are stories of Bone and some of us other HTs when we went to a Pagan festival in the Oakland Hills produced by the late Gwydion Penderwen and Stephan Abbott.

I could go on and on with stories about things Bone and I shared, but this is plenty to give readers an idea of the woman she was. Besides, some stories cannot be shared publicly.

I invite others who knew Bone to share stories on this blog so all of us may know better the wicked Witch who was Beth Bone Blossom.

My heart goes out to Jim, Silas, Guthrie, Bone's grandson Santino, and all her many, many loved ones who will miss her boney self. In love may she return again.

RHTH, Bone!


[1] We were nine, of whom only six remain alive today. The other departed Holy Terrors are Meg Granito and Judith Johnson.

[2] There is a scene on a beach in Marin County in Cerridwen's book, The Heart of the Fire, describing a shared experience with Bone, me and a few others.

[3] It was at that point that Sequoia finally recognized me as a Witch and not just a legal secretary, so she told me.

[4] CoG had been having annual Grand Councils since its founding in 1975, but its first MerryMeet festival happened the year I joined, 1981.

[5] Somewhere I have a snapshot of the ten of us in costume. I'll try to find it and scan it and publish it here.

[6] Caveat: I remember that Glenn Turner and Greg Harder produced that MM/AW festival, but I'm not entirely sure if it was at that one or a later one when we did this ritual.

[7] See the chapter "Interview with a Modern Witch" in Margot Adler's Drawing Down the Moon (1979).

[8] Yes, a real human skull, from somewhere in the Himalayas, and a real thighbone trumpet, too. We can save the discussion of the ethics of using such an object for another time.

[9] This night she died, Sequoia asked Rev. Jim to find these masks and give them to me, but he didn't find them then and doesn't seem to have found them yet. I promise to put them to good use when they come to me.

[CORRECTION] Here's an example of how the folk process, and individuals' memories, work. Starhawk informs me that she is not the author of the "We are the flow" chant; it was written by the late Shekinah Mountainwater. For two Livermore actions in 1982 Starhawk wrote "Rise With the Fire" and "We Are the Power in Everyone," the latter being for Summer Solstice. My apologies for my mistake.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Raven

This is a photo of a very young, and still healthy, Raven Moonshadow after the Spiral Dance at the SF Women's Building in 1982. He's standing in front of the "soul tree" (hung with clay skulls of various sizes made by sculptor Eleanor Myers (not visible in this shot)) wearing Moira's crow headdress that I'd worn during the ritual that night, and for some unknown reason of his own holding his teddy bear. This was the year after Gwydion Pendderwen passed. Sadly, the photographer, Ken Willard, is also on the other side of the veil with Raven and Gwydion.