Spiral Dance '06 Postmortem, Part I

Let me preface this entry by saying that it's gonna end up being several entries. I have too much to say to say it all at once. I want to be as honest as I can be, while knowing that many people I love may feel criticized. I hope that they can appreciate that even though I may seem caustic, I am saying what I'm saying out of love. I'm speaking from my heart as well as from my mind. I don't love them any less or more just because I may sound critical. I strive to hold us to higher standards.

My friend, ritualist, songwriter and performer Sparky T. Rabbit in Illinois has often said to me: "If it's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well." And "Does your ritual work honor your gods?" Everything I say concerning the Reclaiming's annual Spiral Dance Samhain ritual is said with these in mind.*

I attended the 27th Spiral Dance ritual on Saturday night. I had a small role proclaiming the feast. This is something I usually like to do and do rather well, if I say so myself. It's a beautiful piece written by Starhawk and modified just a wee bit over the years by Robin Weaver and myself. The last time I delivered it was in 1992, the last time, I think, the ritual was performed in the SF Women's Building. I remember its being a good one. Those I remember as being good are rare, and have gotten rarer as the years have past.

Last year the organizers rented a smaller venue, Kezar Pavilion, a basketball stadium with a very, very, very live floor. It's much homier. Last year's ritual took a 180-degree turn from exhibitionistic spectacle to community celebration. It's that spectacle part that I've felt so uncomfortable with. For me, Samhain is not the time to show off, even if you do invite the pubic; it's the time to honor our Beloved Dead. It's the time to mourn the loss of our loved ones, to share our grief, to have our losses acknowledged and respected with and among our larger chosen Craft kin.

Because of this emphasis on spectacle, some of my more cynical friends have taken to calling the Spiral Dance the "Spiral Dance du soleil." I think the term is apt, or at least has been apt when applied to many performances of the basic rite. It seems that some organizers adopted the bigger is better notion so prevalent in the overculture. That's not a way I've ever viewed my religion. I don't think it's for everybody. I'm happy to welcome people who choose this path. I'm happy to offer teaching, guidance, counsel, feedback, whatever. I even rejoice in my religion. I'm as proud and enthusiastic as the most zealous of the newly converted when asked about Witchcraft and Paganism. But I don't expect everyone to be and I don't expect everyone to resonate with it, and I don't want to be in anyone's face or convert the masses. I think people can share our values, such as a recognition of our interconnection with all of life on this planet (and probably beyond), our obligation to steward our precious resources, from whatever religion they find comfort in. They don't have to be Pagans in order to appreciate the mandate to care for our Earth. We all breathe the same air, drink the same water, rely on Earth's riches for our food.

The Spiral Dance has for many years experienced what I liken to an identity crisis. It doesn't know if it's a ritual, a political rally, a circus, or a rave. It has had elements of all four, and has done no single one well. For some years, the SD saw giant puppets, stilt-walkers, people twirling fire batons, people on trapezes or coming down from the girders of Herbst Pavilion on ropes. Now these are all fun and interesting things to watch, very entertaining. But are those who perform them being priest/esses? Some perhaps are. Others have been hired for their particular performance skill, have left the ritual after they've been on, and I cannot think that they've considered their participation anything along the lines of priest/essing, or helping to move and shape the energy of the whole. (The notion of "priestess/ing" requires another tome. Suffice it to say that here I mean performing sacerdotal roles.)

Last year, however, a different crew took on the task of planning the ritual. Although I was invited by two of the main organizers to participate, there was miscommunication between one of those individuals and the cell, as the planning group is known, that resulted in my not participating at that level. I was, however, asked to invoke the Ancestors, the Mighty Dead of the Craft, and the Beloved Dead, who were not being individually named that year. A daunting task, I thought.**

I was pleased with how I met that challenge. I think I did right by them (the Ancestors, the MD, and the BD). I loved the whole ritual, nearly every little part of it. And believe me, I'm known to be quite the evaluator of ritual, not always a good way to be known.

In any case, I had hoped this year would improve upon last year. Both last year and this year I tried to persuade some of our more alienated kin to attend. Some did; most didn't.

* * * * *

* I may be misquoting slightly, so as soon as Sparky calls me back I'll correct these to read exactly as he says them. Steven Posch also says this. I have so many lively conversations with both of them about Witchcraft, Paganism, scholarship, ritual, gods, ancestors, and the like that I may have run together who said what. I'll clarify who said what and how and make corrections in a future post.

** Not calling the Beloved Dead by name is also fodder for another long exposition.

El Dia de Los Muertos Altar

I took this after a Dianic coven's Samhain ritual last night at Victoria's house. This altar stands in her shared courtyard, where neighbors and friends add to it. I took several shots without flash, but I don't have a sophisticated enouch camera, or maybe a sophisiticated enough photographer, to have gotten much detail and all you can see are the flames in the novena candles.

Here's a darker one:

Triple Goddess

This is one of my favorite photos. Taken by the late Ken Willard either before or after, but not during, the Spiral Dance in San Francisco's Women's Building in 1982, it features Sequoia as the Crone, an eight-months-pregnant Cerridwen Fallingstar as the Mother, and the Maiden will remain unnamed because I suspect she's in the broom closet back in her home state in Dixie.

This year the Spiral Dance number 27 is in Kezar Pavilion, a basketball stadium in the Haight-Ashbury District with an incredibly live, bouncy floor, a delight for dancing. I'll be proclaiming the feast.

Global Orgasm Spell

On December 29, 2002, a chilly (for these parts) Winter day, Corby and I participated in a project called Baring Witness for Peace. We were among many local folks who stripped and posed for photos on Drake's Beach.



I'm the last woman on the far right of upper part of the final "E" in PEACE. By the time we women were photographed by the photographers on the cliff above us, the tide was turning and my skin was being lapped by the income surf.

Corby is the man on the vertical just above the upside-down "V" of the peace symbol.

Friends and I have posed in a couple more shots, most recently "VOTE" on Love Field in Point Reyes Station in July 2004, when Victoria and Prudence and I drove out together. I'll let you guess where Victoria and Prudence are; I'm on the top of the "E" again.



Now our friends at Baring Witness have come up with another of what we Witches might call a "working." Global Orgasm on December 22, 2006. Join us!

New Moon, New Tatts

Here's the results of my first session with Heath of Spider Murphy's Tattoo right here in San Rafael. This was the first tattooist I've actually been able to reach and make an appointment with since starting to search for one in August. I'd hoped Madame Vyvyn Lazonga could have done it, since she's done most of my others and I really like her, as tattooist, as friend, as innovator, as a committed feminist and independent woman, as an artist, and as Pagan. But alas! she's in Seattle and wasn't coming down here for that tattoo show at the Cow Palace that month.

These poppies turned out larger than I'd imagined, but glorious, methinks. They needed to be this large in order to get the detail that I wanted. They're just about the size of live poppies. The black outlines will be barely visible; they're just there to define the shapes. I wish they could be done in time for the Spiral Dance and Samhain itself, but Heath doesn't have any more open appointment times before then. Maybe he'll have a cancellation. It'll be interesting, and challenging, to see how he captures the subtle coloration of the leaves and flowers on my aging skin.

I'm publishing this photo to show you a work in progress. The next time I mention these new tatts they'll be brightly colored. Once these are done, I'll be satisfied that I have all the tattoos I want in this lifetime.

Mighty Dead of the Craft

This photo is a detail from an altar to the Dead created by the late Judy Foster and crew in 1982.

As I move into a time of remembering the Beloved Dead, I realize that today is the birthday of my late husband, my daughter's father, Rod Wolfer. He was born in '33 and died on 11/22/88 (anniversary of the deaths of both JFK and Aldous Huxley in 1963) so had he lived, he'd be 71 today. As we often say, "What is remembered lives."

Here's a seasonal suggestion, something I wrote in 2001 for Witchvox called "The Mighty Dead, the Beloved Dead and Us." Caveat: Ruminations on such elusive and subjective topics are always undergoing revisions. Food for thought this darkening season.

Another Wonderful New Book about Our Earth

This book. entitled Circling San Francisco Bay, was written by one of the first people I ever initiated into the Craft, about 25 years ago, a lovely, sensitive, smart, accomplished, committed healer woman called Freyja. In fact, her coven, Stone Dancers, which she refers to in her bio as her women's circle, still thrives. They're one of my favorite circles. She published it under her mundane name, Ginny Anderson, only she didn't include the fact that she has a Ph.D. (under yet another name, her earlier married name). Not only is the subject matter sacred, but her writing is eloquent. Here's what I had to say for the cover:

Shamanic naturalist [Ginny] Anderson takes us to seven sacred sites around San Francisco Bay to gain a better understanding of their connections, and ours, in the complex web of life. The exercises she offers are accessible to all of whatever religion, or none. This is a celebration of our glorious bioregion, and our responsibility to it -- and not a moment too soon.

I trust that disclosing the fact that she's Pagan won't compromise her credibility in the overculture. In the first place, it shouldn't matter whether she's American, Scandinavian, Jewish or anything else, and in the second place, this blog is not widely read.

Three Witches

Here's a photo of Steven Posch, me, and Sparky T. Rabbit taken by Wren in front of Steve's (well, actually Craig's) elegant house in Minneapolis (built in 1912). I take this opportunity to say that these two men are the most creative, accomplished Pagan ritualists in North America that I've ever encountered. I ain't half bad either. ;-)

Back from Paganistan

I'm back home after several days and many scintillating conversations with my Paganistani pals. For readers who don't know where Paganistan is, it's the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, alleged to be 15% Pagan. I suspect that figure, if indeed it is accurate, includes Native Americans, Southeast Asians, Hindus, practitioners of African diaspora religions and others as well as contemporary Euro-Pagans; regardless, there's a thriving NeoPagan presence there.

I was invited to give the keynote speech for Twin Cities Pagan Pride Day on the theme of Bridging the Worlds. I spoke of several ways that theme might be approached, then chose to focus on interfaith and collaborative green efforts. If I can manage it, I'd like to refine and expand my notes into an article that can then be read by people who weren't there to hear.

I have nothing but praise for the organizers and all their supporters. Dealing with them was a pleasure. They were always gracious, professional and standup. I thank especially my old CoG friend Gary Lingen (since the very first MerryMeet at Rodeo Beach in Marin County in 1981) for suggesting my name and contacting me, as well as local coordinators Margaret Eastman and Shannon Fairbanks, CoG friend Bonita Blumenauer of the Paganistan Besom Brigade, pursewarden Wendy Seidl, publications Keith Campbell, and webmistress Nora Lundquist. They surely must have been exhausted at the end of the day because it was non-stop activities, from workshops to vendors to food to rituals, with lots and lots of people coming and going. I don't know the final tally, but everyplace I went was crowded.

I took advantage of this opportunity to come early and visit people I always have the most stimulating conversations with. I stayed with Steven Posch and Wren, spent a morning being interviewed by Todd Berntson and his assistant Cindy for their Witchy Films project, schmoozed with the "meddling elders," circled an old oak along the banks of the mighty Mississippi with Prodea Coven and the unquiet dead under a gorgeous Autumn Full Moon, and dined and shopped with my old pal Sparky Rabbit. On my last day there Steven, Sparky and I enjoyed sukkot breakfast under the sukkah shelter Steve, Wren and I had erected earlier, where Steven recited Hebrew prayers and we three sang to Asherah.

The Self-Made Man

About a year ago I happened to run into a friend when I attended a panel sponsored by Compassion in Dying (now Compassion & Choices). A primary speaker was Barbara Coombs Lee, Chief Petitioner for Oregon's Death with Dignity Act and a woman who has frequently testified before the U.S. Congress on end-of-life issues. I'd met this friend, Susan Stern, in some of the first circles to which I was invited back in the 1970s; we hadn't seen each other in years. When I inquired what brought her to this event, she told me of her father's death on July 5th of that year, just a few months earlier, and how he'd left a video for herself and her sister. She was there as part of her research for the film she was making with this material. The result of Bob Stern's gift to his daughters is The Self-Made Man. So even though I was unable to attend the film's debut screening, I was delighted to know that it had been completed. Not only done, but done so well it's up for an Emmy.

I finally had an opportunity to watch this film last night on our local PBS station, KQED. Susan has built the story the around her father's amazingly pragmatic decision to cut his losses and spare his family and himself the aftermath of cardiac surgery, and more perilously, advanced prostate cancer, by taking his own life. But, just as Susan had told me at our fortuitous meeting, before he did this, and as part of his process he discussed it with his wife Adele and son Mike, and, left a videotape for his daughters, Laura and Susan. Featuring interviews with family, old friends and eventually grandchildren, voiceover ruminations by the filmmaker, and a synopsis of Bob Stern's self-made, and financially bountiful, life, The Self-Made Man offers a personal insights into the timely issue of 'conscious self-deliverance.' Filmmaker Susan Stern , her family, and especially her dad, have given us a beautiful, thought-provoking and compassionate film.

Bob is all the more remarkable for having been a pioneer in the field of solar power in California's Central Valley. Thus, his life had great meaning on many scores, meanings that live beyond his mortality.

As an advocate for choice in matters of living and dying, I cannot recommend this film more highly. Here is a schedule of airings on PBS' Point of View.

Susan is also the producer of Barbie Nation: An Authorized Tour.

Nobel Peace Laureate Inspires

Last night my friend and colleague Malendia Maccree and I went to Angelico Hall at Dominican University here in my town to hear a talk by Shirin Ebadi. She spoke to a full house of 700 on the topic of "Human Rights, Islam and the West."

I was delighted to see that she was introduced, in Persian, by my colleague in the Marin Interfaith Council and on the Board of Directors of the Foundation for the Advancement of Women in Religion (NAWR), Dr. Nahid Angha, founder of the Sufi Women Organization. The enthusiastic crowd greeted Ms. Ebadi with a standing ovation when she first stepped onto the stage, once during her talk, and at the conclusion, with many bursts of applause throughout the evening.

During the Q&A afterwards, one question was what she'd tell George Bush about Iran if she were to meet with him. She answered, ""I would suggest to him that he not be president anymore." Full report in Sunday's edition of the Marin Independent Journal.

Afterwards, Malendia and I chatted in the lobby with a few of the folks I've met through MIC, before buying her book, Iran Awakening: A Memoir of Revolution and Hope, which Ms. Ebadi autographed.

Only Sunday morning did I realize I had blown another interfaith event I'd intended to experience. Tibetan monk Losang Samten created a sand mandala of the 2,500-year-old Wheel of Life design at the Marin Center Exhibition Hall. On Saturday he swept it away and disbursed it in the lagoon. I'm really disappointed I missed it. The only other one I've seen was in the late '90s when my friend Pitch and I went to see the Tibet exhibit at the old De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park.

Cool Online Lecture

About six months ago I got the idea that if we, meaning Cherry Hill Seminary where I chair the Public Ministry Program, were using educational software to create cyber classrooms, we might as well expand our virtual campus with the addition of a lecture hall. I'm delighted to say that our initial foray was a great success.

I think tonight’s lecture started the series off with a bang. Beginning with Mary Windrider Bowerman’s gracious introduction, followed by Chas Clifton's fascinating presentation, and ending with provocative Q&A, it went off without a hitch. Chas had posted some excellent resources which he referenced in his talk. We had no delay with Chas dial-up connection, nor did anyone get bumped from the chat even once.

I found Chas' three divisions of "Nature religion" -- cosmic (astrology, 15th century CE European "natural magic," observations and celebrations of the seasons in the Wheel of the Year); Gaian (Earth as sacred being or embodied goddess, ecological point of view); and erotic or embodied (knowledge of the sacred comes from experiences perceived through our bodies, the sacralization of sex) -- a clear, insightful way to view our movement.

I urge you, dear reader, to consider attending next month’s lecture by Patricia Monaghan, one of the foremost goddess scholars in the world. Drawing from her book, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog, Patricia’s topic is "The Celtic Path: Spiritual Geography and the Irish Goddess."

The map of Ireland is also the map of the year's progression through the seasons and the related festivals. Each province is also connected with several important goddesses, with the island itself named for the goddess of the center, Eriu. Experiencing the spiritual geography of Ireland offers an opening to examining the spiritual geography of other lands as well.

My thanks to all who participated, especially Chas, for diving into these mysterious waters and playing together. May word of this offering spread around Pagandom and may we be joined by many others on October 8th.

Voices from the Other Side

It's obvious that the nights are lengthening and Autumn is approaching because I seem to be drawn to reflecting on old friends who've crossed over. Not necessarily friends who've left recently, either. Raven died in 1986 and came to mind -- well, he frequently comes to mind, mine and the minds of many others -- because his and our Shadowfax was dying. Ann Turner died in the '80s and Judy Foster in 2000. When Corby and I visited Ireland in 2004, our friend, linguist Jim Duran (Séamas Ó Direáin), now living in Galway, told us of the death of my old friend Padraigin McGillicuddy.

I have no photo of Padraigin. I can find nothing on the Web except references to her old radio show, "A Terrible Beauty," on KPFA. What I do have is fond memories.

Padraigin used to live in a huge old Victorian in Oakland, said to have been the childhood home of Gertrude Stein. She who is said to have said of Oakland, "There is no there there." I can't say what Oakland was like in the late 19th century when Gertrude lived there, but I find plenty there now.

Padraigin had a son named Sean Peter who died tragically some years ago, by his own hand. Our mutual friend, harper Sharon Devlin Folsom tells me that Padraigin's daughter, Kerry McGillicuddy, is an athlete, perhaps a phys ed teacher, a personal trainer or a coach. A Google search netted me the information that she used to be the recreation director of LYRIC and that she recently has been a women's basketball referee.

I'm mentioning all this detail because two people have contacted me about Padraigin. One has some family photos she'd like to give to Kerry. The other would like permission to reprint material from Padraigin's booklet, The Patriarch Revealed: A Feminist View of St. Patrick (1981). And speaking of the departed, another old Institute of Celtic Studies friend, Ken Ruffner, did the artwork on the cover and inside the book.

In the meantime, I've tried contacting another contributor to the book, Bob Callahan of Before Columbus Foundation and the New College Irish Studies Program to seek permission and to see if he can help me locate Kerry. If you have any information about Padraigin or Kerry, please contact me.

Music & Healing & Dying

Last week I attended a workshop given by Hospice of Marin for "Marin clergy and spiritual leaders," meaning I got the invitation by way of the Marin Interfaith Council. Hospice of Marin is the oldest hospice on the West Coast and second oldest in the country, to Connecticut. They must have a good source of funding because they recently moved into some mighty fancy digs. They outgrew their former building.

What a caring, dedicated group they are! I've met some of the hospice workers at MIC events. I've always considered people who do that work to be saints, or at least 'saintly,' even though we Pagans don't exactly have such a category of mortals. In any case, besides hospice care, MIC provides grief counseling and offers educational programs, like the one I'm writing about, to the communities they serve. They've expanded to serve Sonoma County, San Francisco County and part of San Mateo County.

The workshop included a presentation by Kathy Speas, a member of the Threshold Choir, a group of women who sing at the bedsides of dying people. (For some reason their website is down; I provide this link in case it's fixed by the time you read this. If it's not, you can read more here.) The Threshold Choir itself is about 15 women, but only two or three go to individuals; more could create too much commotion in a place where a peaceful atmosphere is best. They have some CDs available for purchase.

Another group that ministers to the dying through music is the Chalice of Repose: The Voice of Music-Thanatology.* Based in Missoula, Montana, but having centers in various cities around the world, Chalice of Repose offers harp music for the dying.

My friend Evergreen Erb, a Reclaiming Witch in Vermont, also does harp therapy to aid healing and to ease dying. She's a member of the International Harp Therapy Program; her magical harp can also be heard on some Reclaiming CDs.

The other speaker at the workshop was Maryliz Smith. (Her website does not appear to be working either.) Maryliz commutes from Marin County to Vancouver to work with cancer patients at the Callanish Healing Retreats Society; her bio is here. She played for us a triple ocarina. Ocarinas have been around for 12,000 years nearly everywhere humans have lived, but this was the first triple one I'd seen. One chamber plays a drone while the other two can be played by opening and closing the finger holes. At first I thought the sound was celestial, but as I listened I realized that it had the sound of wind in caves. I pictured Hekate leading Odysseus down into Hades, hearing the songs of shades in the darkness. The sound is engendered by the element Air resonating inside the clay of Earth. I want one! So far, the least expensive one I've found is $350, so if one comes into my possession, it ain't gonna happen anytime soon.

During the socializing at lunch, several of the people (one man, maybe eight or nine women) expressed frustration with their choir directors, pastors and rabbis because they'd found them to be inflexible about what music was appropriate to play for funerals and memorials. These women felt that using music that was meaningful to the deceased and her or his loved ones was important, even if traditional liturgical music were part of the ritual. Too frequently they'd met with opposition to this from those they'd most expected to want to care and help.

I could only nod my head, thinking of how creative we Pagans are when it comes to any kind of rite of passage. We are free to use what works best for us, regardless of whether it's considered secular or sacred. In my opinion, using secular music in a sacred manner sanctifies it. Nearly every day I'm reminded how great it is to be Pagan.

* Thanatology is "the scientific study of death and the practices associated with it, including the study of the needs of the terminally ill and their families."

Bringing Reclaiming Back into the Circle

Since I'm having trouble posting comments to The Wild Hunt, I've decided to just take the discussion over here.

Regarding Reclaiming's flaws, Andy sez:

There are too many sheep, too many shepherds for an organisation which (a) shouldn't be an organisation and (b) repeats ad nauseum that it is non-hierarchical when it clearly is and to anyone who falls outside the walls is visibly dependent on those who look up and those who are looked up to.

I don't quite get the "too many sheep, too many shepherds" analogy, since presumably we teach, among other things, self-empowerment, and sheep just follow. Further, I don't see any organization "which shouldn't be an organisation"; rather, I see us as a collective identity rather than a specific group. No one can ever accuse us, or most other Pagan groups, or being organized. >smile< is a hierarchy within Reclaiming, and there always has been. Unacknowledged hierarchy is toxic.

There seem a million and one issues to be looked at and hopefully addressed but for me the problem is that those doing the examination are those who fall within the walls and so all you'll get is a core group of people making changes which others will have to choose to either accept or move on. You will still have 'them and 'us' with some acknowledging that and others pretending otherwise.

Many, if not most, of those of us "within the walls," as Andy puts it - I'm assuming he's counting me among the insiders, although I'm not; I've just stuck around all along -- have always been open to the involvement and opinions of others. I've noticed changes having been made -- I could name a few -- but I've only accepted the ones I like and I've ignored the ones I don't like. I know I'm not alone in this attitude.

Again, I realize Andy is talking about British Reclaiming (and by extension presumably Avalon WitchCamp), about which I know next to nothing. I do know that the lovely Ann Flowers has also felt frozen out, so maybe there's something to look a there. I'm only speaking about the larger, and vaguer, Reclaiming identity, not about the health or dysfunction of any particular Reclaiming-identified entity.

For my own part, I now consider myself a solitary Reclaimer - not that I work in isolation, as I find I now work with a wonderfully eclectic group within which are people following different traditions but working together, what a shocker! - and I feel somewhat resentful, I must admit, towards the tight ball of beliefs which make up Reclaiming today, many of which are bolted onto its original values.

Again, differences in perception, I guess. I have always worked with Witches of different traditions. In fact, there have often been Witches of different trads, and even non-Witches >gasp!<, involved in the annual Spiral Dance Samhain ritual in San Francisco. In my observation, magical working groups form more around friendships and interpersonal compatability than around a given tradition.

British Reclaiming, certainly, is making little if any difference to wider society. I believe it makes no difference whatsoever and if it grows, it grows so slowly as to make demands for it to be reappraised worthy of being listened to and acted upon. But they aren't. There is no stomach for change. It's too cosy, too much of a club.

First, I don't see growth as an important goal. If the Craft grows, it does. If it doesn't, it doesn't. What I would like to see expand, however, is an attitude of respect towards the world and its inhabitants and workings, an awareness of our interconnectedness and interdependence, honor and love for Earth. It doesn't matter to me whether people are Witches or not. Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, atheists, anyone, as long as they can appreciate this interdependence.

It seems a natural human phenomenon to fear change. I don't think it's a healthy attitude, and I share it myself at times, but I do think it's part of the human condition. The only thing we can be sure of is change. I remind myself that, "She changes everthing She touches, and everything She touches changes."

Ask most British pagans and witches, do you know what Reclaiming is? The answer is invariably, what? And, who? After so long a history, it is telling that Reclaiming - with so much to offer on paper, as it were - remains practically invisible here. There are more people involved in strange cults centred around science-fiction novels. Why is that?

Does it matter? We Pagans are fringe religions. So what? There's something to be said for moving in the shadows and along the borders. We are, after all, edgewalkers, are we not? Treading the liminal realms. If there are more people involved in scifi cults, that's because scifi is an industry, a commercial venture to sell books, movies, cartoons and gear. They are powered by profit motive and underwritten by corporations with their marketing strategies.

M Macha Nightmare is quite right in that damning line about Reclaiming being 'great for ravers and other energy junkies' - and the question is, can a religious/spiritual collective so dense, so compacted, so self-deluded into thinking it is non-hierarchical when it clearly has become so if it wasn't always, ever stand a chance of renewing and refreshing itself?

As I've mentioned above, I admit that there is (unacknowledged) hierarchy within the larger complex of Reclaiming as well as within individual Reclaiming groups, and that that isn't good or healthy. But Reclaiming is anything but monolithic. Otherwise these discussions wouldn't be taking place.

Reclaiming has become a starched monolithic organisation closer to a corporation in its outworkings than a vibrant spiritual tradition.

I see no evidence of a corporate structure, in spite of some Reclaiming groups having incorporated and written bylaws, designated (not elected) officers, and acquired 501(c)(3) tax status with the Internal Revenue Service (in the US). I have to laugh because I see no evidence of starchiness anywhere. Maybe a bit of scorching here and there, but everything's pretty loosey-goosey from my perspective.

My own take is that Reclaiming values and principles are sound enough and work for me as an individual. They resonate with truth. It is (some) people I have been disillusioned by. I doubt in the UK whether Reclaiming will ever become anything other than a marginal, near-invisible tradition within the pagan community here. The flaws with its structure are too apparent and sadly detract from the core values when presented to those who might otherwise be drawn towards it but find themselves running in the opposite direction.

It seems as though Andy has taken the best of what Reclaiming has to offer and applied it in his life. That's what it's all about. Huzzah!

What's the solution? Well, can any one person say? What I do know is that dissenting, arguing voices are stamped upon more often than not, often treated appallingly unjustly and inexcusably maligned, and while that climate of repression and bullying is condoned and promoted, there seems little hope of seeing an end to the navel-gazing which goes no deeper than the surface.

Well, I certainly have observed, and even been victim of, this dismissal of unpopular or unwelcome opinions. That said, I don't agree that it has been universally condoned or promoted. I've spent many hours in meetings while such differences are worked out -- or not. But more often than not the effort is made. Sometimes the 'fit' just isn't right and one or more people come to realize that they might find a better fit elsewhere.

I've experienced some of the disillusion and hurt that Andy seems to be experiencing now. In defense, I can only say, from my longer-range vantage point, that we're human. I, for one, am sticking around.

Brief Break for Reminiscing

Back in the early '70s I worked at a place called the National Center for Experiments in Television in a warehouse down at 7th and Folsom in San Francisco. NCET was at the cutting edge of the new medium of video art. The Ford and Rockefeller grant money that funded this artistic endeavor was admistered by KQED, one of the three most respected stations in the PBS network (with WNET in New York and WGBH in Boston) -- back when public television really was public television and not the wimpy corporate toady it's become now. Now so much of the programming is motivational speakers and music concerts appealing to boomers. Nothing to upset the current administration, that's for sure.

Anyway, the PR person at NCET and I grew to be good friends. Her name was Ann Turner, later called herself Anna Mystic when she and Stephen Hill broadcast Music from the Hearts of Space from the KPFA studio very late at night.

Ann had asked me to let her know when I went in to labor. That night, June 10, 1976, I phoned her just as she was about to go on the air. She played music to welcome Deirdre. It was the Full Moon in Sagittarius. We had the radio on in the room but I wasn’t paying attention, obviously.

The following Full Moon in July, I had the show on and I heard this lovely mysterious music. It sounded so familiar. So I phoned Ann and asked her what it was. She told me it was Alan Stivell playing Breton harp music, and checked her playlist from the previous month for the time Deirdre was born in the wee hours of the morning of June 11th. Sure enough, that was the exact thing she’d been broadcasting when Deirdre came into the world.

After Ann left NCET and Hearts of Space, she collaborated with musician Constance Demby. Ann and I had lost touch for some years, until one day some years ago when I was reading "the Irish Sporting Green," i.e., the obituary pages of the paper, I saw that she'd passed away. From the award-winning little Point Reyes Light:

Stinson resident dies at age 53. A Stinson Beach resident for more than 10 years, Anna Turner died of cancer Aug. 27 at her home. She was 53. A music producer and a writer, Ms. Turner was one of the first writers for KQED's Focus magazine. "She was a very talented craftsman of words," said her mother, Rosalind McRoskey of San Mateo this week. Born in San Mateo, Ms. Turner attended Northwestern University before transferring to UC Berkeley and earning a degree in Journalism. She joined the then-emerging KQED radio and television stations as a writer, McRoskey said, noting that one assignment involved traveling to Mexico to teach people there about American television. Ms. Turner also co-founded "Music from the Hearts of Space" radio program of ambient electronic, multi-cultural music...

"In love may she return again."

Cooling Down

I feel much better tonight after checking out some facts. I'm not leaving this community. I can't be gotten rid of that easily. If that were the case, I'd have been gone long ago. It's not just stubbornness either. I've put a lot of myself into Reclaiming over the years. I haven't been at the center of things all of that time, by choice. But I've been involved. I've contributed and collaborated, consensed and created. I've done grunt work and visible work. I've also griped about what I think we're doing wrong and praised and bragged about what I think we've done right.

When I've done the former, I've managed to upset people who don't want to hear what I have to say, but I can honestly say that I've tried very hard to offer my critiques in as constructive a manner as possible, avoiding ad hominem/feminem attacks. I have my late friend and colleague Judy Foster* to thank for insisting that I hone that skill.

At the same time, every single time I've spoken to something that others might think is an unpopular sentiment, at least one person, and usually three or four, will breathe a sigh of relief and say, "Oh, I'm so glad you said that! I was thinking that and I didn't want to say it. Thank you." Let this be a word of advice for whenever you feel shy or reluctant to express what you think may be an unwelcome cautionary: Say it! If you are working in a trusting consensual manner, you will be heard, and your concerns will be addressed. I have never known this to have any other outcome.

So maybe that's what we're doing now -- reflecting and seeing the patterns that have developed over the last 25 years. Then trying to articulate them in a loving, contructive way.

I don't see Reclaiming, or any other kind of Craft, as simply a launching pad. My friend Cat Chapin-Bishop reminds me of the riddle: "What do you call a 4th degree Witch?" Answer: "A Buddhist." Meaning, of course, that a lot of Pagans leave the path for other spiritual traditions where they can get more training, or go deeper (in their way of thinking). Or find another teacher or guru. I suppose it could be considered a launching pad for people whose true personal path leads elsewhere. But if you make use of what you've learned, Witchcraft becomes a way of life and a lifetime pursuit.

To me, learning Craft gives us the sacred technology(ies) and thealogical framework to then proceed to work it and work it and work it, season after season, Wheel after Wheel. And with each working, we can go deeper, gain clearer understandings, have more profound experiences of the numinous. We can gain insights into the workings of the Worlds and the workings of our own hearts. We can grow in compassion and understanding of our sisters and brothers of our species. We can build a greater awareness of our interdependence on the Web of Life. We can feel our interconnectedness with all of life. We can learn wisdom. We can finder inner peace and the strength to work for positive change in our own lives and in the wider world.

I'm reminded of the words of my dear friend Steven Posch of Paganistan (one of the two best Pagan ritualists in all of North America, IMO):

"Witches' work is turning the wheel,
And round the wheel doth turn."

* This rememberance of Judy's life neglects to mention that she is one of the founders of NROOGD (New Reformed Orthodox Order of the Golden Dawn) Witchcraft as well as having been a much-loved member of Reclaiming Collective. I consider her to be among our Mighty Dead.

Priestesses Compare Notes

I'm in shock. Stunned! Nonplussed. I just learned something tonight that probably should have been obvious to me based on my observations of how certain people have regarded other certain people throughout our (Reclaiming's) existence. But not me! I really had no idea. I feel hurt, betrayed, like a stooge, a fool, a dupe. Dismayed, disillusioned, distressed. (The 'dis' my partner Corby used when hearing this is "disgusting.") At the same time, I feel disloyal in feeling that way. Recently I responded to an entry on Anne Hill's blog, saying, "maybe I'm just a slow learner." I feel like that tonight. How could I have missed this?

At the most recent Dandelion Gathering in May when people were calling for the use of the word "action" in the BIRCH statement of intention, I stated that I thought we needed to add the word "reflection." I believe that action without reflection is unbalanced and unhealthy. That magical intent seems to be manifesting. We, meaning those in the greater Reclaiming community who post on lists (specifically Spider, supposedly a WitchCamp teachers and organizers lists, although I am neither), maintain blogs, and otherwise interact in cyberspace, are now actively engaged in discussing our identity; our organization, or lack thereof; our processes, both acknowledged and covert; our strengths and weaknesses; our standards, or lack thereof; our accountability (to whom? to what?); our thealogy; our sacred technologies; our shared values and points of agreement (and disagreement); our ethics. It's not easy.

When Anne posted her first two reflections on the trad, and in particular her unique view of it, I just had to respond. Probably because it has meant so much to me. I was a little uneasy because blogs are so wildly public. Then again, I value transparency in most things, and I'm known for my candor. (In fact, I think that particular characteristic of my personality is what accounts for my shock at the information that was just revealed to me tonight.) Actually, it felt rather liberating talking about all this right out in the open.

Sure enough, though, soon I find my more inflammatory comments quoted on Chas Clifton's blog and on The Wild Hunt.

Anyone interested in following this unfolding may wish to check Oak's Roots Down as well as the above-mentioned Blog o' Gnosis and here from time to time.

Obviously this is an inappropriate medium for me to go into details about the cause of my shock. Besides, I'm still in too much shock to achieve a clear perspective. Suffice it to say that the fact of this distressing situation does not reflect an inadequacy on my part. One thing that is clear to me -- and that was stressed by my informants -- is that evidently my habit of questioning the status quo, or certain individuals, authority or assumptions, threatens some others.

Passion for Poppies

I have a passion for California poppies. When my dad drove our whole family across the continent from New Jersey to California in 1959, our point of entry into the state was at Lake Tahoe in the Sierra Nevada Mountains that proved so daunting to the Donner Party in the snowy Winter of 1846-47.

The month we arrived, however, was June, the beginning of Summer. Besides the deep blues of the lake, the colors that struck me were those bright oranges of the state flower, the Eschscholzia californica, or California poppy, with its delicate bluish-green foliage. This hardy little wildflower blooms everywhere all over the state from April through August, although not in areas where it gets below 20º F at night. I've been enamored of it ever since. It grows in unlikely places. It volunteers in freeway divider strips and vacant patches of dirt as well as covering acres. Wherever and whenever I see their bright orange faces, my day is lightened and I have to smile -- and I don't even much like orange.

I have a few tattooes in strategic places. Most are not visible when I'm clothed. All but one were done by my friend Madame Vyvyn Lazonga. For years now I've been wanting something akin to tribal markings on the backs of my hands, my wrists and the back of my lower arms. Until now I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted them to look like. What 'my tribe' is, I guess. I'd considered the ubiquitous Celtic designs. Vyvyn designed Celtic spirals for my inner left thigh. She put a vivid Kali yantra on my lower belly. As of tonight, I'm ready to get a California poppy design on my hands, wrists and arms. I'm not sure how adviseable it is to tattoo such delicate places that are so full of tiny bones and muscles and upon which we are so dependent for dexterity. I know Vyvyn has a light touch, though, so we shall see.

Blog Is Blooming

The blogosphere is blooming with analyses of Reclaiming over at Anne Hill's Blog o' Gnosis. I've spent way too much time this week holding forth on Spider (Reclaiming's internal, i.e., organizing, list), the CoG members lists -- MerryMeet, in Ft. Lauderdale this year, is fast approaching -- and on the Cherry Hill Seminary Executive Committee list -- Fall semester is upon us, also a brand new Fall online lecture series. To the neglect of this little blogspace. If you've missed me, that's why. I haven't been idle, just elsewhere.

I'm really excited about the lecture series. We've lined up four outstanding speakers: Chas Clifton, Patricia Monaghan, Sabina Magliocco, and Nikki Bado-Fralick. This is a great way to check out some of the fine teaching we offer and to try out our Moodle classroom software without making a long-term commitment to CHS. Maybe if you like it, you'll consider enrolling in one of our programs. Or encouraging your friends to do so.

More Besom Fun

My friend Anna Korn, one of the late Gwydion Penderwen's five widows, currently married to Don Frew, recently visited Scotland where she found a gift for me. It's a coaster printed with the Scottish definition of "besom," to wit:

besom (biz-um) bisom Dialect, chiefly Scot. ~n. 1. obstreperous girl or woman; female upstart [as in “Dinnae pou’ yer brither’s hair, ya wee besom”]. 2. woman of low moral standing; a hussy (“Thon yin’s a right mucky besom”). 3. broomstick or scourge; any broom made from loose twigs. 4. a comet or its tail.

Suits me fine.

Here's a source for traditional besoms.

P.S. This program has bugs; it refuses to return the font to normal size and it insists on italicizing the block quote. All this in spite of the fact that the html code is correct and it shows correctly on my screen. Curses!

Mom Shakes

Woo-hoo! We were just sitting down to dinner about 8:10 tonight when I felt the floor tremble. I asked Corby, "Did you feel that earthquake?" He didn't, but he did hear the floor creak, like someone stepping on a creaky board. The 11 o'clock news said the earthquake occured at 8:08 pm PDT and was centered in Glen Ellen in Sonoma County, maybe an hour from here. It was a 4.4, followed by three smaller aftershocks about 25 minutes apart. Map and other details here. If you track your mouse over each different zip code, you can see how many people responded; ours is 94901, with 145 responses, intensity III.

I'm excited by earthquakes. Luckily, all I've experienced so far haven't been all that severe. I was way up in Nevada County up in the Mother Lode when the Loma Prieta quake occurred in 1989 so didn't feel it.

I felt a couple when I lived in North Beach back in the 1970s. Once I was sitting in the bathtub and when the quake hit, the water sloshed around; it sloshed around in the nearby toilet, too. When they happened, people would come outside their front doors and look around and ask each other if we felt it. That was way before the Internet with its near-instant official USGS data.

Starwood Virgin

I was a Starwood virgin. No, more, though. I had a fabulous time. Loved the liberated feeling of living in an un-PC environment with 1400 other freaks for several days. I have a lot more to tell, but for now, here are some photos (sans humans) to give you an idea of the site and size:



A workshop area.

On the way in.

Gypsy tents.

I happily ran into two other California friends, Richard Ely and LaSara FireFox. Among the three of us, we represented the three counties just north of San Francisco: Marin, Sonoma and Mendocino. Starwood was a likely scene for all of us. Both Richard and LaSara had been there before. The down side was that we barely found time to talk.

There are lots more photos here.

Besom Brigade on the Web

Victoria found this on the Web. We have no idea who made it, but if you watch it till the end, you can see a little clip of our WOW (Witches Opposing War) Besom Brigade at an interfaith Pagan parade and festival in Berkeley a few years ago. You can see Diane Darling, Prudence Priest and Annie Weller and a bit of me (far left) making the pentacle.

I love it that Pagans and Witches have such a great sense of humor that they can parody themselves. No sacred cows for us, no siree!

Dancing with Gaia

Corby, Victoria and I attended a preview screening of Jo Carson's new movie, Dancing with Gaia, last night. About 10 people shared a potluck, viewed the film, and gave feedback. It's coming together, needs more polish and more editing. It contains extensive footage of Fred Adams of Feraferia and some precious footage of the late Monica Sjöo. In fact, she spent three entire days and nights with Monica in the early '90s, filming all the while; I think that footing in itself could make a fine stand-alone film.

Jo has also make a file called A Dance for the Goddess, showing the seasons in Southern California and each ritual with which Feraferia celebrates the turning of the Wheel of the Year. This film was shown in 1990 at a screening and panel I organized in Berkeley and, most recently, in January 2006 at "Visions of the Past and Memories of the Future: NeoPaganism in California," co-sponsored by the Pagan Alliance and Pacific School of Religion. A set of DVDs of those panel discussions, plus others from 1992 and 1993, will be available by this coming Samhain. Keep your eye out for them.

Pagans in Prisons and & Press

A few weeks ago I was contacted by referral by a reporter for Associated Press, Kristen Gelineau, who was writing a story about an Asatru man on Virginia's death row who evidently killed another man as part of an Asatru ritual in prison and claimed his religion as part of his defense. I found Kristen to be a thoughtful listener who asked intelligent questions. I referred her to both Patrick McCollum and Prudence Priest; she'd already interviewed Patrick about it. I felt reasonably confident -- well, as confident as one can in such undertakings, given the editorial process, etc. -- that she'd present us fairly.

The story hit the wires this week. Shortened versions of it were published in the NY Times and elsewhere to which some Pagans took offense.

Here is the full story, in which both Patrick and I are quoted. I'm not among those who took offense; I think it's fair.

Change, Growth & Consensus Process

I've been working at consensus process decision-making since my days in the SF Women's Studies Collective back in the 1970s. A few years later when Reclaiming Collective was formed, I found myself working with people with as strong a commitment to the process, except that experience and writings about it had proliferated in the meantime. When my then-coven, Holy Terrors, first joined the Covenant of the Goddess, its members were also committed to consensus process. So it's clear that this is my preferred method of collaboration.

Now that things -- Reclaiming (no longer a collective, per se), CoG and other groups -- have expanded, I'm wondering how effective consensus process can be. Can we still operate that way? It will be a challenge for the recently birthed BIRCH (Broader Intra-Reclaiming Council of Hubs). BIRCH folks have the advantage of having had good training and consistent experience with the process. It seems that in CoG in particular some matters, such as the annual choosing of National Board officers, have devolved into voting. I don't like it. It fosters a competitive spirit that threatens to erode the trust and solitarity so carefully and lovingly nourished over a period of many years. Is there a better, more satisfying way to accomplish these necessary organizational business matters? I keep hoping there is.

I’ve thought about this a lot over the last year or two. I’m not sure I have any answers. I do know, however, that I was tremendously favorably impressed by how well folks at the Dandelion Gathering in May used consensus process so effectively.

On the plane to Starwood — a Really Fabulous experiment in temporary counter-culture community, BTW (more about Starwood anon) — I read a book called Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, by Malcolm Gladwell. I was inspired to read it based on an interview with him I found on the Charlie Rose show while channel-surfing late one night.

On the strength of Blink, I plan to read his earlier book, The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference. Although TTP is not about consensus process, I'm hoping that Gladwell's thinking will inform and inspire me to feel better about the future of consensus on a larger scale.

Women, Spirituality & Politics

Corby and I attended a presentation last night by independent scholar Max Dashu. Using the theme of Female Shamans in Indigenous Resistance Movements: Women Spiritual Leaders Confront Empire, Max showed slides and spoke of women whose stories we seldom, if ever, hear:

Priestesses, diviners, healers, and holy women stand out as leaders of aboriginal liberation movements against empire. Spiritual spheres of power have always been a crucial staging area for women's political leadership and for challenging systems of domination on many levels. This new show looks at how indigenous women draw on their cultural traditions to resist colonization and how, by virtue of who they are and where they stand in the social order, their personal access to direct, transformative power makes the spiritual political.

Including: Veleda of Bructerii (Netherlands) * Dahia al-Kahena (Tunisia) * the Kumari of Taleju (Nepal) * Juana Icha (Peru) * Kimba Vita (Congo) * Maria Candelaria (Chiapas) * Queen Nanny of the Maroons (Jamaica) * Toypurina (Tongva Nation) * Wanankhucha (Somali Bantu) * Lozen (Apache Nation) * Nehanda Nyakasikana (Zimbabwe) * Teresa Urrea (Sonora) * and more...

Plus: Black South Asia. The most ancient peoples of Indonesia, Malay peninsula, Philippines, the Andaman Islands, and south India...

The founder of the Suppressed History Archives, Max, who is incredibly knowledgeable and passionate about her subject, has over 90 of slide talks, the one we saw last night being one of the newest, plus her own artwork. If you or your groups wish to sponsor one or more of her talks, contact her through her website.

Fortunately for me, we live near enough to be able to keep up with Max's work; I've been attending her shows off and on since the early 1980s, and she was on the panel I produced at PSR in January, "Visions of the Past and Memories of the Future" (available on DVD by Samhain). Luckily for those who cannot attend these lectures due to location or for whatever reasons, she has plans to release DVDs of her talks in the future. Also in the works, a book, The Secret History of the Witches.

These stories must be told and heard.

Fractured

Well, I finally heeded the advice of friends and went to Kaiser to have my arm checked out and X-rayed. The internist didn't see a break, but the radiologist, more skilled in reading the complexities of elbow construction, found a small fracture just below the elbow. It's been nearly a month since I fell. I've been doing all the right things: icing, supporting, Ibuprofen, favoring it. But often I just have to use it too much and it really, really hurts. I still cannot straighten my arm out all the way or bend it all the way up or rotate it. That makes doing things like turning on the car ignition and putting it into gear, unscrewing bottle caps, and turning keys in locks hard. I can get some pressure from the left arm to turn doorknobs and keys, but the car ignition is on the right. I can't write, turn my hand up to lift food to my mouth with my right hand, or get much action in brushing my teeth. I'm nowhere near as dextrous with my left hand, though I try hard. But then 'dexter' means right anyway, right? I'm gonna get one of those battery-operated toothbrushes before I go to Starwood next week.

As soon as I get back I have an appointment with an orthopedist. In the meantime, I'll sweetly ask for help dealing with my carry-ons on the plane and at the festival.

More than you needed to know. Oh, well...

Paganism Hits the Booklist

Huzzah! I received Chas Clifton's book, Her Hidden Children: The Rise of Wicca and Paganism in America, in the mail. The cover is great and the contents look fascinating, although I can tell at a thumb-through there's much here that we've discussed over the years. The few photos of individuals in the book were taken years ago in a pre-digital age, I guess, because they're obviously not in a resolution we've come to expect nowadays. That's not a big deal, though; I feel we're lucky to have any photos at all. This was a years-long labor of love, resulting in the clearest-eyed and best, so far, book on the growth of our movement in the U.S. It's right up there with Hutton's The Triumph of the Moon, Magliocco's Witching Culture, and Adler's Drawing Down the Moon, an updated version of which is due out in September. For anyone who wants to know about us, including ourselves, this is an essential foundational read. Not only that, but I note one of my pieces, "The W Word, or Why We Call Ourselves Witches," referenced in the bibliography. Yippie!

More book recommendations coming soon.

Courting the Lady

After many years of work, my friend Patrick McCollum has finally published Courting the Lady, the first of an anticipated three-book series of his autobiography. Provoked by a mystical encounter with the White Lady he experienced during a near-death experience after a horrendous motorcycle accident he suffered in his teens, Patrick began a quest. He takes the reader along on his first couple of years of training with a mentor and a coven. Most of this training takes place out in the woods, mountains and canyons of Southern California and involves such things as gathering barks, roots, leaves, and herbs for ritual drinks and incenses, learning to make willow charcoal, finding and making the right tools (even finding a piece of meteorite in the desert to forge into the blade of his athame), learning and using a language and alphabet and symbols. Patrick details a very unusual course of training for its time (beginning in 1966) and place in the overall history of the magic, the occult, and alternative religions. Essential reading for the well-informed NeoPagan.

Another Autobiography

I recently read Loreon Vigné's autobiography, The Goddess Bade Me Do It! Not only is Loreon an accomplished artist in many media, but she's also a Priestess of Isis and a breeder of wild cats (especially ocelots which are very difficult to breed in captivity) and collector of an amazing menagerie that lives at Isis Oasis Sanctuary, a former Bahai retreat that she bought, restored, and has made available for gatherings in Geyserville, California. It's worth a trip to Isis Oasis to see the Temple of Isis, the peacocks and swans, Loreon's stained glass creations that adorn temples and other spaces. In fact, the temple is featured in another excellent recent book, A Visionary State: A Journey Through California's Spiritual Landscape, by Erik Davis with photographs by Michael Rauner.

Loreon is one of those people who marches to her own drummer. She seems always to have been open to inspiration and opportunity, to have intuitively attuned herself to the songs of her goddess and the universe. A genuine original! I'm so glad that some of our Pagan elders are telling us of their lives.

Morning Glory

What a great surprise to see Morning Glory at Farida and Conly's Summer garden party in Santa Rosa yesterday! She came with Oberon, her caretaker Artemesia and Artemesia's partner, and Julie. Not only did she and I have a nice visit, but it seemed that the party did as much as anything could to lift her spirits and renew her. I managed to get a couple of good shots of her in the garden, wearing a lovely bright floral dress and elegant hot pink hat; here's one. See that old sparkle?

You Owe It to the Future

Please, please, please go see Al Gore's movie An Inconvenient Truth, if you haven't already seen it. It's not too late to change the course of planetary evolution from catastrophe to viability. I hate the doomsayer stuff, and one could expect the experience of viewing this film to be a real bummer, but in fact it's hopeful. Go to the bargain matinée if you have to. Pay the senior admission if you're eligible. But SEE IT!

Got My mtDNA Results!

For my birthday in February my mother gave me a gift of participation in The Genographic Project. This is a landmark study in the human journey being conducted by the National Geographic Society, with funding from other foundations and under the direction of the very attractive (to me) anthropologist and geneticist, Dr. Spencer Wells.

In addition to swabs and vials for you to collect and submit your DNA, the kit comes with a fascinating DVD called The Journey of Man telling about the project and the completed parts of it that have been funded.

I belong to Haplogroup H. From “Eve” in what’s now Ethiopia 150,000 years ago, my ancestors went to the Middle East, to just east of the Black Sea, then from the Black Sea to Western Europe. None passed through Asia, Australia or the Americas (till now).

A Fall into the Drink

This past Sunday Corby and I went out to Kehoe Beach. You have to wade across a narrow part of the lagoon to get from the dunes to the beach, as you may be able to tell in the panorama. It was windy and cool with some high fog. The surf was rough and loud, but the dune grass offered shelter from the winds if you just want to sit and meditate. I had no trouble getting there. On the return walk, however, the mud seemed to give out under me when I first stepped into the water, even though I thought I was being very careful, and down I went into the drink. Pants, T-shirt, sweatshirt, vest, and pack, all soaked. I attempted to break my fall with my right arm by reaching for the dune behind me. It felt like my arm took the full weight of my body because my stiff forearm rammed up into my elbow. It hurt like hel. Corby ran back and helped me up, then back across the water, where we found a log and I sat down in shock while he squeezed water from the looser clothing and fished around in my pack for my camera and phone. Evidently they were deep enough in my pack and I was out of the water fast enough that they didn't get wet. My watch, which also got wet, seems to have survived and still runs.

I didn't much enjoy the walk back was through lush Spring wildflowers, because I was kind of nauseous from shock. I just wanted to get back to the car and take off my wet, sandy, clammy clothes. Fortunately I had a sweater and a small blanket in the car.

Now my arm in quite swollen and hurts a lot. I think it's a sprain. I've iced it and taped it to keep it immobile and taken lots of Ibuprofen. Typing is difficult but not as bad as one might think because my wrist, hand and fingers seem okay. I've had to clumsily feed myself, try to unscrew jars, brush my teeth and comb my hair with my left hand. I can't turn my arm palm up. I can't drive.

And dang! I had to miss my Goddess Grace class tonight. More about that anon.

In the meantime, Happy Solstice to all!

Ms. Deirdre Turns 30

Sunday was a big day in my life and in my daughter's: she turned 30. This is one of the most recent photos I have of her, a playful one from her wedding to Donald on Rodeo Beach in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area in October of 2004.

Judy Chicago's 'The Dinner Party'

Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party, after years in storage, will be moving to its permanent home at the Brooklyn Art Museum this coming March. No notice has been published on the website yet. However, there's a cool replication of Lady Liberty going on for a long-term installation.

Here are two articles about a 2002 exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum.

I had the privilege of viewing the original exhibition at the SF Museum of Art back in 1979 (back when the museum was housed in the SF Civic Center, before the erection of its new digs at Yerba Buena Center). It's breathtaking.

In March, 1979, The Dinner Party premiered at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, where it attracted record crowds, helped to balance the museum's annual budget and catapulted Judy Chicago into a new level of fame. However, at the same time as people all over the country were clamoring to see The Dinner Party, museums were refusing to exhibit it, even those that had previously committed to shows. At the end of its first 'triumphant' exhibition, The Dinner Party went into storage, Judy Chicago went into shock and the many people involved in The Dinner Party studio scattered.

I have no doubt it will continue to have a great emotional impact upon viewers lo this quarter century later, even though women's rights have advanced much since then. I intend to make a pilgrimage.

Thanks to my friend Amy Luna Manderino for this tip.

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.

Saturday at McClure's Beach

Corby and I spent Saturday afternoon at McClure's Beach on the Point Reyes Peninsula, a piece of land to the west of the San Andreas Fault. I find this place incredibly restorative. I bring no notebook, no sketchpad, this time only a camera. Mostly I just sit there and watch the waves or walk along the strand letting the ninth waves wash over my feet. You can see what a busy place it is, simply teeming with people everywhere.

The little girl is playing on the rocks while Corby is climbing around on the other side taking photos of tidepools.

(Forgive the klutziness of this layout. I'm only just beginning to learn the mysteries of composing a page with photos on it. It's been frustrating. I'm lucky to have gotten this far.)

More on Dalai Lama

Although I have more reflections about this event to share, in the meantime this came from the organizers:

On April 15, 2006, His Holiness the Dalai Lama traveled to San Francisco to attend an historic event, embracing his Muslim brothers and sisters, as well as other world faiths, to foster mutual understanding and to celebrate our common humanity.

We have finally been able to post the photographs that were taken at the event. ... Please click on the link here ... to review and purchase photographs, additional pins, and to join further discussion about the event. ...

At a time when the world is experiencing and witnessing more suffering and rising tensions between faiths, it was the goal of this gathering to promote open discourse about our commonalities centered on dignity, respect, love, and compassion. As a result of the event, over 200 publications and 50 news stations around the world covered the event. Each of us, our families, friends, communities and faith-groups, are talking, thinking about, and acting with more tolerance, care and compassion.

This event was the first step of many to gather with one voice representing the overwhelming majority of people of faith who live moderate and normative lives of service, mercy, and compassion. The goal: a world without violence, respectful of diversity. This gathering demonstrated to the world that a calm dialogue between a broad cross section of Muslim and other scholars and religious, community, and business leaders highlights the ideals and precepts of each faith that speak from the center of the heart and resonate through all faiths.

To each and every one who attended, supported and assisted with the event, we thank you from our hearts.

Fifty news stations and 200 publications, wow! I knew there were a lot there but this is way more than I realized.

I checked out the photos and found none that show Don, Patrick, Barbara or me. Photos of the pre-gathering panels begin around #364. (You can sort of see the backs of our heads in some of them. We were in the third row, to the left in those photos.) We were told absolutely no cameras, at least not for us guests. We complied. I still feel good about this all these six weeks later.

Shadowfax Is Gone

When our dear Raven moved into Maitri Hospice care, he needed people to adopt his pets. Two of them were his familiars, black cats named Shadowfax and Lilith Nightmare. He wanted his little kitties to stay together. They came to live with us in February or March of 1996.

At the time we adopted them we tried to get as much info about them from Raven as we could. He said Lilith was 5 and Shadow was 10. Neither seemed that old. We do know that they were adult cats, probably at least 3 or 4 years old. It also quickly became clear to us when they came into heat for the first time with us that they were the lesbians Raven said they were. However, our circumstances and our conscience dictated that they be spayed, after which they took no sexual interest in one another. They occasionally licked each other’s nose, more frequently harassed each other, particularly around mealtimes.

We sometimes call Lilith our little Sicilian cat for her muscular build and short glossy hair. She likes to roll in the dust and sleep in the sunshine. She’s the mascot of our condo complex, greeting everyone who comes up the driveway with a croaking sort of sound, wreathing their legs and soliciting attention.

Shadow, OTOH, was an elfin cat, with very fine, long, fluffy fur, very delicate of build, light, relaxed, a real lap cat who generally preferred male laps but would happily drape herself across a female if one sat down. Much shyer than Lilith, she preferred to stay closer to home and shade more than sun, indoors or outdoors depending on where her humans were, especially Corby.

Sometime over the years Lilith’s eye was damaged, in a fight, we think. Her left eye is dead now yet she seems generally comfortable. She’s too old to have it surgically removed, not to mention the cost. There may come a time when we’ll need to give her some pain medication as the eye gets worse. In the meantime, she’s a happy geriatric cat.

Not so with Shadow. She developed tumors on her teats. We monitored them and took her to the vet periodically for his opinion. They were not going to go away. He said they’d probably eventually grow into her organs and kill her, but again, she was old and somewhat frail so surgery was not an option. During the last few months we treated her with expensive oral antibiotics to retard the rotting of her flesh (and accompanying disgusting smell of rotting flesh). The antibiotics didn’t work so well after a while; we used a stronger one. We bathed her tumors in pau d’arco tea in hopes that would help retard their growth, or at least keep her relatively clean.

When I was away at Dandelion Gathering she took off and didn’t return for a few days. Corby had assumed she’d gone off to die. Then about three nights later she returned and curled up in the flower bed outside our kitchen window, but didn’t want to come in. She ate a bite or two of chicken out of Corby’s hand, and she purred for a few seconds when petted. She seemed generally responsive but very weak. Her breathing was labored. She disappeared in the morning and returned in the evening for a few more days.

During these last two weeks we phoned several house-call vets, emergency vet clinics, and her regular doctor inquiring about euthanasia. Even to take her into emergency the price we were given was $185. We kept in touch with the doctors but never made a firm appointment. We were conflicted, since she seemed to be passing in a manner of her own choice.

Then one evening she came indoors. I kept her indoors so we could monitor her better, even though she seemed to want to leave. She managed to get upstairs and rest under our bed for a few more days. She didn’t come out. She purred a bit when we reached under to talk with her and pet her. She got skinnier and skinnier and her coat lost its lustre. This Tuesday evening she came downstairs and wanted out. We let her. She’d walk a few feet and then lie down breathing hard. She managed to get herself down the steep, shady, leaf-strewn hillside where there was no human traffic and settle herself under some boards. Corby followed her. He went down to see how she was a couple of times that night and again in the morning.

On Wednesday we took her to the Marin Humane Society -- wonderful people! She resisted, the poor sweet thing, but she was so weak and so miserable we thought it best to give her deliverance. With her last little bit of energy, she bit on the lip the woman who’d been whispering in her ear to soothe and comfort her as she went.

She was a sweet, dear kitty, loving and much loved in return. Our lives were enriched by having her live with us these past ten years. We’ll miss her. In love may she return again.

Birth & Death

Just back from a really great time in Western Massachusetts helping to birth BIRCH.

The bad news is that our little Miss Shadowfax, one of the late Raven Moonshadow's kitties, has gone off to die. (Photo is of Raven and me at a Spiral Dance back in the early '90s, I think; he crossed over in 1996.)

More when I catch my breath.

Berkeley Pagan Festival

Lovely day, all in all. Others have written more extensively, both my friends new Keeper of the Light Anne Hill and altar-builder Victoria Slind-Flor. Here's what the latter sent me. She captioned it, "Macha NightNare attempts to attack Anne Hill with keeper of Light Staff: joi wolfwomyn prays for Anne's deliverance." Many more cool photos: Jason Robinson's here and Greg Harder's here.

Corby and I took off as soon as we decently could and headed on over to the local Pagan wedding of the decade, that of Reclaiming Witches Kala and Dress. The bride was stunning in purple, the groom in bridal white, complete with fingerless elbow gloves and delicate veil. Both were as happy as I've ever seen them. Love of every kind was in the air midst the redwoods, firs and oaks of hilly Joaquin Miller Park. There were about 20 in the wedding party, about 300 guests, lots of live entertainment, a 1-hour, 20-minute ceremony followed by a 45-minute spiral dance. We missed the ritual, but arrived in time for entertainment, food, toasts, and plenty of schmoozing at the purple-clothed, Spring flower-bedecked, deity-named tables.

Conjuring Summer In

My Pagan friends have done a splendid job conjuring Summer in. What an utterly gorgeous May Day!

Corby and I danced the Maypole at Anne Hill's new place in Bodega Bay on Saturday. Great crowd, great weather, great music, beautiful brand new pole. But unfortunately Saturday night I was overcome with a mysterious illness. I spent Sunday just lying around, with aching intercostals, abs, hips (the bones) and head -- well, really, all of me -- reading the Sunday paper. So for only the second time in maybe 20 years I missed singing up the Sun with the Berkeley Morris Dancers at Inspiration Point in Tilden Park. The last time I missed I'd undergone a hysterectomy the day before so obviously wasn't up and about. Corby went anyway that time. Today he decided not to.

Early this morning Val and Tom Lux phoned, wondering why we weren't there, so I'm reassured that our pals really missed us. They were on their way to Vicki Solomon's house, our rendezvous place for breakfast in recent years.

Today, instead of marching for immigrants' rights, I scrambled to find health insurance. The costs are ridiculously high, and the parameters for an older woman like myself are even worse. Spent time at Kaiser Member Services and on the Web looking for something that will work for me and that I can afford. A discouraging process.

It reached 81º F. in lovely San Rafael today. After seemingly endless rains, Summer is icumen in.