Fresh Eggs Samhain 2022
Order from Z.'s website: zbudapest.com
also available here:
I just thought we could use some humor in the newsletter.
Requiem for Patriarchy
It’s the new year season, we are speedily moving into the 21st century. All of us who were born in the last century are amazed that we made it this far. There is almost a ridiculous accidental quality to it, to have lived past 30, when we could not trust anybody over that line. Those were the days.
The planet is still moving 200 miles a Second, and we are all Expanding with the Universe. But all that is not really noticeable. I think about it only early mornings, to situate myself in the day.
I enter the tall glass hospital on Pill hill vaguely feeling a draw to see if I can find a patient whom I heard was on his last days.
I stop at the receptionist desk. She is sitting there like a friendly pink angel, watching the goings on of those who come and go. She has her lists, she signs me in and looks at me with full attention.
“You want to see whom again?”
“Patriarchy. I heard he is ailing in here.”
She now begins to read her long lists of names.
“No No.. that’s not it, Miller, Smith, no …” She is reaching for more and more lists. I see the list she is not looking at. Its pinned up on the wall behind her like a calendar. I point at the list careful not to offend her.
“What about that list.. I see he may be there.” She turns around, rips the list off the wall and exclaims victoriously.
“Yep, here it is, Pat Riarchy room 2007 down the corridor to the right.”
“Thank you.”
Walking towards the sickroom, corridors cleaned, smelling a little of Pine Sol. A long, long walk and now there it is. The door is closed. I knock. No answer.
Wow he must really be out of it, I think. Then a raspy voice calls out,
"Come in!”
I enter the sickroom, shades are drawn, the air is putrid. I gasp.
“Who are you?” he demands.
Pat Riarchy is a very old, old man. He wears long, “god in heaven,” but soiled robes. He is unshaven, his eyes are a slit in his face.
“Who let you in?”
“The receptionist.”
“I don’t like women coming in here.” He is now indignant. “I don’t see any man wanting to see you, Pat.”
“The men love me and keep me alive. You, cover your head at least.”
“I am sorry but it’s 75 degrees in here and I don’t have any hats with me.”
“Use a towel then. Just cover all that hair,” he demands.
“Why, my white hair excites you, Pat? Is it because I am female you need to cover up my nature?”
He is a little befuddled by my disobedience.
“You … you … blashemous ... sinful ... sinner ... bad … bad ...”
“Steady man, you are busting a vein.”
“What do you want ..? get out!”
At this point I see what I am up against. Crotchety old man, full of fear.
“How old are you now Pat? Two, 3 thousand years old? Careful with those surges of anger.”
He is sitting up in his bed and reaching for the phone. He is pushing the button to the nurse. I walk over and take it from his hands.
“Relax, Pat. You have lingered here so long not even the nurses want to come to your aid. Look I brought you a book. Something to read.”
“Book? Is it the bible? The Quran? The Torah? my holy books.”
“No. It’s my book, Requiem for Patriarchy. I thought you should read it before you finally pass on.”
“I am not going to pass on! I will live forever!”
I looked at his face. All the ages’ faces were blended together in that wrinkled mass of features.
“No Pat Rirarchy. Not even you will live for ever. Especially not you.”
“I have lived many thousands of years … the men … the men will never give me up …”
“Not easily, no, but you are already becoming passé. New men came about brand new men, our children..
“The cursed work of the female!” he hissed. “What are you doing, making the men’s balls grow mushy? ballbusters! man-haters!”
“Pat, living on the blue planet peaceably is not about men’s balls. I thought you knew this, being as old as you are.”
“The men must stay hard! HARD!”
“What are you an old fogey fussing over men’s balls! Shame on you!”
“They love my ideas, they love being hard, ballsy, fighting men. Full of piss and vinegar!”
“What? That’s sounds like bad urinary condition. In the meantime, Life happens.”
“Life is baloney. Its a Valley of Tears here! Tears! Wailing! Gnashing of teeth. Only I can deliver the men from this, I give them enough pussy in war. They will still fight for me. They can take any of the females in war. That’s my pay off to them, and they live for this. As long as there is war I live on!”
“You give the men our pussy in war? Our bodies is not yours to give away like candy. Who are you kidding old man? You are impotent, you didn’t have a regular dump in hundreds of years. You repeat yourself over and over again, had no original ideas to begin with, and all you offer is fear and your sickness.”
“You … you…bitch!
Pat went into a minor convulsion. He shook, he foamed at the mouth. I didn’t care, calmly watched. He then started to get up to attack me. He scrambled to his feet, stood a good foot shorter then me. He was frail, but filled with the hate only Pat can muster.
“You want a piece of me Pat? Is that what you want?” Filled with my strong life force, I felt this would be a crowning experience, what if Patriarchy died in my arms? Hmm …
“And then what? You are old and passé. I am strong, I will take you down in one throw. Come on!” He tottered about, losing sight of me. Finally landed on his bed .
“That’s ok Pat, get back into bed, there is nothing you can do about this. Your far too long time has come and gone, and you, too, have to yield to the next age. The laws of nature are immutable.”
“Nature! Another bitch!” he hissed. I carefully unwrapped the book I brought with me and handed it over.
“Here. Read this later. I hope it will kill you.”
He forced a smile. Oh god, he was uglier smiling than frowning. Some evil idea must have occurred to him again.
“I will never die!" he promised. "As long as men have sperm, there will be wars.”
“Not if the men wake up to the fact that they are not just sperm. They might weave another model for themselves to live on the blue planet. Pursue happiness.”
“It’s all about sperm!” he hissed again.
“No it’s about humanity. It’s about how the sexes imagine their humanity on the blue planet. How to live on it and love on it."
“Love! That sissy thing again. That’s anti-male.”
“Now you are acting senile, Pat. Love is good and if you could have some I am sure you would love it, too. But you have not earned much love.”
“I don’t need love. I offer security. I offer protection. I offer the … “
“You may offer, but you have never delivered, Every one of your wars ended up in a new war.”
“War made my men strong.”
“No it made them orphaned. You have not built any civilizations either. Patriarchy was always a valley of tears, just as you wanted.”
“Go away,” Pat demanded.
“I’ll be back to torture you. The longer you live, the more often I’ll come by. Only your death would stop this accounting with you. And you will account for everything, Pat. All your sins will be revisited. Your punishment is to be accountable to the women of the world, yes the females of our species. You will listen to us and obey us or die.”
“I want to die!” he yelled, pitifully, as I closed the door behind me and exhaled.
As I passed by the pink receptionist angel she looked up and asked, “So how is the old fogey?”
“Full of piss and vinegar!”
She mused over this a moment then said, “maybe another enema would cure his stubbornness.”
“Or death. Which ever comes first."
Theme: The Goddess displays Her third aspect as the destroyer of life. As the Sacred Hag, She represents nature in winter—death, which is organically important for future life. On this day, She re-turns to Her sisters to give the wisdom of the ages, to protect, to avenge.
Form the circle as usual. All is properly purified and consecrated, and each woman enters the circle. Raise the energy, and unify.
(Hum)
This is the time of Hecate, the time of ancestral worship, the time for witches to draw near the Goddess, Who speaks directly to Her children. In Europe, people go to the cemeteries with bouquets of chrysanthemums, honoring the dead.
We always remembers the women burned as witches this night. This is also the night of the revengeful Mother, Who is the fierce protector of Her daughters when aroused. If you have a blacklist of women's enemies, the score can be settled this night.
The altar has two black candles and two white ones. Each woman is represented with one red candle on the outside circle and one red candle on the altar. Offerings of food are appropriate. All kinds of food with red colorings are used, because that is the food that belongs to the dead. We often use pomegranates and red apples.
High Priestess:
O, Hecate, Goddess of life and death, beloved by us all, wake up from Your slumber, Earth Mother. Bless this gathering of Your sisters who are present here tonight. Let this all-holy Sabbat proceed in mirth, in understanding, in love and ecstasy.
All: Blessed be, Great Goddess!
This text came to us from ancient times, recited by matriarchies of old. Let us listen to their visions of the Goddess Hecate.
High Priestess:
Lady of tremblings, the sovereign lady, the mistress of destruction Who sets the world in order, She Who delivers from destruction, lady of heaven, the mistress of the world Who devours with fire. Lady of the altar, the lady to Whom abundant offerings are made. She Who prevails with knives, the mistress of the world, destroyer of the foes of the women, Who makes the decree for escape of the needy from evil happenings.
Fire, the lady of flames who inhales the supplications that are made to Her, Who permitted no man to enter at Her shrines. Lady of light, She Who is in front, the lady of strength, quiet of heart Who gave birth to all that is alive, Whose girth
is three hundred and fifty measures. The likes of Her has never been found from the beginning.
Lady of might, Who dances upon the blood-red ones, Who keeps the festival of Hecate on the day of the hearing of faults.
Terrible one, lady of rainstorm, Who plants the ruination of the souls of men, devourer of dead bodies; the orderer and producer and creator of the slaughtered. Dispenser of light during Her period of life, watcher of flames, the lady of the strength and of writing. She takes possession of hearts; She has secret plots and councils.
After this recitation, the Goddess' presence should be felt. All meditate on the meanings of the words; listen within. If business is at hand, proceed with the same energy of the terrible one.
The High Priestess gathers the witches and all thrust their knives forward. They clank them together and work them up for action.
The maiden reads the names of the rapists or their descriptions. The witches requesting these must give a short rousing speech on why these men deserve the worst, in order to get everyone involved emotionally.
Take a pomegranate, name the rapists, or just "patriarchy," to cover a wide range, and chant the witches' chant over it.
The Witch's Chant
Darksome night and shining Moon, Hearken to the witches' rune.
East and South and West and North, Hear! Come! I call Thee
forth!
By all the powers of land and sea, Be obedient unto me.
Wand and Pentacle and Sword, Hearken ye unto my word.
Cord and Censer, Scourge and Knife, Waken all ye into life.
Powers of all the Witches' Blade, Come ye as the charge is made.
Queen of Heaven, Queen of Hell, Send your aid unto my spell.
Horned Huntress of the night, Work my will by magic rite.
By all the powers of land and sea, As I do say, "so mote it be."
By all the might of Moon and Sun, As I do will, it shall be done.
Blessed be!
Subdued with rape and burning;
But every spring the new corn sprouts
The old ways we're re- learning.
The night watch now, the daylight soon
The struggle brings the glory;
The lives we lead, the songs we sing
Will be our woman's story.
The sooner fight, the sooner win;
Why wait a moment longer?
Our deadliest weapon is our hope
And we are getting
stronger! (Chris Carol)
Close the circle, release the elements.
It is finished in beauty.
Blessed Be!
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The Witch’s Invitation
Crisp flaming leaves are rustling
As they swirl into a mound
Then swoop up in a spiral breeze
And sail back to the ground
Parched grasses gone to seed create
A dry and whispery sound
Bare branches creaking, cat paws creeping,
Mysteries abound.
Sungold hours so precious now,
More shadows to be seen
Neither summer nor yet winter be,
It is the time between.
Bonfires celebrate year’s end.
Tonight the Crone is queen.
The veil between the worlds is thin…
It must be Hallowe’en.
Golden orbs of pumpkins glow
Faces carved with glee and woe
Spider’s web with moonlit dew
Our waning year transforms anew
Prepare yourselves for a midnight fling.
Thirteen hazelnuts you shall bring.
Carry an apple with its hidden star,
Bring your besom - forget your car.
A flickering lantern to bless us with light,
When clouds pass o’er the full moon bright.
Bring food for a feast, and an offering to leave
As we welcome our ancestors this hallowed eve.
A drum to summon their spirits here
To ask for guidance in the upcoming year
It’s our time of remembrance and transformation
Bring runes, cards or bones for divination.
So meet us at the crossroads or by the Sacred Well
Look for us in the ancient grove
Or find us in the hollow hill
Then off we’ll fly to the Spiral Dance,
To honor our beloved dead.
Black cape flying, mirror for scrying,
Witch’s hat upon our head
~~~~~~~~~Sharon McCarthy Samhain 2000~~~~~~~~
Your intrepid newsletter editor (that would be me) is starting a book club! I am hoping women who are local to me (I am in Southern California) will be willing to meet up in person every month (or even every other month) to drink tea (or my preference, coffee) and eat cookies and cakes and discuss woman centered books. We will also meet by Zoom for those of us who are still Covid-wary and who live too great a distance away to travel. But I would like to meet in person with those who can, at least occasionally.
Our first book is Lost Goddesses of Early Greece by Charlene Spretnak. It’s a small book, but packed with history and lore. You can find it here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/203923/lost-goddesses-of-early-greece-by-charlene-spretnak/
You can also try your local library for a copy.
We will meet to discuss the book and to choose our next one. Please contact me if you want to join our book club. My email is queenlaese1@aol.com or you can contact me through fresheggs.wsf.ecsc.1@gmail.com
The Spiral Dance
So old is the year and chill the night
When clouds of black velvet swimming ‘cross the sky Obscure and reveal the full moon’s light
As the horned and hoofed watch our coven pass by
Then into the deep wood we disappear
Cloaked and hooded we silently glide
To the heart of our grove where there is no fear
To honor the souls of those who have died
A ring of rune carved turnips are lit
To guard the bounds of our hallowed space
A cauldron upon our bone fire sits
Casting shadows and light upon each face
Our circle is cast from hand to hand
We shift beyond time as we focus within
Linking each womyn from Sky to Land
We’re between the worlds, feel the Magic begin
Hear the pulsing beat on our goatskin drum
Pass round the sage with its cleansing smoke
With soul deep breaths, we begin to hum
To call the directions, we now invoke
East! Come to us winged ones on feathers free
South! Awaken our spiritual flames of desire
West! Let compassion flow in like waves from the sea
North! Bless this earth ‘round our sacred fire
Oh Grandmother ‘tis you that our circle awaits
Some call you with joy and some call you with tears
May your wisdom guide us as we call in the Fates
With Her Spindle, Her Loom and Her Shears
Tonight we honor Summer’s End
And begin the dark half of the year
The veil of our worlds has thinned
The spirits of our beloved dead draw near
So we flow like a snake that coils round and round
Into the center where we turn back around
We gaze into the eyes of each passing face
To the depths of each womyn, her soul filled with grace
We know in our bones that we’ve done this before
Gathered as witches for the Spiral Dance
Now our strength spreads out beyond mountain and shore
To renew the Earth’s magic with our moving trance
The world is transformed as we wind our spell
From the vortex we raise our cone of power
The intensity peaks and our voices swell
Blessed be this magic we send forth to flower
We lower our hands and each take a deep breath
Our circle of night has just lit up with gold
Then we rest our hands upon our sweet Mother’s breast
And ground the energy that is too much to hold
Our ancestors drift off as we release each Direction
Bid farewell to the Fates and Farewell to the Crone
We thank you for your guidance and protection
Bright Blessings to all as we journey on home
Sharon McCarthy Samhain 2001
Report on the 2022 Goddess Festival
With gratitude to Sharon McCarthy for her BEAUTIFUL photographs
The Festival began on Thursday, September 8. The first
evening was nice and low key as many of us had either driven or flown long
distances to be together this weekend. There were joyful greetings at the
registration table outside the Camp office. I had heard there was pizza for
lunch, but I arrived later in the day.
After settling in, we gathered outside Iris Hall to make our
laurel and willow crowns. It was really
hot, outside (but cooled down by the next morning). HP Ella gathered women and
performed a ritual of reconnecting with the land. After a delicious dinner,
women gathered in the beautifully created Temple located in Themis Hall for the
opening ritual and joyful dancing.
Friday morning dawned
cooler and after breakfast, women attended the Self-Blessing Ritual at Themis
Hall. Later, Lisa Crow (moi) presented a workshop on “Mythmaking with The Goddess.” We learned how
ancient mythology changed to reflect the shift from matrifocal cultures to
patriarchy and how to find symbols of the Divine Feminine in folklore and fairy
tales which can really change the narrative.
After lunch, Larissa and
Kris held a drumming workshop in Sheba’s amphitheater, while Susan Weed Zoomed
a workshop on the history of Feminist Herbalism (don’t worry:
we recorded it!).
Before Dinner, we cooled
off in the pool during the rebirthing ritual. Even though it was cooler than
the day before, it was still plenty warm and unfortunately, Amazon Archery with
Lithia was cancelled (2024, we’ll try again!), but that meant no one had to
choose between archery and Lady Jesamyn’s beautiful Self-devotion ritual.
After Friday Dinner of spaghetti (YUM! The camp never lets us down with the meals), we drove up to the Gaia Bowl for ritual and Dancing. We hexed patriarchy, of course, and Z and the High Priestesses performed Initiations and re-dedications.
Saturday Morning, after Breakfast,
we met to prepare our own generations presentation for the nightly ritual. We
were a smaller group this year, so instead of decades, we decided to work in
Stages – under 35, Maidens, 35-55 Mothers, 56-69, Sovereigns/Queens/Matriarchs,
and 70 + Crones/Wisewomen. We met in Sheba’s Amphitheater and stayed after our planning
sessions for (drumroll ....)
This book is so beautiful. It is illustrated with NASA photos and Z.’s mother,
Masika’s incredibly beautiful Goddess art. Her sculptures are, quite literally,
Divine.
There is familiar stuff in the book and also new information. Since every
thime I read this book, I learn something new, I could not wait to delve into
the sacred text that is Z.’s lifechanging (for so many of us!) work. I will be
doing a book review on GoodReads, Amazon, B&N, and my blog (which I haven’t
touched in so long, I’m not sure I remember how to sign in!).
I want to remind us, this is the 6th incarnation of this incredible work.
It was born 50 years ago and stands the test of time. Some things are immortal
and outside of time, like the Goddess.
After lunch, Leticia Layson held a workshop "Back into the Future -
The Dianic Tradition for the 21st Century." As always, Leticia taught me
new things and it's nice to note that our ancient foremothers left us a road
map. Now we just have to follow it.
We were then blessed with Heather Houston singing and teaching us new
Goddess chants and songs. Pure Magic!~
Sheba’s Amphitheater saw a LOT of action over the four days of the
Festival. HP Tinnekke discussed Hekate (my Matron, as well!) and too soon it
was already dinner time.
After dinner, we again drove up to the Gaia Bowl where sacred ritual is held. This night, we processed into the circle from oldest to youngest, chanting “We all come from the Goddess, and to Her we shall return, like a drop of rain, flowing to the ocean …” until we were all in place.
Two High Priestesses were ordained, Ella Hope and Tinnekke Bebout. In a
solemn yet joyful ceremony, Z. annointed them in blessing and consecration in
recognition of their hard work and service to the Goddess and Her daughters.
One by one, they were lifted on to the shoulders of their sisters and turned to
the elements/directions. They spoke their sacred Priestess names and it was done.
Congratulations and Blessings to our New Dianic High Priestesses!
Sunday morning of the Festival is always
bittersweet. As we pack up, we pass sisters also packing, taking down the
altars and the decorations, the vendors packing up their wares. I started my packing the night before. I will
never understand how everything that fit so well on the way up had expanded to
overflowing the trunk of my little car! After breakfast, I finished my packing and wiped down my bunk
and the room where I stayed (just in case).
Gratitude goes to the Maidens
who brought chairs to field for the closing circle. Even though this is the
first year that I was not having charlie horses in both both calves from all
the walking up and down hills, I’m not sure I could have gotten up from sitting
on the grass!
We chatted for a while, we sang
to one another, (“Rainbow Z., Rainbow Z., go where you want to go, do what you
want to do, for Love is guiding you …”), and the Circle was open but unbroken.
Sharon, the wondrously talented artist, did our group photo, and Goddess
Festival 2022 came to a close with the barbecue – which had ACTUAL BEEF
(instead of the usual turkey or vegetarian) hamburgers this year!!! (Yes, I AM
a carnivore, thank you!)
Z. has
declared we meet again in 2024 “No matter what!” Two years seems like a long
time when driving away from the camp, but I’ll be there – no matter what!
The Re-Formed Congregation of the Goddess-International (RCG-I) Invites you to attend their Annual Hallowmas Gathering:
Goddess Tiamat from a Capital of
a pilaster from Borosjenő (today
Ineu, Romania), Museum of Fine
Arts, Budapest, Hungary
This is a teaching coven. We are educating our sisters about our sis-ters from the past. Some newsletters will include a lesson, a reading from the book and discussion questions for you to answer. When we meet, we will go over the answers. These questions are posed to inspire you to really think about what you have been taught about religion and how that way of thinking has influenced you and those around you.
Our hope is that you start a group wherever you are and discuss the meaning of the works we study with each other and wake up a few more ladies from their patriarchal propaganda trance. We are focusing on political spellcasting and educating our sisters about our sisters from the past. Patriarchal culture has deprived women from knowing about the Elders who went before us; we reclaim them in order to invite to us a better future. These are important tasks for the times in which we live. Please join us in this work.
To join, please send a request with the following information: 1) Why you are interested in joining the coven and 2) What skills/abilities you have to contribute to our sisterhood.
MEMBERSHIP UPDATE! We are asking all coven members to set up a monthly recurring donation via PayPal (instead of an annual fee, as we have done in the past). This will give Z a more steady and predictable stream of resources so we can stay ahead of the curve and bring our ideas and events to life, including our next biggest event: Goddess Festival 2024 (where coven members get a discount)!
Just click here and follow the directions: https://womensspiritualityforum.org/wsf/index.php/contact
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