Announcing: No Unsacred Place, A New PNC Blog Project

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The Pagan Newswire Collective continues to grow and expand as new local bureaus take root all across the country and group blog projects bring together the experience and expertise of Pagans from a wide variety of traditions and communities to share their insights into subjects from politics to pop culture, and everything in between. The most recent addition to the PNC is No Unsacred Place: Earth and Nature in Pagan Traditions.



No Unsacred Place explores the relationships between religion and science, nature and civilization from a diversity of modern Pagan perspectives. With climate change ever-present in today's cultural and political discourse, and the realities of ecological destruction increasingly impacting our local communities and daily lives, questions about how we live as members of this jeweled, blue-green planet are no longer merely abstract philosophical musings or theological exercises. While cultures throughout history offer us examples of human beings in relationships of worship, stewardship, domination and exploitation of the Earth, modern Paganism is unique in drawing together the wisdom and ecocentric focus of ancient religions with the insights into the physical world afforded by modern science and technology.

No Unsacred Place draws inspiration for its title from the contemporary American poet and environmentalist, Wendell Berry, who wrote: "There are no unsacred places. There are only sacred places and desecrated places." Berry confronts the assumption that "the sacred" can be cordoned off and separated from the mundane, and challenges us to examine our relationship to those places we consider to be "unsacred" — whether they are untamed forests and barren deserts, or human-made landscapes of metal and concrete — to discover how our attitudes and actions lead to desecration and destruction. Pagans today face the challenge of reconciling the lessons and influence of "dark green religion" environmentalist and conservation movements in contemporary society, with an ambivalence towards the wildness and wilderness of the Earth that is as old as Western civilization itself.

This blog features coverage and analysis of environmentalism and ecology in the news from a Pagan perspective, as well as essays and personal reflections about the role of science, environmental ethics, eco-friendly lifestyles, and an awareness of the land and its seasons, both in religious community and in the personal spiritual lives of modern Pagans.

Monthly columns include "Fur and Feather," in which Juniper Jeni draws on her extensive background in homesteading and animal rescue to explore issues of animal rights, and "The Sacred in Suburbia," in which John Beckett confronts the challenges of living sustainably and cultivating sacred relationship with the earth in a land of manicured lawns and strip malls; in addition, Ruby Sara writes on earth-based liturgy and ritual in her column, "Earthly Rites."

Other participants of note include Alison Leigh Lilly, a Druid essayist, poet and author of Meadowsweet & Myrrh who writes on issues of deep ecology, environmental justice and earth-centered peacemaking; Pagan geologist and environmental scientist Meical abAwen, who teaches with Blackberry Circle; and Cat Chapin-Bishop, who writes on the practice and purpose of her environmental witness at her blog, Quaker Pagan Reflections.

Claiming My Name

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Two years ago today, I met Jeff Lilly in person for the first time, after having known him as an "online friend" for several years.

I wish I could say birds sang, sparks flew and cosmic spheres clicked into perfect harmony. What actually happened was that we were both so nervous and shy, it took several hours of awkward glances and chatting on the futon before we could look each other in the eye without blushing furiously. Still, two years later and we're madly, amazingly, blessedly in love. And six months from today, we'll officially be newly weds. Rock!

Which means... my name is changing. I'd assumed for a long time that if I ever did get married, I'd be keeping my own name. I adore my name, especially my first and middle — Alison Leigh — and as a feminist, the idea of taking my partner's name seemed a bit antiquated, and too much of a hassle.

But Jeff's name is so simple, and sweet, like him, and I find myself honored and excited to be taking it. Family names, like families, come with lots of baggage and ambivalence and history. Jeff's name comes with four step-kids, for a start. It also comes with a whole complicated history and heritage that, stepping into his life as a partner and best friend, I'll now be a part of, too.

But I didn't much like the idea of becoming "Alison Shaffer Lilly." Just didn't jive. And like I said, I love my middle name — after a period of intensely disliking it when I was little, I eventually made peace with its odd spelling and lilting brevity. I learned later on that it was my father who chose that name for me, Leigh, the Gaelic spelling, meaning according to some "meadow or clearing" and according to others "courageous one." Keeping my middle name seemed an appropriate way to honor my father's family and our Irish ancestry, as well as the rolling farmlands and fields of my childhood home in Lancaster County.

So "Alison Leigh Lilly" is who I'll be. In six months, legally.

But I'm impatient. And, let's face it, a bit of a teacher's pet perfectionist. I like reading the books before I take the class, and getting ahead of the ball before it starts rolling. So I've decided, in the spirit of my anniversary with my beloved today, and in honor of my Irish family roots — I'm making the change now.

Yup, starting today I've decided to be "Alison Leigh Lilly." It'll give me some time to practice my signature. I can try on my new name like the pair of shoes you get for your wedding, the ones you're supposed to wear to your dance classes so that come the Big Day they'll be all broken in and you can dance like a demon all night long without getting blisters — except, of course, that we're not taking dance lessons. And I won't be wearing shoes at my wedding.

It's also a practical career matter, and I am if anything a practical career woman. (She said seriously. No, seriously, you guys! Why are you laughing?) Though I've put this blog on semi-hiatus for the past several months, the career opportunities keep rolling my way, and really, I'm sick of worrying about having to send out notices and new bios six months from now when we finally get around to getting hitched. A stitch in time saves nine, they say. So from now on, my "professional" name is transitioning from "Alison Shaffer" to "Alison Leigh Lilly (née Shaffer)" so that, six months from now, I can drop the "née" and get on with my day.

I am totes serious, you guys. So serious that I've made a Facebook page. Yeah. That serious. You should check it out.

In fact, you should hop on over and tell me your stories about how you "claimed your name." And maybe share some advice about how long I can expect the slip-ups and stumblings to last. Because I gotta say, breaking a twenty-seven year old habit may not be easy. I'm going to need all the help I can get. So next time you see me, lend me a hand with a friendly wave and a "Why hello, Alison Leigh Lilly! Lovely day!"

Together, we'll get there.

Calling Writers for Nature & Environmentalism Blog

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The PNC is recruiting writers for a new group blog project exploring Pagan and nature-centered spiritualities and their relationship to environmentalism, conservation and science.

This blog will cover a variety of topics, including: environmental news and on-going conservation efforts across the nation and throughout the world; the evolving relationship between religion and science in modern culture; explorations of environmental ethics and philosophy; personal reflections on a spiritual life rooted in earth and environmental awareness, and anecdotes and advice about "living green" day-to-day.

Anyone interested in joining this exciting project, and who can commit to blogging about nature-related topics from a Pagan perspective on a regular (ideally, weekly) basis, please email the PNC at: projects [at] pagannewswirecollective.com

New Website in the Works

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For folks still following along at home....

No, I'm not gone or giving up writing. Yes, a new website is in the works, incorporating a more permanent/static structure in addition to a blog feature to showcase my writing and share news with readers. My hope is to have the new website ready to launch by my birthday in mid-June. (Though I'm not making any promises.) Stay tuned for announcements here and on Facebook (where I also now have an author page) as the months roll by.

If you can't bear to do without me and my startling wit till then — well, that's probably something you should have a doctor take a look at. In the meantime, though, I'll still be posting fairly regularly about Pagan and Druid themes over on my wedding blog, Wedding on the Edge, along with my partner, Jeff Lilly (author of Druid Journal). I'll also be making the occasional appearance over at Pagan+Politics.

So hang in there, my friends. And in the meantime, spend some time outside making peace with cold winter and dawning spring. Many blessings, and many thanks.

"We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us."

- Joseph Campbell

This is not a blog post.

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In this time of fluid demographics and long-distance community building, I find myself over and over running up against this single, searing question:

WHY do I want to be a part of [this] community?

Doesn't matter which community it is. The fact is, we have a choice now about which communities we belong to, a choice unlike any our ancestors have faced in the past. With online networking and social media sites, I can choose my friends, contacts, teachers and mentors from all over the world. When once it might have been impossible, or at least semantically meaningless, to "choose" to belong to a religion other than the one of my immediate family and neighbors, today I can choose to be Pagan and to network with others I've never even met in real life. Even within the Pagan community, I can choose to be a Revivalist Druid or a Celtic Reconstructionist, a Witch, a Hellenist or a Heathen. I can choose to be a participant on various online forums, email lists and blogs with almost unending options, and each choice will put me in touch with different people and different community expectations and standards.

So when I make these choices about what communities I'm going to belong to, I find myself more and more running up against that question: why? Why do I want to belong to your community? Is your community supportive, accepting, challenging, grounded, honest, full of humor and curiosity? Or does your community bicker and encourage in-fighting, playing to the lowest common denominator, drumming up melodrama and one-upmanship? What's more important to your community: popularity and huge membership numbers, or authenticity and sincerity in the relationships it nurtures and cultivates? Calculated politeness that just barely passes for "tolerance," or warm hospitality and celebration of diversity?

The Long Goodbye: Part Four

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It seemed I had two choices before me. The Page of Wands, a young, spontaneous and energetic form that could be the very embodiment of the internet as a medium, with its attention-grabbing multimedia and almost endless opportunities for someone to make a name for herself through charisma and laughter. Or the Ten of Pentacles, embodying formality, structure and an engagement with traditional patterns of expression that could lead to the fruitful, prosperous marriage of spirit and form characterized by generosity and exchange. And the third card? The choice that was not a choice?

Making a Clean Break

Last night, I had a dream. One of those dreams so vivid and blunt, it's hard to ignore the message. One of those dreams that just feels like a metaphor, even when you're in it.

I dreamt I was a student in college again, engaged in a class discussion led by a wise old professor. Yet this professor seemed to take particular pleasure in setting me up for embarrassment and frustration. As the discussion progressed, he would often interrupt himself or students as they explained their ideas or expounded on theories, and shoot a question at me. Being a dream, I can't now remember even what the subject was — but I do know that, again and again, I felt the frustration rise as I found myself interrupted, torn out of my focus on the ideas of others as they unfolded — forced instead to stand up to prove myself to these peers, to prove myself worthy of being there to learn. It wasn't enough to attend, to listen intently and consider carefully the concepts being shared. But more frustrating was that, each time this professor interrupted the flow of conversation to challenge me to a verbal duel, he allowed only a sentence out of my mouth before he veered back again, leaving me hanging there dumb, my words decontextualized and my thoughts unfinished. It felt for all the world like a goddamned Twitter feed — one hundred forty characters was all I got.

Until at one point, I finally managed to break out of it. The next question he asked me, I found myself speaking in paragraphs. Whole arguments cascaded out of my mouth in point after point, theories backed up by evidence and examples, counter-arguments considered and deconstructed. The professor seemed impressed, asked another question to prompt me... yet I could feel something slipping. The students around me began to talk over me in their own conversations. Someone behind me snickered. Mid-sentence, the professor interrupted me again, this time to tell me, "Well, at least you've finally demonstrated that you're not a complete idiot, which is a bit of a surprise. Some of your ideas were actually pretty sound. Of course, you're horribly boring, so boring that your dullness itself is offensive and detracts from the values of your ideas no matter what they are. You were more attractive when you weren't saying anything."

The Long Goodbye: Part Three

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The Seven of Cups indicates the paradox of choice, and the difficulty of choosing when too many opportunities and options seem to beckon. Unable to decide which course it would be best to pursue, we starve and waste away like Buridan's ass paralyzed into inaction by an unpredictable future. The card was telling me what I already knew, what I had been experiencing for the past few months as I tried to juggle an increasing number of obligations while fighting to keep down my frustration at not making very much progress on any of them.

Obligation and Divination

Throughout my life, I have been pretty good at following my intuition, listening for the cues of my subconscious to help guide me in making important life decisions. It was this kind of listening that led me to choose the college I ended up attending — where I met several people who would change my life, where I had the opportunity to do independent research that eventually led me to my Pagan path, and where I earned a degree as valedictorian of my college class. It was by listening to my intuition that I found myself moving across the state to the lovely city of Pittsburgh — where I first entered a graduate school program and then left it for being wholly unsuitable to my personality, where I found a job as a waitress (against everyone's hopes and expectations) and spent five years wandering spiritually and intellectually in ways I never could have if I'd settled down and gotten a "real" job. It was intuition that led me to seek out a connection with Jeff, who happened to have connections in Pittsburgh through both family and work and who eventually took a leap of faith of his own and moved here to be with me. And it was intuition that prodded me into taking a trip across the ocean to the land of my ancestors, despite being terrified of both airports and flying, and having never traveled alone or abroad before.

But these were all times when a singular opportunity presented itself, and I had a simple choice to make: stay, or go. Now, I found myself in a much more complicated situation, with almost endless possibilities any of which might be fruitful depending on how I chose to direct my energies. I also had more responsibilities and obligations, not least of which were the children to whom I'd soon become a stepmom. And so I also had a pressing sense that it was important to make a choice of some kind and follow through with it, rather than languishing passively and allowing Spirit to drag me along where it would. I had spent a lot of time cultivating my will and honing my skills — now, I felt a strong and definite call to step up and be active in my own destiny, to act out my gratitude for the blessings of my life by taking a more directive role in the work I would do in the future. But of course, that work still needed to be grounded in Spirit and soul-longing.

The Long Goodbye: Part Two

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Then, out of the blue, several things happened at once. Most of them were things that, for one reason or another, I did not want to mention here on Meadowsweet for a little while... out of a sense of privacy, respect, and a bit of base superstition.

Synchronicity Abounds

The first, already known to readers, was that I posted the announcement for the Samhain to Solstice "Same Time Tomorrow" Donation Drive, which I'd been planning for a couple months in hopes that I might generate enough funds from supportive readers to move this blog to an expanded website with its own domain name. Almost as soon as I'd posted the announcement, however, a creeping sense of regret and frustration began to steal over me. I knew that I would dislike always wondering, as each day passed, if anyone would like my work enough to donate, which is why I'd only planned it as a temporary measure. I had no idea how painful it would be to feel overlooked as the month went by, with less than one percent of readers acknowledging the donation drive, and my readership numbers actually shrinking after I shared my request for suppport. Yet within a week of the donation drive announcement, a new job opportunity came my way and I began working from home as an independent contractor with a more flexible schedule and better pay than my former waitressing job — doing work that, being project-based and detail-oriented, satisfies my Gemini urge to plunge into the nitty-gritty and make measurable progress on particular tasks, and then move swiftly on to the next one. Experiencing the sense of job satisfaction and enjoyment I got from this new work put my frustration with blogging into sharp relief.

The Long Goodbye: Part One

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The golden cups
are in his hand,
his hand is on the knife
and the knife is
above my head.

- Taliesin*

Three times I drew the Seven of Cups, card of soul-wrought dreams and tempting fantasies beckoning, and possibilities so numerous they seem to paralyze all ability to choose. Three times I drew the card in daily meditation before I finally agreed to seek for further guidance.

Where It's At

Things have been all tangled up lately. The puzzle box or wrinkled seed that was planted in my heart during my time in Northern Ireland — the small, mysterious thing curled in upon itself that I had all but forgotten about as things returned to normal — has been creaking and clicking as one by one its latches unhook and slip open... or it has been germinating and putting down roots that slip their sly tendrils in to pry open the soil of my soul. It all sounds very dramatic when you put it like that, but the truth is that I have been growing increasingly dissatisfied and frustrated with certain aspects of my work. And when I say work, I mean the soul-work of my writing, that strange little hobby that cannot make me a living but is indispensable to making me alive.

I've started to have serious doubts about blogging as the appropriate medium for my writing. It takes a huge amount of pride-swallowing to write that sentence, considering it was only a few months ago I was raving about how Meadowsweet & Myrrh was like my online "home," and scoffing arrogantly at people who easily abandon their blogs and let them lie fallow and un-updated for months at a time. I take my writing — and thus my blogging — very seriously, perhaps too seriously at times. I am as slow to abandon a project as I am to leave behind a faith path that no longer meets my spiritual needs (and it took my nigh on half a decade of dilly-dallying to do that before I finally dropped the Catholic label and admitted to myself what everyone else already knew).

Same Time Tomorrow: A Meadowsweet Donation Drive

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Click above to donate!

"It's hard to be famous and alive. I just want to play music every day and hear someone say, 'Thanks, that was great, here's some money, same time tomorrow, okay?'"

- Terry Pratchett, from Soul Music

Lovely, beautiful, generous readers.... have you been working out? Seriously, you're looking really good these days, at least ten years younger than you are (you're in your early thirties, right?). Your hair always looks fantastic. And have I mentioned lately how much I enjoy your company? Always so witty and interesting — you must be the joy and envy of all your many friends. Also, I heard that your spouse/offspring/pet did really well in that thing he or she was doing, and I know that you must be so proud — though I bet they have you to thank for all your encouragement and support. You know, speaking of support....

I've been thinking recently, especially after my little crisis back in September, that it's time for a bit of a shake-up around the old blog. I have visions in my head of a truly marvelous semi-magazine layout, with feature articles, more frequent guest posts, an expanded resources page, maybe a poetry and lectio divina column... And, most thrilling of all, a domain name. O so professional.

Of course, I've been blogging here at meadowsweet-myrrh dot blogspot dot com for several years now, fast approaching my three-hundreth post, and the sheer number of pages published here could easily fill a couple sizable books. Meanwhile, the number of you wonderful readers has crept up and up, especially over the last year. Many of you keep coming back because, let's be frank, you are wise and well-read people who recognize good writing when you read it — but more importantly, at least I hope anyway, you can tell when a person has poured her heart and soul into the work she shares, and you are kind and empathetic folks as well as being intelligent and sharp as a tack.

How Many Druids Does It Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

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Well, I was so busy doing my best to write up an unbiased report on the recent news coming out of the UK about The Druid Network being granted religious charitable status by the Charity Commission — and interviewing lots of folks (including some who are kind of like famous people now, you know, if you're a Druid) about their own thoughts and opinions on the news — and then collecting and organizing all the information I could about US and UK nonprofit law to write up an article on the process of seeking status as a church or religious organization for minority faiths — that I never did get around to writing about what I thought of the whole thing. And now it seems I may have missed the boat, or the wave, or the tide, or whatever water-related metaphor you want to use [insert plug for Blog Action Day 2010 on 15 October here]. But — to twist a trope that's also been making its way around the Pagan blogosphere — I'm a Druid, and I have opinions about stuff.

Of course, I'll be honest, most of those opinions are about other people's opinions. The run-down of my own initial reaction to the news, which I read about first on The Pagan and The Pen goes something like: Hey! That's fantastic! Good for them! Even though I'm not a member of TDN because (a) I don't agree completely with the definition of deity that Emma Restall Orr outlines in her book Living Druidry, and (b) it seems like the Network is mostly focused on the UK more than the US — I still very much respect the organization's leadership and the projects they promote. Plus, their anti-hierarchical anarchic tendencies are pretty cool, and Jeff and I really enjoyed doing the freely-available-on-their-website Perennial Course in Living Druidry over this past year. Maybe this news will help them grow and inspire more people to take a serious look at Druidry and what it can offer as a modern spiritual tradition. Whereupon I forwarded the news and link on to Jason at The Wild Hunt to perhaps be included in the regular "Pagan Community Notes" feature... because at that point, it was of note to our community, but not actual news.

Blog Action Day 2010: Water

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Folks who might be a bit out-of-the-loop (such as yours truly) but still eager to hop on board the Opinions About Social Change Express as it makes its way around the blogosphere next week might want to think about participating in the annual Blog Action Day on Friday, 15 October, when thousands of bloggers will join an international discussion about water.

Yes, that's right: water. From the Blog Action Day website:

Right now, almost a billion people on the planet don’t have access to clean, safe drinking water. That’s one in eight of us who are subject to preventable disease and even death because of something that many of us take for granted.

Access to clean water is not just a human rights issue. It’s an environmental issue. An animal welfare issue. A sustainability issue. Water is a global issue, and it affects all of us.

In previous years, Blog Action Day has focused on issues like climate change, poverty and environmental awareness. I'll be participating once again this year with reflections on water and its role as both element and realm in Druidic spirituality, and how our spiritual relationship with water connects us to the larger questions of social justice and environmental activism.

I encourage others out there in the Pagan blogosphere to join in the conversation a week from today and share their insights, too! Just visit the Blog Action Day 2010 website for more information and to register your blog.

You can also snag this year's Blog Action Day badge, though not as snazzy as last year's it's infinitely more practical and proactive:

Change.org|Start Petition

Ali's Summer Vacation: Announcements, Guest Bloggers, New Features, O My!

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Hello, all of you lovely and beautiful readers out there! I hope your summers have been full of smooth sunlight, cool waters and copious green. I know mine sure has! And there's more to come, as I pack up and ready myself for a month-long hiatus from the blogosphere.

During the sweltering dog-days of August, I'll be traveling north to the rocky shoreline cliffs and wooded mountainsides of Acadia National Park in Maine, where I'll spend a week with my family and my partner Jeff, hiking, biking, swimming, reading, wining and dining. Soon after my return, I'll be off again, jet-setter that I am, on my first ever trip abroad to the emerald and mist-strewn coast of Northern Ireland, to attend a week-long retreat on Celtic Spirituality and Radical Activism, led by Gareth Higgins and Carl McColman.

But never fear! Though I'm taking the month of August off to do some sun-soaking and soul-searching, I've been working hard in the meantime to make sure readers here at Meadowsweet & Myrrh have plenty to keep them engaged and entertained.

Cú Chulainn and the Queen of Swords: Reflections on Reason and Nakedness

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One of the ways that I clothe and shelter my nakedness in the world is with my intellect, which always seems to be churning away sometimes even in spite of myself.

Don't get me wrong, I value reason highly as an expression of Spirit in the human animal; it is a wisdom-weaver and pattern-dancer, it is one of the meaning-makers of human experience that can serve to highlight and elevate, to shape and navigate. When used in this way, reason and critical analysis can exercise the mind, stripping it of falsehoods and obscurities and laying it bare to the world in all its complexity and sublimity (and when applied with a devotion that borders on bhakti, reason can be a terrible and awesome thing that shakes the world ruthlessly down to its rattling joints).

But too often, reason can be wielded as a weapon. I find that I do this far more often than I like, and it always leaves me feeling uncomfortable, disturbed from the dwelling-place of naked presence that I am continually seeking in the world. When I feel threatened or misunderstood, I can swing my intellect like a sword, cutting down hesitant, half-formed or poorly-articulated arguments where they stand — without regard for the meanings they are striving towards or the complexities they, too, are trying to navigate. The fight becomes the thing, and I get caught up in the thrill of parry and thrust and the heat of my own mental muscles tensed and flexing as I dodge and turn and feel the bite of my blows striking home.

Readers, Lurkers, Fans: Come Out, Whoever You Are!

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As I've mentioned, I injured my wrist a little while back — now, don't worry, I'm doing better, I'm able to feed myself, brush my hair, and even spend some time on the computer now (after a whole week of less than an hour a day! how did I survive?!). But yesterday, after typing a long post for Pagan+Politics, the aching stiffness had crept back up my arm from wrist to elbow. So while I have things I'm dying to write about (like how Columbia has seriously shaken my as-yet-scrawny and fledgling faith in polytheism)... I'll be taking it slow for the next few days.

In the meantime, another blog I read sparked an idea, and I decided it might be fun to encourage all you readers to chime in! I know there are a few hundred of you out there, and so I invite you now to leave a comment, say hello — even if you're just a lurker, even if you've never left a comment here before, why not share a little bit about yourself? To that end, I pose these two questions (adapted from the original meme):

1) Tell me about yourself. Who are you? Do you have a spiritual or religious path that you are walking? What was it that drew you to this blog, and why have you stayed? What would you like to see more of here at Meadowsweet & Myrrh? Let loose with those comments!

2) Tell someone else about this blog. Perhaps try to seek out someone who's not a Pagan or Druid but who you think might be interested in the kinds of things featured here. Send them a link to your favorite post, and let's see what they say!

I look forward to hearing from all of you! And if you haven't already, why not "Like" Meadowsweet & Myrrh over on Facebook and leave a comment or review over there while you're at it!

Discovering Druidry

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I have, like others before me, discovered that Blogger now hosts "pages"... and I've finally broken down and decided to play with this feature to see what it has to offer — a longer biography, perhaps, or a list of useful books and resources? Links to popular and interesting past posts, maybe one or two longer essays of general interest? If others have any ideas, please don't hesitate to share! Eventually these pages will appear as links (in a relatively boring format, until I can tweak things) just below the header. For now, please enjoy my first page, Discovering Druidry, which serves as a kind of combination memoir and overview of my personal approach to the threefold, interweaving Druid Path. I have shared it below as a post on its own, but it will also be permanently available here. (Also, I'm honored and excited to see that Philip Carr-Gomm stumbled across it today and quoted it in his blog! Thanks so much, Philip!)

In the beginning, I was a wild child, a woodsy child, a child who could concentrate all of my attention on holding perfectly still so as not to startle the robin in the grass. I could disappear into the tense air of rapt attention, forget my own little body completely as my eyes widened and my breath stilled. Once, the robin's twitching eyes turned towards me, and I thought I heard it whisper... Cheer-up. Cheer-up, calmly, almost with amusement, you know, I can see you.

That was when I was a very little girl. As sometimes happens, eventually I grew up and stopped listening so closely to the world, to the landscape and the wilderness. It would be years before I rediscovered the rapture of stilled breath or the ecstasy, the going-out-ness, of listening closely and attending with reverence to sacred nature. Druidry would restore my sense of connection and intimacy with the natural world; it would open me to new ways of living with creativity and wisdom, playfulness and respect; it would bring me home to myself, to this person dwelling in my own particular body in my own particular place in a vast landscape infused with Spirit. Druidry was a home-coming for me, as so many Pagans and Witches before me have described their own rediscoveries. One day, I would look into the eyes of the world and discover — like some startled scullery maid or the only daughter of a widower out of a fairy tale — my real destiny wearing a strange new face, a face of beauty and dignity, but smiling at me with the same old familiar affection.

But first, I had to learn about poetry.

Pacifism comes to Pagan+Politics

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I am pleased, proud and (incredibly) nervous to announce that I have been invited to join the ranks of politically-savvy bloggers over at the Pagan Newswire Collective's Pagan+Politics group blog. Many thanks to Jason for his invitation and his vote of confidence — I hope to rise to the challenge of writing weekly about pacifistic- and anarchistic-related news, without too many days ending in tears and wails of "why doesn't anybody understand me?!"

My introductory post is already up, but in case you need some enticement, here's an excerpt:

I have been writing publicly about pacifism for several years now, and it still remains a challenge to face down my own anxieties about misinterpretation, hypocrisy, judgement and impotence. It is not always fun to write about ideals and ethical principles that can make not only my readers but even myself feel uncomfortable, uncertain, inadequate, angry or sorrowful.

So why do it? Because I honestly believe that, despite our discomfort and uncertainty, despite our habitual resistance to the idea, the truth is that peace is easy and freedom is innate. Though we are surrounded today with myriad examples of violence, war, hatred and rage, though we have complicated systems of government control looming over us at every step — ordinary, everyday life for most of us is still characterized by spontaneous, consensual cooperation and moments full of the profound simplicity of peaceful relationship. Outside my window and here in this room, the world revels in this sunny spring afternoon, a spring that came without coercion or malice, that arose delicately and swiftly out of the interplay of countless creatures and forces, gods and forms, all organizing themselves through their striving and reaching and vying and dancing, rooted in the necessary rot of autumn, preserved through the inevitable cold of winter, and deeply engaged in the ceaseless process of becoming something beautiful.

Secrets of the Spring

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I am so incredibly bad at keeping secrets.

By which I mean, I'm quite good at it... but usually it requires some kind of sound-proof booth. Nothing gets out. And I mean, nothing. Not a peep.

So think of these past few weeks here at Meadowsweet & Myrrh as a kind of metaphorical sound-proof booth into which I've stepped as exciting potential projects percolate in my brain. Imagine me stepping into this booth and drawing closed the door behind me with that satisfying ssthwumphsshhh... then hunkering down to work at a nice, wide wooden desk, scraps of paper and photographs sprawled everywhere, with scissors and glue and paintbrushes and bits of wire and, yes, gods forbid, perhaps even a little bit of glitter I think. And every once in a while, I'll look up from my intensity and reverie... and what you will see is a pantomime of crazy, as I shout and wave my hands in happy frenzy and maybe sing a little song... while other times, you might witness my little freak-outs of stress and frustration, my paper-cuts and my bottles of glue tipping over and spilling sticky, gooey translucent ick over the gorgeous wooden desktop and pretty much just getting everywhere. Hence the need for sound-proofing. If I hadn't stepped into my little booth, by now you would all be privy to a few really joyous, really cool bits of news... and not a few unsavory tantrums.

Suffice it to say, I hope soon my spontaneous spasms of inspiration will eventually subside into something workable and soon this blog will return to its usual, regularly-updating schedule. But be forewarned, it seems this happens almost every spring: my energy demands that I be out and away from the computer, planning and plotting the next fabulous year in my ever-glowing life of homebody adventure and dancing gratitude. This spring-to-be so far has seen Jeff with a broken foot, my Cu Gwyn drugged up and groggy at the vet after his little snippety-snip, my apartment snapped up by a future tenant with permission from my landlord to begin the process of packing and moving (fat-lotta-help Jeff will be on that one). I have painted rooms, I have rearranged furniture, I have made phone calls and set up careful budget plans. I have (hold your breath!) gotten along exceedingly well with my mother (who, though she might fight like hell with me when it's between the two of us, is also the first one with her claws out and her teeth bared when it's me against the rest of the world).

And all the while, I have been praying and listening and contemplating, and the gods have been near, whispering in the winds and laughing in the branches and slipping along the slowly-melting icicles like late afternoon sunlight. I do not like when I read people's blogs and they say something like, "Sorry for not updating, but life has gotten too busy for Spirit." Rest assured, my lovably languishing readers, it is Spirit that has gotten too busy for me these days, and these past few weeks have been a bottleneck as all the animals and egregores I have made here in my little sound-proof booth have rushed headlong for the open door at once and gotten stuck half-in, half-out, with all their mouths panting open and all their tails wagging.

Ah, but let me not give anything away just yet! Bare with me a little longer as I pretend life is the same old dull and cold of winter and spring hasn't crept up behind me like a poet in dark. Brigid's eyes are smiling into the back of my neck, and I'm bending down to concentrate on the tasks at hand. I have yoga to practice, and bathtubs to wash, and furniture to move, and secrets to keep, and miles to go before I sleep...

Fighting Back Fatalism

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Today, I received my first ever request to feature another writer as a guest blogger here on Meadowsweet & Myrrh, as part of a publicity campaign and "virtual book tour" to promote the man's latest publication. The request came via his agent, who thought his work would be "a good fit for the content of this blog." So... on the one hand, I suppose I should feel pleased, that apparently my little slice of the blogosphere is growing up and making her way in the world, enough to garner the attentions of marketers and agents at least. However, I will not be featuring this person or his writing; below is a copy of the letter I sent in reply to his agent explaining why.

Dear N—,

I appreciate your request, but I'm sorry to say that in looking at Mr. X—'s writing, I don't think his ideas or philosophy would be appropriate for my blog. In fact, it worries me that you seem to think so and I can only hope that you did not read my own work very carefully. I am committed to religious tolerance and cultural liberalism, to supporting individual rights and ecumenical dialogue among diverse religions and cultures, and also to an optimism that holds that people are not only capable of finding happiness for themselves but of living in meaningful, peaceful community with one another. A philosophy of "feel good inside no matter what happens outside" simply does not line up with my own philosophy of active, creative engagement with the world, nor with any kind of commitment to social justice, as far as I can tell. I was also disturbed by Mr. X—'s gross mischaracterization of Islam in his most recent blog post, as well as his treat of fellow human beings as "sheeple" to be derided or dismissed. Claiming to have received such notions from a spirit guide cannot excuse their basic indecency.

Granted, I have only scanned through Mr. X—'s blog and I may have misunderstood the real intentions of his writing. If this is so, then I apologize and wish him the best of luck. But I am not interested in featuring Mr. X—'s work in any way whatsoever on my own blog. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Ali

The world is a difficult place to live in. And sometimes, yes, I feel frustrated, depressed and helpless. Just today at lunch, I spent time in conversation with friends about fears of unending war and the slow, painful collapse of this broken system of corporate greed and political war-mongering (a collapse, I feel, we're already beginning to witness). But I strive to stay grounded, and to remind myself always of my very basic faith in people as good and kind and capable of great courage and beauty and love. I can never turn to or condone a self-focused philosophy of seeking inner happiness while the world around me burns. If the world around me is going to burn, then I guess I'll be burning, too, with grief but also with stubborn, stupid hope.

I realize that my posts of late have tended towards the morbid and the frustrated, the worried and the cynical. But I do not want to turn away from these feelings, either by denying their reality or trying to escape them through disconnection and fantasy. Trusting in the harmony of the Song of the World does not negate or banish the pain of our struggles to sing the songs of our own souls. My language is flowery and inadequate, but it's what I have.

Jeff tells me that Haiti's cellphone system is coming back online, and txt messages and voicemails sent during the earthquake two weeks ago are finally getting through. And while there will be those cries for help reaching out too late from the lips of those now dead, there will also be messages of love and last chances to say goodbye.

We are not alone. We have each other.

Amusing Update (31 January 2010):

I must have gotten on some list somewhere. Just received yet another email asking me if I would like to host another guest blogger/interview subject, some guy (who used to feel lost just like me, apparently) who is now a multi-millionaire and has made it his mission to travel the world teaching people to love life by doing crazy-expensive things like paying to be a crewman on the space shuttle. My response:

T—,

Thank you, but no. Apparently you missed my several posts on "voluntary poverty" and commitment to social justice rather than self-involved thrill-seeking. No hard feelings, though. I wish Q—, and yourself, the best of luck with your own philosophies, but I'm happy to keep my blog devoted to the small simplicity of the earth in springtime and the inspiration of thunderstorms and fields of heather blooming.

-Ali

Dona Nobis Pacem

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There is no going back. We consent to our own destruction, with the passing of time, with the changing seasons, with the restless intensity of living and breathing. Above the cold concrete and glass of the city skyline, sharp-wedged forms of birds wheel and tip in the dark, blustering sky. I find myself thinking again that it takes an awful lot of courage to live in this world sometimes, knowing that winter is coming, the dark is coming, and death, too, will eventually arrive to claim us. It takes courage to release ourselves, to enter willingly into the wild dance that whirls in this liminal space between life and death, creation and destruction. In my mind, the image of birds crashing through wind currents and swift-driven clouds commingles with the image of the warrior, poised in grace on the edge of chaos. The face of that warrior is not violence, but fearlessness. And the culmination of fearlessness, the height of its realization, is peace.

Five A.M. in the Pinewoods
by Mary Oliver

I'd seen
their hoofprints in the deep
needles and knew
they ended the long night

under the pines, walking
like two mute
and beautiful women toward
the deeper woods, so I

got up in the dark and
went there. They came
slowly down the hill
and looked at me sitting under

the blue trees, shyly
they stepped
closer and stared
from under their thick lashes and even

nibbled some damp
tassels of weeds. This
is not a poem about a dream,
though it could be.

This is a poem about the world
that is ours, or could be.
Finally
one of them— I swear it!—

would have come to my arms.
But the other
stamped sharp hoof in the
pine needles like

the tap of sanity,
and they went off together through
the trees. When I woke
I was alone,

I was thinking:
so this is how you swim inward,
so this is how you flow outward,
so this is how you pray.

November 5, 2009

The Peace Globe Gallery