Spell to Tumble the Tower of Patriarchy by Beth Weaver-Kreider
Say: We take back our agency Say: The daughters will be avenged Say: The predators have become prey Say: We predate the predators and we will rise again Say: We stand with the ancestors, the women who died on your fires the women who drowned in your waters the women you thought you had buried deep in the mouth of the Earth the same Earth who loves us the Earth who holds the dead dearly the women you set swinging in air
Say: Our mouths are filling with fire and we will burn it down Say: The water within us is rising and we will flood and we will flood and we will flood Say: We are a tremor, we are an earthquake, and we will shake down the tower of power and domination
Say: We will blow and blow and blow We are hurricane We are tornado We are the wind that they call “The Witches are Passing”
Say: The rosy fingers of Dawn rise above the new horizon Say: The ancient Goddess is returning Say: The new story is beginning
Gratitude List: 1. russet ocher burnt sienna yellow gold orange chestnut walnut 2. How sunlight in autumn opens a door to another world 3. When the poem just comes 4. ReGenAll’s Climate Summit today, knowing that people are doing the good work 5. Finding time to write May we walk in Beauty!
I will not be in timidated by the pat riarchal posers
I will not be des pairing over the lies dis persed by wannabe
dictators and syc ophants groveling in ab ject obsequious
ness I will be dis orderly and ungovern able as the moon
Gratitude List: 1. The sleeping giant is awakening (and she is seeking justice) 2. The moon the moon the moon the moon 3. Four-part harmony 4. Crocheting with a friend 5. Weekends! May we walk in Beauty!
It’s November, so it is time to begin Poem-a-Day again. As I was looking for inspiration for this first day’s poem, I saw some notes I had made for the work I am doing with Kore/Persephone, Demeter, and Hecate. I wanted to set the poem onto the page in a format similar to the way I take notes.
Poem-a-Day Rules for Myself: 1. I am free to write utter crap. 2. My intention is to post a poem every day in November, no matter how small, no matter how late in the day. 3. If I get one good poem out of the month, I will celebrate.
Gratitude List: 1. My parents are safe and well in their new apartment. 2. The way the light angles in during this season. 3. My incredible students–I love watching the seniors create and present their Local Legends and Lore presentations on our Halloween Trail every year. I had to miss it this year because of my parents’ move, but helping them prepare is always a highlight. 4. An extra hour of sleep tonight. 5. Rituals to mark the changing seasons (externally and internally) May we walk in Beauty!
It was the perfect image, actually: a rogue king (self-proclaimed) shitting on his people, slit-eyes shifting in haughty detachment, in the cabin of a fake fighter jet. Unwanted, incompetent, unable even to wear his own safety gear safely. Alone in the sky, unstable, unhinged, no flicker of inner worlds in his incurious eyes, a demented troll awakened to perform a moment’s school bully vengeance.
And you there, in your thousands, there in your millions, you in you high-spirited froggy and unicorn glee, how you cavorted, supporting your neighbors, singing, thumbs-upping, and honking, you, dressed in your first amendment, you, wearing your We The People, holding your Constitutional rights in your fists, remember that no king, no dictator, no foolish, decrepit would-be emperor will ever take away your right to be free.
Perhaps you’ve been reading my posts since I began writing this blog. In that case, you may be wondering if my title suggests that I am having an existential crisis, wondering if I think I need to change my essential character in order to fight the powers that be. The answer is probably a bit of yes and no. I hope that in times of great political and social upheaval we all do the powerful soul-work of existential renovation, exploring whether our inner lives have what it takes to meet the challenges of the times. Are my core values and principles strong enough to carry me into these perilous days with courage and conviction to stand up to the soul-rending cruelty of the powermongers?
Yes, at some level, I have not changed my basic orientation–that Love is the answer, that the universe is held together by Love, that we are born of Love and borne on the wings of Love. I believe with Rhiannon Giddens that our work is to change the song of hate into a song of Love.
And. . . And I also find myself more frequently using the martial language I have long eschewed as I look at the work ahead of us. I will unapologetically speak of doing battle with hatred, of being a warrior for justice and due process and human rights. Of fighting for those who have no one to fight for them.
This feels a little too close to the Spiritual Warfare stuff I long ago turned my back on from those evangelical youth conferences of my teenaged years, so I step gingerly on this ground. Still, I feel like we are battling forces of cruelty and greed, power and hatred–psychopathic forces that have taken root in certain segments of our culture (perhaps not ironically in that very evangelical setting where I first heard the words Spiritual Warfare). So yes, these days my prayer to the Mother is that I may be one of the Luminous Warriors, courageous and confident and ready to step in and harbor those who are vulnerable to these waves of hatred and cruelty, to fight for their safety and protection with whatever means are given to me.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to start punching Nazis. But I might not be actively judging a new acquaintance who apparently did so. I’m not ready to start fire-bombing Teslas, but something in me might celebrate when I read of the ones who do. I’m not getting a gun. I’m not plotting violence. But I am also not going to sit quietly and say that Love is the Answer without putting my heart and my head and my hands and feet into the struggle to make it so.
Some people I know cringe at the words nonresistance and pacifism which have long been part of my identity, and rightly so–under certain definitions. My approach to Love as the Answer is akin to my understanding of the deep meaning of these words: Nonresistance is about actively bringing our moral truth to bear on the situation, not becoming like the hatemongers in a tit-for-tat exchange, but standing strong on the high ground, courageously ready to stand in the gap and be a witness and an example. Pacifism, likewise, is a commitment to being Present in the conflict, not turning to violence, but not cringing away either. My Anabaptist Ancestors called this a Third Way. I want to take that third path, neither reacting in violence nor reacting in fear, but intentionally bringing my Presence to the conflict.
I also believe that there are people out there who are beginning to ask questions, people who may have always been close to the fence, who are wondering how they ever got into the position where they’re defending Nazis, who are beginning to see with a little more nuance and compassion, and who need us to come at them with curiosity and questions and understanding rather than judgement and pitchforks. It’s not just Us and Them, but also the Ones Between, who may need to know it’s safe to leap the fence. How can I bring my soul force, my Love, to conversations with such people when I am burning with rage at the willingness they had to ignore the racism and homophobia and misogyny and colonialism and imperialism and authoritarianism. . .?
Yes, my MO will always be Love. It would feel like spiritual amputation to try to shift that as my grounding. And also, I need to train and strengthen my soul force, my moral force, my love force, my Mama Bear force, and get out into the fray in whatever way I am personally able to do that.
So if what you do is pray, pray fiercely and with Love. If what you do is fight, fight with honor and with Love. If what you do is stand up and speak out, do so with courage, with fervor, with fortitude, grounded in Love. If what you do is support others, bring your full Loving Presence to the act.
No, I’m not going to call for a hopeful loving that believes that if we love hard enough, the cruel people will simply change their hearts. I will call on the Lady to change their hearts, to break them utterly open with compassion. And also, I will take Love to the fight. Too many people are losing their freedom and their livelihoods and their lives for me to sit quietly by, muttering sweet words. I want to call us to a fierce and fearsome Love that puts its boots on, stands in the square, raises its voice (and probably its fist), and says, “Not on my watch!”
I have been writing. Really! I just haven’t been posting here. This season, I have gotten myself into a little bit of a bind with the artistic disciplines. I’m doing #The100DayProject, making a book a day, and I’m writing a poem a day in April. These are the things that keep my mind alive and questing during the stress of the spring season at school. The quick publish/post for daily poem and book has been Instagram and Substack, and so I will post a catalogue of some of my favorite poems and books here today.
For #The100DayProject, artists choose an artful activity and do it every day for 100 days, recording their work, and posting about it every day. The project begins on February 23, and I decided to begin my Substack life by posting my daily creations here.
What is a book?
Is it words on pages between covers? Is it a box, a basket, a vessel of words and images? Is it a kit for your imagination? What makes a book a book? And what is the line between book and not/book? Or is there even a line?
One of my students, when I posed the question to a class, said,
Perhaps a definition isn’t so much about what a thing is as about how it is used.”
Wise young person.
My aim for #The100DayProject is to explore the spaces between what is “book” and “not/book.” I aim to make some traditional (though whimsical) books in the form of pages between covers, and some boxes, baskets, vessels of words and images, photographs, to expand the definition of what a book is, and explore how it may be used. . .
Can I create one book a day for 100 days? Perhaps I will have some days when I record the process of making one book over several days. I cannot let this work interfere with my daily work, so I give myself permission to make quick little zines on busy days, to call anything a book, and to create junk.
I will make a bōchord (library in the old English), a BOOK HOARD, a library of sorts.
bōc as Vessel by Beth Weaver-Kreider
The leaves of the beech quiver in the winter wind, rustling whispers, so many stories to tell,
Etymology: bokiz or bece to bōc, to book. Bark and leaves, cover and spine, the line of words across a page.
It is written in the trees, you see, not just cellulose and pulp, but in the very essence of the word: seeds of ideas, leaves, and bark.
Not only Goths but Gauls too saw forest as library. Livre from librum, the tender inner bark of the tree.
When he was a child, my father carved his name into the soft grey of the household beech. I found the letters there, the book of his childhood, the story of branches shading the quiet balcony, the pious lives, the quiet joy, the industrious aunts, and some words allowed to be spoken only by the whispering leaves.
Once there was a guardian beech watching over the river and the valley, serpent branches spreading shadows across the hill. But insects burrowed her barky pages until the book of her began to die. We honored her story, you and I, the best we could; we read the book of her until the end.
Here in the pages of my palms I cup this small wooden bowl you turned from the branch of the serpent-beech, a new vessel to contain magic much as the tree herself held her secrets, the livre, the living library, still here, alive.
Mockingbird Chronicles 