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SageWoman Blogs

At SageWoman magazine, we believe that you are the Goddess, and we're devoted to celebrating your journey. We invite you to subscribetoday and join our circle...

Here in the SageWoman section of PaganSquare, our bloggers represent the multi-faceted expressions of the Goddess, feminist, and women's spirituality movements.

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs

All morning, and through the afternoon, our Reclaiming Planning Cell readied the local Grange Hall for one of our biggest annual public rituals, Samhain.  It is the Witches’ New Year, the time when the veil between the worlds is thinest and we spiral in step with our dead (some beloved, some not so much), and welcome all the new babies onto this side.

 

The Samhain before, during a lovely trance meditation piece, I’d had a surprise encounter with a very young version of my maternal great-grandmother.  In life, she was a woman I experienced as old and rather unpleasant, and someone who my grandmother experienced as horribly abusive.  The bright essence that joined me that night gave me a new perspective and accelerated the healing of multi-generational family wounds.  It was, in some ways, the final piece in years of ancestor work I’d done with my mother’s family.

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She’s looking at herself in the bathroom mirror of a motel on Van Buren and 24th. Her friend is staying next door. It’s early and the sun creeps between the ripped curtains and missing blinds. A man is in the bed, another on the sofa. She hid a bottle last night and pulls it out from the pack she carried through various parts of town. Her hands are dry. Her mouth cracks. There is no water and the fan makes annoying sounds. Her head has hurt for two weeks. A few pills line her jean pocket. Lovers speak in muffled sighs and sentences she cannot fully make out. She can no longer look into her eyes, only at her hair, an eyebrow, the curve of her shoulder. The wrinkles are showing up in every inch of skin, a world map of miles she never intended to travel. There’s never enough time, yet all she has is time. Limitless time. Time like a knife killing minutes. She’s stopped wondering what happened. Now all she must do is move. There’s a word from the bed. She knows it’s time to go again.

 

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Jamie
    Jamie says #
    Ms. Sato, Thank you for sharing your experiences with us. I've not seen the things you've seen, nor is my life probably very much
  • Aleah Sato
    Aleah Sato says #
    Thank you for your comment and for the work you do. It seems we are coming from similar perspectives and approaches, although perh
  • Francesca De Grandis
    Francesca De Grandis says #
    Ah, I see, thank you for correcting my intial impression. Yes, giving addicts only one option is stupid if not abusive. As to yo

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs

"Bunch of wanna-blessed-be's. Nowadays every girl with a henna tattoo and a spice rack thinks she's a sister to the dark ones." - Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Photo by Katie Tegtmeyer

I love that quote. It speaks to every judgment that can be made, one Pagan to another, that there is a right and wrong way to "do" Paganism, and that we all think we're better for our way. Not to mention how it characterizes non-Pagans...

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Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs

This Samhain season, I've been reflecting back to this past Candlemas and to the changes that season brought me. For sometime immediately around Imbolc is when I was first contacted by Freyja.

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Image of original watercolor painting by Laura Daligan. Check out her Etsy store here! Thanks for the permission to post it. :-)

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Lana
    Lana says #
    What a beautiful, sacred encounter! Thank you for sharing your story. Kalyca.
  • Frank Barcenas
    Frank Barcenas says #
    I was born with a sixth sense and it wasn't until I was around 24-25 that I learned there was a Divine/Unconditional Love/ Source
  • Emily Mills
    Emily Mills says #
    Oh, I do have these two entries from my blog from 2012 though, if you are interested. http://wyrdanglosaxonpriestess.wordpress.co

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs
Gaia's Winter Mantel

Often when I sit down to draw or paint, I don’t have a preconceived plan. I just want to start putting something down on the paper; maybe a few lines with a pencil, maybe just wild strokes of color.

This time, though I had something specific in mind. In fact, I’ve had it in mind for a while now. I’ve even made a few attempts in recent weeks, but each time there has been a disconnect between my head and my hand. I want to portray the Goddess in winter, but instead I keep filling my paper with the hot and bright colors of summer.

Living at the far western region of the Lake Superior basin, the season of cold comes early and stays late, like an unwelcome guest. I make that analogy with a hint of shame. I am a pagan priestess. I am supposed to have a relationship with Gaia in all of Her seasons. I should embrace each turning of the wheel for the aspects ushered in, but winter vexes me.

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Recent comment in this post - Show all comments
  • Emily Mills
    Emily Mills says #
    Beautiful art and photography. Maybe the warm hued Goddess that keeps showing herself to you is the other side of winter, hearths,

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