SageWoman Blogs

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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 subscribe today 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.

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On (and Off) the Surface

Cross-posted at Goddessing From the Heart.

Many trauma survivors are familiar with the concept of grounding. From a psychological perspective, it involves (re)connecting with one’s body and (re)turning to the present moment. As of late, I’ve found myself encountering it in a new and visceral way.

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I pride myself as being part of a family unit that is not quick to judge people. We have raised the kids to look at the bigger picture, listen to others, do some investigation before judging. Give the person some time to show their true self. When you are quick to judge, you miss out on a potential trustworthy friendship.

Yet, as I write this, I find us judging a young man. And I'm torn.

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  • Dragon Dancer
    Dragon Dancer says #
    Personally, I think all the right steps were taken. Sounds to me like you were less judgmental and more just wary and cautious. To

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Where might you find
a spot to nestle?b2ap3_thumbnail_49781219_2253077831571093_4813848419653124096_o.jpg
To watch and wonder.

To listen and feel.
To incubate your own being
and soothe your own heart.
This is cave time
soul song
heart call
life beat.
The listening hours.

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Imbolc New Moon Ritual

Five years ago an Englishwoman, a Scottish woman and an American-Irish woman travelled together to Galway to attend the Spreading Brigit's Cloak conference at Brigit's Garden.  My friends Morag and Jo, and I had a memorable weekend celebrating the Feast of Brigit together with many other woman from across the globe. In the intervening years we have not always been able to celebrate together, but this year we all had day time available on Imbolc New Moon day, 4th February. So we three, the self-styled Cailleach Coven, met again at Imbolc.

At that conference we encountered the Crios Bríd and it's ritual. If you have ever read Seamus Heaney's poem "Brigid's Girdle", you will begin to understand. It is the belt of the goddess (or saint). I had seen one made once before, with the man trying to facsimilate the traditional way of weaving a straw rope with a hand sickle. It was tricky and it looked like a recipe for injury. At the Brigit's Garden conference there was a much more health and safety version one made from yarn. 

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Celebrating the snow

I’m no great fan of snow, I admit. It’s one of the things to celebrate where my first port of call is to absolutely hold up your right not to celebrate. For many of us, snow is hard work. Snow days can make getting to work a nightmare, and missed work isn’t fun if you can’t afford it.  Ice means isolation. Slippery surfaces mean real risk of injury. Cold weather kills people – usually the old and frail who cannot afford to heat their homes, and those who have no homes and are rough sleeping. Being able to enjoy the snow is a sign of privilege, and any celebration of it has to include recognition of that. It is not ok to shame or harass anyone who doesn’t enjoy it.

There is one particularly magical aspect of snow that is often overlooked by people who go out to play in it – and that’s footprints. Snow reveals who else has passed through, and if you can be out before human feet have obliterated all signs, snow can tell you stories about who was there and what they did.

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Imbolc and Goddess Brede's Personal Messages

* An excerpt from: The Goddess Lives, poetry, prose and prayers in her honour. Agnes Toews-Andrews.

It was near the 2004 commencement of the vernal equinox, and I was leading a new moon circle on Quinte Faery Isle, (Prince Edward County) Ontario. The night was translucent and cold. Patches of snow lay in shady corners of the field where we stood. The stars were close. I felt like a part of them, although that winter I had rarely been sleeping outside under the gigantic inexplicable Universe. My journey was progressing though, on my chosen planet, Earth. I had been finding that I was sharing this home with a myriad of curious life forms, aside from those that scientists have agreed on. And goddesses of folklore seemed to materialize in the astral for mysterious reasons. I was also discovering that my inherent genetic lineage was rich, vital, and I was intimately connected with other realities. I had discovered that Earth was home to many keys to the galaxies, and it was more than simply my home.

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Hey y'all! It's Arwen, the Professional Joy Seeker, here with my Witches and Pagans entry into the Imbolc 2019 Tarot Blog Hop. The theme for this edition of the Tarot Blog Hop is “Odd Associations.” I have another post in this hop about a missing baby. But I have a lot more weird stories. In fact, I often whine, "Mooommmmm, the Tarot is DOING IT again."
By that I mean mocking me, teasing me, tripping me up! An association I have with the Chariot Rx is a car accident. Why, you ask? Well, let me tell you a story about "this one time as Psychic Phone Line camp...."
It's really not what you are thinking! I had a woman call me for a reading. She didn't really have a question so I did a Celtic Cross layout. Pretty much my go-to spread at that time. I've moved away from that though. During the reading, the Deep Past card (the third card I lay down) was the Chariot reversed (Rx).
I put my fingers on the card. I do that because it helps me center on the card I'm reading. I'm a bit of a ....
When I touched the card, I started first person!
"I want you to know I died of a heart attack. I was not in any pain."
I had to stop myself, y'all. I really wanted to clap my hands over my mouth! But this woman asked me to continue. So I did, but in third person now. I told her that he wanted her to know the car crash came after he died. And that he didn't want her to move the big pots by herself.
It was that last line that had her laughing and crying. I told her I was sorry, then I described the person I suddenly had a memory of. Well, not exactly a memory. More like it was a photograph. He wasn't moving. I didn't see him--I remembered what he looked like. I went on to describe the front of her house and the big picture window. At this time, she gasped. Then she confirmed it was her husband. He'd died on a winding highway in the Ozarks. It was a crash with a semi if I remember correctly. He'd only been gone about six, maybe nine months.
And I'd described him exactly in what he'd died in. Overalls and a white shirt. Things I could not know! But to this day, the Chariot Rx reminds me of that. I will always ask about a car accident if it is a past card or warn my querent to take care if it is a future card.
Then there was the missing baby...but that's another post. In this hop, actually. Have fun as you visit the other posts to find out what my compatriots have to say about their own odd associations. Please take a moment to leave a comment on the blogs. You are the reason we do these hops. So let us know you came by!
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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Joy Vernon
    Joy Vernon says #
    Wow! What an incredible story! Very powerful.
  • Francesca De Grandis
    Francesca De Grandis says #
    Arwen, thank you so much. I have had similar experiences as a psychic, but tend not to reveal them publicly, so it is really nic
  • Aisling
    Aisling says #
    This is amazing, Arwen--and one of the most amazing things about it is that I have had very similar experiences. I love the way Sp

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