PaganSquare


PaganSquare is a community blog space where Pagans can discuss topics relevant to the life and spiritual practice of all Pagans.

  • Home
    Home This is where you can find all the blog posts throughout the site.
  • Tags
    Tags Displays a list of tags that have been used in the blog.
  • Bloggers
    Bloggers Search for your favorite blogger from this site.
  • Login
    Login Login form
Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in Body

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Blessed Be the Feet

What is the Five that is Eight?

So goes the old witches' riddle, the answer—of course—being, the Fivefold Kiss.

The Fivefold Kiss is a standard trope of Wiccan liturgy which I've always loved for its whole-hearted affirmation of the sanctity of the body, and for its ritual utility.

(Once, when I encountered a goddess in a field—but that's another story for another night—due to my familiarity with the rite, I was not caught at a loss, but knew the proper way in which to venerate her.)

It's worth mentioning that the witch's greeting "Blessed Be" alludes, elliptically, to this rite, as also to the story of the Lady's Descent to the Underworld.

I've long thought the Fivefold Kiss far too good a text to be confined to a single rite, so I've riffed on it here to produce a song or chant for more general use.

All we need now is a tune.

Last modified on
Recent comment in this post - Show all comments
  • Chris Moore
    Chris Moore says #
    Blessed be the lore bearer, blessed be the tribe maker.

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs
Some Musings on Growth

I have sat down many times in the last six weeks to write but never quite got there.  My last post was between Samhain and Winter Solstice, and now it is fast approaching Imbolc/Brigid.  It could be the way the cancer itself makes me tired, or the treatment that makes me even more tired, or the morphine I’m using for pain management that just makes me blissfully unaware of the passing of time. I am sleeping 12-14 hours a day, sleeping is healing. Somehow it is fitting that my body is paralleling the experience of the land Herself here in the Northern Hemisphere, after all between Samhain and Imbolc is time for quiet, for darkness, for the death of what grew last year being composted and metabolized so that new growth can happen as we move toward Spring.  

 

...
Last modified on
Loving Your Body Doesn't Mean Thinking It's Perfect

It was a strange experience, having a birthday just days before David Bowie and Alan Rickman died. They were both 69. I turned 35. When I heard about their deaths I realized, with a mild but chilling existential awe, that my life could very well be half over.

Ha! Ha! I know what those of you who are older than me are thinking. Half over? At 35!? Sweetie, calm down. They both had cancer. You’re not even middle-aged yet.

...
Last modified on
Manifest Your Glamour, Manifest Your Personal Truth

Inherently, I don't like meditation because I feel like it's one long exercise of someone else telling me what to do.  If you've been reading me for any length of time, you know how well I respond to being told what to do except in very specific consensual contexts.  The second you tell me to close my eyes and make that mandatory and not optional, you've lost me.

Needless to say, this has been problematic in my budding yoga practice.  It is one of many problems with my budding yoga practice.  Almost everyone in my classes looks like a sexy yoga toned sex kitten who effortlessly flows from one movement to another.  I spend a lot of time in class wondering why non-waifs don't do yoga.  I also spend a lot of time in class wondering if I will ever be able to do half the movements being done as my boobs impede my entire life.  Every time I say this, it's like a revelation so I'll say it again.  If you are above a DD cup, everything is not awesome.  Everything is not awesome at all.  First, try spending less than $80 a bra if you are not in the Lane Bryant spectrum.  I get three bras at a time and I have to replace them every six months.  Yeah.  For reals.   Second, buying a bathing suit is like the fourth ring of hell.  Third, sexy nightgowns?  You are the hilar.  They don't exist for us.  My boobs never fit in the designated boob area.  Fourth, athletics are super difficult to do because you have two quart sized baggies of peanut butter hanging from your chest.  Fifth, good posture is a pipe dream.

...
Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Osculum Infame

Warning: Contains material some readers may find offensive.

You've heard the stories. Do you know what those wacky-ass witches do at their sabbats? They actually kiss the Devil's hairy bung-hole: the Kiss in tergo, as the chroniclers coyly put it.

Ah, yes: the osculum infame, “the notorious kiss,” as it's known. You might think that this is one of the parts of medieval witchery that didn't quite make it to the modern witchcraft revival, but I think that you'd be wrong on that count. Twelve'll get you thirteen that the good old Kiss from Behind is ancestral to the Book of Shadows' Fivefold Kiss. Breathes there a Wiccan who would admit it, though? 

Last modified on
Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Perimede
    Perimede says #
    Well, I've certainly been colder than the North slope of one. Can't wait.
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Perimede, I'm going to be quoting you on that one: thanks. Wait till you see the one on "witches' tits"!
  • Perimede
    Perimede says #
    (lol) Opening your blog in the morning is like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates. Ya' never know what you're going to get. But i

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs

Phoenician Goddess c. 2500 BCEShe was standing in line at the deli counter when it happened. Out of nowhere, for no reason at all, she felt something take over her breathing.

Later, she might wonder whether she’d been looking at one too many Venus figurines for her online archeology course.

But now her mind, as it had for days, weeks, decades on end, was chattering non-stop, yammering thoughts (judgments, really) through circles within never-ending cycles of not-good-enough. Such had been her life, so-called, whatever you would call absenting yourself from actual contact with the world's flavors, textures, and other trinkets of sensation. Certainly her world — although some might call it sterile — was neat, tidy, clean.

She wasn't discontent with her circumstances. Any time she had peeked out of her circumscribed la-la-land, however arid — and, to her credit, she had attempted several sorties — she'd encountered bits of barbed wire in her milk, darts flying through the air, cutlery strewn across the sidewalk. In her, yes, limited experience, the world was not a friendly place. If her existence within her self-imposed isolation was a bit lonely, actually loveless, at least she was safe. Trips to the grocery store and library were adventures enough.

Last modified on
Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Lisa Sarasohn
    Lisa Sarasohn says #
    Lovely, Lizann! Thanks for your response.
  • Lizann Bassham
    Lizann Bassham says #
    Lovely! Thank you for these holy words! From my "In Praise of Aging" series, my own belly reflection.... In Praise of Aging T
  • Lisa Sarasohn
    Lisa Sarasohn says #
    Synchronicity, such a pleasure, such a grace. The Divine's style of event planning? All of which is to say: Emily, thanks so muc
  • Emily Mills
    Emily Mills says #
    This is beautifully written, and I can close my eyes and meditate. I read Buddhist books sometimes and I was reading about the con

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs
Through Our Soles, Our Souls

A light rain falls in these California redwoods. I am walking back to my nest, the VW camper van that is my home for the next week at Witchcamp where I have come to be with witches of all genders from all over the world. It is dark: no Moon is visible, though Her fullness above the clouds makes Her presence felt, tugging on every cell of my body’s oceans. It is not a cold night, damp but surprisingly mild. There is a small footbridge crossing the shallow stream before I get to where I am parked. I am alone in the sweet darkness. Walking to the edge of camp after the opening ritual. I am still barefoot, shoes in hand, and, instead of taking the bridge, I wade into the creek. It flows around my ankles and halfway up my calves. It is also surprisingly warm and so I stop and turn off my flashlight and let my skin do what it does best: feel. There are no more shoes for me at Witchcamp, this is too powerful a place, too powerful an experience to miss anything through the soles of my soul.

The next day someone asks, “Don’t those rocks at the stream’s edge hurt to walk on?” I reply, “I go barefoot a lot. I have Hobbit feet.” But the truth is that if I walked on those rocks the way I do in shoes, it would hurt. The faster pace and heavier trod would bruise me. Yet, because I am barefoot, I walk slower, lighter, with greater intention. And, because I am barefoot, I don’t have to avoid the mud puddles in those first few days of camp before the sun finally dries out the ground mid-week. I can, with glee and full abandon, splash right in and feel the mud squish between my toes.

...
Last modified on
Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Kalyca Schultz
    Kalyca Schultz says #
    This reminds me of nature defiicit disorder, which I've been meaning to read more about. Communing in/with Nature is certainly the
  • Lizann Bassham
    Lizann Bassham says #
    Thank you for your blessings to me, and blessings on your barefoot experiments Kalyca. I do hope Witchcamp may be in your future,
  • Tammy
    Tammy says #
    This post resonated with me on a very personal level. I have been travelling the path of not-knowing the past few years. I am slow
  • Lizann Bassham
    Lizann Bassham says #
    Blessings to you Tammy as you relearn, let go of who and what you are no longer, and embrace who and what is now!
  • Emily Mills
    Emily Mills says #
    I was also not allowed to walk barefoot as a child, although sometimes I did. In college I liked to walk barefoot on the first sno

Additional information