A change in blog theme, Dear Reader, to celebrate the Autumn. It has been technically autumn here for a few weeks now, and it's beginning to grow cooler some nights and mornings, although during the day the hot weather has yet to relent. I hope to encourage the heat to dissipate with a change in blog design. I've also decreased the font size; I think it looks better, but if people have trouble reading it, please let me know.
It's heartening to check my stats and discover people have actually been reading my little blog. I hope people have been enjoying it, despite it being, at this point, just a book review and a handful of rants. I did create the blog to be largely a place to post book reviews but of course they are slower in coming than rants, as it does require me to read (or reread) books to write a review. Still, I'm nearly done with the next one I'm to post - I want to finish rereading it over again before posting the review. I'm generally happy with it, but I don't want to have forgotten anything.
I feel like I should tell you all a bit most about myself, or about the blog, or something like that. But I'm not sure what to say. I don't want to get too personal, as it's not terrifically relevant and anyway I think most of the people who come through here already know me already, from forums or social websites or similar. Still, if you have any questions, please ask them here and I'll answer them in a subsequent post. Anything I consider offensive or too personal will be ignored and deleted, of course. Also, any ideas for topics to cover in future posts will be cheerfully considered. A couple of people have already given me some ideas that will be covered in the future.
Having a dual-themed blog does present some problems, and some teething issues. I know some readers will be interested in feminist issues but not Pagan ones, and vice versa. I am happier at present with a dual-themed blog rather than two single-themed blogs, although I know that it's not always wise when starting a blog to split its focus. I think in time issues will get ironed out and the blog will find its feet, but I'm still interested in feedback on this as well. (Having said that, I will still keep the single blog for a time to see if those issues do indeed iron themselves out.)
So that's the state of things at the beginning of Autumn. The leaves are still green outside my window. The sun is still too bright, and still too hot. My toes are cold, though. The grapes in the garden are ripe. The sky is a rich blue. The dogs are asleep next to the hearth. And now I must away, to Sunday lunch with my family.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Afraid of Getting Fat
I follow a couple of tokophobia and childfree threads in forums. Occasionally, someone comes in and acts like an asshat, for whatever reason. As such I do, and will, have occasional reason to rant here about what is said. And something one of these asshats said has annoyed me. It annoys me not just for my own sake but for the sake of pregnant women.
"You need to grow up. You're just afraid of getting fat."
Pregnant women are. Not. Fat.
This isn't something people actually think, is it? That that distended belly is fat? I mean sure, a woman might put on some weight when she's pregnant (and she is entitled to do so), and some women were overweight to begin with, but that belly? not fat. It is in fact caused by a foetus growing within her uterus and so causing the muscles and skin and so forth to distend outwards.
For many people with tokophobia, this is what is disturbing. Not the prospect of being fat, but of their body being swollen out of shape by pressure from within.
To be criticised for something like a fear of gaining fat is maddening. As if there weren't a variety of ways in which pregnancy and childbirth change the body - sometimes forever.
The vaginal wall often tears - sometimes it doesn't, and should, so the physician cuts it. Then you get stitches. In your vagina.
The pelvic floor is weakened, increasing tendency for a prolapsed bladder, rectum or uterus. Don't know what a prolapse is? No one tells you, because it is so very gross.
Postnatal depression and postnatal psychosis.
Sexual dysfunction in the first year, resulting from reduced libido, vaginal dryness and pain during intercourse. Can also be related to that torn vaginal flesh I mentioned earlier.
The coccyx, or tailbone, can be broken. Yes. Pregnancy can be that violent.
Incontinence. Urinary AND fecal. It's that weakened pelvic floor causing trouble again. You don't even need to give birth vaginally to get this one.
Puerperal sepsis.
Hemorrage during childbirth.
Those abdominal muscles stay stretched out for quite some time. You really have to work at it to get it back to normal again.
Breasts inflate two cup sizes, and then deflate, becoming longer and flatter. They're also painful and leaky.
You bleed after pregnancy. For weeks.
Your internal organs shift to make room for the baby. Your colon goes up into your chest cavity. Your heart turns to the side. This is both gross and unnerving.
Not to mention the shuddering horror of having something living inside you, feeding off your organs.
Tokophobia, like all phobias, is irrational. For me, the warping of my body out of its proper shape and the idea of having something inside me are the most disturbing aspects, and what keep me from considering pregnancy anything but some sort of eldritch horror, like Azathoth or a Dalek without the rubbish bin. Everything else is just the icing on the cake, the logical and legitimate reasons why pregnancy is something to be avoided, and not a magical special miracle that is wonderful and shiny and not at all gross.
I mean, given all the down-sides, I honestly don't understand why people actually try to become pregnant. Especially given that you can circumvent the pregnancy issue by going out and adopting a kid. You can avoid the hideously boring first six months of life, too.
All that is even without mentioning what actually happens duing childbirth - including pooping as you push, and the fact that you don't just hug your baby straight after and everyone is happy. You have to pass the placenta as well. A big flabby organ, ejected through your vagina. It's disgusting.
......And then there's the exhaustion, the nausea, the hormones, the aches and pains that make daily life during pregnancy oh so much fun......
So no. It's not that I'm afraid of getting fat. (Well, I wouldn't like it, but it's not like if I don't get pregnant I'll never get fat. I do have to exercise and eat sensibly like everyone else.) There's a fair number of changes that happen to a woman's body during pregnancy, and some of those don't go away. There's not all that much in the way of fat involved. If you think pregnancy is "just getting fat", there are a lot of pregnant women out there just itching to beat you about the head with their copies of "Up the Duff".
It's a phobia. Phobia. As in, irrational fear. Your criticism is ridiculous. Reasoning away a phobia doesn't work. And if I wanted it, there's a long list of symptoms I can use to rationalise that fear.
More information:
Robert Winston: Human Body, Every Miracle
Warning! This video includes people without clothes on. If you have some sort of freakish problem with humans as they naturally are, or if you aren't able to separate things like breasts or penises from the context of sex, you may be offended. If you are, I suggest you take all your clothes off and stand in front of a mirror, and tell yourself you're beautiful until you believe it. Seriously. There's nothing wrong with the naked human form.
"You need to grow up. You're just afraid of getting fat."
Pregnant women are. Not. Fat.
This isn't something people actually think, is it? That that distended belly is fat? I mean sure, a woman might put on some weight when she's pregnant (and she is entitled to do so), and some women were overweight to begin with, but that belly? not fat. It is in fact caused by a foetus growing within her uterus and so causing the muscles and skin and so forth to distend outwards.
For many people with tokophobia, this is what is disturbing. Not the prospect of being fat, but of their body being swollen out of shape by pressure from within.
To be criticised for something like a fear of gaining fat is maddening. As if there weren't a variety of ways in which pregnancy and childbirth change the body - sometimes forever.
The vaginal wall often tears - sometimes it doesn't, and should, so the physician cuts it. Then you get stitches. In your vagina.
The pelvic floor is weakened, increasing tendency for a prolapsed bladder, rectum or uterus. Don't know what a prolapse is? No one tells you, because it is so very gross.
Postnatal depression and postnatal psychosis.
Sexual dysfunction in the first year, resulting from reduced libido, vaginal dryness and pain during intercourse. Can also be related to that torn vaginal flesh I mentioned earlier.
The coccyx, or tailbone, can be broken. Yes. Pregnancy can be that violent.
Incontinence. Urinary AND fecal. It's that weakened pelvic floor causing trouble again. You don't even need to give birth vaginally to get this one.
Puerperal sepsis.
Hemorrage during childbirth.
Those abdominal muscles stay stretched out for quite some time. You really have to work at it to get it back to normal again.
Breasts inflate two cup sizes, and then deflate, becoming longer and flatter. They're also painful and leaky.
You bleed after pregnancy. For weeks.
Your internal organs shift to make room for the baby. Your colon goes up into your chest cavity. Your heart turns to the side. This is both gross and unnerving.
Not to mention the shuddering horror of having something living inside you, feeding off your organs.
Tokophobia, like all phobias, is irrational. For me, the warping of my body out of its proper shape and the idea of having something inside me are the most disturbing aspects, and what keep me from considering pregnancy anything but some sort of eldritch horror, like Azathoth or a Dalek without the rubbish bin. Everything else is just the icing on the cake, the logical and legitimate reasons why pregnancy is something to be avoided, and not a magical special miracle that is wonderful and shiny and not at all gross.
I mean, given all the down-sides, I honestly don't understand why people actually try to become pregnant. Especially given that you can circumvent the pregnancy issue by going out and adopting a kid. You can avoid the hideously boring first six months of life, too.
All that is even without mentioning what actually happens duing childbirth - including pooping as you push, and the fact that you don't just hug your baby straight after and everyone is happy. You have to pass the placenta as well. A big flabby organ, ejected through your vagina. It's disgusting.
......And then there's the exhaustion, the nausea, the hormones, the aches and pains that make daily life during pregnancy oh so much fun......
So no. It's not that I'm afraid of getting fat. (Well, I wouldn't like it, but it's not like if I don't get pregnant I'll never get fat. I do have to exercise and eat sensibly like everyone else.) There's a fair number of changes that happen to a woman's body during pregnancy, and some of those don't go away. There's not all that much in the way of fat involved. If you think pregnancy is "just getting fat", there are a lot of pregnant women out there just itching to beat you about the head with their copies of "Up the Duff".
It's a phobia. Phobia. As in, irrational fear. Your criticism is ridiculous. Reasoning away a phobia doesn't work. And if I wanted it, there's a long list of symptoms I can use to rationalise that fear.
More information:
Robert Winston: Human Body, Every Miracle
Warning! This video includes people without clothes on. If you have some sort of freakish problem with humans as they naturally are, or if you aren't able to separate things like breasts or penises from the context of sex, you may be offended. If you are, I suggest you take all your clothes off and stand in front of a mirror, and tell yourself you're beautiful until you believe it. Seriously. There's nothing wrong with the naked human form.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Book Review... or not.
I was going to review Alan Richardson's "Earth God Rising", but I'm on page ten and he's already made three comments that are heterocentric and sexist. I am really quite disturbed by this.... these comments were tangental to the point he was making and didn't need to be said at all. Whatever good I get from this book is destroyed because I can't read it without feeling disgusted. A book celebrating male divinity doesn't have to beat down women, and vice versa.
So, sorry about that. The next review may be a while coming. I simply can't bring myself to finish this one.
So, sorry about that. The next review may be a while coming. I simply can't bring myself to finish this one.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
THIS JUST IN: Pregnancy Not Always a Walk in the Park
If you know me, you'll know I'm childfree. You'll also know I have nothing against those who choose to breed. You know, so long as they don't furnish me with constant details, or anything. Indeed, part of being pro-choice is supporting the rights of pregnant women to have the pregnancy and birth that they choose. And one of the things that I tend to get up in arms about is the taboo surrounding expressing feelings of depression, frustration or disconnection during or after pregnancy.
I frequent a few forums, and in my wanderings came upon a woman who was distressed and upset because, she said, she had no connection to her 10 week old foetus. She had been under the impression that women bonded instantly with their zygotes and stayed that way right the way through, and because she hadn't done so, there must be something terribly wrong with her.
These feelings are more common than she (and many other women) realise. Societal pressure for women to be perfect, flawless mothers means that those that do speak up and try to voice their emotional distress aren't embraced and supported but ruthlessly attacked. Oh, not always, I grant you - but far too often. They are called horrible women, told they will be bad mothers and that they may as well abort or adopt the baby out, because they're obviously not going to make a good parent. These things happened to the woman I saw in the forums, and they happen to other women too. So women feeling that disconnect from their foetus don't express those feelings (would you, knowing you'd be at the receiving end of a barrage of insults and attacks?) and so feel isolated, as if they're the only people who feel that disconnect.
Women who have easy, happy pregnancies may give birth and realise they feel nothing for their children. Months may pass without this lifting. They might feel fear or dread when holding or looking at their baby. They may worry that they will never love their child. They may not want to hold their child, or breastfeed, or spend time with their child. These are indicators of post-partum (also called post-natal) depression, which is surprisingly common. Doctors and Plunket nurses will be able to diagnose and give more information, and help mothers with their support networks. But there are also women who, with hormones and a new baby to deal with and other life issues besides, are simply so busy or exhausted they don't have the time to bond with their babies.
It's not automatic. And we're conditioned to believe it should be.
Which leaves women who don't automatically love their babies feeling like horrible people. And gods help them if they try to express their frustration and distress.
Depression - which I will say now I have experienced, at least the non-post-natal variety - is exhausting. Absolutely physically and emotionally exhausting. It's hard getting help at the best of times, if nothing else because actually reaching out to others takes energy that's difficult to even contemplate expending. It's difficult to imagine building up the courage and strength to reach out for that help only to be harshly criticised for emotions that they can't help feeling, and shamed by others as bad mothers and bad women. They aren't bad women. They aren't bad mothers. But for many, as far as they know they're the only women in the world who feel the way they do, because it's so difficult to say. Difficult to admit, in a world where new mothers feel like they should know everything, in a world where mothers should love their children instantly and unconditionally, that they are sad, they are afraid, and they are unable to cope on their own.
Now pregnancy is a difficult time for many women. They may be feeling depressed, maybe they aren't connecting with their foetus. Maybe it's simply a difficult pregnancy and their symptoms are making their life hell. And when they express this, every so often, they get a comment like this:
Y'know, see your doctor, and all that. Peace.
I frequent a few forums, and in my wanderings came upon a woman who was distressed and upset because, she said, she had no connection to her 10 week old foetus. She had been under the impression that women bonded instantly with their zygotes and stayed that way right the way through, and because she hadn't done so, there must be something terribly wrong with her.
These feelings are more common than she (and many other women) realise. Societal pressure for women to be perfect, flawless mothers means that those that do speak up and try to voice their emotional distress aren't embraced and supported but ruthlessly attacked. Oh, not always, I grant you - but far too often. They are called horrible women, told they will be bad mothers and that they may as well abort or adopt the baby out, because they're obviously not going to make a good parent. These things happened to the woman I saw in the forums, and they happen to other women too. So women feeling that disconnect from their foetus don't express those feelings (would you, knowing you'd be at the receiving end of a barrage of insults and attacks?) and so feel isolated, as if they're the only people who feel that disconnect.
Women who have easy, happy pregnancies may give birth and realise they feel nothing for their children. Months may pass without this lifting. They might feel fear or dread when holding or looking at their baby. They may worry that they will never love their child. They may not want to hold their child, or breastfeed, or spend time with their child. These are indicators of post-partum (also called post-natal) depression, which is surprisingly common. Doctors and Plunket nurses will be able to diagnose and give more information, and help mothers with their support networks. But there are also women who, with hormones and a new baby to deal with and other life issues besides, are simply so busy or exhausted they don't have the time to bond with their babies.
It's not automatic. And we're conditioned to believe it should be.
Which leaves women who don't automatically love their babies feeling like horrible people. And gods help them if they try to express their frustration and distress.
Depression - which I will say now I have experienced, at least the non-post-natal variety - is exhausting. Absolutely physically and emotionally exhausting. It's hard getting help at the best of times, if nothing else because actually reaching out to others takes energy that's difficult to even contemplate expending. It's difficult to imagine building up the courage and strength to reach out for that help only to be harshly criticised for emotions that they can't help feeling, and shamed by others as bad mothers and bad women. They aren't bad women. They aren't bad mothers. But for many, as far as they know they're the only women in the world who feel the way they do, because it's so difficult to say. Difficult to admit, in a world where new mothers feel like they should know everything, in a world where mothers should love their children instantly and unconditionally, that they are sad, they are afraid, and they are unable to cope on their own.
Now pregnancy is a difficult time for many women. They may be feeling depressed, maybe they aren't connecting with their foetus. Maybe it's simply a difficult pregnancy and their symptoms are making their life hell. And when they express this, every so often, they get a comment like this:
"Do you know what I would give to be able to experience [that] 'hell'? I might not be able to get pregnant. I'd give anything just to be able to have one child of my own. So, I find this very offensive, and hurtful."
And yes, that is an actual quote.
How is it some women can be so utterly and disgustingly self-centred as to consider every pregnant woman venting her frustration or reaching out for help as some sort of personal insult? You're offended? Why? Because a pregnant person dares to admit that their experience isn't one of constant ecstasy? Because she dares express emotions that are normal? Is a normal woman's natural response to her pregnancy actually offensive to you? What the fuck is your problem?
God forbid women be less than perfect. God forbid that pregnancy be anything less than a cake-walk. Apparently not going through life with a smile plastered across your face makes you some kind of failure as a woman, and if you complain, ever, all you're doing is intentionally hurting other women who would so dearly love to have such terrible problems as you have.
What happened here? Where did this crap come from? Fuck these taboos. New mothers are allowed to be human and they need to know that they are not alone, and that they're not failures or bad mothers for feeling what they feel.
I'm with you, ladies. I know that you secretly want to spit venom at those damn women whose pregnancies are a constant joy, who float around as if carrying a baby makes them the Virgin Mary or something and who coo over your belly while making inane comments about their own pregnancies. "Oh are you craving pickles yet? I simply couldn't get enough pickles. Have you chosen a name yet? Don't you just LOVE being pregnant?" Meanwhile you're barely aware of what's going on because you're so damn fatigued, and you're all stretched out of shape and feeling ill and not at all enthustiastic and all you want to do is punch these cooing bantams in the face and then lie down and drink some tequila, which you can't do BECAUSE YOU'RE FUCKING PREGNANT.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Book Review: Embracing the Moon
Book: Embracing the Moon
Author: Yasmine Galenorn
Subject: Eclectic Neo-Pagan theistic witchcraft
Publisher: Lewellyn
ISBN: 9781 567183047
Score: 5 out of 10
Overall a poor set of chapters. Plenty of spells, but no instructions on how to write one - and frankly, if you can't write one you shouldn't be casting one, so it's wasted paper.
Author: Yasmine Galenorn
Subject: Eclectic Neo-Pagan theistic witchcraft
Publisher: Lewellyn
ISBN: 9781 567183047
Score: 5 out of 10
Overview
This book started out well, but took a turn for the worst near the end. As Lewellyn books go, it's not bad - I'd even recommend it for a beginner. However, it felt quite like the author lost motivation halfway through and started throwing out spells and poor history to fill space.
The book is aimed at newcomers to Paganism and witchcraft. In some ways it fulfills this role well, with examples and exercises. In others, as will become apparent, it fails as it implies strongly that both witchcraft and Paganism are religions; a newbie to these fields may not be aware of the scope of each.
Frequent claims that are easily shattered by a passing knowledge of words or history shake one's confidence in (and, frankly, respect for) the author. Two of the most glaring etymological disasters were her claim that the word "sabbat" was related to an Assyrian festival "sabbatu", observing the new moon, and that the word "bitch", so blatantly Germanic in form, is derived from a name for Artemis and was originally a positive term. In fact, as your etymological dictionary will tell you, "sabbat" is from the Hebrew "Shabbath", day of rest, and thence from "shabath", a verb meaning "he rests". Of course, this etymology would conflict with her apparent dislike of Abrahamic religions. "Bitch" is from the Old English "bicce", thence from Old Norse "bikkju", referring to general female canines. Counter to her claim that the phrase "son of a bitch" once meant "son of the Goddess", we find the Old Norse insult "bikkju-sonr", "son of a bitch". This is why you should always cite your claims. If you pull stuff out of your arse, people will point out that it is shit. Out of deference to this point, I present my source.
Talk of "the Patriarchy" and a negative tone when speaking of "Judeo-Christian religions" grows more and more frequent towards the end of the book, though the first part seems relatively unscathed.
Introduction
I'd really recommend skipping the introduction. It does a lot to reduce trust in the author; she claims to have seen a unicorn (highly dubious, as it apparently didn't try to impale her) and that looking at the moon and feeling witchy apparently made her realise she was a witch.
While most witches will find it a bit difficult to vocalise what, exactly, makes a witch, actually practising witchcraft tends to be pretty high on the list. In fact many witches I've spoken didn't consider themselves witches until having practised it themselves for several years, and grown in their wisdom, understanding and their craft enough to feel that they had earned that "title" in themselves. Adopting it before actually practising any witchcraft is a bit hard to swallow.
Part One: Ritual Preparation
The best section of the book.
The author begins with a series of visualisation and energy-work exercises. These are good exercises, and the primary reason why I would recommend the book to a newbie. (I might actually tell them to leave the rest of the book until later, when they had a little more exposure to the different forms of witchcraft and Paganism out there.) To the experienced they're of no use, but those who have been practising magic for a year or two may find them quite valuable as tune-up exercises.
Her examples for rites and invocations, and circle-castings, are pretty fair. However, some of these, involving deities, seem out of place: better to introduce the reader to deities before suggesting they call upon them in ritual.
The chapter on the elements is quite good. While other books go into these in more detail, her brief two-page description of each element and its correspondences are decent enough for the beginner and her exercises to acquaint one with the elements more physically are good. (For example, she recommends skipping stones across a body of water, collecting interesting stones, paying attention to one's breathing.) This section is followed by some passably decent poetry and invocation calls that some may take inspiration from, or incorporate into their own work or worship.
To her great credit, the author goes into "other astral entities", including angels and why it's bad form to misappropriate these for one's own spiritual path because one feels like one likes them. It's a great shame she doesn't pay more attention to concepts of misappropriation when it comes to deities.
Galenorn spends four and a half pages here on "the god and goddess in all their aspects". Galenorn is a soft polytheist; while she mentions honouring gods as separate entities, it shows that at the core of it they all reduce down to two in her theology. This is hardly uncommon in books on eclectic Neo-Paganism, and so easy to dismiss. At least she does stress that different deities, for all she believes they are aspects of two, are not interchangeable, which I can appreciate.
The section on the Runes is the poorest in Part One, and as a Heathen it makes me very angry. On no account do I suggest following Galenorn's advice on the Runes. She really doesn't know snot about them, and as she's at least aware that they are living energies, she should know better than to give a piss-poor, three-line description of each Rune and then tell her readers to go out and mess about with them. Her suggestion that Runes should only be annointed with blood in spells pertaining to oneself is false - ALL Runes should be blooded. That's how they are finished, completed, solidified. The most laughable definition of a Rune is for Kenaz, which she links to "healing, love and passion, creativity, strength". The Rune-poems for Kenaz involve heavy mention of charnal houses, rotting children and ulcers. Turns out, it's not so nice. I strongly recommend that anyone interested in the Runes pick up "Taking Up the Runes" by Diana Paxson and "Rudiments of Runelore" by Stephen Pollington, and not to trust Galenorn on this matter at all.
Part Two: Spellcraft
This section isn't so bad, particularly the beginning chapter on "Magical Living". She gets quite paranoid in a short section on "portals", suggesting to the reader that having a mirror facing a window or a door will lead to all sorts of tentacled horrors from the Dungeon Dimensions taking up residence under your bed. (Seriously?) On the whole she has some interesting ideas about how to integrate one's craft and one's faith into one's life, which many people struggle with doing for a time. Not a bad chapter, and of course one doesn't have to use any ideas one doesn't like.
At this point, however, she starts incorporating more and more spells. That in itself isn't really a shock, given the title of part two. But it is poorly done. This is a problem primarily because she simply writes the spell down with instructions on what to do, and doesn't say why this or that is done. The implication seems to be that the reader, if she so chooses, is just to do the spell as written. Which is very strange, as nearly every witch of experience I have spoken to strongly recommends writing your own spells. Example spells are great when learning, but Galenorn doesn't teach these well. She doesn't give examples and then illustrate what she uses and why, and what other methods other witches might prefer. She simply lists the spell and leaves it at that. This is poor teaching, and poor witchcraft. Ladies and gentlemen, I wholeheartedly recommend writing your own spells. Nothing you memorise and perform from someone else will be quite as keyed to who you are, what you need, and how your mind processes symbols as a spell you write yourself.
One of the great pet peeves in the world of witchcraft is the assumption many young or new witches seem to have of witch-bottles being simply any spell in a bottle, and it's possible Galenorn is where they get this idea. A witch-bottle is a protection spell, and indeed Galenorn lists hers in a protection section. However, witch-bottles include two types of ingredients, and neither type appears in Galenorn's bottles. (These two types of ingredients are pieces of oneself to claim the land and what's on it as one's own, such as urine, nail-clippings and blood, and things that cause harm to warn other things off, like iron nails, broken glass, barbed wire and so forth.)
Galenorn also includes a binding spell, being one of the cruelest types of spell one can cast - a spell that chains free will, chains a mind - and gives no ethical discussion on these types of spells. This is quite shocking.
Galenorn also includes a binding spell, being one of the cruelest types of spell one can cast - a spell that chains free will, chains a mind - and gives no ethical discussion on these types of spells. This is quite shocking.
Overall a poor set of chapters. Plenty of spells, but no instructions on how to write one - and frankly, if you can't write one you shouldn't be casting one, so it's wasted paper.
Part Three: Shadow Work
Galenorn names anything a bit odd or otherworldly "faerie", so if that's one of your pet peeves, this section would really annoy you. Dryads are not faeries. Black Annis was a bloody witch, a boogeyman figure first attested in the 18th century. This is where the twin problems of misappropriation and overgeneralisation appear, and they continue through to the end of the book. She has a short chapter on these overgeneralised "faeries", including an invocation ritual for the Green Man, which is a title she confusingly uses for her soft-polytheistic god in the next chapter.
This is followed by a chapter on shape-shifting, possibly the most bizzare in the entire book. She begins with a few pages on "totems", and mentions her own as a panther. Small problem: panthers aren't actually animals. A panther is a large wild cat that happens to be melanistically gifted, making the fur black, and this includes jaguars and leopards. This is her "totem animal" (I feel the use of "totem" in this sense is somewhat flawed, but ymmv), but she doesn't appear to understand what it actually is. So, is it a leopard, or is it a jaguar? They are two quite different big cats. This is easily ignored, however, when she describes an experience of literal shapeshifting she had when drunk, high and severely sleep deprived. (While these are tried and tested methods of achieving trance, it does lend a certain disrepute to her claims.) She says after this experience she has done no work with shapeshifting. Fine. What appals me is that she then goes on to teach shapeshifting. Something she has done once, while drunk, high and sleep deprived, and never even tried again since. It's absolutely shocking that she thinks somehow that she has the knowledge to teach this, and I really wonder about what she thinks of teaching from an ethical standpoint.
The book ends on a low note, with rituals for gods and goddesses. She starts with mention of a goddess that appears to be universal, linking this deity with the Willendorf Venus and similar (despite the fact that we have as much evidence that that model is a deity as we do that it is prehistoric porn). More false claims appear, such as that of the "triple goddess phenomenon" (her words) being a "world-wide archetype". It's not. It's a relatively new concept, and it's only a world-wide archetype if you inaccurately and brutally thrust it upon deities from a variety of cultures that, historically and mythologically, had little if anything to do with said archetype. It's new. If you like archetypes that's fine, but don't pretend they're ancient concepts, don't pretend that this archetype applies universally.
Another cringe-worthy element surfaces in this chapter: deifying fictional characters. She does this with Morgana and Merlin of the Arthur mythology, and it's very bad form. Deifying Lilith, the human-come-demon of Jewish mythology, is bad enough - doing it with known and established fictional characters is awful, and has no place in informed Paganism. The whole chapter is poorly researched, and smacks of a last-minute addition - she even mentions Herne, an Anglo-Saxon ghost haunting an English forest, as another name for Cernunnos. I don't know where these people get these ideas - possibly other poorly researched books.
The phrase "the God of Paganism" appears several times in this final chapter - a false, insulting and homogenising phrase that implies a) that Paganism is one religion, instead of the vast religious umbrella it is, and b) that all Pagans worship this one god. It would be laughable if it weren't so offensive.
Finally, she brings up the devil. "No witch will believe in the devil", she says, making a sweeping statement that either ignores Christian witches or pretends that they do not exist, neither of which is an acceptable thing to do. Many witches believe in the devil. Some, I imagine, even worship him. It's possible that this is less a deliberate snub of Christian witches, and that Galenorn legitimately thinks that witchcraft is a religion, and that all witches believe and practice as she does.
Bibliography
I felt this required a special mention. The vast majority of the books she lists are poor and should not be recommended at all, which in itself is an indicator of where she must be getting it from. There are a couple of gems in here - Ed Fitch's "Magical Rites from the Crystal Well" is recommended to me by a Wiccan as a decent book on Wicca, and Frazier's "The Golden Bough" is a good historical standard Pagan text - though much of the more Pagan oriented information is actually incorrect, so while it's interesting to learn where some new Pagan ideas come from, mistaking them for historical should be avoided. Brian Froud is a poor resource for faeries. Nice art, poor information. Ditto Ted Andrews's foray into this area; while his Animal Speak is okay, his work on faeries is poor.
And So...
...you ask if I would recommend this book. And I would, to a beginner or witch of a couple years who is wanting to reinvigorate his or her practice. But I would recommend Part One, and the first chapter of Part Two. The rest of it can be discarded, or browsed briefly for ideas to incorporate into rituals or spells you're writing yourself. Possibly it's a result of Lewellyn's publishing policies, possibly the author ran out of ideas, but the surplus of spells, poor teaching practices and the simply bad information presented in the second half of the book are not forgivable. Five out of ten: one good half, one bad.
Purchase or preview Embracing the Moon here.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
We Should Be Angry.
I criticise the United States of America, probably more often than I should. Their healthcare policies shock and appal me. Their taxation levels surprise me. Their public education system is, well, broken. (Why does it take four years to get a bachelor's degree over there? Inquiring minds want to know.) But in America, still, despite a great war upon it from the religious right, abortion is legal.
It is also legal in Turkey, Tunisia, Bangladesh, ALL of Europe except for Ireland, Germany and Poland, all the -stans except for Pakistan and Afghanistan*, Cambodia, Cuba, India and a dozen other countries besides.** It is not legal in my country.
My country is New Zealand, and it's got a lot going for it. On most issues, I can hold my head high as a New Zealander. We have some of the world's most liberal laws regarding prostitution, we are nuclear-free, we love the whales and all that. But when it comes to abortion, our laws are an international embarrassment. I am ashamed of them. And I am angry.
To get an abortion, women here have to show that the pregnancy is causing serious harm to her physical or mental health. Two specialists have to sign her off. She has to jump through hoops in order to obtain an abortion in ways that are stressful and upsetting, particularly if the pregnancy itself is distressing to her.
I am pro-choice, childfree, and a little tokophobic. I believe strongly that a woman should have ownership of her own body, and be able to choose what happens to it while she's living and after death. And I believe men should have those same rights for their own bodies (which means I'm not terribly keen on circumcision before the boy is informed and able to choose for himself whether or not he wants one). I don't want children, and never have done. I don't mind children... actually I quite like them, as they tend to be more interesting than adults with better things to say. Adults tend to talk about work, which is odd because they rarely enjoy it while they're there. Children talk about Batman, which is totally something I can get behind. I love my cousins. When I have them, I'll dote upon my nieces and nephews. I simply don't wany any children of my own.
Tokophobia, for those unaware, is a fear of childbirth or pregnancy. I say I'm "a little" tokophobic because I don't have a problem being around pregnant women, I don't suffer nightmares or anxiety attacks when thinking about pregnancy. I do, however, feel a bit anxious. Actually, I feel a bit anxious now. The thought of being pregnant myself is repulsive to me; I genuinely don't understand why other women enjoy it. (Although "enjoy" may be a bit strong, depending on woman and pregnancy.)
While I'm careful about contraception (I'd be a fool if I wasn't), it's pretty clear that my reasons for wanting a change in abortion laws in New Zealand are partly selfish. I want to ensure that, should the worst happen, I needn't fear that I'd have to carry a baby to term. I want to ensure that I - and other women throughout the country - are able to obtain abortions without needing to go through further distress. Partly selfish, I say - even were I sterile, I'd want this right for the women of New Zealand. Hell, even were I personally opposed to having an abortion, I would still want this right for other women. That right to choose. And right now, the laws we have suggest we are not capable of making that choice ourselves.
Abortions aren't nice. In a better world, one would always conceive only when one wanted to. Even when a conception is happily accepted, though, circumstances can change. Jobs are lost, partnerships are broken. Mutations happen - and no woman should be forced to carry a baby with anencephaly or cyclopia to term. (Images of such children are disturbing enough in themselves. Birthing one would be heartbreaking.) In a better world, every foetus would be wanted. Every baby loved. Every child properly raised, well-fed, well-taught, clothed, loved, supported. But - shock! - we do not live in this ideal world. And this is a sad thing. Abortions are a sad thing. But they are, unfortunately, a necessary thing. Oh! for a 100% guaranteed form of contraception.
The whole "she should just have kept her legs shut" argument is a post in and of itself, so I won't go into it here. It will be a post of vitriolic anger. Topics will include "women can be sexual beings without being whores" and "babies shouldn't be punishments".
Finally, one asks oneself - if abortion isn't legal, if one has to jump through so many hoops to obtain one, why are sterilization operations so expensive? So difficult to get? So impossible if you're young and childless? A woman with her tubes tied isn't going to need an abortion (well, one hopes); one would think cheaper, easier sterilization operations would be a better option.
Further reading: ALRANZ, for abortion law reform in New Zealand.
*There's five of them: Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.
** Gathered from here. Dark blue indicates "Legal on request".
It is also legal in Turkey, Tunisia, Bangladesh, ALL of Europe except for Ireland, Germany and Poland, all the -stans except for Pakistan and Afghanistan*, Cambodia, Cuba, India and a dozen other countries besides.** It is not legal in my country.
My country is New Zealand, and it's got a lot going for it. On most issues, I can hold my head high as a New Zealander. We have some of the world's most liberal laws regarding prostitution, we are nuclear-free, we love the whales and all that. But when it comes to abortion, our laws are an international embarrassment. I am ashamed of them. And I am angry.
To get an abortion, women here have to show that the pregnancy is causing serious harm to her physical or mental health. Two specialists have to sign her off. She has to jump through hoops in order to obtain an abortion in ways that are stressful and upsetting, particularly if the pregnancy itself is distressing to her.
I am pro-choice, childfree, and a little tokophobic. I believe strongly that a woman should have ownership of her own body, and be able to choose what happens to it while she's living and after death. And I believe men should have those same rights for their own bodies (which means I'm not terribly keen on circumcision before the boy is informed and able to choose for himself whether or not he wants one). I don't want children, and never have done. I don't mind children... actually I quite like them, as they tend to be more interesting than adults with better things to say. Adults tend to talk about work, which is odd because they rarely enjoy it while they're there. Children talk about Batman, which is totally something I can get behind. I love my cousins. When I have them, I'll dote upon my nieces and nephews. I simply don't wany any children of my own.
Tokophobia, for those unaware, is a fear of childbirth or pregnancy. I say I'm "a little" tokophobic because I don't have a problem being around pregnant women, I don't suffer nightmares or anxiety attacks when thinking about pregnancy. I do, however, feel a bit anxious. Actually, I feel a bit anxious now. The thought of being pregnant myself is repulsive to me; I genuinely don't understand why other women enjoy it. (Although "enjoy" may be a bit strong, depending on woman and pregnancy.)
While I'm careful about contraception (I'd be a fool if I wasn't), it's pretty clear that my reasons for wanting a change in abortion laws in New Zealand are partly selfish. I want to ensure that, should the worst happen, I needn't fear that I'd have to carry a baby to term. I want to ensure that I - and other women throughout the country - are able to obtain abortions without needing to go through further distress. Partly selfish, I say - even were I sterile, I'd want this right for the women of New Zealand. Hell, even were I personally opposed to having an abortion, I would still want this right for other women. That right to choose. And right now, the laws we have suggest we are not capable of making that choice ourselves.
Abortions aren't nice. In a better world, one would always conceive only when one wanted to. Even when a conception is happily accepted, though, circumstances can change. Jobs are lost, partnerships are broken. Mutations happen - and no woman should be forced to carry a baby with anencephaly or cyclopia to term. (Images of such children are disturbing enough in themselves. Birthing one would be heartbreaking.) In a better world, every foetus would be wanted. Every baby loved. Every child properly raised, well-fed, well-taught, clothed, loved, supported. But - shock! - we do not live in this ideal world. And this is a sad thing. Abortions are a sad thing. But they are, unfortunately, a necessary thing. Oh! for a 100% guaranteed form of contraception.
The whole "she should just have kept her legs shut" argument is a post in and of itself, so I won't go into it here. It will be a post of vitriolic anger. Topics will include "women can be sexual beings without being whores" and "babies shouldn't be punishments".
Finally, one asks oneself - if abortion isn't legal, if one has to jump through so many hoops to obtain one, why are sterilization operations so expensive? So difficult to get? So impossible if you're young and childless? A woman with her tubes tied isn't going to need an abortion (well, one hopes); one would think cheaper, easier sterilization operations would be a better option.
Further reading: ALRANZ, for abortion law reform in New Zealand.
*There's five of them: Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.
** Gathered from here. Dark blue indicates "Legal on request".
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Value of Formal Prayer
Formality is something many Pagans lack when we interact with deity. Informality can be wonderful, too - even the most staunch ceremonialist must at times, one feels, sit back with a drink and speak at leisure with their gods. Some are lucky enough to have set, specific formal rituals that are properly followed, as in Wicca. Many groups, even those that are eclectic, create rituals that are quite formal in construct. My own rituals tend to be a mix of formality and informality - one following the other as the business of the rite is dealt with and the sitting and chatting over a warm glass of mead comes to the fore.
But outside of ritual, most of us have no written prayerbooks to depend upon (while a couple of quite good ones have been published, they cater to a specific religion, or a specific flavour of eclecticism). Hellenic Polytheists, of course, are lucky to have the Homeric and Orphic hymns at their disposal when they feel like offering formal prayer to a deity - and often have some to choose from. For others, they may have to form their own with references from lore. There are few Pagan religions with a book of hours or book of common prayer to fall back upon when words fail one, or lend some structure or formality to one's prayer.
I believe that formal prayer has value. That daily devotionals have value. There is something of a movement away from formal prayer in Paganism, possibly on the basis that we tend to have quite close, personal relationships with our deities. Why bother with formality if we can have a friendly chat? It's still respectful (at least, I hope) and it's more personal. I value informal prayer as well, as I mentioned; those informal chats are important too. Formal prayer, however, speaks to us as well as the gods and on a level we may not consciously appreciate.
I think I'll define formal prayer here as a prayer that has an element of cultus. Cultus is an observable act or element within a religion, so a prayer with cultus would be one someone else would recognise as prayer or religious action. It's not something, in other words, one can do sitting on the bus. Perhaps one chooses to light a candle, or kneel at one's bedside... to clasp his hands above one's dinner plate as one says grace or to leave an offering at a shrine, an altar, at the foot of a tree. One might read a rosary or set of prayer beads, or sing a chant. All these may be formal prayer; in this instance, I'm referring to formal prayer with an element of repetition.
The element of repetition may be the time of day, the place, the form in which the cultus takes. The prayer needn't be necessarily the same words each time. One person may write a different prayer for each day of the week, another might write an opening or a closing (or both) and speak from the heart between the two. Another person might simply speak their deity's name and pray without words. You don't have to use fancy words unless it appeals to you.
There's a monastic sort of inner stillness that repeated prayer and repeated devotion can bring. Simply lighting a candle and standing or kneeling before an altar can indicate to your mind and even your body the beginning of a sacred moment, a sacred communication. You are focused on your deity (or ancestor, or spirit, or other entity worthy of your prayer or observance). When repeated daily you can surprisingly quickly become conditioned to becoming calm and focused and of a spiritual mind, and simply standing in front of your altar may convey to you a sense of that stillness.
Concepts like "Pagan Monasticism" very much appeal to me - to a point - and I'll write up a post on it later. I've heard it mentioned by quite a few people now with a kind of yearning - a yearning for that structure, that stillness, that ability to focus solely on studying one's religion and serving one's god for even a short length of time.
Of course, while it would be nice to escape the world for a month and rush off to a monastery every time we felt the need, it's not a possible thing for us. Not at this point, anyway. Incorporating a moment of that structure and that stillness is often all we can manage. But it's worth making the effort.
The danger of repeated prayer and repeated cultus is that it may lose all meaning, and become repeated actions or words with no feeling behind them. Not every prayer will be truly satisfying and occasionally the best of us will rush through it with our minds on something else. The unsatisfying ones are more than made up for by the ones that take your breath away. But if you find yourself rushing through it more times than not, it may be time to change it. Stop. Try something else. You may keep your prayer informal for a week to give yourself a break, and return to your formal prayer to realise with a start how much you had missed it. Or you may find yourself rewriting it entirely. A Pagan's personal practices and beliefs may change over time and prayers should change to reflect those changes.
Most of all, it deepens our relationships with our deities. Formal prayer allows - and aids - us to concentrate on our deities, to offer our time and our love to them in a formal, quiet, still and sacred moment.
I've heard it mentioned by others that there's a movement within Paganism away from prayer itself. I was quite taken aback to hear this; non-theistic Pagans aside, why would you not communicate with your deity? It may be some form of backlash against unfortunate experiences with a previous religion, or perhaps misunderstanding on how the word "prayer" is used - some people associate it primarily with supplication. Nevertheless, I haven't run into anyone like this myself. Just looking at interest in prayer books and prayer beads, I think it's well-valued in Paganism, and growing more so. As it should.
But outside of ritual, most of us have no written prayerbooks to depend upon (while a couple of quite good ones have been published, they cater to a specific religion, or a specific flavour of eclecticism). Hellenic Polytheists, of course, are lucky to have the Homeric and Orphic hymns at their disposal when they feel like offering formal prayer to a deity - and often have some to choose from. For others, they may have to form their own with references from lore. There are few Pagan religions with a book of hours or book of common prayer to fall back upon when words fail one, or lend some structure or formality to one's prayer.
I believe that formal prayer has value. That daily devotionals have value. There is something of a movement away from formal prayer in Paganism, possibly on the basis that we tend to have quite close, personal relationships with our deities. Why bother with formality if we can have a friendly chat? It's still respectful (at least, I hope) and it's more personal. I value informal prayer as well, as I mentioned; those informal chats are important too. Formal prayer, however, speaks to us as well as the gods and on a level we may not consciously appreciate.
I think I'll define formal prayer here as a prayer that has an element of cultus. Cultus is an observable act or element within a religion, so a prayer with cultus would be one someone else would recognise as prayer or religious action. It's not something, in other words, one can do sitting on the bus. Perhaps one chooses to light a candle, or kneel at one's bedside... to clasp his hands above one's dinner plate as one says grace or to leave an offering at a shrine, an altar, at the foot of a tree. One might read a rosary or set of prayer beads, or sing a chant. All these may be formal prayer; in this instance, I'm referring to formal prayer with an element of repetition.
The element of repetition may be the time of day, the place, the form in which the cultus takes. The prayer needn't be necessarily the same words each time. One person may write a different prayer for each day of the week, another might write an opening or a closing (or both) and speak from the heart between the two. Another person might simply speak their deity's name and pray without words. You don't have to use fancy words unless it appeals to you.
There's a monastic sort of inner stillness that repeated prayer and repeated devotion can bring. Simply lighting a candle and standing or kneeling before an altar can indicate to your mind and even your body the beginning of a sacred moment, a sacred communication. You are focused on your deity (or ancestor, or spirit, or other entity worthy of your prayer or observance). When repeated daily you can surprisingly quickly become conditioned to becoming calm and focused and of a spiritual mind, and simply standing in front of your altar may convey to you a sense of that stillness.
Concepts like "Pagan Monasticism" very much appeal to me - to a point - and I'll write up a post on it later. I've heard it mentioned by quite a few people now with a kind of yearning - a yearning for that structure, that stillness, that ability to focus solely on studying one's religion and serving one's god for even a short length of time.
Of course, while it would be nice to escape the world for a month and rush off to a monastery every time we felt the need, it's not a possible thing for us. Not at this point, anyway. Incorporating a moment of that structure and that stillness is often all we can manage. But it's worth making the effort.
The danger of repeated prayer and repeated cultus is that it may lose all meaning, and become repeated actions or words with no feeling behind them. Not every prayer will be truly satisfying and occasionally the best of us will rush through it with our minds on something else. The unsatisfying ones are more than made up for by the ones that take your breath away. But if you find yourself rushing through it more times than not, it may be time to change it. Stop. Try something else. You may keep your prayer informal for a week to give yourself a break, and return to your formal prayer to realise with a start how much you had missed it. Or you may find yourself rewriting it entirely. A Pagan's personal practices and beliefs may change over time and prayers should change to reflect those changes.
Most of all, it deepens our relationships with our deities. Formal prayer allows - and aids - us to concentrate on our deities, to offer our time and our love to them in a formal, quiet, still and sacred moment.
I've heard it mentioned by others that there's a movement within Paganism away from prayer itself. I was quite taken aback to hear this; non-theistic Pagans aside, why would you not communicate with your deity? It may be some form of backlash against unfortunate experiences with a previous religion, or perhaps misunderstanding on how the word "prayer" is used - some people associate it primarily with supplication. Nevertheless, I haven't run into anyone like this myself. Just looking at interest in prayer books and prayer beads, I think it's well-valued in Paganism, and growing more so. As it should.
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