Return of the Rowdy Goddess

I haven't done a blog post for 18 months.  It's not that I don't have anything to say, but perhaps I have too much to say.  Or something.  I'm a librarian and as one, I like to categorize, organize and generally create a coherent way of conveying information and thought.  That's what stops me.  I have so many interest:  Wicca; embroidery; quilting; dogs; Goddessy stuff; books; shamanic practice;  reading; libraries; Tarot; divination; writing; and whatever else captures my grasshopper mind-- a mind that hops from one thing to another and back again.

I want to write about life and creativity and whatever else comes to mind!  But how to organize it and make it coherent.  That stalls me.  So today, as ideas crowd through my head, I decided.  What is the Rowdy Goddess after all but an amalgem of all that things that make us goddess and make us rowdy?  So I've decided to toss it all in the cauldron and see what bubbles up and catches other people's attention.  Some of it will bore you and some of it will interest you.  Rest assured that it will be rowdy.

This blog will move to Rowdy Goddess on Wordpress

The Enlightenment of Lists

This delightful picture is two pages from a children's book, Frog and Toad Together, one of a series of Frog and Toad books by Arnold Loebel. One of my coworkers, back when I worked as a librarian at a community college, had a photocopy of these two pages posted on the column above her typewriter. It was waaaay back in the day before the ubiquity of desktop computing, if you can imagine or remember such a time.

When I read it for the first time, I laughed. It was one of those crystallizing moments for me as a young adult. I realized my compulsion to make lists was not unique and I was not alone! And it was okay to make lists!

I make lists. People who don't make lists find it perplexing and odd; and sometimes people find it tyrannical or micromanaging. For me, though, it helps organize my thoughts and my plans. A list gives me a clear trajectory for a period of time. I have found that lists can be magical, a spell to aid me in my day, my work, or just my thoughts.

In the past I have been a great worrier. I'd fret and worry about things that eventually never came to pass. Worry was robbing me of my present as I continually fretted over the future. Lists are one technique to dispel worry, at least for me. If I put it down on a list, it becomes concrete and I can handle it at a specified time...sometimes 'when I get around to it.' Somehow writing it down on a list makes it something I can handle and put out of my present mind. It's amazing how creative you can become when you are not preoccupied with worry.

A lot of times, I don't look at the list because I think I remember everything. And then I will discover an old list and I've done most of it anyway...or I haven't and it didn't matter. Then I can cross it off my list.

Crossing things off the list is a great act of magic, empowerment, and accomplishment. Even some minutiae is 'list worthy' just so you can cross it off. That's part of the reason I have found the picture above so funny. I understand so completely the feeling of accomplishment in crossing off the routine, the small, and the large milestones in our lives. It is a tiny commemoration of a moment.

May your day be free from worry and full of commemorations and accomplishments, large and small!

Majors Monday: The Magician

I am continuing to look at the majors for inspiration and for designing spreads. My desire is to make spreads as simple and clear as possible. Sometimes I feel that a lot of cards confuses the querent and the reader. Readers know the cards better and can probably absorb a lot of information, but sometimes the querent will shut down before they hear all the cards read because there's just too much information.

The Magician is good at sorting out information and presenting it in a coherent and cohesive format. It's not that he or she is simplistic in the power of thought, it's just that the Magician can develop focus.

The arm pointed above and the arm pointed below indicates a firm grounding in earthly matters while understanding there is a celestial connection to things. He becomes a channel or conduit. Shamanic teaching tells us below or underworld is the source of information for earthly, bodily, and health matters while the above teaches us the wisdom of teachers and celestial energies. Neither above nor below is better than the other.

It can sometimes be a heady experiences to channel all that information and arrogance in his own opinion can be a danger for the magician. He has the tools on the table before him and he can use them anyway he chooses. The infinity symbol above his head helps him keep things in the perspective that he is a finite being working with huge infinite energies.

In shamanic thinking, the shaman is one who journeys between the worlds to gain wisdom and power to benefit the community; it is an act of service. A sorcerer may do the same journeywork and discover the same power and wisdom. The difference is the sorcerer uses that information in service only to himself or herself. The sorcerer's hands are not connected to above and below in the stance of the magician, but rather directs it into his/her own being.

With this anchoring and the greater perspective, he can use his tools to gain wisdom and power to benefit himself in the service of others.

Wisdom and Knowledge
Use this spread to understand the purpose behind the querent's quests and questions and to determine a future plan

Card One: Your view of the infinite, the long view, long-term idea

Card Two: Where your head is at, what your thinking, imagining, or dreaming

Card Three: Information from the infinite, your teachers, or celestial wisdom

Card Four: Information from the underworld about body, health, earthly matters

Card Five: What are you channeling, accessing; are there blockages?

Card Six, Seven, Eight and Nine can be read together as the tools you have access to; or seperately as Cups, Pentacles, Swords, and Wands.

Let me know how this works for you since it's brand new!

May the wisdom of all your teachers from all the worlds be clear and delightful to you.

The Wisdom of the Dumpter, or, See What Happens When You Take Out the Garbage

Several--more than ten-- years ago, I was in a difficult and intense relationship that was ending badly. Actually, the fact that it was not ending was really the problem. I have on occasion referred to this man as "my stalker," since he would not go away. He suddenly died while he was on vacation in another state. Then I was pitched into a whirlpool of emotions, confusion, and adjustments. It was complicated by many factors.

I learned many things: the value of shock; my own strength; the kindness of strangers; the harshness of others; and how to be a deep feeling human being. It took a while to emerge from those emotions.

Then one day, I realized that I had integrated those feelings, emotions, and knowledge. I was whole again. Hearts knit back together with awesome strength and beauty. I realized that I had given away much of his stuff, burned some, and kept some. That night was the night to take the garbage out, so I got out a bag and gathered up anything that still did not belong to this whole me. I took it out to the curb and it was hauled away. It was an act of power and it was a spell.

Just because I was heart-whole didn't mean I was seeking relationships. I've always been a little laggard in that area. A couple of new men had come into our circle and while there was a lot of interest in them around me, I didn't really consider dating a situation that applied to me. At a gathering, a friend returned a deck of Tarot to me. Since there was a lull in the activities, I did a card reading for myself. The possible outcome was Ace of Cups. I rolled my eyes.

It was clear shortly afterwards that one man was very interesting and was interested in me. We did connect and that man is now my husband. A fabulous, passionate, fun love story then and now. When I tell the story of how we met, I often follow it with "See what happens when you take out the garbage."

Our stuff is a potent teacher. George Carlin has a classic stand-up routine.
This routine has a lot of wisdom, at least to me. I have a lot of stuff. I inherited a lot, bought stuff, and was gifted stuff. I spent a lot of money and time acquiring stuff. I spend a lot of time moving stuff, organizing stuff, and (not) using stuff. Lately though, I've felt I've got too much. I don't want to move it and I'd rather spend my time doing other things.

In November, my husband and I had a lot of words about stuff. While it was a little impassioned, we came out with a constructive solution. We rented a dumpster. It was a wonderful, miraculous thing to happen. We cleared out a lot of broken things, a lot of things not used, and things that no longer served us. It was difficult. I had to make up some rules. A friend came over to help and before she came in the door, I told her THE RULE: you are not allowed to ask me if I'm sure I want to get rid of this. If it's ready to go, I'm done. If I rethink my decision, it will go back in the house. That one rule was simple, effective and quite a blessing.

I also donated a lot of books to the local Friends of the Library, to a local sewing recycling place, and to the Salvation Army. Blessed be them!

I still have a lot of stuff. I'm still passing along clothes, books, and other things. It's easier now that I've been initiated into the wisdom of the dumpster. I feel like I have more space to expand, more time, and can relax more. I've had a corollary story about stuff, throwing out and dumpsters at my job. Obviously, the Universe believes this is one lesson that keeps on teaching! Ordinary things can teach us so much.

May all your lessons be gentle, ordinary, and deep!

The Path to the Rowdy Goddess

I am just back from spending the weekend with my friends, the Rowdy Goddesses. There were 13 of us on Friday the 13th and the number of the place we were staying was 113. It was meant to be transformative. I've known these women for many years and have been reading Tarot for the each time we get together. In that time I have seen incredible changes, deepening roots, life challenges, tears, and loud, loud laughter. Our journeys are an incredible gift.

So I thought I would take the opportunity to share our story and our charge, something I wrote a few years ago. I had always intended it to be a book on the Rowdy Goddess but it has not yet become that. It is a story that must be told!

The illustration is by my sister, Carol Reid, another rowdy woman from another part of my life.

THE PATH TO THE ROWDY GODDESS

Here now the words of the Rowdy Goddess:
I who am called Baubo, Artemis, Iambe, Lillith, Flora, Aphrodite
And by many other names

The story of my journey begins where so many stories begin, in early childhood. My grandparents had a part collie dog named Rowdy. I used to sit on the steps of their farmhouse and call, “Here Rowdy, Rowdy, Rowdy!” He would come running, tail wagging, happy and affectionate. Many years later, my mother told me that he had disappeared for several months and reappeared one day, tired and dirty. The family had always thought that he had been stolen and made his way back home to the family that loved him. That story always thrilled me and inspired me because of his determination and love. Even now, Rowdy comes to me from the land of spirit in my meditations and dreams.

Much of my childhood was devoted to seeking magic; the magic of learning, the magic of Spirit, the magic of books, the magic of the ocean, the magic of friendship and the magic of love. Magic was not always easy to see but I was convinced it was there. I was determined to find it and I always assumed that it was in the world of Spirit, in religion. When I was nineteen, still seeking magic, I became a fundamental Christian and joined a Christian group on my college campus. At first the experience I embraced was magical and spiritual but soon the magic got lost in the rules and subliminal messages about sin, womanhood, power and femininity.

The group was closed and close. The young women of the group were called “gals,” and the young men were called “guys.” You did not become women or men until you got married. This was a world of sanctified behavior had strict boundaries. On one side, the boundaries were chastity and guilt and on the other fear and loss. We had to cross those boundaries to go to school, to work and to our families, but we were always cautioned to remain focused on our spiritual purity.

Gals were supposed to be obedient, demure, submissive and chaste. There was no dating in this group and the gals and guys were segregated into groups; teams that met together in strict controlled ways. The gals studied how to be good Christian women and femininity was highly prized, being bound up in the conflicting messages of “be attractive,” and “be pure so as not to distract the guys from service to the Lord.” Femininity became associated with control and conflict.
The natural optimism and humor that is part of my nature kept bubbling through the control and the emotionally laden tests of obedience. I laughed, joked and questioned. Because of this ebullience, I was nicknamed “The Rowdy Gal,” and it was not a compliment. My attempts to question and to lighten the atmosphere with humor were regarded as disruptive, subversive and disorderly. Attempts to leaven unhappy and difficult situations with humor were rebuked and various social punishments were exacted. During those five years my role, my person and my personality was criticized and tested. In those tests I was found lacking, because I behaved inappropriately as a gal and a Christian. Eventually I was ostracized and through a mutual unstated agreement. I became a non-Christian as we called everyone outside of our group; no matter that I still had some faith. Even then, with many psychic wounds and bruises, I still longed to be spiritual and find magic.

Eventually, I found the Goddess and embraced the magic of the Universe through the Goddess and through witchcraft. In the course of the time since, I have learned that I can look at the Universe and see the Goddess. I can take a deep breath and know that “I am Goddess.”
For many years, I have attended a wonderful women’s spiritual retreat called Womongathering. It is a loving and beautiful four days in the mountains of Pennsylvania. I met my dear friend Joyce there and we began asking to be assigned cabins together. Each time, we would be asked to quiet down. We were too noisy. Other friends joined us, RoseLee, Sharon, Kim and Susan. We asked, each year, to be housed together, informing them that we were noisy. Usually someone in the adjoining space would tell us to hush, the most outrageous when we were having a normal toned discussion in the middle of the afternoon. We were tired of being shushed. I told them my Rowdy gal story and said that since we were Goddesses, we should call ourselves The Rowdy Goddesses. And we did.

Then one year, it changed dramatically. I pulled up to unload my car and I could hear loud laughter and talking coming from one of the cabins. As I walked towards the assigned cabin a woman stopped me and said consolingly, “I think you are in the noisy cabin.” I smiled and as I came into the cabin I found that Maire, Vicki and Erin had joined us and they were, joyfully, full of exuberance and noise. In other years, we were joined by more until our ranks swelled and we asked for a larger cabin. We were, as we discovered, rowdy and proud. We warned people that we were loud and they needed to get used to it. We joyfully embrace our highs and lows, our sorrows and our loves; we are complete and seeking to be full of Spirit.

Over the years, we have met together every June for four days. You would think that we’d only have time for the shallowest interactions; instead we share our deepest secrets and intimate lives. We laugh uproariously, we yell and scream our anger, and we cry about our deepest sorrows and disclose our greatest fears. In so many ways, we are the best of what a coven does; we support each other, care for one another, challenge each other; all connected through our love for each other and for the Goddess. We’ve created our own rowdy spiritual community within a lovely community-oriented women’s festival festival. The energy of the Goddess infuses our tears, hugs, screams, and laughter. We are boisterous in our joy and in our sorrow. We are the Rowdy Goddesses.

Goddess energy is rowdy energy. The rowdy goddess energy disrupts and makes us creates new patterns that free us to be ourselves, holy and whole. The stories tell us to be as She is, proud, independent, funny and bold. Depending on your source, it was either Baubo or Iambe disrupted Demeter’s terrible grief at losing Persephone. Iambe lifted her skirts and told a bawdy joke that made the grieving mother smile. Baubo is the orgasmic goddess who unashamedly celebrates her body and her sex. Baubo is credited with creating the belly laugh, the laugh that begins deep inside and bursts forth with no embarrassment. Lillith was demonized for refusing to submit and refusing to be overpowered. Artemis made her own rules and followed her own path of the moon. Flora was the Roman goddess of sexuality for the sake of its own wonder. She was the patroness of sexuality with no purpose other than lusty enjoyment. Aphrodite celebrated love and sexuality with delight and pleasure.

This rowdy energy is strong, irrepressible, powerful, and exuberant. The energy of the Goddess bubbles up inside us, unrestricted, unbounded by guilt, embarrassment or shame. We are disorderly when we question the boundaries that restrict us and then move beyond our borders into freedom. We are disruptive and wild when we say, “I am Goddess” and believe it and live it..
In our wild rowdy energy, we our find femininity and womanliness by looking at the aspects of the Goddess that reaches out and speaks to us. We see her in the many phases of the moon. She grows from dark to light to dark again in enormous variety and diversity. She reaches out to the Goddess inside us and holds us in her embrace. She inspires us and she moves us. We sit on the steps of our lives and call, “here Rowdy, Rowdy, Rowdy.” We are answered with love, affection, joy and unbounded enthusiasm. The Rowdy Goddess is each of us as we lift our skirts. The Rowdy Goddess is each of us as we laugh from deep in our soul.

Hear now the words of the Rowdy Goddess.
I who am called Baubo, Lillith, Flora, Aphrodite, Iambe, Joyce, Susan, Sharon, Kim, Erin, Diana, Queen Maire, Gail, RoseLee, Karen, Chris, Molly, Bonnie,
Christel, Patty, Naomi Captain Medusa
And many other names.

I am the laughter of your soul,
Beginning deep in the belly and coming loudly from your mouth.
I am the song of your life,
Sung boldly and proud.
I am the dance of your heart and the passion of your body,
Willing and free.
I am every breath you take and every sound you make.
My voice is heard in a giggle, in a soft laugh,
In a lovely song, in a guffaw,
In a keening cry and in a bawdy ballad.
I am ecstasy and delight.

Lift your skirts and dance with me
For I am the passion that moves you through the world.
Lift your voice and sing with me
For I am the excitement of life lived out loud.
Lift your hearts and love with me
For I am hope everlasting.

Let my worship be in your voice and in your body,
For behold all acts of exuberance and creativity are done in reverence to me.
Let there be enthusiasm and joy, passion and love,
Fearlessness and foolishness, exuberance and mirth,
Grief and healing, and laughter and bliss.

Swirl and dance, sing and chant.
I am the Rowdy Goddess
I am the Rowdy Goddess.

May you find the divine rowdy goddess deep within your soul and may you find ways to express your divine rowdiness, loud and proud. B*B

Holey, Wholly, Holy

When I was in the seventh grade, I shot up seven inches from five-foot-nothing to five-foot seven. It took me years to grow out of my awkward phase. I believe I'm still in my clumsy phase. At that time, this awkward, coltish teenager was going to Sunday School at a largish Southern Baptist Church; we were new to the area and newcomers at the church. Everyone was very nice to the kids, though years later my parents told different stories. One bright sunny day, I overheard my Sunday School teacher talking about another girl in my class about what a wonderful girl she was. Apparently while her parents were away, she had kept the house clean and made sure that when her parents returned, they came home to a house full of fresh flowers.


I looked over at her on that sunny Sunday, as she sat gracefully in her pretty yellow dress with a hat covered in daisies on her head and envied her perfection. I was tugging at my homemade dress as I crossed my ungainly long legs. I didn't have a hat...if I did, I wouldn't be able to keep it perfectly atop my head. This girl was like an unattainable ideal of perfection. Neat, pretty, contained, and poised and very definitely not me.


I, on the other hand, was clumsy, sloppy, and unformed. I didn't have any idea how a kid like me could fill a house with fresh flowers. How do you do that? We had a vegetable garden and dandelions galore, but fresh flowers?



I didn't envy her, I was just regarded her with a sense of wonder. I knew I could never be like her so I didn't set her as a standard. After all, she had one older brother, I have three younger ones. She didn't have a sister and I do. Her mother didn't work and mine did. Her family didn't seem to have money problems and mine definitely did. There was really no similarity between us. I think what had me bemused is what the church ladies set up as an ideal of a nice young woman-to-be. I didn't talk to her because what would we have in common and what would I say to such a perfection?



Many many years later I took this delightful workshop from a woman named Jenny, Mary, or some such name. She was delightful--fun, funny, and flawed. It was a great experience and I gained a great deal of insight from it. A few years later, attending the same retreat, I ran into her again. She had changed her name to some magical name like Morgan, Brigit, or something. She dressed in flowing robes and never cracked a smile. She spoke in hushed wise tones. Where was that delightful flawed woman I met before? "Oh," I thought, "She got holy." Of course, behind the scenes there were rumors of dissension in her circle and of behaviors that belied that holiness, leaving me to think her inauthentic to herself and to others.



A lot of times in spiritual circles as people gain more wisdom and insight, they believe that they must never show their flaws, their struggles or their problems. Somehow as spiritual leaders they must show only perfection. Sometimes their vision of what perfection is makes them seem inhuman.



I've never been able to achieve that level of holiness; I simply cannot maintain it. Spirit seems to demand that I live my life out loud, confronting me with issues in circle and in public, sometimes embarrassing ways. One of my circle sisters wrote me and thanked me for being her teacher, stating that what she liked best about me was that I was wholly human with bad moods and good. I treasure that comment while at the same time saying to myself, "thank you, I think." It is true that I'm as honest about my struggles as I am about my accomplishments. In this way I do think I'm am wholly myself.



We are all divine creatures, with the spark of the goddess and the god within us. By living authentically, we keep our flames burning bright. I think about that girl in the daisy hat from long ago. I think her poise and composure were innate and she was finding ways to live authentically just as I was living my sloppy, awkward self. I think in order to be holy, we do need to live wholly ourselves. Our lives are the journey to wholeness and integration. Our lives are made up of accomplishments, of tatters and failures, of tepid responses, and of bright shining moments. This amalgam of success and failure blends together to create our divine wholeness. You cannot have one without the other. If you deny one, then the other will cast big shadows in your life. You may think you are fooling people, but the only person fooled is you. I have found that the Goddess is very demanding. She demands the level of holiness She shows to us. With all it's dichotomy, contradiction, pain, joy and exuberance. She demands wholeness, a recognition of the holes as well as the full spaces. In this way, we can say, authentically, "I am Goddess, I am God."

May you live your life out loud, joyfully dancing your holey, holy wholeness!

Majors Monday: The Fool in Springtime

I have been back from the Readers Studio 2011 for a week and I'm still absorbing all the wonderful things I learned and the experiences I've had hanging out with the Tarot Tribe. From that journey into the lands of Tarot delights and visions, I have resolved to focus my attention and be active in my Tarot journey. Towards that focus, I'm combining my Dark Moon Tarot blog with my Rowdy Goddess blog. After all, isn't Tarot the essence of rowdiness?

One of the speakers, Caitlin Matthews, talked about Tarot readers, energy workers and others in the fields of esoterica as inhabiting the fringes and edges of society. It's at these borders where the the boundaries are pushed, questions are asked, and critique occurs. It is where we go when we feel like an outlander in our own homes or mainstream society.

It is into these borderlands that the Fool travels, seeking whatever it is he is seeking, far away from the domesticated lands of civilization. It is often said that the Fool is seeking a fresh perspective, or is he looking for a wild world where questions are asked and the standard answers no longer apply? He finds that the questions are alive and evolving in that wilderness. This is where civilization has unraveled to reveal a more raggedy edge. It is an opportunity to look at life with fresh eyes and decide if reweaving is what is sought or if something else needs to happen.

Barbara Moore taught us to look at each card with a fresh eye, to see the questions in the cards and then to see the patterning of questions as tarot spreads; spreads that will help us understand patterns. As the images and the questions dance together, a pattern emerges as a spread. Barbara also encouraged us to place the cards asymmetrically, to offset some cards and to place the cards at angles to each other. The very act of asymmetry compels us to view patterns through different lenses. Sometimes our lives become so circumscribed or hemmed in by our answers, we don't see there are new ways to pose the questions, or even that there are other questions to be asked. Sometimes new questions emerge as we place things in different relationships to one another. The same is true for readers, spreads, questions, and querents.

As a Tarot reader, librarian and spiritual seeker, I have learned that living the question is the prize. Just as the power of the journey is in the journey itself (thank you to Ursula K. LeGuin's masterpiece The Left Hand of Darkness) so is the question itself the journey.

The Fool in Springtime Spread

As I look at the Rider-Waite-Smith image, my attention is attracted to the pack. What is in there and what needs to be unpacked? Is it too heavy? Then I turn my attention to the pole. Is it strong enough? Does it hurt the Fool? Does it help or hinder? And of course the dog. I always notice dogs! Is the dog herding him, following him or is the dog a boon companion? Then the cliff and then the rose bring more questions. Five images turn into five positions in the spread.

Five is a good number for a reading because it shows the chaos of change and of questioning the status quo. Fives don't often provide "the final answer" but can provide some additional guidance or, at the very least, more information. The spread is simple, deceptively so, since the questions beget more questions. The cards can provide more insight.

Some of my students like guides for when to use certain spreads. This one is good for people seeking more information at the start of a new journey, project, or if they are thinking they need a change. And it's good for people in the midst of chaos to help them find a focus.

The Fool In Springtime Spread, May 2011

Card One: The Pack

What do I have packed for my journey?

Card Two: The Pole

What enables me to carry my burdens/gifts?

Card Three: The Cliff

What threshold am I approaching?

Card Four: The Dog

What aids me or is nipping at my heels?

Card Five: The Rose

What beauty is unfolding for me?

This thread is brand new and I have read much with it. I'd be very interested in your feedback and experiences.

May your journey to the outer edges be filled with questions, magic, beauty and delight!