by Michele Darnell-Roberts
Reviewed by Geraldine Charles
by Leona Graham-Elen
by Barbara Ardinger
Our Found Goddesses are the ones we make up. Sure, we can appeal to Aphrodite for love and Ops when our bank account is running dry and Frigga to get our house in order, but which of the traditional goddesses is in charge of computers? We Find new goddesses to deal with modern issues.
The guys on the Y2K Project used to laugh at me when I explained how computers work. It’s gerbils. With flashcards. See for yourself if I’m not right. Turn on your computer and listen to the noises the CPU makes as it boots up. Watch the screens. When Windows comes up, that’s the signal that the gerbils have gone back to sleep and the various computer goddesses are now assuming control of your system. But the faithful and industrious gerbils were there when we needed them.
Max Dashu, the Suppressed Histories Archives
So much confusion has been sown about goddess veneration. Resistance to seeing any sacral value in ancient female icons has been a particular sticking point in academia. There, emphasis is usually placed on theoretical frameworks that seem to ignore the sense of sacredness that pervades aboriginal cultures. And there has been fundamental misunderstanding of what the Women’s Spirituality movement means when we speak of Goddess or goddesses. These are some of my reflections on these gaps and what needs to be clarified.
Goddess is a contested word today. In popular culture it has been totally desacralized, disrespected, stripped down and trivialized. People talk about a sex goddess (movie star) or a diva, which is Italian for “goddess”— but used mostly to describe singers with overinflated egos. It’s hardly a reverent term. It has no cultural standing of its own in mainstream society.
by Rachael Clyne
by Rachael Clyne
by Jacqui Woodward-Smith
Brigit of the mantles,
Brigit of the peat-heap,
Brigit of the twining hair
When, in my early and mid-20s, I journeyed to the Underworld in the midst of a dark depression the urge that I most had to fight against was one to cut my hair; not to have it trimmed, or shaped, or styled to make me feel better, but to hack at it, cut chunks out of it, shave my head, make it ugly, destroy it. Somehow my hair was a symbol of my inner self and I felt that if I could make it look the way that I felt inside everyone would understand the dark place that I was in and I would never have to explain it, or hide it, again. Yet it wasn’t a considered thought, it was a barely understood visceral urge that I battled against almost every day, and I have since heard other women describe similar feelings. I think that that’s when I really started to think about hair…
…and the more that I thought about hair the more that I noticed references to it in the Goddess-centred books that I was reading and the stories that I heard. It became clear to me that, for women at least, our hair is a symbol of something deep and primal; a symbol of our wild, and yet often rejected or hidden, inner selves and it is, yet another, example of a symbol that has been taken from us and controlled, possibly to the point where it’s original meaning and power has been destroyed completely…but perhaps in everything there is a glimmer that can be reclaimed?