Second Annual Brigid in Cyberspace Poetry Reading

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2007

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.

RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Last year Reya put out the call and there was more poetry in cyberspace than she could keep track of. So, link to whoever you hear about this from and a mighty web of poetry will be spun.

Feel free to pass this invitation on to any and all bloggers.

Thank you, Reya, for beginning what I hope is now an annual event.

war is over

A very Merry christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now.

John Lennon

I can’t get these words out of my head. Tonight is 12^th night, and Solstice, Christmas and New Year's Eve are several steps back. But the song remains. It came on the radio as I drove to my sister’s house on Christmas day and then my girlfriend’s band was asked to play it at midnight at the big Code Pink New Year’s party. Both times hearing it, I found myself surprised by a choke in the throat and the welling up of tears. What is it about these words that elicit such a strong response, and that won’t leave me? It’s got to be more than menopause.

I’ve been thinking about John Lennon and his song “Imagine” almost daily since right before Samhain. At that time, there was the usual repeating kerfluffle on a Reclaiming community list about California witchcamp. This witchcamp has been the center of ongoing controversy for years. Many of us have had strong objections to one person running it for private profit as opposed to it being a consensus based organizing group like all the rest of the Reclaiming witchcamps. Starhawk is a strident supporter of California camp remaining the same. Why, is particularly confounding. It may have to do with the complexity of her relationship with the organizer, who for many years was her personal assistant and took on at initiation the same magical moniker as Starhawk's fictional protaganist.

Trying to openly talk about California camp is a Kafkaesque endeavor, as what so clearly is at play will not be admitted publicly. Starhawk sets the tone on this, for years refusing to admit that the camp is not run by consensus process, saying that the volunteer group that works for the paid organizer (who calls the shots) is the same as every other consensus based group in Reclaiming. Volunteers kvetch about this privately, of course, and many now say that there is a growing movement to restructure things, that next year it may very well move from a single organizer to a group. The issue had come up again on the list, with one of those who’ve asked for transparency regarding the camp asking for it once again, and Starhawk taking issue with this. The same old points were bandied back and forth, the same tired dance steps as in the past. All sides say they believe in the same things, that they want this camp to be run in accordance to our principles. Bored sick of the issue, I stayed quiet for awhile. One day I woke up and felt compelled to try and get beyond the conflict by imagining all of us on the same team. I want this conflict over. Instead of arguing, I suggested we all;

“do what witches do best. Imagine. Visualize.... Imagine everyone involved with California Camp feeling proud of transitioning into a consensus based camp, one with rotating roles of leadership, and responsive and accountable to the local community. Imagine Califonia Camp being part of the greater spokes, it's structure and actions mirroring the principles of unity.. Imagine the individual organizer being lauded for the particular skills and knowledge she's possessed and her sharing these skills and knowledge with others not feeling she is losing, but is gaining. Imagine pride and joy. Imagine excitement at change, and doors opening, and old resentments and grudges being whisked away with winds of change. Imagine those of us who've been bitching, whining, and otherwise haranguing for things to change these long years, especially those of us who've been barred from teaching at California, arriving at camp with others who've been participating in the camp for these long years. Imagine us smiling and getting along, not only being on the same team, but FEELING we are on the same team. Imagine this revitalizing not only the local community, but the peacemaking and good magic this would engender flowing out to the greater Reclaiming and the world itself.”

Immediately, the shit storm began. I was accused of doing nonconsensual magic, and my ethics were called into question. To imagine this conflict working out was lacking integrity. To be involved in fighting…to keep arguing the same old tired points, that’s one thing. But to imagine resolution, and to suggest that others do it too, well, that was considered coercive magic of the worst kind.

The week or two after my post, the potency of John Lennon’s song really became clear to me. Imagining is truly the most powerful thing we can do. As witches, we imagine all the time, manipulating the outer landscape by our inner imaginings. Imagining is one thing, asking others to join in on the imagining, that’s stirring up the cauldron of consensual reality. Imagining is just as important as taking action. Asking others to imagine, is taking perhaps the most important action. Imagining the overculture changing and asking others to imagine it as well is part of Reclaiming culture. Somehow that's considered positive and healing magic, while doing the same to our own culture and community these seasoned Reclaiming priestesses considered manipulative and "nonconsensual". Maybe it is....but how different is that from the countless spells we Reclaiming witches have thrown out into the world? Imagining the things we want globally happening on a local level makes sense to me. Is there a better place to start?

I also realized it is past time now to stop bitching, whining, and haranguing. Trying to muscle a resolution is fruitless with those who can't and won't imagine it. Amidst the few (but powerful) accusations of bad and unethical magic, I got many private posts from those outside the conflict all saying essentially the same thing. They were also imagining; imagining peace, imagining those who’ve been in conflict now on the same team, imaging the fractious Bay Area community as a harmonious one. This imagining the conflict resolved and asking others to do so is much more powerful than continuing to engage in conflict. For conflict to be resolved peacefully, both parties need to be willing to want it to be. Imagining is infectious. The thought form of a California camp with a transparent process, run in accordance to our principles of unity is spreading. It’s a matter of time until this happens. I can imagine it. I want it. And more and more of the Reclaiming community does too, local and otherwise. It won't happen by fighting, or arguing, or some dreaded mediation session. It will happen because we get beyond the tipping point, and the wave of imagining this done washes over everything, and infuses even the hardest of hearts.

War is over, if we want it. I’m choosing to believe that’s true. I’m imagining that it is true. Do we want war to be over? Really over? There are so many small wars I’ve engaged in, so many battles I’ve actually enjoyed. It’s a heck of a lot of work to let go of war, to not get off on the adrenaline rush of conflict. Conflict is inevitable, it's the irritation that makes the pearl. Not killing people, that's important, but so is letting go of the addictive belief there has to be an enemy, a right and a wrong.

My aunt died today. She and my mother had a lifelong war, a war I think they actually got a kick out of. It’s over now, whether they want it or not. No wonder that song has been in my mind. No wonder it makes me cry. War is over, if you want it.

I do.

Thank you, John Lennon.

crossing over into the new year

My aunt has been dying for awhile now. And she’s still not dead. She’s in her late eighties and has been in the hospital since Thanksgiving, teetering towards death. On Christmas she was taken off life support, the medical wisdom being that she would die within twenty-four hours. Since then, James Brown, Saddam Hussein, Gerald Ford, and Gabriel Carrillo (Feri priest and subject of countless controversies) have passed over. But not my aunt. It seems like every time I turn on the radio or open my e-mail I find out about another complex character crossing over. But my aunt lingers on.

My mother is recovering from her mastectomy and has shorn her head in preparation of chemotherapy. She’s in no shape to travel back to visit her sister and make her goodbyes, which all in all, may be a good thing. Our holidays growing up were always marked, and sometimes scarred, by one of the battles in their life long war. Last year was the first in many years that my sister and I attempted to spend a holiday with the two of them and our own families. We knew it would be the last, death or no death, given the debacle that ensued. They bickered through the opening of all the presents, arguing about who was receiving better gifts, the intensity increasing as my stepfather plied them with alcohol. When my aunt fell out of her chair, muttering about hating us all, my stepfather and cousin hurried her and my mother out to the car, driving away before dinner was served. My son and nieces were aghast, unbelieving of the scene that had just ensued. My sister and I shook our heads, and laughed in a kind of tired way. Yes, this was not much different from what we’d grown up with, and yes, our kids should be grateful for the childhoods they are having.

This year, my sister and our kids were together again for Christmas. We talked to my mother on the phone, each grandchild reluctantly taking their turn on the phone. The backdrop of the day was the sense of my aunt’s passing on, and we laughed once again, remembering the last Christmas we would ever spent with the two battling sisters. Growing up in a frequent war zone, my sisters and I became allies in the trenches, something I am deeply thankful for. Solstice is my true focus of the season, Christmas the rite I do with my blood family. The wheel turns, and things change. One thing that remains constant is that my family consistently stretches the imagination, even on the death bed. We do not go easily into that good night, that is for sure. My aunt is defying medical science, but I know she’ll go when she’s damn ready. For my cousin’s sake, I’m hoping that will be soon.