Harvest Time

Last night I danced my patootie off under the big harvest moon, celebrating the hand fasting of two dear queer Pagan friends. In my hurry to dress and beautify for the event, I'd left my cell phone at home. Some mistakes are gifts. The gift of being without my phone left me able to be fully present. If I'd brought it, I'd have been checking it persistently, as this weekend was the deadline for Governor Brown to sign or veto the bill I've been working on for about two years.

The hand fasting was juicy love magic. My rag tag Pagan community was dressed to the nines and tens, as only Pagans can dress. Sequins, feathers, and glitter abounded, and Pagans and other family and friends all glowed with happiness.  Love is something to celebrate. Commitment is something to honor. These two woman have been together for almost a decade, and it was perfect timing for this particular spell.  The setting was exquisite, high on a bluff at Fort Mason, overlooking our beautiful bay. We feasted and drank and toasted to love for hours. And danced.

Meanwhile, the Governor was signing SB1172 into law. It is now illegal in California for therapists to "treat" minors for being gay or gender queer. This legislation is landmark, the first in the land. And, it is already spreading. A similar bill has been proposed in New Jersey, and LGBT activists are now fighting for this nationwide.

I am proud. Two years ago I became a Board member for Gaylesta, the biggest and first LGBTQ psychotherapy association in the country. I came on as the chair of the new advocacy committee, and last year became Co-President. After years of activism in anarchist groups, I have learned a new way of activism, and also deepened my understanding of  leadership.  Legislative politics doesn't have the same panache as direct action politics, but it certainly can be as powerful. Gaylesta, a volunteer associaton, was instrumental in getting this bill both created and passed. I've always believed that being a therapist was being an agent of change and my work with Gaylesta has proved to be integrative. Being an activist within my profession is satisfying. Good therapy can save lives.  Bad therapy can destroy them.

Today, the world just got a little safer for LGBTQ youth.

Last night I dance to Lady Gaga singing Born This Way amidst the group of Pagan teens I've known since birth, some queer, probably many questioning, but all secure in knowing their community will celebrate however they choose to love and however they identify. This morning I spent planting bulbs in my garden, throwing the line of celebration into the spring. Sometime in the future tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils will bloom in my backyard, reminding me of what it means to plant and work towards a better future. And what it means to dance.

Which really does have to be part of any good revolution.

sticks and stones

“The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms.”

Muriel Rukeyser

The Universe is made of stories and each story is made of words. And each word itself has a story.  To name a thing is powerful, in itself a story invocation.  And, as in most invocations, we rarely are in control of what comes in and what magic it will work and what story will unfold.

Taking a new name as part of following a spiritual path is nothing new. I would guess it is a cross-cultural experience, an innately human part of trying to give voice and name the experience of expanding consciousness, being reborn, and/or committing to a particular path.

The name I was given at birth, Deborah, I seized back after years of being Debbie. It was in itself a story changer, moving me into adulthood and away from childhood. Only one person remains in my life who calls me “Debbie”, the very person who named me Deborah; my mother. Can you sense the story behind that?

There have been three other names I have gained in this lifetime, all though initiatory processes. The first, Oak, I received at my initiation into Reclaiming. Some people drop their old name completely after this initiation, some, like me, use their magical name in Pagan circles and keep their “given” name, and others just continue to go by their given name publicly and keep their magical name private.

The other two names  I received at my Feri initiations. These names are meant to remain only known amongst Feri initiates. Feri is a tradition that works with the power/magic of naming things and keeping the names close.  Most people only have one Feri initiation; I have the strange story of having two. This is a story best left for another day, but the gist of the matter is that initiation two was an important redo of initiation one, which was rather traumatizing.

And part of this, as I look back, was the name. It has been there, working itself out through the years, right behind the Oak. Oak has helped me stay grounded in what matters to me and been a mighty protection during some frightful storms. The other name came in flash, pulled not so much from the Divine as from my unconscious, although one can argue they are one and the same. But the feel between receiving Oak and Rhiannon was vastly different.  All names, I suppose, are both blessing and curse. And sometimes, a name, like Debbie and Rhiannon,  has to be let go of.

Yep, I said it. I am releasing the power of Rhiannon. I have been trying to do that for ten years or so, but keeping it secret, it did hold power. Now, publicly I announce it is no longer mine. And anyways, who needs two Feri names? The other will remain, working it’s own story, holding its power, mixing with Oak and Deborah into a potent but less painful blend.

Rhiannon was mighty, but she got wrongly accused of killing her baby and had to carry her community on her back like a horse for punishment. As I was mulling about this name this week,  I received an e-mail this week from George Franklin of the Reclaiming Quarterly. In it he justified  my long time column not  being on the Reclaiming archive site because of the history of complaints from California organizers.  Once again I was accused of focusing on personal grievances in my column, and chastised for being a destructive force.

Thank Goddess I had just re-read them, or I might have some self-doubt about eating that baby. Re-reading them, they seem rather tame. 

I did not eat my baby.   And I’m letting that story go for good, in hope that this story has no charge now between the worlds, that it can’t operate in the unconscious of the collective/community. George  also said that the format of the website is getting changed - not because of my complaint - and eventually all the back issues will be available in their entirety, which will include my column. He made it clear if he had it his way, I'd still be written out of history. However, it appears the story is beginning to change. 

Yes, it is. 

I can feel a shift even as I write this. There’s much more to write about the power of names. But this is enough naming and story for now.

Who knows what stories are working us behind the scenes in magical communities with hidden names? How has your name impacted your story?

Sticks and stones might break bones,
but names can change our story.