Romancing the Flower Maid: or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Anima

Romancing the Flower Maid: or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Anima

These days our society is moving further and further from the simple conception of gender as a binary: male or female, man or woman. We are beginning to recognize that gender is complex. In the natural world, scientists continue to discover undeniable examples of how sexuality is multifaceted and fluid, from the parthenogenesis of blacktip sharks to the three distinct sexes of the midshipman toadfish. But we’re not there yet. Binaries have kept us trapped for a long time, defining us by what we are not or what we supposedly cannot do, rather than by who we are and what we’re really capable of.

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New Moon, Forever Maiden: Wild Worship in the Digital Age

New Moon, Forever Maiden: Wild Worship in the Digital Age

This is the burden of the Maiden, the young beloved, the inexperienced youth casting herself out into the wild winds for the first time. To hold her idealism like a torch to light her way. To revel in the longing of her expectation, her potential becoming. And for all her daring, to risk being thought of as immature, foolish, sentimental, and naive. To have her parents fret that she isn’t saving for retirement, or that her tattoos might peek out above the collar of a respectable, office-appropriate blouse. It’s her task to scoff at such worries, too, because after all, cynicism is just the mask that hope wears when it ventures out at night.

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The Killing Blow: A Poem

The Killing Blow: A Poem

In times of grief and sorrow, when even a hundred thousand words will not do, I turn to the aching brevity of poetry…. This poem was originally published February 17, 2011, and though it may be unseasonable for the time of year, there are days even in the dreary depths of autumn when we need to remember the coming spring.

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Goddess Withdrawn

Goddess Withdrawn

It takes a long time to understand why she left.

She’d arrived one day with a burst of rain, a glint of sunlight on wilting ice. She’d come with mud and wind and trampled dogwood petals pressed into the cracks of the sidewalk, with quickened breath and light, with the smell of cheap wax candles burning well past midnight… And then one day, just as quickly, she was gone again.

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The Goddess, the Broom and the Barred Owl, Part 5

The Goddess, the Broom and the Barred Owl, Part 5

What were you expecting? A tame goddess who can be bribed with easy offerings? A pleasant springtime girl who asks for nothing but your adoration in return? An owl-feathered maiden of the forest to indulge your taste for the exotic and the dark? Were you hoping for a bedtime story with a moral at the end?

Blodeuwedd’s story isn’t over. It is on-going. It is forever unfolding in every moment, in every place where nature and culture conflict and comingle, in every breath that weaves us as human animals into the more-than-human world. It would be too easy to approach Blodeuwedd through mythology and ritual alone, to disconnect her from the messy, erotic, death-riddled real world of broom blossoms and barred owls.

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