Monica Sjoo, The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth
Virgo’s symbol, The Virgin, transmutes through the Virgo experience emanating in the love of all things natural and a certain purity of spirit that keeps these individuals self sufficient and self contained, at surface level. Virgo’s hands are porcelain crafted, magical and the operating channel of Neptune healing power. And so losing one’s virginity or sexual expression is never an act of impurity or contamination, because the hands are the instruments of the divine, completely, emphatically pure. Far from being celibate, the origin of Virgo was the Egyptian goddess of grain; whose daughter was sometimes the guardian of the harvest. Her hands, symbolized wisdom, garnered in the fields of experience relating the Virgin archetype to their radiant altruism, and self reliance.
"Ancient moon priestesses were called virgins. ‘Virgin’ meant not married, not belonging to a man - a woman who was ‘one-in-herself’. The very word derives from a Latin root meaning strength, force, skill; and was later applied to men: virile. Ishtar, Diana, Astarte, Isis were all called virgin, which did not refer to sexual chastity, but sexual independence. And all great culture heroes of the past, mythic or historic, were said to be born of virgin mothers: Marduk, Gilgamesh, Buddha, Osiris, Dionysus, Genghis Khan, Jesus - they were all affirmed as sons of the Great Mother, of the Original One, their worldly power deriving from her. When the Hebrews used the word, and in the original Aramaic, it meant ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’, with no connotations to sexual chastity. But later Christian translators could not conceive of the ‘Virgin Mary’ as a woman of independent sexuality, needless to say; they distorted the meaning into sexually pure, chaste, never touched.“—
Swirling the raspberry tea with my breath and finger tip
Sitting as you bemoan troubles as I sip your sorrows
Starry eyes run up and down you, with cup to mouth
Stating I agree honey, as the potpourri of unmade tea hits
Sizzle and burnt scents stop your ranting, spotted tortilla
Sounds of your voice soothe, sipping tea next to me
Stopping to say you love me, sweetest thing of the night
That same day white jurors giggled while Mrs. Mary Ruth Reed, a pregnant black sharecropper, testified that Lewis Medlin, a white mechanic, attempted to rape her in front of her five children. In an effort to get help, she scooped up her youngest child and ran across a field. Medlin knocked her down and pummeled her until a neighbor finally heard her screams and called the police. In court, Medlin’s attorney argued that he had been drinking and was ‘just having a little fun.’ Then, turning to the white jurors, the attorney pointed to the woman sitting next to Medlin. ‘You see this pure white woman, this pure flower of life?’ he said. ‘… This is Medlin’s wife … Do you think he would have left this pure flower, God’s greatest gift,’ he asked, ‘for THAT?’ Reed burst into tears as the jury broke for deliberation. Less than ten minutes later they returned a not guilty verdict.
At the Dark End of the Street; Black Women, Rape, and Resistance — A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power, by Danielle L. McGuire, p. 42 (via inlovewiththepractice)
if you ever need to read this book for a paper or research or…I don’t, just be warned that it gets worse than this, so much worse. It’s probably the only book I have that I know I can’t ever finish.(via blacksupervillain)
I’d love to read this
To be brazen with who you are as a human being is not an innate quality but something tilled and something gained. Life as a homosexual isn’t easy, national stories and celebrity have instilled that into our psyche already. However, the struggle for personal affirmation is at the core of my community’s struggle. At large the same nerve affects those who struggle to understand and accept us. We live in a society dominated by bravado and violence in a romanticized sense. Doubly for those of us with more than one such cultural background in our upbringing. Triple for those blessed to be in Texas. I grew up watching American valiants on film and experienced Mexican macho-ism first-hand in Mexico. I lived 24 years of my life on the border.
Now I’m married to a military service member, I’m educated with plans to attend law school, and I’m on the east coast. The need to learn to feel comfortable in my own skin still exists, though I love myself tremendously. My husband is more comfortable, brave, and carefree about his sexuality. I’m more aware. Aware of my surroundings, of people, cultures, contexts, and cruelties. I’m conscious of the what-ifs. Scared of a million scenarios. A victim of my own expansive, thoughtful mind.
Yet I am proud to be what I am. I’ve been president of an LGBT club in college, keynote speaker for a federally backed Pride event, volunteer for LGBT focused community organizations and a outspoken defender of gay rights and issues. However, the internal struggle continues. I struggle to publicly hold the hand of the man who swept me off my feet, to kiss him when he puckers his lips because I told him something romantic, and to embrace him when we stroll through the aisles of a Walmart. This I do hate about myself. I hate the fact that I live in a society that created and fostered this fear in me. My journey continues and maybe I’ll combat these demons like those American ‘valientes’ of my childhood bravely battled their enemies. But this is the real world, so much more cruel, ugly, and mundane. I’ve still got to grow and experience. My husband is helping, even if he sometimes makes me feel ashamed for having this internal conflict, but nevertheless he’s understanding and loving.
Being homosexual isn’t the whole of me but it sure is a huge sail on my ship. I’ll still be a part of my community and do my best to better others’ lives, even if in some small way. My love of myself transcends all else and it overflows, and I must not forget that throughout my journey.
Theres no pill nor remedy for feeling lonely or inadequate. Here I am in this eventful and cruel world, and I’m deep in this sad sentiment.
I took three planes, soaring past skylines, locking in whites and blue,
The major took me to Chicago, regionals from Laredo to H-town and then from windy city to you.
Here we living on the East coast, thousand miles from where we met,
There we going, got hitched at D.C., that’s the reason I got going, the idea why I went.
Now we soaring past coastlines, past the world we grind in, love in, fight in, and forgive in,
Truth is I’ve never been so jolly, childlike in disposition, holding your hand, while in my heart, there lives commitment.
Here the world is full of grinning, your sweet kisses all I feed on,
There the world goes on spinning, your hug in bed is all I need and want.