Coming Home Part II

What have 16 years of the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival given me?

Bodily Safety
I wrote about the feeling of bodily safety on my first post. This is one of the more obvious gifts of the Festival. Speaking of a different kind of bodily safety, I cannot quantify the effect of seeing real women's bodies, naked, in the showers (or out) every day for a week for sixteen years. Even women who would be considered conventionally beautiful; to see even those bodies and their curves and creases and stretch marks and imperfections -- it was surprising -- to be so surprised that is. I mean, I knew that real women do not really look like the women we see in media, but it was still a shock to see this full range of bodies, and none of them looking like any of the "bodies" I had seen in media. All of them beautiful. I had no other opportunity to experience this reality in my childhood nor my adult life. Not that I have it all together about that, but

I. Have. Come. A. Long. Way, Baby.

I have been given the experience of bodily safety from within. Internalized. I am so grateful.

Sisters
I didn't get to grow up with a biological sister. I was not a girly-girl. I started fighting against dresses at about age 3 or 4. It was clear to me that being one of the guys was a waaaay better deal. I loved softball through grade school, and junior high, but then the human gyroscope of puberty hit.

My aforementioned porn-addicted boyfriend in college had a wandering eye. It drove me batshit crazy, and because I didn't have what I needed at the time to kick him to the curb, I projected a bunch of the resulting insecurity and crap onto the other women he was attracted to. *sigh* It was a rough time. Untenable for long though, and the stars aligned for me to finally say enough! Just a couple years later, I heard on Day Stage THE song that summed this up completely, "As Cool As I Am" by Dar Williams (I am the others! oh do please listen):

And I must say here, that there is nothing -- nothing -- in this world like the feeling of standing with thousands of my sisters to the yearly anthem at Opening Ceremonies, "Amazon Womyn Rise"

Love
In 1997 I fell madly in love at Festival. Seriously. Madly. It was the kind of thing about which I had absolutely no choice. It was a knee-weakening, all-consuming, dizzy-making collision that had an impact on me from the very first moment like a speeding U-Haul truck. It would have involved a U-Haul truck, except that she was from another country, and had all of her belongings in a backpack, so there was no need. It was passionate and sweet and lovely until, for a variety of reasons some years later, it wasn't, and it ended. In my story with all the hindsight, there are no villains, and I would readily do it all over again; maybe just a few teeny changes there towards the end. Sometimes these chapters in our lives just write themselves. Those are the ones we learn the most from, I think.

And just for fun, here's a great FAQ sheet to address the annoyingly persistent myths about bisexuality: Enjoy.

Spirit
"She changes everything she touches, and everything she touches changes."

Ah, Puritans. In my DNA seems to live the presumption that the flesh is completely corrupt, especially female flesh, and the only hope of Grace resides in a distant and moody male God, and that Grace comes only from faith, which is invisible and uncertain in us flawed humans. According to Max Weber, the Protestant Work Ethic developed in this absence of reassurance from the (Catholic) church authorities of Grace from "good works"; so its only visible expression got channeled into the zealous pursuit of a worldly "calling" (work) and the only evidence for Grace would be worldly success. The Puritan asceticism, deep mistrust of any form of pleasure, and belief that "idle hands are the devil's workshop" all congealed in an anxious spiritual backdrop that I could never do enough to be okay. And I'm probably not working hard enough.

So...abandoning the disconnected body and spirit patriarchal white-guy-in-the-sky stuff was only possible because I was able to find an expression of spirit I could see, hear, smell, touch, and taste in the patterns of nature and my very own body.

The snake became a potent symbol for me -- the reclamation of the snake -- from the embodiment of evil and temptation to a potent symbol of wisdom symbolized in the shedding of skin, the natural cycles of death and rebirth. I found comfort in the seasons of nature, the inevitability and connection of death to life, the seasons of a woman's life, the appreciation of the four elements: fire, air, earth, water, (five if you count spirit), every aspect of this Earth and the acceptance that large natural forces exist internally in the form of emotions, and that these are just as pure and whole as a volcano or a gentle rainshower.

Without a local group of women to practice with, my yearly trek to Festival allowed me to be in community with others practicing in this way. I did workshops with Vicki Noble and Z Budapest. I got to experience raising a "cone of power" by toning with maybe 30 women and usually a singing or chanting workshop in the beautiful moss-covered oak grove of the Meditation Circle. It was incredible. And so healing. There is no hierarchy in a nature-based spirituality, but there is an ethical guideline, blessedly simple, "And it harm none, do what ye will." All this was so refreshing.

Magical Moments

There have been so many thousands of magical moments. This is really the biggest gift of Festival, these ordinary and extraordinary moments. Here's a random few:

• Walking past the African Dance workshop in the Community Center tent, feeling the heat and power and joy emanating from it.
  
• In workerville, after getting off my shift a little early and catching much of the Indigo Girls' show, then showering alone under a full moon during their encore and hearing "Closer to Fine" live.
• Unbelieveable thunderstorms at night, wondering if the tent would leak, enjoying the chorus of appreciation throughout the woods after every lightening strike and thunderclap.
• Seeing the amazing womyn who cook the food in enormous iron vats over a firepit in the heat of summer in their heavy gloves, jeans and longsleeved shirts, hats and hankerchiefs covering their faces.
• Tarot readings with clearer significance after a week of quieting down.
• The damp, wooded, shady fern-embraced path from Waterworks Way to Tubman Trail. My favorite walk in the whole Festival.
  
• Every single show with sign language interpreters, sometimes more amazing than the performers themselves.
• Walking all the way to the parking lot after night stage performances were over to use the phones at night. Only slightly intoxicated, calling my sweetie, and then lying down in the meadow watching shooting stars streak through the clear sky.
  

Obviously there are too many to mention. I could think of a thousand more. Multiply that by the thousands of womyn who attend. That's a lot of magic.

Michfest 1995

Women of the 14th Moon

I just returned from this amazing ceremony. I feel so fortunate to be connected to the women who invited me -- two women friends of mine who didn't actually know each other, but who have been attending this yearly ceremony for quite a few years.

It's a weekend in a wooded place - the location rotates, the ceremony planners and leaders rotate, but a few things are constant: The purpose is to take time and energy to celebrate and honor the elder women in our community, and to celebrate and honor women in each of three phases of life: Maiden, Matron, and Elder.

Since it was a women's ceremony, I had just assumed it would be Wiccan -- with ostensibly pre-Christian European origins. Wicca recognizes these three phases, using the terms "Maiden, Mother and Crone." I had some affinity for that path for some time, so I thought I knew what to expect.

But this ceremony was rooted in the Native American traditions. I have never been to anything like that before, and had some questions in my mind throughout the weekend about cultural appropriation. I seem to recall some controversy about that in the late 80's and early 90's, as many of these kinds of ceremonies and practices were becoming popular among New Age Caucasians looking for non-Christian spiritual connection. More on that in a moment.

So there was smudging -- cleansing with the smoke of burning sage. There was a circle with gateways representing the four directions. There was a huge drum with 6 or 7 drummers leading in song and rhythm, including some songs in Lakota and other Native American languages. There were references to animal totems. There were in fact, visitations by some animals! All the Elder women were given large wooden staffs. Some have had theirs for many years, and attached various feathers, bells, and other symbols or items of significance. There were beautiful and moving dances by three women who worked on creating a mask throughout the previous year to represent themselves as the archetypal Maiden, Matron, and Elder, and they danced to express the energies of each life phase.

Unfortunately, I don't have many photos of this actual event. Photography is not allowed during the ceremony, and the ceremony encompassed the vast majority of the weekend -- from morning to evening. There were few opportunities for this newbie to take some time to get some shots of the land. I was mostly too busy figuring out what was going on. So I've trolled my own pictures of other events and environments, as well as Flickr, and I'm sharing some photos that just seem to communicate the mood (and provide permission to share them). You can click on the photos that are not mine to find their original location on Flickr.

I am going to do my best to communicate about this experience, but I may have a few things not quite right, and I also want to be careful not to reveal too much of what was a sacred event. So what are these three phases of a woman's life?

MAIDEN: A woman who has had her first menstrual cycle, and who is 25 years old or under. Maidens all wore springtime pastel colors to ceremony. East is the direction associated with the Maidens -- the dawn of all beginnings, a breath of fresh air, springtime and new growth.

"2008-08-24 037" by rbatina

MATRON: A woman who is 26-50 years old or who is a mother. The Matrons all wore the colors of fire: Reds, oranges, yellows. South is the direction associated with the Matrons -- the fire of action, and the energy needed to get everything done.

"Dancing Queens", by zenamoonbeam

A WOMAN OF THE 14TH MOON: A woman who is at least 51 years old AND who has not had a menstrual cycle in one year and one month (14 moons). The Elders wore the colors of the sea: Blues, greens, purples, black. West is the direction associated with the Elders. The wisdom of water, the emotion and reflection.

"Ricky" by kk+

North was the direction associated with Earth, and the Ancestors. It was represented by a white gateway, decorated with bones and copies of photographs of female ancestors we all brought.

I recall a fairly recent conversation with Genko from Dharma Rain Zen Center. She is a Zen monk in training, and she revealed that she is in her late 50's. She reported from that experience, rather bemused, that she finds herself invisible a lot of the time; no longer having to put up with the constant attentions and judgments around her appearance. I imagine this can feel like a delightful secret at times.

But I also imagine that it can feel invalidating and tiresome.

What I observed this weekend was the importance of really actually seeing these women. The importance of hearing their voices, and listening to their words. Appreciating their beauty, power, and wisdom. This ceremony fills a gap in our society. A large one. We don't generally do this, and the need is achingly clear.

But then there is this question of cultural appropriation. In searching for images on the web that might communicate some aspects of the ceremony, it didn't take me long to find something like this:

It appears there are some folks out there who purport to have affiliation with tribes when they in fact do not, and who charge a hefty sum for participation in rituals or weekend workshops, and seek to profit financially from these activities. They are referred to in some websites as "Twinkies" or "Plastic Shaman".

I will say that the cost of the weekend I attended was nominal, and I believe covered just the rental space, porta-potties, breakfast foods, small gifts for each participant, etc. and did not appear to be enriching anyone in any way other than spiritually.

Additionally, I met a woman there who very recently participated in the Longest Walk 2. As I understood her description, it was a re-creation of The Longest Walk, from California to Washington DC to draw attention to legislation about freedom for Native Americans to practice their religion, which occurred in 1978. The woman at the ceremony was in her late 50's, and was one of only six people who actually walked the entire way, the other five being about half her age. She appears to be Caucasian, but I do not know her heritage. So here she is, participating in this ritual, also who took five months out of her life to stand -- and walk -- for Native American rights. Somehow to me that counts for something.

And then I recalled the Womyn of Color poetry slam at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival last year, at which a woman of Japanese descent was talking about cultural appropriation, i.e. white people wearing chopsticks in their hair, and going to meditation retreats and such. It disturbed me a bit. She made it clear that appropriation was different than appreciation, though she wasn't clear what appreciation might look like. One of my friends said that poetry slams are generally a place for anger to be expressed rather than nuance, and not to worry about it. But I gave it thought. I wondered if you could say that Japanese Zen was appropriated from China, which was appropriated from Indian Buddhism. Though really, Buddhism was purposely delivered from India to China, and just as purposely from Japan to the United States. I don't know. Maybe it's not so clear cut.

Taizan Maizumi Roshi, founder of the Zen Center of Los Angeles

Nevertheless, the ceremony was beautiful, and even though I consider myself one who sees our elder women, I realized I needed to see even more clearly, more lovingly, more appreciatively.

And it was nice to be appreciated. The Matrons this year were gifted these medicine bags:

We each were assigned to write a brief love poem about another woman we may have just met. They were then read aloud, and were the first "medicine" we got to put in our bag. So very sweet. I sewed on some of the beads from my little name tag, and also some of the gifts given by the archetypal dancers -- a feather, a sachet... It was such a sweet weekend. So important to take time to appreciate ourselves and each other.