Tag Archives: Kali

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108 Poems to Kali

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This is Kali who rules the fireplace in my living room. She is from a folk painting made in a village near Varanasi, India. I traveled there in 2008 and bought this from our tour guide.

I’ve been taking an online class through The Shift Network. Our teacher is Mirabai Starr, a wonderful woman who I am thanking most for introducing me to the concept of inter-spirituality (you can appreciate and practice more than one perspective).

Our class is called The Way of the Feminine Mystic. Mirabai is most known for translating Teresa of Avila and other saints and mystics. She has made Teresa more accessible, especially to one such as I who only looked East for inspiration and wisdom.

We are to do a project by the end of this class, something to do around a female mystic or wisdom figure. I chose Kali (or did She choose me?). For several months now, I have been writing short poems to and about and for Kali. I always sit on my couch right in front of Her (except for a few written in an airport). They nearly always surprise me for I never know what will come forth. Now reaching poem #60, I am past the halfway mark. I feel I have just begun. Since I have come from a zen tradition, I’ll accept this beginner’s mind as a good thing!

Anyway, this morning I decided to stand right up there before Her and take a close-up of Kali’s face. Enjoy!

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Of beagles and goddesses

I’ve been crying a lot lately. Being of an analytical nature, I try to figure out why.

There are plenty of reasons if I really need one. I just saw the latest Beagle Freedom Project video, the #11 freeing of beagles from a laboratory in the Midwest. Now this is a happy occasion for these dogs are now free. Some have been most of their lives there, one for seven unimaginable years. I cry. Out of sadness, out of joy. But mostly because of the sickening actions of my fellow human beings. We are the most unnecessarily violent species on the planet. I know the Buddhist side of me is well acquainted with the concept of suffering. And this week, at least, after a long and terrible winter, I want no more of it, no more reminders of man’s inhumanity to animals or Afghanis or Iraqis or people homeless or poor in my own city.

And yet I’ve been reading Andrew Harvey’s Return of the Mother. Savoring it. This morning, I found myself crying as I read. It is exquisite: he works his way through many of the major religions and finds the Goddess, the Mother in them. She is my path and has been since the late 1970’s when some friends and I formed the Coven of the Waxing Crescent. We didn’t really know what we were “doing,” but we knew what we longed for. We were in search of our power and jubilant to discover Z. Budapest and a divinity Who was Female.

And so here I am, sitting on the couch in front of the Blue Kali, taking a journey through World Religions. Ones who appreciate a Goddess. This is almost inexpressible. But I’ll continue to try. After all, I’m the one who named this blog “The Goddess Babe.” Or did I?

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Living room altar

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