ALTERNATE BOOK INTRO 5.11.14
When I got back from west coast, from the disaster that was my would-be wedding, to find myself in a Brooklyn basement apartment under a bridge, its concrete sidewalks littered with trash, the building lorded over by a racist drunk homophobic misogynistic landlord. I had no identity except “his ex,” and no job and no child and no anything I was supposed to have at the age of thirty in this culture, I felt like a total failure. And I died, I died on that floor. I failed at dreams that had never even been mine.
How was I ever supposed to realize them, if I didn’t truly deep down believe in or want them? I was only following the rules handed to me by the iron fist of Patriarchal culture. And I did not domesticate well. I felt suffocated in houses with white picket fences and by jobs with white male bosses and other women who hated me and were threatened by my untamable nature. I wasn’t ever going to fit in the domestic patriarchal world- I was wild. I was a wildfire. So I tried my hardest to tame myself. I still had white pills pumping through my blood to sedate the Shakti inside me, the screaming Kali, the loving fierce Durga, the sensual Aphrodite, the endless archetypes of Goddess within me.
I had been magic until about seven years old, and then I opened my eyes and looked around- this was not a world that I belonged to or remembered, I truly remembered the wild mystical land of the Goddess. I didn’t belong in the concrete wasteland of father patriarchy I belonged in the wild arms of mother nature. By the time I was eighteen I began to “party” (that always struck me as oxymoronic, shouldn’t a party be joyous?) through my life, and my career as a rock journalist enabled that. I sedated myself and drank through it, Marilyn and Stevie Nicks style but not nearly as glamorous, it was my attempt at creating an alternative universe, not knowing yet there was an internal alternate one, not yet knowing how to find that.
But there is no stopping the waking. When my inauthentic life fell apart, I was terrified- where would a woman like me fit? I would have to strike off and create an entirely different, new place for myself.
The witch whispered to me. They had buried the witch so deep down in the tomb of this culture. They had propagandized Her enough to stigmatize her as ugly and evil, so we might stay far away from her self-empowering magic. A little digging into my own soul and history- or herstory books- proved different. She was a beautiful woman, a mirror of the earth who worked with nature- she was autonomous unto her self. She did not bow to patriarchal culture, its limitations and conformity, which is why she had to be killed.
So, who was the witch? I was startled to find- I was the witch. And it was the first
and only thing that ever made sense in my life. What was I going to do with this information? The wisdom of the earth, the wisdom of the ancients, sacred powerful information. I was the keeper of something ancient tribal and magickal it would be my work to open the tomb, Pandora’s box of feminine magick, unleash it first in my heart and then in the hearts of any women who felt called to hear my song.
My bibles became Women who Run with the Wolves and Dancing in the Flames. My teachers became Marys— Mary Magdalene and Marion (a name which means, “star of the Sea”) Woodman, nature’s scribe Mary Oliver and Marianne Williamson- any “MA”s who taught of the ways of the Mother. And my true teacher of nature, the wild heart of the feminine, became MArtha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts. And the spirit of Martha, on that island, was no lightweight.
Patriarchal power is external – the power is outside oneself, it’s placed in money and materials and the Man. I woke to the power of love, found it internally, and became, like the witch, autonomous. It is matriarchal in nature to become self empowered. When our power is external, outside ourselves, we are limited. When our power comes from within, then we are limitless.
Finally, I took it all off. The make up, the heels, the false dreams, the lies, the veils between truth and the veils between me and other and the Mother. We owe such destruction of egoic veils to Goddess Kali, and she continues to whittle me down to my truth. I was naked. I died to the lies to wake to my truth. And I was held in Her womb on a magical feminine island where I was reborn as my true self- wild, and one with the Mother. - DOITGIRL