I prepare the two circles in the woods for Summer Solstice. Colorful mats and matching candles adorn the altars in the four quarters. The north altar also displays ritual tools –a bottle of salt water, a blessing bowl, antlers, a knife, incense, and a hammer. I pull the rake down the path to the smaller Druid circle. In the center I place a flat stone altar next to a rock –just big enough to sit on –a perfect place to meditate. I set paper and pen, a candle, incense, and salt water in a bowl on the flat stone. The area is now tidy and ready for tonight’s pilgrimages. My partner and I, and a friend of ours, will each walk alone tonight from the main circle to this Druid circle, to meditate on what needs to be recycled in our lives.
Today we celebrate the power of the sun on his longest day –and his death, as he begins his underworld journey. His bright force will move to the earth for a bountiful harvest. It’s a good time to recycle, to send bad habits or unhealthy coping mechanisms with the sun god so he can turn our obstacles into bits of nourishment and helpful things in our lives. We will write down our hindrances on a piece of paper and burn it. Fire transforms the problem list into more constructive life choices.
After an early dinner we make our way to the woods. The hot late afternoon sun, muted by oak leaves, offers glimpses and flashes of waning light as we arrive at our cathedral of pines. This place holds power and calm. We pass through a gate to the big circle, call the quarters, and invite specific solar gods to join us.
When it’s my turn, I set off for the Druid circle. Once I’m seated, grounded with sprinkles of salt water and the smell of incense, I pick up the pen and paper. At the top I write, “maga madness.” Can I recycle an entire movement? Well, it won’t hurt to try, I tell myself. It’s the lingering poisonous effects of Christian nationalism I want to process –that doomed feeling, the sense that lies and malice are invincible. The sound of my pulse when I hear of another pregnant woman turned away from a red state emergency room, bleeding and in pain. The heart palpitations when a maga politician writes legislation calling for executions of women who get abortions. The heart sinking cruelty is not the only reason I write “maga madness.” If I live in fear of fundamentalist theocrats to the point of hurting my heart I won’t have the energy to resist –to produce harvest in the world. I want to be present to employ the underground banned book network, to volunteer at the voting polls in November, to talk to people about the threat of Project 2025, to be kind and loving and professional in a world of simping cult members in Trump caps. Harvest also includes the personal –feeding and caring for crow friends and companion dogs, taking care of my marriage and friendships, loving my home –weeding my gardens, nurturing the new cherry tree, dogwood, and Japanese maples. I can’t let Christian fascists cast shadows on my physical and mental health. So yes. The maga movement is getting recycled. With glee. Suddenly I feel lighter. And I know the constitution will persevere. The religious zealots will not gain power, and the Comstock Act will never again darken the law of the land.
Later, after we have all taken turns, we sit around a small fire and burn our lists. May we create a path for healthy living in interesting times. May we extend healing hands to one another. We end the night with toasts, boasts, tales of beloved dead, and hopes for the future. What joy on this summer night –to celebrate the season, to be pagans, to love earth and her cycles –all part of our resistance to bad actors, corrupt politicians, and lying narcissists. Life is beautiful. You see? –I’m transformed! The sun god is busy already.
My partner and I sit on our bench in the woods. We inhale the early green smell of spring and relish the mysterious in-between moment –when day meets night at dusk-dark, and when day and night are equal. It’s the spring equinox. Before us the crossroads mark the start of two diverging paths, each ending at a ritual circle. We hug each other and take separate paths. Mine leads around a pine tree, and drops me at the north entrance of my Druid circle. A limestone, almost my height, marks the spot. I linger here at the portal, in a time outside of time, a place of balance. Just for a few minutes the harmony inherent in equal day and night washes over me. Chaos gets put off for now. In time, I ring a small bell, step into the circle, and approach the eastern stone.
The element of air presides in the east, representing clear thoughts, new beginnings, morning, and springtime. The ability to see through falsehood, to honor truth –this I aspire to. Sifting through the sheer volume of information today includes rejection of disinformation and hyperbole –and the talent to decipher. May rational thinking inform me.
Next I arrive at the south quarter. Here the power of fire, of summer, and midday rule. Bravery leaps to mind —standing up to bullies, resisting Christian nationalism. The commitment I make here is to love life fiercely enough to fight for it.
As I move to the west, the sun has almost set. The limestones in the four quarters appear luminous in the half-dark. The power of the west ebbs and flows with water. It symbolizes the undercurrents in life. Emotions under the surface go unseen and ignored at our peril. Let my feelings and intuition not be enemies, but reminders of delight, that instant pang when a song brings a memory to the fore. May the inner voice warn me of danger, and let me not be afraid –even if the lights go out– knowing darkness is temporary.
Finally I come to the north, the quarter of our cherished home in the multiverse –planet earth herself. I stand, grateful for this earthly sacred life. Climate change and wars of aggression across the globe threaten us all. May I walk mindfully and with purpose as a guardian of our treasure. May we all learn to hold dear our continents, oceans –and all life forms in the mix. Inspired by a sense of balance, as the equinox points to, may we build a kinder, more rational world together.
And now the door leading back into the world stands in front of me, the prospect of everyday life. Renewed and calm, aware of the challenge ahead, I step out. My partner and I meet at the bench, a creation from his metal shop. Regal, with its Celtic design work and tall back, it’s surprisingly comfortable. We talk until the dark envelopes us. Our herding rescue dog barks nervously, reminding us of schedules and routines. We walk back up to the house to put him at ease.
Earlier today my anxiety mirrored that of my dog. A video featured a white Christian nationalist named Nick Fuentes. He told his followers that when the nationalists take power, magic and ritual practitioners will be put to death. He said we’re worse than Jews and immigrants. Now, as I channel clear thinking, it’s easy to dismiss Fuentes as a maladjusted incel and fanatic. But my intuition warns me not to ignore such people. Front and center of the mass psychosis called Trumpism lurks a religious fervor devoid of rationality or true spiritual depth. The adherents think Trump is a Christ-like savior. Again, easy to dismiss. Trump has scores of felony indictments, is liable for sexual assault and fraud, and tells lies like most of us breathe. He’s a criminal, a confidence man. Unbelievably, the republican party is now full of cult members. Trump loyalists, swept up in this madness, currently dominate red state legislatures. In their bid to enforce minority rule, they attack voting rights and enact cruel laws against women and LGBTQ people. The connection between extremists and republicans is sealed. Indeed, Nick Fuentes dined with Trump on Thanksgiving in 2022. No, pagans won’t face execution. Not now. But if Trump is elected, the lights of democracy will go out. Freedom will diminish, and all manner of persecutions may well unfold.
I shake off the horror of religious nationalists and authoritarian charlatans –and smile. It’s card night with the neighbors. I have a bet with one of them. He says Trump will win. I say no. Americans will vote the power-hungry zealots and their poisonous leader back to obscurity. People like Nick Fuentes can shout all they want into the void, as is their right. Their opinions won’t threaten anyone –they won’t matter. My neighbor and I know our bet is a joke. We both want me to win. The loser has to buy two pizzas for a card game. I already told him I’ll take two cheese and tomato with fresh basil.
I’m sad, Ariel, my world —-my country—- is in trouble. Words in the spirit world tumble out in a non-linear way, Projected —-not spoken. She squeezes my hand. Small, dark, and ancient, Ariel is a constant presence Next to me when we fly as crows—- Or sit as women near the bon fire On a hill facing east. She points to the sunlight surging across the horizon—- And hope arrives in yellow and orange, filling me with Warmth, expanding beyond me to encompass the world. Fertile earth presents the first flowering of the Vernal season —-clusters of purple crocuses And white spring beauties. It smells of moss, of green things to come. The dawning of the day brings assurance of the passing Of time, cycles. Malice, religious fanaticism, and ignorance Can’t be disposed of by a thought or by The passing seasons. However, by drawing my senses to the new day Ariel has grounded me in my own motivation and belief: The creative spark at the beginning of everything Is as beautiful as dawn on the eve of spring tide—- And at the end of all things The color of love Is warm —-like the sun.
Before the crows arrive at dawn, I meditate. Sometimes a green frog serenades me from a lotus tub next to the porch. I call him Frogmouth. His lazy, companionable croaks soothe me as I sit in the dark stillness and watch my thoughts scurry and disappear. When I’m done, the first bird chirps. Dawn arrives. With it comes the raucous din of the crow family. It all began with a single crow and my bird bath. About forty feet from the porch the bird bath sits on a structure made of concrete and rocks. On top, a flat surface surrounds the bowl of water. The crow allowed as how the top of the bird bath seemed as fine a spot as any for a meal. I complied. And so it began. “Crow, Crow,” I’d sing. He’d answer, “Caw, Caw!” and fly off from the bird bath with peanuts, two at a time. By and by, he introduced a mate. Now I enjoy the whole family including two bickering and complaining youngsters. The family has left me love gifts, including small cleaned white bones, and shiny tin foil. Vocal, playful, and magical, these birds are a blessing. By the time my husband and my three dogs get up I have already meditated with Frogmouth and exchanged friendship with crows. Remember what Samwise Gamgee said in The Lord of the Rings? “There’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” My morning ritual of quiet gratitude and love of wild things -that’s worth fighting for. It’s the passion and motivation for non-violent resistance. Indeed, moments of calm and clarity balance the urgency many feel in these disturbing times.
As I write this, Earth just experienced the hottest month on record, July 2023. Ocean water temperatures at Florida beaches topped 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Scientists race to save coral reefs by removing them to artificial environments so they won’t die off. The arctic melts. In Texas, maga republican governor Greg Abbott ordered that no extra water breaks will be allowed for people working outside in 115 degree heat. In Texas state prisons people are dropping from heat exhaustion. Prisoners are taken to an air conditioned room and plied with water for an hour then sent back to population —with no air conditioning. Maui’s wildfire swept through the city of Lahaina on hurricane winds. People were incinerated as they tried to evacuate. The death toll climbs above one hundred as the dogs continue to sniff for survivors. One thousand people are missing. Three thousand pets are missing. The city’s banyan tree, planted in 1873, stands severely damaged.
The effects of climate change alone would be horrifying enough. Alas, extremist republican legislatures in red states across the country compound the bad news with harsh and unpopular new laws. I’ll start with Arkansas, my current home. Fourteen-year-olds can now work in meat packing plants and twelve-year-olds can be forced to give birth. The Attorney General wants to put librarians, teachers, and booksellers in prison for up to six years for suggesting banned books to minors. The maga legislature decided to defund black history for Advanced Placement (AP) classes. Any pregnancy that doesn’t end in birth looks suspicious to the fundamentalist Christians in charge. The Attorney General joined zealot AG’s in other red states and presented a letter to President Biden. They expressed the desire to send police to track women seeking abortion care out of state.
Alabama muzzled health care providers from even discussing out of state reproductive options with patients.
Idaho has forbidden professors at the university level from teaching about abortion, even historically.
In Mississippi a thirteen year old was forced to give birth after a rape. Her family could not afford the trip to Chicago for her care. The police say they are still investigating the rape and have not determined whether it was consensual. It’s hard to express the cruelty and indecency here.
The epicenter of right wing authoritarianism continues to be Florida, under the maga governor DeSantis. His anti-woke law allowed, for instance, a white nationalist mom to veto Amanda Gorman’s inauguration poem, “The Hill We Climb” for an entire school district. Shakespeare will soon be pulled from school shelves. AP black and gender studies –cancelled. In the state’s middle schools, lessons now include the idea that enslavement provided vocational training, and was therefore beneficial to slaves. The state authorized Prager University Foundation (PragerU) to provide teaching materials to public school grades K-12. It’s not a university. It’s a right wing propaganda non-profit. On their videos you can learn how to counter pro-choice advocates. Cartoon characters blithely wonder whether the colonization of natives was really all that bad. You can learn climate denial arguments. In fact, I bet you didn’t know that climate activists have a lot in common with WW2 era nazis (yes, really!). And feminism? –it’s mean spirited and oppressive. PragerU calls itself an alternative to left wing ideology. They founder admits the videos indoctrinate kids. Florida is re-writing history. An entire generation will get dumbed-down by state sponsored propaganda. Censoring books and revising history is an attempt to shape the next generation to be more receptive to republican authoritarians. Gen Z certainly is not receptive.
Some republicans, by the way, are so afraid of Gen Z they want to raise the voting age to twenty five.
At a Trump rally this summer in South Carolina, an eleven year old girl was asked why she loved Trump. “Because he tells the truth,” she said. That child’s answer brings us to the crux of the matter. The eleven year old doesn’t know better. The problem is her parents, maga cult members. They are indoctrinating their daughter to love a sexual predator, a pathological liar, an indicted criminal –a monster. The parents, probably non college educated, never learned critical thinking. They consume Fox or OANN —never any fact-checked media. These are the people controlling local school boards. They are the Moms For Liberty extremists who veto works of literature all over the red states. These are the true believers who applaud the deceptively tepid white Christian nationalism of PragerU. As Trump’s legal problems mount, some members of this cult threaten judges, prosecutors, and grand jury members —anyone they perceive is against Trump— with harm, even death. The people who beat police officers and shat on the floor of the Capitol on January 6, 2021 came from this group. We have millions of maga cultists in the US -maybe 30% of the population. And the republican politicians bow to them at every turn.
The maga movement, like the McCarthy era of the 20th century, is heartless and single minded. Knowing they don’t have the numbers to win, maga politicians seek the power of the minority over the majority. The maga citizens, in their ignorance, enforce the anti-democratic minority rule. That’s why maga leaders must be vanquished at the ballot box. The various dystopian state laws against women, transgender children and their families, and books must be struck down in courts. If not, we are looking at authoritarianism American style, with loud under-educated maga citizens controlling what we read. Right wing autocrats like DeSantis or Trump will eradicate leftists and root out the fact-checking media. Private choices about our bodies and the freedom to love who we want —a thing of the past. They will take away the right of women, nationwide, to decide when, and with whom, they start a family. We all need to resist this future. It’s not democracy, but theocracy. It’s fascism.
Now for the better news, and the reasons I’m not applying for asylum in Norway or Iceland. Donald Trump is facing four indictments with ninety one total felonies against him. The federal prosecutor Jack Smith has indicted him for election fraud in the 2020 election —as has the Georgia state prosecutor Fani Willis. These are the important cases; Trump has poisoned America with his coup-plotting lies. A few republicans have dipped a toe in the truth lake to test the water. Finally, they admit the 2020 election was free and fair, and Trump lost. They are late. And they are in the minority in their party. Anyway, some of them are growing vertebrae. In Arkansas, a literate federal judge struck down the book ban. He quoted a banned book, Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451: “There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running around with lit matches.” Beautiful. Also in Arkansas, in a refreshing middle finger to magas, the Little Rock and Jonesboro school districts stated they would offer black history AP classes against the will of the state. Young people, men, women, liberals and conservatives are turning out in droves to vote for reproductive rights. So far, every ballot initiative aiming to take away women’s rights has been squashed in both red and blue states. Fox paid out 787.5 million dollars to Dominion Voting Systems for lying about the election. The maga house caucus continues to shoot itself in the foot. What a clown car ride. Senate maga Tommy Tuberville is blocking almost 300 military promotions to protest the Pentagon’s abortion policy. Veteran’s are appalled, and are speaking out. Two respected legal minds, former federal judge Michael Ludig and constitutional scholar Lawrence Tribe, published an article together in the Atlantic. They believe the constitution supports barring Trump from becoming president again –even without a conviction.
Samwise Gamgee said, “But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines it’ll shine out the clearer.”
The maga era will pass like the McCarthy era before it —only if we act. Freedom and democracy are no longer a given.
Pre-dawn meditation, a love of the natural world and this earthly life, and friendship with crows -these guide my choices every day. As the opportunity presents, I choose to tell the truth, kindly. By kindly I mean carefully. For instance, if I walk up to an armed maga stepping out of a Trump truck in the Walmart parking lot and say, “Hey you got bamboozled by disinformation, and the guy you think is God’s flawed emissary on earth is a narcissistic con man who has lied to you from the get go” —it won’t work. And I just put myself in danger. The truth is unkind, and dangerous to impart. So I’m kind to myself. I pick the time, place, and audience for hard truths. Also, I volunteer at the library because I love books the way crows love shiny things. Working at the library puts me on the front lines in case the state pushes the book ban law. Perhaps an underground banned book network is in my future. I keep informed using fact-checked sources, which include The NY Times, The Atlantic, and various streaming mainstream media. When I encounter a maga cultist I politely avoid them. Abortion laws make me sick and angry, but I breathe and stand ready to drive a woman to Kansas if she needs care. For opinions I listen to never-maga conservatives as well as liberals, from The Bulwark and The Lincoln Project to John Fugelsang —all part of the pro-democracy coalition. I fancy myself a member. I vote. I write articles. Please pass this along if you like. And let me know what you’re doing for democracy and for our country.
Years ago I spent a week in Paris visiting two friends. I traipsed around Montmartre and beyond, taking in the people, the handsome buildings, and the creative drive of the city. Instinctively I understood why American musicians and writers flocked to Paris in the early 20th century. New York City, my former home, has a creative pulse also. But where the heart of New York borders on tachycardia, the heartbeat in Paris is slower and more sensual, with an infusion of healthy love hormones, strengthened with good food and red wine.
I browsed in the Shakespeare and Company Bookstore. At Notre Dame, I set foot on the stone floor where Joan of Arc might have stood. In her alcove I donated a few Francs for a candle, lit it, and communed with Saint Joan. It was one of the few deeply spiritual experiences in my life within a Christian church. With enough French to get around politely, I ordered food in cafes, and bought round trip Metro tickets. At one point I emerged from the Metro in an unfamiliar neighborhood, trying to figure out which way was north. An older woman came to my aid, asking me, “Quelle langue?” –What language? I smiled. She had not pegged me as American. I wandered along the Seine. Ate ice cream. Sat next to fountains on city park benches. I smiled fondly at gargoyles. I wondered what the story was behind a statue of a man holding his own severed head. From hidden doorways to inviting balconies, narrow medieval streets to the Champs-Elysees –I could not get enough. The French people were warm and funny, and appreciated my attempt at their beautiful language. They had an innate sense of style –even those without a lot of money cuffed their jeans just so, with an attractive pair of shoes and socks that matched. I wore pretty flowing dresses and comfortable flats and walked everywhere, soaking up the visceral engagement of all the senses that is Paris. The city captured my heart.
Just before going back to my friends’ house in the afternoon, my job was to pick up bread and pastries at the bakery. What I brought home with me from Paris, what changed my life, was what we experienced at their home every evening. At about 8:00 we sat down at the dinner table. Wine flowed. We passed the cheese tray, then had a soup, and another entree. Their commitment to sharing food and meaningful discussion for an hour every night impressed me. A more well-rounded approach to life includes a healthy relationship to food –shared with friends and family.
I bring Paris home every Thanksgiving. Mind you, I cook fresh food all year long. But on Thanksgiving I lay out a vegetarian feast in my best china, light candles, and create the combination of conversation and delicious food I found compelling in France. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday –a harvest celebration of old. A time to give thanks for blessings.
This year I’m most grateful for the outcome of the US elections. Just like France, a creeping right wing authoritarian movement is gaining traction. And, like the French, we beat them back. Decisively. Generation Z and younger women come out in huge numbers, motivated by the overturning of the right to an abortion. The potential loss of other privacy rights appeared inevitable. Young people were not having it. In swing states, people voted for Democrats (the only pro democracy party at the moment) for Secretary of State and Governor positions. That’s important, because those officials oversee elections. We need non-partisan public servants in those roles, not election deniers and extremists. Five states put reproductive freedom on the ballot. Even in Kentucky and Montana, people stood up for bodily autonomy. The senate will remain in Democratic hands. Biden will be able to appoint federal judges.
Alas, we are not out of the woods. Millions of Americans voted for Trumpists. The House of Representatives will be run by MAGA nut jobs –by a razor slim majority. It’s a shame that older people –still bamboozled by the lies of Fox –believe MAGA Republicans are the best choice. But because of the pro democracy wins across the country generally, the House will just look like a clown car ride. They want to waste our time and money. Last I heard, Marjorie Taylor Greene intends to impeach Joe Biden and other members of his cabinet, summon Dr. Fauci to congressional hearings, and try for a national abortion ban. The House will disband the January 6 committee, and turn on its members. All theater.
What’s genuinely frightening are the draconian abortion laws in red states. MAGA law makers promise they will get more cruel. Florida went MAGA, due to redistricting, and the Governor’s Anti-Woke law and Don’t Say Gay bill should scare every American. Here in Arkansas, a school board near Little Rock wants to outlaw words like Equity, phrases like White Privilege, and books about slavery or LGBTQ sexuality. History books in Texas are under revision. The other day Trump had lunch with a Christian Nationalist named Nick Fuentes. Fuentes believes in a fascist take-over of the US. Trump, a serial liar and criminal facing state and federal charges, wants to be elected president again in 2024. Quelle Horreur –what horror.
In spite of the upcoming MAGA side show in the House, and red states descending into Christian Nationalist dystopia, the red wave did not break as predicted. And for that we can celebrate whole-heartedly. As the Grand Old Party implodes, we now have no functioning conservative party in the US. May they be reborn –sane.
But we must continue to hope, organize locally, and vote. I have begun with a Jane.org t-shirt and bumpersticker. In states where abortion is illegal, “We Are Jane” translates as “I’m a safe space for pregnant people and I will offer you information about reproductive health care.” In some states those conversations are illegal. Too bad.
I’m grateful to you, my readers. I’m grateful for pro democracy voters, and for women who will not be silenced or intimidated. I’m especially grateful for the chance to take a breath, relax for a minute, to not be so afraid. I planned to put on a brave face if the country went sideways. My husband and I discussed moving to a blue state –or even another country. But no. Democracy won a big battle.
Finally, I’m grateful for a holiday devoted to good food, and sharing, where I can bring Paris home. That city still inspires my heart.
