RFD 137 Spring 2009

Reclaiming Faerie Dynamics

Betwee n the Lines 2

A Snowy Season Still Alive in Spirit

As much of the country is under the spell of winter’s mix of snow and ice, RFD has taken on moving ahead with its relocation as well as asking our readers to respond to a survey which was both online and an insert to subscribers. Overall, we had a great return rate on the survey and we appreciate everyone’s input. We’ll be detailing some of the survey results in our summer issue but we wanted to say we heard loud and clear that folks want RFD in print.

But as many of you know from the downturn in the print industry, costs have risen and we may have to look at RFD’s model to continue forward. Please bear with us and send us hugs and encouragement as well as your subscription renewal. If you can, please consider increasing your subscription rate as every bit helps.

This issue of RFD focuses on the links between the Radical Faeries and the Reclaiming Community within Wicca. We thought it was a timely issue to cover as we enter the thirtieth anniversary of the Arizona gathering that brought us the “radical faeries”. Many of the antecedents of the radical faerie movement included gay people exploring a different spiritual path both in a religious as well as a cultural sense. We hope you enjoy the issue.

Kudos for this issue go out to all of the readers who responded to RFD’s call to make RFD an actual “reader written journal”. Special thanks to Endora, Jason and Waterfall for their help in collecting, editing and proofing the articles and Matt for his help with laying out the issue. As ever thanks to the Collective members who have stepped forward to help get this magazine into your hands.

We think you will find the upcoming issues of RFD equally inspiring as we have features on the San Francisco faerie community coming this summer and a feature on the thirtieth anniversary of the Benson, Arizona radical faerie gathering in the fall. If you have memories, photos or memorabilia from that early seminal gathering please be in touch via mail or our email: submissions@rfdmag.org with “radfae30” in the subject line. We’d also love to hear other reminiscences of early gatherings and the people that shaped our current circle of sanctuaries, circles and networks.

We encourage anyone who has an interest in RFD to consider being in touch about writing, artwork or submitting photos for its pages, as you all know RFD is a reader written labor of love.

Hugs –The RFD Collective

CONTENTS

Reclaiming and the Radical Faeries

On the Covers

On the front cover: Lynda Luna (1945-1995), Crone and Sixth Empress (“Towanda”) of Short Mountain Sanctuary. Of Eastern European and Italian gypsy origins, Lynda was born on All Hallows Eve, 1945. She spent her life as a witch, healer, nurse and caregiver. She identified as a faerie womyn, continually shared her gift of powerful drumming, and led us through transformative experiences of Native American sweat lodges.

On the back cover: Honoring an ancient rite, Leopard washes his face with May Day’s morning dew. Outside cover photos by Keith Gemerek.

Image Credits

RFD appreciates the following artists whose work appears in this issue:

Jim Jackson • www.jimjacksonart.com

Keith Gemerek • kgny@aol.com Donald Engstrom-Reese web.me.com/iowariver Stevee

RFD is a reader written journal for gay people which focuses on country living and encourages alternative lifestyles. We foster community building and networking, explore the diverse expressions of our sexuality, care for the environment, radical faerie consciousness, nature-centered spirituality, and share experiences of our lives. RFD is produced by volunteers. We welcome your participation. The business and general production are coordinated by a collective. The collective has a listserv for those who wish to get involved at http://groups. google.com/group/rfd-production/ Features and entire issues are prepared by different groups in various places. Our printer is in Nashville TN. RFD (ISSN# 0149-709X) is published quarterly for $25 a year by RFD Press, P.O. Box 302, Hadley MA 01035-0302 USPS # 073-010-00 Periodicals postage paid at Liberty TN and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to RFD, P.O. Box 302, Hadley MA 01035-0302 Non-profit tax exempt # 62-1723644, a function of RFD Press with office of registration at 231 Ten Penny Rd., Wood- bury, TN 37190 RFD Cover Price: $7.75 a regualr subscription is the least expensive way to receive it four times a year. © 2008 RFD Press The records required by Title 18 U.S.D. Section 2257 and associated with respect to this magazine (and all graphic mate- rial associated therewith on which this label appears) are kept by the custodian of records at the following location: RFD Press, 231 Ten Penny Rd, Woodbury TN 37190

A

LETTERS & ANNOUNCEMENTS

Radical Faerie Reader A Call For Submissions

Don Kilhefner and Mark Thompson are in the process of co-editing A Radical Faerie Reader on the occasion of the 30th anniversary of the Radical Faeries. We invite you to submit writings—old or new—for inclusion in this first-of-itskind anthology! We are interested in your experience of the Radical Faeries and their gatherings no matter if it was attending one of the first gatherings or one that just happened last week.

Submissions can include personal experiences, academic “think pieces,” or writings about the impact of the Faeries on gay culture.

As well as on… Faeries and community building…Faerie political and social awareness and action…Faerie shamans…Faerie controversies…Faerie teachings….how Faeries operate and manage get togethers…urban Faeries… rural Faeries…Euro Faeries…Asian Faeries…history of the Faeries…Faerie criticism…Faerie poetry….Faerie philosophy…Faerie heresy…Faerie physics….

We are interested in casting the widest net possible. You do not need to be a professional writer. We are interested in how the Radical Faeries touched your mind, body, and spirit and contributed to your development as a gay man. How did your consciousness change because of the Radical Faeries? Are the Radical Faeries still relevant to gay men’s lives in 2009?

Deadline for all submissions is July 1, 2009.

(Proceeds from the Reader will be used to seed new and innovative Radical Faerie projects and gatherings.)

For more information and submissions contact either— markthompson52@aol.com or donkilhefner@sbcglobal.net

I’m Jack Davis and I Work at Good Vibrations.

We sell sex toys as well as books, videos and DVDs about sex to all genders. GV is gearing up for its fourth Independent Erotic Film Festival. The deadline to submit is June 30th. Here is the website: http://www.gv-ixff.org

I am encouraging faeries, faggots, queers, trannies, drag queens, sacred whores, dykes, and people who decline to be categorized to grab a camera and record something sexy and then enter it into the competition. It would be great to see a whole bunch of non-mainstream faerie-influenced sex stuff. It is open to amateur and professional film makers who are not mainstream.

Who can submit? Independent film makers of all kinds. Most of the submissions are from aspiring professionals and art students, but we have had selections from sex workers, animators and just friends and neighbors having fun with their handycam.

The Grand Prize Winner will receive $1,500.

Folleterre Announcements 2009

www.folleterre.org

www.eurofaerie.eu

Work Week & Ecoskills-sharing Gathering April. Details will be placed on website.

Hosts: Dee Tale & Dimitri

Beltane “Naturally High” Gathering 28 Apr-03 May.

Hosts Notre Dame des Arbres and Shokti Lovestar Stewards Circle

Saturday, 02 May (all may attend as observers)

Enquiries/register: beltane09@folleterre.org

Beltane Gathering Call may be viewed at www.folleterre.org

Rheingold Gatherette • 20-24 May Contact: Rheingold@folleterre.org

Summer Solstice Gathering

19-27 June

Summer Gathering

17-27 July (Great Circle 2pm, Sun 19th)

Hosts: Rudolf, Wolf, Notre Dame (SEE FULL PAGE AD IN THIS ISSUE)

Enquiries/register: summer09@folleterre.org

Autumn Equinox

18-26 September

Lumber Camp • 17-25 October

STOP PRESS!

There will also be a Eurofaerie Gathering at Terschelling Island, Holland 17-27 August (yes, same dates as July) • Provisional Contact: efthimios@aol.com

Plus Mediterranean Gathering around early October (Turkey?) being worked on by Eilendes Wasser & Yaron

1REMEMBRANCES2

Haia–A Remembrance and Tribute

By Steve Mitchell

Haia was born Ted Joseph Berkowitz in Nebraska, on July 23rd, 1935. In this lifetime he would be known to the many that met him along the way as a friend, poet, musician, political activist, hippy, drug groupie, thespian, priest, Radical Faerie, shamanic-wiccan, playing his flute, a pied piper. Haia beguiled the Radical Faeries with his poetry, wit, and zany magical charisma. Many faeries considered him a shaman. Haia loved dolls, especially elf-like boy dolls. His favorite of them being Elfie Greensleeves. After surviving his childhood with an artist’s soul, he attended college at UCLA graduating with a BA in Theater Arts. Haia lived in many places around the world including England, New York, Los Angeles, Mexico, South America, and India. Through his diverse activities knew many famous people. With the Hare Krishna’s in London he hung out with the Beatles. In the New York Beat scene he palled around with Allen Ginsberg. In San Francisco his band, the CIA, played with Janis Joplin, who he would drink with in Buena Vista Park. Ted had been a part of a circle of people in that gathered around 1966 in a house in Yelapa Mexico who precisely exemplified the times. They included such people as Victor Maimumez, Bob Dylan’s road manager, Rick Griffin the famous psychedelic poster artist, Louis Gosset Jr., Tom Law, John Philip Law’s brother, and a member of the Barrymore acting family. For over twenty years as a Radical Faerie Haia was one of the most colorful among them. People have pictures and poetry of his everywhere. Many Faerie circles were held at his apartment. The following poem is my favorite of his that sums it up for me:

Co-Existant with Star Creations

There is Man

Faery tribe born

From winds of Pan.

Summer’s prize in Horned God’s eyes, Sighs, from those who come upon Brother angels of the dawn.

To those who remember him and to future members of the faerie family, he will always remain one of the most loved and fabulous of the Radical Faeries!

A Tribute to Hank Wilson

By Arthur Evans

Published in SF Bay Times, November 13, 2008

I was very saddened to hear of the death of San Francisco gay activist Hank Wilson, who succumbed to lung cancer, secondary to AIDS. A favorite memory of mine of Hank is from the no-on-Prop-6 campaign of 1978. That measure would have prohibited gay people from being teachers in California. Hank, who was a teacher, said we can’t just preach to the choir; we have to reach out to people who hold differing views or are uncommitted. So I followed him to shopping malls in suburbia. Many of the folks there had never dealt face-to-face before with an openly gay person, but they loved Hank. He was upbeat, forthright, witty, and articulate. It was hard for them not to like and respect him, even if they disagreed with his message. His outgoing energy helped defeat Prop 6.

Another favorite memory is from the old Club Baths at 8th and Howard Streets, in the early late 1970s. On one occasion, the manager refused to let Hank in because he was wearing a t-shirt of Bay Area Gay Liberation (BAGL). The manager claimed that BAGL was “a communist organization,” which was preposterous, and so Hank could not be admitted. Hank went outside, flagged down a passing police car, and brought the cop in as a witness, as the manager repeated the same action. Not long thereafter, Hank filed suit in Small Claims Court against the bathhouse for violating his civil rights, and won. His abiding sense of gay pride and justice carried the day.

Hank faced many daunting adversities in the course of his life. But he never gave up. In any challenging situation, he always asked himself this question: “What can I learn from this experience.” The things that he learned in these trials made him an inspiring teacher for the rest of us. We will never forget the lesson of his life.

photo by Rink • www.rinkfoto.com

John Stowe

1952–2009

RFD is saddened to learn that one of the community’s respected leaders on spirituality and herbalism has died suddenly. John R. Stowe authored several books on gay male spirituality, including the seminal, Gay Spirit Warrior as well as several books on herbalism and nature. He was one of the charter members of Gay Spirit Visions in Atlanta, an organization with roots in the old Running Water Sanctuary in North Carolina. Our thoughts go out to his partner, Monty Schuth.

From the Atlanta Journal Constitution 2/8/09

Plenty of people plant trees. Few showed the commitment of John Stowe, who not only planted hundreds of them in metro Atlanta, but for a few years in his 30s changed his name to Yarrow Treefriend. “He was one of the earliest pioneers of environmentalism; we were keeping mulch piles in the mid’70s,” said Tom Sechrest of Austin, Texas, his former college roommate and longtime friend. “He was about living in harmony with the Earth.”

Monty Schuth estimates that his longtime partner, John Stowe, planted hundreds of trees in metro Atlanta, many of them with the group Trees Atlanta. Those trees include the crape myrtles along the MARTA tracks near Candler Park. At various times, and sometimes simultaneously, Mr. Stowe was a lecturer at Georgia State University — where he taught English as a second language — massage therapist, professional chef, natural healer and author.

Mr. Stowe, of Decatur, collapsed while walking Tuesday in downtown Atlanta on break between Georgia State classes, and he died of a heart attack. He was 56. His body has been cremated. A memorial service is planned for 4:30 p.m. Feb. 15 at the Friends Meeting House, 701 W. Howard Ave., Decatur. A.S. Turner & Sons of Decatur is handling arrangements. As news of his death spread, some of his students set up a Facebook tribute, “On the Reminiscence of John Stowe.” By Saturday, more than 150 people had signed on. Many of his students expressed shock and grief at his death.

Stowe was known among his students for having groups for big parties out to the house he shared in Decatur with his partner of 25 years, Monty Schuth.

“A lot of his students came from overseas, and he was inspiring,” said John Bunting of Tucker, a colleague at Georgia State. “He was incredible how he made connections between

language and making his students feel comfortable and confident.”

Margareta Larsson, a GSU colleague who shared an office with Mr. Stowe, said: “He was so into nature. He was a guy that he would give you a rock, and it would feel really, really special.” Mr. Schuth estimated that Mr. Stowe planted hundreds of trees in metro Atlanta, many of them with Trees Atlanta, including the crape myrtles along the MARTA tracks near Candler Park. His love of trees and plants led him to become a natural healer, manufacturing flower essences, for years. He also volunteered to teach non-native high school students in metro Atlanta how to write college applications.

John Robert Stowe was born Aug. 19, 1952, in Ambler, Pa. After earning a master’s degree in ichthyology at Florida State University, he moved to the Atlanta area in 1976 and taught biology at Kennesaw College (today’s Kennesaw State University).

After four years at Kennesaw, Mr. Stowe left to travel through Mexico and Central America. A veteran traveler and linguist, he was teaching himself Mandarin Chinese, using language tapes, when he died.

Mr. Stowe also is survived by his mother, Marge Stowe; sister, Carolyn Shaner; and brother, James Stowe.

Mr. Schuth asked mourners to plant a tree in honor of Mr. Stowe — “something flowery and hardy.”

Martin Delaney

1945–2009

RFD has learned via Middle (Mark Hubbard) at Lifelube. org about the passing of Martin Delaney in San Francisco - a vital member of the AIDS treatment community that worked to release experimental HIV drugs for treatment in the early days of anti-retroviral medicine. Below is Mark’s note from Lifelube.org. Martin’s death has been covered in most major media in the last few days and it shows the important role he played in community health.

By Mark Hubbard

Last Monday, the National Institute of Allergies and Infectious Diseases awarded a Director’s Special Recognition Award to Martin for his many contributions to the fight against HIV/ AIDS

By now, many of you know that Martin Delaney (of Project Inform) died peacefully Friday morning, January 23, 2009,

Continued on Page 39

Courtesy of Monty Schuth

photo by Rink • www.rinkfoto.com

radical faeries reclaiming and the

In 1979, a young woman Starhawk published a book called The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess. This book, which artfully shaped environmentalism, feminist spirituality and scholarship, grass roots activism and Wiccan forms into a coherent worldview and spiritual practice, was instrumental in the spread of the neo-pagan movement and eventually gave rise to the Reclaiming Tradition of Witchcraft. That same year, the first gathering of Radical Faeries was held in the deserts of the Southwest, and only a year before, Arthur Evans’ work to trace the historical and mythical links that connect queer sexuality and spirituality were published in his book Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture

Since that year, the Radical Faeries have emerged as a tenacious, vibrant, creative queer spiritual movement which has put a great deal of focus on developing a web of Sanctuary lands and communities, while also nurturing vibrant urban circles. Reclaiming has emerged since that time as a major tradition in the Wiccan revival, is a respected and powerful force on the activist front of environmentalism and global capitalism, and has established a web of WitchCamps across North America and several European nations from which local communities have grown.

It is also true that since even before 1979, the two groups, like twins in a womb, influenced and shaped one another, and that today the two movements while distinct and independent, overlap in significant and meaningful ways. Our intention for this issue of RFD was to a) explore and document the shared roots of Wicca, particularly Reclaiming, and the Radical Faeries, b) consider how each movement has informed and is informing the other, and c) to consider possibilities of confluence and mutual nurturing as we turn the wheel forward into an uncertain future.

The articles we received certainly fulfilled our intentions. We begin with two articles, “Diggers” by Robert Croonquist, and “What I learned from the Faeries” by Arthur Evans, that explore the earliest connections between what would become Reclaiming and the Radical Faeries and make clear that the shared roots of the two movements go further back and are broader than we might assume. Leafshimmer’s “Faggot-Farmer-Faerie-Witch” takes a look at the earlier issues of RFD to find a plethora of pagan and Wiccan subjects being considered in a context of queer spirituality and gay consciousness, but argues for an expanded view of faeries.

“Weaving the Web of the Wyrd” by Donald Engstrom-Reese, one of RFD’s founders and a respected elder in both the Radical Faerie and Reclaiming communities, starts a series of articles that trace some of the many intersections that have occurred between Radical Faeries and Reclaiming, particularly Reclaiming-based faerie covens and faeries who have become teachers at Reclaiming Witchcamps. We see these connections in such things as our shared eclectic creative approach to ritual forms, our chants, our insistence on addressing politicized issues such as the environment, AIDS, queer rights, etc through ritual and in sacred space, our sense of play with gender and costume, our honoring of sexuality, the body, and the earth. (Frankly, Starhawk’s own frequent reference to Radical Faerie culture and practices at those very camps has helped infuse Reclaiming with faerie sensibilities and appreciation for irony and play) Together, “Lifting the Wand” by Robin Hood recounts his powerful sexual/spiritual transformations he has been pat of at both Reclaiming Witchcamps and faerie gathering. “Lifestyles of the Witch’s Anus” by Ken Cooper, chronicles a Reclaiming

Photo: Jim Jackson

faerie’s coven experiences in Brooklyn. Trixie X reflects upon the patterns of activism that lie behind some of the connections between the Reclaiming, Buddhist, Marxist, Activist and Faerie worlds in his Living Activism. “How Reclaiming Kicked Our Butts” by Peter recounts the origins of a Boston Faerie ritual groups origins in Reclaiming. “Free Activist Witch Camp–One Faerie’s View” by JP Heartsong recounts the dynamics between faeries and Reclaiming witches at a series of Reclaiming WitchCamps for activists, a camp that held last year at Wolf Creek.

Of course, the connection and interplay of faeries with Wicca extends far beyond Reclaiming. StarChild explores the spiritual landscapes shared between Victor Anderson’s Feri Witchcraft and today’s Radical Faeries in his “Feri Faeries?” Drew Campbell ‘s “From Foe to Fae” outlines his spiritual journey with Witchcraft and the Radical Faeries. “Finding your Path” by Eden Firestone names a distinct faerie path which draws inspiration from feminist, Native American and Wiccan sources, yet is distinct from those sources.

We close with two articles that specifically focus on faerie rituals in the context of Reclaiming. “What Isn’t Ritual” by Gabriel Q, explores his growing understanding of faerie ritual, framed in part by his experiences in Reclaiming. Finally, guest editor Endora’s “Why I Hate Faerie Rituals” looks at the shadow side of the faerie pattern of disrupting big rituals, and suggests that both Reclaiming and the Radical Faeries could benefit deeply from more interplay in the future.

It is my sincere hope that you enjoy these articles and the ideas and connections they raise about who we are, where we come from and what it is we are doing. I want to thank all those who contributed, thank Bambi for his work in getting all this together, Jason and Waterfall for editing, and Matt for laying it out. And I want to the thank the Goddess for letting me be lucky enough to live in a time with both the Radical Faeries and the Reclaiming Witches are both alive and well and have made space for me.

-Endora

For those Radical Faeries who do not know much about Reclaiming, the easiest way is by reading the Reclaiming Principles of Unity. This is a document of consensus and as such does not necessarily capture the nuances or tonal priorities of Reclaiming culture, but they do say clearly what is consented to.

Principles of Unity

“My law is love unto all beings...” –The Charge of the Goddess

The values of the Reclaiming tradition stem from our understanding that the earth is alive and all of life is sacred and interconnected. We see the Goddess as immanent in the earth’s cycles of birth, growth, death, decay and regeneration. Our practice arises from a deep, spiritual commitment to the earth, to healing and to the linking of magic with political action.

Each of us embodies the divine. Our ultimate spiritual authority is within, and we need no other person to interpret the sacred to us. We foster the questioning attitude, and honor intellectual, spiritual and creative freedom.

We are an evolving, dynamic tradition and proudly call ourselves Witches. Honoring both Goddess and God, we work with female and male images of divinity, always remembering that their essence is a mystery which goes beyond form. Our community rituals are participatory and ecstatic, celebrating the cycles of the seasons and our lives, and raising energy for personal, collective and earth healing.

We know that everyone can do the life-changing, world-renewing work of magic, the art of changing consciousness at will. We strive to teach and practice in ways that foster personal and collective empowerment, to model shared power and to open leadership roles to all. We make decisions by consensus, and balance individual autonomy with social responsibility.

Our tradition honors the wild, and calls for service to the earth and the community. We value peace and practice non-violence, in keeping with the Rede, “Harm none, and do what you will.” We work for all forms of justice: environmental, social, political, racial, gender and economic. Our feminism includes a radical analysis of power, seeing all systems of oppression as interrelated, rooted in structures of domination and control.

We welcome all genders, all races, all ages and sexual orientations and all those differences of life situation, background, and ability that increase our diversity. We strive to make our public rituals and events accessible and safe. We try to balance the need to be justly compensated for our labor with our commitment to make our work available to people of all economic levels.

All living beings are worthy of respect. All are supported by the sacred elements of air, fire, water and earth. We work to create and sustain communities and cultures that embody our values, that can help to heal the wounds of the earth and her peoples, and that can sustain us and nurture future generations.

Diggers, Free Land and Diablo Canyon: A Story of Faeries and Reclaiming

by Covelo

In 1975, a group of us from our commune at 529 Castro Street*, on the same block as Harvey Milk’s camera shop and the Hula Palace arts commune, joined Arthur Evans’ faery circle and attended his lecture and slide shows at Bay Area Gay Liberation at 33 Grove Street. There he introduced his groundbreaking book, “Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture.” Inspired by what we saw was the special place of queerness in the pagan world, we decided we would like to know more about witchcraft and were told that there was a neo-pagan witch on Cole Street who could teach us the fundamentals.

I was in the process of leaving the city and moving to a Free Land commune in Mendocino County, twelve miles above a remote town called Covelo, where I would reside without electricity and running water for the next six years, so I attended only one meeting with the woman who would later become Starhawk. A small core of us who continued to study with Starhawk later became part of Magdalene Farm, which became the Nomenus/Wolf Creek Radical Faerie Sanctuary.

There were many tributaries that became the Radical Faeries and Reclaiming, but there is no question in my mind that those meetings with Arthur and Starhawk in San Francisco in 1975 and 1976 were important wellsprings of the San Francisco Faerie movement and our connection to neo-paganism. But neither Arthur’s nor Starhawk’s work and our openness to receive them existed in a vacuum. They both were fed and nurtured in a rich cultural movement that arose in San Francisco in the 1960s and came into full bloom in the 1970s.

The Diggers were renegades in the Haight-Ashbury who grew out of the activist theater of R.G. Davis and the San Francisco Mime Troupe. According to Eric Noble in the Digger Archives, www.diggers.org, the Diggers “took their name from the original English Diggers (1649-50), who had promulgated a vision of society free from private property and all forms of buying and selling.” The San Francisco Diggers evolved out of two radical traditions that thrived in the San Francisco Bay Area in the mid-1960s: the

the Haight-Ashbury Free Medical Clinic. The Diggers practiced “garbage yoga,” in which they distributed unwanted appliances, particularly stoves and refrigerators, to those in need. They distributed free bread that was baked at the Free Bakery in one- and two-pound coffee cans, they introduced tie-dyed clothing and held communal celebrations at solstices and equinoxes. “Do your own thing” and “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” are phrases coined by the Diggers that became touchstones of the counterculture and found their way into the mainstream.

beat bohemians with their underground art and theater scene and the New Left’s civil rights and peace movements.

The San Francisco Diggers began to think of themselves as the Free City Collective. Using the tactics of street theater, anarchist direct action and art happenings, they conducted daily rallies at City Hall demanding that city-owned, empty buildings be given to the people to rehabilitate and live in freely, that surplus food be distributed freely and that trucks be provided to distribute free newspapers. Although the demands were not met, there became a proliferation of the idea of “free,” and there arose a grassroots movement of free stores, the distribution of free food in the park every day, a free film series, the Medical Opera and the Free Medical Clinic, which inspired the founding of

Irving Rosenthal’s Kaliflower Commune brought the Digger philosophy to a community that was much more polymorphously perverse than the largely heterosexual Diggers. Rosenthal moved to San Francisco in 1967 and began creating Kaliflower. I first visited the group at their Scott Street commune, where I encountered men, women and children, gay, straight and in between. It was awe-inspiring. Kaliflower helped initiate the Free Food Conspiracy, whose member communes pooled their members’ food stamps to buy food in bulk, which was then distributed to communes according to need. It was through the distribution of food to the communes that Kaliflower members Hibiscus (George Harris III) and Ralif (Ralph Sauer), who called themselves the Kitchen Sluts after characters in “Man of La Mancha,” entertained the communes and gathered about them a group of would-be performers who became the Cockettes and the Angels of Light theater companies.

Rosenthal’s writings back then speak to us today and offer valuable insight into how we may best direct our energies as the international economy collapses

A small core of us who continued to study with Starhawk later became part of Magdalene Farm, which became the Nomenus/ Wolf Creek Radical Faerie Sanctuary

and a dramatic paradigm shift looms on the horizon. He wrote in Deep Tried Frees, Kaliflower, N.S. 3, April 30, 1978, “Buddhists, particularly local ones, make a great fuss about right livelihood. But what does right livelihood mean in a capitalist-corporate multinational nexus of greed? Every aspect of our lives is tainted by excessive profitmaking, real-estate speculation, stockmarket manipulation, price-fixing, armament-making, hard sell advertising, conspicuous consumption, unfair labor practices, automobile proliferation, urban “redevelopment,” chemical pollution of food, air, and water, deforestation, strip mining, chicken farming, genus-cide of mammals for their skins, tusks, fur or meat-- the list of et ceteras would fill a book.”

Another important thread that influenced the proto-Faerie and Reclaiming communities, again chronicled in the Digger Archives, was the Free Land Movement and two important communes in Sonoma County -- Morning Star Ranch and Wheeler’s Ranch. Morning Star Ranch was founded in 1962 by Lou Gottlieb of the folk group The Limeliters. Lou bought some land in Sonoma County shown to him by the husband of Malvina Reynolds, the Berkeley folk singer who wrote “Little Boxes,” now the theme song to Showtime’s popular series “Weeds.” In 1969, as the ranch grew and legal hassles afflicted the renegade community, Lou deeded Morning Star Ranch to God, finding precedent under Muslim law, which for centuries had allowed for donations of property to Allah. Some months later, a judge ruled that “Whatever the nature of the deity, God is neither a natural or artificial person capable of taking title under existing California law.” He argued that God could not own land because He couldn’t sign His name to the deed. But the idea that individuals did not have the right to own land, that land was “un-ownable,” took root.

After a visit to Morning Star Ranch, an artist and architect from the blue-blood lineage of Kent School and Yale named Bill Wheeler and his wife, Gwyn, moved to Sonoma County in the summer of 1962 and subsequently bought a 320acre ranch about eight miles from Morning Star which became Wheeler’s Ranch. For a fascinating history of the two communes, and the involvement by the likes of The Rockefeller Foundation, Nina Simone, Bill Graham, Stuart Brand,

Church, whose name came from Gandhi’s term for non-violence.

Central to the Articles of Incorporation of the Ahimsa Church was the idea that “Among the primary functions of the corporation is the maintenance of the premises of the church as Open Land” and that the land could never be sold, exploited for profit, rented, borrowed or closed.

And so, the confluence of these tributaries — street theater, a commitment to civil rights, environmentalism and peace, and the philosophy of Free, Open Land and Ahimsa set the stage for the rest of us living in the Bay Area. Herb Caen kept us informed through his column in the San Francisco Chronicle, and the busts at Wheeler’s were fodder for daily news stories.

In 1972, influenced by this mix — and I haven’t even mentioned marijuana — Randy West in Berkeley and Lucky Mollin and I in Palo Alto organized a gay/straight consciousness raising retreat on Joan Baez’s ranch on Page Mill Road in the foothills above Palo Alto that had all the markings of a faerie gathering -- heart circles, mysticism, nudity, vegetarianism, neo-paganism. The phrase we used to describe the unique praxis of what we were doing was Gay Consciousness. Gay Consciousness was in the air when we encountered Arthur Evans and Starhawk.

Timothy Leary, Peter Coyote, the Hog Farm, Steven Gaskin, Owsley, LSD and the Floating Lotus Magic Opera Company, read “Home Free Home: A History of Two Open-Door California Communes” on the Digger Archives website.

From these two communes came the Open Land Manifesto and the Ahimsa

In 1980, I again encountered Starhawk in San Luis Obispo, where we were part of a mass movement to keep Pacific Gas and Electric from opening the Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant on an earthquake fault on the Central California Coast. I had moved from Castro Street to a commune called The Land twelve miles northwest of a small, remote town in Northern California called Covelo. The Land, one of the great Free Land communes whose roots were in Wheeler’s and Morning Star, had Photos: Courtesy of Covelo

529 Castro Street

been given to a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt educational corporation in San Francisco called Hearthshire School by Diggers Claude and H’lene to keep it out of the hands of private ownership. Hearthshire was one of many members of the San Francisco intercommunal network that decided that the drugs were getting too nasty and the scene too commercial and diluted. Back to the Land was our way of creating a new order.

A number of us were activists with a group from Mendocino and Humboldt counties called Downwind Alliance. The alliance had been working to decommission the Humboldt nuclear reactor. I was less active than others but wrote a small agitprop play, “Helen’s Revenge or Kiss My Ash,” about the Trojan nuclear power plant that was near the base of Mount St. Helens, the volcano in Washington that had recently erupted. We performed it at the Humboldt Country Fair on the grounds of the Benbow Inn on one of the forks of the Eel River.

I had left the commune in 1980 to attend Sonoma State University, where I joined up with a group of radical/political/ spiritual freaks who created an affinity group to go to the Diablo Canyon Blockade and Encampment. We called our group the Wild and Tackys. After seven years of legal challenges to Diablo Canyon had run its course without success, the Abalone Alliance sent out a call for non-violent direct action. They created an excellent guide to the dangers of nuclear proliferation, be it weapons or power plants, and to the theory and practice of non-violent protest titled “The Diablo Canyon Blockade and Encampment Handbook.”

Affinity groups from all over the state converged and we were given a fallow field to set up an encampment for several thousand people. Except for the privileged few who slept in tents, we all slept in sleeping bags open to the air. Following the dictate of Martin

Worman’s tongue-in-cheek comment, “I don’t kiss and tell, I fuck and publish,” I must reveal that for some reason Starhawk and I “spooned” every night we were not in jail. By chance we had happened to lay our sleeping bags next to each other, but as the nights grew cold, we snuggled to keep warm. It was safe and comforting, so we sought each other each night. She was fearless. As waves of us were arrested through the two weeks of the encampment, I was “caught and released,” i.e. arrested, once. I think she went three or four rounds.

The Wild and Tackys thought of ourselves as naughty and relished being politically incorrect because we would leave the campsite to have our strategy meetings in the luxury of the coffee shop of the Madonna Inn, a fabulously campy icon on Highway 101 in San Luis Obispo that was built in 1958 and has more than 100 rooms, each decorated differently with themes like the Daisy Mae, Fox and Hound, Cuernavaca, Antique Cars and Matterhorn. The Madonna Inn features giant rocks and waterfall showers, leaded and etched glass, a hand-carved marble balustrade, incredible hand-crafted woods and copper and a Gold Rush dining room that came from Hearst Castle. It was the perfect spot for a group of radical pagan environmentalists with a sense of irony.

Throughout the week, groups would slip out of the encampment and start the two-day trek through the 100,000acre King Ranch to the reactor, situated precipitously on a promontory over the Pacific Ocean. The Abalone Alliance had spent years developing trails with ropes to help us through the more dangerous passages. There were hidden campsites to hide for the night with names like Seven-Up. We weren’t the only ironists. When the Wild and Tackys reached the reactor, we were true to the Digger roots of agitprop theater. We had created a cow costume with white sheets and black spots. We gathered under the sheet and became one giant, many-legged mutant

cow. When we reached the gates of the reactor we chanted, “The radiation gets into the air, the clouds form in the sky, the rain falls on the grass, the cows eat the grass, the babies drink the milk, the babies die.” And then we tried to block engineers from entering the plant. Word was that the plant was to go online that day. Needless to say we were arrested, handcuffed and led to buses, where hundreds of us were transported to a makeshift jail at San Luis Obispo Community College. The men were brought to the gymnasium, where we were greeted with thunderous cheers and were surrounded by Quakers and Unitarians who made sure we were served organic peanut butter and apples. I was given the cot which had just been vacated by the singer Jackson Browne, who recently sued the GOP and McCain campaign for using his song “Running on Empty” without his permission. Some of us never give up. Thank the Goddess.

We were not successful in our attempt to shut down Diablo Canyon, but the day after we witches and pagans did our magic at the reactor, the news broke that the contractor had built it in the mirror image of the blueprints and the entire plant would have to be retrofitted. Seemed like magick to us.

Diablo Canyon was finally completed, the fuel rods were loaded into the reactor core and it went online. But no other reactor has been built in America since.

I like to believe that “Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture” had something to do with it all.

*Among those who lived with us were Tede Matthews, Frank Femia/Assunta, Shaundel (now Loki), Jamal, Soula, Michael Bumblebee, Jesse Cox, Marc Huestis, Jada Joyous, Mountain Bear and legions of others who entered our open door, with its poster of Ho Chi Minh on the door and its Vietnamese National Liberation Front flag hanging from a second-story window over Castro Street.

Covelo, California circa 1979 (author in polka dot dress)

What I Learned From the Faeries

By Arthur Evans

In the 1970s, a spontaneous flowering of consciousness occurred independently among small clusters of gay men in several parts of the U.S. Although initially unknown to each other, these clusters shared certain sensibilities. They sought to put gay sex into larger contexts of history, spirituality, and nature. They also had a positive view of the counterculture of the 1960s. And they wanted to celebrate this consciousness ceremonially, not just intellectually. Below is an account of some things that I learned from one such endeavor.

On October 17, 1975, I invited a group of gay friends with these interests to meet at my apartment at the corner of Haight and Ashbury Streets in San Francisco (where I still live). The location was appropriate. We had all been influenced by the counterculture’s high regard for eroticism and love, expressed through new forms of music, dance, and ceremony.

At the suggestion of the late Timo Butters, we decided to call ourselves the Faery Circle. Our first ceremony could not have been simpler – we sat in a circle, held hands, and chanted.

Subsequent ceremonies were more elaborate. On one occasion, we spent Halloween night at a remote beach near San Gregorio, CA. After inching our way down a steep, rocky slope in the thick night fog, we huddled around a small fire. Our torches sparkled in the salty spray. Veils and robes floated gently in the wind.

A celebrant named Loki rose and walked around the circle, invoking the four directions as our witnesses and protectors. Another rose and called upon the Goddess, the Queen of Heaven, to descend and take possession of our bodies. Another rose and invited the Horned One to come and join the dance

that was to follow. Another invited the spirits of the dead.

And then we danced, hurling ourselves around and over the fire, accompanied by the sounds of finger cymbals, tambourines, and recorders. At the conclusion of the dance, we formed a long straight line, the end of which turned in on itself, and then continued to turn, like a giant jelly roll.

We hugged and embraced and rubbed up against each other until it felt as though

We judged this experiment a success. We were able to unlock the emotional and non-rational forces in our personalities, but in a contained, ritualized way that kept them from becoming destructive.

moon in a hilly forested area near Jenner, CA. Jonathan, one of our members, had researched the practices of Native American Indians in the Southwest, using peyote.

Following that model, we sat in a circle around a small earthen altar made in the shape of a crescent moon. On it sat the largest peyote button of all, the Grandmother Button, which was not eaten. The rest we consumed.

In front of our feet we had dug a concentric ditch, called the Road. We vomited into the Road if the peyote made us nauseous, a common side effect. When that happened, the Road Faery (the late Assunta Femia) covered the vomit with soil. Assunta also held a smoking cedar branch before the face of the nauseous person, for its rejuvenating fragrance. And he gave him a drink of water and vinegar, to counter the alkalinity of the peyote.

we were all appendages of one common body. Afterwards, as the fire flickered out, we dozed off to sleep on the beach, lulled by oceanic hymns.

This particular ceremony was inspired by certain pre-Christian practices of ancient Europe. These have also influenced the modern religious reconstruction known as “Wicca.” But our approach in the Faery Circle was experimental, playful, and practical, not dogmatic. We weren’t committed to any doctrines or deities.

We adapted an old tradition to our particular needs, tried it out, and then assessed the results. This experiment was a success. It made us feel more connected to each other, the cosmos, and the dead, and we had fun in the process. But we learned there were other ways to accomplish that, too.

An example was another night-time ceremony, this time under a beautiful full

After we consumed the peyote, a rattle and a drum were passed in succession around the circle. When the drum came to a person, he sang the vision he was having under the influence of peyote, accompanied by the person on his left, playing the drum. The circling of the drum and rattle continued for eight hours, with only one short break in the middle of the night.

It was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. At first, I saw the spirits of animals and the dead racing around the outside of the circle, just behind our backs. Then I dissolved, sliding deep into the ground, encountering monsters, for what seemed like hours. Finally, I re-emerged from the ground, feeling cleansed, rejuvenated, and serene. Everything in the world seemed beautiful, balanced, and in its proper place.

Others had different experiences. One man, the late Tom Kennedy, recounted a series of hilarious stories, accompanied by amazing sound effects and whistling.

Another (the late Timo Butters, mentioned earlier) re-enacted a gripping childhood scene with his parents.

We judged this experiment a success. We were able to unlock the emotional and non-rational forces in our personalities, but in a contained, ritualized way that kept them from becoming destructive. The result was greater self-knowledge. Some of our ceremonies were done mostly for whimsy’s sake. An example was a night-time gathering by an old statue of the goddess Diana in San Francisco’s Sutro Park, near Ocean Beach. On that occasion, we dressed up as animals.

After the gathering at the statue, we crossed the main highway in order to descend to the beach. One of our

members, the late Earl Galvin, led the way, dressed as a giant frog, carrying a banner of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Drivers on the highway came to a halt, flabbergasted at the sight as we crossed. We had a good laugh.

Some years later, in 1979, the late Harry Hay, who had no involvement in the Faery Circle, put out a call for a regional gathering of what he termed “Radical Faeries” in Arizona. Thanks to Harry’s efforts, faerydom became a regional and even national phenomenon. The many separate clusters that had been experimenting on their own, now had a unified context in which to develop. This was a positive breakthrough. But there was also a down side. Harry and his disciples started pushing for a unified ideology, based on Harry’s

writings. People who questioned the established doctrines were ridiculed and marginalized. Harry eventually promoted himself as a cult figure, going by the title of Elder Brother. Finally, the Radical Faeries became property owners with the acquisition of land outside Wolf Creek, OR.

These developments provided faerydom with ideological coherence and institutional stability. But I myself most enjoyed the earlier, formative years. They were experimental, non-dogmatic, whimsical, and fun. They didn’t provide us with any final answers. But even so, we got a little closer to each other and the cosmos, and gained some selfknowledge along the way.

Arthur Evans is the author, most recently, of Critique of Patriarchal Reason.

Photo: Keith Gemerek

In preparation for a performance ritual, these faerie spirits circled to ground their energies before the ritual began.

Faggot-Shaman-Faerie-Witch

by Leafshimmer

Faeries are called Fata in Italian and it is said that this is so because “to encounter Them is always Fateful.” Having recently turned Fifty and looking back over the patterns of my life, each of my encounters with the Fair Folk--whether in this world, the Other World, or Between the Worlds--has certainly been Fateful. And there has undoubtedly been a recurring, or “fateful” pattern, in the interaction between the Radical Faerie movements and the various forms of Pagan spirituality that have fermented in North American society since the late 1960s--and how these spiritualities have inspired members of the gay community.

Pagan spiritualities certainly play a potent role if we go back to the very beginnings of RFD. The kind of culture that both produced the zine and began to be documented within its pages was rooted in a reverence for the Earth and a conviction that our bodies are sacred—even that “all acts of love and pleasure” are a celebration of beauty and mystery (to paraphrase the Charge of the Goddess). If you read through the issues of RFD in the five years from the founding of the zine in 1974, through to the plans for the first official Radical Faerie Gathering in 1979, a number of themes repeatedly arise which show the potent role that pagan spirituality, Witchcraft, and what became to be known as “new age culture” played in the gradually fermenting crucible of what eventually took birth as the Radical Faerie community. A far from complete list of topics that recurred in the zine

through these years includes such things as Tarot cards, astrology, herbalism, the “Wheel of the Year” (the eight Pagan Feasts that run from Yule or the Winter Solstice through to Beltane/May Day, ending with Samhain or Hallowe’en), Faery lore, spellcraft, Magick as cosmic or personal energy of ultimate transformative power and beauty, the honoring of Pan and other Horned

have continued to persist and to manifest themselves throughout the many forms and manifestations of Faerie culture. A wise summing-up of the relationship between the Radical Faerie movement(s) and the revival of Pagan spiritualities was offered in a group statement from an Ozark circle, “Fairie Sanctuary,” in RFD 25 (Winter 1980): “The Fairie Consciousness and the Pagan Revival aren’t one–they help each other, even complement each other–but need to be separate for many of us.” (p. 31) This statement, and others of a similar kind published in RFD throughout the early to mid 1980s, did not keep Margot Adler from describing the Radical Faeries as a predominantly gay men’s form of Pagan tradition in her tremendously influential book, Drawing down the Moon (I believe the chapter on the Faeries first appeared in the 1989 revised edition).

Gods embodying erotically charged male spiritual power, nature-based ritual celebration, and an appreciation for ecstatic states as the ultimate purpose of human existence. Far from being the agenda of any one individual or group of Faerie “leaders,” these essential themes

The call for this Spring 2009 issue of RFD challenges us to think about the relationship between “Wicca” and the Radical Faeries. “Wicca” is a name for the predominant spiritual practice of the Reclaiming Collective. The chants and ritual forms associated with Wicca have become familiar to many Faeries through the Reclaiming Witch Camps held in various parts of N. America from the 1980s onwards. Originally, in Traditional Witchcraft, the phrase “the Wica” (with one c) signified the initiated Priesthood of the Old Religion (“Pagans” referred to non-initiated lovers of the Old Gods, and “Witches” to the initiates). In the late 1960s, “Wicca” was popularized as a “less flagrant” name for the Old Religion (as opposed to simply calling it Witchcraft), primarily in the books and magazine

From RFD Archives, Issue #22, Image by Zell

articles of Sybil Leek (author of Diary of a Witch and a frequent guest on the Merv Griffin Show on television), and the media appearances by Alex Sanders, London’s so-called “King of the Witches.” In the 1990s, “Wicca” became even more widespread as a form of Pagan practice officially recognized by legal courts and the US military (albeit grudgingly).

From my reading of these early years of RFD, my talks with older Faeries who have been around for a few decades, and my own personal experience of attending Gatherings and coordinating rituals, I would regard Wicca/Witchcraft as just one of many sacred streams that has fed the cauldron of our rich Faerie stew over the years. Witchcraft (as I prefer to call it) has provided a framework for certain aspects of our ever-evolving Faerie culture. Throughout the 1970s the words Faggot and Fairy were used interchangeably by people who were seeking a new form of masculinity, one that would embrace such things as nurturing, gentleness, loving, cooperation, homesteading, and Magick. Back then, we were men who had chosen to live by a new ethos, one based upon principles other than those of Violently Competitive Aggression–the dominant paradigm of Western mainstream society, in which raping and pillaging were the ultimate Male acts. I like to think of the Faerie circle as wreathed by a shining pearl necklace that sings the chant Faggot-Shaman-Faerie-Witch, a necklace that can be restrung with extra beads that might bear names such as Homesteader, Anarchist, Drag Diva, Community Activist, Fiercely Ruling Faerie Goddess, Sister of Perpetual Indulgence and beyond.

Witchy/Pagan vibes, practices, chants and gestures have been a recurrent flavor in the Faerie roulade, a sprightly (sometimes garish) thread in the Faerie Tapestry. Witchy/Pagan rituals are frequently interrogated by Faeries who find the “edge” of such practices constricting or confining. The same is true of our traditions of vegetarian meals (which point to the common origins we share with the eco-feminist movements), our love of gender-fuck drag, our cherishing of the Heart Circle, our often subversively playful way of working consensus.

As regards the relationship between the Reclaiming Collective, the Witch Camps, and Faeries, I would argue that some of the experiences brought by Faeries to the Camps from our own Gatherings helped influence or contribute to the culture of the Witch Camps, just as much as ritual practices, chants, or forms of Magick taught at the Camps began to appear in specifically Faerie spaces. The influence was not just one way, but radiated and rippled to-and-fro the way summer sunlight shimmers over a field of anemones in the hazy afternoons of Midsummer.

It is interesting to note that the first Spirituality issue of RFD was number 12, dated Summer 1977. Some of the article titles included “Healing with Herbs,” “Peyote Spirit,” “Invocation of the Horned One” by Arthur Evans (whose book Witchcraft and the Gay

Counterculture, following in 1978, came to serve as a prophetic text through the 1980s and beyond--a text which really pushed the Witch-Faggot-Shaman roles as a central trope for radical gay liberation), “Faggot, Shaman, Poet, Butterfly Dancer,” by Stephen Abbott, “We Circle Around” by Jada Joyous, and “Sharing the Mysteries” by Caradoc. (Exactly 35 years later, in the Summer of 2002, Caradoc became my own Teacher, or Tour-guide as he preferred to call it, in the Mysteries of the Feri Tradition.)

The range represented by this 1977 list is echoed and enlarged by a description of activities offered at the First Spiritual Gathering of Radical Faeries in 1979. According to Gathering attendee Fritz Frurip, these included “a native desert plant walk; fairy spirit visions; nutrition and your body; ritual dance; politics of gay enspiritment; gay publications; massage, a guided orgy; ... fairy sexuality; ritual makeup; healing/energy; autofellatio; ritual planning; Celtic

and English country dances ...” and something pert and piquant called “silly sissies.” Elliptical as this list may be, it shows the openness, diversity, vitality and eagerness to celebrate that released so much energy in the Faeries from the beginning. And this tremendous release of energy continues to manifest at our Gatherings this year and, no doubt, will continue into future years. To me it is this joyous, playful openness, this capacity for growth, fluidity and adaptability, that has been the great source of strength in our Faerie Circles. Our Traditions have grown organically as our varying forms of community/ies have evolved, and our collective Faerie Fire has dazzled and danced with a bewitching array of colors, forms, and ever-shifting re-alignments. I have in my notes a quote from Trixie X nee Glamourama, from an old Faerie flyer, in which he says: “Fundamentally, Faeries are a group of people who have agreed to listen to each another.” Beyond that I am personally unwilling to define who we are. I see Witchcraft, homesteading, home-cooked vegetastic meals, love of the Earth, reverence for the stars, fierce ecstatic lust for Beauty, as shining threads in the endlessly re-weaving Faerie tapestry. Others bring their own voices, visions, verve and violet flame into the Circle. The more we embrace one another, the stronger we become. In closing I would like to remember three special Faeries. One was a personal friend (albeit briefly), and the other two I have known only through the pages of RFD.

Floating Eagle Feather was a poet, a storyteller, a mystic. I met him in Philadelphia in 1982 at the Ashram where I was living. Feather showed me a recent issue of RFD (later, I found other issues at Giovanni’s Room, the legendary gay bookstore off of South Street in downtown Philly), and took me to visit a couple of local Faeries. I’ve never forgotten how Feather and his Faerie friend starting doing contact improv on the floor and I nearly flipped my lid. Were they having sex, performing some weird kind of foreplay, or just regressing to childhood? It was something of a Primal Scene. I remember Feather’s flashing black eyes, his trickster’s way with words, his long beautiful hair, his

The Fairie Consciousness and the Pagan Revival aren’t one–they help each other, even complement each other–but need to be separate for many of us.

“crazy Zen” laughter. I remember his passion and courage and strength.

Don-Tevel Treelove was a Faerie based in Iowa City who was a part of the original RFD collective gathering around Stewart Scofield in 1974. Don-Tevel memorably contributed to RFD #3, the Spring Equinox 1975 issue. His journal/essay/ poetry “Spring, Spirit and Faggotry” moves me tremendously every time I look back on it. I cherish these simple, direct speakings of proud young flaming faggot spirit:

Nine of us sitting, equals. Feeding each other, comforting each other, rejoicing in the magic of faggotry.

Country spirit.

Country faggot.

Feeling the plants give energy to the conversation.

The turtle listening, wondering what would happen.

Faggot Magic.

Faggot Spirit.

Faggot Power.

In direct contact with the Energy of the Earth. ...

Our power, our spirit, We will renew the Earth, Witches and Faggots. (p. 44)

In a 1978 letter printed in the zine, Don-Tevel wrote of his realization that “homesteading is a space, not a place,” and of how riding through the changes of life kept bringing him back to his original sense of vision with ever more deeply etched clarity. Words of Faerie wisdom.

Dennis Melba’son is the third Ancestor I summon into the Circle of Fire and Memory. He was the Faerie who bestowed upon the Circle the Cernunnos Shawl. Now too fragile to be brought out for display or handling very often, for some time the Shawl has been regarded as the one Sacred Relic bequeathed from the “old days” of the early Gatherings to later generations. The Shawl–affectionately known to some Faeries as “the Cum-Rag of the Cernunnos”–had taken birth in a moment of vision given to Dennis on September 24, 1979. When he offered it to the Spiritual Conference for Radical Fairies in August, 1980 (when he was 48 years of age), he wrote: “Perhaps in some Goddess-guided way, the shawl will be the power object that heals all our spirits.” In writing about an

ecstatic “pandaemonium” that evolved from a Goddess-themed fashion show on the final night of the Gathering, Dennis experienced a vividly physical epiphany of the Great God Pan:

Suddenly there appeared before me Cernunnos, who pulled me into Him. The cape enveloped His body and we kissed. Then He asked me to lift the shawl above our heads and walk with Him around the circle, drawing Fairies closer to the central pole, where we hung the shawl for all to see. The circle drew in tighter and tighter. The seven Names of the Goddess were being chanted louder and louder. Suddenly there leaped into the circle a young dancer, fully clothed. He began to undress. All around the circle--now quite tight, perhaps 2-3 Fairies deep--buttons began to be popped, shoes untied, pants unzipped. Clothes were thrown at the base of the pole, offerings to Cernunnos, as naked Fairies leaped into the inner circle and began to dance. The Chant of the Seven Names grew faster, more insistent. Cocks grew hard. Mouths and bodies enveloped them. Strong arms encircled my body. The dancer leapt up the pole. The chant changed: Pan, Cernunnos, the Horned One Comes ... PAN, CERNUNNOS, THE HORNED ONE COMES! The figure behind me pressed closer. I could feel His hard cock through the cape. He pulled me closer-pressing, caressing. The dancer came

against the pole and was lowered gently into loving arms. I turned to see the face of my lover. No one was there.

I turned back into the inner circle. Naked Fairies were getting down on it all over. The outer circle began to chant: NO MORE GUILT. The bodies writhed in ritual Sex Majik that healed us all. The chants changed to groans and moans and sighs and whimpers and cries of ecstasy. The God descended. The Horned One came. (RFD issue 25, Winter 1980, pp. 14-15)

I call upon these Faerie ancestors not to prove a point, or to further an agenda, or to make some kind of statement; merely to illustrate the power, the beauty, the raging transformative flame that manifests when we keep opening up to the chimerical poetry of the Faerie spirit. I also regard each of these Faeries as exemplifying, in his words, life, and/or art, a truth that has kept hitting me in my ten-plus years of Circling and Gathering with the Fey Folk: what binds us together is not a creed, a conviction, a structure or a list of “unifying principles”--it is a vibrant, ineffable, mystical Current, much like the Magickal Currents of which magicians often speak; something that we can each know and manifest and work/play with in our own unique Fae ways, but retains an organic, pristine harmonic singularity that can never be described in words--only glimpsed here and there--in the heat and beauty of Faerie fires, in the shining eyes of the Faerie looking at you across the Circle, in the warmth of that hand holding yours as “wearing our long wing-feathers as we fly, we circle around, we circle around...”

We are Circles within Circles, and the Circle is open, never broken. So Mote It Be.

Blessings, Leafshimmer

Imbolc 2009

If you read through the issues of RFD in the five years from the founding of the zine in 1974, through to the plans for the first official Radical Faerie Gathering in 1979, a number of themes repeatedly arise which show the potent role that pagan spirituality, Witchcraft, and what became to be known as “new age culture” played in the gradually fermenting crucible of what eventually took birth as the Radical Faerie community.

Weaving the Web of Wyrd Together

by Donald L. Engstrom-Reese

Over a month ago I was asked, “How has the Radical Fairies and the Reclaiming Witch Tradition influenced each other?” I have been thinking a lot about the question over these last few weeks. I realize that I have no over all, unbiased view of the question. I can only look at the query as a participant in both of the traditions for many years. I can only reflect on the intermingling of the traditions from what I have witnessed with my own basic five senses plus one. So, what else has formed the lens through which am I looking at this question? I have been an artist and a gardener my whole adult life. I am one of the co-founders of RFD magazine. I have been exploring Queer Spirit since the early 1970’s and have been involved with the Radical Fairies since before the term came into being. I had my first

real taste of Witchcraft at the Colorado Faerie Gathering that led me to start my journey with the Reclaiming Tradition in 1980. As you can see, the intermingling of magical methods and worldviews began early in my life. In fact, the continual interweaving of many different weft threads of Mystery has become a mainstay of my daily practice.

I have noticed that many Radical Faeries and Reclaiming Witches are people of spirit and enquiry. Both groups encourage the questioning mind and spirit. Faeries and Reclaimers both dare folks to step beyond their comfort zones, encouraging us all to bravely take a long hard look at our own habits. Both groups also use personal experience as a sacred starting place from which deep journeys into the spirit realms can begin.

I have noticed that many in both traditions hold the body as sacred. Both

groups celebrate the sensual, the sexual and the delicious. Many in Reclaiming and in the Radical Faerie communities delight in decorating their faces and dressing in fabulous outfits, daring to cross into the thrilling and challenging lands of uncertainty.

I have also noticed that many folks in both of the traditions are not afraid to look at the world as it is. In many cases, this has lead folks to actively engage in a politics of change and transformation. Many folk in both traditions are deeply involved in the growing and the nurturing of the emerging Cultures of Beauty, Balance and Delight1.

When I look back over the years I truly find it hard to separate out one group’s influence upon the other. Though, I do remember a few examples from my own life.

A Queer Witch’s Spirit Journey by Donald Engstrom-Reese

I remember that the early Radical Faerie ritual circles seemed to have no other structure than to sit or stand in a circle until something happened. It seemed rare to set an intention for a ritual. Often it felt as if we lingered for hours waiting for something to happen. Some folks were very hesitant to develop any structure whatsoever; for fear that a Faerie circle would simply evolve into another religion of control. Others could hardly imagine doing a ritual with no clear purpose, no objective or no guiding outline. I remember when Reclaiming and other Witches tried to offer ideas around ritual structure, which would work for their Fae communities. I remember the mix reception many Faeries had to ideas about the casting of a circle, about inviting the Mysterious Ones to join us formally and the setting of clear intentions or purposes for specific ritual circles.

One result of this exploration of basic Witch ritual forms designed to hold Queer Spirit was the Queer God Ritual.2 I wrote this ritual as way for groups of queers to experience the Queer Ones together in a safe space. This ritual worked for many people. Folks had a deep life changing experience in the presence of the Queer Ones who had come specifically for them. The ritual became a community build activity that is still used as a blue print for other Queer Ritual work taking shape today.

Some of the other rituals to come out of this experiment were a variety of sex rituals, celebrations of the dead, water purifications and handfastings/marriages.

Radical Faerie sex rituals were the beginnings of powerful healing change for many of us. Some of the work was

based on Joseph Kramer’s work. These ceremonies almost always started out with some kind of sacred massage done inside of a sacred circle. Other sex rituals were built upon more obvious Witchy foundations.

One sex ritual that I remember in particular was built upon concentric circles. Our intention was to raise a strong cone of healing power. A solid circle was cast, inviting all allies of sexual pleasure and healing to join us. Continuous, steady heart beat drumming began. We each slowly undressed in a scared manner, one fag at a time, in front of each other. We dared to openly stand in our own glory inviting the sacred sensual gaze of all the other ritual attendants. When we were all naked, we went to the orbit of our choice. The outer most circle was a place for solo work (whatever that maybe to the individual). The second circle was a place where folks were invited to touch each other with their hands and mouths above the waist. The third circle was a place where folks were invited to touch each other with their hands and mouths anywhere on each other’s bodies. The center of the circle was a place was all sexual acts were a possibility. We reminded each other that no matter where we started the ritual, we were all free at any time to move from one orbit to another throughout our time together. It was made clear to all that it was vital to the working that each of us follow our place of power as it moved about during this sexual healing circle of change. When we had all found our places, we began to tone. As our voices began to warm to our purpose, so did our cocks and lips. The energy began to build and build. We breathed

Sacred Queer Power with each breath we took. When the healing lusts and loves of our bodies and souls completely filled the circle to over flowing, we screamed a primal scream. Our queer joy shot intense healing sexual energy high into the atmosphere and deep into the earth. It became instantly available to all who were in need of it, no matter where they maybe. After the ritual, we retired for chocolate desserts and other sweet treats.

Reclaiming came late to sex magic. Its focus has been on the essential work of healing our wounds, naming our desires and creating spells to restore our sexual wholeness. I have not been to a Reclaiming workshop/ class/camp that has yet dared to engage in actual sensual full body sex magic. I am still hoping that sometime in the near future such body explorations will be taken on by some of us in the Reclaiming communities.

I have noticed what could be Radical Faerie values’ inspiring some of the sex work has begun to emerge into Reclaiming sex workshops. Folks have been asked to courageously step into the sensual gaze. Folks have been asked to look at and be willing to be willing to recognize what are their own desires and what are the desires of others. I have also noticed that folks are also being encouraged to see their own inherent sexual glory. People are being asked to love their bodies just as they are, declaring to the multiverse that they are desirable and sexy. Folks are also asked to ponder the mystery

that we are our luscious bodies until the moment we die.

I admit though, that the cross pollination of magical thought is hard to chart. I strongly suspect that many ideas and techniques appear, manifest, materialize, etc., around the same time in many different communities. Yet, I know that significant minorities of us have been

challenge each other for many years to come. I am convinced that our two tribes are called continue to weave the Web of Wyrd together with side our allies of wonder, love and compassion. May we all dare to dwell in beauty, balance and delight.

1 The Cultures of Beauty, Balance and Delight–These are the emerging cultures that among other things, are concerned with transforming the relationships between the human made worlds and the natural realms into loving, sustainable, joyful partnerships, that are dedicated to pleasure and beauty, that embrace an ethics of justice and fair play, and that delight in the authentic lives of it’s individuals and communities. The Cultures of Beauty, Balance and Delight are the emerging cultures that, among other things:

1. Focus on transforming the relationships between the human made worlds and the natural realms into loving, sustainable, joyful partnerships,

2. Choose to live life fully awake, aware and co-creatively,

3. Are dedicated to pleasure and beauty,

4. Embrace an ethics of justice and fair play,

5. Delight in the authentic lives of its individuals and communities,

6. Are willing to accept the consequences of their choices, learning from them and moving on,

active in both the Radical Faerie and Reclaiming communities. I also know that we go betweens delight in sharing our skills and abilities, dreams and visions, lusts and desires. With this in mind, I am confident that the Reclaiming Witch Tradition and the Radical Faerie communities will continue to inspire and

7. Remember that there is always a choice, are spinning cosmologies clearly naming love and compassion as foundational underpinnings of the multiverse.

2 http://web.me.com/iowariver/Walking_in_Beauty/ A_Queer_God_Ritual.html

Moon of Queer Lust & Love by Donald Engstrom-Reese

Together, We Raise the Wand

by Robin Hood

By the Earth that is Her body

And the sacred grove that is His home…

We whisper the first call of spring from the Cascade Mountains at Imbolq. We parade our flouncy bonnets down the rural roads of a north-west gulf island at Oestera. We wrap ourselves in many colored ribbons around the cum-blessed pole felled from a yoni-like valley forest floor at Beltane. We sweat ourselves naked around the summer fires of Litha dancing amongst the red wood giants, giving birth to the gods and goddesses again and again. We return to the ‘Bush’ to hose ourselves down at Lammas in time for the year’s first harvest. We celebrate our gratitude in the rainforest by painting our dicks and tits and gorge ourselves on one another at Mabon. We enter the midnight woods to commune with the Mighty Dead on Samhain eve. We winter-over, well loved, nestled beneath the memories and dreams of so much magic, until Yule once again sparks the promise of yet another turning of the Great Wheel.

Throughout the seasons I circle with a tribe remarkable of Faeries and Reclaiming Witches. Each time we embrace, we welcome each other ‘Home.’

By the Air of Her sweet breath And the winds of His song…

For years now we have stood together as allies of social change. With the advent of Starhawk’s Spiral Dance and Arthur Evan’s Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture, the late seventies helped mid-wife the Reclaiming witch and Radical Faerie movements. It was at the first Pan-Pagan Festival in 1980 that a band of (mostly) gay men created a nonhetero-male perimeter around a skyclad clan of womyn witches meeting in all female space for the first time. From out of this undisturbed ritual the well-known chant, “We all come from the Goddess, and to her we shall return, like a drop of rain, flowing to the ocean” was born. Witches view inclusivity, safety and consensus as sacred values; Faeries

revision their world through glitterframed glasses. At another Pagan event the Rad Faes burst into the formal ritual screaming, “Attention! No spontaneity! We’re the spontaneity police!” As enchantresses all we seek “a totally different reality, a different language, a different attitude toward power and authority”1. As Reclaiming witches and Radical Faeries our way of gathering, our sacred rites and our revolutionary acts of play persist to upset heterocentric, patriarchal attempts to assimilate us.

By the Fires of Her Bright Spirit

And the heat of His passion…

On day two of my first California Witchcamp I remember walking out of the communal showers into the mysteries of Mendocino woods. To my left the pulse of goat-skinned djembes throbbed and ached in rhythms new to

yearning of my own: “This is what it feels like to find my tribe, to experience beauty –to feel so amazingly alive.”

We, of the Fey, have learned to find truth in shadows. One night my path teacher walked me back to my tent platform to make love to me. As he arched over me the horns he wore from the night’s ritual evoked the god Pan. I learned then that god, too, is my lover.

Sex has since become a communal pleasure. One sultry summer my witchy girlfriends set up the Sacred Whore Peep Show. My faery-witch brother, Ed and I stood guard chanting odes to the Goddess as self-selecting peeping toms and tom-girls peeked through the slats in the temple door and rubbed themselves hard. A straight-identified male witch then locked his eyes with mine. We dropped our pants and started to suck on one another’s blood-rigid cocks. I picked him up, rocked him in my arms and roared as the power of the horned god raced through my veins. From across the fire a chorus of dyke witches wept with delight -having half an hour earlier named their desire to see some man-onman dick action. Ah, witch camp. We make rules and some of us bend them.

my ears. To my right someone sobbed in another’s arms. In the shower a woman sang in a quiet, lilting voice, chanting the song from the opening ritual. The pungent smoke of last night’s fire still hung in the air. My heart gasped as my mind awakened to a too long buried

fFaerie sex is occasionally more than just a casual sport. It is also a tool of adoration and worship. Over time my friends become my lovers, my lovers, my friends. I recall one night falling madly in love with the hungriest, hottiest, butchiest Faerie at Brietenbush. We both live with HIV. So as shamans of sex we fucked one another raw while making love to the Virus. I didn’t notice the audience that night but the smiles the next morning were their own form of benediction. As a way of thanks to him and our viewers I did a spontaneous dance number about it the next night at the Talent-No-Talent show choreographed to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. Oh, Faerie gatherings. We bend over and make up our own rules.

By the waters of Her living womb, And the dew of His tears…

As Reclaiming witches and Radical Faeries our way of gathering, our sacred rites and our revolutionary acts of play persist to upset heterocentric, patriarchal attempts to assimilate us.

Faery magic is a found magic. Whether high drag or dirty skank we revel in the power of non-sense, moments split open by the unexpected, the audacious and the upsetting.

A hundred witches danced and drummed around those of us laid-out in the centre. For years I too danced for hours and sang healing chants. One year I finally surrendered to asking for help. Copper worked on my heart and psychic chakras. When she was done she murmured in my ear, “Just be who you are. It’s time to let go of your fear that by being yourself you can hurt others.” Asking for help is one of life’s best kept secrets. Another: ‘Just be yourself in all your complicated magnificence’.

Tonight (January 31, 2009) is the fifth anniversary of the desperate call I made to Dancing Bear, the QR of my first Faerie gathering. Despite having reached capacity I begged him to let me come to Breitenbush. I spent much of that gathering curled up in his lap as he stroked my hair and back. My partner had been battling lymphoma for two years and as his primary care giver I was exhausted. I also remember stepping onto the rock labyrinth thinking how much I enjoy its sacred healing gifts. On my very first step I began to wail. Step by step images from my tired ‘gay’ life stripped away in favour of the love and healing I felt in the arms of my Faerie family. Men approached me later with open arms having heard my cry of pain and relief from my former loneliness. And I knew then that I belonged here too. Heart circle after heart circle the magic of Faeries revealed itself. I returned home and said to my husband, the Faerie-later-known-as Crowdog, “I know I can handle anything now.”

By All that is above, By All that is below…

How does Reclaiming and Faery magic differ? Witches define their magic by Doreen Valiente’s credo: “The art of changing consciousness at will.” Rituals, path work, classes and covens we work our magic through a powerful focused intent. Faery magic is by nature more

intentioned Faeries. They love us as they yawn. We always win them over by the closing ritual however -when their rusty little hearts have finally been greased open again. Faery magic is a found magic. Whether high drag or dirty skank we revel in the power of non-sense, moments split open by the unexpected, the audacious and the upsetting. We provoke ourselves awake.

And how are our magics similar? Neither Faeries nor witches attempt to transcend our reality as do monotheistic religions. We choose the path of immanence, an embodied magic, one that reveres the sacredness of the earth within us. We share many chants and sing to the deity of our dreams. We react with anger to our mutual mainstream cultural suffering. We nurture each other’s healing and growth through communal acts of compassion. We are the treasured children of the Earth–just not everyone knows it yet, nor may they ever learn.

The Circle is cast, We are between the worlds

Whatever happens between the worlds Changes all the worlds. So mote it be.

chaotic -despite some of the best efforts by the woo-woo girls (a group of us witchier-fae in which I am proud to include myself). Our Faery rituals work, eventually. First they get tested by the sarcasm and bitching of many other well-

fRobin Hood is a writer, teacher of magic, ritual and social justice. He lives in his version of paradise with his husband Crowdog where they grow heirloom seeds. They host two annual gathering-ettes that bring together Radical Faeries and local Reclaiming witches each spring and fall.

Ean-Water by Stevee Postman • www.stevee.com

LIFESTYLES of the WITCH’S ANUS

by Lobelia

That’s what we called our progressive dinner party. “We” were the Witch’s Council; at least that’s what “we” thought. In fact, our friends referred to us as “The Four Disgraces” - Endora, Delilah, Alexandra and Lobelia. It was 1992 and the New York community had invited faeries far and wide to NYC for an urban gathering conceived as an update on the infamous 1989 “FAG” – Faerie Action Gathering. At that one the faeries had inadvertently sparked an actual gay riot by inviting thousands of queers to a “recreation” of the Stonewall riots with faux cops, foam rubber bricks, and real drag queens. The Radical Faerie’s magic had set loose thousands of angry homosexuals once again onto the streets of Greenwich Village. As a queer activist, I had shown up and marched for hours as “fags” left the astonished faeries behind, taking the streets, banging on bar windows while chanting “Come out! , Come out!”, and burning anything we could find in front of the local police station. That had been my first encounter with this group called the Radical Faeries.

Now, in homage, we called our new gathering “FAGtasia”. Our newest faerie, soon to be named “Keisha Lorraine”, arranged a photo shoot and we exhausted more than a few copy machines reprinting these drag photos as movie posters with tag lines like “In Space Nobody Can Here You Cream” and “This Time They’ve Gone to Far.” The opening event, a “progressive”

dinner party was to progress from house to house, celebrating the new nexus of faerie community in Park Slope with cheap food and drink drawing on our ‘white trash’ roots. My apartment was to be appetizers and since we of course started late, everyone was hungry. Being the “novice witch” that I was, I served up

a giant edible Pentacle made of Cheese Whiz, bottled olives and Ritz crackers. Possibly the first Pentacle I ever made, it was gone in the flash of an eye… devoured by starving faeries.

I was late on board the neopagan revival. In 1989 when I first encountered the faeries, I was an ardent activist prominently engaged in the organization of hospital care teams to nurture children with AIDS and busy representing ACTUP in the fight over AIDS Education and condom distribution in public schools. Knowing my interest in things sexual and spiritual as well as political, a feminist comrade gave me a book called “Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex and Politics” by someone with the unlikely name of Starhawk. This was my first encounter with pagan beliefs. The emphasis on natural cycles of birth, growth, death and renewal provided a much needed balm to my ongoing grief as friend after friend, and child after child, died of AIDS. Eager to begin the practice of “the Craft” and newly introduced to the Radical Faeries, I put out a call for a regularly meeting ritual circle. The faeries responded and out of that call thirteen NYC faeries met weekly for a year and a half, improvising rituals and exploring our understanding of the “fae” life. Identifying our alliance with feminist spirituality, we called ourself “CLITSY” which stood for “Concerned Lesbians in Training….See Ya!” - an admittedly opaque name for a group of gay men who would show up at the Blue Heron gathering with limitless piles of drag and wigs and move into a mostly male campsite called “LSD” which, of course, stood for the “Lesbian Separatist Development”. I hope that we someday write a history of these giddy times…. who would expect that they would pass so quickly? But as these things happen,

Lobelia carried a heavy responsibility with this athame, outside of the circle of the ritual.

Photo: Keith Gemerek

I had put out the call for a ritual group that “could become anything” and, as might be expected, it did….YUCK! A year or so down the road, identifying our need for more focus and ready for formal ritual training, four of us broke off and formed our own group...“The Witch’s Council.”

Two Scorpios and two Aries embarked on a year long training of new moon, full moon and pagan holiday rituals using Starhawk’s tome, “The Spiral Dance”, as our guide. The woman who had first handed me a copy of “Dreaming the Dark” gave me Starhawk’s phone number and on a whim I gave her a ring. I left her a message saying we were faeries and witches in training who were seeking her help. Much to my surprise she called back, kindly offered to make herself available for guidance, and invited us to come meet with her when she was doing a workshop soon in NYC. A few weeks later I walk in to a large circle not knowing what Starhawk might look like. She turned out to be, in my mind, the least likely person in the room to be the famous “Starhawk”. Largely due to this lack of pretension, I liked her immediately. True to her promise to guide us, she made herself available whenever we had questions. In reality, she mostly reminded us that we already knew the answers. Somewhere along the way we heard the following tale (which I now paraphrase), it became Delilah’s favorite. When Starhawk discovered her first teacher, he asked why she wanted to study the Craft. She responded with something along the lines of “I want to see the Goddess!” All well and good, but it was his response which stuck in our minds: “Silly girl! Don’t you know that in order to even glimpse the Goddess you must devote your entire life to her?” From that point on, “Silly Girl!” became our code words for the magic we unleashed. Whenever we felt overwhelmed by the ritual responsibility we had undertaken or the magic we had set loose, we would look at each other askance and say “Silly Girl!”

Seeking a mythology on which to base our training the Witch’s Council embraced the story of the ancient Sumerian goddess, Inanna. I recognized her name from the “Goddess Chant”

that had been passed down to the faeries from the pagan community but, in fact, knew nothing about her. Browsing through the legendary dark and creepy NYC witch store “Magickal Childe”, one of us discovered Diane Wolkstein’s translation of the hymns to Inanna. Another found a Jungian analyst’s book, “The Descent of the Goddess”, and we were on our way. The story of Inanna’s descent into the Underworld to console the grief of her recently widowed sister, Ereshkigal, spoke powerfully to us at

mid-twentieth century that Inanna could truly be reborn. But even more thrilling for these four aspiring faerie witches was our discovery of who we found to be her worshippers.

“I say “Hail !” to Inanna. First Daughter of the Moon !

The male prostitutes comb their hair before you.

They drape the nape of their neck with colored scarfs

There it was in our very own Brooklyn sky–a Ritual Pentacle, long ago dedicated to the Goddess Inanna, which had been slowly rotating through the Zodiac and across the millenniums ebulliently greeting four Faerie Witches celebrating Her arrival. Now, Silly Girl, this was something more than Cheese Whiz.

the height of the AIDS epidemic. The courtship of Inanna and Dumuzi gave voice to our erotic longings. Much to our delight, we discovered that Starhawk had written a call and response chant about Inanna with some West Coast faeries. It became for us a kind of theme song. All of this was great, but laying wait for us in these tales was something much, much more.

You see, though the hymns to Inanna may be several thousand years old, they were basically lost for those intervening centuries. In the mid-twentieth century archeologists pieced together tablets…. some in London, some in Baghdad, some in Philadelphia and elsewhere… and only then did they discover that they actually fit together to tell a tale, to sing a hymn, to describe the rituals. In the resulting story we found little faerie like beings, the kugarra and galatur, described as “creatures neither male nor female” who played a vital and heroic role in the story. Formed from the most insignificant of materials (the dirt underneath a king’s fingernails), their androgyny allows them to slip unnoticed through the gates of the underworld and their capacity for empathy with Ereshkigal’s grief allows them to rescue Inanna from her imprisonment in the Underworld. Due to the dispersion, disappearance and obscurity of these texts, it was only in the

They drape the cloak of the gods about their shoulders

The people of Sumer parade before you…..

The women adorn their right side with men’s clothing.

The people of Sumer parade before you.

I say “Hail !” to Inanna, Great Lady of Heaven !

The men adorn their left side with women’s clothing.

The people of Sumer parade before you. I say “Hail !” to Inanna, Great Lady of Heaven !

The people compete with jump ropes and colored cords.

The people of Sumer parade before you.

I say “Hail !” to Inanna, First Daughter of the Moon. “

Lost for thousands of years, it felt to us as if these verses had manifested now at the tale end of the twentieth century to give these faerie witches some guidance. We were ecstatic in our discovery of these ancestors and enthusiastic in our embracing of their rites. We drummed and danced and paraded in our ritual rooms to the sounds of our chants matched to the quirky transcendence of

a recording of Steve Reich’s “The Desert Music” played at the wrong speed. Our right sides we adorned with men’s clothing, our left with women’s. Colored scarfs and cords were draped around our necks. Yes, we were celebrating the Goddess, but even more so we were delighting in the discovery of the respected roles of our transgendered ancestors.

Over time the Witch’s Council developed rituals based on numerous sources: “The Mists of Avalon” revealed the role of Priestess and the erotic secrets of Beltane. Rites based on the film “The Witches of Eastwick” allowed us the opportunity to confront the terror of manifesting our worst fears and desires. We used long fingernails as athames, we wrote queer power based invocations, we organized rituals on the Brooklyn Bridge and at City Hall Park. Though we utilized many resources old and new in our training, it was our exploration of the myth and rituals of Inanna that accompanied us most frequently on our travels through the Spiral Dance and onto our Initiation as Witches.

I remember a Village Voice article of the time describing neo-paganism as “a sequel to a history that hasn’t happened yet”. While I rather liked and embraced that concept, I now think it may not be entirely accurate. Piecing together the his/herstory of Inanna’s worshipers, we discovered that the ancient Sumerians had celebrated the rites of Inanna’s descent during those times when the planet Venus dipped below the horizon. In “The Mountain Astrologer” we found that if you track those conjunctions of the Sun and Venus over time they repeatedly come to form the shape of a Pentacle slowly rotating through the Zodiac. Now, here was a discovery that couldn’t help but incite our imaginations. There it was in our very own Brooklyn sky - a Ritual Pentacle, long ago dedicated to the Goddess Inanna, which had been slowly rotating through the Zodiac and across the millenniums ebulliently greeting four Faerie Witches celebrating Her arrival. Now, Silly Girl, this was something more than Cheese Whiz.

Living Activism

by Trixie Digger/Mark Leger Circle.

A halo around the head of St. Martin de Porres. A Zen brush drawing. A meeting of activists. A gathering of witches.

The journey of the Earth around the Sun. A raw biscuit, cut through the dough. A resting spiral. A straw hut.

A cooking pot. Hands extended in supplication. An empty vessel.

This writing is an account of the memory of the working of sacred form through my life, which is inseparable from my activism. It’s not about Reclaiming, as an institution, or Radical Faerie, as an institution. To my mind, both exist as a coming together to let loose ideas, approaches, memes, forms into the world. Which is not to say that maintaining traditions and the institutions that sustain them isn’t important work. But maintaining the institutions is not, ultimately, the core of the work. The core of the work is to heal.

My first exposure to the Reclaiming tradition was one of derision. I was a

“Witchcraft and Marxism” At our collective meetings, we tussled over who would work the door. None of us wanted to do it, or at least, admit it. Eye roll all around -- “Maybe we can get Rick to do it. He’s ‘spiritual.’” Snicker.

young activist in San Francisco, evolving from a staunch socialist to a loose limbed anarchist. This was in early 80s; AIDS was ravaging the queer world, and I was just at the age to witness the eclipse of the liberatory 70s into something much darker and very scary. Why are our friends sick and dying? Was it poppers? Too many antibiotics? Overloaded immune systems?

One of the projects I worked on was the Socialist School, which offered one-off lectures, workshops and six week classes on topics like Beginning Marxism and Critical Theory. Our most popular event ever was a panel discussion on

Then in 1984 I joined an “anti-militarist, direct action faggot affinity group” called Enola Gay, named, ironically, after the plane that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. Enola Gay was affiliated with the Livermore Action Group (LAG), which was as much a network as a focused institution. Affinity groups were the basic unit of LAG. Typically composed of about six to a dozen people–coven-sized–it was a way of building connection within difference. You affiliated with people with whom you shared something deeply held in common. There were affinity groups composed of Quakers, dancers, Marxists, you name it. Affinity groups formed into clusters, which formed into the rambunctious network that was LAG and the peace movement in the age of Reagan. Enola Gay was a group of radical gay men who identified with their faggot ancestors, burned at the stake by the patriarchy. Despite ourselves, we were notorious for frequently being the first group to lead off actions.

I was not an original member, and didn’t participate in the first big action–the 1983 blockade of Livermore Weapons Laboratory, when hundreds were jailed for nearly two weeks. But I did participate in several later actions, including spending five days in jail for the second blockade of Livermore. Enola Gay met once a week, and for me it was deep immersion into consensus process, queer fellowship, and the power of the circle. Several of the members identified proudly as pagans, and talked about going to rituals and faerie gatherings. I was something of a prick in those days,

All of these traditions incorporate aspects of the other. They are interlinked. For me, it’s a question of finding the patterns that draw those links.

tending toward controlling and sarcastic. (And, to hug the young man I was then, courageous, passionate, energetic, intelligent, with a blessedly deep well of the ability to be kind and loving.) I honor the good humor and patience of my generally older comrades who put up with me. And while I was exposed to their deep spirituality, my critical mind kept me from immediate participation. Even though I was only one degree removed, I didn’t know Reclaiming or the book The Spiral Dance. My Enola Gay comrades talked about Starhawk, but she wasn’t somebody I felt compelled to seek out.

Jump cut to New York in 1992. I had moved here three years before, and all of a sudden I felt compelled to investigate witchcraft and neo-paganism. I was aware that Enola Gay had been the most profound activist experience of my life, and knew I needed to revisit what had made it so powerful. I read The Spiral Dance, as well as Truth or Dare. I made an altar and joined a beginner’s training led by Endora and Delilah, now Dashboard. I got a witches wheel tattooed on my right shoulder. It’s based on a sailors tattoo of a compass, but all the points are the same size-- north, northeast, east, southeast, south, and around. It’s a reminder of the circle of the year, and to this day I observe each of the sacred sabbaths, even if it’s only a quick smudge to clear the energy of my house.

As fate would have it, I was able to spend time around Starhawk. First in Mexico, in 1996, at a gathering of bioregionalists, she taught me how to use a machete as we worked with others to clear the ground for a vegetable garden at an elementary school. Then in 2001, I was with my friend Leslie in Quebec for a convergence at the time

of the gathering of heads of states from the western hemisphere for Free Trade Agreement of the Americas. Two years after Seattle, authority was broaching no refusal. The activists who converged were drenched with tear gas. People were disappeared off the street into dark SUVs. Police agents made scant attempt to disguise themselves as they infiltrated our meeting and trainings. The pagans affiliated with Reclaiming manifested as

Perpetual Indulgence, who taught me Transcendental Meditation. That led me to Zen Buddhism. In my mind, I had made up all kinds of conflicts between my pagan observances and my Zen practice. Then, one time in a face to face interview with my Zen teacher, Bonnie Myotai Treace, I said that I missed the observation of the four directions and the four sacred elements. She said, why do you think there’s an offering of water, of flowers, of incense, and candles on the altar?

It’s all there, Mark. It’s all there.

a festive parade, invoking the healing and protective powers of water. I remember an energizing blue, and blessed smiles. That night after the big day of action, we built a huge bonfire at the base of the castle hill, on top of which Bush gathered with the presidents of and prime ministers of the Americas. We pounded the freeway railings with sticks -- rhythmically, insistently -- and danced. My introspective nature lead me to meditation. My first teacher was Paul Brown, one of the original Sisters of

One of the reason I’ve maintained my connection to the Faeries is that we recognize the value of a spiritual life, without a professional priesthood or much of an orthodoxy. I’ve been able to integrate the values and the mode of analysis learned from the secular left. The still center and the commitment to peace of Buddhism. The recognition of forms and patterns and respect for nature and the experience of the body from paganism. My queer, gender dysphoric self. All of these traditions incorporate aspects of the other. They are interlinked. For me, it’s a question of finding the patterns that draw those links. The altar at the Zen practice center and at the Crone Circle at Faerie Camp Destiny. The Left’s commitment to equality, peace and economic justice and the activist commitment of Reclaiming. They’re all points on an ever-revolving circle, the wheel of the year and of the universe.

I’m knitting a hat today following a new pattern that I really like. It is worked out from the center. Cast on four stitches. Increase to eight stitches. Distribute the eight stitches onto four needles. Increase at the quarter and the cross-quarter.

Photo: Matt Bucy

Trixie

Reclaiming Kicked Our Butt

by Peter

Some Faeries might be familiar with Michael Thomas Ford’s book The Path of the Green Man (Citadel Press, 2005). In it, Mike outlines what he hopes will be a new Wiccan tradition for gay men. The book was relatively popular: It sold out of its initial print run, and was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award. Stories written for it also appeared here in RFD. Mike mentions both Reclaiming and the Radical Faeries in Path, but I want to share my own memories about how these two spiritual currents came together to create both the book and the Green Men, a Boston Faerie ritual circle.

In September 1998, Gwo held a heart circle at his house in Cambridge, a circle that was important to me for many reasons. It was the first time I met Gwo, who is now a good friend, and the first time I was in his amazing house, which he has opened many times since to the Faeries. It was also the day that firmly set me on my current spiritual path as a pagan. I recorded an interesting synchronicity that day in my journal. During the circle, someone mentioned the rare blood disease hemochromatosis. Oddly, I had encountered the word for the first time the day before when I randomly opened a dictionary. I wouldn’t ordinarily view something like this as a good omen, but I guess it was.

Among many notable things that day (including someone who walked several miles to Gwo’s house barefoot and wearing a sarong), I first met Mike Ford. During the circle, he told us he had been to Reclaiming’s Witch Camp in Vermont that summer, where he encountered Endora. While discussing gay men and paganism, Endora suggested Mike could find kindred spirits among the Radical Faeries in Boston. Mike finished his story by asking if any of the Faeries wanted to form a pagan ritual group.

I had been looking for a more structured outlet for my pagan urges, and was definitely interested. Although I had been in a Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans group at Arlington Street Church when I first came to Boston, I had drifted away, and the Boston Faeries at the time weren’t really focused on ritual. Mike brought up the same topic again in November at Prettyurban’s house, and told us he wanted to call the group

the Green Men. Some more Faeries expressed interest.

The Green Men had our first ritual on December 20, 1998, at a big old Victorian house in Jamaica Plain. In The Path of the Green Man, Mike writes that nine men participated, and that one of us was a Radical Faerie. By my count, though, at least

ritual, with Layla dressed in veils invoking the goddess Brigid, prophesying and blessing us with cubes of cheese. We started to meet every pagan Sabbat, and we’re still meeting ten years later. In retrospect, I’m amazed we made it work, but I think our Faerie spirit has carried us forward. Reclaiming may have directed Mike Ford to Boston, but our rituals had a playful Radical Faerie energy. No Maypole for Beltane? Tie ribbons around the neck of your tallest member and dance around him. Celebrating Samhain? Run through your host’s house, howling like the loosened souls of the dead to bless each room, including the closets.

Leadership and structure were hotly discussed in the spring of 1999, but again Faerie energy carried the day. At a planning meeting heavily attended by the Faerie members, we decided against having a leader. Mike had proposed some principles of unity, but they never influenced what we did. Instead, the Green Men proceeded organically, based on our members’ needs and desires.

As the wheel of the year turned from that initial Yule, the non-Faerie Green Men dropped out one by one. We added more members from the Boston Faeries, including Gwo at Ostara 1999, and later Prettyurban. Eventually, we were all Radical Faeries except for Mike, and he left at our second Yule. Now we’re just a happy bunch of Radical Faeries, with occasional guests.

four of us were Faeries: Shimmer, Layla, Darren and myself. The others were friends of Mike’s. The ritual was a success, even though we didn’t quite know what we were doing. Candles, camaraderie and a masked horned god compensated for our lack of experience. Arriving at the ritual, I was tired and overdressed from an elegant holiday party in the South End. Leaving, I was energized. In my dreams that night I traveled through deep subterranean caverns.

We gathered again for Imbolc in February 1999. Our Radical Faerie spirit infused the

The Path of the Green Man came out in 2005, and those of us still in the Green Men were surprised and a little nostalgic, since it described our first year together. But it didn’t talk about the following six: the hieroglyphic body-painting for Ostara, the intoxicated Dionysian drumming with dildos to celebrate Lammas, or how to wear purple gloves and eat lettuce in celebration of Set and Horus. Reading it was like looking fondly at an old photograph.

As I look back at the events of 1998, I think of Reclaiming as a fabulous volcanic planet, shooting Mike Ford across the galaxy into the fertile primordial goop of the Boston Faeries. The Green Men don’t look like the Reclaiming mother planet, and we probably don’t look like Mike’s original vision, but we evolved because of both.

Author, Peter, lives in Boston, where he has been involved with the Radical Faeries since the mid-‘90s.

I think of Reclaiming as a fabulous volcanic planet, shooting Mike Ford across the galaxy into the fertile primordial goop of the Boston Faeries

Photo: Matt Bucy

One Faerie’s View

by JP Hartsong

Of the many intersections of the Reclaiming and Radical Faerie communities, I’ve witnessed a strong connection between the Wolf Creek Sanctuary and the Free Activist Witchcamp.

Free Activist Witchcamp (FAWC), now in its 5th year, is a Reclaiming sanctioned Witchcamp located in the Pacific Northwest created to be accessible to activists. Donation-based and designed to connect various activist communities together, it makes space for children and well-behaved pets. This camp serves as a container for a week of networking and ritual for the healing and renewal of the earth. There have been five FAWCs, and each is a thread in the tapestry we are weaving together.

During its first year, thirteen Wolf Creek faeries attended FAWC which was held in the National Forest. The theme was “Answering the Call of the Wild.” The camp was constructed as a temporary eco-village in the woods, and called forth those who would answer the call of the earth. Held in the logging-ravaged forest in Southern Oregon, the scars from the deforestation were very present in the rituals and story of this gathering.

I wasn’t part of the 2nd year. I heard that the 2nd year FAWC had a very small percentage of fae attendance, and told the story of Coyote’s trick.

Third Year Witchcamp occurred in south central Washington with the theme of weaving our stories together. Happening immediately after Queerruption, a Do-It-Yourself gathering for anarchist queers which takes place in a different international city each year, again about 13 faes attended this FAWC, along with a crew of anarchist queers. What ensued were many in-depth discussion topics including gender identity and pronouns, camp organization, and food consciousness. Several traditions were

challenged and transformed during this camp, letting the attendees shape the magic as theirs.

During this camp, gender identities of particular invocations were shifted, and even eliminated as the camp progressed. Many traditional forms were explored, challenged, and altered. I was personally amazed by some of the bonds that had formed between attendees, and learned that many participants had attended Earth Activist Training, a permaculture design course taught by Starhawk which combines permaculture with political activism and ritual. With this inspiration and the desire to connect more deeply to the earth, in January 2008 I attended EAT and obtained my permaculture design certificate. (www. earthactivisttraining.org)

The fourth year of FAWC immersed several different cultures in the container of the Nomenus Radical Faerie Sanctuary in Wolf Creek, Oregon. Rainbows, Witches, Faeries, and more came together for the Pentacle of the Great Turning, a pentacle with five points which moved from Desire, to Surrender, to Transformation, to Solidarity, to Manifestation. As per our intent, we lived this pentacle in the container of this gathering.

There was friction of various intensities as the communities started to integrate. Challenges included how children and pets were stewarded, hygiene issues, a 24-hour bug, and a lack of participation from some people present in the container. Initially, it seemed the witches and faeries gelled well, and most issues were attributed to the rainbows. As the gathering moved and the pentacle of the great turning shifted, so did our relationships with each other. As the witches and faeries started to find family in the rainbow tribe, it became evident that the shadow were we seeing in their community had roots in all of ours. There seemed to be an aspect present intent on consuming resources without really participating in the Witchcamp.

This gathering was a living, co-created experience, with challenges and blessings available for everyone. For instance, at a clowny fire early on (during Surrender day), a chant was raised “it’s okay if you’re not gay, we’ll suck your dick anyway!” During Solidarity day near the closing of the Witchcamp, the faeries in attendance shared a faerie ritual with the camp as an offering to the community, which culminated in a play party with Male + Male, Female + Male, and Female + Female (and don’t forget the Trans!) loving in The Temple of Love, a manifestation of the Cosmic Tribe. During Transformation day, the organizing and facilitation Cells of the Witchcamp met with the Sanctuary’s stewarding community to discuss challenges that were occurring. There was discussion about how it seemed that there were multiple gatherings occurring in the same space; both a Witchcamp and a faerie gathering, sharing the kitchen and FAWC’s resources. From this and further conversations, FAWC’s organizers decided to gatekeep the next gathering. Next year’s FAWC will return to the wild, as per the facilitation cell’s agreement when considering Wolf Creek to begin with.

FAWC at Wolf Creek brought many lessons to our communities. It connected several tribes in ritual to heal each other and the land. It illustrated the necessity of having a stronger “gate” present. It showed us the many challenges presented by creating an inclusive container for multiples cultures to participate and interact. It illustrated the challenges and advantages of open container gatherings. This experience has helped the 2009 organizers shape the container of this upcoming year’s FAWC. FAWC 2009 will be held in the National Forest outside of Portland. Its theme/ story will be the Gaea Evolution Story. We invite activist Faeries to come and immerse themselves in a container of magic with others who share vision of the healing and renewal of the earth. If you are one of these faeries, please attend. www.freewitchcamp.org

Feri Faeries? >>>>

By StarChild

There is a coming together of Radical Faeries and Reclaiming witchcraft. Reclaiming was formed from a combination of anarchist politics, feminist spirituality and some of the tools and concepts from the Anderson Feri Tradition. Starhawk a well-known activist witch, having written many prominent books, and performed publicly, is a Feri initiate. She has shaped her practice of Feri with emphasis on community, and creating balance within the larger paradigm of mainstream society. She has utilized some of the Feri material in the tradition she co-founded, working to reclaim one’s personal power and reclaiming one’s power within society. Faery has often developed community through their rallying around social causes i.e. social/political activism playing a particularly large role in within the Radical Faeries.

I intend to take a look at the similarities and differences between Radical Faery and the Anderson Feri tradition. The objective here is to bring to light the bridge between these two pagan paths. This is a personal perspective, because as soon as someone tries to define Radical Faery, there is another Radical Faery that will have a completely differing of opinion. As too, in Anderson Feri, there are many lineages with priests that would have differing opinions as to what is the practice of Feri. For the sake of article, I wish to define the usage of the two spelling varieties of Faery, Feri will only refer to the tradition of Anderson Feri, and Faery will only refer to the movement of Radical Faery. I will look to traditional beliefs as well as personal experience.

Radical Faery grew as a movement from its auspicious first gathering in Arizona in 1979. This was a coming together of like-minded gay men with a belief in something different than the heteromale dominated society. There was, also, recognition of a goddess based perception regarding the order and origins of life. At this time, Harry Hay (considered to be a father of Radical

Faery) introduced his concept – subjectsubject consciousness, in contrast to the hetero-male dominated subject-object consciousness. He held the belief that gay men had the innate ability to view the world through this consciousness; not all do, as they subscribe to the subject-object consciousness that dominates society. Harry Hay spoke about loving ones partner as subject, just as self is subject, the couch is subject, and the stars are subject; none of which are objects. This is in contrast to what society teaches (i.e. that one loves their partner as object, the couch is object, and nature is object; and objects are

as well as characteristics of the opposite gender. It is an oral, initiatory tradition, with an ecstatic practice, rather than a fertility based practice. “Strong emphasis is placed on sensual experience and awareness, including sexual mysticism, which is not limited to heterosexual expression” (Korn, Anna; 1988, 1995, 2000; “The Faery Tradition”).

Radical Faery is not limited to its original gay male manifestation. It is widely believed that you are Faery when you say you are. This means, it is open to individuals of all sexual persuasions, as well as, gender identity. “We are a network of faggot farmers, workers, artists, drag queens, political activists, witches, magicians, rural and urban dwellers who see gays and lesbians as a distinct and separate people, with our own culture, ways of being/becoming, and spirituality. We believe that, as a people, we have unique and necessary contributions to make, ones that we must make to help regain the lost balance of the larger human community here on the planet” (Cain, Joey; ”Who are the Radical Faeries”; http://eniac.yak.net/shaggy/ faerieinf.html).

things to be controlled).

Victor Anderson is considered the father of what is –today- knows as Feri; he “…was a blind poet and shaman who began teaching the Feri Tradition (then reportedly known variously as Vicia or simply “The Craft”) more or less in its modern form in the 1940s. He began initiating people into the tradition on an individual basis before the 1950s.

According to Cora Anderson, Victor received a letter in 1960 from several witches in Italy, among them Leo Martello, asking him to form a coven in California. Victor taught openly for several decades before dying in 2001” (Kalessin; 2001; Memorial for Victor H. Anderson). Feri is based on the practice of communing with deity, working with multiple deities who play a major role it the religion. The Feri tradition has had a history of attracting individuals who are attracted by its androgynous nature, a belief that all gods exist with their either male of female (primary origin)

A common element between these two communities is their belief in the ecstatic expression of self. Both have recognized sexual expression to be sacred, and should be practiced often. There is an embracing of all sexual expressions as a means of connecting with some form of divinity. Through Feri, I have learned that all things start and stop with sex, and sex connects us with our god self. It was the Radical Faeries that taught me how to remove the attachment to the outcome of the sexual experience, freeing me up to love fully in the moment, and experience my god self. Neither belief systems remove love from sex, but do not exclusively link the two together in the form that our society teaches. One can love fully, without attachment. I have experienced an intimacy in both these communities that at least owes a part of its origin to this common perspective. In Faery this perspective is birthed out of the subject-subject consciousness, and in

A common element between these two communities is their belief in the ecstatic expression of self. Both have recognized sexual expression to be sacred, and should be practiced often.

Feri it is rooted in the ecstatic expression of the religion.

Ritual plays a strong role in Feri; in Faery, ritual is often practiced in a less formal manner. Yet, in the early days of Feri, there was much less formality; acts of magic can be done when one is in communion with their god self. This is achieved when all Three Souls are in alignment. A foundational belief in Feri is that a person has Three Souls (or selves). The Talker is the self that interacts with the world around you, dealing with intellect, and language; the Fetch that is pre-verbal, primal, emotional, childlike; and the High Self that is our god self. I do not find such a belief within Faery, yet there is a common observation that a Faery moving within a space of magic seems to have an open line of communication between the three souls, expressed in their connection to the fae; there is a sense they are living within the Fetch.

It can be argued that since Faeries exist in the in-between, and their sexual expression is not, innately rooted in the objective of producing life, it too, is not a fertility-based movement. In contrast, Radical Faery is a movement of like-minded individuals (not a religion) who in their personal spiritual practice may utilize fertility based practices, even though reproductive fertility isn’t the objective. This use of fertility-based practices can be said to be paradoxical, and in many ways these fertility practices are used in a manner more consistent with ecstatic tradition, and this may well be one of the main bridges between Feri and Faery. Ecstatic sex is practiced within the context of subject-subject consciousness.

Feri does not have such a teaching, yet it has the practice of the Iron Pentacle. This pentacle is a symbolic, energetic tool that consists of the points – Sex, Pride, Self, Power, and Passion. When one has these points in balance in their personal and energetic life, they find power. Power comes from self, not drawn from an outside source. It can be said that when the Iron Pentacle is in balance, one views the world within subjectsubject consciousness. I have learned in my practice, that my power comes from my purification of self (through use of

the Iron Pentacle) as opposed to power obtained through power over.

Faery has a strong sense of community, as a result of their concept of existing within the greater community (society) with a role to play - the role of bringing balance. Sanctuaries were never an original concept within Radical Faery, as one must engage the greater community if you wish to bring balance. The dominant paradigm has brought war, conflict, control, and destruction, and the role of the Faery is to mediate between subject and object to bring balance. We, Faery, do not exist, as an island outside of greater society, but rather, as combination of something in between - neither within or without, walking between the worlds. I have learned (from the Radical Faeries) that I must find a way strike a balance, with one foot on one plane and one foot on

becoming more a community of initiates. As noted earlier this religion does not have an edict that dictates its role within society at large.

the other plane. In this case these planes might be said to be subject and object. I have learned through Feri that I also walk with one foot on this plane and one foot on the other – one plane being the earth plane, and the other the astral plane.

The Feri tradition is an oral, initiatory religion, meaning it is taught from teacher to student, which may lead to initiation. There are no degrees, once initiated you are a priest of Feri. Feri community is primarily teacher and student, initiates with initiates, and students with students. Since a primary objective of this religion is to commune with deity, it is less focused on its role within the greater social structure. Also, being a priest-based religion, it is not uncommon that is practiced more within a solitary craft. Initiates take pride in tracking their linage back to Victor. It was around Victor and Cora that the community coalesced. Since their passing, the initiates have worked to reform that which they coalesce around,

When I first entered the Faery community I heard a whispering of “bringing Feri back to Faery.” This may have been a reference to bringing more focus to ritual. Ritual is an amazing force for developing community, and Faeries could use the application of some structure to strengthen its sense of community. Community is vital to both Feri and Faery for their preservation, relevance, and longevity. As new folk enter into each community, it is important that those who have walked the road before them, to teach the concepts that these two belief systems are founded in. Frivolity can be a powerful generator, yet when it lacks focus, or structure, the energy created is released in all directions and its purpose may be lost, and/or it misses its mark. Ecstatic energy can still be generated through the use of frivolity that has a design or structure. Fun is not sacrificed for efficacy, rather harnessed, confined through structure, to increase its strength, fine-tune its focus, and clearly define its intent. It might be said that Feri takes itself too seriously, and could learn from the Faeries how to apply frivolity within its rituals, to lighten up, while maintaining, and possibly growing the strength of its energy. Both utilize ecstatic energy and frivolity is a great mode to create ecstasy.

I was born Faery, and Feri provided the forum to reconnect me to my heritage, the fae. I cannot imagine what my life would be like without both. Studying and being initiated in Feri dramatically changed my life, as did that very first Faery gathering. I am therefore driven to create a sense of community here in San Diego, around the marriage of both Feri and Faery. There is an inseparable connection between the two in my psyche that influences every aspect of my daily life. There is strength derived in identifying the similarities, rather than the isolating effects that are the result of focusing on the differences. This has been the result in my life, as I walk a path between Feri and Faery.

(Feri Initiate and Radical Faery) http://MyAuthenticSelf.com

Frivolity can be a powerful generator, yet when it lacks focus, or structure, the energy created is released in all directions and its purpose may be lost, and/or it misses its mark.

From Foe to Fae: A Witch’s Entangled Journey

By Drew Campbell

The economy is booming. Stock markets are hitting record highs. Gas isn’t much over a buck per gallon, and the war in Iraq is officially over. No, this isn’t a dream; this was 1995.

Though while so many were experiencing joy, I was just a teen praying to the Virgin Mary as a police officer dragged me out of my childhood home. I can’t begin to explain how traumatizing this was, nor will I digress, but it led me to question what I believed about God.

Questioning God’s identity was not something new to me. Growing up in a Protestant household I was taught about the greatness of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I remember asking my parents why God was male (after all, how could a man give birth?) to which they would say that God is genderless. I asked why we then called the Spirit “Father” and “He” rather than an androgynous term...They could never answer that one. At the same time I had been experiencing God for many years in a different way. I spent most of my childhood outdoors where I connected with the elements of Nature. My family owned 40 acres of land and my brother and I explored every inch of it. There was a big forest, a pond, a marsh, historic wells, and so much more. While we spent a lot of time playing outside I also spent a lot of time exploring alone, meditating (before I even knew what meditation was), and “playing” with the elements.

I spent so much time mimicking birds and other animals that I began to deeply connect with their energies. I whispered to the wind and he whispered back. I wished to the well and she listened. I stood towards the sun and knew God. I began to realize that God wasn’t our Creator; God was the Creation.

In elementary school I also played with plants. I had a marigold sitting on my desk at school. One night I dreamt of this plant falling on the floor. It was a vivid and terrifying dream. When I arrived in class the next day I found the marigold

on the floor – exactly how I’d dreamt it the night before.

Had my dreams forecasted the future? Had my sleeping self traversed space to experience this event as it took place? Regardless of what occurred, the way it transpired could not have been mere coincidence. It led me to believe that there was more to this existence than what was taught in science books. Flash forward...back to 1995. I listened to Michael Jackson sing “You Are Not Alone” and I felt more alone than ever. I’d been rejecting so many “fundamental truths” (and the authority that people exploited from these “truths”) that my parents had given up on me. I was put into State’s custody and spent the next year moving through 15 different foster homes.

When a snowy La Niña winter arrived in Vermont I was stuck enjoying Nature through a television set. It was then that I stumbled upon a cable show about Witchcraft. I was mesmerized by a crunchy mystical-looking woman who talked about working with the energies of Nature and celebrating the wonders of the Earth. She called this practice “Witchcraft” and her religion “Wicker”. I was so overjoyed about finding people who shared my beliefs (even if only through the tube) that I immediately began telling my ninth grade pals that I was a member of the “Wicker” religion. Of course nobody knew what that was, so many inquired further. It wasn’t long before someone asked, “Don’t you mean Wicca?”

I started to question myself. The woman on TV had a strong accent; did I mishear her? Being just 15 I had not yet found comfort in humility, so I staunchly denied it. Though true to my questioning self, I set off on a quest to find out everything there was to know on the topic.

Weaving the Web

During this time I explored many different religious paths. The Abrahamic paths were the most available to me. I went to Catholic churches and just about every kind of Protestant church – including those of the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Mormons. Each had their own way of connecting with God but I couldn’t strongly relate to any of them.

Meanwhile I continued to find comfort in Nature. I climbed trees in my backyard and spent hours amazed by their strength and their energy. With my spirit grounded in their roots I became stronger. I sat on the shores of a nearby river and meditated on the rushing water. The river took away my fears and carried my prayers to the ocean. Nature always answered my prayers and I came to realize the true power of its magic. This was my religion.

Anthropologist Margaret Murray suggested in 1921 that Witchcraft may be based on ancient religious traditions, but famous occult author Gerald Gardner was the first to publicly claim he practiced such a tradition. His 1954 book Witchcraft Today claimed he’d been part of a coven that met in the New Forest area of England. Gardner himself admitted that he’d added material to their practices to form his works. His presentation of Witchcraft was a patchwork of ideas but he was largely responsible for founding the basis of traditions we call “Wicca” today.

(While it could be pronounced “wicker” in certain dialects) Wicca is commonly pronounced “wick-ah” in the present day. The use of this term was introduced to modern culture by Gerald Gardner who referred to Witches collectively as “the Wica” (notice one c). While he always called the tradition itself “Witchcraft” he

I stood towards the sun and knew God. I began to realize that God wasn’t our Creator; God was the Creation.

inadvertently coined a term that would be bastardized as time went on.

About fifteen years later, writers started spelling Wicca with two C’s. The reason was likely to justify the ancient links of this faith – for the Old English wiċċa was used as early as the Laws of Ælfred (circa 890 CE) to refer to witches (notice small w) and this is where most etymologists believe the word witch comes from. The double C produces a “ch” sound in Old English, making “witch-ah”.

However wiċċa was just the masculine variant; a female witch was called a wiċċe. The pronunciation was slightly different, using the “eh” sound as in “bed” to say “witch-eh”. I find it strange that a religion often focused on the Goddess (but egalitarian at best) adopted the male term “Wicca” as its name. There are even cases in Old English where wiċċe was used universally, though this is probably because persecutors viewed witchcraft as a female problem.

In the 1970’s, people began using the term “Wiccan” as an adjective (as in “the Wiccan way”) and a noun (“she is a Wiccan.”) Interestingly wiċċan was a plural noun in Old English (meaning “Witches”) in the same way ox is now pluralized as oxen.

The origins of “Wiccan” traditions and lingo are often debated, but this discussion doesn’t belittle its power. It is a path that’s both old and new. Today’s Witchcraft pays homage to rituals and customs that began thousands of years ago, but also allows for reinterpretation based on our own understandings and the creation of entirely new traditions to fit our present-day needs and desires.

...Back to 1996. It wasn’t easy finding other Witches in Vermont. I couldn’t find them on the Internet, but the web was still in its infancy. That wasn’t going to stop me though; the Scots were cloning sheep with their technology, so it didn’t seem like such a daunting task to use my PC to connect with other Witches in Vermont.

I created my own webpage and networked without end. It wasn’t long before we’d formed a group, Vermont Open Circle of Wicca & Wicce, and began meeting sporadically for rituals. Online I also became friends with the heads of the Witches’ League for Public Awareness (or WLPA, which has now transformed into the Witches’ Voice) who helped me tremendously in my efforts.

When Lughnasa (Lammas) approached, I decided to do what any new teenage Witch would do: I went to Salem, Massachusetts. Of course I wasn’t old enough to drive, so my brother and I hitchhiked the 200-mile journey with nothing more than a few bucks and a tent. We slept in the pitched tent amongst a small strip of trees in the city of Medford (which is not the craziest thing I’ve done) and then visited my new friends Fritz and Wren from the WLPA. I haven’t seen them since but their kind words of encouragement have stayed with me.

We hitchhiked the rest of the way to Salem where we visited historic sites and attended a nice Lughnasa ritual on the shore. I met some cool people there and made friends. I also discovered that

Tree invokes the Queer God in the Maypole ritual with an upright pink triangle, much like ACT-UP did with its defiant queer affirmative propaganda.

Photo: Keith Gemerek

so many people were attracted to Wicca from a “gothic” mindset and many like selfproclaimed “High Priestess” Laurie Cabot were simply on a power trip. The Natureloving tradition I’d grown accustomed to wasn’t as prevalent there...though I’m not sure why I was expecting to find more in a tourist-trap that got its fame from the killing of witches.

I returned to Vermont with a newfound vision and hope. I wanted to bring Pagans together to show the community that Witchcraft wasn’t the “hocus pocus” of movies, nor was it anything negative or dogmatic. Vermont Open Circle started an annual presentation at the local library called “The Truth About Witchcraft” and the reception was amazing. Our mailing list grew to over 200 people and we formed another arm called Vermont Open Circle Awareness League, or VOCAL.

Coming Home

After several years of organizing, I began to feel like I was falling for the lure of the spotlight. I wondered if I was becoming (or had already become) one of the egodriven entities I’d so despised in Salem. Meanwhile other groups started to pop up across Vermont, so I slowly stepped back from leadership and started attending rituals among Unitarian Universalist circles and various private groups.

In doing so I realized that many groups were heavily influenced by Gardnerian Wicca, and this turned me off. They were too structured, and they were often led by the pseudo-“traditional” roles of High Priestess, High Priest, etc. I see Witchcraft as more of a collective – as I mentioned before, even Gardner’s tradition was a collective of his own, not a written rule – and I didn’t like the power structures that had formed amongst some leaderships. I started to practice almost exclusively solo. Perhaps coincidentally, I began to feel alone again. I started to think about my parents – how they’d begged me to come back home not long after putting me in the State’s custody, how I’d refused out of resentment, and how they’d made efforts to understand me by joining P-FLAG and pursuing family therapy. I began to understand the pain I’d put them through by refusing to come home. It was then that I started to find peace and a stronger sense of humility.

In the late 90’s I became friends with the legendary drag musician Yolanda and began to meet Faeries around Vermont. I wasn’t into drag myself at the time (and maybe I thought that this was an unwritten requirement) so I wasn’t immediately drawn to attending Faerie gatherings. However I found myself spending more and more time with these friends and learning about Fae culture.

When I attended my first gathering at Faerie Camp Destiny I found a group with a good sense of community that was alive with ritual and performance. Over time I found myself going more and more, building friendships, and realizing the magic that is Destiny. I even started playing with drag and realizing its artistic energy.

Rituals there were lively and fun; we weren’t afraid to use songs from pop culture to connect with ritual energy and often Faeries broke out into improvisational song or laughter. This was magic, not from a book, but from our hearts and spirits. This was the magic of Nature; it was my kind of Witchcraft. I fell out of the group at times mostly due to outside influences in my life (from which I’ve learned to never again date a non-Faerie) yet Destiny became a home for me and the family of Destiny welcomed me with open arms. I now find myself there every weekend in the summer. I even let go of my personal boycott of organizing and, now with humility in hand, joined Destiny’s Coordinating Plan-it.

At our last Lammas gathering I worked with a group of Faeries to organize the

Lughnasa ritual. Most of us didn’t like the traditional “Wiccan” dualistic images of the God and Goddess because they oversimplify the spectrum of gender. We decided to shake things up and created a new third entity called “the Spirit of Queer.” We gathered with our sacrificial wicker man “Cornholio” and cast a circle. When we invited the God and Goddess they appeared in the flesh – decked out in the most stereotypical gender-specific attire. Then a transgender Spirit of Queer arrived, laughed at them, and proceeded to rip the clothes from their bodies. Flogger in hand, the Spirit (literally) beat the gender roles out of them. It was both disturbing and beautiful.

This was followed by awesome fire effects which culminated in the burning of Cornholio. As we sang and danced around him I stared at the burning figure and thought about the awesome community I am a part of. The Faeries honor rituals of times past while developing new ways, even new deities, that transform our traditions. It is revolutionary. It is evolutionary; the way Nature intended. It is true living, breathing Witchcraft.

Witchcraft helped me find peace within myself, in the home I came from, and in the new home I’ve found with the Faeries. The world has changed a lot – the economy sucks, Wall Street is in turmoil, gas prices fluctuate like a bipolar queen, and a second war in Iraq seems like it will never end – yet I couldn’t be happier. This isn’t a dream; it is 2009, and I am home.

A processional at Destiny

Photo: Jim Jackson

Finding Your Path–Learning From Elders, Listening To Your Heart

By Eden Firestone

In my 40-odd years of living–halfway through my life if I’m lucky–I’ve had many life-changing events. My military service, working the New York and San Francisco clubs as a go-go boy, coming of age during the still-continuing AIDS crisis and becoming a paramedic all led me to a warm summer afternoon in 2000.

I sat and spoke with Harry Hay and John Burnside for a few glorious hours, and listened to these elders who mean so much to me. Listening, and learning, I realized that I had more talents and was loved by so many if I was willing to open my heart and let the love enter. Harry was on oxygen, and hardly able to talk sometimes, but he told me something I’ve always held close to my heart. He said:

“As Faeries, we have to be willing to set aside everything from our previous life. We need to look inside and find the special gift we each have, and find how to bring it to the world. That is why we are here, to bring those gifts out. You may have to set aside your past, to walk away from your family and friends. You may have to endure hardship and persecution, but if you follow your heart, if you bring that special gift inside you out, then you will have earned your place in the world. Then you will have achieved the ultimate expression of self-love. From that all other good things flow”1

It took me more than a few years to understand what Harry was talking about.

I come from the usual background; born in the ‘60s, brought up on baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and...you get the picture. I had the typical abusive childhood, not only from a society which I did not think understood me, but from a stepfather as well. I could have lived the rest of my life feeling sorry for myself and living as a victim. Harry taught me something different.

I listened to his words, I read his book2, I listened to the elders at Beltane. In a very short time I realized that the greatest gift I had to give to the world was myself, my love of caring for others and, most importantly, the need and desire to find

One Faerie’s Journey to Purpose–Understanding Ritual and Tradition

The simple truth is that by looking, actively seeking, your path, it will find you. I began with the books by Harry, and this encouraged me to look beyond just gay writers. I found a wealth of inspiration in the Wiccan tradition. There is a power in continuing the same ritual and respect for nature that has been handed down by generation after generation of seekers.

what more I could to do help this world along a peaceful and loving path. It’s not an easy road, but one worn by the feet of many before us.

I began my search with Faerie wisdom, but I was able to find my own path by learning from the many other voices crying out for freedom and justice. I believe that by listening to the past, we can avoid many pitfalls that have taken so many from us, and learn to lives life full of happiness, joy, and with a sense of purpose. Each person’s journey is a different “flavor,” but together we are all moving in the same direction.

Take Beltane, for instance. Many Faeries do not understand the roots of the tradition. Beltane stretches back before written history, in the ancestral times before our modern world even existed as fantasy. Toiling day after day in the farms and fields, our ancestors looked to the sun and the stars for guidance on when to plant, when to harvest, when to store away for the future. Beltane was the festival of the planting, of fertility and the beginning of new things. So to it is today. The directions are called, the ancestors and spirits invited to participate and guide us, and our dreams are raised up on Father Sky entering Mother Earth to weave our dreams and love together to make the web of life. This is an ancient tradition made more powerful by the many tens of thousands of Beltanes before us. We can learn from the power of tradition, and bring into our own daily lives the power of this past.

I was guided by several writers who, in the thoughts of many, bring from the past the ideas and beliefs which honor the self. These work, and by listening to the stories of the past, aid to creation of a true, whole, living and spiritual person and resonate into the future. They include Lynn V Andrews’ “Teachings Around the Sacred Wheel”3 and Scott Cunningham’s “Magical Herbalism, the Secret Craft of the Wise.”4

A view of the Maypole

Photo: Eden Firestone

Finding your Totem–Listening to the spirit in your heart

Harry talked about finding your own spirit. Understanding his influence from Native American tradition, I read through Brad Steiger’s book5 and took it to heart. I journeyed near and far, in city and wilderness, and “worked hard” to find my guide spirit. Apparently it was a lot harder to go looking than to let your spirit find you.

On a late afternoon, napping in the grass, I had a dream of being carried across the underworld in the claws of a giant black bird, towards a red horizon with white light peeking up from behind like a sunrise. I startled awake to find a very curious thing; a black feather lying on my chest. Looking through books on birds, I discovered that the feather was a wing feather from a raven, which until then I had never noticed as common to Northern California. My guide spirit had found me!

This was my first of many lessons to listen to and pay attention to the small signs, the quiet words from inside your heart, not just the thumping of a dance club!

The Moon is Always Female6

For me, this is one of the most inspirational and loving collections of poetry. Read many times over, the words speak to the subtler events in a life. The woman’s perspective is often lost in our Faerie community, so reading and listening to the wisdom of women is always valuable and important.

The poems that fill this volume give meaning to the small pleasures and discomforts of life. I learned to look for the beauty in the small coincidences; to seek the “Art of Living” as a true passion. These poems inspire us all to look at “The Daily Grind” and find within the deeper meaning.

Final Thoughts - Trust yourself and your spirit

Everyone needs to look to our founding elders to see a path that leads to our liberation. In the words of Malcolm X “If you have problems, all you need do is look back to history. Once you see how they got theirs right, you know how to get yours fixed.” We need to heed this advice. Look not only to the few books

I mentioned here, but read about Oscar Wilde, Walt Whitman, Socrates and so many others. Sit in a heart circle and listen as each in turn talks from the heart.

The original purpose of being a Radical Faerie it is about self-discovery, selflove and finding liberation. That is, freedom from the ideas and beliefs of “mainstream culture” for what is unique and genuine to you.

It is not about “fitting in.” It’s not about the party. The celebration of life at a gathering is joyful, and it’s great to have all our friends around us, but to fail in following the footsteps of our elders is to deny within each of us the special spiritual gift that is there.

Trust your inner voice. Trust your own beliefs first. Listen and learn and work for understanding.

“We all come from the Goddess, And to Her we shall return, Like a drop of rain, Flowing to the ocean.”

Every time I hear the “old Faerie songs” at a gathering, tears fill my eyes and my heart pounds in my chest. I think of Harry, John, Sister X, and so many others who lie in the memorial grove and spread across the globe. It is for them; and my own self, that I ask each of you to take the time to look within. Practice ritual, listen and learn.

In the act of learning about yourself, you will discover the greatest beauty that can be found.

1 Personal Recollection and Journal, Eden Firestone, 2000.

2 Radically Gay, by Harry Hay and Will Roscoe; (Publisher: Beacon Press ISBN-13: 9780807070819)

3 Teachings Around the Sacred Wheel, Lynn V. Andrews; (Publisher: Harper and Row, ISBN-13: 9781585425730)

4 Magical Herbalism, Scott Cunningham; (Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD, ISBN-13: 9780875421209)

5 Totems; The Transformative Power of Your Personal Animal Totem, Brad Steiger; (Publisher: Harper, San Francisco, ISBN-13: 9780062514257)

6 The Moon is Always Female, Marge Piercy; (Publisher: Random House, ISBN-13: 9780394738598)

What Isn’t Ritual

by Gabriel Q

In ritual space we become artists of time and place. We consciously shape an experience to achieve a heightened state where we can read meaning into everything that happens. There is the group dynamic as well as the parallel private experience. In ritual space I have witnessed some marvelous moments when the people, time and place converged into a brilliant ball of light. I came away saying,” it was amazing. What was it?” It’s an unrepeatable moment and just as in meditation, if I grasp at that fleeting bliss, I am unlikely to make it happen again. The practice is to recognize the perfection of this moment and let it go.

Some faeries in ritual delight in instruction and being led, while others feel threatened by any spiritual system imposed on them. This is why the elements are such an institution in faerie ritual culture. Earth, Air, Fire, and Water are big, accessible metaphors. Because I know them through my body, my own life experience, I don’t require the pagan liturgy to work with them. However, having invoked them hundreds of times I’m ready for something more.

At fellow Destiny faerie Endora’s encouragement a few years ago, I went to a Reclaiming Witch Camp in Vermont. I loved it. I recognized a common social and political culture and it was broadly diverse. The people were straight, gay, male, female, other, all ages, multigenerational and multi-racial. And they gathered specifically to practice ritual, all day, all week. We broke into small groups that met daily and were based on what else? The elements! Then there were several grand rituals with all 150 present. These were rituals to really settle into. They went on for hours with original chants, meditations, solo journeys away and back to the group. Rituals sprung from a single myth deconstructed over the week. In our case it was the Russian

fairy tale of the Baba Yaga. Through our bodies and imaginations we became all the characters in the story. It went way beyond any singular lesson to connect me with systems of relationships, systems in nature, the universe. Myth and science merging into art and activism.

Witch Camp was a good mirror to reflect on faerie culture and rituals. For instance, I showed up for the first big ritual and I was a little, (ok, a lot) over dressed. People dressed up at Witch Camp but I was playing at full volume. People loved it though. I appreciated then, the faeries’ rites of costume transformation and drag. Another distinction which was really one of style was that Witch Camp is structured more like a school. There were teachers and their thoughtfully led program enabled a more dense and intentional experience. Faerie gatherings on the other hand are kind of misty and between the worlds. Shifting roles and leaderlessness takes some adjusting to, particularly in that I am responsible to interpret meaning as I go. In terms of an ongoing awareness practice, it’s easy to get lost or just hang out. Boundaries of roles, ritual space vs late night cookie baking party are deliberately blurred. Official rituals can be treated like another gathering menu item for faeries to opt into or not. In that structure, rituals are most vital for the people who organize them while providing a kind of spiritual social entertainment for many.

Passive resistance or “askance” behavior toward faerie ritual is pretty common. This is challenging for anyone who innocently offers to lead a ritual. The reasons are many and can include painful personal histories queer people have about family rejection, religious alienation, forced group activity, and, and, and… However an expanded definition of ritual is helpful in understanding these dynamics for faeries. As queer children, spiritual survival skills often develop very privately. Imagine the nine year old faerie boy locking the door to play secret dress up. Gathering together as adults carries both the thrill of breaking out and the conditioned fear and hiding from our past. From that place, committing to go to the gathering is a ritual transformation. Making the actual trip is

a ritual journey. The ritual is being there and looking around at the others in the dinner circle. For many people, that is enough.

A lot of faeries get to a ritual fire at a gathering and are so compressed by their outside life that the most vital part for them is the release of ecstatic, drumming, dancing and laughing and the ambience of intimacy. Also, at Destiny, the New England Faerie Sanctuary, most gatherings are long weekend events and that’s a really short time to dig into deep ritual work to the extent the Reclaiming collective does it.

now carry the Destiny story forward. I think I can see it with less attachment to “the old ways” than had I stayed. After ten years of envisioning and struggling, the vital energy at Destiny has moved where it needed to go, into clearing and construction.

I hear rituals I participated in my passionate 20’s described in legendary proportions. Maybe they were legendary. Ask my ego. At that time, we were first reacting to AIDS, our loss and our mortality, Ronald Reagan, the pharmaceutical companies. It was fuel for ritual. We were children on fire. We were out and outraged. We were fire and wind. From that, the airy vision of community floated up. Twenty years later, it’s as if we have become parents. Like my own middle age, a new metaphor has crept in. Elder. Steward. Daddy. We bought land and we’re building the house and laying down a home for future faeries who gratify our efforts by magically showing up. We are reproducing! We are practicing service. That’s where the energy is for now. It just is. Welcome to the earth element, all of us.

So, style and circumstance differ with Faeries and Reclaiming, but the core values of earth-based spiritual practice and creative ritual, and empowerment to activism are very much the same. So are a lot of the songs. I felt totally at home. Over all, my experience at Witch Camp enriched my understanding both of myself and the faerie community. I left Witch Camp with a yearning to pursue more in-depth ritual explorations with the faeries. At the same time, I understood the faeries were walking a slightly different path that had everything to do with being queer.

Fast forward, I left the faeries for a while. That’s a story for another day. But after a couple years I meandered back or maybe Destiny meandered back toward me. Having been one of Destiny’s founders, but now cleansed of my old stuck role, I got to meet the people who

If ritual space is a practice to become more fully conscious, then activating my awareness can make anything I do into ritual. Workers singing in the fields know this. Putting my grandmother’s church hat on at my tent has always been as much the ritual as what happens once I slog up to the fire circle. So, mixing sacred earth and water to pour cement for a kitchen floor, installing a “fire” place, opening a meadow to the sky to invoke flowers, grass and birds is magic, is ritual.

Destiny won’t stay so earthbound forever. We’ve done this element thing long enough to know the wheel turns and Destiny moves on, deepening our wisdom as it turns. It was a huge cultural shift for the North East Faeries to become stewards of land and the inevitable growing up has included letting go. Growing up offers new opportunities. If we have become our own parents, then we can become the teachers my generation lost to AIDS, with a stronger foundation, a deeper shared understanding of who we are as queer spirits. Along the way we reinvent and reclaim the art of ritual.

Artwork: Stevee Postman • www.stevee.com

Wishing You A Rainbow

Why I FaerieHateRituals

by Endora

Let me describe the first faerie ritual I witnessed. I was sober, or maybe stoned a bit. As we approached the darkened backs of a circle of people whose faces were light by a fire, we heard the chanting – Isis, Astarte….. Then I see one faerie in a grand hat being lifted up above the heads of the rest and invoking in grand terms the Goddess of the evening –

“Madge, the Goddess of Dish – you’re soaking in her.”

A peel of laughter, then deeper laughter, and then wild chanting as the full moon rose above the line of pines in northern PA. Faeries were throwing their clothes in the fire, dancing, jumping, when from out of nowhere – certainly from out of sacred space- we hear a voice bellow ‘put your clothes on – you’re too fat to be naked!’ Buzzkilled, we turned to find our little circle dressed as we were in dribs and drabs, a hat here, some tulle and glitter there, surrounded by a bigger circle all holding red and yellow plastic beer cups, 16 oz., dressed as they were in jeans and plaids. Plaids! Can you imagine? Oh, and those baseball hats–not the brushed cotton gay ones that fit your head but those big bright plasticky cheap ones with iron-on logos for feed stores or fuel companies. On average, they seemed husky. There were suspenders. And a keg. They had found the buzz we just lost. But magick was afoot so without missing a beat, one faerie took the hand of one of the men and as one body, we each did the same and lured the bystanders into our circle where we snake danced our way over to

a small lake to end the ritual, thank the directions, and purify.

Of course, all memory is fiction when you get right down to it, but that’s pretty close. I had come to the faeries for spirituality, ritual, gay paganism – that is what interested me. Here, happening upon this ritual in the full moon, the Goddess chants, the absurd drag, the naked bodies, and all of us soaking in Madge – I weep to remember it – I felt for sure I had found my spiritual home. Mirth and Reverence.

That was 1989. It was my assumption for quite a while that everyone else came to gatherings for the same thing, and so it came as a rude, if gradual, shock to learn over the years, that indeed many faeries detest ritual, bristle at anything that smacks of liturgy, and come to rituals either to have fun disrupting them or to suffer through them until the naked dancing and drumming happens. This dawning realization was punctuated in my mind when a few fae hijacked a heavy ritual by wrecking the spiral dance and chanting “Dear Friends, Queer Friends, Can you tell me why we’re waiting? You have given me a headache. We’ll persevere.” Witches would never do this, I thought; I hate faerie ritual. As I stood there, the long wedding gown that I was in now hopelessly entangled in the arms and legs of the human blob around me, it hit me that for many faeries, having been the ‘best little boys in the world,’ disrupting is the ritual. What is often overlooked is that for many others of us, these disruptions rob us of the spirituality and ritual we need from the Faeries. At a faerie ritual, there are significantly differing sets of needs and expectations, and the worn-out-clutch

(car, not purse) feel of many faerie rituals stems from our failure in many instances to directly and honestly face the wide range of needs we bring to rituals. Given the relative comfort and directness with which many faeries discuss and negotiate sexual needs, it would seem that discussing ritual would be easy, and yet… could it be that our spiritual needs, and dare I say it, religious needs, are for us a far more difficult terrain to traverse?

We begin with one clear challenge. Not all faeries are pagan and many faeries aren’t religious at all. Despite the veneer of spiritual practice among the faeries, there is a high incidence of severe religion allergies, so any discussion of rituals, and ritual forms in particular, can result in alarming reactions, like hives; I am quite convinced I saw one faerie go into anaphylactic shock when another in circle suggested there was a ‘right way’ to cast a circle.

Still, I’ve seen myself how some sorts of rituals are deeply respected and followed by faeries. If a faerie leads a yoga meditation. If a faerie leads a Buddhist meditation. If a faerie leads a specific Native American ritual form. If a faerie calls a heart circle. In fact, I’ve found that when I’ve named a ritual as specifically Wiccan and been clear about it, there is a much higher level of willingness to go with it, to see where it leads than if that is not made clear. Why then is it that stepping forward to lead big rituals in faerie space is much like volunteering to be the target in The Lottery? Perhaps it is because Radical Faerie ritual forms and ritual Queens are so often Wiccan. I suspect that the reaction is against Wiccan forms becoming a new orthodoxy, against the assumption that

these forms are the forms. It also doesn’t help that often these rituals are the ‘big event’ for the weekend night of a gathering, so everyone comes and many are rowdy and horny. Some aren’t sober. Many want to drum, to dance around that fire if some queen would go ahead and light it already!

But what other forms for big earthworshipping rituals have we developed as faeries? If you ask people to step forward and plan a faerie ritual, what do they have to draw upon? What other clear models are there to serve as a starting point? Lacking familiar patterns, unsure of the landscape, many non-Wiccans simply won’t step forward to plan rituals because they don’t really know what “a faerie ritual” is and no one can tell them. When no one else will, Wiccans often step into the vacuum which only perpetuates the cycle, another spiral dance gone wrong. I would strongly encourage those faeries who are not comfortable with the frequency of Wiccan forms to develop and create their own models of rituals and bring them as ‘the big ritual’ so that we as a community of faeries can then experience them, broaden our collective concept of ritual forms, and thus take some of the pressure off of Wiccan forms. This would allow us as a movement to more clearly see how deeply and pervasively neopagan concepts and forms permeate our culture.

For other faeries, the impulse to disrupt seems much less philosophical. For some, unsure of how they are ‘supposed’ to act at a ritual, they look around for cues and take them from whoever seems to be ‘doing the faerie thing’ at the moment. If one faerie is standing reverently calling out to the Goddess and another faerie starts doing a funny can-can around him, which seems more ‘faerie?” So the can-can begins, as much from a desire to fit into faerie culture as from any particular resistance to what was happening. And remember, faeries in general do not introduce, or goddess forbid, initiate new attendees into our culture so folks are left to figure it out on

their own. Having experienced as queers painful marginalization and rejection, we carry a powerful need to fit ‘in’, especially at something like a faerie gathering, and so can-canning with the other cool kids makes all the sense in the world, and will probably be a defining peak experiencing in their gathering. And a can-can of queens around a solemn ritual invocation can be powerful ritual theater, the sheer absurdity of this scene in the woods somehow making sense of a crazy world and filling us with a sense of delight and the ecstatic. I know I have been to many Reclaiming and Wiccan rituals where a can-can was just what

We want to feel edgy and innovative and iconoclastic, all things I deeply value and want as well. But I also know that in the rush to new things, it is easy to overlook the value of knowing a form, repeating it over years and years, so that the newness comes not in the form, but in the ever deepening places you can go within the form. Heart circle teaches us this, but we resist it at other rituals. American witches, while comfortable with the form of Wiccan ritual, also spend a great deal of energy thinking about how to innovate and break the mold of ritual. In fact, one scholar of contemporary Paganism, Helen Berger, has offered the idea that for pagans, the creative act of planning the ritual is as much a central religious act as the ritual itself. I fear that in this need for the new, the need to be entertained at ritual, we are enacting in sacred space the very consumerism we decry in the world at large.

was needed! But what of the faerie doing the invocation? Was that caring? Was that subject-subject consciousness? Were the ritual needs of that faerie and all the other faeries that were with him during the invocation met? How do humiliation and hurt impact our rituals and our sense of communal purpose? “Mirth and reverence” is one thing, but when the mirth comes from stomping all over another’s reverence, I hesitate to call that balance.

And in my view, there is yet a deeper shadow playing out in those disruptions that are part and parcel of ‘faerie ritual.’ I have come to believe that we as faeries have a fear of form itself, that we resist the very notion that doing something the same way over and over as a regular practice might allow it to deepen and open. That takes trust in someone else’s experience. Plus we get bored at the repetition. We want to be entertained.

Or perhaps the need to disrupt rituals is rooted in the cultural notion that our only taboo is taking ourselves too seriously. It is one of the things I admire most about our culture, and to be honest, there is many a witch who could really use a dose of this faerie medicine. I know I’ve benefitted from the many doses, and overdoses I’ve gotten over the years. But I also believe that there is such a thing as not taking ourselves seriously enough. From time to time, we should be able to leave our skepticism and talent for irony and camp at the edge of the circle, and step into a space – just for a while – in which we agree to believe that the magick of the circle is real, matters, and is worth honoring by risking allowing it to be serious, or ceremonial, or heavy. Let’s see where we go if we don’t use humor as a shield or as a detour sign. After the ritual, there is plenty of time to dish and laugh about it, but by doing so during every ritual, we show our fear and reinforce a sneaking suspicion many of us have about rituals – that they are silly.

I have been a faerie triber for 20 years, and I’ve been a Reclaiming initiate and teacher for almost that long. I love both communities and long to bring them into

I fear that in this need for the new, the need to be entertained at ritual, we are enacting in sacred space the very consumerism we decry in the world at large.

a closer orbit. I can see how each one has gifts for the other. For me, it’s like having one boyfriend that meets your sexual needs and another that meets your emotional needs. Well, not exactly, but you get the drift. As an aficionado of both, I have often said that the difference between faerie and witch rituals is that faeries try to surf the energy and witches like to make the wave. The downside to “making the wave” can be a palpable sense of effort and heaviness, of everyone trying too hard, of not knowing what to do when it goes awry. The downside in “surfing” is that it’s hit or miss, and lots of people don’t catch the wave and are left paddling around far from shore, fighting the currents.

I remember one Beltane at my house where I invited the local Reclaiming witches and the Radical Faeries and about 40 folks showed up. A radical faerie witch was invoking the God into one of the witches, and to do so he had his forehead and knees on the earth and his butt up in the air. Unable to resist, I ran up and quickly humped that pretty invoking butt. I didn’t even think about it. Until I heard the gasp. Until I saw the looks of horror and downright offense. Witches and faeries are, indeed, very different communities.

I value that the faeries like to find the sacred in the profane and the profane in the sacred, to see the humor and the absurd in what we do. But I also believe that continued cross-fertilization between the two communities will strengthen both. The faeries have already had a profound influence on Reclaiming and Reclaiming on the faeries through shared origins, mentors, facilitators, beliefs. Let us figure out how best

to continue, as Whitman might say, ‘interwetting each other.” Reclaiming can benefit from faerie humor, ability to create magickal spaces, masking though drag, and in general, a strong sense of skepticism and irony. The faeries would gain much from Reclaiming’s sense of purpose, their commitment to earth activism, and from working with a wider

a community can best meet the variety of needs in ways that are respectful and faerie.

range of allies. It is my sincere hope and intention that there be more gatherings called that bring together faeries and witches, that faeries consider going to Wiccan gatherings and the we invite witches to come to ours. I also hope that faeries will have circles to talk about ritual, what we each need and how we as

One more ritual memory, that of pairs of naked bodies standing in the moonlight, then one kneeling to kiss the feet, knees, sex, chest, and lips of their partner as he or she drew the moon down into themselves. Here and there is laughter, but there is an air of sacrament, there is an energy that shimmers with the holy vessels of the body and the moon. Despite the very structured, slowly paced ritual, there is no disruption, no need to turn it into something funny. We worship, without evasion, the immanent divine that is present in our partners. This Wiccan ritual took place both at Faerie Camp Destiny and at the Vermont Witchcamp. It shows, despite our differences, how much our two communities share in terms of our most cherished beliefs. Both communities hold that the earth is sacred, that our bodies are sacred, that our sex is sacred, that our circle is meaningful, and that we must act in the world for change. That is a powerful lot to share, and so as we go spiraling forward into an uncertain future, it is my desire, my spell that these two communities learn to honor each other as partners in that ritual, each supporting the other in drawing out what is divine within us and supporting the other as we move out into the world to work for change. So mote it be.

This ends the section on Reclaiming and the Radical Faeries

The Moon from Cosmic Tarot by Stevee Postman • www.stevee.com

surrounded by friends and family in San Francisco.

At last year’s Positive Living conference in Fort Walton Beach, Florida, Martin provided the annual treatment update. Martin only missed one meeting in the conference’s eleven-year history, having had a heart attack a week before the event. Positively Living is one of very few U.S. conferences remaining that are targeted specifically (and almost exclusively) to PLWHAs. A member of the audience was so inspired by Martin’s remarks concerning the role of activism in the history of HIV/AIDS that he approached Martin and conference organizer Butch McKay about creating a session on the subject for this year’s event.

As the gentleman and Martin began emailing back and forth, they copied Butch with the product of their efforts. For some reason the correspondence petered out in March of this year. Earlier this week, as a member of the conference planning committee, I volunteered to help format the rough document. This year’s Positive Living will feature a special tribute to Martin. I can’t think of a better way to honor his memory than to pass on this version of what Butch has deemed the “Delaney Declaration.”

The Delaney Declaration

By Martin Delaney (March 2008)

The entire human population benefited from the way AIDS first struck the gay community. Many people wanted to blame the spread of AIDS on gay people, but the facts are exactly the opposite. The epidemic would have been dramatically worse if it had struck any other group than gay people.

Most diseases uniformly strike an entire population, spreading lightly across all economic, geographic, racial, and gender groups. As a result, nothing really unifies the patient population other than the disease itself. As a consequence, people do not bond together or organize to fight the disease because they have nothing in common that connects them.

You can see this in virtually all other major diseases. There may be millions of people who have a disease but they fail to organize to fight it. They don’t

demonstrate, they don’t group together to influence the Congress, they don’t develop media strategies. They just go on with their various local groups and families and fight the disease simply as individuals.

In great contrast, when AIDS hit the gay community with unparalleled specificity, it struck a group that already identified itself as a community across the entire nation. It struck a group of people who were already organized politically with skills to influence both local and national government; it struck a population that already knew it had to fight for its rights, even fight to survive. It knew how to use the media. It knew it had to take care of its own because no one else would. It knew it had to fight back or die.

We [the gay community] were in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York and every other major country, yet linked together. Wherever, we were a part of a whole. We were in the scientific community; we were in the NIH (the United States’ medical research agency, the National Institutes of Health). We were in the drug companies and in Congress. Because of this unique situation, AIDS faced a far more formidable and organized enemy than had ever before been the case. Had AIDS simply hit across all the general segments of society, like other diseases, it would have encountered far less resistance. People getting the disease would have had nothing in common with each other, no underlying links or abilities, or any need to see itself as a fighting force. It would have been just another disease and it would have been treated like just another disease.

But we know it was not just another disease. It was far cleverer, more dangerous, and spread quietly because it acted slowly. It continued to spread for decades before society would even know it was there. In contrast when it struck the gay community, our underlying culture made it visible much more quickly. Within a few short years, we were able to see that it was sexually transmitted.

The normal rules for people with life threatening illnesses didn’t work very well. Usually such people are too sick to do anything about it. We saw our entire community under siege; we knew we had to change the rules or we would all be dead.

We hollered about it in the media, we went to the FDA (the United States’ Food and Drug Administration) and the NIH, we marched in Washington, got people on committees and proposed new ideas and new ways of thinking about science and the treatment of people with terrible diseases. WE changed the rules, first for ourselves but ultimately for everyone facing a life threatening disease. WE wouldn’t just listen to our doctor either. We recognized that they worked for us, that we were in charge of our lives and our bodies. We taught each other to demand that our doctors act as partners, not as dictators. We changed the doctor patient relationship. We realized that patient education was ultimately going to be done either by drug companies or by the patient community itself; we organized ourselves to teach ourselves.

We became a voice that could counter, when necessary, the messages of the drug companies, drug company advertising, and everything the companies did that affected us. As activists, we formed teams to speak up for our community regarding clinical trials.

The accomplishments of people living with AIDS:

1. Having an instrumental role in changing the rules for drug discovery, development and approval for life threatening illnesses

2. Greatly speeding up access to new drugs, both in and outside of clinical trials.

3. Changing the mindset of researchers about the wisdom of providing early access to experimental drugs.

4. Patient empowerment - helping people understand that they don’t have to be victims of a disease, but can instead be leaders in the fight against it.

5. Changing the patient mindset from hopelessness to hope; helping people see that there is always something you can do.

6. Demonstrating that you don’t have to be a scientist to influence science and have it serve people.

7. Discovering how to be taken seriously by scientists, academics and government bureaucrats, and how to influence them with without making them the enemy.

8. Learning how to organize to influence government policy.

Picturepostcards from the Touchwood Hills

By Wes Hartley

Standardsize postcard. Colorful historic map of Saskatchewan. A star graffitied middleway between Saskatoon and Yorkton, an inch or so above and a little to the right of Fort Qu’Appelle. Caption on flipside. Saskatchewan, The Prairie Province.

July 27th. Sunday afternoon. Deplane at Regina terminal. Brilliant prairie sunlight, zero humidity. Sweltering windblown pooltable flatness, sky everywhere but under foot. Buy a doublehandful of prairie picturepostcards of assorted sizes and a packet of index cards to scribble notes on.

I’m greeted inside the terminal by easygoing easy-on-the-eyes Casey, the resident horsewrangler at the queer guest ranch. Casey has been dispatched by My Man Ty, The Chef at the ranch, to escort me to the ranch in the lavender-pink stretch limo shuttle van. Case tells me that The Cook is on kitchen duty until after suppertime tonight. Our planned five-day holiday starts tomorrow morning. It’s gonna be hot. . .

The Rowdy Prairie Fairy

Casey is the nephew of the lesbian senior who owns Touchwood Hills Guest Ranch. The Cook’s teaser letters about Horsy Casey weren’t just vanilla porno. The wrangler is superfriendly. His Saskatchewan homeboy persona and awesome whiteblond whiteboy whiteness are dazzling. Ty described Case as “an XL-size snowyblond killergood-looking bullriderjock.” Case likes older men, “mature intellectual silvertip grizz-types.” Ty has reportedly told Case all about me, his best pal.

I’m installed in the shuttlevan, riding shotgun alongside Big Casey. I’m the only passenger. As we careen north toward the Qu’Appelle River, Case keeps checking me out and beaming his whitehot welcome smile across at me. The humpy horsyboy likes me a lot. Ty predicted he would. A rattlesnake stirs and flexes its coils in the bulged-out crotch of Casey’s supertight Wranglers. I almost hear rattling. . .

Standardsize scenic postcard. Turquoise blue and yellowgold tall sky prairiescape cut across diagonally

by a splitrail and pinepole Russell fence. Beyond the fence an endless expanse of ripe wheat. Caption on address side. Saskatchewan wheat field at harvest time.

Sunday afternoon. En route to Touchwood Hills Queer Guest Ranch. (Touchwood is the oldenday term for highly inflammable tinder.) Notorious prairie two-dimensionality, kinda hot. My awesome welcomer and escort is yesterday’s duderanch broncobuster Casey. This Casey, is twentyfour, six feet three, and weighs maybe two hundred forty pounds in his jockstrap. He’s all muscle with skyblue eyes, cute little nose, kiss-me lips, and whiteblond curls in long springy coils like sheepwool. He’s decked out blue and white checkerboard cowboyshirt and way-too-tight Wranglers. He’s got a barrelchest, bulging pecs, incredibly tapering torso, huge butt, hulking thighs, and sports brandnew grey-suede pointytoe boots. Case is the resident horsy wrangler at the ranch. He’s a bullrider and gold buckle winner and is he’s into Nietzsche, keeps a barn owl, and is vegan same as me. An Aquariusboy. I can’t breathe. . .

The Smitten Greenhorn

“Trailmap notations.”

THE SANDFORD FLEMING EXPEDITION, 1872. Between Fort Ellice and the South Saskatchewan River.

Plains flanked by ridges of drift hills partially wooded and enclosing swampy ground. Aspen poplars, birches, and willows in clumps give the countryside a parklike aspect. Abundant leguminous flora on the raised prairies, members of the rose family in the valleys. Good black loam in the hollows, rich pasturage, abundant water. Drift as much as 100 feet thick consists of sand, clay, and boulders of various sizes.

Oversize scenic picturepostcard. Magenta and golden midsummer vista of undulating shortgrass prairie at sunset. Horses grazing. Cattle in the distance. Text on verso in tiny print in upper left corner. Touchwood Hills Guest Ranch encloses four thousand hectares

on the eastern margin of central Saskatchewan’s legendary Touchwood Plateau. The southwestern boundary of the ranch is close to the historic Red River Cart Trail of The Overlanders which extended three hundred and seven miles northwestward from old Fort Ellice on the Assiniboine River past old Fort Touchwood and on to old Fort Carlton on the North Saskatchewan River. The thriving horsebreeding and cattleraising working ranch was established in 1904 by the greatgrandsire of the present owner.

Arrive at Touchwood Hills Guest Ranch. The low-rise sprawling dining hall abuts the grand four storey main building. It’s suppertime. It’s the peak of the season, the ranch is booked to full occupancy, and the weekender cowboys and cowgirls are heading to the chuckwagon to chow down. Case escorts me into the steamy kitchen where Ty The Cook works his culinary wonders among the chilipots and skillets. Bearhugs, buttpats, and lingering mouthkisses get swapped. High-spirited Saskatchewan horseplay and hilarity are indulged in to the max. Things get kinda rowdy in the kitchen. Ty slicks me up with his spicy sweat and we both pop a woody. Case pops a woody too. It’s kinda big.

Out, Rutting Among The Studhorsys At The Dude Ranch, Buddybuddy of The Woodypoppers

In the cavernous heart of the stainless and enamel kitchen, the dark handsome face of the Master Chef gleams in the heat. His broad bare chest glistens and his muscular arms resplendent with tough tattoos ripple as he stabs the thick steaks with his iron fork and flips them over. Ty’s headgear is a black and blue bandanna tied piratestyle over his westerncut raven black hair. He sports a black satin tuxvest in place of a workshirt, and his shorty folded apron is wrapped tightly around the narrow waist of his lean slim extralonglegged black Lee jeans

The bumpy backroad of my ongoing secretive queer connection with Ty The Bi-Guy has weathered numberless sidetrips and detours these fifteen years. I witnessed his teener rentboy and keptboy intrigues, participated in his switchhitter xperimentations, and waited-out his rollercoaster two-year marriage, sexclubbing swinger sagas, and messy divorce. My queer receiver is finetuned to the highpower pulsations of Ty’s testosterone-supercharged bisexual libido. I know the various kinds of sultry tightsqueezes he tends to enjoy plunging it into. My jaded queerelder gaydar is warning me that I’ve blithely jetted into the rowdy ground zero of a prairiefairy hankypanky setup.

Oversize wildlife picturepostcard. Fullcolor actionshot of a half-submerged bullfrog, mouth open wide, his long pink tongue zapping a bluegreen dragonfly resting on a nearby reedstem. Caption on reverse. Western Bullfrog, Rana catesbeiana.

Sunday p.m. Ty’s suppertime culinary duties now accomplished, the popular chef is a free man for five whole days and nights. Ty intends to unwind in the company

of his best pal The Greenhorn on a three day boots-andsaddles horseback trek around the Touchwood Plateau wide-openspaces. Every detail has been taken care of, including my tofu vegetarian dietary requirements. A surprise announcement - I’m totally not surprised - meticulous Ty has accessorized our outing. Our duo is now a threeway. Horsy home- boy Casey has been recruited to be our trailguide and campy facilitator. This already overloaded plot keeps thickening. My Man The Chef is cooking up something stickysweet and tasty. He’s got something up his sleeve besides scary tattoos.

After sundown we go out strolling under the starspeckled dome of the prairie nightsky. We don’t get far. We scurry back quick to the safe inner sanctum of The Cook’s exclusive bunkhouse next to the grub- shack, because the pushy mosquitoes want to get personal and suck up to us bigtime.

The Itch Scratcher

First night sleeping arrangements are Spartan and for sure not private enough to suit hot-to-trot Ty. His bachelor accommodation next to the cookhouse is shared cowboystyle with eighteen year old Sweet Willie the diminutive spudpeeler and cutiepie cook’s helper. Willie is the youngest fulltime employee at the ranch. He looks like everybody’s kid-brother. It’s easy to see he’s a queerboy, but his false bravado lets us know he’s still in his prairie closet. He’s also got a major puppycrush on the way-too-goodlooking head cook.

Nervous Willie’s single bunk runs crossways at the foot of Ty’s king-size bed. To make space in the cramped bedroom, maybe four feet of Willie’s bedstead disappears into the depths of the narrow cornercloset. Poor Willie. Sweetheart is in his closet all day and all night too. We can tell he whips it way too much.

Freaked out Willie tosses and turns in his dark bunk at our feet as we content ourselves with buddybuddy cowboystyle steamynaked close-contact under the clingy sheets, alternating positions in the clench, nestled like nested spoons. As usual, Ty sleeps with his arm around my waist and his left leg thrown across both of mine, tuffy topmanstyle.

Kingsize botanical picturepostcard. Colorful closeup of a cactus clump, purple-pink blossoms with yellow stamens, dense clusters of radiating spines. Description on verso. The Prairie Cushion Cactus, Coryphanta vivipara in bloom. Common on open prairies and south-facing hillsides across southern Saskatchewan. Fruit edible.

Monday a.m. Daylight dawns totally early on the prairie. Long before sunup it’s blue sky in all directions. The birdsong is glorious. I can recognize song sparrow duets, bobolink singalongs, killdeer pipings, and meadowlark trills. Nostalgic earcandy, makes me feel allover tingles. We decide to forego the morning breakfast routine at the chowhall. Ty has left the packing and detailing of our trek to Case.

When we emerge from the bunkhouse, earlybird Casey is waiting with our three saddlehorses and a pair of packhorses, ready to ramble.

Case is in his glory. He’s so happy he’s singing to himself. Some rodeo-cowboy song he likes. He’s wearing the queerest pair of jeans he owns, washedout bluewhite 501s. When he bends over to adjust the girth on one of the saddlehorses, Case catches me checking out his awesome powerbutt. Our wrangler flashes me a blinding grin and congratulates himself for being the blue ribbon winner he totally is. We mount up and hit the trail. Casey and Ty swagger like teamsport lockerroom jocks sharing a sexsecret.

Three’s A Charm, Lucky Pierre

On the trail, Tall-In-The-Saddle Casey in the lead. We ride northwest crosscountry chattering like magpies. A trio of magpies keeps us company part of the way chattering like queerboys. We breathe the air. We yawn and stretch. We bump our cowboyhats on the ceiling rafters of the prairie sky as we mosey along. The sun comes up on our righthand- side and we pull on our shades like prairie pros.

We pass a jumble of well-licked saltblocks and pause beside a boggy cattail pond to let the horses drink. We’re having such a good time we almost forget breaky. We stop for breakfast next to some totally tall poplar trees. Ty does the honors on the campstove. While we’re savoring our strong coffees, Case surprises the horses with treats of dried apples.

Standardsize ecopostcard. Fullcolor habitat portrait of three burrowing owls, alert, standing in front of a badgerhole. Description on reverse. Burrowing owls, Athene cunicularia. An endangered owl.

Casey our nature guide shows us where burrowing owls have taken over a badgerhole. As we watch, the homeboy owl skitters by on foot carrying a ground squirrel in his beak that’s bigger than he is. He dives into his basement suite bringing breakfast of warm squirrel guts to his couchpotato boyfriend who slept in.

Treated To Tasty Surprises, Natureboy

THE PAPERS OF THE PALLISER EXPEDITION, 1857-60

The Touchwood Hills or “Les Montagnes de Tondre” consist of easy undulating hills, in height under 400 feet, well-wooded, however, and containing lakes varying in size from about three quarters to an acre and a quarter in surface. Well adapted for cultivation and the rearing of cattle, the soil is good, but there is a great scarcity of timber either for fuel or building purposes.

Casey is steering our expedition toward a particular lake that lies lays ten or eleven miles beyond the northwestern edge of the ranch property. Our horses ascend single file up a gradually rising knoll of glacial drift that humps up seventy or eighty feet above the prairie plateauscape. Further west, the terrain starts to get even more corrugated. From our elevated vantagepoint

we see Casey’s lake north of us glittering silvery in the morning sunlight.

The adjoining ranchland and lake belong to Rodeo Casey. He purchased them with the bullrider and barebackrider prizemoney he won during last year’s rodeo circuit. He’s taking a break from rodeoing this season. Ty and I are glad he is. The horses head off toward the lake automatically, equine mind readers that they are.

Our horsypals are all male gender. They can poop while walking. Our saddlehorses are named Ike, Sam, and Max. My steed Max is chestnut red. Ike and Sam are allover black. Our packponies are spotted grey-and- tans named Tony and Speck. The knob of Speck’s ponywanger juts out past the nozzle of its sheath. Since Speck always follows a little behind Tony, I reckon Tony must be Speck’s boyfriend.

I return my prone-to-wander attention back to the cowpoke trophy-butts that overflow and embellish their saddles directly in front of me. My tireless mirrorshade-shielded bugeyes flit back and forth from XL melons to lean tighty peaches. Being a longtime connoisseur of boybutt and epicure of fruits, I’m totally in my element anytime I’m stuck in the rear or following a little behind.

We set up camp at Casey’s Lake. Unsaddle and unpack the horses.

Stable them in a corral of willow poles readymade in the cottonwood grove on the lakeshore. Alongside the corral are bales of oatstraw and sacks of feed trucked in earlier and stowed under nylon tarps. Casey busts up one of the haybales and the horses chow down.

Two big camptents get set up side by side underneath an oldtimer black willow. Long straight willow poles leaned against the willow trunk teepeestyle enclose both tents. A canopy of mosquito netting gets draped over the poles, rocks weigh down the edges. Boulders scrounged for a fireplace, castiron firegrate lugged from storage, windfall for fire-wood fetched from the poplar thicket, cooking campfire, teakettle on the grate.

Doublesize cowboy postcard. Pastelcolored bigsky ranchscape. Three cowboy boyfriends standing around the campfire coffeepot with their tin cups. In the foreground, grazing horses, waiting. Towering cumulonimbus cloud darkening on the far horizon. No caption on flipside.

Hot sunny afternoon. Lakeshore campout at Casey’s Lake. We munch our veggie trek cuisine, then wash and stow our eating gear. We gayly shuck our boots and cowboy jeans and frolic naked in our prairie pond.

Frolicking barebutt on the lone prairie can be totally hard on queer horsyboys. Both Casey and I have definite problems in the woody department. Ty says we must be total fags. We tackle cheeky Ty and jump his bones and brown his gnarly little butt with mud. A dirty crack. The joke’s on Ty.

Starkers, The Skinnydipper

“Prairie Wildflowers.” THE SANDFORD FLEMING EXPEDITION, 1872. Manitoba to Fort Carlton.

The luxuriant prairie flowers in all their midsummer splendor stretched before us in all directions. The roses in full bloom, yellow marigolds and goldenrods, the spicy lilac bergamots, the white tansy, bluebells and harebells, and the hardy asters of many colors and sizes made the prairies gay.

Casey wants to hike around and sniff the poseys. So do I. Ty says, You guys can take a hike, I wanna take a nap. We take a nature hike in just our cowboyhats and cowboyboots. Case points his bone at me and I point mine at him. Case likes my cheeks as much as I like his. He’s read his Plato I can tell, but he prefers the pre-Socratics same as me. Nietzsche’s his main man, Spinoza too. He likes The Beats a lot. He’s queer for owls. I know the herbs and wildflowers, so does Case. His rapidfire botanical questions keep me on my toes. We gather beebalm and wild mint. We’ve got so much in common we can barely breathe.

“Near The Touchwood Hills.” THE SANDFORD FLEMING EXPEDITION, 1872. Manitoba to Fort Carlton.

Aspens grouped on the slopes of the gentle hills, lakelets and pools fringed with willows glisten in the sun. Camp set up alongside a pond in the midst of a flat away from the bush, so as to avoid mosquitoes. The previous night having been chill and the dew abundant, we broke out more blankets, and dispensed with one tent, sleeping three together in one, instead of two and one in each. Cool nights after hot days is an agreeable surprise. It is one of the causes (we imagine) of the healthy appearance of the settlers, even in the summer months. Back at camp The Cook is flipping flapjacks. We feast on buckwheat roll-ups stuffed with apricot preserves. Ty has rearranged the campsite. He took down Casey’s bachelor tent and moved his gear and bedding into ours. It’s way better this way, Ty says. Anyway it’s The Cook’s tour, so Ty’s the boss. Case and I agree, The Cook is Boss. For sure, it is better his way–threeway.

Extralargesize rodeo postcard. Colorful action shot of a bullrider hanging tough, Stetson in orbit. The bull is stretched out longways, his back hooves kicked up higher than his horns. Caption on flipside. Firestorm. Touchwood Hills Ranch, Saskatchewan.

Casey The Bullrider on board his champion studbull Firestorm at Swift Current last summer. Camping it up with the horsyboys on the Touchwood Plateau. Totally wooden, listening to the hootowls.

For Luck Touch Wood, The Wood Toucher

In a deep cavity inside the hollow willow trunk above our camptent, a prairie boreal owl mantles over three fuzzy owlets during the sunny hours. At dusk, northcountry owls ululate in the willow thicket and Case gets all horned up. He really is queer for owls. He collects a bowlful of puked-up owlpellets he discovers in among the willow roots back of our tent. He’s saving them for later.

Ty and Case both want to be boss. The allnighter threeway turns into a two-on-one. Two bosses make it hard for The Greenhorn. First, Ty works up a sweat, then Case flexes his muscle. The broncobuster has stayingpower. He can’t be bucked off. Casey The Workingstiff puts in an extralong shift, gets major overtime. I sure do like working under boss Case. Ty says he knew I would.

Tuesday sunrise. A tumble in the hay for a wake up call. Case comes on strong in the morning too. The Wrangler never quits. At coffeetime over second cups, Ty catches us unawares one more time and springs another bisexual surprise. He’s riding Ike back to the ranch to his beater Volvo. He plans to be in Saskatoon by early afternoon. Hankers to hook up front to front with a bigchested female gender truckstop waitperson he likes. Intends to spend a couple days and nights of his remaining R&R time in country-western heterotown.

Ty says that since we two righteous queerbuddys are hitting it off totally (like he always knew we would) he’s switchhitting the home-ward trail and turning his studhorsy top position over to Big Case. The Top Chef rides off into the rising sun leaving us fellow travelers hard up and blinking in the sunlight like hootowls. We pull on our stylish mirrorshades and lead the horses down to the lake for a drink and a morning bath. Our rowdy goodmorning woodys stay wooden all day long. Touch wood . . .

Standardsize birdwatcher’s ecopostcard. Color closeup portrait of a hawkowl, his feathers ruffled, his yellow eyes flashing, his orange beak gaping wide. It’s for sure he’s hissing. Caption on address side. Northern Hawkowl, Surnia ulula.

At our lakeside nature camp skinnydipping accompanied by owls. My Man Casey spots a hawkowl perched in the top of a cottonwood near the horse corral. My bunkbuddy gets totally excited and starts hooting. He’s queer for owls. Me too.

Hooting With The Owlhooter In the Touchwood Hills, You Know Who

Afterdark camp tent illuminated by lantern light, ongoing buddy buddy masculine pursuits under the mosquitonets in the billowing incense-cloud, reclining face to face bareskin on the oat-straw campbed, sipping bergamot bee balm and wild mint tea, eavesdropping on the recapitulating owl duet, unravelling the furry bony owl pellets sorting out mouse snouts gopher teeth shrew skulls, watching the meteorites careen across the starspeckled skydome, anatomizing Nietzsche’s Overman, our respective outstanding male members gesticulating hyperbolically, free-associating dreamily about what Neech may have meant by Eternal Return. . .

POETRYq

RUNNING INTO WALTA ON THE RED LINE

Walta Borawski, 1947-1994

When a young guy clunks onto the plastic seat across from me on the outbound, his blond hair nine inches long, I notice details you would have, Walta: wide silver band on his middle finger, chest hair where no T-shirt tames, strip of white sheet tied to the strap of coconut-brown canvas bag. Edgy boots with optional metal attached. By the time we’ve taken this young man’s measure, without a glance between us, I’m wowed by how your hover has moved beyond words— gifted motor-mouth poet, you’d stroll into a tearoom & try to blab with pals you’d startle on the cusp of scoring big in late stages of high-stakes cruising. (Queens once called gabbing there “setting up high tea,” but, hon, they meant outside the loo.) I recall your brow, rumpled as if rebuffed. I assumed you’d iron everything out in your diary—ooo, Walta! he’s getting off at Harvard Square. Are you going on to Porter (for what, I can’t help but wonder— is the afterlife past Alewife)?

No, look!—he’s sauntering down the ramp, heading back to your old clapboard neighborhood’s yard-slivers, its cluttered porches. Maybe he’s riding back & forth between your two stops, looking for words. Quick—interrupt! If only you could invite him up for chatty raspberry tea—to show him your books. How it’s done. Like you did for me.

–Steven Riel Natick, Massachussetts

STOLEN TOUCH

This dentist cups my jaw in one hand while he drills. I try to pack memory of his skin’s warmth into my stash: fragrant tobacco to tamp inside my pipe’s bowl. Half a sob lurks within because I’ve probed how deep & wide the hole.

When I take change from the lean toll collector there Sundays after nine, will his calluses meet mine? Even if only starched & pressed cotton enveloping an alert elbow (The Wall Street Journal kind) brushes over mine on the commuter train, that often more than satisfies.

A seven-degree A.M. He’s big & gangly—probably a lawyer, probably ten years older than I. The sleepy length of him’s harking towards fetal position, knees poking into the aisle. We’re close to spooning. I close my eyes.

His Blackberry vibrates against my thigh. He doesn’t answer. The conductor announces over the PA our train must couple with the broken-down 7:22 blocking our way. He apologizes for the delay, the gentle bumping.

Today’s guy takes up five-eighths of a two-seater by dozing upright. To squeeze into my seat, I must snuggle under his shoulder. I can’t help if his beef’s wider than one seat, his wrestler thighs spread wide.

When I inhale, my elbow has no choice but to rub against his torso while he slumbers right up to the last stop. No choice. Innocent.

–Steven Riel Natick, Massachussetts

ROBIN PETER DAMIAN CHATTERJIE b. 23/11/50 d. 11/06/86

‘Remembered’

If I could put limbs back on you I’d tear off my arms, legs, dick My own, but you are also my own. What’s not to love, to share?

Those members you used to reach out, To walk the earth, pleasure to others. Remembering you is what I do in living on. Without your brown eyes looking into me: That quizzical, but protective look.

I could transgress and be sure of A reality check… and forgiveness. Alcohol had numbed my being:

Annihilation birthed two-spirit life

To journey to your soul I became shaman.

I died to my narrow self also. To visit the imaginal world. And returned from the unconscious With something of my ancestral core. My horse-nature, centaur. Beyond laws of gods and men; Freely giving, teaching, healing.

A wounded healer’s a hard thing to be Till he learns he himself Cannot and should not heal. The wound that keeps him open to love. Every night for twenty-one years I’ve kept faith and watch with you Stroked your hair, held you close. Respected elder brother: Namasté!

–Notre Dame des Arbres London

Aretha’s Hat

my favorite inaugural image: Aretha’s hat gray wool felt studded with Swarovski crystals purchased in Detroit for one hundred and seventy-nine dollars from Mr. Song Millinery warmed her head that chilly day crown jewels for the Queen of Soul? no need with a voice that shines like diamonds that shimmers opalescent her song a string of pearls

–Franklin Abbott

22 January 2009

Stone Mountain, Georgia

Prison Pages

By Myrlin

As I write this column, it is Inauguration Day and our 44th president, Barack Obama, is about to be sworn in. History is in the making, and I can only hope there will be some changes coming in the way we incarcerate or work to rehabilitate those being held in our vast prison system. Many refer to it as the prison-industrial complex, and organizations such as Critical Resistance work to bring an end to it as it currently exists. Prisons have become big business in many ways, with private prison operators like the Corrections Corp. of America offering shares on the New York Stock Exchange. Next come the many businesses offering the latest in stun guns, jail cells, padlocks, razor wire and all the other trappings of a prison. Imagine the huge conventions that are held each year hawking all of this gear. And with all of this interest in prison hardware, not a thought is being given to rehabilitation and reintegration of these folk back into society.

A number of years ago I attended the Southeast Regional Conference held by Critical Resistance. It was held in New Orleans, at the Tremay Neighborhood Center in the middle of an area housing many of the city’s African-American citizens. I spoke with some of the residents and heard talks noting the fact that a very large portion of the adult men of the community and heads of households were incarcerated, leaving a number of struggling families without breadwinners. Later I became aware that Louisiana’s largest prison, Angola, is located on the site of largest slave plantation in the state and that the work at Angola hasn’t changed a whit. Black Americans, for the most part, continue to do the same work in the cotton fields that they have always done. What would we do without the ability to incarcerate large numbers of people who can work the fields?

I recently spoke with a person coming out of the Texas system who defined the work at the Texas prisons as being little different from what I have noted happens in Louisiana at Angola. Texas inmates work the fields raising cotton, vegetables, beef and other food crops.

They receive no pay for the time in the fields although they are granted days off their sentence in exchange for the work they do. As a result, any monies the inmates have in their accounts come from family members and friends. As many of their families are quite poor, this places a greater strain on their budgets. It is even made more of a strain when the state first deducts any monies owed it for medical visits, court costs and many other things.

This was clearly illustrated by a letter I received from one of my personal correspondents who is resident in a prison in Florida. I had been complaining that it is difficult for me to handle the many requests I receive from him and

talking staph infections that eat holes in the foot, to your bones. It costs 42 cents to mail a letter plus 42 more cents and money order costs which your friends and love one’s send to you. To top that off, fifty cents is deducted from your money before you even get a chance to spend it. Now the craziness don’t stop there. There is 1% percent deducted on every dollar you spend. (Example): If you send me 20 bucks, I start at $19.50. If I spend $19.50 they deduct 20 cents on your next week or your next money you receive. (It’s crazy) I hope I have explained why Florida slavery is the cause and problem for friends and family members. So bear with us please. We know our friends and family did not cause our incarceration, we put our carcasses here.

from other Florida inmates. He wrote that he understood and then went on to describe the situation there. (Oh, by the way, the Florida inmates often refer to Florida as the “Razor Wire State.”)

I’m so sorry that our Florida inmates seem to ask for a little gratuity most of the time. I’m going to tell you why. First of all, Florida Departments of Corrections does not pay the inmates. Like other Northern states, they run a slavery containment system. Recently they have cut down the portions on all meal trays. We get our boots taken away because it’s cheaper to issue these thin rubber based sneakers which wear out in three weeks tops. But it costs the inmate four dollars when he has to go to the Medical for feet infections. Not your average Athlete’s Foot sores or rash, I’m

With the inauguration of the first African-American president, it is hoped that many of our prison policies will be rethought. The disparity in the numbers of black inmates as compared to any other racial group might finally be addressed. The large numbers of innocent people who are incarcerated might also be considered in a much more aggressive manner. The moral issues around the death penalty, especially considering the possibility of executing an innocent person, might be given a new review. Then too, it is clear that the costs of running the prison system are coming into focus as states deal with their budget deficits. California is currently considering discharging all who are on parole for minor offenses as the costs are overwhelming the state. Just looking at some of the recent headlines appearing on Truthout.org gives a picture of some of the problems.

• America Behind Bars: Why Attempts at Prison Reform Keep Failing by Lilana Segura, AlterNet (A bloated prison system is against the country’s best interests. Yet ‘tough on crime’ rhetoric has gotten in the way of reform.)

• New High in U.S. Prison Numbers by N.C.Alzeman, The New York Post (Growth attributed to more stringent sentencing laws.)

• Torture in Our Own Backyard: The Fight Against Supermax Prison by Jessica Pupovac, Alternet (In supermax prisons, 23 hours a day of solitary confinement

Sprite by Freeman, Payne #301858, Farmington Correctional Center, 1012 West Columbia, Farmington, MO 63640-2902

is the norm. How did our prison system become so cruel?)

• And Justice for All: We Must Reverse Our Zeal to Incarcerate by Nomi Prins, The Women’s International Perspective (The U.S. has the most prisoners and the highest jailing rate of any country – the insanity must stop.)

• Cash-Strapped States Cut Juvenile Justice Programs by Jim Daveneport, The Associated Press. (South Carolina budget cuts remove young juveniles from treatment programs and moving them to prison.)

• At Overcrowded Florida Prison, Some Inmates May Just Camp Out by Richard Luscombe, The Christian Science Monitor (The state’s plan to house some inmates in tents could save money, but it’s drawing criticism.)

• Arsenic Levels Too High in Kern Valley State Prison’s Drinking Water by Michael Rothfield, The Los Angeles Times

• Budget Woes Prompt States to Rethink Prison Policy by David Crury, The Associated Press.

Congratulations, Mr. President, your work is cut out for you. Now with the oath of office behind us, let’s get back to my column. I want to take a moment to thank Boomer and Free for having considered taking over the work of Brothers Behind Bars. I have great gratitude for their efforts yet welcome back the task with similar gratitude and thanks. Oh, yes, I continue to grumble over how much there is to do considering the growing number of inmates reaching out to us but I am thankful that we are able to give them the hope that they speak of receiving from us. All they ask is to have someone to write to and who will care about them as the person and Child of the Universe that they are. They ask you to help them have dreams and the hope of seeing themselves as real. To obtain the list of those reaching out to us please write Brothers Behind

Bars, PO Box 68, Liberty, TN 37095. Although the address for RFD Magazine is changing, the Brothers Behind Bars address remains as it was. And please consider being generous in your contributions for the list as the postage and other costs continue to escalate.

One of the greatest joys I have as editor of the list is to receive the many contributions of poetry and artwork that these people currently behind bars share with us. As Valentine’s Day approaches and our thoughts turn to love, I want to give two poetic examples and then share some artwork with you. These all appear in the winter issue of the list along with the personal ads from their creators.

How Do I Love Thee?

By: Michael Tackett

My best friend and my lover My companion through the journey of life All these things you are to me Through good times and through strife.

I look into your eyes And see all my dreams in there, My heart knows no boundaries My soul knows no fear.

God’s placed you by my side And there you’ll always stand, Shoulder to shoulder, eye to eye Forever hand in hand.

Most times I walk beside you… Oft times I walk behind…

To be able to watch over you When you have a troubled mind.

My need for you is great. My love for you is true. My Husband and my Hero, I give my life to you.

Michael Tackett #484031

Baraga Maximum Correctional Facility

13924 Wadaga Road Baraga, MI 49908

Strictly Sexual

Our love life is so intense, You stretch me out and give me a kiss, You spread my legs, knees up and wide, You crawl between and deep inside. You taste my wetness as I’m going insane, You use your mouth to make me––you game.

You slip a finger deep inside. You put tits to tits and grind up and down, side to side…

You bite gently on my nipples as I pull gently on yours.

You fill me with wonder, pleasure and joy… The pace speeds up and I meet my climax, You kiss me breathless and I wonder what’s next.

by: Countess Sha’uri Randy Stamper #1108110

CP 316 3 John Bennett

Drive Fort Madison,

IA 52627

Drawing by Roger Hayes #95198, Oklahoma State Prison, PO Box 97, McAlester, OK 74502-0097

Jamal Barnes (WV) Christopher Caldwell (OR) Marcus Johnson (FL) Obie Taylor (IA) Christopher Lewis (WI)

cinean will Joy. memories of affected 2003, avant-garde film "uncrowned Poet scholstudent Institute Lifetime spanning five Pleasure gave him "the old avantdedicatbreath 3-disc set of Broughton's a selfstereotyped chil1968 film to and magician, teases and unforgettable Modern Art in 1988, enjoyed in bright Lipzin artist and Institute.

5th ANNU AL ROOT FESTIVAL

June 13-28, 2009 Arco, Idaho Beating

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From: Culture SubCulture

<culturesubculture@yahoo.com>

Subject: The Selection of the 1st US Secretary of The Arts is at hand...

In their myriad forms, the arts are essential to the collective psychological health, welfare, progress, and maturity of any civilized society. As well, the arts instill a sense of purpose and alignment into the hearts of creative people who contribute their wealth of enlightening, challenging, provocative, and beautiful ideas. Art compels us to think, to question, to emote, to confront, to challenge conventions, to heal, and to remember. Art has the ability to instill cultural pride while raising the collective

morale. Art defines space, and place, and cultural identity at a particular time and place. The selection of a highly respected creative colleague to the position of The Secretary of The Arts, empowered by federal funding, is ESSENTIAL to the healthful resuscitation, functioning, and maintenance of our national heart and soul.

While other countries have appointed Ministers of the Arts and Culture for decades, if not centuries, the United States has never had such a position. We need this NOW more than ever. Please sign this important petition, then pass it along to your friends and colleagues. It is located at http://www.petitiononline. com/esnyc/petition.html

“A

– Authors Mark Thompson and Malcolm Boyd

Bay area Radical Faeries Shane Hill and Heron Saline have release a great CD of faerie chants. They are offering it for up to a $20 donation, no one turned away for lack of funds but please include at least five bucks to cover mailing expenses. You can contact them at: Heron Saline

21 Lapige St Apt 1 San Francisco CA 94110-1631

heron3@mindspring.com

Look for a review in the summer issue

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