|
Found Goddesses
By Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D.
As anyone who has read the Vedas, the Bible, the Quran, or the Book of Mormon, or the words of the Buddha, Mary Baker Eddy, or James Redfield well knows, there's not a lot of humor in religious or spiritual writing. It's all Highly Serious. But the Charge of the Goddess tells us, "All acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there be…mirth and reverence within you." We've found the love and we've found the reverence. I think it's time to find the pleasure and the mirth. It's time to lighten up. It's time to play with our goddesses (and a few gods).
Of course, we who live in these postmodern times still honor the ancient pantheons. The traditional goddesses are important to us-we pray to Hestia for a peaceful home, to Athena for success at the office, to Aphrodite for love. But who among the old pantheons can help us when our computer crashes? Who will help us decide what to take to a potluck? Help us find proper healthcare? Drive safely in heavy city traffic or on the freeway?
In 1988, Morgan Grey and Julia Penelope, a Witch and a linguist living "in extreme circumstances" in Nebraska came to understand that the "underlying principles of language and magic are transformational." Faced with the realities of the modern world, they invented new Goddesses and wrote a book called Found Goddesses: Asphalta to Viscera; the book is, sadly, out of print. At the turn of the millennium, inspired by Grey and Penelope, I started Finding my own goddesses and in 2003 wrote Finding New Goddesses: Reclaiming Playfulness in Our Spiritual Lives; my book is also out of print but still (hooray!) available on Amazon.com. From Acme, Goddess of High Tech, to Zombonie, Goddess of Taxes, the book is a romp through the alphabet and a parody of all those books that describe all those Serious Old Goddesses. Finding New Goddesses is not to be taken seriously!
Although most of the goddesses described in this column will be taken from Finding New Goddesses, I suspect that I may also Find newer goddesses. This goddess may be just the one Bendis and other zine editors are Looking For.
Opera
Goddess of Magazines and Newsletters
There may be only one Opus (and long may he live on that far, far side of normalcy), but Opera is multiplicitous, multibiquitous, and multilingual. Provoker of writers and artists of rankest talent, She stands astride the mound of niche publishing, boundless reams of paper streaming at Her feet, mighty pen thrust aloft in one inky hand, bound volumes clutched to her capacious breast, and proudly wearing the triple crown of subscription label, microfiche, and URL. Friend to all who can read (plus the masses who just look at pictures), Opera is much beloved by the ladies who host TV talk shows, by hobbyists of every interest and persuasion, and by every enthusiast who thinks it is his obligation to share his brain with the world. Opera's highest priestesses are Diana Vreeland and Helen Gurley Brown, Her highest Priests, Stan Lee and Henry Luce, Her artist, Norman Rockwell, Her court jester, Alfred E. Newman.
Yes, Opera is the true populist goddess, as old as the 18th century Spectator, as intrusive as
National Geographic, as fresh as tomorrow's teen 'zine. And how did She get where She is today? 'Tis an oft-told tale. . . .
"Friend, art ye cuneiform bricks dry yet?" "They are, Hammurabi, and thou mayst post thy wisdom upon ye ziggurat here for all to read."
"Friend, what hast thee here?" "Why, 'tis called a press of printing." "Zounds! Let us now cast abroad every speche that ys spoken, ek out of olde bokes, and in good feyth cometh al this newe science that men
lerne."
"Friend, what goodly machinery hast thee here?" "Why, i'faith, 'tis a printing press." "Then let us print an magazine!" "Aye, and unto the last syllable of recorded time, let us print a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." "Aye, 'tis sure to sell."
"Say, friend, what've we got here?" "Why, it's the new, improved offset press!" "Well, ya know what they say, The movin' finger writes, and havin' writ moves on, nor all yur piety nor wit c'n lure it back t' cancel half a line." "Not anymore, friend! Just flip this here switch an' she'll print up as many copies as anyone c'n poss'bly want!"
"You guys got a walkup Xerox?" "Sure do, son." "Wow! I can, I can print a million of these. Just let 'em get out and I'll be rich and famous!" "Now, hold on, son. Hold on. First, you gotta fold every one of these, just so. Then you stick on your address labels, this side up, and make sure they're in the right place. Then you have to sort 'em all by ZIP code and tie each bundle together with these big rubber bands. Then you take 'em to the bulk mail window. And you've got your bulk mail permit, right?"
"OK, womyn, we're ready to launch. We've got our URL, we've got our site, we've got our e-mailing list, we've got all our contributors lined up. This software is so advanced, it's gonna be a snap to put this 'zine out. All we have to do is Copy and Paste and hit Send. It'll be totally bitchin' easy, just you wait and see."
All hail to Opera. Not only does She know the questions, but She also has all the answers.
Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com), is the author of Pagan Every Day: Finding the Extraordinary in Our Ordinary Lives (RedWheel/Weiser, 2006), a unique daybook of daily meditations, stories, and activities. Her earlier books are Finding New Goddesses, Quicksilver Moon, Goddess Meditations, and Practicing the Presence of the Goddess. Her day job is freelance editing for people who don't want to embarrass themselves in print. Barbara lives in southern California. To purchase a signed copy of Finding New Goddesses, just send Barbara an email at bawriting@earthlink.net.
|
