Tag: spiritual

The Forbidden Fruit of Female Pagan Baptisms

By Dana Stovern
Written October 7, 2022
Moxee, Washington

I experienced a six-week-plus fantastical and beyond-imagination Initiation in the autumn of 2022. Although much of it was beyond words, I attempted this piece as a way to create landscape about what I lived through.

When my Spirit Team came walking to me
through the eastern hills of Washington State,
calling me to forgive God
through the fields and tan ridgelines
that cut across blue skies above,
I cursed. I wailed.

They said, “Things will go a lot better for you if you do forgive him,
and let go of control along the way.”

I was already driving to the God Squad Shop
when this message landed.
I was already doing what I’d been spiritually instructed to do.
Wasn’t that enough?
But no, I had to bring my pet peeve of forgiveness and allowing
along for the ride.
That was too much.

So, instead, in tears, I argued with Jesus and God
about sheer loss, deep trauma, the effing patriarchy,
and the unfairness of it all,
including being a woman in a God-forsaken land.
I argued my case to two patriarchal Biblical figures, 
like I was going to win THAT argument,
while I drove into a Christian town
that would probably rather hang me
than welcome me.

Pages: Page 1, Page 2

A Christmas with No Bells or Whistles

By Dana Stovern
Christmas Day 2021
Rogers Mesa, North Fork of the Gunnison

I feared Christmas this year because I knew the holiday was totally stripped down for me. I’d have no family or gathering to be with because of the divorce and the Omicron variant of COVID, limiting connection. There was no room to decorate a tree in my tiny space. I was also feeling the blah-humbug of the formality of gifting, which wasn’t a requirement for me this year. And trying to formulate how I’d cook for myself for Christmas, a special meal? Hmm. It felt like I was living in an involuntary boycott of Christmas, which did give me a certain kind of relief, even while a hollow feeling settled in the center of me.

The hollowness eventually developed into a wad of fear that rolled around inside of me like a wild pool ball having no edges to keep it caged on a table. I did not know how I’d walk through this landscape and negotiate with the layers of emotions that the holiday always brings. Alone.

The closer the holiday weekend came, the more I realized, “Dana, walk your talk with this. Do for yourself what you encourage others to do. Just be present and breathe through it. Don’t ignore, avoid, fight, or hide. Just stay with it.” And that’s what I’ve been doing – breathing through and being with where things “should” be but aren’t. Grieving when I need to and, of all the surprising holy holies, finding redemption, independence and freedom where I’d always had to lean into the yoked harness of the holidays.

And it was this morning, as I cooked scrambled eggs, topping them with a bit of a mess of raspberry sauce while enjoying a side of a chocolate-filled croissant, that Scott Simon’s NPR voice took me to a place I hadn’t expected.

Pages: Page 1, Page 2