The Furious Spinner

Feeling pretty good today, knock on wood. I saw Vicki Noble again, this morning. With fourteen other women, we did a ceremony which culminated in a Dakini Feast. Vicki has found "provocative connections" between the Amazons and the roots of Tibetan Buddhism (which were female shamanistic in nature). In the Double Goddess, Vicki writes, "I am convinced that buried in the past, and unnoticed in recent history, is a coherent female lineage of shamanistic practices and ecstatic rituals that cuts across the boundaries and nationalisms..." Today we carried on these female practices (or added to them). Meaningful ceremony is such a profound way to create community—especially when you share food with one another.

Before we gathered together, I walked next door to New Renaissance Bookshop which was sponsoring the event. A woman sat on the porch looking over We'Moon '04: Gaia Rhythms for Womyn. I wanted to tell her to turn to page 115. That's where my piece "The Power of Nourishment" is. "We eat the same food, essentially, and are linked by it: it is a supremely intimate act," I wrote. "Celebrating in this way becomes a communal prayer to the forces of Nature, to the Divine." (I love the We'Moon appointment book/lunar calendar. I've gotten it every year for probably fifteen years—it is an integral part of my life—and my work has been published in it several times. This year it is even more stunning than usual because it's all in color. A feast for the eyes!) I didn't say anything to the woman; I let her enjoy her new purchase in private. A moment later, I met Vicki, and we wandered around the store looking for goddess figurines we could borrow to use as part of the altar we would all create as part of our work this morning. (This is the only way to shop.)

I felt better after spending time with Vicki today. I love the idea that she exists—that someone is out there doing the work she does, making the connections she makes. She is my teacher, but we are sisters, too, looking at the world in similar ways, trying to support each other as we both try to make our way in the world doing work which the dominant culture does not always reward. I feast on her words every time I'm with her. I feast on her knowledge and am honored to know her.

Now I'm home again. I'm waiting for another feast. The Mariners just won their last game, but to no avail. They aren't in the playoffs. No more Ichiro Suzuki (the coolest man on the planet—like in jazz cool). Mario is making vegetable enchiladas, guacamole, rice, beans, and juice. "Cooking is a sacred act," I wrote in the We'Moon '04 piece. "Nourishment makes a person whole and hale." Cooking certainly is sacred when Mario does it—at least I feel great when I eat his food.

After dinner, we'll watch (and listen to) The Blues on PBS. We're hoping for a feast of sound.

A perfect end to a day of feasting!

And speaking of perfect endings, I'll end with one of Mario's feasting poems. It was originally published in Rosebud #25.

Dinner and Dancing

The spider spins a web with glee,
Which traps bugs like a flea or bee.
This prompts a spider eating spree,
And thus she gets her calorie.
Such fare would sicken thee or me,
But she can’t stand our tea or brie,
And healthy salads make her flee.
But after insect meals you’ll see
How merrily she bends her knee,
Dancing her web with spirit free,
Strumming the strands of filigree,
In arachnid eight part harmony.

(copyright © 2002 by Mario Milosevic)

All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.