A little write-up about my Women's Spirituality Program

When I entered into the WS program at CIIS in 2010, I had no idea what to expect.  I was coming from being a lecturer of English at CSU, Long Beach.  I also worked as a women’s spiritual advocate at the Women’s Resource Center and at the Interfaith Center on campus.  My focus was on British women’s literature as well as women’s advocacy and spiritual well-being in my local communities.  Altogether, I didn’t know how to bring together my spirituality, my love of literature and academia, and my identity as a woman.  A friend and mentor told me to look up Women’s Spirituality at a school in San Francisco.

This Women’s Spirituality program has given me the space to explore my spirituality and my identity as a whole.  The WS classes have changed my life. Embodiment and integration have become a daily practice, and I’ve learned how to bring my unique voice into academic conversation.  I’ve been challenged and have grown on so many levels – from the physical to the spiritual – and I am so grateful. 

The community of women has also been one of the gifts of this program. It is here that I found an abundance of women who speak a similar language as my own.  Where in other schools and communities, I would have to be the voice to highlight the abuses of patriarchy, in WS classes, I am supported to expand my way of thinking and speaking to include the multiple oppressions in our world.  Here I am encouraged to be more sensitive to privilege as well as to grieve the violence I’ve suffered and celebrate how far I’ve come. 

And, I do believe I’ve come far.  The WS program inspired me to make the program my own.  While working on my PhD at CIIS, I’ve co-created an intentional farm community of women in Ventura County, lived on a permaculture farm in the Cuyama Valley, and studied independently in Europe.  I am currently working on my first comprehensive exam – (Re)Naming Ecofeminism – bringing in my identity as an ecofeminist mestiza, and I will present a paper on this subject at the American Academy of Religion conference in Fall 2012.

I am thankful for the WS program at CIIS, and I look forward to continuing my studies here these next couple years. 

This bay area life...

Things I haven't had in a while:

-It's so new to have weekly rituals. It's been a year and a half I'd say.  Monday it's writing and my women's group; Tuesday music-making, work, then dance class; Wednesday hike, work, then happy hour with some spirit sisters; Thursday yoga/exploration day with Lisa, dinner with Jill and the flowers; Friday work then weekend adventure and studies. Everyday, too, I've been walking into the hills.  

-I got a paycheck today, or rather, it got automatically put in my bank account. It felt good.

-Being in love. It feels so new to me and yet so warm and familiar.

winter 2011 - living like the one we've been waiting for...

This last year has been one of constant movement, and I’ve learned to trust and celebrate these changes. From babies to deaths to rebirths, I know more than ever that the circle continues. It’s become even comforting to look back at my own spirals I’ve created, recognize my agency in the matters, and choose, simply choose in the moment to create and not react.

I began the New Year with my good old LA friends on some old high rise building in downtown L.A. We were all dressed up, and it felt so ritzy.

My winter intention welcomed in my shadows (forgiving myself and moving into pain to experience greater joy).  Working towards that end, I was a part of retreats on the Enneagram. I also took classes with incredible scholars in women’s spirituality, among them Sobonfu Some, Lucia Birnbaum, Mara Keller, Luisah Teish, and Afia Walking Tree. These classes – from Poetry Therapy, Rites of Passage, and Dark Madonnas – helped me continue the healing work I began so intensely a few years ago. My moon cycle even came in line with the new moon this year, and additionally, I continued therapy at The Relational Center, a non-profit therapy center in LA.

Indeed, my school work has been thriving as well as challenging, and when I’m up in the Bay area for classes, I love to cook for and share meals with my friends and classmates. I have a goodly community of folk up in SF now.  With them, I’ve been able to bicycle across the Golden Gate, relax at my friend’s in the Berkeley Hills, enjoy the fun bars of the Mission, and adventure to the Muir Woods, Marin Bay, Oakland and Kensington Hills. 

I also presented a paper at the American Academy of Religion conference in Whittier, my hometown. When I’m down here in the LA area, I enjoy working toward some local urban and suburban sustainability, catching depression era drink prices at the Edison or the like, and attending centering prayer at the Center for the Working Poor.  In Long Beach, too, I have my women’s community I meet with regularly. 

In between SF and LA, I have always my dear Abundant Table farm community.  We just celebrated the most wonderful holiday weekend with a tamalada, sing-a-long, and all other sorts of merriment.

In late spring, I participated in what came to be about a two month apprenticeship at Quail Spring, a permaculture farm in the sacred Cuyama Valley. At QS, I developed additional land skills working with animals, vegetables, and fruit trees (like pomegranates!). I walked, camped in my friends’ borrowed trailer, partied in cob homes, took long hikes, played so much music, made trips to the river, meditated in my sit spot, learned how to hula hoop, and worked on the lathe.  My summer intention became falling in love with my able body. 

In the midst of all this Earth-love, my beloved Papa passed, and the process of grieving was intense.  It really changed my life.  Grateful for the close moments we shared together these last few years in southern California and for being able to be with him and sing with him during his last few hours, I still missed holding his hands and feeling his kiss on my cheek. This grieving time makes all summer feel like a blur really.

Still, at the end of the summer and for my birthday, I traveled to Spain and the Mediterranean. I blogged a travel log while visiting ancient sites in Spain as well as Malta, Greece, Italy, and France (cristyroses.blogspot.com).  An epic two-month journey if I do say so myself, I returned with an ability to let go as well as a stronger appreciation for home, family, and chosen family. Coming back, I want to be around those I trust.

 

In fact, I’d say I’ve loved in a deeper way these Christmas parties and Solstice gatherings with old friends – so intimate and beautiful.  My winter intention this year is to remind my baby girl self that “it is safe to see clearly now,” and my plan for entering the New Year is to witness the gorgeous mountains and deserts of California.  

On the whole, I’m grateful for a good life. My PhD coursework just ended, and I’m moving up to SF to be more focused for my exams. 

I continue to salsa, bachata, hula, and any other kind of dancing, specifically with women.  I miss flying, but I’ve been able to sail a bit. And, hiking along the California coast feels great too.  I rediscovered my love for the guitar, water-coloring vegetables and fruits, and crocheting. And, I still love my photography.

Really thankful that in all these things, I’m around so many creative and inspiring friends (like you)! 

Joy and light this season!!

Travelogue: Searching for Las Diosas de Espana (y France)

"She'll find you."

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been more purposely exploring the cities and churches and caminos of Western Spain and Eastern France (around the Pyrenees). I’ve been a bit frustrated because what and who I seek has been hidden and/or forgotten, and I’ve had to look hard. I’ve had to learn and still am learning to see more clearly Her signs.

She’s there and everywhere, and as my friend Barbara reminded me, She's looking for me too.

At Lourdes

Lourdes took my breath away. “Que soy era Immaculada Conceptiou” said the Lady of Lourdes to Bernadette. Bernadette said she saw a small woman, and when Bernadette asked Her who She was, She said She was the immaculate conception. She is parthenogenisis! Bernadette had 18 visions in total, and at the site of the visions – a Cave in Lourdes, France – healing happens. I came with a strong intention to heal my/our/women’s bodies from the violence we’ve survived. As I walked into the Cathedral to see Bernadette’s relic and then into the Grotto to touch the sacred stones there, I heard “healing generations.” My traveling companion Lisa heard, “replenish the spring of your soul.” We cried and sang and washed ourselves in the miraculous spring water. I sent out all the love and healing to my family and communities, especially the women – my mothers, sisters, and daughters – and to the pain that has been caused by patriarchy, hierarchy, and domination ways of being. I paused to cleanse my body and the scars I carry in my shoulders, womb, vulva...everything.

We stopped for a local beer (canya) in St Jean de la luz (French side of the Basque country), and then headed to San Sebastian. There in the old town, I ventured into the oldest churches, one of them dedicated to the Black Madonna (o Maria Escura) Herself. All around the town too, I saw Her presence with “Mari” written on the walls, and with the Ocean everywhere, I sensed too She was near.

Mari's Island near Bermeo

Driving through Viscaya, we made our way to the mountains near the seas, the places where Mari spent some of Her time. Basque mythology (my friend Liana sent me her paper on this!) says that Mari went to these caves during certain times of the year.  I've seen images of Her red hair and the moon and moonlight weaving together. It seems to me that caves and Mari go together like Persephone and the underworld, like sweatlodges and women, like wombs and birth and rebirth. As I climbed to a little church on an island in Viscaya, I felt the wind and heard the crashing waves and touched the sacred Earth. I felt the fire in me stir up (and I once again wanted to dye my hair flaming red). And, before we drove back to Bilbao, I left a prayer for clear vision, for Mari eyes.

In San Sebastian, Basilica

These places I’ve been traveling and exploring as I search for my Dark Mothers have been overwhelmingly beautiful. Sometimes, I simply feel delightful; other times, I feel the growing pains.

Travelogue: From BCN to the Pyrenees

I’m sitting on the porch of this farm, listening to Beirut and Sigur Ros. The kitten is here with me, climbing the chairs, a ladder, and my legs every now and then and trying to drink my coffee I made this morning with the Italian café maker. I was dancing and stretching a bit earlier in the strong sun, which felt so nice. It’s quite cold now and Autumn is very here. The sheep and chickens and vegetables are growing nearby. And, I can hear the dogs fighting over the Spanish chorizo I snuck them. There’s something about this farm life and community that I just love. However, there’s a responsibility here in taking care of all these things that I find quite heavy. I miss the Abundant Table community and the mothering sensibility I experience with the women there.

We are here in Sils, just a bit south of Girona, on our way to Cadaques and then on the Pyrenees. We had not planned on staying so long, but it’s been a couple days here, and it’s felt good. We’ve rested a lot and feasted a lot. Combined with the music and new friends (from Denmark, HK, Spain, and Berkeley even), the time here has been refreshing for the journey. This trip has been longer than any other I’ve taken, and I’m reminded to pause in between the many adventures. Every new adventure brings with it a new sense of the word “trip.”

Yesterday, we ventured to Figueres to the see the Dali Museum. It was a labyrinthine and surreal place, of course, and I was in awe of this man and his life work. I loved that he’s Spanish, and that I have some cultural, but limited, connection with him. It’s a connection I don’t share as much with Greek or Italian culture, art, etc. While traveling in Greece and Italy, I’m doubtful that I should even be there, like my studies of their culture and whatnot isn’t really for me, like I was taught they were my history, but they really aren’t. However, in Spain, I hear the word “should,” as in I should be here studying and observing this place and these people, because they are my place and people. These are my ancestors, no? Even their jovial and playful and passionate way of being resonates with me.

I’m proud to say that we’ll be driving up to the Basque country afterall. We will go into France a bit to go around the Pyrenees and see Lourdes, and then the plan is to come back to Spain to see San Sebastian and Bilbao.

I’ve been doing some research on the Dark Mother Mari up there, and there’s a cave we will visit. I hope to find more places associated with Her, and I’m sure we will.

Travelogue: in Spain (again)

Spain: I specifically chose to fly into Barcelona on my way to Malta. I carried the intention to practice my Spanish, visit Montserrat, and simply be around the people with whom I share some cultural heritage. Whether my Filipina Spanish colonized grandmother, Mexican-Spanish grandfather, or Spanish (via New Mexico) grandmother, there’s a lot of that Spanish blood in me. I tend to think of it as my colonizer side, but I also cherish it. It’s my ticket into the European story. And, I like this European story. I’ve studied the West and their cannon for most of my life. Cervantes to Picasso to Dali (all these men!), I am interested in how the Spanish live and interact with each other as well as other countries.



Before I flew to Milan and then Malta, I spent a couple days in Barcelona mostly walking around the Sagrada Familia and hanging out with my fellow hostelers. Late nights in the discotecas, siestas, working through jetlag – it was a whirlwind couple days.



Now, returning to BCN has been a different experience. My traveling companion and I couchsurfed this first week here, and because of this, we’ve experieced a pretty Catalan life with Catalan food, some Catalan and Spanish language, and just overall a homier and local feel. The wine, the beer, the lamb, the cheese with honey and walnuts, the bread and Spanish omelette have been delicious! Our couch surfing friend lives near Gracies Station and a lovely little walk to the BCN beach, which we’ve visited a couple times. Somewhere in Crete, I lost my bathing suit bottoms, but I’ve been wearing some pretty chonies (underwear) and no one seems to care here. Altogether, my traveling friend and I agree that we are beach bums, and I like to think that this trip I’ve been chasing summer.



This week too I ventured out of the city to Montserrat. This beautiful mountain and the monastery and hikes and hermitages all up in it was stunning and perfect. I did a bit of a detox and made some veg soup. I took the time as a whole like a retreat. Wandering the mountain to the Santa Cova where the Black Madonna of Montserrat was hidden and wandering into the Basilica where another Black Madonna is held, I listened to the men’s choir, meditated a bit, and considered how I could along with the many pilgrims I saw there, seek healing from the Dark Mother.



I was asked a few times if I was religious, and my response was, no, probably more heretical. I just like the Dark Mother. Her story in part just really fascinates me. Some say she is Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and some others say she is Mary Magdalene, mother of Sarah Tamar. I like thinking she’s both. Like the Virgin of Guadalupe who is also Tonantzin and the Dark Mother of the Americas, Mary of Montserrat is a mezcla and a mestiza like me!!!

A lot of my time this week, I’ve also practiced speaking a lot of Spanish with these couch surfing friends. One met me in Monsterrat and gave me a ride back to Barcelona where we made our way to the Beach again. He only spoke Spanish, and for me, it was particularly challenging. His accent and the speed in which he talked gave me a headache and made me really feel like a beginner. Nevertheless, by the end of the day, I understood more and could speak more freely. A lot of the challenge was for me giving up on this belief that I needed to completely understand. I felt like I was kind of starving or suffocating, but I realized that a better analogy is not feasting or breathing 100% oxygen. It was about letting go of the allusion that anyone and myself speaks the same language at all. I needed to let go of the old way of thinking that language and complete understanding go together.

I will say, that as my brother and mother have their birthday this mid month of October weekend, I’m beginning to desire Autumn and sweaters and warm drinks and pumpkins. I’m not sure how the Spanish do Autumn and Halloween or Dia de los Muertos, but I’m ready to paint my face and have some mulled wine.

Travelogue: Skotino Cave and Lesvos and Delphi

Our last day in Crete we drove a little east of Heraklion to the Skotino cave. There we found a massive opening in the Earth that goes down four levels. There was also an altar with images of Mary, and so I added Tonantzin (the Virgin of Guadalupe). I had kept an image of her in my journal since the Women’s Spirituality Retreat at CIIS some months back. It felt fitting.

We walked down into the cave and started singing, “Ancient Mother, I hear you calling.” In the darkness, the face of a woman appeared on the formation in the middle of the cave. I imagined people of the past singing and dancing in this cave. It would have been an epic place for it.

Next day found me in Lesvos. On the ferry ride over (12 hours), I met another Thodoros, a computer scientist, and we talked at length about the addiction of virtual reality, facebook, marketing, and cia knowledge. As I slept on the floor of the ferry, my dreams dwelt on the need of privacy as well as living in the present reality all around me. Sunrise that day was on the island of Chios (a stop on the way to Lesvos), and sunset was in Molivos.

Exiting the ferry, I met Matina, a beautiful Greek woman and fellow traveler. She showed me around Mitilini (the port city) and then in Molivos (a less than 2 hour bus ride from Mitilini). We spent time lingering in the sea (Aegean), Turkey right there across the way. She also took me to the hot springs, and I felt my well-traveled body relaxing. Her friend in Molivos owns a beautiful shop in the main market area, selling Indian and natural, colorful clothes and jewelry. The center piece was a gorgeous pregnant figure, and from her window and balcony, we watched the sunset on the water. Breathtaking.

In Molivos, I stayed at the quaint Greek home of Bianca, a German tour guide of sorts living in Molivos since April. She took me to some quaint bars as well! Altogether, she was invaluable, helping me figure out where and how I wanted to go, showing me how to hitchhike (on motos and in cars!), giving me her bed, feeding me Greek breakfasts, and letting me do a tasting of her Ouzo collection.

One of my main purposes in going to Molivos and Lesvos in general was of course, Sappho. I read the fragment of her poem,“Because I prayed the words: I want” throughout my stay. I also traveled to Lesvos to meet up with my professor, Carol Christ. Carol showed me her home in Molivos, her two little dogs, a Taverna in Petra (the neighboring village), a good Aegean sea swim, and a lovely place called Octopus on the water. We spoke about my program at CIIS, the issues at the school, and the joys of our studies and lives.

Delphi: I left Molivos so satisfied, and I arrived the next day in Delphi very ready to ask the Oracle a question. I felt like the whole lot of time in Greece was leading up to Delphi, a little mini pilgrimage. And despite the fact that I prepped nearly 3 weeks for Delphi, I still needed to pause and “go down” into Athena’s temple to clarify my question. Sitting at the foot of the temple, I found myself connecting with Athena’s birth. Her mother is often missing from her story, and instead we read that she came from Zeus’ head. There is more to this story of course, and yet in this oppressive mythology, I relate to Athena. I too feel like my Mother has been missing because patriarchy replaced her with a Father that I must be reborn through. But, now I say, “No. I don’t need a rebirthing through a man or men. The womb of my mother (literal and figurative) is more than good enough. And, so, I asked Athena, “Who is (y)our mother?”

Walking from her temple to the museum (to delay my Oracle visit) to the (finally) Oracle in Apollo’s temple, I formed my question. I approached the Oracle, and asked, “How am I a mother?” The change in words was so simple but so profound for me, and the response I heard was simultaneously “You are”/ “I am.” I am my mother; you are my mother; we are mothers.