How do you shed light on the darkness of ignorance if no one is listening?

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I’ve come across countless pataki (myths associated with the Orisa) recounting the less than stellar behavior of the deities that make up the Yoruba pantheon.

Obatala, king of the white cloth and avatar of purity has a taste for alcohol. Osun, goddess of love, art and culture bedded and had children with all of the male Orisa. And, the valiant king Sango has a taste for the ladies and has been know to step out on his wives for a little honey.....more at http://www.dustdawta.wordpress.com

What do we call ourselves? Women of color who come from a tradition of folk magic and spirit work, who respect, but do not fit into the neo-pagan, wiccan and feri communities. Those of us who are interested in learning our spiritual traditions but find Iles / Egbes limiting in thought and practice, where do we go to learn and grow, find paths and tap into the power that resides within?

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Godis : Dance

A celebration of women through music, movement and myth

Godis : Dance - a celebration of women through movement, music & myth is a FREE series of dance and folklore workshops designed to encourage women to rethink western standards of beauty and reshape their attitudes about femininity by introducing them to the ancient art associated with the African goddesses Yemonja; the deity of the ocean and motherhood, Osun; the deity of abundance, love and fertility and Oya; the deity associated with ancestral knowledge and change.

Iya Renee "Oyin" Hardy, dance instructor and priestess of Yemonja, will lead the class through a series of movements, traditionally used to embody and evoke the goddess energy during ritual and celebration. No prior dance experience is necessary. Bring a wide skirt and a willingness to learn.

All classes will be held at the Lonnie Young Community Center located at 1100 E. Chelten Ave. Philadelphia, PA 19138 at the corner of Chelten & Ardleigh

Each class will focus on the following goddess energy:

Yemonja - Saturday Jan. 10 at 10 a.m.

Osun - Wednesday Jan. 14 at 7 p.m.

Oya - Saturday Jan 17 at 10 a.m.

I woke up this morning craving a heavy breakfast: a bowl of grits with lots of butter, garlic and salt, salmon croquettes, hash browns and wheat toast or maybe a stack of pancakes with maple syrup and turkey bacon…I was able to fight off my taste buds and settle for my normal, health conscious bowl of steel cut, whole grain oats with almond milk but the cravings followed me through the day. Why am I so voracious ? It wasn't until i took a closer look at the calendar that i realized that today is the 18th day in my 21-28 day erratic menstrual cycle. This poses a bit of a problem because the Akan festival that, I’ve been excited to attend, falls on day 21.

I don’t believe in coincidences! I finally found a travel mate for my trip to the Akan festival in Mineral, Va., and I’m counting down the days (13 days to be exact) until we leave for our excursion to the back woods of Va.,
For the two days we’re there our home base will be the Rockland Retreat; a black owned bed and breakfast housed in a mansion on an abandoned plantation. According to the brochure Rockland is stone’s throw away from the Walker Plantation; the area that influenced Alex Haley’s Roots. In addition to the county breakfast that is included the bed and breakfast includes an opportunity to explore the history of slavery in Virginia. Cotton fields, lakes, green space and quiet I can’t wait. In preparation for the trip I’ve been doing some research on the area. I’ve been spending my extra time using google maps to explore the area and chart out our journey and I found a cluster of streets that bare my father's surname : Burton court, Burton Street and Burton Circle. The Burtons are from South Carolina, but I wonder if there was a Burton Plantation somewhere in the area?

Sometimes certain places call out to us, touch our spirits and beckon us to come and explore. When this happens it is important for us to set fear aside and walk toward whatever it is that is calling our name.
Last week I received an e-mail from a sister friend inviting me to attend the Ankobea Festival in Virginia; an annual festival held to venerate the Abosum and Nsamanfo; the deities of the Akan tradition and our collective ancestors.
I was instantly attracted to the idea of gathering with others of like mind and tradition in a space where we could be ourselves and call the names of our ancestors and divinities as loud as we wanted to, let the soil and the trees soak up our collective energy and send our prayers straight to the stars, without the interference of concrete, brick walls and other effects of urbanity.

A brush of his lips against her shoulder sent her spiraling back to where they began. They’d been young lovers then, each other’s reason to live. Pressing her head against his chest, listening past the staccato rhythm of his heart, she could hear his laughter as he celebrated the birth of their first child; she could see herself whipping sweat, earned from a days work in the field, from his strong brow and smell the scent that the cotton field left on the surface of his skin. But that was then. Now, here they are again, a century away from where they started, staring at each other each trying to remember what they both forgot.

For those who have not created an alter space before don't be overwhelmed by the process. Creating an alter can be a fun and uplifting as long as you remain open.

Many traditional spiritual systems make use of an alter to help devotees focus on the energy related to a particular deity or spirit. You’ll find community shrines to the Orisha thought Nigeria, shrines dedicated to the devi of the Hindu pantheon in the sacred temples of India and many New World Yoruba practitioners have alters, shrines and ritual spaces in their homes.

When properly prepared and utilized alters become a constant reminder of the divine and help prepare our conscious mind for change.

You’ll be surprised at how much using your alter as a focal point will help you make it through. I’ve tried to complete Sacred Womyn once before and on the days when I was ready to slip back in to old destructive eating and relationship patterns the image of Mama Biddy Mason always caught my attention and I was immediately reminded of her journey and the reasons why I embarked on the Sacred Womyn path.

For the past week or so the air in my home has been feeling uneven. Sleep has been difficult; I've been waking up feeling like something is off kilter. When ever I feel this way I know it's time to do a little spiritual cleaning to remove negative vibrations and return that peaceful feeling back to my home.

The following incense mixture is great for clearing the air before meditation or when you feel the need to freshen your space. I use it for both and find it very soothing and clearing. You can also use this blend to clear old energy before moving into a new home.
I use dried herbs for this mixture but if you can get your hands on some fresh herbs feel free to experiment.

You’ll need:
Measuring spoons
Glass bowl
Plastic baggie or jar with a lid to store incense mix
Charcoal disks for burning incense

Ingredients:
3 tablespoons of sage
1 table spoon frankincense rock incense
1 tablespoon of myrrh rock incense
1 tablespoon of rosemary
1 tablespoon of kosher rock salt

Combine all ingredients in glass bowl and place in baggie
With a clear mind and heart recite a prayer for the peace of your home into the bag of herbs

Waves of blue fabric and white lace tumble from the ceiling in a far corner of the room where a small, chocolate skinned woman sits with her legs crossed, quietly watching women dressed in white move about the room as they rearranging furniture, removing dust from lamp shades, sweeping and tidying up the space. She looks very serene, the eyelet stitching on the hem of her skirt rests delicately at the top of her ankles and heaping plates of grapes, melons and other colorful fruits sit at her feet.

“Have a seat hon,” says the woman from the door who introduces herself as Iya Yewande*. “The Iyawo* isn’t quite ready and the drummers aren’t here yet, it will be an hour or so before we start.”

Cumin, curry, garlic and the heavy scent of sage drift from the kitchen and the clang of pots and pans keep time with the rhythm of women’s laughter.
The ritual, before the ritual is underway. Every face in the room looks familiar; high cheekbones, deep brown eyes, full gap toothed smiles, they all look and feel like women I know. Women who I call auntie, momma, nana, they look like family.

Alafia Sistas,  

I wanted to take a minute to put my writing in to context before the next post. “Searching for Soul” is the working title of a memoir, which recounts my steps in to the Orisha tradition over the last seven years.

Sun rays sneaking through an open window warm my right shoulder blade as I gaze at my reflection in a full length mirror. Loose fitting, white linen pants and a white cotton top crinkle and contort while my reflection pirouettes, turning to the left and then back to center, adjusting and tugging fabric into its proper place. With a handful of my course locks in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other, I wrap my hair into the folds of white fabric, making certain to cover the crown of my head. The children and my husband are out for the afternoon and the chaos in my home has been replaced with more than enough space to think and breathe. I almost want to stay home and enjoy being alone but something is pushing me to leave. I have to rush. It’s already 3:45 pm.; the ceremony is scheduled to begin in 15 minutes.