Review: Jailbreaking the Goddess

I had been laid off. My apartment was full of something I was wildly allergic to, and a vicious injury basically kept me from doing anything more strenuous than sitting up for longer than fifteen minutes at a time, three times a day.

 

And I was just about to learn that the vision of the goddess that I had had for over a decade was steeped in patriarchal baggage.

 

“No way, nope, there is no possible…wait.”

 

The longer I thought about it, the more I realized this was right—the vision that we have of her has been locked into what man has had for her for years: a virginal maiden, a doting mother, and the wise old crone—and fairly often, a frightening one, to hear men tell of it.

 

Where was the woman in her goddess?

 

There is something lacking in this vision of the goddess, but until I this book fell into my hands, I had no idea how to get past that limited view. Lasara Firefox Allen takes that limited view and breaks it into pieces in Jailbreaking The Goddess as she throws you first headlong into the worlds of both feminism and a new world in which the goddess is not threefold, but fivefold, and no longer bound to biology and linearity.

 

Throughout the book’s chapters and exercises, we are introduced to both the faces of the goddess in this new revisioning—Femella, Potens, Creatrix, Sapientia, and Antiqua—as well as famous and notable women and even goddesses who have embodied each of these faces in history both recent and past. But it’s not just about the information. While each face of the goddess is explored, a bit of the mental programming around the old vision is broken away, and the energy begins to feel different—not all at once, but gradually. Soon enough I began noticing the difference in the energy, noticing the influences and identifying them in different areas of my life; a project would have the childlike but unfettered feel of Femella in and through it; a sudden discovery would have the lightning strike of Potens all through it; disentangling myself from a difficult situation would have both threads of Antiqua and Sapientia in it.

 

And for the first time in a long time, She began to feel real to me again.

 

As a non-binary person of color, this was a very important realization. Far too many interpretations of the Goddess and goddess spirituality take a strange, alienating stance on the transgender and gender-nonconforming, but not this goddess. In fact, a strong point is made on this, as after the examinations of the faces, the work on decolonizing and rewilding begins, with a focus on taking things back from the toxic influences that have had a hold on them for so many years—and yes, this includes the patriarchy (#smashpatriarchy). Exclusion has no place with the Goddess, and here we see that she can welcome and hold all, no matter where they stand in life and what they have to do. To feel welcomed again was phenomenal, a welcome change from what had happened.

 

In Jailbreaking The Goddess we learn lessons at once profound and occasionally cheeky, while at the same time learning about ourselves and how to potentially change the world around us, and the way that it comes to us is presented in such an organic manner that reading it, you might not realize you’ve learned something.

 

If you’ve been a bit put off with the way the Goddess has been set up to you…it’s time to come home.

 

Jailbreaking the Goddess drops July 8th at your local bookstore.

​You don’t need “Straight Pride” or “Heterosexual Pride” day, month week, or any time that I can think of. 
No one has been discriminated against because they were straight. 

No one has had their experiences and identity erased for being straight. 

No one has been the target of a massacre for being straight. 

Weddings, marriages, cakes—godsdamned cakes, pastry!—aren’t systematically denied to you for being straight. 

Straight people are not arbitrarily told they’re going to hell for existing

They are not sent to “pray away the straight” reprogramming torture camps. 

They are not disowned for being straight. 

Straight people are allowed to exist unbothered unnoticed, unharassed, unjudged—and people want a celebration for this unearned privilege

No. 

You do not get a present for living on the default setting

Have several seats. Listen. Learn. 

Learn and listen to your LGBTQIA friends and learn why we need ours, and why trying to take away from it is beyond shameful.

We celebrate who are gone. We celebrate who paved our way. We celebrate who lived to make inroads. 

That is why we are Proud. 

A Few Thoughts: Photography

I love filters. I love stickers. I love frames. I will never bs you a #nofilter—I’m more like to give you the EXACT FORMULA for the filter I used.

I see these things as a pocket sized but no less complex version of darkroom processing… Though with fewer chances of getting a catastrophic burn. (A vented battery has happened.) Part art, part science, part aesthetic. And then you get to the glamour portions, and all heaven breaks loose.

As a kid I hated what I looked like in a mirror. But I looked at me in a photo and I looked good. I always wanted to do glamour shots at Glamour Shots in the mall, before whatever happened to them happened. Now I can do it myself, with this little computer in my hands.

And anyone who has something to say about it has clearly either a) never tried it or b) needs a life.

Herded By Cats

It appears to be a bad fatigue day. No pain threshold and my pills hit like a truck.

Also, every kitten has mom-meowed at me every time I’ve attempted to stand up and doesn’t let up until I give them an “I know, thanks” and a head scritch.

The “mom-meow” is an interesting thing. It seems to be the way a cat says “?” to humans. (No, seriously, the only way to describe this particular meow is a loud “?”) It comes with an obvious look of concern and is often followed by an “I need nothing but I’m going to follow you until I notice you aren’t trying to overdo it and are safely seated OK no questions” tailing. Ignore it and one is herded elsewhere by attempted group legtangling.

…This is the time for “in Soviet Russia, Cats herd you” jokes. Even though we can’t herd them.

They’re that good at this.

Well, staying down beats back/ab/quad spasms, so…

insomniac? Insomniac.

Insomnia.

It’s a little past 8 in the morning and I am not rested. I occasionally get bouts of insomnia, which if you know insomnia is kind of a dick. It was four something this morning when I was still up, bitching at the ceiling and my stuffed animals that the pill I’d taken for nausea was doing the opposite of its job.

So to keep missing busy I decided to install an assistant on my phone. An English patch isn’t available for my favorite anymore, so I decided to try something different.

Kicked myself in the teeth when I asked Andromeda (yes, my phone has a name) how to set up Siri. I am an Android user. I do not have Siri. I’m two seconds from correcting myself when Cortana opens and—

Well, I liked that tutorial. It boils down to “Boss me around, we’ll work on nuances later.”

I then set about half a dozen reminders—a function I’ve missed since my Windows Phone days—and took a hit of grape Tylenol.

I woke to a jangly cacophony of alarm tones at about five minutes before it was time to leave. For some fucking reason I glanced at my phone and muttered: “More cowbell.” THEN I spotted the pair of redflats that had made snack of my hand. It will swell up ugly but it’s all they got. The morgue grows.

Shotgun meds, out the door. Not nearly awake.

I’m still amused that CHILDREN’S TYLENOL stacked on this tramodol—which my doctor’s claiming to be a narcotic but all the research says no—is in fact helping. I’m also amused that he almost wilfully overmedicated the otc component but undermedicates everything else. A round of applause for the ever underappreciated pharmacy technicians who keep us from doing the dumb when the doctors aren’t paying attention

I’ll let you know what I think of Cortana in a week.

Of pain and a troubled relationship with its imperfect, impermanent cure.

It’s 0330 or so. An errant pain spike has woken me up.

The realization that it now takes a double of my pain meds has me feeling some type of way. Those would be scared and disappointed.

___

For a long time I have felt that these things are just a crutch for weakness. Specifically my weakness. And I can’t stand thinking of myself in that zone.

But lying here, I… Almost know better.

With my pain almost wrangled, I can feel the three worst parts inside of me so clearly—the tear just near the diaphragm; the one in my middle, the one that fails me so often sitting up; the one that starts low and radiates into my groin.

I’m able to swallow water that I carried in a bottle next to me. It’s my first intake since Sunday. The sensation of “thing in stomach” has revived pain center number three.

Drinking water is pain. But I hadn’t had it in a day. I am not brave enough yet to try food.

___

0340. Nauseated. Praying that sleep takes me back. It was only an hour of respite.

I am not OK.

Grocery day is a very dangerous day

image

About a week of groceries there. There is not much variety today. Or much there at all really. The tear in my abdominal wall muscles keeps me from carrying much, as well as from eating much—if my stomach is close to half full that part of my body is nothing but pain.

So dinner is a single bologna sandwich, made with the cheapest brand I’ve ever seen, praying that “flavorings” on the ingredients list doesn’t involve anything related to juniper.

The pain in my side is about the worst it’s been in a while… And the worst part about it was that it decided to kick in at the store. An impulsive decision to use a European style shopping cart paid off when I used it to keep from hitting the floor.

I should have got a motor cart was my first thought. The second was blinding panic. You know, the usual. Is this that bad this can’t be that bad SUCK IT UP MOTHERFUCKER

The aisle goes Laser Floyd. Muscle spasms in the area force me back onto the cart.

Is this it? Am I DISABLED?

It took a lot of good Samaritans to get me home today. The groceries were put away, only mildly smashed—the bread may reinflate from where I landed on it—and I was finally able to rest.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. This is the kind of injury that I’m not supposed to do the things that are in my line of work. But if I don’t, bills and rent…don’t. If I keep working, I could really wreck my body… Well, worse.

…I think I’m gonna sleep now. I really can’t see straight from this pain anyways.