Feast Day for MM

(Photo from Pinterest)

Today is Mary Magdalene's Feast Day.
And within this torn world on the brink of transformation, I always try to find a way to celebrate Mary and her message especially on this day. I'll probably go back and reread some of Harvard-trained theologian Meggan Watterson's book Mary Magdalene Revealed as well as some passages from the Gospel of Mary (found at an antiquities market in Cairo in 1896 rather than Nag Hammadi where many of the other newer ones were found.)

I think some of my family and friends wonder at my fascination with Mary Magdalene, having come from almost zero religious background, not being taught the Bible, and having a lifelong resistance to any notion of organized religion.

In the last several years, Mary has had a spiritual resurgence, a renaissance. She's been given a reprieve. After centuries of being labeled a prostitute, she is now known as the Apostle to the Apostles. As I began to see her as the embodiment of the Divine Feminine and learn more about what this meant, I was guided to put her into my novel. I did meditations requesting her presence and in 2015, I physically traveled to the South of France to visit her cave near Aix-en-Provence.

In both her book and her blog post for this Feast Day, Meggan Watterson discusses the passage in the Gospel of Mary where she asks Christ, "Does a person who sees a vision see it with the soul or with the spirit?"
Christ answers, "A person does not see with the soul or with the spirit. Rather the mind, which exists between the two, sees the vision..."

Of the three copies of the 3rd century Gospels of Mary recovered, two are written in ancient Greek, one in Coptic (an ancient Egyptian). In ancient Greek, the word for mind is nous and means The Spiritual Eye of the Heart.

According to Cynthia Bourgeault in The Meaning of Mary Magdalene, as the disciples are mourning, Mary tries to console them, reminding them that Christ has "... prepared us so that we might become fully human." The modern translation of the words 'to become fully human' is Anthropos: A completed human being, or generally interpreted as the integration of the opposites of oneself, specifically integrating the male and female aspects of the human psyche.  Bourgeault believes that in both the Gospel of Mary and the Gospel of Thomas, this is the heart of Christ's vision of transformation.

Several years ago, while on a writing retreat, I did a meditation requesting Mary Magdalene's presence and guidance before having read either of these books. I had sat in meditation several times over months with my request without hearing any real message. But on this day, I did a few things differently and a message came through loud and clear. It said, Look to what is in your heart. I understood that it meant that each of us need to look deeply at the motivation behind our actions and determine if they come from the ego or the heart.

It's my belief that our current political state of affairs and White House resident are symbolic of our collective energy of the ego run amok. We're seeing what happens when the masculine is given free reign without the feminine being integrated, accepted, cherished. It's the balance we're missing. So when I revere the Divine Feminine, it's not meant to cancel out the masculine but to bring more of a balance between the two.

So I will continue to try to look at my own motivations, to see things from the eye of the heart, from the eye of love, as Meggan describes it, "a love that transforms everything."

Mary Magdalene Revealed

Happy MM Feast Day! 

It's July 22nd again where priests, monks and sisters 

carry Mary Magdalene's remains throughout the streets of Provence

and elsewhere to celebrate her.

And I have been waiting for this book by Meggan Watterson! 

It's one of the few books I've ever pre-ordered

so it was even more of a gift when it showed up in the mail. 

Meggan Watterson is one of the well-educated scholars I admire

on the Divine Feminine and Mary Magdalene herself. 

If you're interested in this subject, 

and you don't already follow her on FB or IG,

do so! 

To find the book on Amazon,

click HERE. 

And discover the Christianity the world hasn't tried yet. 

(Photo copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Mary Magdalene's Feast Day and... Beauty

On this day in Provence, in the South of France,

this reliquary, said to house part of the tibia 

and a lock of hair of Mary Magdalene,

is brought out and sent through the town in procession. 

And around the world, she is honored

as representing the Divine Feminine and its resurgence.

While there are probably countless definitions of this concept,

for me it is about bringing back balance,

with both masculine and feminine energies, 

to the patriarchal world and time we find ourselves in. 

It's about living within our power,

about empathy and understanding, forgiveness of others, 

about healing and the sacred of your own feminine energy. 

It's about High Priestess energy. 

(Visitor's notes to Mary Magdalene in her cave at La Baume)

And this weekend, on the eve of the Magdalene's Feast Day,

we also celebrated and honored another red-headed Marianne.

My friend of thirty years passed last week

and many of her friends gathered in her backyard garden, 

filled with the flowers, images, fairy lights and people that she loved,

to honor her, to feel her, speak of her,

to hold on and to let her go with love. 

She was/is a High Priestess of Beauty, 

creating it everywhere she turned,

from morning to night. 

And many of the things I mentioned about the Divine Feminine

are the things people spoke about my friend and honored her for. 

In one area of her decorated yard sat a table 

with a bouquet of beautiful pieces of paper 

and a canister of colored pencils. 

And from her pear tree, budding with fruit, hung colored ribbons. 

The tree, surrounded with bouquets of flowers, 

 became a Blessing Tree where many of us wrote wishes or blessings to her

and hung it from the tree's ribbons. 

Go in peace, Beauty! 

Your heart has filled us with such richness.

May you soar high and free

and tease us often with glimpses. 

I will miss you forever!  

Marianne 'Octavia Hunter' Galloway 

* 1/7/67- 7/15/18 *

(Photos copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Divine Feminine Oracle Cards

Another book bento, this time for the Divine Feminine Oracle Cards I just received

by the amazing Meggan Watterson and Hay House. 

A deck of magnificent cards of goddesses, saints and divine women figures

along with the booklet that describes each and their positive message. 

I picked the card of Brigid for my post today:

The Goddess of the Eternal Flame. 

Her message couldn't be more perfect for me right now. 

Brigid represents the flame, that light we carry deep within us

that never goes out though we might think and fear that it has. 

And the shift and healing that takes place 

after walking in the dark of a cold winter

for what feels like far too long. 

An internal light that reminds us that we do not walk alone

and the best is yet to come. 

She is the light of dawn

and hope and healing and growth of spring. 

And the reminder that the dark, the winter never lasts long

and that we are all sacred. 

***********

The Divine Feminine makes me think of Provence

and my trip to Mary Magdalene's cave, La Baume,

which was a magical journey for me. 

It makes me think of the balancing of the feminine and masculine energies

and the state of the world and its perilous imbalance right now. 

And of course I think of MM herself.

It also makes me think of my mother.

I didn't realize until writing this just now that, my mother,

who passed several years ago, is now part of my Divine Feminine frame of reference. 

Like all of us, while she was always a tiny part of the Divine Mind 

without really truly knowing or fully understanding that, 

(as is true for many),

she now has an even greater, stronger, more powerful connection 

to the Divine Feminine. 

And I think of the women I've known

who have recently lost husbands and beloveds

and the tribe of women who share the understanding of that kind of grief. 

Mary Magdalene shares in that company and tribe. 

That is some powerful company. 

So grateful for this gorgeous deck 

with its divine and uplifting messages. 

Thank you, Meggan Watterson!

(Artwork by Lisbeth Cheever-Gessaman)

** Sidenote:
The tiny, barely-visible cross leaves at the bottom of the Bookbento
are the dried olive leaves from Mary Magdalene's cave
where I journeyed to in the South of France 3 years ago this month.
I took them off the floor where they had fallen from
the two small olive trees in pots on the lower level of the cave.
These are flanked by the medallions I bought in the abbaye gift shop:
one of MM and one of St. Michael. I submerged them in the pool of water
in the back of the cave so they would be imbued with what I would call Holy Water
after centuries of veneration to Mary Magdalene. 

(Photo copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Happy Magdalene Feast Day~ July 22nd

Two years ago in June, I made the journey to La Baume, 

Mary Magdalene's cave in the South of France. I started out nervous though excited to make the trip to the cave in Provence alone but in the end, I was determined to protect that sacred space of my own pilgrimage. And I've struggled to process what the journey meant for me. 

It was a breaking out... of my perpetual fear, out of my comfort zone and my reluctance and avoidance of "religion." It was a diving in... to Gratitude, into the Sacred, into myself. It was a partial melding of my own spirituality, which I've been cultivating since I was 19, with the powerful spirituality of the ages. 

Everything I needed while there opened itself up to me literally within seconds, as if there were absolutely no lag time between the thought of what one wants or needs and the universe providing it. It was twenty four hours of pure awe and full on Power. In fact, everything I needed to get myself there to make the journey opened itself up to me easily as well. And I've been there in my mind nearly every day since. And been changed by it. I have felt called, as one of the many voices, to help bring forth her message which is why she became part of my novel. And I'm excited to have made the commitment to make the journey again with someone who has wanted to go and with my partner who had to miss the trip last time. 

You can read about my journey and see photos of the cave and surrounds here in 

Part 1 and Part 2.

(Photo copyright: Kirsten Steen) 

Concert at St. Julien le Pauvre

One of the churches I ventured into this visit to Paris

was St. Julien le Pauvre.

I hadn't remembered on my last trip here

that it's a Greek church! 

(Melkite Greek Catholic)

Some of you know that I collect photos of

the Annunciation.

And I found this little sweet one below

on one of the panels just underneath the large cross in the first photo. 

This church regularly participates in concerts

and we were able to make this piano and accordion concert

on the first day of the new year. 

St. Julien le Pauvre

is one of the oldest churches in Paris,

 built between 1170-1240. 

But before this building,

from about the 6th century on, 

stood a Merovingian hostel for pilgrims.

It is said that it stood on the Roman road to Spain

and thus for medieval pilgrims 

on the road to St. James shrine at Santiago de Compostela

(though it was too small to be listed in the medieval Pilgrim's Guide.)

A site on St. Julien History 

describes how Bishop Gregory of Tours 

was the first to write about the basilica and hostel

in his History of the Franks.

As he considered St. Julien 

to be one of his patron saints,
he lodged at the Basilica of St. Julien the Martyr

and said a midnight mass there.

Archaeological finds determined that the building originally stood 

in the middle of an ancient cemetery

and unearthed Roman and Merovingian sarcophagi and other artifacts.

One of my favorite things in the church was this angel.

The little church looked even sweeter with this lovely piano in its midst. 

And I positioned myself in the audience

to have a perfect view of the angel. 

When we got home that evening after the concert,

we went online and discovered that the angel is Archangel Gabriel,

the very same angel who appears in the Annunciation

and is often associated with  gifts of knowledge and messages to prophets.

Another of my favorites at St. Julien le Pauvre

 shows Jesus revealing himself to Mary Magdalene. 

Next time I'll share a few photos outside the church. 

It's located across the river from Notre Dame 

and just across from the entrance to the Latin Quarter. 

**************

Have been posting a few of my Paris photos

on Instagram as well.

Follow me there for more travel photos. 

(Photos Copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Happy St. Mary Magdalene's Feast Day (and MM's Cave Part 2)

***Continuation from Mary Magdalene's Cave in Provence Part 1***

Arriving back at the abbey (l'Hostellerie de la Sainte Baume) after my first trek to the cave, there was not enough time to shower before dinner so I cleaned up as best I could and hoped there might be other weary travelers at the table as possibly ripe as myself.

Meals at the hostellerie are served cafeteria/family style at specified times. Guests are seated along several long tables in a large window-filled room while the nuns sit together at their own table, secluded amongst themselves.

 While each day of the week offers a different menu,

 my one evening here, dinner began with a plate of tiny cubed beets with vinaigrette, baskets of sliced baguette and a carafe each of red and white wine.

 Across the table from me, three middle-aged women were clearly together and next to me an older gentleman, all of whom spoke quietly in French as they passed the bread and wine. The only woman to speak English ventured to ask me a few questions and then tried, occasionally, to keep me informed of the conversation.

 

The women were staying through the week and talked about the paths they had chosen up to the cave, their curiosity about the building next to it (what I guessed were the Priest's accommodations in between services), and what each did for a living. The older gentleman talked about how difficult it had been to find the abbey (on which we all agreed) and a book he had found about the cave at another site.  

Dinner arrived in the form of thick chicken cutlets, semolina and fruit for dessert. Meals are for specified times and the young nuns who served began clearing away food while the older man was still eating. The women at my table tsk'd as they talked, pointing their fingers at him. The English-speaker told me they were unhappy that he wasn't allowed to finish his dinner in his own time.

After dinner I desperately wanted to retire to my room for a hot shower but stopped to peruse the many plaques hanging in the foyer. Each one told of a different century in the care-taking and history of the cave. 

And as I looked around, I realized that every plaque, every piece of artwork, every bit of information centered on Mary Magdalene and the history of the cave.

 I stood in front of the glass door to the chapel and peered in. The English-speaker at dinner opened the door, then turned to me and said, "You can enter." I followed her in and noticed several murals on the walls along the pews. Again, each one was a part of Mary's story. Not having spent much time in churches during my childhood, it seemed to me that the ones I had been in usually told the story of Christ, he being the central figure. I loved that here, Mary was central. 

The murals depicted Magdalene in a boat, standing outside the cave and surrounded by angels. The chapel itself took the shape of a cross with the pews and murals along the base with two wings creating the T. In the left wing sat a piano where a young man played classical tunes, a young woman by his side. In the right wing, another small chapel with the 3 women from my dinner table. I watched them as we listened to the music and they whispered quietly together, staring peacefully at the altar and eventually separating to pray and wander alone. 

I sat in one of the pews taking in the paintings of MM and listening to the pianist practice classical pieces I didn't recognize but which didn't sound like religious hymns. At one point, an older nun came in, stopped suddenly in the center of the aisle, cocked her head as if trying to place the music and then huffed right back out the door (by which I took to mean it was not her kind of music.)

I finally retired to my room and took the best hot shower I can remember, still not having gotten warmed up after my trip to the cave. I settled into my single bed with my lap desk to jot down notes about my first cave visit, occasionally peering out my window to watch a herd of tiny kittens scamper together in the nun's courtyard. 

The next morning I joined the same group for breakfast, then hurried to pack up my room for their rather early (9am) checkout time. I packed the car and went in to the nearby gift shop where I'd seen a purple amethyst gem tree like the one I had as a kid. As a young adult, I'd given mine to a friend (who had long since lost track of it) and I hadn't seen another like it until I arrived here. 

So I bought it, packed it in the car and went to the Hostellerie's gift shop where I picked out 2 medallions of Mary Magdalene, 2 of the Archangel St. Michael and 2 bookmarks. One of each for myself and one for a friend who lives outside of Paris and whose eyes lit up when I told her of my upcoming journey. She told me her aunt made the trek to MM's cave every single year. I stuffed the medallions in my pocket to make the journey back up to the cave with me and I set out once again.

This time I took the path to the left, knowing what I would find at the top but like last time, not knowing what it would do to me, how it might change me. Again I chanted words in my head. The words Merci. And Mary Magdalene. And Thank You. My pilgrimage of gratitude and guidance. 

 I stopped for short breaks and took photos of hearts I found continuously along the path. When I got to the top, I again arrived during a service and waited outside in the courtyard with a few others.

 I watched one of the women from my dining table crouch before the courtyard's statue of Mother Mary holding the body of her crucified son, Magdalene crying at their feet. The woman rocked back and forth and held her hands together in prayer. One of the other women joined her and they locked hands, crouching together. 

I finally edged my way into the cave and slid into the nearest pew to watch and listen until the service was over. Then I wandered the cave for a 2nd time... and looked for places where a woman could have slept inside a freezing cave. 

This time when I went downstairs, I pulled the 4 medallions from my pocket and held them in one hand while I dipped the other in the pool of cave water the monks had tried to fence off. Using my right hand, I cupped the cave's own holy water to my left hand and soaked the medallions with it. Then I did what I always do with holy water in any church I enter wherever I am traveling: I rubbed a drop of it at the site of the 3rd eye, the 6th chakra, the place of intuition and wisdom. And from the small pile of leaves that had fallen from the two potted olive trees, I pocketed a couple which now sit on my altar at home near the amethyst gem tree and medallions, all of which I consider my gifts from Mary Magdalene.

(The identical medallions blessed with the cave's holy water I sent to my friend in France.)

On the backside of the altar, I took a staircase I'd missed the day before. 

At the top sat another statue of Mary Magdalene,

the area beneath her strewn with notes written to her

or the names of those prayed for in her name.

Each of the stained glass windows depicted a story with MM.

And a laminated poster board told the locations of each statue 

and stained glass window and its history. 

Most of my 2nd day in the cave I spent asking for guidance, praying for my channels to be open, for help finishing my novel (which includes MM) and for my writing to grow. And for the people I loved and my deep appreciation and gratitude for the blessings in my life.

When I first put Mary Magdalene in my novel, it was with what felt like guidance to do so. But when I began asking for further guidance about her role in the book, I heard very little. I meditated on it, I prayed, I listened, I got scared in the quiet. Finally, I did a meditation putting myself in the cave with her... and   the   Guidance.  Was.  Huge.  Apparently, I had to come to her. And I decided someday, some way, I would get myself to her cave in the South of France.

When my family announced they were spending 2 months in Provence in the summer of 2015

and inviting all family and friends to come visit for any length of time,

I put us down for a couple of weeks about a year before the scheduled date. 

As it drew near, I began to question the wisdom of taking 2 weeks vacation 

when things were feeling tight

and my partner wasn't sure yet he could make it. 

Then I looked at a map...

and suddenly realized 

MM's cave 

was not far from Aix en Provence,

which was not far from Avignon

which was very close to where we were staying. 

And I KNEW why I had to go. 

And somehow I am different...

not only for having made this journey,

but for making it alone. 

I was able to break through barriers of fear,

so many fears of doing this by myself:

of making reservations by phone with a monk who doesn't speak English,

of driving myself there alone, of finding it alone, 

walking it alone. 

And now at any given time or place at any moment's notice,

I am back there in my mind. In her cave. Back there in the mystical, special, holiness of it.

And I am changed again.

When I returned to my family's vacation house, the first question to me was,

"Well, was it for real??!!" 

And I had to answer that it doesn't matter. 

It doesn't matter because the centuries of prayer to her, with her, for her still linger in the air, 

painted onto wet walls, dripping and skimming the surface of the pools making them holy,

filling them with the magical essence of prayer. 

The people who inhabit it every single day to offer services, 

to sing and pray and feel what is there all make it real. 

Their belief, CENTURIES of belief and prayer, makes it real.  

I can't say if she truly slept there,

if she spent the last years of her life and widowhood there

or if her relics actually grace the inside of the stunning reliquary

but today,

on St. Mary Magdalene's Feast Day,

crowds of believers will carry what they believe to be her relics 

through the town in communal reverence. 

And I will return to see her again.

Happy Feast Day! 

(Photos copyright: Kirsten Steen)