Sabbat Specials

The Divine Invites You To Dance Part 1

What is the Divine Feminine? Where is it, and what has it been doing?

Risa Dickens
Jun 21, 2019
22 min read
PodcastDance MagicNeuroqueer MagicTranscripts

This recording is from an event in 2019, we are publishing it now in order to share the transcript.


In our first ever LIVE RECORDING of the Missing Witches podcast WE TOOK OVER A CHURCH! Together we explored how we use our bodies to connect to the divine through dance!! We are so grateful to the AJC conclave for inviting us to honour Witches from the pulpit of a sanctuary!!

In part 1, Risa talks about how Anna Halprin used modern dance to heal, plus Mudang Shamanism and thoughts on connections between peace, peacemaking, dance and power!! In part 2, Witches Found, we bring back two of our favourite guests and coven members Phoenix Inana and Jacqueline Beaumont to unpack words like divinity and femininity and discuss how we use our bodies to connect to spirit. Thanks again to Lindsay Braynen for contributing an essay Amy read as part of this conversation. THANKS X 1000 to our favourite clergyman Jonathan Stewart for inviting us to this sacred space.


Part 1 Missing Witches - The Divine Invites You To Dance

Happy Litha ! Happy Solstice, witches! Risa and I are so excited to finally be able to share with you our first ever Missing Witches live event, which we did in May. We're super grateful to the AJC and to Jonathan in particular for inviting us to their conclave and entrusting us with the beautiful space of Westmount Park United Church.

The conclave was kind enough to set up a stationary mic for this recording, but we fooled them by moving all around the space. So you may find the sound a little inconsistent, but guess what? Life is a little inconsistent. Here's part one, and part two is also online now. Happy solstice, witches. You aren't being a proper woman, therefore you must be a witch.

Be a witch! Be a witch! Be a witch! Be a witch! Be a witch! Be a witch! You must be a witch. Hi everyone, so much for coming to this conference. I've been giving long intros and bios for everyone, but the missing witches are going to do that instead. For people who aren't part of our community, you might be confused why a man in a collar in a church is welcoming witches to this pulpit.

Well, yes. Well, we're an esoteric and mystic church. We have a lot of roots in what they call the Occult Revival of the late 1800s. And we sort of federate that to spirituality. We have a lot of members, even clergy, who also have connections with both magic, mysticism, and witchcraft. The Mystic Witches podcast first episode was on Pixie Coleman Smith.

A figure that was involved with a lot of the esoteric and occult orders of the late 1800s, early 20th century. She helped design, well, helped design, she designed and made the one of the most important terrorists ever. She's a figure we inventorate. So to make the long story short, there's actually a lot of connections between our community and that of modern magicians, modern witchcraft, modern mystics.

And you made this set by looking at some some dudes in college. So I'm really happy that the witches are here today. We're kind of bringing together some streams that are actually cousins. Maybe second or third cousins, but we are related. So, take it.

Hi, this is a podcast. Thanks for coming.

tHe theme of this conference that we were invited to participate in. is the Divine Feminine. And we sort of started the Missing Witches Podcast as a research project. We wanted to go looking for our heritage. We wanted to go looking for witches. Real women. Who practiced and what did they practice.

It was looking for a family tree, in a way. And also, we sort of stumbled into a kind of improvised witchcraft and spirituality. from a place of loss. We lost a friend, and we didn't know how to mourn her. We didn't really have the tools for that. And for a lot of reasons, for myself anyway, the church that I grew up in bums me out.

There's a lot there that I don't feel at home in anymore. And so, for us to be in nature and making up songs and feeling empowered singing together was sort of the place that our podcast came from many years ago. So, we started the Missing Witches podcast with this is a feminist history storytelling podcast, where we try to fill in the gaps of our mental maps of what a witch is, where are they, and what have they been doing.

So, when we were invited to this AJC conclave, we wanted to approach it the same way. What is the Divine Feminine? Where is it, and what has it been doing? And when we started looking into this, we found By and large, the number one answer, how to access, how to engage the Divine Feminine is through our dance, through our human bodies, be they male bodies or female bodies, or Human bodies, animal bodies, dog bodies.

We saw lots of wonderful dogs today, so I'm a little bit So, that's what we're doing here. We're looking at dance. We're looking at divinity. We're looking at femininity. We're looking at our bodies. And we're seeing how all of these things connect under the umbrella of witchcraft. Yeah. My name is Risa, by the way.

And I'm Amy. These are our panelists. I mean, the ideas of divinity, femininity, we're gonna unpack those. So we brought our beautiful panelists, Jackie and Phoenix. When we do our podcast, it's usually in two parts. One is like, historical storytelling, and the other half is interviews. So that's basically how we're gonna do this.

Risa's gonna tell us some stories, we're gonna get you guys to dance. Yes, I see some hands clapping and some fists raising. So, welcome! The Divine Feminine invites you to dance. Yeah, we we have an episode that tells the history of a painter and witch named Monica Cho. And the story we love about her that we always come back to was that she was an activist witch, and she, on an Easter Sunday, came with a congregation of women activists into a church.

And they, they came in singing that Burning Times chant that we sang on the way in, and You're curious about what that was. On the altar, they debated with the priest, and she told the history she interrupted a public mass to tell the history. of the women's genocide of, of the, of the witch burning times.

And so, in her honor, we sing that song and we wanted to bring it into this. Hall of Stone with you guys today. Ultimately, the priest that was the priest at the church that Monica Cho and her group invaded, for lack of a better word, ultimately, he invited her and their group to finish the song and to speak their truth.

So again, we want to thank Jonathan for being that priest who invites witches to express themselves on a pulpit. We're super grateful to be here. My relationship with church is a little different than Reese's. I grew up in the church, and I, I have very fond memories. But again, I grew up in the United Church.

Which, here we are. It's a progressive church. Marriages of all kinds, you saw outside. It's about love, and openness, and we hope to bring that out of you, out of your souls, out of your bodies today. I'll close this sort of chatty part with a quote from Monica's show. And she tells the story of coming in, and coming into the church, and And then leaving and, and feeling like they were sort of being expelled at the end and, and sort of feeling a little bit tired and a little bit drained the way we sometimes are when we've been activists and we wonder if that has any purpose, if we've changed anything.

She said, we however felt immensely empowered. And like we had broken the sound or mind barrier of some sort. Something had happened. On cosmic proportions. When we returned to the conference, women were drumming ecstatically for hours. And we were dancing. Today, for this, our first live episode of

the Missing Witches podcast in this holy hollow stone, or hollow holy stone. In the generous and welcoming heart of Yaak Stalit, Jorah Knight Church's Anglicomple, Anglicomple, Anglicomple. I want to talk about TANFs. The theme is, the divine is feminine, and neither of those words rest exactly easy with me.

Which probably makes it a great theme to dig into for a couple of days, this is very smart and thoughtful of you. Well, the closest I've come to something that jives with my own personal definition of the divine is this, from philosopher Mark. When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them.

Except my instinct is that the goddess goes much further. She is that quick silver surge. Not just between humans, but between animals. Crows with their generational memories. Seas gasping in the tides. The living tree. And if we are trying to relate authentically and humanly to create that holy electricity, and if we are trying to call and connect with ourselves and others to be that spark of the divine, and if we want to access a different polarity of the divine than that which has been preached by the major religions, a desire that by its very nature distrusts patriarchy, maybe we need to approach her not sitting still I want to think about dance as a tool for your craft, as healing magic, as ritual, as a place where each of us can meet that surging electricity, the divine feminine or masculine, our ancestors, the living, emerging presence of the life principle that spurts and twerks through our muscles.

I want to think about dance as an opportunity to move our minds in sync with our bodies and our shadows and each other. My very gay, but very wise friend, Jonathan, moved to Montreal from Edmonton. He took a class on bogey, and realized that somehow, unconsciously, in his life, he'd been educated to hold his wrists straight.

Distill the swish in his hips, to pass the strain, and then unlearning those constraints, unleashed in him a power. On the flip side, I have repeatedly in my life, and even getting dressed for today, struggled to figure out what feminine is so I can perform it correctly. Funnily enough, it was in a pole dance studio that I felt most connected to a feminine power that had previously confused me.

I got really into pole dancing for a couple months, you guys. Spinning upside down, holding a pole with my thighs in a bathing suit while a teacher yelled, Pussies to the pole, iffy! Pussies to the pole! Was deeply facilitating. In general though, feminine mostly eludes me, as, as I sometimes do. Stereotypes of gender, whether applied to homo sapiens or divine essences, seem mostly useful for constraining and preoccupying.

Maybe so we don't get down to the necessary work of knowing the weird and wonderful truths of our own bodies and of using that knowledge with how to save the planet. Because make no mistake, we are in a fight for our lives. Every tool we can grasp that gives us freedom and energy and hope is magic. Can I get an amen?

Actually, wait. Yes, queen. But I was thinking Maybe in recognition of our shared sorrow, for the damage that we brought, for the destruction that we face, I can get a share. Aw, man. Aw, man. I want to talk about dance as ritual that unleashes power and heals the sick. I'll take the example of the Korean gut, which literally translates to good.

One example of the infinite variety of dance based rituals from around the world. Perform predominant namsin, which literally means 10, 000 spirits. The namsin are priestesses, women shamans. Each dance with its own unique power to bring healing or prosperity to individuals, families, or communities. I don't want to take a halt right now.

She's considered one of the mothers of postmodern dance. She used dance to capture a serial killer, to diagnose and then recover from her own cancer, and launch a movement in art therapy. And before I start my weird, quick step through these loosely connected ideas, I want to treat you, gentle listener, whether you are in this room at the West Mountain Lighted Church, or in the holy room that we create together, between our ears, listening to the dark.

To close your eyes, and in silence to hear your breaths, and beneath your breath, your heart. Place your hand on your heart, and listen to the baseline that is with you all the time. Please keep your eyes closed, and bring your awareness down to feel that internal rhythm in your pelvis, in between your hips.

And swear. Just a little private salome. Nobody's watching. Your own horror Babylon, sex goddess, early Elvis moment. Do it in the room, or do it in your mind. The neurons that fire when you dance, or when you remember dancing, are almost exactly the same. Almost as though spirit is dancing with you all the time.

Imagine your hips are rocking side to side like a boat, safe in a quiet sea, beneath the vast depths of planets and stars. Imagine you are a tree in the summer wind. Imagine you are holding a sleeping child in your arms, and you are rocking, and you are beyond tired, but the movement comes at its own volition.

This is the beginning of the dance of the summer wind. Rock your child. And by your child, I mean that unique spark of life that is in each of us to bring forth into the world whatever form it may end up taking for you. Rock this spark of potential in your mind's eye. Let your strict spine and tense wrists go soft.

And feel the milk, bone, blood of your strength. It is holding you wrong after you let go. The space in your pelvis is full of echoes of the mothers who have rocked us, and the mother self, who is one of ourselves, who rocks us even when we are alone. Buy all your mother, guide all your mother, your wife, who gives air every time you hope to take a breath.

Hold her safely in your belly and her heart and

From 1979 to 189, to 1981, from 1979 to 1981, six women were raped and murdered on the map to help guys across the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The trails were closed and the community lived in helplessness and rage. At the time, Anna and Lawrence Hawker were reading a community workshop called A Search for Living Myths and Virtues.

The participants decided to enact a positive myth in dance, the reclaiming of the mountain. That ritual, called In and On the Mountain, was performed over several days and included the walk along the varied trails of the killings of the murder. The Tanaka dancers performed dance offerings in honor of the waves, the winds, earth, and fire.

In the fire dance, they enacted the violence of the victim and the killer, reversing roles and The evening's portion of the ritual ended with a plea for restoration and peace. After the dance, the audience and performers continued the ritual aspect of the evening by creating, in smaller groups, a passage to the next day's event.

The main ingredients of this passage consisted of a feast, a dream wheel, and a sunrise ceremony. The dream wheel is a community ritual in which members of the group sleep together in a circle with their heads towards the center. The intention is to form a group vision, which is constructed collectively in the morning as members share their night's dreams.

On the mountain, completed the ritual, the dancers and other participants challenged and killed them directly by walking down the mountain, each alone. A few days later, police received an anonymous tip that ultimately led to the capture of the trail sign.

Don Jose Moussoua, a patrol shaman who died 109 years old, visited and how come I heard this story, and he said, This mountain is one of the most sacred places. I believe in what your people did, but to be successful in purifying this mountain, you must return to it and dance for five years. And so the living myth grew.

Inspired by the coincidental capture of the killer, and mindful of the shaman's counsel, the dance continued for five years. Each time, deeply, participants ever stand and expect their vision. In 1985, the dance was remade with Circle the Earth, where participants at once dance to reclaim a small measure of peace on the mountain.

They now dance to restore health and peace to the planet. Circle the Earth, the Planetary Dance, continues today. The 39th Annual Planetary Dance on Mt. Tumut Base is coming up June 2nd, 2019. I've been assured the parking situation will be much remedied for biographer, Janice Ross, in the experience has danced with it, Anna claims the capacity for contemporary western life to create its own origin.

Circle the Earth was informed by singular virtual dances like the Sundance. From the description, a few years ago Anna had the privilege of attending a Native American Sundance. The Sundance requires a deep commitment on the part of the participant. They must spend a year preparing to do it. Ten days before, they fast and take sweats.

The performer begins the dance with prayers and blessings, and then submits to have the leader take sharp bear claws and penetrate his chest. The bear claws are attached to thongs, which stretch out like a maple to the young green tree planted in the center of the dance space. They dance in rhythm around the pole until it is time to release.

Then they pull away. It's the weight of their bodies. And so the bare bodies tear open their flesh. At this particular performance, one male dancer was unable to release the claws. And we saw his excruciating and painful struggle. Emma turned away. But next to her, an old woman sitting on the tile ground suddenly and fiercely snatched a twig and walloped Emma on the shins with such force that she doubled over.

And Emma learned in that one split second that as a witness, Her role was to support the performer. She was not there to be a judge, to be entertaining, to see a spectacle. She was there to pray, to encourage, to make sure the performers achieve their task, and to be totally and irrevocably decisive. She was there to witness.

Circle the Earth is a peace dance. Not a dance about peace, not a dance for peace, but a peace dance, a dance in the spirit of peace. It is a dance that embodies our fears of death and destruction, a dance that becomes a bridge and then crosses over into the dynamic state of being called to succeed.

Circle the Earth is a dance of peacemakers, a dance that makes peace with itself, makes peace between the performers, makes peace with the spirit, and ultimately makes peace with the Earth on a legitimate basis. In a world where war has become a national science, peacemaking must become a community, a planetary art in the deepest sense of the word, an exemplification of our ability to cooperate in a tradition, an expression of our best collective aspirations, and a powerful act of magic.

We'll circle back again in a moment, but first more on the powerful magic of collective aspirations. Shamanism is Korea's oldest religion. Pre dating the introduction of Buddhism and Confucianism, some of the dances performed by the master, or more collectively known as the muda, trace steps that are literally prehistoric.

Since the 15th century, non Confucian religions were suppressed and in the 1890s, Protestant missionaries demonized Korean traditional religion and led campaigns of violence and oppression. South Korean anti superstition policies in the 1970s and 80s wiped out ancestral shrines. In North Korea, shamans and profanities were targeted as members of the hostile class, and were considered to have a bad soul group.

But Korean shamanism is blossoming everywhere in South Korea, sometimes as a nationalist performance, sometimes as a contemporary art practice, and sometimes as a longing for a spirituality that is nature and access focused. A personal connection In North Korea, it's estimated that close to 16 percent of the population practices some form of traditional religion or shamanism in school.

Contemporary Korean shaman Yoon Mi says, I often compare our practices to those of Native American people. We pray for the mountains. We pray for the sea and for the sky. When we perform a ritual dance, we communicate with the spirits of our ancestors, who serve as a bridge between us and God. We find solutions to problems people face with the help of the spirit world.

Young Koreans see us as a sort of their gift. South Korean artist Park Chan kyung sees his country's traditional spiritual practices as a way to imagine a way beyond modernization. The speed of which he believes is in part responsible for creating a capitalist mood and lack of concern for others that leads to catastrophes like the Seoul Ferris wheel in 2014, where 304 people died.

Mostly children. In his film Citizen's Forest, Park stages a haunted procession of ghost like figures in silver masks. He bases the scene partially on the good. A bright village festival of dancing, chanting, and sacrifices to the gods. Shamanism, he says, encourages not only community, but also feminism, as well as granting participants a sense of their place in the larger cosmos.

When we go looking for witches we've been missing, Part of what motivates that for us is a need for a feminist history. That is, not just a history of women, but of stories that move in different ways and to different places because they follow not only women's and underrepresented people's biographies, but also their ideas, and their spiritualities, their rituals, and their methods of forming a community.

Shaman Yunmi describes her experience being hit with the shaman's sickness that would change the direction of her life. Prior to the ceremony, I may recall falling very ill to the brink of death. I was 26 when I first showed symptoms of what we call shamanic illness or shamanic crisis. I first started to experience facial paralysis.

Every night was filled with terrifying visions and even visits from the spirits. I tried the most traditional Korean and Western medicine. The doctors failed to diagnose my illness. After four months of visiting doctors for their consultations, my mother took me to a local Mudag house. At the time, I thought only psychologically weak people visited the Mudag.

With just one glance, the Mudag said, You need to accept your calling, or else you're going to die. You need to accept your calling, or else you're going to die. If by chance you listen to our episode on Malola and the Ifa Voodoo tradition, this idea of spirit sickness will sound familiar. When Orisha is made contact, attention must be paid.

Which is not to say that modern medicine isn't spectacular in ways it is. We are witches who love science. Sometimes a sickness, though, has its roots in the soul, or in the spirit. Sometimes sickness is a call to change our lives. Maybe a magnetic pull from a polarity we've been missing in a world trushed under patriarchy is so much more complex than a call to human life, or to seeking, or to creating, or to being in our bodies in the natural world again.

As Gus Beth, former dean of the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies may find in her two presidents famously wrote, I used to think the top environmental problems were biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse, and climate change. I thought that it was 30 years of good science for me to address those problems, that is wrong.

The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed, and alcohol. And to deal with those, we need a spiritual and cultural transformation. And scientists don't know how to do that. You see, that's the right quote you sent me. It's a great quote, that's what I'm saying too. One way to do

that might be to dance. I don't know, it might be. Maybe alone, maybe together. As Cynthia Winton Henry points out in Dance, the Sacred Art, religious anxiety about the body seems to perfectly sync up with the timing of the onset of industrialization and colonization. Wanting to believe that commercial prosperity would bring happiness and alleviate suffering, a lot of people were too proud of the new industrial machine.

And as they did, their folk songs, stories, and dances diminished like the daydreams. Decade after decade, the new, industrialized, civilized, progressive values spread to other continents and began to devastate many of the world's dancing cultures. Indigenous leaders like the Northern Plains Shaman, Wovoka, who dressed and created the step dance, saw the effects of this and warned his people, All Indians must dance, everywhere.

Keep on dancing. Pretty soon, in next spring, Great Spirit will come. Indians who don't dance will grow little, just about a foot high and stay that way. Losing sight of the goodness of the body and dancing, called the likes of Jewish theologian Mark Gruber to state the obvious, Mary is dead. The soul is not really united unless all bodily energies, all the limbs of the body are united.

Colonization, religious conversion, and the monotone of catholic swallows and treated witches and shepherds alike. In Muda and Gender Discourses on Shaolinism in Colonial Korea, a Ph. D. thesis by Rosa Brang, she writes, The first reports on Shaolinism in Europe coincided with the devising time of the European sphere.

Christian Russian settlers in Siberia chose this expression, Shaolin, and eventually began to apply it to all Native spiritual leaders. Western civilization defined itself against Shaolinism, creating an adversarial relationship between the developed world and indigenous peoples. Between science and magic, between established and charismatic literature, and between institutional and alternative medicine.

A word gets picked up and used to define, constrain, contain, demonize, convert, and compromise. In some places that word is witch, and in others it is shaman. At the same time, as part of a parallel process, an equal and opposite reaction, definitions are disrupted, and shadows and witches whirl away, smashing, reinventing, and reclaiming words as their own, in the fertile, divine, feminist process of decolonization.

Anne Halprin says, seeing her grandfather dancing, twirling the ecstasy of movement in his temple, lit fire movement within her. She couldn't speak the same language as him, but she understood something fundamental about how they were connected when she saw the ecstasy of his body in prayer. She's been explicit in her work and writing about the goal of creating contemporary urban rituals.

Rituals that are part of the great work of healing our communities and our hearts and our souls. Her biographer wrote, through dance, Anna has offered the possibility of a reconstituted world. In her book, returning to Health is dance movement imagery. Al help ly describes the dance, which we constituted her own world and her own.

I had wanted people to draw their own image. She write, reflect upon, and begin to learn the language of these images in their own bodies. This process of connecting our internal imagery involve dancing images that weld up from net conscious as another way to connect the mind and body. Over time, it became clear that I was receiving messages from an intelligence within the body.

Deeper and more unpredictable than anything I could understand through my rational thought. While I was exploring this process, I drew an image of myself that I was unable to dance. This was a signal to me. Why couldn't I dance now? I had drawn a round ball in my pelvic area. I intellectualized it, but then later that night when my mind was quiet, I had intimations that the image had something to tell me, and that I was in their mind.

The next day I made an appointment with my doctor. I asked him to examine me precisely where I had drawn a round ball. And he diagnosed rectal cancer. I went through the traditional operation procedures and radicalized that, which left me with a colossal feeling of real uncertainty Would I ever dance again?

My doctor assured me that if I did have a recurrence within five years, I would be out of the woods. Three years after my operation, I had a recurrence. And I knew that I would have to make some drastic changes in my life. Let me describe an example of how I was able to learn something about my life story, the mystery of my own personal imagery and my connection to the natural world by dancing in my self enrichment.

When I first drew myself, I made myself look perfect. I was young and bright in color. My hair was blowing in the wind. I was the picture of health and vitality. When I looked at the picture after drawing it, I knew I couldn't even begin to dance. It just didn't feel right. I turned the paper over and seriously began to draw another picture of myself.

It was black and angular and angry and violent. I knew this back side image of me was the dance I had to do. When I did it, I was overwhelmed with rage, anger, and anxiety. I kept stabbing at myself and making howling noises like a wounded animal. Some say I spoke in tongues. I had to have witnesses because I knew that unless I did, I would never be able to go through this review.

My witnesses were my family and my colleagues and my students, and they kept me honest, urging me to go deeper. Reinforcing my sounds, calling out parts of the picture, I rose to dance. I danced until I was spent, and I collapsed, and I began to stop with a sense of great relief. Now, I was ready to turn the picture over and dance a healing image of myself.

As I danced this image, I imagined my breath was water, and my movements flowed through my body just as water moves through water. I imagined the water was cleansing me. I had an image of water cascading over the mountains near my home, and then the water flowed soothingly out to the endless vastness of the sea, taking with it my knowledge.

I believed I was experiencing the forces of nature as they are referring to my body. Something happened in that dance that I can't explain. I felt like I'd been on a mysterious journey to unleash insights. I am so captivated by the discoveries that happen in the visualization process and in this roadmap for healing journey, that I often forget to tell my fans and readers that It has always seemed more important to me that I have found a way to live my life while coping with illness than what the actual outcomes can be.

In a certain sense, it is the healing aspects that interest me more than the cure, because healing is a whole process available to all of us, all the time. A cure is an event, and it is neither predictable nor always there. In my personal journey from the self to the many, I've learned that we are all connected to each other and to the natural world in which we live.

The power of dance to heal reaches its fullest potential when we are able to tap into this sense of wholeness and to feel this connection to all that is around us. I think whether we are seeking to heal ourselves or to heal the sickness of grief and poison in the world, or both, because We need to tap into the sense.

Dr. Mike Samuels, Director of the Arts here in the Ford Center in California writes, Art and ritual are the doorways into the realm of the heart. The tool for the transformation we now seek. They are what opens and what changes. When a person dances or imagines dancing, the area of the cerebral that holds images across the movement is stimulated and sends messages to the right balance.

If the dead's image is one of deep joy or reliefs, healing state through the hypothalamic pathway. The body conveys every cell in the body with the hormones of love. Physical imagery lights up with the neural nets of the brain. Throughout recorded history, artists have believed that their images have power in themselves.

The shaman was the first artist in healing. The shaman settled in here, closed the spirits, acted, and brought back the healing in a big arc. He or she told the tale of the craft of gymnastics. dance ensemble, and brought the inner world outwards through ritual. Chimay ritual is believed to actually have the power to change the physical world.

Art and ritual is the healing force of being more than you see. This art is meant to change reality. It has the power to transform. We are on the doorstep of the Great Journey, Mahakal and his work, The First Steps. Imagine whatever you feel for the journey. Imagine the dance floors of the world, and the kitchen dances you do when cooking alone, and the dance I hope you'll make of your own self portraits, and of your drawings of the world as it is and could be when you all go home, when no one is watching, or when your family is there to witness and uphold you.

Imagine all of these and more are part of how we will witness and imagine the past here. Imagine a dance of celebration.

End of part one. Listen to part two now. If you have questions or comments, hit us up on social media at Missing Witches or at Missing


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