Patricia Monaghan > Quotes

“Ireland is still what novelist Edna O'Brien calls a "pagan place." But that paganism does not conflict with a devout Catholicism that embraces and absorbs it, in a way that can seem mysterious, even heretical, elsewhere. In Ireland, Christianity arrived without lions and gladiators, survived without autos-da-fe and Inquisitions. The old ways were seamlessly bonded to the new, so that ancient rituals continued, ancient divinities became saints, ancient holy sites were maintained just as they had been for generations and generations.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“The Poised Edge of Chaos

Sand sifts down, one grain at a time,
forming a small hill. When it grows high
enough, a tiny avalanche begins. Let
sand continue to sift down, and avalanches
will occur irregularly, in no predictable order,
until there is a tiny mountain range of sand.
Peaks will appear, and valleys, and as
sand continues to descend, the relentless
sand, piling up and slipping down, piling
up and slipping down, piling up - eventually
a single grain will cause a catastrophe, all
the hills and valleys erased, the whole face
of the landscape changed in an instant.

Walking yesterday, my heels crushed chamomile
and released intoxicating memories of home.
Earlier this week, I wrote an old love, flooded
with need and desire. Last month I planted
new flowers in an old garden bed -

one grain at a time, a pattern is formed,
one grain at a time, a pattern is destroyed,
and there is no way to know which grain
will build the tiny mountain higher, which
grain will tilt the mountain into avalanche,
whether the avalanche will be small or
catastrophic, enormous or inconsequential.

We are always dancing with chaos, even when
we think we move too gracefully to disrupt
anything in the careful order of our lives,
even when we deny the choreography of passion,
hoping to avoid earthquakes and avalanches,
turbulence and elemental violence and pain.
We are always dancing with chaos, for the grains
sift down upon the landscape of our lives, one,
then another, one, then another, one then another.

Today I rose early and walked by the sea,
watching the changing patterns of the light
and the otters rising and the gulls descending,

and the boats steaming off into the dawn,
and the smoke drifting up into the sky,
and the waves drumming on the dock,

and I sang. An old song came upon me,
one with no harbour nor dawn nor dock,
no woman walking in the mist, no gulls,
no boats departing for the salmon shoals.

I sang, but not to make order of the sea
nor of the dawn, nor of my life. Not to make
order at all. Only to sing, clear notes over sand.
Only to walk, footsteps in sand. Only to live.”
― Patricia Monaghan

“Hours passed, but I could not make myself leave the silent land. Feelings rushed through me like the sighing wind: remembered losses, stinging anger at feeling those losses again, panic at not knowing how to balance contradictions, piercing sorrow at the fragility of beauty. But even as those feelings surged through me, I felt something else as well, a kind of joy that is not separate from pain and that cannot exist in isolation from it, a great tearing hunger to live in this world as fully as I could, until I heard the wailing of the fairy woman at my death.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“When winter comes to a woman's soul, she withdraws into her inner self, her deepest spaces. She refuses all connection, refutes all arguments that she should engage in the world. She may say she is resting, but she is more than resting: She is creating a new universe within herself, examining and breaking old patterns, destroying what should not be revived, feeding in secret what needs to thrive.

Winter women are those who bring into the next cycle what should be saved. They are the deep conservators of knowledge and power. Not for nothing did ancient peoples honour the grandmother. In her calm deliberateness, she winters over our truth, she freezes out false-heartedness.

Look into her eyes, this winter woman. In their gray spaciousness you can see the future. Look out of your own winter eyes. You too can see the future.”
― Patricia Monaghan

“The worship of the goddess did not end when the god was born. Even after the establishment of monotheistic religions, women continued to honor the divine in feminine form, as this biblical text shows:

The women knead dough
to make cakes for the Queen of Heaven
and pour out drinks unto the gods.
~ Jeremiah 7:18

What makes the goddess necessary? If the divine exists beyond our human dualism, why can people not accept that any image is but a shallow and limited vision of what cannot be pictured?

Because our picture of god helps us know who we are. When god is only male, we implicitly understand that only males can be like god. And so, whenever society has claimed a single male god, women — and many men — have found ways of continuing to honor the feminine source of mystery and life. Even in the many ages when the goddess has seemed to be hidden from our eyes, simple creative rituals have kept her alive. Your grandmother, your mother, your sisters — all connect with the goddess even when they do not recognize her aloud. In the secret chambers of women’s hearts, she has never died. And she never will.”
― Patricia Monaghan, Goddess Companion: Daily Meditations on the Feminine Spirit

“Grief is a strange journey. Each time we embark upon it, it is as though we have never taken its roads before. No, I have that wrong: each grief brings us through a familiar landscape carved into unrecognizable contours. For we do not only lose another person; we lose the person we were with the one we lost.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“I awaken myself to the greatest lesson Ireland offers: that I must wake up to whatever place I find myself, wake up to its seasons and weather, its heritage and special beauties, its ultimate and indisputable holiness.

I have news for you: spring comes everywhere with sweetness and hope. Summer's fullness becomes harvest, then the world sleeps through a dark time. This is the only truth: that just as Ireland is sacred, so all land is sacred, as we are all sacred. This is my news.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“The Goddess has never been lost. It is just that some of us have forgotten how to find her.”
― Patricia Monaghan

“Ela é tudo, é todas as coisas. Está à nossa volta, e está dentro de nós. Sem ela nada somos, e nunca poderemos contê-la na totalidade.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Goddess Path: Myths, Invocations, and Rituals

“This is the monkey mind of which Zen speaks: the mind that worries, doubts, frets about the past, makes lists, all the time chattering like a monkey.”
― Patricia Monaghan, Meditation: The Complete Guide: Techniques from East and West to Calm the Mind, Heal the Body, and Enrich the Spirit

“THINGS TO BELIEVE IN

trees, in general; oaks, especially;
burr oaks that survive fire, in particular;
and the generosity of apples

seeds, all of them: carrots like dust,
winged maple, doubled beet, peach kernel;
the inevitability of change

frogsong in spring; cattle
lowing on the farm across the hill;
the melodies of sad old songs

comfort of savory soup;
sweet iced fruit; the aroma of yeast;
a friend’s voice; hard work

seasons; bedrock; lilacs;
moonshadows under the ash grove;
something breaking through”
― Patricia Monaghan

“How do we love the fierce and unattractive sides of ourselves? The angers, the pettiness, the competitiveness? The laziness, the irresponsibility? The desires that run wild, the instability, the irritations? Accepting oneself is difficult, given even a moderate desire for self-improvement. How do we know what is to be improved, what accepted?

Many goddesses have as one of their powers that of discernment. It takes much wisdom to know when to push yourself toward change and when to relax into self-acceptance. Too much self-acceptance is, for women in our society, given less support than excessive self-criticism, and yet both are equally damaging to the soul’s growth. Kali, with her steel weapons and her fierce combative nature, is a goddess who assists us toward discernment. We can trust her wisdom not only to determine what moves is toward growth, but to destroy what resists as well.”
― Patricia Monaghan, Goddess Companion: Daily Meditations on the Feminine Spirit

“She created us, and so we dance.
She smiles down upon our dance.
She grows happy because we dance.

We are her grandchildren, and so we dance.
Our dance is our best prayer to her.
She laughs in happiness because we dance.

We are her children, and we must dance.
If we were ever to forget, she would weep.
She would never cease her weeping.

She is the mother to whom we dance.
If only insect tracks marked our dancing grounds,
she would forget us too, and we would die.

She is the goddess who dances through us.
We are her children, and we must dance.
She created us, and so we dance.

~ Shawnee Bread Dance Song”
― Patricia Monaghan, Goddess Companion: Daily Meditations on the Feminine Spirit

“In other Celtic lands, destruction of the ancient bardic orders meant the loss of history and myth as well as of poetry. But not in Ireland -- at least, not entirely. There, the melding of the Christian and the pagan began early, during the great period of Celtic monasticism. Irish monks of that period provided most of our written records of Celtic mythology. In continental Europe, evidence of Celtic beliefs is found only in sculpture; in Britain, it is found only in a few verbal shards and the occasional inscribed statue; but in Ireland we find entire epics, whole chants and songs, lengthy narratives. In the curvilinear script for which they are justly famous, Irish monks wrote down the stories, poems, place-names, and other lore of their pagan ancestors before it disappeared in the mists of history.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“I’m a bit uncomfortable, truth be told, with being seen as an expert, because there is always so much more to learn. I see myself as a perpetual student of the goddess”
― Patricia Monaghan

“Born to be Wild.
She is the Wild Girl.
We call her that because, like our natural wilderness, she follows her own laws.
She is part of all of us, no matter what our age or sex.
She is freedom and joy, love of the quest and of movement.
She is creativity and serenity.
She is springtime, full of potential and energy.
She is the seed and the sprout, bursting with life.
She is the path through the forest, and she is the forest itself.”
― Patricia Monaghan, Wild Girls: The Path of the Young Goddess

“How to Think Like Athena
1. Remove shoes.
Stand on earth.
2. Find your center.
Find your balance.
3. Lift chest. Drop shoulders.
Let palms fall open at sides.
4. Open lips. Breathe.
Feel air pass into self.
5. Open eyes wide.
Look to the horizon.
6. Ask, what says the foot?
Ask, what says the leg?
7. Ask, what says the sex?
Ask, what says the heart?
8. Ask, what sees the eye?
Ask, what hears the ear?
9. The mind is the body.
Think everywhere at once.”
― Patricia Monaghan

“The goddess path is within you. To walk it, you must develop your inner resources and strengths. Information and insights will come to you from others. Evaluate them in light of the truths of your own heart. For that is where she lives, even when you forget to look for her. She is always there, providing the love and strength and power you need. Look for her there, and you will always find her.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Goddess Path: Myths, Invocations, and Rituals

“The immanent goddess did not create the rose; she is the rose. She does not take care of you; she is you.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Goddess Path: Myths, Invocations, and Rituals

“Egyptians built pyramids; Americans, skyscrapers; the megalithic Irish, mountain cairns. And while I admit it is impossible to be certain what Danu's people believed, the obsessive topping of Munster Hills with navel and nipples suggest they saw the land as a woman's body, the earth as feminine. And if so, what then? Did they imagine the earth acting like a woman, laughing, singing, weeping, taking a lover, nursing a child?”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“The American definition of paganism is especially suspect among the Irish, too, when it seems to imply adherence to some British cult. The fact that most of the self-proclaimed "witches" in Ireland are English does not escape comment, and notice is also given to the number of American tourists who traipse through on pilgrimages to these minor celebrities and make no inquires about local beliefs.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit

“Rather than being a bleeding image of female disempowerment, Medusa may be read as... one of the most ancient European symbols of women’s spiritual abilities... [and] an empowering image of feminine potential.”
― Patricia Monaghan

“There has never been only one religion of the goddess. Every continent, every culture, had its own vision of the way that divine feminine should be pictured. Each culture pictured her as one of their own. She was black in Africa, blonde in Scandinavia, round-faced in Japan, dark-eyed in India. For the goddess was the essence of woman’s strength and beauty to each one of her daughters, so she had to look like them. When ancient women looked at their goddess, they saw themselves.”
― Patricia Monaghan

“Altar of the East
in a clear vase, one bud
a thin and dawn-pink ribbon
a cone of dark incense
from the farthest desert
a white candle
the picture of a child
a single feather
a flute carved of reed . . .
a scroll, inscribed by hand
a stoppered silver bottle
containing just your breath”
― Patricia Monaghan

“She is all, she is everything. She is around us, and she is within us. We cannot be without her, and we can never encompass all of her.”
― Patricia Monaghan, The Goddess Path: Myths, Invocations, and Rituals