This was originally posted by Sea Lowder. It really seems to capture some of the queer cosmological spirit that also provided the original seed of mup (my undertaking perpetually, momentary unifying principle, etc.), so I asked xem if I could post it here to share with y'all. Please enjoy!
Drawing of Phanes by Francesco de’ Rossi
Consciousness. Chaos experiencing Itself. In the beginning, middle, end, Transtemporal is the Queer. Life so magnificent It lacks a clear beginning or end, Queerly arising from within Itself at all times, Pregnant Moon Father, Lord God Mother, Divine Intersex Androgyne, Fusion, Animal, Be-ing, Psychedelia, Cacophony.
Life unnumbered, unaccounted for, unrestrained except by personal choice, unrepeated in Nature unless arriving by God. Infinite in potential, self-design, and execution. The Surprise of a Cock beneath Aphrodite’s dress, the Ram-headed Vulva of God, Bearded Hapi’s Full Breasts, the Sacred Clowns dancing a mockery of all we hold objective and true. STAR crowned Eunuchs. Intersex Angels. Genderqueer Prophets shout new forms, spell new words. Divine Perfection.
A Laugh in the Dark. The Intercourse of Atoms. Union & Repulsion. The Drag of Heaven on Earth.
Nothing holds, nothing sticks, nothing contains. Magick. An Eclipse. The Passing of Sabbats. Sun Becomes Moon Becomes Sun Each Day. Carnivorous Flora, Great Devourer, Regurgitates Life Renewed.
Star-Crowned, Flower-Faced, With Oceans Dripping Songs of Years in Hair, You Who Puddle a Smirk Beneath Certainty & Dichotomous Illusion–Stretch, Breathe Deep, Know Thyself, (Re)Invent Thyself: You Who Are Sacred (W)Hole.
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And then there's a bit of an oldy but a seriously delicious goody from four years ago which is an ongoing source of inspiration, especially in my work with the Tetrad++. It was posted by Foxfetch after the transgender inclusion scenario at PantheaCon back then.
I demand transcentric imagery, gods and goddess with the wide variety of trans bodies, trans genitals, trans selves. I demand a Horned God with hairy breasts and the new Year sleeping in his swelling womb. I demand Artemis, wild and free, with a penis. And some pagans think that’s blasphemy.
Fuck. That. Noise.
Our bodies are sacred too. We, too, are God, are Goddess. I want a god who sings of his crescent-shaped Barge of Heaven, a Goddess at whose mighty rising the desert fills with green, like a pleasant garden. I want metaoidioplastic gods, and gods with soft, divided, fat-filled scrota, the shaft of whose penis is split into crescents like moons or bows. I want images of a goddess with her testicles pressed gently inside her body and radiant female power spilling from her dual cunts[1]; of a goddess with a long soft dangling clitoris, with fused labia gently cradling her ovaries outside her body.
I want us to take our gods back.
Gods with crescent-scarred chests, flat-breasted goddesses.
I want us to take our gods back.
I want white-haired winter gods whose vagina is the gate to the underworld. I want earth goddesses whose erection is the rising of the spring. Crones with shrivelled balls, fertility gods with juicy cunts. I want gods whose fierce bright male power is spilling milk, whose solar blaze is a bleeding hole between his legs.
Is this too much for you? We. Don’t. Care. Our power is ancient, and it will not be denied.
I am tired of having to look for myself in your symbols. You throw us scraps that reflect little of our selves: bearded goddesses, castrated gods. “Transgender deities”, unwanted by you or used to teach yourself such helpful, informative lessons about yourselves.
The Earth Goddess lies stretched beneath the summer sun, drifting pollen Her shining semen. The Earth God opens like the rose, phallic vines and labial petals. (He takes it up the arse as well, from a solar god with a cock of burning gold, forged in the heart of stars.)
I want a goddess who inseminates, a god who conceives; I want a god whose hard and swollen cock, leaking precome, is nothing to do with procreation but only with ecstasy, penetrable, half within and half without, giving and receiving the fierce bliss that transforms. A vaginoplastic goddess whose clit burns like a white diamond, pure sexual light. I want the god with the rams-head in his belly, curling-horned uterus that spills fierce masculine power: horned within and without.[2]
We have mysteries you have not dreamed of. And we are taking our magic back. We are finding gods in our own image, building our own Craft. You can run scared or you can join us, but we are not going away.
—
[[ADDENDUM, 3.3.11
I want to be clear: I’m not talking about third gender deities here. I’m talking about gods and goddesses who happen to be trans. About The God, and The Goddess, revealing themselves in trans forms. We need third gender, multigender, beyond-gender deities, yes, but that is not the focus of my personal work. Non-binary people are already doing that work, and have their stories and visions to share. I hope that you will seek them out.]]
—
[1] muffing – the sexual act of penetrating one or both of the inguinal canals – is described by Miranda Bellweather in Fucking Trans Women #0 as a sex act enjoyed by some trans women.
[2] (Do I want also the goddess who grieves because she cannot conceive, the god whose phallus is hidden, who mourns his body’s lack of life-giving seed? I don’t know. Our griefs may also be sacred, but claiming them is hard, and hard to speak to as someone who has never desired to reproduce.)
—
POSTSCRIPT
This post speaks mainly of binary-IDed trans people, because I’m binary-IDed myself and don’t feel I have any authority to speak for non-binary people. I’m not trying to exclude or erase, and I really hope non-binary people will chip into the conversation.
I demand transcentric imagery, gods and goddess with the wide variety of trans bodies, trans genitals, trans selves. I demand a Horned God with hairy breasts and the new Year sleeping in his swelling womb. I demand Artemis, wild and free, with a penis. And some pagans think that’s blasphemy.
Fuck. That. Noise.
Our bodies are sacred too. We, too, are God, are Goddess. I want a god who sings of his crescent-shaped Barge of Heaven, a Goddess at whose mighty rising the desert fills with green, like a pleasant garden. I want metaoidioplastic gods, and gods with soft, divided, fat-filled scrota, the shaft of whose penis is split into crescents like moons or bows. I want images of a goddess with her testicles pressed gently inside her body and radiant female power spilling from her dual cunts[1]; of a goddess with a long soft dangling clitoris, with fused labia gently cradling her ovaries outside her body.
I want us to take our gods back.
Gods with crescent-scarred chests, flat-breasted goddesses.
I want us to take our gods back.
I want white-haired winter gods whose vagina is the gate to the underworld. I want earth goddesses whose erection is the rising of the spring. Crones with shrivelled balls, fertility gods with juicy cunts. I want gods whose fierce bright male power is spilling milk, whose solar blaze is a bleeding hole between his legs.
Is this too much for you? We. Don’t. Care. Our power is ancient, and it will not be denied.
I am tired of having to look for myself in your symbols. You throw us scraps that reflect little of our selves: bearded goddesses, castrated gods. “Transgender deities”, unwanted by you or used to teach yourself such helpful, informative lessons about yourselves.
The Earth Goddess lies stretched beneath the summer sun, drifting pollen Her shining semen. The Earth God opens like the rose, phallic vines and labial petals. (He takes it up the arse as well, from a solar god with a cock of burning gold, forged in the heart of stars.)
I want a goddess who inseminates, a god who conceives; I want a god whose hard and swollen cock, leaking precome, is nothing to do with procreation but only with ecstasy, penetrable, half within and half without, giving and receiving the fierce bliss that transforms. A vaginoplastic goddess whose clit burns like a white diamond, pure sexual light. I want the god with the rams-head in his belly, curling-horned uterus that spills fierce masculine power: horned within and without.[2]
We have mysteries you have not dreamed of. And we are taking our magic back. We are finding gods in our own image, building our own Craft. You can run scared or you can join us, but we are not going away.
—
[[ADDENDUM, 3.3.11
I want to be clear: I’m not talking about third gender deities here. I’m talking about gods and goddesses who happen to be trans. About The God, and The Goddess, revealing themselves in trans forms. We need third gender, multigender, beyond-gender deities, yes, but that is not the focus of my personal work. Non-binary people are already doing that work, and have their stories and visions to share. I hope that you will seek them out.]]
—
[1] muffing – the sexual act of penetrating one or both of the inguinal canals – is described by Miranda Bellweather in Fucking Trans Women #0 as a sex act enjoyed by some trans women.
[2] (Do I want also the goddess who grieves because she cannot conceive, the god whose phallus is hidden, who mourns his body’s lack of life-giving seed? I don’t know. Our griefs may also be sacred, but claiming them is hard, and hard to speak to as someone who has never desired to reproduce.)
—
POSTSCRIPT
This post speaks mainly of binary-IDed trans people, because I’m binary-IDed myself and don’t feel I have any authority to speak for non-binary people. I’m not trying to exclude or erase, and I really hope non-binary people will chip into the conversation.
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