The Twelve Wild Swans

by Starhawk

  Money in relation to the community work we do becomes problematic because of all the attitudes discussed above. But more, as soon as we begin to discuss money for services rendered in the name of spirituality, we find ourselves wrestling with two basic deeply felt and often antithetical positions.

  The first is that spiritual teaching and organizing should be an act of love and service. We shouldn’t need or want monetary rewards for doing what the Goddess calls us to do, and money should never be the determining factor in what we offer.

  The second is that work, if it is to be sustainable, needs to be rewarded. In a world where we all must have money to live, if an endeavor is to be sustainable over the long run, people need to get paid for their work.

  The difficulty in resolving these positions is that both are morally right. Good arguments can be made for each.

  Some of the arguments for the first position are that charging money may lead to teaching from greed and will make the material less accessible to those who need it most. Teaching and ritual making should be their own reward. The Goddess tradition is supposed to be a “religion of clergy”: we should all be leaders, teachers; we should not professionalize the work of the Goddess. The mysteries are priceless. How can we assign them a monetary value without accepting the larger society’s view of money as the determiner of all value?

  Arguments for charging money might be that teaching and organizing in service to the community are “right livelihood.” We all offer much unpaid service to the Goddess, but we all have to live as well. We may be able to do something occasionally on a volunteer basis, but if we are to do something consistently over time, we need it to contribute to our livelihood. Many religions hold out ideals of selfless service or ask for vows of poverty from those who join their religious orders, but in practice they also provide lifelong security for those people, be they nuns, monks, or priests. Our community does not. In order to devote a major portion of our time and energy to Goddess work, we need to be compensated. Our ideal is balance. To oppress ourselves in the name of serving others doesn’t make sense.

  For centuries, women have been kept dependent by the dominant society’s definition of work in the home as something that should be done for love, not money. In practice, such work becomes devalued and is often not perceived as “real work.” If we don’t ask for compensation for our Goddess work, are we not falling into the same trap?

  Many of us also believe that, just as Rose gave half her bread to the old woman, students need to give back something in order to retain their own self-esteem and sense of power in a learning situation. Eliminating money does not eliminate greed. A teacher who charges nothing may be getting payment in the form of adulation or dependence from her students. Money may actually make a transaction clearer and cleaner.

  In reality, the structure of the broader Pagan community has changed greatly over the past thirty years. Once, it was true, only those truly dedicated and committed were willing to call themselves Witches, and the only public teaching that went on took the form of quiet meetings in someone’s living room for the purpose of instructing new candidates for the coven. Today, the broader Pagan community has grown enormously and includes people of widely varying levels of knowledge and experience as well as differing levels of interest and commitment. We have the Pagan equivalent of “Christmas and Easter” Christians in those people who turn out for rituals only on Halloween. We have people who plan and organize seasonal rituals and others who only want to attend them. And we have public classes, camp-outs, festivals, workshops, magazines, Web pages, and intensives that cost money to put on and must generate a certain amount of money to be sustained over time.

  In Reclaiming, money issues are often difficult to resolve because we do believe strongly in the validity of both positions described above. In reality, we achieve a rough and often inconsistent balance between the two. Following are some of the general guidelines we use. Most are not formal agreements reached through consensus; rather, they are simply what I’ve observed us do in practice:

  • When we offer a class or workshop or ongoing program, setting aside specific times and places and preparing material, we charge money for it just as we would for teaching the violin or teaching at a university.

  • We do not charge money for initiations or for any of the direct preparation that leads to an initiation. An initiation involves a close, personal commitment, a karmic bond comparable to marriage. We don’t want initiation to depend on a candidate’s ability to pay. And we want potential initiators to take on the task for love, not money—to be motivated only by a deep inner sense that they are the right mentors for this person.

  • Organizational and administrative work deserves to be paid. This is our ideal, but in practice organizers often donate their time and skills in order to make an event happen.

  • Teachers need to develop a certain level of skill and experience before they are paid for their work. Generally they apprentice by student teaching at least twice in the company of a more experienced person before they are paid for their work.

  • Money should not be a barrier to learning or practicing the Craft. Events should be made accessible by providing scholarships, sliding scales, and work exchanges, and communities need to provide a variety of events so that there is always something available to those with low incomes. When we offer outdoor community rituals for the seasonal holidays, they are generally free, although we do pass a hat for donations. When we rent an indoor space, we generally need to charge money to cover our costs. Any extra is often donated to the community or to a specific cause.

  • People generally do not get paid for creating, planning, or taking roles in community rituals. If a ritual becomes a major event that demands a huge time commitment to organize, someone may be paid to coordinate the organizing.

  • People do get paid for creating events—and for giving talks, workshops, or rituals—that require travel or time commitments beyond their home communities. So, for example, if I help to organize and create a Fire Protection Ritual with my neighbors for our area, we charge no money. We’re doing work for ourselves, our homes, our friends and families. But if you want me to fly to Missoula and teach a weekend workshop titled “Fire: Energetic, Elemental, and Practical Aspects” that culminates in a Fire Protection Ritual, I would need to get paid.

  • When people make money from work that is supported by community resources, they should give back to the community. If I teach classes advertised in Reclaiming’s magazine, on its Web site and events line, and using material I learned myself in Reclaiming classes, I need to give back something, whether it is a formal tithe of money or a percentage of my time and energy, to support the larger organization. Because this book draws so heavily on the experience of an entire community, we are also giving back a percentage of our advance to Reclaiming programs.

  None of these issues are simple, and our guidelines may not fit for you. Each group and organization needs to hold open and honest discussions about money. Ideally, you do this before it becomes a major issue or crisis.

  Our attitudes to money are often tied to that difficult concept we call class—the constellation of resources, expectations, and assumptions we grew up in. Class, like Rose’s missing brothers, is often not named or discussed, and when it does arise it is often in the context of judgment: “Your attitude is so middle-class!”

  Issues of class are complex and subtle. Our unseen class assumptions may profoundly influence all our interactions around giving, receiving, and asking. Class, like ancestry, is another aspect of our heritage that needs to be made visible so that we may expand the range of our choices and know where healing is needed.

  Again, one of the most powerful and nonjudgmental ways to approach issues of class and money is through telling our personal stories.

  Telling Our Money Stories

  In sacred space, give each person a protected time to talk. Tell your life story in terms of money. How much money did your family of ori
gin have? What class did you consider yourselves?

  What expectations did you have about money? About education and success? Have you met, exceeded, or betrayed those expectations?

  What role has money played in your adult life? How do you earn it? What do you spend it on? What percentage do you give away to support causes and organizations you believe in? To those who have less than you do? Are you in debt? Do you feel that you have abundance? And, if this exercise is difficult, can you identify what makes it so hard to do? What state of being do you get pulled into by these questions? If you use your anchor and come back to your core worth, does anything shift?

  If you are working alone, take time to discuss these questions in your journal, ideally writing on your money story two or three times a week for a moon cycle.

  Money/Breath Exercise

  Lie down in a comfortable position. Take a deep breath in, holding it as long as you can. When you are as full as you can possibly be, take in more air. Now, without letting the breath go, try to make a sound.

  Relax; breathe normally for a few minutes. Now push all of the air out of your lungs. When they are as empty as they can be, push out some more air. Without inhaling, try to make a sound.

  Relax; breathe normally again. Now, taking in as much air as you can, allow your breath to flow from inbreath to outbreath without stopping. Push out as much air as you can, and again, without stopping, let yourself take air in. Focus on flow and balance, and try to make a sound.

  Now, in the group, take time to discuss how the exercise felt. (Or journal about it, if you are working alone.) Where in your life do you feel like you did during the first breath? Is there anywhere you are taking in too much—money, energy, stimulation, criticism, responsibility—without an outlet? How effective can you be in that state?

  Is there anywhere in your life you are continually giving out without being replenished? How effective can you be in that state?

  Where in your life is there a balance, a flow of giving and receiving? How deep do you let yourself take in? How far do you let yourself give out? How effective can you be in that state?

  When you’ve looked at your own energy balance, consider that of your circle or community, and answer the same questions.

  This exercise was suggested by John, who consults with major corporations. “I think of money as being like breath for a business,” he told me once. “You need to take in enough to keep the business alive. Beyond that, you don’t need to focus on it; you can focus on other things. Applying this principle to our lives and our enterprises, we need to receive enough to maintain ourselves and our projects so that we can honestly focus on our activities, with our whole hearts, without resentment and without sabotage of ourselves or others.”

  When we receive guidance and find that river, that right impulse, that true inspiration, we need to follow it to its end, to ride it to completion. In the context of ritual, this means letting the energy itself be our guide: letting a chant, a song, a moment of silence, or a roar of power go as far as it can go; following our inspiration; not backing off from intensity. Riding the river of energy, we create an energy base: a high, sustained base-level energy in the circle that allows healing, transformation, and ecstasy to arise.

  Beverly is a dancer, yoga teacher, and gymnast who has brought her understanding of the power of movement into her teaching with Reclaiming. Following are two of her exercises:

  Moving with Energy

  You can do this exercise alone or in a group. In sacred space, put on some music you have chosen to help you re-create an emotional state you want to express. Or just begin by sounding together. Allow the music to move you. Take some time; then go deeper: stomp or wave your arms, or do whatever your body wants to do. Then go deeper still. Let go of the idea that anyone is watching you, and allow your movements to get larger and stronger.

  An image or intense feeling may occur as you’re moving or sounding. Don’t stop, but continue to move and sound and explore, whether it’s an image or a sensation or a releasing feeling that comes. Take it where you need to go, until you feel complete or exhausted.

  This work usually comes to its own closure. In a group, people will finish in their own time. They may find a quiet spot to lie down and rest while waiting for others to complete their work. When all are done, take some time to rest. Then talk about what you experienced. How hard was it to get started? Did the sounds and movements of others help you or hold you back? What transformed?

  “It’s important at the end of any nonverbal exercise to leave time to bring it back into the verbal,” Beverly says. “Otherwise, like a dream, the memory and insights tend to float away.”

  Symphony of Sounds: Building an Energy Base

  Beverly uses this exercise in a group to deepen people’s connection and ability to listen so they can work together as an ensemble. It’s also a powerful way of building an energy base in a ritual—a level of sustained power from which healing and transformation can happen in many ways.

  One person begins by repeating a simple sound again and again. It’s important that the first person be rhythmically consistent. She or he doesn’t have to be a great drummer or singer, just able to keep a strong, steady beat.

  As people are moved, they begin to add their voices. The first person or perhaps a pair hold the pulse. Others can improvise and change their sounds as the energy develops.

  The sounding may peak and resolve itself, or it may become a base energy for a more elaborate ritual.

  This exercise can also be done with drums instead of or along with voices.

  Beverly sometimes precedes this exercise with a period of time in which people are asked to go out and observe nature. “The last time I structured it that way,” she says, “we got a symphony of sighs.”

  Following an Energy

  Jeffrey Alphonsus is a gifted drummer, musician, and performance artist, an activist and Witchcamp teacher. He offers the following exercise for building and following an energy as a group.

  In sacred space, start in silence, standing still, breathing normally. Slowly, each person begins a movement that is at first very internal. As the stillness deepens, open to a fuller breath, and begin slowly letting the movement become more external. Continue letting the breath grow more full and the movement bigger. Begin letting out sound, and let the sound and movement build. Take time to just sound and sing, hearing the song that emerges. Then begin saying simply, “I am,” letting that be enough as it becomes a chant. (Alternatively, you might use “I see” or “I want.”) After a time, encourage people to say something that they are, something affirming: “I am this”; “I am that”; or “I see this”; or “I want that.” The group affirms each statement, saying, “Oh yeah!” It’s the good old gospel idea. Then add hand clapping, so that “I am this” becomes a call and response with a chorus of “Oh yeah!” When everyone has had the experience of affirming themselves, raise the energy, hold the tone together until it becomes a cone of power, and then bring it back down and ground it.

  Finding the Song of the Moment

  Suzanne is a dancer, singer, and musician who has a special gift for helping people find their voice. This exercise helps us learn to follow an impulse through sound and voice:

  In sacred space, have paper and pens available. Create an energy base. Move, sing, dance, or drum until the group is in a light trance state. Then stop and simply write whatever comes through, without censoring or stopping, just letting your hand and words flow in “automatic” writing.

  Gather the circle together, and give each person a chance to read her or his writing to the group.

  Now each person picks one sentence to sing. All sing simultaneously, and at first the sound may be chaotic. Sing each sentence over and over, improvise, echo and sing each others’ pieces as well as your own. Eventually, one or two major pieces will emerge and weave together to form the song of the moment.

  “It takes a lot of repetition and exploration to get to the song,” Suz
anne says. “The process is very much like songwriting, in that ideas set to music become distilled and focused.”

  Sacred Voice

  When we lead or guide a ritual or trance, our own voice serves as the river. Participants may flow along with us, being guided toward the intention and purpose of the ritual. When we are conscious of which voice we choose, we can create a ritual that has rich texture and variety. It’s helpful to think about both invocations and the central section—the “meat” or, in deference to vegetarians, the “tofu” —of the ritual as encompassing a variety of voices.

  Donald, one of our Witchcamp teachers from the Midwest, has many years of experience leading rituals in a variety of settings, from gay men’s circles to art installations. He has helped identify some of what he calls “the Sacred Voices”:

  SILENCE: Movement, moments of silence, simple presence can sometimes be far more powerful than words.

  WHISPERING: Want to know a secret? When a ritual priestess whispers in your ear, you know you are hearing a mystery.

  TRANCE VOICE: Just a little more rhythmic, a little more resonant, a little less variable in tone, this voice moves people into trance. Trance voice is also useful for linking elements in ritual. If you need to give instructions in the midst of a ritual, try speaking in trance voice. They will seem much more like part of the magic.

  NORMAL TALKING: Normal speech in ritual creates a great sense of intimacy and immediacy. Shifting from trance voice to normal talking in the midst of a guided meditation helps keep people awake and focused and can deepen the emotional tone of the work.