Spring Musings by Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D.

Juno Lucina

          The Matronalia, or Festival of Women, began on March 1, when the Vestal Virgins entered a sacred grove and hung offerings of their hair on the oldest tree. Some historians say that Roman matrons served their female slaves at this feast. For every baby born in Rome a coin was deposited in the temple of Juno Lucina, “Light,” to give thanks to the goddess for a safe birth.

          Juno is the guiding light of women of all ages. Let’s have our own Matronalia and invite mothers and daughters, grandmothers and granddaughters, aunts and sisters and girlfriends.

          First, decorate the room with garlands and sprays and bunches of flowers and green plants and blooming plants in pots. Because we’re honoring Juno Lucina, illuminate the room with masses of beeswax candles or lamps with beautiful silk, beaded shades. Put pale pink bulbs in the lamps. Let’s decorate ourselves, too and wear our most colorful, most fantastic outfits.

          This is a feast day. Find out what the girls and women really like to eat. If it’s pepperoni pizza and chocolate cake and tacos and fried rice and crudités, that’s fine. Order take-out food so no one has to cook or wash dishes, but if someone wants to cook, honor her (and help her clean up). Before you eat, give a bite of food to another woman and say, “May you never hunger.”

          How do we spend our day together? Let’s tell stories. Let’s talk about the springtime of our lives, when we had invisible friends and thought we could do anything. Grandmother can tell us how she had fun in the days before computers and cell phones, mother can tell stories about the succulent things she’s done, and granddaughter can talk about her dreams, about what she wants to be when she grows up.

March 8: International Women’s Day

          So why do we need an international women’s day? Because men—the phallocracy, as Mary Daly calls ’em—have been wrestling women to the ground for thousands of years. Because during the Age of Pericles, when Athenian men were inventing democracy, married women weren’t allowed to leave the house. Because in Victorian England a law said the stick a man beat his wife with could be no bigger around than his thumb.  Because the Taliban took every possible human right away from women. Because in the 21^st century women’s jobs have lower status and pay than men’s jobs.

          I’m not writing a feminist rant. We love our husbands and adore our sons, but it’s our girlfriends we turn to when we need attention and support.

          A Pakistani scholar I knew in graduate school recently found my website and sent me a hesitant note: did I remember her? But of course! Now we’re friends again via e-mail, catching up on thirty years. Thanks to a couple of e-lists that I’m on, I have female friends around the world, some are  other authors, some, fans who have become friends. I share concerns and celebrations with these women nearly every day. These are the women who support my work. We support each others’ work. In my life, nearly every day is an international women’s day.

          Reader, imagine a world-wide web of women. In your mind’s eye, see the women joining hands. See them rise into the air and dance among the stars. See their blessings shower down upon all the lands and all the people of the earth.

There is a web of women living lightly in the world.

As gently as hand upon forehead, checking for fever,

the web touches the pulse of the planet

with intention

to help

to heal

to comfort.

Girlfriends

          Back when we were hunters and gatherers, it was the women of the tribe who did the gathering. They gathered the beginnings of civilization and wove them together. Later, they put down the roots that became homes and villages. In my imagination, I see these archaic women gathering and planting grain, domesticating animals, building houses and altars, weaving and cooking, feeding each other’s children, supporting each other through bad times. I’m sure they worked closely together. I’m convinced they gossiped the whole time, explaining what they were doing and showing the others how to do it. I believe our ancient mothers were the first girlfriends.

          Where would we be without our girlfriends? How would we survive without loyal friends who pay attention to us? Who give us wardrobe advice and reality checks. Who go with us to have the cat euthanized. Who help us pack when we move and unpack when we arrive. Who are the mirrors of our souls, our roommates, and our teachers.

Some of us have life-long friendships. We grow up together, attend each other’s weddings (and divorces), baby-sit each other’s children. Because we live in such a rootless society, other friendships may be deep but shorter-lived, though with e-mail and long-distance phone plans, it’s easier than it used to be to keep in touch after we’ve moved away.

          Reader, who are your best friends? I hope you have not just one but a whole circle. Stop reading and make a list of your girlfriends. Next to each name, write down how long you’ve known her. (“Forever” is an acceptable answer.) Now make notes about experiences you’ve shared—her surgery, when you earned your college degree, a project you worked on together. Finally, visit or telephone each of your girlfriends and thank her for being in your life.

Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com), is the author of Pagan Every Day: Finding the Extraordinary in Our Ordinary Lives (RedWheel/Weiser, 2006), a unique daybook of daily meditations, stories, and activities. Her earlier books are Finding New Goddesses, Quicksilver Moon, Goddess Meditations, and Practicing the Presence of the Goddess. Her day job is freelance editing for people who don't want to embarrass themselves in print. Barbara lives in southern California. To purchase a signed copy of Finding New Goddesses, just send Barbara an email at bawriting@earthlink.net.