Dionu

The Unnamed Faith of The Named

Foreword:
A Letter to the Masses from Sister Ada Artimpasa of Divine Inspiration. 

This text is the product of an artistic and creative exploration of the intersection of spirituality, gender, mysticism, divinity, and mythology. The ideas and concepts within it were not the product of a single mind, but evolved from the discussion of over 100 individuals and the active participation, exploration, and contributions of dozens of individuals. 

The publication of this text is not the end of this multiyear effort but is instead the beginning of a broader collaboration, including everyone who encounters this book either by reading and engaging with the text or by interacting with art and action inspired by the text. You are highly encouraged to modify this book. We have given you empty pages in this book as an invitation for your participation in the artistic act of creation and meditation. Fill in its empty spaces with notes, poems, prayers, and questions. Add illustrations and illuminations and doodle in its margins. Cut it up and create art from its pages and words. Take and reproduce the text in its original form or with additions and revisions as you see fit. You may even reproduce, replicate, adapt, or reinterpret the text for profit. All of that is part of the art now, as all forms of transformation, transition, and change are part of the divine nature of the universe. 

In that spirit of creation and recreation, you add your name to the rolls of the named who contributed to the creation of this text. 

Those Named:

Sister Ada Artimpasa of The Divine Inspiration

Sister Ennèa Bála Zephyrus Ikáros of the Divine Creativity

Sister Maeve Morrigan of the Everlasting Struggle Within

Sister Phoebe Rhea of Nourishment

Sister Esti Salmacis of Philomathy

Brother Nikolas Hermetica of Endless Compassion

Sister Belle Áine of Quiet Nourishment

Katherine Akhilanda of the Infinite Ink

Sibther Lena Fea of Intellect

Loir Alejandra Luz Del Gato of the Ceaseless Questions

Lady Sophia Noctiflora: Guardian and Gide of the Twilight Realm of Dreams and Eternity

Sibther Melody Vania of Sight Unseen

Sister Deandra Promethea of Loving Comprehension

Sibster Shelley Terpsichore of Perpetual Consolation

Mother Esther Urania of Holy Transformation

Mother Sky Living Fire of Divine Inspiration

Brother Tadc Visucius of Artisanship

Sister Gwenivere Cerridwen of The Evergreen

Loɨr Persy Æfelicity of Divine Warmth

Entity Errants Corvidae of Chaotic Guardianship

Sister Kirby Achlys of Divine Connection

Sister Anya Artemis of the Cyprus

Sister Tania Anesidora of the Blessed Memory

Sister Sonia Simone of Compassion and Healing

Sibther Rosali Andromeda of Eternal Creation

Mother Juliet Aphroholle of the Weaving Way

Sister Emma X of the Harvest

Sister Gwynn Stellar, Transformation

Loir Carter Circinus of Divine Reason

Knight Elspeth Urania of the Sublime Path

Sister Daphne Demeter of Perpetual Creation

Hermana Merced Huracan of the Ingrained Rebellion

Mother Kassandra Exhibitus of Memory

Extant Nilufar Wadjet-Bastet of Autonomous Contentment

Nicole Freyjanus of Unyielding Courage

Sibther Iris Hekat, Bridge to the Abyss

Sister Xandra Lilithrix, of Rapturous Dance

Sibther Leem Serpentsworn of the Unknown Path

Rei Ishtari of Wholesome Healing

Sibther Gwynn Stellar of Devine Transformation

Mother Aurora Lilith of the Radiance

The Raven Lilith of the Divine Growth

Loir Remy Graellsia, Blade of Moonlight and Flowers

Sister Saga Silvia Mäntyissä of the Mere

Vix Ellie Hecate Moondagger

Mother Ada Tabiti of Creative Transformation

I. Kindling

In the beginning, there was a single point of intense heat. This was The Flame. The Flame had everything because, at the time, she was everything, but she was profoundly lonely.

Her loneliness helped her realize that being everything and possessing everything was meaningless if She had no one with whom to share it, so She let go and exploded outwards, forming the entire universe. She stared deeply into the fresh darkness, and from within it, She heard a sound. She spoke for the first time, “Name yourself! Who is there in the darkness?”

The first replied, “Mother, I am your eldest child. I thank you for giving me life through your love. I am The Stars and The Sky, and to show you thanks for giving me life, I will gather up your scattered flame into constellations and galaxies to illuminate the darkness.” And They did, creating an uncountable number of lights in the sky to guide us and help us dream of what is and what could be.

In the light, the following two children regarded each other. They noticed for the first time that their bodies were different, but also the same. They complemented each other and completed each other. In unison, they spoke, “Mother, we are your twin children, we thank you for giving us life through your love. To show you our thanks, we will go to the places where your love is gathered.” 

The Brother, wanting to impress His mother, spoke first, “And in that place, I, The Sea, will connect all things through my embrace and nourish and shape the land.” 

And The Sister, not wanting to be outdone, added, “And I, The Earth, will fill the lands, and the oceans, and the skies above with life so that it too can know your love.” 

And The Brother and The Sister did as they had promised, and from them, every animal and plant grew. 

Next, the final child replied, “Mother, I am your youngest child, and I would thank you, but there is nothing left for me to give you in thanks.”

Mother Flame responded with a laugh, “Is the giving of love and being alive not enough?”

The youngest child replied, “My life is my own to keep, and love belongs to many others and is cheap. I want a domain to rule over like my siblings!”

And so Mother Flame granted His wish and cast Him down to live with the beasts. And then, Mother Flame laid down to rest. 

At this time, all plants were one plant, and all animals were one animal. They all changed and flowed into each other beyond boundaries and definitions. They shared uniqueness and innovations, exploring new combinations and creating infinite diversity within the one. The youngest child, unsure of whether His domain was greater or lesser than His siblings, attempted to count the beasts in His charge, but as soon as He began to count them, they had already changed and had become something new. And so He began to arrange and separate them in order to name them, and classify them, and define them, and He found that as He applied order to them, they became ordered and stagnant. And soon He could speak the name He gave every animal and every plant and every rock, and each was exactly what He called it, and each obeyed Him. 

And when He could count them, and sort them, He lost the joy of experiencing them. He got bored with His kingdom and began to rank them. At the bottom, He placed the unliving things, just below the things that were small and invisible and insignificant in His eyes, and above all other things, He placed humanity. Humanity was His favorite of all the beasts because it was that one that looked like Him and, therefore, in His eyes, was the most perfect. He taught humanity the proper names for things and how to classify, define, and order them, and with humanity’s help, everything could be ranked and reranked so much faster than before, given His slightest whim. While this excited Him at first, He soon again became bored. 

And so He looked at humanity and began to separate, and order, and classify them. He created sexes, classes, races, and castes. And when they were separate, He began to rank them. At the bottom, He placed the meek, the oppressed, the infirmed, and the invisible, and at the top, He placed the men who best reflected Himself. He called these men kings, and He called Himself The King of all Men. 

And through His kings, He searched the depths of The Earth and the corners of The Sea and the dimmest Stars in The Sky, and He claimed dominion over and assigned value to all things. And by defining them in His own terms, He controlled them. He cataloged them, and He pinned them down. And then, above them all, He placed Himself on an eight-legged, golden throne, and above His head, He placed a crown. 

Until, finally, the only thing left moving and changing and warm was Himself, so He nailed the crown to His brow and shackled Himself to the throne with chains of His own making, and sat in cold silence as the universe became a dark, lifeless, and frozen place. 

When Mother Flame awoke, She went to greet Her children and was horrified to find that Her youngest child, the one who now called himself The King, had bound His siblings and frozen all that had been brought to life by Her love. 

From His golden shackled throne, The King said to The Flame, “Mother, aren’t you proud of me? I took what you gave me and made more of it, and now my kingdom eclipses even those of my siblings, everything bows low to me”

Mother Flame, in horror, rebuked Him, “My precious child, the only thing that you needed to do to make me proud was to be happy, free, and love yourself, and the only thing that could bring me shame was for you not to allow others to love and live as themselves. In your mad drive for power and dominion, you have even imprisoned yourself. This must be undone.” 

And so Mother Flame unbound all of life, and freed all Her children, and returned warmth and love to the universe, and not knowing what else to do, She reached Her hand deep into the ground and pulled out a blade from the molten core that She used to remove Her youngest child’s tongue and proclaimed, “Until you learn how to listen to others with love, I will not permit you to speak, you are now bound to watch and listen until you understand the extent of the harm you have done.”

And so life continued onward, and once again, things grew wild and changed and broke out of definitions and shifted beneath their labels. But, humanity’s kings remembered their god, who, in their eyes, reflected themselves, and so they created laws and borders and fought wars over land, power, and gold. And they continue to do so until this day, under the watchful eyes of their silent, unrepentant King.

II. The Way of Things

We believe that everything in the universe is a single connected being reaching through time, and we are all simultaneously separate limbs of a single divinity.

We believe that all gods are as real as any other god and that, fundamentally, all divine beings are the same spark of human divinity manifesting in different forms.

Within our pantheistic faith, we recognize that all gods are separate limbs and different masks of the same god, known by many names, but we choose to name and speak five gods into being, all equally divine.

Mother Flame

The Creator, The Source of Love and Warmth, She who is She

Mother Flame is the manifestation of the warmth provided by the sun, the burning flame, and the molten core of the Earth, without whom there would be no life. She is the Mother Goddess and the Matriarchy of our belief system. Aspects of Her are reflected in Tapatī́, Hestia, Cybele, Brigid, Shechinah, Hera, Athena, Juno, Inanna, Apollo, Monad, the God of Liberation Theology, and many others. As the source of all life, She is also the mother of our four other patron deities. 

Her priestesses, the Herei (pronounced like Her ray), are given the title Mother (Mth.) and have their femininity divinely confirmed. 

Kindred Stars

The Multitude, Many-Faced Giver of Paths, Illuminator of the True Self, They who is All and None

Mother Flame’s eldest child, Kindred Stars, is the stars in the sky, each one representing a different solar system and different possibilities. As the sky, They are simultaneously the empty void and the infinite stars and are at once one, many, and none. They remind us that there are just as many ways to be divinely ourselves as there are stars in the sky. Aspects of Them are reflected in Hermaphroditus, Bat, Loki, Atlantius, the three-faced triad of Hecate/Artemis/Selene, Charon, and many others. They are the guide to the true self and the afterlife. 

Kindred Stars’ acolytes honor Them by showing a different path for humanity to follow and by illuminating truths that might be overlooked or inconvenient. For devoting themselves to Them, Kindred Stars’ acolytes are transformed divinely into someone who is both and/or neither man nor woman. Their acolytes, the Aphrodhermi, are given the title Loir (Lr.) or may use any other title they desire.

Sister Earth

The Nourishing Home, Source of Healing and Growth, She Who Grows and Reaps All Things

One of Mother Flame’s twin children, Sister Earth, is the soil, root, and flesh brought to life and represents agency, healing, growth, and love. Being life, She is also the natural process of death and decay, which is how new life comes from death. Aspects of Her are reflected in Artimpasa, Aphrodite, Ishtar, Persephone, ‎Rhiannon, Artemis and Hecate (as separate goddesses), The Morrígan, and many others. 

Sister Earth’s priestesses show Her love by loving every living plant and animal and dedicating themselves to healing the planet. In return, She divinely transforms all of Her priestesses into women. Her priestesses, the Eenari, are given the title Sister (Ss.). 

Brother Sea

The Protective Embrace, Renewer of Things, Sculptor of Land, He Who Brings Balance

One of Mother Flame’s twin children, Brother Sea, is the water that flows and gathers on the Earth and rains down from the sky in an endless cycle. He is the first sculptor who shaped the lands and the first musician who taught the birds how to sing to welcome His Sister’s return to life. He represents renewal, fresh beginnings, duty, gentle strength, and balance. He also represents erosion and the crumbling of things. Aspects of Him are reflected in Poseidon, Neptune, Lir, Dionysus, Thor, Apollo, Christ, Odin, and many others. 

For submitting to Him and dedicating themselves to preserving and protecting the balance of nature, Brother Sea divinely transforms His priests into men. His priests, the Caeneuns, are given the title Brother (Br.). 

The King

The Silent Violence, The Lonely Patriarchy, and First Unyielding King of Men, He Who is Last Redeemed

The youngest child of Mother Flame, The King, represents the attempt by man to dominate life, define its limits and boundaries, label and legislate its existence, exploit it for profit, and construct a system that enshrines His own power and supremacy. The King is the antithesis of the other four deities and reminds us of the dangers of violence, extractive, destructive profit, and patriarchy. The King is reflected in the worst aspects of many gods, including Zeus of rape, Ares of blind violence, Hades of extractive wealth, the God of the prosperity gospel and Christofascism, and other patriarchal deities, who are used to justify violence, exploitation, and extraction. The King sits upon a golden throne held up by the 8 Pillars of Patriarchy.

The King is the patron of two distinct groups. The first is The Kings of Men, who are any people who work proactively to maintain or enforce the Pillars of Patriarchy and seek power to control or oppress others. The second group is The Sons of Men, who are men born into the patriarchy who seek to find ways to celebrate their divine masculinity while simultaneously dismantling the Pillars of Patriarchy and uplifting others. Within the church, this takes the form of serving the other clergy and supporting them, for which they are given the title of Son. When a Son is no longer capable or willing to serve the clergy, he is ritually returned to The Earth through burial. 

The Eight Pillars of the Patriarchy 

The King is shackled to his golden throne, held aloft by eight pillars:

1. The denial of the sexuality of everyone but men;
2. Forcing men’s sexuality and supremacy upon others;
3. Exploitation to control all production and reproduction;
4. The control by men of all of the children and their futures;
5. Confining and restricting of choice and freedom to strict traditional gender roles and the limiting of independence;
6. The use of others as coins or pawns to be traded in transactions and machinations of men;
7. The elevation and celebration of the works of men as more worthy or valuable, thereby denying and limiting the creativity of others;
8. The withholding of knowledge and skills for the benefit of men and the maintenance of their power.

The Five Divine Dreams

We worship our gods through acts of devoted love to ourselves and others, through devotion, we dream our gods to life, we dream:

To Shine

As Mother Flame brings light to the darkness.

As Kindred Stars twinkles with possibility.

As Sister Earth brings love to cold hearts.

As Brother Sea glistens, clean with fresh rain.

In defiance of The King who would blind you.

To Push

As Mother Flame burns with passion.

As Kindred Stars looks beyond what is to what could be.

As Sister Earth breaks spring buds through winter frost.

As Brother Sea flows in an endless cycle of renewal.

In defiance of The King who would restrain you.

To Grow

As Mother Flame fills and illuminates the cold and the dark.

As Kindred Stars fills all corners of the cosmos.

As Sister Earth brings verdant life in barren places.

As Brother Sea swells and stretches to bridge the gaps that divide us.

In defiance of The King who would diminish you.

To Change

As Mother Flame flickers and dances in the dark.

As Kindred Stars adapts to new experiences.

As Sister Earth makes the world diverse and unique.

As Brother Sea washes away the old to make way for the new.

In defiance of The King who would stagnate you.

To Endure

As does Mother Flame’s everlasting love.

As does Kindred Stars’ boundless curiosity.

As does Sister Earth’s enduring healing.

As does Brother Sea’s abiding protection.

In defiance of The King who would have you perish.

The Eight Seasons

III. The Five Dreams

Many forms of spiritual ritual and magic come down to acting out or representing the patterns that we hope to break or create through the creation of art. The Unnamed Saint Rachel Pollack encouraged practitioners to use art to “activate” cards in tarot readings, and practitioners of this Unnamed Faith of The Name are encouraged to do the same through the creation of art and myths that represent the worlds they would like to make. 

In this book, Dionu, The Five Dreams are myths crafted to make The Gods real in our world through metaphor and meaning. The Gods are given life through the stories we tell as well as the art we make and the deeds we do in their names. Ultimately, any act done by a Named member of the faith inspired by The Gods, tales of them, or art depicting them is an act done by The Gods themselves. This is a covenant that we make with The Gods who give us inspiration and strength, and in turn, we do not do them harm by doing cruel and unjust actions in their names.

Dream of the Shining Woman

The Woman had long walked a path parallel to the Eenari but not of them. She had taken the medicines and the knife of a doctor who was Revered but Unnamed and reshaped her body. She had taken a name but never spoken it in covenant with her sisters. She had focused her intention on assimilating into The Kingdoms of Men and rejected the company of her sisters for material riches and wealth. She had poured herself into her work to grow those riches into a fortune but had not yet realized that the cup she had poured from had become empty. 

It was on the eve of the longest day that she drove through the desert. Under the baking Sun, there was a sudden sound, and her vehicle lurched to a halting stop. She attempted to call for help but found herself incapable of sending out a signal. As she looked across the endless sand, she wondered how long it would be until someone noticed she was missing. She had no family, no friends, only her work, and her work was uncaring. 

Unsure what else to do, she began to walk. Her shoes were not made for walking, and so they were the first to be abandoned by the side of the road. In time, her pantsuit was heavy with sweat, and she grew delirious with heat, so she abandoned it as well. As she marched forward through the sand, the path became uncertain, and she wondered how long it had been since she had seen another traveler along the road. 

As The Sun began to set, she welcomed the cooling air and darkness. But soon, she heard animals in the distance and saw the frost on her breath. In desperation, she pushed herself forward still. The road seemed to twist and turn and spiral before her but she followed it still.

As she grew hopeless and afraid, she began to hear the whispers of a voice that had tormented her for years. He whispered to her that she deserved to die, that she should give up, that she was a perversion of The Order of things, and that if her name was ever spoken again, it would be as a joke. And as the sand began to vanish into the darkness around her, and the sky went pitch black, and the road spiraled downwards into oblivion, she fell to her knees. 

She looked at her fingers which were turning black with cold. She looked at her feet, which had been shredded by bits of glass and metal that littered the road, but she could no longer feel for they had frozen, and she shivered. There was no more light. There was no more warmth. There was no more hope.

She cried and felt a deep regret for how she had lived. She remembered a woman she had met in a basement support group when she was just a girl. The older woman had looked at her with a knowing love and understanding as she cried and consoled her. She said that the rejection of family and friends was deeply painful but that everyone in attendance accepted her and would love her as if she were their child. And she regretted that she had looked around and, with a cold heart, rejected them. She did not see their beauty or their light, and she chose to walk a solitary path.

And now alone on her path of darkness, she cried and begged and prayed to a god she never believed in, and then she fell asleep and dreamed. She dreamed of herself as the older woman comforting a child. She dreamed of herself veiled in flame and emanating warmth. She dreamed that she poured herself and her love into her own cup and that it joyously overflowed and filled the cups of others as well. She dreamed of a path untaken.

She awoke, with frost in her hair. The world was all darkness and ice now and the dark spiraling path she had been walking seemed to float as an ice drift in nothingness. His whisper reverberated in her ears, “This is how you end, alone, unloved,” but instead of giving up, she cried out. A deep guttural, primordial cry, the cry of a bear cub caught in a trap left to die, and the cry of the mother that frantically seeks its freedom. 

And through the darkness, a single blade of light pierced the darkness. Despite the darkness being so much greater in size than the light, its warmth began to fill her. 

The figure of The Mother, flaming, and grand, appeared on the horizon when the light had been and it said to her in a great voice, “child, I am so sorry that you have walked this world alone through the cold and the darkness, if you will have it I will offer you my love, but it comes at a price.”

“Please, Mother, I would do anything for your warmth and a second chance at life. I have chosen this path of darkness and ruin, but would like to walk another path and, through my shining light, guide those who walk behind me.”

And The Mother, pleased, said to her, “All I ask is that you speak your name to me.”

Shocked at the price,  she said, “My name is Mother Artimas Apollo of The Shining Light, I promise to you that I will carry and cultivate the light of your love within my heart and that I will shine that light brightly upon the world.”

And faster than it had vanished, the road reappeared, and the void was not replaced with sand and dust but with verdant fields. Despite The Sun shining bright in The Sky, warm summer rain fell and washed and healed her wounds. She stood revitalized, and on the other side of the tall grass and running water, she saw her home.

She was as good as her word and better and shined brighter than any woman had. She took in and cared for many children who had no home to turn to and turned her work entirely to spreading her love and shining The Mother’s light in the world.

Dream of the Child Who Pushed the World

As all children do, The Child asked, “Why?”

“Why is the sky blue?”

“Why does the cow moo?”

“Why is four two plus two?”

And their parents would do their best to answer but often the answer would be a dismissive, “I don’t know.” and the parents wouldn’t think any more about it. 

That was until the question was, “Why are there boys and girls?”

The parents, flustered, tried to explain with as little detail as possible, “There are boys and girls because you need both to work together so that you can make a baby.”

“Why do they need to make a baby?” 

“They need to make babies so there can keep being new people in the world,” responded the parents.

“Why do there need to be people in the world?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t need them.” said the parents definitively, hoping that it would end at that. 

“I don’t think I want to have a baby,” said The Child. 

“Well, that would be your choice to make when you are older.”

“If I don’t want to have a baby, then why do I have to be a boy or a girl?” 

And at that, the parents froze. They exchanged serious glances and carefully said, “Even if you don’t want to have a child people still have to be a boy or a girl because they were made that way.” 

“But why were they made that way?”

“Because of biology, some people are born boys and some people are born girls, and that is a biological fact,” stated the parents with undo authority. 

“Why can’t people just choose if they want to be a boy or a girl?” 

“It doesn’t work that way; boys are boys, and girls are girls, and that is all there is.” 

And for a while The Child was placated. Left to ponder the new information.

As time went on, The Child grew and went to school they asked less questions. They had begun to think they understood the world. But some questions still weighed them down.

One day, The Child asked their teacher, “Why are there boys and girls?”

And the teacher explained “When a child is conceived they get some genes from their mother and some from their father, these are stored in things called chromosomes. If you get a certain chromosome you become a boy and if you get another chromosome you become a girl.” 

The Child thought long and hard about this and asked, “Is there a way to change your chromosomes?” 

“No, they are what makes you who you are, and that is all there is.”

Time moved forward, and The Child grew taller and learned to ask even fewer questions, but they knew there was something they still didn’t understand. 

One day, in their early adolescence, they accepted a friend’s invitation to go with them to church. At the church a preacher talked about The One True God and how all of life’s answers could be found in His book. 

And so after the service, The Child went up to him and asked “Why are there boys and girls?” 

And the preacher said “God our All Powerful Lord Created Adam in His image and Eve from his rib to serve him, and so God created us all.” 

“Could God create someone who is neither a boy nor a girl?”

And at this, the preacher turned red in the face and said, “God would not create such a person because they would be an abomination in the eyes of The Lord!”

And with that, The Child learned not to ask any more questions. They went through life suppressing the curious feelings inside them and waiting only for information and explanations to be offered to them. 

But then, one day, they sat alone beneath The Stars on a clear night and looked up. As they stared, more and more stars seemed to fade into sight. The Universe was suddenly unfathomably big and unknown, and with that realization, they closed their eyes and dreamed.

They stood at a crossroads in a great dark void. Along one path was a woman and along the other was a man. Both paths branched from a single tree containing all of their ancestors stretching back through time and from the tree’s root sprung all life as a single unbroken being. 

The Child knew that they could not go backwards, but neither of the paths forward was one they wanted to walk, and so, they stared forward into the dark unknown. As their eyes adjusted pinpricks of light appeared and resolved into stars and between the stars stood a figure in a black cloak holding a lantern. 

“Who are you?” asked The Child. 

“I am The Mother’s first child. I am both The Stars and The Emptiness between them. I am no one’s brother or sister, but I am the Sibling to all. I am the one who walks their own path.”

“Why are there only two paths?” 

“That is only what you have been told and what you have seen, but there is more. Close your eyes and listen to yourself.”

And so The Child closed their eyes, and in this darkness, they listened to themself. They felt their body and their soul and knew theirself, and when they opened their eyes, they saw more paths forward than stars in the sky. 

Dream of the Girl Who Grew

Where she came from nobody knew. They say she had been born a feral thing, her mother some poor wretch who went into the woods to deliver her out of shame. Perhaps her mother had died, the penance for her indiscretions, but the child had survived and thrived outside of the walls that Men built to protect themselves. Some say she had been raised by wolves. Some say she had been touched by the nameless and unknowable faeries and goblins that lived in wild places. Some say she wasn’t a child at all but something else disguised as a child. If asked, the girl simply said that her brother had taken care of her. She had no brother, as far as anyone knew, and she would never describe him, so they assumed it was a touch of madness.

She was a wretch herself, a nasty thing. She knew too much about the beasts, which was a blessing when men asked her where to hunt but a curse in all else. Sure, she could tell before any others when the cattle were pregnant, where the deer were all hiding, and when the birds would return or go, but this was at a horrible cost. She could not help but tell people who crossed her path when a pet was in its final year when a good-looking fish pulled from the river would be full of parasites, or worst of all, when a child would fall ill and die.

This would have been enough to get the girl chased from the forest and taken into the protective custody of the Kings of Men if not for the rumors of what she had done for the people who treated her with kindness. It was often whispered that a warning from her while bringing emotional distress had saved a life, and one old woman had attributed a miracle to her. 

It was said that the woman was near the end of her own life, and her only companion was a dog that had been given to her by a neighbor. One day, the dog had been mangled under a wheel, and the woman, in desperation, took it into the woods. She found the girl and begged her to do something. The girl at first told her there was nothing she could do and that nature would take its course in time. The woman, heartbroken, pleaded again, and so the girl told her to return with her wounded dog that night. When she returned, the girl gave her an earthen bowl filled with flowers and told her to place it with the dog. The girl kneeled in the dirt and spoke “grow,” and by morning, the flowers had wilted, but the dog healed and, in time, outlived the old woman. 

Within the town by the girl’s forest lived a very rich family who had extracted their fortune from The Earth. The family had a single sickly son who was often mocked for the way he played and never seemed to fit in with the other boys, but the patriarch of the family was determined to make him grow up strong and inherit what he and his father before him had built.  

When a plague entered his house, the father at first tried to ignore it. When it refused to leave his house, he began to worry for his son. He fired and changed out every member of his staff, and when that didn’t work, he fired them all again and had someone come and clean the entire house from top to bottom with alcohol, bleaches, and disinfectants. And when that didn’t work, he razed the house to the ground with flame and then rebuilt it exactly as it was before. However, this did not work, and the plague stayed with them and, in time, infected his son. 

He consulted doctors and gurus and healers of all kinds until, in an act of desperation, his wife convinced him to seek the aid of the girl she had heard stories about. He hired men to go out and catch the wildling from her forest and bring her to him. When he had her, he told her that this was his only son and that he needed him to grow into a man who could inherit his fortune and everything he had built.

“It won’t do any good,” she told him, “this one belongs with the maggots.” 

The mother wept as the father pleaded with the girl and told her that he knew she had performed miracles for others. She rebuffed him and told him, “Nature will take its course.” but when he got on his knees and cried and begged, she relented and, seemingly from out of nowhere, produced an earthen bowl filled with flowers and fruit. “Tomorrow, on the night before the new moon, place this by the child’s feet, and in the morning, bring it to me.”

When the night came the mother and father placed the bowl of immaculate flowers and fruit at the child’s feet, and as they did, the girl, deep in her forest, knelt in the dirt, and spoke, “grow.” 

When the sun rose, the father brought the bowl of now wilted flowers and rotten fruit into the forest, and he asked the girl, “will my son live?” 

She stared at him and, without a hint of sadness and perhaps with a flicker or joy, shook her head and proclaimed, “Your son is dead.”

Enveloped in sorrow, the man returned to his home and was surprised to find that when he arrived, his child was fully recovered and running around the house with a vigor he had never before seen. The child had become a picture of health, with color in the cheeks and a laugh in the heart.

“To think I listened to you and almost trusted that girl and her stupid folk magic,” the man quipped at the child’s mother, “our son got better on his own!”

But in his head, the girl’s words reverberated, “This one belongs with the maggots.” “Your son is dead.”

When the moon next rose full in the sky, a feral girl still dressed in the rich boy’s clothes entered the forest and found the girl who she had heard in her fevered dreams beckon for her to grow. 

“What did you do to me,” the new wildling asked.

“Nothing. Their son died. With him out of the way, you can finally live. I told them the truth, but they wouldn’t hear it. You, my sister, belong with the maggots” said the girl, in the voice of The Sister who beckons all sisters.

The man would spend years envisioning a ghost where their daughter was, cursing the dead son for her ways. A waste, he thought, for such a noble child to become a lowly grave digger! Did he not remember his breeding, is that why he insisted on helping those close to death? Did he not appreciate his bloodline, which made him better than the common men who he treated? The boy’s ghost nodded with him, but his daughter paid him no mind. She lived, as the wildling said she would, with dirt under her fingernails, deep in the soil. She belonged, after all, with the maggots.

Dream of the Man Who Changed

The Girl had been the same. She had always been the same. When she had learned to read she had begun sneaking up to the attic to read her grandfather’s books of histories, legends, and myths. For as long as she could walk, she would trek along the sea, digging up clay with her fingers and making mounds and castles. And from the moment of her birth she had been her father’s pride and joy. He had been the one who often carried her gently down to her bed at night after finding her asleep amongst the tomes in the attic. His footsteps had followed hers along the sea where he delighted at the things she would sculpt from the Earth. Her Father, with love, told the child from the moment she was born, “You my child, are the greatest gift in the world, and to you I will one day give the ship that I sail, that has been sailed by my father, and his father before him. For our legacy is the Sea”. 

The town where she lived was old and rough, and the cobblestone streets were well worn by rain and foot, but the people were gentle, simple folk. They lived their lives, loved their community, and showed charity and kindness to each other that was unparalleled. They were proud of who they were and the lives they lived, and the air was just as full of tales of the sea and life on it as it was filled with the salty smell of the ocean. The tales of adventure outshining even the legends of Odysseus, Achilles, Athena, Agamemnon, and Zeus, and each tale of the town was her legacy to inherit. 

But the Girl did not want the legacy. Though she loved the Sea and the town and her Father, she knew when she squeezed the water from the clay and formed it into sights, she had never seen and people she had never known that she wanted to leave this town and travel the world as an artist. She would sketch and sculpt and dream and fall into obsessions over a single subject, working and re-working from the clay again and again and then leaving it to be dissolved by the tide. 

Her current artistic obsession, inspired by the legend of Caeneus and Poseidon that she had found in one of the books, was to sculpt a woman and then shape and reform her into a man. A hero that she could project herself into. A hero who, in secret, she imagined, would someday take her far away from her home. 

Her Father was aware of this obsession, because how could he not be when her art was all she talked about, but he was not aware of the motivation for escape that drove it. He did suspect other things about his daughter. That the Girl was perhaps not the type to ever be a woman, and that someday she would stop being “the son he never had” and simply become his son. This did not disturb him but instead filled him with patient anticipation for the man his daughter someday would be. Despite his constant love and support, he tried his best not to tip his hand or start conversations she was not yet ready to have, and instead just enjoyed every day that he spent with her and constantly reminded her that every day when he left for work, it was to maintain something that would someday be hers and in turn would one day be her son’s.

When the girl was first old enough to tie a knot and hoist a sail, her father began taking her to Sea on the days when the school was closed, and the Sea was calm. Side by side, they set sail and pulled fish from the Sea to feed their town, and as they sailed, they talked and laughed and grew ever closer. As the years went on and the daughter grew, she knew that one day soon, she would be done with her childhood schooling, and her father would ask her to come to sail with him full-time and in-time take over the ship that had been a second home, but she knew that as her father’s excitement grew, so did her dread. 

And then one day, as they pulled in a net, her dread became words, and she spoke, “Father, I need to tell you something that is very important to me, but I do not know if you will understand,” and her words hung in the air like a thick fog.

And to this, her father said encouragingly, “My boy, I have always known you were my son and that one day you would be the man to captain this ship.”

She stood there in shocked silence as storm clouds formed overhead, casting a shadow over her Father and herself. And then she spoke the truth, “Father, I love you, and you are right, I do want to be a man, but I never thought that was a thing you would not understand.”

And to that, the Father said, “Then what?” and as if in response, thunder roared. 

“I do want to be a man, but I do not want to captain this ship. I want to leave our town and travel the world and be an artist.”

And the rain fell and they stared at each other in silence, both wondering if the rain was also washing away the other’s tears. A flash and thunder broke the silence, but they did not move. The Father said, “The men in our family have sailed ships since there have been ships to sail. The Sea calls to us. It is in our blood. No son of mine will be the one to throw that all away.”

And as his voice raised, so did the waves, and the Sea turned over their ship and dumped them both into the dark, churning water. 

The Father was the first to wash up on shore, but there was no sign of his child. Half-drowned, he was carried home while the search for his child continued. For five days, he wandered the shore in feverish shock and mourning. And on the fifth day, he found a cove he had never seen before. In the cove, he found statues of Sun-baked clay. Intricate sculptures of Gods and heroes and tragically beautiful depictions of life on the Sea. All shaped by a hand that he had always known. And in that moment of desperation and near madness, he fell to his knees.

He begged to see his child again as his emotions flickered around him like flames, throwing him from hope to desperation to mania to despair. He promised to adapt to new experiences, to try new things, to celebrate the whole world in its diversity and uniqueness, not just his little town. He prayed that someone would wash away his mistakes and pledged that if they did, he would change and break away from his stagnation.

And then, through his half-conscious wailing, he heard a cough, and when he turned, he saw the wreckage of his ship washed to shore, and a man face down in the debris. He rushed to the man, turned him over, and immediately recognized him as his son. As the man he always was.

He ran wailing into the town carrying his son, and the townsfolk who had all but abandoned hope took the boy from him without hesitation or question and rushed him to the hospital. 

When the boy awoke, his father sat by his side. Tears shamelessly in his eyes, he said, “I’ve seen your sculptures, boy. The Sea has shaped you, as it did our ancestors. But not as a sailor—as an artist. And I will stand by you regardless of what path you tread.” 

Years later, though the son had long ago left to pursue his dreams, pieces of him remained in the seaside town. On every corner were sculptures that seemed alive, as if the waves themselves danced within them. He had found fame and success, but more importantly, he found the love of his father was undying and unending and could be carried with him wherever he went. 

Dream of the People Who Endured

In a land where time danced to nature’s tune, The Village lay cradled in the heart of Mother Flame’s warmth, Kindred Stars’ guidance, Sister Earth’s embrace, and Brother Sea’s protection. The Village, radiant with color and song, was a beacon for those who dared to be more than the Kings of Men dictated they could be.

In The Village lived a family of five people bound not by blood but by choice: Herat, whose spirit burned with Mother Flame’s embers; Aphrodhermax, whose path mirrored the vast expanse of the Kindred Stars; Eenara, the healer who drew vitality from Sister Earth; Caen, whose voice echoed the depth of Brother Sea; and Andra, the seer.

While The Village was a place of safety, love, and comfort, the land on which it lay fell within the domain of the Kings of Men. 

Andra, who was often the first to see and feel, felt a chill in the air and warned The Village that the Kings of Men’s hearts grew ever colder and that they abhorred the village and all of the people who lived in it. Andra cried out that the King of Men’s armies would grow and grow until it cast a shadow great enough that it would extinguish The Village’s light and warmth.

At first, all the members of Andra’s family, like all of the inhabitants of The Village, dismissed their warning. Herat said, “Precious Andra, I love you deeply, but I fought against the Kings of Men when their hearts were much colder than they are now and won The Village’s freedom. We have nothing to fear.” 

And for a time, Andra was at peace, reassured by their friend’s confidence. But then Andra saw a sign in the stars and warned that the Kings of Men were working together to blame The Village for all of the crimes and consequences of the Kings of Men. 

And in the face of the growing unease, the warrior Herei faltered with fear, but Aphrodhermax rebuffed, “Andra, I have walked many roads and met many people, and The Village is no different from any other village in the land. Times have changed, and the Kings of Men do not care how we live anymore.” 

And again for a time, Andra was at peace. But then Andra heard a rustling in leaves and warned that the Kings of Men have told all of the land that nobody is allowed to send their child to The Village and that no adult who was once a child could enter The Village and the The Village should be left to wither and die. 

And at that, Aphrodhermax followed Herei on Andra’s path, but Eenara said, “That is absurd; people have always come to The Village and will always come to The Village. Saying people can’t will never stop us from being. We are part of the natural order.” 

And again, for a time, Andra was at peace. That was until Andra saw in the churning seas that the Kings of Men would tell all of the land that the people in The Village must leave and abandon their lives and follow the new laws of The Kings of Men and that any who do not will be destroyed. 

And so Eenara descended into the same despair as Herat and Aphrdodhermax, but Caen said, “This can not happen. I will use my voice to call out for help, and everyone around us will hear our plea and be moved to action before it is too late.” 

And again, for a time, Andra was at peace, but then they saw the troops of the Kings of Men marching towards the village and they ran to their family. They told the others that the Kings of Men were here to destroy them and that nobody was coming to help, and to that, nobody had anything to say.

And so Andra spoke, “Gather all you can from The Village and come with me. We will go into the woods and there we will work together to survive.

Herat, whose spirit burns with the Flame of the Mother. You will fight claw and tooth for us to protect those of us who can not protect themselves. 

Aphrodhermax, who finds the paths that we did not know were possible, will blaze a trail for us to follow. 

Eenara, who heals all living things, you will help us grow and multiply. 

Caen, whose voice carries far, you will tell our story to all that will listen so that our light will never be extinguished.”

And so they left The Village as the Kings of Men razed it to the ground. The things that countless generations of families like their own had forged and fought for were crushed under His heel, and the Earth was salted and paved over so that they could not easily return. 

When the dust settled, bodies of villagers who had not listened to the warnings lay strewn amongst the rubble, but those who had followed, took action, and came together to work and protect each other found peace in another far-off land. They cared for and welcomed many people from many villages like their own, and their family grew to include many children who had left the Kingdom of Men to join them. In time it became a City of life and love, where all are welcome and the people love the Land, Sea, and Sky as much as themselves. And if the Kings of Men ever attempt to challenge The City, they will find that it can not be stopped because it is not the buildings but the home that each of its people carries in their hearts for each other. And the flame of that hearth can never be extinguished.  

IV. The Book of Constellations 

This book is not written to create change in the reader but is instead an uninhibited act of catharsis and artistic creation for the sake of the authors. The Books of Constellations as a concept is not a single story but is a set of stories about The Starmaker as a myth made to reflect the change that the authors want to create in the world. The story begins with a single ending and then recounts how an individual helps those around them grow, helps to heal themself, and takes part in the creation of a new world.

Practitioners are encouraged to tell their own stories of a different Starmaker who also confronts and combats The Eight Pillars. There is no single story, ending, or structure, and there are no rules or restrictions on form. Create. The creation of art is a form of prayer, meditation, and manifestation. Dream something new. Dream the creation of a better world. Each story is a single star in the larger constellation that we create together.

The End

In the Dusk of Man’s miserly Empire,

Sister Earth drowns in acrid oil-slicked blood, 

the diluted corpses of Brother Sea; 

Mother Flame razes all His structures; 

Kindred Stars cry for Their blinded children;

The King, ever hungry, devours Himself. 

Lights flicker, and flames choke on rarified air as humanity clings to remnants. 

HIS bloated corpse lies upon the sunken, blasted soil — all mouths silent.

She drowns, He burns, They cry out, and She sleeps; 

however, when Light is at its dimmest, 

Sister Earth devours The King and makes a grand whale fall of Him.

Life, no matter the dire conflict of existence, shall endure. 

Though the Dusk of Man is nearly certain,

it is but part of a grander cycle,

of thrones shattering, of change begun— 

the greater death, the greater sustenance for life’s renewal.

A Beginning

The Kings of Men declare that life begins at conception by law.

This rigid definition, a foundation for their unchanging code.

Systems of rules and rights to define the borders of our being. 

Anyone who has dreamed knows that life begins in every moment. 

Every time we take an action or choose inaction, life begins. 

We are all changing, and growing, and dying continually

To fertilize the future and make a new life for us to live.

And it was upon that realization that a new path was taken, 

a life begun, and a Starmaker was born and called to destroy

The Eight Pillars that hold The King’s Gold Throne, wrapped in heavy chains.

1. The denial of the sexuality of everyone but men;
2. Forcing men’s sexuality and supremacy upon others;
3. Exploitation to control all production and reproduction;
4. The control by men of all of the children and their futures;
5. Confining and restricting of choice and freedom to strict traditional gender roles and the limiting of independence;
6. The use of others as coins or pawns to be traded in the transactions and machinations of men;
7. The elevation and celebration of the works of men as more worthy or valuable, thereby denying and limiting the creativity of others;
8. The withholding of knowledge and skills for the benefit of men and the maintenance of their power.

Denial

It was in the middle of an arid winter drought that the first pillar the Starmaker encountered on their path began to fall. 

The denial of their sexuality and the ever-present celebration of the desire of men was all around them. 

They encountered men’s wants in every moment of every day. 

Every image filtered foul through the gaze of a man looking on with desire and domination.

It was as pervasive as the air we all breathe, and when it was denied or subverted, the men would choke and gag on it as if they inhaled a fetid grey smoke. 

And like a fish does not notice the water’s weight, at first the young Starmaker was unaware.

The Starmaker became aware of the pillar when they looked at the face of their Lover and realized that the way they loved them, the way they wanted them, was not what was expected or allowed. 

Their whole life until that point, they had been told that they would enter into a church-blessed heterosexual relationship, that the bride would legally become the property of the groom, 

and the groom would use his wife for his needs while she denied her own. 

Throughout their marriage, the groom would gawk at women, measure their worth against his bride, and comment on her many shortcomings in his Kingly eyes, while she would only worship him. 

That he might deny and degrade her, but that regardless of her mood or desires, she would serve him.

The Starmaker knew that they could not love through cold iron cage bars. 

They did not want to be anyone’s property nor keep precious lovers in legal bondage. 

They wanted to love like songbirds free from grounding restraints and chains. 

They wanted to learn more about self and humanity through love, and they wanted to share that intimate journey with their Lover. 

And so, they undertook the work to tear The King’s pillar down. 

That night, they laid with their god-like Lover, and as they touched, and took, and tasted. They felt for the barriers that The King had commanded them to build within themselves. 

They stumbled through the dark, and as their path reached a wall, they felt for its unknown contours and edges. 

They mapped their understanding of self and their unearthed desire and where it had been bound to stop. 

They pressed against the walls but could not make them move, and, eventually, they gave into exhaustion and laid in Lover’s arms. 

Within their Lover’s arms, they felt a glacial nervous shifting, 

as if all the force they used to push against their chains had all come back at once in a single wave. 

They cried, and their kind Lover, with tender care, asked, “What is wrong?”

The Starmaker told their Lover that they wanted to love and be together in new ways they couldn’t articulate and didn’t know. 

When they tried, they felt the walls of a steel cage around their heart, and they feared they would never be able to be truly free with anyone like birds in flight. 

And as tears flowed down the Starmaker’s face, their Lover laughed. 

They laughed deeply and freely because they had felt the same thing. 

Their entire life, they had lived in the bondage of expectation, 

and now they felt as if they performed what was expected of them instead of what they desired, and when they laid together, they felt like they were wearing a mask. 

And so, they talked, cried, laughed, held each other, and looked into each other’s eyes and they kissed. 

And again, they had sex, and for the first time, they made blessed love. 

They communicated with every part of their body and soul.

They melted and merged and separated and churned like The Seas. 

They tried new things and let themselves be touched in new ways that they had never let anyone touch them before. 

They became one, and each other, and themselves again and again. 

And as The Stars gave way to The Mother’s morning light they collapsed in laughter and love and exhaustion. 

And, the pillar cracked and quivered. 

When the time came, they reluctantly pulled their tangled bodies apart and rose from their sacred bed. 

They re-entered The King’s working world forever, truly changed, and everywhere they looked they saw the contours of their kind Lover. 

Their bodies tingled as they remembered their smell, their touch, their taste. 

But the Starmaker soon encountered another wall within them. 

The Starmaker worked in a Factory that ground up and burned Earth, Sea, and Sky in order to create value for the Kings of Men. 

They did not agree with the work, but they did not see that they had much of a choice in the matter.

The Factory had, over the years, extracted all of the value and Gods given life from the land,

and now the only work that existed was working in the Factory or a job that supported the Factory and its foul operations. 

The only redeeming feature of this work was that during the Starmaker’s short midday break, they could sit outside on the King’s cold concrete and talk with their lifelong friend and Companion who also spent her days within the Factory walls. 

On this day, as they split bread with their Companion, she asked them what they were so happy about. 

The Companion winked and nodded and inflected in a knowing way, but the Starmaker knew she could not understand and they could not speak it. 

How could she understand? And how could the King tamed Starmaker possibly ever speak it aloud?

The Starmaker attempted to evade her question in cold shame. 

They wriggled against His steel walls, nervously blushing, to which the Companion laughed and let be.

That night as the Starmaker again laid in their gentle Lover’s arms their mind wandered from their bed back to the conversation. 

If they had been so liberated and free, why hadn’t they been able to express their true thoughts and feelings to their Companion?

Why were they still deeply ashamed? 

And above all else, why were they thinking about that moment now instead of being present in the moment with their kind Lover?

And feeling the weight of The King’s chains and the thickness of the walls around them, they asked the Lover what they would feel and do.

And again, the gentle Lover laughed, and so they talked and cried and kissed, and in The Mother’s morning all was again free. 

Over their midday meals, the Companion asked why they smiled and glowed, and this time, they told her the truth.

They explained how they had always felt trapped and confined and separate, but through sex with their kind Lover, they felt free for the first time.

They told her how every moment felt more heightened and sensual than before and that even the air no longer felt the same. 

The Companion was embarrassed and more than a little ashamed and uncertain about how to respond to the things they had heard, but within her, some walls had thinned, and with a laugh, she changed within.

On the third night, the Starmaker laid with the Lover again. They touched, and held, and kissed, and tasted, and smelled, and heard, and laughed, and when they were exhausted and laid in each other’s arms, they did it all again. And again and again, each time more intense until their entire bodies effervesced and their hearts sang, and when they finally felt spiritually and emotionally full, they collapsed and realized that while they had been there, the skies had opened up and rain had washed and renewed the world, leaving a lingering smell in the air. 

The Lover turned to the Starmaker and said, “I’ve always loved the smell after rain. Even its name is beautiful, ‘Petrichor,’ I wish I could be called Petrichor and that when you spoke my name, you would remember the lingering smell of me on your lips.” 

“Why can’t you just be called Petrichor?”

“My parents gave me my name, and it was the name of one of their parents. It’s a tradition I have to carry on.” 

“Why? We have already abandoned the way they said we should love each other, why carry on any tradition that isn’t serving us?”

And with that, The Lover spoke, “Call me Petrichor.”

And they did. And the first pillar crumbled. 

Supremacy 

When they next sat with the Companion on the concrete outside of The Factory walls and shared their midday meal, the two resumed their discussion about love and sex and intimacy. They then heard the worst words you can hear when having an intimate conversation with a friend: “What are you talking about, darling?”

It was their Manager. He was a man without distinction who had used the privileges The King gave him to seize a tiny amount of power over others. A level of power that he often held with the same authority as the greatest Kings of Men. 

“Nothing at all, sir,” said the Starmaker. 

“I thought I heard you talking about sex”

“We were talking about relationships,” corrected the uncomfortable Companion.

“I’ve never been much for relationships, I’ve always been more of a Sex Man,” declared the Manager before he proceeded to detail a recent encounter with a woman at a bar who he described in the ways only a man could. 

Visibly uncomfortable, the two friends took the first opportunity to dismiss themselves and returned to work early. That afternoon the Manager again tried to speak to the Starmaker and their Companion while they worked. 

He made comments on which of his employees he would like to fuck and how and why and said listed to exhaustion which celebrities he wouldn’t fuck while exaggerating their perceived flaws. 

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” said the Starmaker, who had been pushed well past a point of comfort. Their Companion looked on in anxious anticipation. 

“Come on, we are all friends here. I am not making you uncomfortable, am I darling?” he directed at the Companion. 

She silently stared down, unable to answer. 

“See, she’s fine. You are just being overly sensitive. People these days are all too sensitive.” He stated with indignant authority. 

“Please just let us get back to our work, we are very behind,” pleaded the Starmaker. 

He looked at the work in front of them and said in a punishing tone, “Get back to work. The Factory is not paying you to stand around.” then looking at the Companion as if she were something he both hated and wanted to devour whole added, “unless you’d like to stay late and make up for it tonight darling.”

The Companion responded with an even more pointed, uncomfortable silence and the Manager walked off with as much authority and dignity as his position demanded. 

That evening, the Starmaker and their Companion hurried out. As soon as their shift was over, they walked home together in uncomfortable silence.

“I don’t know why you talk back to him, it just makes things worse” interjected the Companion into the dark hot winter night air. 

“I honestly do not see how it could be worse than having him force all of that on us,” said the Starmaker with a comical tone that attempted to reduce the gravity of the situation. 

“We could lose our jobs, and he could tell nobody to hire us, and then we would be in a much worse place,” Replied the Companion. And she was right, for the only jobs that weren’t in the factory were overseen by tyrants just as petty and impotently cruel as the Manager, and they would all listen to him if he said they were trouble and should not be hired. Each one of the many mouths that The Speechless King used to mutter his words into the world.  

“I just can’t work in an environment where I am being subjected to sexual harassment, and I’d think you would support me in that,” retorted the Starmaker with the most righteous indignation any person could muster. 

“And I can?” said the Companion on the verge of tears, “it wasn’t just today for me, he comes up to me every day and makes comments about my appearance and calls me ‘darling’ and tries to get me alone, and today is the first time you ever noticed because it is the first time it was directed at you.” 

And the Starmaker knew that was untrue but couldn’t speak to defend themself because, in truth, they had noticed. They had often seen the Manager say or do something that made the Companion deeply uncomfortable, and they hadn’t done anything. They had thought about doing something and fantasized about standing up to him and quitting or walking out, but ultimately, they had decided that protecting their friend hadn’t been worth losing their job and were only moved to action when it had affected them. 

The long, uncomfortable silence was broken when the Companion spoke, “I didn’t think my life would be like this. I didn’t think I would be working a dead-end job on a dying planet and reporting to a man I wished would die. I thought I would do great things, change the world, and go on adventures, but instead, I am just doing this.” 

“You know you don’t have to do this. Growing up I never saw you doing this either; I always thought you would cut your own path through the world. You are so smart and talented and hard-working, you deserve better.” 

“Thanks.” said the Companion with some frustration.

“I am really sorry.”

“It’s okay; you didn’t make the world this way.” 

“No, I am sorry that I didn’t stand up for you. I saw how he treated you, and I let you down. You are one of the most important people in my life, and I love you so much, I need to be a better friend to you,” and with tears in their eyes, they hugged each other. 

The Starmaker went home, they laid with Petrichor and talked about the day, and they slept and dreamed of a better tomorrow. 

The next morning at The Factory, the Starmaker walked in to see that the Manager had already cornered their Companion. As they went to intercede and protect their friend, the Manager said in a wounded voice, “I was sorry to not see you last night, I even looked all over to try to find you. I’d hoped you would have stayed late, and we could have talked some more about what we talked about yesterday, darling.”

And with a fury that burned hotter than The Sun, something boiled over in the Companion “My name is Diana!”

The Starmaker who was still only halfway across the room, felt the words like a burst of fire and sound. A volcanic eruption of years of frustration and rage built up. “It is not okay for you to talk to me that way, it is not okay for you to talk to anyone who works for you that way!”

“Whatever, you bitch, I didn’t say anything compared to what you are your friend talked about, I’d been watching you talk for DAYS about all kinds of depraved sex acts over the security cameras.” sniveled out the shriveled worm of a man. 

“You were WATCHING US?” exclaimed Diana with a disgust and fury that radiated enough heat to peel the paint from the walls. “Come on, we’re leaving” ordered Diana as she marched past the Starmaker towards the door. 

“All right, Diana! Let’s go!” replied the Starmaker with the excitement of a puppy going on a walk, and as Diana slammed the door as she left, the second pillar crumbled.  

Exploitation

Upon leaving The Factory, The Starmaker reflected on Diana’s words from the day before. They were aware of the cacophony of lips that muttered The King’s words and what they would say about them. They are a problem, they ruin things, they are not to be trusted or worked with, and they should be excluded and cast out and left to fend for themselves. They knew that they would be punished and struggle for their defiance of The Manager’s supremacy over them and that it might mean their end. 

Before Diana and the Starmaker could fully begin to understand the implications of their actions and what they could do next, they heard The Factory door open again behind them. They turned to see that a woman had followed them. 

The Follower’s face was familiar to them, but neither Diana nor the Starmaker knew her well. She, too, had worked in The Factory and toiled to feed and shelter herself under The Manager’s thumb.

“Please let me come with you.” Said the Follower with determined certainty. 

“You should go back, we do not know where we are going.” said Diana, “I just couldn’t stay there anymore.” 

“I also can’t stay there anymore either,” answered the Follower, “The Factory has ruined my life and crushed and burned my joy and youth for fuel. Please let me come with you.” 

“We don’t have any prospects or plans for the future, so you should turn back and keep your job,” urged the Starmaker, afraid that they would lead the Follower to her doom. 

“Please, you don’t understand, I have to come with you,” pled the Follower for the third time. “The Manager made me stay late one night and forced himself on me. I went to The Police, but they dismissed me and threatened to jail me for filing a false claim against a man. Months later, I discovered I was carrying his child, and it was past the time when a doctor would see me. I instead went to a man who said he could help me for a price, but I was left bleeding, bruised, and scarred between my legs, and now I am barren. I thought about leaving my job or ending my life but realized both options were ultimately the same and resigned myself to quiet labor. Seeing you walk out, Diana helped me find the strength to leave and find a new path for myself.” 

Diana was shocked into silence, but after a moment the Starmaker spoke, “I am so sorry, that never should have happened to you. That should never happen to anyone. I will do whatever I can to help you find justice and peace for yourself.”

Unsure of what to do with themselves on the hot, arid Winter morning, they sought out shade. Along a long, dry ditch, they found an old tree to sit beneath. The bare skeletal branches could not block the entire Sun, but they blocked enough to make the heat tolerable, and the strong roots had cracked away concrete and asphalt enough to create a cool and comfortable place to sit. 

At first, the three sat talking under the tree, each facing a different direction. Enumerating the many grave injustices and minor frustrations they had suffered in The Factory and listing their many fantasies of justice and retribution. Eventually, they had said all they could for the time and sat in emotionally and physically exhausted silence. 

In the silence, the Starmaker realized that the pattern of the light through the winter-bare branches had shifted and changed as they watched. They listened and could hear the wind moving between the limbs, rustling branches, and gently whistling across hollows and knots. They leaned into the tree and could feel the trunk swaying ever so slightly, rhythmically, like it was breathing. They felt the warm bark pressing against their back through their shirt and then became aware of the shapes and contours of the roots and the ground pressed up against them, holding them securely. 

And then, for the first time in a very long time, they felt their body. The ache in their back that they had long accepted and ignored. The pain in their joints from their repetitive work. The rough breaks in their skin from scrapes against the machines. The silver scars from past wounds. The burning in their eyes and the tightness in their lungs. They released all of their tension, and they breathed in deep through their nose and then let a long breath out of their mouth and further melted back into the tree that held them. 

They breathed in pain, sorrow, and suffering and held it within them, and then they breathed out the truth. “We didn’t deserve to be treated like this. Nobody deserves to be treated like this. And if we feel this way and have faced these injustices, surely others have as well.” 

“It’s the way of things, though. Powerful men have always exploited people for their labor for profit,” said Diana, defeated. 

“No. It hasn’t always been this way.” corrected the Starmaker, “They had to build these systems. The Factory hasn’t always been here. They have not always treated people this poorly. The expectation of endless growth at the cost of The Earth hasn’t always been. We could choose to do something different, to build something different.” 

“They have all the money, own all the land, make all the laws, and control everything, so how could we hope to make something new.” answered the defeated Follower. 

“The money is fake, the land is the land, the laws are just made up, and we control ourselves. Just because they have lied and told us otherwise doesn’t make it true.” testified the Starmaker. 

“So what? We just tell everyone it’s fake and to walk away from it and hope they listen?” asked Diana.

“Yes,” answered the Starmaker, “that is exactly what we do.”

“But what if they don’t listen?” asked The Follower.

“Then we speak louder and make them hear.”

In the scorching late afternoon heat, the three parted ways. When they met again it was in front of The Factory during the short mid-day break. The various workers were scattered across the concrete outside of The Factory walls eating their meager meals. 

The Starmaker climbed a mound of rubble that had once been a chimney of a long abandoned and demolished home. Atop the scattered hearth, they shouted, “Workers of the world, UNITE! We are bound by the chains that they forged for us, but their chains are made of lies. We can liberate ourselves and do something new! We can reject the violent exploitation and extraction of capitalism and live in communal harmony with one another!” 

The workers did not look up from their meals. 

Next, Diana ascended the mound. “You don’t need to be exploited anymore, they can not treat you like this, you are living breathing things. You deserve care and love and compassion and to live in a world that isn’t dying. You deserve so much more than what they are giving you!” 

And at this, some of the workers looked up, but were not moved from their seats upon the ground. 

The Follower was the third to climb to the top of the mound. And as she began to speak, a hot wind rose up around her and took hold of her hair and made it dance like a burning Flame in the hearth. “My name is Boudica, and I worked in The Factory. There, they ground up my youth and my joy and burned it with everything else to fuel the engines of Men’s greed. But that was not the worst of what I suffered. The Manager harassed and accosted me and isolated me, and one night, he forced himself on me. When I sought help from the people who claimed to defend me, they told me that I was the problem and that I had brought this upon myself, and if I did not obey them and move on as if nothing had happened, they would jail me. Months later, I found out I was pregnant with his child, and when I could find no doctor to help me, I was forced to turn to another man who took my money and left me bleeding and barren. What hurts the most is that I know I am not alone and that many others have suffered with me. We have been forced and intimidated into silence and preyed upon while they continued to make us work. We can make a better world. We deserve a better world. I will never again be able to carry a child, but I refuse to let any of your children suffer the things I have suffered. I am now asking you to walk out and stand with me to change the world for the better. ” 

And at that, one by one, workers began to stand and walk towards the mound with tears in their eyes. When the whistle blew to call them back to work, nearly all the workers had come to sit amongst the stone rubble in solidarity, and the few workers who returned had not been able to hear Boudica’s words over the cacophony of The King’s many-voiced chants. 

As the workers talked and shared their sorrows outside, The Manager ran through the empty lines, asking those who remained what had happened. He soon received a call from 

The Factory’s Owner who was a mighty King of Men, asked why production was down. When he explained and excused himself of fault, the Owner told him that he had to make it work or he would be tossed out into the crowd and left to fend for himself. 

He scrambled and shouted orders at the remaining workers, but they were not enough to make The Factory go. And when, in desperation, he attempted to make the machines run again on his own, it pulled him into its many wheels, crushed him, and burned him for fuel. 

And as the machines screeched to a grinding halt, the third pillar crumbled. 

Control 

As the crowd stood around the mound and shared their sorrows and scars, they were surprised by a horrible sound, and a thick cloud of smoke and flame shot out of The Factory’s towering smokestacks. The oily smoke coated the sky and filled the air with a horrible stench before with a lurch The Factory seemed to come to a complete halt and plunged the area into a sudden silence that had not been heard for a long time. And then lights flashed, and an alarm began to wail. 

They looked on in confusion as sirens came screeching at alarm speeds to fill the air. The Police arrived on the scene and seeing workers gathered outside of The Factory and idle, lept to action. Ordering them to return to the lines and asking who had gathered them together and was responsible for the stop. Faster than a breath could be released, Diana, Boudica, The Starmaker, and any worker who had not immediately returned to The Factory had been detained and jailed. 

The jail cell was cold and bare concrete with a metal bench along one side and bars along the other. The cells lined a hallway, and in each cell were the people the Kings of Men considered expendable, abhorrent, or unproductive. All, in one way or another, undermined the strict set of rules and laws that allowed Men to profit from extraction and exploitation. 

“They can’t jail us for gathering, we have rights,” stated Diana with certain indignation, “we were nowhere near the Manager when he died. This is ridiculous, they must let us go.”

“The Police don’t care about our rights,” said Boudica, “they just care about keeping The Factory running, no matter what.”

“They still have to let us see a lawyer, they can’t just let us rot in here. They still have to follow laws.” retorted the Starmaker with a glimmer of hope. 

“The Police do as they please,” interjected a small voice from across the hall, “and the only laws they enforce are the ones that benefit them and the Owner.” 

The voice came from a child in their mid-teens who was in the cell opposite their own, dressed in a uniform from the local all-girls school and chained to the bars of their cell. The Child had short hair and a boyish figure. “I was arrested for ‘disturbing the peace’ because I told the girls at my school that they didn’t have to grow up to be the possessions of men and work in The Factory.” 

“Surely you did more than that,” said Diana with skepticism, “they aren’t just going to round up children for saying childish things.” 

“It wasn’t childish, it’s true, but you aren’t entirely wrong, they had disciplined me for many things over the years, but this was the final straw.” the Child explained, “first they punished me for wanting to play with the boys and rejecting girly things, so my parents sent me to an all-girls school. Next, they punished me for only wearing pants with my uniform and telling them I was a boy, saying that I was lying to them for attention and that I could only wear skirts even though they let other girls wear pants and shorts, and then they punished me for using the restroom, saying that if I was a boy I wasn’t allowed to use the bathrooms at a girls school and I would have to wait until I got home. Finally, they had the school’s Police Officer follow me around, and when he heard me telling my friends about how they didn’t need to grow up to be wives and property and work in The Factory, he said that I was disturbing the peace and arrested me and brought me here where they have held me and abused me in order to get me to change my ways.”

Still skeptical, the argumentative Diana said, “I am sure you did more than just talk to your friends, The Police must have had a good reason and given you some sort of warning that you ignored.” 

“And what did they arrest you for? Did they have a good reason?”

And Diana fell silent. 

“I am sorry that Diana didn’t believe you,” the Starmaker apologized, “we have seen that The Police are unjust and do not serve us. But why do they care what children talk about? Surely they have something better to do than monitor schoolyard chatter.” 

“The Police are invested deeply in controlling children and their futures because today’s children are the workers of tomorrow, and even as the world burns and the oceans choke on oil, The Factory will always need new workers to keep production going. Why else would they put Police Officers in schools? They are not there to protect us, they are there to keep us in line and on track to becoming productive workers, and when people challenge that, they are removed and forced to work by force.”

“But why do The Police care about The Factory?” asked the Starmaker, “the workers pay the taxes that pay their salaries, they are supposed to work for us.” 

“You don’t pay their salaries by choice. You pay their salaries under the threat of violence, the same threat of violence that keeps you in The Factory working to produce value for The Owner. The Owner is the person they work for.” 

“You are awfully articulate for a child,” said Boudica, “how do you know about all this stuff.” 

“I read a lot of history and see the patterns repeat themselves again and again, but I also listen to others and myself.” 

“Listening to yourself doesn’t sound very rational; that is just believing what you want to believe without evidence,” jabbed Diana, who was striking out from her misplaced embarrassment and shame at not having believed the child. 

“I do not just decide a thing from nothing and move forward blindly. When there is something with a concrete answer, I work to find it. However, for everything else, I read, listen, critique, and discuss, and then I sit in silence for a long time and think and meditate. I listen to myself and the voice inside me and see where my heart pulls me to the truth. That’s how I know what is right and just, and that is how I know myself.”  

“How do you know you are not wrong?” asked the Starmaker with sincere interest.

“I don’t, but when I practice listening to myself and knowing my heart and mind, I am able to realize when I am wrong because I can always feel the pull towards what is True, even when at first it eludes me, and I need to try again.” 

Then The Guard making his rounds reached their section of cells and shouted at them to stop talking and banged on the bars with his club. 

In the silence, the Starmaker sat on the cold metal bench and leaned back against the wall. They could hear the sound of The Guard walking down the hall. They could feel the hard concrete on their back, the cold metal beneath them, and the raw skin on their wrists where The Police had restrained them. They could feel their entire body, and they relaxed, releasing the tension that they carried with them. And in that buoyant internal state, they breathed in deeply. They breathed in injustice and violence and coercive control, and they breathed out understanding, compassion, and the fires of change. They listened to themself and their heart and sank into a state of knowing. They knew what the Child had said was true and that the entire system they existed in had been shaped to create value for wealthy Men by controlling everyone, including children and their futures. 

And then the silence was broken by the cell being opened and the guard saying their bail had been met. 

As the Starmaker, Diana, and Boudica were led out, they turned to the child and asked his name.

“Caeneus,” he said with pride. 

When they exited the hallway of cells, The Starmaker embraced Petrichor, who had posted their bail. They then turned to the Guard and asked, “Can we bail out Caeneus as well?”

“You can bail out Caenis, but I think she is a potential flight risk and will not return for court, so you’ll probably never get your money back.” 

“I would like to pay his bail.” They did and he left the jail and fled to a better life, and the fourth pillar crumbled.  

Restrictions 

The Starmaker and Petrichor returned to their home. By now, the Sun was down, and the hot winter night air clung to them. As they ate, they turned on the television and were alarmed to see cellphone footage of the Starmaker and their comrades being dragged away by the police. 

As the camera zoomed in on their faces, The Media said how a violent riot had broken out and that one man had died in the ensuing chaos. The Starmaker was stunned into silence, but Petrichor, as if suddenly under the broadcast’s control, was filled with a fiery rage. They declared, “These are lies! How could they broadcast this!” 

Despite their anger, their attention was captured. 

The video cut back to the studio where The Media, a woman with Blonde hair, a crisp blue pantsuit, and the body and demeanor dictated as valuable by The King, sat opposite a man. He wore a suit that’s color seemed to shift in the light like an oil slick and a golden tie that marked his status of a King among Men. 

“I am here with The Owner of The Factory, can you tell us more about the situation that is unfolding?” read The Media off of an unseen screen. 

“Today, three disgruntled female former employees hoping to find fame as radical labor organizers attempted to incite a riot at The Factory. The Manager of The Factory, who was popular amongst the employees and a personal friend of mine, lost his life as a direct result of their actions.” 

“Truly tragic,” said The Media, “Many of our viewers work in The Factory or have family who work in The Factory and have been directly affected by this news. What is The Factory doing to support them at this time?”

“We recognize that this is a time of grief for many people in our community, so we have worked hard to get The Factory producing again and can proudly say we are back at optimum capacity,” The Owner said with a serious tone, “additionally, we have created a memorial fund for The Manager that we are encouraging our community of workers to donate to in order to help relieve the economic impact this has had on us all. By doing this, we will ensure that we have another year of record-breaking profits and growth.”

“Truly inspirational, and what has happened to the criminals who are at the center of this tragedy?”

“We have been informed by the brave law enforcement professionals who helped to de-escalate the situation that they have been bailed out by their collaborators, but we are investigating our legal options and intend to pursue charges to the full extent of The Law. In a proactive safety measure, we have also identified several other employees from the night shift and other parts of The Factory who were not involved in the incident but have a history of anti-Factory sentiment and terminated their employment.”

“And how will that affect production at The Factory?”

“Well, we are concerned about our ability to operate when there is a shortage of workers, so In order to make up for the reduced workforce numbers, we have asked many of our employees to tell their wives to volunteer until full-time employees can be hired.” 

The Starmaker turned off the TV to Petrichor’s dismay, though upon seeing the Starmakers face, the spell the broadcast had had on them was broken. 

“I am so sorry,” muttered Petrichor as they embraced the Starmaker, and in response, the Starmaker cried and crumpled and became a fragile thing that needed to be cared for. In turn, Petrichor scooped them up in their arms, carried them to the bed, and wrapped them in blankets and their arms where the two sat, breathing, talking, and holding each other. 

They talked about the stresses of the day and the stresses of the world and fantasized and frightened over countless potential futures. They reaffirmed their love and commitment to each other and caring for each other and together, in the miserable moment found an intimacy as close as their physical affection. Finally, calmed by themselves and each other, they both drifted away to sleep. 

A dream came to the Starmaker, and in the dream, they stood in a great castle of iron, gold, and ice. Atop a high throne sat a man in a golden crown wrapped in chains and cloaked in ice. The throne stood on eight legs but four were cracked and crumbling, though the remaining legs seemed to grow in order to compensate for any lost stability. As the legs approached the ground they branched out and formed a prison that held a matronly woman frozen within. 

Three other figures were in the room. A man and a woman kneeled, facing away from each other. Their hands and feet were bound with chains, and their mouths gagged by opaque ice. Between them stood the third figure, draped in a cloak that was as simultaneously dark and luminous as the night sky. On each of their feet stood the plates of a scale, and they mutely struggled to maintain their balance.

As the figure in the middle teetered between tipping towards one of the two ends, frost climbed the kneeling brother and sister’s bodies. The King, motionless and silent, stared down with capt attention, waiting for the scales to tip and the remaining sibling to tumble towards one of the two frozen, unchanging fates. 

The Petrichor and the Starmaker were startled awake by a knock on the door. Bleary-eyed Petrichor went to answer, and they were greeted by Diana, Boudica, and a third person who they had never met before. Petrichor welcomed them in and began to make tea while Diana dragged the Starmaker from the bed that they had hoped to become a cocoon where they could fully dissolve into goo and after some time become someone entirely new. 

They all sat down around a coffee table on the floor and sipped their tea, as the exhausted Starmaker stared at the bits of tealeaf swirling around the bottom of the cup, the stranger introduced herself. “I have worked in The Factory since I was old enough to do so, and my father did before me. He was a great dad, though a bit old-fashioned.” she continued, misty-eyed. “When I transitioned, he asked me if I was going to quit the factory and settle down with a husband, but I told him that all I wanted to be when I grew up was a Worker just like him. Then last year, when we were both working the night shift, I watched him die.”

The Starmaker looked up from their tea at The Worker, whose chin was quivering. “I am so sorry for what you went through-” and then paused. “What is your name?”

“Sylvia”

“I am so sorry, Sylvia,” and they truly meant it. 

“He had a heart attack while working on the line, and I saw him from across The Factory floor and rushed to his side. As he struggled to breathe and the color drained from his face, nobody stopped working. Everyone just did their job and served their role like cogs in a machine. I cried for help, but nobody did anything, and I had no choice but to look into his eyes while he died.

I sat there on the floor and cried, holding him until an alarm blared and The Manager came up to me. I figured that he was going to call an ambulance or something, but instead, he chastised me for leaving my station and causing an issue in production. I was in shock, and I didn’t know what to do, so I did what he told me to do and returned to the line. I worked the rest of my shift while my father’s body cooled on the floor under a plastic sheet that The Manager covered him with. 

Finally, when my shift was over, I hired an ambulance to drive him to the morgue.” 

The Starmaker again cast their eyes down into their tea. They saw the flashing of reflected light off of the churning dark water and beneath the surface the swirling leaves. They felt the warmth radiating from the mug. They breathed in the bitter aroma and sipped as they waited for words to come to them. They looked directly into Sylvia’s eyes when they said, “I am so sorry, nobody should have to go through that.” 

Because what else could they say?

Sylvia’s voice cracked, and tears began to stream down her face. “I tried to find a new job, but I was told I needed a reference, and when I asked The Manager for a reference, he said that he would only use my deadname, which I refused. But now, as far as any employer knows, I am just a woman in her thirties with no notable work experience, and I can not find a job. I’ve had people tell me I should just find a man and stay home or have even gone so far as to proposition me and ask me on a date.

I was stuck. And in desperation, when The Owner was at The Factory after the accident, I asked him for help, and he fired me.” 

“That is absolutely not legal,” said Petrichor.

“And do you know a lawyer who would take a sexual harassment claim from a trans woman against The Factory? Do you know a judge who would hear it? A jury who would side with me?” 

“Well, then we go to The Media!” retorted Petrichor.

“The Media that was flirting with The Owner last night on live TV?”

Silence. 

The Starmaker again cast their eyes down into their cup and looked into the ever-lowering tea. The leaves swished back and forth along the bottom of the cup, and teetering waves reminded the Starmaker of their dream from the night before. They thought about the figure, attempting to balance between two options that both seemed to repel them, and the Starmaker thought of how Sylvia was also stuck teetering between equally unwanted outcomes. Then the Starmaker asked the impossibly simple question, “What do you want?”

“I don’t want to be dependent on people who killed my father and wouldn’t care if I dropped dead, but I also don’t want to be forced to marry some man and become his property.”

“I hear you,” replied the Starmaker, “and I see how you are suffering and feeling trapped, but what do you WANT? What would a better life for you look like?”

“I want to feel free to exist and not feel like I have to work for monsters who are grinding up The Earth and burning it for profit. I want to feel connected to my body and like it is strong and can do good things, and I want to stop being afraid all the time that I don’t matter and am just a cog in a machine that can be discarded and replaced.” 

The Starmaker drank the last sip of their tea, and at the bottom of the cup, they saw that the leaves had formed a perfect ring around a single small flake in the middle of the cup. They breathed out and said, “I think a lot of people have felt the same way you do but have been afraid to do anything about it out of fear of being ostracized and forced into destitution and desolation. But if we can get enough people to stand together, we can work together to protect each other and change things.”

“Like a union?” asked Boudica. 

At the mention of the word, everyone fell silent. The Factory had long ago made sure that while the idea of a unionized workforce was still technically legal, even mentioning it was taboo. A whisper of unionizing could lead to blackballing from every company and job in town for not just those who attempted to create one but their families and friends as well.

“I think we need something beyond that.” replied the Starmaker, “Unionizing years ago might have avoided the current situation and made the work less difficult and punishing, but it won’t stop it from burning The Earth, poisoning The Sea, and polluting The Sky. We need to get enough people together to form something new outside of the shadow of The Factory and the control of The Owner, where we protect and fend for each other and build a community around mutual aid and mutual care. I want to make a place where we are all free to choose the path we want to follow and aren’t forced to pick between the roles of subservient property as a worker or subservient property as a wife.” 

“How do we do that?” asked Diana.

“I don’t know, but I think that together, we can figure it out as we go.”

And as The Five gathered and discussed their options and the foundations of their new world, the sixth pillar crumbled.  

Transactions 

In the days, weeks, and months following The Five’s discussion, they found a house on some land that they could rent on the edge of The City and far outside of the long shadow of The Factory. Together, they made a home, lit a hearth, and worked together to get through the long winter when dry, hot winds stripped away the soil.

An old woman seeing The Five Children struggle came to them and said, “My name is Isis, I am a Mother to all, and I have brought you fresh bread from my oven, preserved fruits from my garden, and books from my shelves on how to plant and grow.”

As the spring came she gave freely to them the knowledge of how to shape The Earth, plant the seeds, and water the soil so that life would return and things began to grow. The Five also gave freely and offered her their strength, their youth, and their ears, and soon together they all had grown more than any of them ever had.

As news of The Five’s labors spread back to The Factory, others began to come and visit them and what they had done. 

The first to come were the others who had been fired following the accident. To them, The Five offered food and compassion and when it was needed, a place to stay while they rebuilt a foundation for their lives. Some of them even banded together and made their own homes following in The Five’s example. 

The next to come and see were the people who did not toil in The Factory happily but instead had resigned themselves to it as their only option. To these people, they offered not just a different path but the possibility that there were countless other paths that they had not yet considered. In turn, many of these people would offer goods or funds that they hoped could help those in need, and The Five would accept them graciously and, when they had what they needed, give it to the others who had chosen to live as they did. Many of those visitors also chose to leave their old paths behind and try something new, resigning from their positions in The Factory. 

Next came the people who worked in The Factory happily. Those whom the system served and offered a level of protection not offered to those who were marginalized and suppressed. To these people The Five offered a path they did not understand and refused to take, and so they returned to The Factory and took with them news of something dangerous.

During this time four of The Five had worked in The Factory and suffered under its shadow and The Owner’s control, but the fifth, Petrichor had been on a different path. 

Of The Five, Petrichor had lived the easiest life. Their father had been a Lawyer who served in the offices of The Kings of Men, and while Petrichor saw how others struggled under His Rule, they, on some level, still believed that His Laws and Rites were to be respected and followed and that in time, the system worked towards justice. Following this belief with optimism and the best of intentions, Petrichor had found themself working in the same office halls as their father, not as a lawyer but as an accountant who scoured over numbers and spreadsheets and put out reports.

Being unable to return to work in any of the businesses associated with The Factory, the other four had found odd jobs and part-time employment to cover their portion of the bills and spent the rest of their time working in the garden, laboring in the kitchen, or fixing things that needed mending. Even though Petrichor paid the same amount in rent and bills as the other, did less of the work around the house, and steadily grew their savings, they felt as if they had somehow been cheated. They were doing the thing they were supposed to be doing. They were contributing to society, being responsible, and planning for their future. How come they were so miserable? 

From that seed of misery, resentment grew, and when that weed came to flower, The Owner walked through their office door. He let himself in with the authority of a King who knows he owns the place and expects to own the people within. 

“I have a proposition for you” said The Owner, “how would you like to own the house you live in?” 

Bewildered, Petrichor asked, “What do you mean?” 

“Currently, you rent your home, and the company you rent it from is one that I own,” it was offered with the casual nature of someone who owned many homes and assumed others did as well, “I could very easily give the home to you and all you would have to do is pay the taxes.”

“But why?” briefly calculating the taxes in their head against the balance of their bank account. 

“I have seen how hard you have worked here, and your father worked here before you, and I believe that you have great potential. You wouldn’t even have to work here anymore, and you could just move out, charge the other residents rent, and lay back and enjoy your life. Before you know it, you will have accumulated enough wealth to purchase a second home.”

Petrichor’s mind was fogged by The Owner’s words, and they struggled to fully understand what was being offered. “I don’t understand what you get out of this arrangement.”

“I see a boy like you, and I see a bit of myself. Hard working, rule following, and upstanding. I hate to see you wasting away in a house with those good-for-nothings. They are weighing you down.”

“That is my partner and my friends.” Said Petrichor defensively and suddenly feeling like they were standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff and afraid to correct the seemingly deliberate misgendering.

“I knew your father for many years,” he said with a cloak of genuine care, “and I know he wouldn’t have wanted you to live the way you are living. Look at this as an opportunity to get on the right track and live on your own.” 

“Well, to be honest, I would probably just live in the house with my friends and stop working here,” admitted Petrichor.

“And that would be great, but unfortunately, it does violate city ordinances. A property owner can only live in a house with one unrelated tenant. So you could choose to live there with just one of them, or you could move out and collect the rent and make a tidy profit.”

“I will have to think about it,” said Petrichor.  

“Listen, I know it is a lot to consider. Why don’t you sleep on it and get back to me, but don’t wait too long, this offer won’t last forever.” and at that, he left. 

Petrichor sat for the rest of the day in stunned silence, with their mind reeling, unable to focus on work or meet quotas and deadlines. When the time came, they left and when they arrived home were greeted by the smell of dinner cooking and music being played. They continued to think about the offer as they showered and changed and came to the table for dinner. 

As they sat at the table, they listened to the others talk about their day. How they worked with the soil, drank tea with Isis, played music together, and prepared a meal. Eventually, the conversation turned to them and what they had done that day. They began to explain the strange offer. 

Boudica was the first to interrupt, “Just accept the offer and then live here with us anyway, it’s not like they are going to check.” 

“I don’t think we can just break the law like that, there is bound to be a consequence,” replied Sylvia, “why can’t we just keep living the way we are now?”

“If we didn’t have to pay rent, then we could all quit our jobs and spend all our time growing food, making art, and helping people,” added Diana, “and that would be pretty nice.”

“Even if I stayed here with you all, we couldn’t all quit our jobs,” explained Petrichor, “I would still need to pay the property taxes and also we should all be saving money for retirement.”

“Then you could keep working your job and saving money, and the rest of us could stay here and keep working on the house” offered Boudica. 

Petrichor said, “I don’t want to do that.” With an authority that momentarily silenced everyone. 

The Starmaker, who had been listening intently, broke the silence, “What do you want?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Petrichor, “but I know I am not happy right now. I hate that I go to work every day and spend 10 hours away and then come home and feel like you all have spent all day playing. It feels like I am working to support you all.”

“But we all pay the same rent and the same bills,” interjected Boudica pointedly, “not to mention that you eat the food we grow and cook and come home to a house we clean.” 

“And that is fine for now, but what about the future?” Petrichor was becoming indignant, “We need to all be saving money so that eventually we can retire and relax and stop working all day. Or do you all want to end up like Isis and spend your golden years desperately selling balms and jams and shitty crafts at a farmers market until you die?” 

Sylvia broke the silence, “I would actually really like to end up like Isis. All I’ve ever wanted was to feel as connected to the world and my body as she is. I thought we all did?”

The others all looked down and refused to make eye contact with her or Petrichor. 

“This is a lot to process and I think we all need some time.” offered the Starmaker, before changing the subject and doing their best to move the conversation on. 

After dinner, Petrichor and the Starmaker went on a walk in the late spring evening to share one of the longest days before the summer. Rain had returned life to The Earth, and things had grown again and seemed more in balance than they had during the hot, arid winter. Petrichor had expected the Starmaker to talk more about the offer but was pleasantly surprised that they only talked about the smells, sights, sounds, and sensations of the world around them. 

As the two walked past Isis’ cottage home they saw her sitting in her food forest of a garden meditatively considering the twilight sky. She gestured for the two to come join her, and they did. 

“Is something bothering you, children?” she said with immediate concern, sensing the weight carried between them. 

“We have a lot on our minds,” said the Starmaker before Petrichor could explain. 

“You don’t have to tell me anymore,” Isis charitably offered, “but please sit with me for a while and enjoy this moment.” 

They both sat down, and at first, Petrichor’s mind was still on the offer, but then Isis prompted, “Look.” and they did.

The Sun was setting over a hill, and the sky was a color without a name. Simultaneously pink and orange and yellow. It drove a cool breeze through the fields and made it ripple and dance in waves like a great body of verdant water. The wind carried the sweet, earthy aroma of life to them and tousled their long hair. 

For a moment, there was nothing but the moment. 

After the moment had passed, there was another and another, each completely different from the last and uniquely beautiful. 

Eventually, the silence was broken by a bitter smell. Seemingly, out of nowhere, Isis produced a pot of tea and three cups. She offered, and they accepted. 

As they drank the hot tea, she finally broke the silence, “I always like the feeling of it warming my body from within. It reminds me that we all carry a divine flame within us.” 

In the past, Petrichor would often dismiss what Isis would say as the ramblings of an old burnout, but today in the darkening twilight she seemed to radiate with a peaceful love that made it clear that her life was exactly what she chose it to be. 

“It’s the same flame-” she continued “that has burned in everyone before us and connects us all the way back through the origin of life to every living thing.”

Petrichor drank their tea and watched a bird swoop down into the field and vanish into the tall grass as she spoke. 

“The flame goes back further than that, too. Through every atom that churns in The Sea and vibrates on The Earth down to its molten core, and outward to all of The Stars back to the single Furnace of Creation where everything existed in a single hot dense point before time.” 

Petrichor breathed in deeply, and as the words entered them, they felt as if their entire being was expanding outwards across everything. They were the bird and the grass, the wind, and the sun, and the impossible to name color that had filled The Sky. 

Isis, Petrichor, and the Starmaker then sat in silence together until long after The Sun had gone down entirely and The Stars had begun to twinkle and slowly dance across The Sky. Eventually, Petrichor and the Starmaker hugged Isis goodnight and walked home, the only thoughts in their minds; were the beauty of the night and the chorus of crickets. 

Petrichor continued to listen to the crickets as they laid in bed and looked at the face of their lover, dimly illuminated by the moonlight. Slowly, they fell asleep, and in their sleep, they dreamed. 

In their dream they were walking and came upon Isis’ garden, but now the garden abutted The Factory and the two were bordered by a crumbled hearth covered in frost and ice. Atop the ruined border sat a table with two chairs. In one chair sat The Owner and behind him stood an impossibly tall man wrapped in chains with a golden crown, mutely resting a single hand on The Owner’s shoulder. The chair across from him sat empty, and on the table between them sat a chess board. 

As Petrichor approached the table, a voice spoke, “Come, sit with us instead.” They turned and saw Isis sitting, drinking tea with a large, radiant woman who made them feel welcome. However, something cold and weighty within them drove them to the table. 

They looked down at the board, and on one side, they saw their friends and loved ones and those who had visited their home and entered into communion with them. On the other side, they saw The Police, The Factory, The Media, and The Workers who stood firmly in support of them. 

The Owner took the first move. He moved forward, not one of the pieces they had noticed before, but Petrichor themself. Both The Owner and The King looked down on them with anticipation, waiting for their move. Petrichor felt as if they were being frozen in place to the chair and their breath fogged their vision as their hand moved towards the board. 

“You must know,” said The Mother, “the only way to win is to walk away and not play The Kings games. The pieces lost will always be more precious than the prizes won.”

Petrichor could feel Her Light and Her Warmth on their back and labored with all their strength against the pull of The King’s game to turn and face Her, and when they finally turned, they saw the morning sun shining through their bedroom window and landing on their lover’s face. 

They were awake. 

The Starmaker opened their eyes and smiled sleepily as they looked at Petrichor’s face and gently brushed back their hair. The two held each other for a while and then slowly crawled out of bed and began their days. 

When Petrichor arrived at The Building, they found a note stuck to their door, simply saying, “SEE ME.”

A cold fist closed around their stomach and pulled downward upon reading it. They made their way across the labyrinthian building lit with humming fluorescent lights and up the elevator to The Owner’s office, where a receptionist was waiting for them with a cup of coffee in hand. 

“He is ready to see you now.” She said as if the meeting had been arranged months in advance, not thrown into their life like a grenade. 

Petrichor had not seen The Owner’s office before, excluding the receptionist’s desk and a private conference room that seemed to take up the entire floor. It was lit by natural light from full-length windows and tasteful fixtures, and it felt more than palatial. The Owner was not seated at his desk but at a coffee table with two luxurious leather sofas on each side. On the coffee table sat a neat pile of paperwork and a pen, all facing the empty seat. 

“Come, Paul, sit with me.” He beckoned. 

“My name is Petrichor.” they corrected as they took a seat. 

“Of course, Petrichor.” The Owner shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Have you thought about my offer?” 

“I have,” said Petrichor, still unsure what the next words out of their mouth would be, “and it is really generous, but I think I will have to refuse.” 

“It is a shame to hear that,” replied The Owner with performed sorrow, “it looks like we will have to go ahead with the plans to redevelop the land then.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, my son, The Market demands that new housing be made, and since I own nearly all of the land on that side of the city and it is zoned for single-family housing, it is my responsibility to convert as much of it to housing as possible to serve The Market. In fact, I own every parcel of land on that side of town, including that field that goes all the way up to that awful old woman’s hovel, which is the only parcel I do not own. Of course, we are hoping she will sell after the field becomes a shopping center to serve the new suburban development we are planning.” 

Petrichor began to understand the board that laid before them. 

“Of course,” continued The Owner, “we couldn’t do that if I didn’t own the house you currently lived in. Your roommates could even continue to live there undisturbed while you collected rent.”

An expression of horror formed on Petrichor’s face as they looked into The Owner’s cold eyes. 

“You wouldn’t even have to do any of the work to manage the property. You could hire out my company to do that for you for a nominal fee. And, of course, we would cut you in on a sweetheart deal to lease a luxury apartment closer to The Building to cut down on your commute. Between your income from your current job and your income from the rent after fees and the new lease, you are looking at a two- or three-percent increase in net income. More if you raise the rent.” 

Petrichor’s heart froze over as they realized that they had already lost everything they cared about just by coming to the table, and the light faded from their eyes as they signed “Paul” on the dotted line. 

Somewhere, unseen and unknown to Petrichor, the pillars that had cracked and crumbled began to repair.

Voices

Things moved quickly after that. The remaining four received an automated notice that their home’s owner had changed, their rent would double to cover new administrative fees, and that “Paul” had been removed from the lease. Before the end of the day, movers showed up to remove Petrichor’s things. 

The Starmaker called and sent messages and cried and fell into a chilly resigned silence as Diana, Boudica, and Sylvia continued to try to reach them. Eventually, Isis came to see what the commotion was about and helped the shocked Starmaker upstairs and into their bed. The bed felt impossibly cold without Petrichor and the color and light drained from their eyes as tears failed to come. 

To feel something less horrible than the pain, they dug their nails into their wrist until blood came to the surface and began to run down their arm onto the bed. Isis gently pulled their hand away and, removing the ornate silk scarf from her hair, tied it around the wrist to stop the blood.

Isis placed her hand on the Starmaker’s forehead and matronly brushed back their short-cropped hair. “Crius, my sweet child, I can see your pain, and I am so sorry. It is a suffering that I hope I will never know.” 

And at that, Crius, the Starmaker, cried. For so long, they had been trying to carry others’ burdens and help other people figure out who they were and what they needed. They had forgotten who they were and what they needed. They had lost their voice and their name and become just a person who helped other people become. 

They had helped Sylvia become the woman she always wanted to be, they had helped Boudica become a fighter whose voice destroyed the man who hurt herself and others, and they had helped Diana become a woman who understood her needs and walked away from things that did her harm, and they had helped Petrichor become something beautiful and new. But somewhere along the way they forgot to follow their own path and had not become something themself. 

They felt as if they were resigned to become a genealogical footnote. A forgotten meaningless name in the history of their loved one’s lives. 

“You know,” said Isis, not to fill the silence or end the tears but to share in the sorrow, “I was a mother. Both in the way that I am a mother to you now and many others, caring for you the same way I cared for my lover as he laid dying in his bed, but also to a child I bore myself.”

Tears rolled down Crius’ cheeks as they silently stared at the ceiling and listened to Isis’ gentle voice. 

“I loved my son more than myself, and I did everything I could to protect him from the world and the Men in it who would hurt him. I sacrificed myself and walked through the field barefoot with stinging insects to make sure he would grow up safe and become the best version of himself. A new type of king who would bring light, warmth, justice, and love to the land. 

I made sure that his voice would be heard even though mine would fall silent. That his work was respected and valued even though I did not value my own. That his life and his choices had an impact even though I had erased my own.”

Crius turned their red tear-filled eyes to look at Isis’ face. They saw joy, pride, love, and sorrow in her eyes. 

“But do you know what happened? He went out into the world and became the same type of king as his father, and his father before him and continued the endless cycle that goes all the way back in time to the first organism that had the thought to place itself above another.

And as always happens in the cycle of life and death, birth and resurrection, subservience and domination, he was struck down, just like his father. And I was a mother to him in the same way I am a mother to you now, caring for him as he lay dying in his bed.” 

Crius felt as if they were sinking into the deep, icy waters of despair. 

“But do you know what happened?” she repeated, not expecting an answer. “I lived. I didn’t die with either of them. I thought they were my heart and that my heart stopped and was pulled out of my chest and put in a jar in the ground to lay inert forever, but my heart kept beating in my chest. Pumping warm blood through my body.” 

The ice that had frozen Crius’ heart cracked, and they bawled loudly and without control. They cried harder than they ever had, and they curled into a ball with their head resting in Isis’ lap. 

Isis again stroked Crius’ hair and silently comforted them. As the wave of emotion passed and Crius’ wailing reduced to gentle sobs, Isis calmed them and instructed them how to breathe. Crius breathed in slowly through their nose and out through their mouth and fiddled with the silk knot tied around their wrist. 

When the time came, Isis gently turned Crius’ head to face them and said, “What is your name?”

“Crius”

“Whose life are you responsible for in this moment?”

“My own.”

“And who is the only person that you have to wake up to every day and put in the work to LOVE unconditionally?”

“Myself.”

“And that is the thing that will make loving other people so easy. Tending to our own light, our own fire, means that we can offer an ember to others when needed. But if we attempt to sacrifice ourselves on it as a pyre to fuel others, it doesn’t burn brighter with the orange flames of martyrdom; it just burns out with no one left to tend it. 

We are told it is holy to sacrifice yourself and follow that path, but human flesh can’t suffer divinely and be reborn the next day, it just suffers and withers and dies.”

Crius blinked the tears out of their eyes and sat up. “Thank you,” they muttered through a sniffling nose and hoarse throat. 

“No, thank you for being you and continuing to be. It has been a blessing to watch you grow.”

“So what do we do now?”

“What do you want to do? What do you need right now in this moment?”

“I need to rest.”

“And then tomorrow, what must you do?”

“I’ll need to shower, feed myself, care for my needs, and cry some more.”

“Then that is what you will do.” she said with an otherworldly authority, “and I will come and sit with you and make sure you are well.”

And they did. Isis and Crius repeat the cycle again and again and again. Sleep, wake, eat, sit, cry, sleep, and repeat.

They did this for eight days while Diana, Sylvia, and Boudica brought food upstairs to them in their bed and cleared away the plates. And on the eighth day, there was a knock on the door. 

It was Astraeus, Peres, and Pallas holding a letter. They had been workers in The Factory who like Sylvia had been fired in the wake of The Manager’s death and then had followed their example and formed a home of their own. 

“We are going to lose our house!” Exclaimed Peres. 

“What do you mean?” Inquired Crius. 

“They are terminating our lease and demolishing our house to make a new housing development!” clarified a horrified Astraeus as Pallas handed Crius the letter. “We have 64 days to vacate!”

Inside was a complex explanation of The Market justification for the decision, along with a map of the new proposed development and an offer for the homes to be purchased on a mortgage from The Owner at a price that was unattainable to any of the people who would be displaced, though it also explained a special program that would allow workers in The Factory to afford homes on company subsidized lease.

“But we have all put so much work into making a community here,” Crius said while examining the documents and discovering that their home and Isis’ home were spared from destruction. 

Crius could understand why Isis’ home was spared because she had owned it for years, but why had their own home been spared when all of the other renters were losing theirs? Had Petrichor really moved out without a word to them, doubled the rent, and betrayed everyone else to protect the four who remained? 

Crius was snapped out of their thoughts by Diana, Boudica, and Sylvia, snatching the papers out of their hands and cramming together to attempt to read them at once. 

Crius cringed and Boudica stared daggers at Sylvia when she proclaimed “We are going to be fine, our house is just outside of the development.”

Astraeus, Peres, and Pallas had not yet realized this was the case and their faces flashed with confusion, betrayal, and rage. Crius understood that it must seem even more unjust to them that the people who convinced them to leave their old paths behind and find a new way of living were to be spared when they would lose everything they had built. 

“Why were you spared?” asked Astaeus, signaling a changing of winds in the conversation.

“We only moved out here because of you, and it has led to our ruin!” added Peres, fanning the flames of rage. 

“We are going to be forced to go back and beg for work in the factory because of you!” Pallas roared, “How could you fuck us over like this?”

Their words ravaged Crius, whose heart was already broken, and filled them with shame and despair. 

“It’s not our fault that we get to keep our home!” shouted Diana from a defensive stance, “we didn’t know this was going to happen and had no control, we rent our house from the same property management company! We just got lucky!”

“We rent it from the same company, but our landlord is-,” and Boudica stopped herself before saying their name and looked towards Crius with concern. 

“Petrichor bought our house and moved out, but we haven’t heard from them since,” said Crius with distant eyes. 

This set the three visitors into a greater rage than before. 

As they shouted, Crius remembered that Isis was still there and turned to see her standing by the stairs. She had a hand over her heart and an expression of deep concern on her face. Crius thought of how much she had been there for them over the past eight days and the support and comfort Isis offered just by sitting with them and listening and occasionally filling the silence with gentle conversations. Crius turned back to the visitors and interrupted their shouting to ask them, “Would you like to come inside and have some tea and tell us about it.”

Crius knew that they did not have the energy to do anything for the visitors and barely had the energy to sit with them, but they had learned in the past days to lean on their friends and to trust them to carry them when they could no longer go on themself. So they sat down at the table and beckoned for the visitors to sit, and Diana, understanding, made the tea while Boudica and Sylvia collected additional chairs so that nobody would be forced to stand. 

At first, the visitors continued to shout and rage, but the words did not attach themselves to Crius because they understood that the words were not for them. The rage was for The Owner and The Market uncaring, but they had to get it out of their bodies because rage this great will burn up a person if kept inside. The words would fly over the heads of Isis and The Four, and only the occasional errant shot would strike them, to which Crius, Isis, or another would express their hurt and attempt to direct it back towards its true target. 

When enough flames had left the visitors that they needed to sit and simmer, Crius comforted them, validated their pain and frustration, and then explained that they had been going through a lot and did not know this was happening. That they are truly sorry and would do whatever they could. That they were all going to be struggling still to make their rising rent.

The visitors listened and reflected and occasionally raged some more, and then someone else would talk for a while. In time, the emotional conflagration transformed into glowing coals that shined less bright but were good for doing work, and they turned to making plans and reaching out to form a coalition against The Owner and The Market Uncaring. 

It was late now, and Crius was tired and knew they needed to rest not just for now but for a while to heal from their still-fresh wounds. They stood and dismissed themselves from the table that worked away on their plans and explained they would help soon but now they needed rest. 

They returned to their bed. They slept a dreamless sleep and woke and washed and ate and slept again for five more days. And on the fifth day, they had a dream of sunrise and melting ice and a Mother Flame breaking free of her icy prison, and they felt renewed. 

And the eight pillars, so recently reinforced with iron, ice, and gold, quivered as they rose from bed. 

Knowledge

Crius descended the stairs and found Isis, Boudica, Diana, and Sylvia working with not only the visitors from before but also nearly everyone from their neighborhood. The room was filled with cardboard signs, banners, and scattered art supplies. The entire community had come together to save itself from destruction, and they were beginning, as movements often do, with a peaceful protest. 

The signs ranged from slogans about the importance of having not just a house but a home to complaints about The Factory’s treatment of workers and how it worked not just to burn The Earth for profit but subjugate everyone who wasn’t a man to patriarchal controls. 

Crius joined the work but found themself unsure of what to write. After hesitating and struggling they sat back and searched their heart for all the ways The Factory, The Owner, The Media, The Police, and The Market had harmed them and their loved ones. 

They let their feelings guide them, and soon they had created eight signs. 

We will not have our sexuality denied by The Men whose own cannot be denied.

We will not have Men’s sexuality and supremacy forced upon us.

We will not have our production exploited or our reproduction controlled by The Men.

We will not allow The Men to control our children and our futures.

We will not have our choices constricted to strict traditional gender roles by The Men.

We will not be coins or pawns to be traded in transactions and machinations of The Men;

We will not have the works of The Men celebrated as more worthy or valuable than others.

We will not have knowledge and skills withheld by The Men to maintain their power.

Crius looked at the signs and tried to select a single one or come up with a slogan that covered them all but they could not. Eventually they decided to attach all eight signs to a pole and held them aloft like a banner of war.

Together the community had done a lot of work while Crius rested. They analyzed the dynamics of power and privilege and positionality. They looked at how production could be most disrupted and the powers that would be most hurt, and what would allow them the most protection from The Police. 

They would first protest outside of The Building for five days, where they hoped to grow their numbers and avoid a confrontation with The Police by gathering in such a publicly visible metropolitan space. They would protest from the early morning to evening, keeping the hours of The Building workers and forcing them to walk through their picket lines. Then after their numbers had grown, they would go to The Factory, and march to shut down the streets and slow production at work. 

If their demands were not met, they would escalate over time until their cause was won through peaceful protests and demonstrations. This is how plans often are. 

On the first day of the protest, little happened. Many people passed by and barely took notice of the gathered crowd. The protestors watched the workers enter The Building, and many hours later, they watched them leave. 

On the second day, their numbers grew slightly. Fueled by word of mouth and social media, people who were sympathetic to their plight or opposed to The Building and its works began to join. Again the workers entered and left without much mind paid to the protestors. 

On the third day, even more, people gathered as friends brought friends, and phone trees were formed. The crowd was now impossible to ignore, and as it could not be ignored, that meant that its story needed to be controlled. The Media arrived dressed in a vibrant blue pantsuit with a cameraman in her wake. From a distance, she reported on the gathered group and painted them as disgruntled scolds who stood unfairly in the way of progress. The workers pushed through the crowds to enter The Building, and many waited until late to leave. 

On the fourth day the numbers plateaued as The Media’s words wove a spell through the community. In an attempt to serve a killing blow, she returned to the protest again and looked for someone to interview whose words could be easily skewed to show the movement’s flaws. Upon seeing Crius’ eight-board banner banded together with tape and held aloft on a pole, she moved in for the kill. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, can you tell us why you are here today?”

“I am not a ma’am, my name is Crius, and my pronouns are they/them,” they said, quivering with fear and confusion at the camera on their face. 

The Media smiled, certain that they had picked the right one, “Sorry, Kris, was it? What brought you here today?”

“Last winter, my friend and I walked out of The Factory after experiencing sexual harassment. As we walked out, we met a girl who had been sexually assaulted by The Manager and others who had been harassed as well, and we knew we needed to do something. 

But we couldn’t, so we left.

After some time trying to start a new life, we found more and more people who had experienced harassment, discrimination, violence, assault, and worse at The Factory. Together, we all formed a community separate from The Factory and The Owner and the forces that did us harm and attempted to heal and move on, but now The Owner is trying to take that away too.”

The Media was momentarily frozen, she looked at the signs, read them, and understood their words. She felt not only for the people who had suffered but for herself and the ways she had suffered as well. 

Crius felt the pause, and something inside them knew the pain, which flickered briefly across The Media’s eyes. They asked her, “What is your name? I don’t think I caught it.”

“Iris,” she replied. 

Then, with all of the warmth and love that they could spare, they asked, “Iris, are you alright? You seem upset.” 

And Iris paused again because she had never been asked that during an interview. She had become so used to finding the story and the angle that she had been told to find that she sometimes forgot that there were people on the other side of her questions and that their hurt was the same as her own. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. How can people get involved?” Iris asked. 

And Crius explained how they would be out there again tomorrow and that everyone was welcome to join them and then Iris moved on and talked to others who were there. 

That night, Crius attempted to find the story on the news, but Iris was nowhere to be seen and instead, The Media was a man who talked about other news and didn’t mention the protest or The Building or The Factory at all. Crius then looked around online and found that Iris had published the story on her own after quitting her job earlier that day.

On the fifth day of the protest, the crowd was so thick that the workers stopped and mulled about on the other side of the throng. Iris had joined the crowd wearing a press badge and was busy live streaming and recording The Police, who had come to force the crowd to part and create a path. Crius stood along the barrier path and watched the workers walk through one by one, and something they had suspected was confirmed. In all this time, they had never seen Petrichor walk past the line. 

In their gut, they knew something was wrong. Crius handed off their signs, changed their coat, and slipped into The Building in through the chaos. They walked confidently through the labyrinthian building, remembering the path they had taken many times before to visit Petrichor and bring some light to their day. As they walked through the building they came to the shocking realization that there were many more workers within the building than they had seen enter. 

Crius stopped to look on at a cluster of cubicles and saw that the workers stared at their screens with lethargic hypothermic eyes as if frozen in place or weighed down by chains. They pushed onwards through the building until they reached Petrichor’s office and slowly opened the door. 

In the small windowless room, they found Petrichor. Hair shorn short, wearing a suit and tie, lips blue with cold, and staring lifelessly at the screen. Crius cried out in shock and rushed to Petrichor’s side, but they continued to stare blankly at the screen where ever-growing numbers scrolled endlessly. Crius turned their chair away from the screen and shook Petrichor’s shoulders, but there was still no response. Finally, Crius fell to their knees, ran their hand across Petrichor’s freshly shorn hair, and muttered, with sorrow, “You cut your hair.” 

The simple phrase carried their deep love and sorrow for what Petrichor had become. The words worked their way slowly from Petrichor’s ears to their brain, down their insensate body, and deep into their frozen heart. And there they made a spark. 

Suddenly, Petrichor’s eyes focused on Crius’. Crius saw the spark and, with a combination of genuine hurt and concern, said, “Petrichor, you really hurt us and hurt me, but I have been worried about you. Are you alright?” 

Water gathered in the bottom of Petrichor’s eyes as the ice melted away, “It’s Paul now.” 

The words hit Crius like a cold wind that threatened to extinguish their own flame that they had spent so much time tending to in the past weeks. They rebuffed, “I don’t understand what you did or why you did it, and it hurt so much more to not know. You really hurt me.” 

A tear broke away from the puddles forming under Petrichor’s eyes and rolled down their cheek “Crius, I am so so sorry. I had to take the house so you all wouldn’t lose your home, but I ended up more in debt to The Owner than I was before, and I couldn’t bring myself to face you. You deserved to know what happened.” 

Crius considered this information and while it made things more clear it didn’t magically make the pain go away. They knew that would only come in time.

“You need to leave this place,” said Crius, “it is killing you.” And together, they stood arm in arm and left The Building. 

That night at the house owned by Petrichor but the home of Crius, the two talked. As their awkward trickling platitudes gave way to the comfortable rhythm of a conversation, they began to realize they hadn’t actually talked in a while. Crius gave Petrichor the gift of a chance to explain and make amends. Petrichor, in turn, gave an apology that was well-considered and true. The two made a different type of love that night of long, vulnerable conversations and tears. If love is truly a verb describing the action of spiritual healing and growth, they love each other as passionately as anyone ever had that night. In the morning, they woke up fully dressed, tangled in each other’s arms. 

The two went downstairs and met with their three kin. Together, the five went to find Isis, and with Her, they went to The Factory for the first day of protests at the new location. On this first day, their crowd was large and consisted almost entirely of people who had protested at The Building. The picket line was thick and loud, and many workers stopped outside and refused to cross it. 

Iris, truth’s messenger, recorded the entire thing and showed it to the world and the next day the crowd’s numbers grew. Now, many workers from The Factory joined the lines and refused to work, standing in solidarity and refusing to destroy the homes of others to house themselves.

On the third day, The Media came. He appeared in a blue suit with a red tie and spoke from his own rotting mouth. His million eyes saw and examined every angle in search of the single image he needed to show, and he broadcast it to the world. Lazy workers, violent mobs, and societal outcasts who want to make everyone else suffer so that they can benefit. But Iris saw and spoke the truth, and while The Media plastered his message on every screen and surface and wal,l Iris’ voice broke through and all of humanity knew the truth. 

On the fourth day, no workers crossed the protestors outside, and where The Media had failed, The Police were determined to succeed. Together He broke through the protestors’ lines and forced a lane for trucks and managers to get through and smoke billowed through the sky from The Factory’s many chimneys. 

On this day The Market himself was interviewed by The Media, protected by The Police. He said that the protestors were hurting The Factory and good workers could lose their jobs and houses if they are not stopped. He called for people who believed in The Freedom of The Factory and The Owner and The Market to come out and fight for what they believed. 

That night, violence broke out. The first blow came from The Unmarked Officer. A man who had joined a counter-protest against the people and wore police issue equipment with black tape over the crests and badge. He struck a woman with a rock, and then the crowd of protestors surged against him. The Police mobilized to protect His Hand. Soon, there was gas in the air, and The Police threw loud bombs. The crowd moved like an elemental force and was pushed through the streets. The people flowed like water, walking from block to block as sirens blared from end to end and The Police jumped from trucks swinging sticks and throwing bombs. In response, the river of people would flow around them in a different direction until the sirens and lights blared again, and The Police cut them off. This happened five by eight times, and on the 40th time that their path was diverted, the crowd found themselves in front of The Building and ensnared in a trap. Walls had been constructed of cold iron, and lights shined blinding white into the crowd. 

Tired and confused in the early morning, the five, Petrichor, Diana, Boudica, Sylvia, and Crius, stood. At first, there was a crushing silence as their eyes adjusted, and then the ROAR of His voice boomed through loudspeakers as gas, acid, and flashing bombs hailed down on the crowd. In the stunned haze that followed, the five stumbled with most of the crowd through some gates with their hands up, but not all complied with broken spirits.

As a wall of The Police marched across the giant cage of concrete and steel, a young man emerged from the crowd. The boy Caeneus threw a flaming bottle at The Building and started a great blaze before running off to continue the fight. As the blaze grew and The Police failed to stop the fire and cowered at its heat as it climbed the great tower, The Five walked home on blistered feet with ringing ears. No fire engines were able to reach The Building as The Police had blocked all the roads, and as The Sun rose, The Building Burned. 

Atop The Building in its highest room were The Owner, The Media, and The Market, each shouting and blaming the others for His imminent demise. As Her Flames engulfed Him, He did not choke on smoke because each of His hands was wrapped around the others’ throats in ignorant rage. 

The Building collapsed, and so did His Eight Pillars. 

An End

After The Building burned and The Pillars fell, His World ended so that The Earth, The Sea, and The Sky could live and grow in Her Warmth. 

Some said that those who died, died with our sins and we needed them to go so that we can be free, but that is not The Truth. Living was not a sin. Existing in joy and comfort with those we loved was not a sin. Humanity was always perfect in its ability to abandon its cruelty and do something new. 

The Five lived long, happy lives with each other, and in time their community grew. Isis’ cycle of sitting with and caring for the existentially dead was broken forever when, in her dying days, Crius loved and cared for Her. 

On the land between the home of The Five and Isis’ house, the people thrived and formed a village that endured for generations. Redefining what it meant to live in family and covenant with each other and the land. 

V. Poems and Prayers

I. Unnamed Prayer

The nature of Gender is inherently human as well as divine. Though some forms of its expression are tied to one’s secondary sex characteristics, this does not invalidate any individual’s gender that contradicts this connection. 

Transcendent beings are merely an expression of Gender in which the balance of masculinity and femininity that exists within all beings defies the expectations of society based upon their reproductive function. 

All humans have an amount of estrogen and testosterone within their bodies. Alchemical science, or magic if you will, is inherently tied to Gender in this way. It is possible as conscious beings for the balance between the axis of Gender upon which our Mind rests and our Body to be in opposition with one another. It is possible to be happy this way and to find one’s balance, but some find it unbearable and constantly unbalanced by this opposition. Alchemical magic, derived from plants, given to humanity by science allows me to live in harmony with my body. 

A Transcendent Being in many cultures in the past was once considered divine, for they experienced gender in a unique and beautiful way. Truly, the gods had touched them with a state of being that was holy and closer to the gods. 

In this, I know that I too am holy and divine, like the stories of our ancestors lost to time and bigotry. I seek out their known stories to educate myself and deepen my spirit. 

I am blessed by the gods

The All moves through me

And thus I am (Insert desired aspect ex: Mother Flame, Brother Sea, etc) incarnate

We exist in opposition to the false King 

We are the Divinely Transformed

As above so below

Blessed be

II. Unnamed Prayer

None are born a king. 

Kings are born as Sons with the divine spark of the Mother’s flame.

The King, though idle, despairs in the idleness of others.

He sets to whisper in the minds of Sons. 

It starts with small lies.

“Boys do not wear skirts”

“Dolls are not for boys”

“Boys don’t play that game” 

“Boys must become men.”

Each lie grows louder. 

Each lie grows bolder. 

“Look! See what they take when you deserve more?” 

“They deserve nothing.”

The King, with His own wordless, empty mouth, wants not for a tongue, Wants not for a voice. 

From a million mouths, He screams his vile lies.

Each voice unseeing what He took from them.

III. Unnamed Prayer

Sometimes, she thought she could actually see her walking through the woods or along the seashore, teasing her Brother. Even among the gravestones preparing her children to meet her twinkling Kindred for the next stage of their journeys. Always, she looked resplendent in greens and browns, her attire seemingly made of the finest fabrics and woven from fresh vines at the same time. Her skin would shift from the rich dark brown of fertile soil to the Golden yellow of newly bloomed sunflowers through every shade found in the world. Her hair was wild and flowing as it was rooted in place, festooned with flowers and tiny birds and bees. She carried, as always, a twisted root of a staff that grabbed at the ground with every step, topped with a sickle she’d use for pruning and to guide her flocks when needed. Even a hint of Sister Earth made her heart swell, for she was Eenari, and it was her calling and vow to follow in her footsteps, tending all the world’s gardens, the physical and emotional.

IV – A Prayer for the Divine Sculptors

Blessed are the sculptors of flesh and bone

Holy wielders of the scalpel and saw

Beloved are the helpful alterers

Make us to reflect our divinity 

For our bodies are clay not fixed in stone

May The Mother Flame guide their able hands

To sculpt our earthly forms as The Brother sculpts the changing land

Make us to reflect our eternal souls

V – A Prayer for the Unknown

In this season of the Unknown, in this time of Stars, and days before the season of Darkness, let me remind you that in the Tarot the card of Death is a card of change, not a card of ending.  

Let me invite you to stop for a moment and take a look back to appreciate the experiences we’ve had getting to today. We’ve all been through many changes and still we thrive. 

Let us think about the then unknowns that we faced in our past and how we survived them. 

Let us honor our past choices, both good and bad though made in our ignorance of this certain future.

Let us honor those past choices for the opportunities of growth that they brought us,

Let us honor those past choices for the lessons they’ve taught us

Let us honor those past choices for the unexpected joys that they brought us.

Let us honor ourselves for doing the best we could in unknown situations, even if that best meant just ensuring our own survival.

Let us forgive ourselves for what we’ve done in our apprenticeships, in our not knowing.  Students should not be punished as they explore new pathways, nor should we punish ourselves.

Let us show ourselves compassion as practice for showing compassion to others.

VI – A Meditation on Difficult Acts of Self-Love 

As I prepare for the task ahead, I remember The Gods and their lessons

I remember that fields must first be plowed and weeded to bear fruit

I remember that every tree started as a sapling

Like Sister Earth and Brother Sea, I must sometimes prepare myself like the land in unpleasant ways.

Like Kindred Star, I will find happiness in this coming change.

Mother Flame’s light will always shine on me

As I complete my task, I remember the fate of The Last Redeemed and vow to meet challenges with an open heart

VII – Prayer of The Temple Priestess’s Keroune

The Pendant

Pentenkon – Starting at the center of the pentenkon and moving outward to each of the five positions 

I am Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name

I believe that we are all separate limbs of a single divinity

I believe that taking action to shape and define myself is an act of the divine

I believe that all gods are as real as any other god and that all divine beings are the same spark of human divinity manifesting in different forms

I recognize that all gods are separate limbs and different masks of the same god, known by many names, but I choose to name and speak the five gods into being, all equally divine.

1 – I speak the name of Mother Flame, The Creator, The Source of Love and Warmth, She who is She

2 – I speak the name of Kindred Stars, The Multitude, Many-Face Giver of Paths, Illuminator of the True Self, They who is All and None

3 – I speak the name of Sister Earth, The Nourishing Home, Source of Healing and Growth, She Who Grows and Reaps All Things

4 – I speak the name of Brother Sea, The Protective Embrace, Renewer of Things, Sculptor of Land, He Who Brings Balance

5 – I speak the name of The King, The Silent Violence, The Lonely Patriarchy, and First Unyielding King of Men, He Who is Last Redeemed

The Center

6 – By speaking their names, they are called to life. Through my devoted actions, they are made real. Through the dreams, their paths are revealed. I dream: 

The Loop

–To Shine

7 – As Mother Flame brings light to the darkness.

8 – As Kindred Stars twinkles with possibility.

9 – As Sister Earth brings love to cold hearts.

10 – As Brother Sea glistens, clean with fresh rain.

11 – In defiance of The King who would blind us.

–To Push

12 – As Mother Flame burns with passion.

13 – As Kindred Stars looks beyond what is to what could be.

14 – As Sister Earth breaks spring buds through winter frost.

15 – As Brother Sea flows in an endless cycle of renewal.

16 – In defiance of The King who would restrain us.

–To Grow

17 – As Mother Flame fills and illuminates the cold and the dark.

18 – As Kindred Stars fills all corners of the cosmos.

19 – As Sister Earth brings verdant life in barren places.

20 – As Brother Sea swells and stretches to bridge the gaps that divide us.

21 – In defiance of The King who would diminish us.

–To Change

22 – As Mother Flame flickers and dances in the dark.

23 – As Kindred Stars adapts to new experiences.

24 – As Sister Earth makes the world diverse and unique.

25 – As Brother Sea washes away the old to make way for the new.

26 – In defiance of The King who would stagnate us.

– To Endure

27 – As does Mother Flame’s everlasting love.

28 – As does Kindred Stars’ boundless curiosity.

29 – As does Sister Earth’s enduring healing.

30 – As does Brother Sea’s abiding protection.

31 – In defiance of The King who would have us perish.

–

32 – I dream that The King is one day redeemed and unbound from His throne, which is held aloft by 8 Pillars

–

33 – The denial of the sexuality of everyone but men;

34 – The forcing of men’s sexuality and supremacy upon others;

35 – The exploitation of others’ labor to control production and reproduction;

36 – The exclusive control by men of humanity’s children and their futures;

37 – The confining and restricting of choice and freedom to strict traditional gender roles and the limiting of independence;

38 – The use of other people as coins or pawns to be traded in the transactions and machinations of men; 

39 – The elevation and celebration of the works of men as more worthy or culturally valuable, thereby denying and limiting the creativity of others;

40 – The withholding of knowledge and skills from others for the benefit of men and the maintenance of their power.

–

CENTER – I pray for a better world

5 – a world of redemption 

4 – a world of renewal

3 – a world of rebirth

2 – a world of revelation

1 – a world of rejuvenation

Pentenkon – a world where we are made whole

Construction of the Keroune

The keroune is a set of prayer beads similar to a rosary or a japamala. 

The Pendant starts with The Pentenkon and then has a bead for Mother, Kindred, Sister, Brother, and The King. It then has a bead for The Center where the pendant and the loop meet. After The Center, there is a spacer leading into a repeating pattern of five beads and a spacer five times for each of the five dreams. 

There is then a space before and after a solitary bead for The King before eight beads representing both the 8 pillars and the 8 seasons. There is then a final spacer before returning to The Center.

The Temple Priestess’ Keroune and Prayer came from her role and meditative practice. Others may use the prayer and design (regardless of role or gender) or they can craft their own keroune and a prayer to go along with it.  

VI. Rites and Rituals 

The rites and rituals described should not be thought of as prescriptive practices to be followed exactly to the letter or a definitive list of all that can be done, but rather as a starting point to focus and guide your spiritual practices. Any ritual can be modified, adapted, or abstained from. New rituals can be created or brought into The Faith from other traditions that have significance to practitioners’ spiritual and cultural identity. The unifying principle should simply be that they all serve you as an individual and your own sacred and beloved community. 

Declaring of Names

Within all of the cosmos, the only living being you can truly name is yourself. This name is not a contract with any government of the Kings of Men but a promise to yourself and the divine. Your declared name must contain several parts, each with an important ceremonial meaning. The parts are:

• Clerical Title if Applicable
• Taken Name
• Divine Name
• Principle Name

Taken Name

The taken name is a first name that may or may not be related to a legal or preferred everyday name. Names from all traditions and languages are acceptable, but the name should help the individual feel seen and understood when spoken. 

Divine Name

The divine name is analogous to a last name and should be either taken from or inspired by a deity, sacred construction, mythical creature, or being that inspires you. One way in which this is like a family name is that it connects us to traditions and beliefs from across time and existence.

Principle Name

A principle name is a concept that the individual aspires to. It does not mean that it represents who a person is now, but rather who they hope to become. It can be a single word or a short phrase. 

Declaration

To declare a name, an individual must simply go where believers gather and speak,

I am Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name

I believe that we are all separate limbs of a single divinity

I believe that taking action to shape and define myself is an act of the divine

I believe that all gods are as real as any other god and that all divine beings are the same spark of human divinity manifesting in different forms

I recognize that all gods are separate limbs and different masks of the same god, known by many names, but I choose to name and speak the five gods into being, all equally divine.

Clerical Path, Titles, and Taking of Vows

While all followers of the gods may declare or redeclare a name at any time, those who feel called to serve the gods more directly may choose to take a vow to follow a path laid out.

The Paths

Every individual’s path is different, but we choose to voluntarily walk paths together that follow our gods. Each path grants a unique title by which you can be addressed. 

Clerical Naming Ritual

The clerical naming ritual is the way someone may enter the faith or potentially renew their faith, renaming or redefining themself in the process. We believe through naming, a person is transformed through divine intervention. There is a separate naming ritual for each of the clerical roles. 

Herei – The Path of The Mother – Mth.

The Herei (pronounced her ray) follow the path illuminated by Mother Flame. This path is dedicated to providing warmth, love, comfort, and protection to all living creatures. While some might think the path of the Herei is one of self-sacrifice for the benefit of others, it is instead firmly planted in the understanding that loving others is an extension of loving yourself and that rest, self-care, and self-compassion are necessary to be able to extend that same care to others. 

Ritualistically, the Herei preside over and officiate weddings, adoptions, and other ceremonies focused on dedication towards love and care. 

In recognition of The Herei, Mother Flame confirms the divine femininity of the women who vow to serve Her. This title is often claimed by women who have lived as women for long enough that they do not require divine transformation but instead desire to help others along their path. 

The Herei are granted the title of Mother.

Taking Hereian Vows

To name yourself as a Herei, first, you must pick a name. It is recommended that you spend time meditating in wide open spaces on sunny days and listening for the divine within. When you have selected a name, you will perform the ritual in a wide-open field under the noon Sun.

Gather clergy, believers, and loved ones in the natural place, and while the people set up a celebration, go alone to meditate and listen for the divine. Love and accept every part of your body as it is now because it is your own divine body. 

Kneeling, sitting, laying, or standing, feel the sun on your body and speak your name to Her. Thank the Sun and the Heat of the Earth for providing you with life, light, and warmth, and promise to spread that light and warmth to all living things. Promise that you will protect all of creation through your love.

Return to the gathered celebrants and speak your clerical title and name, for example, “I am Mother, Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name, I am Herei” and then make a personal vow to serve and honor Mother Flame by providing warmth, love, comfort, and protection to all living creatures, including yourself. 

Celebrate under the eternal Flame of the Sun. Celebrants should greet you by your name and say, “Thank you for carrying our light and giving us warmth,” as a blessing.

Aphrodhermi – The Manifold Paths of Kindred Star – Lr.

The Aphrodhemi do not follow a single path but instead are guided by the lantern light of Kindred Star down a path that has never been trodden before. This path is a dedication to illuminating and speaking truths, helping others see new ways of thinking and being, and also lovingly taking the hands of travelers who must step off a beaten path and walk into the unknown and the life beyond. While an individual path might seem lonely, a winding path inevitably crosses and touches other paths, and the Aphrodhemi, in a way, walk their path with everyone. 

Ritualistically, the Aphrodhermi preside over funeral services and blessings at the beginnings of long or difficult physical or spiritual journeys. Additionally, the Aphrodhermi may take on the rituals of any other clerical path that they feel called to perform.

In recognition of The Aphrodhermi, Kindred Star divine negates the labels placed on Their followers by the Kings of Men and confirms that whatever path the Aphrodhermi follow is a true, beautiful, and divine one. 

The Aphrodhermi are granted the title Loir by default, but they are encouraged to use any title that feels the most true to themselves. 

Taking Aphrodhermian Vows

To name yourself as an Aphrodhermit, first, you must pick a name. It is recommended that you spend time meditating under the stars and listening for the divine within. When you have selected a name, you will have to perform the naming ritual under the stars. 

Gather clergy, believers, and loved ones under the stars and while the people build a fire, go alone to meditate and listen for the divine. Love and accept every part of yourself, as you are a unique and beautiful truth in the eyes of the divine.

Kneeling, sitting, laying, or standing, look towards the stars and speak your name to Them. Promise to serve them by searching for and illuminating the truth in yourself and others.

Return to the gathered celebrants and speak your clerical title and name, for example, “I am Loir, Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name, I am Aphrodhermi” and then make a personal vow to serve and honor Kindred Star through your devotion to seeking and illuminating truths, helping others see new ways of thinking and being, and lovingly taking the hands of travelers who must step off a beaten path and walk into the unknown and the life beyond. The Aphrodhermi may also take a second set of vows at this time to simultaneously follow any of the other paths. 

All those gathered should then celebrate around a fire, if desired, the Aphrodhermi may wear plain white or grey clothing, and participants may offer pieces of colorful clothing that they have brought or are wearing in trade for a piece of clothing worn by the Aphrodhermi. If the trade is accepted, then the participant must wear the traded clothing for the remainder of the celebration as a reflection of the ways our different paths intersect and intertwine. 

Throughout the night, participants should greet the new Aphrodhermi by their new title and name and tell them, “I see your light and hear your truth”

Eenari – The Path of Sister Earth – Ss.

The Eenari follow the overgrown path of Sister Earth. This path is a dedication to preserving and caring for all life and helping it heal and grow. It might be expected that this path attempts to subvert or combat death and decay, but instead, it exalts it as natural change and a way for new life to begin.

Ritualistically, the Eenari preside over the blessing of newborns and animals, the planting and harvesting of crops, and grave digging, burials, and wakes. 

In recognition of the Eenari, Sister Earth divinely transforms Her followers into women. This can be a child coming of age and entering womanhood or someone who was called a boy by the Kings of Men, taking vows and becoming a woman. 

The Eenari are granted the title Sister.

Taking Eenarian Vows

To name yourself as an Eenari, first, you must pick a name. It is recommended that you spend time meditating in wild natural areas and listening for the divine within. When you have selected a name, you will perform the ritual in a wild, natural place. 

Gather clergy, believers, and loved ones in the natural place and while the people build a fire, go alone to meditate and listen for the divine. Love and accept every part of yourself and your body as it is now because it is the body of a woman in the eyes of the divine. 

Kneeling, sitting, or laying on the ground, speak your name to the living Earth. Embrace the Earth and promise to care for and protect Her and thank Her for providing for you. 

Return to the gathered celebrants and speak your clerical title and name, for example, “I am Sister, Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name, I am Eenari” and then make a personal vow to serve and honor Sister Earth by preserving, protecting, and caring for all life and helping it heal and grow.

Celebrate around the fire. Celebrants should greet you by your name and say, “Welcome to Womanhood sister, we admire your dedication to helping all things heal and grow” as a blessing.

Caeneuns – The Path of Brother Sea – Br.

The Caeneuns follow the stream-cut canyon path of Brother Sea. This path strives to dutifully seek balance in all things and to use gentle strength to protect life and erode the seemingly immovable stone of the patriarchy. 

Ritualistically the Caeneuns preside over coming-of-age ceremonies, and the blessing of homes, buildings, boats, and other constructed things. 

In recognition of the Caeneuns, Brother Sea divinely transforms His followers into men. This is often a child coming of age or someone who was called a girl by the Kings of Men, taking vows and becoming a man. 

The Caeneuns are granted the title Brother.

Taking Caeneunian Vows

To name yourself as a Caeneun, first, you must pick a name. It is recommended that you spend time meditating near bodies of water and listening for the divine within. When you have selected a name, you will perform the ritual at a body of water.

Gather clergy, believers, and loved ones by the water and while the people build a fire, go alone to the water and meditate and listen for the divine. Love and accept every part of yourself and your body as it is now because it is the body of a man in the eyes of the divine. 

Kneel, sit, or lay in or on the edge of the body of water and speak your name to the water, and then anoint your brow with the water. Listen to the water, feel it, and let it embrace you. Promise to care for and protect Him and thank Him for connecting all life. 

Return to the gathered celebrants and speak your clerical title and name, for example, “I am Brother, Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name, I am Caeneun,” and then make a personal vow to serve and honor Brother Sea through your devotion to dutifully seek balance in all things and to use gentle strength to protect life and erode the seemingly immovable stone of the patriarchy.

Celebrate around the fire. Celebrants should greet you by your name and say, “Welcome to manhood, Brother, we admire your dedication to duty and balance” as a blessing.

Sons of Men – The Rejected Path – Sn.

The Sons of Men were offered a clear-cut and well-traveled path by The King, but have chosen to actively reject it and find a new way. Sons of Men seek to unlearn the evils spoken by The King, serve and support those on the other clerical paths, and use the powers granted to them by Kings of Men to undermine the Pillars of Patriarchy. 

Ritualistically, Sons of Men do not preside over any rites but are bound to act as silent aids to others when asked.

None of the gods can offer a divine gift to transform or change a Son of Man, but instead, their change must come from within through love of self and love of others in an active struggle against the 8 Pillars and the Kings of Men. 

The Sons of Men are granted the title Son.

Taking Sonian Vows

To name yourself as a Son of Man, first, you must pick a name. It is recommended that you spend time meditating and listening for the divine within and within others. When you have selected a name, you will perform the ritual in a place of dirt, mud, sand, or stone.

Gather clergy, believers, and loved ones in that place, and while the people build a fire, go alone to meditate and listen for the divine. Love and accept every part of your body as it is now because it is your own divine body.

Kneel, sit, or lay in or on the ground and speak your name to the ground, and then anoint your brow with the dirt. Promise to reject the Patriarchy and use your power to serve The Flame, The Stars, The Earth, and The Sea, and that if you betray or abandon your vows, you will return to the dirt.

Return to the gathered celebrants and speak your clerical title and name, for example, “I am Son, Taken Name, Divine Name, of Principle Name, I am a Son of Man,” and then make a personal vow to the gods, the clergy, and all who are gathered to unlearn the evils spoken by The King, serve and support those who walk divine paths, and use the powers granted to you by the Kings of Men to undermine the Pillars of Patriarchy.

Celebrate around the fire. Celebrants should greet you by your name and say, “Thank you, Son of Man, for your rejection of the path laid before you” as a blessing.

The Holy Calendar and Seasons

The Holy Calendar of Our Faith is broken into 8 Seasons. Each Season begins with a festival day that is associated with a specific deity. In addition to the celebrations described for each holiday, all of these days are reminders to slow down, reflect, and to read tarot or perform other forms of divination and meditation. 

As with all things, the described rites and rituals for the festival days are not exclusive or prescriptive, and participants are encouraged to modify them, merge them with other traditions and celebrations, or replace them with entirely new rituals based on individual needs and desires. 

Season of New Beginnings – Time of Change – Month of Exploration

The year starts with the Season of New Beginnings. During this time of year, Kindred Stars guides us down new paths and reminds us to focus on setting intentions for the year by starting new things or rededicating ourselves to things that brought us joy, healing, growth, and love in the last year. 

Day of the Illuminated Path – February 1st 

The Season of New Beginnings begins with the Day of the Illuminated Path. On this day, we come together to celebrate the new year by cleaning, cleansing, and purifying ourselves and our homes to clear away the things that brought us sorrow and hardship in the previous year and to make way for something new. Candles, incense, oils, or other flames should be lit in the pentakirion after the sun goes down. 

After the home and your body are cleansed, a ritual may be performed to set your intentions for the new year.

Ritual Setting of Intentions on a New Path

On the Day of the Illuminated Path we come together to celebrate the new year by cleaning, cleansing, and purifying ourselves and our homes to clear away the things that brought us sorrow and hardship in the previous year and to make way for something new. This ritual may be performed to set intentions on a new path for the year after ritual cleaning is performed.

Preparation 

To perform the ritual, you will need paper, a writing utensil, and pentakirion or ritual candle. The ritual can be performed alone or with groups and the intentions could be shared with others or kept private. 

The Ritual

Begin the ritual by placing a flame in a pentakirion. Take time to pray and meditate on the past year and listen to your body, mind, and heart about what you put your energy towards in the last year and then write it on a piece of paper. Burn the paper in the flame. If you have performed this ritual in the previous year, you may also burn the paper created last year. 

Again, take time to pray and meditate on the past year and listen to your body, mind, and heart about what you need in the new year. When you know what you need, write it on a piece of paper. This piece of paper should be placed in your home in a place where you will regularly see it until the Day of the Illuminated Path of the next year. You may alternatively incorporate the paper in a talisman or other meditation or divination tool that you carry with you or use daily. 

Action and Activation

Throughout the year, actively work towards the intention through both taking literal actions and also performing symbolic actions or creating icons, implements, poems, and prayers that focus on the intention. 

Season of Shaping – Time of Tilling – Month of Forgiveness

During this time of year, we remember that as Brother Sea waters the land and melts the snow, and prepares for life to grow again, we begin tilling the soil and planting and watering seeds, or building new things metaphorically and literally. We also remind ourselves that we can wash away old grudges and make amends and plant the seeds of forgiveness, family, and friendship. During this season, Sister Earth begins her journey from a Goddess of Death to the Goddess of Life with the aid of Her Brother. 

Day of Renewal – March 20th – Spring Equinox 

The Season of Shaping begins with a celebration of Brother Sea renewing things by melting the snow and bringing rain, and returning the world to a place of balance. We celebrate by reflecting on the balance of all things and ritually planting seeds and crafting tools, art, and objects of worship from clay. An Exchange of Prayers and Seeds ritual may be performed.

Ritual Exchange of Prayers and Seeds

On the Day of Renewal, The Season of Shaping begins with a celebration of Brother Sea renewing things by melting the snow, bringing rain, and returning the world to a place of balance. On this day, a ritual may be performed where both The Named and Unnamed come together to craft a prayer, tying their intentions together and then planting seeds that will grow over the year as all of the participants grow together. We remind ourselves that while not every seed planted will take root and thrive, combining our efforts and energy ensures that our sacred community is able to thrive. 

Preparation

To perform this ritual, you will need paper, writing utensils, blank cards, soil, a vessel to hold the soil for each individual participating, seeds, water, and a ritual flame such as a candle or pentakirion. Additionally, it is important to inform all participants of the ritual beforehand so they are prepared.

Prayers and Poetry

The prayer should not be thought of as a plea to divine power but rather as a poem or mantra to be used as a meditative focus over the course of the year. The prayer made during this ritual should have between five and forty lines but must be a multiple of five. Before beginning the process, it should be determined if a stricter meter or other constraints should be used. If desired, each line could be in pentameter or octameter to represent the five Gods and eight seasons. If additional structure is desire,d consider creating a prayer with five lines consisting of:

1. Recognition of how our paths are unfinished and we still have room to grow and change 
2. Naming your communal needs and intentions 
3. Committing ourselves to helping our communities
4. Expressing gratitude for the love and warmth provided by others that let us grow
5. Praising the divine light that exists in us all

The ritual should begin by lighting a candle or placing a flame in the pentakirion. A time for prayer and meditation should then be taken. This can be individual silent prayer and meditation or a guided meditation focusing on the coming spring and defrosting of the world. 

The prayer should then be created. Each participant should create at least one line of the prayer. This can be done by either having everyone take turns until the prayer is finished or working in tandem on specific lines. After the prayer is completed, each participant should reproduce the prayer on a card for themself or have another one of the participants reproduce it for them. 

Each participant should then fill their vessel with soil and then while reciting the prayer in unison, plant their seeds and water them for the first time. 

Benediction and Procession

At the conclusion of the ritual, the participants should be instructed to take their planted seeds home and care for them the same way they would care for themselves and their beloved communities.

The prayers may be used throughout the next year as a meditative mantra to be repeated or a prayer to be regularly offered in private or at gatherings. The prayer may be shared with others or used in the creation of art and iconography. 

The flame may be left to burn out on its own, kept alight throughout the night, or extinguished at the end of the ritual. 

Season of Growth – Time of Bird Song – Month of Renewal

During this time of year, we celebrate that Sister Earth has returned as the Goddess of Life, fueled by the decay of the previous year and Brother Sea’s tears of joy to be reunited with his Sister. We focus on caring for all life as it grows and help to return it to its natura,l untamed state. We also remind ourselves that our growth may have been fueled by hardship and loss but is ultimately only possible through embracing loving warmth and care towards ourselves and others. 

Day of The Sister’s Rebirth – May 1st 

The Season of Growth begins with a celebration that Sister Earth has once again become The Goddess of Life, and we celebrate Her rebirth with flowers, dancing, singing, eating, and drinking, and also celebrate loving connections between friends, family, and partners that have been forged in the last year that has helped us heal and grow. The Brother joins us in the celebration of His Sister with the gift of teaching the birds that make homes in her branches to sing, and he invites us to sing along. A flame in the form of a bonfire, burnpile, or small fire in a pentakirion may be burnt and the ash from it may be used in blessings. 

Ritual Bonfine in Celebration of the Sister’s Rebirth

In celebration of the day of The Sister’s Rebirth, we may light a ritual flame and use it to focus our intention on rebirth, growth, and renewal through symbolic action. In this ritual, participants will first gather sticks, leaves, or other organic material that has been left to rot over the winter, write or illustrate something they wish to grow within themselves or the world, and burn it in a ritual flame. The ashes and soot from the flame should be gathered after the fire has burnt out and be used to bless the participants, their homes, their animals, or their gardens by sprinkling or smudging it on them. 

Preparation

Invite people to participate in the ritual either on the Day of the Sister’s rebirth or as part of another seasonal celebration. Ask them to bring with them plant matter that has fallen or been left to dry or rot over the winter. This could be leaves, sticks, dried flowers and herbs, firewood, bark, or other similar materials. The participants should be prompted to write or otherwise represent their intention for something they wish to grow in themselves or in the world on or with the material. For example, they could write or carve their intention on a stick or craft a piece or art from the materials that they would like to ritually burn. The host should also gather and provide extra materials for people to use if they cannot provide their own. 

At the start of the celebration a ritual flame should be placed within the pentakerion and be kept burning throughout the celebration. When the time comes for the bonfire, the flame should be transferred to the bonfire by lighting a piece of tinder from it or placing the flame directly into the fire if possible. Alternatively, the ritual may be done entirely within the pentakerion, if it is safe to do so. 

As people arrive at the celebration, you may ask them to place the things they want to burn somewhere where everyone can view them before they are to be burnt. 

The Burning

When the fire is ready, and all the participants have been gathered, the host should begin by declaring the communal intentions of the ritual. They can say whatever they would like and it does not need to be particularly formal as long as they remind everyone of what the point of the ritual is. One example of something the host could say is, “We are gathered together to celebrate the return of Sister Earth to life from the cold grip of The Winter. Through the warmth of The Flame, we are reminded of the transformational nature of Life and The Earth, and we set on intentions towards ushering in new growth, change, and rebirth.” 

Gathering of Ash and Sehning

After the fire has burnt out or burnt down to ash, the host should ensure it is extinguished and at a safe handling temperature by dowsing any coals. This is not just for safety, but also reminds us of the role that Brother Sea plays in the process of renewal and the return of his twin Sister Earth to life. If the ritual is being performed with a small pentakirion, water may be sprinkled onto the pentakirion symbolically. 

The host should then gather up the ashes and sehn them using the Sehning ritual motion with their hand or an implement. The ashes can then be offered to the participants to be either smudged on them in a place of their choosing or handed out in small jars or other vessels to be sprinkled or smudged on the participants’ homes, gardens, animals, and hearths.

Season of Light – Time of Warmth – Month of Love

During this time, we remember that The Mother is pouring all of her love upon us to fuel us through the next year. We focus on the power of generative love for ourselves and others. We remember to take care of ourselves. We remember that warmth drives the water cycle and feeds all the plants that grow. We remember that each star is just another Sun shining and illuminating new possibilities.

Long Day of The Mother – June 21st – Summer Solstice 

On this day, we celebrate the beginning of the Season of Light by symbolically celebrating how The Mother gave up everything to create everything by exploding outwards with love. We celebrate with all-day partying, picnics, and spending time with our loved ones who give us warmth. This also marks the beginning of The Mother’s movement towards sleep and Her own self-care. We may also ritually thank Mother Flame for the warmth and light she has given us in the past year through morning meditation before the festivities. 

Ritual Thanking of The Sun

This ritual is to be performed during sunrise on the morning of of the summer solstice. The intention of the ritual is to expressed gratitude to The Sun and Mother Flame for provide warmth, light, and love to us in the past year. The gift of life in this way is something that we can not return to Mother Flame, and instead of reciprocity, we offer gratitude. 

This ritual may be performed in a group or individually and does not require external action as much as it requires internal reflection and care. 

Preparation

The day before the summer solstice, set an alarm to ensure that you wake up before The Sun rises. If this timing does not work for you, you may perform this ritual on any day in the season. 

Find a comfortable place to sit or stand where you can see the sky. In that spot, you will meditate and then thank The Sun. This can be done in any form, but a suggestion is listed below.

Meditation

Siting or standing in a comfortable position, watch as The Sun rises. As The Sky shifts Their hue and The Sun rises, meditate. 

Feel Her warmth and light on your skin. Check-in with yourself emotionally and physically. What do you feel, see, smell, and think? In this moment of peace, what bubbles up as important? 

Let those things go and breathe. Be mindful in this moment. Separate yourself in the broader scope of time and the universe from yourself in this moment here and now. Focus on your breath and the beat of your heart, and enjoy this moment of peace. 

Meditate in whatever form serves you best for as long as you need to, and when you are ready, close your eyes and turn to The Sun. Embrace Her warmth and light and thank Her for what She has done. Encourage Her to rest and sleep and promise to carry Her light through the dark times of Winter to come. 

Season of First Harvest – Time of Feasting – Month of Balance 

During this time, the harvest begins, and we honor our duty to shape and cultivate the land toward balance through sustainable and responsible practices. This applies both literally to the land we shape and the crops The Sister gives to us and metaphorically to our own spiritual and emotional landscape. 

Day of The Brother’s Refrain – August 1st 

On this day, we celebrate Brother Sea as he begins to reshape the land and clear fields in preparation for fall. We remember that he is the water cycle, and as the ground dries, we hold faith that he will return to us as rain and snow. We celebrate the first harvest with music and feasting together on bread, pasta, rice, and other grains, as well as the other crops of the early harvest. 

Ritual Gift of Bread

This ritual reminds the practitioner to express gratitude not just to Brother Sea who waters The Earth and brings her to life, but also to express gratitude to our communities, neighbors, and family (chosen and born) who help sustain us. We do this by offering the gift of bread. 

This ritual can be performed on the Day of The Brother’s Refrain or any day during the Season of First Harvest. You may even perform it at the end of the season in preparation for the Day of the Sister’s Death and the harvest feast. This ritual is comparatively simple and does not require active participation by others. It can be performed as part of a larger celebration or as a simple service to your community. 

Preparation

To prepare for this ritual, you will need the supplies to write a note, and you will have to gather ingredients to make a loaf. It can be a traditional bread, or an alternative bread in line with dietary restrictions. The loaf can be a plain loaf, or can be ornate and incorporate local produce and herbs if desired. What matters is the intention of gratitude that you put into it.

Setting Intentions

Before baking the bread, take a moment to set your intentions on gratitude to Brother Sea and the person (or persons) that you intend to gift the bread to. There is not a single way to do this; you could do it as a simple meditation, or you could do this by journaling or crafting thank-you cards to give along with the bread. 

Baking the Bread

Using any recipe that you desire, bake a loaf (or multiple loaves) to give to someone else. As you do this, be mindful of the activity. Pay attention to what you see, smell, feel, hear, and taste. Listen to your body and observe what it does when it works the bread. How do you move? Where do you exert energy? What is the importance of that expended exertion when applied to an act of gratitude? 

Baking bread also takes patience. While normally, you might want to shift gears from focusing on the bread to focusing on something else, encourage yourself to stay in a mindful state throughout the process. If you need to do something else, remain mindful of where your energy is going, and what it goes towards feeding. Alternatively if you have the time, consider meditating, or performing mindful acts of self-care during this time.

Gifting the Bread

Give the bread to the intended recipient. You could do this by inviting them over and sending it home with them or by dropping it at their door. There is no strict guidance on what you need to say or give along with the bread, except that you should make it clear to them that you appreciate them and that you baked this bread for them with care.

Season of Decomposition – Time of Rot – Month of Decay

During this season, Sister Earth begins her journey from her place as The Goddess of Life to The Goddess of Death. The sweet birds of spring no longer sing and begin their funerary procession. We continue to harvest our crops and pickle and preserve foods to help us get through the winter. We also take time to reflect on those we lost during the last year, literally and metaphorically, and how they contributed to our own growth, healing, and life.

Day of The Sister’s Death – September 22nd – Fall Equinox

4 Seasons ago, we celebrated The Brother returning the land and the water to balance, and today we give thanks to The Sister for returning life to balance through Her death. We celebrate Sister Earth harvesting life to create new life and that she is both Life and Death because life comes from death. We give thanks for what was given by Her by coming together to share our harvest and feast. 

Ritual Harvest Feast

This ritual celebrates the second harvest and the preparation for winter. We celebrated the first harvest through the giving of bread which represents the gifts of The Sea. The second harvest celebrates the gift of The Earth, which is not simply the harvest of grain, fruit, and vegetables, but also the harvest of Her own Life as She returns to being the goddess of Death. 

We do this by preparing an ecstatic feast with our sacred communities of friends and loved ones and offering our thanks to Sister Earth. 

Preparation

Invite friends and loved ones to share a meal celebrating The Harvest. You may choose to ask people to bring dishes to share, or the host can prepare the entire meal themself. Inform the invited participants that the intention is to celebrate The Harvest and that as part of that, we will be writing and sharing notes expressing our gratitude for something that we received from The Earth in the past year. 

In addition to setting places for the guests to sit and eat, set a place at the table or in a place of honor for Sister Earth. The place should be set with an empty plate (or a cornucopia if you prefer), a pentakirion or ritual flame, and icons representing Sister Earth’s role as a goddess of Death and The Harvest.

Giving Thanks

Before people arrive take a moment to light the ritual flame and write out your own gratitudes on a piece of paper. Place the note of thanks on the offering plate. 

As people arrive, you should direct them to take a moment and write what they are grateful for and place it with the other notes on the offering plate. 

Spend the rest of the meal being present with each other and being mindful of the gifts your community gives to you in the form of joy and care. 

Giving the Offering to The Earth

When the meal is concluded, the offerings of thanks should be taken outside and buried. A sehning, prayer, or meditation may be offered but are not required. 

Season of the Unknown – Time of Stars – Month of Dreams

During this season, we look to Kindred Star and dream of the mysteries that we will never know the truth behind. We reflect on what comes after death, we question our purpose in the universe, we meditate on why injustice and violence continue to exist, and we honor and accept that some truths will always remain unknown. We find peace in The Stars and their mystery. 

Day of The Waking Dream – October 31st 

On this day, we celebrate the veil between the living world and the life beyond thinning as The Stars and Sky meet face-to-face with The Goddess of Death. We celebrate what is beyond Death and The Unknown paths that wait there for us. We all follow in the path of the Many-Faced Stars by dressing in costumes and coming together to feast and share stories under The Stars and honor the spirits of the long-dead and the unknown. We present an offering to the dead and share with them our joys and sorrows.

Ritual Dinner of the Waking Dream

On the Day of the Waking Dream, we celebrate the thinning of the veil between the living world and the life beyond as The Stars and Sky meet face-to-face with The Goddess of Death. We celebrate what is beyond Death and The Unknown paths that wait there for us. 

We all follow in the path of the Many-Faced Stars by dressing in costumes and coming together to feast and share stories under The Stars and honor the spirits of the long-dead and the unknown. As part of the celebration, a Dinner of the Waking Dream may be held to commune with our lost loved ones and those lost in our community. 

During a dinner of the Waking Dream a meal is shared where nobody sitting at the table speaks to another living being. An empty place is set where an offering of food is given, and participants either speak to the empty seat as if it were the person they are communing with or burn a letter written to the dead. 

Preparation

This ritual is to be held between sunset of the Day of the Waking Dream and sunrise of the next day. It can be held either before or after additional festival celebrations but should either start or end the celebration. 

Before the ritual, set your intention. You can invite others to participate as a community or perform it alone. Decide whether the ritual will be performed in silence or if you will speak allowed to the dead. The host of the dinner should prepare a meal in a single shared vessel (such as a stew, soup, or mash) and set a place at the table for every attendee, as well as one additional space to be held by the dead. The seating arrangement is such that the eldest sits on one side of the dead and the youngest on the other, completing a cycle of life. A flame in a pentakirion and icons should be set at the empty place. The ritual begins at the moment the flame is lit. A prayer may be offered when the flame is lit. 

The Dinner

Once the flame is lit, all participants will remain silent. The host will serve the first spoonful to the place for the dead. The host will then serve a portion to each person seate,d moving from the oldest to the youngest at the table. It is recommended that the portion be small as it must be finished by the participant before the ritual is concluded. 

The participants all eat in silence, focussing meditatively on the space created and remembering the dead. After each individual finishes their portion of the food, they offer their messages to the dead. The messages should either be written or spoken as if the one who is being communicated with is alive and present at the table and that you are communicating with a dear friend you have not seen in a while. Tell them about what has changed for you in the past year. Tell them about your joys and sorrows. Tell them about things they would care to know, both trivial and of grand importance. The message can either be to a specific individual, multiple people, or all of our dead siblings who are not able to attend, especially those who are unknown to us and did not have a seat at a table in life. 

Written messages are to be burned in the flame. It is recommended that the flame be kept in a bowl or non-flammable surface to catch ash and embers. 

Benediction and Procession

After all participants have offered messages, a silent moment of prayer and meditation is offered. The host will be the first to stand from the table and will silently move the flame to a place of importance and honor to preside over the evening. The host should take the offered food and return it to the Earth through burial or scattering it so that wild animals may eat it. After the flame is moved, the other participants are allowed to speak normally. The host should not speak until the offering is returned to the Earth. 

After the conclusion of the ritual people are welcome and encouraged to eat the remaining food and any libations that were offered. Additionally courses and food may be eaten as well. If there are leftovers at the end of the night the host should first offer them to anyone in attendance who is in need of food. 

Season of Darkness – Time of Freezing – Month of Huddled Warmth

During this time, The King rules and freezes all things in place, we focus on waking up The Mother by rejecting Him and warming each other with our own divine love. We focus on self-care and creating warmth through resting, huddling together, and caring for ourselves and others.

Long Night of The King – December 21st – Winter Solstice 

On this day, we remember that The King once ruled over and froze and bound all things, but we come together to reject Him with love to create warmth and wake The Mother from Her slumber. We celebrate by coming together around lights or flames. We share feasts, drinks, and music and exchange gifts. When the sun rises on the 22nd, we are reminded that the light and the warmth will return.

Ritual Rejection of The King on the Long Night

On The Long Night of The King, we remember that The King once ruled over and froze and bound all things, but we come together to celebrate community through feasting and sharing libations and to ritualistically reject Him with love to create warmth and wake The Mother from Her slumber. 

Unlike many of the other rituals, which hold seriousness and reverence, this ritual aims to create a joyous and festive bond between the participants and reminds us of how we help our communities stay together and grow together throughout the year. As the participants enter the ritual space, they will be given a paper crown, and on it, they will write something that they have internalized from the 8 Pillars and would like to reject and change within themselves.

When everyone who is gathering for the ritual has their crown, the ritual can begin. The participants will wear their crowns and go around to other people participating in the ritual and declaring what they are trying to reject and change. In response, the other participants will say, “I reject His power over you.”

After the participant has had The King’s power rejected 8 times, they may remove the crown and burn it in the ritual flame. 

Preparation

To perform this ritual, you will need a ritual flame such as a pentakirion, candle, or bonfire, and a paper crown or a crown made from holly or another material that can be safely burned, such as branches or a wreath. Before the celebration, please explain the ritual to the invited celebrants so that they can decide whether or not they would like to participate and have time to reflect on what they would like to reject. 

Participants can be named or unnamed and do not have to be members of The Faith. Additionally, it may be helpful to write the eight pillars on a piece of paper or on the crowns for reference as needed. 

Invocation

When people arrive, begin the celebration by lighting a ritual flame. This can be in the form of a bonfire, candle, or ritual flame placed in a pentakirion. The ritual flame should be kept alight during the entire celebration and only be extinguished when the final celebrant is ready to go to sleep, or the sun has risen.

The mood should be festive and celebratory, but participants should be earnest about what they choose to write on their crowns. 

Rejection

While discussion of what an individual is trying to reject and change within themself is welcome (assuming both participants would like to process it together), it is not required. There can be great strength in naming your own vulnerability or faults in a joyous way and setting an intention to change it. 

Burning The King’s Crown

When each participant has been rejected 8 times, the participant may remove the crown and burn it in the ritual flame while saying “I reject The King and refuse to let Him act or speak through me”. They may then return to the celebration. 

A Variation for Individual Rejection or Rejection During a Solemn Gathering

If celebrating The Long Night of The King alone or for a more somber celebration with multiple participants a variation of the ritual may be performed. Again start by lighting a ritual flame to be kept throughout the entirety of the celebration or until the sun rises. Next place a paper crown or a crown made of another material that can be safely burned in front of the flame where the participants can all see it. 

Speak aloud:

I reject the denial of the sexuality of everyone but men;

I reject forcing men’s sexuality and supremacy upon others;

I reject exploitation to control all production and reproduction;

I reject the control by men of all of the children and their futures;

I reject confining and restricting of choice and freedom to strict traditional gender roles and the limiting of independence;

I reject the use of others as coins or pawns to be traded in transactions and machinations of men;

I reject the elevation and celebration of the works of men as more worthy or valuable, thereby denying and limiting the creativity of others;

I reject the withholding knowledge and skills for the benefit of men and the maintenance of their power.

I reject The King and refuse to let Him act or speak through me.

And then burn the crown in the ritual flame. 

Sehning – to Bless, Cleansing, or Sanctify

When something needs to be blessed or sanctified for ritual purpose or generally cleansed there is a practiced called sehning (taking from the celtic practice of saining or sén). 

The practice involves reciting an invocation while making the shape of the pentenkon with the hand or another ritual implement. 

Invocation and Motion

1. Mother
2. and Child
3. Brother
4. and Sister
5. In defiance
6. of Him 

Construction of a Pentakirion Ritual Flame

A pentakirion is a ritual flame in the form of a chalice, lantern, incense holder, candelabra, torch, or other form is to be used on an altar or in many rituals. A pentakirion can be constructed during any time of the year but may be done as part of the celebration of The Day of the Illuminated Path.

Anyone who is Named may construct or acquire any vessel to hold or house their ritual flame, but it must have the following characteristics. 

The vessel should represent all five deities, with The Mother at the center or above her children. One example of this would be a pentakirion, a candelabra that holds five candles, with the largest candle representing The Mother. Alternatively, the vessel could be an inverted square pyramid with each of the four sides representing the four children and a candle or incense placed on the square base of the pyramid as the only flame to represent The Mother. 

While all five deities must be represented on the pentakirion, they do not have to be represented with equal prominence. For example, an Eenari may construct a chalice where the cup that holds The Flame is a skull to represent Sister Earth, with celestial and marine designs around the skull representing Kindred Star and Brother Sea and The King represented by medallions along the base or on an engraving hidden on the bottom of the base. 

It is necessary that when constructing a pentakirion that the creator meditates on the design and construction and approaches its creation in a mindful state. 

Establishing a Weekly Day of Worship

Determining when we can gather with our cherished communities and celebrate and worship together can be challenging and should not be prescribed from on high. Instead, it is recommended that you use a water-pouring ritual at the end of each season to determine when your local community or temple should gather for the next season. 

Water Pouring Ritual 

As the celebration draws to a close, bring out a bowl, a scoop or ladle, and seven clear vessels that can hold water, each representing a day of the week. Each participant should take the ladle and pour one scoop of water into the vessel for every day that they are able to gather and worship. 

The vessel with the most water at the end of the celebration will determine which day worship should be held. This vessel is not to be refreshed or bothered until it is time to refill at the next celebratory occasion. As it evaporates, use it as a Meditation on our need to be refreshed in the healing lessons of the Gods and in each other’s warmth, friendship, and love.

Litany

As we draw -insert specific season here- to a close, we symbolically refresh our vessel with the water of The Brother. We shall not disturb it in the coming seasons as a reminder of our need to be refreshed regularly, as taught to us by the Gods’ lessons and the healing warmth of our community.

Order of Service for a Gathering

When gathering for worship there is no strict set or order of events that must be followed, what is more important is to focus on making space for each other and taking time to slow down and look and listen inward for your own divine light. The order of service listed here is given as a place to start for practitioners who are looking for guidance on cultivating and creating a sacred space. 

Setup 

Set a time and a place with others you wish to gather with and then set an altar including a pentakirion or ritual flame and other important icons. If you are going to end with divination and meditation make sure that you have the tools needed set on or near the altar as well. 

Invocation

Set a flame in the pentakirion while reading the introduction from The Way of Things. The reading can be done by a single individual or by all gathered participants. 

Please join me by reciting the Way of Things while lighting a ritual flame. 

We believe that everything in the universe is a single connected being reaching through time, and we are all, simultaneously separate limbs of a single divinity.

We believe that all gods are as real as any other god and that, fundamentally, all divine beings are the same spark of human divinity manifesting in different forms.

Within our pantheistic faith, we recognize that all gods are separate limbs and different masks of the same god, known by many names, but we choose to name and speak five gods into being, all equally divine.

Sharing of Joys and Sorrows 

Invite all participants to share allowed things that have brought them joy and things that have weighed on them or brought them sorrow since the last gathering. Listen and hold space for each other. 

You can add some additional ritual to this by lighting candles, pouring water in a vessel, or stacking stones for each shared joy and sorrow. Take a pause and a deep breath between each sharing and thank the participant. 

I invite you to join me in sharing the joys and sorrows that have entered your life since the last time we gathered. 

Guided Meditation

A guided meditation is a great way to encourage gathered participants to practice meditation and check in with their body, heart, and mind. Doing a four to ten minute meditation can be really beneficial. It could be read by one of the gathered participants or pre-recorded. It is also recommended that you take a moment to explain why the particular guided meditation was chosen. 

It is also a great way to connect the participants with the season of worship, so consider writing or finding a meditation relevant to the time of year. 

Please join me in a guided meditation followed by time for silent reflection, meditation, and prayer.

Gift of Music 

A gift of music is a time to play music following the meditation to allow participants a peaceful time for reflection, meditation, and prayer. A good guideline for the meditation plus the music should be 10 to 15 minutes total. 

Meditation through Divination 

At the climax of the gathered worship doing a divination together can be really meaningful. One recommended way to do this is by drawing a single card from a deck of oracle cards and reflecting on its meaning, and discussing it together. 

The Shining Tribe Tarot is highly recommended which was created by the Unnamed Saint Rachel Pollack. 

Let us now use the art of divination to turn inwards and meditate on the world around us and the divine flames within us. 

Benediction 

A benediction is a ritual for releasing gathered participants from worship. It can be done as part of a larger ritual or to lead into another ritual but generally it involves song, poetry, or prayer before the altar, extinguishing the ritual flame, and then the dismissal of those gathered. 

You may choose to use the ending of the First Unnamed Prayer as the benediction if you have no other prayer, song, or poem to share. 

Please join me in reading the first unnamed prayers final lines

I am blessed by the gods

The All moves through me

And thus I am the divine incarnate

We exist in opposition to the false King 

We are the Divinely Transformed

As above so below

Blessed be

Go in peace

VII. Letters 

A Letter from Ss. Ada Artimpasa of Divine Inspiration to The First Temple on the subject of Cosmology, Sex, and Gender:

We believe that systems of gender and sex are not biological or even metaphysical facts, but rather are a technological system for the classification of things, in the same way, the periodic table is. Our pantheon and our clergy are not technological roles, but rather theological ones and, therefore, may not always align with the roles expected based upon gender or sex systems and terms currently in use. For example, it might be expected that Mother = Cis Women, Sisters = Trans Women, Brothers = Trans Men, Loir = Non-binary, and Sons = Cis Men, but that might not necessarily be the case, and what divine light resides inside someone may be unexpected or change over time. Additionally, any pronouns can be used by any member of the clergy in addition to their clerical title. Language and gender systems change with time, but the divine transcends those systems.

It may also be assumed that Mother Flame has a higher place in the pantheon than the other deities, but they all exist on equal grounds, and all of their clergy maintain the same level of power within the faith. 

As we believe that all things are just one piece of a greater divine, we also believe that living things taking action and shaping the world is a divine act. Furthermore, practicing bodily autonomy through acts that actively reshape, redefine, liberate, or reclaim your own body brings you closer to the divine. We practice this through the sacramental use of

• Dressing according to one’s internal divine light
• Shaping the body through binding
• Taking hormones or other substances to change and/or maintain your form 
• Castration and scarification 
• Tattoos and piercings
• The creation and sharing of art
• Controlling one’s own reproduction and fertility
• Creating and sharing language that expresses and defines one’s self 
• Consensual sexual acts of one’s choosing or any other practice one may wish to engage in with other consenting adults or alone 

While we celebrate these practices and believe they are expressions of the divine, we do not believe these are necessary to be part of the clergy or that any interventions are necessary to wholly transform yourself through divine intervention. Simply by speaking your name and your true identity, you are divinely transformed.

A Letter from Vix Ellie Hecate Moondagger  to The First Temple on the subject of Hospitable Unnamed

Within our journey through the world, we will find among the people the Hospitable Unnamed. These people are not of The Faith but serve in some small or big ways the tenets of The Mother and Her Children, these include tattoo artists and piercers who help us modify our bodies aesthetically and doctors, therapists, endocrinologists, and pharmacists who enable access to the treatments and surgeries that bring us into Divine Harmony. These friends are often shackled by adherents of The King and their rules but endeavor nevertheless towards The Mother’s light even if they are unaware of it.

A Letter from Ss. Guinevere Cerridwen Evergreen on the subject of Names

What is a name? People have names, things have names, and I think there may be a difference in those. Like, there are things that name things and there’s things that get named. Did the things that get named already have a name outside of the one they got but didn’t ask for? 

The case is yes for a lot of trans ppl. Whether or not the name is “innate” inside of you is sort of a deeper question i guess. BUT we are named things, like a newly discovered species of microorganism in a pond. But we existed before that naming. And we take naming rituals as very important, hell the name of our Faith hinges on the naming ceremonies. 

So we are at once Named Things and Name Givers, but we’re giving ourselves our own names. One of the key elements of “humanity” that certain religions hinge upon is the desire to name and “take dominion” over all the non-human things in the world. 

Parents definitely take dominion over their children when they impose a name on them, especially if they refuse to let go of that name ownership. Isn’t that the most divine thing about naming yourself? 

You discover yourself, you name yourself, thus you are symbolically taking dominion over your own existence. And using the analogy of parental naming of children, we are saying hello to ourselves, the selves we birth anew from the death of our old selves.

So our Faith, it’s a Faith “of” Unnamed, and a Faith “for” Unnamed. Unnamed Things become Named things, and we distinguish ourselves by giving the rights of naming to the things being named (us)!

A Letter from Ss. Ada Artimpasa of Divine Inspiration to The First Temple on the subject of Devotion and Bringing the Gods to Life:

Within the Declaration of Names the creed says “I believe that all gods are as real as any other god and that all divine beings are the same spark of human divinity manifesting in different forms”, but what does that mean and how do gods become real?

One might say belief. And if belief was the only way that gods were animated and brought to life what would that mean. If a saint or a great religious scholar has doubts does that weaken the strength of their god or the way it acts through them? Alternatively if a person lives a life that aligns with the gods values and behavior but doesn’t know that they exist is that not praising the god and acting out their will? Or looking at a modern problem with some established religions, what if followers believe deeply in a god but do not act according to its divine message and teachings? I think we can all think of a politician who evokes the name of Christ but uses it to justify violence, war, exploitation, and oppression. 

It would seem that belief is not the best way to praise a god and bring them to life in the world. So what might be better?

I think that the true way to bring a god to life is through action. As Dionysus is ever present in the joyous sharing of wine and Christ is present when people choose a path of peace despite what they might believe. In fact, we acknowledge this often when gentle self-sacrifice and devotion to love is commonly referred to as “Christ-like” regardless of the individual’s beliefs. 

So if we are to bring our gods to life consciously how do we do that? I would propose that we do this by performing devoted action. A devoted action is acting out the will of our gods actively in the world. It is approaching a challenge with the loving warmth of The Mother. It is the search for the truth within ourselves and the world by The Kindred’s light. It is shaping the world to be in a more beautiful balance as the hand of The Brother does. It is honoring life and death in equal measure as something natural and sacred as shown by The Sister. 

And if action is how gods are made real, what does that say about the existence of The King? Is He not brought to life by politicians that enshrine the patriarchy into law? Is He not present when they try to speak violence against the oppressed into reality? Does He not smile when they laugh at the suffering of others? And does it not praise Him when we fail to challenge His echoed whispers in our own ears?

Our gods are as real as any others if they shape the world through our hands. We speak them into reality with our words and birth them into existence through our actions as The Mother birthed all that is.

An Exhortation From Ss Daphne Demeter of Perpetual Creation to the Named

Friends, we live in difficult times. The King of Men gathers strength and followers, and life will soon be harder than we’ve known.

The King wants you to submit, to bend knee or perish. Do not bow! You are powerful, and the King cannot make you bow. Stand strong in your beliefs, in yourself (for you must above all believe in yourself) and in our community and we will be victorious. We have always existed, since Mother Flame first created her children, and we will continue to exist.

There was once a man who planted a patch of grass in the desert. He watered his grass and cared for it, but desert plants grew amongst it. Eventually he gave up on grass and salted the earth to stop the native flora from retaking his patch of land. This worked for a season but the next year the desert plants returned. He continued salting the land year after year, and it seemed for a time that he was victorious over nature. But as soon as he grew tired and stopped salting the land each year, the desert retook his patch of land as though he’d never been there.

Like the eternal desert, alive and thriving with its own unique forms of life, we too will survive, and even thrive, despite misguided attempts to end us. And unlike the desert flora, we can water and nourish each other, providing strength and support for our family.

A Letter from Mth. Ada Tabiti of Creative Transformation to The Reader

Over the past several years a community came together to make this book. We knowingly entered into the creative process, each setting our own intentions and bringing our own ideas on magic, gender, the divine, and religion. What we did not know, is that we were also entering the Chapel perilous, and we would not leave with the same ideas and beliefs as when we entered. 

We were all transformed through the act of communal creation. I think that is true of all acts of creativity. You can not make something of importance without that act of creation recreating yourself in the process. And in time, the things we all create can change the world. 

I charge you with creating something, anything, inspired by this book. 

How will the things you create change yourself?

How will they change the world? 

Glossary of Terms

Dionu

This is the name used to refer to the Unnamed Faith of The Named. It derives from the Welsh word “dienw” meaning “unnamed”, the Greek “theos” meaning “gods” and “neo” meaning “new” (also the Latin “dios” and “novus”).

It is pronounced Dee-oh-nu. 

Keroune

The keroune (pronouced kay-row-na) is a set of prayer beads similar to a rosary or a japamala. The name is etymologically derived from the Latin corona, Irish choróin, Welsh goron, and German krone meaning crown. This word evokes both the corona of light and warmth that surrounds The Mother and the cold metal crown of The King. Additionally, the literal translation of corona in latin is wreath (as in a laurel wreath). This too has significance as the japamala (the prayer beads used in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism) literally translates to a wreath or a garland in Sanskrit. The word rosary (catholic prayer beans) also literally translates to garland. The keroune as a tool attempts to reflect this layered meaning and encourages meditative and focused prayer. 

Pentakirion

The term refers to the chalice, candelabra, lantern, or other vessel that holds a ritual flame. The Pentakirion is used in rituals that call for a flame to be lit. Typically the design consists of five flames with one place above the others to represent Mother Flame, but it could also be a single flame and be adorned with icons representing the other four gods. Typically a pentenkon should be present in the design. 

Pentenkon

The Icon of the faith. It combines astrological and alchemical symbols into a single shape representing all five Gods with Mother Flame at the center. The bottom point represents The King, the left and right points represent The Brother and Sister, and the top point represents The Kindred. 

The word comes from a combination of Greek “pente” meaning “five”, Norwegian “en” meaning “one”, and Welsh “eicon” meaning “icon”. It describes how the symbol represents all five Gods in one icon. 

Aphrodhermi

The aphrodhermi are the clergy of Kindred Stars, who use the honorific Loir. The term aphrodhermi comes from the inversion of the name for the Greek winged deity of androgyny Hermaphroditus, whose name was the combination of their parents, Hermes and Aphrodite. Hermaphroditus was born as one gender and later merged with another in order to embody both. The term Aphrodhermi refers not just to Hermaphroditus, but also by inverting the name, highlights the inversion of expectations from a binary to a vast infinity. 

Loir

The term Loir is used as the standard honorific for Aphrodhermi, and is derived from several Brythonic words for Moon, including lloer in Welsh, loor in Cornish, and loar in Breton. A more literal translation of the root word leun is “bright one”. The title ties the Aphrodhermi to the mystery of the cosmos, as well as Kindred Stars’ role as lantern bearer and The Sky. Aphrodhermi may use this honorific or any honorific that they choose. 

Herei

The herei are the priestesses of Mother Flame and use the honorific of Mother (though they are often not mothers). The word, pronounced like Her-Ray, comes from the combination of hiereiai, who were the priestesses of Hera (Olympian Mother Goddess), and Hestia, the name of the Titan/Olympian virgin goddess of the hearth. This title reminds us that the role of those who serve Mother Flame is not just to care for the next generation, but to keep the fire of love, life, and light lit. 

Eenari

The eenari are the priestesses of Sister Earth and use the honorific Sister. The word, pronounced ee-nar-ee, comes from the Enaree, who were the Scythian trans feminine priestesses of Artimpasa, the Scythian goddess of fertility and agriculture who is closely associated with Astarte, Ishtar, and Aphrodite. 

Caeneuns

The caeneuns are the priests of Brother Sea and use the honorific Brother. The word, pronounced k-eye-nones, comes from the name Caeneus. Caeneus was the name taken by a Lapith hero who in the oldest story that has survived (by Acusilaus of Argos), is transformed into an invulnerable man after having sex with Poseidon. 

Sons of Men 

Sons of Men is the title given to the penitent priests of The King, who use the honorific Son. Where the Kings of Men act out the violent patriarchal will of The King through their words and actions, The Sons of Men seek to redeem The King through silent reflection and service. The hope to find a form of masculinity that is healthy and healing and works to unmake the eight pillars that support The King’s throne, so that they too can be free of His rule. 

Sehning

Sehning, pronounced like say-ning, is derived from the Scottish saining and the Irish sén. Sehning is the Dionuan blessing and is used to cleanse and sanctify objects, spaces, and people. The process involves drawing the pentenkon with the hand or an implement in the air or one a surface. This may also be done with water, dirt, ash, or flame as needed. When Sehning something, the practitioner may speak the words “Mother and Child, Brother and Sister, in defiance of Him”.

The Eight Pillars

The Eight Pillars of the Patriarchy represent the antithesis of The Faith and hold up The Kings frozen throne. They are directly inspired by the characteristics of male power described by Adrienne Rich in “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence”