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The Fifth Sacred Thing (Maya Greenwood) Paperback – June 1, 1994
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Declaration of the Four Sacred Things
The earth is a living, conscious being. In company with cultures of many different times and places, we name these things as sacred: air, fire, water, and earth.
Whether we see them as the breath, energy, blood, and body of the Mother, or as the blessed gifts of a Creator, or as symbols of the interconnected systems that sustain life, we know that nothing can live without them.
To call these things sacred is to say that they have a value beyond their usefulness for human ends, that they themselves became the standards by which our acts, our economics, our laws, and our purposes must be judged. no one has the right to appropriate them or profit from them at the expense of others. Any government that fails to protect them forfeits its legitimacy.
All people, all living things, are part of the earth life, and so are sacred. No one of us stands higher or lower than any other. Only justice can assure balance: only ecological balance can sustain freedom. Only in freedom can that fifth sacred thing we call spirit flourish in its full diversity.
To honor the sacred is to create conditions in which nourishment, sustenance, habitat, knowledge, freedom, and beauty can thrive. To honor the sacred is to make love possible.
To this we dedicate our curiosity, our will, our courage, our silences, and our voices. To this we dedicate our lives.
Praise for The Fifth Sacred Thing
“This is wisdom wrapped in drama.”—Tom Hayden, California state senator
“Starhawk makes the jump to fiction quite smoothly with this memorable first novel.”—Locus
“Totally captivating . . . a vision of the paradigm shift that is essential for our very survival as a species on this planet.”—Elinor Gadon, author of The Once and Future Goddess
“This strong debut fits well against feminist futuristic, utopic, and dystopic works by the likes of Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Ursula LeGuin, and Margaret Atwood.”—Library Journal
- Print length496 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBantam
- Publication dateJune 1, 1994
- Dimensions6 x 1.2 x 9.2 inches
- ISBN-100553373803
- ISBN-13978-0553373806
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“Starhawk makes the jump to fiction quite smoothly with this memorable first novel.”—Locus
“Totally captivating . . . a vision of the paradigm shift that is essential for our very survival as a species on this planet.”—Elinor Gadon, author of The Once and Future Goddess
“This strong debut fits well against feminist futuristic, utopic, and dystopic works by the likes of Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Ursula LeGuin, and Margaret Atwood.”—Library Journal
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
She climbed the hill as she had once climbed mountains, one step at a time, planting her stick firmly in front of her and letting it bear her weight as she hoisted herself up. She was ninety-eight years old, born at the midpoint of the twentieth century. Two more years, and she would see the midpoint of the twenty-first. In her day she had climbed many things: Sierran peaks, pyramids, chain-link fences, the way back from despair to hope. And this hill, looming up above the southern corner of the city, rising like a pregnant belly above the green patchwork of houses and gardens and paths and the blue waters of San Francisco Bay. By Goddess, she could still make it up this hill!
Maya stopped to catch her breath. Around her was a moving throng of people, dressed in the greens and golds of the season, gossiping happily or chanting solemnly according to temperament. They carried baskets of offerings: bread and fruit and cheese, fresh vegetables from the gardens.
Below stretched a panorama of sculpted hills crowned by toy houses, cradling the aging skyscrapers that rose from the low ground beside the bay. The city was a mosaic of jewel-like colors set in green, veined by streams and dotted with gleaming ponds and pools. Seen from above, blocks of old row houses defined streets that no longer existed. Instead, bicycles and electric carts and the occasional horse moved through a labyrinth of narrow walkways that snaked and twined through the green. Above the rooftops, gondolas like gaily painted buckets swung from cables, skimming from hilltop to hilltop, moving between high towers where windspinners turned. To the northeast, Maya could see a long train moving across the lower deck of the Bay Bridge, bringing early grain to the central market. Beyond, the blades of the wind generators atop the Golden Gate Bridge seemed suspended in midair, their supports invisible under a gray shroud of fog.
Beautiful, Maya thought. She had adored the city ever since her first glimpse of it in the Summer of Love, more than eighty years before. She had been seventeen then, enchanted by the fog concealing and revealing mysteries like the veils of an exotic dancer, delighted by the crowded streets where people seemed to be perpetually in costume: gypsies, pirates, Indians, sorceresses skipping down the sidewalks to the strains of the Beatles singing “Love, Love, Love.”
You have been my most constant love, she told the city silently. Not monogamous but never unfaithful, sometimes a bit tawdry but never boring. And you haven’t gone and died on me yet, like the others.
“Love is all you need.” The song played in her mind. But the Beatles misled us, she said to the air, thick with the ghosts of her own dead lovers. It wasn’t all we needed. We wanted to love, freely and without barriers. We had to remake the world in order to do it.
Sighing, she continued up the steep incline. The truth is, she admitted, this is a hell of a climb for an old hag like me. I could have spared my strength, let Madrone visit the shrines.
The shrines to the Four Sacred Things encircled the base of the hill at the cardinal directions. Maya had made a laborious circuit. She left seeds of rare herbs at the earth shrine, feathers of seabirds and roosters at the air shrine. At the fire shrine, she gave white sage and black sage and cedar, and at the water shrine, she’d left a jar of rainwater saved from the first storms of the previous autumn.
But Madrone probably wouldn’t have time. I know how it goes, Maya grumbled. She’s probably up to her elbows in blood and vernix, lucky if she can dash up the hill at the last minute. I’m fussy in my old age. An Orthodox Pagan, I like these rituals done right: a leisurely visit to each shrine, a walk up the processional way, time to meditate, contemplate, trance out a bit.…
The path wound its way above the small reservoir dug into the side of the hill. Now she could hear the little stream that tumbled down a sculpted watercourse to feed the gardens along her own street. There were so many more gardens, these days. By necessity, now that the Central Valley farmlands were baked to rock by the heat and the fires.
Look at it! Maya paused again, breathing heavily. The city was a place of riotous flowers and clambering vines and trees, whose boughs were heavy with ripening fruit.
It looks so lush. She took a long, deep breath, then another. You’d think we had plenty of everything, plenty of land, plenty of water. Whereas we’ve simply learned how not to waste, how to use and reuse every drop, how to feed chickens on weeds and ducks on snails and let worms eat the garbage.
We’ve become such artists of unwaste we can almost compensate for the damage. Almost. If we don’t think about the bodies mummifying in mass graves over the East Bay hills. If we ignore the Stewards’ armies that may be gathering, for all we know, just over the border.
Well, we made our choice. She started uphill again. We chose food over weapons, and so here we sit, lovely but as unarmed as the Venus de Milo.
As she neared the crest, the path wound across the west side of the hill. In the distance, she could see Twin Peaks, poking above a patch of fog like two brown breasts sticking out of a milk bath. They reminded her of Johanna.
“You hear that, Johanna? Twin Peaks remind me of your breasts.”
Johanna, dead, did not answer, but thinking of her breasts made Maya think again of Johanna’s granddaughter. Madrone works too hard, Maya thought. All the healers do. But since Sandy’s death, she’s hardly stopped. She’ll be sick herself if she doesn’t get more rest. I wish she’d taken the day off, like she said she would, but then something always comes up.… Goddess, I hope we’re not in for another epidemic! Please, Mama, you wouldn’t do that to us again? We’re on your team, remember? We’re the good guys.
Where was Madrone?
Product details
- Publisher : Bantam (June 1, 1994)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 496 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0553373803
- ISBN-13 : 978-0553373806
- Item Weight : 1.23 pounds
- Dimensions : 6 x 1.2 x 9.2 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #119,360 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #899 in Occult Fiction
- #1,036 in Magical Realism
- #5,775 in Paranormal & Urban Fantasy (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Starhawk is one of the most respected voices in modern Goddess religion and earth-based spirituality. She is the author or coauthor of twelve books, including the classics The Spiral Dance and The Fifth Sacred Thing. Her latest is The Empowerment Manual: A Guide for Collaborative Groups, forthcoming in November 2011.
Her web site is http://starhawk.org, her blog "Dirt Worship is at http://starhawksblog.org, and her Facebook page is http://facebook.com/pages/Starhawk/165408987031?v=wall.
She is a cofounder of Reclaiming, an influential branch of modern Pagan religion http://reclaiming.org.
Starhawk is a veteran of progressive movements, and deeply committed to bringing the techniques and creative power of spirituality to political activism. She travels internationally teaching magic, the tools of ritual, and the skills of activism. She directs and teaches Earth Activist Trainings, http://earthactivisttraining.org, which combine a permaculture design certificate course with a grounding in spirit and a focus on organizing and activism.
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I found Starhawk's text incredibly prophetic, even when I thought it was written in 2005. My admiration tripled when I noticed a publication date of 1993! In 2013, as we face nuclear and toxic poisoning of the Pacific Ocean, a no longer hidden Police State, genetic manipulation, a transhumanist agenda, biological warfare, and increasingly intense weather events -both natural and human-aggravated -- the setting of this novel in 2048 feels rather optimistic.
Once I managed to get a handle on the characters, I found the book difficult to put down. As the narrative continued, I realized that the initial ambiguities and confusion about gender, age and physical markers, actually contribute to and underscore the tale. As readers, we quickly find ourselves overwhelmed in and by a post-collapse world, unsure exactly which collapse triggered which events, but gradually recognizing the effects of long-term trauma and difficult life. Things the 20th and early 21st centuries took for granted have not been available for at least a generation, and the ripple effects of such deprivations reach much further than minor or anticipated inconvenience.
At the same time, we find that some things in this future society function much more harmoniously than in our current one. In the absence of cars, trucks and planes, this culture has compensated for its isolation by cultivating the individual gifts of each member of the community -- art, music, healing, science, cooking, dreaming and psychic defense. Everyone gardens and participates in seasonal rituals, and the society bases itself around the premise that the Four Sacred Things (fire, water, air, earth) are so sacred that they cannot be privately owned. "May you never hunger; may you never thirst" is a phrase used in real-life pagan gatherings, but in "The Fifth Sacred Thing," this concept forms the basis of an entire political system! No one goes hungry, and no one goes without water.
As the plot rolls on, we see just how innovative and special this city's solutions are. Contrast via epic journeys to the Southlands shows us that -- despite the obvious challenges up North in 2048 -- things could be (and are) much worse elsewhere. The characters face horrific trials that force them to question not only their own morals and philosophies, but also the very essence of what it means to be human. Readers with rigid ideas about sexuality, self-defense, magick, religion, medicine, technology, and the occult will likely find themselves extremely challenged as they journey with the characters. Author Starhawk practices the Reclaiming Tradition, which combines one's spirituality with non-violent political activism. Throughout her novel, we witness the effectiveness of non-violent resistance, as well as its limitations. The characters' reactions and struggles force us to evaluate our own fixed ideals, hypocrisy, privilege and irresponsibility. We see on every level how each small action affects the whole of Creation, often in dramatic and unforeseen ways.
I particularly enjoyed all the manifested visualizations, herbal and energetic healing, as well as the key roles played by bees and crystals. Since I have personally made a decision to use magickal self-defense rather than violence should the SHTF, I enjoyed reading about various techniques -- many of which I recognized as real, not fiction. In the acknowledgments, Starhawk confirms how thoroughly she researched this book, including Native teachings, along with actual songs, chants, techniques and rituals.
If you've ever wondered, "What would I do if society collapsed on multiple levels at once? Does it need to be `every man for himself,' or can (must) we find ways to work together in community? Would we really be stronger together than apart? What does magick have to do with a fully functioning human, and how do I access multi-generational healing?" then "The Fifth Sacred Thing" deserves a place on your bookshelf. You will want to read it again and again, tracking your own growth as you face its challenges. If, on the other hand, you prefer to rest in the hazy halls of denial and wish to cling to the patriarchal status quo, then drop this book like a hot potato! You cannot engage "The Fifth Sacred Thing" and remain unchanged.
I warn sensitive readers that in the second half of the book, the graphic details of how humans are treated at the hands of the corporate 1%ers is so awful that you will have trouble sleeping, not because it is so awful, but because it is so current and not just possible be already being done in our world right now. It would only take a little push by the super wealthy for our world to totally devolve into the story Starhawk presents here in The Fifth Sacred Thing.
You will have to read to see how it all ends, and how our current world may soon be. Then, dive right into her third novel - just published - The City of Refuge - where the same characters and story line continues.
But I can say, that even though I have finished reading The Fifth Sacred Thing, I still get nightmares, especially after hearing a news item....
Top reviews from other countries

Be loving
Be fulfilled
Be love
Believe in this shared future of earth
And Act, individually in unity

I've always loved Starhawk's writing (Spiral Dance was one of the first books I read after discovering paganism more than twenty years ago), but this is an amazing novel in its own right, maybe even better (grounded in an ultimate positive spirituality) than Margaret Atwood's amazing Oryx and Crake trilogy.
This book was written back in 1993, but it's the book we need now. It talks of all the issues we face today...infectious epidemics, climate change and ecological breakdowns, recover and regeneration, solarpunk and spirituality, and most of all the age old choice between violence and non violence. It's not always easy at times... it shows us where we could be three decades from now, depending on the choices we make today. And it shows us how hard it may be to resist those who would choose the path of violence. But ultimately, it gives me hope.

Do not hesitate and give it a try. Worth it!
P.S. Have in mind that there are three volumnes and this is the first. The second is "Walking to Mercury" and the last one is "City of Refuge". Enjoy!

