PaganSquare.com - WitchesAndPagans.com PaganSquare is a community blog space where Pagans can discuss topics relevant to the life and spiritual practice of all Pagans.
I
Caput apri defero
reddens laudes Domino
“A boar's head I bear,
rendering praises to the Lord.”
English, 15th century
II
...cum ingenti Priapo
“...with a huge 'Priapus' [= erection]”
Adam of Bremen, Gesta Hammaburgensis (ca. 1080)
Description of the idol of Freyr [“the Lord”] in the Great Temple at Uppsala
III
I didn't work for almost a year after I got back from the UK, so money was tight. When Yule rolled around, I had to get creative.
(In retrospect, I have to say that that was one of the happiest years of my life, though I lived pretty much exclusively on beans and rice, and vegetables from the garden.)
Fortunately, my friend Robin—who has (among other things) the distinction of having been the very first Robin in a community of many Robins—was (and is) a big-time Terry Pratchett fan.
Now, those of you who know Pratchett's work will know that Hogswatch is the Discworld equivalent of...well, Yule. So on the Eve of Hogswatch, during the day while she was off at work, I recorded the first of my Hogswatch gifts that year on her phone machine.
Hogswatch is coming, the goose is getting fat...
The next day, I recorded the second.
We wish you a happy Hogswatch...
The next day, the third.
I'm dreaming of a white Hogswatch...
Every day for thirteen days she got another Hogswatch carol. Some, of course, were better than others.
Up on the rooftop, piggy trotters:
out jumps the jolly old Haw-awgfather...
(Personally, I think that this one counts as an improvement on the original. Reindeer don't have paws....)
On the thirteenth and last day of Hogswatch, of course, she got that old classic:
On the Last Day of Hogswatch, my true love gave to me...
Needless to say, I only sang the last verse.
As you walk into your bedroom, the relationship corner will be at the far right in the back right corner. Your love and sex energy will be nurtured there, and you might well consider placing your altar there to serve as your personal wellspring of Eros.
Look at this area with a fresh eye—what is cluttering your love corner with “dead energy”? Half- empty perfume bottles or near-empty cosmetic bottles could be impairing your relationship energy. You must cleanse your space of unhappiness and clear the area of clutter by getting rid of all unnecessary objects and tidying up. To further cleanse the area, ring a hand bell anywhere clutter has accumulated, giving special attention to your bed linens.
When, some dark December night, the Mother Berhta Guerilla Wassailers' Guild comes to your doorstep, we like—after some carols and, hopefully, a little proffered liquid refreshment—to sing a blessing on the house before we leave. In many ways, that's the point of the whole exercise.
Often we end with the traditional quête song The King. (You can hear Loreena McKennit's elegantly understated version here.)
As we sing it, the final verse changes depending on just when in Wassailing Season we are.
Before Yule:
Bold Yuletide comes fast:
Thirteenth Night is the last.
So we bid you adieux:
great joy to the new.
During the Yuledays:
Bold Yuletide is here,
the Crown of the Year....
On Thirteenth Night:
Bold Yuletide is past:
Thirteenth Night is the last....
Ugh, putting the lights on the tree: my most unfavorite holiday task.
Well, Yule is coming, and there's much to be done. So: would I rather light the tree or make the date paste?
(It wouldn't be Yule without date bars.)
I make the date paste.
OK: would I rather light the tree or vacuum the house?
I vacuum.
OK: would I rather light the tree or mop the kitchen floor?
I mop.
OK: would I rather light the tree or write out the cards?
I write out the cards.
So it goes. By not lighting the tree, I manage to get an entire day's worth of work out of myself.
In the end, having done everything else that needs to be done—it's too soon to start the baking—I put the lights on the bloody tree, just to get it over with.
Leaf through a catalogue or stroll down an aisle in your local retail giant, and you'll have no trouble whatsoever identifying the 2025 holiday season's Theme-of-the-Year.
It's the Year of the Magic Mushroom.
Redcaps. Fly Agarics. Amanita Muscaria.
Ornaments. Plush toys. Hats.
(Plush toys? Seriously?)
Hel-lo?
Um, folks: they're hallucinogenic.
Um, folks: they're potentially toxic.
Yes, they're eye-catching.
Yes, they're colorful.
Yes, they're considered a symbol of good luck throughout the German-speaking world. (Make of that what you will.)
Yes, reindeer eat them.
Yes, shamans eat them.
Yes, their hallucinogenic alkaloids concentrate in the urine of the user.
Ho, ho, ho.
Agarics: drug-of-choice of Old World shamans. They grow here in the New World, too.
Though I've heard rumors of redcap use in the medicine lodges of the Anishinabe, the fact is that the Americas are home to lots and lots of kinder, gentler hallucinogens, thank you very much.
No need for urine-drinking, either.
(I once heard an interviewee deny that he was a shaman on the grounds that he'd never taken amanita muscaria. No more have I, but then, I don't claim to be a shaman either, unless “warlock” is how you say “shaman” in Witch.)
The natural world, and informed, hands-on knowledge thereof, continues to recede ever farther in our cultural rear-view mirror.
Anoint your bed with this special charm:
Red cup or gothic goblet
...
