You slip between the folds
of time and memory
Soft black velvet enveloping
the soul of Desire.
You stare back with
cold star-lit eyes
twinkling like diamonds
in the black tapestry of night.
PaganSquare
PaganSquare is a community blog space where Pagans can discuss topics relevant to the life and spiritual practice of all Pagans.
Recent blog posts
At Beltane, we raise the Bull Stone.
How, you ask, did we manage to get a ton of local limestone from the wall of the coulee (ravine), across the bed of the coulee itself, and all the way up the hill to where it now lies?
Not difficult.
The Witch sat at the top of the slope and Sang the Stone up.
Really. She Sang, and the Stone just—as it were—floated up the hill. Call it levitation.
I, Steven of Prodea, tell you this, and I know it to be true because I was there, and saw it happen myself.
Painting by Autumn Skye Morrison
The air is full and heavy this time of the year as the veils thin and the spirits walk among us… some offering guidance and assistance and others being mischievous and stirring up an already potent mix of energy trouble. There is a distinct and growing crispness to the air as the weather offers a preview of what to expect in the coming winter months, and leaves crackle underfoot reminding us that summer’s moisture has given way and the dryness of death is near. As a Witch, the changing of each of the seasons echoes through my body and in response my perceptions and attitudes about what each change will bring sharpens and narrows to an intentional and purposeful focus. In particular, Samhain hangs heavy in my thoughts and the opportunity to reach a little deeper into my own state of mortality and transformation looms large.
Each year at this time, I make a silent commitment to being more fully present and alive in my daily activities. This is, in large, my antidote to feeling the pall of death and an active reminder that this state of manifest, physical life will follow the natural order of things and return to the finer state of a non corporeal vessel. Food takes on a deeper level of enjoyment. Family is drawn closer and self-care takes priority over spreading myself too thin. Long walks surrounded by the beauty of Fall exercise my physical body and stimulate and open my senses in a broader way........
...
A murder of crows.
A pride of lions.
A coven of witches.
Having originated in hunting terminology, such nomina collectivitatis are known technically as “venereal terms.”
So what's the venereal term for a group of warlocks?
The Warlocks of the Driftless have bruited a number of possibilities.
Dark: a clot of warlocks. (Warlock-magic not infrequently involves blood.)
Eerie: a quantum of warlocks.
Erotic: a tumescence of warlocks. (Warlockry being quintessentially men's magic.)
When the Witchcraft Act was repealed in 1951, people started to come out of the broom closet. Gerald Gardner was one of the first, who was mentioned earlier. Gardner was the one who came up with the word, Wica, to denote his spiritual path.
Naturism was a big fashion in the 1920s and 30s, and Gerald was a naturist (hence the skyclad part of his particular tradition of witchcraft). There was even a naturist camp that opened up near his home. He became involved in the Rosicrucian Theatre, and later came across Masonic (Fellowship of Crotona) practices and the work of Margaret Murray, which he incorporated into his ideas for this spiritual path. With the help of Alistair Crowley, he came up with beautiful poetry for his tradition, which was also a contentious point for one of Gardener’s High Priestesses, the aforementioned Doreen Valiente. Gardener created the witch tradition that he was seeking, and Valiente wrote it down eloquently and made sense of it all.[1]
...
In heathen mythology, the first self aware being was Audhumla, the sacred cow. She licked the gods and giants out of the ice and nurtured them with her milk.
...
Funny, the things you hear coming out of your own mouth.
Just before sunrise, looking west for traffic as I cross 31st Street, I see her, hovering there over the horizon: what seemed at the time to be just about the hugest Full Moon I'd ever seen.
My reaction surprises me.
“Blessed be!” I say out loud.
It was both a reaction of surprise, and a blessing. It was, likewise, a greeting to Herself. What most delighted me about my spontaneous little ejaculation was its utterly un-self-consciousness nature.
Pagan language, when used in everyday settings, can sometimes seem a little forced, as if we're trying too hard.
But then, suddenly, there you are. You see a beautiful, big Moon where you're not expecting her, and the words gush forth like water from a spring.
