Culture Blogs


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Culture Blogs

Popular subjects in contemporary Pagan culture and practice.

Category contains 2 blog entries contributed to teamblogs

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Greenways

i.

They call them the greenways.

They're prehistoric trackways that thread their way across the landscape. The famous Ridgeway, which follows the line of ridges across the heart of southern England, is said to be more than 5000 years old. It is part of the old Icknield Way, named for the Keltic Iceni tribe of more than 2000 years ago. (Boudicca was queen of the Iceni.)

In fact, such greenways exist all over the world. I live just a few feet from one myself.

These days Lake Street isn't very green. It looks pretty much like any four-lane main drag in America, lined with mom-pop eateries (where these days you can get tripe soup, corn fungus tacos, and whole roast guinea pig), convenience stores, and halal groceries.

But beneath the pavement runs the old Indian trail that led from the Dakota summer village on Bde Maka Ska ("White Earth Lake," latterly known as Lake Calhoun) down to the Mississippi. The old tracks often lead to water.

The greenways were the true ley-lines of old. Beneath the asphalt, they still pulse with ancient power.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

I was at Pagan Spirit Gathering until last Sunday. My dear sisters, Star and Gl/oriana, made a perfect encampment, one that became filled with love and laughter. The smell of good coffee drew our kindred from Tuatha Dea most every day, beginning the days with so much kindness and fun.

It was very hot. Southern Illinois in June was dusty and humid. The field where all my classes were held was soon dubbed the Serengeti. Shuttles were our chariots to the stage or the barn where I had my meals or the shower truck where I had infrequent doses of water over my too-pale body.

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b2ap3_thumbnail_ellie-jordan.jpg

Title: Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper

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  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    Sounds like it would make good source material for the Geist roleplaying game; formerly by White Wolf, now by Onyx Path. I'll try
Gods Turn Up In the Strangest Places

You know, gods turn up in the strangest places.

There I'll be, stopped at a light, thinking wholly unsacred thoughts.

And then I'll look up and there He'll be, looking me straight in the eye: the Ram that Walks on Two Legs. The Guy with the Horns. Giving me that Speaking Look.

Like they do.

Now the fact that a decidedly unsacred American auto manufacturer should choose the Ram ("You are a ram, lord, greatly to be praised") as its—shall I say—sigil for a popular model makes this neither an unlikely experience, nor (one might think) a particularly sacred one.

And yet. And yet.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Let It Bloom

I was a professional barista in my past life.*  My job was more than just an after school or part-time college gig, and I was far more competent than those who steam milk into huge soap suds, who pull watery and weak shots of espresso, and who pump drinks full of syrup and sugar.  I was bona fide.   I had been trained by the best, award winning baristas in the area.  I read all of the latest coffee trade news and gossip.  I worked 40+ hours a week.  My cappuccinos were crafted to such perfection that all of the Italians in town would come flocking to the shop, bringing with them their friends and family visiting from Europe.  “The best cappuccino in town,” they’d say, as I poured the perfect micro-foam in the shape of delicate hearts, tulips, swans, or rosettas.  I went to trade shows, conferences, and competitions.  I had a job with benefits.  I was a professional.

But those days are far, far behind me.  I’m proud of my barista skills and training, but I am relieved that I no longer have to bust my butt for rude customers, demanding management, and lazy coworkers.  I don’t smell like milk or coffee grounds, and my arms aren’t dotted with burns or rashes from constant exposure to scalding hot machines or water.  It’s been years since I’ve slung espresso.  Much to my consternation, however, when I’m feeling particularly anxious or dealing with an especially troubling conundrum, my unconscious and dreaming mind often returns me to coffee shops and cafes.  In my dream worlds, coffee has become a literal manifestation of my anxiety.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Moon by Day

I ran into the goddess yesterday. At the farmers' market, no less.

You know how it feels when you suddenly see the face of a friend in an unexpected place? The surprise, the delight?

That's just what it was like.

Heading back to the car with my bags of baby beets, new peas, and the season's first daikons, I looked up and lo! there she was, low in the southwestern sky.

The Moon, approaching her setting, now in the 21st day of her lunation: sun-washed and pale as a cloud.

But no cloud she. Oh no.

The Moon surprises us. We think of her as Lady of Night, but the night cannot contain her. She wanders at will wheresoever she please, ruled by her own inner life. The all-seeing Sun sees what is done by day, but the wandering Moon knows the secrets of both day and night.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Right to Gay Life

Human fetus (male), 12 weeks

Already fantasizing about other male fetuses

 

Queerness begins at the moment of conception.

 

Support the right to love.

 

Happy Pride!

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  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    They say that the day they discover the "gay gene" is the day pro-lifers start voting pro-choice.

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