Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Steven Posch

Steven Posch

Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Master-in-Green

They say that he's god of women, and the artists show him naked amid the women's pulsing dance.

Verdelet, the witches named him: the Master-in-Green.

He's green.

(They say that in the old days they greened him with copper and ground malachite.)

There's a shaggy crown of leaves bound round his head, and leafy ruffs at his wrists and ankles as well. He rustles when he moves. He's the Green.

Green lord of chlorophyll, twin to the blood lord of beasts: like his brother, both wild and tame. Of the two, he's the rooted, the calm one, the peaceful, the thinker of long thoughts.

Don't be fooled.

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Recent comment in this post - Show all comments
  • Aline "Macha" O'Brien
    Aline "Macha" O'Brien says #
    Moving and beautiful! Thanks.
Earth and Her Two Husbands: A Folk-Tale of the Latter-Day Hwicce

Well now, Earth had a dilemma on her hands, and no mistake.

Two she loved, and how to choose between them?

Sun: so beautiful, so steady, him of the piercing insight.

And Thunder: so passionate and irascible, so wild and unpredictable.

And how to choose between the two?

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A Midsummer Invocation to Earth and Her Two Husbands

(Horn)

Let us lift up our hands.

 

On this Midsummer's Day

I call to Earth, mighty mother of us all,

and I ask that through the summer to come

our gardens may bear abundantly,

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Does the Catholic chaplain use wine at mass? How is that different?
  • Aline "Macha" O'Brien
    Aline "Macha" O'Brien says #
    I wish I'd had this before I went to San Quentin on Saturday. Of course, we can have neither horn nor libation; we could use wate

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Feel the Pour

It's one of the older conundrums in the ritualist's book.

You're pouring at a public ritual. You've brought the libation. You paid for it, so the other attendees have no investment, no personal stake in it.

How, then, do you get them to feel the pour?

Here's my recommendation: beautiful as it is, leave grandma's silver libation ewer at home.

Pour straight from the bottle.

And pour out the whole thing.

Every last drop.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Every system of thought has its own inherent flaws. That's why we have to keep changing.
  • Tony Lima
    Tony Lima says #
    Who can provide realistic technical knowledge in Paganism? Me! The biggest problem in old paganism was in pointless fears, and big
  • Tony Lima
    Tony Lima says #
    Paganism in its rightful way under scientific knowledge at large, is probably better than Christianity.

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Heart of the Storm

It may well be my first memory.

I'm laying in the dark screaming, terrified of the thunder that has wakened me. My father comes into the room and scoops me up into his arms.

We're moving. I distinctly remember passing from the darkness of the hall into the light of the kitchen. My mother is saying: Russell, what are you doing? Russell, what are you doing?

He carries me out the back door. Rain is sluicing down. We both must have been soaked through immediately, though I don't remember noticing. Out we go, into the heart of the storm.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    It's a date.
  • Aline "Macha" O'Brien
    Aline "Macha" O'Brien says #
    I remember dancing and playing in the warm Summer rains in NJ, but not when there was lightning. Our collie used to cower in fear
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Yikes. Doesn't know His own strength.
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    We had a squall line of thunderstorms blow through here last Thursday. It lest as much damage as some of the hurricanes have. So
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    We've just had a line of destructive storms roll through to the north of us, with (yikes) apple-sized hail. Even in the city, wher
Kick-Ass Traditional Scandinavian Midsummer's Recipe

By Midsummer's, the garden is really starting to kick in and feed us. There on the traditional Scandinavian Midsummer's Eve table, along with the caraway cheese, the deviled eggs, the new potatoes and dill, the cucumbers in sour cream, the roasted baby beets, and the strawberry-rhubarb pie, is this absolutely stunning puree of asparagus and fresh garden peas: the very essence of green life.

If ever you've wondered what Midsummer's tastes like, this is it.

 

Green Pea-Asparagus Puree

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Night on Witches' Hill

The cop car careens up into the park, right over the grass. It slams to a stop; two doors fly open simultaneously and a cop leaps out of each one, hands on holsters, poised and ready to go.

Welcome to our Midsummer's Eve.

There we were, up on the highest hill in the metropagan area: us and folks from our sister coven. We'd decked ourselves and the picnic tables with oak leaves. We'd sung the songs, danced the dances, and shared the feast of new foods.

Now it's sunset, and everyone's gone up to the top of the hill to bid farewell to the Sun at its latest setting of the year.

Except for me. Here's old Uncle Steve, right in character, down in the park running around with the kids. There's even one sitting on my shoulders.

I don't know what the cops were expecting. Something nefarious, I suppose. Something occult. Black hooded robes and a virgin in a white gown.

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