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“It's colder than a witch's tit out there,” said the new arrival, closing the door.

If somebody else had said it, it would have been offensive.

In a roomful of witches—most of us already naked for the evening's ritual—it's high-context in-group humor instead.

The high priestess tucks her hand under her breast and looks thoughtful.

When's the last time that you went out of your way for the gods?

Hospitality, Courage, Generosity: even in our times of political incivility and social dissolution, we find these ancestral virtues admirable.

Piety, not so much.

Piety: making the gods a priority in your life.

Piety is a little-valued virtue in our day. When you look at the way that many supposedly pious people act, one can certainly see why we've come to view piety as ostentatious, restrictive hyper-religiosity.

But the ancestors felt differently. For them, piety was among the foremost of virtues.

Representative:

I don't know whether or not you follow the series Game of Thrones.

Regardless, you should know that we're going to rebuild the Wall.

And we're going to get the White Walkers to pay for it.

Back when I was trying to figure out my tastes, I would compare pictures of men.

OK, which one do you find more attractive?

Then the harder question.

Why?

One of the things that I learned about myself is that I really like guys that smile.

One of the things that I learned about Americans while traveling abroad was that Americans smile a lot. As a people, that says something about us.

I smile a lot myself. Hey, I've waited tables; my waiter's smile has had miles of practice. When you read to others as different—and when you look at me, you tend to think “gay” right away—a smile is a useful tool.

Call me a Philistine if you like (see if I care), but when it comes to ancient Greek art, I've always prefered Archaic to Classical. Classical art I admire; Archaic art I love.

Some of it is a matter of relationality, to be sure. Perfection is cold. But stylization, the schematic, simultaneously creates a distance and bridges that distance. Beholding it—by which I mean participatory seeing—you sense essence.

And then, of course, there's that mysterious smile—it's even known as the Archaic Smile—that plays about the lips of Archaic figures like a flickering flame. What are they smiling about? you want to ask. What do they know that I don't?

Brand spanking new.

A curious expression, certainly: what does one have to do with the other?

In fact, it's birth imagery. Birth imagery? you might think.

Ah, but this was birth the cowan way.

Back in the Bad Old Days of the Cowan Era (CE), it was customary to hold newborn babies upside-down by their feet and give them a good, solid swat on the behind. Supposedly, this was to get the newborn to take its first breath.

In fact, of course, most newborns breathe automatically, and for those that don't, there are much less violent methods available.

But for cowans, the gesture held deep meaning. At the very moment of birth, it subjected the newly-born to the life of indignity, violence, and subjugation that most people then could expect to live.

Hey you: witch.

How many nipples do you have?

Back in the Bad Old Days, the received wisdom was that witches have more than two. That's so we can suckle our imps.

Those of us with a Classical education, of course, think immediately of Diana of Ephesus, goddess of witches, with her ample endowments (polymasteia: the state of having many breasts). Of course, Many-breasted Earth feeds us all to this very day.

But I highly doubt that that's what the witch-finders had in mind. Humans have two nipples, animals have many. It's a comment on the witch's intrinsically bestial nature.

You've heard of skyclad, ritual nudity.

But that's only one of many options.

Sty-clad: dirty

Spy-clad: wearing sunglasses and a trenchcoat

Shy-clad: dressed to cover