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.
Everything I Know About Paganism, I Learned from Lake Erie
In those days, I didn't know how to be pagan.
Lake Erie taught me how.
When you live near a large body of water (“large” meaning you can't see to the other side), life is relationship. You come to know the Lake as individual. You come to understand that it's not just a thing: it's a Being.
This Being, vast, becomes intrinsic to your thought-world. Consciously or not, on some level it becomes a constant Presence.
Even cowans feel it.
But for pagans, this is religion. Relation is its essence.
Earth, Sun, Thunder, Fire, Wind, River, Lake: to These Mighty Beings, we say You.
This is our paganism.
So the Mighty Water taught me.
O Erie, Lake so mightily ill-used: to You, to the end of my days, my thanks and praise.
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