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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Stag Rune

Take a look at Robert Lentz's striking 1985 icon of the Horned God, Lord of the Dance.

Take a close look.

Specifically, check out the hands and feet.

Yes, folks, he's been crucified.

This is Jesus as the Horned God.

Now that I call ballsy.

So often when we hear of the Old Ways and the New, it's about opposition.

But we have it from the ancestors that the Horned can ride anyone. Anyone.

I saw this last summer at the famed red-rock Jeffers petroglyphs in south-central Minnesota. Pecked into the Sioux quartzite there, many wear the horns: Man. Serpent. Turtle.

Indeed, he rideth whom he willeth.

You. Me.

Anyone.

Stag Rune

 
Stag run through with a spear,

Stag hung from a tree,

Stag strung up to bleed:

Glory, lord, to thee.

 

For RR

 

 

 

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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.

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