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.
The Only Real Pagans in America?
I was telling a friend about our Yule when she stopped me.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Do you seriously mean to tell me that you guys actually have a special dance that you do in honor of the plum pudding?”
“Sure,” I said. “There's a song, too; they go together.”
She laughed.
“I swear,” she said. “You guys are the only real pagans in America.”
She was joking, of course. Thank Goddess, there are lots of real pagans in America, not to mention everywhere else. The longer that we do this, the realer—by which I mean the more authentic—we become. Such is the magic power of time.
Still, I take her point.
Sure, and I love her for saying it.
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