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 Scarlet Letter
Oh gods, not again.
Yet another neophyte wants me to know all about visions seen, psychic experiences had, predictions made that came true just as she said.
Sigh. Aînesse oblige, says a friend of mine: Elderhood obligates.
It's what anthropologists call “credibility-establishing narrative,” and in the free-wheeling world that is the pagan community, we all have our own. But there's narrative and narrative. Funny how the very act of establishing that you're not a newbie can in fact signal exactly the opposite. Once you start in, you might as well just brand a big, red N on your forehead.
My dear beginner, look around the room. Do you know where you are? You're not in Cowanistan any more. What made you special there is normative here. Everyone in this room has had experiences like yours, and mostly we don't talk about them in front of strangers. These things (when they're real) are gifts, intimate, like sexual experiences: to be treasured, shared, if at all, with care, not (for the most part) for general consumption.
It's an elder's job to listen, so I do. If she had questions, I would try to answer them, but she's still too raw for that; she's too busy having answers. When she finally pauses for breath, I try to be gentle.
After all, these things must be done delicately.
Or you hurt the spell.
Comments
-
Please login first in order for you to submit comments
I'm sorry, but I can't help but think of Sarah A Lawless. Every time a friend shares her posts, I feel this pain.