PaganSquare


PaganSquare is a community blog space where Pagans can discuss topics relevant to the life and spiritual practice of all Pagans.

  • Home
    Home This is where you can find all the blog posts throughout the site.
  • Tags
    Tags Displays a list of tags that have been used in the blog.
  • Bloggers
    Bloggers Search for your favorite blogger from this site.
  • Login
    Login Login form
Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in Driftless

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Enough, or Wouldst Thou Know More?

Why are there so many witches in the Driftless?

Not hard.

Here, long ago, in ages of ages, and yesterday, the Horned, god of witches, fell like a star from Heaven.

Here he fell to Earth.

Bearing the Fire of the Gods, he landed here on the Mountain that stands in the River Mississippi: one of the Nine Sacred Mountains of the Driftless, the mountain-island known as Black Mountain, Rattlesnake Island, and Trempealeau; called by the Dakota, First People, Bluff-in-the-Water.

There, on top, you may see the imprint of his Hoof to this day, deep-scored in the rock.

There we still gather in immemorial sabbat. Here, in our day, was reborn the legendary witches' sabbat, in all its old terror and weird beauty.

Since when is this Inland Island, the Driftless Land, Witch Country forever.

Last modified on
Witch Island, or: Stands-in-the-Water

The way they tell it, Him that we call the Horned came down from heaven. Like a star he came down.

He came down to bring us Fire.

They say he looked down and saw that the People were cold and hungry, and in darkness, so he brought us the Fire of the gods. Like lightning he fell from heaven, or a star.

And that's where he landed: the Mountain that stands in the Mississippi.

Hay-nee-ah-chah, the Indians called it (that would be the Ho-Chunk): “soaking mountain,” and Pah-hah-dah, “moved mountain” (that's the Dakota). Trempealeau, the Frenchies named it, le montagne qui trempe à l'eau: the mountain that wades in the water.

Stands-in-the-Water, they call it, or the Black Mountain, because it's dark with oaks and maples.

(There's rattlesnakes out there, they say, to guard it.)

They call it the Sabbat Mount.

Nobody goes out there much, except for kids. Well, Indians too. There's mounds out there, if you know where to look for them, old mounds, some of them shaped like birds, or deer.

Well, and witches, of course.

Ever since he came down, that's been Witch Country down there, the Driftless. Witches all over. That's where they go for their jamborees, the witches, out to the Mountain that stands in the River.

You've seen the fires burning out there at night, and heard the drums. So have I.

Last modified on
The Silver Beaker: An American Faerie Story

Up around Westby, they say, there was a wedding one day, and the bride, she steps out for a breath of air, being a touch winded from the dancing and all.

Out she goes in her finery and her wedding crown and, it being a fair day, she walks a bit, and doesn't she hear more music, coming from over the fields, so she walks on over, and sees that it's coming from a little green hill.

...
Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Of Hill-Fog and Gold Nuggets

The truly surprising thing about most "Witchsploitation" is that, buried under all the sewage of misinformation, you'll often find one gleaming nugget of pure gold.

In Howard Richardson and William Berney's popular 1944 stageplay Dark of the Moon, Witch-boy meets Cowan-girl. For Cowan-girl, Witch-boy gives up the Craft, or tries to.

In the end, of course, things don't work out. If your partner wanted you to give up the Craft for him or her, would you do it? Could you do it?

Witches, you see, aren't like “humans.” We don't have souls. We live for 300 years, but then we turn into “nothin' but mountain fog,” and hover around the hills forever.

On a recent trip down into the “hills and hollows” of the Midwest's Driftless Area, I had occasion to watch the little hill-fogs among the changing leaves.

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Rites of Autumn

I asked a friend what family wisdom he felt he'd inherited from his ancestors.

“Work hard and live frugally,” he said. “And when times are good, set aside a little something for when they're not; for hard times will certainly come.”

Well, it's October in Minnesota, and that means that hard times are certainly on the way.

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Raising the Bull Stone

Why do they call it the Bull Stone?

Not difficult.

There's a golden bull buried underneath. That's why they call it the Bull Stone.

Well, that's what they say.

 

Recently the warlocks converged on Sweetwood Temenos in the heart of America's Witch Country, among the hollow hills of the Midwest's Driftless Area, to site the shrine that we'd like to build there.

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Secret Heart of Witchdom

Deep in the heart of every modern pagan lives the longing for the Pagan Place, where the old fires burn undiminished.

For 13 years, here among the hollow hills of the Midwestern US's Driftless Area, for one week a year, the mists would part, and we would enter into that place, the secret heart of Witchdom.

We called it Avalon.

In 1995, priestess Lhianna Sidhe dreamed of a gathering where those of deep experience in, and dedication to, the Craft could come together and collectively Turn the Wheel.

And turn it we did.

Last modified on

Additional information