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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The God You Rode In On

My friend Sirius is Kemetic. I call him my “effete shaveling.” He calls me his “vile Asiatic.” We get along just fine.

Sirius works at a hospital. He's completely out to his co-workers there.

The hospital chaplain began to tease him.

“How's Ra workin' for you?” he'd say.

Me, I was furious when I heard about this. Issues of professionalism aside: well, just consider.

Ra: the Sun, that massive and ineffable star of heartbreaking beauty and profundity around which our lives literally revolve, without which we would not, and could not, even exist.

Then there's the chaplain's god: some dead Jewish guy who's basically (let's be frank) a fictional character.

Really, I ask you: just who should be making fun of whom here?

But Sirius, bless him, is more even-tempered than I am, and utterly unflappable.

“And the god you rode in on, padre,” he tells the chaplain, smiling.

 

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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.

Comments

  • Murphy Pizza
    Murphy Pizza Sunday, 10 February 2019

    I love it!!:D

  • Kile Martz
    Kile Martz Monday, 11 February 2019

    Ra, like the other real gods is dutiful and supportive. He comes up each day to warm the earth, unconcerned about want or need. The god of my father and grandfather must be called to act. He sits around on his enormous ego until a real crisis has developed. Then, and only then, might he intervene. No wonder he inspires mostly fear. You must be afeared that he might not, in the end, even show up.

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