Culture Blogs


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Culture Blogs

Popular subjects in contemporary Pagan culture and practice.

Category contains 2 blog entries contributed to teamblogs

 Union Bay Watch : An Eagle's IQ

 

Waiting for the light to change at 35th and Park, I see an eagle fly over.

My first thought (as always when I see an eagle): Gods, that's a big bird.

My second thought (craning my neck to see): It is an eagle!

My heart leaps up inside me, as it always does. I open my mouth to begin the song that you sing when you see an eagle; then I close it again, without singing.

Whatever that song may be, I don't know it.

That there should be a song that you sing when you see an eagle—an honor song, a song of soaring greeting—seemed to me in that moment, as it has ever since, utterly obvious.

That our people once had such a song also seemed—and seems—to me to go without saying.

Alas that so much has been taken away; alas that so much has been lost.

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  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    The only song that comes to mind is America the Beautiful. There should be a special song to sing when seeing an eagle but I'm no
Earthy Luv: Virgo Full Moon Soul Reading, Meditation + Astro Tips

Dear Moon Muser, This month I was guided to create a Virgo Full Moon meditation audio recording plus pull some oracle cards from my hand painted decks which I’ve shared in the image within. May you be guided, healed and blessed by this reading.

Virgo Full Moon Guided Meditation Audio Reading

Join me for a 30 minute Virgo Full Moon Guided Meditation. Get practical, earthy and intuitive - tips to make a difference!

- Virgo Channeled Meditation
- Create a sacred circle in tune with the elements
- Channeled oracle reading with my hand painted decks
- Bring your seeds of intention to fruition
- Be of service to others and self
- Create and add to your spiritual tool bag
- Astro tips for the month/year ahead

...
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Under a Waxing Moon

When the first narrow crescent of the waxing moon appears in the twilight sky, place a green candle beside a white lily or freesia. White flowers have the most intense aromas. Anoint the candle with tuberose or rose oil. Take a handful of seeds, such as sunflower, walnuts, or pistachios, still in their shells, and place them in front of the candle.

Close your eyes and recite aloud:

...
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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

In the glyptic art of ancient Northwestern Europe, each of the Old Gods and Goddesses—the gods of “Nature,” who Were before we were and Will Be after we are gone—had his or her own glyph, or symbol. (In the Old Language of the Witches, this was called a tácen or, as we would say today, a token.)

Sun, of course, has a Sun Wheel, shown above.

Moon's, of course, is the Crescent:

 

Fire's symbol is the Fylfot,

 

 

Thunder's, interestingly, the compound Fylfot (shown here in one of many variants),

 

and Earth's, of course, her sacred Delta:

 

But what about the Winds?

Unlike the other Old Powers, the Winds are invisible gods, with no obvious visual representation. How do you draw a picture of the Wind?

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Lucky 13 Waxing Moon Spell

Your altar is the heart center of your home, your sanctuary. Yet the world is constantly coming in and bringing mundane energy over your threshold—problems at the workplace, financial woes, bad news from your neighborhood or the world at large. All this negativity wants to get in the way and stay. While you can’t do anything about the stock market crash in China or a coworker’s divorce, do not allow this bad energy to cling to you. Instead, you can do something about it with a homekeeping spell. The best times to release any and all bad luck is on a Friday the 13th or on any waxing moon. As you know, Friday the 13th is considered a lucky day on the witch’s calendar.

Get a big black candle and a black crystal, a piece of white paper, a black pen with black ink and a cancellation stamp, readily available at any stationery store. Go into your backyard or a nearby park or woodlands and find a flat rock that has a slightly concave surface.

...
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In Which Our Intrepid Blogger Delivers a Warning

 

The old election sign by the side of the road once read

BERNIE

2020

but, bent by the weight of the wet, heavy February snow, it now reads instead

      RNIE

2020  

Naturally, as I drive by, my witch's eye automatically reads

HORNIE

2020


Old Hornie for President? I find myself thinking. F*ck, I'd vote for Him any day of the Moon.

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  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Good riddance to bad rubbish.
  • Kile Martz
    Kile Martz says #
    The snow, like the truth, has been burying the most stubborn of Trump signs still scattered around our village.

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

How to Make Great Dirt | St Anthony Village, MN

 

Here in the Minneapolis, there actually used to be an ordinance against composting. The law-makers, reportedly, were worried about drawing vermin. Tell it to the neighborhood cats that regularly patrol my yard.

That, of course, didn't stop me. Starting the compost heap was one of the first things that I did after we moved in.

I'm a pagan: Earth is my religion. I don't throw away food. Telling me that I can't compost is an abridgment of my free exercise of religion.

A few years later, I started a second heap. You always want to have two compost heaps going at any given time: one to ripen, one to feed.

Digging up the ripened compost is invariably a wonder. You put in apple cores, tea leaves, and carrot peelings. A few years later, voilà, the scraps are all gone and instead you take out the richest, darkest, soil you ever saw: so chocolatey-rich, it looks like you could just take a bite out of it, as is.

Really, there's the whole pagan story, right there.

When we first moved in, the soil of what's now the garden—at the time it was lawn—was flush with the garden walk. Now, some 35 years later, the surface of the garden is all of two inches higher than the pavement. That's what happens when you feed the soil.

Every few days, I take the compost bucket out and empty it. I don't generate enough food waste to keep the heap active through the kinds of winters that we get here in southern Minnesota, so over the winter—barring what the squirrels get—the compost just heaps up into a frozen mound.

But one day not long from now, I'll go out with my bucket to find that the ice barrow is no more. Around here, there's no surer sign of Spring than compost collapse.

Eventually the folks down at City Hall wised up and rescinded the ban, and instead began to actively promote backyard composting. Finally, some years back, they instituted a city-wide composting program.

So now every few weeks I take out the kind of compostables that a small operation like mine won't sustain—the egg cartons, the used paper towels, the pizza boxes—and put them into the bin in the alley.

No way they're getting any of my food scraps, though.

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