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.

  • 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

How Was Grand Sabbat This Year?

“So, how was Grand Sabbat this year?” asked my friend.

Funny. I organized the event (Thursday through Monday, with the Sabbat itself on Saturday night), also acting as chief priest and thus, in effect, host of the gathering. At the Sabbat itself, I served as personifying priest.

All of which makes me the least qualified person to tell you how things went.

I've seen inexperienced priests go into a ritual expecting (and sometimes achieving) profound states of spiritual ecstasis. They think that it's all about what they're feeling. If they can manage to get themselves into the zone, presumably the rest of us will groove along with them.

They've got it all wrong.

Of all the people at any given ritual, the one whose experience is the least important is the priest.

So, as to the Sabbat, I can only tell you what other people said.

(Several said, “Best yet.” But, of course, people always say that. Which is the best Grand Sabbat? The one we're at, of course.)

As for the Sabbat itself, as personifying priest, I'm not qualified to judge because (in a sense) I wasn't even there—at least, not in propria persona.

Here's what I can tell you. The Sabbat reembodies the creation of the Tribe of Witches. It doesn't just reenact the Primal Sacrifice out of which the world arose, it makes present the Sacrifice. So it did this year, and did it well.

We're always careful not to schedule anything official for Sunday, so as to leave time for the recreated Tribe just to be.

And so it was this year, doing the things that tribes always do, the things that people always do: eating together, drinking, talking, laughing, singing, dancing, socializing.

“I hear it was good,” I tell her.

 

 

 

 

 

Last modified on
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.
Author's recent posts

Comments

  • Kile Martz
    Kile Martz Wednesday, 14 August 2019

    I'll tell you how "good" it was. I went to lunch today with my partner and a dear friend. We happened to run into another friend and we all sat together to eat our casual lunch. I was asked what I had been up to, and so I said I had been to the Grand Sabbat. One of the friends is into ancient spiritualism and his eyes lit up as he urged me to tell him "all about it." I launched into the proceedings with relish, but when I got to telling him about the moment when the Horned God emerges from the woods and stands upon the altar, tears came and slowed my rush of words. I struggled to tell him the rest. He quietly said that it must have been a powerful experience. All I could do was nod and we sat and ate in silence for a minute or two.

  • Please login first in order for you to submit comments

Additional information