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.
Keeping the Sol in Solstice
The last words of British painter J. M. W. Turner (1775-1851) are reported to have been: The Sun is god.
And him not even a pagan.
Our Sun, our star. Our star, our god. We are sunlight and soil, literally, Earth and Sun our undeniable parents. In this Divine Family that we call the solar system, They are our Mother and our Father.
And what does one take more for granted than one's parents?
When did you last actually think about the Sun? Really see the Sun? Praise the Sun? Offer gratitude to the mighty Being without Whom we would not exist? Say thank you for the incomparable gift of light?
And so the Old Ways remind us.
92.96 million miles away, the Sun reaches down and we feel his (some would say, her) touch on our skin. Small wonder that they call him Long Hand.
His story is our story. We are born, we wax, we wane, we die. On the morning of Midwinter's Day, the first song sung to the Newly Risen, after the hymn of Rising, is the song of the story of life.
So let's keep that Sol in Solstice, folks.
For we are the pagans, and with J. M. W. Turner, we confess:
The Sun is god.
J. M. W. Turner, Morning After the Deluge (1843)
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Friday, 11 December 2015
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Steven, what is the song you sing to the rising Sun?