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.
The Sabbat-Field of the Buck
Gods, pagans.
Some of us are polytheists, some bitheists. Among our people, we may also variously number monotheists, monists, atheists, polyatheists, and agnostics as well.
We see here the brilliance of the paganisms, the genius of definition by praxis, not belief.
When, later this summer, the Midwest Tribe of Witches foregathers in our immemorial Grand Sabbat, chances are that what we do there may well mean something different to every single one of us.
And there we'll be anyway—theist with atheist, gnostic and agnostic alike—joining once again in the eternal dance on the Sabbat-Field of the Buck.
Really, it doesn't matter what you believe.
Just come Do.
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