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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Yours, Mine, and Ours

“Oh, well, that's your opinion.”

How many times, in the anti-authoritarian—sometimes verging on antinomian—ethos of so much of what passes for modern paganism, have you heard a position dismissed with these words?

Implication: All opinions are equal.

But are they?

You're having terrible headaches.

You go to Posch. Posch says: You're stressed out. Here, eat more vegetables, learn these relaxation techniques, and spend 15 minutes meditating every day.

Then you go to the doctor. The doctor says: You have a brain tumor. We need to operate as soon as possible.

Well, Posch has an opinion, and the doctor has an opinion.

But you'd be a fool to listen to Posch.

Not all opinions are equal.

There's opinion, and there's informed opinion.

 

 

 

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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.

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