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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in Horned One

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

Call of the Horned God

Blessings be with our ancestors!

May it be so!

Mother of Witches, Lady of the Moon!

I adorn my King!

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    I've made the change accordingly. I think we'll be hearing a lot more of this one. The instinct to edit is deeply embedded. I rar
  • Michele
    Michele says #
    for some reason this website tacks on stuff to the front of the link at the bottom of the article. It's just http://13knots.blogs

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Old Ways, New World

You live where your people have always lived, and you keep to their ways, the old ways.

At certain times, you go to the Wood, and there you call the Master.

And He comes, in beauty and terror.

And now, for this, you could die, and with you, the old ways.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Devil's Lash

At old style sabbats, they say, the Devil would stand at the edge of the circle and whip up the dancing.

Literally.

(In the mountains back East, where I come from, they say that he'd use rose canes to do this. Yikes.)

One of the few truly effective ritual initiations that I've ever witnessed was priested by one of the local dungeon daddies. Now that scourging really meant something.

Burtrand of Minnesota Church of the Wicca—the grandfather of the local pagan community—used to insist that the scourge is one of the Horned's most important, and least understood, attributes.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Male Cauldron

 (Rant Alert)

Och, have we all been brain-raped by Sigmund Freud?

Has our worldview become so simplistically sexualized that we've lost the ability to see the plain sense of things?

As pagan dogmas go, it doesn't get much more dogmatic.

Cauldron = female. Cunny. Womb.

Period.

 As a quick glance at mythology demonstrates, the ancestors knew a rather more nuanced world.

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  • Erin Lale
    Erin Lale says #
    You're welcome! I remember the giant's name now. It's Hymir. The story is named for him, Hymiskvitha. Here's a link: http://www.sa
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Excellent, Erin, I'd completely forgotten this story: as you say, fishing for the Midgard Serpent overshadows the rest of it. Anot
  • Erin Lale
    Erin Lale says #
    The story of Thor's kettle isn't lost at all. It's just contained in another story with multiple elements, and it's only his tempo
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    I read this post and immediately thought of Andrew Zimmer and his Bizarre Foods shows on the Travel Channel. There are a lot of g

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Him of the Horns: His Blessing

 

People of the Old Blood:

will you receive my blessing upon you?

Your blood upon us and upon our children!

(x3)

Then:

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
A Story in Five Pictures

Dating from more than 40,000 years ago, the Lion “Man” of Hohlenstein Stadel is the oldest uncontested zoomorphic figure that we know of. Carved from mammoth ivory, and standing about a foot high, the bipedal image combines feline and human characteristics. Since the lions of prehistoric Europe had no manes and there is no clear indication of sex, we cannot say for certain whether the figure is intended as female or male. 

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  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    It's such a rich image. Hereabouts, he would be the Cougar Man. After years of "reported sightings," a few years back a surveillan
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    Way back in the 80's I dreamed of a soap stone sculpture of a seated man with the head of a mountain lion wearing a feather bonnet

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Grinnygog

Did you know that there's a specific name for a statue of the Horned God?

Neither did I, until I read Dorothy Edward's 1981 children's novel, The Witches and the Grinnygog.

Back during the Troubles, goes the story (the Witch Troubles, not the Irish ones), the three appointed Keepers of the most sacred image of the Master just barely manage to escape (on brooms) with their lives and the Lord. They hide Him away in a safe place, and go into a deep, deep sleep until such a time as they shall be needed again.

That time is our day. Where's the best place to hide a Grinnygog? Well, of course, precisely where no one would ever think to look for Him: among the carvings of the local church.

But now the historic church is being dismantled stone by stone, preparatory to being moved to a new location, and the Lord is once more in danger. (Or is He?) His guardians awake, and their magic along with them.

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