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In what has been called the Glorious Autumn of '79, author-priestess Margot Adler (1946-2014) set out on a coast-to-coast tour promoting her newly-released book, the instant classic Drawing Down the Moon.

On November 13, she was scheduled to speak in an occult bookstore in one of the two small cities that span the Red River on the Minnesota-North Dakota border.

As she arrived at the bookstore, she was met on the sidewalk by a group of irate fundie protestors. One angry nazz threw a stone that struck Adler in the forehead, wounding her superficially.

Nothing daunted, Adler, blood streaming down her face, turned towards the crowd and raised her arms. The chanting Christians immediately fell silent.

A Modest Proposal

Face it, folks: there's strength in numbers. We need a term that includes us all.

Once “pagan” was our prime term of art, but since (like fractious adolescents) we tend to define ourselves by rebelling against what we're not, that simply doesn't work anymore.

So here's my suggestion.

I think that we need to take a page from the GLBTQI+ playbook.

(Interestingly, both “gay” and “queer,” originally intended as terms of inclusion, have since come to be used exclusively instead. Hai mai, it's nice to know that you're not alone in the world.)

We need to come up with a long, unwieldy, mysterious string of capital letters that's constantly bloating into a longer, more unwieldy, and ever more mysterious string of capital letters that never quite manages to resolve into a pronounceable acronym.

Of course, since—for all our egocentricity—we tend to have fragile egos, we need to be as inclusive as possible when we do this.

Let's see: Witch-Warlock-Wiccan-Pagan-Heathen-Druid-Reconstructionist-Polytheist....

This hymn to a previously-unknown goddess was discovered among a trove of Linear B tablets unearthed at Phaistos, Crete, in 2017.

It is believed to have formed part of the goddess's cultic liturgy celebrating the autumn grape harvest.

Hail to Retsina

(Tune: Roll Out the Barrel)

Hail to Retsina,

goddess of vino with pine.

Hail to Retsina,

fruit of the tree and the vine.

The king of a certain ecotopian kingdom once built himself a magnificent, state-of-the-art straw-bale palace.

Visitors from all over the world flocked to see the king and his masterpiece of eco-sensitive, sustainable architecture. As was the custom at the time, each foreign dignitary presented the king with the gift of a new throne, beautifully-wrought in the most precious materials.

Now, a king needs only so many thrones, so he stored the unused ones in the attic of the palace. In time, the weight of the accumulated thrones outbore the carrying capacity of the palace's straw-bale construction.

One day, while the king was holding court, the building collapsed, and the king and his entire entourage were killed.

Moral:

Back in the days BC (Before Cell), a priestess from Minnesota was visiting another priestess in California.

As she's showing her around, the Minnesotan notices a red phone on the desk.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“The Hot Line,” says her friend. “Direct to Big Mama Herself.”

“Do you mind if I make a call?” asks the Minnesotan. "I've got a question I need to ask. I'll be happy to cover the cost.”

“Be my guest,” says the Californian.

In the days of Queen Boudicca, there was a young woman who aspired to become a Druid.

“For the first three years of your training, you will keep the Great Silence,” the Chief Druidess tells her. “From one Samhain to the next, you will speak not so much as a single word. Then at Samhain you and I will meet to review your progress, at which time you may speak as many as two words, if you wish.”

The first year of the woman's training goes by. At Samhain she is summoned to the Chief Druidess.

“Well,” says the Druidess, “You have completed your first year of the Great Silence. You may now say as many as two words, if you wish. What would you like to say?”

AP: London

According to Wiccan historian Philip Heselton, Doreen Valiente's famous chant “Witches' Rune” was originally intended to be sung to the tune of the Stephen Foster tune, “Camptown Races.”

“According to some recently-discovered correspondence, that's the tune that she originally wrote the words to fit,” said Heselton. “Of course, since then it's been sung to many other tunes as well.”

American composer Stephen Foster (1826-1864) wrote “Camptown Races” (also known as “Camptown Ladies”) in 1850, and the tune was a favorite of Valiente's first husband, Joanis Vlachopoulos, who had learned it while in the Merchant Navy.

Although the Foster tune was Valiente's intended setting for her lyrics to what was to become a classic Wiccan liturgical chant, it never caught on with British witches, perhaps because they were unfamiliar with the American tune.

An interesting aspect of this discovery is the fact that the original words to “Witches' Rune” were slightly different from those now found in most recensions of the Book of Shadows.

According to Heselton, the first verse, along with a now-disused chorus, originally went: