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.
You Can't Dance a Maypole by Yourself
Argh! Again?
All right, folks. This shouldn't need to be said, but apparently it does. Think of it as a friendly reminder.
Remember, this is a Maypole we're dancing here. It's something that people do together. It's its own kind of magic, a powerful magic that you do with other people. You can't dance a Maypole by yourself.
What we are not doing is some all-by-your-lonesome-in-the-back-bedroom Silver Ravenwolf-y cord magic shite, OK? This is way bigger than that. You do not stop the dance to [voice goes all sing-songy] “tie off your spell with a magic knot” when you get to the end of your ribbon. You do not. When you get to the end of your ribbon, you let go and you get out of the effing way, OK?
Beltane, folks. This is sex, not a wank. Sex. We do it together. Remember?
[Aside, mutters under breath.]
Stopping the dance. Ye gawds. What do they teach them in witch school these days?
OK folks, let's take it from the top. I've written us a new verse for Hal an Tow
Let's keep the dance a-movin', folks,
or it may start to snow-O,
and we'll have to sing The Holly Tree Carol
instead of Hal an Tow-O.
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