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[The Rules of Exile] Rule No. 7 Trust Your Process

Oh my sisters.  What a week this has been.  The stories kept coming and coming and coming and everything just got grosser and sicker until none of us knew what to do anymore, really.  None of us knew the whole story, whether we were welcomed back to court from former exile or kept to the countryside, far away from scandal to make new lives for ourselves.  The local empire was burning and none of us could look away, even as more and more of us left court to keep ourselves safe, to stand together.  All any of us have been able to do is to stare into this horrible dumpster fire.

I've been asked to tell my story over and over again.  I've held space for my (gender neutral) sisters who have reached out to me privately to tell their stories.

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[Rules of Exile] Rule No. 8 You Have a Right to Sanctuary

Exile has a way of grinding you down.  Sure, finding the hollow of our hunger will make us strong Queens, but that feels really abstract after nine hours on your feet in your copy room mediation cave where you've started to wonder key things like: will you ever read a book again?  Will you ever write again?  Can you still feel feelings?

Add to this, whatever austerity you were once willingly putting yourself through but now you have stopped fantasizing about sex things like a normal person and instead are immersing yourself in fully developed reveries about ground beef.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
You Are What You Worship

I would say, We're of the Old Religion, but that's not what the ancestors would have said.

The ancestors didn't even have a word for religion.

No; if they'd deigned to tell you at all, they would have said: We're of the Old Worship.

And that's much Truer.

Some people are what they believe. We're not.

We are what we do, and there's something else that we know.

You are what you worship.

Some of our people these days get squeamish around the word worship; to them, it's come to imply self-abasement and power-over.

But that's not worship at all. Or maybe it's one kind of worship, but it's certainly not ours.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Och, Robert, your question is so evocative that I want to reply with a post. Keep with me and I'll have it for you as soon as may
  • Roberto Pagliaro
    Roberto Pagliaro says #
    Thank you. Please don't forget me and if you have any more ideas please let me know. Someone has recommended Poseidon because I am
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    As I understand it Florida is having a problem with salt water encroachment into their water table. I can see how Poseidon might
  • Roberto Pagliaro
    Roberto Pagliaro says #
    I read your excellent RTicle. I am a novice and quite unsure of where I can find paganist groups in my location, though I am sure



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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Young Elders of Paganistan

When you've been doing something for six months, and everyone around you has only been doing it for five, that makes you the elder.

Gods help us all.

That was the situation back in the early days of Paganistan. At the time, most of us hadn't been doing this for very long, but the fact that we'd been doing it longer than anyone else made us the de facto elders of the community.

Incredibly enough, the community survived anyway. It not only survived, but flourished.

You learn fast when you have to. When people around you expect you to be wise, it's surprising how wise you can actually be.

Well, sometimes.

It may well be that you yourself are in this same position: a premature elder in a young community.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Goddess Pockets

We call them Gettintaschen, “goddess pockets.”

“Pockets.” Yeah, right.

They're sweet, triangular cookies stuffed, traditionally, with fruit, nut, or poppy seed fillings. My covensib Kay generally makes a few with peanut butter-chocolate chip centers as well. Call it fusion.

I don't need to tell you what they represent. That's why they're served in the Spring, and at other fertility-related occasions, like Full Moons and First Bloods.

Needless to say, they're way better than your standard-issue B of S moon-cakes.

Edible little deltas filled with sweet, rich goodness. What could possibly be more goddess-y than that?


Yeah, right.

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