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PaganSquare is a community blog space where Pagans can discuss topics relevant to the life and spiritual practice of all Pagans.

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The Astrology of Chiron:  The Wounded Healer Within

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PaganNewsBeagle Faithful October 17

Halloween/Samhain Special Edition:

In today's faithful Friday post, we are concentrating on the upcoming season of Samhain -- high holy days for Wicca- and Wiccan-influenced Pagans. In today's Beagle, we highlight posts from outside our PaganSquare channel -- watch for our PaganSquare Samhain special edition next week, where we will highlight the Samhain posts of our in-house writers.

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs
The Great Quake of '89

My senior year of college at the University of California at Santa Cruz was the Loma Prieta earthquake.  It was not a spiritual experience, but it greatly affected the course of my life, caused me to invest magic in my truck, and led to a significant event in my life as a heathen. This year is the 25th anniversary of this event.

Quotes from my memoir:

     “Most of my memories are fuzzy about the time and date on which they took place, but there is one I can date to the minute:  October 17, 1989, 5:04pm.”

 “…the plate glass sliding doors in the living room rippled like water…”

It was the great quake of ’89, its epicenter in Santa Cruz County. I have a detailed description of what happened in my memoir, Greater Than the Sum of My Parts. After a week of sleeping outdoors because the buildings were not certified safe, I thought:

      “If I had dad’s truck with me, I could sleep in it.  No freezing soccer fields.  No worries about rain.  I could have all the supplies I needed right in there, ready for me any time I wanted them.” 

      “…The only coherent thought I had all afternoon was, “This is not going to happen to me again.  I am not going to depend on anything or anyone outside myself.  I can’t depend on the water always turning on and being fit to drink.  I can’t depend on the buses always running and the stores always being open.  I was depending on the government.  Now I’m going to depend on myself.  Alone.”

When I returned to Santa Cruz from the family home in Sonoma, I was driving the truck. The same one I still drive, which my mom had named The Warhoop Wagon while it was still my dad’s: an ’84 Chevy Silverado. Longbed. Two-tone brown and cream paint job like a palomino. Camper shell on the back. Freshly stocked with supplies from survivalist catalogs. Not just a vehicle: a place I could live in.

      “Before we left I walked around the truck, simultaneously conducting a safety check and casting a spell of protection.  I imbued the truck with energy to journey safely and to prevent harm to myself and others on the road.  To my inner eye it glowed with the armor of my directed will, but beneath that was its own personality, a protectiveness like the best qualities of its previous owner.  Driving my truck—my father’s truck—was a holy act of inheritance of ability.”

Over the years, I have reinforced and enhanced the safe-journey magic and the truck's own personality grew stronger. Its formal name is still the one my mother gave it, but I more often think of it as My Faithful Truck. It's hard to explain to non-pagans why I won't give it up; I usually just tell them it's lucky.

The first place I drove it was to a pagan ritual in the middle of rubble-strewn San Francisco, in the hard-hit Marina district which was still blackened and choked from gas main fires: the Spiral Dance. I brought my mom with me, and that was how I came out as pagan.

Back at college, I found myself in a spiritual battle for which I did not feel at all prepared. That is another story, coming in the next post.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
#13daysofmagic

This year I thought it might be fun to gather some of my close friends and celebrate magic! Beginning October 19th join Jacki Smith from Coventry Creations, Author David Salisbury, Adam Sartwell and The Temple of Witchcraft, Storm Faerywolf from Blue Rose Faery, Black Rose Witchcraft, myself and others for our #13daysofmagic challenge! 

 

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  • Raven Song
    Raven Song says #
    I'm looking forward to this!!

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Mark Driscoll I remember

Yesterday, on Oct 15th, mega-church Mars Hill's pastor Mark Driscoll resigned after a number of allegations and scandals. I have stayed out of the discussions and conversations, but there is one memory that keeps haunting me and I finally chose to share it. May our religions, whichever they may be, always bring out the best in us and encourage us to be our true selves.

 

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PaganNewsBeagle Earthy Thursday Oct 16

Today, it's the Element of Earth in the spotlight with our Earthy Thursday roundup. Where to find fall colors; the world's largest cave; an off-the-grid commune; the Mother of All Seed Banks; fisherman saves eagle; the battle over Mauna Kea.

This great map will help you figure out when and where to see the best fall colors.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Seeking Sekhmet

Sekhmet is an interesting goddess; long before I traveled to Egypt, I’d begun to feel pulses of magic from the lioness-headed statues I encountered in various museums, and even in the land of the Nile, it was in a museum that I first felt a pull toward her. At the time, it struck me as a bit strange that I’d feel resonance not with the sand beneath my feet, but with the massive black granite statues of the goddess, but it makes a certain amount of sense. It’s widely believed that tremendous statues of Sekhmet guarded Egypt’s ancient borders, and some even say that in times of invasion, the statues were brushed with poisonous spores to infect the would-be invaders as they crossed into Egypt. It’s no wonder that the statues of the Lady of Pestilence pack a punch; these icons are loaded with power!


I hadn’t expected to feel so strongly drawn to this goddess during my pilgrimage to Egypt; I’m an Isis girl all the way, and while I’ve always enjoyed the other Egyptian gods, I’ve never felt pulled to work with them. But Sekhmet was insistent, from the first time I faced her in the beautiful museum in Luxor, and by the time I ventured south to the Temple of Kom Ombo, I couldn’t ignore the intense emotions her image stirred in me.

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