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.
Are the Days of the Heroes Behind Us?
In the mail yesterday, my Covenant of the Goddess clergy credential renewal arrived, along with—I kid you not—my very own vial of Covenant of the Goddess lip balm.
Vanilla flavored, no less.
Well, I receive these gifts—as the ancestors used to say—with both hands, i.e. gratefully. Now I can continue to hatch, match, and legally dispatch in the eyes of the Great State of Minnesota, a Land where winter lip balm is pretty much a way of life.
Still.
In the old days, Christians used to fight (and sometimes kill) over whether the Spirit proceeded from the Father, or from the Father and the Son; or whether the Son was equal to, or lesser than, the Father. Substantive issues.
Now, of course, they fight about gay sex.
In the old days, witches used to make poisons, medicines, and flying ointment: pharmacopoeia.
Now we make lip balm.
I shake my head. Perhaps the days of the heroes and demigods are behind us. How are the mighty fallen.
I smear the soothing balm on my chapped winter lips.
It tastes good.
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