When I get to the ritual, I learn—much to my surprise—that I'm to play a key role in it.

Psychopomp: literally, “soul-leader.” In Classical mythology, Hermes-Mercury was the preeminent psychopomp: he who leads the soul to the Underworld. In modern paganism, the term has broadened in usage to mean “one who leads an individual to the next stage of existence”: in this case, to Cronehood.

Such a role needs to be visually distinctive. The last time I played this role in a public ritual, I was stark naked, painted white from head to toe.

“Should I be naked?” I ask dubiously.

The presiding priestess doesn't think so. Non-pagan friends of the crone-to-be will be present who might be discomfited by nudity.

“Especially male nudity,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Well, of course,” I reply, grinning. “It's way hotter.” Me, I've always been a gay guy's gay guy.

In the end, I decide to go with kilt and bare chest. (I love that the kilt has become the standard, defining item of pagan male national dress.) It's a good pairing, visually distinctive; also, it displays to distinct advantage the fruits of a summer's worth of hard work in the yard.

Much to my delight, the look becomes a “thing.” Soon, all the studly young guys with a role in the ritual are also sporting bare chests and kilts.

In the end, our unforeseen collective decision becomes a felicity, adding a visual unity that the ritual would otherwise have lacked. Not to mention the sheer expansive pleasure of all those pecs and abs.

The ritual goes well, the acknowledgment that our well-beloved, newly-minted crone has been wanting, and certainly well deserves.

Afterwards, none of us puts his shirt back on. Though, in a foretaste of things to come, the late August evening turns cool, the massive festive bonfire, literally—I swear, I am not exaggerating here—the size of a small house, keeps us plenty warm.

The kilt-and-skin brigade line up for pictures in front of the bonfire, arms over one another's shoulders. It's a gratifying moment.

Which is me in the line-up, you ask? Soon told.

I'm the one with the biggest, widest grin on his face.