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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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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

Well, well, well. So: the Science-Denier-in-Chief now has the Trump Virus.

Or, to say it in Pagan, the Red Hag now has the Virus-in-Chief.

Metaphor piles on metaphor piles on metaphor. Of course, Fat Donald himself is the virus, a virus that has infected an entire country, a virus whose only interest is self-interest, with utter disregard for anyone else.

Of course, it didn't have to be this way. The US leads the world in corona-virus infections and deaths precisely because of the Science-Denier-in-Chief. Well, let him embrace his disease, and ill may it do him. Truly, he is its High Priest.

Did you hear the Cackle Heard 'Round the World as the news was announced this morning? For the rest of us, it's hard not to feel a sense of vindication.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

Now the falling of the leaves, now the short'ning day:

for Summer is a-going out, and Winter's on the way.

 

I've been to lots of Harvest Suppers down the years, but I can't think of another that ended with a spontaneous (and heartfelt) invocation of Old Witch Winter.

Usually, we're hoping to stave Her off for as long as possible. This year, we can't wait.

It's been a long, dark Summer here in Minneapolis since the death of George Floyd at the hands of a Minneapolis police officer on Memorial Day.

First came the opportunistic looting and arson that stalked the initial protests.

Then came the dithering of our gormless City Council, whose major strategy for bringing about systemic change seems to consist of waiting for someone else to come up with an idea.

Then came record levels of shootings, carjackings, and break-ins, while the authorities wring their hands, and do nothing.

So I guess it isn't surprising that after the feast's closing song, we should suddenly all rise to our feet and start shouting—shouting—to Old Witch Winter to come and put an end to it all. Shut it off! Close it down! Summer be gone; Winter, come!

As you know, spontaneous magic is always the most powerful of all.

Well, that's the thing about Old Witch Winter: invited or not, She always comes.

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs

This is one in a series about the deities in the pantheon of Modern Minoan Paganism (MMP). You can find the full list of posts in this series here.

Today we're going to focus on the Horned Ones: the Minoan gods and goddesses who take the form of horned animals - cattle, goats, and deer - and where we can find them in Minoan art. They come in god/goddess pairs: the Minotaur and Europa, the Minocapros and Amalthea, the Minelathos and Britomartis.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

Someday—may it be soon—we'll hear the news that the Most Hated Man in America, the Hypocrite of Hypocrites, Obstructionist of Obstructionists, the Slaveholder of the Senate, has met his entirely natural, but long overdue, demise.

And bells of freedom will ring out across the land.

 

Ding! Dong! the Mitch is Dead!

 

Ding dong the Mitch is dead.

Which old Mitch?

The wicked Mitch.

Ding dong

the wicked Mitch is dead!

 

Hi ho the merry-O!

Sing it high,

sing it low:

wake up,

the wicked Mitch is dead!

 

He's gone where the nazzes go,

below, below, below,

yo ho!

So let's all dance and sing

and ring the bells out.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Jamie
    Jamie says #
    Mr. Posch, Eminent historian, Christopher Browning, refers to him as the, "Gravedigger of American democracy." 'Nuff said.
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    May said Gravedigger be buried in the grave he dug for himself.
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    I keep getting E-mails that Mitch is tied with his opponent; I think her name is Amy McGrath. I am doing that 40 day prayer ritua
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    So mote it be.

Posted by on in Paths Blogs

Rowan

(Sorbus acuparia)

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs

I raised this horn to my companion Tom Newman when I dedicated this shelf on my bookshelf to him. This is his shrine now. I moved some of the things from the temporary altar onto here. I added the photo of us at the San Diego Zoo, and some things I found when I unpacked the Patient Belongings bag I picked up from the hospital the day he died. Those things were candy that I had brought him that he had not opened, and greeting cards, both from me and from his out of state friends which I had picked up from his mailbox at his house and delivered to the front door of the hospital (I was not allowed in because of Covid restrictions.)

The day before I set up this shrine to my late companion, a fellow heathen had told me that she received gnosis that I was supposed to have elecampagne. We chatted online about the idea and finally decided that meant folk art, not the actual flower itself. So when I unpacked the Patient Belongings bag and saw the unopened card from me with the yellow flowers, I knew that meant I was supposed to keep and display this card. I had been thinking about throwing that one out because unlike the first two cards from me that I dropped off for Tom, it was less sentimental and more of a report of what I and our mutual friends were doing at his house and the plans I was working on for him, letting him know we were getting him set up with what he needed to qualify for a military funeral. But then after that conversation about the yellow flowers I knew when I saw the card that I had to keep and display it, even though it was unopened and he never saw it. He can see it now, from his viewpoint in Asgard with Heimdall. The other cards are in the stack on the left side of the photo. The final two cards he received were from out of town friends which I delivered to the hospital in the morning on Friday with a note asking the staff to read them aloud to him. (He could not read them himself because he had already been unconscious for several days at that point.) He passed that afternoon. I hope he got to hear the cards read aloud and that it may have brought him some comfort even if he didn't fully hear or understand.

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In the fall season, Nature leaves behind the powers of light, drawing inward to stillness and the sacred dark of Mother Earth, where the sleeping potential of new life resides.

So too your spiritual journey calls you inward to quiet and reflection, compelling you to seek within the secret desires, dormant gifts and lost stories of your inner sacred dark where your sleeping potential resides. New beginnings await you in the sacred dark.

Here are four lessons to deepen your spiritual work in the fall season.

1. Step beyond the world you know, and turn your awareness toward the unknown of the sacred dark.

Commit to travel the deepest roots of your spiritual journey. Call up your courage and determination. Lessen your grip on the things you hold true and dear. Open to the mysteries of your inner sacred dark, and let them guide your spiritual work.

2. What you hunger for waits for you in the sacred dark.

Heed your soul’s hunger to seek out your greater becoming. Whatever you truly need to be whole waits for you in the sacred dark of your inner landscape. Here you can discover and reclaim the lost, precious parts of yourself that can nourish your soul and make your life anew.

3. Suffering and sacrifice are integral parts of your spiritual work.

Don’t expect your spiritual work to be pretty or easy. Honor the lessons and experiences that come to you, especially those that challenge you the most. Know that this is how life is meant to teach and grow you. Great beauty, wisdom and resilience emerge from the depth of your struggles.

4. It’s the journey itself that transforms you.

You grow and mature by consciously engaging your life experiences, both the positive and negative. It’s this very toil of sweat and soul that changes you. Life, with its joys and sorrows, is the crucible of your greater becoming.

Artwork: Karen Koski

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