Culture Blogs


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Culture Blogs

Popular subjects in contemporary Pagan culture and practice.

Category contains 2 blog entries contributed to teamblogs

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Trivia at the Crossroads

Last year I facilitated a (very) small gathering devoted to the Goddess Hekate in the basement of a local metaphysical shop. My Comrade and I celebrated The Rite of Her Sacred Fires, a global ritual written and organized by Sorita d’Este from the Covenant of Hekate, an organization devoted to Hekate, Our Lady of the Crossroads.

The Rite of Her Sacred Fires is a very sweet and very powerful ritual, celebrated annually by people all over the world on the full moon in May. (This year the full moon is on Saturday, May 21.) We chanted, we sang, we decorated candles, we raised some power, and together we spoke these words:

Great Hekate, who spins the web of the stars and governs the spiral of life, guide us through towards pathways of understanding. From crossroad to crossroad, the torchbearers and the keybearers of your mysteries will always find one another.”

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Tamrha Richardson
    Tamrha Richardson says #
    I feel as if I could have written this! I'm right there with you, in so many ways. Great post!
  • Trivia at the Crossroads
    Trivia at the Crossroads says #
    hahah, thank you, Tamrha! I appreciate you taking the time to comment. And YES. I knew I wouldn't be the only one having these

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Goodman's Croft

In Scotland, they call it the Goodman's Croft: the little corner of unplowed land that you leave in every field.

The Goodman, of course, is the Devil. Well, we know Who that is.

A croft is a farm, especially a small one. So the Devil's half-acre is land left wild, sacrosanct. The Wild is his field, as the deer are his cattle.

Plow if you must, but leave some for the wild. It's ancient tradition and soundest ecology, both.

The custom lives on here in the secular US Midwest. You'll notice that lots of fields have one lone tree standing in them, often with a cairn beneath. In any traditional society, you'd look at this and say: field shrine.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Lady of the Thrice-Plowed Furrow

You could call them the Clay Ladies.

The ancestors made them by the tens, if not hundreds, of thousands: little naked women, poised on pointed toes to stand calf-deep in the good tilled soil of our gardens and fields.

We've been doing this since the end of the last Ice Age, and we still do. No one needs to be told why we put them there.

The best magic explains itself.

There they stand, graciously bestowing their gift of fruitfulness, looking as if they are rising from the Earth.

They are Earth itself, formlessness rising into form. The goddess rising from Earth was a minor (but not uncommon) motif in ancient Greek art, and rightly so. The furrow parts: the goddess is born.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
More on the God Who Hears

In Which The Youngest Warlock Questions the Oldest.

What do you say to the Horned when you pray?

I listen.

And what does the Horned say to you?

He listens.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Every Old Warlock Has a Cane

Seems like every old warlock has a cane.

They say that old Tom Weir (1599-1670) used to send his down to the corner store—by itself!—to pick up orders for him. The Devil gave it to him at his oathing in place of a familiar, reasoning that this would, for a townsman, be less conspicuous than a live animal.

So, Tom, while we're talking conspicuous....

Weir's infamous warlock's cane was carved from blackthorn, with a satyr's head for a handle. It burned along with its master on Colton Hill in Edinboro, “twisting like a serpent” in the flames. This was taken as affirmation of its diabolical origin.

Well, now.

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A Word from Crystal Guide, Venus, on Charging Crystals

This is a question a person asked about charging. I have posted Venus's reply before, but here it is with less Genn, more Venus. First, the question:

What do I need to do to charge or recharge my crystals? Do I need to put them in the sun...which is kind of hard where I live because I am gone most of the day & I do not leave my drapes open while I am gone.

...
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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Oak Flowers

What is harder and more enduring than oak?

What is more delicate and ephemeral than a flower?

Oak flowers: a seeming paradox, but all those acorns must come from somewhere. The contradictory softness of the hard. The oak being Thunder's tree and all, one thinks of all those stories in mythology in which the Thunderer, most manly of gods, dresses in women's clothing. Clearly, he's not all bluster and bravado. Clearly, he too has his hidden depths.

Welcome to the season of paradox: the blooming of the oaks. You may need to expand your mental picture of what a flower looks like. But flowers they are, male and female, and they bear within themselves the oaks of millennia yet to be.

While visiting my cousin in Germany, I picked up some jars of oak honey at the village shop. It was amazing, the least sweet honey I've ever tasted, dark upon the tongue.

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