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.
Ten Spokes
A friend's high priestess sent her a beautifully crafted wooden wheel for Yule. An apt gift, certainly.
(Witches are big into wheels. Life, Time, Space: for us, it's all Wheels.)
Naturally, my friend called her up to thank her.
My friend: What's the symbolism of the ten spokes?
(The Witches' Wheel usually has eight.)
High Priestess: No, it has eight spokes.
MF: No, it has ten.
HPss: (Changes subject.)
Myself, I was pretty disappointed to hear this story.
(Talk about a teachable moment. When your student asks you a question that you can't answer, what should be the first words out of your mouth? Obviously, "Well, what do you think?" As a teacher, you don't teach stuff; you teach thinking.)
First off, I was disappointed that the woman hadn't looked carefully enough at the wheel—it was a gift, after all—to realize that it had ten spokes rather than the canonical eight.
Second, I was disappointed that she didn't know the symbolism of the ten-spoked wheel.
Third, I was disappointed that she didn't try to bullshit her way out of it.
I mean, really. The ten-spoked wheel? It's obvious. Anyone that calls herself a high priestess ought to know the symbolism of that.
Besides, what kind of witch doesn't know how to bullshit?
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