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.

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The Moon is a Mirror

Our temple Goddess wears a crown of Three Moons, and the disc in the center is a mirror.

Many are its meanings, but this foremost: that the Moon is Herself a mirror.

This morning, while offering the morning incense, I kept noticing little flashes of light in Her crowning mirror. As the familiar prayers, chants, and gestures of the ritual continued, I kept wondering (mildly irritated at the way that my mind kept wandering from what it was supposed to be doing): What the heck is causing those flashes of light?

Just as I began the concluding hymn, I realized what their source must be.

The flashes were reflections of the little silver goddess that I habitually wear around my neck, glinting in the rising light of day.

Smiling, I finished the hymn and made the final Earth-kiss.

Mirrors within mirrors within mirrors.


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Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


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