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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in thunderer

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Horned Hammer

As pagan bumperstickers go, it was really pretty subtle.

A Thor's Hammer with antlers.

What it meant to whoever owned the van, I don't know. I could imagine several possibilities.

But I know what it meant to me. Hey, I've heard the stories.

They say that Old Hornie—but he would have been Young Hornie then—used to live up in the sky, in the House of Thunder, to the West.

Well, they say he didn't just live there.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Best of luck in the learning, Anthony. Bwa ha ha.
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    Well now I have an image of Deerper from Monster Falls with Journal 3 in his left hand and Thor's hammer in his right hand in my m

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Peering through the Eye-Holes

It lies at the opposite pole from All gods are one god.

All gods are distinct.

So Thórr ≠ Perún ≠ Perkunas ≠ Zeus ≠ Jupiter ≠ Indra ≠ Ba'al ≠ Changó?

Yikes.

Although, in a History of Religions sense, I can see a certain merit-of-convenience to the hyper-Distinct school of thought, I have to ask myself: just how far does this extend? Is African Changó a different god from Brazilian? Is the Thunderer of my valley existentially distinct from the Thunderer of your valley next door?

If dreary monism is the danger of “All gods are one god,” is not the danger of “All gods are distinct” atomization? Personally, when I see gods getting smaller and smaller, I worry.

Looking at pagan history, I note a pronounced tendency to look for one's own gods behind the masks of other people's.

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Recent comment in this post - Show all comments
  • Ian Phanes
    Ian Phanes says #
    You asked: Is African Changó a different god from Brazilian? This question has been carefully considered Sandra T. Barnes, though

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Heart of the Storm

It may well be my first memory.

I'm laying in the dark screaming, terrified of the thunder that has wakened me. My father comes into the room and scoops me up into his arms.

We're moving. I distinctly remember passing from the darkness of the hall into the light of the kitchen. My mother is saying: Russell, what are you doing? Russell, what are you doing?

He carries me out the back door. Rain is sluicing down. We both must have been soaked through immediately, though I don't remember noticing. Out we go, into the heart of the storm.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    It's a date.
  • Aline "Macha" O'Brien
    Aline "Macha" O'Brien says #
    I remember dancing and playing in the warm Summer rains in NJ, but not when there was lightning. Our collie used to cower in fear
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Yikes. Doesn't know His own strength.
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    We had a squall line of thunderstorms blow through here last Thursday. It lest as much damage as some of the hurricanes have. So
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    We've just had a line of destructive storms roll through to the north of us, with (yikes) apple-sized hail. Even in the city, wher

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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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Thunder on the Mountain

Some stories tell themselves.

In The Miracle Detective: An Investigation of Holy Visions, Rolling Stone editor Randall Sullivan tells the story of the supposed Marian visionaries of Medjugorje, of the processes by which the Vatican authenticates (and de-authenticates) visions, and a personal tale of unbelief wrestling with belief.

But (to this reader, at least) the book's most intriguing story is its underlying pagan subtext.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Witch Doctor Clause

Saturday night we offered to Thunder.

Together we sang, danced, and prayed that He be merciful to our gathering.

Sunday night the big storm hit.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Gerald Home
    Gerald Home says #
    Steven, Thank you for leading that ritual to appease the Thunders. Though, I was one who teased you post storm, I was appreciative
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Along with the sheer animal fear, I'll admit to some moments of self-doubt while I stood there, water running down my back, knowin
  • Lizann Bassham
    Lizann Bassham says #
    ah, as we often say in my Reclaiming Witch community - "This shit is real "

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
A Pouring to Thunder

Yikes! Pagan Spirit Gathering 2015 canceled in mid-run due to flooding and rainstorms past and predicted.

What's a pagan response? On the immemorial principle of do ut des, a gift for a gift, perhaps we need to begin our outdoor gatherings with an offering to the god concerned.

Well, you know gods. The answer may still be “no.”

But it never hurts to ask.

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