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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
Cauldron of Fire Ritual

Here is a wonderful way friends can help each other get rid of fears, creative blocks, and the shrill voice of the inner critic. Ideally, this spell is done during the waning moon or on November 1 or December 31—the witchy holidays when the veil between worlds is believed to be thinnest.

Get a metal kettle and an outdoor firepot or little grill, and for each of the friends you have invited, a pen and two pieces of paper. Sit around the fire, relax, and talk about what challenges you face in attaining your artistic goals. Write on a piece of paper what comes up for you. Go around the circle and read from your list of blocks. Then, with great intention, place each paper on the fire. After everyone is done, silently meditate, and write your hope for the future. Now, reversing the order of speaking, go around the circle and share your dreams. Fold the paper and carry it with you in your purse or wallet. Your vision for the future will take on a life of its own.

Last modified on

Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

 

Convenience is no excuse.

Goodbye, LGBTQIA+.

I divorce you. I divorce you. I divorce you.

 

The ugly, unpronounceable, ever-expanding, increasingly-meaningless-in-its-generality ("Allies"? Seriously?) alphabet monster deserves to die with a stake through its heart.

I hate that it 'disappears' gay men, reducing us to one letter in an impenetrable line-up.

I hate that it makes it easy to generalize about a population of sexual and gender minorities who—quite frankly—often have very little in common with one another except for the fact that other people hate us.

I hate that it gives everyone else credit for the triumphs, tragedies, and accomplishments of gay men.

 

Back at the beginning of covid, a screamer walked onto a subway car in New York, and started, at the top of his lungs, blaming—as the radio interviewer euphemistically put it—'the LGBTQ community' for the pandemic.

But we all know that that wasn't what the screamer really said, of course. We also know that he wasn't blaming lesbians, or transsexuals, or the intersex, for covid.

He was blaming fags.

As gay men, we bear a outsized burden of cultural hatred. Reducing us to one letter among many negates our story.

I'm all for solidarity, but not at the expense of identity.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Jamie
    Jamie says #
    Mr. Posch, Yeah, I was aiming for hyperbole. It popped into my head that in the Epic of Gilgamesh, five different Sumerian deitie
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Five?!
  • Jamie
    Jamie says #
    Mr. Posch, Thanks for your insight. My personal favorite Scrabble combination for those letters is, "QUILTBAG". I 100% support th

Posted by on in Paths Blogs
Minoan Trickle-Down Archaeology

Sir Arthur Evans believed that the huge building at Knossos was the legendary King Minos' palace and the big buildings in the other Minoan cities were the palaces of Minos' brothers and rivals. A century later, the signs at most of the Minoan sites still identify these buildings as palaces despite the fact that Evans' theories have been discredited and archaeologists now agree that the structures were temple complexes, not palaces.

A few archaeologists are notorious for taking their students through museums and pointing out the inaccuracies on the placards that describe Minoan artifacts (museum curators are not usually archaeologists and don't always communicate with archaeologists about the artifacts on display). So people visit the museums and come away with some incorrect notions.

...
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Eye Enchantment: Rite of Twilight

For most of us, the minute we open our eyes the day begins, and we put them to work for our jobs, self-care, housework and even Facetiming loved ones and Skyping business associates. If you are a designer or artist of any sort, you most likely use your eyes to create, so caring for them is essential. Take two small muslin bags and three ounces of dried chamomile flowers. Divide the herb in half, stuff the bags, and sew them shut.

Place the eye bags in a bowl and pour a quarter cup of boiling water over them. Cover them and let sit for a half-hour. Squeeze the excess water out of the bags and place over your eyes. Your eyes and your artistic vision should both be rejuvenated quickly. This healing rite is best performed at twilight but, anytime your peepers need some “TLC,” steep away.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

Him's our hobman, Hob's man, him what gives his body over, over to Old Hob.

Old Hob, him he throws he's shadow over. Hob's man.

Don't you go a-steppin' in he's shadow, now.

Wi' he's eyes sees, wi' he's ears hears, wi' he's tongue speaks, he do, then.

Him don't wear Old Hob's mask, no. No, that old mask wear he.

Most ways, him's our man, like to me and ye. Most ways, any road.

Come Sabbat, though, him he throw he's shadow over.

Even everyday-like, though, be shadow of that shadow over he.

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May Full Moon Relaxation Vibe + Kitty Kat Magick

Dear Moon Muser,

In the spirit of keeping it simple, no pressure I'm sending you healing, joyful vibes right now as we all swing into the Sagittarius Full Moon, Gemini Season and Mercury Retrograde (May 29-June 21) which may slow things down a bit but also encourages us to review old patterns and make some changes that stick.

...
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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 MSU Scientists Discover Legacy Of Past Weather Inscribed In Stories Of  Prairie Plant Restoration | Research at Michigan State University

 

In Which You, Reader, Will Likely Learn More About Our Intrepid Blogger Than You Ever Really Wanted to Know

 

Contains frank discussion of body hair.

 

 

Among men of my family, our lack of body hair is something of a standing joke.

One morning, I'd let the pot of tea steep too long.

“That'll put hair on your chest,” said my father, taking his first sip.

“You mean I'll actually have sixteen?” I quipped.

“Quit bragging,” he quipped back.

 

For most of my adult life, I've tended to keep my body hair clipped pretty close. For a while—maybe still—being “smooth” was a gay “thing.”

But after some deep discussion with the warlocks about men's inner lives, and manhood generally, I began to wonder what this said about the ambivalence of my relationship with my own male body. I realized that it had been years since I'd actually seen my body with its full compliment of what the epic poets of old Eriu called “the manly hair.” So I set out to remedy that.

Call it prairie restoration.

 

Six fields, the lower four now given back to the wild. In time, they find their own cherished length, and stay there.

 

Humans are animals; our gods are animal gods. Hair is our inheritance.

 

In the frozen pit of a dark, cold winter, I dream one night of gazing down on my own naked body. Where pubic hair was, a thick clutch of crisp green leaves now springs.

I wake filled with a bright sense of vernal joy.

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