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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Birth-Ale

 The Double-Edged Sword of Eastern Philosophy – Tao Practiced

 

Well, it doesn't get much more pagan than that.

A friend was holding a Naming ceremony for her newborn son. With the community gathered around, the presiding priest, a longtime family friend, blessed the child and lifted him in the air three times. Each time, we called out the child's name. This was the first time that he was named in public.

Having received a public identity, the child then got his first taste of beer.

Here's how they did it. The child's mother held him. The priest turned, and held the coven sword back over the crook of his elbow. He trickled a little stream of beer down the blade of the sword so that a few drops dripped into the child's mouth.

Then we all cheered and applauded. Welcome to the community, kid.

(I should add that this manner of positioning the sword held the point quite stable; neither I, nor anyone else present, feared for the child's safety in the least.)

I had never encountered this trope before, and afterward, at the Birth-Ale, asked the priest about it.

He smiled.

“It's to remind him that some of the best things in life come at the point of a sword.”

Sentiments, surely, becoming a pagan. We clink glasses and salute the newborn.

 

 

Coda


Thirty-two years later, the baby named that day has grown into a fine young man.

He still likes beer.

 

 

 

 

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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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