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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Cowanish

 

Herd of Vigilante Florida Cows Helps Police by Corralling Suspect |  Southern Living

 

“You stinking cowan,” I say, fondly.

My friend returns my grin. He's no cowan, and we both know it.

“Now, now,” he says in mock-offense. “No need to get insulting.”

 

Cowans. (First syllable like the animal.) What is it about non-pagans that makes them so...well, cowanish?

You're cowanish if you're:

  • Clueless to the point of offensiveness, especially about things pagan.
  • Unobservant, especially of your environment.
  • Ignorant of the natural world and its processes.
  • Uncomfortable with the body and things bodily.
  • Incapable of seeing other people's perspectives.
  • Unquestioning.
  • Insensitive.
  • Incurious.

Of course, these stereotypes are utterly unfair, and largely a product of pagan self-conception. You certainly don't have to be a cowan to be cowanish.

But, then, that's kind of the point of the exercise, isn't it? Nobody wants to be cowanish, not even cowans.

 

Back when the kid was learning to talk, I was driving him to his music lesson through rush-hour traffic.

I look back over my shoulder preparatory to changing lanes.

“Stupid cowan,” says the kid. Apparently this is what Uncle Steve says when he's unhappy with other drivers.

Oops. Guess it's time to start watching what I say a little more carefully.

 

 

 

For AE

Not a cowan.

 

 

 

 

 

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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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