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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Moon Dance

So, at our coven meeting last night, we were out in the backyard, dancing the dance for the New Moon and...

Well, let me just stop right there.

We were dancing the dance for the New Moon.

You know the one that I mean: the one with the arms held up like the horns of the Moon. The one with the great wheelings and the little wheelings, and the ebb and flow of the tides?

You know that one, don't you?

Of course witches have a dance that they dance for the New Moon. Once you hear it, you know that it's so.

Now, when you hear this, you may think: Yes, I love that dance. Or you may think: That's not the New Moon dance that I know. Or you may even think: Why don't I know that one? My coven doesn't even have a New Moon Dance.

What's more, having said “a dance for the New Moon,” you've implied much, much more.

You've implied a dance for the Full Moon as well. (Probably several.) You've implied dances of greeting, and dances of farewell, dances for Moonrise and Sunrise, for Moonset and Sunset. You've implied dances for sowing and harvest and hunting, and Samhain and Bealtaine and.....

Did the dance come down from the ancestors? Did we choreograph the dance last night?

We were dancing the dance for the New Moon.

Witches have a special dance that we dance for the New Moon.

Maybe we had one before; maybe we didn't. The thing is, now we do, and I hope that you do, too.

And if you don't, well, isn't it time that you did?



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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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