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.
Of Apples, Deep Gods, and Witches
Consider the apple tree and its ways.
Early in summer, it sets as much fruit as it can.
Later on, it drops many—even most—of those hard little unripe apples.
With what it can draw from Earth, Sun, and Thunder—the Deep Gods of the witches—the tree has only so much main—energy—at its disposal. The resources available to the tree to nurture its apples are limited. With what it has, it can produce either many small, or a few select, apples.
As I rake up fallen green fruit, I reflect. The Craft is an apple tree. Why do so many leave?
For the sake of the few, my friends, it sheds the many.
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