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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The Broom-Rider's Dilemma

Heads or tails?

It's the classic broom-rider's dilemma: bristles in front or in back?

I'd always assumed this to be—as so often in the Craft—a matter of personal preference, or possibly denominational affiliation. But a recent conversation with Paganistan's premier Purveyor of Fine Besoms (since 1273) has convinced me otherwise.

To look at contemporary iconography, one might think Bristles-Behind to be the overwhelming contemporary preference. Bristles-Before, by contrast, looks distinctly Old-Style.

There's an entirely logical reason for this seeming imbalance, though: most broom-rider images are made by non-witches.

Permit me to explain. According to my informant, Bristles-Behind is the standard form for daytime flights. This position effectively makes it impossible to track one's flight by conventional methods, including radar. (Think brushing out your footprints behind you.) It also explains why cowans should think that we all fly this way, all the time: it's what they'd be most likely to witness for themselves.

But they'd be wrong. Bristles-Before, on the other hoof, is the preferred position for night-flights. The reason is entirely practical: the bristles securely grip the candles that nestle among them to light the rider's way. (Think headlights.) Makes perfect sense.

So now you know. Night before, day after. And for Goddess' sake, don't forget those candles, for other people's sakes, if not for your own. Remember, you don't just want to see; you want to be seen as well. What with the recent burgeoning interest in the Craft, there's a lot more traffic out there than there used to be.  

On the off chance that anyone thought I'd be discussing that other classic broom-rider's dilemma here: come on, get real.

Nobody rides side-saddle these days.

Nobody.

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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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