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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This Post Is a Spell

Let me tell you something else about witches: we don't hold with self-pity.

Feeling sorry for yourself (and poisoning the lives of those around you with your whining) concedes powerlessness, and that's something else we don't hold with.

Witches don't whine. We do something.

What we do, of course, varies from situation to situation. We specialize in indirection. Witches don't usually go for frontal assault. Instead, we look for a way around. Or under. Or over. Or between.

When you hear that sing-song “poor me” whine start to come into your voice, strangle it at birth.

Self-pity is for the powerless. You're a witch?

Then do.




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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.


  • Kile Martz
    Kile Martz Sunday, 06 January 2019

    Magic only happens with action -- 'the doing of it' to paraphrase you. Inaction is the antimatter of the craft. Get up and do!

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