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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Turn Left at Aphrodite

Go between the two standing stones into the woods.

Follow the path down to the Great Circle.

When you get to Aphrodite, turn left.

Then head down the hill through the trees.

That's how you get to the Bull Stone.


The Bull Stone continues his (so far) two-year journey down out of the Mother Gorge, across the coulee, and up the hill to his eventual home on the shoulder of Sweetwood Ridge. Some day, little cairns will mark each stopping place along the way.

For now, he's reached the third cairn. We're roughly halfway there.

As some wag remarked this weekend, by the time we've finished doing this, we'll know all about how to move megaliths by hand.

Meanwhile, we learn by doing.

With ropes, a chain, a winch, a wooden tripod, a couple of crowbars, a little blood, and a whole lot of sweat and ingenuity, we're moving 1000 pounds of limestone up a 60-degree slope. Just wait till you see how far only the four of us—our ranks depleted by a move, two funerals, and a birth—managed to move the Bull Stone this time. You won't believe your eyes.

You'll think that we must have done it by psychic power.

You'll think that we must have warlocked it up the hill by levitation.

You'll think that the Stone itself must have walked up the hill of its own good will.

You'd be right on all counts.

Merry May and a happy Beltane, folks.

When we share a vision and work together, it's truly amazing how much we can accomplish.


For CM, KM, and ALF:

the warlocks with the forelocks




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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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