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Occasionally I wandered in where I was not wanted and gave truthful answers.
Sometimes I even did it deliberately. A little disruption now can prevent disaster later.

Would you know?

So, would you know a pagan if he stood next to you?

Should you know a pagan if he stood next to you?

I know pagans who would tell you yes, you should know. Some of them are pretty obvious, you don’t need me to tell you who they are.

But tell me, would you know a Baptist if he stood next to you? A Catholic? A Mormon? An atheist? A Hindu?

Why
should you know the religion of these people?

Yesterday I gave a glimpse of my home life. No, I’m not married. No, I do not feel that sex and love are equal. Yes, I’m in more than one relationship. Yes, the ladies know that I am not exclusive. And yes, each of my companions likes sharing my world for a while.

Outside my house doesn’t look like a pagan temple. It can be if needed. But mostly it looks like a house. I’m a private guy but I am nice to my neighbors because I like good neighbors.

Here’s the thing. I own my house. I pay taxes. I buy food from the local stores.

Sometimes I greet the dawn with arms outstretched and feet firmly planted. Sometimes I do it sitting quietly with a hot beverage.

Sometimes I sing to the Moon. Other times I dance naked in the moonlight. And sometimes I just say “Look at the purdy moon.”

I got that from my stepdad, only he had his own twist. In a full moon, he’d take us for a drive and then wait for the Moon to disappear behind something. Then he’d say, “Look at the purdy moon.” Of course he spoke better than that, sometimes he did a part-time gig as a classical radio announcer. It was a put on, a game he played with us kids. For me, I just love the Moon and want to share.

Most of the time you couldn’t tell what I was. And why should I be judged on my faith?

Here’s one of those bits I wrote a few years back. “Words matter. Actions matter more. Intentions don’t.”

When I hear things about the “Greater Pagan Community,” I cringe. I can just see my neighbors taking a step back. They think that the people making the noise are deliberately going for the weird. And sometimes my neighbors are right.

Today I read about a
metaphysical bookshop in Virginia closing. The owner is getting on, she sounds like a remarkable lady. But I live in Arizona. I’m more concerned with lady on the corner who shouldn’t be driving. She doesn’t see so well anymore. There’s a guy downtown I like talking tools with, his family has owned the local hardware store for decades. There’s another neighbor who lets his dog out every morning and I am really tired of cleaning up the mess. And then there is the young lady who lives with her folks down the street and dresses to catch eyes. She may not be jailbait anymore, but I don’t think we share interests and I’m pretty sure she’s high maintenance. These are the people around me, I like living here. This is my community.

I vote. I put out the trash once a week. I tend my garden.

I talk with people even though fellow-feeling is not natural to me.

I don’t see the need to publicly proclaim my weirdness. And for my particular brand of magick, it’s probably better if I’m not known for my spellwork. I don’t want to be known as a good pagan, I want to be known as a good man.

Or at least a better man than I was.

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A narrow slice of life, but now and again pondering American neopaganism, modern adult pagans & the World.

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