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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.

Condemnation of memory

Someone is pulling your strings. You'd be a fool to accept that.


Journal 25Aug2017

pagan festival season       Mercury retrograde       🌙 waxing crescent moon

Thinking by blogging>

This site never had that many visitors, I never planned for that. Even though I think some of my stuff is pretty good, I held back from putting it out on display. I had a couple of bad years and I stopped blogging. These days my regular readers don't comment very much.

I'm a solitary, Most of my celebrations and rituals are done alone. It's not that I want to, it's just that my established group experience hasn't been very positive. One thing this means is that if my gods aren't chiming in, the only voice I'm hearing is mine. This isn't good. We need our ideas tested by those we trust but may not agree with. So if I want to grow, I have to share what I've learned. Since I work mostly with words and spell-forms in those words, I can't take something to the festival and spread it out.

But I forget. Not everyone has the same tools in their mental toolbox that I do. Sometimes the tools are called different names. Sometimes the toolbox is organized differently. And because I'm used to the things I do and the way I do things, I don't always notice when the tools are worn out and don't quite do the job I expect. I make excuses, I put off trying something new.

Lately when my articles have been good enough, I've experimented with posting links at reddit. The response has been a little mixed.

Part of the problem is my old friend, the symbol mismatch. What I see as practicing paganism today isn't necessarily what the rest of the World sees as paganism. I'm talking about gardening, I'm talking about nudging people just a little more towards truth. I'm talking about greeting the sun with nothing but a pendent. Or taking a quiet moon bath in my backyard. It's not fantastic, it's not romantic, it's not mysterious. It's not highly visible. It's not special. It's not meeting at a festival with like-minded people dressed up in costumes ritual garb. It's just me. It's also going to be Tuesday's article.

My in-town companion still isn't doing well. I've been trying to convince her to go to the hospital. I've been checking on her when I can, but she thinks I'm around too much. Helicopter hovering was how I think she put it.

The garden is still giving stuff. Tomatoes, delicious.

Mom is about the same, although she's resenting the control I have over her life. That's a good thing, but very frustrating for the both of us. She turned 75 this month. It's hard to see her moving with a walker, but at least she's moving. And she still has her compassion and her sense of humor. One day after she has passed, I am going to tell her story.

If anything I'm seeing more politics in paganism now. And it's not even clean politics, if there is such a thing. This is people who have been whipped up to a frenzy and told that if they kill the scapegoat, their deepest heart's desire will be granted for by the Forces of History. Pah.

So I think I need to do something special come Redmark. I need to think about that.

Well, there's a tunafish sandwich that does not yet exist, but is still calling my name.


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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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