And…

I’m so tired of the endless drama, the gestural politics, and the crab in a bucket syndrome that roils the pagan/polytheist communities.

 

150px-Witchland_crab

 

I’d rather spend time with the lake spirit,  tending my shrines, and celebrating the Muses.

Turtle Island
Turtle Island
One of the Muses (1890s, Cliff House, SF).
One of the Muses (1890s, Cliff House, SF).

 

Ave, Ave Antinoe
Ave, Ave Antinoe
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Craic, Colloquy, and Poison (PantheaCon)

It looks like I can only muster a brief note on this year’s PantheaCon, perhaps there will be more later, perhaps not.

Really, I’ve had more trouble than usual in trying to wrap my thoughts into words about the 2015 PantheaCon. It was a brief ‘Con this year for me, as I was only able to attend from Saturday evening to late Sunday night. The time I spent there was definitely about the craic and the colloquy, the important conversations and nourishing dialogues with friends from far away, and of people I only see at PantheaCon. Murtagh an Doile, of Nemed na Morrigna, one of those doing proto-CR back in the 80s, and head of the Pagan History Project; big hearted Oggie of El Paso; PSV Lupus; the Anomalous Thracian; and Duffi McDermott, were among these. It was good to meet the very knowledgeable Thenea of Pandemos, a South SF Bay Hellenic group, the marvelous Jaina Bee, and Alley Valkyrie who gave me some wonderful honeybee patches and an anti-capitalist zine (thanks!).   And a few good rituals were had, including the Ekklesia Lupercalia in which I participated, and a rite to Dionysos Hestios.

Although San Jose is relatively close for me, I live too far for it to be a daily commute. Also the Con is held in one of the most expensive locales in the US (Silicon Valley) and even a sad-sack room for one night in a so-called nearby “budget” motel cost me over a 100 dollars. A usual accommodation had fallen out, and I use medical equipment for sleeping (yes, a C-pap machine).

I had had some apprehensions before I arrived, which quickly dissipated after running into some of the aforementioned friends, but at one point I almost went to the Pagan Scholar’s suite but noticed on the board that Atheopagan was soon be making a presentation, so I headed toward the elevator. I do work to avoid unnecessary stress and negativity in my life. Unfortunately this was unavoidable for other attendees, especially those of color. Much has written about a stupid unofficial bulletin put out by an anonymous group that apparently finds racism comical (read Aedicula Antinoi for a thorough treatment of this). But there was much more. I was only briefly able to stop by the Pagans of Color hospitality suite hosted by Elena Rose, Xochiquetzal Duti Odinsdottir and other fine folks,but was horrified later to hear that people had been walking down the hall there making verbal harassments. Some felt physically unsafe walking around.

I’m just…almost at a loss of words that this level of racism/white supremacism is going on at PantheaCon. I’d really like to know what the planners have in mind to better the situation in the future. It really is scary, and I am left wondering about the future of PantheaCon.

Also see:

http://paganactivist.com/2015/02/17/racism-and-activism-at-pantheacon/#more-1512

William Burroughs, Prophet

“If you intend to destroy an individual or a culture, destroy their dreams. This is happening now on a global scale.” So prophetic writer and master magician William Burroughs wrote back in 1987, and how that war has been amplified in the years since. What does it mean when a body/culture/species starts destroying itself on a macro-level?

 

Can we (some) make our way through the Western Lands? To prep for the journey cultivate your Imagination.

 

Tonight I poured a libation of whiskey for Uncle Bill on his birthday.

 

And I found this interesting music of Tiago Sousa inspired by the novel The Western Lands. http://www.restingbell.net/releases/rb030-the-western-lands

 

 

 

By Christiaan Tonnis (flickr)
By Christiaan Tonnis (flickr)

 

 

Interesting fact: Burroughs is an Ekklesia Antinoou sanctus.

Happy Imbolc

Here’s a praise poem I used in our ritual today:

 

Praise Poem for the Brigids

 

Brigid the smith, your fire contained and

channeled into the iron, shaping and helping;

Brigid of the herbs, gathering, healing, young and old;

Brigid of the poets, bright and dark, fire in water,

bubbling imbas into poem and prophecy;

Brigid of the hearth; Brigid of the judgments;

Brig Ambue of the cowless warriors, the outsiders;

Great Bríd of the Horses, dark inspirer;

May all the Brigids be welcome here at our table,

Blessing, inspiring, and protecting.

 

Sheep’s milk, cow’s milk (all local and organic),  Irish herbed butter and a sheep’s milk cheese named “Brigante”(!) were offered.

 

Sheep's milk
Sheep’s milk