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Mud And Magic Blog

A close-up of a sundial surrounded by low greenery, showing a time of about 12:30.
"Garden sundial MN 2007" by SEWilco is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5

I've never been too fussed about always going clockwise in Circle, and the Silver Spiral tradition doesn't have it as a requirement. We sometimes forget to tell guests and start off watching them awkwardly spin three-quarters clockwise instead of one quarter counter-clockwise until they realize that we don't bother. Up to them, though; if deosil is their preference, they can have at it.

It's all a matter of view and perspective: Rise to the sun and the moon, and gaze down with Them on our rites, we seem to move clockwise. Sink down in to the earth below our feet and look up with Her, and we seem to move counter-clockwise. Every deosil contains widdershins, and each widdershins contains deosil.

Pull back away from our sun, and see the planets spiral through space. If they left trails, they'd be like be like the double helix of DNA. Our little sacred Circles on the earth spiral through space with Her.

A computer generated image of a double helix DNA strand: dark blue on a lighter blue background.
"DNA Double Helix" by cookiepx2016 is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Clockwise or counter-clockwise, circles or spirals; it's all a matter of perspective.

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A black cat curled up on a cream coloured cushion.
Our beloved Puck passed away last summer at the age of 17.

There will always be loss. It is fundamental to Paganism that the wheel turns for each of us, and eventually life becomes death, which feeds new life.

As the weather has turned cold and grey and wet, I've been cuddling up in sweaters and listening to a lot of the Sickboy podcast. I've listened to about 20 episodes in the last couple of weeks, and I've been particularly interested in the episodes about those facing death. Jeremie, who has Cystic Fibrosis and is therefore facing a shortened life span, is a strong believer in doctor assisted suicide and death with dignity. He also seems to be an atheist. In one episode1, he talked about death as a final peaceful sleep - a welcome end when his body is failing. His intention is to live until the point when a double lung transplant is recommended, and then, as he says, to gather his loved ones and "drink the juice or whatever".

I've been thinking a lot about a phrase I see a lot on social media when Pagans lose a loved one: "What is remembered lives."2 As our lives become more digital and we each leave ever more long-lasting footprints - more photos, writings, recordings3 - it is possible than our distant descendants will easily know more about us than we could ever uncover about our great-greats.4 We will live on in memories and imaginations for as long as anyone cares to follow our digital life trail, but eventually there will be so many lives memorialized that we will be archived and allowed to rest unremembered.

I don't participate in ancestor worship myself. I remember those I've loved who have passed on and hold those memories dear, but I believe that those who have passed through the veil have earned their rest. When I light candles in their names at Samhain, it is for me, not for them.

Rather than ancestor worship, I propose descendant worship. In circle, let's honour and venerate those who are coming after us. We can draw strength from who they will be to power magic and action for a better future - the future they will inherit from us.

What is remembered lives... even if they haven't walked this earth yet.

A close-up of two people holding handsMy partner sometimes tells a story of the early days of our relationship. I actually don't remember the conversation, per se, but it is part of the structure of our life together. As the story goes, I sat him down and offered him a simple agreement: we will both agree to say what we mean and we will both agree to believe what the other says. If you say you are OK, I will trust your word. We aren't perfect at this, but it has generally been a helpful guideline by which to live together: a goal of perfect trust.

On Facebook recently, I linked to a rant article about Pagan Standard Time. I was mostly interested in the cultural aspect, where Pagan culture has made flakiness, lateness, and lack of preparation and planning into values. It's as if we subconsciously believe that you can't be "magical" or spiritual and still be capable of reading a calendar. My experience with assorted community organizing certainly bears this out: there are the volunteers who don't show up for their shifts and never respond to emails about whether or not they are OK; there's the criticism of leaders who insist on event licenses and insurance with their associated costs; and there's a general acceptance of everything running late from the unapologetic leaders and the shrugging "Pagan Standard Time" response from participants.

After I posted the link, a fellow Silver Spiral member pointed out the ableism in the article. When you narrow the focus from the general culture of Paganism down to the actions of individuals, you can't tell the difference between flakiness and invisible disabilities (or other life challenges) that might stand in the way of someone being prepared and on time. There are those who would prefer to be thought of as flaky rather than share the private details of their physical or mental health or other life circumstances, and we should respect that.

In a perfect world, the Pagan community would have a simple agreement: everyone would do the best they can to be on time and to be prepared, and no one would question or complain about those who don't succeed. We would give up the mythology that our magic interferes with our ability to be practical. We would trust that everyone's doing their part, even if that part seems small. We would make room for those who need more support or more time because they'd no longer be lost in a sea of people who choose not to take their community commitments as seriously as their schooling or day jobs.

Given that I can't single-handedly change Pagan culture, I will commit to this: I am going to do the best I can to start my events on time out of respect for those who made the effort to be there promptly - especially those with challenges; especially those whose challenges are invisible or unknown. I am also going to hold space for those who aren't on time or prepared. When they arrive, they'll be welcomed and included. I'll try to work with the assumption that everyone is making their best effort and that they should not have to explain or justify themselves. I will try believing the intentions and words of others with the impossible goal of community-wide perfect trust.

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A two foot waterfall into a small natural pool, surrounded by lush greenery.There are moments of incredible natural awe that some of us are lucky enough to experience. I'm collecting those moments, and I hold to my heart a double rainbow, the view from 3000 feet as I rise on a thermal in my paraglider, the first sight of a gorgeous tropical waterfall after a long hike, the midnight sun, and the full eclipse. Those moments, and others, inspired awe in me.

Sometimes these moments are hard-earned and sometimes they are freely given by the world if you happen to be at the right place at the right time. But they are, by their nature, fleeting moments. They are awe inspiring partially because they are sudden and rare. Awe is reverence and respect mixed with fear or wonder.

Yesterday I went walking around gorgeous gardens in the September sun. I listened to Songs of the Northern Tribes to block out the sound of other visitors and admired the beauty of the green, of the pond and tiny waterfall, of the light playing with the leaves. It was really the first time since my injury in March that I've been able to wander alone. I felt serenity, but not awe.

In a good ritual, there may be the moment when a chant peaks and everyone is united as one and feels the energy flowing through the group... and there's awe there too. Not everyone will get to see the view at 3000 feet or luck into seeing a double rainbow, but we can create opportunities for awe in our rituals. Start by making sure there are ways for everyone to meaningfully, deeply participate. Continue by making sure there's an energy raising. And make room for wonder; don't treat your ritual like a to-do list.

No matter what you do, sometimes your participants won't achieve awe, because it's an emotional state that also depends on what they find worthy of reverence. And sometimes they will experience awe in your rituals while you don't, and you end up offering the full ritual experience as a gift from outside of it. But sometimes magic will happen.

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A dark sky with a band of orange sunlight at the horizon and a number of people gathered, looking into the sky.
The horizon during the moment of the full solar eclipse of August 21st, 2017.

You are made of elements created in the depths of a dying star. You are made of the universe. You are the universe embodied and breathing, and the universe experiences itself through your senses.

That swept through my mind as I watched the moment of totality during the August 21st's solar eclipse. I didn't know what to expect from that moment, so the tears that welled up in my eyes took me by surprise. The experience was literally indescribable1.

In the days leading up to the eclipse, there was a letter by an optometrist going around social media urging people to stay home and watch the eclipse on TV. I understand the importance of making sure people take the risks seriously2, but it was shameful to tell people to miss the miraculous experience of being there in person if they could be. No matter how good your TV is, it cannot give you the experience of the sudden coolness, the sudden darkness - the awe-inspiring sight in person.

Some beauty comes with risks and sacrifices, as when you go into faerie land to come back mad or a poet. Or as when you fall in love. You owe it to the sacred universe that you embody to experience as much love and beauty as you can in the short time that you are on this earth.

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Chairs set up around an altar.

There's an ideal image of a witches' coven in ritual: A group in matching robes standing around an altar in the moonlight. The altar would be laid with a lovely cloth and be bright with candles with incense smoke curling around simple, beautiful, matching tools. The coven's hands are held high and they are ready to chant and dance and work magic. It's an image seen on many Pagan books and magazines. It's an image I was trying to recreate in the first rituals I did... often to the detriment of the ritual's content and focus.

Over time, I've moved towards focusing on substance over style in my rituals, and the practical needs of my spiritual community has overridden any desire to have our rites look like a magazine cover. Robes went first; we simply didn't have the desire to all get any sort of special clothing. Next to go was the moonlight; rituals, even ones centered around the moon, sometimes had to be in the afternoon or right after work. Incense was given up due to allergies. Most recently, we've given up standing and dancing, at least temporarily. At this year's Lammas ritual, out of the six people who were able to attend, three were unable to stand without pain and one had her tiny baby with her.

Over the course of adapting rituals to the needs of a group with mobility issues, we've learned a few helpful things:

- I've found that both the group energy and the mechanics of the ritual work best if everyone's on the same level: all standing, or all seated in chairs, or all seated on the floor. We try to have chairs that are roughly the same height. If we're sitting on the floor, an altar that is very low or even just a cloth right on the floor is important so people can see each other and what's happening.

- If the ritual is going to include holding hands or passing items, it is important to place the chairs close enough together and to choose an altar small enough to fit in the centre, rather than having an altar that's too big and having people too far apart.

- Getting in and out of a circle of chairs can be awkward, so circle casting is best either done from a stationary position or by walking around the inside of the circle of people if there's enough room. When planning, be aware that chairs take up more room than standing people, so your room will fill up very quickly.

- If possible, encourage people to sit up straight and at the edge of their chair to keep energy and physical attention on the ritual.

- Cross-calling the quarters: The person calling East sits in the West, therefore facing East, and so on. I saw a group use this technique when doing very large outdoor rituals because it made it easier for the whole group to hear, but it is also really effective in a group where people can't easily turn to face the quarter being called.

- Dancing might be out, but a lot of other energy raising techniques work just as well in a seated ritual: drumming and chanting, meditations and visualizations, etc. If more movement seems required, there are lots of options with a bit of creativity: clapping, stomping feet, passing items around, and hand and arm gestures.

At Lammas, we made for a very different looking circle than that Wiccan 101 book cover: jeans and t-shirts, sitting in kitchen chairs in a ring around an altar covered with a sarong and cluttered with a diverse collection of tools and a bottle of cinnamon whiskey. But the magic was undeniable.

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A gloved hand reaching for the hilt of a sword that is stuck upright in a huge stone. My partner works in construction - in inspections to be more specific - and he sometimes speaks disparagingly of architects. They are artists, but sometimes fall so much in love with their beautiful vision that they neglect the practical (like electrical panels) and the efficient (like preferring all glass). And the world needs people to imagine beautiful things... as long as there are also some practical people around to tell them that they need to include railings on their balconies, even if that ruins the graceful lines of the building.

Paganism has a lot of great "architects": people with great, beautiful visions. Some of those people are even able to execute their great ideas, having the right combination of leadership skills and practical expertise to make projects a reality. The dearth of training for Pagan leaders in most communities means that qualified folks can be at a premium, and the results can be seen in many a dysfunctional group or organization and in many a beautiful vision that never comes to pass.

I still think that's an issue, but there's another role we seem low on: tummlers. A tummler in the realm of coworking is one who incites others to action. In coworking, in fact, they have extended and explored that meaning to show how a person can nurture a community without managing it.

If you are perceived as a leader in a community, people will come to you with "you know what you should do...". I get a lot of that in my day job in coworking, and I've seen Pagans get it too. And I've seen both coworking folks and Pagan leaders become burned out as a result of trying to turn all those suggestions into reality by themselves. A skilled tummler turns "you know what you should do" into "you know what I can do" and connects people together. And they show up. Tummlers set an example of how community works by showing up and doing their part; they just don't have to be the foreperson.

I can hear it: "But if I don't do it, no one will." This approach will mean that some beautiful visions will never be created. But hopefully it'll mean we will have more people doing more things, and fewer people burning out. Become a tummler and get those architects building! And when you meet people with "boring" skills like budgeting and writing bylaws, encourage them to join in on projects and help keep the dreamers from spending all their money on one aspect or accidentally breaking the rules. Don't supervise; connect, promote, and cheerlead!

The biggest mistake you can make in community building is trying to do it on your own.1

Blue and white stick figure actively wheeling a wheelchairAs Paganism matures, we have to address a huge range of accessibility issues for our religion: physical accessibility for Pagans with mobility issues, assistance for Pagan parents, audiobooks for Pagans who are blind, sign language interpreters for deaf Pagans, inclusivity for LGBTQ Pagans, a welcoming atmosphere for Pagans of colour, accommodations for Pagans with allergies, and more. Luckily, we have some smart, helpful, welcoming Pagans talking about those issues already:

"In this case, the unpopular thing is the idea that we – Pagan leaders and ritualists – may need to change how we approach rituals in order to make our rituals more accessible and inclusive. We may even need to re-evaluate some of our dearly-held theological beliefs. If we want the dominant culture to change, to legalize gay marriage, support people with disabilities, eliminate racism... don't we have to do that work first ourselves, within our community?"

- "Ritual: Physical Accessibility, Transgender Inclusion, and more"; Shauna Aura Knight: Pagan Activist

"Given the huge variation between and within lineages in Gardnerian and Alexandrian Wicca, adding a bit more variation to the mix shouldn't be in the slightest bit controversial - but strangely, as soon as you mention including LGBT people, disabled people, and people of colour, it becomes controversial. I wonder why that is?"

- "But what do you actually do?"; Yvonne Aburrow, inclusive Wicca

"If there's any piece in a ritual that's gendered, they're usually for one of the two most common genders. Where do I fit if I'm involved in that ritual but the best descriptor for my gender mode is "the green of the deep woods in shaded places" (and yes, that is a gender mode I experienced very recently, and no, I don't have any better way to describe it). And that's just in ritual; what do I do in social spaces before and after? "Hi, my name is Dee and my pronouns are they and them," isn't necessarily the best icebreaker that doesn't also completely derail the purpose of the gathering (depending on the group, of course)."

- "Gender - What's the Big Idea?"; Dee Shull: The Liminal Waters

"And yet when these sorts of things occur, it gets kinda frustrating, and isolating, and lonely, and sad, and painful, and emotional... because when things like this come up I feel these complex issues do separate me. They kinda split me in half. I know I can go into the Deaf Community and they get it, and they can provide support... but they can't always provide the magick and the healing, and the spiritualness that gets me through days like this. But where can I find that same comparable understanding and support within the Pagan Community? I'm not saying it doesn't exist... but it does seem more challenging to locate it."

- "Mandela’s Fake Interpreter"; Ocean: Deaf Pagan Crossroads

"One of the walls I often crash against in the wider pagan community is the inaccessibility of events and rituals for children who have special needs, from autism spectrum disorders to physical mobility issues, that require accommodation. We are a community that prides itself on inclusivity, and yet I often see a lack of it towards children in general and specifically towards children who have behavioral or physical challenges. The biggest argument against it seems to be that something important will be lost if we change what we are doing to make it easier for children with different needs to attend. I disagree, and I think by making our [open, public] rituals too focused on creating a numinous experience for the adults present we are losing a more genuine feeling of community that should be present in religious worship by open groups.

"What frustrates me is that it doesn't have to be this way – while it does require compromise and reworking it is not impossible to accommodate families that need it. And I will never believe the Gods, ancestors or spirits are offended by the actions or needs of a child who is doing their best in the moment and only wants to be part of a spiritual celebration."

- "Irish-American Witchcraft: Pagan Events and Special Needs Children (or Adults)"; Morgan Daimler: The Agora

"There are also a lot of festivals, rituals and events, whether as small as a coven or large as a regional festival, that aren't very accommodating. And that's a problem.

"You see, we're getting old. As a movement, we are aging. Today Gardner would be over 120, and Alex Sanders would be in his 90's. The youngest of their initiates would be in their 40's to 60's now, and most would be much older.

"The Beatles wanted to know if you'd still love them when they turned 64. I wonder if our community will still be there for us when we're 72 or 86?"

- "Is Paganism Blind To The Disabled?"; Star Foster: Pantheon

"Some people in the Pagan community get it. They design gatherings with flexibility built in. They communicate clearly but inclusively — "We will be doing X" rather than "X kind of people should not apply." They are more interested in providing a positive experience and encouraging their fellow Pagans than in excluding people whose bodies don't meet their preconceived notions. They welcome questions and find ways to work around limits."

- "Welcome vs. Go Away"; Jane Raeburn: "Vulcan's Sister"

"There are also many people with disabilities whose voices are not included in this article. Some are quite isolated and have difficulty attending events at all, and rely almost entirely upon the internet to make contact with people of like mind. The Wild Hunt did reach out to a number of Pagans with disabilities about sharing their perspectives, but one thing that is all too common is that some disabilities — regardless of its other impacts — sap energy and make otherwise simple tasks much more difficult, such as sending an email or typing out a sentence or two in reaction. We would like to acknowledge these unheard voices within our community."

- "Pagans with disabilities face unseen challenges"; Terence P Ward: The Wild Hunt

Sign outside a church that reads "Come as you are... but don't stay that way". I saw a sign outside a Christian church: "Come as you are". I thought about my small town childhood: about getting up on Sunday mornings to get ready for Sunday school, about the weeks when Sunday school was cancelled and we had to sit stiffly in pews instead of colouring, and about tea and cookies with everyone else in their Sunday bests after the service. It was a thing we did for years - every Sunday unless we were camping - but when we moved to a suburb, Mom stopped taking us to church and I never asked to go back.

"Come as you are": it sounds like permission to wear jeans to church, or maybe to show up without faith. It sounds like an unconditional welcome for all; a lovely invitation to enter no matter who you are, what you believe, or what you need.

It turns out, it is about sin: come though you are a sinner. You don't have to be perfect - you don't have to have it all figured out - but bring it all to Jesus/God now. And since there is so much variety within Christianity, there is controversy about what it means and whether or not this kind of invitation is a good idea. But to me, an outsider, it sounds functional: If your religion is going to work, people have to show up. If you want people to be saved, they have to first come in their unsaved condition.

As a whole, Pagan religions aren't much into "sin" or being saved, but we can get hung up on other things. I've spoken to many a new Pagan who has not done any rituals for themselves or who express reluctance to run rituals for their coven or group because they feel like they don't know enough yet. They want to make sure it is going to be perfect before they even attempt it. They put off setting up an altar until they can collect all the perfect tools, and they put off praying wile they seek a deep call to a patron deity, and they put off attending a public ritual until they've read their way through a few lists of "books every Pagan should read". I'm as guilty as them of not starting a morning ritual because I fear that I won't get it right and I'm not sure I can be perfect in doing it daily. We may not be concerned with sin, but we can put off dealing with our spiritual needs due to perfectionism.

The other half of the saying "come as you are" is "but don't stay that way". The Christians will sometimes quote Jesus as saying: "Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more" (John 8:11) and explain that it means not to return to sinful choices.

Though we may not be interested in being saved, our religion is only as good as the changes it makes in us. In my Paganism, we come to circle, grove, or altar with no fancy robes, tools, or excessive knowledge needed, and in being there, we change in ways we choose and are changed in ways we never imagined. Whether we enter sacred space alone or in community, we come as we are, but we don't stay that way.


Billy Graham
A still of Billy Graham's TED Talk: On Technology and Faith.

In the "Believers And Doubters" episode of TED Radio Hour, Anne Graham Lotz talks about her father - Billy Graham - and how he differentiated between belief and faith. Basically, he took the controversial position that James 2:19 means that there is a difference between belief and faith, for even the demons believe in god. Faith requires more than acknowledgement of the existence of something, but the additional step of having confidence and trust in it and loyalty and fidelity to it.

It's treated as standard: believe in, have faith in, and therefore worship. Except Pagans - and others - like to mess with the system. Some Pagans may believe in gods they choose not to have faith in or worship. Some may worship with neither belief nor faith. And some have faith and worship without belief. Anyone who tries to define Paganism in terms of any one axis - that to be Pagan, one must have Pagan beliefs, for example - misses that we undermine the believer versus non-believer dichotomy and screw with the assumption that belief, faith, and worship must go together.

I don't believe in the sun, for it just is. I have faith in it - that it will continue to rise and warm and feed - but it doesn't need my worship.

I don't believe in the ocean, for it just is. I know it to be the source of life, so I make my offerings and my worship, but I don't have faith in it.

I do believe that all life is a sacred expression of the universe and I have faith that that means all lives, from the biggest to the smallest and from the highest to the deepest, have meaning, as we are all ways for the sacred universe to perceive itself and learn about itself. And there's everything and nothing to worship in that.



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