Death
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GUEST POST: Relating to Silk Moths and Dying Stars
by Emily Ryan In the corner of my living room, in a white mesh enclosure the last of my hyalophora cecropia nears death. Tattered, her once swollen abdomen is emptied of her precious eggs and the stores of fats and lipids that nourished her is depleted. Even tattered and dying, she is heart wrenchingly beautiful. Her red and white body is furred and fluffy. Her six inch wingspan is painted with strata of orange, red, and white. She is the largest and most spectacular species of moth in North America. The small flame of her life puffs out, but the cycle continues ever on. A few feet away from where…
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Bring Me That Horizon
In 2015, it was our home of 18 years being sold out from under us, and having to move, but having no money. In 2016, it was unemployment, deep depression and financial desperation. In 2017, it was the Tubbs wildfire, which evacuated us for 9 days, came within a half-block of burning our home, burned 20% of the city where I live, killed some unfortunates, and tanked our region’s economy. In 2018, it was the smoke of the Camp Fire that turned the sky black and the air unbreathable for days. More death. Paradise, California, erased from the Earth. In 2019, it was the Kincade Fire, which nearly eradicated the…
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Death, the Creator
Classic depictions of Death personified include skeletons carrying an hourglass or a scythe, mummified persons extending leathery hands, armies of skeletal warriors mowing down the living, or Pale Horsemen laying waste to kings, priests and children, as in the Coleman-Waite “Rider” Tarot deck. It makes complete sense that we view death with fear and revulsion. We are, after all, hardwired to wish to survive, hardwired to want to pass our genes on, however we may. Certainly, our deaths scare us. We die, and by and large, we don’t want to. But if we step back, we can see the value of death. The importance it plays in the perpetuation and…
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An Underworld Focus
At this time of year, I pay a lot of attention to one part of my Focus*. As altar-y spaces go, it is unquestionably the “witchiest” part of mine: bones, skulls, fossils of extinct species, a mummified bat, images of prehistoric cave paintings, megalithic spiral carvings and departed loved ones, a dried pomegranate. It is where I keep the black jar of rose water with which I have anointed several dead people, and the tiny jar of cedar oil, veteran of so many Hallows rituals, whose scent reminds me of the inside of a coffin. It is The Underworld. My Focus is built in a bookcase, with one shelf removed…
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A Gift from the Dying
I’ll cut to the chase: we’re all dying. It’s the only guaranteed fact of our lives: we die. Atheopaganism doesn’t promise an afterlife. There really isn’t compelling evidence to support the idea of one, and so we conclude (tentatively, at least) that it is unlikely that there is one. This is the life that we have. And it ends. Personally, I no longer fear death much. I don’t want for it to come any time soon, but I was dead for 13.7 billion years before I was conceived, and I don’t expect it to be any less pleasant when I am dead again. I simply will not be; there will…
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We Die.
We’re going to die. All of us. Grappling with this fact may be the single most powerful factor in what it means to be human. It is so profound and unarguable a fact that every religion has to confront it in one way or another, and Atheopaganism must, as well. And while most religions—including most flavors of Paganism—promise that death is only temporary; that some future in an afterlife will be provided to the Faithful, I’m sorry, folks, but I’m not going to do that. We die. We really die. We simply have no credible evidence to the contrary. But is that, frightening as it may be, really all that terrible? I was…
