Holidays
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Pleasure as a Sacred Experience
As I practice and have described it, the tenth Principle of Atheopaganism is responsible sensuality: the cultivation of pleasure for its own sake, so long as in doing so we are not harming others or the Earth. It’s May Day weekend, that sexy festival of fertility and passion, so now is a good time to write a bit more about this. I’m somewhat wistful about lost experiences of Pagan joy back in the bad old 80s. Yes, we were clueless and somewhat irresponsible—and some had miserably bad personal boundaries—but there was real freedom and joy in dancing naked about a Maypole, in sharing touch and pleasure with friends and comrades…
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Just do it.
I hate that this empowering phrase has been coopted by a sweatshop-operating shoe company, but I’m not going to let them have it, either. This post is about getting your practice going, and keeping it going. Paganism–including Atheopaganism–is something you do. It isn’t just about having a particular worldview, although worldviews are, of course, important. No, Paganism asks that we act: build an altar (Focus), meditate, reflect on Big Questions, conduct rituals, celebrate the passing of the seasons in an intentional manner. It demands that we focus on what we find Sacred, and behave mindfully in a manner that speaks to that love, even if it is in simple ways. (Not every…
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The Sabbath of Water
In my Wheel of the Year, the cross-quarter which lands around the beginning of February is Riverain: the Feast of Water. That’s because where I live, in Northern California with its Mediterranean climate, that time of year is the heaviest with rainfall. The mountains grow emerald green with winter grass, the creeks gush, filled to their banks, and the wetland areas fill into lakes. However, we’ve been in a drought for the past five years. Last year, we had a few good storms before the New Year, and then the sky shut off like a tap. Riverain rolled around and the hills were still a sickly yellow, the reservoirs were empty,…
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Mulled Wine
It begins where the smoke hits your eyes: smouldering peat, Mutton stew on a broad iron hook, Deep snow. How can it ever have been summer? Apples wrinkling and mice in the barley— With so much to fear, thank fortune for company! We’ll tell our tales, remember how we passed the cold Last year, and that before. And those who couldn’t. The grape leans across The seasons, clasps the hand of summer’s Dried rind, dreaming the new fruit, Calling the sun back, World without end amen. —Mark Green
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Harvest of Ashes: A Shadow Sabbath
It’s supposed to be a time of bounty: the gardens overflowing, the grapes coming in to be crushed, the hard blue sky of autumn whispering, “hurry, time’s a-wasting.” A time for feasting with friends and reveling in sunsets; a time for sporadic hints of the wild weather to come. But what are we to make of Harvest—of the autumnal equinox—when the crops have failed or burned? How do we celebrate plenty when we are bereft? How, in short, do we observe the Wheel of the Year when life isn’t cooperative with its narratives? When tragedy comes at High Spring, or birth at Hallows, or joblessness at Yule, how do we continue…
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Midsummer: The Sabbath of Ease
We’re now in the long, golden days of the Northern Hemisphere summer, approaching the very longest day: Midsummer. Historically, for those of us whose forebears are European, this was the time of year when grain crops were in the fields and not yet ready to harvest, but fruits and early vegetables were plentiful along with milk and meat. Though our ancestors lived lives of hard toil, this time of year was easier than any other: long, warm days with not that much to do but gather the day’s food and tend to the animals. So what do humans do when they have time available? They play, and they create art and…
