Mark Green's Atheopaganism Blog: Ritual

Atheopagan Ritual: Denatured? Some Notes.

Tue, Feb 24, 2015

Mark Green

3 Comments

Practice, Techniques

I’ve been thinking and writing about rituals recently, as I roll out a series of pieces detailing each phase of the Atheopagan ritual structure described in the Atheopagan Ritual Primer. Some naturalist Pagans express concern about the ability of humanistic/naturalistic/Atheopagan rituals to create truly transcendent experiences. Faith, it is suggested,…

Atheopagan Ritual: Arrival

Tue, Feb 24, 2015

Mark Green

8 Comments

Practice, Techniques

This is one of a series of articles about creating Atheopagan rituals. They expand on the Atheopagan Ritual Primer, to which they will be added after the whole series has been published online. It should be pointed out that the Atheopagan ritual structure described in the Primer…

Three Percent: a Riverain Blessing

Sat, Feb 07, 2015

Mark Green

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Sabbaths, Liturgy

Three percent is all they say The sweet water of a water planet Three percent The cool drink, the soft rain Rare as blood, rare as luck, rare To our wet hands, shining. From the far sky, adrift in curds and blankets Whips…

The Focus

Wed, Jan 28, 2015

Mark Green

9 Comments

Practice, Techniques

This piece is excerpted from the Atheopagan Ritual Primer. A Focus is what Atheopagans call an altar. We choose a different word because “altar” implies worship—or even sacrifice—and we want to be clear that that isn’t what we are doing. The Focus is a work of art: a…

The God Mask – A Ritual Technique

Sun, Jan 25, 2015

Mark Green

14 Comments

Practice, Techniques, Atheology

We had a great conversation at our online video chat in the Facebook Atheopagan group today. Topics ranged, but one that stuck out for me was Glen Gordon’s discussion of his work to create a new lexicon for Pagan and ritual phenomena he feels aren’t well defined…

MULLED WINE–a Poem for the Yule Season

Fri, Dec 05, 2014

Mark Green

3 Comments

Sabbaths, Liturgy

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 the gods for company! We’ll tell our…