The Deepest Crimson

I find myself a bit awed by the response to my last piece here.  It’s certainly heartwarming to learn that several thousand people are willing to read what a queer anarchist polytheist druid has to say about being gay at a Christian college.  That being said, I forgot that writing sometimes means crafting beauty around pain, or as my lover said, “opening deep wounds in order to find a more vivid crimson with which to paint.”

(there’s a damn good reason I’m so in love with him).

There are more stories there, deeper reds and burgundies.  One day I’ll get around to writing what it was like to take care of two younger sisters while our single-mother went schizophrenic and gave all of her money to the megachurch we went to so they could build a nice new building.  I’ve actually a few chapters on that written already.  It’s called, “Accept Jesus–I Have a Bomb.

That’s an actual quote from her, by the way.

I’d also like to write more about the Polytheist Leadership Conference.  It was damn fucking cool, and I find it particularly fascinating that there’s been an odd backlash amongst some Pagan bloggers attempting to quarantine the potential radicalism from that event.  It’s okay.  I do that too, when I miss out on something awesome.  I get grumpy and will talk about how it “was probably stupid anyways.”

Impending Words

I’ve a few pieces coming up before then.  Patheos Pagan is hosting a series asking whether or not Pagan Environmentalism has failed.  My A Sense of Place post will address that, and I’ll continue the “Where They May Be Found” series the week after.

Also, I owe two people stories from the fundraiser, both Fairy Tales.  I’m hoping they’ll consider letting me republish them here, but that’s entirely at their discretion.

Then, another Wild Hunt contribution, likely about the conference and the larger issues around the suppressed radicalism of Pagan thought.

And in the next week, I hope to have a re-written version of the presentation I gave at the conference posted here.  It will comprise a significant section of the Pagan Anti-Capitalism book, as well (many of the things I’ve posted lately have been “trial” chapters for the book).

I also have some more stuff to learn about the dead, and I’m not sure if words work well for that.  Many people have been noting they’re around a lot more, showing up to all sorts of practitioners who aren’t always seen as relating with them.  The dead figured heavily in my mind while I prepared and gave my presentation, and the more I study the intersections of Capitalism, displacement, and Paganism, the more the dead seem to show up with stories.

I’ve also made two minor changes to this blog.  I’ve added a page, “Others,” which is the beginning of a list of people whom I read regularly.  The list is incredibly incomplete, but I plan to work on it as time allows.

Also, you’ll notice there’s a tiny “donate” button on the right now.  Consider it a “tip jar,” or a virtual “buy the bard a drink” button.  Since I eventually hope to write full-time, I figured I should start getting used to the idea of accepting money from people.  That’s not as easy as you would think.

Home

Seattle’s been great thus far.  I’m employed as a social worker again, working a few side jobs, drinking too much coffee and staring at more than one’s fill of trees (actually, you cannot have too many).  The city’s full of freaks, queers, and pagan-ish folks.  I forgot what it was like to have community, and am beginning to remember how absurd it is that any of us confuse words on blue-screens for actual, embodied friendships.

Nothing can replace flesh and breath.

 

About Rhyd Wildermuth

An intractable tea-swilling punk, queer hooligan, and dream-soaked leftist bard, Rhyd Wildermuth has left bits of his heart(h) everywhere—in a satyr’s den in Berlin, hanging from an elder tree over a holy well in Bretagne, scattered in back alleys of Seattle, and lost somewhere in the bottom of his rucksack. He’s devoted to Welsh gods, breathes words, makes candles, plays recorder, fumbles with tech, and refuses ever to learn to drive. His main blog is: paganarch.com. View all posts by Rhyd Wildermuth

4 responses to “The Deepest Crimson

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