I’m starting to get some of this shit. Slowly. I’m so slow, dense, out of touch with myself when I’m in the middle of something.
I’m starting to understand what the dead have to say, and why I’ve been in the middle of what feels like the longest funeral march in history. This started, certainly, when I began to take Galina Krasskova’s Ancestor Course, accelerated when I called on a chthonic aspect of Dionysos, and has hit really hard since then. Also, it’s no co-incidence that I’d been reading Silvia Federici’s Caliban and The Witch, which is practically a litany of the crimes against the pagan peasantry towards the creation of the disenchanted, materialist, Capitalist order. And those crimes against the people who worshiped our gods are also crimes against the gods, and now I get some of the visions I had more than half a year ago.
But fuck, this has been hard. My soul’s sore from this, and from other things related, particularly watching someone who is kin collapse under the weight of his own theories of universal tolerance and love. Seeing him is a painful mirror, because I remember that I do this too and use it to justify my inaction.
No mystery is easy, sure, but fuck. Have I said fuck enough? I’m almost getting Thracian here.
This week’s Sense of Place post is up: Dionysos In A Paving Stone, Brighid In The Broken Glass
Something I needed to write, though it will begin to alienate me from a particular community that I already feel only passing attachment to. Still.
Speaking of Fuck, there’s a thread in there I intend to pick up in my first Wild Hunt article, coming out next weekend.
Sex-as-liberation within Paganism is kind of a problem. In the late 60’s, there were massive upheavals which terrified the establishment everywhere, but the legacy of the American upheaval? Marijuana and Sex. Neither of these things are bad, but they won’t “free your mind” or body or anything, and they certainly won’t overthrow governments, stop climate change, or better living conditions for the poor, and a spirituality based on such things (here’s looking at you, Eugene) is no better than doing yoga. It’ll make you feel less stressed, but it won’t change the world, and I suspect that much of the mainstream Neo-Pagan indifference (and tacit acceptance) of sexual misconduct comes from this legacy, not from any actual religious truth.
I’m gonna throw some Zizek at that.