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Three "single serve" packets of salt on a wood table.

We didn't go to fast food restaurants when I was a kid. As a teen witch, I became a bit fixated on acquiring salt packets, but since my family didn't eat out, there weren't many opportunities to pick some up. By the time I was earning my own money and could choose to eat out, I was a vegetarian... this was before most major fast food restaurants had a veggie option on their menu.

The books I was reading as a teen Pagan recommended carrying a portable ritual or magic kit with you. Since salt is so useful to Pagans--cleansing, protection, earth symbolism--magic-to-go supply lists would always include salt, often with the note that fast food restaurant packets are convenient and light weight.

In these books, carrying magic supplies with you was treated like carrying CPR supplies in your purse, or a fire extinguisher in your car, or a Naloxone kit if you are likely to encounter people who overdose. It was a responsible thing to do.

When I was a baby Pagan, some part of me imagined that one day I would encounter some sort of spiritual or supernatural crisis that would require emergency magical intervention. I didn't really believe it: it was a fantasy; an excuse to imagine myself as the hero because I was the only person ready for this kind of crisis... the only person equipped with salt and the secret of how to use it. A lot of new magic users have this type of fantasy, I think. Certainly, I've run across a lot of hints of it in the Pagan community.

I had been listening to a podcast about the QAnon cult, and when a handful of salt packets arrived in my dinner delivery, it made me think of how, when I was fifteen, sixteen, I would have found some of the QAnon stuff, especially the "save the children" part, appealing: the idea that marching with a sign and knowing the right incantations to chant would magically change the world. It would be a chance to be a hero, after all, at no personal risk and with no difficult changes or sacrifices needed. And if it wasn't distracting from real problems, if it wasn't causing real life harm, if it wasn't consuming resources needed for real crises, it would be no worse than carrying a packet of salt in case an emergency space cleansing was suddenly needed. It doesn't surprise me that some people take QAnon to the next level: a sort of live action role playing game made real for them. I've seen this in our community too, once in a while.

Luckily, most of us realize eventually that if there's a crisis, magic is not what is going to be needed on the fly--we will need first aid knowledge, bystander intervention or conflict de-escalation skills, and the ability to stay calm in a crisis. A CPR mask, protective medical gloves, and a cell phone are all more important than a packet of salt in dealing with real life problems.

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A sand coloured half-ruined temple including a ramp to a second story and lines of columns and statues.
Photo by Ian Lloyd (lloydi.com). 7. Everything possible about Hatshepsut’s temple...

I love the podcast "99% Invisible" (who knew glass was so interesting?) and have frequently thought that I would listen to the host, Roman Mars, read the phone book. A recent episode - "The Smell of Concrete After Rain" - included a bit where Roman read some parts of a list called "Two Hundred Fifty Things An Architect Should Know", and I was completely charmed by it. I looked it up and read the rest of the list later, and though I didn't understand all of it, I was still taken by it even without Roman's lovely voice. What I most enjoyed was the mixture of whimsical (247. The depths of desire / 248. The heights of folly) and practical (11. The insulating properties of glass), academic (173. The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World) and poetic (78. The quality of light passing through ice), easy (38. The color wheel) and aspirational (133. Finding your way around Prague, Fez, Shanghai, Johannesburg, Kyoto, Rio, Mexico, Solo, Benares, Bangkok, Leningrad, Isfahan).

I once read an article about what Pagans should learn about their local environment - things like where your tap water comes from and what grows locally at different times of year. I tried to find the article again to see what else was on the list - finally, my collection of old Pagan magazines would be useful again! Alas, either I no longer have the magazine it was in, or maybe it wasn't in a magazine at all. I thought it was by Chas Clifton and I thought it was in PanGaia... if it rings a bell for anyone, please let me know. I remember that it seemed like a good, practical list. A good start for a summary of things for a Pagan to learn, though lacking in whimsy.

I try to avoid the word "should", so my list can't be "Things a Pagan Should Know". I don't know if I can get to two hundred and fifty on my own, so I welcome additions and suggestions.

(Some) Things a Pagan Will Want to Know

  1. The scent of the nearest body of water.
  2. Where your tap water comes from.
  3. When strawberry season starts where you live.
  4. The feeling of being alone in a forest.
  5. On a beach.
  6. In a desert.
  7. In a rain forest.
  8. Where to put your hands when skyclad.
  9. How to conduct a ritual with no tools or accessories.
  10. The four centres of Paganism.
  11. How to write a ritual for each centre.
  12. How to write a ritual that will please all the centres.
  13. How to get wax out of fabric.
  14. How to get wax out of carpet.
  15. What animals live in your neighbourhood.
  16. The geological history of the land you live on.
  17. The political and sociological history of the land you live on.
  18. How to grow a plant from a seed.
  19. The origins of "may you never thirst".
  20. How people pray.
  21. What consent means.
  22. How to hug a tree.
  23. How to compost.
  24. A dozen different ways to raise energy.
  25. Why a ritual works.
  26. Why a ritual doesn't work.
  27. How to be a good ritual participant, even if the ritual doesn't work.
  28. Mythology.
  29. Cells through a microscope.
  30. The moon through a telescope.

To be continued...

White writing on black: "This space intentionally left blank."

"How would you describe something [something] that isn’t there [nothing]? ... the way they [the Indians] decided to represent the nothing was they took a little piece of nothing and they drew a circle around it, which turns the nothing into a something." 1

And thus zero was invented.

The way we represent the sacred is we take a little piece of the world and draw a circle around it, which turns the ordinary of our living room or local park into sacred space.

Nothing is always present - the void of our death looms - whether there is a zero or not. And the sacred is always present, whether there is a circle or not. These loops help us conceptualize and ground the abstract, but they are not the concepts they represent.


Sunrise over a winery

I love the concept of the liminal: the in-between place and time. Pagans have often embraced the concept: "...the hearth or altar is a liminal space, as it bridges the gap between the humans and the supernatural; the threshold, doors, and windows of a house are liminal, since they bridge the gap between inside and outside; and certain times of the year and the day (dawn, dusk, and several holidays) are liminal times."1 And in some tradition's rituals, we stand in "a place that is not a place; a time that is not a time". I even have the concept of the liminal in the very core of my beliefs, where I slip between humanism and theism.

I'm in medical limbo right now, waiting on an MRI. Studies suggest that waiting is often the hardest part, even of something as life-altering as a cancer diagnosis. I've been consulting doctors and getting tests for most of 2017 and right now my hopes are pinned on January 4th, 2018, when I will be getting the results of the MRI. If there's nothing on the MRI, though, my limbo may continue.

I've been working with a counselor on dealing with the medical anxiety, preparing for the MRI (I'm claustrophobic), and treating myself with self-compassion and breathing exercises. And it is all helping, but maybe I'm ready to move from tolerating and accepting this time of uncertainty to honouring it. It seems appropriate that this time of greatest liminality for my health concerns should overlap with secular culture's liminal time between Christmas and New Year's.

Everyone will experience the discomfort of not knowing throughout their lives. In my experience, it is easy to overlook that that is what's happening in your life, but to still feel the anxiety and stress. I'm hoping to re-name my limbo as liminal time and do some ritual around the process of sitting in a place without all the answers. I want to find a way to celebrate uncertainty.2 If you have any suggestions or resources, please let me know! I will add a link to my ritual here if I come up with something (ETA: here is my Imbolc ritual called Mindful Liminality).

And I drop into another liminal space, between concept and creation, between thought and action. It is more under my control, though. So mote it be.

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A black cat curled up on a cream coloured cushion.
Our beloved Puck passed away last summer at the age of 17.

There will always be loss. It is fundamental to Paganism that the wheel turns for each of us, and eventually life becomes death, which feeds new life.

As the weather has turned cold and grey and wet, I've been cuddling up in sweaters and listening to a lot of the Sickboy podcast. I've listened to about 20 episodes in the last couple of weeks, and I've been particularly interested in the episodes about those facing death. Jeremie, who has Cystic Fibrosis and is therefore facing a shortened life span, is a strong believer in doctor assisted suicide and death with dignity. He also seems to be an atheist. In one episode1, he talked about death as a final peaceful sleep - a welcome end when his body is failing. His intention is to live until the point when a double lung transplant is recommended, and then, as he says, to gather his loved ones and "drink the juice or whatever".

I've been thinking a lot about a phrase I see a lot on social media when Pagans lose a loved one: "What is remembered lives."2 As our lives become more digital and we each leave ever more long-lasting footprints - more photos, writings, recordings3 - it is possible than our distant descendants will easily know more about us than we could ever uncover about our great-greats.4 We will live on in memories and imaginations for as long as anyone cares to follow our digital life trail, but eventually there will be so many lives memorialized that we will be archived and allowed to rest unremembered.

I don't participate in ancestor worship myself. I remember those I've loved who have passed on and hold those memories dear, but I believe that those who have passed through the veil have earned their rest. When I light candles in their names at Samhain, it is for me, not for them.

Rather than ancestor worship, I propose descendant worship. In circle, let's honour and venerate those who are coming after us. We can draw strength from who they will be to power magic and action for a better future - the future they will inherit from us.

What is remembered lives... even if they haven't walked this earth yet.

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A two foot waterfall into a small natural pool, surrounded by lush greenery.There are moments of incredible natural awe that some of us are lucky enough to experience. I'm collecting those moments, and I hold to my heart a double rainbow, the view from 3000 feet as I rise on a thermal in my paraglider, the first sight of a gorgeous tropical waterfall after a long hike, the midnight sun, and the full eclipse. Those moments, and others, inspired awe in me.

Sometimes these moments are hard-earned and sometimes they are freely given by the world if you happen to be at the right place at the right time. But they are, by their nature, fleeting moments. They are awe inspiring partially because they are sudden and rare. Awe is reverence and respect mixed with fear or wonder.

Yesterday I went walking around gorgeous gardens in the September sun. I listened to Songs of the Northern Tribes to block out the sound of other visitors and admired the beauty of the green, of the pond and tiny waterfall, of the light playing with the leaves. It was really the first time since my injury in March that I've been able to wander alone. I felt serenity, but not awe.

In a good ritual, there may be the moment when a chant peaks and everyone is united as one and feels the energy flowing through the group... and there's awe there too. Not everyone will get to see the view at 3000 feet or luck into seeing a double rainbow, but we can create opportunities for awe in our rituals. Start by making sure there are ways for everyone to meaningfully, deeply participate. Continue by making sure there's an energy raising. And make room for wonder; don't treat your ritual like a to-do list.

No matter what you do, sometimes your participants won't achieve awe, because it's an emotional state that also depends on what they find worthy of reverence. And sometimes they will experience awe in your rituals while you don't, and you end up offering the full ritual experience as a gift from outside of it. But sometimes magic will happen.

Sign outside a church that reads "Come as you are... but don't stay that way". I saw a sign outside a Christian church: "Come as you are". I thought about my small town childhood: about getting up on Sunday mornings to get ready for Sunday school, about the weeks when Sunday school was cancelled and we had to sit stiffly in pews instead of colouring, and about tea and cookies with everyone else in their Sunday bests after the service. It was a thing we did for years - every Sunday unless we were camping - but when we moved to a suburb, Mom stopped taking us to church and I never asked to go back.

"Come as you are": it sounds like permission to wear jeans to church, or maybe to show up without faith. It sounds like an unconditional welcome for all; a lovely invitation to enter no matter who you are, what you believe, or what you need.

It turns out, it is about sin: come though you are a sinner. You don't have to be perfect - you don't have to have it all figured out - but bring it all to Jesus/God now. And since there is so much variety within Christianity, there is controversy about what it means and whether or not this kind of invitation is a good idea. But to me, an outsider, it sounds functional: If your religion is going to work, people have to show up. If you want people to be saved, they have to first come in their unsaved condition.

As a whole, Pagan religions aren't much into "sin" or being saved, but we can get hung up on other things. I've spoken to many a new Pagan who has not done any rituals for themselves or who express reluctance to run rituals for their coven or group because they feel like they don't know enough yet. They want to make sure it is going to be perfect before they even attempt it. They put off setting up an altar until they can collect all the perfect tools, and they put off praying wile they seek a deep call to a patron deity, and they put off attending a public ritual until they've read their way through a few lists of "books every Pagan should read". I'm as guilty as them of not starting a morning ritual because I fear that I won't get it right and I'm not sure I can be perfect in doing it daily. We may not be concerned with sin, but we can put off dealing with our spiritual needs due to perfectionism.

The other half of the saying "come as you are" is "but don't stay that way". The Christians will sometimes quote Jesus as saying: "Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more" (John 8:11) and explain that it means not to return to sinful choices.

Though we may not be interested in being saved, our religion is only as good as the changes it makes in us. In my Paganism, we come to circle, grove, or altar with no fancy robes, tools, or excessive knowledge needed, and in being there, we change in ways we choose and are changed in ways we never imagined. Whether we enter sacred space alone or in community, we come as we are, but we don't stay that way.


Billy Graham
A still of Billy Graham's TED Talk: On Technology and Faith.

In the "Believers And Doubters" episode of TED Radio Hour, Anne Graham Lotz talks about her father - Billy Graham - and how he differentiated between belief and faith. Basically, he took the controversial position that James 2:19 means that there is a difference between belief and faith, for even the demons believe in god. Faith requires more than acknowledgement of the existence of something, but the additional step of having confidence and trust in it and loyalty and fidelity to it.

It's treated as standard: believe in, have faith in, and therefore worship. Except Pagans - and others - like to mess with the system. Some Pagans may believe in gods they choose not to have faith in or worship. Some may worship with neither belief nor faith. And some have faith and worship without belief. Anyone who tries to define Paganism in terms of any one axis - that to be Pagan, one must have Pagan beliefs, for example - misses that we undermine the believer versus non-believer dichotomy and screw with the assumption that belief, faith, and worship must go together.

I don't believe in the sun, for it just is. I have faith in it - that it will continue to rise and warm and feed - but it doesn't need my worship.

I don't believe in the ocean, for it just is. I know it to be the source of life, so I make my offerings and my worship, but I don't have faith in it.

I do believe that all life is a sacred expression of the universe and I have faith that that means all lives, from the biggest to the smallest and from the highest to the deepest, have meaning, as we are all ways for the sacred universe to perceive itself and learn about itself. And there's everything and nothing to worship in that.


We're not generally a religion that tries to convert people, but we are sometimes called a religion of converts - even now, very few Pagans grew up in the faith. Pagan Pride Project events might be as close as we come to proselytizing, simply by virtue of being public and publicized events. We're into Pagan Pride season, and since Pagan Pride events do tend to attract new Pagans and the curious public, I'm willing to bet a lot of them have a "Paganism 101" workshop.

I can't imagine seeing "Christianity 101" on a church fair schedule. You don't learn Christianity in courses or workshops like you would a hobby. There isn't beginner and advanced Christianity (not for the laypeople, anyway). To be considered an active Christian, a person must believe in the Christian God and probably attend services and say prayers. For a lot of Christian denominations, any deeper understanding of the theology is optional, but the books about both Christian belief and Christian action are in the Religion section of the bookstore.

In contrast, to be an active Pagan, a person must often be their own theologian and priest. They have to create their own religious rituals and conduct them. Even as part of an established tradition and a group that practices together, there's greater demands than to just follow a script. If you believe in the supernatural, than you must be part of an energetic flow at least, and often must be actively working with spirits or deities. If you don't believe in the supernatural, there's still a lot of psychology and work involved in being a part of a good ritual, much less writing one.

We're also generally a religion of orthopraxy - "correct action" - versus of orthodoxy - "correct belief". To simplify a great deal: Christians believe Christian things; Pagan do Pagan things. We do need workshops and books that treat our religion like a hobby to be learned; we don't have an equivalent to the sinner's prayer, unless it is the solitary self-initiation ritual that so many of us fumble through, shaking hands lighting candles while trying to remember which order the quarters are called in or the words to our deity invocations. Those varying rituals, often individual to each person, don't have to mean accepting the Goddess into your heart, but can be just practicing the skills of setting up sacred space, going through the motions of raising energy, and grounding and closing the space - it is the sampler of Pagan ritual.

There is Pagan theology, of course. It is a growing field, and I'm grateful to see it. After doing all the Paganism 101 stuff, there are philosophical issues to wrestle with, even if we aren't going to declare some of the answers to be definitive. Still, our books about the various ways to believe in Pagan ways are vastly outnumbered by the books of how to do Pagan things, and both usually end up in the New Age section of the bookstore. It is easy to get a bit self-conscious about our religion that acts like a hobby.

Even at Pagan Pride, we don't try to convert people to Paganism, but just inform them about who we are and what we do (and, unfortunately for our framing, sometimes what we don't do). I don't think we're even a religion of converts, really; we're a religion of student practitioners. And I hope it remains so, even if it means that our religious books continue to be put in the Occult and New Age sections of the bookstore. We aren't the same as most other religions, so maybe we shouldn't be treated the same. Let's embrace the Paganism 101 workshops and all it means about who we are.


Solo person sitting on the beach I am a classic introvert, and a little socially anxious. I love "my people", but I frequently find crowds and strangers overwhelming. After socializing, even with the people I love most, I need time alone to recharge. So of all the ways of being Pagan, it seems a contradiction that I identify most as a community-centred Pagan, the only kind that would seem to require extroversion.

Though it may seem to be a contradiction, I think my introversion is actually why I'm drawn to community. It can be hard for introverts to meet and get to know people, so once we've got ourselves a good group of friends, we definitely want to hold on to them. Most people want to belong to a group and be a part of something, and introverts don't always have the easiest path to finding that, making it very valuable to us when we do. I've got my spiritual family, Silver Spiral, and I have found other pockets of community locally that I enjoy working with, such as the Vancouver Pagan Pride Day team.

Community building isn't just for extroverts. Some of it is outward facing, socializing, presenting, but there are also emails to write, schedules to manage, research to do, cookies to bake... community isn't just built by people who are willing to stand up in front of a group with a vision, but also those who are willing to sit with ideas for hours to help bring a vision to life, and those - introverts and extroverts alike - who are willing to pitch in at every level, including doing the dishes. Pagans with all kinds of belief systems - deity-centred, nature-centred, and inner-centred - can and do help build community, but for community-centred Pagans, this is our spiritual work.

To be a community-centred Pagan is to have spreadsheets as well as athames as religious tools. It means that writing a rite for a group is a ritual in and of itself, satisfying a spiritual need even before the space has been cleansed. It is to recognize that there's magical energy in coordinating a potluck as much as casting a circle, that offering a workshop or a helpful blog post can be as important a religious service as an offering to a deity, and that a call to assist at a concession stand is as much a sacred duty as calling a quarter.



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