Virtues Essay: Moderation

MODERATION:  noun

• The avoidance of excess or extremes, especially in one's behavior or political opinions

                                                                       --Oxford American English Dictionary

Ahh, moderation.  Few topics can make an average American squirm in their seat like a discussion about moderation.  Most will admit that moderation - limiting extremes in behavior and thought - is a good thing.  Moderation can keep us healthy, stable and out of trouble.  On the other hand, most Americans will concede that, in practice, moderation is a difficult concept to put in action:  have some cake - but not too much; enjoy time with your friends - but don't neglect your family; spend money on what you love - but don't go into debt.

In today's push button society of instant gratification and never-ending options the mindful, intentional moderating of one's desires seems, well, a bit outdated.  Moderation takes work, requires concentration.  Moderation asks one to evaluate each choice, weighing wants against needs.  Moderation necessitates an examination of one's choices and situations - both those that are beloved and despised.

Moderation does have its rewards, though.  Being financially diligent can free up resources for  leisure and philanthropy.  Moderation in diet can lead to good health.  Within one's religious life moderation can assure adequate time for contemplation and learning without isolating one from society.  Moderation can serve as a tool, advising one towards a steady path on what can otherwise be a very wild journey.


             "Moderation in all things.  Especially moderation. " -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Virtues Essay: Fertility

FERTILITY:  noun

• The quality of being fertile; productiveness.

                                                                  --Oxford American English Dictionary 


Tell a coworker that you (a pagan) are writing a short essay about fertility and there's a good chance they conjure up images of ancient goddess statues with swollen breasts and hips, or even of a pair of rabbits resting in a green meadow with their infinite number of offspring.

Yes, fertility, at its most basic level, speaks of reproduction and fecundity. In our modern society when one wishes for fertility it is typically associated with the desire to have children.  Among our ancestors this element of fertility was paramount, as the success of the family was dependent upon the unit (historically, bigger was usually better).  Those cultures involved in the raising of livestock also understand how important fertility was to the health and future of their flock as well.  To reproduce abundantly, to be fruitful, was essential.

But there is another side to fertility that is often overlooked.  Dig deeper and you will find that fertility is, in fact, an energizing of the latent; a spilling forth of stored potential. Even though water is essential for crops to grow, in the Slavic pantheon the goddess Mokosz has sway over grain, not Piorun who brings the rain.  Mokosz sets in motion the dynamic processes which lead to new life, tipping the balance of energy in each seed towards growth, just as she prepares and nurtures a woman's womb for pregnancy.  Typically labeled  a "fertility goddess," Mokosz is also associated with spinning and weaving which, at first glance, seems to fit because of its identification as a "womanly art."  However, to one who works with fibers this relationship speaks of more:  a pile of wool is nothing but potential - with the proper techniques and a fertile imagination it may become many things. 

The same is true of all the creative arts:  carpentry, writing, metalsmithing, cooking and so on - each end product began as a seed of the mind, an idea only, formless yet full of potential.  Only through the fertility of the mind is its potential set in motion and its being brought in to this world.

                         "Your heart is full of fertile seeds, waiting to sprout."  --Morihei Ueshiba

Virtues Essay: Hospitality

HOSPITALITY:  noun

The friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

                                                                              --Oxford American English Dictionary

Hospitality is at the center of many modern druidic practices.  Pulling from a tradition of hospitality that can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European *ghosti, hospitality is, at its core, a formal recognition of relationships of reciprocity. 

This obligation to reciprocity, to giving and receiving, serves as a framework for how we should structure our lives.  There are virtually no confines to how we should manifest our hospitality.  We should give of ourselves not only to friends and family, but to strangers and other less familiar persons.  We should be patient and share our time with those of sympathetic hearts and minds, but also with those who may be perceived in more adversarial roles.  We should be gracious in our receiving of gifts offered by others, just as we expect our beneficiaries to appreciate that which we put forth.

Our acts of hospitality are not limited to this plane, as this obligation to reciprocity applies to our relationships with all the Kindred as well.  For the Kindred are real and deserve the same respectful and meaningful exchanges we offer to those made of flesh and blood. We can only ask for their blessings if we have first offered them our own heartfelt gifts. 

In fact, it is these acts of hospitality, the never-ending spiral of these reciprocal exchanges both physical and spiritual, that forms a type of back bone, or axis mundi, of our world. Mutually beneficial exchanges keep order in form and turn away the chaos (represented by hatred, hunger or perhaps fear).  Hospitality ties us all together and places our fates in a common pool.



                                       "There is no hospitality like understanding." --Vanna Bonta

High Day Essay: Autumnal Equinox

In contemporary neo-pagan communities the holiday activities associated with the autumnal equinox typically focus around harvest duties.  Many participants complete a gathering of produce from the garden (or farmer's co-op or store) and take time to acknowledge and express gratitude to the gods and goddesses for these blessings.  Some neo-pagans may manifest ritual which addresses the balance between light and dark as at this time of year, as after this day the rhythms of the sun's movement leaves little doubt that we are sliding into the dark time of the calendar.  Many neo-pagans call this holiday Mabon, following the tradition of Aidan Kelly's naming of the holiday after the Welsh mythological hero Mabon ab Modron.

Autumnal equinox celebrations in antiquity can be difficult to discern today.  Written records describe harvest activities and celebrated breaks from working in the fields, but often lack direct acknowledgement of religious ties connected to these practices. Furthermore, the date of these festivals varied greatly from one region to another, dependant upon local weather and types of crops.  In fact, linguistic evidence suggests that there may not have been major religious observances at the autumnal equinox among most ancient Indo-European cultures; autumn is the only season that does not have a common root word amongst Indo-European language families.

In historical records of Slavic cultures the celebration of Dozynki (Polish; Dozhinky in Russian, literally "little sheaf") notes the end of the harvest period.  Depending on the region this festival can fall anywhere from mid-August through mid-September.  During Dozynki the last sheaves of grain are harvested from the field with the exception of the last corner, which is tied together and bent towards the ground.  This practice, which still occurs today, is referred to as "curling the beard (of Weles)."  Weles is a cthonic Slavic god of cattle, deep waters, and the dead as well as music and magic. It is thought that this reuniting of the grain with the earth transfers the energy from the harvest back into the earth.  Oftentimes this "beard" is bedecked with ribbons and trinkets and left offerings.

Book Review: Being a Pagan

I chose to read/review Being a Pagan:  Druids, Wiccans and Witches Today for my second Dedicant Path book review.  One of several options listed as fulfilling the Modern Paganism and Pagan Revival category, I looked forward to this work, compiled and completed by Ellen Evert Hopman and Lawrence Bond, as something new since I had read other works in this category many years ago. 

Being a Pagan is, fundamentally, a collection of Q&A sessions completed with individuals considered "movers and shakers" within the pan-pagan community.  Divided into seventeen different path-oriented chapters, the interviews each begin with a standard "Are you pagan?  When did you decide you were pagan?" opening and then delve into each individual's experiences and practices as a modern pagan.  This format allows each interviewee to speak freely on his/her own specialties or, as is sometimes apparent, his/her own soapboxes.  Overall, the interviews are easy to follow and most chapters include an introduction that summarizes the uniting theme of interviews contained within.  There does not seem to be any discernible chronology or reason for the order of the chapters so at times the reader is being referred to individuals and content found much later in the book. 

In my opinion, however, Being a Pagan does not leave the reader with a positive view of modern pagans.  As a result of the repetition of certain threads and themes, a mind-numbing reading of all 50 interviews paints a portrait of modern pagans as an elitist, self-legitimizing group of individuals who are constantly at odds. Indeed, several interviewees take shots at each other concerning fundamental issues, such as the roles of gender and sexuality, and whether pagan clergy should be paid for their services.

My biggest issue with the book is actually the apparent contradiction with the word "Today" in the title.  Being a Pagan was first published back in 1996 - many of the issues and players highlighted in this work are virtually nonexistent in today's pagan communities.  In fact, many of the organizations and resources highlighted near the end of the book no longer exist (and no website information is listed for those that do).  All but one of the interviews in the 2002 re-release were completed prior to 1995; this means that nearly 20 years of contemporary pagan voices and issues are not present in this work.  This critical oversight means that current topics such as leadership and gender, pagan involvement in interfaith communities and the role of the Internet in modern religion are completely absent.  By failing to regularly update the material and focus of the content, the compilers of Being a Pagan have insured that their work has become, at this point in time, one more of an historical review, rather than contemporary scholarship.

What could breath fresh life into this book?  I suggest keeping one-third of the most important essays (such as those with Starhawk, Isaac Bonewits, Ian Corrigan and Margot Adler) and adding in an additional fifteen or so new Q&A sessions with high profile modern pagans such as Teo Bishop, Terry Pratchett, Carl Weschcke and Michael J. Dangler.  These contemporary voices could speak about pagan issues of the last 15 years, and speculate on what the next 15 years might bring.

Virtues Essay: Vision

VISION:  noun

• the ability to see; the area that you can see from a particular position
• an idea or a picture in your imagination
• a dream or similar experience, especially of a religious kind
• the ability to think about or plan the future with great imagination and intelligence

                                                  --Oxford American English Dictionary   

Vision, as a pagan virtue, is a multifaceted concept that seems to transcend time.

On one hand, an individual might experience a vision - a deep awareness and understanding of surroundings or a situation - that informs his/her decision concerning a present action.  This could be a personal vision about family or employment, or such a vision could influence a group's actions (particularly if one is interpreting the situation within a religious context).  In this capacity, vision has the ability to influence our present.

However, one may also have a vision - perhaps a revelation during meditation or a dream - that illuminates a connection to the Kindreds. If this vision concerns the ancestors it can serve as a link to the past and increase our bond and understanding of those who have gone before.

On the flip side, it is not unheard of in religious communities for such visions to influence personal practices and infuse individuals with a desire for change and action. Plans for the future are made based upon such visions, laying the foundation of a path that begins with the vision and moves forward towards the future.

This, again, bring us back to the present.  What we do today may be a manifestation from the past, that of a distant ancestor's vision, which could provide a catalyst for future activities.

The circle goes on and on.

"Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart.  Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes."        --Carl Jung

Home Shrine Essay

We first moved in to our current home in February of 2011, which is roughly the same time period that my commitment to modern druidic practice solidified.  Initially, the first altar in the new house was on a small counter-top adjacent to the stove and was not much more than a simple seven-day devotional candle.

As we settled into the house, and as my own faith and relationship with my hearth culture solidified, I claimed the top of one of our bookshelves for the family altar.  Below is an honest, no-frills picture of this altar (meaning: I didn't spruce it up for this photo).

The mirror with the sun motif serves as a reminder of the Slavic god Swarog, while a seven-day devotional candle serves as our fire.  I found this candle worked best with our household, which includes two children and many, many more pets.  The tree is represented by branches in the glass vase to the right.  Perched within these branches is a small artistic bird which my daughters added.  A small silver bowl to the right of the main candle acts as the well.  The incense tray is towards the front of the altar.

The silver bowl on the left is the main offering receptacle.  Currently, there are several additional candles on the altar for special prayers.  Members of the household will sometimes put nature artifacts on the altar; in this picture one might be able to spy a few feathers, a turtle shell and a piece of drift wood.  My older daughter has placed a small cat figurine on the altar (she has a special affinity for cats) and my younger daughter placed an omen card of a goat on the altar during a time when she was particularly interested in the god Piorun.  The wooden bowl to the far right currently serves as an offering bowl for the household domovoi.  This bowl receives regular gifts of bread and salt, especially when something goes missing.

My future plans for this altar include a new altar cloth which I have been embroidering over the past several weeks as an act of devotion for Mokosh.  I have never been very satisfied with our tree representation and continue to search for alternatives.  Eventually, a place for the domovoi offering will be made next to the stove, as this is a more traditional location.

I also have a very small personal altar on the wall next to my bed (pictured below).  I have had this altar for about six months and have always kept it very simple and intimate. I have also set aside place on our property for a future altar with special attendance to the nature spirits.