World War II Memorial, Washington, D.C.
World War II Memorial, Washington, D.C.
275 words
“We lose 1000 WW II veterans every day. Take a moment to share your stories.” — Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst, tweet, June 6th, 2011
“In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” — George Orwell
1,206 words
John Matthews, with contributions from Caitlín Matthews
The Winter Solstice: The Sacred Traditions of Christmas
Wheaton, Il.: Theosophical Publishing House/Quest Books, 1998
The Winter Solstice is divided in two, like the day it celebrates, but instead of an even mix of dark and light, this book remains enlightening all the way through. (more…)
John Singer Sargent, "Orestes Pursued by the Furies," 1921, detail
John Singer Sargent, "Orestes Pursued by the Furies," 1921, detail
114 words
We nurse old wounds. Slowly. Carefully. Some
Are so flimsy, they might fall apart from
Being examined too much, or too long,
By anyone but us. Still, most are strong,
Or strong enough. Each one of them’s become
A special thing, a poisoned point, a strum
Of nasty notes producing a thick hum
Of wretchedness and bile. We like that song.
We nurse old wounds (more…)
1,759 words
Christian Rätsch and Claudia Müller-Ebeling
Pagan Christmas: The Plants, Spirits, and Rituals at the Origins of Yuletide
Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions, 2003
Christmas—or Yule, to use the name originally given to this sacred time by our pre-Christian ancestors—is one of those times when I am particularly reminded of how much who we were still strongly influences who we are. (more…)
788 words
“We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be” — Algernon Charles Swinburne
“Our rural ancestors, with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulged the day that housed their annual grain,
With feasts and off’rings, and a thankful strain.” — Alexander Pope
Thanksgiving. Usually, as a heathen family, we don’t do much thanking on the last Thursday of November. (more…)
Paul Nash, "We Are Making a New World," 1918
Paul Nash, "We Are Making a New World," 1918
409 words
Author’s Note:
A sestina written for all of our folk who were duped into being part of that first war to end all wars, that brother-killing-brother war, that beginning of our end. (more…)
Aleister Crowley, October 12, 1875–December 1, 1947
Aleister Crowley, October 12, 1875–December 1, 1947
781 words
“I have been accused of being a ‘black magician.’ No more foolish statement was ever made about me . . .”
—Aleister Crowley
I do not care too much for what other people say, and I do not care too much for what other people think of what some people say. Which is, I suppose, a rather roundabout manner of explaining why I have great admiration for Aleister Crowley as a poet despite what is said and what is thought about him, about his works, about his legacy, and about his life. (more…)
111 words
You should have known there’s no need to search. Light
(Don’t confuse it with illumination)
Lies within. You should have known this birthright
Was, and always was, in your grasp. Each man
Contains his own black sun, his own dark flame
Of knowledge. There is no fruit that, grabbed
And bitten, releases any arcane
Stores of hidden wisdom. No much tabbed
Ancient text whose pages, thickly bound and
Set with bloody sigils, contain the one
And truest way to reach the light. No grand
Chest of truth is lodged away. Truth? There’s none (more…)
111 words
And it will come, our dawning, do not doubt . . .
Right now it doesn’t seem like much, but we
Can already look and see the dark route
Ahead is lit a little. It was the
Bleakest path to take when we began. But,
We believed night couldn’t last, believed our
Day would dawn, believed our steps would be put
In step with others—so they shall. Power
Of vision, of faith, of will, brings our sun;
With power to make manifest a sky
Gone bright with morning, gone bright with the one
Light that cannot be dimmed again. Our eyes (more…)
2,282 words
I am a “stay at home mother.” It now takes four words to define my “job” because so many women, having given birth and given up their children to the various systems of day care and mass education, call themselves mothers. The system assures them that they are mothers. The system assures them that they are, as a matter of fact, great mothers—free from all that boring home-ridden, under-stimulating motherhood stuff. (more…)
Edward Burne-Jones, "The Sleep of King Arthur in Avalon," 1898, detail
Edward Burne-Jones, "The Sleep of King Arthur in Avalon," 1898, detail
4,955 words
The idea of a king, or hero, sleeping in a cave or hollow mountain is an old one in Northern Europe and the British Isles. So old, in fact, that the sleeping king motif is “one of the few myths of the British Celts to be put on record by a classical author.”[1] (more…)
105 words
Why I Write
I write because I could not bear the loss
Of all that makes this world worthwhile and grand:
Apollo, Odin, Vulcan, Perkanus,
Birch forests sprung from European land,
Marble arches, Doric columns, beer halls,
Vast castles perched upon the Thames and Rhine,
Blonde hair caught up in ringlets, Yuletide balls,
Maypoles, Shelley’s poems, Polish honey wine
In hive shaped bottles redolent of bees,
Van Gogh’s sunflowers in antique frames, beef
Wellington, cabbage rolls, bacon, blue cheese,
Saint George, King John, Hermanius. Belief
That such things — small or vast as each one might
Be — must not become lost . . . . is why I write.
3,863 words
“Women, I allow, may have different duties to fulfill; but they are HUMAN duties, and the principles that should regulate the discharge of them, I sturdily maintain, must be the same. To become respectable, the exercise of their understanding is necessary, there is no other foundation for independence of character; I mean explicitly to say that they must only bow to the authority of reason, instead of being the modest slaves of opinion.”
–Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, A Vindication of the Rights of Women, 1792 [1]
