
Next month, our theme will be “Community”, especially Our Community of Naturalistic and Humanistic Pagans. We have chosen this theme in celebration of Jon Cleland Host‘s launch of the Naturalistic Paganism Yahoo group 10 years ago, in January 2005, which was (as far as I can discern) the first such online community. Send us your essays and articles to humanisticpaganism [at] gmail [dot] com. Ideas for topics include:
An Atheopagan Life is a monthly column about living an atheist, nature-honoring life.
November and December certainly don’t lack for observances and holiday celebrations. In the temperate zone of the planet, pretty much every culture has had some way of celebrating the winter solstice, and the accumulation of many of those traditions lives with us today in the form of Christmas, Chanukah, the Pagan Yule, newer traditions such as Kwanzaa and even Festivus.
For Atheopagans, navigating this season in a manner free of theistic and supernatural overtones can be a bit of a challenge. We’re besieged with well-intentioned messages from relatives and friends rooted in their credulous religious beliefs. Exasperating as it can sometimes be, the main thing is to remember that those expressions are meant kindly and with love, by and large, not to try to shove religious credulity down our throats.
Meanwhile, our own opportunities for observances are many and rich.
“Why is it so quiet?” my son asked. “I don’t know,” I replied in a whisper, without knowing why. My children and I were visiting Seiders Springs, limestone artesian springs that lie along Shoal Creek in Austin, Texas. They’re framed by crowded city streets and two busy medical facilities, one on each bank of Shoal Creek, such that the quiet blanketing the path past the springs was arresting. Water babbled up through limestone to collect in shallow fern-framed pools. While we stood there listening, a couple of hospital workers walked by, chatting in hushed tones, enjoying the soft beauty and respite of natural springs in the heart of a bustling, rapidly-growing city.
My children stopped briefly to wonder at the improbability of water flowing from rock, then took off down the path, past the springs without me. I hastily gathered a handful of rocks and built a short tower on the ground beside one of the limestone pools. It was my way of saying,
I was here, I care, and Thank you.