Naturalistic Paganism
The HPedia: Counterintuitive
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A key concept in the Cognitive Science of Religion is counterintuitiveness. It refers to ideas that run contrary to the human brain’s innate or intuitive ways of thinking, based on models of mental modularity.
Pascal Boyer‘s research shows that counterintuitive ideas are memorable, so they are more likely to be passed on. For example, a burning bush that speaks is counterintuitive (trees don’t speak, people do; things on fire burn up). Such an idea is more likely to be remarked upon, making it a highly adaptive meme.
The degree of counterintuitiveness is important, however. Modestly counterintuitive ideas are more memorable, but radically counterintuitive ideas are extremely difficult to remember. The cognitive optimum, balancing counterintuitiveness and memorability, generally involves only one or at most two violations of intuitive categories.
Robert McCauley suggests that popular religion relies on modestly counterintuitive ideas, while theology and science are radically counterintuitive. This explains why it takes arduous effort and training to grasp the latter two, while the former is grasped easily by all cultures and even by small children.
Violations of natural categories can be breaches or transfers. A breach involves an object that does what it shouldn’t be able to do, such as a person who can see through walls. A transfer consists of an object that absorbs the attributes of another category, such as a volcano that can think, desire, and become angry like a person. Popular religious ideas frequently involve such transfers of agency to objects or aspects of the natural environment.
See also “Modularity of Mind” and “Agency.”
Check out other entries in our HPedia.
Yes, Virginia, I’m a Pagan Atheist, by Jeffrey Flagg
Note from the editor: As always, the views and opinions expressed by individual authors on this site do not necessarily reflect those of HumanisticPaganism.com or of all Naturalistic Pagans. Please remember that this site is for constructive expression and dialogue. Comments of a harassing or inflammatory nature will be deleted.
Pagan. ‘Nuf said?
I’m an atheist. I’m also Pagan. It’s actually not that hard to reconcile.
At the very beginning, it’s worth making something quite clear — there is really no rulebook for what makes a Pagan. It’s a term that seems to encompass a rather wide and diverse set of people. Generally speaking, Thelemites and Wiccans and Heathens all seemingly share a common set of social concerns and social infrastructure, even if they don’t share cosmology or practices. The reasons for hanging together under this umbrella term aren’t within the scope of the article, nor is the history of the term. I’m not out to speak about how we got to this point. The fact of the matter is that we’re here. And what is Paganism? It is, effectively, a culture that provides a web of common reference and language for a bunch of different people with different beliefs and practices to hang together. Paganism, therefore, has no particular theological or religious test.
I actually feel like I could rest the defense there, but I won’t. It’d make for a really empty blog post, and outside of that, I’ve looked on the web and seen a lot of static about Pagan atheism. Some of it comes from atheists that, in my opinion, needlessly deride atheist Pagans for what they consider to be unacceptable levels of religiosity; most of it, however, comes from Pagans who consider belief in the existence of at least one deity to be a necessary quality of a Pagan.
Really, really there?
But let’s break some things down. Theism is generally accepted to be typified by making a claim of the existence of at least one deity. There are a series of assertions implied in the statement, “At least one deity exists.” For example, it requires a founding definition of “deity.” It also requires a founding definition of “existence.” Sitting around and indulging in a discussion about what it means to exist would, honestly, turn into a series of blog posts that would end up rehashing ontology in general. I’m not going to attempt an iron-clad definition of “existence.” Generally speaking, though, one of my rules for saying that something exists involves my ability to demonstrate that existence to others in convincing ways, particularly when those “others” may hold views that wouldn’t be biased towards accepting that the object in question exists. This actually flows forth not from some serious position of modernism, but from the pretty practical meat-and-potatoes way that I, and many other humans, handle experiencing strange new phenomena. If I see something strange, I draw others’ attention to it to see if they see it and what they make of it.
Of course, over a lifetime of taking this practical attitude to things, including an admission, upon first encountering something unusual, that I could be hallucinating or seriously confused, I’ve developed certain rules-of-thumb to help speed up my conclusions. For example, I’ve found that most things which exist can have machines built which demonstrate and exploit that existence. For example, there was a time when HIV’s role in AIDS was not as well-accepted as it is today. The development of drugs which directly assault HIV, and which significantly extend the lives of HIV+ people, has been a major nail in that coffin. Another guideline is observing the biases of those who claim a certain thing exists. There are a bunch of these other sorts of guidelines, and a lot of people who are simply being sensible use them all the time.
Putting a few of these together, I come to the conclusion that no deity exists. Now, we can make some fuzzy definitions of “deity,” and there are a few that I might semi-comfortably consider interesting and useful, but I don’t grant them the status of, as Feynman once put it, “really, really there.” They’re not beings in this universe. They’re not beings in another universe. They’re not on another “dimension” or “plane” or “level” or “realm of ideals,” and the existence of those things is also something I do not accept. If I list the properties of deities, existence isn’t among them. That alone is enough to qualify me as an atheist. But I will, for good measure, mention some other things that I don’t think exist. I don’t recognize the existence of vital life-force, or chi, or ki, or “energy,” or any of the other myriad terms used in New Age and Pagan circles. I don’t recognize the existence of spirits, of demons, or of angels. I have no reason to conclude that I have a soul that will continue on after my death, which is to say that I also don’t believe in an afterlife. There are a lot of things common to the lives of Pagans that I don’t recognize in the ontological class of being “really, really there.”
And yet, if you find yourself blanching at this, or you’re ready to fire off a comment and tell me I’m not a “real” Pagan, at least let me tell you my response up front. Stop. You’re being obsessed with ontology.
Putting on the Santa suit
A really wise friend of mine has this great shtick he does about how he’ll never tell a child Santa Claus isn’t real. It’s really a brilliant bit, and I actually love hearing him do it at dinners and parties. Essentially, it goes like this: Santa Claus is more recognizable by more people than your average real person. People know who he is and what he does. People get gifts from him all the time, etc., etc. In fact, if you walked down the street in a red suit giving out gifts, everyone would call you Santa Claus. So, of course Santa is real. He might be more real than most people!
And, of course, this is delivered with a little bit of humor, the sort that says, “Ha, ha! … but seriously!” He, of course, does leave out some really important details that throw wrenches in the works for Santa Claus. For example, we’ve never found his workshop, nor evidence of his purchasing the raw materials for toys. His employees are elves, and nobody’s found those (seriously, not even one crazy whistleblower?!). The FAA has never received a request for an air traffic corridor radioed in from a flying sleigh. Possibly most tragically of all, there are lots of good girls and boys that Santa somehow misses. Most people would agree that this compounds together with lots of other information to suggest that, at a minimum, Santa has yet to be found and his existence would be highly contradictory.
But the whole Santa thing is still a really apt way for explaining how I deal with things like deities and the other ooky-spooky subjects we lump together into Paganism. See, I remember being 13 years old, and because I didn’t feel I had any popularity to defend, I played Santa Claus when my Boy Scout troop sang Christmas carols down at the old folks’ home. I had a really freaking good time putting on the red suit, going “Ho ho ho!”, and giving out candy canes and hugs. Most of the people at that nursing home were beyond delighted to see me. I mean, they were delighted that a bunch of fresh-faced Boy Scouts came to sing for them, but if I’d been passing out candy canes wearing my uniform, it wouldn’t have been half as much fun for me or for them. I do suspect that there may have been one or two of them may have been suffering from dementia and possibly really thought I was Santa, but I have no doubt that most of them called me “Santa” because it was fun to do so. And it was fun for me. Everything was more fun for having the living symbol of generosity and happy childhood memories there. Yep. Santa isn’t real, but I was once Santa for a night, and it made the night meaningful.
Begging the question
This is generally the place where someone will invoke a sort of fall-back cosmology popular within the Pagan community: the Jungian concept of archetypes and the collective unconscious. I’ve never really been a fan of seeing things that way, either. To be honest, it feels like another attempt at making the gods (or magickal energy, or other such stuff) “real.” Hermes no longer lives atop Mt. Olympus, but now lives inside the collective unconscious. The problem is that both Mt. Olympus and the collective unconscious are artifacts of a mythology. This shifts the mythological location, but it doesn’t really structurally change things. The other problem I have is that, while we have physical science for discussing phenomena which exist in the world, there is no “science of archetypes.” Archetypes are, in a sense, their own mythology, albeit an interesting and compelling one and one that may be a little less supernatural. But as a mythology goes, I don’t reach for it often. I also must confess that I don’t experience gods or other mystic concepts as being part of my psyche, nor do I use the modality of ritual in such a heavy psychological fashion.
Of course, archetypes are handy descriptors. I will give them that. It’s hard to not think about any character without bringing archetypes in. I prefer to see my psyche as mine, full of its own funny idiosyncratic quirks, and to simply explore, as freely as possible, what a deity or a concept or a character means to me. I don’t need to hang that on an external framework to do so, at least most of the time.
Does it matter?
And that’s why I honestly feel that, although I’m the atheist, it’s everyone else who’s being really philosophically uptight. I might not think that Hermes is “real”, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t aspire to be like Hermes, make art that represents Hermes, talk about Hermes, do things and claim Hermes did them, dress like Hermes, act like Hermes, get other people to call me Hermes, or be Hermes, for myself or others, for a time. Just because something isn’t real doesn’t mean that you can’t experience it. If things that didn’t really exist had no power, I sincerely doubt that people would go to see Batman or Iron Man movies. People love connecting with those complex symbols of heroism. People just also know that you can’t shine a bat-shaped searchlight when you’re getting mugged and that you can’t trade in Stark Industries on the NYSE. Flynn does not live. “Flynn Lives!” still means at least another $15 for millions of people.
All of this is to say that I find the question of the gods being “real,” and indeed discussions of their ontological nature in general, somewhat silly. It doesn’t matter if they’re “real” if they’re meaningful. So, yes, I am an atheist because I don’t believe in the existence of a deity. I’m also, however, a Pagan, because I have a personal relationship to the same things that Pagans have relationships to. Once you get past the word games of ontology, being an atheist Pagan isn’t so silly after all.
Next Sunday
Next Sunday, we share an conversation between with DT Strain and B. T. Newberg, “How I became a Naturalist”.
An interview with HP’s founder, B. T. Newberg
We kick off our early winter theme, “Beginnings”, with a conversation with B. T. Newberg, the founder of HumanisticPaganism.com and its current Treasurer and Advising Editor.
B. T., what prompted you to create the HumanisticPaganism site?
Basically, I was a stressed-out grad student drowning in anxiety. Since therapy was doing zilch for me, I realized I had to figure my own way out of it. To continue the drowning metaphor, I needed to find a way to help myself swim to shore. Now, I’d been exploring various religions and philosophies for many years, from Buddhism to Paganism to Humanism, and could draw on their spiritual (read: psychotherapeutic) practices, but none of them gave me a boat that wasn’t full of holes. Nevermind why, but suffice to say none of them completely worked for me. So, I couldn’t just go back to one or the other to help me this time. Finally, I lashed together a raft out of their various parts that stayed afloat. The HumanisticPaganism site was that raft – it started as an outlet for me to record my efforts, including a week-long naturalistic retreat aimed at flushing out the stress and returning to a focus on connection and beauty in the world.
Did you anticipate the response you would get to HP?
Hardly. I crossed my fingers that there would be somebody – anybody – out there like me. If I’d found a small handful of kindred spirits, I would have been happy. What I found instead was a whole lot of others out there, mostly isolated or collected in tiny pockets here and there. As a result, it seemed like a good idea to feature other people’s writing on the site in addition to my own. Little did I realize the site was transforming from a personal blog into a community blog. Who would have thought that two years later, we’d have over fifty authors featured! Not to mention a staff of multiple people, and a new managing editor (love what you’ve done with the site, by the way, and looking forward to what’s yet to come!).
The most encouraging part for me is when I think how many might never have met each other if not for the site. They might have been in a place like I was – just crossing their fingers that they weren’t alone – but now there’s a sense of community.
The response has been amazing! How did you see the HumanisticPaganism site as different from other online resources that are open to Naturalistic Pagans, like the Naturalistic Pagan yahoo discussion board and the World Pantheism Movement?
The Naturalistic Paganism yahoo group is very close to what we do at HumanisticPaganism, and I can’t give enough props to Jon Cleland Host for organizing it. I had been following the group’s email discussions for a while before starting the site, but frankly I hadn’t really digested what it was about yet and didn’t have enough time to give it the attention it deserved. Had I done so, I probably would have created a very different site (starting with the name)! Jon deserves credit for being the first organizer of the Naturalistic Pagan community, as well as the guy who coined the term “Naturalistic Pagan.” I heartily recommend the group for its community and conversation, not to mention its under-utilized resources in the files section of the group home page.
Nevertheless, HP is different. HumanisticPaganism exists specifically to showcase the writing and artwork of as many people as possible, so that you get a sense of the breadth of naturalists out there, as well as their heartfelt thoughts and struggles. If the yahoo group is like meeting for conversation at a coffee shop, HP is like meeting for a presentation at a community center. It’s different, and I’m glad both exist to suit different needs and tastes.
As for the World Pantheist Movement, they are pretty focused on straight scientific discussion. They extend open arms to those who like symbolism and ritual too, but it’s not really their focus. HP is for those who want to fully integrate myth and ritual with naturalism. Again, different needs and tastes.
How has the mission of HumanisticPaganism evolved since you started the site?
Well, I already mentioned how it morphed from a personal blog into a community blog. Apart from that, it’s also evolved a lot due to the contributing authors and readers. Thanks to them, there’s this sense of what it’s like to be a Naturalistic Pagan – a sense that goes beyond what I once thought. Consequently, what I wrote in the earlier days has had to be revised a lot to reflect the reality of the community.
About a year ago, you did a major revamp of the site and discarded some organizing themes while developing others. Can you talk a little about that process? Were there goals that you had for HP that you had to discard or alter?
As the site got more community-focused, I started to become conscious of how much was “me”-centered and how much was “we”-centered. Comments discussions and reader polls helped a lot in sorting out what the community actually thought on various issues.
For example, originally I’d envisioned a full path called the “Fourfold Path”, with specific elements to it. Well, that part didn’t really get much traction. So, that ended up getting de-emphasized in favor of what did attract people: sharing their views and work within a more general naturalistic sensibility.
Other things that evolved included a consensus on the preferred name for what we do – “Naturalistic Paganism” – and an expanded sense of what “Paganism” covers, no longer focused on the Euro-Mediterranean cultures but open to a worldwide variety of traditions.
So, in short, yes, there were goals that had to be ditched, and new ones adopted. And I think we’re better for it.
I think you are to be applauded for your ability and willingness to put the community’s needs ahead of your own, especially on a site that began as your personal blog. It’s part of what makes you a great editor. What do you think the future is for the Naturalistic Pagan community?
Bright. We’re now recognized as a presence within the larger Pagan community. I think we’ll continue to hit the radars of more and more people as we grow in visibility. And the more recognized we become, the more those like us will feel they are practicing a valid form of spirituality.
What would you like to see happen in the Naturalistic Pagan community in the next 5 years?
I want to see more writing on myth and ritual. One thing that’s surprised me about the writing of both myself and other naturalists is that we tend to focus more on our approach than on what we approach. Mythology and ritual have kinda gotten left in the dust, at least in terms of what we end up writing about. Instead, we write loads on how we approach mythology and ritual. I guess that makes sense in some respect, since our approach is what makes us distinct. But I hope that as we feel more and more legitimated in our approach, the focus will shift from the how to the what. I want to see more people writing about the mythological figures that inspire them, and the rituals they practice in daily life. I’m as guilty as any other, but that’s what I’d like to see in the next five years.
I’d like to see the same. What do you think Naturalistic Paganism has to contribute to the Pagan community as a whole?
Two things, mainly.
The first has to do with the alternatives on offer. For this, I like to draw an analogy to Reconstructionist Pagans. If you don’t know them, they are a movement of folks who don’t particularly care for the fantastical approach to history – for example, the idea that the first Druids came from Atlantis. Reconstructionists place a premium on historical accuracy, painstakingly doing the real work of research, even when the facts of history aren’t as inspiring as the romantic fantasy. Thanks to them, the Pagan identity is gaining greater integrity. I like to think that Naturalistic Pagans may contribute something similar, but whereas Reconstructionists offer historical accuracy, we offer scientific accuracy. In both cases, others are always free to take it or leave it, but at least it’s on offer.
The other thing we contribute is a reminder of our orthopraxic roots. Orthopraxy emphasizes shared practice, as opposed to orthodoxy, which emphasizes shared beliefs. Paganism is an orthopraxic religion, but it’s easy to lose sight of that. Having others with considerably different views visible in the community is a good reminder of what Paganism is really all about – practice.
What’s your next project?
Right now I’m studying to eventually start a PhD program in cognitive psychology, which doesn’t leave a lot of free time leftover, but I do have two projects in the works. First, I’m continuing my series on the history of Naturalistic Paganism in the ancient world, hosted by Patheos. Second, I’m working with DT Strain of the Spiritual Naturalist Society to design an introductory course. DT is a great guy to work with, and I’m really excited about it. It’s going to be a four-month course, all online but with a mentor to facilitate progress. The goal of the course is to gain a firm foundation in Spiritual Naturalist practices in all their varieties ancient and modern – including Naturalistic Paganism. The course is above all practical, so the student will not just study this stuff but actually try it out.
Working with the SNS has given a great opportunity to expand my horizons. Spiritual Naturalism is a wider umbrella under which all of us Naturalistic Pagans fall, so I can be who I am while interacting with people of very different traditions. It’s invigorating to do something different for a change.
Finally, what’s one thing you have learned about yourself since starting HumanisticPaganism?
Where my sense of meaning comes from. Recently, psychologists have started to realize that happiness and meaningfulness are two very different things. Happiness comes from positive feeling, but meaningfulness comes from connections and what you give back to others. The HP site has provided a real source of meaning for me. I thank all those who’ve been a part of it, and who continue to make it a worthwhile service to the community. I hope it can provide a sense of meaning to others, too.
In the words of the Delphic Maxims:
Love friendship.
Long for wisdom.
Give back what you have received.
About B. T. Newberg
B. T. Newberg founded HumanisticPaganism.com in 2011, and served as managing editor till 2013. His writings on naturalistic spirituality can be found at Patheos, Pagan Square, the Spiritual Naturalist Society, as well as right here on HP.
Since the year 2000, he has been practicing meditation and ritual from a naturalistic perspective. After leaving the Lutheranism of his raising, he experimented with Agnosticism, Buddhism, Contemporary Paganism, and Humanism. Currently he combines the latter two into a dynamic path embracing both science and myth.
In 2009, he completed a 365-day challenge recorded at One Good Deed Per Day. As a Pagan, he has published frequently at The Witch’s Voice as well as Oak Leaves and the podcast Tribeways, and has written a book on the ritual order of Druid organization Ar nDriocht Fein called Ancient Symbols, Modern Rites. He headed the Google Group Polytheist Charity, and organized the international interfaith event The Genocide Prevention Ritual.
Several of his ebooks sell at GoodReads.com, including a volume of creative nonfiction set in Malaysia called Love and the Ghosts of Mount Kinabalu.
Professionally, he teaches English as a Second Language. He also researches the relation between religion, psychology, and evolution at www.BTNewberg.com. After living in Minnesota, England, Malaysia, Japan, and South Korea, B. T. Newberg currently resides in St Paul, Minnesota, with his wife and cat.
B. T. currently serves as the treasurer and advising editor for HP.
To speak with B. T. Newberg, find him on Twitter at @BTNewberg, or contact him here.
“An Ending, A Beginning” by Meg Pauken
Today is the Winter Solstice, which is marked by some as the ending and the beginning of the Pagan Wheel of the Year. You can read about Naturalistic Pagan traditions for the Winter Solstice here. Today we also begin a new theme here at HP for early winter: “Beginnings”. For our first contribution of the new season, we hear from Meg Pauken, with a story especially well-suited for the date.
December 21, 1999. I strode the hallways of the Cuyahoga County Courthouse, bursting at the seams of my maternity suit.
I dissolved one brief marriage, argued about post-decree support and custody with a bitter couple and their surly, snide lawyer and filed a few things with the clerk of courts. I passed another very pregnant lawyer in those echoing marble halls and grinned at her. We were like two freighters, motors in the back, prows jutting forward, trying to maintain a professional appearance despite our advanced state.
Finished finally, I walked the three city blocks back to the office in a bitter wind. I filed loose papers, went over instructions with my assistant, locked my desk and said good-bye to my office mates. I planned to be out for six weeks or so. The baby wasn’t due until January 6, but I built a little cushion in so I could get some things done before delivery day. I hadn’t washed a single outfit or bought diapers or figured out how to install a car seat. That’s what the next couple of weeks were for: nesting.
My Hombre picked me up in front of my office building and we headed to a local Spanish restaurant where we met family for dinner. I ordered the Octopus Diablo, which I ate with gusto after having a bowl of deliciously pungent garlic soup. I treated myself to one glass of red wine. It felt good to sit after a busy day. It felt good to be with my Mom and Dad, my brother, sister-in-law and their girls. It felt good to relax and celebrate closing a chapter — my life and career before baby.
As we drove home, it snowed; big feathery flakes. I have always loved snow. We marveled at the beauty of it, the holiday lights and our excitement about the coming baby. When we got home, we let the dog out and headed up to bed. It was about 11.
As I brushed my teeth, I felt a strange sensation. It was my water breaking. Very strong contractions began immediately; not more than 2 minutes apart from the onset.
Our departure for the hospital was delayed only long enough to throw a few things into a bag. Until a few minutes earlier, we thought we had plenty of time to prepare.
We drove to the hospital through silent, snow covered streets. An enormous Solstice full moon hung low in the now-clear sky.
In between contractions we talked. We had not yet chosen a name for the baby; in fact, we didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.
At the emergency entrance to the hospital, an attendant appeared with a wheelchair.
“I do not need a wheelchair.”
“Honey, let them take you up.”
“No. I am perfectly capable of walking.”
The attendant merely shrugged. “Labor and Delivery is on 4.”
No sooner had we entered the elevator, when another contraction hit, hard, and I wished I had taken the attendant up on his offer. I was excited, but a bit anxious. I didn’t feel ready. I am a planner; I like to prepare; to have things organized, details itemized, rehearsals complete. I had done none of that.
We checked in and a pretty, young nurse directed me to a changing area. As I changed into a gown, she told me that this was her first night on her own, after her training.
She asked me when I last ate. I told her I finished dinner about 9. She asked me what I had to eat. I burst out laughing and told her.
“I wasn’t planning on having a baby tonight or I would have had something a little “milder.”
She made a face and said, “This is gonna be fun!” She walked me to my room and left.
Hombre and I looked at each other in disbelief. It was really happening.
The nurse reappeared with ice chips.
“How are you doing? Can I get you anything?”
I smiled.
“I’m doing great.”
She dimmed the lights, checked the baby’s heartbeat and my blood pressure.
“You’re sure you don’t want an epidural? If you wait any longer, it will be too late.”
“No. I’m doing fine.”
Oddly enough, I was.
With my Hombre holding my hand, I sat in the dusky room, rocking in the chair, feeling at once very young and at the same time, ancient. I went inward, talking less and focusing on the feelings and sensations I was experiencing.
I felt a connection through time and space to every woman who ever labored. I could feel their fear, their worry, their pain, but even more, a deep sense of peace and rightness. I was a part of something much, much bigger than the birth of our child. This was about all of us; all of life — renewing itself, beginning and ending.
In this rite, my Hombre and I were connected to every other set of new parents on the planet. In my mind I could see kings and farmers, laborers and executives, pacing the floors as they tried to comfort the mothers of their babes, as they felt helpless watching the unfolding of a process that had everything and yet nothing to do with them.
My Hombre had travelled a long road with me toward this night. Six years of trying to have a baby. Six years of hormone pills, invasive and painful tests, one emergency surgery and many, many disappointments.
The night wore on; the contractions came closer and closer; they became rougher and stronger.
Finally, the time came to push.
“Give it everything you’ve got!”
Once.
“How is the baby? Is the baby okay?”
“Fine. Push again! HARDER!”
Twice.
“You are doing great! One more time — HARD!”
Three times.
“The head is out. One more big push and you’re done!”
Four times I pushed.
6:42 a.m.
“You’ve got a baby girl! Come over here and cut the cord, Dad.”
I shook and shook. I was cold. I was sweating. I heard tiny cries.
“Where is she? I want to hold her. Where is she?”
“They are cleaning her up. She’ll be right here.”
Finally, finally, they gave her to me. My tiny baby, 6 pounds 4 ounces.
I cradled her in my arms and she held her head up and looked straight into my eyes, studying me, memorizing my face. She looked like a little owl to me. So wise and solemn. I felt like I had known her forever.
My old life was over. A new life, for all of us, had just begun — the morning after the longest night of the year; as the sun reappeared, so did she.
The Author
Meg Pauken is a writer, former lawyer and mother of two living in rural northeastern Ohio, USA. Raised as a Roman Catholic, she is a Unitarian Universalist and has felt the call of paganism since her childhood. She blogs about family and spirituality at Tales from the Sandwich Chronicles.
Tomorrow
Join us as we kick off the new Pagan year with an interview with B. T. Newberg, founder of Humanistic Paganism and current Treasurer and Advising Editor.
Winter Solstice
The sun, nearing winter solstice, travels low across the sky in a multiple-exposure picture made in Maine in 2002.
PHOTOGRAPH BY ROBERT F. BUKATY, AP
For Neopagans in the Northern Hemisphere, the solstice is celebrated as Yule. This year, the date falls on December 21st. The precise date and time for the cross-quarter can be found at archaeoastronomy.com.
At the Winter Solstice, NaturalPantheist performs a ritual which begins with this prelude:
“As I stand here on this celebration of Yule, the sacred wheel of the year has turned once again and it is now midwinter. As my forebears did, I do now, and so may my descendants do in time to come. It is the Solstice, the longest night and shortest day. Today I celebrate the return of the Sun. Since the summer, it has gradually become colder and darker, but from this time forwards, the days shall get longer and lighter and warmer again. The Solar year has run its course and completed its cycle and a new year begins, bringing light, life and hope to the earth.”
He concludes with this poem:
When the earth is barren, the light is reborn.
When the animals sleep, the light is reborn.
When the leaves have all fallen, the light is reborn.
When the rivers are frozen, the light is reborn.
When the shadows grow long, the light is reborn.
When warmth has fled, the light is reborn.
In the darkest night, the light is reborn.
Glenys Livingstone of Pagaian transposes the solstice onto the birth of the universe itself. Her ritual script sees all lights extinguished and, after a time in the darkness, a fire is kindled with the following words:
“We recall our Beginnings – the Great Flaring Forth, and our Grandmother Supernova Tiamat – Goddess Mother of our Solar system, of our star the Sun. This is our Cosmic lineage. We are Gift of Tiamat – Goddess Mother supernova. Out of her stardust we are born. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulphur, phosphorus and trace elements. We are Gift of Tiamat – out of her stardust we are born.”
Pagaian Winter Solstice video
Jon Cleland Host of the Naturalistic Paganism yahoo group celebrates the solstice with his family, including Yule log and sunrise viewing:
“A Yule log can be made and burned. This is done by selecting and cutting the log, then taking it inside for decoration. Kids can contribute by helping with the decorations. Some Pagans use the log as a stand for candles, and light the candles (especially for apartment dwellers, or those without a fireplace) on Solstice eve. Others actually burn the log on Solstice eve, lighting it with a small piece of the log from the previous year. More can be found on the web about the tradition of the Yule Log.
“A tradition practiced in my family, but not apparently very widespread, is to get up to welcome the sunrise on the morning of the Winter Solstice. This is often done from a location where the horizon can be seen, such as the shore of Lake Huron or Michigan. The weather is often cloudy, so knowing the exact minute of the sunrise is important. A short ritual can be done to greet the rising sun, and poems or readings can be read. Long rituals are not recommended due to the cold temperatures usually seen on the morning of Solstice (not to mention that long rituals aren’t fun for kids). After returning from that, the stockings are found to be filled, and presents appear. In the past they appeared under the Yule/Solstice tree, this year they appeared in the center of our stone circle outside.”
Meanwhile, those in the Southern Hemisphere experience this time as Midsummer.
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