2009 Parliament of the World’s Religions

I thought this article in the Pagan Newswire was brilliant so I just had to post it here. It's exactly what I've been trying to get through these pentacle waving trendies for years:

In the world of Interfaith relations, where religions, faiths and traditions seek to find cooperation and peaceful coexistence, the labels and definitions and how they are used are important. Descriptions of faith practices are the way interfaith speakers share information that leads to greater understanding, and the clearer the language used, the better chance all parties will be able to find common ground. In this case, for a very long time Paganism has been defined by the Christian definition of any non-Abrahamic religion. This has been considered a derogatory term by many faiths, and seen as insult to many including members of Hinduism, Buddhism, Native and Indigenous faiths. They each desired that they be seen as an equal religion with their own title and definitions to be used. In this, by agreement, Paganism is not used to directly describe any faith simply because it is not Christian, Muslim, or Jewish. This agreement has allowed each faith attending to put aside the use of this word as a central description of their faith.

So the term Pagan itself is being redefined from this old Christian based definition. Part of the Teaching of Traditions series, created with the help of Pagan Trustees, describes Paganism as follows: “Paganism” is a collective term that most aptly defines Indigenous cultures of pre-Christian Europe, the Celtic and Germanic Tribes, The Balts, The Scandinavians, The Basques, The Slavs and many others.

The first Pagan presentation of the Parliament helped begin this change of identity and was called “People Call Us Pagans-The European Indigenous Traditions”, by PWR Trustees Angie Buchanan, Andras Arthen, and Phyllis Curott. The opening of the description is as follows: As the World confronts environmental devastation, we are beginning to appreciate the wisdom of Indigenous peoples who have lived thousands of years in sustainable harmony and spiritual connection with the Earth. After hundreds of years of suppression, most Westerners have forgotten that their ancestors once shared this wisdom as the Indigenous traditions of Europe. *

This concept of Paganism as being based deeply in European Indigenous Traditions has fascinated and found ground among American, European and Australian members of the Parliament. It helps move Paganism from being a New Religious Movement to an Indigenous tradition, and offers many more opportunities to reach out at the parliament.

As described by Andras Corban-Arthen most forms of modern Paganism can be described as part of the New Religious Movements as they were formed in the 20th century, yet there are several Pagan ethnic traditions that have survived Christianization. One such example is Romuva of Lithuania. It is these ethnic traditions that fit better into the description of Indigenous traditions, instead of New Religious Movements. It allows Pagans to be part of both New Religious Movements and also recognized as part of the Indigenous traditions. By accepting that Pagan Traditions are indigenous to Europe, then individuals must take another look and it presents them with a different paradigm of what Pagan stands for.

Further, Andras Corban-Arthen points out that Wicca, for example, cannot be seen as an indigenous Pagan faith practice and is instead a modern syncretic movement. Under this description Wicca therefore would not fall under the definition of Pagan, and would be squarely a New Religious Movement, while British Traditional Witchcraft could be considered a Pagan and Indigenous faith tradition.

This concept of redefining Paganism as Indigenous Faith Practices of Europe has been seen as a way to change perceptions. River Higginbotham, Author and Pagan, who has heard this definition for the first time at the Parliament, describes this change as one that will benefit many Pagans, and he accepts that most Pagans he knows draw on European traditions to form their own practices. This allows them grounding in culture, and this description has given them a better understanding of where their faith is coming from.

Angie Buchanan offers that recognition of Paganism as an extension of the faith practice of Indigenous European Religions gives modern Pagans grounding in their own traditions. This will help them find their own customs and rituals. This will discourage modern Pagans from raiding other Indigenous faiths rituals and practices, which is also known as Cultural Appropriation, which many Native Americans and other culturally based ceremonialists describe as a form of spiritual theft. By having Pagans focus on their own European roots, they can avoid creating situations that would aggravate cultural appropriation that harms interfaith efforts.

Linda Hart, Interfaith Liaison for Pagan Awareness Network of Australia, feels this is a good description for Paganism, and finds it useful for non-Pagans to understand. It is a useful tool in dealing with other indigenous faiths, which do not see themselves as Pagan. Instead this allows Pagans to share as fellow Earth-Based Spiritualists.

So we see that Paganism is beginning to be used to describe Indigenous European faiths, and that other practices by Indigenous people are being seen as part of a larger family of Earth-Based Spiritualists; That some forms of what we call Paganism are really independent of that term and are better described their own name under New Religious Movements.

In all cases, the definition that Pagans are those who practice a faith not covered by Christianity, Judaism, or Islam, should be discarded as politically and socially unacceptable. That we must look beyond a definition forced onto the world by missionaries as a way to divide us, and instead accept that each faith practice can and should be called by the name of their choice.

For many self-described Pagans, this is a different lens to view themselves with, and offers a chance to reexamine their faith as Pagans, Earth Spiritualists, New Religious Movements, or something else yet to come. It may be time to examine the entire Pagan movement under this new definition and allow it to evolve into more than simply one community; that understanding these differences and the labels they generate can allow us to interact more fully in a multi-religious and pluralistic Interfaith World, as shown at the Parliament of World’s Religions.

*PWR Program Handbook, 2009, pg.142-143

Örlog and the Joys of Bureaucracy

My mother took a stroke back in the heat of August, refusing to drink enough fluid. She always had that ugly habit of resisting my advice, tooth and nail. Of course, to further complicate things, my pleas to the village doctor's office for a paramedic, were not given all due urgency- and that despite my thorough description of the symptoms. At least the red cross came in due course and we rushed her off to the stroke unit. Thus doctors were able to dissolve the blood clot within ample time for a full recovery. However, given the old brain damage from the impact of a 20 meter fall in 1953 they decided against putting her into an artificial coma (as is procedure for the body to process the neurological effects of recovery)- rather, put her under heavy sedation and restraint for 24 hours with my brother's permission. He also confirmed the information I gave on her disabilities. The rest was pretty self-evident in the scans and her response to the treatment. Needless to say, the doctors had never seen anything like it. She made such a speedy recovery though, that they had trouble keeping her in bed, thus continued to sedate her. I had a job interview that day when they resolved to transfer her to the psychiatric hospital in Emmendingen some 40 kilometers away for the standard three to four weeks rehab. "We need you to go with her and talk to the staff there" they said. "Oh joy", I thought, as it was the hottest day of the year, and would undoubtly have to wing it to the train station on foot afterwards to make it back in time for my appointment. Indeed, what an arduous trip that was, and I had to keep watch over her as the ambulance driver had to wait 3/4 at the reception there for them to process her transfer forms. Fortunately the staff in the ward she was admitted to were friendly and most accomodating so I was able to get back to Lahr in time. Well, as if I didn't have enough trouble, that job interview turned out to be a come on. It was clear they had already picked their lot, but under quite different conditions than the agreement they made with the local "Kommunale Arbeitsförderung". Now I am familiar with the trick questions that time-share agencies use to profile their applicants, but this verged on the totally ridiculous. This girl couldn't have been older than 20, and went through her questions like an automaton fresh out of business school. She looked through my CV and said "Oh you're a Canadian" even though it clearly read "German" then comes out with- "where in Canada do you come from?" "Sorry", I replied politely, "but there is no one place in Canada that I come from, and I've been living in Germany now for 40 years". As I suspected, this was not the answer she wanted, rather, like most of these deluded Lahrers, take Canada for some promise land they can't imagine why anyone would leave. Just how do you explain to such twits that thanks to your mother coming from the east zone you've been treated like some stateless persona ungrata for years- not to mention all the secret government agencies that try to fuck you over for what you'll never know why. Then came the stupid question: "What would be your dream job?" I damn near fell out of my chair. This is a question you ask a young apprentice and not someone 55 with decades of professional trade experience. Others I talked to who the Komunale had also submitted, were in no way received like this and assured me they would have been just as gobsmacked by such impertinent questions. Through them I found out these buggers were lying about providing us a steady workplace without need of a car- rather, as I suspected, looking for temps they could send anywhere on the spur of the moment. "Springers" as is usually the case with such time-sharing outfits, and given the inadequate public transport where I lived, naturally ruled me out. So, in essence the interview was only insofar as to convince the Komunale that they "reviewed" all applicants. Nonetheless, my sympathy goes out to my classmate who did get hired by this lot. Everyone's suspicions were confirmed when Acromed phoned her up just two days before the end of the course, asking when she could come as they needed a springer. She is not a happy camper, to say the least, but better her than me.

Well, after getting all that behind me, I get this letter from the medical insurance asking about the alleged "accident" from which my mother sustained the head injuries and subsequent dementia. With it they included a standard form, for which the most part would have required a crystal ball to fill out. Heh, that all happened in Hameln back in 1953, a year before I was born. She scarcely has any recollection herself, rather, most of it I had to piece together from what her father and my father had told me over the years. She was working as a German state employee for the British stationed there. A job she got from her father, who was the town's employment director at the time. He was given the position as a rehabilitation for his 5 years incarceration in a nazi labour camp. At the time there were plenty of old nazis still malingering about, forever scheming to do away with the allied occupation in whatever devious little underhanded ways they could. Needless to say, they took it out on his daughter, with every intent of revenge. A mysterious phone call, luring her out to the gangway overlooking where the vehicles were being serviced. All she vaguely remembers was a forceful hand pushing her from behind as she looked down to see who was there. The town police had their suspicions and investigated the matter but could find no witnesses. It happened after hours and the building was empty.

After I filled out the form to the best of my knowledge and got my mother to sign it, I phoned the woman who sent the form and explained that if they want documentation they will either have to contact the civil archives in Hameln or Berlin. By all accounts records kept by the British forces stationed in Germany are also available in the Berlin archives and were meticulously kept. I just can't foot the cost of so much research. I guess that was enough, as I haven't heard from them since and all my requests have gone through without recourse. I have yet to locate the documents of my mother's involuntary service in the Luftwaffe. By all accounts, the Americans buggered off with all those records when the Soviets put up the Berlin wall and haven't returned them since. Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me if that was also party to my run-in with MK-Ultra. Just don't talk to me about örlog, I assure you I've had enough of it, thanks but no thanks.

Let the Leaves Fall

Well, I'm finally catching up with all that fell in arrears during that crash course in nursing aids. Not surprisingly the question remains, just what do I do with this qualification for what. Indeed, that's what my employment counsellor called me in to ask. The funny thing is, he was the one who sent me on that course. Ahh, gone are the days where administrations kept their people informed, but what the hell, what I learned that month is certainly practical in my circumstances at home. I'm also back on facebook, for what it's worth. Even in my absence the buggers swamped me with a total of 90 requests. After I blocked all the silly game apps, idiotic personality quizzes and worn out gift ideas I finally had it down to a manageable number. Of course, no sooner I accomplished that, the smaller forum of a friend went and crashed. Scheisse. Still, things on ning have settled down for a while and the gardening's almost done, so I've had time to reflect. What springs to mind was that last drama of Jan's and the burning of her own bridges. She was always crying wolf, trying to lobby us into the firing line of her jealous contentions. That same old game of playing both sides against the middle, as if we should feel some dire need to compete..but what's the point of explaining that to the god-fearingly pretentious? Either way, they're going to deny it. So Jan, save posting your flakey comments on Mojie's wall. We're just not buying it. That should have been obvious since we left. Although, I do occasionally enjoy refuelling their fears, it's rather like shooting fish in barrel whenever I don't feel up to much else. A real no-brainer.

Home Sweet Home

Coming back from Emmendingen today, we took the alternate route through my favourite part of the Rhine Valley. Pity I didn't have my camera with me, it was utterly beautiful. The blue Vosges against the golden hues of the slowly setting sun on the one side, and the lush green hills of the old volcano on the other. The vast expanse of field and forest as far as the eye could see. There's something about this place so deeply imbedded in ancestral memory. Indeed this was homeland of my predecessors so many generations ago. Always such a deep reaching experience everytime I pass through these parts. This was also Goethe's favourite haunt. Sigh...I think I will come through here again in the fall, with my camera of course. Somewhere I have some pictures I took from the Haut-Koenigsburg overlooking these parts. I must find them and post them once I have a little more time to spare...

Catchwords and Trick Questions

"Are Pagans racist?" Heh, now just what are we getting at here? First of all, anyone with a brain knows that there is no such a thing as "race"...in fact homo sapiens sapiens is a species. There are no actual subspecies within that group, rather some 66,000 years ago we nearly faced extinction, though its not quite clear yet as to the cause. I suspect this person probably means "bigot" but I have yet to see where in the animal kingdom there isn't some form of bigotry or another. It's just one of those aspects of natural selection in this thing we call evolution. We each discriminate according to personal preference. It is what makes us individual, thus, increases the survivability of the species through differentiation. All things must change in order to continue. It's the first fundamental law of existence. While over the last 10,000 years or so, we've tried to master this through various hierarchial social structures, for all it's vanity of success it starts to take too much for granted- easily losing sight of that fundamental first law. It becomes stratified, tokenized, values buried under ever more layers of burocracy, until not even the head hauncho is really sure what it all amounts to...and all the while financial reports are issued, that doesn't necessarily say what the commodity was really valued at by the one who did the actual trading. Indeed, survival knows no limit to the means of achieving an end. That is the second fundamental law of existence.

A system easily undermined by corruption is one that cannot survive- so the humans make laws and institutions with more burocracy. Why? because chopping off people's hands only makes them useless as labourers. Of course the wardens gladly accept bribes, thus distributing the wealth to the black-mailers and hired assassins wherever silence cannot be bought. Institutions become empires of ever more secret authority over the masses. The demands on the labour force increase as any concern for their welfare decreases. Expendibles, lackies, primitives scarcely in any position to truly appreciate the superior wisdom of their peers? Yep, that's usually the kind of arrogance that results. Divisions between haves and have nots. Inevitably farmers, craftsmen and proprietors can no longer get the sustenance to meet the impossible demands. The powers that be decide its time to go forth and conquer. As the lackies "have nothing better to do" they send them to do their battle. If their side wins, slaves will make up for the workforce losses.

Suddenly the climate changes, bringing flood, famine and disease. There is dissent, rebellion, looting and civil war. It is a sign of the gods to overthrow the oppressors and return to a humble life of virtue...so they think. Witches and heretics are hunted down and executed for the noble cause...and so the empire arises again. I could go on but I'm sure most of you get the picture by now. As for the others, you can take your piety, fold it five ways and shove it where no light shines. No matter what you profess to call it, it's still a sham. Just another lame excuse wanton of everything for nothing, or should that be nithing? A process of eliminating everything down to that sublime singular of one-size-fits-all. Take away the forces of resistance and what do you have? A black hole.

Yes, the Plot Sickens

Oooer, what's this I've been hearing from the ugly rumour gallery? That same old preaching of virtue to whitewash the obvious pathological lies. Did you really think your peons are so naive that they wouldn't notice all that overwhelming hypocracy? Ah but like any aspiring civil burocrat, you naturally assume the status quo actually grants you special authority beyond all public reproach let alone accountability. Heh, I've dealt with quite enough of your kind on all levels to know the difference all too well. No surprise just how decadent that whole system has become...oh but of course that's always the fault of the "non-players" who refuse to conform to such obvious double standards. Just the same you'd believe any old lie your cronies feed you, than ever consider that they're just playing along for their own want of secret authority...and all the while they tried to play me, I threw in a few alternate gestalts- that given the way they tried to exploit these, certainly revealed your ulterior motives beyond any reasonable doubt. Needless to say, it proved quite a classic case study in mob psychology- or as I put it to your nemesis:

I often wonder why some will say they despise something yet seem trapped in that strange paradox where they just can't seem to live without it. Were it not for WW, I would have pulled the pin right after seeing what a pigs ear that Hero charade tried to make of everything. It was plain to see who was all behind it, who they were trying to cover up for, and who they were trying to set up for what deluded premise of their own morbid fears. That in itself was grounds enough for me to realize that I was not dealing with a pagan interest group, rather, a bunch of playground psychotics from the armpit of industrial society trying to make a fashion statement out of their otherwise droll and utterly conventional domestic lives. People so indoctrinated with their supremist christian dogma, they've actually done little more than call it by another name. At that rate it wouldn't matter what we did or didn't do, they were clearly out to compromise us by virtue of anything that might justify their complicity. However, until MH got into the thick of it they didn't have the guts to say it, just sent us some vague email suggesting there was some kind of interforum conspiracy about...but I'm sure it was really all just a set up. The curious thing is Jan, everytime you went on one of your rampages, they pointed that finger at us. Now, why is that?...and why these rants only to go running back for more? Oh, I'm sure they only wish we'd conspire to get back on there, but the problem with that theory is they're so BORINGLY TEDIOUS we just don't have the time for it.

As for religious tolerance, it does not grant you some special right to demand piety towards your ideological convictions, no matter what your status quo. As long as you insist on crusading the "holier than thou", the angry undertones of rebellion should be of no surprise. Indeed we've seen that spectre all too often come in the guise of seeming political correctness. The question is, correct for whom and to what end?

Now having said that, I can think of better things to do elsewhere.

What Can Go Wrong With Your Path

1. You believe the Necronomicon is real and the evil Cthulhu is hiding under your kitchen sink.
2. You believe you've been hexed when the bus leaves without you.
3. You search your passport for secret signs of the Illuminati, the Rosicrucians, and the Brotherhood of the Great Pumpkin.
4. You wrap aluminum foil around your head so the aliens can't control your mind via satellite.
5. Whenever you are under stress, you fall into a trance and start raving in a lost language.
6. You keep greeting the postman with "Merry meet and blessed be".
7. You can't sleep at night because the ghost of the tenant before you keeps you awake with his parties and poker games.
8. Instead of getting an antivirus program, you perform a banishing ritual to drive out the negative energies.
9. Your cat is the reincarnation of Jean Paul Sartre and drives you crazy with the most depressing discussions on existentialism. To make matters worse, your canary is Albert Camus, and the two won't stop getting into an argument.
10. You are at a séance, and the medium says "this call will cost you $1.89 a minute".
11. You ask the driving instructor if you can do a class B flying license for a large besom.
12. The only ancestors who will have anything to do with you are Atilla the Hun and Elizabeth Bathory.
13. Ever since you've read the Book of Revelations, bad news only makes you ecstatic.
14. You are gripped by an ominous feeling upon discovering terrifying prophecies encrypted in the numbers of the local telephone directory.
15. After an NDE you carry a sword under your cloak and keep a watch out for other immortals.
16. Your telephone provider offers you a flatrate to Hell.
17. You think Eliphas Levi is the guy who invented your denims.
18. Your family has to chain you up and leave you a bowl of dogfood on a full moon.
19. You believe the spirit of Sleipnir is in your Fiat Panda.
20. You can read Alleister Crowley's handwriting because it's just like yours.
21. You're short with a massive beard, an affinity for red pointy hats, and can only sing "Hi-Ho".
22. At the video counter of a sex shop, you ask for the "Whore of Babylon".
23. On your first journey to the underworld you are stopped by a customs officer who asks for your visa, customs declaration, and how long you plan to stay.
24. You channel a Roman general named Cunillingus.
25. Your succubus is pregnant and suing you for child support.
26. You call on Dionysis and instead Frank Sinatra pitches up singing "New York, New York".
27. You buy a book on anatomy to look for your inner child.
28. You take out the central heating system and light a bonfire in the middle of the livingroom.

Probability Curves

Although I have excellent psychic ability, at some point, I thought I might apply it to card readings. I’m what you might call metaphysicist, as I like to apply scientific knowledge to the paranormal equation. Thus, tarot was an ideal experiment in reading local causality as translated from the various symbologies the cards turned up. I began with ordinary playing cards to get the feel of it, progressing to different tarot decks with different layouts. Although my readings were accurate they seemed too limited to the number of variables these decks could produce. Then a friend from Berlin introduced me to Thoth deck designed by Lady Frieda Harris of the OTO. Indeed their complex symbologies provided a whole multitude of aspects in a single reading. Once I got the feel these, I would do readings for friends or entertain the muse at parties, nothing I ever accepted money for, rather, for me the learning experience was my reward.

In 1986 I flew back to Fort Erie as the word was my Gran was dying. In fact, while I was there she paid me a visit in my sleep and we exchanged our farewells. The wake at my uncle Ray’s place afterwords turned into one hell of a bash, so my aunt told me to get my cards, and dragged me down to the rec room where she had gathered all her woman friends. They were all so keen I didn’t know for the life of me where to start..until one particular woman piped up with “do mine” and the room suddenly went quiet. As I thought “oh, what’s this all about then”, my aunt intervened with “yes, do hers”. I looked around the room to see what the rest had to say to this, but they agreed with the most curious grins plastered across their faces. Needless to say, when I laid out the cards, the reason was plain to see. I tried to be discreet in divulging what I saw, then took my aunt aside to remark, “lemme guess, she’s the neighbourhood nymphomaniac, right?” My aunt grinned from ear to ear as she snickered “you betcha, and you have no idea how much you read there is just so damn true in every detail”. Heh, I’m sure my gran was smiling too, as she was a well versed master of divination herself, so I guess I was actually keeping with tradition that night.

All went well with this venture until years later I gave a demo to a new acquaintance who was aspiring to be a professional fortune teller. I could sense rivalry there, so I kept it simple. She wanted to form a coven, but I have a real aversion to the popular esoterica being sold in the women’s section of bookshops, if you know what I mean. Not only that, but her and her entourage of women friends were all divorcees who put too much faith in the institution of marriage to make up for poor judgement- hence witchcraft for a vengeance over men. Erm, thanks but no thanks. Still she persisted, pitching up at odd times to put me to the test, so I played lame, and she soon lost interest. Then months later one of her (by this time) ex-friends pitched up with a whole epic on the evil this woman allegedly brought into her life. As far as I was concerned these were just further examples of poor judgement, as I am by no means superstitious, let alone god-fearing- rather it always takes two to tango into the no-zone of stupid mistakes. I tried to explain these things to her, but some people only hear what they want to hear. She offered to read my cards and as they involved an old gypsy tarot yet unfamiliar to me I obliged, offering a reading from my thoth deck in exchange. Unfortunately the reading she gave made little sense, nor did it enlighten me to the workings of it much. The reading I did for her however, turned out to be a bombshell. She had been living with her common law mate 6 years, trying to restore their house from the 1750s to its former glory, but this was going nowhere. His promise of marriage, as it turned out, was not to her, but a young blond floozie expecting his child. I was barely able to conclude the reading, when she shot out the door like a bolt. She phoned me later, to confirm she found the shocking evidence at a friend’s printshop, namely the invitations to his wedding with this mystery woman. She had introduced me to this guy before, so its not like I didn’t have my suspicions- rather, what confounded me was how she could let herself be exploited by the jerk so long, because its not as if these affairs hadn’t been ongoing. Mind you, she was just as duplistic and inclined to favour others of this nature of wanton friendship. In essense, they were all their own worst enemies living in a dream of the rebellious youth they never had through early marriage. Again, no matter how I tried to distance myself she kept trying to crash into my life with her dubious schemes to draw me into her crowd. Naturally, when it finally dawned on her that I wasn’t buying it, she began to see me as her nemesis, responsible for whatever turns of alleged bad karma in her life. As was her usual retaliation on such premises, she conspired to abusively crash in on me with her friends. Unfortunately for her, I can smell this sort of thing in making from miles away, so I threw a psychic wrench into it. Needless to say, they were heading up the A5 to my house when the engine dropped onto the highway. No injuries, but the comedy of errors that ensued were bizarre enough, that I received a perplexed call from her mobile. Much of what she said was at best incoherent, but when she finally stopped for breath, I responded with “heh, what were you expecting? It’s not like I don’t know what you’re up to.” Needless to say, that was the last I heard from her- and by all accounts she left the region soon thereafter, abandoning all ties with these friends. As for tarot readings, there were just too many fools expecting it to compensate their lack of responsible judgement- so I wrapped up all my cards and stashed them away where I have suitably forgotten their whereabouts.

The Pepper Curse

I can't say I've ever done any spells, and have too much of a respect for the laws of polarity in sincere relationships. However, I have on occasion, seen the need for the odd curse when some coercive nasty or stalker tries to get on my case. I found I have a real lokean talent for cursing cars and causing general mayhem. The first time I did this, it was perfectly banale. I danced deosil around the car in the parking lot three times, shaking a pepper shaker and chanting utter nonsense. I made sure the culprit got a glimpse of me from his office window. Before he could give it any attention, his phone rang and in the moment's distraction, I was suddenly gone. Later that day, when he finished work and prepared to drive home, there was no ignition, no lights- rather, complete electrical failure. Having a colleague jumper cable it failed also. The wheels were locked, so it had to be towed away on a flatbed. The final verdict from the garage was scrapyard. After that, every time he tried to follow me on foot, it was pure chaos. He would either collide with something or trip or get diverted by people wanting to discuss something. Eventually he realized he was up against too many things beyond his control and gave up the persuit.

On Empathic Ability

I'm an empath to the extreme of being a strange attractor, but I'm more apt to blame that aspect on my bio-electric messengers. I'm 5 antigens short of a proper rhesus factor, which puts me well outside 99.98% of the human populace. This makes those messengers stand out like a solar flare. Not only do people react to this curiously, but animals as well. In the case of people though they are rarely conscious of how oddly they are behaving. My friends are amused at how people get so magnetized, regardless of like or loathe. Needless to say this can be a right pain, so I prefer to avoid crowds altogether. To put a damper on it is practically impossible, so if need be, I just send out the "bugger off" signals. Mind you, some are just too thick to even register that, so I either have to tell them off or get physical. Too many have had the most unreal expectations so I'm not what you could call a friend of humanity. In my youth I seriously got wondering where I took a wrong turn in the causality curve. Fortunately a hindu friend explained something about Pashupati and the Rudra that made perfect sense- that true creation is in the ability to break from the norm and that some people just plain have that wild card predestiny.

On the other hand, my emphathic ability also has an ugly habit of the shared NDE. My worst case scenario was a family friend's death through massive heart attack. I was about 10km away at home when it hit me, sending me writhing on the floor in the most excruciating pain as if my whole body had seized up on me. To say the least, it really freaked out my family, although they have their own fair share of clairvoyance. Fortunately most we know that have passed, did so peacefully.

Yes, some people can really put a drain on you, but that can be reversed. Some are just plain soul-suckers and take full advantage of it. Throw it right back at them for everyone's sake, or you will undoubtably have to clean up one hell of a mess sooner or later. Forget the Wiccan rede, believe in that higher wisdom called "Murphy's Law".

Below the Channel of Light

It was late 1975 and I was preparing to leave Canada for good. My father was away in Germany, settling in my mother and brother, so I had the house to myself. One night as I drifted off into a light sleep, a face slowly emerged into my mind’s eye as a kindly voice spoke asking me if I’d like to visit a world “between worlds” where some folk would like to meet me. Although he looked human, there was a grace and elegance to him I had never seen before. His garments could have passed for Asiatic, very simple but nonetheless formal looking. I had the impression he was an envoy of sorts. No sooner I said “sure, why not?” I found myself in an extraordinary realm. Seemingly terrestrial, except that its sun was a brilliant mauve whose light seemed to effervesce rich blue to violet shades in the surrounding vegetation. I stood on a path of fine crushed crystal that glimmered opalescent shades as I proceeded up it. There before me stood a city of florescent white spires. In it’s midst was a tower holding a large streaming orb of rich orange light that pulsated. As its energy pulsed through me it had a pleasant warming effect. The path ended before the “wall” of one of the structures, so I stopped to examine it curiously. It wasn’t actually a wall but a light barrier of sorts. The man said “trust your senses” so I extended my hand to penetrate it. It was like pushing a very soft powder puff, so I entered. There, at the end of a polished corridor I was greeted by several beings that were strangely familiar to me. Interestingly, they were each dressed very differently. We spoke telepathically, not in words but empathic impressions. This was relief as I’ve always found having to verbalize my thoughts tedious, if not annoying. Needless to say, our communication was a fulfilling experience like no other before. All parties satisfied, our ways parted and then my guide led me to his flying vehicle for me to explore the rest of their realm. To make a long story short, it was a realm whose forms you could describe as being of solid yet transmutable structures of light. I watched as its sun and the landscape transformed in shape and colour. Quite an impressive experience. When we returned, I had barely stepped out of the craft when the image began to raster, rather like some kind of bad signal interference. For a moment I could make out some rather gastly looking creatures trying to make their presence known. My guide urged me quickly to awaken while he keep them at bay. I knew these creatures only too well myself, so we exchanged our farewells and I forced myself awake.

In the reallife events that followed, it became clear that this dream was a forewarning- namely that some contemptuous third party in the real world was trying to allure me into some kind of psychic entrapment. Then one spring morning as I slowly awoke there was the strangest feeling compelling me to go to my bedroom window. Suspicious, I complied and down there in the backyard I saw a fellow I knew from Halifax transit smiling back at me. I knew his presence was a telepathic projection, so I blocked it and sure enough he vanished from the scene. People had told me he'd been reported by his landlord, and his colleagues at Halifax Transit to the RCMP as a missing person. Then two weeks before I shipped off out of Nova Scotia, he showed up at my door with the most dubious claims of having been abducted by aliens. Being an acadian, he had gone off on vacation to his hometown in New Brunswick, and it was thereabouts he allegedly made contact. The really disturbing part of this whole charade was his behaviour, movements rather like a marionette, and the totally vacuous look as he delivered his message, like something else speaking though him, shallow and emotionless. I swear it was like looking into the eyes of a dead man. Irises dilated and not even the flick of an eyelid as I waved a hand before his face. An empty shell sucked of all that was recognizably himself. It didn't matter how I responded, it just didn't register. The voice spoke of some superhuman race watching over humanity, and that certain "chosen ones" were to be privy to their higher knowledge. Fortunately this lot was oblivious of the dream I was having when their bullshit tried to intervene. Nonetheless, those words sent a shiver down my spine. I simply responded yes, yes, until the bugger concluded that he would return at some appropriate time to take me there. It was to my great relief he then left. What they did not know, was that I was about to leave the country for good. When he came back a month later, only my father was there, locking up to return the lease to the housing office. My father aptly told him to fuck off, that I had left the country and wherever to was nobody's business. Having locked everything up, my father then got in his car and just left the jerk standing there dazed as he waved goodbye and sped off grinning.

This particular lot was not anything otherworldly but in fact some very real spooks of the MK Ultra mind control variety. Although I did not know who they were at the time, according to friends, some very real people were stalking me as well as encroaching them. Not only were such experiments being conducted illicitly around Montreal, but on people in the military community across Canada. My brother's first wife, who was a servicewoman in the airforce was one of their victims. She is still under compulsory medication for the psychotic state that lot left her in, but there is very little hope she will ever recover. Court cases in Canda are still ongoing.

Let there be wisdom in the proverb "KNOW YOURSELF"

Popular New Age Misconceptions

Having seen most of the pagan sites the internet has to offer across the world, I was utterly gobsmacked at the shear bulk of misinformation going around about "Native American spirituality". What's even worse is that some are charging big bucks for their hocum, and I'm not just talking about faux-injuns either. There are those who will use any trace of indigenous origin to offer you a vision quest from whatever hapless tribe happens to be fashionable at moment. Not every nation used sweat lodges, medicine wheels or dream catchers for that matter. Although I am quite solidly European. my mother lost her Prussian homeland to the nazis and then the soviets so I was born in Canada. My Father was a civil engineer in the military so we got chucked from one end of Canada to the other as well as Germany. Prejudical attitudes to "Germans" let alone my lack of religious denomination had me ostracized from so-called "civilized society" in those days. Of course being the volcanic tempered take no crap kind, I got labelled a "wild one" and landed amongst the métis wherever I went. Lucky for me that most of these places were gov't reserves where we attended the same schools- thus native heritage made an integral part of the cirriculum. I learned about the Ojibwa, Iroquois, Cree, Kwakiutl, to name a few, even the odd Hopi or Meso-American. They are as diverse as the ethnocultures found across any continent on this planet. No one-size-fits-all, in as much as starry-eyed idealists would like to aspire. That nature prefers to differ is the first law of quantum dynamics. Without it all gets sucked up into a black hole. That's just the way it is. Needless to say, whenever I see someone try to stir all these colourfully different nuances together into a sickly monochrome cliché, it really upsets me.

http://www.newagefraud.org/

The Chilliwack Tribe

Although the Kwakiutl are a costal people of British Columbia, their domain reaches well inland into the mountains bordering the Fraser Valley.  It was twice I lived on the Soowalie reserve, first as child where I attended primary school in Vedder Crossing.  My father was going through basic training there as a construction engineer, so we spent a lot of quality time along the Vedder to Chilliwack lake where he loved to fish rainbow trout.  The white crested shear peaks and their cascades of falls from the spring melt were utterly breath taking.  To drink from their waters was pure energy and could keep one trekking for miles without exhaustion.  My father got on well with the local colour, though these were sad times for their folk.  To the valley dwelling evangelists, they were just plain drunks that would never amount to anything civilized, and shunned them like the plague. You could see them in the Empress hotel on their knees teetering in a stupor, yet never falling down.  Mind you, the army guys were no different, always enjoying a good piss-up for lack of anything better to do on a Friday night.  My father spent his adolescence in a gold mining camp in Northern Quebec, so this was nothing new to him.  You could say it was all like one of those classical scenes out of “Paint Your Wagon”, except set in the most astoundingly beautiful landscape.  I remember the stories of his escapades with his mate “Joe Smoke”, whose house you couldn’t miss way up on the mountainside- with “Joe Smoke House” emblazoned in big white letters on the tar shingled roof.  One night it caught fire so my father and his mates went to see what they could rescue.  When they got there, Joe suddenly fell to his knees in riotous laughter at the spectacle.  While the whole thing was ablaze, the animals were running around it inanely in circle making a tremendous ruckus. “Shit man, your house is burning down, what the hell are you laughing at?” they stammered awestruck at the inferno. “Oh who cares about that, I can build a new one- but just look at those crazy animals” he laughed.  Indeed, this is the difference of accepting your lot in life to appreciate the irony of the curves that nature can throw you. The bush-sense of survivalism, and the way of the warrior that my own ancestors also shared in common.  I remember the legends we were taught in that school, about the thunderbird and the spirits of the warriors dancing in the auroras on clear nights.  The songs I used to sing to the wights of the land as the sun rose over those fantastic peaks.  The rainbows after a spring shower and firey colours of fall, the mammouth trees and the pure blue glacial waters.  In the spring you could hear the mountain sheep clashing horns like shotgun fire. Watching those clever bears always up to something, and how they would fish and forage.  The place was just teeming with lessons in nature. I couldn’t have been in a better place, in those very formative years of early youth.

When I returned years later, it all came back to me as if I had never left.  The carvings on the war canoes and totems, and the stories of their clans. I would spend days trekking around the reserve to the homesteads of different friends. We would sit around the fire at night, throw in a cedar log to spice up the air, then exchange stories of our travels and experiences.  One night I had the rare pleasure of discovering that one of my friends had mastered the skills of a Hamatsa fire eater.  The academics had assumed that this tradition had died out since the gov’t restrictions on the potlatch ceremonies, but here it was alive and well, having been passed on to him by his grandfather.  Of course our fireside encounters were never complete without the odd stories of earthlights around Mt. Baker and the legendary Sasquatch. There, this creature is believed to a be an inhabitant of the otherworldly, an alterreality understood as being on the borderline of ours in those parts heeded by ordinary man and bear alike. Only the Hamatsa have psychic prowess to venture those parts, commune with its dark spirits and gain their knowledge unscathed. It is revered as the domain of the “cannibal spirits” or “supernaturals” of the underworld.  The story tells of the great hunger that drove their people into these reaches through the icy realms of the giants, where they transformed into "supernaturals" by the eating of human flesh.  Indeed there are a great many parallels with ice giants of nordic mythology. Not all nations came over the Bering bridge, but this one undoubtably did.  It is said that D'znoqua is a stealer of children in the night, but there is one story of two who escaped with the treasures said to be stashed in the creature’s lair.  Theirs was a very poor family, so it brought great fortune to them in a time of desperate need. In essence, it's just one of those things the academics will never catch on film, rather, is like any journey of the soul into the great unknown, a voice of the hunter-seeker that calls out from deep within us.

Playganisms

No surprise that a couple of Kerr’s muppets have been snooping around the old site again- undoubtably inspired by Mojie’s flying of the rebel flag. Heh, what were they expecting? More secret signs of the dreaded “heathen conspiracy”? Whatever Mojie has in mind, I’m sure she has every right to- not only for all those coercive accusations levied against her, but that derogatory attitude of a woman’s place according to the Havamal. Yes Alexa, I had the intimate pleasure sharing all those suggestive threat mails with my colleagues- so it was plain to see just how desperately all your guilt trip ploys hoped to play us against each other. You can also shove all that transfer psychosis about loyalty and trust. Your lot betrayed that one with the all too obvious trappings of Rising Hero. Thus, if anyone has a track record for interforum rivalries, it’s you lot. If you could, you’d try to blame us for An Fianna too. Yeah, talk to me about demonic possession, but like someone else I know, those voices in your head come from a bottle...and all the while you worn out Dion Fortune clichés cling desperately to your dreary old php boards, the rest of us have long since moved on to more inspiring things.

Policies of Appeasement

You'd have thought, after Lord Chamberlain's fatal underestimation, that its lessons would have wisened us to the evils that come in the guise of solidarity. Oh yes, wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all just agree, turn a blind eye, ostracise the negative and be one big happy family of the one-size-fits-all...but you see, Dorothy, that's just not how evolution works. Click the heels of those fancy dress shoes, but they won't take you back to Kansas, no matter how you tell them that your cause is more righteous than the rest. I would much rather leave that one to the legal system. As for "my way or the highway", how's yours by the way? So someone criticised you for fanfaring your wiccatru in their face, under the premise of *If you wanna be PEBBLE you're gonna have to tolerate me turning your site into some CoA version of Woman's Weekly*, and now you're on a moral crusade. Anything to turn a solemn rite into a fashion statement for 16th century costume or rudely interfere with anothers' ethnic customs and traditions- not exactly what one could describe as "respect". When you really get down to it, we all have the right to question and be critical, but if you think tolerance serves you the moral right to dictate the whole, you are badly mistaken...and as much as you think running a forum or publishing books should make yours the gospel above all the rest, you're not the only self-proclaimed guru trying to make that exploit. As for me, I am just one of those critics who refuses to be made a feather in your cap, so save your breath. This isn't the first time you have tried play us behind our backs, looking for a patsy to take the fall. I know your game, I've been watching. It was you who got us in this mess in the first place. You knew you weren't the only one who got that anonymous tip-off, but you just couldn't resist the vain-glorious urge...much to the convenience of that foolish assumption that we're all in your league. If that's your idea of tolerance, we can do well enough without- so keep your minions to yourself, we're not interested.

Prague Spring

To quote Wiki:

In April 1968, Dubček launched an "Action Program" of liberalizations, which included increasing freedom of the press, freedom of speech, and freedom of movement, with economic emphasis on consumer goods and the possibility of a multiparty government. The program was based on the view that "Socialism cannot mean only liberation of the working people from the domination of exploiting class relations, but must make more provisions for a fuller life of the personality than any bourgeois democracy." The program would limit the power of the secret police and provide for the federalization of the ČSSR into two equal nations. The Program also covered foreign policy, including both the maintenance of good relations with Western countries and cooperation with the Soviet Union and other communist nations. It spoke of a ten year transition through which democratic elections would be made possible and a new form of democratic socialism would replace the status quo.


Like all great plans that come to naught, so was my mother’s yearning to revisit the heart and soul of her ancestral domain. It was no longer the “golden city”. The age of Stalinism had reduced its former glory to utter dilapidated grey. Even the areas permitted access by western tourists showed the obvious signs of strain under the meagre coats of paint and plaster. Beyond those buckling facades, much of the city was in total disrepair- as if time had stood still there in the aftermath of WWII. Ironically, “Solidaria” was the name of the hotel where we stayed. What the tourists didn’t know was that two floors of the huge building had been quartering a contingent of red army troops. We had just got back from our own shopping venture, when a strange kind of fatigue overcame us. I distinctly remember a strangely sweet odor before passing out. We came to, only to discover 24 hours missing. Whatever the gas was, my mother took a seizure and suddenly the place was in a panic. I asked the other travellers if they noticed anything peculiar, but as I might expect they were completely oblivious, assuming we had gone off on our own. Fortunately the hotel manager had retrieved our passports and took us to a floor still under construction, where he could explain it to us, away from any listening devices. My mother carrying a Canadian passport with a NATO stamp in it, had obviously aroused suspicion, being as the Red Army was preparing to lay the city under seige. Nothing like being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How we ever managed to get out of that one I’ll never know, but I was only too glad when we were back in West Germany. It was bad enough enduring my mother’s horrific tirades about her past, but nearly winding up in the clutches of some secret police, no thanks.

Rude Awakenings

I was going through a very dramatic phase of adolescence, and the peer expectations of the community I was stuck in at the time was not helping things. It was a Canadian army community on the fringe of the German Ruhr District. A political island obsessed with some rather inane ideas about “God and Country”of the dreaded WASP variety (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant). They seriously believed anything outside of their mind-set was of subhuman nature if not satanic. My father was responsible for the domestic needs of the personnel married quarters there. He was a sergeant in the construction engineers, and by this time quite cynical towards the rather banana republic attitudes that prevailed in that insular hierarchy. Needless to say, his headstrong obstinance and point-blank forthrightness made me the unwitting target of the many retributions against him. Although berserker blood runs thickly in his family, having to perpetually beat sense into bullies on all levels of that strange society gave me a lot of serious doubts about humanity as a whole. I think what really blew me away though, was how they used Christianity as a ruse to justify their extreme prejudice for anything that differed, no matter what the circumstances. To make matters worse my mother was a refugee from Selesia (once Prussia) left brain damaged by an attempt on her life in 1953. So here I was with no one for moral support. It was at that point I had serious doubts about survival against the overwhelming odds. Came April 1968, my mother dragged me off on a bus trip to Prag. I remember her stories about how she had hid out there upon going AWOL from the German Luftwaffe. She had been involutarily drafted upon the incarceration of her father in a labour camp. He was a devout conservative who despised the national socialist regime. When confronted by the authorities demanding he salute Hitler, he shook his fist in the air, yelling out “Hitler verrecke!” (may Hitler die miserably). The fact is that powerful clairvoyant ability has always predominated both sides of the family. Of course given the circumstances of my mother’s untimely fate, I suspect nature made some pretty major compensations in my psychic means of self defence. Thus that trip to Prague was truly an eye opener. It was the Spring before the Red Army laid seige and deposed Dubchek in October 1968. I have never seen such a once beautiful city in so much terrible destitution. Although I was only 14, it became clear to me that these were all the classical consequences of megalomanic control freakdom. The blind desire for omnipotence through sheer ideological parasitism. A special kind of soul-sucking greed, so insatiably driven, that at the end of its resources will devour itself.

Having seen all this, my return to that foolish community was not a relief. Rather, I came to realize the true proportions dilemma I was in. A choice between evils, neither of which I wanted any part. Nonetheless, deep in my mind, resolution was already taking shape. Over the course of the months to follow, a war raged in my head over human worth amidst so much futility. At the same time the peer abuses and harassments of course escalated. Little did they realize though, I had one passage of escape they didn’t reckon on, and that was the Germans of my age group. It was from there on in I began to distance myself from that ghetto and adapt to German civilian life. With German as my mother tongue, this was not a problem and my Prussian grandfather lived nearby. Typically this was not well received by most of the Canadians who all too avidly called me a traitor. Still I stuck to my guns and told the lot of them off- children, adults, the military police, even the base commander and the general if I had to. At least amongst the Germans I was treated with respect and responsibility as a young adult should.

It was in this awakening I had a most extraordinary dream on the question of the great unknown. It was the first and only time I ever went sleep walking. As there wasn’t much in the line of open spaces in that densely populated region, instinct took me to a baseball field at the edge of the community. There I looked up into the sky and for once it was clear enough to see the great deep sea of stars. I watched amazed as their light began to stream down, and each seemed to represent a soul spirit. I could hear the thoughts and prayers of millions calling out from the darkness. I could hear the sounds and calls of different creatures as it all merged into a great wind and then a surge like the ocean. By this time the decending rays of light formed a great aurora of all colours across the sky. Then all the sounds merged into one breezy voice that assured me that not all was futile. It explained to me the true order of the cosmos, in that there can be no absolute. That like the stars that evolve out of the depths of the void, through change there is continuity. It is through nature’s will to make a difference that integity is dynamical maintained. The many different things that make the whole. Many things were explained to me that night. The real surprise however came when a friend approached me a week later to ask if it was me she had seen out in the baseball field that night. As her family’s apartment was next to that field, she had been witness to my escapades. What I did not expect is that she had also been witness to the strange goings on in the sky. Being as I took this for more of a personal vision than a shared visual experience, I was quite lost for words. It was just as well, because she also had told her mother of what she saw. Her mother was the president of the Protestant woman’s league and extremely pious about it. As I might expect, she did not allow her daughter to even so much as say hello to me anymore. From thereon in I became branded public enemy no.1, so it’s not like any love was lost turning my back on them.

Definitions of Wyrd

It was November 29th, 1963 around 6 p.m. We had supper early as my parents planned an evening on the town in Ste. Thérèse to celebrate their wedding anniversary, as well as my mother’s birthday the following day. We had been living in Camp Bouchard for about a year then, deep in the woodlands north of the city towards St. Jerôme. It was dark and utterly pouring outside with nil visibility. I was heading upstairs to my room as my parents were dressing up to leave. Suddenly there were strange sounds overhead as the house shuddered. A cuckoo clock fell from the wall. I could distinctly hear a sizeable aircraft going into an engine stall. This was truly eerie, as the approach route to Dorval Airport was about 7 miles north of us. Their glimmer in the distance always caught my eye, as I would while away the time on the back doorstep. This one was way off course. I ran up to the window, but couldn’t see or hear anything more. Just a dismal red glow appeared from somewhere beyond the dense wood. My parents didn’t make much of it, and proceeded with their plans to leave for the evening. They were barely gone 20 minutes when they came back complaining that all the roads were blocked, and no one could leave the base. By all accounts a DC8 had crashed in a field just short of the woods at the main auto route. The fear was a forest fire as our camp was a large munitions depot. Mind you, it rained so heavily, there was little chance of that. Nonetheless, my father, being the camp engineering foreman, got called to the scene. In the weeks to follow he and his men had to dig up what was left of all 118 aboard. Two kids were witness to the scene from their farm on the other side of the autoroute, and claimed the aircraft exploded just above the ground. Needless to say, not much was found in one piece. It took three weeks to recover the bodies, assemble and identify them. After about a week of this the recovery team dwindled down to just my father and a forensic specialist from McGill. Although my father was not known to grim out easily, for about a year after that he couldn’t stand the sight of raw eggs. Indeed, to spare the graphic details it was not at all a pretty sight. In retrospect though, it was quite amazing that the crew managed to keep the plane aloft long enough to avoid hitting the camp. We could have easily been amongst the fatalities.

Pseudopaganisms

Well it's pretty clear who's behind this charter trying to synthesize all "accepted" British pagan paths into one religious standard. As I might expect, its the Christian end of the OBOD... never mind the Archbishop of Canterbury himself. So, I know exactly where this is heading. Just so you know what I'm talking about, have a gander at this:

The primary quest of the spiritual person is to seek the truth and gain understanding within a growing relationship with spirit and to reflect this in the way we live our lives, to the benefit of our natural world, ourselves and the people/s we interact with. Light and dark, the cycles of growth and decay are natural, and not to be confused with evil. Evil is that which wilfully destroys without need, controls, removes freedom, spreads lies, causes pain and brings imbalance. Evil is not found in nature. Evil is an unnatural form of darkness.

The prime ethic: Be not evil. To pursue the primary quest of the spiritual person without indulging in evil deeds, be these magical, spiritual or physical in expression. What we do should be natural and therefore of the good ‘Light’. The sacred five principles that express the above: Truth and Honour; Strength and Courage; Justice and Balance; Beauty and Creativity; Love and Responsibility. Our Code of conduct is based upon the principles illuminated above, which we believe will come naturally and be familiar to most people within our tradition already. They are founded upon natural lore and the principles expressed in the stories of our Celtic ancestors.

Code of conduct

Truth and Honour: Undertake to work for the good, to protect and defend the vulnerable, never working magically or otherwise to harm or to seek alliance with or knowingly accept power from evil sources.
Recommended: Respect life at all times and in all of its forms Encourage others to believe in themselves and to grow in confidence Magically use only willing and natural sources of energy.
Prohibited: Sacrifice of animal or human life Capture of spirits Cursing Worship of and/or Releasing of evil entities Sorcery Sexual exploitation or coercion Spreading hate, lies or fear Misleading, tricking, or coercing others within your duty of care.

Strength and Courage: Strive to be the best that you can be, showing courage in difficult circumstances, standing by the truth and a sense of right even when under pressure to do otherwise.
Recommended: Undertake to simply do their best and set their own standards for this, encouraging others to do likewise.
Prohibited: Any action that disempowers others or removes from them the freedom to express their own conviction about right and wrong. For example do not participate in ‘Cults’ whereby people are required to surrender personal freedom on pain of social or spiritual exclusion or worse.

Justice and Balance: There is no justice without balance. Strive to be defenders of the Earth, a beneficial (to all) natural order and preservers of truth. This requires considered effort to make fair decisions both for oneself and one’s own actions and when considering the actions of others.
Recommended: You are reminded that in nature balance is not achieved by repression of forces, simply by the measure of one force against another. It is recommended that you try as part of your spiritual endeavours to apply yourself in a measured, considered and balanced way toward others. It is recommended that at the point of conflict, positions should be stated clearly and without adding insult, and temporary accommodations should be reached (ideally compromise) until the causal issues can be decided upon once the initial heat has dissipated. When asked to judge or state an opinion about the actions of others, you are advised to avoid speculation and gossip, and to seek the facts as seen by both (all) sides before reaching a judgement.
Prohibited: Using disproportionate force Giving false testimony Making judgements on others without declaring any partiality Malicious gossip Bringing the tradition into disrepute.

Beauty and creativity: One of the signs of the work of the Gods is the beauty within our natural universe. As one becomes adept in our tradition, observing the cycles of nature and learning to hear her ‘song’ it is frequently the case that we experience the need for creative expression.
Recommended: Encourage and assist the creative process to awaken in others Use your creative skills to reflect beauty, inspire, entertain and educate. Appreciate all that is beautiful.
Prohibited: Deliberately discouraging or repressing artistic expression in others Deliberate destruction of beauty within others The use of your arts to spread misery or discord.

Love and responsibility: In spiritual terms we are one with all and all are one with us. This realisation impacts the way we feel about all things around us and all beings. Some adepts refer to universal love being the force of connection between all things. Love does not require us to be passive whilst we or our loved ones are under attack, but it does require that we leave room for honour in how we act and the possibility of redemption. We have responsibility for our actions, the actions that effect that which is about and around us.
Recommended: Take responsibility for your actions Be mindful of the needs and circumstances of others Do not forget that we are all kin within the natural universe
Prohibited: Actions that are irresponsible and which needlessly and unreasonably threaten the wellbeing of that/those which surround us.

Well now, if this doesn't smack of a christian interfaith agenda, I don't know what does...especially this nonsense about sorcery and unnatural evil. What has been defined as “evil” here not only goes on the naive assumption that contrary behaviour is willfully destructive, but the generalization that destructive behaviour is without natural cause. If anything is unnatural here, it's the attempt to relate “evil” to darkness and good to “light”. Anyone in their right mind knows that predators come in all tints and shades, especially the most dazzling....and what's this about bringing "tradition" into disrepute? Are we talking about actual Celtic tradition or those romantic plagiarisms under the artistic license of Monmouth? Is this not cult dogma assuming Celtic lore as its principle gospel?..However, I have yet to come across the authenticity of their preposterous claims anyway. As for animal sacrifice,  it was the blood made the offering while the rest was eaten at the feast. Somehow they’re confusing the issue with old Abrahamic traditions of “burnt offerings”. Trying to distort history and the laws of physics around some ideological schism is no different than creationists trying to deny evolution...and aside from all that claptrap about black magic, who gave them the right to redefine what is already in the criminal code? Sharija law for pagans? Heh, you wish.

An Anatomy of Cult Group-Think

I’ve been told that a particular lobby in the British pagan community has been on a strange kind of crusade. While the obvious agenda has been to assimilate all “valid” belief groups into one religious standard- its validity inclines to be based purely on written dogma than any personal gnosis. Especially when it involves a specific code of ethics, its experts naturally assume this gives them authority above all the rest. Ironically, the ethics emphasized smack so heavily of Christian interfaith, the hidden agendas are all too obvious...and of course any rights and privileges only apply to the “valid” belief groups. While the general suspicion is that Rowan Williams has his hands in this, much of the blame falls on Tony Blair’s attitude that the average public lacks the incentive for responsible decision making. Indeed, this very bias seems to prevail amongst many who presume to hold a responsible position in the British pagan community. In essence, dissent is simply written off  as childish disobediance- and failing this, surrepititiously blackballed as anarchic conspiracy.  In the study of cult mind control, this is referred to the tactics of “self-fulfilling conspiracy”. In other words the dissenters are conveniently made to look like the trouble makers, so as to justify their removal. Having seen such draconian tactics being employed by a number of popular forums there, I reckon its only a question of time before a few internet authorities get wise to it. On the other hand, when people fail to see the signs, it’s time to bugger off as far away as possible before the impact. Such inept fools have that paranoid habit of trying shoot the messenger to hide their mistakes.

Back in 2006 on a California based witchcraft forum, the whingeing of too many young fluffies had an ugly habit of attracting trouble, and this time it smacked of a sexual predator with a drug-related delusional problem. Although some of the older members also realized something amiss, they weren’t quite sure how to deal with it. Although the admin was known to arse the fluffies with a few false identities, this was hardly the case, but either way I wasn’t gonna stick around to hear the screams. In the case of three British forums, however, there were just too many loose cannons coming from all sides every time shit happened- and this while I had quite enough problems on the home front. After four and a half years of nursing a severely stroke-debilitated father, I felt utterly ragged. What they called "prolonging life" was more like an unnaturally drawn out and agonizing death. The gradual and systematic shut down of every self-sustaining function left him mere skin and bones in the end. The last thing I needed was another tacky remake of “Charmed” trying to get on my case. The same goes for that plastic shaman and his alleged medicine woman who doesn’t know the geographical differences between Lakota, Dakota and Nakota. Guess that shows how far she got in her so-called medicine wheel teachings. As for those who think some new age course is gonna teach them amazing powers of perception, try the wilderness instead of pagan camp to learn what that inner voice is really trying to tell you.

Robert Jay Lifton's Eight Point Model of Thought Reform

1. ENVIRONMENT CONTROL. Limitation of many/all forms of communication with those outside the group. Books, magazines, letters and visits with friends and family are taboo. "Come out and be separate!"

2. MYSTICAL MANIPULATION. The potential convert to the group becomes convinced of the higher purpose and special calling of the group through a profound encounter / experience, for example, through an alleged miracle or prophetic word of those in the group.

3. DEMAND FOR PURITY. An explicit goal of the group is to bring about some kind of change, whether it be on a global, social, or personal level. "Perfection is possible if one stays with the group and is committed."

4. CULT OF CONFESSION. The unhealthy practice of self disclosure to members in the group. Often in the context of a public gathering in the group, admitting past sins and imperfections, even doubts about the group and critical thoughts about the integrity of the leaders.

5. SACRED SCIENCE. The group's perspective is absolutely true and completely adequate to explain EVERYTHING. The doctrine is not subject to amendments or question. ABSOLUTE conformity to the doctrine is required.

6. LOADED LANGUAGE. A new vocabulary emerges within the context of the group. Group members "think" within the very abstract and narrow parameters of the group's doctrine. The terminology sufficiently stops members from thinking critically by reinforcing a "black and white" mentality. Loaded terms and clichés prejudice thinking.

7. DOCTRINE OVER PERSON. Pre-group experience and group experience are narrowly and decisively interpreted through the absolute doctrine, even when experience contradicts the doctrine.

8. DISPENSING OF EXISTENCE. Salvation is possible only in the group. Those who leave the group are doomed.