I deeply applaud this honest and sharing outreach by HAF. I have noticed more and more Pagans interested in Hinduism and would encourage any people interested to continue their research. There are an increasing number of Hindu-oriented rituals and workshops at Pagan festivals and conventions. I strongly support this, too, as I believe:

Information brings wisdom
Wisdom brings understanding
Understanding brings tolerance.

But with this increasing interest in Hinduism, I find myself asking, “Is Hinduism a Pagan Religion?”

What is Paganism?

Some Christian extremists think it is and, to them, far worse. Not being such an extremist, I’m not so sure. Before asking if Hinduism is Pagan, we have to know what Paganism is, and to do that it is important to understand dictionaries.

Contrary to popular belief, dictionaries do not give the “true” or “correct” definition of a term. Rather, they give the popular meanings of a term. Thus, they are used to enhance communication. [Etymological dictionaries are specialized dictionaries showing sources and the evolution of words, but most people don't regularly use them.] So while we could argue that the source of the term Pagan is this or that, for communicating with people today, it’s important to use the word’s popular meaning. According to my dictionary, the meaning of “Pagan” is:

A person holding religious beliefs other than those of the main world religions.

You may disagree with the definition and have another definition, and that’s fine. I’ve seen some definitions say that a Pagan is someone not part of an Abrahamic religion, that is, not Christian, Moslem, or Jewish. By that definition Hinduism is certainly a Pagan faith, but Hinduism isn’t Pagan according to the dictionary definition.

I think, though, there needs to be more to this definition. For example, I would say that Paganism today either is or tries to reconstruct the faiths that in some instances and in modified form evolved into one of the major religions of the world. I’m not saying that was the intent of ancient Pagan faiths, nor that all Pagan faths did this, only that major religion came out of earlier religions.

There are two implication here. First, as I just wrote, all major religions evolved out of earlier, Pagan religions. They didn’t appear out of thin air and with no predecessor. Second, although it may seem like a contradiction, major religions both simplify and increase the complexity of various aspects of the Pagan religion(s) from which they evolved.

If this is true—and I contend that it is—then Hinduism, as a major world religion (it has over 900 million followers), is not Pagan. Therefore, by my contention, it must have a Pagan precursor. But what?

What is Hinduism?

Part of the problem with the question of Hinduism and Paganism is that unlike the Abrahamic religions, Hinduism is more accurate termed a collection of faiths with some similar concepts. Under the umbrella of “Hinduism” people have widely and wildly varying practices, often worshipping different gods and goddesses of the enormous Hindu pantheon of deities.

But are these deities different? To some Hindus they are. To others, they are simply manifestations of the ultimate single divinity known as Brahman (not to be confused with Brahma, the god of creation). To them, Hinduism is monotheistic with thousands of gods. Complex and confusing? It can be, but that may be because it’s derived from an earlier Pagan tradition, one that is rarely discussed.

Before Hinduism

Before Hinduism became the main religion of the Indian subcontinent, there was another civilization to India’s immediate west. It was known as the Indus Valley Civilization or, named after one of its massive cities, the Harrapan culture. This culture lived along a major river, the Saraswati, until that river dried up.

Remains of a small part of the massive city of Mohenjodaro.
One of the cities of the Harrapan culture.

During this drying time, the people of the civilization slowly moved southeast into India and Ceylon, northeast to Tibet and China, and west into Europe. The root of the ancient Sanskrit word for “knowledge” is vid and a similar word for “tree” is dru. Thus, the people who brought this knowledge to the Pagans of Europe where known as the people with “knowledge of the trees,” the Dru-vids or Druids.

One of the deities worshiped by this culture was Shiva. In the form of Lord of Animals he was called Pashupati. Here is an image of his seal, found in the city of Mohenjodaro:

Note the cross-legged posture and that he, in his horned form, is surrounded by animals. The seal is about 5,000 years old. The tiger on the right is a symbol of Shiva. Shiva’s legs are shown in a yogic posture with the heels pressing against the perineum, what is known as a banda or lock.

Photo by Bloodofox

Above we see a very similar image, with but one foot pressed into the perineum. This image, however, was found in 1891 on an elaborate cauldron. Dated to over 2,000 years ago, the cauldron is currently named after the town near which it was found, Gundestrup. Gundestrup is in Denmark.

So if Hinduism is the major religion that evolved out of an earlier Pagan religion, and this earlier Pagan religion influenced the very nature of Paganism throughout Europe, I think we should learn more about this ancient Pagan religion.

More on this to follow in a future post!

As I’ve already warned everyone currently on the list, I’m not a small-town Pagan – I’ve never lived in a small town my entire life (if you don’t count weekends at my in-laws). So while I can definitely appreciate the challenges of living in a small town (where do you go to shop for candles and incense?! Does literally everyone go to church on Sunday?!), I don’t know as much about the very real joys of living so much closer to nature – seeing all the stars, owning a bee hive, hiking in the woods out my own back door, canning home-grown food for the winter. I don’t even have a yard to dig up, and must content myself with container plantings of tomatoes and herbs on the back deck of my apartment.

Still, I’m going to do my best to moderate the group in Bronwen’s absence by introducing new conversation topics every week. I look forward to seeing these small sparks catch flame through all of your interactions, responses and tales. I look forward to seeing mutual understanding and long-distance friendships take root. As Bronwen wrote on the Yahoo group page, “By joining this group, posting regularly and contributing our own experiences, we’re building a virtual kitchen table where small-town Pagans from all traditions and all parts of the world can “sit” and share, or just listen and lurk for a while.” So, if you haven’t joined already, please do! See you there.

I wanted to share a little of the process that brought me to writing my newest title, Fairy Tale Rituals, a book that looks at the very dark side of Grimm’s Fairy Tales, using them as a jumping off point for rituals and spells.

While I was writing my previous book, Through the Faerie Glass, I found that I kept referencing Grimm’s Fairy Tales. At first that confused me a bit. After all, while we grew up calling these fairy tales, there are really very few Faeries in them. Witches, dwarfs, talking bears, singing dogs, magical birds, but Faeries? Not so much. You’d be hard pressed to find even one classic Faerie in most of the stories you know well. You may think of Cinderella, with her Fairy Godmother. But there is no such character in the Grimm’s tale. Cinderella receives her gifts of clothing and the famous glass (or gold) slippers from an enchanted bird in a hazel tree that grows over her mother’s grave in the Grimm’s 1812 collection of Childrens’ and Household Tales.

So why did my quest for traditional Faerie lore keep leading me back to these tales? Well for one thing, these are very old tales, as old as time, dating back to ancient Rome, Greece, Persia, and beyond. And each tale, as I became ever more aware, contains within it a seed of magic and enchantment, hearkening back to Greek myth, Persian fables, and Norse sagas. The themes I was researching in my Faerie lore quest kept popping up again and again in these tales, collected over centuries by the Grimms, Andrew Lang, Bechstein, Perrault, Basile, and so many others. Enchantment and how it works, the effect the Otherworld has upon us as humans, and most prominently, the journey “into the forest,” that takes humans into the Faerie world and back. These are the stuff the Grimm’s tales are made of, and that kept pulling me again and again into the world of Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Snow White, and Talia, with her twin children Sun and Moon.

So I dove into the magic of these tales. And in doing so, discovered a dark, eerie, erotic force I had perhaps overlooked (or failed to fully comprehend) as a youngster listening to the stories, or watching the prettified movie versions.

The idea was born, of exploring the grisly, eerie, and sensual situations embodied in these seemingly harmless tales. And it occurred to me that since we know these tales so well, and identify so strongly with these characters, there is deep personal magic connecting us to the stories. Magic that can be harnessed in spells and rituals, bringing the classic features of Belle, Snow White, Cinderella, and Hans—strength, beauty, poise, triumph over tragedy—into our lives. So the idea for Fairy Tale Rituals took shape as I searched for that kernel of enchantment. It turns out these stories are, indeed, full of Faerie magic. You just have to look a little deeper.

Beltane, occurring at the mid-point between Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice is always a wonderful Pagan holiday, filled with joy and exuberance, both for children—with games such as circling the Maypole—and for adults who will be playing, uh, more adult games to bring the summer in.

Dancing Round the Maypole
From A Little Pretty Pocket-Book by Isaiah Thomas, 1767

Beltane is one of the Pagan holidays not fully absorbed as part of Christianity. As most of my readers know, holidays on the Christian calendar are almost exclusively taken from earlier Pagan holidays. The goal was to get Pagans to worship the Christian God. “Oh, you’re not really worshiping the Goddess Eostre with her symbols of the hare and egg. You’re actually worshipping our God on Easter…”

Conversion is the goal. It would seem that for our Christian friends, their being “saved” isn’t enough, they also have to “save” everyone else. Even today, as in the past, the alternative to conversion, in some areas such as Africa, or just the belief that you’re a Pagan, can result in your being killed.

In the U.S., although there is still a great deal of anti-Pagan prejudice, the major focus is on conversion rather than murder. To help (?) in this a recent post called (really!) “Tips for conversations with Pagans” has appeared. It has been raising interest in other blogs (such as Here and Here—warning: the second one contains adult language). As Patti Wigington points out, the article is “condescending as hell.” I would respectfully suggest that it’s more than that.

Underlying the original article is a simple pair of concepts. These concepts are never actually written, but they are behind it all:

1. Their version of Christianity is good. All other religions and beliefs are inferior, bad, or even evil.
2. The purpose of talking to people of other religions and beliefs is not to share or understand, it is to convert.

I Attend A “Dialog”

I first ran into these attitudes when I was about twelve years old. I was chosen by my synagogue to be among the young Jewish students to visit a church for a “Jewish-Christian Dialog.” The purpose, supposedly, was “to promote mutual understanding.”

I went there, excited, to share my religion and learn more about Christianity directly from Christians. That was my goal. The other Jewish students I talked with had similar goals. To this day I believe that communication results in understanding and understanding results in tolerance.

So we naively went to the Church, willing to share our beliefs and learn. The purpose of those Christians, however, was not to share and learn. They had been indoctrinated in the concept that their faith was the best for everyone. It was clear that they looked down on us and their main purpose was not communication, it was conversion.

I have the honor of knowing lots of Christians who do not operate under the two presuppositions described above. Unfortunately, the author of the original post, Matt Stone, isn’t one of them.

My Analysis of Matt Stone’s Ideas

I’d like to look at some of his points and show you what I mean.

1) He advises Christian evangelists to focus on establishing a relationship with a Pagan. Why? Not to have a real relationship, but because it’s easier to convert a friend than it is to convert someone you’ve just met.

2) He advises Christians to listen to what the Pagan is saying and observe their nonverbal communication. Why? This is an old sales technique. Listen to an objection, overcome the suggestion, make the sale. This is Christianity presented by a used car salesman to make the sale (i.e., convert people).

3) Clarify issues. To be generous and not call Mr. Stone an outright liar, I’ll just say that this point is not true at all. He doesn’t want Christians to clarify issues, he wants Christians to obfuscate them! He literally tells his readers to agree with superficial points such as “I love experiencing divinity in nature” and then control the conversation to “deeper” and “more substantial issues.” The unstated implication here is that experiencing divinity in nature is not something deep, spiritual, and meaningful. To Christians with Mr. Stone’s predetermined point of view, since Paganism is inferior to Christianity, experiencing divinity in nature isn’t considered substantial or even important.

4) Focus on Jesus. Stone advises Christians not to talk about abortion or other issues, just talk about Jesus. In other words, avoid anything that might upset someone about what Christians (who believe as Stone) actually believe and do. This also falsely assumes that all Pagans believe the same way on a variety of issues. I know Pagans who have views on virtually every side of every issue. Hypocritically, it also urges Christians to do just the opposite Stone’s point 3!

5) Share your own story. This is a common technique used by many Christians. It’s called “testifying.” The idea is that by sharing a personal story—what worked for me—I’ll be explaining what will work for everyone else. It’s a false logic. In science, it’s called “anecdotal evidence.” It proves nothing. But it’s supposed to convince the inferior Pagan, from the Stone-type of Christian’s point of view, to convert.

6) Don’t demonize Pagans. Stone writes, “check between real things and imagined things before you launch into critiques.” On the surface, that sounds really nice and certainly far better than when considered agains some Christian’s extremist views that invent false beliefs about Paganism. But when examined more thoroughly, it’s just a repetition of Stone’s attacks on Pagans. Stone, and those who follow his ideas, view themselves as superior and are merely trying to save Pagans from their evil ways. No, don’t demonize Pagans. Just find out the “real things” by which to “launch into critiques.” This assumes that Pagans could not have superior beliefs and ideas or even equal beliefs and ideas.

7) Don’t dump on women, gays, or the environment. This is basically a repetition of his point 4. Once again, however, is the question of why a Christian like Stone trying to converse with Pagans shouldn’t do this. It’s so they can convert Pagans. It’s not because attacking women, gays and the environment is wrong. It’s hypocritically hiding your real beliefs in order to obtain a conversion. This is like a used car salesman focusing on a vehicle’s new paint job while ignoring that the engine is about to fall apart.

I think it’s fair to admit that Stone does get one thing right here. Stone writes, “when you consider them [Pagans] unbalanced, who created the imbalance that necessitated this counterbalance [from Christians]? Yes, us! So maybe we can learn a thing or two from them here.” However, he doesn’t acknowledge that concepts a Pagan might share could possibly have the result of causing a Christian to question his or her own beliefs or possibly even abandoning Christianity to become a Pagan. This is because to him, his version of Christianity is superior. Of course, the facts show that tens of thousands of people raised in Christian homes have chosen to abandon Christianity for Paganism.

Stone goes on to show he is clueless as to what a Book of Shadows is but acknowledges that individual Pagans have different beliefs.

I think Hecate, author of the second and more adult blog post I linked to above has it right. She blogs,

I can’t get over the notion that, in a different context, this same post could be called “How to Talk to Black People” or “How to Get a Women’s Libber to Date You.” So we get gems such as:

Pagans are people, just like us, and they
appreciate a personable approach.

Thanks. No, really, thanks. Nice of you to let me into the Human Club. Bite me. And, it’s “just as we are,” not “just like us.”

Okay, her last comment is accurate but snarky.

A True Alternative

So rather than just attack the negative and condescending approach of Mr. Stone, I thought I’d conclude by giving some practical advice on how a Christian can really communicate well with Pagans.

• Accept the fact that people are individuals. Talk with us as individuals, not as a group.
• Listen to what the person you’re talking with has to say and respond to that specific issue.
• Understand that communication is about sharing ideas, not controlling the conversation.
• Be open and honest.
• If your goal is to convert rather than communicate, don’t even start.
• If a Pagan comes to you looking to convert, do what you will.
• Understand that according to surveys, Pagans tend to be highly educated—they’re probably at least as smart and knowledgable as you. Speak with us, not down at us.
• Accept that our interests may not be the same as yours. Sure, share your interests, but don’t ignore or disparage ours.
• Pagans tend to know their own traditions as well as those of others, including those who believe in the Bible. If you try spouting second-hand sources filled with myths, misrepresentations, and lies, you’ll be ignored faster than a scared cheetah!

Because I have had the opportunity to travel the country meeting thousands of Pagans, I can honestly say that very few proselytize. In fact, the most common thing I’ve heard from Pagans is that when they heard about Paganism it’s “what I always believed” or “like coming home.” Just because your goal is to evangelize and convert, don’t assume that Pagans feel the same way. Our excitement at sharing what we believe is a representation of our joy and spiritual peace. We don’t expect you to convert. Please treat us with the same consideration.

After many years of writing non-fiction (approximately sixty books) I am at last able to turn to my true love, which is fiction. I thought that the ideal genre on which to focus would be fantasy . . . Tolkienesque, with magic, wizards, fairies, and the like. So I wrote The Torque of Kernow, which dealt with all of those things, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I thought “How wonderful! I have finally found my niche!” I planned follow-on novels about Kernow (which, incidentally, is the old name for Cornwall, my favorite part of England). I plotted the second one and had ideas for the third. But then a strange thing happened. I read a couple of mystery novels—which I have always loved—set in Victorian times, and found that I was hooked! Victorian mysteries! Yes!

This is not to say that I won’t continue with the fantasy series. I will . . . but just not yet. I wrote a stand-alone Victorian thriller-mystery called Golden Illuminati. A “stand-alone” is one book that is all by itself and not part of a series. I found that I could incorporate a lot of metaphysics into this book. In fact, it centers around the original Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and such luminaries as MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley. It deals with a search for the original writings of the alchemist Nicolas Flamel and the secret of transmutation. Not exactly paganism, but most certainly related. I felt that a series of Victorian mysteries was in order, and came up with the concept for a “cozy.” I have now written the first three of those books, with a view to continuing with that series for as long as possible.

The joy of writing fiction is that you can let your imagination run wild. That being said, I can then see future Victorian mysteries that bring into play various aspects of paganism and magic. The Victorians were great ones for communing with nature and digging into magic and its related subjects. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (author of the Sherlock Holmes series) was fascinated with fairies, and wrote on that subject. Arthur Edward Waite was a scholarly mystic. Francis Barrett was an eighteenth century mystic whose book The Magus dealt with the natural magic of herbs and stones, magnetism, talismanic magic, alchemy, numerology, and the elements. All of these could find a place in a Victorian mystery series. I’ve always had a fertile imagination and I seem to have become a prolific writer. I can hardly wait to see what the future holds!

As a Neo-Pagan, I’m often asked about gods and goddess. Do I worship a pantheon? If so, which one? This is a tricky question. Basically, I feel that the universe and our natural world represent the divine power, and this is what I honor. But in order to bring deity to a personal level, I really do need to ask myself what I believe about the gods and goddess of my ancestors, or the ones currently worshiped today.

Well, I know what I don’t think about deity. I don’t think there’s one singular ominous being of a particular gender, belonging to one specific religion, floating above us, always watching and judging. And I certainly don’t think “he” has a long robe and flowing white beard and sits on a cloud behind pearly gates.

The religions of the past are fascinating to study; cultures like the Egyptians and Greeks (and many, many others) had sophisticated systems of polytheism. People often say those deities no longer exist, but, if that’s true, it’s only because large groups of people stopped believing in them. Our beliefs make something real.

There are so many religious traditions in the world that it’s futile to label them as right and wrong. It’s more than futile, it’s impossible. Yet our world continues to face wars born out of religious disputes. I often wonder why everyone can’t agree to disagree. Perhaps it’s because some people insist that their way is the only way and everyone else is wrong. They believe it is their duty to convince the rest of the world to join them and they devote their lives to it. Some people are unable to see beyond the metaphor, to the real meaning of the divine, rather than merely a cultural interpretation of it.

This is where metaphor comes in. People have many individual differences, but many cultures share the same stories, filtered through the minds of people for centuries. Most of the stories are being retold—they existed thousands of years before. We experience the same life events and emotions, despite the time period we live in. We learn from these stories, these universal truths of humanity—the metaphors change to reflect the times.

I believe divinity is a presence, something unexplained that is the very essence, the very life force itself. You can put any kind of mask on it, make it look like a man, woman, or animal, but it’s still the same idea. It’s like a giant crystal or cube—different people on different sides will see a different facet. But it’s still the same thing.

Ultimately, belief in deity is purely personal. People speak to their gods and goddesses, call on them for guidance. We can view them as part of ourselves, or distant beings we can beseech for help. These divine beings can be individual personalities or aspects of one being. As individuals, we’re all on the journey of life, and this is our choice. We’re all different, but in many ways the same. Just like our gods.

The view outside my cube - Woodbury, MN

Last week it seemed winter really was over…we had temps in the 50s, gentle rain, and almost all of our snow melted. (Well, I’m still parking 5 feet away from the curb because of the huge amount of ice still there, but at least that ice is less than a foot high now. It used to be a solid 4-foot snow bank due to all the plowing this winter.) But just as quickly as it came, spring is gone… for another week, at least.

This got me to thinking about spirituality, and the “dark night of the soul” in particular. Many religious traditions have recognized this stage in spiritual development even though it was originally coined by Saint John of the Cross. According to Wikipedia (which we won’t let our authors use as a reference in their books, but hey, I’m blogging so I’m cutting myself some slack), there are parallels in Buddhism and Islam as well. And last week when reading a manuscript, I learned for the first time that Mother Teresa lived her life in almost perpetual blackness. She had beautiful communication with Jesus in 1947 directing her to start working with the poor in the slums, and as soon as her mission was approved by the Church in 1948, “Jesus took himself away again.” From that point on until her death she was almost continually feeling the acute anguish of spiritual impoverishment. She wrote:

When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven — there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my very soul. — I am told God loves me — and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. Did I make a mistake in surrendering blindly to the Call of the Sacred Heart? – From Time Magazine, Aug. 23, 2007

Did it surprise me to learn that a woman who tirelessly worked with the poor in India doubted in her work and doubted in her God? Yes, it really did. I wonder how many people are able to go on in their works (or prayers, or rituals) when they don’t get any spiritual satisfaction out of them. I wonder if they are just waiting for spring to finally arrive, even though year after year… it never does.

I would expect that since in many forms of Paganism we depend on direct communication with a whole array of beings – deities, ancestors, land spirits, magical beings – as part of our spiritual practice, we are perhaps at a greater risk of experiencing the dark night of the soul when those voices go silent than, say, a regular churchgoer who doesn’t expect to have those earth-shaking, sublime, transcendent kinds of experiences in the first place.

So, I put the question to you, dear readers – have you ever experienced a dark night of the soul? One where “neither God nor the soul nor the self as we knew them are any longer to be found”? Have those voices ever gone silent, or have you failed to hear them in the first place? How does your particular Pagan, Wiccan, Druid, or other branch of faith help you through those times?

And finally – is it ever going to stop snowing here?

Spring in Minnesota - you can't tell by this picture, but it's still snowing at a good clip

Hello Llewellyn Blog Readers!

I have been asked to be a guest blogger, so I am writing on my newest book, Practical Protection Magick: Guarding & Reclaiming Your Power. While protection magick is a hot topic, it can also be a controversial one. Why? Because some folks buy into the whole idea that protection magick and psychic self- defense is only for the self-deluded or paranoid. To which I strongly disagree.

We have done such a good publicity job over the past twenty years telling the general public that Witches never cast spells that could cause harm, that it has backfired on us. Why, magick and witchcraft is all white light and hot tubs, midwives and herbalism, pink sparkles and faery dust…. and you know what? That is simply not true.

Magick is a neutral force. It is honestly up to the individual spell caster how their spells will manifest. This outcome will be decided ultimately by the spell caster’s intentions. Not everyone out there is casting spells for “the good of all, with harm to none.” Jealousy, envy, hatred, and malice can be added into the mix. So it is time to be grown ups, face reality, and to stop pretending.

However, there is no need to be fearful of protection magick—but you do need to be street-smart and aware. Thinking you may never have to defend yourself on a psychic and/or magickal level is about as foolish as believing that you will never be the victim of a crime—just because you yourself would never do such a thing. The goal here is not to instill fear; it is instead to attain awareness. Not only is it is your right, it is also your duty to posses the skills required for psychic self defense and protection magick.

It’s time to be honest about this topic of protection magick, and to look at it from a neutral place. With candor, integrity, and a even bit of humor thrown in. Want to know how to diagnose a hex, crossed condition, or a curse? Do you know what the differences of those three conditions are? Do you think it would be a good idea to understand and be able to identify your own psychic strengths? Want to learn how to set healthy boundaries and possess the magickal and psychic skills required to handle trouble makers in a coven or those pesky emotional and psychic vampires? How about a new collection of protective spells, charms, and rituals for just about any type of self defense magick under the sun?

Well, I’ve got you covered. With Practical Protection Magick, not only will you learn something new on the topics of psychic self-defense and protection magick, you’ll actually enjoy the learning process and become a smarter, more savvy, and wiser Witch along the way.

Below is the continuation (there were a few technical difficulties :

Religion, for me, is a spectator sport. I often find myself gazing longingly from the sidelines, but the truth is that anything more intense than lighting incense or putting up a Christmas tree gives me the willies. If you want to send me into a panic, ask me to say grace. I’d rather hang back and take notes.

I’ve always been fascinated by household altars because, like most erstwhile Protestants, I didn’t have one growing up. At the moment, the altar that fascinates me the most is the one inside my South Indian neighbors’ apartment—for the simple reason that I have never seen it. Last summer, I was encouraged to offer my Mexican sunflowers to the elephant-headed god, Ganesh, on that altar—it was his birthday—but I was not invited to accompany the flowers.

Of course, Hindus don’t have a monopoly on the household altar. Ancient Europeans ministered to the spirits of their ancestors in the heilige Hinterecke, to use the anthropological term. This “holy back corner” still exists today, but it’s now occupied by the television set.

So I was happy to find the chapter entitled, “The Weofod,” in Alaric Albertsson’s book, Travels through Middle Earth: the Path of a Saxon Pagan (Llewellyn, 2009). The weofod is the Saxon Pagan’s altar, and as I read, I began to suspect I might have created something “altarish” in my own home.

My suspicions had actually begun back in the summer after my youngest daughter and I returned from a trip to Germany. Whenever we visit our relatives, we spend a lot of time on the beach collecting shells, feathers, and stones. Stones from Baltic beaches fall into roughly two categories: 1) Rounded pebbles in dull blue, white, or gray that often resemble eggs or sanded-down bear fetishes, or 2) Smoky, glassy, irregular chunks of flint. It’s lucky to find one from category 2 with a naturally worn hole through it. On this visit, I had found one with a hole worn nearly all the way through. I kept it because the tiny depression is perfect for holding a stick of incense.

After unpacking, I placed our new clutch of egg-and-bear-shaped stones from Category 1 next to a small framed photo I had taken of the Bronze Age grave mound at Birkenmoor on a previous visit. I had also scraped and bagged a bit of moss from one of the boulders atop the un-excavated mound. (I’ve since lost the moss, which just goes to show that I’m not cut out for random acts of ancestor worship.) The photo rests atop a small IKEA curio cabinet mounted on my kitchen wall. I had hung the cabinet there to house my favorite pottery pieces, but over time, other objects have taken up residence behind the glass doors.

A few stones and a photograph do not necessarily a weofod make, so what does? According to Travels, you ought to have an offering bowl. There are three bowls in my IKEA cabinet. One is the regular repository of “nature:” the sticks, feathers, and acorn caps my five-year-old picks up on walks. But are they, strictly speaking, offerings? And to whom? Another bowl contains snippets of cedar. I burn a pinch of it now and then because it smells nice and I’m convinced the smoke keeps the cockroaches away. Hardly an act of devotion. The third and smallest bowl is the favorite “feeding” dish of my daughter’s stuffed kitten. “Snowpaws” does not reside in the cabinet; that honor belongs to a bone china Siamese cat and kitten that I let out now and then to be played with before returning them to the safety of the top shelf.

Another ought-to-have for the Saxon Pagan altar, according to Albertsson, is the recelsfaet for burning incense. That would be my chunk of flint, now stored on the bottom shelf of the cabinet.

The weofod ought also to have a drinking horn, and I had none. But wait! It can also be a cup. On the middle shelf of my cabinet is a blue stoneware cup I bought straight from the potter in a small town on the Schlei Fjord. I have never treated it like other cups. It has no handle, so you can’t walk around with it. In fact, I only allow myself to drink from it when I’m writing. I guess it’s sort of holy to me.

Albertsson makes clear, however, that you don’t have a weofod without a weoh, a symbol of the deity with whom you want to commune. I have no raven for Wodan, no hammer or crystal for Thunor. Though I own a drop spindle (Frige), I have never kept it in the cabinet in question. All of this was fine with me: Wodan is too dark, Thunor too brash, Frige too proper. Then I came to the entry on Freo, or “Freya,” as I have always known her. “This goddess is fond of cats.” I had known this, but the words on page 46 of Travels leaped out at me. Granted, my little Siamese cat and kitten are a far cry from the wild Norwegian forest cats my Pagan ancestors had probably imagined pulling Freya’s cart, but a cat is a cat. Had I inadvertently consecrated my IKEA cabinet to the Norse goddess of love?

Single women are the province of Freya, and I am emphatically single. She is also associated with witchcraft, and I do write about witches. In fact, I had some nice things to say about her in my book, including the Icelander Snorri Sturlason’s claim that, after all the other gods had departed the earth, Freya stayed on to keep up the sacrifices to her brother Frey.

I’d like to think she might still be around and that maybe, just maybe, she’s made a part time home in my kitchen. I’m no closer to card-carrying Saxon Paganhood than I was before I discovered my accidental altar. But my advice to anyone who fears she might not have a spiritual bone in her body is this: take a good look around. You might be surprised.