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  • No Kings The Voice of The Ancestors Cry Out a Samhain Reflection
    2025/10/28
    The veil thins. Candles flicker in windows, pumpkins grin like little guardians of light, and the wind itself seems to carry whispers. On this night of Samhain, the air is crowded not just with ghosts and shadows, but with memory. The ancestors are near. They gather around us not as specters of fear but as companions in the long struggle for freedom.They murmur their old refrain: No Kings.It isn’t only a political cry; it’s a spiritual declaration. No kings over conscience. No kings over the sacred spark in each soul. No kings over the earth that belongs to no one and to everyone.And yet, empire still rides: headless, hungry, searching for a new crown to wear.The Headless Rider of EmpireEvery age has its horseman. Ours rides draped in flags and algorithms, clutching power with a grin that never reaches the eyes. Empire doesn’t always look like soldiers on horseback; sometimes it’s the dull hum of propaganda, the endless scroll of outrage meant to make us afraid and divided. Fear is the tyrant’s favorite sacrament. It is how empire keeps us bowed.But Samhain teaches another kind of reverence, the courage to face the dark and discover that we are not alone in it. When we remember the ancestors, we remember that empire has fallen before, that courage has survived worse nights than these.As we light our candles this year, we are not warding off ghosts. We are calling them in.The Communion of the Courageous DeadTo honor the dead is to remember their unfinished prayers. Our ancestors were not perfect saints; they were human beings, flawed and luminous, stumbling toward freedom. Some resisted tyrants with sword or song. Others sowed seeds, healed wounds, or hid the persecuted in their homes. Some were themselves entangled in empire’s lies and it is ours to set those wrongs right.Their presence tonight is not sentimental. It is strategic.They come to remind us that the fight for freedom is ancient and ongoing, that our bloodlines are braided with courage. Every generation must reclaim liberty from the jaws of fear. The dead lend us their memory so we can stand our ground without trembling.So when you feel the chill tonight, do not recoil. Let it steady you. It is the breath of all who refused to kneel.The Spell of FearEvery empire survives by casting the same spell: Be afraid, and obey.They conjure phantoms of scarcity and strangers, they whisper of purity and order. They tell us that power is safety and obedience is peace. But fear is a liar.Samhain breaks that spell. It invites us to laugh at death, to dance in the graveyard, to mock the old specter of control. In every carved pumpkin grinning against the dark, there is an act of rebellion. Every costume is a playful reminder that masks can liberate as much as they conceal.We can take the tyrant’s favorite tools, fear and spectacle and turn them inside out. Make them ridiculous. Make them lose their power. Empire cannot stand when its priests of fear become the butt of the world’s laughter.This is holy mischief. Sacred mockery. The ancestors knew it well.No Kings: The Theological HeartWhen we say No Kings, we echo both the prophets and the mystics. The Hebrew scriptures warned Israel what kings would do: take sons for war, daughters for labor, and the fruit of the land for greed. Jesus of Nazareth refused a crown and washed feet instead.To walk the Christopagan path is to remember that divinity does not enthrone it indwells. The Holy is not found in palaces but in the gathering of people who love one another enough to live free.Every tyrant dreams of being worshiped. Every mystic knows that worship belongs only to Love.The Work of Ancestral HealingTo honor our ancestors is not to whitewash them. Many of us carry lineages tangled in empire’s violence colonizers and enslaved, oppressor and oppressed. Healing that wound begins with honesty.The ancestors cry out, not to defend their sins, but to urge our repair.In Hebrew mysticism this is called tikkun olam the mending of the world.Our task is not to make the past pristine but to fill its cracks with gold, like kintsugi pottery. To make beauty from brokenness. We do this through truth-telling, solidarity, and mercy.We the LivingWe are the living continuation of their courage. The blood of resistance runs in our veins. We, too, must stand in our time as they did in theirs against tyranny in every disguise: political, ecclesial, corporate, or psychological.But take heart. The ancestors are not trapped in dusty graves; they walk with us in every act of conscience, every laugh that punctures fear, every community that chooses cooperation over control.When you light your Samhain candle, whisper their names. But also whisper your own. You are part of the lineage now.Practice: The Circle of Memory and FreedomCreate an Ancestral Altar of Resistance* Gather tokens of courage. A photo of an ancestor who stood up for justice, a candle, a stone from the earth you walk on, a symbol of freedom a feather, a ...
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    28 分
  • Satanic Panics and Power Grabs: Fear as Control
    2025/10/21
    There’s a rhythm to panic.It begins as a whisper, something dark is coming for your children, your faith, your way of life. Within days the whisper becomes a flood. Media blares, pulpits thunder, and neighbors begin to look at one another with suspicion. Each new generation dresses its fear in different clothes: witches, rock music, rap lyrics, foreign dolls, queer joy, or artificial intelligence. The names change, but the spell is the same. Fear becomes a liturgy.Satanic panics are not born from spiritual warfare; they are crafted through power’s deep insecurity. History shows that whenever people in authority feel their grip loosening: when women, workers, youth, or marginalized communities begin to claim their voice, someone declares that evil is afoot. The panic becomes a tool of empire, sanctified in religious language. Fear does what swords and laws cannot: it convinces people to police one another in the name of holiness.Creation Spirituality asks us to start from a different ground: Original Blessing rather than original fear. The cosmos is not a battlefield between God and darkness. It is a living communion of being, a web in which even tension can be transfigured. To believe that God can be outmatched by any adversary is to confess a smaller god than the one who breathes galaxies into being.The Mechanics of FearFear functions like static, when it fills the air, it drowns out truth. It narrows perception until everything feels dangerous, even difference itself.Empire has always known how to tune that frequency. In the early witch trials, fear justified the theft of land and silencing of women’s wisdom. In the 1980s, it sold records, elections, and purity rings. Today it drives algorithms and fundraising emails. Every panic has its merchants.The pattern is older than the word Satan. In Hebrew scripture, “the satan” simply meant the accuser, a prosecutor within the heavenly court. This figure worked for God, not against, testing integrity rather than spreading evil. Only later did the concept harden into a cosmic enemy. When imperial religion absorbed that dualism, it found a useful weapon. Once you can label your opponent “satanic,” you no longer have to understand them; you only have to destroy them.A Practice of DiscernmentSo what does resistance look like?Begin by asking the question that every prophet has asked: Who benefits from this fear?Whenever a headline, preacher, or politician insists that your neighbors are dangerous, pause. Take a breath. Feel your feet on the ground, the air in your lungs. That moment of embodied awareness breaks the enchantment. It creates the space where Spirit can speak.Then, look for the fruit.Jesus said, “You will know them by their fruits.” Does the message lead to compassion, justice, and community or to suspicion, profit, and control? Discernment is not about having secret knowledge; it is about noticing outcomes. The fruit tells the truth.A second practice follows from the first: curiosity.Fear collapses complexity, but curiosity expands it. Ask what story is being told beneath the story. What wound or insecurity is driving it? When we meet fear with curiosity, we transform it from weapon into teacher. The empire thrives on reaction; the kingdom of God grows through reflection.Fear, Insecurity, and EmpireCharlie and Brian named the heart of it in the episode: “Equality to the privileged feels like oppression.”That single sentence explains much of Western history. When those accustomed to superiority encounter genuine equity, it feels like loss. Empire trains us to measure value through hierarchy, so the movement toward balance feels like descent. But in truth it is an invitation to live no longer as masters or victims, but as kin.Creation Spirituality reminds us that all life participates in the same divine energy. Fear fractures that awareness; it convinces us that safety can only come through dominance. Every satanic panic, from Salem to social media, has served that same illusion. When we remember our interconnection, the illusion loses its power.Media Literacy as Spiritual DisciplineThe next great panic may not be about witches or music but about machines. Already we hear whispers that artificial intelligence will replace souls, that technology itself is demonic. But as Charlie observed, the danger is not the machine it is the human tendency to hallucinate, to fill gaps in understanding with stories that flatter our fears.To resist this, we must treat media literacy as a spiritual discipline.Before sharing, pause.Before believing, verify.Before reacting, breathe.Truth requires patience, and patience is a kind of prayer. In a culture addicted to immediacy, waiting long enough to discern reality is an act of rebellion. It is how we refuse to be ruled by the algorithms of panic.The Practice of GroundingTry this simple act whenever the world feels too loud:Place your hand over your heart. Feel its rhythm. Whisper, “I am held in the...
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    30 分
  • No Rapture, No Cry: A Christopagan Response to Escapist Theology
    2025/10/14
    The modern obsession with leaving the world began, oddly enough, with a fall. In 1827, John Nelson Darby tumbled from his horse, banged his head, and started writing a new idea into the Christian imagination. He sketched a future where the faithful are whisked away from the grit and grief of history while the rest of creation burns. A quick exit. An escape hatch. A promise that the real home is elsewhere and that the earth is disposable, like a cracked cup you set in the bin.This is not ancient. It is not apostolic. It is recent and it is seductive. It tells a suffering people, your pain will be over soon, the plane is already boarding, no need to change anything down here. If you have felt that tug toward evacuation, you are not foolish. You are tired. That fatigue is understandable in an age of fires measured in miles, plague-years mapped by grief, and a public life where cruelty is mistaken for strength. The promise of escape is shaped to meet that ache. It is also a lie.The Kin-dom is already here.That is the heart of realized eschatology, the teaching we carried in the episode and carry again in this essay. “Eschatology” means the study of last things. Realized means the future is not only ahead of us. It is breaking in now. Jesus described it as a reign spread out among us, hidden like yeast in dough, like a seed in soil, like light within the body. The Kin-dom is the web of right relationship in which all can breathe, eat, heal, and flourish. Not a passcode. Not a flight plan. The Kin-dom is a way of living.From DespairDespair is honest. It names what is broken. The temptation is to make despair a home. Rapture-thinking offers a furnished apartment in that neighborhood. It whispers, if the world is going to burn, the moral thing is to detach. Sell your goods. Quit your job. Leave your lease. Tell yourself it will be over soon and the pain will end. The trouble is simple. People get left behind in our leaving. Children, neighbors, the unhoused, the exhausted caregiver down the hall. And the earth herself.We must say this plainly because our faith is not a riddle. Jesus did not ask us to decode news cycles. He asked us to feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and the imprisoned. These are not optional extras. They are the criteria he gave for what salvation looks like when it is walking around in a body. If we are known by our fruits, then escapism is sterile ground. It cannot grow love.There is another reason the escape story keeps getting told. It flatters power. If we are leaving any day now, then the powerful do not have to reckon with what their choices do to air, water, soil, and bodies. If the earth is a demo model to be replaced, who cares about rivers turned to poison or forests to ash. If the poor are props in a cosmic drama, who cares whether they eat. History shows the same pattern again and again. Doctrines that separate faith from works turn out to be very useful to those who profit from our apathy.To DiscoveryDespair does not have to be destiny. What if the ache we feel is not proof that the world is ending but a summons to begin. The Kin-dom has already arrived. We do not wait for permission to love. We do not ask empire how to heal. We participate in the life that is present.The early church learned this quickly. Expectations of an immediate ending gave way to the discovery that Christ is already here. Not absent. Present. Not awaiting return from a distance. Active in the web of relationships that make for life. If that is true, our question shifts. Instead of asking when we leave, we ask how to live. Instead of hunting for dates, we look for neighbors.This is where realized eschatology becomes simple and practical. If the Kin-dom is here, then our daily life is the place of devotion. Prayer is our breath when we choose to share air with one another. Eucharist is the shared table where food becomes love. Repentance is not a sad impossibility. It is repair as ordinary as changing a habit, paying a debt we owe to a community, or stepping back from a lie we learned to speak without thinking.There is an old word for hell in the gospels, Gehenna. It was a trash heap outside the city. When Jesus warns that some will be given over to Gehenna, he is not talking about a theme park in the afterlife. He is asking whether we want to live in a world organized like a dump, a society that treats people and places as disposable. The counter-picture is the Kin-dom. A shared life where no one is tossed aside.To DevotionDevotion is what love looks like on repeat. Not a one-time burst of zeal. A cadence. A rhythm. A set of holy repetitions that strengthen the soul for a lifetime of service. In the episode, we joked that rapture apparently means selling your Xbox and leaving a note. That is darkly funny. It is also a parable. If you can decide in a weekend to abandon your life, you can also decide in a weekend to begin again. The choice...
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    27 分
  • Our Lady of the Rosary and the Art of Prayer Beads
    2025/10/07
    The rosary has always been a kind of technology.A loop of beads strung together to steady the breath and keep the hands busy while the heart listens for God.But like all good tools, it changes in the hands of each generation.For centuries, the faithful have told a story about St. Dominic receiving the rosary from the Blessed Mother herself in the midsts of a terrible thunder storm. The story still moves me, even knowing it’s a legend shaped by time and longing. What matters isn’t whether it happened exactly that way, but that someone felt the need to place prayer beads in human hands as a bridge between heaven and earth. Somewhere in that imagination is truth.Today, on the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosaries, I find myself drawn not only to the miracle but to the method. The rosary, like all living practices, survives because it adapts. There isn’t just one rosary; there are many: Dominican, Franciscan, Anglican, Brigantine and each one invites us to join the conversation in our own language of touch, rhythm, and breath.The Body Remembers What the Mind ForgetsPrayer begins in the body.That’s why a string of beads matters. It gives the restless fingers something holy to do.When I first learned to pray the rosary as a child, I didn’t understand its power. I thought it was about remembering the words: fifty Hail Marys, five Our Fathers, all lined up like soldiers in a row. But the miracle was never in the repetition alone. It was in what repetition made possible.After the first few rounds, the mind lets go.The mouth keeps moving, the beads keep sliding, and something quieter rises beneath the noise of thought.The prayer becomes breath.The prayer becomes listening.This is the contemplative secret of the rosary: it distracts the body so the soul can pay attention.Spiritual TechnologyWhen Brian and I talk about spiritual technology, we mean the humble tools that shape the interior life.A candle. A cup. A breath. A string of beads.The rosary gathers intention the way a river gathers rain, one drop at a time until the flow is strong enough to move the landscape of the heart.Each bead is a point of focus, each prayer a pulse of energy. Through rhythm and touch, intention begins to cohere.You can dedicate a rosary to almost anything: gratitude, justice, grief, courage, clarity. What matters most is that it brings your scattered self into alignment. The prayers don’t have to be perfect. They only have to be yours, repeated until they teach your hands the shape of devotion.The Many RosariesThere are countless ways to enter this practice.The Dominican rosary with its five decades of ten beads.The Franciscan rosary with seven sets.The Anglican rosary with four weeks of seven.Each is a pattern of circles within circles. A small cosmos designed to hold intention.And then there are the rosaries yet to be made.Many of us in Creation Spirituality and Christopagan practice are rediscovering what the rosary can become. We are writing new prayers, crafting beads for Brigid, for the Elements, for the Four Paths: Via Positiva, Negativa, Creativa, and Transformativa.The point isn’t to replace the old but to join the lineage of makers who found their way by rhythm.The first time you sit down to create your own sequence, it may feel awkward. You may worry about getting it wrong. Don’t. The earliest rosaries were simply strings of knots. Like any craft, prayer is learned in the doing. Write, pray, revise. Let the rhythm teach you.A Practice for Neurodivergent SoulsOne of the unexpected gifts of the rosary is how kind it is to a neurodivergent mind. The beads act like a fidget for the spirit, a sensory anchor for wandering attention. Each movement provides feedback: a gentle click, a shift of texture, a return to center.In that simple tactile motion, the scattered mind finds coherence.It’s no accident that monks once used knotted cords, and devotees of every faith found something physical to hold. The body is not an obstacle to prayer; it is its doorway.The beads remind us that the sacred is not abstract. It lives in motion, in muscle memory, in the rhythm of the breath we already carry.Writing the Prayer That Fits Your HandsA traditional Hail Mary is short. That rhythm is what makes it powerful. When crafting your own prayers, remember that the rosary teaches through pacing. Keep them simple. A few phrases that flow easily through the lips. Something that can be memorized by the hands before it ever settles in the head.If a line feels awkward, change it.If a phrase feels hollow, replace it.The rosary rewards patience and play. You are allowed to experiment until the words hum in your chest.Every person’s rosary will sound a little different, like accents in a shared language.That variety is not disorder it’s creation in motion.A Universal PatternThough we call it the rosary, the practice of counting prayers is nearly universal.In Buddhism and Hinduism, the mala carries mantras through 108 beads.In Islam, the ...
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    24 分
  • Justice, Not Judgment: Equity and Right Relationship
    2025/09/30
    We live in a culture obsessed with fairness. The word is heavy with scales, tallies, and invisible scoreboards. Did I do my part? Did they? Am I getting what I deserve? Is someone getting more than me? Fairness sounds righteous on the surface, but when you live inside it, fairness is a trap. It drives us inward, judging ourselves and everyone else against an impossible standard, measuring every crumb, every kindness, every silence.When fairness rules, love shrinks. We second-guess our own thoughts, scold ourselves for favoritism, and keep our generosity under lock and key so we won’t “give too much.” Fairness whispers that compassion must be rationed, that care must be weighed like coins, that justice is about sameness instead of healing.But the ancient call of Spirit is not fairness. It is equity.Equity is not about everyone receiving the same thing. It is about giving each person what they need. When I stop worrying whether I’ve distributed care evenly across every relationship, and instead ask, “What does this one need from me right now?” something shifts. Relief floods in. My shoulders unclench. I no longer have to police every interaction or keep score of invisible debts. I am free to meet the human being in front of me.That is the heart of justice. Justice is not sameness. Justice is not balancing a ledger. Justice is seeing clearly and acting rightly. It is equity.The Trap of FairnessFairness has become one of the most cherished myths of our time, especially in societies built on meritocracy. We are told from childhood: if you work hard, if you follow the rules, if you wait your turn, things will be fair. But fairness is fragile. It crumbles the moment we see how wealth, health, opportunity, and power are not evenly spread. It fractures when we notice how privilege tilts the scales. And it collapses entirely when we realize that life itself is not fair: illness, disaster, and tragedy visit without rhyme or reason.When fairness fails, many double down. We chase punishments and rewards, lawsuits and policies, hoping someone, somewhere, will enforce the rules of fairness. But the more tightly we cling to fairness, the more bitter and exhausted we become. The constant comparison, who has more, who has less, who “deserves” what, keeps us in a state of judgment, always suspicious, always resentful.Fairness was never enough.The Relief of EquityEquity breaks the spell. Equity says: stop measuring. Stop comparing. Look at the person before you and ask, “What do they need?”Some need encouragement, others need listening, others need space. Some need bread for their table, others need a place to belong, others need protection from harm. Justice is not everyone receiving the same thing. Justice is everyone receiving what will allow them to live, to heal, to flourish.When we shift to equity, the anxiety of fairness dissolves. Instead of wondering, “Am I doing enough for everyone equally?” we ask, “Am I present, honest, and caring in this relationship?” It becomes practical. Relational. Human.That first step is where the practice begins: check your relationships. Are you being equitable with those around you? Not fair, but equitable. Does your friend who is grieving receive your tenderness, even if that means you cancel plans with someone else? Does your coworker who is struggling receive your help, even if it takes more of your time than another? Do you allow yourself to receive what you need, even if someone else doesn’t understand?This is equity. It feels like a deep sigh, a release from the tyranny of fairness.From Personal to CommunalThe small shift in our relationships points toward a larger horizon. If justice is equity in the personal sphere, then justice is equity in the communal sphere as well.When we give only what is fair, society becomes rigid. Schools, hospitals, workplaces, and governments end up enforcing sameness, not care. But when we design systems with equity in mind, we look at who has been excluded, who has been harmed, who carries heavier burdens, and we act to rebalance.Equity notices that some need ramps, others need interpreters, others need affordable medicine, others need safety from violence. Equity doesn’t ask who deserves it. Equity doesn’t weigh worthiness. Equity simply acts to provide what is needed so that everyone can participate fully in life.To treat one person unjustly is to treat everyone unjustly. Because once we decide that someone can be excluded, neglected, or silenced in the name of fairness, we set a precedent that eventually comes for us all. Equity protects the whole by tending to the part.Scarcity and the Lie of DeservednessOne of the deepest obstacles to equity is the myth of scarcity. We are taught to believe there is not enough: enough food, enough time, enough money, enough love. And in a world of scarcity, equity sounds threatening. If they get what they need, will there be enough left for me?But scarcity is a lie. Our ...
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    24 分
  • Healing Through Facing Our Fears: Courage as Care
    2025/09/23
    Fear is not a moral failing. We live in a time when many suffer under its weight, and too often they are told their trembling is weakness, their hesitation is shame. Yet the truth is simpler, more human: fear comes to all of us. It rises when news breaks, when uncertainty stalks our steps, when something we cherish feels threatened. The real sign of character is not that we never fear, but how we act after it.I want you to picture this: a calm river, swift in its course, carrying a small flame upon its surface. The water could drown it, the current could snuff it out, yet the flame holds steady, riding the flow. That is courage as care. Not the absence of fear, but the presence of a steady light that moves through the world without being consumed.Naming Fear for What It IsFear comes roaring into our lives uninvited. It seizes the body before the mind has time to catch up. The pulse races, the breath shortens, the old instincts rise: fight, flight, or freeze. None of this makes you lesser. Fear is part of being alive.But if we stay only in that reaction, we become trapped. In this time of social cocoons and filter bubbles, fear is magnified. Social media teaches us to wall ourselves off, to curate only what feels safe, to harden our hearts against one another. Authenticity becomes manufactured, and cynicism spreads like poison. We mock what we love, sneer at tenderness, and call compassion “cringe.”The result is a culture that lives by fear’s script. We let outrage gather the crowd while love stands forgotten in the corner. We repeat what frightens us, but we forget to defend what we actually cherish.From Reaction to ResponseNo one has ever frightened off a bear by cowering. Likewise, no society can withstand storms by shouting at the wind. Fear alone does not guide us; outrage alone does not sustain us. What matters is what comes after the fear.Courage begins with a shift: the move from passive to active, from consuming to creating. We start small, by saying no more. No more letting fear dictate my choices. No more pretending that despair is the only honest response. No more waiting for someone else to build the world I long for.Here, personal action is born. Journal it, pray it aloud, whisper it to the night sky: This is what I love. This is what I will defend. This is what I will build.Faith without works is dead, wrote James. Belief without action is empty breath. The spark of courage is to begin.The Path of VocationUnder empire, most are told they have only jobs, only functions in the machine. But deeper down, every soul holds a vocation, a calling, a longing, a true work. We know it in our bones even when we cannot yet name it.To face fear is not merely to endure; it is to turn toward this vocation. It may not come easy. It may require stripping away the false answers capitalism whispers: that joy comes from status, that meaning comes from consumption. True vocation is found not in profit but in passion, not in what you hate but in what you love.Write it out. Let the pages bear witness: what does a good life mean to me? What matters enough that I would build it even in a time of storm? Courage is not simply gritting your teeth against danger, it is care made visible.From Me to WeThe empire has convinced us we are alone. The so-called “me generation” was trained in isolation, told that each person’s fate was their own burden to carry. But fear multiplies when it is locked in a single chest.Courage grows when we remember the we. It begins personally, but it does not end there. We don’t need a savior from outside. We save us. It’s not me or you, it’s we.Collective action is the river that carries the flame. History shows it again and again: rights were won because people banded together, refused to be silent, and built new contracts of life together. From the Magna Carta to movements for civil rights, the story is the same. Courage is communal.What can this look like for us? It can be as simple as joining a group that aligns with your vision of good. It can be lending your voice, your art, your organizing, your cooking, your letters, your presence. Not everyone will write the pamphlet that sparks revolution, but each of us can be part of the chorus that keeps hope alive.Building Beyond CynicismYelling at the wind is not enough. We must plant shelters, build mutual aid, support the voices already speaking truth, defend the freedom of others to speak, and pour resources into the work that nourishes our communities.Cynicism is cheap fuel. It burns fast and leaves only ash. Love, by contrast, is renewable. It feeds us as we feed it. Outrage may rally a crowd for a moment, but only love builds a world that endures.Imagine again that river, swift and peaceful. Fear is the current, it will always run through life. But courage is the flame, steady on the water. Together we keep it alive.An InvitationSo here is the invitation:* Begin with yourself. Say no more to fear’s reign. Claim what ...
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    22 分
  • Christopagan Autumnal Equinox Celebrating Balance and the Solar Horse
    2025/09/16
    The Autumnal Equinox stirs something complicated in me every year. On one hand, there is excitement: the promise of cooler nights, apples ripening, and the feeling that balance is possible, if only for a brief moment. On the other hand, there’s concern our world feels anything but balanced. Storms, violence, and uncertainty keep pressing in. So when the sun pauses at equal day and night, I find myself both hopeful and wary, pulled in two directions at once.This year, into that tension, a new image has appeared: the Solar Horse. In dreams and meditation, it shows up carrying the disk of the sun, holding it steady. Sometimes it stands alongside Brigid’s other animals. Sometimes it walks through my Interior Grove conversations, my great-grandfather chuckling and calling it the “Divine Pony Express.” The image makes me laugh, but it also makes me listen. The Solar Horse feels like a messenger, a courier between realms, reminding me that balance is not stillness, it is motion carried with care.For my partner Brian, the connection clicked with the Tibetan wind horse, a bearer of messages and prayers. That image rings true: what is more wish-fulfilling than being heard, whether by God, by ancestors, or by each other? The Equinox becomes a threshold not only of balance but of conversation, between abundance and loss, between past and future, between the living and the dead.We could chase history here, and there are certainly fragments to find. Sun gods of the Levant sometimes rode between the land of the living and the land of the dead. Horses and disks appear on artifacts. But the truth is, our practices are young. Paganism in its current forms is half a century old at best. Reconstruction is valuable, but the living practice matters most. History offers us metaphors and reminders, but meaning comes when we take symbols into our lives and see if they breathe.That is what we are doing this year: experimenting. Apples and oats become not only harvest food but offerings to the Solar Horse. A candle flame becomes not just a seasonal decoration but a sign of the sun carried into darkness. Maybe incense rises with our prayers as if handed to the messenger’s reins. All of this feels fitting, and all of it may change. That’s the heart of a living faith.The important thing is honesty. Too often religion drifts into rote repetition: we do it because we’ve always done it, even if it no longer speaks to us. I don’t want a dead ritual. I want something that moves, that speaks, that evolves. A living tradition breathes; it makes room for mistakes, for laughter, for experiments that don’t quite work. It teaches through the trying.So this Equinox, I will feed the Solar Horse. Maybe with slices of apple left aside, maybe with oats stirred into a cobbler, maybe simply with joy shared at the table. I’ll light a candle and watch the balance of flame and darkness. I’ll write in my journal, noting whether this practice settles into my bones or not. And I invite you to do the same.Don’t be afraid to try. Let the Equinox be a time of curiosity. Offer something small and see if it carries a message back to you. Pay attention to your dreams. Laugh when the Divine Pony Express trots through. The world is heavy, but tradition is born not from archaeology alone, it’s born when people risk an experiment in hope.Balance is not stillness; it is riding the horse as it carries the sun across the line between light and darkness. This year, I choose to ride.Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it.Thank you for Tips / Donations: * https://ko-fi.com/cedorsett * https://patreon.com/cedorsett * https://cash.app/$CreationsPaths* Substack: https://www.creationspaths.com/New to The Seraphic Grove learn more For Educational Resource: https://wisdomscry.com Social Connections: * BlueSky https://bsky.app/profile/creationspaths.com * Threads https://www.threads.net/@creationspaths * Instagram https://www.instagram.com/creationspaths/#Christopagan #AutumnalEquinox #SolarHorse #CreationSpirituality #Druidry #Mabon #EquinoxRitual #AncestralPractice #Mysticism #WheelOfTheYearChapters:00:00 Introduction and Recap02:01 Discussion of Solar Horse Connection08:56 Spirituality vs Creative Practice11:23 Traditional Apple Practices and Horse Connections15:03 Developing Modern Pagan Traditions18:08 Evolution of Religious Traditions Get full access to Creation's Paths at www.creationspaths.com/subscribe
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    25 分
  • Forgotten God or Living Archetype? The Solar Horse
    2025/09/09
    The Horse That Would Not LeaveThe Solar Horse That Wouldn’t Let Me GoSome ideas arrive like strangers. Others show up like old friends you had forgotten, standing at the edge of memory, waiting. The Solar Horse came to me like that. I was reading along, tracing through the histories and mythologies of the Levant, when I found a reference to horses dedicated to the sun in ancient Judah. That was it. No explanation. No story. Just a brief note that they were there and then, later, they were gone. The more I searched, the thinner the record became, until there was almost nothing at all. And yet I couldn’t let it go. Recognition hit me first, and obsession followed. It felt like remembering one of my childhood companions, one of those “imaginary” friends who was never entirely imaginary.The truth is: we don’t know much. We have a few scattered pieces. The book of Kings tells us that Josiah tore down the stables near the temple where horses and chariots were kept for the sun. Archaeologists have uncovered small figurines of horses with sun disks pressed between their ears. A cult stand from Tanakh shows layers of sacred imagery, possibly Asherah at the base, guardians in the middle, and at the very top, a horse carrying the sun on its back. That’s all. We can guess. We can imagine. But we can’t reconstruct what was actually done, what prayers were said, or how those who made those offerings understood them. The fragments end exactly where the mystery begins.Still, that was enough. I wasn’t frustrated by the gaps. I was fascinated. Awe and wonder rose up, along with a strange sense of homecoming. This was not just curiosity. It felt like invitation. The Solar Horse began showing up in my dreams. It walked with me in meditation. It carried vitality like sunlight into places that had felt dim and tired. Companion. Messenger. That is how I came to know it.Horses at the GatePart of what makes this image so striking is its place in the story of the temple. Picture yourself approaching Jerusalem’s great sanctuary in the days before Josiah’s reforms. Before you ever reached the outer courtyard, you would pass the stables. Horses and chariots stood there, dedicated to the sun. For many people, depending on their gender and social standing, that courtyard might have been as far as they could go. The stables themselves marked a threshold: animals and vehicles made holy, waiting at the edge of divine space.Josiah’s purge is how we know this devotion existed at all. His campaign to centralize power into one temple, one priesthood, one story required tearing down the rest. The stables were destroyed. The horses were led away. The practice was erased from official memory. The king who claimed divine sanction for his rule rewrote the faith to fit his vision of empire. And the irony is that his rashness also led to Judah’s downfall. His defeat on the battlefield opened the door to the exile. I admit I have little patience for Josiah. The texts celebrate him, but the story behind the story is harder to ignore. Propaganda always is. It is easier to blame exile on sin than to admit a king picked the wrong fight. But tucked inside that propaganda is a memory of the horses. Fragments and OfferingsThose votive figurines tell us something important: people loved this image. They shaped clay horses with sun-disks between their ears and left them at shrines. They carried them as offerings. They prayed through them. We may never know exactly what they asked for, but the practice was common enough that archaeologists find these figures again and again. That persistence says something. Symbols that matter endure.We see echoes elsewhere too. Across the region, sun gods were imagined as riders or charioteers. Shamash drove his team across the heavens. In other traditions, the sun itself mounted a horse. Mythology is not a single stream but a braided river, carrying many currents. The Solar Horse was one of them, important enough to leave marks in both text and artifact, even if its full story was never written down.That is where my research stalled. I could compare, speculate, draw parallels, but no complete account survives. And still, the image pressed in. Sometimes all scholarship can do is show the edges of the mystery. Beyond that, something else takes over.Dreams and VisitationsThe Solar Horse did not remain in my study notes. It came with me into sleep. It showed up in dreams. It walked through my inner grove in meditation. I began to feel its presence not as a historical curiosity but as a living archetype. Not a relic of the past, but a companion and a messenger in the present. It bore vitality. It carried messages. It insisted on relationship.This is where honesty matters. I cannot claim to be reconstructing an ancient devotion. I am not. What I have is an image, a handful of fragments, and a series of encounters that belong to the realm of unverified personal gnosis. Dreams. Meditations. Symbols that ...
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