The Apotheosis of The Little Mermaid

The following is an image and thread procured from Tumblr. Unfortunately, the “first” person in that thread (that I could find) didn’t bother to source the artist, so I have no idea who to credit —I thought it looked like it was by someone whose work i know from deviantART, but I guess this artist just has a similar style. It’s possible it was made by the first person to post / comment, but I have no indication frm this person’s Tumblargh that they’re artistic, since they seem to be one of the thousands of people on Tumblr who seldom posts original content.

the-little-mermaid001

xxdardarxx: The original story of the little mermaid is that she must kill the prince in order to be human, and in the end, she loves him too much and kills herself instead.

[name clipped]: Ok, ok – important expansion: she only has to kill the Prince because the deal was if he fell in love with her she could be human forever, and he didn’t. By which I mean, he was a good person and genuinely nice to her, but he didn’t fall in love. He fell in love with someone else, also perfectly nice – not the seawitch in disguise, fu Disney. The Mermaid is told she can only return to the sea now if she kills the Prince. She goes into the room where he and his lover lie sleeping and they look so beautiful and happy together that she can’t do it.

That’s why she kills herself. And because it was a noble act she returns to sea as foam.

One moral of the story was that women shouldn’t fundamentally change who they are for love of a man, and in theory Hans Christian Anderson wrote it for a ballerina with whom he fell in love. She was marrying someone else who wouldn’t let her dance.

ulfelska: Don’t mean to be particular but I did want to point out that I read Hans Christian Anderson actually wrote this as a love letter to a fellow male writer who was his best friend. Said man was getting married to a woman (Who I believe he may not have loved) and as the story goes, Hans loved him so much he wrote this to symbolize that he was the Mermaid that could never have her prince.

myself (as modpagan): Was going to say this, myself, if I couldn’t find a similar response [to ulfelska]. The “love story for a ballerina” thing was partly invented for the 1962 biopic starring Danny Kaye, who himself may or may not have been a lover of Lawrence Olivier.

The original story also carries the theme that even unrequited love is nobler than revenge [in addition to the argueable theme of "it is unwise to change oneself for love"]. Not the “love conquers all” theme that seems more popular than realistic, but that it’s nobler to act compassionately because of the love, than to act selfishly because it’s unrequited. Disney certainly made a cute story using Andersen’s work as an inspiration, but the morality and themes he infused into his prose are all gone for a basic message of “if you want something bad enough, your Sea God father will give it to you, in the end” [seriously, watch the end of that film; it was a perfect tragedy until Daddy Triton suddenly caves] —which I’m sure is true is your father is a Sea God, but what good is that for the rest of us?

I also really hope I’m not the only one on Tumblr who noticed (even from a young age) that the “returned to the sea as foam” thing seemed an intentional nod to the conception / birth of Aphrodite in Greek myth. ["The Little Mermaid" is] a story about the nobility of compassionate love, so in spite of the fact that I have yet to see one of Anderson’s biographers directly stating the intent of allusion to Aphrodite made there (maybe someone did, but I haven’t read about it, yet), his education was funded, in part, by the King of Denmark, and as was standard at the time for such an education, this would’ve included a fluent familiarity with the Greco-Roman classics, including Platonic philosophy and Classical myth. This is a modern retelling of an apotheosis (as I recall, in the original, as her body dissolves into foam, she becomes a Heavenly Spirit) of Ouranic Aphrodite, in addition to a clear allegory of a chapter in Andersen’s own life (as most of his stories are).


Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always thought this was fairly obvious. Hans Christian Andersen seems to have inserted some clear Classical / Graeco-Roman paganism (and likely allusions to Scandinavian mythology I’m less familiar with) into his works for children, and I’m sure if I find my old volume of his fairy-tales, I could cite other examples. This is the best-known, and most fitting one I can think of off the top of my head, though.

On the lifespan of tree nymphai

I just left this comment on another blog, and figured I’d share it here, cos I’ve been meaning to say it or something similar for a while, but just couldn’t think of the best way to dedicate a whole post:

See?  She's stil there!

See? She’s stil there!

Just to pick a nit, but cutting a tree to a stump doesn’t necessarily kill it; most species of deciduous tree will naturally (often very quickly) re-sprout new branches that continue on, because the root system is still alive. Cutting certain trees is more like amputating a regenerating limb from the nymph they’re aligned with –it’s not like cutting a person in half across the waist, it’s like pulling an arm off a sea star. Also, the “living stump” phenomenon can happen if the roots of a tree that doesn’t typically re-sprout naturally end up grafted to a nearby living tree of the same species.

———-

To continue with that:

Thinking of cutting down a tree as necessarily “killing its nymph” is erroneously thinking of the theoi and daimones in ways that correspond with humans. While I do believe that the theoi and daimones do share traits with humans (or rather, we share some of Their traits), they’re still inherently different, even mortal nymphai are not mortal in the same way that humans are. So much of a tree’s life is below the surface of the soil, and just cos we cannot see it doesn’t mean it ceases to be; cutting a tree to a stump does not necessarily kill it —in my own experiences, more often than not, the tree is still alive. Therefore, cutting a tree alone cannot necessarily kill its nymph.

My Heroes

So, taking a nod from Sannion’s blog, cos I can, and for an allegedly massively charismatic cult leader dispensing Purplesaurus Rex like nobody’s business, it’s been a while since the Adoration poetry reached its memetic apex and let’s be frank: That was over a year ago, and that means the boy’s slackin’.

Orion
Narkissos
Amphiaraos
Herakles
Iolaos
Trophonios
Asklepios
Aristippus the Elder
Diogenes of Sinope
Praxiteles
Boudica
Julius Caesar
Ovid
William Shakespeare
Michelangelo Caravaggio
Marc Bolan
Soren Kirkegaard
Karl Marx
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Oscar Wilde
Robert Ross
Arthur Rimbaud
Erté
Piet Mondrian
Frank Lloyd Wright
Ludwig Wittgenstein
William Haines
Martha Graham
Ramón Novarro
Isadora Duncan
Rudulph Valentino
Leon Trotsky
Lili Elbe
Gerda Wegener
Jean-Paul Sartre
Albert Camus
Josephine Baker
Nino Ferrer
Mae West
Colin MacInnes
Quentin Crisp
James Dean
Carl Sagan
Rudolf Nureyev
Klaus Nomi
James Bidgood
Nina Simone
Andy Warhol
Derek Jarman
Leigh Bowery
Jayne County
Prince
Freddie Mercury
April Ashley
Alejandro Jodorosky
Glenn “Divine” Milstead
David Bowie
Pete Townshend
Marc Bolan
Lydia Lunch
Richard O’Brian
Mick Karn
Kevin Rowland
Amy Winehouse

[What's That?] Maxims of Delphi

The Maxims of Delphi are over one hundred aphorisms, or short, artistic or poetic statements expressing general truths on science, philosophy, ethics, morality, or the arts. The nature of maxims, in general, not just those of Delphi, is that they are only generally true, or rather they are subjective truths for the general populace — there will be exceptions, the general populace may change enough to make an individual such statement no longer generally true. This may seem heretical to people who put an inordinate amount of spiritual value on the Maxims of Delphi, but hear me out: It’s completely fair to define “maxim” for people.

In spite of what you may have seen some people claim, the authorship of the Delphic Maxims is debated amongst Classicists and Hellenic Polytheists, especially the academics, alike. While many religious Hellenists seem to be in consensus with crediting to the Oracle of Delphi, some expanding on that as a credit to Apollon himself via the Delphian Pythia the authorship of at least some phrases in the “canonical” list of 147 (more on this in a bit), or all of them, and as per Stobaeus of the Byzantine era, they are credited to the Seven Sages. The famous “Know Thyself”, inscribed on the wall of the pronaos (forecourt) of the temple of Delphi, is often credited specifically to Thales of Miletus, the most notable attribution possibly coming from Diogenes Laertius in his Lives, though at least ten other sages of ancient Hellas have also been suggested as authors of the three Maxims of the temple pronaos of Delphi. It’s also been suggested that these and other Maxims were popular proverbs of the day, and their compilation was conducted either by the Temple of Apollon at Delphi or the Sages. Regardless of their authorship, and who or even Who that may be, if, as a whole, they help you out, own that, if only a few have ever been of any use to you, work that, too.

The number of the Maxims of Delphi, and even their content vary depending on certain factors: Who complied them, who translated them, where they were used (one seems to change meaning completely depending on whether it was on the wall of a gymnasium or not), and the purpose given to them. On old email lists, it’s been suggested numerous times that much of the “canonical” list of 147 suggests a purpose for teaching schoolchildren, and given the content, the idea doesn’t seem that far fetched.

The most-complete list of Delphic Maxims I’ve found lists the “apocryphal” maxims as alternate lives, totalling 163 maxims [link].

Well, Ruadhán, that’s all well and good, but what about the Maxims of Delphi?

Honestly, I don’t think that the Maxims of Delphi have that great a spiritual value, at least no more than they have value as a description of mainstream ancient Hellenic values. They’re very culturally significant, and since religion in the ancient Mediterranean was practically impossible to completely separate from the rest of the culture, there is certainly spiritual insight throughout, but it’s ill-advised, in my opinion, to approach these as s Hellenic version of The Ten Commandments.

[What's That?] Miasma

So, Dver made this recent post about miasma, and I want to repeat something from it that seems very much worth repeating:

“Someone explained it to me once as a way of ensuring that we were fully engaged in worship; if we just experienced death, or birth, or even sex, our minds were probably occupied with ideas related to that and we weren’t giving our due respect and attention to the gods.”

That might seem like a nice thought, that once again makes it all about us and our internal landscape, but it has little basis in historical evidence. Miasma is not about how we feel about things. It’s a spiritual pollution, a FACT that happens regardless of our feelings. That spiritual pollution is anathema to many of the Hellenic gods. You may not like that, but it doesn’t change anything. Many of our gods tend to put a lot of distance between Themselves and the stink of mortality – which is most stinky during transitional times like birth and death. If it was just about our preoccupation, then there’d be no taint of miasma if someone close to you, but who you cared nothing for, died – but that’s not the case.

That’s one of those modern notions that just never sat well with me, because it just doesn’t follow logically.

This seemed like a minority notion about seven / eight years ago, when I first got into the community, and now seems a very close second to that disinfo of “miasma = lacking personal hygiene” that seemed to really take off with Pope No-Life and His Talking Butt-Plugs about five years ago. The idea that “miasma is that which distracts us from the gods and” seems pretty popular now, and I have to agree that it really lacks historical basis.

Now, I’ve probably just kind of passively went along with that in the past –in fact, I’d say my post about menstruation really does give a passive permission to the notion that miasma is at least sometimes about how we feel, when that just doesn’t fly with the history.

Miasma is spiritual pollution. If it’s there, it’s there whether we “feel it” or not. Your feelings may also be giving you a false positive –in other words, Judeo-Christian indoctrination about how your menses is dirty when (pardon the pun) bleeds over into your own personal feelings doesn’t suddenly give you a taint of miasma, nor will cramps and headaches. Your feelings might also give a false negative –maybe you’ve just had sex and now all your thoughts are on Aphrodite, or Eros, or Dionysos, well, unless you’ve been given a pass on that, too fucking bad, break out the khernips before approaching that shrine.

In general, the rules about what does bring miasma is pretty specific, almost absurdly so. If you’re a devotee, spouse, or slave to a certain deity, you may get a pass on some things, but not others, and you may have some additional taboos (one woman I know who is devoted to Artemis has been forbidden by her goddess from marrying, and though sex seems permitted, I get the impression that she needs more than a sprinkling before entering the temple room), but chances are still good that, if worshipping in an historically accurate Hellenic context, you’re still not going to be allowed to scrap all pollutive taboos.

Furthermore, what survives concerning miasma seems to at least mostly concern temples and public shrines, which are regarded as homes for the Theoi here on the face of Gaia. It’s also easy to interpret Hesiod’s taboos from Works & Days, as an extension of what counts as miasma for household worship –which makes sense, as the hearth basically functions a shrine to Hestia.

“Blood on the hands” or contact with blood is pretty much one that everyone agrees is miasma, but not all blood was the same, historically. Animal blood clearly was not a pollutant to the temples, or else there wouldn’t have been so much animal sacrifice —the mystery cults that maintained bloodless sacrifices being a noted exception, but the thing is, they are an EXCEPTION, not a part of the general inclusion. Furthermore, it takes more than just some khernips to wash out the stench of a murder from your soul, though getting your own blood on you (and maybe a co-workers, at most) the every-day abrasions from work in the fields, or at a tavern, or so on, as best as I can tell from what I’ve read, various ritual cleansings at the entrance of the temples probably took care of that –but if you lost a leg in battle, or a scythe accident or something, you obviously needed to heal to a sufficient degree first, and likely needed a more intense ritual. Killing in self-defence or in battle probably required a bare minimum at a temple of Ares (I gotta admit, i just don’t know much about this one), but to worship at a shrine to Eirene, you might need to do more than that before you had properly cleansed yourself. That said, as I’ve said before, there are apparently no historical taboos against menstruation in Hellenismos. If some-one tells you there were/are, they’re full of shit.

Sex, childbirth, and death also carry spiritual pollutants, in general, but there are exceptions. In some regions of Hellas, if a woman died in childbirth, it was standard practise to sacrifice the clothes she wore at the time at the local temple of Artemis / Eileithyia —this flies in the face of the general convention, but again, is an exception. The fact that funeral processions were a big thing in Hellas, and a pretty widespread practise, may seem to fly in the face of the conventional miasma associated with death, but the procession and funerary rites were outside the temple, and I can’t help but think that it’s a sort of ritual enactment of the soul’s journey via Hermes Psychopompos, one of few Theoi that aren’t believed to shun the dead. Miasma, again, is typically a taboo to temples and shrines.

Illness was also generally considered miasma to most temples, but it was common for people with certain kinds of sicknesses to leave an offering at shrines to Asklepios.

Lastly: Miasma has nothing to do with personal hygeine. I really have no idea where that little bit of disinfo started, but it needs to stop, like, yesterday. (ETA – 16 April 2013) OK, so upon reading a bit more, I seem to have a fair hypothesis on wher this confusion might stem from. See, for centuries, there was this belief that “poisoned air”, or similar, caused sickness; around the 19th Century in the UK, maybe as early as the 18thC (CE, of course), this collection of practically worldwide belief of “bad air = cause of certain diseases, like cholera” became colloquially known as “miasma theory”, in a similar manner that the worldwide phenomenon of spirit-workers became known as “shamanism” or animal guides as “totemism”. This re-purposing of the word “miasma” basically took it out of a spiritual context, and in the 19th and early 20th Centuries, the “poison air” hypotheses basically became replaced with the current “germ theory”, that is, diseases caused by foreign bodies, from the bacteria on unwashed hands to an assortment of vira. “Miasma as disease theory” has NOTHING to do with the spiritual miasma of ancient Hellas, and conflating the two is no less ignorant than nonsense like “Artemis and her consort, Apollon”, or something. (/ETA)

The act of ritually washing the hands and face before entering the temple, or before approaching the household shrine, has practically nothing to do with bodily cleanliness. Khernips is all about a physical ritualisation of spiritual clean-up. It’s preparation of the soul through a ritual on the body. At some temples, you wouldn’t even get a personal khernips bowl, an image popularised via dramatisations on The History Channel, but sometimes a priest or even a neokoros would just toss water, or do other purfication rites on people in the procession into the temple –yes, even people who’d clearly just finished up some manual labour and couldn’t make it to the baths in time. If miasma was simply about “personal hygeine”, then surely these temples were committing great blasphemies, non? Of course not, don’t be silly. Logically, if the ancient Hellenes knew the religion better than the average nub on the Internet, then clearly those temples knew what they were doing with regards to miasma.

Now, you’re certainly free to say “I don’t care about religious reconstruction, this is all irrelevant to me”. On the other hand, if you DO care about reconstructed practise, you can’t just go picking and choosing which rules of miasma you like and which ones you don’t —reconstruction is about rebuilding from existing evidence, and you need a fair knowledge and understanding of the evidence before you can evaluate whether or not it applies to your practise. When you know what does and does not qualify religiously as miasma (pro tip: I’ve only given the most common situations and a few exceptions), only then at some later stage can you really evaluate the subject.

To recap:

Miasma has nothing to do with what’s on your mind, or whether or not you feel spiritually prepared enough to approach the Theoi. Miasma, if present, will exist regardless of what’s on your mind, and regardless of how you feel about it.

Miasma has nothing to do with your personal hygiene. Miasma is spiritual pollution. Rituals to cleanse miasma are there to ritualise the cleansing of ordinary pollutants from ourselves before entering ritual space. The fact that the most common of such rituals is to wash the hands and face (and sometimes feet) still doesn’t make it about personal hygiene, and the fact that we just washed ourselves is merely a byproduct of the spiritual cleansing.

Miasma rules, as they existed in ancient Hellas, mostly pertained to temples.

Miasma rules were not monolithic in ancient times, there is no reason to see them that way, now.

Certain devotees might have more or less taboos, similar to (though not necessarily the same as) miasma; this is a matter between them and their gods.

If you don’t care about historical accuracy, religious reconstruction, etc…, you’re perfectly welcome to scrap the idea of miasma altogether —but if reconstructed practise *is* important to you, then it really makes no sense to pick and choose.

Honey badger don’t give a shit about your miasma.

Eros is NOT the Reason for the Season

©Pierre et Gilles

©Pierre et Gilles

I really have to abandon the inertia I seem to have adopted toward removing myself from a certain e-mail list. This owner/s of the list in question, in spite of repeated issuance from members, including myself, of correct information that points out the Feast of Eros is a springtime festival —not mid-winter— still maintain a calendar that places the Feast of Eros as a replacement for St. Valentine’s Day.

While there is very little surviving information about the Feast in question, there is enough to place this as a springtime festival. Furthermore, there is nothing about Eros’ symbolism that is specific to winter, and plenty that makes a springtime festival seem more appropriate —the cockerel, the hare, eggs, birds, youth.

by Erte

by Erte

Furthermore, the ancient, pre-Christian origins of St Valentine’s Day are well established. Daidala (Attic: Gemalia), the wedding of Hera and Zeus is traditionally held around the time of mid-February. Rome’s Lupercalia, celebrating the bitch wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus. Eros has nothing to do with either day. I’ve explained this at great length before. Yet the pinhead/s in charge of that list still insist “it’s a modern syncretism in line with the ancient practice”.

What ancient practice? There is NO “ancient practice” that can easily link Eros with any mid-February festivals, and the “love” portrayed in the Catholic St Valentine mythology was closer to agape than eros. The “love” we see in the Lupercalia mythos is compassionate, not erotic.

"Winter" by Erte

“Winter” by Erte

The union of Zeus and Hera, even as per the mythology, was one less of passion than of politics.

That said, I acknowledge that people are going to do whatever they want to, anyway, no matter what makes sense or not. Oh well. If you want to celebrate Eros on 14 February, have fun with that. On the other hand, when you call it “The Feast of Eros” you are inviting confusion with the ancient festival. When you insist that “it’s a modern syncretism”, you not only demonstrate a misunderstanding of what syncretism actually is, you demonstrate a gross misunderstanding of the ancient calendars.

I’m willing to make a post like this every fucking year, so that people who are genuinely interested in the ancient practice can learn that this idea of a mid-winter “Feast of Eros” is just borderline eclectic nonsense based more on medieval softcore subversion of Christian mythology than on pre-Christian Græc

[What's That?] Altars and Shrines

Pagans and polytheists, at least in my experiences, differ in this way (amongst others): The former mostly maintains altars, the latter mostly maintains shrines.

BUT RUADHÁN, AREN’T THOSE JUST TWO DIFFERENT WORDS FOR THE SAME THING?

No.

Here’s why:

An altar is a place where you practise your religion; a shrine is where a Deity, or several deities, have Their own space in your home or the community. A shrine is like a permanent or semi-permanent guestroom for a deity, or several deities, where one has created a space in one’s home specifically for Them. For purposes of space, a shrine may have a “threshold” area where one practises rituals, or at least lights a candle and incense daily or weekly (depending on how one’s religion honours the deity in question), but the rest of the area is usually left untouched, save for periodic days during the month or year when you perform maid service (still running with the guest room analogy), or when you get little gifts for the Deity and arrange them artfully in Deity’s space. On the other hand, an altar is assumed to be for you, the whole space is yours, and there is (usually) nothing on there that you don’t use at some point when practising your religion. The two things are very different in intent and purpose, so conflating the two as one in the same is to betray one’s ignorance.

Shrines are often more-or-less “permanent”; if it’s a fixture of the home, its location is often chosen very carefully (usually dependent on deity) and after the location is designated for a shrine, it’s not moved unless special circumstances (like ritual cleaning, or a move) require one to. An altar might require a special location or direction to face, depending n the religion, but it is, at most, assumed to be a “part time” placement, the lease can be cancelled at any time; it can be moved or taken down when not in use (even if one doesn’t, out of convenience or just plain laziness) and I’ve never heard of a religion that requires special reverence for taking down a mere altar that could be easily compared to the treatment of a shrine that needs cleaning or has fallen into disrepair.

Common fixtures of small indoor shrines include a representation of the deity, a dish for offerings like wine, a candle or two, a receptacle for incense, and (depending on how long one has worshipped the deity) lots and lots of items that are gifts for the Deity, such as coins, food items, or just trinkets and baubles made of or bearing images of stones, flora, or fauna sacred to the deity. Common fixtures of altars often include a candle or two, a receptacle for incense, a representation of a deity or two, and various ritual tools —which may be (but may not be limited to) blades/athames, wands, a goblet or chalise, etc…. Large “outdoor” shrines that are basically the size of a tiny house that can have standing or sitting room for a few people tend to have an altar inside them for the placement of offerings and candles and holding small rituals of reverence, but the aura of such an altar is less like leaving gifts at the threshold of a household shrine, and more like bringing a gift into another’s house as a guest; it’s the Deity’s altar at one of their many Earthly homes, not that liminal space at the borderline between your space and Theirs. Because there is some overlap in the characteristics of a small household shrine and a household altar (candles, incense, representations of Deity), people who don’t know or understand the differences between altars and shrines may confuse the two.

SO, RUADHÁN, SINCE YOU THINK YOU’RE SO SMART, HOW DO I TELL THE DIFFERENCE?

Well, aside from my description, I also thought to provide a visual aide. First, a couple photos from a search for “Wiccan Altar” on Bing.com:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Wiccan_Altar

There is nothing on either of these altars that is not, or at least cannot be intended to be used in a ritual. Even the statue in the second photo might be ritually turned to face one direction or another, during the course of a ritual, be it before, after, or while all other tools are being used.

So here are now a few images of shrines:

my Eros shrine, 01-08

Dver's "Dionysos shrine" (image links to Flickr gallery)

Dver’s “Dionysos shrine” (image links to Flickr gallery)

Dionysos shrine from Flaming Thrysos

Dionysos shrine from Flaming Thrysos

Very little in these pictures (though one is erroneously referred to as an “altar” by its maintainer) is intended for use by human hands. These are places for their respective Deities to be most-present and welcomed into the household; these are not areas where the primary purpose is for humans doing rituals (though occasionally rituals may take place at the shrine’s threshold).

Similarly, the springs to the city nymphai of Boiotia, and other springs sacred to locally important nymphai, and other parts of the city or villiage considered important to local mythos, would often serve as shrines to the nymph in question. If a traveller wanted the good graces of the local deities, gifts would be left at the city shrine(s) —similar to the continued tradition of dropping a coin in a fountain “for luck”. Then there’s the Greek tradition of roadside shrines:

Greek-Roadside-Shrine

While some of these shrines are, like the various roadside shrines seem in the American Midwest, created by surviving families at a location near a fatal traffic accident, a lot of times, the Greek roadside shrines are just erected by some-one giving thanks and praise to an Orthodiox Saint (and, on occasion, alongside an ancient deity) for some joyous event in one’s life; some of these shrines are said locally to have been standing and maintained since ancient times, perhaps with the pre-Christian commemoration only thinly veiled. Their purpose is for a short prayer and/or reflection, and (as with the roadside shrines around here, which commemorate tragedy) small trinkets and candles may be left by local people. Some Greek roadside shrines are big enough to be miniature chapels, big enough for two or three people to stand in prayer or conduct small ceremonies, but the fact that those shrines can have that function is secondary to the purpose of creating a space sacred to a Deity or Saint, where one is encouraged to pause in reflection of said Divine figure, perhaps have a small prayer or light a candle, and then go about one’s business.

While some shrines maintained by modern polytheists (as those pictured) may take form on and around a table-top out of necessity (like lacking a means of enclosure of the shrine area) or personal preference (as these are indoor shrines, and protection from elements is already taken care of, or so the reasoning may go), the purpose is still clear, often just by looking at it as a person who understands the difference. Some altars may also be set up in a niche in a wall, of on a bookshelf, or prehaps it’s a portable thing barely bigger than a CD jewelcase, but again, the intent is clear of its function simply by its form.

In paths one is unfamiliar with, or deities one has not previously seen a shrine to, the purpose may not be clear. A shrine to Ares may contain a short military dagger, and depending on the age or originating military, it might be indistinguishable from a Pop Wiccan’s athame. One may be practising a self-invented path of lesbian witchcraft that simulates the “great rite” of Wicca by rubbing two cowrie shells together, so the altar might appear more shrine-like, lacking blades and wands. If you know noting about the person’s religion, it never hurts to ask, but at the same time, it’s also perfectly fine to kindly explain that shrines and altars are not one-in-the-same, and that one “preferring” one term over the other doesn’t necessarily make it true.


Apologies to the previous publication of this without the rest. I was touching up the post on the tablet, and well, I’ll add this to my ever-growing list of why touch-screens are the work of Typhoeus.

Also: I do intend on making a series out of these sorts of posts.