Monday, June 6, 2022

Festival Season and the Plague Years

The daystar burns brightly above and the midsummer sabbat (1) fast approaches: festival season is upon us. Whether that means big multitrad pagan festivals, tradition-specific gatherings, or single-day events like Pagan Pride Day, from now until after Halloween there will be a multitude of activities wherein one can meet other paganfolk, reconnect with old friends, spend time in nature, etc. I even had intention this year of attending one or two such events; but you know what they say about the best-laid plans. Between rising gas (and everything else) prices and the ongoing threat of coronavirus (now with special guest star monkeypox for an opening act), my partner and I have had to bow out of two so far, and there may be other events down the road that we end up opting out of this year. Risk-aversion still seems the safest course.

It's been years since I/we have attended any trad-specific gatherings. They can be fraught with Issues. In the past, we've personally stayed away from an event when told by organizers that one of our initiates was unwelcome because there were people who had Issues with him. In another case, we were told that we ourselves were unwelcome because someone the organizer liked wouldn't come if we did! In an ideal world, a trad-specific festival would be open to any verifiable members of that trad, and interpersonal issues would be dealt with, like goddamn adults, between the parties involved; but this is not that world, and most such events are and have always been invitation-only. I can understand that, I suppose: if you're trying to minimize drama, and keep away people that you or someone close to you thinks is an asshole, then controlling attendance is a feasible way to go. I'd love to live in a world where verified members of a tradition could all attend a grand festival, regardless of what horrible rumors follow them (2), and sort themselves out while there, behaving like "adults" and simply not engaging with people they were at odds with--but then, I have a lot of impossible dreams. People are people, and they rarely get along, and they like to stir shit and spread gossip and engage in all the kinds of activities that usually have me running for the exit like the former bullied kid that I am. I'm pretty sure somewhere in Gardner's writings there's something about covens not knowing where any other covens are, and that was probably sound advice. As the great Terry Pratchett once put it, 

The natural size of a coven is one. Witches only get together when they can't avoid it.

 In any case, we've had to bail on two events, which is unfortunate, because despite my general introversion and mistrustful nature, I was looking forward to both of them. For the most part, my memories of previous such events are good ones, though it's likely that the haze of nostalgia has much to do with that. I'm not a fan of camping, though I can stand it for a night or two (so long as adequate sanitation facilities are nearby), but there's something enjoyable about setting up one's little camp site, and having a little cabin to stay in is even better than a tent. Nature hikes and campfires and big rituals with lots of other people who know the rite being performed and can fall into it all together--well, there's nothing else really like that, and it makes for a singular experience. But the truth is, we're not out of the plague years yet; the rona is still out there, and it's still making people sick, and making some of those sick people die or have complications that will follow them for years to come. That's not a gamble I'm willing to take, not with my own life and not with the lives of anyone I love. 

So it's back to the shadows, back to being among Her hidden children, and that's probably not even a bad thing. Trouble does seem to follow when too many witches try to mingle. Too many opinions and perceptions and egos running into each other. One of the trads I work is purposefully small; we're far-flung, but we all know each other, and even when we disagree or butt heads, it's easier, somehow. In the bigger trad, it seems like things get out of hand and become schismatic fairly regularly. Not surprising in the least, but still depressing to see. I have no reason to think the smaller trad won't go the same way eventually; it's the nature of witches, apparently.

It will be a small solstice celebration this year, with several of our people scattered for summer adventures, and the looming threats of financial collapse and continuing pandemic. To those who choose to gather at various festivals, good luck to you; to those others who scale back and tend their own hearth instead, I wish you good fortune as well. We'll be together again one day (3).


(1) Fuck it, it's fine, we can call it Litha like everyone else does.

(2) I mean, unless it's someone with a verifiable criminal record. Unverified rumors are bullshit, but a rape/murder/burglary conviction is a matter of record.

(3) Assuming we're invited, of course.

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