Today, I took a few minutes from my afternoon to witness a small piece of history. Along with hundreds of my fellow humans, I disappeared from the office, scurried down the elevator, and stood in the streets of Chicago to gaze at the solar eclipse (through protective eyewear). I didn't perform a ritual or mutter a spell under my breath. I held no gemstones to the heavens in hopes of capturing the energy of the eclipse. There are no bowls of water or salt or earth laid out on an altar of wood back at my house.
Today, my brand of Paganism was to stand alongside my fellow man and witness nature. Funnily enough that tends to be my brand of Paganism, to witness nature and remind myself that I am but a very tiny speck in a massive, ever turning whole.
And, what I've noticed about days like this is that I am not alone. While most folks don't call themselves Pagan, and wouldn't even think to acknowledge that they're honoring "The Olde Gods/Goddesses", folks still show up for Nature when She's putting on a show. A couple of years ago there was a zeitgeist surrounding the Supermoon. People held parties, went to beaches, took pictures, and were generally geeked out about the moon.
My brand of Paganism has become a much more literal interpretation of the notion of the Immanent Sacred, the Divine in the Everyday. I revere the seasons that change and the earth that rotates and the waters that provide and the fires that transform. I am not sure where that leaves me on the spectrum of belief in cloud people, but I know that there is a spark of magic inside of me...inside us all...and every now and then it calls us to the street or the beach or the backyard. It beseeches us to look, to witness, and to remind us that we are all humbled before the totality of creation.
Love and Lyte,