The Paranormal

I have never experienced any paranormal phenomena, despite being long interested in the subject. As such, I treat such claims with all due skepticism, though without being dismissive. After all, I’m well aware that there is much about the universe that science still can’t explain. Despite the breakneck pace of scientific investigation over the last few centuries, some areas of human experience remain mysterious. Our understanding of how our own brains work, for example, is still rudimentary. And that’s fine; there will always be more experiments to conduct, more theories to develop, more work to do. So it’s important to keep an open mind. The term ‘paranormal’ operates for me much the same way as ‘supernatural’—it describes phenomena that don’t fit into our current scientific models. Our explanations for these experiences amount to sheer guesswork. And yet people continue to experience them. In his 1999 book The Triumph of the Moon, Ronald Hutton offers an interesting take on the issue of paranormal phenomena, which would often come up in the course of his research into the history of witchcraft and magic. He describes encounters with two women who claimed to be able to see apparitions of various kinds. Neither woman, he notes, generally called attention to her ability, though both seemed to have come to terms with their extrasensory perceptions. He then goes on to say:

These encounters are absolutely typical of many that I have had over the years, and especially during the last few, when my research into paganism and witchcraft has encouraged people to speak to me more openly about them. They have convinced me that there is a significant minority of people within British society (and doubtless in many—perhaps all—others) who regularly see, hear, or feel phenomena which most others do not perceive to be present, but which are very real to them. These phenomena can, indeed, be experienced in the same way by other individuals with the same characteristic. The latter seems to be most common among women, though by no means exclusive to them, and is often passed down through families. Let no readers of these paragraphs feel that their personal belief systems are being challenged; the experiences concerned may be the product of chemicals in the brain, or of communications from God Almighty, the Goddess, angels, the spirits of the dear departed, or a range of other entities. The only limitation that I myself would place upon interpretation of them is that the empirical evidence causes me to reject the notion that they are caused by mere overactive imaginations, or by general mental imbalance. (p. 270)

Hutton then questions why psychic phenomena have not received more serious scientific study (beyond merely trying to prove or disprove whether they are “real”) and suggests that, in this case, science has dropped the ball. If such extrasensory experiences are not what people claim them to be, then what are they? And what is the cost of dismissing such claims out of hand?

I also find it highly significant that modern Western society is apparently unique in the human record in that it provides no generally accepted frame of reference for them and no system of explanation within which they may be sustained or discussed. This was not expected to be the final situation by the Enlightenment authors who did their utmost to demolish the previous system of interpretation, in terms of good or evil spirits. Sir Walter Scott, in his Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, argued vehemently against a literal belief in such entities, but he did not deny that humans often appeared to see or hear them. He suggested instead that an improved understanding of the natural world would eventually yield a scientifically viable explanation for such phenomena. Almost two hundred years have passed since his time, and yet that explanation has not been achieved; instead, the tendency has been to ignore or deride such experiences, leaving those who undergo them to come to terms with them within private frames of reference, and greater or lesser degrees of ease and comfort according to their circumstances. The principal consequence is that large numbers of people in this society have to live with phenomena of which their dominant models of physical and metaphysical explanation do not take account—indeed, which they do not recognize at all (pp. 270–271).

Neo-Paganism in general (and Wicca in particular) seems to attract people who are interested in ritual magic, so developing a consistent stance on the paranormal is relevant to Scientific Paganism. Personally, I see little difference between Wiccan spellcasting and the magical workings of Catholic Christians (or the watered-down versions practiced by mainstream Protestants). Both invoke some mystical entity or other in the hope of a boon of some kind. I’m not convinced the universe works that way, but I acknowledge that such tropes can play a powerful role in holiday rituals. The truth of such phenomena, however, is still “out there.”

Cross-Quarter Days

In his 2012 book Britain Begins, Oxford archaeologist Barry Cunliffe provides a nice overview of the four annual festivals that many Pagans refer to as the “cross-quarter” days, with a particular emphasis on Samhain. Cunliffe maintains that these festivals can be traced all the way back to the Bronze Age in Western Europe.

The intensification of agriculture after the middle of the second millennium would have made a careful appreciation of the changing seasons all the more important to the livelihood of the community. Indeed, it may have required an adjustment in time management and the creation of a calendar more designed to meet the demands of the farming year than one relying on the solstices. By the end of the first millennium BC it is known that in Gaul the year was divided into four quarters, Samhain, beginning on 1 November, Imbolc on 1 February, Beltane on 1 May, and Lughnasadh on 1 August, and this same calendar was in operation in Ireland in the first millennium AD. Since it is closely attuned to the farming year, the probability is that the calendar goes back much further and may well have developed at a time when the intensification of agriculture was getting under way in the second millennium. Samhain heralds the quiet winter period when people are at home repairing and making equipment and tending the livestock that are being overwintered. Imbolc marks the time when lambing and calving takes place and the ewes start to lactate, and land has to be prepared for spring sowing. At Beltane cattle are driven through fires to cleanse them of vermin and all the animals are put out to summer pasture. Lughnasadh is the period of harvesting and the preparation of the grain for storage, for turning livestock onto the harvested fields, and for weaning lambs. The culling of the flocks and herds, with the accompanying feasting, probably took place in the days leading up to the beginning of Samhain, when the old year ended and the new year began. This major turning point in the annual cycle was appropriated by the Christians to be the festival of All Saints and is still widely celebrated in its pagan form as Hallow-e’en. The agrarian calendar differs from the solar calendar of the fourth and third millennium, based on the equinoxes and solstices, and is probably to be regarded as part of the great transformation that was taking place in the mid-second millennium (pp. 269–270).

Cunliffe sees in the many ancient stone monuments of the British Isles evidence that observance of the other four points in the Wheel of the Year—the equinoxes and solstices—goes even further back, into the Stone Age. This is the historical foundation on which the modern re-interpretations of Neo-Paganism are based.

Mabon Intro

The celebration of the Autumnal Equinox, the border between summer and autumn, is known by many Neo-Pagans as Mabon, the name of a Celtic hero from The Mabinogion, a collection of medieval Welsh mythology. In the tale “Culhwch and Olwen,” King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table must rescue the long-forgotten huntsman Mabon ap Modron (a name that means ‘the son of the mother’) from a dank dungeon in the hellish realm of Gloucester, for his special skills are needed in the quest to capture the enchanted boar Twrch Trwyth. Mabon is glad to be liberated from his long imprisonment and soon proves his valor among King Arthur’s men. The hero’s name was associated with the Autumnal Equinox in the 1970s by the American Neo-Pagan author Aidan Kelly while creating a liturgy for a California-based offshoot of Wicca with the somewhat tongue-in-cheek name the New Reformed Orthodox Order of the Golden Dawn. As Kelly describes in a 2017 blog post on the website Patheos, he was dissatisfied with the traditional names of northern European harvest festivals and wanted something with some Celtic cachet. He saw a parallel in the tale of Mabon ap Modron, who was kidnapped as a baby, with the tale of Persephone, whose abduction to the underworld represents the advent of autumn. Furthermore, Kelly was intrigued by similar myths of young people being rescued from certain doom, such as the Biblical story of Abraham and Isaac, and associated them with the autumnal equinox as well. Thus, Kelly chose to name this equinoctial festival “Mabon,” and the name was soon popularized by Oberon Zell’s journal Green Egg. However, Kelly is something of a persona non grata among more traditional Wiccans, so some of them reject his contributions to Pagan ritual.

Regardless, the Autumnal Equinox has long been celebrated as a major turning point, as it is the time when we cross the threshold back into the dark half of the year. In constructing my graphic of the Wheel of the Year, seen above, I searched for an appropriate dichotomy to mark this axis and settled on Hello/Goodbye. In this sense, “goodbye” goes beyond a simple valediction to encompass letting go of old ideas, old habits, old relationships. We find ourselves at the midway point between “heat” and “death,” where we can start the process of unwinding that precedes the coming of winter. “Goodbye” can serve as a theme for Mabon celebrations, as we get ready to retreat to our sanctuaries and turn inward for a period of restful self-reflection—but before we can do that, we need to settle our accounts, tie up loose ends, and ask ourselves, what is it time to let go of?

Mabon Ritual

Celebration for Mabon, the Autumnal Equinox

Opening Poem

Suggested reading: “Equinox” by Patricia Hooper

The Autumnal Equinox and the meaning of Mabon

Tonight we gather once again to honor the ever-turning wheel of the year. The cycles of the year, like the cycles of our lives, have neither beginning nor end. Their movement is constant, yet not repetitive. No year, no season, no day, no life is exactly like the one that came before or that will come after. Every season is unique, and every life is unique.

Like galaxies spiraling through the universe, the paths of our lives also spiral, forever moving us forward. Although the Earth circles the sun, the sun itself is circling the core of the galaxy, creating a spiral path for our planet. Everything in the galaxy follows a spiral path. Therefore, the Earth’s journey, though constant, also never repeats itself.

Twice a year, the Earth seems to pause in its journey around the sun, as it reaches the balance point between day and night. On these days, the equinoxes, we pause also, to celebrate the life-sustaining cycles of light and dark and reflect on the turning wheel of life and death. We celebrate with flame, whether the flicker of candlelight or the roar of a bonfire, to remind us of the energy of the sun and the creative spark of the cosmos beyond.

When the day and the night are of equal length, we are reminded of the equality of all living things—for they are all aspects of Gaea, our living world. From the smallest microbe to the largest redwood, we are all united in life and stand as equals on this planet. When we pause in this moment, we remember this truth, and renew our commitment to caring for the Earth, for each other, and for ourselves.

On this day, the autumnal equinox, darkness and light are in balance. Behind us lies the long, hot summer; before us lies the gathering darkness of winter. The winter’s long dark nights will give us the time and the space to turn inward, to reflect, and to renew ourselves. But first, we must prepare. Trees shed their leaves. Plants let their stalks and flowers wither. Squirrels hoard acorns and nuts. Birds build sturdier nests. All around us, all living things are preparing themselves to let go of what they no longer need in order to make room for life’s essentials. We must do this, too.

The autumnal equinox is a moment for us to pause and reflect upon that which we need to release and that which we need to pull closer. What hopes, fears, relationships, habits, and beliefs are we holding onto even though they no longer inspire our best selves? Can we let go of them in order to make space for new ideas, new people, and new endeavors?

As crops are harvested all around us, we can ask what are we harvesting in our own lives? How might our past accomplishments inspire us to seek out new goals and projects? What plans might we make today, knowing that we will not see the fruits of our labors until next spring or summer? In the coming winter, what do we want to learn, to create, to nurture? This is the wonder of Mabon, to honor all that we have made manifest in our lives, and to look forward to the restful night that is yet to come.

Candle Lighting

I light this candle in the name of the Ancestors, the Guardians, and all the holy ones who walk the world. May its light guide all the kindly spirits to bless this place.

I light this candle in the name of learning. May its flame remind us to look towards the unknown with curiosity and an open mind.

I light this candle in the name of creativity. May its glow inspire us and give us the confidence to share our true selves with the world.

I light this candle in the name of friendship. May its light continue to bring us together, so that we might offer each other joy, comfort, and company.

I light this candle in the name of the sun. May its flame warm our spirit and stay with us in the months to come.

I light this candle in the name of the Earth. May it illuminate our path through the coming year and remind us to walk with peace and compassion for all Gaea’s children.

Closing Poem

Suggested reading: “There Will Be Stars” by Sara Teasdale