Pagan Pride 2006

Adonis and I drove a couple of hours to attend Pagan Pride in Rochester last weekend. It poured rain for much of the day, so there weren't many others in the park with us. But it was a sweet, smallish, local festival, with three rituals throughout the day led by three different area groups, good food from a local hot dog vendor, an impressive selection of vendors, some good music, and an array of workshops. We attended the morning talk with the Frosts, which alas was a confounding muddle; an afternoon talk with Patricia Telesco, who is an engaging speaker; and an interesting workshop in prison ministry, which had but five attendees including us. Unfortunately we missed the workshop with Gail Wood, but I got a chance to talk with her and check out her new book. There were events for kids all day, and there were quite a few families with children there. In all, Rochester puts on a good festival, and there appears to be a diverse and active Pagan community there.

In the late afternoon, on the way to our friends' house for dinner, we stopped at a Mennonite farm where, we'd been told, they sell raw milk and butter. I zipped up my raincoat over my black "Witch" t-shirt (and felt a tinge of regret about my bold pro-abortion-rights bumpersticker; I don't feel the need to be in-your-face with the Mennonites). We met a woman about my age, her really hot husband, seven gorgeous, scrubbed blonde children, a litter of kittens, and a huge flock of chickens. We had an enjoyable conversation with them and stocked up on raw butter, raw honey, and apples. We bought milk, too. Apparently it's legal in New York State to sell unpasteurized dairy products on your farm. We're grateful that it's even possible to buy these foods within an hour's drive or so. I've been incorporating a lot more raw animal foods in my diet, especially milk and butter, and building intention around a more old-fashioned, less processed way of eating. (Believe me, I still like my junk food, but it's a process - a path, if you will.) It's a joy to know personally the people who produce most of my food, and to know the land.

We drove on to our friends' house for dinner; Lugh had been staying with them. If you read my brief last post, you know the rest of the story - another dog skitted out, went for Lugh with her teeth, and got my hand instead. Adonis and I didn't get to share a lovely meal with our friends in the country. We drove back to town, me with a bag of ice in my hand and my arm held over my head, and spent the next three hours in a very busy ER, waiting for them to treat my hand. Fortunately, after the inital pain of the bite, it didn't hurt very much, and it didn't bleed much. It's a deep wound, definitely still with me. Strange energy at the end of a fine day. I've been thinking about what it could mean.