Paganism
Column: Alone at the Festival
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It is Monday morning, Memorial Day. Another Heartland Pagan Festival has come and gone. At the moment I am sitting in the muddy nook I picked for a campsite, looking up at the canopy and wishing that my tent would simply put itself away, perhaps animated by a helpful djinn. My wife suggests that it’s better off that tents don’t do this; even a helpful tent-spirit might sometimes get the notion to pack itself away with us still inside. I do not hear her voice when she tells me this.