The Editorial
By Scot Rhoads
Invoking Hermes
So, do we look greedy again? We have raised our prices once more—I expect for the last time, barring dramatic changes in production cost, but who can say? What inspired this was a suggestion from an older and wiser (well, wiser, anyway) publisher that we reevaluate our pricing.
Until starting this magazine, my experience (such as it was) had been strictly retail. I demonstrated that I knew nothing of wholesale or production pricing. Fortunately, we have survived. We've even flourished (especially when you consider the business climate and our capital base), but we're still not doing much more than breaking even.
Although publishing the magazine is a lot of work, I love it and would prefer to continue to wait patiently for volume to make up for our low price. Alas, that appears unwise. We are planning to sell our bookstore soon and have to think very seriously about how we will make a living. That means we need the magazine to perform better. According to my more experienced new friend, a different pricing strategy should do that. I guess I'll be finding out.
Please notice that subscriptions are now more attractive! And they are particularly helpful to us. Also, you can still get them at the old price for now. Until our next issue comes out, bulk mail subscriptions are still $13 and First Class are $19. Afterward, they will be $14 and $21 (the new difference more accurately reflects the difference in shipping costs). Considering that this is for six issues, I hope you will agree that New Moon Rising is still one of the best deals available.
So, what do you help us do when you send in your hard-earned currency? (Apart from eat and live in a house) As I mentioned oh so long ago in a previous editorial (or two?), we hope to move to the Pacific Northwest (probably Washington). There we hope not only to live a healthier rural life more in tune with the Goddess, but also to help create a Pagan community. We will see how the dream evolves. So far we've mostly just put a lot of thought into it. On a concrete level you presently witness our achievement in your hot little hands. We would like this magazine to serve as a base for employment and as a platform (or sorts) for others of like mind to follow their financial bliss.
This may not sound all that spiritual, but it's hard to be spiritual when you're hungry or locked into an uninspiring job. (Does someone out there need to be told this?) Also, it seems to me that it's about time we started allowing ourselves to master both spiritual and physical aspects in our lives. Though I may occasionally piss and moan about it, I do have to respect that in the New Wage—they aren't afraid to be spiritual and financially sound. I am (and so is our society), but I'm working on changing it. I've decided it hasn't worked too well and it's time to try the alternative.
Why am I telling you all this? It's not really your business, is it? Is it some kind of excuse? (I hope not!) We are used to businesses that see consumers as statistics. I handle much of New Moon Rising's business, though, so I'm up close and personal with everything you send us. Also, this magazine is an act of love (if we wanted just to make a buck, there are plenty of other means); so I think of all our readers, writers and advertisers, and all the others that help us produce New Moon Rising, as partners. I would like you to know what's going on here and I hope you will be interested. If not? Oh well, I hope you enjoy the magazine. If so, I still hope you enjoy the magazine, but I also hope that you will get some satisfaction from what you are helping us to manifest.
Eco-Guilt Relief
Another big change is that Arena Press will be publishing our magazines. That means that we are finally eco-friendly. Arena uses soy-based ink and recycled paper. Believe it or not (though I hope you will), when we looked into using recycled paper before, it was too expensive. Yes, recycled paper costs more. Pretty sad, eh? I also heard (on National Public Radio) that most of the paper that we recycle is really just stored because the recycling plants are already running at full capacity. It seems that we need to build up an infrastructure for a recycling rather than a disposing society. Until we do, our present infrastructure will have an economic inertia artificially favoring disposability. That suggests that we might want to shift our focus from recycling in the form of saving our newspapers to building the infrastructure we need to build a real recycling society.
WARNING! WARNING! READ THIS!
I hope I've got your attention. Another of our changes to economic realism will be to stop mailing bulk subscriptions in envelopes. We did this for the benefit of several subscribers with nosey, disapproving neighbors. But few people have requested this and it is an uncomfortable expense. This is the last issue that we will bulk mail in envelopes. We will still offer envelopes for all First Class subscriptions. Since the law does not ensure the privacy of bulk mailed items, First Class has always been the best choice for those in hostile environments. Those bulk subscribers who wish to upgrade can do so for $1 per issue left on their subscriptions (this is equivalent to the old rate).
An Intermittent Farewell to Scott
For the many Scott Cunningham fans, we have some good news and some bad news (sound familiar?): We will no longer feature Scott in every issue; for the foreseeable future, he will only be able to provide articles intermittently. The good news is that this is because he is putting so much of his energy into other writing projects. So Scott's fans have many new books to look forward to (and Scott will be getting paid for a change).
Oops!
Someone pointed out that I blew it in my 4:3 Editorial when I used am (several times), contrary to the rules of M'. Sorry `bout that. Try to ignore it. Another pointed out the value of avoiding M' when she feels strongly about something: speaking in absolutes (as the God/Goddess) can remind you of your ability to create change in the world. Good point!
Footburning
This issue we have an article about firewalking. Since I did a firewalk, I can't resist talking about my experience. I can resist diluting NH4's article, though, by relegating my little story to the Editorial.
I went through the usual few hours of confidence building stuff—talks, a videotape, etc. I felt reasonably comfortable with what I was about to do. We built an impressive fire and banged our drums. I jumped the fire, which turned out to be the only really fun/exhilarating part of the experience.
Once the coals were ready, we had about an eight-foot track to walk. After some almost pathetic hesitation, we began. I was among the first, though I didn't have the guts to be the first.
It hurt a lot! It burned my feet! It felt just like walking on hot coals.
However, the worst I got was very minor second-degree burns. This was less than I would have expected under non-firewalking circumstances, and it was gone after a couple days, apart from small patches of peeling skin. (Most of the others seemed to have suffered less than I, and no one seemed to have been entirely unscathed, but we didn't compare wounds in great detail.)
I figured I must not have done it right, so I tried again. (If I pay $50 to be an idiot, I make sure I get my money's worth!) I walked four times, experimenting with different feelings. It hurt every time.
I'd learned before the walk that fear seemed to play a big role in not feeling the heat. I had not felt much fear the first time, and I had felt a lot of heat. My most nearly comfortable walk was when I tried my best to conjure as much fear as I could. I didn't conjure a whole lot and it still hurt, but the heat was reduced enough to support the premise.
I don't feel that my experience says much about firewalking in general, because it seems to be unusual. It does suggest that being out of touch with one's feelings can be a liability here. I expect that this is one of the main points of firewalking—to really experience the FEAR that we flirt with on roller coasters or feel vicariously when watching TV. The guess I trusted enough that I could not fully get in touch with my fear. I wonder if I could have walked if I had been able to feel that fear. But then perhaps I would have had the altered state of consciousness that I've heard about. (I'm particularly sorry I missed that.)
For me, the firewalk was an interesting experience, but I don't feel it changed my life. I'm glad I proved I could do it, but I kind of knew that from the beginning, else I expect I would have been sufficiently fearful. The lesson, I suppose, apart from the obvious message that it's unhelpful to chronically repress your feelings, is that if you're not very afraid of firewalking, you may well not get enough out of it to justify the remarkable expense. However, it seems that so many people get so much out of it that I expect my experience is a small minority; so, I can't safely recommend against firewalking in any case. I guess all I can hope to do with this story is add some variety to the otherwise similar reports from other firewalkers. Now you know
Our Search for Meaninglessness
In our society we seem to so easily forget what we're here for—quite understandably, too. Consider a modern freeway: thousands of miles of concrete, amazing bridges, costing so many dollars and worker-hours to build that our individual lives pale in comparison. Next to that, your daily commute or a trip to the beach seems insignificant. However, it is such things that give the freeway meaning. Your trip is more important than the freeway in that part of the reason the freeway exists is because you want to make that trip (and not vice versa). Similarly, a huge water project is more impressive than a piece of fruit that comes from it, but it is fruit that leads to the dams. And a billion-dollar TV network is more impressive than the Gilligan's Island rerun it might play.
Roads and dams and communications hardware and such are all part of the infrastructure. It is essential to the way we live and is an amazing set of constructions when you consider them. But they have nothing to do with why we live.
In an election year it is easy to get caught up in the immensity of the various issues facing us. It is easy to forget that these issues exist on the surface of a more significant foundation of mundane human experience. Sure, we need to worry about the economy and starvation and pollution, etc. But everyone knows this (I hope). And I don't mean to suggest that we should add even more to our worries. We have enough hassles without trying to see heaven in every blasted wild flower or eternity in every mind-numbing hour. What I suggest is that we need not bully ourselves into some kind of search for significance.
We see significance in politicians (even though we may not like them), in the rich & famous and the various generic shakers and movers. We notice the infrastructure of life, the organizations and social structures that have evolved to deal with the myriad invisible mundane lives. But it is the mundane lives that provide the significance. A government with no governed is meaningless. If a bridge is built in a forest and there's nobody around to cross it, what good is it? So when we drive to work or watch that Gilligan's Island rerun—in black and white (shudder)—we are engaging in acts that are as significant as anything can be.
That doesn't argue against ambition. It argues against feeling that you must impress yourself. If you're really enjoying wondering if they'll actually get off the island this time, there's no need to spoil it by worrying that you should invest your time in trying to be significant. You could work on rescuing the ozone layer. And this is certainly a desirable goal (if only because a lack of ozone would eventually put at risk future showings of Gilligan's Island). But there are plenty of good reasons other than a quest for significance.
Life is just life and we're here to live it, high or low doesn't matter. We are living just as meaningfully if we are as powerful as the President of the United States, or as useless as the Vice-President. What difference can this attitude make? On the surface, it needn't make any difference at all. What I suggest here is a change in attitude, not action. If we consider what really gives meaning to this process of human cellular respiration, it is the ordinary things we enjoy. Now when these may have unpleasant long term ramifications like shooting condors, we have to take that into account. But those of us who take pleasure in Gilligan's Island should go for the gusto. There is no shame in taking a half-hour break from saving the ozone. Remember that we want to save it so we can enjoy ourselves. If you refuse to enjoy yourself (because you won't allow yourself to feel significant), what's the point?
There is nothing wrong with a quiet life of desperation once you toss out the desperation. We already have all the meaning that there could ever be. But we try to abandon it in our lives and shift to superficially grandiose places where it doesn't belong—rock stars, politicians, Elvis? Then we go seeking that which we've pushed away in politics or where ever, or sit and lament that it's out of reach.
Those who hope to control us can use the ordinariness of our lives against us when we let them. When we allow ourselves to believe that we must do something great to give our lives meaning, we may allow ourselves to enlist in any dramatic cause, even one we would not otherwise support. Participating in Band Aid, etc., is great if you're hoping to help feed people. But if you're doing it to feel good about yourself, don't. Feel good first. Don't compromise positive motivations with some desperate ego agenda. Otherwise you may end up creating a beautiful edifice that does little more than provide you with a sense of significance, like an eight-lane freeway going nowhere, or the Pruit-Igo project.
Let's just calm down and admit that we are as significant, important, lovable as anyone can be. We have a right to these feelings; and we needn't deny them to provide us with some kind of motivation. We won't run out of politicians and ozone savers if we admit that we are already good people. We will start running out of guilt and manipulation, though.
Blessed Be | 
