NMR ISSUE 26

An Urban Wicca
Astrological Forecast 26
Belief and Magic
Chain Letters
Chants
Circle Stories
Editorial 26
Letters 26
Love and Magic
Memories of a Friend
Missing You
Pagan Bibliophiles
Seeing the Goddess in your Home
Should I do It while I'm Sick
Solitary Talk
Stone Banishing Ritual
Teaching the Magical Arts
The Magic of Chocolate
The Solitary Path
The Ugly Witch Figure
The Wiccan Spirit
Three Magical Waters
Two Wiccan Rites
Where Eagles Cry
Why I'm Not a Witch
Wiccan and Magical Games

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The Editorial

By Scot Rhoads

Fun with Death

I like reincarnation. I can't be sure what form it takes, or even if it truly takes any form at all that would be meaningful to my solitary ego. Right now, though there may be evidence, there doesn't seem to be any compelling proof of reincarnation, so the only reason to believe or disbelieve is personal; therefore, my liking reincarnation is reason enough for me to believe in it. I find it comforting to believe I can retain some of the things I like about myself; and it adds inspiration to change those things I don't.

I like what reincarnation does for my attitudes toward society and the earth. If I felt that I were to only go around once and I focused on grabbing all the gusto I could, I would be less interested in the condition of the earth and society after my lifetime. Though reincarnation is not the sole motivation, it helps make more tangible to me the goal of creating the kind of world I would want to be reborn into. Our society has turned cyclical time into linear: instead of being reborn into life, we expect to reach Millionaire Acres then leave the game for someone else or just throw it away—who cares? We’re done. The idea of reincarnation won't cure this by itself, but it could help; and the traditional resistance to the idea is symptomatic.

I like what reincarnation does for my attitudes about death. I fear that our society is miserly with life. The old beer commercial I quoted suggests that because we have only one life, we should live it to the fullest (by drinking lots of beer!). To me, the one life to live model is disastrous. Suppose I have only $5 to bet at my only visit to a Casino (money is a great metaphor for life). I might be agonizingly conservative with it, since it is all the money I have. I will worry which game I should play, since I barely have enough for a minimum bet. I will squander my time making sure that I don't make a decision I regret. If I blow it, the rest of my life will be miserable, and I will preview that misery each time I consider finally placing a bet. I would be more likely to wasting a long time on the dismal nickel slots than to grab for any gusto that might be available. Or, I might be tempted to throw it all away on a desperate long shot. And successful gamblers would merely be lucky.

If, however, I expect to be back at the Casino again later, I would not worry so much about how I spend my $5. I might play the nickel slots, if that were my thing, or blow it all on a long shot just for fun, or play whatever game caught my interest; in any case, I would base my choice on having fun rather than worrying after my $5. Even if I was wrong, and I was not going to return, the point is I would have more fun with my money. And if I did return, I might retain some skill and eventually become good at some of the games. Maybe. Who can say?

Our culture's miserliness also costs us in the form of heroic measures in health-care and a demand for only the most expensive training possible for health care professionals. We see an emphasis on empty biological function rather than quality as in the anti-choice movement. (As they sang in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life: Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate.). I almost expect sometimes to hear objections to researchers throwing our human cell cultures.

Our culture also has a morbid fear of death. We segregate it from the rest of our lives, which robs them of meaning and completeness. We have a tendency to think and live as though we were immortal and we remove ourselves from the cycle of life. Our culture tends to see the Death card in the Tarot as evil or menacing—like Dr. Kevorkian. Death we avoid at all costs (even when the costs ruin our lives).

I fear death like I fear bankruptcy. It would really set back my plans, but if I had to die, I could live with it. When someone close to me dies, I am not crushed. I don't mourn Scott Cunningham—I'm sure he's doing great; I mourn our loss. We are the ones who have to continue knowing that in this life we will not be able to enjoy any more of his tangible input. But we only miss it because Scott has made such an outstanding contribution to our lives in the first place. When we look at what we have, there is reason to rejoice. And yet, it seems to be my nature to mourn what I did not get. I think of all the books he could have written, all the funny phone conversation we could have had. The most optimistic belief in reincarnation will not eliminate my sense of loss—but it helps.

I try to focus on what Scott has gained, in life and in death. And I try to focus on the many good things that he has left behind for us. In that spirit, we are reprinting the articles he had generously donated to our magazine to help us to get started. I often remember a conversation when his health had forced him to focus exclusively on the books that he wanted to finish before his death; he mentioned that he felt guilty for not being able to do any more free articles for us. This more than anything reminds me of his dedication and generosity. We are certainly richer for having had him as a friend and we are all richer for the legacy of his wonderful books. Thank you, Scott!

Blessed Be