Tag Archives: german

P is for Place (and for Promises)


This post is part of the Pagan Blog Project (PBP). It’s the one for the letter P.

In theory, I really like the idea of being spiritually connected to the place where I live. To know its History and histories, to know what animals and plants live there and how everything interconnects, to feel its spirit and recognize it as home. I often dream of being a gardener, of taking care of plants (and, indirectly, animals), of knowing their nutritional, medical, and spiritual properties, what they need to thrive and when to cut them back, of eating food that I have grown myself, of experiencing the seasonal changes through it, of spending conscious time outdoors on a regular basis, of having an “outside” that is part of the space I live in, of being spiritually/ethically/ecologically responsible for a piece of land and all that lives on it.

In practice, however, I barely manage to keep my potted indoors plants alive. I forget planting seeds at the right time, several years in a row, and I don’t want to just go and buy plants, watch them bloom for a season and throw them out in the fall, only to repeat the process the next year. I actually don’t even have much of an idea what plants would thrive in the conditions of our tiny little garden. Sometimes, I remember to pull out some weeds that would take over otherwise (Japanese knotgrass, I’m looking at you). But most of the time, I almost forget we even have a garden, not to mention that this garden might have a spiritual component to it. I have never even tried to communicate with the spirit of our garden, let alone with the spirit of the larger area around the house I live in. And that’s not for lack of knowing how to go about that (although I sometimes tell myself that this is the reason). And not even for a lack of patience to sit down, be quiet, and listen (although I often find it hard to do just that).

No, it’s because I have this idea that connecting to the land is like marrying someone. It means something. It’s a serious commitment. You don’t just go and do it on a whim without thinking long and hard about the consequences. You don’t do it while thinking “oh, I can always get a divorce if things don’t work out as I imagined them” in the back of your head. You don’t do it and expect that it won’t change you. You don’t do it unless you wholeheartedly believe it’s the right step.

And, frankly, I’m not so sure that I actually want that kind of a connection to the place I’m currently living at (and have been living at for more than five years). You see, this place has always felt temporary and inbetween-ish. We moved here because it was what we could afford when we were looking for an apartment together. We liked the area because it didn’t seem to be claimed by any one district of the city (the organizational belonging is different than the geographical belonging, none of the districts seem to particularly care about this area, and it’s never featured in those “what life is like in district XYZ” articles the local press sometimes runs), which meant that there were no expectations of a specific lifestyle attached to it. No one was judging my “coolness” when I left the house (as they did where I lived before). And we liked it for the green around the house, the wild animals who come visit, and the proximity to the park. All in all, it seemed like a good place to stay while we took care of other things in our lives.

Of course, the area has a history nonetheless. And it’s not one where people like me feature in any of the main roles. And maybe that’s precisely why I like it here: the near-complete lack of demands that is placed on me here. No one cares who we are and what we do as long as we respect our neighbors’ loudness tolerances (which is easy since we’re usually rather quiet at home) and take care of our part in cleaning the staircase and circulating the key to the shared laundry room. Which is, of course, also one of the reasons that I still feel so temporary here: no one cares. There’s no sense of neighborhood as something active (with few remarkable exceptions), no sense of community or togetherness or anything.

So, while I have all these dreams of a place to stay, truly stay, all these dreams of belonging to a neighborhood collective of people I care about and who care about me, of sharing my household with a cat, of having a garden, and, ultimately, of having a material and emotional home in one and the same place, my reality looks very different. And I have only very vague ideas about how to get from here to there, if I should happen to decide one day that I do indeed want to get there. That I’m ready to commit to this dream and make it happen as best as I can.

Because this is really what it’s all about: commitment. And my seeming inability to commit to anything long-term. Because I have no idea how to do that. Because all I’ve ever done is decide over and over again to not quit, to stay, to take yet another step. That’s how I managed to stay with the same organizational collective for over ten years, creating wonderful events without ever being paid for anything we did. That’s how I managed to be in a relationship with the same person for over seven years now. Not by marrying them once and vowing to love and honor and stay with them until death do us part, end of story, but by asking myself over and over again whether I still want to stay with this person and answering with “yes” every time, in varying degrees of wholeheartedness. Because there have been days when I wasn’t entirely sure where we would go and whether I would find it enjoyable or even bearable there, but when I still wanted to find out, so I stuck around.

Sometimes that makes me think I am incapable of commitment, with all the cultural baggage of that assessment that tells me I’m a quitter, I’m dysfunctional when it comes to serious relationships, and I need to change. Sometimes I wonder if I’m still playing it safe, because the last time I didn’t play it safe I ended up in a psychologically and verbally abusive relationship that seriously damaged my trust in my own instincts due to all the lies I was told, and I have no desire to repeat any of this, ever. Even if it seemed the most romantic thing in my entire life for much of the time it happened, and I have to admit I sometimes miss the incredible intensity of all the emotions back then.

Then again, I remember that the only constants in my life seem to be change, and ultimately being different from whatever community I thought I had found. Somehow, I always end up on the edge, in the margins, off to the side, half-in and half-out, in liminal spaces. Which is a strange place to call home, and yet it probably is precisely where I am at home. Which is why I still believe the place where I geographically live makes sense. Because, like me, it doesn’t really belong anywhere. It’s in-between things, touching on many of them but not actually being a part of any of them. But it’s hard to grow roots in such a place. It’s hard to commit to something that I know I will leave again, eventually.

Which seems strange because I have no problems at all with temporary jobs and take them very seriously while I have them (to a degree that seems unusual, if I am to believe the feedback I’ve gotten), with adjusting to changes even if I didn’t choose them, or with sticking to something/someone important while things are tough. This is not a case of generally taking the easy road or not making/keeping promises. But I have learned again and again that even fundamental things about me can and do change, that I have no way of knowing whether today’s passion won’t be next month’s indifference, so I assume that nothing is forever. So how can I honestly and wholeheartedly commit to anything that is of indefinite duration?

Furthermore, when it comes to places, and spirits and plants and animals, there’s another factor for me that keeps me from entering the kind of temporary commitment that is fine for many jobs and groups. After all, you can always explain things to humans (even if they end up hating you for your decision). But I never again want to give away a cat because I couldn’t find a new place to live for both of us when I needed to. I feel bad about planting stuff and then neglecting it because it’s not like plants can easily go elsewhere if they don’t like it where I put them. So I end up not having a cat and not having the kind of garden I could have, even temporarily. I end up not connecting to the land spirits right here. Because I really don’t think this is a place to stay, so I don’t want to make leaving it any more difficult than it already is (because, let’s be honest, there are many things about it that have grown on me).

As I’m writing this, however, I wonder if this sense of temporariness, of un-belonging, of inbetween-ness, of liminality is the spirit of this place, or at least a huge part of it. So maybe I am already connected and just don’t recognize it? Or maybe I just need a better idea of how to interact with a spirit of place that doesn’t mean I’m bonding myself to the land “forever.”

And there’s another factor that adds to my sense of disconnect here. Most of my spirituality-related thinking and reading and writing is done in English, which generally is my second language. Most of what I read refers to an American (and sometimes British or Australian or Canadian) context and has little or no relation to what happens here in Germany. That puts me into the strange situation that English is my first language when it comes to spirituality (because it’s the language in which I learned most of the concepts and names), so expressing these things in German always feels awkward and provisionary and often downright wrong to me. Even the few things I have picked up about Northern Tradition Paganism, Heathenry, and Asatru have been predominantly in English, and I still get a strong sense of disconnect when they are expressed in German (I’m actually often mentally translating things into English to see if people are talking about the same things as I do). Yet I am in Germany and have lived here all my life. I might even want to address Germanic deities or other local spirits. But I would do so in English – and that seems weird enough for me to wonder if I’ll even be able to make a connection to them if I don’t speak German. Almost every time I meet someone with whom I could potentially talk about spiritual things, I am put off by their German and their inability to understand me when I speak English and the resulting need for me to translate things into a language that feels ill-suited to express what I mean). None of this helps with finding a connection with where I am, and all of it lands me even firmer in yet another neither-here-nor-there territory. Even if it’s all in my head and the spirits couldn’t care less in what language they’re addressed as long as I address them at all…

At any rate, my mind is currently an interesting mess of thoughts about commitment, the lack of home, the desire to belong, and it all spills over into all sorts of areas.


G is for German Heathenry and … gah!


This post is part of the Pagan Blog Project. It’s the first one for the letter G, and it’s late again (I usually post these on Fridays).
Originally, I even wanted to skip this week’s post entirely because I didn’t feel inspired enough about any of my G ideas to actually write something about them (I’m saving
gender for next week because Friday is a public holiday here, which means “time to write all day”). But…

— And here I need to interrupt this entry before it has even really started for the disclaimer that I’m still very new at thinking about this in any systematic way, so I may lack even basic knowledge about established terms and concepts. Please assume that this is a piece of my thoughts in progress, and that I’m happy to learn from you about thoughts and/or articles that are worth examining. —

…as I was browsing pictures of other people’s altars today, I came across one that (according to the information on the original website it came from) seemed to be from some German Heathen group, from roughly the same area where I live. Hmm, interesting…? I followed another link from there and came to a German Asatru website. It looked harmless enough at first, but I got suspicious very quickly. You see, calling almost every single part of a website by a German name is highly unusual over here. I mean, we all know what a “link” is because half of the computer-related terms we use in German are either the same as in English or slightly Germanized versions of English terms anyway. So it stands out if someone explicitly uses a German term. (Maybe I need to also tell you that people who passionately fight to keep the German language free from all the “unnecessary” English words we’ve been adopting tend to lean towards a strange concept of “purity” that comes with all the baggage you can imagine. Sure, sometimes a German term would do just as well (or better) as an English one, but I don’t get the panic about “German dying out” when everybody has gotten used to originally French, Latin, Greek, or Yiddish words just fine in the past and most of us don’t even know they’re not “originally” German… But I digress.)

At any rate, I looked around a bit more on the website to see if my suspicions were justified. And, oh yes, were they ever! I found the most obvious clues on the “humor and satire” section of the website. It had several entries that made fun of the association of Asatru/Heathen groups and racism/extreme right-wing politics as if that was something so absurd that it was only good for satire, not for any serious discussion. As if there weren’t any problematic associations of the two in reality. And that, my dear readers, is something that just doesn’t happen when it’s important to you not to be associated with old or new Nazis and related ideologies. Not in Germany. Not as Heathens/Asatru.

Mind you, I’m not saying that the members of this group are all militant Nazis, but there were enough hints in the wording of their descriptions that made it quite clear that they see a direct connection between one’s ancestry, the land/country (the word is the same for both in German), and the religion one is supposed to follow. And to me that’s basically the same shit in just slightly more “spiritual” packaging than saying outright that “us German(ic)s” and “them members of different ‘races'” are fundamentally different by nature. (Despite typing this heavily quotation-marked for distance it still makes me want to spit out in disgust.) And that is what we call racism in my world.

And don’t anybody start claiming that religion/belief/spirituality doesn’t have anything to do with politics! How can’t it, when both are based on some ethical principles and specific worldviews?!

Well. I went back to the image hosting page and looked at a few more pictures. And it really doesn’t feel good to know there are organized groups of those kinds of Heathens/Asatru out there doing their thing in the same area where I live… Call me naive or ignorant, but it did make a difference to see visual evidence for this instead of just intellectually knowing they probably exist here, too. I immediately felt the wish to spiritually “take back the territory” from them. And I’m not even a Heathen/Asatru/Northern Tradition anything! In fact, I’ve barely just started learning a little bit about these Pagan traditions because, well, I do live in Germany, and I do own a German passport, and I do have plenty of German ancestors. And it’s certainly not like I feel like embracing everything that I’ve learned so far.

But still. This hits home closer than reading about “folkish” Asatru somewhere in America or cissexist rituals by Dianic Wiccans or any other problematic politics happening under the umbrella of “Pagan spirituality.” Maybe it’s just because those people have been to places that are literally less than ten minutes away from the house I live in. Or maybe I’ve started to identify a little bit with Northern Tradition Paganism by now. I’m not sure.

I just know that experiences like this make me want to do two contradictory things at once:

a) Run away and not even touch anything Heathen with a ten-foot pole. Instead, develop a Pagan practice with another cultural background (which would then bring up the problem of cultural appropriation, but that’s another kettle of fish).

b) Become a Heathen/Asatru myself and be as out and loud about my anti-racist and anti-Nazi politics and my constructionist and very queer worldview as possible.

As it is, I don’t think I’ll do any of these just now. But the fact remains that I still can’t shake the impression that Heathens/Asatru with beliefs about the “natural” connection between one’s ancestry and one’s spirituality that can be described as at least incredibly naive/ignorant are actually in the majority here in Germany. No, I don’t have any numbers to prove that impression. I don’t even have any noteworthy connections to Heathen/Asatru people in this country (with the exception of an acquaintance who is most decidedly anti-racist). But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I stumble across this kind of German Asatru/Heathenry practically every time I try to find out more about Northern Tradition Paganism in my native language. I know there are exceptions but they seem few and far between. Mainstream Heathenry (if that’s not a contradiction within itself) over here seems to have way too many ties with racist ideologies of the kind I just described – or at least not enough explicit dissociation from them.

And I can’t pretend that this isn’t majorly influencing my openness to even looking into Heathenry for purposes of information, let alone adopting anything Heathen as my own spiritual worldview and practice. Because I’m really not keen on coming across disgusting stuff like that all the time, especially not when I’m already having to translate everything I read into “queer-speak” to find out if I’m actually included in terms of gender and sexuality or not. (But the latter really is stuff for next week’s post, except for the bit I’ve already written about here.)

To conclude this (for now), I wanted to post a couple of links to websites of people who haven’t just started thinking and writing about this like me. I found them during a very cursory Google search, so they may not be the absolute best material that’s out there, but they looked good enough for a start:
“Racism in Asatru”, and the follow-up article “Responses to Folkish Heathens”, both by Wayland Skallagrimsson.

And here are two links to Heathen/Asatru organizations that are explicitly working against racism, because they do good work and deserve backlinks and support for it:
Heathens Against Hate (in English) and Nornir’s Aett (in German).

A is for Ancestors


The second post for the letter A is about Ancestors. This post is part of the Pagan Blog Project.

So who are my ancestors anyway?

The first thing that springs to mind is looking at my blood family tree: my parents, their parents, their parents, and so on. So let’s take a little glimpse in that direction.

My maternal grandmother (1936)

My mother (who is still alive) was born in Freiburg in southern Germany (Black Forest area) and both of her parents come from roughly the same area (Baden). Her mother (I’m told) was a cheerful, curious person who spent two years in Algeria as sort of a combined nanny-teacher in a French family in the mid-1930s when she was in her early twenties. I have transcriptions of her letters to her family about that time but haven’t read all of them, yet. Her father was a building inspector (I’m not quite sure what work that entailed back then, probably something architecture-related) and many of her other relatives were farmers.

My maternal grandfather with his father, sister and mother (1917)

My mother’s father came from a background of craftspeople, went on to become a teacher and eventually became a school principal. He also was an idealistic Nazi before and during the Second World War. I have a lot of letters he exchanged with his wife during the war but, again, I haven’t read all of them yet (because I can only digest so much of his naive glorification of Nazi Germany at a time). I believe he eventually ended up both wounded and a prisoner of war somewhere in the East. His wife (my maternal grandmother) died of cancer when my mother was 18, so I never met her. We didn’t see this grandfather very often (at most once a year), and I never really liked him. He eventually suffered from dementia and died at 90+ years when I was 16/17.

My paternal grandparents (late 1930s)

My father, who died almost exactly three years ago of cancer at the age of 69, was born in Lüchow in north-eastern Lower Saxony (Germany). His mother comes from the same area, and I assume his father did as well. His father used to be a forester/hunter. I don’t know much about him and never met him. His mother came from a family that owned a linen shop in Lüchow. She spent part of her youth in Spain, which she considered one of the best times of her life. She raised three sons basically by herself after her husband was killed in the Second World War and remained single for the rest of her life. She was very present during my childhood, which was easy since she always lived in the same city as we did or at least close by. I loved her a lot. At the end, she also suffered from dementia and eventually died at the age of 90+ years when I was 28.

As I was looking for a picture or two to go with this post, I realized that I have way more photos, letters, and transcribed diaries of my mother’s side of the family than I was aware of. Among these is a genealogy chart of my grandfather that goes back to the 1700s to what amounts to my great-great-great-great-great-grandparents. Ironically I have the Nazis and their demands for “racial purity” to thank for this, since he apparently had to fill it out to to be allowed to enter the Nazi teachers’ professional organization in the late 1930s.
The vast majority of these ancestors died in the same village near Heidelberg they were born in. Most of the men were (linen) weavers or some farmers (tobacco and asparagus were popular crops in that area), with a few other craftsmen and day-laborers sprinkled inbetween. It looks as if my grandfather actually was the first one to get any kind of higher education, and my mother was the first woman of her direct paternal line to ever attend any kind of university (not considering any siblings because I don’t have any data about them). It’s a bit strange to not see any professions listed for the women, because I suppose there was no shortage of work for them, and they probably did much of the same things as their husbands. Most of these ancestors were some kind of Protestant (Reformed or Lutheran), and one or two women were Catholic. That makes me the first child of that direct line never to be baptized in any kind of faith (my parents wanted to leave the decision what religion – if any – I wanted to belong to to me). I also saw that I share my birthday with a (great-)great-great-great-grandmother (she is both since two of her children married in two different generations), who was born in 1799.

Now that I know so much about that one branch of my family tree, I want to find out more about the other three of them. I believe a talk with my mother and a cousin of my father (who did some genealogy research of his own) is in order sometime soon.

My maternal grandfather with my mother (1940)

But let’s look at other kinds of ancestry. Most related to my blood ancestors is the national heritage of being a post-WW2 German, which I believe has a huge influence on my political thinking (which was already the case before I knew that my grandfather had been a convinced NSDAP party member and Nazi officer and several of my other relatives were at least casual Nazi supporters). To this day I often choose to speak up about injustices, even if it is to my disadvantage, because I don’t want to be accused of “not having said anything.” I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of previous Germans. I’m also very suspicious of any kind of national pride that some of my fellow Germans claim (and which has apparently become shockingly acceptable to display in relation to World Cup soccer matches again). I just can’t see how I can be proud of something I didn’t contribute to, especially a country I was more or less accidentally born into (depending on what you believe about previous lives, karma, and such things). I constantly question concepts of national or “racial” identity, point out the historical mutability of national borders, and try to show how the search for something “pure” and “original” in terms of ancestry and heritage is pretty pointless in a world where humans have always been migrating between areas, have been trading goods and customs with other cultural groups, and formed relationships with members of a different cultural background. So my German-ness is a kind of ancestry I claim somewhat hesitantly, although I also see that I am able to choose what to do with that heritage in terms of educating myself and others towards a non-Nazi-esque worldview.

So now that I’ve touched on the idea that my blood ancestry and national ancestry probably have an influence on me, even though I don’t believe they determine my fate, I would like to take my questioning the concept of ancestry a step futher.

I believe that there are influences that may have been at least equally important than these biological or geographical ancestors were to me. I mean, it’s not like my relatives played a major role in my upbringing (with the exception of my paternal grandmother). I saw them all maybe once a year, sometimes even less often. In my actual daily life, neighbors, friends, and some teachers were much more present and influential for me.

Lesbian bar (USA, 1940s)

And then there are the ancestors I also never met and with whom I share no blood relation or even geographical ties. You see, as a queer femme, I claim parts of the North American butch-femme and LGBT history as mine (I also claim small parts of German LGBT history as part of my heritage but not to the extent that I identify with much of North American LGBT history). And can I even call them ancestors when many of the more vocal members of certain generations and movements are still alive? Sure, some of this “ancestry” may be rather selective and romanticizing, but that doesn’t mean it feels any less real to me. I certainly can relate a lot more to their lives than I can relate to even my own grandfather.

It’s probably apparent by now that it’s a matter of perspective and (inner) debate who even belongs to my ancestors. Not to mention making any decisions about honoring any or all of them. Do I really want to honor a convinced Nazi? Do I ignore the political views of my grandfather and honor our shared love for nature instead? How do I handle the fact that he didn’t bring much happiness to his own wife and children (especially his daughter, my mother), even if he didn’t outright abuse any of them? Is it possible to view him as a human being and still condemn the opinions he held and his active support of the Nazi regime? What if I find out in reading more of his letters that he knew of the concentration camps and/or participated in killing people during his time in the military (at the least the latter of which seems pretty likely)? And what about my two grandmothers who were at least casual Nazi supporters for at least some of the time? I see that their main concerns wasn’t what happened in the political arena or even on the war fronts – the letters I have read clearly show that their everyday lives consisted of trying to feed their children in a war economy and getting by without their husbands instead. But still. What – if anything – did they know about Nazi cruelties? Did they denounce any neighbors? Or did they find their own small forms of resistance that didn’t endanger their husbands’ lives? Is ignorance an excuse for not doing anything against the Nazi regime?

Despite the length of this post, it’s all still a very superficial look at these issues, raising more questions than answering any. I’m definitely not done thinking about them, I’m not done researching, and I’m not done trying to put my thoughts into words. But for today, this post shall suffice, as imperfect as it is.

Any last words, sticks?


As I did with the Quantum Tarot, I decided to ask the Celtic Wisdom Sticks for some parting words…

I got Ruis (Elder) in North.

Now that’s a nice combination that by way of some odd chain of associations basically just says one word to me: Ancestors.

Frau HolleElder is Holunder in German, also called Holler. It’s said to be dedicated to the goddess (and Brothers Grimm fairy tale character) Frau Holle (Mother Hulda, read it here), and may in fact have gotten its name from her. There are also relations from Frau Holle to a general Earth goddess, and to other Germanic/Norse goddesses like Hel or Frigg (worthwhile sources for more information: German Wikipedia, English Wikipedia). Of course, Frau Holle is also an Elder in the sense that she is a wise (and slightly scary) old woman. Since Frau Holle is a German fairy tale/mythological figure/goddess, I’m making a connection to my own German ancestors here.

ElderberriesElder is a plant that also makes me think of growing up next to a small forest because I think it was the plant that had a very distinctive and not particularly pleasant smell when cut/broken off (I never actually checked later on if that memory is accurate). But a bit of elder didn’t spoil the forest for me. European mixed forests are in fact one kind “landscape” that nearly always feels like home to me.

I also associate North with Ancestors, foundations, and the element of Earth.
After these associations of my own, let’s see what the companion book offers.

First, I learn that Ruis comes from the word “to redden” and that the elder tree is related to blushing out of anger or shame. Then I’m told that elder is “believed to be unlucky for general use” and that it “is very much a tree of endings and completions.” I could interpret that to mean that the Celtic Wisdom Sticks don’t work for “fluffy” questions, and that my time with them is actually over. Finally my smell memory is confirmed because “elder blossom has a pungent, unpleasant smell” (so it’s not the wood but the flowers).

Here’s the actual quote for Ruis in North:

Give bounteously from your store of good things.
The goods, gifts, and resources that make you who you are need to be used. If they are kept for some mythical rainy day, their beauty fades, their savour sours. You may possess the very thing that is required at this moment — the lack of this thing or quality may make a great difference to the lives of many.
Question: In what ways is your innate bounty being called upon?

That ties in with another reading I got today, and with a project I have just started. I also believe it tells me that there’s no sense in keeping this oracle just in case I ever find myself in the situation of needing this and none other. Instead, I should pass it on — which fits well with my idea of gifting the set to someone else instead of selling or trading it.

At least we part on talking terms, so that’s a nice final note.

New Deck Interview: Discordian Deck


It’s pretty late here already, but I couldn’t resist doing a new deck interview with at least one of my new decks of the week.

So, here’s what the Discordian Deck gave me.

What do I need to learn from you during this week? – Joker

A woman juggles the suit symbols of the Discordian Deck. The line on the explanation card says this is the “wild card, means whatever.”

I take that to mean that I need to learn how to juggle all the elements of life, and that I’m the one who decides what things mean to me. Sounds intriguing!

How can I learn best from you?The Bavarian Illuminati

Orderly lines of lighter and darker tiny gray people make a pyramid with an eye at the top. The explanation for this card is “folk of order” or “aneristic group or groups.”

Apparently, I need to look for people who provide/proclaim/preserve order. Not exactly what I would have expected from a Discordian Deck, but then again it’s nicely contradictory.

(I also can’t help smiling about the fact that once again Bavaria seems to act as a stand-in for all of Germany, and that Germany is associated with strict order and crazy conspiracies. No wonder I don’t identify much with the label of “German” beyond it being a descriptor of my place of birth and residence!)

Our future relationship? – Discord (Season of Booms)

Five lines connect five pebbles into a five-pointed star. According to the document about the Discordian seasons, “This is the universe as humans begin to get the idea that there is something to be said about it. ‘Disorder!’ they said, falling for the Eristic Illusion hook, line, and sinker. ‘It’s all disorder!’ Fortunately, disorder is something we can enjoy. Apostle Dr. Van Van Mojo helped with this by being the first to turn drumming from a monotonous beat into a semichaotic jam.”

We won’t get along without discord but it will still be enjoyable? Sounds good to me!


Can I just mention that I love the suit symbols? This one looks like a cloud, like a cochlea, like a curled up cat without ears or tail, like a boxing glove – and the keywords for the suit of Booms are “Hearing, Air, Action.”

I’m struck by the fact that I didn’t get a single number card, but two trumps. Maybe this little deck will turn out to be more important than I think?