Tag: Christian

One Pagan Steps Out of the Broom Closet

One Pagan Steps Out of the Broom Closet

by L. Lisa Harris

In days past, stepping out of the broom closet meant sitting at the dinner table and blurting out, “Mom, I’m a witch,” then waiting for her to accept the fact and ask you questions, or faint dead away. She might tell you it was a phase you were going though or refuse to talk to you for a period of time. As a general rule, if it wasn’t accepted, it never left the dinner table. It just wouldn’t do to air the family’s dirty laundry to the neighbors (what would they think?).

Today, it could still be as simple as telling a trusted co-worker that you go to circle, instead of church, or explaining to a potential significant other why there is 7-inch dagger on a small table next to your bed. You might even be lucky enough to be outed by your 9-year-old child, who in an argument with a neighborhood kid yells, “Yeah, well, my mom’s a witch, and I’m going to go get her right now.”

However, with the advent of the Internet, one’s “witchiness” (along with anything else of interest) can be world news in a matter of seconds, as I quickly learned. The speed at which such information can travel and how far it can get can be quite surprising, even for one who is “out of the broom closet.” You can give in an interview to the local paper, and the next thing you know, you’re getting e-mail from Australia.

My adventure in pagan PR and world news began early last winter when I received a phone call from Steve Maynard of the Tacoma News Tribune advising me that he was planning to do a feature story on the Earth Centered Spirituality Group at the Unitarian Universalist (UU) Church in Tacoma, which I have facilitated for the past two and a half years. Steve covers religion for the paper and was slowly but surely making progress with his editor in getting earth-centered events covered on the religion page. We both knew he had a long way to go before he would be permitted to treat our group as the paper did other religious groups when, last Easter season, his editor would not allow him to use the word “pagan” when he was describing a UU church service in which elders read children stories of how four traditions (pagan, Hebrew, Christian and Unitarian) celebrated the Easter season.

I was expecting his feature story to be on the religion page, as we were just beginning to get calendar space in the Saturday edition in that section. Imagine my surprise when he told me that it was going to be the cover for the “Sound Life” magazine section and that there was also going to be a photo layout. He was even going to use the words “pagan” and “witch.” For a moment, I couldn’t believe it. All the months of pestering him and sending press releases and information had paid off. We were going to be taken seriously. We were going to have a chance to let Western Washington know what we were and what we weren’t. I was elated.

But on the drive home from work, I asked myself, “What was I thinking?” A nice little column on the religion page was one thing, but to be on the magazine cover of a Sunday edition was another matter. I have been “out” with my family and friends for 13 years and even wear a triple moon pentacle at work, where I have no problem educating those who would malign others’ religion out of ignorance. But when I thought about the conservative Christian parents of the girls I coach in softball and volleyball on the South Hill of Puyallup reading in the Sunday paper about their coach being a witch, something in my stomach did a double back-flip with a twist. I had visions of girls being pulled from the team by parents who didn’t want them corrupted by that “tool of Satan,” other kids not being allowed to play with my daughter and picketers throwing rocks in front of the church. Steve and I had been working towards this for almost a year and a half, so it was no small matter that I found myself reconsidering the wisdom of the situation.

Most witches I know would meditate or cast a circle and ask the Goddess for guidance when dealing with an important situation like this. My goddess never waits for me to do that. I’ve learned to deal with it. She likes to slip into the passenger seat of my car when I’m trying to drive home at the end of a busy day or corner me when I’m in the bathroom and can’t get up and leave because my pants are around my ankles. This time she chose the car, and she really let me have it. “You’re the one that wanted to be a warrior. Now you’re given a chance to battle ignorance and you’re afraid? Don’t be a wimp! Get out there and act like a priestess, not a weenie!” I don’t recommend dedicating yourself to the Morrigane unless you’re the type of person who can stand up to a drill sergeant without flinching. Of course, as I remember it, I didn’t have a lot of say in the matter. She chose me.

About the time I was feeling completely unworthy, my cell phone rang. It was my daughter letting me know that she was home from school. “Honey, how would you feel if the next article about me was in a bigger paper than the last one?” I asked.

“Um, okay, why?” she replied, her mouth overly full of partially chewed banana. I explained that it would be a front page spread and my picture was likely to be in it. More chewing, and another “Um, okay” followed the sound of the fridge being rummaged through. I asked her what her friends would think if they saw the article, and she assured me that her friends don’t read anything other than the horoscopes, music reviews and comics.

“How would you feel if one of your friends wouldn’t hang out with you anymore because your mom’s a witch?”

“I don’t think that would happen,” she said.

“But what if it did?” I pushed.

She swallowed the rest of her banana, which I’m sure was not properly chewed, and in her best exasperated-adolescent voice said, “Well, that wouldn’t make them very good friends, now, would it? Can I go over to Morgan’s?” So much for the girl being traumatized by it. That was one excuse gone. I reminded her to chew with her mouth closed and take smaller bites, then hung up the phone.

The next call came in right on schedule, from Hubby, who was on his break at work. “Hi, honey, how would you feel if all the guys in the break room at work read in the paper that I’m a witch?” I asked, thinking that there was no point in beating around the bush since he only had 10 minutes to talk.

His response was immediate and enthusiastic, “Cool!” he said. “When will it come out? I’d love for some of those dumb, right-wing conservative jerks I argue politics with to see it, so that I can yank their chain.” When he found out it would be in the Sunday edition, he was extremely disappointed he wouldn’t be there at work to watch the looks on his co-workers’ faces when they read it. It would have been amusing, since I used to work in the same place and know all of them. Great, Hubby wasn’t going to be an excuse either. I was going to have to go through with it.

The next step was to set up interviews and photo opportunities. The interviews weren’t going to be a problem. I’d been talking to Steve for over a year and a half and had sent him volumes of information. How much was there that he could possibly ask? I found out that there was plenty. It seemed that the more information I gave him, the more questions he had. He found that the more people he talked to and the more research he did, the more disagreement on basic issues he found. After a month of spending my lunch hours, breaks and time after work talking to Steve, I still couldn’t come up with answers to some questions other than, “Well, if you ask 30 people that question, you’ll likely get 30 different answers.”

I could hear him shaking his head on the other end of the phone line, but he kept with it. He interviewed Ph.D.s, ministers, theologians, authors and other high priestesses in the local community. He attended Tarot classes and rune workshops that we put on in order to get a better understanding of what our group does and interviewed several people at those classes to get a feel for the local community.

The photo editor wanted to photograph a ritual. “We don’t allow photographers at our rituals,” I explained. When I offered to set something up with people who didn’t mind being photographed, he told me that at the paper they “don’t like things that are staged.” “Great!” I muttered to myself. I already had a Brigid ritual to write, a class on the runes to put together and lines to memorize for a Candlemas ritual that another group was putting on. I knew that the only way the layout was going to work would be to put on a real working with participants who didn’t mind being photographed. I made the offer of a special ritual, with a real working, and once he was convinced it wouldn’t be “staged” and I had his agreement the photographer would not disrupt the flow of the ritual, the date was set. I put out a call to the local pagan e-mail lists for volunteers who didn’t mind being photographed.

Getting the volunteers was much easier than I had imagined, and I was rather pleased with how things were working out. The difficult part, I discovered, was going to be finding a ritual that wouldn’t expose material that many in the pagan community would consider “inappropriate” for public use or that would offend or exclude anyone. I soon discovered that what some considered “outer court” material, suitable for any public occasion, others considered “oath-bound.” I was also faced with the fact that just because something is published and sitting on a shelf at Borders doesn’t mean that it isn’t considered oath-bound by one tradition or another. I suddenly had to worry about being pagan politically correct.

Then there were the personal preferences of those who were going to be in the circle. My Wiccan friends didn’t want a Wiccan ritual “performed” for the media. Some of the pagans didn’t want to be confused with witches, the neo-pagans didn’t want to be confused with “New Agers,” my Brit-trad friends didn’t want to be mistakenly identified as Unitarians, and some of the Unitarians didn’t want to be labeled at all. I had 17 ritualists with 17 different ideas of what would and wouldn’t be appropriate.

As I sat at my computer, staring out the window at the woods out back, I thought to myself, “If my close friends and those who trust me to present paganism to the media are this fired up, what about all the pagans who are going to read this in the paper and had no say in the matter? What are they going to think?” Suddenly I went from feeling like a champion of those who suffer religious oppression to feeling like someone not worthy of the task. I had lost count of the number of people who thought that no reporter could be trusted and that I was making a huge mistake. But I had been talking to Steve for a long time. I knew him. I knew what he wanted to accomplish and trusted him to do right by us. I thought I was doing a good thing, and it seemed that it just ticked everyone off. Visions of angry pagans wanting my hide were added to the already scary ones of crosses burning on my lawn or windows being broken at the church by those who fear us. More doubt filled my mind. I tried to brush it away as quickly as I could. I really wasn’t up for a bathroom visit from a ticked-off goddess. I was starting to get a headache.

Two glasses of wine later, I had decided that we would use only published material, to which I would make some changes so that no tradition’s sacred material would be exposed to the media. The ritual would be a working for community understanding, which seemed fitting for a media event. I scanned my bookshelves, literally sagging under the weight of what my hubby considers my “excessive” book collection, hoping that something would present itself.

I noticed my old dog-eared copy of The Spiral Dance sticking out a bit farther than the other books on the shelf. “Starhawk! She knows how to deal with the public and fight for the cause. I don’t really think she’d mind if I borrowed a few things,” I told myself. I found a ritual written by Alan Acacia titled “A Circle for Healing During Struggle,” which fit in perfectly with what we were planning. I modified it to be less priestess-centered and to have the quarters read their parts themselves. I picked out some nice invocations to the God and Goddess, and soon I had a basic ritual ready to go.

The ritual was beautiful, so beautiful in fact that I forgave my friend Dana without even giving her a hard time for calling me a “circle Nazi” in rehearsal. Everyone showed up in festive clothing and colorful robes. People who came to sit and watch but didn’t want to risk being “outed” by being in the circle were drawn in; they just couldn’t stay out. The quarter callers performed their parts perfectly, the candles all stayed lit, and our sound and lighting person hit every musical cue. We passed a small cauldron, which was later lit, around the room, so that each person in turn could hold it and speak aloud what they hoped to accomplish with the ritual. Everyone was so eloquent and sincere and came up with such wonderful, positive wishes that the reporter was frantic trying to copy them all down. We danced a spiral to raise energy, and everyone in that room could feel a strong, palpable force, even the photographer. We had been asked prior to the ritual to send healing energy to a critically ill girl who was on a respirator in a children’s hospital, so we added that to our ritual working and sent it all flying out of the circle in a powerful stream of golden light. Afterwards, everyone in the circle had a look on his or her face as if they had just had amazing sex. I’d call that good energy.

At 4 a.m. on February 8, after weeks of worries and what ifs, I drove down the hill to the mini-mart to get a copy of the paper. I took a deep breath, readying myself in case it wasn’t really there or my trust in the reporter had been misplaced. On the cover of the “Sound Life” section was a full color picture of the ritualists with their outstretched arms, adorned with rings, bracelets and colorful robes, sending healing energy to the ill girl, and the headline “Pagans at Peace.” The light bouncing off of the sanctuary wall in the background looked just like a ball of gold light being tossed out to the universe. There were pictures of the rune workshop and flaming cauldrons. I must say it was possibly the best article I have ever seen on paganism in the mainstream press. Steve had even quoted Christian clergy to explain what attracts seekers to witchcraft and paganism. Yes, there were some things left out, and a couple of people didn’t think that the press should have made it sound like all pagans share a common set of beliefs. All I could do was say, “Well done, Steve. Thank you.”

There were no picketers in front of the UU church that morning. No threatening messages had been left on the answering machine there or at home. Everyone in the church was excited about the article, and some new people even showed up because of it. A friend who works in a local hospital arrived at work to find the article pinned to the bulletin board and a request for pagan clergy posted. The hospital staff had taken notice of the article section that spoke of pagan hospital patients not having access to clergy services. Now there is a group in Pierce County putting together a program to get pagan clergy registered with local hospitals.

The article made it around the globe in a few hours, thanks to the Internet mailings lists and bulletin boards. It made at least two appearances in the “Wren’s Nest” section of The Witches Voice Web site, and I received congratulations from Circle Sanctuary. Soon I started receiving e-mail messages from all over the world. One told me how the article came at a perfect time to show to a judge in a child custody battle in which the mother’s Wiccan religion was being used against her. Another letter told of a case where a young girl was missing and the local media had blamed it on the fact that she had visited a Web site on Wicca. The story went out on the Howard-Scripps News Service and was reprinted in several other newspapers, sparking a whole new batch of letters, all with similar stories and gratitude to Steve for portraying us in a positive light, not just as a media curiosity at Halloween, as many newspapers do.

When it was apparent that nothing bad was going to happen because of the article, I was almost disappointed. I wasn’t going to have to do battle against ignorance or have an exciting and dangerous story to tell in Widdershins. I came to realize, though, that I did have a story to tell. It isn’t about confrontation or hate. It is about battling my own fear and self-doubt. It is a story of a group of people who came together, regardless of personal risk, to accomplish a goal for the greater community. It is the story of a little girl who got off of a respirator and is back home with her family, who incidentally are not pagan.

Calendar of the Sun for May 23rd

Carista – Day of Peace in the Family

Color: Lavender
Element: Water
Altar: Upon a lavender cloth set a tray of cakes shaped like clasping hands, and many cups full of hot tea.
Offerings: Promise to attempt to be more considerate of those you live with.
Daily Meal: Any food, but it must be served from one great plate for every table, and it should not be in separate portions.

Carista Invocation

May there be Peace in this house.
(Response: “May there be peace in this house!”)
Peace can be a hard mistress.
The daily round of the ordinary,
The simple turn of day and night and day
The presence of the same souls
Can come to be like a shadow on the sun,
And yet Peace still demands
That we find a way to move past
That ordinariness
And all the thousand thorns and briars
And bring Peace into the house.
(Response: “May there be peace in this house!”)
Take the hand of your sister, your brother,
The one who shares your roof, your table,
The ground you walk on,
Whose feet know the boards as well as your own,
And swear to find a way
To bring peace into the space between you.
(Response: “May there be peace in this house!”)

Chant:
My brother, my heart, my sister, my soul;
My family, my life, come in from the cold;
My sister, my heart, my brother, my soul;
My family, my life, that makes this life whole.

(Instead of a ritual, this period of time should be used to mediate and address problems between members of the community, with emphasis on peacemaking and compromise and useful solutions. At the end of the meeting, all share cakes and tea.)

[Pagan Book of Hours]

She Waits

Goddess Comments & Graphics

She’s Been Waiting

She’s been waiting
She’s been waiting, waiting.
She’s been waiting so long.
She’s been waiting for her children
To remember, to return.

Blessed be, and blessed are,
The lovers of the lady.
Blessed be, and blessed are,
The mother, maiden, crone.
Blessed be, and blessed are,
The ones who dance together.
Blessed be, and blessed are,
The ones who dance alone.
She’s been waiting, waiting.
She’s been waiting so long.
She’s been waiting for her children
To remember, to return. 

Blessed be, and blessed are,
The ones who work in silence.
Blessed be, and blessed are,
The ones who shout and scream.
Blessed be, and blessed are,
The movers and the changes.
Blessed be, and blessed are,
The dreamers and the dream.
She’s been waiting, waiting.
She’s been waiting so long.
She’s been waiting for her children
To remember, to return.

– Paula Walowitz

~Magickal Graphics~

Growing Up Wyrrd

Growing Up Wyrrd

Author: Liofrun

Most of us have at one point or another heard a story from a fellow Pagan about growing up in a Christian family, being disillusioned with the religion they were assigned to and later converting. These stories are one of the more popular personal narratives of NeoPaganism, but we are entering an era when many of the elders of the modern Pagan movement are old or dead and not only have children, but grandchildren who have been raised with their particular flavour of Paganism. I suspect the narrative of NeoPaganism is about to change when these people who grew up Pagan start to tell their stories; however, there is yet another narrative not talked about or told as much as the “I grew up Christian” narrative, and that is the “I just came home” narrative. The latter is mine.

Being a convert can be tough, no doubt about it, and it can be particularly straining on relationships with nonPagan family members, and equally as straining on the convertee, especially when it comes to worldview. Pagans have a distinctly different worldview (a fundamental cognitive orientation that includes one’s views of society, philosophies, ethics, normative postulates, etc.) than that of Christians, who represent the majority narrative on worldview in the world. Many do not know how to deal with it, and many blanket Pagan terms over top of old Christian views they have internalised from being subjected to it for many years.

There are some of us however, who have never internalised the majority narrative, despite being subjected to it. Some time ago, I had the pleasure of reading Robin Artisson’s Reclaiming the Pagan Worldview, which, I think, while it has its flaws (i.e., the rejection of science-I believe this discounts all our ancestors’ work toward Academia) , is an indispensible tome of wisdom for the modern Pagan when it comes to thinking like a Pagan and being Pagan. I believe he is right when he speaks of “some people think that being Pagan is a matter of […] making a blanket rejection of their original beliefs” and not much else. I think many Heathens know it when we see it, and know the importance of seeing the world in a Heathen way, especially the hard polytheists. It is a distinct way of perceptualising the world around you and your experiences and merely placing Pagan terminology over top of internalised perceptualisations can severely stunt your understanding of and experience of Heathenism and Paganism.

Heathenism is not compatible with the Abrahamic worldview, the worldview many of us have been taught since birth, and still more have had it ground into us, forced internalisation from everything from the basics of belief in the supernatural to our modern understanding of secularism and societal philosophies. I agree with Artisson that we need to reclaim that Pagan worldview if we are going to be Pagans. Our ancestors created rich cultures of Pagan philosophy, schooling, democracy and secularism from a distinctly Heathen point of view. Our contemporaries have spent years studying, collaborating and providing us with historical and archaeological references, texts and reconstructions of these rich cultures. Their worldviews have also changed how we see the days of the week, and even how we see time. A Pagan worldview encompasses everything from religious rites to our perception of language and how time passes. To not work toward reclaiming it is to do ourselves, our ancestors and especially our descendents are grievous disservice. This is where my narrative comes in.

I did indeed grow up in a typical “Christian household” but the beliefs were never consistent. No one seemed to be able to decide what, if anything, he or she actually believed. They had more internalised the worldview of their Christian society and feared letting it go, and stepping out of the cage. On the other hand, I grew up spending time at my best friend’s house, whose mother was an Indigenous Wiccan. From my earliest memories I saw nature as sacred and in my dimmest, furthest reaches of childhood memory; I was an animist.

When my friend’s stepmother told me about Paganism, at the age of eight, I felt I had “come home”. Of all the attempts to scar me with Christian worldview, not a single one had succeeded to embed itself in my mind. My friend’s stepmother’s own syncretic views of religion had a much deeper impact and while I didn’t end up Wiccan (I often saw Christian baggage being dragged in. Christians in Pagans’ clothing, as it were, and I rejected it in favour of Reconstructionist paths) , today I still see the world in the same manner, and more so.

In my teenage years when I was just discovering who I was, I began to fear the constant press of Christianity both in the forefront and in my periphery and began to work hard everyday to affect my Wyrd and prevent me from ever internalising Christianity. While I no longer fear Christianity, at the time, my young mind felt it was a severely pressing issue. I sucked up the lore incessantly and constantly looked for patterns of Wyrd and Orlog in my everyday life. Indeed, discovering Theodism and Sinnsreachd and Celtic Recon even changed my views of what Heathenry was, and that not every Reconstructionist shares the same worldview, philosophies or ethics, despite the majority narrative within Heathenry being Ásatrú.

Discovering the concept of Wyrd opened my eyes to a way of seeing and understanding the world I had only the faintest, labelless, wordless glimmer of before. I discovered it in my grade 11 English class, reading a Michael Alexander translation of Beowulf. Beowulf became one of my most treasured tomes of lore for its attempt at interweaving an archaic Heathen worldview with a Christian one, and I felt what must have been the same conflict as did the Christian teller of the tale who added his own elements to what was otherwise a deeply Heathen epic. Christianity, in my natural and carefully cultivated Heathen worldview, was morbid, self-serving and deeply confused about its own ethics. They were too focused on death and on purposeful suffering, and indeed I saw all the Christians in my life suffering in ways I could not empathise with because I had never internalised the shame and the obsession with death that forced them into their continual fear and gloom. And this is often what I see in contemporary Heathens who espouse a distinctly Christian flavour coming from being a convert, or even the children of converts. I see it less so with the “came home” narrative, those of us who had a way of perceiving our world and only later found names for it.

I would advise studying the lore, the history and especially the philosophies of not just our ancestors but the ancestors and elders of all Heathen paths and I would advise deeply connecting it to our everyday life on a daily basis. Heathenry isn’t a Sunday sacrifice, or merely posting on Ásatrú Lore once a week, it’s a way of life, it is how you see the sun when it rises, how you drive to work on a Monday, how you effect your Wyrd with every choice you make. Heathenry is who a Heathen is. No one ever said it was easy, but it’s certainly necessary.

Footnotes:
Sharples, R. W. “Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics: An Introduction to Hellenistic Philosophy [Paperback].” Amazon.com: Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics: An Introduction to Hellenistic Philosophy (9780415110358) : R.W. Sharples: Books. Web. 29 Feb. 2012. .

Artisson, Robin, “Reclaiming the Pagan Worldview.” Scribd. Web. 29 Feb. 2012. .

The Goddess’ Prayer

Goddess Comments & Graphics
The Goddess’ Prayer 

Gracious Goddess

Who art Maiden, Mother, and Crone,

Celebrated be Your Name.

Help me to live in peace

Upon Your EarthAnd grant me safety in

 Your arms.Guide me along my chosen path

And show me Your great eternal love

As I strive to be kind to those

Who don’t understand Your ways

And lead me safely to Your Cauldron of Rebirth

For it is Your Spirit that lives within me

And protects me

Forever and ever.

So Mote It Be.

 

  ~Magickal Graphics~

“Show Me Some Love! Show Me Some Love! Show Me Some Love!”

Showing Some Love Images, Pics, Comments, Graphics
Ah, come on, please! Just think of all the hard work I done, come on, please! I typed my little fingers to the bone, lmao!

I am just kidding. I did everything for you. Because it is not a burden, it is an act of love. I love doing this blog for you, providing you with information and everything else. Like I always say, “This is your blog, I am just the caretaker!” A job which I enjoy very much!

Oh, in case you are wondering, the winners each day of the “Show Me Some Love” game are receiving their tags/siggies in the email. So you never know when you might be getting a surprise in your email!

Structure, Grapefruit and Fluff: Why Are We So Bothered?

Structure, Grapefruit and Fluff: Why Are We So Bothered?
image
Author: Abitha-Evie

It’s 9 a.m. at the Offices of ‘Astral Intervention’ located in a nice sunny spot of the Summerlands. Thankfully for the Goddess and the God, today is a rather quiet day. Not like last Tuesday when there was so much paperwork the Goddess decided to manifest herself into several females from the Greek pantheon, only to result in Athena and Artemis having a full-scale-thunder-and-lightening-my-way-or-the-highway bout of will over the spelling of ”Magic’, and Aphrodite not doing a damn thing for spending the day fixing her hair.

No, today is quite quiet. It’s the God’s turn on Ritual Observation, whilst the Goddess handles prayer. The first item appears in the God’s ‘in’ tray, and he glances at it quickly.

“Welsh Gardenarian coven doing ritual for a member to attract love to her.”

The Goddess looks up from her desk where she is filing the first prayers of the morning under their subject and selective deity, and looks over the top of her half-moon spectacles.

“So not a direct love spell?” she asks, as a small pile of papers suddenly appears in her ‘in’ tray. “No names used?”

“Nope. These love spell toe the line sometimes.”

“No sneakily trying to specify a person in there?”

“Borderline.”

“Alright, let it slide. Maybe a ten months in the pot for being cheeky?”

With her conformation the God takes a large green stamp marked ‘GRANTED’ and punches the paper with it. He files it in the ‘successful spells’ cabinet under 10 months-this being the time it takes to have full effect.

The Goddess busies herself sorting through prayers as the God rolls his eyes at the next piece of paper he’s picked up. He drops it without hesitation into the waste paper beside him, which hurriedly spontaneously combusts.

I’m not into rigid structure. This is why I’m for the most part Solitary and eclectic, and I steer away from following anyone’s instructions to the letter. Structure and obsession in doing what every else was doing is exactly what I wanted to flee from all my life in Mainstream religions!

So here follows a mix of satire and my own views on a few aspects of Witchcraft. I hope it makes you laugh, and makes you think.

“I’ve got a bogie in the wire!” The Goddess says loudly, and the God maneuvers himself on his wheeled chair over to her desk.

“Mmmh?”

“Well, the prayer means well, but the dude’s praying with his hands together like those damn Christians.”

They both shake their heads.

“Sounds fluffy to me.” He says, flicking his wrist, and a clipboard appearing with a small crack in his hand. He idly flicks through the sheets of paper attached to it. “What’s his name? Is he on our fluff list?”

“Marcus Jameson, Europe-UK-England-Midlands-Birmingham, 45 Sable Street. Repeat offender if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yup.” The God confirms, checking a tick again his name.

Many Pagans I’ve met seem to be petrified that what they’re doing bares any similarity with mainstream religion, most evidently Christianity. A Pagan stranger at a shop recently chastised me because they overheard me talking about my mealtimes and that I include a prayer beforehand. It seems this was too much like the concept of Christian ‘grace’ for them to think it ‘Pagan’. But surely thanking the divine for their great bounty is more Pagan that it is Christian?

Just think of the Cake/Wine rites so many of us use in ritual. When I calmly mentioned this they actually snorted. There’s nothing wrong with holding your hands in any fashion when you pray, calling it a prayer, singing songs together, and getting together and having a good time.

“I’ve got a protecting ritual coming in from Wiccans not wearing black.” the God pipes up suddenly.

“What? I’m sure everyone who’s read any kind of literature knows they need to wear black.” The Goddess says exasperatedly. “Their clothes should be 90% black, the female eyeliner at least 5mm thick around the eyes, and we encourage the larger pentacles, right?”

“Sure do. Bloody Wiccans.” The paper is quickly incinerated.

This is a common niggle of many of use. While black may be a good color for its energy-absorbing properties, black is not stitched to ‘Witch’. There is NOTHING you have to wear to be a ‘true’ Witch/Pagan. But on the other end of the scale, people who chose to wear ‘stereotypical Witch’ fashion are going to get it in the neck for being sheep. Appearances do make an impression, but it seldom the right one.

“Hmmm.” the Goddess murmurs as she flicks through several piece of pink paper.
“What is it?”

“I’ve got a daily devotional, a nice enough eclectic, who I’ve been quite good to for the past year, but I’ve just realized she always pronounces athame differently. A-tha-me, A-th-ame….”

“Send her a spot of bad luck, she’ll get the picture.” The God says offhandedly, immersed in his papers.

Does it really matter how we pronounce certain things, if we know what each other are talking about? And what’s with this obsession with finding new and strange ways of spelling ‘magic’? I personally don’t suppose the divine cares how we spell it.

The God’s eyes widen as he scans with amazing speed through a pile of papers several feet high.

“Oh my Goddess!”

“Yes?” She raises an eyebrow.

“These are from a set of Covens who don’t rhyme their verses!”

The Goddess gasps.

“Well, you know what to do, dear.”

“Sure do.” With that the God forces the large pile to burst into flame.

“Not on the desk!” the Goddess shouts.

“Sorry.”

Now, this one I understand could be met with some criticism, but I don’t believe a spell is any less effective because it doesn’t rhyme, or it doesn’t include bad Old English (the, thou, ye, -est/-eth). I don’t believe my magical work is any less worthy because I don’t give it a rigid structure. I’m sure the divine conscious likes a break from all that sweet poetry.

I suppose all I’m trying to do here is to make a point: The craft is your own. If you’re told something, or read something that doesn’t fly with you, don’t do it! Do it the way you believe is right for you. If you’re spelling magic with a ‘Z’ in it, pronouncing athame like ‘grapefruit’, or wearing an Elmo t-shirt to ritual, don’t sweat it!

It is the intent that matters.

Oh, in case you check…..

You will notice, I got to playing and made new graphics for the “Monthly Goddess, Herb & Crystal.” I also added a new one “Pagan Events.” None of these are accurate right now. They all are linked to the right page, but I have not updated the information yet. The “Pagan Events” doesn’t even have a page to link to yet. I am planning on getting that update today or tonight. I just wanted to let you know. I didn’t want you to think I was laying down on the job again, lol!

I hope you enjoy these sections and the new section. I know I enjoy doing them for you. Now let’s get down to business……

Who Else Is A Lonely Young Witch?

Who Else Is A Lonely Young Witch?

Author: Wolfmoonsinger

So many teen witches out there know what I’m talking about when I speak of the loneliness, wonder, and longing to become part of a coven. Or even just finding another witch in your community! It is very hard trying to bring up the subject of religion with people when it’s so touchy. So how do you find out who’s a pagan and who isn’t? What if the person you were talking to five minutes ago is a witch and you didn’t know because the subject of religion doesn’t come up because of beliefs?

How are you supposed to find other pagans in order to create a coven or even to talk with in person or just to talk to another witch without driving a long way to that person? All good questions. Me, myself, and I would like to know those answers as well.

My one ‘ex’ friend introduced me into Wicca three years ago. We were best friends and we shared everything. We were both interested in it; not me as much because I was a bit skeptical about it, but she was really into it because her aunt was. And now, I’m the one who is an ardent witch with a true understanding of paganism and witchcraft, and she’s addicted to booze and boys and has completely erased the love for the goddess in her life.

Through my time reading tons and tons of books and websites about Wicca, I was gaining and learning more and more information about this mysterious and attractive religion. Never would I have guessed that once I had my fill of the basic knowledge, I would have to really put it to an effort. Now, I have been very successful so far, becoming a good mediator, ritual caster and spiritual person. But doing these things alone sometimes can be very sad because if you have one of those moments where you really understand something or a spell has gone wonderful for you, you come to the sad realization that you don’t have anyone to share these things with. It’s depressing.

It’s not like you can tell your best friend who’s a Christian or your Christian parents about it because it may be scary for them because of their ignorance of what you are talking about, or they just don’t want to hear anything about it. It hurts because you go through your life hiding your religion from others who don’t understand Wicca — and don’t try to or want to — and you really wish you had someone to talk to who really understood what you were talking about and really appreciated it.

I may seem selfish to some of you who are reading this, but this is how I feel. I have always been a loner, but sometimes it is more than I can bear. Sometimes I ask the goddess for a companion (s) to celebrate her glory with, to celebrate sabbats with, to hold hands and soak up the moons glow with, to share experience with, and to share the same thoughts with…

A lot of covens are either a “look at me” coven, a “wannabe” coven, or a “one and only true way” coven. Some witches think that if you join a coven, you join it for life, but really in many paths and traditions, you just share the same path with your fellow coveners and don’t necessarily have to stay in that coven forever.

The good thing about joining a coven is that it provides you with some discipline while practicing your craft. You will celebrate the Sabbat without fail every year and do your daily devotions. Meeting other like-minded people can be an extremely rewarding experience and then you have the High priest and High priestess to guide you. Most agree with me that a lot of witches want a coven to share a subconscious connection with, and a coven does that with the “mind connection”. The only bad thing about this ‘mind connection’ is that if someone leaves, the connection is broken and has to be healed.

If I could openly ask people what religion they were and where I could find a coven, I would, but that would be rude, inappropriate, startling, strange, not fair, and a bit bold. So how do you find other witches? Talk to people long enough to find out what their religion is? So few people are witches in small areas like where I live. It would be very difficult to find one, let alone a coven. I keep hope that, one day, I will come across someone and the topic will pop up, but that seems very unlikely.

I am a teenage witch of age 17. I don’t know any other witches my age. Most of the teens who are pagans are either fluffy bunnies or they live in towns far away from where I live. A big factor in the difficulty of connecting with other witches could be that most witches don’t come out of the broom closet out of fear of public bias. But you honestly shouldn’t fear what other people think (unless they are crazy) and if people don’t want to be grown ups and try to understand what it is, then that’s their choice. But the chance still remains that if you openly tell people flat out that you are a pagan, it could cause positive changes in your life, including someone listening in and chasing you down later to tell you that they are also of the same faith.

Lucky for me, I’ve met people who were curious about Wicca and didn’t judge me for being a witch, but none of them were interested in it THAT much. You will always find people who will understand what it’s about, but to find someone who really UNDERSTANDS it and knows what you’re talking about is harder than finding a needle in a haystack…

So to me, making a coven or finding others in the same faith and beliefs is important because they could end up being like your family. When you have a close connection of friends like that, you become really connected and it’s hard to imagine life without them… well, at least I would think.

I will still keep hope that finding a coven won’t be as difficult as I think it will. It would be easier to just start one myself, but with whom? The problem of finding others of the same beliefs still remains.

So if you’re a lone wolf out there reading this, know that your not alone and that there ARE witches out there who feel the same way you do. They’re just too afraid to come out of the closet. And I know that coming out may be a bit brave and dangerous for some, but sometimes such risks must be taken if you ever want to find others like you.

Be bold, be brave, and be honest.

Mythology of a Southern Witch

Mythology of a Southern Witch

Author: Seba O’Kiley

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world. — Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

I am the Southern Kitchen Witch. I am the stuff of legends and myth, honeysuckle and red-clay dirt. In my small frame, I carry the histories of my people: Celt Irish, Cherokee and African heritages that manifest in small fires, fried okra and the tribal beat of a semi-tropic sunset. My people are both the backbone of a continental history and the brunt of a universal myth that hints at ignorance and simplicity. But history has lied to you before.

My grandmother lived along a country river, just under the Tennessee line, and cooled her milk in a stream. She renamed (or re-spelled) herself in the sixth grade, quit school to pick cotton and came right back to “learnin” out of a deep need to “better” herself and her people. Her own folks were farmers and builders, and from that heritage, she became a self-taught blueprint artist and landowner of her own right. Let’s be clear here: my people had goat stews and said “ain’t, ” spit “chaw” and put the evil eye on you if you weren’t right. Somewhere down the line, someone decided that this denoted ignorance. As my dear Grandma once told me: we talk slow so as you can understand us. There’s much to say between the lines.

You see, our cadence and diction have little to do with our intellect or spirit other than the sweet, syrupy transference for which it allows. We have spawned several Presidents, dealt harshly with our demons and even held down an army or two in defense of our historical architecture. I was the first in my line to earn a doctorate — not on account of my ancestor’s lack of intelligence, but rather their lack of new money and time away from the fields. There exist within me two voices: one down-home, countrified low-river gal and one highly educated, trans-atlantically published sharp academe. Pick one? Hell, naw. Like any goddess, I refuse fracture. I am all things and one, the tenacious echo of the Divine, myth personified. It is a subject that both “chaps my bum” and “intrigues my sensibilities, ” but both are me. I label myself Southern and Witch and Dr. and Mom. Today, these things are Seba. When I am gone? Myth.

But what of this earthly phenomenon? Why this primal need for naming, signification, legend and myth?

Recently, my (Pagan) students and I were waxing long in front of a fire on the subject of myth. It was probably the most exhausting lesson I have ever thrown down on a hearth (literally, fire and all) but was worth every deep breath and three cheap bottles of red. As a Hereditary, I cannot divulge much–but I can note the obvious. Lacanian theory speaks of the signifier and the signified, the psychological need (born of desire) to name that which is illusive, transitory and slippery. [1] As Pagans, I believe that this concept is not one that denotes weakness or ego, but rather is a critical tool in our endeavors to surpass the somewhat rigid boundaries of the physical realm. We, as humans, need this tool–and you can’t get it at Lowes. As careful as I am with Christian sensibilities, I will forge into territory that may or may not be offensive. However, there comes a time for truth-telling and unadulterated bravery, so here we go.

30, 000 years ago, a diminutive statue was formed by Paleolithic man. [2] Her name, given by her excavators, is “Venus of Willendorf.” While other, larger, statues have been found as far as Siberia, the diminutive stature of most Goddess images have been noted by scholars as intriguing. How could a people emblazon their Holy One in such a small frame? Ah, well. Most of my Christian friends would tell you that they understand their Higher Power as fantastic in size, looming large over their world (usually, not universe) and a bit reserved in His demeanor unless provoked. I have noticed, in my teachings of expatriate Christians, a certain sense of removal from their access to the Divine and have queried that this phenomenon is due, in part, to those early religious sanctions. “He” is all knowing, I remember hearing, easily angered and removed from His people by the hierarchy of a chosen half-human child and a ghost or two. “We” are in a state of terror from birth that there awaits a scathing hell into which we could be cast for loving the wrong flesh, saying the wrong words, or even wearing the wrong t-shirt. “God” is, to use an analogy, THE FORCE. One does not sit down and chat with THE FORCE. In effect, He is unsignifed–and for some of us humans, this breeds terror.

The problem for a large faction of us rebellious souls is our need for a bit more materiality–a little more personal, please, when our souls are on the line. Michel Foucault, a French theorist, wrote that the “rule of materiality that statements necessarily obey is therefore the order of the institution rather than of the spatio-temporal localization; it defines possibilities of reinscription and transcription, ” and this, my friends, is what myth exists to do. [3] In layman’s terms this means that: what has been named can be co-opted. What has been co-opted can be then reclaimed.

Once upon a time, as Merlin Stone points out in When God Was a Woman, there was a Female Divine. [4] A “barbaric yawp, ” as Walt Whitman would put it, sounded through peoples across continents long before Facebook and MTV. [5] She had names, so many they cannot be listed here, and held an interpersonal relationship with her subjects. Sure, there were priests and priestesses, medicine women and soothsayers, but these were the equivalent of wise ones whose purpose were to be the conduit, if you will, rather than the police of spirituality. Foucault’s “rule of materiality” applies neatly to ancient understandings of the Great Mother: so expansive, so omnipotent, she allowed herself to be signified in order that her subjects could better reach her, hear her, feel her. There was a time before myth and a place before ours that allowed for the human condition: fallible, faltering and in deep, abiding need for signification. Why was she depicted in such small form? Why, to carry her, my dear. You see, a goddess doesn’t need to impress you. You need to impress Her.

Then what of myth? Why have these amalgams, legends and analogies to reach the Great Divine? Ah. Because we are still in this physical realm. We are signifiers, storytellers, history builders and operate in linguistic patterns that our subconscious demands if it is to participate on a higher plane. Let me give you an example:

I create a lesson that explains why we need a “name” for our goddess.

I get confused looks, scuffling feet and scribbling pens.

I turn to an analogy, the cousin of myth (very Southern of me, yes?) that relies upon the movie Men in Black. [6] “The universe is on Orion’s bell.” How can something that, um, phantastmatically GRAND be so small? (See the Christian upbringing here?)

It’s simple, really. Why would “It” be removed from its subjects? The only thing small here, folks, is our mind. Women walk around every day with glorious, little microcosmic moon cycles in their core that wax and wane, go full and go black. Men, it’s been proven, have mini-cycles within the course of one day. We have always harbored the universe, grand and omnipotent and strange and beautiful, within us. Why would She mind a little signification? We are Her echo, after all, in bloody, breakable flesh.

I remember a movie from 1991 called The Butcher’s Wife. [7] Like any movie that has a reference to Pagan precepts, it did not do well at the box office. Yet, there was this moment, on a rooftop, when Demi Moore explains the existence of the human belly button as the scar of the separation of man from woman. It was riveting. Of course, it also was unscientific, ridiculously impossible and utterly born of myth. I sat and cried for an hour with a bottle of Jim Beam. You see, myth breaks my heart in a way that science does not. I have this theory that science is our own millennial mythology: provable, measurable, crystallized myth. Do I know it’s true? Why, yes. Am I primally torn at the fracture of science from its ontology? More. Touch me; I’m real. Cut me, I bleed. Love me . . . I’m legend. Prove that, I dare you. And take note: I’m 5’2 and 124 pounds, soaking wet. See?

I’m as small as a bell around a cat’s neck and still throb like a universe. I am signified.

Which brings us ’round to our original musings: why myth? Why signification?

I’ve always felt that it is the inherent right (or rite) of a soul to signify its own self, rather than exist as the victim of signification. We are untranslatable until we translate ourselves. I cannot imagine a Goddess in need of the same, for She is already, well, everything. Translating her is our need, not the other way around. Indeed, on this plane of existence, we crave myth as the signification of our heritage, of our transcendence and of our paths. Myth is our secret weapon, you see, the Orion’s bell around our neck that holds the universe.

And just for good measure and some final signification of all the myth that I embody:

Y’all know that thump in your core that smells like home and sounds like buffalo? Have you felt the way your soul heals right up when you eat butter smeared on homemade bread or nestle yourself under a worn quilt? Seen someone you love smile with the sun laying down on his or her face all gold and worn in the late afternoon? That’s the echo of the Divine. That’s Southern. And down here, we share myth like it’s homemade wine and signify you as kin.

Blessed Be,

Seba (aka Dr. PD)

Footnotes:
1. I am particularly working with Lacanian theories of the signifier as it relates to psychoanalytic studies of desire. This theory was originally attributed to Saussure. See: Saussure, Ferdinand de. Course in General Linguistics (trans. Wade Baskin) . London: Fontana/Collins, 1974. Also see: Gates, Henry Louis. African American Literary Criticism, 1773 to 2000. ed. Hazel Arnett Ervin. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1999: 261.

2. I find it altogether fascinating that many, if not most, of found Paleolithic sculptures and drawings of the Goddess had tapered or nonexistent feet. While we, as humans, must “ground” in order to find balance, She is always already embedded in her earth.

3. Foucault, Michel. “The Order of Discourse, ” The Rhetorical Tradition: Readings from Classical Times to the Present 2nd Ed (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2001) , 1458.

4. Stone, Merlin. When God Was a Woman. Florida: Harcourt Brace and Company, 1976.

5. Whitman, Walt. “Song of Myself, ” Leaves of Grass. Philadelphia: David McKay, 1900.

6. Men in Black. Dir. Barry Sonnenfeld. Columbia Pictures, 1997. This particular line was misheard as “Orion’s Belt.”

7. The Butcher’s Wife. Dir. Terry Hughes. Paramount Pictures, 1991.

The Happy Side of Magick

The Happy Side of Magick

Author: Poppy

I have never really used many spells or chants, and when I have it is often at a time when I feel I can do nothing else… one of those ‘may as well try it’ approaches. I understand the mechanics of spell casting, how it works and how the desired effect is achieved, the problem I find with it though is that I was brought up with fairy tales and stories about Witches who cast elaborate spells with confounding results, and I find because of this upbringing that spell casting is intrinsically linked, in my mind, to fanatical stories and make believe lands.

I say this only to give you, as a reader, some sense of understanding how much effort had already been applied before I decided to cast a love spell. It was not a compulsion spell, merely creating a cosmic attraction field. I do understand that there are differing views on the appropriate use of love spells, of any kind, ranging from never-to-be-used to ‘use all the time, everyday!’ However I am not writing to discuss the pros and cons of casting a love spell, nor even, to some extent, the morals that must be thought through before one is cast, I am simply writing to explain and inform how mine worked, and how I would recommend it to anyone in the same situation, or any situation.

As previously stated, I was in pretty dire straits when I preformed this spell, (I know some would not consider that an appropriate term for being out of love, which some deem as a trivial matter. I believe it is a very apt description.) and as such, was not expecting any results. At the time, I had become rather disenchanted with Wicca. I cannot pinpoint exactly why as no major life events had occurred to make me believe that the Goddess was absent. It was more just a lack of connection, which is probably part of the reason I believed the spell would fail.

It was one of those long term/ three months spells, which meant that I wasn’t too fussed when nothing appeared after a few weeks. So I promptly forgot about the spell due to an influx in collage coursework and activities, and was asked on a date. To me this had never happened, and so I was, understandably I believe, rather surprised. He asked me over text, which I later found out his friend had actually composed, and we met up six days later.

I have to admit I had no idea who he was. Even after finding him on Facebook, I had difficulty in pinning him as the guy who was in my quiz team, Never the less, we started talking, and despite his apparent obsession with football and The Killers (who are a fine band, just not my style) , I agreed to a second date, and a third, and so on.

Now it was around the fifth date that I remembered about the spell I had cast, mainly by finding it whilst looking through my Wicca box. I didn’t connect the spell with my newfound boyfriend as I was having what I believe to be a bit of a slow day. I had become captivated with Wicca once again mere weeks after casting the aforementioned love spell. I proceeded to look through the ‘requirements’ for the person I wished to meet and found, to my surprise, that my recently obtained boyfriend met every criteria… and not in a vague ‘well I suppose’ sense, more in a height/weight/age/exact personality sense! I was literally speechless. I think I should mention now that the spell cast was for a soul-mate (I know, I just jump right in to it!) not just general love. I can say now, with our year anniversary just gone, that it has definitely worked.

I know some of you may be sitting there scoffing at my perhaps pitiful year long relationship, but to me, it is a success… especially considering that for the last three months he has been away at Canterbury, which is a good five hour train journey from where I live, making the relationship harder.

I didn’t really put off telling my boyfriend about my religion, more it just never actively came up. He informed me from the start that he was ‘devout’ atheist, and indeed some of our more interesting conversations have been on the concepts of souls and deities. However, I believe him knowing my religion made our relationship better. But I would not recommend the way in which he found out.

I am afraid I am going to diverge slightly, and I apologize if any view it as an unwanted interruption. I feel that what occurred was a breach of trust, and really just a show of a lack of morality in some people. My boyfriend found out about my religion through one of his friends, who happened to be a sergeant at the cadets I attended and a devout Christian. “At cadets”, for those of you who may be unfamiliar with the dress code, we were allowed to wear necklaces as long as they were hidden and for religious purposes.

I wore a plain silver pentagram at the time, and the chain occasionally showed, causing questions at least once a week. Usually I could just say it is a religious necklace (as trying to explain it to people who aren’t listening and are just desperate to be told you summon the devil is tedious) . However this time he walked a little way, turned as though an afterthought and asked “Yeah, what religion?” I answered, “I’m Wiccan” and we carried on our separate ways.

I thought nothing of this until I got a call from my boyfriend asking if I was a Witch. I was a bit bemused by how he had come to that conclusion, as, like spell casting, the word brings to mind Grimm’s fairy tale type characters and so I do not use the word. I answered that no, I wasn’t a Witch but I was Wiccan… and how did he come to hear of this information? It transpired that at the first possible chance this Christian friend, who I still believe had gained this information in an environment that did not warrant outside gossiping, had run to him at the first chance and said “Do you know your girlfriend is Wiccan?” We both believe it was to try and drive a wedge between us for reasons only known to him. Anyhow, this rant is almost over, and I shall end it and resume back to my original purpose by saying that I believe it was extremely ill-mannered and uncouth to divulge this information. I have always been raised to not speak of other religions or beliefs unless with express permission or belief that the knowledge would be useful in some way and that the person to whom is being referred does not mind.

I suppose what I am trying to get across with this article, is that magick does work. If you believe in something and you are prepared to go that little extra, it will change your life in wondrous awe-inspiring ways. I think it cannot be expressed better than through love of something else. I suppose it is also partially about dis-enchantment of Wicca (which I overcame by a sudden realization that I was still actively talking to the Goddess when I got really stressed) .

I am not trying to actively express feelings either for or against love spells, as I believe that, as with all magick, it depends entirely on the intentions of the caster. But I know that even in dark and desperate moments, magick and belief and everything joyous in Paganism can just seep in, lift you up and make everything just a little bit better.

Thank you for reading this article. I hoped you got some enjoyment, or really anything, from it, and to feel free to email me if you wish.

From Bars to Blessed: A New Beginning

From Bars to Blessed: A New Beginning

Author: ADDvst

I am an Eclectic Wiccan. I have not always been. In fact, before I heard the term “Wiccan”, I didn’t have any faith at all. Not even in myself. I wanted to write this essay and to share my story as to why I chose the goddess and the god.

When I was a child, I was very rambunctious. Getting into trouble in school was my daily routine. I would fight, steal, lie, and cheat. The worst part was I had no idea as to why I did those things. My grandmother used to say, “I was possessed by the devil”. When I grew to my teenage years, things slowed down a bit. That is, after being placed into state custody. At the age of 15, I found myself in a foster home, as my biological family didn’t want anything to do with me. It was there that I encountered the most wonderful girl I have ever met, Nicole. I started to understand what it meant to love someone else and care about someone other than myself. But I was still making some stupid choices.

On August 29 2001, three friends and I broke into a convenient store, stealing everything that could be moved and carried. This time I didn’t get a slap on the wrist. I was sent to state prison for a term of two- to – six years. I lost everything I ever knew that day. And, the worst part, that girl who taught me how to love… she also was charged for a crime that I talked her into committing.

In 2005, I found myself again in trouble with the law. This time the sentence was harsher: six years in state prison. It was there, sitting in a jail cell, that I began thinking about my life, and how to change it around. I remembered something Nicole had said to me when I asked her to take me back. She said that she had too much to lose. Funny thing is, she didn’t have a thing at all. She just didn’t want to be involved in my constant screw-ups. So that was it. Just me and a cold jail cell. No family. No friends. No money or possessions. So what would the normal miscreant think? Yes. You guessed it. It’s time for an end. And a new beginning.

My first thought was the conventional way of ‘ending the bad’. Shoe string. Bed sheet. Instead, for some odd reason, I decided to pick up a book and read. So I read and read and read. For two years I lay in a cell and read.

One day, a Christian tried to sit down and preach the Bible to me.” No, I don’t find it to be true, ” I told him. He asked, “Well, what do you believe?” And so I started writing every belief that I had down on paper. Then, I went and read about the different religions.

I came across a book called Wicca: For Beginners by Scott Cunningham. I was actually shocked at how everything made sense. I became very interested in learning more. So without delay, I ordered a few more books from the library. After reading the books, and being sure I wanted to learn the way, I did a self-dedication rite. I did this rite by myself in my cell. I simply fell into a meditation and invited the lady and the lord to join me. That night, sitting in that cell, I could actually feel a transformation take place. A new lease was given to me. I soon found it easy to control my thoughts. A feeling of happiness and joy washed over me. My heart became a soft, warm life force. I began seeing the earth in a light that I never seen before. I began to see the old religion in a lot of every day events.

Through meditation, I began to concentrate on the wrongs that I did to others. This does not come easy, or without regrets. We have all heard the expression “you don’t know what you have till it’s gone”. Me, I still try to find that way to get it back. Time… I can’t turn back that clock, but I am grateful to have memories of those that showed me how to love, and inspired me to make a difference. It is very heart-wrenching to have the woman you love the most tell you she don’t feel the same… and that you’re to blame.

It has been four years since I dedicated myself to the way –“harm none do as ye will”- These four years have been remarkably enlightening to me. I made two promises to myself and to the powers that be: 1: never harm again; but help others whenever possible and 2: do everything in my power to better my future, to give back instead of take away.

After being released from prison, the first thing I did was move out of my old town. I headed straight to New York City. In just three weeks, I have enrolled into college and found a job. I continue on a daily basis to nurture my relationship with the lady and the lord. In my heart, I don’t believe that I would be where I am today, with the mindset that I have, if I had never picked up that book. I would never have the connection with the earth and the mother. I would never have been able to understand my own life, past, and future.

I am a son, a brother, an uncle, an ex con. The latter I am not ashamed of. It brought me to my rightful place, with the goddess in my heart. My experiences will someday help my teach someone else, and maybe help change their life.

And I dare not to forget; about two years ago I wrote letters to every person that I betrayed. Today I can happily say that I have made amends and rekindled old friendships. I spend time with my family. It is a wonderful feeling to have them in my life. There yet may come a day when that woman who saw too much too lose in me, may see the world with me. It’s never too late to change and find your calling!

I am thankful to all who give guidance to people like me who need a little direction. And I am beyond grateful that the lady and the lord gave me a new beginning!

Blessed be! And thank you for reading.

Spell Casting: The Prayer Warriors

Spell Casting: The Prayer Warriors

Author: Widdershins

In a small community nestled along the Ohio River Valley, a high school football team had an incredible year as they went to a state championship game undefeated. The wife of the head coach was openly Christian and in an effort to help her husband win throughout the season, she started a small prayer circle known as the ‘Prayer Warriors’. The group would meet weekly to pray for their team’s victory. This was not only about the kids having a safe trip or about getting through a game without injuries, this was also about winning. In other words, they were consciously attempting to channel their spiritual energy in such away that it would cause their team to win, or for the other team to lose. Could this have been an actual coven of Christian Witches?

I imagine that if any of the women involved were to hear that they were being compared to a Coven of Witches they would be upset and it is not my intent to pass judgment, but they were spell-casting, and not in a good way either. Now, if they were good Witches they would have adhered to the Wicca Rede that states: ‘An it harm none do what ye will’. Praying that the other team loses isn’t exactly a no-harm approach. Then there is another moral guideline that is referred to by Wicca as the Threefold Law that states that what ever you put out there into the world will come back three times. So if you were spell casting or praying for the other team to lose I would imagine that it would come back in the form of three losses for the home team.

So based on some of the rules of witchcraft and spell casting, this ‘coven’ of football supporters was practicing some black magic, but they can’t be blamed because they were Christians and how could they have known about the Wicca Rede? But they did have a Bible, or as they call it The Good Book, which very clearly states “Therefore, whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12) , otherwise known as the Golden Rule. By the way, they lost the championship game to a private catholic high school team. One could only imagine what they must have thought.

I’m not trying to be mean-spirited. I have just never put the two together. Spell casting and prayer have a fundamental relationship that goes beyond just trying to make something happen that you want to happen. The two address a deeper human need for coping with things in the external world that we have no control over and it’s only human to feel anxiety when one perceives a loss of control.

I believe that the only logical approach for coping with the external world and our need for control is to alter our perception and thought processes from within. I also believe that the human race has intuitively developed ways to address this need and I would say that some such strategies have come in the form of spell casting, prayer and meditation.

To put a bit of a scientific spin on my reasoning, one must first understand that a thought is more than an abstract event, but an actual physiological reaction that spreads across the brain by activating an electrochemical impulse. This impulse is spearheaded by the activation of neurotransmitters that leap across synaptic gabs uniting million upon millions of neurons, each impulse within its own unique pattern. Each pattern becomes associated with a thought and like the tracks along a well-worn path these patterns grow stronger and deeper with each passing.

Not only can we change the levels of neuro chemical activity in our brains with the physiological reactions of our thoughts but we can also change the physical connections between neurons creating an unlimited array of patterns; this is a process that neurologists refer to as plasticity. The sheer power of thought can change the very landscape of our brain.

The concept of brain plasticity is a relatively new concept to science. Until just recently, neurologists theorized that our brains were fully developed by the time we reached our mid twenties and from that time forward very little, if any, changes accrued. Resent studies have suggested that this isn’t the case at all. It appears that our brains have the capacity to change throughout our entire lives.

I would go so far as to suggest that the ancients intuitively knew about the plasticity of their own being and that the internal dialogue, that we refer to as our thoughts, was some how a very important part of this plasticity and spiritual well-being. It appears that they some how understood that to remain both spiritually and physically healthy they had to maintain a command or a sense of discipline over their own thoughts. As a result, they developed ways to focus and concentrate on their thinking as a way to create meaningful and fundamental changes in their lives.

Transcendental meditation, which appears in early Buddhist literature, talks about focusing on one’s own thoughts while guiding them from a third party perspective. In spell casting, one learns to focus via careful preparation and concentration, and as recent neurological research suggests the key to plasticity is focus and concentration.

If the Prayer Warriors were to take a closer look at their situation, they would have came to the understanding that it wasn’t the outcome of an external event, such as a football game, that was driving them to engage in prayer for victory, but rather it was an internal neurological event. Their thinking leads them to believe that winning would relieve the anxiety that they were experiencing. This is where they fell short; they were unable to identify what they truly wanted to change. They wanted the anxiety to go away. Herein lies the secret of good spell casting.

One must meditate and focus on the true cause of their emotional responses such as, fears, desires, and anxieties and develop an internal dialogue that reassures and strengthens the neural networks that drive the emotions. Whether it is through transcendental meditation, prayer or spell-casting, one must focus on the internal and develop strategies to realign the thinking. As Wiccans, we establish and focus our mental energies by visualizing deities, writing and reciting poetry, chanting, ritualistic dancing, and so on, all of which is carefully thought out and planned and repeated as often as needed.

If the Prayer Warriors would have used their prayers to establish energy and clarity to better understand the feelings that they were having they may have come to realize that what they were feeling was normal and rather than fearing it, they could have embraced it and thanked their God for the opportunity to be human. They may have understood that once the game was over, and regardless of whether they won or lost, the anxiety would dissipate. The spell that they should have been casting was for clarity and understanding and the wisdom to enjoy the whole experience regardless of the outcome of an external event.

As one develops the correct habits of spell-casting, prayer and meditation, the brain begins to rewire itself in a way that allows one to perceive experiences and emotions through a positive filter. If such habits are developed incorrectly the brain rewires and the filter becomes negative. Either way you look at it, there is powerful magic afoot, or abrain, and it is not to be dealt with lightly.

How To Create Harmony in the Midst of Religious Intolerance

How To Create Harmony in the Midst of Religious Intolerance

Author: Annah

As we are all aware, Christianity has not been terribly good to us (understatement, I know) , but it is nice to know things are at least getting a little bit better in some areas. I wanted to share from my experience as I am in a Christian Seminary getting a Masters of Divinity and a Ph.D. in World Religions.

First of all, it depends on the church affiliation you run into that determines the usual anti pagan rhetoric. However, I can say from my own experiences, while these verbal attacks are hurtful as much as a physical attack, if you show them your heart many eventually will break down their “spiritual walls” and come to like you as a person and, eventually, begin to accept what you worship. When it comes to the actual moment that someone confronts you or asks you out of curiosity who and what you are, usually these specific church denominations break down and it is normally you and the Christian, not you and the Roman Catholic Church.

Why in the world did I want to go to a Christian Seminary? Well, I wanted a Ph.D. in World Religions and I also want to work, vocationally, in the Universalist Unitarian Church and in order to do that, one need to have a Masters of Divinity. I found a local seminary that appealed to me and I enrolled. My Ph.D. is for personal fulfillment. I love learning about the history of religious practices that has formed and evolved across the world. The most interesting aspect of these studies is seeing how the Goddess and the God has been a universal theme for every religion I have encountered, including some aspects of the Catholic Church. But that is for another article!

For me, my first day in Seminary was very scary. Not only am I a Pagan and a witch with a very pretty pentagram necklace adorning my neck in absence of a cross but also I am an out of the closet bisexual girl. The two usually do not mix well in a Christian Seminary and being a girl engaged to another girl only stirs a beehive in such a setting! The first week was rough and I would admit that. However, once I showed my heart to those around me, those barriers began to crumble.

Also, it helps to have open discussions with people so that they can learn more about you. Most people are afraid of witches because they know very little about us. They usually think we are satanic little devil worshippers who casts spells upon an altar of blood and pain. Once they begin to see that we actually worship earth, our Goddess and God and all things in our rituals are very peaceful then their defenses come down.

Understandably, I do not tell them details of my rituals. Not only is it not their business to know, but also I have oaths to keep. These oaths do not mean I am doing naughty secrets at the altar; it stems back to when we were persecuted and killed for our beliefs and it’s a tradition of secrecy I hold today. However, that does not mean I cannot be open about my practice. I just keep my specifics of worship to a minimum.

Through displaying your heart and your true intentions can another truly grasp the concept of acceptance. Show them your heart but do not show them too much. Be frank with Christians who ask you questions but do be frank too much. If they ask you a question, answer it within your boundaries of conviction and then ask them a question about themselves of equal value. If they do not answer, then you do not proceed with the questions and you close that door behind you because it is not fair for you to open your heart and soul and not the other person. However, if a dialogue or question and answer develop between you and a Christian then let that be a sign that doors are beginning to open.

Some may say “so what? I really do not care what any person thinks of me. I am my own person.” And that is a good philosophy to have. You are your own person and only you can control your own ship. However, I know from experience and being a lesbian, education is often the key to acceptance. Many times as I grew up, I heard gays, lesbians, and transgender people say “so who cares what they think. I do not need to explain myself to them.” I understand that concept. Trust me. However, when you talk to those who have opposing viewpoints, it is wise to open up and discuss the differences between the two people.

Persecution is a result of fear. Fear is a result of ignorance. Ignorance is a result of a lack of education. Educate those around you. Show them what a pagan is and show them what a pagan is not. Goddess never wants discord among us. They may be Christians. They may be Jews. They may be Muslim or Buddhist or Hindu but they are similar to us because they are our brothers and sisters of this earth and Goddess made them with just as much care as She made us.

I am rounding the end of my first year at Seminary. Everyone knows I am a witch. I am the only Wiccan listed as a Wiccan in the student directory. I am also class head of the diversity council and I am involved in many committee meetings and social events at the school as well as my local community. I may be the only Pagan at the seminary, but through the opening of my heart to others at the school I have been accepted by everyone and I pray you will to wherever your journeys take you!

I hope you take this advice and apply it if ever the time arises and I wish you well!

How I Wear the Pentacle (or Not)

How I Wear the Pentacle (or Not)

Author: Dessie

If I had to guess I would say that most of the people who identify themselves as Pagan are familiar with this symbol: the pentacle. The pentacle is perhaps one of the most widely recognized Pagan symbols. It is seen in books, on Pagan websites, on television, and on Pagans and Wiccans themselves.

Whether you wear one yourself or you know someone who does, chances are you know that jewelry featuring pentacles is very popular with some Pagans. I myself have a pentacle necklace that I love to wear whenever I can. I’ve had some interesting experiences when wearing it or seeing someone else wearing one.

Probably nine times out of ten, if I’m wearing my pentacle necklace, it’s hidden under my shirt. This is just easier for me. This helps me avoid any unwanted conflict. But this also brings up questions from friends who know I’m Pagan and can’t seem to understand why I’d hide it. I’ve been asked way too many times, “Are you ashamed to let people know you’re Pagan? Why are you so embarrassed, girl?”

Very rarely do I wear my necklace where others can see it. If I’m at home, I don’t really care if it’s hidden. My family is aware of my Pagan beliefs and has come to accept them (at least a little bit) over the last several years (It’s been a long process) .

Sometimes, if I’m going somewhere alone or with Pagan friends, I’ll wear my necklace so it can be seen… really, just to see what it’s like and what might happen (a social experiment, if you will) . Thing is, this social experiment usually has negative results: everything from the nasty glares in the frozen foods section of Wal-Mart to the outright laughter and nasty comments at the movies with friends. But truly, I think that those people are a minority; most people don’t notice at all.

If I’m on campus (I’m a college student) and I’m wearing my pentacle necklace, it’s always hidden. The university I go to has a fairly strong Christian presence, and though I don’t think anyone would be truly nasty, I’ve never felt quite comfortable with the idea of being openly Pagan there.

If asked, for most of these last few years, I’ve always identified as a solitary Pagan. I’ve made Pagan friends in my own town, from my old high school, and online. I’ve even been in this situation in high school: I’d heard a rumor that a girl in one my classes was a Wiccan, so I pretty much just asked her at lunch, and we’re still good friends.

The first time I heard of Wicca or Paganism, I was more than halfway through my freshman year of high school. It was awesome at first. I met a group of friends (There were like six of them, not including me) who said they were Wiccan and started hanging with them. I borrowed books from them; we had conversations at lunch about witchcraft and the Goddess. We thought we were it. We were just totally awesome. Then I told my mom about my new interest and she freaked out. My parents convinced themselves I was worshipping Satan, but it was also just a phase that would pass. (Soon I’d decide I’d done bad and become a good Christian girl.)

Then the other students noticed. That’s when things started getting really bad. Some of my classmates cornered me after my last class (gym) one day and held a mock exorcism with someone’s cross necklace and “holy water” from the water fountain. A teacher who witnessed this did nothing to stop it. I also had a pentacle necklace I wore back then. I took it off one day because a bunch of students were laughing at me. It disappeared from my bag sometime between the end of lunch and the end of the school day. Summer was a welcome break that year. My parents thought I was over the whole “Wicca thing.”

Summer break was over too soon.

My sophomore year was miserable. Apparently, the rumor mill had a longer memory than I’d thought it would. I was picked on constantly from the first day back because of the group of friends I hung out with. I was lectured for reading articles on this website using the library computers during lunch. My teachers found out and started giving me these “that’s so sad” looks. How could such an intelligent honors student get caught up in something so bad?

It was a shock to have people react that way. I pretty much jumped head first into the “broom closet” (and I hadn’t even heard that term at the time) .

I reconnected with some (and made new) non-Wiccan friends (while ignoring the Wiccan ones at school) . I showed up at Christian events like “See you at the pole” before class and helped out when a local church held a food drive. I fought to make even better grades, to impress teachers and my parents. I felt like a poseur, a fake, and a liar. While junior year wasn’t exactly awesome, it wasn’t as bad as the first two years.

My senior year was awesome, and by far the best year of my high school education. That year made up for most of the horrible crap that went on during the first three years. By then the rumor mill had pretty much stopped buzzing, there were far more important things going on: college applications, class cookouts, and all around celebration. We were seniors! I was the “good girl” again by graduation day.

Over those years, my beliefs didn’t fade away, they grew stronger. My parents noticed this and I think that my being the “good girl” has made it easier for them to believe that I’m not worshipping Satan every night after they go to sleep. I read more and more. I tried to reconnect with those Wiccan friends (only to find that all but a few of them were “over it”) . For them, it had only been a fad, a passing phase to get attention from classmates. Others were angry that I’d pretty much abandoned them (and they had every right to be) .

At some point I can’t remember, I stopped calling myself “Wiccan” (with lots of exclamation points and smiley faces) and just became “Pagan.” I’ve had people tell me that I started out as a “fluffy bunny” and finally grew up and became a “serious Pagan.”

So, I’ve been asked many times: “Why don’t you wear your pentacle so people can see it? Are you ashamed to be Pagan? Why are you so embarrassed?”

The answer is no, I’m not ashamed. I’m not embarrassed and I don’t want to be. I’ve just learned that there is a time and a place for everything, including displaying religious symbols and beliefs. I’ve learned that this world isn’t the all-accepting place I’d thought it would be. Even though the First Amendment guarantees “freedom of religion, ” that doesn’t mean that others will accept or understand my beliefs. It doesn’t mean that they have to know about them either. I learned all of this the hard way.

I’ve worked so hard to make it to college, you don’t even know. I’m lucky that I made it at all; it’s not an easy thing to do. It’s expensive, the coursework is difficult, and if I can walk away better educated and with a degree in four years, then I’ll be better off for it.

Yes, overall college is a more accepting place with better people than I grew up with. I won’t trust it that much though. My early high school years were horrible. I don’t want my college years to be the same. I won’t risk it, and if you think I’m less for that…well fine, that’s your prerogative and your way, not mine.

If I’m wearing my pentacle necklace, chances are you won’t see it. It might be a long time before I change my religion on Facebook to “Pagan” (if I ever do; right now I’m thinking that won’t happen) . I don’t tell everyone I meet while walking down the street that I’m Pagan. My beliefs and my spirituality are my business and mine alone if I don’t want anyone else to know. That doesn’t mean I’m less proud of my beliefs than you are.

Breaking Ground With Other Faiths

Breaking Ground With Other Faiths

Author: Draconis Wierinsan Kinthasil

I was working on my garden the other day, we had turned the soil over last week and I saw the small lumps of dirt that the Rota tiller had left behind. It reminded me of what we must do as Pagans.

Out in the larger world are folks who have different beliefs. Sometimes they think that we are bad people or do bad things because of what they think we belief. This is what I call breaking ground; they need to know that they may be wrong on a number of points. I’m not saying you should preach at them but explain to them that you think differently. The better folks (like a Catholic Friend of mine who was Wiccan for a while) will listen to your thoughts on your beliefs with an open mind.

Other times they might pretend to be listening so that they can jump down your throat with the whole “You will burn in Hell Witch!” bit. Thank the Gods I haven’t met these sort (yet) . And the rest will be the kind who will ask the stupid “If you’re a Witch where is your black hat and broom and why are you out when it isn’t Halloween?”

The thing is some of the time most folks just don’t give a horse’s rump how you believe. If you aren’t a Christian you must be converted. I saw the article on Witchvox about most folks not wanting to vote for a person who is Pagan for President. Well la de da! This is a free country (or at least is supposed to be!) and I’m Pagan and I think that it is time for a change.

I will run for President in 2024, won’t that make headlines! “Disabled Pagan for President” I can hear the churches ranting now.

Well I’m sorry that this country is so messed up but maybe if we would stop building a bridge to nowhere and sending food and clothes to foreign countries when we can’t even feed our own people maybe we could improve our country. Sorry a little off topic but look at it this way. If every Pagan, Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist and everybody else would just give five bucks then think what we would have.

That’s the point of this article, Pagans: When you hear the “Devil Worshipper” crap. Be the bigger man! Walk away.

Christians remember the Golden rule I quote “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” King James Version Holy Bible. To Muslims remember always to keep an open mind and that goes for the rest of you too! United shall we stand, divided we fall, Alone will we break, together we are unbreakable.

If we spent half the time we spend on fighting over whose way is better on loving our neighbor and practicing what we preach, then think how much better off we would be. If we would look for the things that tie us together instead of tearing each other apart we could see that we are more alike then we think.

My vision for all faiths is that one day you will see a father take his kids outside to cast a circle at the White house and as folks go by they say “Good Morning, Mr. President” as he communes with his Gods. Then he stands up and sweeps his hair out of his eyes, pats the pentacle pinned to his lapel and goes to work in the Oval Office. As he greets people he will say “Blessed Be Brother/Sister” as he goes about his day for all Americans are his family.

Then at the end of the day he goes to a ritual with his son who is a mirror image of his father and teaches him the old ways. And on Monday nights they go to Boy scouts and a Pagan father stands proud as his son earns his religious emblem along with everybody else and the boys ask the Pagan scout What the silver pentacle on the red, white, and blue ribbon means and the Pagan scout smiles and explains the meaning of his emblem, that is so much simpler and for that reason so much more meaningful.

And when he tucks his son in that night he says “Sleep well my son, may Sabdh cradle you in her arms this night and Wierin guard you as you sleep” and the boy smiles and replies “Goddess bless, Daddy.”

The President smiles and says “Goddess Bless son sleep well” and turns on the crescent moon nightlight and goes to bed and he and his wife curl up to sleep. As he drifts off his last words are “Now as I lay down to sleep I pray the Gods my soul to keep and should I pass before I wake To Summerland my soul shall take” and he smiles and drops off.

I would sure like to see the meanness and hatred that people throw at each other become a thing of the past and that religious labels like Pagan and Christian become terms of respect and are not spoken like a curse.

I know this may never come to pass in my lifetime but if we young people of all faiths don’t work to find some common ground then I predict a time not so far away when this, the greatest country in the world becomes a theocracy and that the government dispenses with the bit about “no law establishing religion or preventing the free exercise of” and makes on faith supreme to the exclusion of all others.

Please in The Stag-Lord’s name join me in working against this terrible vision! Let us not return to The Burning Times! Let us as Americans — not as Pagans or Christians but as Americans, as members of the human race — work together. Think of what we can do if we learn from each other and treat each other with respect.

In this regard let go of those prejudices that you have. Stop hating someone because they are different or because of their skin color! We are all the children of the Gods. We are not different races! We are all of us members of the human race. The only difference is that in Their wisdom the Gods made us different. For if we were all the same we would all think, feel and believe the same way.

You wouldn’t need to ask an opinion because you would already know the answer. Fat chance of that ever happening.

We Can Change The World

We Can Change The World

Author: Lady Wolfwind

I am growing older. That’s a fact. I’m still in the Mother stage of my life, but I am fast approaching Crone. I am okay with this. More than most people, I would guess. I’ve learned that part of my contribution to society, as a Crone, is to provide wisdom and guidance to those seekers who ask. I’ve fit into this role flawlessly. Most people don’t want to hear what you have to say and if they do, they don’t listen anyway. I’m sure this is just a natural part of life. I never listened to my elders either. I look back on it now and I remember their words. How I wish I’d heeded their advice. The road would have been so much easier and I would have traveled so much farther.

I think that we’ve all learned some hard lessons on our journey. I believe that it’s what life is all about. I believe that our lessons and experiences have shaped who we are and what we believe to be true today. I wonder what experiences have led all of you to the Goddess’s path? What made us choose to be so different than mainstream society and their beliefs?

I was talking to my husband this morning. He is not Pagan, but he respects me for who I am. I had had a conversation with our daughter the previous night and there were some things that were said that bothered me. It seems that in talking to my children, they expect me to “be” a certain way. They have expectations of who I should be and how I should be living my life and even what I should believe. They are grown and out of all the people in my life, they are the ones I feel pressure from to live the way society says I should. To put on a false face to please them and the world. They don’t live near me so there is no embarrassment that Mom is a Pagan. Most time I don’t think they know what it truly means and they don’t care to ask or to listen. They are caught up in living their lives and making a living.

As children, I put aside dealing with my own life and figuring out what I wanted for my future to raise them. I didn’t let my past life experiences determine how I would make decisions regarding them. I have come to realize, now that they are older, I’ve grown into the woman I was meant to become. All of my life experiences have made me who I am. They don’t seem to understand that I had past experiences before they were born. They don’t understand that I am living my life exactly the way I want to. They don’t’ seem to understand that it’s a person’s choice to not fit in. It’s the way it has to be. They talk about their past experiences and lessons and think that if it is so with them, it must be so with me. I can never be the person they think I should be.

My husband feels that this is a lesson for them to learn. That it takes years of wisdom before you understand what I’m trying to say. I’m so afraid that even he doesn’t understand what I’m trying to say. Maybe he feels that I should live like everyone else as well. He is younger than me. He set my fears at rest when he looked me in the eyes and told me, “ There are not many people who have the courage to live as you do.” I knew then that he understands me. He said it with such a deep feeling of respect and love that it brought tears to my eyes.

I am afraid that my children will wish they’d gotten to know me after I pass to the other side. Isn’t that the way it usually is? Don’t we all stand back and wish we’d said this or that? Don’t we wish we’d listened to one more story or just sat a few moments longer? Is there a time when we have that “ah ha” moment when it all becomes crystal clear and we finally put the final piece of the puzzle in place and understand the whole picture we’ve struggled with for so long? It is a sad realization that we never took the time to get to know the ones we love the most. Why do they feel the way they do? Why do they believe what they believe? Why is Mom so quiet? Why does Aunt Mary not cry? Do we know? Do we care? Wouldn’t it be nice to figure it all out while you’re sitting with them, looking into their eyes?

This is one of those lessons that I know will have to be learned the hard way. One day they will realize that I had a life before they were born. One day they will honor my strength for overcoming the obstacles that could have stood in the way of me being a good mother to them. One day, they will understand what it means to be Pagan and they will honor me for my courage to walk a different path. One day, they will realize how much I love them. One day, I will not be here. I want them to know me and understand me before that time comes. I don’t think it will work out that way. I think we all walk around with the wounds of “what if.” I don’t think it has to be that way. I think we need to take more time with the ones we love. We get so caught up in the daily grind. We get angry at each other for things that don’t even really matter. We need to learn to listen, not just hear. We need to listen to their body language, and we need to listen to the voice inflections. We need to listen to the subtle clues that vibrate through the air currents, which tell us about the other person. We need to take a moment each day and consciously decide to learn one thing about another person. Take the time to tell the ones you love how you feel about them.

I think if we would take a few moments each morning, instead of running out the door, to make a decision to slow down for a little while each day. If we would make the choice to not keep procrastinating about visiting our aging mother who tells the same stories over and over, to sit with our child and understand how their understanding the world around them, we would become better people for it. I believe it would change not only the ones we’ve taken the time with, but also ourselves. We have to stop letting life get in the way. I think we would understand how we all became to be the people we are and how the ones around us became the people they are. I think all of us would be able to let things go easier.

I believe, as a society, we have lost the course we were supposed to be on. Somewhere, we allowed money and instant gratification to become more important than even the ones that are supposed to mean the most to us. I think, as a Pagan community, we need to be different than that. I think we need to set the standards and set them high. I think we should start living as we talk, to be the example of change in our world. One person can make a difference. I feel that our time is coming. We need to be united and to send a message to the world. We need to slow down and let the message come through loud and strong. Pagans are about love and about doing what is right. We’re about caring about each other, even others of different races and beliefs. We have to start at home.

Tonight, call someone you haven’t talked to in awhile and tell them how much you’ve missed them. Reach out to someone who’s made you angry and tell them that you have forgiven them, set up a date with your spouse, dinner with your parents, a movie with your kids. Don’t worry about how much it will cost. It will cost you much more to not do these things. Don’t worry about what others will think. It is up to us to be the example. Today is the time to take the first steps toward a new world; one we all know is possible. I don’t believe we can put it off any longer.

Simple Thoughts on Churches and Personal Spirituality

Simple Thoughts on Churches and Personal Spirituality

Author: Disciple of Oghma

I left the Christian faith this last year. After 25 years, I had became everything one seeks to become in a Christian (I still had my issues, but who doesn’t?). But I met a balanced person who gave a thought provoking life testimony. I nearly flipped when I found out this person was a dark pagan. I started rethinking my whole world.

Now I am on a new personal path with a much greater respect for others.

Once I had left Christianity, I started seeing clearly a lot of the odd misconceptions that it promotes… such as the twisted definition of ‘love’ among other things.

If a Christian’s relationship with his or her God could be put in the context of human marriage terms, then the Christian should get a restraining order on God, change his or her name and leave. A funny thought unless you find truth in it.

Anyway… after a year of thought, I have realigned my perspective of the Path.

When I first left the Christian religion, I realized all the hate and rage and condemnation that I was throwing around in the name of ‘love’. In an attempt to decide if that was ‘just me’ or the teachings of the church, I have studied the faith from a different angle.

At first, I drew the conclusion it was a parasitic organism that has been using its popularity and influence to corrupt the nations.
But an idea struck me and I no longer think Christianity is to blame for the problems with people.

I think the Christian church is a symptom of the underlying weaknesses of people not the illness itself. It’s all about our desire to have a set of black-and-white fatalistic standards to use as a system of measurement to understand our world.

So we create a system of “Absolute Truths”.

Then we create a control-based system to ‘run it’ so that we can take advantage of our own desire not to take responsibility for ourselves and to enrich ourselves at the cost of others all… the while feeling pride at our ‘humble spirituality’.

So then what do we do?

We build a large comfortable plush little shrine to an image of human perfection and greatness. The average church, not including all the zoning permits, costs an average of $3-$5 million to build. (I Googled the “cost of church building” and plucked a few sums. It isn’t an absolute number but it gives a good idea to the cost.)

Then we throw our individual responsibilities at it, pray, and ask it to do everything for us. Our only real ‘job’, it would seem, is to use it as an excuse to hate, kill, steal, and harm any whom disagree with us and our god.

Jehovah is the icon of what the average selfish lazy person would be if he or she was a god:

“Let there be “less of you more of me in your life.”

“Give me the upper 10% of your prosperity.”

“I love you if you sing my praises and enslave yourself to me.”

“I’ll help if it suits me and if I don’t, it will work to your benefit”.

(These are beliefs that were generally promoted to me in my churches. I have been through four branches of Protestantism and studied several of the “spinoff faiths of Judaism.” So if you find this inaccurate, I only mean to explain the background from which I draw my current musings).

It is possible for any faith to become in every way as ‘dark’ as we have often accused the Judeo-Christian belief and all its related spin-offs (Mormon, Judaism, Catholic, Jehovah witness, Satanism, protestant, Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Pentecostal, etc.) as being.

It seems the only way to avoid this path is to cut the problem off at the roots.

Personal Growth and Responsibility

It seems when we face ourselves, we very often discover that all the roots of our problems stem from either bad reactions to outside stimuli or a passive/active bad decision on our part.

This includes a new growing trend I am seeing in “disorganized religion” as well: The pop up Wicca/Pagan Sunday schools and the adoption of opposing religious practices like Wiccan “CHRISTenings”.

There is a great freedom in disorganized paths but people who seeks any sort of power should exercise a measure of discretion and be assured that they are grounded. Power without responsibility is dangerous, no matter what badge one wears.

Also we must accept ourselves entirely. We must accept all of our darkness as well as all of our light. To do otherwise is to dwarf one’s growth as well as grant power to the darkness, thus leaving it unchecked.

All of the dark aspects of ourselves, in proper controlled amounts, are actually healthy things. Greed, sloth, envy, pride, etc. Without any of these things, we would never strive, never seek to achieve or grow. They are integral parts of ourselves.

It is as unbalanced to applaud tendencies of light while divorcing ones of darkness just as it is to believe only in a female or only in a male creator.

We don’t have to be destructive either. To find balance and growth, one should simply accept both the inner darkness and inner light to be whole. If you are not whole, how can you grow and stand?

When we recognize our weakness, we master it and find balance. Otherwise it doesn’t matter what the name of your faith is or what you call yourself. You will simply continue to commit acts of cruelty, ignorance, sloth, malice, strife, theft, condemnation, and pride.

If we all would seize the opportunity to take responsibility, accept ourselves, correct our own errors, love and respect everyone – including respecting their rights to their own paths and their own views — and stop trying to make a black-and-white standard in this colorful world, perhaps we can be a better people and encourage growth in a better world.

Pagan? Witch! She’s A Witch!!

Pagan? Witch! She’s A Witch!!

Author: Lea

Why is it when you mention the word ‘pagan’ people freak out? It is something I simply don’t understand considering that all current religions stem from that one word. Of course, many will simply not believe that this is true and believe any person who would announce himself or herself as such, well, evil.

Devil worshippers? I think not, pagans as a whole do not even believe in such a deity, they believe that evil comes from the human heart, you either accept it in or you don’t. And most pagans… don’t.

Must we hide? Yes. Simply put we fear for our lives and those of our families. Especially our children, many choose to follow in our footsteps; however, many do not. We do not drag our children to meditations or rituals; they go if they so choose. We would never force their will and make them participate.

They are allowed to find their own path through life accepting whatever form of spirituality calls to their souls. If it is Christianity, then so be it, that is how we live, work and love. We are happy, normal people with families, careers and the same daily strife that all people experience.

So how is it that people look at me as if I am different?

I am not any different from them. I simply want to live my life the way I see fit without having to adhere to something I simply do not believe in. I believe in life around me, in attempting to live without hurting and judging others regardless of their beliefs. Never would I tell someone they should not be Christian and yet, many tell me that I need saving.

It astounds me that so many have the gall to do so and will not give me the time of day otherwise. They won’t even take a minute to get to know me, speak with me about my choices and try to understand why I have chosen so. Why is this? Can they not think for themselves? Are they so trapped in one way of life they cannot even consider there may be many other ways to find joy in their own spiritual beings? And that brings me to this:

WITCH! SHE’S A WITCH!!

Okay, so maybe I am a witch. What is so wrong with that? Wise Woman, I believe is a wonderful thing to be. In tune with yourself, your world and your thoughts and ideas. How evil is that? Amazingly enough it seems perfect to me.

I have suffered, suffer not a witch to live… well, I am beginning to think that maybe that is exactly what many in this world are going for.

Many months ago my husband and I were attacked after an evening out. Protecting me he suffered permanent damage to his right eye and I had a severe concussion. I didn’t understand, I wondered why the diamond engagement and wedding bands were still on my hand, why my husband still had his wallet. Recently things began seeping back, dreams that woke me screaming in a cold sweat, flashes and still the headaches plague me. I remember a group of young men following us, I remember them making sneering and nasty comments about my pentacle and myself, devil worshipper, witch, whore; I remember simply saying Blessed Be and then for so long, until recently, I remember nothing.

To remember nothing is a horrible feeling and now I wish I had never remembered. I realize now that they were willing to go through my well-sized very fit husband to get to me; they wanted me seriously hurt or simply dead. And they do it at night, on a dark, lonely downtown street and when they are finished they run like the cowards they are.

There were at least six of them against the two of us, really one of us, my husband. And he was angry with me, blamed me, why did I have to be the person I am, why couldn’t I just keep it to myself? Why did I always have to be who I was, could I not just pretend to be someone and something else? That hurt as much or even more than my head did and does to this day. To know that the person you love with all your heart and soul wishes even for one moment that you were someone else.

After being beaten for wearing my pentacle in the open so that others know my spirituality, I am almost certain I should move as far away from civilization as I can and never poke my head back into it again. Living in the middle of a wood with only the trees, sky and creatures as my friends I would never be judged, hated, scoffed at or beaten to the point of a severe concussion.

Telling your children to hate anyone for any reason is not an option. It’s no option of mine anyhow, I hope that I am teaching my children to love everyone for the simple fact that they too are here on this planet trying to live in such a harsh world but I want them to see the beauty around them.

To see the love that is there, from the tiniest flower hidden in the beautiful weeds to the grandeur of the sky above them filled with millions of stars and the moon at night. To see every person as basically good even if they don’t act as if they are at all times. To remember that their words and actions have a multitude of rippling reactions creating sometimes good and/or bad consequences.

Not being able to get a job because I won’t lie about who I am or hide it from the world is simply wrong. Working alongside others who may wear a symbol of their faith without being judged while you may not when you can get that job is sad, unfair and simply wrong.

And yet, again, I begin to believe I simply do not belong in this world. That maybe my family would be better off without me, that they would have the chance to just fit in and be a part of this world without me holding them back because I can not believe what others do. Because I know better, I know that any God or Goddess looking down upon this planet and it’s people today is crying, just as I am now, knowing that this is not the way it was meant to be.

Today I am not in tune with myself or anything, I simply do not want to be in this world with those who will not use the mind and free will given them to make a decision based on anything other that fiction.

Footnotes:
none/original

Embracing A Religion of Love

Embracing A Religion of Love

Author: Pagasus

Most of us who have turned to Paganism have turned to it because we were unsatisfied with our previous religion, but still needed that void to be filled. The void to feel small, the void to feel that there is a higher power, the void to feel loved by that higher power. The power that is God/ Goddess. This is the explanation why I became disenchanted with Christianity, why I came to love Wicca/Paganism, and possibly some other random ramblings.

I was raised as a “Roman Catholic.” I put the quotes around that phrase because I can remember being, well as young as five, maybe even younger, and just throwing a fit! I’d be begging, pleading if I could have a baby sitter and miss church. But that’s not really where it all started. My disenchantment began some years later.

I was still in grade school and I was playing a game board at recess. My friend was nearby and talking to another kid about religion. All I remember is that the girl she was talking to said, “Well I was raised Catholic so I was raised right and you weren’t so you weren’t raised right.”

I was so shocked at this because I was being bought up Catholic too, but I felt that people who were bought up in other faiths (my Jewish/Druid best friend) were being raised right, too. I was just so angry with that girl and I don’t know why. Maybe it was because she said it to my best friend, or maybe it was for some other reason but I think a small part of my affection (What little I had for it since I hated going to church/CCD) for Catholicism died in me right there on the playground that day.

Now, I know I have had other negative experiences with Christianity (as I’m sure we all have) but none of them stick out quite as much as that one. Although I still had issues with my father about my religion and my beliefs (numerous of them of them protesting my not wanting to go to church, because God should just love me whether I prayed in “his house” or my house) .

One day I had to go to confession. We had gotten a new priest. Everyone thought he was an amazing priest! Except me. I don’t know why but for some reason I just didn’t like him. Later on I’d find out why.

I was new to Wicca and Paganism in general (still am) . I was still trying to like the religion that my parents wanted me to have and by parents I mean my father. My mom, who is a Lutheran, could have cared less if I had a religion at all. Goddess bless her for that!

Anyway, that day I was at confession with the new “wonderful” priest telling him my “sins”. And he chewed me out and was very rude to me!

Now normally at my church it went like this: Bless me father; I have “sinned”. …Blah blah blah. You tell him your sins. He says “And for your penance, say, # Our Fathers, # Hail Marys. God bless you. Go in peace.”

Not this priest, oh no! It was butt chewing. You need to be more Christ -ike. My “sins” weren’t even that bad. Things like I’ve lied to my parents (Don’t we all when were teens?) . I haven’t been the nicest to my friends (typical high school drama, ya know?) and maybe something like I ate meat on a Friday of Lent. I thought if I’m supposed to come to you and God who is all loving, for forgiveness, why is his messenger a “man of God” being so rude and not so forgiving?

This one sermon though completely changed my view of the Catholic religion and made me lose all hope and faith in my birthed religion.

The new priest was giving a sermon around the time of the Summer Solstice, I believe it was. His lecture was about the comparison between Paganism and Christianity… and not how much they are alike but rather how much better Christianity is than Paganism and why it’s better to be a Christian than a Pagan. He didn’t even get most of what he was talking about right! That was the part that really got me mad.

I remember thinking that this guy has read too much Greek “mythology.” He preached to the church body that it’s better to be a Christian than a Pagan because the Christian God loves us and reveals Himself to us in many ways. The Pagan Gods only reveal Themselves to us when They want to come down out of the sky to wreak havoc on us, or to throw lightning bolts at us.

Now honestly when was the last time one of your Gods/Goddesses came down from the sky to reveal Him/Herself to you just to throw a lightning bolt at you? Probably never.

Then he would say, “Now aren’t you glad you’re not a Pagan?” We Christians get dressed up in nice clothes to go sit in a nice beautiful protected-from-the-elements church building. The Pagans get dressed up in animal skins, put antlers on their heads and go outside and talk/pray to trees and rocks. Now aren’t you glad your’re not a Pagan?”

Okay, maybe some of us do that but when I go do something spiritual I just normally wear my everyday street clothes. Maybe that makes me less of a Pagan than the antler wearers, but I don’t care.

The priest’s statement about us dressing a bit weird for our ceremonies made me think though.

It made me think, “Okay bud, what about you? Why do you dress like you do when you go give a sermon? Why can’t you wear your street clothing? How is dressing like that have anything to do with your religion?”

Our antler animal skin wearing can actually have something to do with our religion. Maybe we’re dressed like that to help us be more like that animal since we’re nature based religions and animals are a big part of nature.

And what about the Pope? Why does he dress like that? How does that bring him closer to his religion? It probably doesn’t, that’s how.

We wear what we wear for our ritual because it helps us connect to our religion.

Then he went on to talk about how we go to Stonehenge and pray/talk to these massive rocks and other imaginary Gods. But, oh, the Christians go to church to pray to a real living God. Now aren’t we (again) glad we’re not Pagans?

I am a Pagan. I’m glad that I am a Pagan. I love my religion.

Why? After I wrote all that? Well, I am not going to go in to much detail. I’ll save that for a later article. In short, I don’t have to get dressed up, go outside, and if it’s wet, get my good dress clothes wet and dirty. I can just wear my PJ’s, stay in, and have a nice relaxing quiet ritual and commune with the Gods/Goddesses that way.

Best part about that is They will still love me whether I worship Them in my house or “Their” house. If I do choose to go outside to have a ritual, I can wear weather appropriate clothing. I love Paganism because, yes, I can wear ‘funny’ clothing if I choose… antlers and all!

The Gods/Goddesses Whom I choose to worship have revealed Themselves and helped me out many, many times. I can’t count how many times They have revealed Themselves to me, just so they could hit me with a lighting bolt. (Actually, They have never done that. Not even once. So there are no times ‘to count’. LOL!)

Maybe we should all learn to talk to our Earth and rocks and trees… and not only talk to them but also listen to what nature has to say back. Maybe if we all did commune with rocks/trees maybe we could learn something from our great mother, Mother Earth.

I am Pagan. I am glad that I am!

Blessed Be to everyone who is Christian, Muslim, Jew, and from all the other religions in the world. (And yes, even to those of us who pray and perform spells to Gods who only visit us when they want to hit us with lightning bolts.)

Blessed Be To All…. And May All Gods/Goddess Be Worshiped Equally.