Don't Bring Me Down, Grooose!

Yep, that's all that runs through my head lately.  There seems to be nothing quite so delightful to the average magical mind as proving what an erudite occultist they are by making someone else feel stupid.  This just has got to go.

I've had to reply to more than a few people who get nothing but put-downs from local groups, group leaders, and solitaries for not knowing more or for not having the same practice.  Cautious people are called "fluffy bunnies" and "whiny babies," black magicians are called "goths," professionals are "cheap sell-outs."  Each tradition, each teacher, each book has detractors who whip daggers at their target without end.  Why all the labeling?  What's it to you?  What's it to any of us?

I guess I have a bit of a different history than most of the other practitioners I meet.  I spent about the first two years of my practice in complete isolation, without telling a soul or discussing magic or Paganism in any way.  All I did was read and practice.  After that, I told only a handful of the people closest to me and to the rest kept my silence.  Even when I met people who were interested in magic, I said nothing.  This went on for the next year or two.  In that time, I had amassed quite a stock-pile of knowledge and experience in ritual and spellcasting.  I didn’t feel less than any other witch because, in my life, there weren’t any.  I grew confident in myself and, because of that confidence, became eager to meet other witches.  Over the next few years, I learned to use the Internet to find them. 

This, I find, is the fatal flaw.

Here in the digital world, we can be anything we want.  Online is a veritable theater of colorful characters, some entirely made-up, some a projection of dreams, others a nightmare.  But none of them have to be real so everyone is free to play with as many costumes as they wish.  While that can be considered psychologically healthy as an expression of Jungian archetypes (guess who took psych. in high school!), it can also be considered lying.  Especially if one is acting out these personas as though they were one's real life and personality, the average person can get easily confused and hurt.  So, we learn to weed out the lies, test every person we meet, go through all the facts as though we were each little Colombo's, verbally extracting threads of damning evidence from naïve suspects.

But the rules change.  Now the suspects think they're on the case.  They inspect you as much as you inspect them.  They pull the old finger wag and "Just one more thing..." as much as you do.  So we suspect everyone and assume that no one is who or what they claim.  Since we cannot see one another, we cannot judge by the usual clues whether this person is for real or not.  Since we cannot hear each other, we can't even be sure that we're being received in the same manner that we think.  Since communication online is instant, the rule of order is quick decisions, snappy retorts, and categories for everything. 

So, sure, that's online "life."  But it's a poor substitute for real life.  I've seen my share of irritating comments and callous behavior in the magical community around me but online, stealth aggressiveness is the white noise at the back of every conversation.  Maybe it's just this manner of communication as it has evolved that causes it to be this way or maybe we just find it easier to bring out the weaponry when we can't see who we're shooting.  In any event, I've had just about anything and everything lobbed at me online while most of the terrible things said to me/in my presence offline were based on the old standby of awkward conversation: "foot-in-mouth disease." 

Sometimes these little foibles (okay, irritating-as-hell personality flaws) come out as the wrong thing at the wrong time.  I let them slide.  Most are desperate grabs for attention and acclaim.  Once in a while I get all Freudian on them and seek out their underlying issues; sometimes I just make an ass of them in public.  (Hey, I never said I wasn't as flawed as the rest!)  For example, I once was contacted by an older woman about joining my group.  She was a fast-talking, self-promoting type but I thought I’d at least give her a chance.  When we met in person she assured me that she was perfect for our coven while simultaneously swiping all my paperwork I was using for examples.  Later, she told people that we met only because I was desperate to join her group.  Wha..?  I let it slide since it was pretty obvious to all that she was begging for attention in any ways she could get it.  Another time a fellow local coven leader introduced me to a newbie and then proceeded to tease her about the same bad pronunciation we all had before we heard the words spoken (like saying Sam-Hane) and made snide, psudo-confidential remarks to me even though she was right there in front of us.  I turned the tables, explained the pronunciation to the girl, and then—“confidentially”—told her how asking newcomers to say “Athame” is how some folks try to get a leg up on fresh young minds like hers. 

Yeah, those people suck.  But they probably suck in all areas of their lives, not just as witches.  It certainly didn't originate with their lives as witches though the feeling of entitlement probably helped.   So, without singling out the wise from the wicked, how do we combat this mess?  We do what witches have always done--we go our own way.  If being around a certain person fills you with feelings of inadequacy, stop seeing them.  If a group or teacher puts down your beliefs, move on.  If your community doesn't accept you, don't accept them.


But, wait.  It doesn't end there. 

We know we can't simply walk out on everyone who doesn't make us deliriously happy every day or who makes us realize how little we've accomplished.  What we need is some perspective.  Get out a notebook and answer some questions.  Write until both wrists ache (even though you only use one to write) and then write some more.


1)  That person who makes me feel bad.
  a)  What specifically makes me feel bad?  Is it what they do or what they imply? 
  b)  How does this change my view of myself before and after I'm with them?
  c)  What would I need to do/become in order for this not to bother me?
  d)  What would I need to do/become in order to feel like I'm on the same level?
  e)   Can I learn anything from this?

2)  The group or teacher who puts me down.
  a)  What do they say, do, or imply that is a put-down?  What part of me are they insulting?
  b)  What makes it an insult to me?
  c)  If I were a teacher, would I ever say this?  Even as a test or a lesson?  What would I say instead?
  d)  What would be my ideal experience with a teacher/group? 
  e)  Can I learn anything from this?

3)  The community that doesn't accept me.
  a)  How am I excluded? How much of the community excludes me?
  b)  How much of the community have I seen? (list all events, stores, workshops, open circles, meet-and-greets, festivals, etc. and what the reaction was at each)  Where have I not tried?
  c)  If the worst of these events happened today, how would I handle it? 
  d)  What would I like to be accepted for?  What do I want others to see in me?
  e)  Can I learn anything from this?



As you can see, the final thing we must always ask ourselves is "what is the lesson here?" (and yes, some of these questions are a trick.  But it's a nice one--think deeper) and even, "is there one?"  Sometimes the lesson is as simple as learning that we should leave a conversation before it becomes an argument; sometimes it's more about learning to stand up for our ideas or not allowing other to intimidate.  Other times we find that what hurts can be for our own good.  It depends upon the person and the situation as to what the answer to these questions will be. 

But, in the end, we should always learn.  This keeps us from becoming bitter, jealous, or cruel.  And we know that if we allow those things to take over, they'll only end up spilling out onto innocent people.  Don’t let others bring you down and certainly don’t become one of them!

Never Home for the Harvest

                 Though many of us consider the end of summer to be Labor Day, or even the first day of a new school year, we recognize the true beginning of autumn with the coming of the Equinox.  Fall has always been a time to bring in the crop, so to speak, and plan for winter.  Harvesting what is passed, planning for the future, and celebrating the good fortune of both are central to the Fall Equinox.  We give thanks for the blessings of another season.

                That’s enough of the lesson!  Now for my take on the issue.  The Equinox is about those things, yes, but it’s also about reflecting on the process.  The seed planted last fall slept through the winter to bloom in spring.  Now it is ready to be picked so we may enjoy it.  This same cycle is played out for each of us whether our own patterns of creation are yearly or not.  Some of our plans only take a week or two to manifest, some take months, but the pattern remains the same.  We harvest and we enjoy.  Some of the big harvests (large-scale projects like a new home or the completion of a book) call for parties, sharing the great news with friends and family.  Smaller ones might be shared between a few friends or, in the case of we witches, the coven.  “So, that awful woman at work got fired, eh?  Good job!”  “Let’s have a few drinks and celebrate the wonderful healing work Lucy did for her aunt!”  We should always celebrate happy endings.  That way, we know where they are.

                Reflecting in this way is an important part of the process.  When we begin something, we always know it’s beginning.  When we’re working toward a goal, we know it’s in process.  But when we finish, and do not take the time to recognize it, and only start again on a new goal, it doesn’t feel finished.  We turn the hamster wheel only to see that, with the next step, it needs turning again.  

                This, in a nutshell, is me.  I am forever on one project or another—usually several—and when one is nearing completion; another idea pops up ready to take its place.  It’s somewhat like a relay race—the baton is passed with both parties running like hell.  So I am never done, my work is never done.  There is research work, writing work, spellwork, divination work, recording work, and teaching work…and research work, writing work…   Where one leaves off, another picks up.  

                Most of the time, this unlikely system works for me.  Of course, that’s not to say it doesn’t cause me irritation at times but it’s become so normal that I expect it every time.  Usually people like to strike a balance between work and rest.  This pattern, however, means that the only way to keep balance is through momentum.   

                I doubt that I am alone in this situation.  A lot of people consider witchcraft to be a “hobby.”  Even if the practitioner doesn’t feel that way themselves, others around them will, and expect the same level of free-time from a witch as they would any other person.  But those of us in the magical community know that magic is no hobby and can take a substantial amount of time in its practice and training.  So sometimes the pressure to do more with less time comes from within and sometimes from without.  

                When we come to the Fall Equinox, we’re supposed to be taking stock of all this.  We reenact rituals with heartfelt thanks to the Gods.  We talk about bringing in the harvest and settling in for the calm of winter.  But do we all really do this?  Do I (or anyone like me) do this?  Hell no!  We plan and arrange for the ritual, we bake and cook to make a great feast for everyone, we memorize lines, and we guide others, but we don’t settle in, there simply isn’t time.  Constant progress means that while everyone else celebrates the harvest contentedly, we’re out in the field, either still gathering or putting down a new crop.  And the time that follows this sabbat is only for preparation for the next.  After all, Halloween is the biggest night of the year—there’s a lot to do and not a minute to spare.  We take a moment during the ritual to touch on thankfulness but there’s no time to explore it.

                I suggest that if any of readers are now nodding (or grimacing) to the familiarity of all this, as I certainly am, we all STOP and take a deep breath.  I have the answer.

                We do nothing.  That’s right – nothing.  I’ve tried all different kinds of solutions for this problem – meditating, changing my social patterns, different books, different spells, different everything – and it still persists undaunted.  So now is the unveiling of my new plan – Nothing.  I propose that all we overworked, over-stressed, over-stimulated Pagans take a certain amount of time (no less than a week) and do nothing whatsoever to do with our path nor our practice.  Now, to some, this is counterintuitive, to others, counterrevolutionary.  But it is in fact a healthy part of practice.  Just as the moon has her period of absolute dark (where she decides her “me time” has nothing to do with lighting your evening), so should we too have down-time of calm and rest.  

                I began this method sporadically a few years ago.  It was from an absolute burn-out, and that has been my only use of this “Dark Moon” ever since.  But now I see that it can and should be a regular part of the cycle, not something to be drawn out only when I feel overwhelmed by the expectations of coven, friends, family, self, and clients.  Our Dark Moon can be incredibly relaxing and help us come back even stronger.  During this time I don’t read books on witchcraft/Paganism/the occult at all, nor do I visit websites or talk about it with others; I don’t cast spells, research in any way, plan coven meetings or events, gather components, or even watch movies/documentaries pertaining to these topics.  Nary a charm crosses my lips and my almanac languishes unopened for a week.   For me, that’s a lot.  It turns out to mean a lot, too.

                So, this Equinox, while you’re standing in the circle, reciting your piece and mentally running to-do lists for after the ritual ends, remember to make time for a vacation.  Believe me, you will have plenty of time during it to count your blessings and give thanks for every one.

The March of the Shameless Pagan

     I want to get all religious on you guys for a moment.  Yeah, I know, settle in for a rant.  You’ve seen them before—all over Witchvox and any other public Pagan forum—the ol’ “What I Think of Christians” thing.  It’s nearly as popular as “Would You Like to Hear How I Became a Pagan?”  I’ll try to keep it brief and only talk on points of ponder for the moment.  Hopefully this will be fresh news for you as well.  This is also the angriest you will probably see me in a long while, so tuck in.

     So you all (you countless throng who flock to this blog…hey—I can dream) know that I like to discuss religion and spirituality, no matter in what form it may come.  I come here and on our coven’s website (**shameless plug**  www.OrbisProsapia.com) to talk about magic and Paganism with as much openness and enthusiasm as our readers rightly deserve.  I tell you to be honest with yourselves and honest with others.  I give any interested party advice on handling being a happy outsider in this exclusive society.   But what I rarely do is talk about the real nuts and bolts of my beliefs.  At first it was that I figured no one would find it interesting.  Then it became that I have bigger concepts to be dealing with, and so does the reader.  Finally we arrive where I am now—it’s nobody else’s business.

     That’s right.  Just like what I do in the bedroom, who I do it with, and what tunes I sing in the shower in the morning, ain’t nobody’s business but my own.   I have found that the more I tell people about my most touching moments in the presence of the Gods, the less amazing they begin to seem.  Maybe keeping it all for myself makes me selfish but at least I’m not engaging in those boring “who’s had a cooler experience with Hecate” debates.  I don’t like one-upmanship.  So my religious sentiments, while well founded on our predecessors, are my own thing and likely will remain so.

     But one thing I feel very strongly about sharing is my right to be Pagan.  Now I don’t inject it into every conversation but it may occasionally come up in polite society.  There’s no reason that it should be a topic the equivalent to abortion or diarrhea, discussed in hushed tones out of earshot to “regular” people.  (Ha! Get it?)  It is just as worthy as talking about your grandson’s Christening or last Sunday in church.

     As an example, the local preacher struck up a conversation with me one late December: 

“Are you ready for Christmas?” he said with a big smile. 

“Not me.  There’s a lot left to do!”

“Well, you only have 12 days left!” he chided.

“Actually our family celebrates the Winter Solstice, so I only have 9.  I’d better get a move on, eh?” 

     Pretty painless, right?  Yes, his smiled sort of slid to the left as though it was melting but I think that was more shock than anything else.  Ever since we moved here I’ve been 100% genuine with my neighbors.  It hasn’t won me any popularity contests but, naturally, lies are so much more polite.  Failure to hide what makes you different around here is the same thing as blowing your nose on your shirttail.  So I’m not beloved but I’m not gossiped about either.  Before they knew me I was, of course, but now, nary a whisper.  I give them no ammo so now they can’t shoot.

     But I’ve often heard about Pagans who fear these shots so much that they construct elaborate lies to hide their core beliefs from everyone they know.  They tell the neighbors they’re “going to visit family upstate” as they pack for a festival.  They are too afraid to ask for the Sabbats off from work, lest someone should find out why.  They find a person who may or may not be “one of us” and ask a series of semi-innocent questions and look for tell-tale answers, like a secret handshake.   Seriously people!  Is this really necessary?

     Let’s go back for a sec, way back.  Christianity began as just another oddball sect in a time when oddball sects were rising up like the death toll in Deuteronomy.  Through time, promises, war, murder, money, and missionaries we arrive at the present time when this one system has gotten so big that it has branched out into dozens of smaller offshoots with their own churches, books, and leaders.  Christianity has become so big as to be considered the norm.  Now, let’s explore that for a bit.  In the area in which I live, SUV’s, acrylic nails, and Nantucket capris are the norm.  If I were to take my cues from what is most popular, I would look and act like a total douche.  So I don’t do that.  I go my own way and I have no shame for it.

     And there’s my revelation.  NO SHAME.  What do we owe big-box religion that we must tell lies and hide ourselves?  What are we so afraid of that we cannot celebrate what we like when we like?  You say that one gets treated unfairly in the community?  Brother, it’s just like high school—they’ll hate you for one thing or hate you for another; the reasons don’t matter at that point.  You say one may be in danger of losing one’s job?  I say we have laws for that, no matter where you are in America, and there are plenty of lawyers looking to snag an easy case like that.  You say that businesses have been vandalized, threats declared, and people harassed?  I say look at the facts: How many of them have been reported to the authorities?  How many victims have found hostility in their community but demanded their place in it nonetheless?  The deal is to learn the law and your place in it, speak up for yourself, and have ready a lawyer to whom you can refer if necessary.  Prepare yourself so you can go in without fear.

     And here comes fear again.  What makes one faith so grand that it is automatically larger than all others, larger than the law?  Now, I’m not one to run to the police for anything.  I take the same stance on police as I do doctors and dentists.  I’d better be bleeding or decomposing in no less than two places before I’ll submit to going there.  But the police can be a real asset—when you know your rights.  Don’t let them write you off as too much paperwork.  Demand to be heard.  You have nothing to fear.    

     My neighbor from Texas says “It just ain’t safe in Texas.  If we’d met in Waco, instead of here, I would have lived next door for months before ever finding out you were Pagan.”  That’s where I said “No way, because that’s not how I am.”  You see, the place is irrelevant.  The situation is irrelevant.  The Bible may be popular but it doesn’t own the Bible Belt.  Zip codes change but I am the same wherever I go.  And, as an aside, Texas seems to have more Pagan/occult shops than any other state in the US.  The listing in Witches and Pagans Magazine (issue #22, “Southern, Pagan & Proud” ) was quite impressive.

     I’ve always seen Atheists as a kindred spirit though, admittedly, they might not see it that way (being that I am far from God-free, having way more Gods than Christians, who are their main combatant.)  When I hear Athiests speak, though, I hear rationality and pride.  They take what they see, what they’ve learned, and what they feel and assemble it in a way that is separate, but just as heartfelt, as any other worldview.  As Pagans we should take a leaf from their book: learn how to debate sanely, how to stick up for your right to be different, and how to live free without shame.  With no secret handshakes.

     We all deserve that.

The Half-Year of Living Covenlessly

            As you probably have noticed, I have been away from this site for a while.  In fact, I’ve been away from my coven leadership duties just as long.  What was at first a trying situation soon became quite nice.

            Allow me to explain.  And when I say explain I mean to bare my soul in all its gory glory.  Or at least, as much as I will ever know how to do for a faceless public.

            First came Yule.  Now Yule to our family is not a supplement to Christmas.  It is the true winter holiday complete with music, presents, games and a huge feast.  I love going all out for Yule and I generally overdo things by a mile or so.  But this past year I felt harried and late for all the things which usually give me the greatest pleasure.  The day itself was lovely, the ritual was divine.  But, through it all, something felt off.  I just didn’t get that spark.  You remember that wonderful, flighty feeling you got as a child?  That feeling of anticipation, excitement and sheer bliss that made you feel like a pop bottle full of fizz?  Many people lose that as they get older.  They get into the business of the holidays and forget all the things which once gave them wonder.  I absolutely hate when people say “The holidays are for the kids”.  That just means that they have given up on ever finding a child’s level of happiness for themselves.  I don’t want to do that.

            But somehow, this past year, while beautiful and rich in every way, left me sans spark.  It eluded me until the day ended.  And I was left with the question: what did I do wrong?  Wasn’t everything perfect?

            After all this while, I understand.  It was in my very efforts to be perfect, to make everything perfect, that I kept the spark at bay.  So that was my Yule lesson.  Next year I’ll learn from that and focus on the spark instead of the perfect mashed potatoes or the perfect number of cookie varieties.  

            (But keep all of this in mind because it will come around again in my story.)

            Within this span of time, our coven began to show signs of trouble.  The group, always a small clutch of Pagans in the decidedly non-Pagan area of rural central PA, was losing two more members.  Our membership requirements are more about dedication to working with the coven than tradition or prior knowledge so many of our past members have been of dubious training.  Comings and goings are nothing new to us.  I don’t really think that is too surprising for most covens today since it’s as hard to find a dedicated member as it is to find an inspiring coven to which to be dedicated.  But this was a bit different for me.  This time it was not only a group they were leaving but the entire Pagan community.  Somehow, they no longer wished to be Pagan.  They left the whole damn religion.  I was shocked, hurt and a little scared of what part my leadership played.

            So there I was asking those fateful questions again: What did I do wrong?  Wasn’t everything perfect?  

            It took some time but I’m sure you are following the answers at a much faster rate than I came up with them.  I had drained away the spark, in myself and maybe in the rest of the coven, by focusing on perfection.  Sure, being perfect in a group which holds meetings, magical workshops and large celebrations for each sabbat complete with music, feasts and memorized rituals is a little harder than perfection one day out of the year.  But that was always my goal.  I worked so hard at it.  Now, it may be that the couple’s leaving was a simple matter of personal issues coming to a head or it may be that the input we ask from our members was too much for them.  But though I may never know whatever it really was, the point is that it wasn’t working for any of us they way things were.

            So Imbolc came.  I hoped things would start to come back into focus.  I still carried that weight of failure but now cynicism was starting to settle in.  I tried to be hateful about our issues only in private, when possible.  We didn’t perform the group’s ritual but did uphold our own family traditions of the holiday.  I had to admit, it was refreshing to only have to concern myself with the one ritual instead of two.  

            And Ostara came.  I was thinking I might actually get used to this.  We held our own practices with the family but also held the group’s big outdoor ritual as well.  I noticed how little I worried about when it was just us.  We had our own tempo and I could just let the event play out in time to it.  And I was starting to get it: a coven isn’t defined by the number on the roster.  It’s the richness of their experiences together that matter.  I was starting to see that value.

            For Beltane, where this tale ends, our family skipped out completely on the concept of holding a ritual of our own and, instead, ran off with thousands of other happy folks to the Fairie Festival in Glen Rock.  We all got a much-needed dose of carefree pleasure.  We saw such wonderful examples of individuality and creativity yet no examples whatever of criticism.  It lifted my spirits considerably (as did the three shows we attended of the incredible Wendy Rule!)  It was great to think of myself as being totally without responsibility to anyone other than my family.  The only preferences I needed to concern myself with were those of my husband and children.  I knew and agreed with our tastes in foods, music, waking time/bedtime and even the pace at which we walked through the fair.  There were no meetings (nor the stress of realizing that one needs to be scheduled right away), no events to record, no website updates.  We just acted on our own behalf.  If we wished to attend a ritual, it would not be one I wrote, lead or provided all tools and ingredients for.  If we danced the Maypole, it would not be one of Artayous’ construction.  He would not have to erect it and I would not have to lead the dance.  Maybe it was this selfish irresponsibility I loved.  Maybe it was freedom.  Maybe it was that wonderful blend of each for which the Fay are so well-known.  Whatever it was, I was engrossed in it.

            The point of all this is that leading a group is a challenge that even a person who loves doing it will certainly stumble under sooner or later.  It’s nice to lay your burden down for a while.  But before I take this pack up again, I need to adjust some things.  I want to be sure that I only have what I need in this cumbersome pack and that, if I must carry the weight of many, I’m frugal about their options as well. After all, a coven leader carries much but she should never carry her coven-mates.