Dancing Down the Moon

Spiders and Snakes and Deer, Oh My!

I recently joined a LiveJournal community offering Pagan writing prompts.  I'm looking forward to the suggestions offered--since I solicited suggestions here, I've been compiling a rather long list of possible writing topics to keep me inspired.  (I still welcome suggestions, incidentally;  comment on this entry if you have any.)

At any rate, the first prompt on the community had to do with animal totems in Pagan practice.  It got me thinking back to the early days of my training, when "what's your spirit animal?" was a burning question and I noticed that an oddly large proportion of Pagans were magically paired with wolves, birds of prey, dolphins, and dragons. 

Oh, and cats--let's not forget cats.  At the first student Pagan group meeting I ever went to at UT there was a girl in the corner who claimed to be a "cat spirit" and spent the entire meeting licking her forearms.

I shit you not.

The Rest is Still Unwritten

I've been working on a post about personal mythology--not stories of gods and goddesses, but the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves, that we base our world around.  I was planning to discuss how a myth, any myth, becomes dangerous when it devolves into dogma; when there is no room for any other ideas, our mythology can be used to oppress and malign, both on the cultural and individual levels.

For some reason I can't seem to get that piece off the ground.  I keep coming back to it, nudging the angle one way or another, tweaking the language, but it still comes off a bit...pretentious and intellectually overwrought.  Therefore, I've decided to leave off the theory (theory gives me hives anyway) and jump to the chase.

How Can I Keep from Singing?

The English language has, for once, failed me utterly. 

We have dozens of words and intricate turns of phrase to describe our misery, our longing; how do we describe happiness, except in cheesy glitter-crystal-twit terms that make readers roll their eyes?  I've always found happy people extremely annoying, and I think perhaps part of the reason is that the only words we really have to capture those emotions--whether the fleeting feather-touch of joy or the deeper long-term contentment so few of us grasp--sound trite at best and New Agey at worst. 

And so, to avoid the perilous shoals of the Isle of Cliche, I will refrain from trying to describe how great I've been feeling this past week.  I won't subject my experience to further analysis that might diminish or even kill it. 

Instead, I thought I would share some of the small practices that I have discovered lately, practices that are helping me hold on to my peace, in the hope that you too may find yourself at a loss for words as we fly headlong into this holiday season.

1 - Singing.  I sing constantly; in fact I am unable to stop.  I sing with the radio, I sing showtunes and oldies and Irish folk songs at my desk here at work.  When I am alone in Nature, I sit at the base of a tree and lift my voice in a wordless tribute to the day; all questions of being able to carry a tune in a bucket evaporate when there is no melody, no tune to begin with.  Lift up your voice.  Make a joyful noise, and moreover, let the joyful noise make you. 

2 - Prayer. Long have I advocated a life of constant prayer, but these days it comes far more easily.  I don't really have much to say to the Goddess except "thank You, thank You," and occasionally "Very funny, now where are my keys?"  But the important thing is that the conversation is ongoing, and that I am open to listen as well as to speak. 

3 - Significance. Live as if your every movement, every turn of your hand, is the turn of the worlds.  Imagine you are dancing through life; each time you reach for your coffee cup, you dance.  Feel yourself fully in your body as you walk down the hall.  Feel each muscle and tendon moving past each other, foot in front of foot, creating the miracle of motion.  Celebrate all the parts of your body that work just the way they're supposed to without pain or difficulty.  Obviously you're doing something right--you're alive, aren't you?  Every finger you lift has the potential to alter entire worlds.

4 - Sleep!  I've been going to bed earlier, and whether that's of my own power or with the aid of Better Living Through Pharmaceuticals, the difference in my mood and energy the next day is remarkable.

5 - Mantras and Affirmations.  I'm still an advocate of affirmations, and I find that the following help me through: 

I am open to the overflowing grace of the Divine.
Radiant health and well-being, within and without.
One way or another, all will be well.
Trust and take the leap, beloved; trust and take the leap.

Another thing I've found myself doing is mentally calling everyone "beloved."  I try to look at people as if we are kin, and as if that person--no matter who or where--is a dear and favorite cousin, niece, or nephew. 

6 - Patience. By the same token, I extend that sense of kinship and compassion to myself.  I was so prepared to be angry and depressed over my 30th birthday, so ready to rip myself apart for all my mistakes and failures, that I was almost doomed to have a terrible year just by default.  But then, thanks to the Goddess's unexpected intervention, when all was said and done, I looked at my life and thought, "You know what?  I haven't done so badly.  I have a roof over my head, I  have a car to drive, food to eat, my cat is provided for, I have a job that pays my bills, I have an iPod and a computer, books galore, friends who love me, a family who loves me, and God has my back.  I'm smart and creative and funny and powerful and have so much potential it's scary.  What the hell do I have to complain about?"  Now, when my mood starts to turn down or I find myself frustrated with myself (or anyone else for that matter), I try to treat myself with kindness, and patience.  "Beloved," I say, "it's all right if you screw this up.  So take a second and breathe, and think about another way to do it that you'll be more satisfied with."

I could go on for hours, but these are the most basic things that are keeping me, not just sane, but deliciously engaged, touched with equanimity and surrounded by calm.  I intend to enjoy this period of my life as long as it will stay with me, and hopefully take what I learn in this space forward, so that when the inevitable Suckage drops by to visit, I'll face it with new eyes, an open heart, and faith that the Goddess and God give miracles to those who court the miraculous.

Trust and take the leap, beloved; trust and take the leap.

I Know This Much is True

There are a great many things I want to say about the events of this past weekend and the sudden changes to my life, changes my mind still hasn't caught up with.  For now, however, I'd like to give my thanks to those who have commented here and on MySpace wishing me many happy returns.  I had a lovely birthday weekend, and a rather intense one, which I may one day recount in detail but at the moment am still processing.  A lot.

It's strange, stepping through a doorway between one phase of life and the next.  For many people turning 30 might not be a big deal, or it might involve the usual career-matrimony-life direction angst.  After what can only be described as a true Initiatory experience this weekend, I can say in all honesty that the anxiety I was feeling around my age has pretty much vanished.  At the moment I seem incapable of anxiety, period. 

In fact, for the last few days I have felt a strange, lovely peace descend upon me, and have wandered through this week smiling for no reason, singing to myself, and keeping a near-constant running dialog with the sacred in my head.  I feel calm and powerful, fully in my skin, possibly for the first time in my entire life.

Give it Up for the Goddess

My Goddess is a demanding one.  It's barely even the edge of Autumn, and She's making Her wishes known to me in ritual and meditation.  I am asked to tithe to Her in devotion, time, and even skin. 

Those are the easy part.  There's more.

Once you move deeper than the outer layers of Wicca, once the symbols and the holidays are part of your life and you're ready for something more spiritually intimate, you hit what is, for a lot of modern people, a snag:  God is neither a fairy godmother nor your bitch.  For every prayer answered, for every spell that succeeds, a sacrifice must be made. 

Younger generation Americans in particular hate the notion of sacrifice, I've observed.  A lot of people feel like they're entitled to "have it all" with a minimum of actual effort.  Meanwhile, the older generations raised in the shadow of war and Depression understand the idea of sacrifice, but for them it tends to be about sacrificing for the family and for country, not for self-actualization.  Personally I was born at the butt end of Gen X, so I have no work ethic, but I don't expect much, so it all evens out to a nice manageable level of slackerdom.

The fact, however, remains the fact:  there is no give without take.  A relationship must flow both ways in order to be healthy; that holds as true for a relationship with Deity as it does for a marriage. 

I've said all of this before, of course.  And of course, those new to the idea of Paganism and Wicca should note that when I say "sacrifice" obviously I'm not talking about cute furry animals or children.  Nope, you should only sacrifice ugly hairless animals.  Children are always okay.

Just kidding.  Calm down.

When I say "sacrifice," I don't mean to imply that there's a giant tote board in the sky keeping track of your deeds and wishes granted, or that the universe is a giant zero-sum game.  I mean simply that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.  If you want something new and wonderful in your life, room must be made for it.  You have to work to clear the ground and prepare the soil; if it's full of roots and rocks, you're less likely to reap a good crop.  If you want to be healthier, you can't just sit around filling yourself with white light and humping your crystals--you have to make real, practical changes in your real, practical life, the life you want transformed.  Life doesn't just happen on the astral plane; neither does magic.  Show the gods you're willing to make the sacrifice necessary, and willing to accept the consequences of the changes you have asked for.  Life is like wearing a white shirt to an Italian restaurant.  There will be deliciousness and satisfaction and succulence, but there will also be marinara on your shirt.

Of course, what that means is, be careful what you wish for.  When it comes down to it, is your goal worth what you'll have to give up?  Is it worth the time, the extra work?  Is a new relationship worth breaking off an old one?  Is a more fulfilling life worth moving, changing jobs, losing friends?  Are you truly willing to let go of the old way and embrace the new?  If you're not, you will not succeed.  If your closet is full of baggage, don't expect the gods to hand you a new wardrobe.

This is a minor sticking point I have with the Charge of the Goddess--that line about "nor do I demand aught of sacrifice."  I'm sure that it was written with the intention of stating clearly that Witches don't off bunnies and kitties and babies in their rituals, but it is a bit misleading in a broader sense.  No spiritual evolution has ever come freely.  However, I suppose the point is that  the Goddess doesn't force us into anything--in the end, we have to decide for ourselves if we are willing to give what must be given.  We always have the option to walk away, to let life continue until it becomes utterly unbearable.  Unfortunately what tends to happen is, if we don't walk into the sacrifice willingly when we have the opportunity, eventually things will get so horrible that we are forced out of our inertia into much more difficult choices.  Life will change; that is its nature.  Our freedom and responsibility is to create that change ourselves instead of allowing circumstances to dictate our stories.  To quote Natasha Bedingfield, "Today is where your book begins; the rest is still unwritten."

The important thing is not to confuse "sacrifice" with "suffering."  It doesn't always have to be painful, although we tend to cling so hard to our possessions and past that we bring a lot of undue pain upon ourselves.  Sacrifice isn't about agony, it's about significance. As we come into the waning time of year, when Death and the Dark Queen step onto the stage, They will surely ask you:  What is your heart's desire?  And what do you offer Us in return?

Only you can know the answer.

For more on the concept of sacrifice in religion, read this excellent article over at Breathless Noon:  What Are You Willing to Give Up For It?

The Three Catalysts

This post started out as a continuation of the Pagans and Depression series but ended up taking on a life of its own, so please forgive its length and rambling-ness. 

Whether your spiritual path is Wicca, Buddhism, Catholicism, or the First Church of Some Dude Named Leroy, what gives it validity isn’t the name or the vocabulary words, nor is it the tools and trappings. What makes a path valid is its effect on your life. 

Does your spirituality help you cope with the slings and arrows of daily life? Does it encourage you to become a better person? Does it lead you to grow and change? Does it give you tools to transform yourself and your world?

If so, then in my mind it doesn’t matter if you’re an AnarchoFeminist Klingon Pagan or a Semi-Radical Ninja Feri. There are plenty of people in this world who cling to dysfunctional or stagnant ways simply out of habit and tradition, and whether those ways fall under the umbrella of mainstream acceptance or not, religion is not spiritual if it doesn’t change you. 

In my experiences in the Craft I’ve come to the understanding that there are essentially three kinds of transformative experiences on a spiritual path, each with its own blessings and pitfalls. Eventually all three are going to find you; it is through the dynamic interplay of the three that we become mature practitioners. 

The three categories are ecstasy, practice, and breakdown.

A Tale of Two Tattoos

I, like most Pagans, am blessed/cursed with a love of body modification.

Unfortunately I am also cursed with an allergy to most jewelry metals, which means that almost all of my piercing experiences have ended in tears.

If I were a wealthy woman, or didn't have to use my disposable income to support a raging book habit, I would be covered in tattoos.  I'd have a full back piece and something down each arm, around both ankles...ever since I got my first one at the age of 19, I've looked at my body as a blank canvas.

Sad to say, ten years later I still only have two small tattoos.  Partly it's a fear of commitment, and a lack of financial resources...however, there is something else at work here that holds me back.

Reader-Inspired Topic #1

I've blogged a bit in the past about crises of faith as an important opportunity for spiritual growth and reaffirmation, but the question still arises:  when you are in the midst of such a crisis, what do you do?  How do you get through it?

I'd like to say I have definitive answers on this, but I’m still working it out myself--my last major crisis was in 2004, and I handled it, er, rather badly.  The wisest thing I did was to take a sabbatical from writing and teaching and focus on my own recovery (this particular crisis started off as a family tragedy and spiraled into what I can only describe as a nervous breakdown complete with medication).  I can't say, based on my behavior, that I am some kind of expert on the subject, although the experience has left me with a few bits of insight.

On Pagan Conformity

Recently there’s been a bit of discussion 'round the blogosphere about the issue of Pagans looking like, well, Renaissance-festival reject freaks, and whether or not we can ever be taken seriously in the religious community if we come off as members of a fandom.

As with any online discussion there’s a good deal of self-righteousness and indignation attached to the subject, some yelling, quite a bit of snobbery.  (Did you know that cursing makes you "trailer-park?"  Well, fuck me.) I was a bit surprised at how vehement and venemous people got about it, but then, this is the Internet.

I'll be the first to admit that the more colorful members of our community do put me off.  In fact, they put a lot of people off, including those who might otherwise stay and become valuable members of the community.  In my mind, the costumes aren't the problem; the problem is the people wearing them…er, some of them.  I don't mean to judge everyone who wanders about in a cape and loincloth, although it does help me decide who I don't want to date.

My Most Recent Idea (of Shadows)

Pagans are a creative bunch. Whether it's because artistic and creative thinkers tend to shy away from the mainstream and therefore tend to congregate in alternative religions, or because our up-close-and-personal relationship with Deity tends to inspire us so passionately we have to find some way of expressing our ecstasy, or both, or something else entirely, over the years I have seen some of the most fantastic art and craft from my people, ranging from Tarot to music to sculpture and all points West.

I’m something of an artist, and by that I mean I have artistic talent but not the drive to make use of it regularly. My creativity finds its outlet in the written word, plus occasional forays into colored pencil art, wee sculptures in polymer clay, and even a painting or two. (Painting is difficult for me, as I have essential tremors in both hands, so mostly I stick to pencil and clay.)

Even if you don’t think you have any talent, there are some forms of art that any enterprising Pagan can create. The most obvious, and perhaps most important, is of course the altar, where form and function unite, making a Michelangelo out of every Aradia WeaselFox. The second is that "ancient" form of magical recordkeeping, the Book of Shadows.