quiet on the outside (cacophony on the inside)

There are patterns to how I approach things, for better or for worse. There are steps, even.

1. Something makes me uncomfortable and sticks in my head. It pisses me off, it chafes and it will not go away. It's an idea or a sentence or a movie or a song or a word, but what it really is ultimately is a challenge to some truth I've accepted.
2. I turn it over and over, trying to find the angle that lets me see what I need to see. I also try to find the angle that lets me put it away and not think about it any more. That happens, but less frequently than finding the thing I need to find.
3. That process invariably leads to seeking out information by reading and writing and engaging in conversation with people I trust. 
4. One of two things happens next. Either I go back to step 1, and that can happen MANY times as I work through something, or I find the new truth and begin to live a little differently.

Right now, I'm in the step 4 to 1 to 4 cycle. Last weekend I became obsessed with the idea that all this searching out Christ stuff is just a way of avoiding my fear that God doesn't exist. I was going to write about it, but frankly I was too depressed to get out of bed and make it happen. Then I kind of rebounded into the things that still speak to me from earth-centered spirituality, from Wicca. Then back out to what drives me away from that community. And so it goes. It's like this, to continue my trope of tarot illustration, and I am desperately trying to find a place in the middle, so as to avoid being thrown to the extremes of the edge. It's a lifelong challenge. This is my soul card.

I did a year reading on Samhain. November's card was the Knight of Swords, which is pretty much all about my steps one and two above. December's card is the Lovers, which is finding a way to relate. The Lovers is the resolution of step four, though I don't dare assume that this card showing up means resolution is going to happen in December. It's major arcana, which makes it about a life lesson. Certainly this feels like that. The transition from the Knight of Swords to the Lovers has been foggy and cold and cave-like. I'm not sure what comes next. Seems right, somehow, that tarot is part of the journey, given how it melds so many different symbols of faith. January is the Ace of Swords. Maybe the cycle starts again, or maybe it's something different all together. Time reveals all.

This process is TOUGH. I don't know anything. I am filled with doubt. I envy people who never struggle with faith, even as I know I could never be like them. I question. It's what I do, and who I am. It's not easy, but it's real. I can't pretend I don't struggle, and I can't pretend that my struggles and questions should somehow lead to discovery for someone else. I tried that for awhile. It never felt authentic. 

God or Christ or Gods and Goddesses... I have always felt there are more similarities than difference when you dig beneath the plants in the respective gardens. I do have fears of no God, no magick, no anything but the cold reality of science and space. Nihilistic though. And that's not how I want to approach the world. And in my gut - in what one particular friend might call my Buddha self - I know that there IS something divine and greater. There are avatars and people who have connected to that. I just ... need to find some peace around it. Community has helped that in the past. I hope the same will happen again, and soon.

quiet out here in the dark

It's been a week since I posted about being in the midst of a dark night of the soul. Things have been very quiet, and I'm working not to read much into that. I posted late at night and I think many people missed the post. I directed a few people to it, people I thought would poke at things a little, help me work my way through. There were many others that I also hoped would do that, but as I said, it's been quiet, and as per the "requirements" of a dark night of the soul, I've felt very alone and isolated.

It's on me. I didn't repost, and I didn't especially point it out to everyone who might want to read it. I picked two people, one who I knew would be coming from the Christian point of view, and the other who I knew would stand outside all of it, pretty much neutral. And those conversations were really helpful. One took place in the comments of the blog, the other via text messages.

One thing that came up, that's had me a little thoughtful, was in regard to my need for community. I can't remember exactly how it was phrased, but basically, my need for community often has a strong influence on what I'm doing spiritually. And there's truth to that. Conflict happens because it's rare that I find a group that has many people who seem to be in the same place I am. I frequently find myself in a leadership role. I used to seek that out; I haven't as much recently.

I have thought, in the past, about that leadership piece. Maybe if I embraced it more, maybe then I would find myself among people who seem to be in the same place. Thing is, I am beginning to think this is a rare place among the self-taught. I've investigated seminaries before, given serious thought to pursuing the clergy within the UU church. I've also given serious thought to Cherry Hill, but I don't have the money readily available to pursue that path, and even if I did, it's a distance program and I really seek to be in face-to-face contact with people who think deeply, feel deeply, see the naked places and name them, rather than pretending that they aren't there.

I suppose that as in most areas that I care about, I seek challenge. And re-opening to working within Christian communities is definitely that, for me.

I really don't think that who I am at my innermost point is going to change a great deal. I don't see this as a conversion. I still don't believe in sin and salvation and exclusive rights to the divine. I still believe in multiplicity and breadth of experience and an ecstatic experience of being human. I still believe that "life is the ceremony. how we live it is the sacred ritual."

And, I want to recognize that I'm still in the dark night, still feeling alone. If you're reading this, I'm asking for your comments, whatever they may be, as long as they are delivered with love. I would be so comforted to know that someone is holding my hand, even if it's in the dark where I cannot see.

I've had two responses to my queries of last week. The first was from the UU church, which I'm planning to check out tomorrow. The other was from the Presbyterians. I'm looking forward to a coffee date with the pastor soon.

Gary Numan – In A Dark Place

like a hermit moving through a dark night of the soul

I'm not even sure where to begin. I suppose this isn't a big leap from my last post. I'm sitting here in front of the keyboard, a jumble of words trying to fight for the right to flow from my heart through my hands. Maybe I'll start with what I did today, and see where that goes.

image from http://www.thewitchescollective.com

After spending some time listening to some favorite books and tooling around Azeroth, I took a nap. Before the nap, I laid in a darkened room for quite awhile and thought about last night's dreams, which featured Jasmine and several other faces from my past. Most of the faces were somehow directly involved with my spiritual journey, whether it be as teachers or fellows along the path. Some people were both - teachers at some times, fellow journeyers at others. Like tonight's post, the dream was a mad jumble of images and points in time. I woke up completely unsure what it all meant, save one thing. There's this thing I've been thinking about for a long time, very literally for years, and it seems like maybe it's time to act. So I wrote some emails to local church leaders, kicking open a door I thought was long shut.

Over the decades I've been a practicing Pagan, I've had friends drift into practice and then move back towards Christianity. Some exist in both worlds. Others, as I've written before, moved onto Buddhism. I think that latter is probably the largest category. And still others just melted into a place of non-practice. The ones that have always been most difficult to deal with have been the ones returning to Christianity. Because... how could you? How could you go back to the dogma, back to the restricted world view, back to the idea that there is One True Way or One True God? And more importantly, how could I ever do that? How could I, knowing what I know about the history of Christianity, both distant and not-so-distant? The hypocrisy? The willing ignorance?

And yet. And yet there is Christ, and there's always been Christ. I've never had a problem with Christ. I've said so many times. His is an exemplary life, one that I share (not coincidentally, I'm sure) values with. One that is inspiring. My problem always has been with the church, with the ignorance and pushiness of Christ's followers. Their blinders suffocate me. Their kneejerk reaction to questions seem to indicate a shaky foundation. Recently, though, I've started to have a growing awareness of a different kind of Christianity. I think it's gotten more vocal in reaction to the rise of the ugly fundamentalist and/or the unquestioning literalist. And perhaps like a healthy living tradition, the church has simple evolved in many ways.

image from http://bethalynnebajema.com

If you know much about my story, you know that I spent most of my younger years pursuing a connection with God. Until I was 16 or so, that pursuit was in Christian churches, mostly Baptist or Lutheran or the deceptively-named "non-denominational" (which frequently meant really extreme and often ugly). I dated a Mormon and was baptized into the LDS church at 16. It was the only time my dad ever expressed disappointment in my choices. I attended a few Catholic services as well. In each place I ran into a problem - I asked questions, I noticed the Emperor was often naked, I didn't see why science had to be at odds with God, and I for damned sure didn't buy the Eve/curse/woman's place bullshit. Those were my big "beefs" with my church experience. I'm fortunate that I really never had a personally horrific experience. Many do. That's part of why I've kept my distance. That, and a love of mythology and ecstatic ritual and multiple faces of God.

Thing is, I've spent all this time feeling an either/or distinction, even as I've counseled others that you can be Christian and Pagan, if you define Christian as seeking to live according to Christ's example, and willing and able to understand that the Bible is a flawed piece of literature, and not the literal word of God. And it goes without saying, you need to get rid of the concept of One True Way/God. That doesn't work with Paganism. And I've long felt that aside from the UU's (who are very intellectual and prone to question), there aren't many denominations that would allow for that kind of practice. Recently I've seen evidence that this isn't true.

I've also been experiencing what is almost certainly a very long dark night of the soul. I've been familiar with that phrase for awhile, but only now was I miserable enough to do some investigation. This piece in particular spoke to me: Dark Night of the Soul

Things that especially resonated were things like "its general meaning — in the field of higher consciousness — is a lengthy and profound absence of light and hope. In the dark night you feel profoundly alone" and "You’ve experienced indications of the reality of higher consciousness and yearn to be more deeply in communion with it. You see the principles of a higher power at work in your life. Yet, all in all, you find yourself somehow painfully on the outside. You feel caught between your old way of living, your old tendencies and associations, and this nebulous, unreachable realm of higher consciousness." Really, the entire thing, which you can read if you like. When I read it, I felt exposed, like a bug pinned to a board while still alive.

image from Twilight Realm: A Tarot of Faery

And I'm still in the middle of this, nowhere near the end. I'm still having the struggle with surrender, with ego. I don't know where I'm going to end up, and that is really fucking frightening. Most of my best friends first connected with me via spiritual practice. What happens if that goes away? And what if I do end up in a Christian practice? Are they going to feel the same sense of unease that I did when my friends moved in that direction? Will they stop talking to me?

I don't know. But I know I can't stay in this place of in-between. Something has to give. And it doesn't even have to be a move to another category. It will likely be a category all it's own, and to me, that's the marker of real spirituality anyway. To have connected in an individual way, and yet still be able to be in community. So I may be checking out a few Christian churches here locally. And maybe I'll find one that feels like it can be home to this bisexual, earth-worshipping feminist who still loves her some Irish myth and views it as equally as useful as Christian myth. We'll see.

For now, it's scary out here, but I'm going to keep my light held high. I no longer feel like I need to hold the light for anyone else, but I surely need to hold it for myself.

Danger Mouse – Dark Night Of The Soul - Feat. David Lynch

this unrest

After years of having a relatively easy time finding community, I've struggled in the past few years to find a new home. I'm not sure what all the factors are, but I imagine they probably include baggage from the experience I had with Reclaiming and Reclaiming-like traditions, as well as experiences with reconstruction-leaning orders.

I struggle with thoughts of going back to those places of Reclaiming and Reclaiming-influenced practice because they are familiar and because they were the scene of a huge amount of personal and spiritual growth for me. I seek that growth and connection, but I'm extremely gun-shy. I ended up in a place that didn't feel safe, in a community that felt false and shallow. Rather than being supported, I felt scrutinized and judged, and ultimately found lacking in several ways. In Paganism, there is little in the way of organization, and it can make for falling away of people like me. When I disappeared, I don't think it ever occurred to anyone to ask why. And certainly if it did, I think there was a great deal of discomfort with some of the questions and observations I had to offer. I came to be at odds with some things that are at the heart of Reclaiming, both in theory and in practice. I realized that it had once been very much the right place for me, but that it isn't that place any more. I guess that is what a crisis of faith feels like.

I tried retracing my steps, going backwards in an almost linear fashion, which brought me first to the reconstructionist practice that immediately preceded my deeper dive into Reclaiming. I was seeking structure, I was seeking a movement away from the fusion of psychology and theology, a movement towards theism and a belief that the gods are more than mythological metaphors. Still, the problem I had with reconstructionism remains what it has always been: I can't jive with a practice that feels stagnant and unable to conform, change or grow, that discounts personal experience and gnosis as somehow "less than." I toyed with this a bit while in Portland, first with a tenuous reconnection with ADF, then with Egyptian practice. Neither fits as a strict reconstructionist path. I'm not a reconstructionist. I knew this, but I guess I had to remind myself.

I stepped further back to Wicca, which, as I posted about earlier this month, feels very much like home. Yet... I find myself struggling with the thing that pushed me to reconstructionism and then to Reclaiming: a serious lack of ... seriousness. The thing about Wicca is that the "public" face of it tends to feel like an alternate reality, one that doesn't seem to value skepticism at all.

Once upon a time, I created a tradition and worked a coven with an amazing group of people. That tradition wove together the best of these three things - the ecstatic ritual-style and free-spiritedness of Reclaiming, tempered with the pursuit of both scholarly and historic gnosis of gods and traditions sought by most reconstructionists, and the structure of "old-school" Wiccan group dynamics and pedagogy. When I did this, I was able to find the right people and it was easy. Not easy as in "without effort" but easy as in "things happened smoothly and in the right order without a lot of flailing." I was fortunate to work with witches who were much like myself in terms of values and community desires. I ... haven't had that since, and it's been about 10 years.

So I'm back to being solitary and trying to figure out how to make that work now that I know how exponentially better it can be with like-minded people. I'm having little luck finding people in the local area (read: close enough to meet regularly). Old methods don't work. Hell, new ones don't seem to work either. And honestly, I'm feeling a bit like Sisyphus. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what the message is here, what the gods are trying to say. And also, I'm so frustrated with feeling like I'm starting over again with people who have NO IDEA of the work I've already done, and having to go over that, like some kind of weird resume review, is exhausting just to think about. And yet, I want to work with a group that at least has the same values/desires from a group. I don't know how to reconcile the unrest that's so deep within my soul with the desperate desire for community, ANY community, as long as they can find their way around a circle.

It's kind of a shitty place to be.

I suspect I need to do some serious unpacking of the baggage I'm carrying, but at a loss for how to do that on my own. It's not exactly something I can take to a therapist either, because frankly, I think it's essentially pastoral counseling, and a person would have to have a strong understanding of the nuances of where I've been to help me figure out where I'm going. I know there's more than a little of the overarching life Work I'm engaged in at play here, but it's hard to tell where that ends, and where broken systems begin.

So I keep pushing on. The kettle that's constantly simmering in my brain keeps simmering. I have no idea what will percolate to the surface next. I suppose I can trust that when I truly need to put things in order, the right things will happen with the right people in the right place. I'm just so impatient.

Siouxsie And The Banshees – This Unrest

no matter where I go, there I am

If you've been here before, you know I've renamed the blog. I've been spending a fair amount of time lately thinking about my roots in Wicca, why I moved away - and then back - and then away - and then back, and seriously, may I have this dance?

A lot of my movement and growth has been motivated by listening to someone else talk about how fluffy/false/monotheistic/lame/shallow/wrong/wrong/wrong something about Wicca is, from philosophy to the entirety of the tradition. And while I'm tempted to mock the mocker, ultimately I have to nod my head in gratitude. I grew and really made a faith my own because of all that chatter.

I think there is a reason I keep coming back to these practices. They spoke to my soul and have continued to speak. I know a great deal about my tradition's history because people around me questioned, which led to me questioning. But I always come back to this place of connection and comfort and it IS inherently Wiccan, in all its mosaic, derivative glory.

So I'm changing the name of the blog to reflect this. It's a play on the word "awakening." Will practice with Isis continue? Of course. So will my relationship with Brighid and the Morrighan and Dionysos and so it goes. I continue to bow to scholarship because it is important to me, but I also wish to follow the pull of my blood and my heart. Taking inventory. It's a start.

Tying the Knot - Becoming a Votary of the Goddess

M. Isidora Forrest's Isis Magic truly is a treasure trove of a book, providing a well-mapped path on this journey. After reading through the initial 10 chapters, the actual work of becoming a priestess of Isis has begun.

On August 6th, T and I had our first ritual taken from Isis Magic and slightly adapted to include multiple participants. There were components of the rite that were completely new to me and that felt weird (not casting or calling quarters? wha...?), but only because they differed from what I've been doing for the past 20 years. Frankly, had I ever performed an ADF ritual with someone else - honestly, even gotten past the Two Powers Meditation - I imagine it would have been similarly different. And really, the set up made sense for what we were doing. A circle and quarter calls make sense for alchemical or magickal ritual, but this was really a ritual of dedication to exploring with Isis, so a circle was unnecessary, even restrictive.

Forrest says,

"This is the ritual that begins a Votary's relationship with Isis. During the course of the rite... you will vow yourself to Isis for a period of time... With this holy vow, you become devoted to Isis for that specific period.
The key symbol ... is the Knot of Isis, the Tiet... the magical, protective, and sacred Knot that is a special emblem of the Goddess. As a knot joins two things, this ritual of Tying the Knot of Isis joins the Votary to the Goddess for the specified period. The Votary gives to the goddess her... devotion, attention and energy; in turn, the Goddess gives to the Votary Her protection, communion, and as always, Her Divine Love." (Isis Magic, p. 263)

I have no idea, for the record, if this is actually where the phrase "tying the knot" originated. Seems unlikely, though I do appreciate the symbolism.

For me, there were some particularly powerful points in the ritual. The first was working with someone who felt as deep a devotion to a deity as I do - and who approaches that devotion in a similar way. We have studied together - and T has been studying Isis longer than I - and the melding of mind and spirit in ritual is something we do well together. I look forward to deepening this connection through the Votary work on my own, and then connecting again with T for further ritual. Standing in shared knowledge gleaned from historical resource and gnosis is deeply moving for me.

We spoke vows to the desires of the heart (in connecting to Isis), strength of spirit and the mystery of the soul. Speaking these in community is weighty - I have done this once before with Brighid. I find my heart racing, my hands shaking, but my voice is strong and sure. Sharing this with T wove a really beautiful web of distinct but connected intention. You can see the tokens of heart, spirit and soul nestled in the center of the Tiet - mine are on the left.

The last thing that I want to touch on was in our meditation on Isis - this came after vows and the knot. I have had connections with Isis before and they generally include her winged form. During this time of deep prayer, I felt a warm and close sense of being enfolded in dark wings, and a surprisingly sexual, yet protective, connection with Isis.

Post ritual, I reconstructed my personal Isis shrine, including the knot and tokens. I'm looking forward to this journey. I have several meditations and rites ahead of me. I have had a sense of the direction of my priestesshood with Isis - in helping first myself, then others to calling back the pieces of Self. The delicate balance of this, the Work of it, is in doing this while maintaining healthy boundaries. For now, I'm focused on myself. I will see where the path takes me as the journey unfolds.

Isis Altar, August 2013

Psychologizing the Gods

"By psychologizing the gods, we have contributed to the ongoing disenchantment of the world, which began with the Enlightenment. We have humanized the gods, but in doing so, we have sometimes lost the sense of the gods as gods." from The Archetypes are Gods: Re-godding the Archetypes

I happened upon this article by accident today, but it touched on something I've noticed in some communities I used to frequent: that for many people in the community, their concept of deity and indeed their practice seems to boil down to therapy-dressed-in-myth. I find it difficult, many times, to sense a person's connection to the Divine in the onslaught of colorful psychobabble. And I guess that sensing this connection is becoming important to me. Perhaps it's a side effect of aging. More likely it's just where I've emerged after the past seven years of spiritual cocooning. The therapy-in-mythic-journey work took me a long way, but I am seeking something more. I am seeking the magick and the mystery; the wonder and unknowing.

This emerging has been sort of a painful, isolating experience. Many of the people I used to be able to connect with have moved on to Buddhism and/or this psychologizing of the gods. Community doesn't exist in the same places it did back in 1999, so finding like-minded folks is lonely work. I'm frankly at a loss - I used to be so good at finding community and now I really have no idea where to begin. They're not in email groups anymore. They're not using the internet to get together, at least not in any way I can track down. Websites are more professional, less personal. What's an aging 90's era Witch to do?

I'm not sure. Having lots of thinky-thoughts while reading "Isis Magic." Maybe this is something I need to work through, some kind of life lesson. I find myself kind of retracing steps, going back to the Irish gods to see what they have to say, considering a revisiting of the Greeks, while still feeling the pull of Isis. Maybe this is a pagan mid-life crisis.

Back to the article, a final thought. Halstead sets this up as some kind of humanist v. theist conflict, warning of an isolating swing of the pendulum. Firstly, I don't sense that, but more importantly, I really don't buy into the duality of his assertion. I would rather be part of a community that has room for both humanists and theists... I just want to know where the theists have gone (and how to find them)!

Isis Magic - Notes from Ch 1-3

T and I met at the rose gardens in Washington Park on Saturday to chat about the chapters. I thought we'd be done in a few hours, but as usual, we took longer, winding our way through the chapters and out and then back again, all while enjoying a truly beautiful part of the city.

Some interesting themes arose for me out of the questions "how did we come to Isis" and "what connections are we seeking."  In the case of the first, I noted all the signs I'd had (and ignored) over the years. Starting from a very young age, Isis may have been the first goddess I was exposed to because my dad was obsessed with Dylan's "Desire" album (1976), which opened with a track called "Isis." We had dogs named Isis (after the track) for awhile. The images I found related to her seemed distant and exotic.

Early in my pagan years, I had some dream interactions with kestrels and falcons, along with a rainbow-winged woman. I knew it was Isis, but I was pretty set on working with other pantheons and gods; first the Irish, then the Greeks. On the night of my first degree initiation, she came to me as I meditated in preparation for the ritual. Still I ignored her, and she never pushed.

When I moved to Oregon, I was very intentionally turning away from the desert. It was not a time nor place that I would ever have imagined would finally push me into a deeper relationship with Isis. She came back in dreams, in accidental occurrences. And I met T, who already had a devotional practice with Isis. I became interested in Thelema, which certainly has some Egyptian connections. Finally, still feeling that weird dissonance with my perception of her as a desert goddess, I jumped in and started feeding the relationship. I started learning her stories. I created an altar. I approached T about working through M. Isidora Forrest's Isis Magic, which felt like a good starting book, with a fusion of Hermetic, Egyptian and Wiccan influences.

I'm still figuring it all out, still trying to figure out why she's been so gently, but insistently there. That leads to the second question, of course, regarding connection. It wasn't until T outlined Isis's experience in the most skeletal way that I started to see a connection. There are several mythic connections in life events and experiences, and I would like to be as graceful. Isis could save other children, but not her own (Jasmine). Isis puts her husband back together but can't find all the pieces (my marriage). When anger is just, Isis wields it with justice (sort of my life's experience with anger, when I have it under control). And on and on. When T laid it out so matter-of-factly, I felt poleaxed. How had I missed it? So the connection I seek is that of strength and justice and nurturing.

During these conversations I also realized that I am not comfortable with any god/dess in the role of mother or father. I've never really sought this out or experienced it. Granted, that could be because I've worked primarily with gods such as the Morrighan and Dionysos, but I never really felt like it was missing. I don't know what to make of that. A therapist once suggested to me that I wasn't Christian because my dad was an alcoholic and I had dad issues. I promptly fired her and sought a better therapist. Still, that experience came back to me when I was considering the parental connection that many people seek from their gods. Maybe she had it completely backwards. Maybe the reason a patriarchal father figure god never worked for me is because I had such a great relationship with my dad, warts and all. Maybe I had the protection I needed. I don't know. At any rate, I know this isn't a connection I see, though I do find myself intrigued by Isis's mother role in a more mentoring way.

The interview in Astoria weighed on our conversation too. We have some great ideas for a group, and some healthy friction, but I don't see how that can happen if I move. And... I really love Portland. So I'm just going to hope that I find something here and don't have to move. Seems like it could be a good thing to do some Isis work with, no?

Getting Started!

The masters is finished and I can have my life back - I cannot express how delighted I am. Somehow the last two years feels more like two decades. So I'm starting with an in-depth study of Isidora Forrest's new edition of Isis Magic. Over the next three weeks I'll be reading the first nine chapters with an eye towards deep discussion. Then I'll be working with a partner through the various stages of the second part of the book, thinking about how it might work as a foundation to a group. I'm excited! And of course I'll be sharing thoughts here. So glad to have this FINALLY active!