Shifting Perspectives 06: Self-Doubt and Specialitis

Everyone has aspects of themselves that makes them unique in some way, and this is especially true where their spiritual biology is concerned. It took me a long time to come to grips with some of the singularities of my soul’s makeup, and, in some ways, I’m still struggling to accept them. For a long time, whenever I made a breakthrough where my history was concerned, I would second-guess and belittle it. Of course it couldn’t be real; it had to be my ego getting in the way. I was so skilled at cutting myself down that my revelations became slower, more subtle, and then they stopped coming at all until I reached a point in my maturation that I could accept them.

 

This, I now realize, was a disservice to myself, to the Society, and to the Gods. Whatever path I’ve walked in the past, it has been lain before me by Their designs to get me to where I am. To refuse to accept who I’ve been is, to me, the same as saying that I doubt Their investment in me has been a wise one. It is an insult to the Gods and, paradoxically, a sign of hubris, of thinking that I know better than They what I’m meant for or capable of. I’ve fought long and hard to rid myself of these insecurities. While they still persist, I do believe I’ve gotten much better about it.

 

There is, however, another angle to this cautionary tale. On the flipside of extreme self-doubt on the hubris coin is something that I’ve dubbed Specialitis. This is something that happens when UPG (unverified personal gnosis) runs amok and the ego gets overinflated. Often, the ‘revelations’ serve no point but to make the person feel more important, as if they’re running a “my horse is bigger” race against nobody but themselves. Neither approach is healthy when it comes to developing deep, meaningful connections to the community or the Gods.

 

So, how do you know which is which? When is a spiritual breakthrough a gift from the Gods, and when is it your subconscious trying to hide its insecurities by grandstanding? The main advice I can give is to ask for some help through divination. Tarot, runes, and scrying are great ways to get insight into what is true. The one caveat that I would give is, if at all possible, seek someone who knows what they’re doing but isn’t personally related to you to do the reading. Do not read for yourself on this; it’s far to easy to get only what you want out of it. Also, don’t be afraid to ask for a corroborating reading from another source.

 

I also want to caution that, even if the reading comes back and says that, no, you are not the reincarnated Alexander the Great, that you don’t have any intrinsic worth. All it means is that you may not have found it yet. And, often, your real story is many times better than anything that you could possibly have made up for yourself. After all, the Gods made you. And They know what They’re doing.

Shifting Perspectives 05: Homecoming

Everyone has tales of how they first met the Gods and Goddesses to Whom they’ve dedicated themselves, and in Whose service they’ve worked and worshiped. With my own ever-expanding personal pantheon, I’ve got a number of those stories, myself. How Artemis came to me first, laid claim to me as Hers, reshaped me into a confident woman, and later swore me to Her side as a priestess and vessel on the Earth. How Thoth came next, challenging me to accept that the words He’s given me are my deepest and most powerful form of magic. The list goes on, through Thor and Loki and Odin, through Athena and Astarte, each of them a turning point in my spiritual history, and in the story of my growth as a priestess, a writer, and a person. But perhaps the most reaffirming encounter was when I met Hestia.

I was attending ConVocation, which is a convention for Pagans and magical practitioners held every year in the Detroit area, in 2011. While perusing the class list, I found a ritual in which one of the priestesses would be allowing her body up as a vessel for Hestia. I’d been to four of the conventions, attended classes and rituals on everything from basic circle casting to coven leadership. I had seen invocation rituals offered there before, but I’d never attended one. I had witnessed possession work in my group, attended private rituals with it, and let the Gods use my own body before, but always with specific rules and cautions. But I didn’t know this group or their policies on possession, and I was hesitant to expose myself to it in case they treated it as a game or a parlor trick. Still, something in my head whispered, “Go,” and so I set my reservations aside and attended.

To say that I was nervous walking into the ballroom where ritual was to be held is an understatement. My hands shook, and my throat was tight. I was still unsure if I could trust the coven leading the ritual, and I wondered what I could possibly say to Hestia if and when She arrived. Eventually, I settled on asking Her to bless my home and to teach me to be more gentle. I took my seat in the circle, watched other equally-nervous attendees file in and sit, and waited for the priestess to be brought forward.

She was veiled, covered from head to toe, and her attendants led her to a pile of pillows in front of an altar covered with food, wine, and candles. Before my eyes, her posture changed. She lounged back on the pillows, removed her veil, and Hestia smiled out at the assembly. I felt something stir in me, as though I had to go and speak with Her now, but I made myself stay seated.

One by one, She summoned us to Her, offered us food and drink of Her altar, and spoke to us of what we needed to know. She then gave each listener a candle to remember to burn bright with hope and strength. As I waited for my turn, one of the ritual attendants related the few extant myths of Her; how She gave Her seat on Olympus to Dionysus, and how She warded off those who would defy Her will to be without consort.

The most striking story, though, was about the Vestal Virgins of ancient Rome. While Vesta and Hestia are not exactly the same, They are undeniably linked in a way that most Grecian Gods aren’t with Their Roman counterparts. I listened in rapt attention as the story was told of the honors afforded Vesta’s priestesses and of the punishments for breaking their vows. Losing one’s virginity, even by rape, was punishable by being buried alive.

As the attendant talked, I felt as though a great weight had settled on my chest. I struggled to breathe, a heat grew in my lungs, and then it abruptly stopped. I felt at peace, like I’d been released or redeemed somehow. Shortly thereafter, it was my turn to approach the Goddess.

I knelt in front of Her on the pillow, a million questions rushing to the forefront of my mind. What had happened as I listened to the story? What did it mean? Could I still ask for the blessing? Should I? I opened my mouth, and the only thing that managed to tumble out was, “I love You; let me serve at Your temple.”

She smiled and asked what brought me there that day. I explained that I was already a sworn priestess to Her niece, Artemis, and that I’d worked with others of Her family before, but that I was compelled to come and get to know Her. We embraced, and then She waved me to another pillow at Her side. With Her, I offered hospitality to the remainder of the ritual attendees.

It has been about six months since then, almost to the day, and still I talk with Her and offer my thanks for Her flame every time I light a candle or incense. While I walked the Fire path with the Pandoran Society, She taught me that She, Artemis, and Athena have all brought me freedom and resolve, but that They approach it from different, though complementary, angles. Through Her, I’ve begun to explore what happened in the past life we shared and to understand how those events shaped the person that I am. There is a sort of peace between us, an understanding that what’s done is done, and that She has welcomed me home.

Why Pray? Why do Magic?

A recent post on the wonderful site Patheos.com got me thinking about the Gods, how we relate to them, and whether or not prayers are answered.  There was also the question if prayer, along with, magic, spells and the like affect reality.

In thinking about this, I keep coming back to a few questions:
Why, if our magic affects nothing, do we both magic and divination?
Why bother casting a circle or spiritually cleansing an area, praying, etc. if all they are, are ritual props? Sure, the human mind can use them, but if there is not something to these processes, these tools, why are we still bothering with them?
If the Gods have no vested interest in us, why bother worshiping Them?
If our prayers, our magic, etc. mean nothing in terms of impact on this world, then why waste our time in a ‘sacred space’ saying them or making magic?

For me, I do magic because in some way, shape, or form, there is a positive benefit for me and sometimes for those around me or connected to my Wyrd. I divine because I have been effective in shaping my world through paying attention to the signs the Runes give me. One could say that I have primed my intuition or simply developed a keener eye for detail, or trained myself to see things where there is nothing. I don’t believe this, and I think, at the crux of all these questions, that is the point. Proving whether or not, beyond reasonable scientific inquiring, that I can divine the future is a rather pointless endeavor. The message I get from the Runes is for me in the context where I am, what I am open to, and to what situation the reading is addressing. This doesn’t lend itself to the kinds of testing, quantitative, that many scientific studies tend to like for repeatability, validity, etc. Yet for me, qualitatively, the Runes do something positive and different.

Ultimately I look at the end result when it comes to magic. I find it effective both on myself and others, whether I am divining or casting a spell or making bindrunes. So long as I find it effective I will use it. If I no longer find it working, I may change how I use my magic, try a different approach, or if all else fails, eventually stop. Do I think magic works like a well-oiled machine? No. I don’t think it should, because in working with magic I feel I am working with the energies within and around me, and through them, affecting my Wyrd and/or others’ Wyrd. But then comes the question of whether or not the Wyrd is predetermined, to whit I feel a kind of co-creation with Wyrd toward some eventual goal or end of my life.

In regards to the Gods, I see the Gods as relations, friends, co-workers, associates, acquaintances, and at times, beyond my reach or understanding. I don’t interact with every God/dess, and don’t understand every God/dess. The ones that I do know, work with, love, etc. have a stake in working with me, as I do with Them. Does this put us on the same level? Not to me. They’re a God/dess for a reason, and I am human for a reason. We each have different things to do, but it does not mean we cannot cultivate meaningful relationships between us. I think if we are not trying to cultivate a relationship of some kind, it is kind of a waste of time. Why pray to something that you cannot relate to, or does not care about you at all? For instance, I have respect for Wyrd, but I would not worship it. What would be the point? Wyrd will act as Wyrd will act, and it is through action, through making choices and working with consequences, not worship, that it is changed.

The Rune, Gebo, gift-for-a-gift, is at the forefront of most of what I do spiritually speaking. I have learned how to read the Runes, so I read them for others or teach them to read them. Sometimes they learn by way of example, and the gift they give me from that might be sharpening my skill, or teaching me a wholly new way of reading the Runes. Sometimes I may be repaid with a reading myself, or with money, or with something else as is appropriate. If I pray to a God/dess and devote time, energy, creativity, etc. in the worship of that God, why would I continue if I received nothing in kind from that God/dess? The response I may get may not be the response I want, or it may not be anything like what I want to do in service to that God/dess . Sometimes silence is the most penetrating of answers. However, on some level, I am given a gift by the Gods with whom I work, worship, know, etc. The very acknowledgment of my presence, some days, is worth it. Others, I need a God/dess to help me through a hard time and their Words or even silence is what I need to make it through another day.

Regular Practice

Given I have had a lot of questions about my spiritual practice, I thought I would post about regular practice and its importance. Regular practice is a grounding, centering, and empowering regular practice that has seen me through some hard times, regardless of where my spiritual life has had its foundations. My daily work provides a grounding on which to build my faith, providing continuous communication and connection to the Gods, Ancestors, landvaettir and other spirits.

While I find that deep, connective rituals are very good for this, it is the daily work that makes these bigger, more complex rituals work. It provides the connection to the Gods in an everyday manner, something that empowers the relationship, allows it to stretch and grow with much more elasticity than, say, a powerful ritual once a month. Think about it; what tends to be better for the body: a single day of powerful, intense exercise, or longer-term, lower-impact repetitious exercise? Sure, for some people the former works, but for most the latter is better. It doesn’t burn you out as hard, and provides opportunities to step-up slower over time, giving you time to adapt to the new ‘burn’.

Below I’ve listed some of my daily practices; these sometimes change due to time, and circumstances, and they certainly aren’t as organized, as say, a horarium.

1. When I wake up I usually spend my shower intoning the names of my Gods three times; it’s both connective, soothing, and empowering.

2. Given I can’t use incense or light a candle, I have a glass plate of herbs. I mix these herbs up by hand and the fragrance kind of rushes out, like a light perfuming mixture. I offer this to my Gods, Ancestors, the landvaettir (land spirits) and other spirits with whom I work. If I have alcohol, especially mead, I offer it in my brass chalice. I do this either at the beginning of my day when I leave my room to go to class or when I come back from it.

3. When I am on my way to class I tend to commune with my Gods either through dialogue with Them, prayer, or using my prayer beads representing Midgard, the Bifrost Bridge, and Asgard. When my iPod is charged, I use different playlists to connect to my Gods, Ancestors, and spirits.

4. I pick up trash and litter on my way to and from class, honoring the landvaettir and putting out magic with each piece I pick up, that others would do the same.

5. I meditate before my altar to connect to my Gods, Ancestors, the landvaettir or spirits I work with as They call me.

6. About once a week, if not two to three times, I drum and move into trance, doing out of body work for some reason or another.

7. At least once a week I use the Runes for another person in service to the communities I work with.

8. I do God/dess possession for others at least once a week so members of my spiritual community can commune with their God(s) in a solid, impacting way.

9. I do work as assigned to me by the Gods. Right now I’m taking Intro to German classes so I can better understand my Gods, and some of the texts about Them. Odin asked me to do this. It turns out it was a good move; the Masters level Counseling I want to do would benefit from it.

Their reply was:

Shifting Perspectives 04: When ‘No’ is the Best Answer

Part of being a somewhat rigid personality is that I tend to resist change. I didn’t want to move away from Ohio, so much so that I considered running away before we left. Once in Michigan, I didn’t want to move again, even just across town, and, once there, I didn’t want to move back to where I had been just a year before.

I applied to just one college, the one in my hometown, and resisted moving to campus as though it might kill me. Of course, as soon as I was there, I didn’t want to move back home at the close of the year. When I graduated, I applied to the Master’s program at that same school, despite the fact that I hadn’t particularly enjoyed the curriculum I’d gone though in my undergrad. But it was close to my family, and I had friends already in the program.

This time, I took a small step outside of my comfort zone and also applied to a low-residency MFA across the country. It sounded like the better program. It was an MFA, not just an MA, and it actually had seminar offerings in my area of study. The faculty encouraged the voice of the individual writer, not just that its students learn to mimic what was popular or modern. It offered the chance for a seven-day residency abroad, and the rest of the time I would be on the east coast. Best of all, I would only have to venture away from home twice a year, and I could work at my own pace the rest of the time.

Despite all of these factor’s in the MFA’s favor, when they called to tell me that I’d been accepted, I hesitated. It was a lot of change, almost too much, and I was shaking with both excitement and fear. I was still waiting to hear back from my alma mater, and praying that I’d get in there, but I tentatively told them yes. They could send me the acceptance packet, and I would contact them as soon as I’d decided one way or the other.

As it happened, I got an e-mail from the acceptance committee at my old school a few days later saying that I’d been denied. They didn’t feel that the work I’d submitted fit their program, though they’d gladly admit me to the literature MA and let me take a few creative writing cognates. Didn’t that sound like a wonderful idea?

I was livid that they’d tossed me aside, hurt that they insulted my work. But, more than that, I was terrified. I’d been pushed out to sea, not knowing where I was going or how I was going to get there, with only a vague blinking lighthouse in the distance to show a course.

To say I thumbed my nose at them would be putting it lightly. I sent my paperwork off to the MFA program that same day confirming my enrollment. When the time came for my first residency, I swallowed my apprehension, got on the bus, and made nothing but friends and fond memories for the next ten days.

That was almost two years ago today. As I write this, I’m also working on my thesis for my MFA, and shaking in both anticipation and anxiousness of my pending graduation. And I realize, today more than any other time, that sometimes the best answer to our magic and our prayers is ‘no’.

Shifting Perspectives 03: Getting Out

About six months after I decided to just dive into Paganism, to stop dodging around it and to just be myself, I found a group to study with. Even being around those people, only one of which I’d ever met before, was scary at first. The person running the group had been studying for longer than I’d been alive, and the people studying with him already had an established dynamic that I didn’t feel I had a right to intrude upon. Still, I stuck my neck out and joined up.

It was a scary decision to make. Until then, I’d only ever talked about my change of spirituality to friends that I absolutely trusted. If anyone asked me what I believed in, I’d dodge around it noncommittally, or just say that I wasn’t Christian, as though that answered the question. I wore my pentacle necklace, but it was an obscured design, one that you could only really see the star if you stared at it up close. I checked out books on Paganism from the library at the self-scan so that the librarian wouldn’t recognize me, only bought them from specialty shops or online, and kept them tucked out of sight from visitors.

Part of this paranoia probably came from the fact that I was working at a day camp on the conservative side of Cincinnati. Though I knew I couldn’t be fired for what I believed, that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried. What would I say if one of the kids asked me? Or one of the parents? Could I even mention it to my coworkers? It turned out that all of my fears were completely unfounded that summer; I had a number of talks with parents and coworkers, and the kids never once mentioned anything.

That didn’t stop me from being nervous when I went home to Michigan, though. Here were my family members, only one of which had I told about my change of heart. It’s true that my home city isn’t as big as Cincinnati, nor generally as conservative, but I’d had bad encounters over my sexuality, so why should something as large as my religion be any different?

Still, I threw my lot in with this group of perfect strangers. Being around them, I started to become more confident. I talked to my family about my choices, and started answering questions honestly. I put my study books on the shelf in the living room, stopped closing my bedroom door behind me so visitors wouldn’t see my altar, looked for new books and supplies in big box stores, and made requests in-person at the library. As the small steps built upon each other, I grew more comfortable in my own skin and less concerned with what others may think.

These days, I wear my spirituality on my skin: a pentacle and a triquetra which I show proudly. I help to lead lessons for the students of the Pandoran Society every weekend, and I’m not afraid to be seen arriving at or leaving from rituals and Pagan events. Almost every available surface in my room has an altar on it, and one of my bookshelves overflows with resources for myself and my students. But most importantly, I gladly speak about my faith to anyone who asks.

Looking back on it now, that particular group had its share of problems—let’s face it, though, everyone does—but there is one thing that they did completely right: they got me out.

Quote of the Week

Keep your thoughts positive because your thoughts become your words. Keep your words positive because your words become your behaviors. Keep your behaviors positive because your behaviors become your habits. Keep your habits positive because your habits become your values. Keep your values positive because your values become your destiny.

-Mahatma Ghandi

 

<http://www.bestspirituality.com/quotes.htm>