...of rantings & muses

I said it. Fight me.

There has been a trend that has been growing ever more problematic recently: overbearing, hyper-zealous, hyper-vigilant "acceptance" This means the pagan community is an absolute free-for all, and you are not allowed to so much as even feign the possibility that you do not agree with absolutely 100% of everything, lest you be named a gatekeeping, ignorant bigot.

Whether you like it or not - there ARE paths out there that have specific rules...regulations...stipulations...tenets - whatever the hell you want to call or classify them. End. Period. There's no other colour that comes in - that's it. Sorry for you, but they DO exist. In fact, there are many of them.

If you do not follow those rules, tenets, etc..., then you are not of that path. Point. Blank. And there is nothing wrong with that - it simply means that you are of some other path. That's it! That's all that means! It may be *nearly* identical to the path in question - but it is not, hence the 'nearly'.

If you happen to be a part of one of these paths, there is absolutely nothing wrong with saying so. If someone claims to be a part of one of these paths, but are absolutely, blatantly not - there is nothing wrong with saying that, and explaining why that is. Some people just honestly don't know there is a difference, or that these certain prerequisites are indeed a definitive factor - so they learn something, they broaden their horizons. Everyone seems to be all about educating themselves about being sensitive to other cultures and customs - except the pagan community, apparently, because this mentality does not translate across that pagan/witch line. Instead of taking it as a learning experience, you are immediately pounced on with notions of 'there are no rules!' 'you can't tell someone what to do on their own path!' Or, simply, the name calling. Well yes, while all of that is true - it still remains that how ever you want to practice or whatever you personally decide to do, may just simply not be what you are claiming, or calling it. It may just be semantics - but semantics matter when dealing with nuance. And paganism is extremely nuanced.

You can call a tomato an orange all you want to - but that thing will never be an orange, no matter how much you believe in it. And people are not wrong for informing you that you may have the wrong name, that is in fact, a tomato. If you go on deciding to call it an orange, you can do that - but that is willful ignorance. So, in your fight to be unapologetically accepting of every ridiculous notion, you are perpetuating willful ignorance - whilst being directly in opposition of your goal and being, *GASP*, unaccepting to those who follow a path where distinction and definition matters. You are completely invalidating those people's paths and beliefs while trying to defend another's (another who may, in fact, actually be wrong) and actively using their path & beliefs as the very reason to berate and ostracize them. Pretty fantastically hypocritical of you. Now...on to the second problem. I do not, at all, in any form, believe in "ritual magick" - as perpetuated by Aleister Crowley hardons. And no, that is not a knock on Crowley, just the idiot followers that don't understand half of what he taught and latch onto the superficial.

When you look at the origins and make up of magical beliefs, and magic itself as a separate entity - no matter which particular branch - they were all created by religion. They all have roots in highly spiritual cultures and customs. So, I absolutely do not believe for one second that you can believe in magic without SOME form of religion - whatever one you adhere to is your choice, but you cannot have the first without the latter. You cannot. Even if you claim that you have no religion, or spiritual faith, your practices absolutely do. You are calling on elements and agencies that absolutely have divine ties and connections one way or another. Oh, how many atheists I see calling on the seals of Arch Angels.... are you fucking shittin me? Really?? So let's bring it all together now - with the fact that many faiths DO have prerequisites, AND the fact that magic is religious/spiritual -- Christians are not, and cannot be witches or pagans. They are mutually exclusive. Not only because so many various paths have such prerequisites, and very define religious/spiritual beliefs that are contradictory to others - but simply because Christianity DOES, very much, have very clear and stringently defined Do's & Don'ts, and obviously the religious aspect itself clashes with the religious beliefs of others. Their religious beliefs clash with people who believe in their same god - so how could they not with those who believe in other gods?? Considering this, no other path would even need such stipulations themselves for them to be mutually exclusive, as Christianity already covers that issue so completely, but the fact that so many pagan paths do only exacerbates an already existing problem. That being said - that does not mean you cannot believe in the Christian 'god', by whatever name you know him by - or that you cannot believe in Jesus, and also be a witch or pagan. In fact the latter has an even bigger argument for believing in both, as paganism, generically, in itself is polytheistic, so it is very fitting to simply have the Christian god and Jesus amongst the many deities being worshipped. But those two things alone is not what makes Christianity. A good start, yes, but that is not all it takes - in fact, there are many that are shunned, excommunicated, banned, condemned and moreso whilst having those very two qualifying factors. You can find this in *every single* sect of Christianity, so...the proof is in the pudding, as they say, that it is much more than simply believing in 'God' and Jesus that makes a 'Christian'. And if you take that to heart and follow all those rules - you cannot be a witch or pagan, many times over, as you would be in direct opposition, or violation, of a number of their teachings - both on the aspect of simple 'rules', but also on a much deeper spiritual level of the entire foundation of their faith. Cannot serve two masters, and all that... If you do not follow those rules, then sure, you could be a witch or a pagan - but then you cannot be a Christian. That is just the facts.

Many people like to argue the use of magic and mysticism in the bible - but the issue is what parts of the bible they are found, and all the amendments of the further books. Again, what really carves out being a Christian vs. any of the other sects of Abrahamic beliefs. As, news flash - there is far more than just Christianity. And some of them, do, in fact, do hand in hand with magic. The Kabbalah is an astounding example of that - and, in fact, where a lot of the so called *ahem* 'non'-religious 'ritual magick' comes from. In this same vein, I would like to note that I have never had any issue or seen conflict with the Hebrew or Jewish take on shamans, mystics and witches, as they really do go hand in hand - They have their own very in depth, detailed, spiritual and sentimental form of mysticism that was a natural progression from pre-Abrahamic religions and culture, and grew into their teachings and belief system, so it does not go against their core beliefs the same way it very stringently does in Christian theology. Considering their ethnical histories and cultural heritage - this is a brilliant example of the natural evolution and progression of faiths - not simply ripped from the hands of the brutally oppressed and rewritten as a mockery to wipe out the preexisting notion of faiths -- as the Church has a history of doing. The Book of Enoch is another shining example of Biblical magic, or Angelic magic. But, this also also turns my point into a self fulfilling prophecy, as in the fact that it is accepted amongst all denominations as heresy, and it is taught that these magics - though they do, in fact, exist, were for the angels and completely forbidden from mankind. So, thusly, if you are a follower of Enoch, you are not a 'Christian', by name and membership, as you are outright going against it's teachings. You are a heretic, a blasphemer. Perhaps you may be one of the many other forms of the Christian god's followers - but not a Christian, as being Christian denotes a very specific set of beliefs and tenets - end of story. Magic, and paganism, is in direct conflict with those teachings, and therefore, cannot coexist.

On top of the logic - there is also the emotional issue. Christianity has a long history of abuse towards various pagan, tribal and indigenous faiths, while stealing our beliefs as their own, and demonizing those they couldn't successfully acclimate into theirs. To now be expected to be OK with this faith, yet again, latching on to *our* sacred rites and practices as being a part of their own is a hard pill to swallow at best, a slap in the face to most, and flat out perpetuating trauma at worst. Once upon a time, people sought out these very same communities and groups within their pagan circles as an escape, a safe space, and a shield and guardian against the Christian onslaught, torment, oppression, or just exhaustion - and now, we must not only tolerate them invading our private spaces, but must now welcome them with open arms and expected to be happy about it? Forgive me if I don't sympathize....

If we are going to now be forced into being shoulder to shoulder with them, the very least you can offer us is neutrality. You can be accepting of all and still be neutral grounds - not taking any one side anywhere, all you have to do is be respectful to each other. Disagreement is not disrespectful. Could someone who disagrees with a certain viewpoint *become* disrespectful? Sure, of course they could. But simply the act of disagreement is nothing hateful or hurtful in any way shape or form - in fact, good discourse is how progress is made. So we need to remain neutral grounds and normalize the acceptance of different viewpoints - we need to recognize and accept that, yes, there are paths out there that do have specific requirements, expectations and limits - there are paths that are going to disagree, or just flat out not believe in something. Instead of name calling, when someone of those paths decides to speak up and enlighten and elaborate on information that may be inaccurately described or depicted, you need to LISTEN and learn, and not just bludgeon them with presumptive judgement. You also need to accept that there are many, various different closed practices out there - beyond Native American & Voodoo practices (as those seem to be the only ones the pagan community recognizes) and if someone of those closed faiths tell you - no, you are not xy or z, that is also not being judgmental or hateful or hurtful - that simply is. ....a very important side note here is that acknowledging closed practices is also not a carte blanche for screaming about cultural appropriation. Please shut the fuck up about cultural appropriation. Not being of a specific faith is not equivalent to cultural appropriation - Telling someone "no, you're not xyz" is very different from telling someone "no, you can't practice xyz" (looking at you smudge-Nazis) You can enjoy, practice, learn or celebrate anything you want of any faith you want while not actually being apart of it - that's the beauty of sharing and learning. And I think that is where all the trouble boils down from:

Indeed it has been quite....quiet, quite harmonious within the circles I frequent. Which is unusual, especially as we've had a couple Holidays, which usually stirs all the controversy. And I know with my last 3 part post I noted I had much more to talk about....but I've forgotten them all. So, they must not have been that important, eh?

It has been nice.

But (as there's always a but) in this quiet time I noticed something else - something I am certainly not unfamiliar with, but have never talked about, or confronted at all really.

I find myself feeling drawn away - and no, not in the depressive sense, as I am also certainly not unfamiliar with, but in a way that I have a hard time defining.

It is melancholy in the sense that it feels like a deep seated yearning - but not in a bad way, by any means, as I feel like if those yearnings didn't come and go over time, then I wouldn't be wholly myself. They are a part of me - they are not a bad thing, even if bittersweet.

They ebb and flow, and sometimes recede completely - at other times consume me completely. Though they usually hit me without warning, they start gradually and I can feel the oncoming tide. And once they've run their course, they recede just as swiftly, and gently, as they've rushed upon me.

It has happened for as long as I can, lucidly, remember. Though putting an exact date or age to it is difficult, as childhood memories tend to mesh and bleed together over the years, it can easily be said adolescence, at least, so it has been quite some time. But I still haven't ever gotten used to them, or have figured out how to cope with them - mentally or emotionally, anyhow. They do not prevent me from functioning or living my life, but they do wreck my mental state in a way. Though, I'm not sure I want to figure out how to cope with that...

I have been told by various people, at various points in my life, that I suffer from various forms of a disassociative disorder. Knowing I have depression issues I have investigated....but, No. Just no - it's not right. In all the many ones I have done ample research in, it's just not right - that is not me, that is not what I am experiencing. That is not what is happening, the "symptoms", even if some appear similar superficially, are all wrong.

When I say I feel drawn away, I do not mean I feel *detached*. That is a very big distinction - I'm feeling pulled away, to somewhere or something else, I do not feel disconnected. You can feel a connection to multiple things at once - so to be pulled into a something or somewhere else doesn't mean I have to detach, or "disassociate" with the here and now. I don't. Perhaps it is a foreign thing to try to describe to someone who has never experienced it before, and yes it is a hard to find the right words to begin with to really explain it in depth - but it's not that I "disassociate". Stop calling it that.

It is this very reason why I have never talked about it in depth at all, because even the slightest mention of anything puts others on high-alert. I know they are only trying to help, but no - you are not listening, you are not understanding. The best, and simplest, way I can recount it is like prioritizing. This thing - it's always there. It's always in me, and sometimes it just needs it's time. It doesn't even come first, as I still put all the needs and wants and important bits of this finite world first and foremost, but it needs its time in the sun, too.

As a child, they would say I was "dreamy" or just had an active imagination - I would day dream frequently, locked up inside my own head. Though I loved to play, and read, and write, and draw, I didn't need those things to enjoy my time. I could lay around for hours, in my own thoughts, completely happy and content, drawn away, off on an adventure, listening to the silent things whisper when they think no one is listening. I would doze and nap, and sleep extra long through the night - not because I was bored, or tired, but just because it gave me time in my own head - in my 'dreamland', where all these other things happened that wouldn't - or couldn't - in the waking world. As a young child, these were always described as good things....as a teen, it's often described as having your "head in the clouds" - something that is not necessarily good or bad, potentially problematic if left unchecked, but still nonetheless endearing. But as an adult? Phh. Well. Something must be wrong with you.

You're expected to grow out of it, but I find in adulthood it hits harder, and comes heavier, than ever as a child. Possibly because as children we're given room to indulge...it's creative, imaginative, learning to be content with your own company is touted as idealistic means of coping skills and personal growth - until it isn't.

For an extended time of my adult years I was wrongfully persuaded that it was hormonal as others had noted I tended to feel this 'drawing' around my cycle. I do get more emotional, and boy does the fatigue hit hard - but that still didn't make sense to me as it didn't happen *every* time on my cycle, and there were plenty of times it happened not on my cycle at all. Well, it doesn't have to happen everytime for it to be related, and hormones fluctuate throughout the whole month, so you don't have to actually be physically bleeding for it to be cycle related. What a cop out. With that logic, anything and everything under the sun and moon can be "cycle related". Bonus points deducted for the fact that every person telling me this was also, in fact, a woman. Shame. Lazy medicine right there. Lazy womanhood right there. And that's not even a feminist statement - that's just a common sense statement. Oh, so is every possible problem you ever have because of your period, M'AM ? So stupid. Stupider, yet, is that I listened to them. But I did, and I followed their suggestions - none of them worked, but with each new wave I would think the next would be better and easier if I just stayed the course - ignoring the fact that nothing was inherently wrong, and that this was only deemed an "issue" as it was categorized as "abnormal" and therefore must be fixed.

What I have come to realize now is that all those incidents - people wanting to categorize me with mental disorders, emotional disorders, or hormonal imbalances - call came at I time when I was, in fact, disconnected with something : my spirituality. I didn't have any type of falling out, or disillusioned from anything I ever believed in. Life just simply got in the way, I had more important things to worry about and do, and much less time to do them all in, so you just let certain things go that are not as pressing. Looking back at it now, I think maybe that is why they pulled on me harder in those years. Perhaps it was something drawing back in... I'd like to believe so, anyhow. And that's why I was stupid enough to believe doctors, and counselors, about stupid things I knew were not right - because I wasn't listening to the other half. And of course, nothing the ever suggested ever made one bit of difference - because it's not what was happening to me. And truthfully, because nothing was ever wrong.

As life started to level out, I slowly started doing little things here and there with my beliefs, with my workings. Little things, but baby steps, right? You can't just get off the couch and run a marathon - you have to warm up those muscles, start exercising those parts that have atrophied, and retraining your skills. Same applies - baby steps. It grew slowly over a few years - the tidal waves kept their course, as they do, and I just sort of accepted it at face value. But then the pandemic hit, and the world shut down. And boy, did I have all the time in the world.....and I used it.

Over this last year what I have come to realize is that, firstly - I was absolutely not alone. But also that I wasn't really paying as much attention as I thought I was - or my attention was skewed , by 'professionals', to focus on the wrong things. There was much more a pattern than I had ever noticed. These waves didn't come out of nowhere - though once they were on me, I could feel the gradual build - but before they ever even tickled my feet there were signs, there were patterns. I'd have days of restless nights, strange dreams, then it would fold into die-hard sleep, with absolutely no dreams at all - but waking as if I hadn't slept a wink and had been working all through the night. I'd wake with aches and strains, sometimes even bruises. We'd joke that our mattress was beating us up at night - we even forked out decent money for a brand new one. It's fabulous, and it solved zero of my problems, though my husband now sleeps like a baby...

It's only after these restless, exhausting nights does the tide start to flow back in, and the dreamy, dozey longing set in. The ache for something I cannot put my finger on, and the willingness to relent and let it take me away, even for just a time, and indulge in that pulling out to sea. I let it take me now - I do not fight it, I do not endure it, I let it take me and draw me out. And this is what so many professionals call "disassociating" - but that's not right. That's not what's happening.

And this is not some great spiritual come to Jeesus moment I am preaching to any of you, or certainly not meaning to be, but just the simplicity of paying attention. We, as pagans, just have the driven, inherent understansung that there are many more forces, and much more out there than what you see on the surface. And I had forgotten. Though I've kept my mouth shut, I've taken note when the topics and discussions come up - tons of people were in my very shoes. But they had been paying attention all along. I had forgotten. Some of the stories thrown out there I can't always get behind. Some of them are just flat out - No. But there were many more that weren't - they talked of the moon. The conjunctions. Astral travel. Being spirited away in the night. The veils. The Oran Mór. I was so stupid, I had been so blind.

And then, this year of much more laxed time gave me the opportunity to actually listen. These tides... their pattern.

The restless nights always came with the moons - these tides, they always came around significant dates....days when the veils are thinning. And now, as I feel the sweeping tides begin to pull again - here we are. Bealtaine is on the horizon. And as I wrack my memories.... every time.

Every. Time.

What is happening to me exactly? I still do not know - is this the call of the Oran Mór? Are the veils pulling at something deep inside me? Are the Fae trying to steal me away, as so many are quick to warn... Is there danger in letting the tides take me? Is this some deeper part of me being drawn home, trying to jar me to pay closer attention to things I have left forgotten? Something in there makes me think of my brothers...

....

It took weeks of preparation - I was given homework to do to prepare myself. I was given a special diet to stick to and varying cleansing rituals were performed on me to purify my mind, body & spirit. All of these things made me feel more comfortable - it was being treated very much like a very important, spiritual ritual. It did not feel creepy or seedy. My - attendants? I guess is the best way to call them, 3 women of varying ages that were to be the “witnesses”, and were all very kind and caring and motherly. They answered any questions I had, they were supportive and encouraging. They made it feel very much like an exciting journey and the beginning of something wonderous and magical once I was officially a member. I was starting to become more resolute in making this happen. And not really second guessing myself anymore. I thought it was working - I was losing the strict, prude mindset my upbringing had chained me to. 

The day of I was led into a community-center type building, I have no idea if the coven owned this building - had rented it out for the day, or if it was, in fact, a public community center they were actually expecting to carry this out in. I’m not sure which one is more disturbing - but it was dark, they had it lit up with candles everywhere. Music was playing and a few people were singing and chanting. It was, really, very lovely and peaceful and soothing, though there were more people there than I thought there would be. Again - it felt very thoughtful and ritualistic and taken very seriously. They were all very much invested in this, and that made me feel better somehow - this wasn’t just a joke to them. (A performance, maybe...but not a joke) My 3 ladies allowed me to undress privately - something else that gave me great comfort, it made me think they don’t want nudity or sexuality just for the hell of it, but that this was, in fact, a very sacred ritual to them - and gave me a robe that had been painted in runes and sigils that were supposed to help consecrate the ritual and my body. They walked me out into the main room, they cast a circle with lots of flair and singing, and laid out a bed-roll like cushion in the middle. They draped it in white linen, said some incantations and saged it. They brought me into the circle and did their incantations, and saged me. Again - all very ritualistic and spiritual - seemed very kosher and serious - Until they got to the point where they unrobed me and actually laid me on the cushions.

I started panicking inside. The “Priest” came out from the other room carrying an incense burner, and chanting. What, I have no idea - it wasn’t English, it wasn’t Irish, it wasn’t French. Those were the languages I knew, so I knew it wasn’t any of them - sounded very much like Gregorian Chants. So perhaps is was Latin, or perhaps it was completely made up nonsense. I have no idea. But he was already very obviously aroused - I panicked even more. Even though I was trying to keep it inside, it was starting to be noted that I was panicking. One of the three ladies tried to calm me down, she was reassuring. But I can’t even remember what she was saying - I don’t think I was able to hear her even then. The “Priest” carried on with his incantations, a few people lit candles and sprinkled salt at intervals. The brought forth various branches that were supposed to signify different things - and then it was “time”.  I suddenly became very aware of the fact that he had no condom - and no inclining to be producing one from anywhere. I finally came back to my senses and actually asked / objected to this notion. One of the ladies told me that condoms were not used as it obstructed the contact between bodies becoming “one” and therefore lessened the spiritual connection to the God / Goddess being invoked in us. I. Flipped. My. Shit.

Let’s ignore for a moment that this ENTIRE THING is horribly wrong, and remember I was a young, dumb, easily influenced teen - but thankfully THAT snapped brain cells back into function, and rational, logical, objective thought back into me. No one had ever discussed this idea with me - hadn’t even mentioned it, let alone asked if it was something I was comfortable with or willing to go through. No discussion of any type of protection in the off change that I had agreed. I was done. I told them I didn’t want to do this. THEY FOUGHT ME.

Guys. GUYS. THEY FOUGHT ME. the *WOMEN* fought me. The “Priest” started getting angry and belligerent, and started making comments about being blue-balled. SO SPIRITUAL, mmmhmm. They did everything in their power to try to convince me to go through with it - the “Priest” started taking off his robe, AS IF HE WAS JUST GOING TO DO IT ANYWAY. I started yelling - that was the only thing that shifted their focus, they were now trying to get me to quiet down. Someone FINALLY spoke up and suggested that this wasn’t right, if I didn’t want to do it then I didn’t want to do it. The “Priest” stormed off angry, started cussing and yelling and throwing things. One of the ladies offered to ‘take care of him’  !! Yes. You read that right. Oh yes, this whole charade was SO SPIRITUAL guys. He was only worried about getting his rocks off. Don’t even ask me what everyone else was getting out of it - voyeurism ?  they get off on control and deceit??  I dunno. Don’t ask me - I will never fucking understand it.  I was humilated, and SO unbelievably ashamed. How could I be so fucking stupid, and easily manipulated, and so jealous of my friend to put myself in that kind of position???

It was only after they realized I had packed up and left did they send someone out after me .....TO MAKE SURE I WASN’T GOING TO TELL ANYONE. Not to make sure I was OK. Not to offer some sort of sorry-ass apology or excuse. No. To make sure I wasn’t going to narc them out. I was so ready to get out of there an never see any of them again, I  - like an IDIOT - agreed to not tell anyone. For YEARS.  (They did, eventually, all get arrested so don’t completely lose your minds, guys) 

You can tell me I just ran into a bad group of people - that not everyone is like that, and not every coven is like that. And while, yes, that may be true - I will explain why I take extreme issue with this: 

If it were just a few bad apples, then why did every group I encountered have predatory issues? Every-one. 

Even the groups I didn’t engage with, I couldn’t because I was underaged - specifically because of the sexual interactions. By their own admittance. What degree those interactions are? We’ll never know - but their is a greater, underlying, systemic issue when a group - or a faith - by doctrine - is so sexually oriented. Let’s take out the issue of minors - full grown ass adults can be manipulated and abused. So if you’re entire religion is based so heavily on illicit activities, there is a greater issue. If it is a *requirement* - that is a problem. And the only reason to have strict 18+ limits on a religion  is if it is a *requirement*. That is a cult. If it is simply one option amongst many, than to each their own - however you want to personally and privately practice, more power to you - but if it is only an option, then there is no need to preach or practice it in an entire public group setting, and then in that case no need to exclude minors.

Also, much later on we discovered that the “Coven” my friend was a part of was, for lack of better description, just a giant orgy. They pressured her into getting birth control so she could engage “unrestricted” in their activities. What we, the idiots, believed was so much power and strength and confidence we discovered later on that everyone else just called her a whore - because what this group had psychologically instilled in her was you get what you want through sex. They had oversexualized her and way too young, and impressionable age - So she had sex with anyone, and everyone, for whatever reason. She thought she was “empowered”, but even now - to this day (or at least, the last time I talked to her in our adult lives) I don’t think she fully comprehends what they did to her. She is absolutely not empowered.

Even to this day, this argument continues in the Pagan community. As recently as a month ago I was engaged in a debate about initiating minors. Sex is ALWAYS argued as being a part of the craft. Now, read me clearly - I am not discrediting sex magick, or anyone who decides to use it in their own craft, or anyone who decides to perform their rituals nude. If that is what feels right for you - do it. But there is a very profound difference between deciding what is right for you, and being told that *THIS* is *HOW* you *DO IT*. Do you know how many times I have heard that “Skyclad” is the *right* way to perform your magic? That is you’re not doing it, then your ritual or workings will be less affective? That you cannot properly attune yourself if you’re clothed?  The list goes on and on. Do you know how many times I have heard the Great Rite defended and heralded as the “most powerful” initiation ??? Or the most spiritual ritual ? That it has a solid and sacred place in the working, speaking of it in a manner as if it should be a goal for everyone at some point or another to engaged in this ritual at some point in their journey, or else they haven’t truly achieved....whatever it is they are touting should be achieved. Nirvana, enlightenment, higher vibrations....whatever. These arguments I have had as recently as yesterday. And continue to be regular topics of discussion and shaming - right on up there with cultural appropriation. 

And no - not everyone is going to behave this way or condone these activities, I am aware of that. There will inevitably be people out there who identify as Wiccan that will be adamantly against these things - but the issue with being either the rule or the exception is doctrine and dogma. And believe you me - this IS indoctrinated in the faith. This is Dogma. Read Gardener’s work - look at his beliefs. Follow his structure and rules. When it is expected of the followers. When it is a standard, or default. When it is a tenet of a faith - that is when it becomes a problem. That is when you start walking the line of a Cult. 

And It is these very teachings that are why this is so pervasive in our community. You see it blasted all over the blogs, in our circulars and magazines. Predators are so prevalent in our community, because this man - this cult - has not only normalized it, but teach it as a tenet of the faith. And Wicca itself has become so indoctrinated in the community, that people forget - EVERY DAY- That Wicca isn’t the ONLY path out there, and that their rules aren’t the ONLY rules. Raise your hands if you’ve ever felt personally victimized by the Three Fold Law.  Look how long it took me to figure out that wasn’t the only path out there? AND I had family that were pagans, and it STILL took me that long! Granted, I had the very wrong idea of what Wicca actually was from the get go, but I didn’t know how to distinguish it from anything else. I didn’t know how to separate it from paganism as a whole.  I luckily had family in the community who stepped in after my ordeal with the Covens - and not only helped me heal, and protected me - and were the catalysts in them being investigated and arrested. Luckily these people were able to actually step in and help straighten out things I had “learned”, and guide me in a real way. Not everyone has that, and now with the internet, there are even more avenues for newcomers and the innocent and naïve to be led astray. And they will take it as gospel - as my friends and I once did - because they are searching, and don’t know any better. And those are the very type that Cults prey upon.....and whadoya know, those are also the very same ones to fall into the Wiccan claws - that is a cult. 

People will also try to argue how...well, how big it is. Nothing that far-reaching or popular can be a cult. But I’d point you to a certain Big Blue building down in Florida and kindly suggest you find a new argument - that’s not flying here. Size nor influence matters. And no, that does not mean every single person that identifies as Wiccan is horrible or delusional or evil  or a predator - but as much as a few bad apples don’t make the whole batch bad; a few good apples in a tainted orchard doesn’t suddenly save the whole grove.

And so we decided to join.....

We made our arrangements with our parents, each one of us “spending the night” with another so as to cover our tracks for our midnight outing. We were led in a fairly run-o-the-mill initiation rite with a group of other new members. They cast a circle, we were in white linen robes and donned with flower crowns. We all had a specific role in ‘calling’ the towers as to be one with the ritual we were involved in - they lit a bonfire. We all had candles, they lit one by one as they spouted out prayers and incantations. We were anointed and saged. When it came our time, we would speak our part  - some generically worded ‘dedication’ to the Goddess. We tossed our crowns into the fire, along with a lock of our hair. As we were officially initiated, the lead would come around and extinguish our candles as she closed the circle. It was nice enough, but ....anticlimactic. I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I was expecting, but whatever it was - the reality fell flat. BUT, I walked away thinking - well that’s not bad at all! What was I ever worried about? It seemed to galvanize my faith, and my denial. And since I was still under the belief that this was just a modern interpretation of a very olde faith, I thought then, perhaps, all those things we read about were simply from the “olde ways”, and this modern faith was nothing to worry about. 

But, it all changed once we had been initiated. There were now suddenly heavy expectations of new members. You HAD to attend so many meetings, or you’d be kicked out. You HAD to contribute so much work, or you’d be kicked out. You HAD to follow the High Priestesses rules - whatever that may be within each meeting - or you’d be kicked out. You HAD to pay tithings, or you’d be kicked out. And, of course - once you were initiated. Well....that’s when all the rituals became “skyclad”....and you HAD to participate....or else you’d be kicked out. 

Well. Spoiler alert - I was kicked out. I wasn’t the only one, but there were a couple of our friends who stayed. And I was once again seething in envy. They came back with stories that were shocking, honestly, with some of the things they had to do --- but they also came back with fantastic stories about all these new things they were learning and doing, and I just couldn’t stand it. There was one skyclad meditation class my friend was a part of where she was partnered with an 60 something year old man, where there was touching. Nothing scandalous - but still, contact. And whilst I absolutely did NOT want to get naked in front of a 60 year olde man, and I absolutely did NOT want to see a naked 60 year olde man - and did not want to have to touch palms with him, whilst both of us are horribly uncomfortably naked - I couldn’t get past everything she was taking away from it. She constantly touted how natural it was, how uninhibited you felt and how nothing dirty or sexual every happened and how it was supposed to force you beyond the realms of your body, where you didn’t even notice that you or anyone else was naked. Months passed, and the ones who stayed had nothing but positive things to say - and they had seemingly accomplished so much. Comparisons between nude beaches and nudist colonies abound, and the tut-tutting of how Americans are just a bunch of prudes because of Puritans. It’s a hard argument to dispute. The grooming was successful. They had won them all over. And truth be told, they were winning me over as well. I had started to reevaluate all my misgivings. I was just a prude. I was a slave to Puritan thought and tradition. 

It was less than a month hereafter, my friend was selected to participate in the Great Rite. I will not state how olde she was at the time, but her ‘partner’ was well into his 40s. I know nothing of the details beyond how utterly excited and eager she was, and how she apparently was able to achieve astral projection and make it to the Akashic Library.

Supposedly all her workings she ever did were wild successes - she got everything she ever wanted, and seemed to have just an infinite amount of knowledge about anything. She soared in confidence, personality, popularity, experimentation, intellect, and owned her blooming sexuality. I was unbelievably jealous. 

I made moves to join another coven myself. I wanted what she had. I wanted to become this enlightened, powerful, greater version of myself I ever could be. I wanted to be that fucking cool. So, I did some digging, and met some people. But, as I had come to find out - it was extremely hard to find one open to younger members. Specifically because of the sexual content. I eventually found one open to younger members. In retrospect, I did absolutely no due diligence whatsoever - I joined the first one that was open to minors as I was just desperate to join one, and start my journey to become as awesome as my friend. Only, this one was run by a Priest, not Priestess, and forced skyclad from the get go - it was part of their “trials” as to whether or not you were serious in your journey, as, according to them, that was the -only- way to perform rituals. If you were uncomfortable doing so, then you were not “ready”. 

So I performed. I hated every minute of it. I was unbelievably uncomfortable in front of all these complete strangers. But I forced myself through it, still holding fast to the idea that I just needed to shed all of my puritanical preconceptions and become comfortable in my own skin. The older men gravitated to the younger members - which was encouraged by the women as a rite of passage, for the sake of “mentoring”, that they all had gone through it themselves in their time. In more than one of my sessions, they were notably aroused. The older members brushed it off as just being a natural effect of the human nature, and not to take offense to it. So I pushed through, and tried to ignore it. I never had any of the overwhelming, enlightening experiences my friends claimed to have experienced - just horridly uncomfortable encounters with sexually aroused older men gawking at me. I was turned away from this coven for not being a “right fit” and not being “ready” for my journey. I was devastated. Though, when I look back on it today, I can only think that they could see/feel my discomfort and believed I would either not engage with them at all, in which case what’s the point? Or, if I did, I would have caved and told someone about the encounters - which would be a lot of problems for them.

But, I was young, and I was an idiot, and I was effectively brainwashed. So I set out to find another one, and was determined to not let my insecurities ruin my chances of being able to learn and grow in a legitimate Coven. It took a while, but I eventually found another one open to minors. They had legitimate application forms. I applied. I went to a few meetings and what could only be described as interviews. I had to take several tests. I found this encouraging - they really took the educational/intellectual side seriously. They swooned over the knowledge I had already gained - especially for it being all on my own. I was delighted. I was blind to the fact that so many of their tests were centered around doctrine - one of which being the secrecy aspect, yet again. Apparently, I had all the right answers. I was selected for initiation. I was ecstatic. But then they informed me that initiation was performed through the Great Rite, with either the High Priest or Priestess, and though wouldn’t be open to the entire Coven, would be confirmed/witnessed by the other Priest and several of the high-ranking officials. I immediately grew anxious - but I was determined. So I agreed....

I have always had a since of unbelonging and curiosity my entire life. So, I’d like to believe that my ‘path’ in the craft has been eternal. But, if we are scrutinizing - I guess you could say it didn’t really begin until I was about 9-11 years olde. Can’t remember the precise age or year - just how it went, and my friends that started on that path with me. When you are olde enough to start developing your own likes and interests, olde enough to start having questions about anything and everything in the world around you - and young enough to have complete reckless abandon and lack of frontal lobe development to indulge such questions, curiosities, and probably otherwise, not the *smartest* of explorations. But boy, did we make some memories. 

But this was also the time when only the ~rich folk~ had internet in their homes, where the rest of us were reduced to the free 10 minute sessions at the public library which came with the intrusive screaming of dial-up, met with properly humiliating glares of disgust and disapproval that was just too much for a bunch of pre-teens to handle. So what other options could were we possibly left with? Well, if you had guessed the idle corners of book stores’ New Age  sections, you would be correct, friends! And what else could be found on New Age shelves in the early-mid 90s but Wicca in all it’s Llewelyn glory?? Nothing, friends. The answer is nothing, unless you hoped to find a few odd horoscopes, a token copy of the Necronomicon stashed away behind some UFO conspiracies from the O.G. David Childress & Co. But if you were looking for anything spiritual in nature beyond the status quo puritan American heritage? Nothing, friends - except Wicca. 

So, needless to say - this was my only experience at this age with anything magically or pagan inclined whatsoever. Now, I came from an immigrant family, lived in an immigrant neighborhood, went to an international school with friends of immigrant families so we were well versed in stories of other customs and cultures - but always in an intangible way. Just stories, things of fictions or long-dead ancestors which no longer exist. I personally came from a mixed-bag family, Irish Pagan, Southern Methodist, strict Catholic, Native Shamans. So religious discussions were always heated topics of animosity - so people just didn’t  talk about it, either out of spite and grudges, or just to avoid constant fights. So though I had family that participated in pagan rites, they didn’t talk about them - and they certainly weren’t teaching me anything (not yet anyhow, more on that later) So these books we perused, for hours without buying to the chagrin of the bookstore employees, were really the only introduction and information we had to go on with regards to anything spiritually related to the magical or to the pagan - and we took it as gospel, as we didn’t know any better - and I simply thought this was the modern term used today for a whole vast array of pagans and witchcraft followers. I thought it was a modern day term for a very olde religion. That is what I truly believed for years, especially with my Irish background - and the very heavy Irish influence in Gardener’s foundation of his religion, I felt like YES - I had finally found what had been calling to me for all these years. This was right, this is what I was meant to be - as a lot of the tales he recounted I had remembered being told, or reading, in my families books and stories my entire life. I recognized the names. I knew what “feast days” he was referring to - this was my blood, my heritage - and this MUST be what my family and ancestors had been following - and this MUST have been why I felt so out of place for so long : I was meant to find this.

 It was awe inspiring, it was liberating. It was exhilarating.....until it wasn’t. One day, after restocking the shelves with a new shipment, did we stumble across the works of Gardener himself. Wherein book after book, chapter after chapter, detailed the use of ‘Skyclad’ rituals and initiations through the ‘Great Rite’ and meditation through the ‘Great Rite’, and visualization through the ‘Great Rite’, and energy rising through the ‘Great Right’  and just about anything and everything through the use of the ‘Great Rite’ or some incarnation thereof. In the particular books that we read, there were even specific instructions on how to handle ritual situations involving young children and minors, with or without parental involvement, and the importance of secrecy.  

This should be a red flag to anyone with a brain cell. 

But, for some reason, it wasn’t. My friends ate it up - the fact that they were being referred to, and treated, as adults and equals. What is more enticing to a bunch of hormonal preteens/teens who are certain they know everything, than to be treated as the adults they are very certain they absolutely are?  We even had intent debates and discussions with each other where we defended that it was completely respectable and not at all inappropriate. We hung on the language they used as proof that, see, they are not creeps - it is at our discretion, and intimacy level. Using words to be extremely specific about consent, and age, and detailing liaisons between mentors/students and members/High Priest(ess)es to not take place until they are of age and to be very mindful of that at all times. It felt all sorts of wrong to me at the time, but I was in complete denial - it just felt uncomfortable because it was new to me. We made arguments that our very strict, closed-minded Christian influence was why it felt uncomfortable. 

As a now wizened adult, not only is this “language” and position the very same argument pedophiles use to skirt the law and rationalize their actions as simple fantasies and free speech, but there is the bigger issue of the “secrecy”. Officially, on record, they are pillars of responsibility and advocates or legal boundaries and sensitivity -- but behind closed doors, don’t ask, don’t tell. Whilst making a not-so-subtle point to acknowledge all the legal boundaries, in the same breath they advocate the freewill, and consent of the member - regardless of age. Making the not so intuitive leap to assume that age is an afterthought if the member should be a willing participant. Nonevermind to the impressionable mind and intimidation or persuasion a younger member may be susceptible to - if they agree, then whose to stop them? Using the guise of secrecy as an underlying tenet of the faith. They aren’t “hiding” anything if their rites and rituals and teachings are just an understood secret knowledge only bestowed upon the most worthy individuals - or even that they are protecting the sanctity of such important rites by not publicly discussing them all willy-nilly. Nor do they bat an eye on the fact that presenting these rites and secrecy in such a prestigious manner would lead a younger audience even more inclined to actively participate, AND more inclined to also stayed shut-lipped about it -- as why wouldn’t they?? They are special. They are the chosen ones. They aren’t like everyone else - not just ANYONE would be allowed this opportunity. These are classic grooming techniques, that you can find examples of in the cases of sex offenders and sexual predators all over the world, let alone key tenets seen in nearly every other publicly recognized sex cults - so why is Wicca the exception?

What bothers me more looking back at these discussions we had is that they were completely unprovoked -- nobody had challenged us, nobody had warned us that this sounds fucked up - no one had ever tried to stop us or steer us away.  This was just our knee-jerk topic of discussion and reaction to what we CHOSE to follow. We knew from the get-go that there was something shady going on, our gut and our subconscious was screaming at us to not be those dumb little girls....and we were desperately trying to rationalize it to ourselves without realizing that’s exactly what we were doing. And our rationalized denial won - for a while, at least. 

I started straying more and more from that path ever since that day. But, as this was all I had at my disposal to build my world on, I only strayed so far. Other paths still seemed like the works of myth and legend - not “real” beliefs - so I stayed the course, just tended to keep my mouth shut and smiled and nodded when such debates continued on amongst friends. Eventually, several of my friends found local covens to join. They were sweet, and innocent. They opened up certain meetings and classes to new members as a sort of “tiral” phase - to see if it were a right fit. One of my friends in particular went to many of these. She came back with all these fantastic stories and experiences. Learned so many cool new things, and was really growing and developing and learning in the craft. She now had her very own mentor, and I found myself seething in envy. They were all growing and flourishing, and I was left in the dark with my nose stuck in books just dabbling. So I gave in, and went to some meetings with her. They were innocent and informative enough - meditation lessons, a fun Ostara celebration. Sermons on the Summerland and origin stories, God-specific lessons so we could learn all the various pantheon and what they represented. Workshops on creating candle spells, and how to properly sage and cleanse a space. We did yoga. We danced, we played instruments and tries to get into a trance-state. We had potlucks. It was fun.  And so we decided to join.....

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but: your boytoy is not a king. Your sidechick is not a queen. Stop calling them one.

I hate this. So very, very much. Just about as much as people calling women ‘females’. 

What?? But Why! I mean, it’s positive! It’s encouraging! It’s supportive and beautiful! And is so much better than other things you could be calling men/women. 

No. Incorrect. Not havin’ it. It’s fake. It’s arrogant, narcissistic even, it’s enabling and feeding a sense of entitlement and grandeur that 99% of people don’t ever need blowing up in their precious little egos. And it, plainly, is just not fucking true - and I have a thing against non-truths. To my very core. I despise them. 

See, King & Queen actually mean something to a shit ton of people. It is a title that must be earned or bestowed, either through great feats, or by birth right. It is a heavy burden, a highest servitude, a noble undertaking that can bring peace and progression and great leadership, or horror and terror and the plagues of broken seals. Either way it goes - it is not something to be taken lightly, and certainly not something to be so hollow and glib about. Not to mention, if everyone is calling their BFs and GFs kings and queens, what the hell makes being one so special?  Answer: Nothing. It’s not. You’re not. 

Your shallow, face tuned instagram pages littered with photoshop thumbnails and perfectly tweaked filters do not a king/queen make. Just because you have a pussy between your legs, this does not make you some ethereal noble creature worthy of praise, worship and undue loyalty.  Well. Loyalty, OK - unless you guys have an arrangement. That’s your own business. But everything else? No, honey. You are not so special. Same goes for all the menfolk out there who, really, don’t need any more ego stroking as it is. What makes you so high and worthy? What kingdom could you even possibly rule over? Your overpriced designer shih tzu parade? Your over inflated apartment you can’t afford without your other half rushing to move in after knowing each other two months?

They are in love with the idea of this glam and lofty - holier-than-thou lifestyle, where they are the all important Earth in the center of the all-known (but miniscule) Universe conception. This idea also holds a very dysfunctional attachment that they must be the most important figure in their others’ world, and therefore must be the ruler of their created world. The word that sticks out to me there is ruler. But they are completely disassociated with the idea of what it really means to be a King or Queen at all - they just like the aesthetic. But to anyone who has lived under a King or Queen, whether they loved them and laid down their weapons at their feet, or felt the bitter, scathing yoke of such governing - it just sounds. Well - trashy. What makes it even worse is that more often than not, these people who decide to use these words tend not to be the shining examples of royalty - in fact, they are usually the exact opposite. Which just makes my eye twitch even more. Uhg. 

See - I come from a culture where the the King/Queen were held to high and strict standards that were, for all intents and purposes, pretty damn progressive. Even for today, let alone the time which they reigned. If you didn’t live up to these expectations, you could be ousted by the people and killed for treason - to the people/realm, or basically in lieu of jail time, you were indentured until you had ‘righted’ your ‘wrongs’, paid your debts (to society) or ‘learned your lesson’. Or just until the people thought you had been tormented enough to know how it feels. Whichever was the flavor of the day.  They had a profound duty to their countrymen, and to their realm, and it was not taken lightly by either party - whether their intentions were pure or corrupt, it was a big deal with a heavy workload and a high ante - and when they garnered praise and worship, it was for a damn good reason. Take a page from history, those who relished in their own glory and grandiosity and lavish lifestyles usually found their heads on spikes.

So the Holidays season sucked me in, but believe you, me, there are many things I’ve come across this holiday season I have thoughts and opinions on that I have been meaning to put down here - soon enough. 

But today, today I would like to talk about art. My art, specifically. Anyone remember I used to be an artist and writer??? I know, I know, sounds crazy. But It’s true, I swear! Things happened (the story posted on a previous entry) and I am a long ways away from that at the moment - but I’m slowly getting there. I’m slowly starting to feel my olde self come back to life, but I am in no means pushing it. I am not putting any expectations or pressure on myself. I’m just letting it grow and reawaken naturally. Things take time. Healing takes time, and that’s ok. 

But today - today I sat down and painted. (le GASP) I actually painted - For the first time in about four years, and for about 6 - 7 straight hours. On a piece that has been in my mind for y e a r s. My goodness! And it felt good. I wasn’t doing it for a client. I wasn’t doing it for commission. I wasn’t doing it for work - I was just painting because I had free time and I ....just wanted to paint! Surprisingly enough, it came easy. I had no idea where I was starting, or what I was doing, but it didn’t matter. I just sat down and let it come. And moreso still, I was digitally painting - something, even in my peak, I was never able to grasp or get comfortable with. I was always a traditional artist, with digital touch-ups. Now my brushes may be offended, still sitting neatly in their dark little drawer; but aye, no worries, olde friends - your time will come. But today, I think I found my groove with the digital arts. Perhaps trying again on a new medium was the best way to get a fresh start, and I wasn’t worried about perfection, or deadlines, so I didn’t care about it looking right. Hell, you can always paint over it, right? Correct, and indeed I did. Many o times. But, in the end - when I finally had to stop as my eyes were screaming at me, my joints were starting to protest that I hadn’t moved in far too long, and suddenly realized I had forgotten to eat....or pee....I looked back at my progress, and I was happy. It was good. Still far from being finished, but I am very proud and happy with myself with the work I accomplished today. Which is saying a lot for someone who has notoriously suffered from Imposter Syndrome in more than one aspect.

It lit something inside of me. The past few weeks more and more of my olde stories have been creeping back into my mind - tales that need to be told, people who need to be shared. Places and artifacts that need to be unearthed from their shadows - and today was the day for it to start. 

It is just a small little thing - just one tiny glowing ember. But I will take it, and I will fan it back into flame in time. 

I was presented with a provocative question today. Someone asked, if you are in the Southern Hemisphere, so you celebrate Samhain today, or do you wait for your fall/winter to come around and celebrate it then? 

There was a selection of responses, and snarky remarks. Mine might have been in the more snarky, or possibly condescending. Oops? But the general consensus seemed to be, No, silly, of course not - we celebrate it in our respective season!

And that, unbeknownst to me - Struck a real horrible chord with me. I kinda felt like you just slapped me in the face, or spat in my mouth. 

Now, generally speaking - yes, of course seasonal “harvest” holidays or feast days would, obviously, correspond to the seasons and be celebrated or recognized in the respective season they should belong, wherever on the calendar that may fall. 

BUT. My issue is - there are SEVERAL holidays that are very much more than just a ‘harvest’ festival, and have very deep rooted spiritual meaning and significance. Samhain being one of those, Lughnassadh being another great example, where the specific month, if not exact day, holds relevance. Samhain is not only a harvest festival, but also a celebration of life and death. It is a day to remember and honour the ancestors, remember the beloved dead, celebrate the victorious dead, a time for scrying and divination, shadow work, plane work, spirit work, walking, watching - SO many heightened things, in this sacred thinned veil that separate this world from the others. It is also, in Celtic belief, the New Year. And Samhain is, literally, the name of the Month. It is November. So why the hell would you celebrate a festival whose namesake is the Month it is supposed to herald in, in the precise opposite point in time? That seems. Insulting? Ignorant? Silly? Disrespectful? I need a word that is a collection of all of that simultaneously, along with indignation. 

Would you move Christmas just because the season “didn’t match” what your own perception of it was? 

How about New Years?  Does that suddenly fall on a different day just because your on he opposite side of the world ?  Or would it not still be January 1st? (not being a smartass and accounting for time-zone differences)  Or what about the cultures that celebrate a different New Year (Samhain being one of them) - Like the Chinese New Year (falls on Feb 12), or the Orthodox New Years (which typically falls around Jan 14th) - Would you just expect them to NOT celebrate it on those same days just because they may have relocated to a different hemisphere??  Why is ours any different? Why do we not get the same respect as other religions and cultures?  The Celtic New Year falls between October 30th - November 4th. And it SHOULD BE OBSERVED *ON THOSE DAYS* regardless of what hemisphere you live in. Period.  Same for Lughnassadh - it is tied to a harvest festival, but it in itself is not a harvest festival. It originated as a funeral celebration for the mother of Lugh, and was held on her burial and memorial, and therefore should be observed ON HER DAY, not changed on a whim to suit humans perceived “misalignment” of preset notions of what the weather should look like outside on that holiday. The modernized Lunasa, is also the name of the month of August - so it should be respectively celebrated in it’s namesake.  Belltaine, or Bealtaine in modern Irish, is again, another one of these celebrations that - yes, are tired to harvest days, but are not SOLELY harvest related, and is a spiritually significant holiday. It is a Fire festival in celebration of Balor, who gives his name to the celebration - and, yet again, to the MONTH. So, again, it should be observed within it’s namesake.  Imbolc(g) is really the only named holiday, in addition to the solistices/equinoxes, that are ambiguously tied to the seasons and can be easily shifted to correspond to the respective hemispheric alignment. But when you have holidays that are rooted in tradition, and have historical, and cultural significance in being observed on specific days for specific reasons - they need to be observed on those days. Hard stop. It is just, plainly, disrespectful not to. 

I think the idea of being overly accepting, and overly specialized in the greater pagan community (an Ironic oxymoron, as callous and gate-kept as the greater pagan community can be) has significantly watered down the respective faiths, understanding, and discipline. This constant reminder that “there are no rules!” “anything goes!” and “make your own path!” are so pervasive, that the suggestion of ANYTHING sacred, or standard, or fundamental leads your to be ostracized and mocked. Sorry, that is just not how that works. Yes - you can believe anything you want to - but if you are going to make the choice to believe in a specific faith, you should honor the doctrine of that specific path. If you don’t...well...common fucking sense would tell you, then that’s not your path, now is it? And there is nothing wrong with that, at all - but you cant practice being a frog, and claim it’s a deer. It just isn’t - and your insulting both the frog and the deer. Along with anyone with the power of logic, reason and deduction on your way...

This to me, tells me that said ‘practitioners’ don’t actually give a damn about understanding what they are doing, or what they are celebrating, or the histories or origins of what they claim to love and worship - but only the superficial perceived notion of said faith, and their own narcissistic experiences within it. It should be relevant to *me* in *my* time and place and convenience - NOT the actual gods, elements, or culture of the faith of the actual practice. Nope. That’s secondary. I’m first. So I’ll just change everything all around to fit what I think is most comfortable. Yup. 

On this Halloween day, I am drawn once again to a problem I have always taken issue with. 

As I have been indulging in forums, groups, chats and the like since Quarantine has taken over our lives - I have come across a common theme, that, frankly, I never realized was a real thing outside of Fantasy canon and DnD. And now as everyone is preparing their Samhain rites, a common thread seems to have approached, again, on the matter:

The Fae are evil. The Fae are killed/scared of iron. 

And as I discovered how absolutely widespread this theory was, in light of a recent...faux pas? Of a certain collection of people “hexing” the moon, and planning to hex the Fae. And as the obnoxious (or possibly hilarious) revolt of the internet reacted, it culminated into a long-standing issue I have had with theories, folklores, and myths of the “Fae”.

Firstly, and most generally, what is the definition of “Fae”?  For me, in my faith - it is the ancestral demi-gods that have been driven underground, and live betwixt and between this realm and the Otherworld.  

But I have heard “Faes” described as, literally, anything and everything that is a humanoid ethereal and/or fantasy creature. Faeries, fairies, pixies, nymphs, sprites, spirits, brownies, gnomes, elves, elementals.  Just about anything and everything can fall under the umbrella of “Fae” - and this just seems problematic, and inaccurate.  Where did this come from? How did this happen?

My incessant googling as offered up little more than a flabbergasted shrug, unfortunately. There seems to be no collective answer to this - it just sorta happened. Well, great. 

The issue I take with this is that, in my culture and faith - which seems to be the very rarely disputed “origin” of the term, at least, if not the general idea of Otherworldly beings - they are a very specific thing, and are very much their own, defined, beings - Species, I guess you could qualify it as. And in the same vein, each and every one of the other hodge-podge of creatures that can be clumped together under the ‘Fae’ term are ALSO each their own very distinctive, individual and different beings, that have their own tales, histories and mythos that define them. Each unique and significant, if not similar to one another. But similarity does not make them the same being. Similarity does not even make them the same species. So why do they get lumped together?

The best common thread I can come up with seems to be : Christianized Fear. That may sound harsh - but it seems to be the common thread that the Christian community that was moving into these Pagan-dominated regions seemed to clump all these smaller, lesser, various foreign ideas, peoples and beliefs they didn’t quite understand and could accurately differentiate together as varying pieces of the same greater “thing”, thusly muddying up each of their distinct origins and histories and cultures. Anything that wasn’t Christian, was ‘otherly’ - and anything that was ‘otherly’ was Fae. End of story.  And I guess the idea just spread, and stuck over all the generations. 

Secondly - Why are they evil??? I get the Christian concept of presenting these Otherworldly beings as evil. It is nearly self exaplanatory - but why do WE as Pagans, still adhere to the idea that they are Evil ?? If they are beings, just like any other beings in the universe, then they are capable of individualism just like every other living creature out there - some are good, some are bad, the collective WHOLE is never just one or the other. So why is this story so pervasive - especially in groups of various faiths that hold reverence towards these people, if not some that flat-out worship them? 

I, personally, think this is just flat-out wrong. As in inaccurate, not as in immoral, just to clarify. Again - sure, some of them could be evil. Absolutely. Just like some people are evil - but that doesn mean all.  So why do we classify them as “all” ? It doesn’t make sense.  

I have asked this questions in groups, to individuals - both pagan and not- and I’m given a collection of very vague, parroted responses like “They’ll kidnap you!” or they’re “Spiteful and vindictive”.  

But, if you read the tales, look at the collective folklore, the instances of purported kidnappings happen to take place while trespassing. And the acts of violence or retribution happen in response to some trangression of humans against the Fae. And if you actually read the tales of “changelings” - it’s clear that changelings aren’t actually a thing. Again, lets reference the Christianized fear, of blaiming things they had trouble comprehending on other things they didn’t understand, and thusly feared. If a child was born with defects or disabilities, it was a changeline. If there was some mental issue - it was a changeline. If it was the wrong sex that the parents desired - it was a changeline. If it was just ugly - it was a changeling. Not exactly the most compelling cases of legitimate child abductions, if you ask me, that the Fae have consistently been blamed for over the course of centuries.  Well, hell. I’d be a bit bitter and salty towards human kind, too, in that case - but that still doesn’t make them “evil”. In fact....It’d be hard to argue that most of us wouldn’t react in the exact same, or similar (some cases, WORSE) manner if people kept trespassing & disrespecting my property, continued to trick or deceive me, or did not keep up their end of a deal, bargain or trade, and continued to lie and blame me for EVERYTHING that ever went wrong in their lives. In fact, that, to me, is a much better argument that they are very real, sound minded people capable of pain, insult & injury just like anyone else, rather than cases of them being “evil”.

Thirdly. Iron is their kryptonite. Why? How? I can find various passing references of this through many different texts on mythology and folklore back through the 1600s. But absolutely no explanation, or origin, whatsoever. Where did this come from?  I don’t care who you classify the “Fae” to be - all of the many forms and iterations they take ALL...have... S M I T H S in their mythos, culture or canons. They all use weapons, presumably of some form of iron as they have very specific titles and descriptions for those who work in non-ferrous material, such as copperwrights, or silversmiths, etc.  And things such as aluminum and tin just wouldn’t be feasible for weapons or armory, as they are low density, fairly malleable and doesn’t hold an edge well. So why would something they actively use ever be considered a deterrent for them?  This one just baffles me wholly, and I can only assume that it was some sort of snake-oil remedy of some charlatan that they just clung to, and since the vast majority of their “Fae” claims tended to be horrible scape-goating, their superstitious “deterrent” appeared to actually work, and therefore forged itself into immortality, and infamy, for all the generations to come. 

So overall, I just find all of these things just plain - well, weird, to put it bluntly. They just don’t make sense, don’t stand up to scrutiny, and have no real basis of evidence or even reference of how, or why, they came to be. The best we have are some vague theories, reaching at a collection of passing references from an overly superstitious, Christian authority. Hardly the people to have the right to dictate the truth, or facts, of the collective Pagan cultures and faiths. This is why I find all of these things just horribly inaccurate, and personally, I believe it to just be complacent, or pure laziness, to be a Pagan and continue to perpetuate these worn out tropes. 

I don't even know if there is anyone still out there listening to my ramblings. But that is ok. The point is, I am rambling. And that is fine.

For anyone who is still listening, on whatever platform you have found me - If you haven't already seen the pattern, I disappear frequently. Perhaps you're familiar with it, perhaps you already know, but if you've missed the signs - I struggle with depression, and how it manifests for me is to just disappear. This is the longest I have ever disappeared. This has been a rough one.

No. I am not in danger. I'm not even sad. Depression, for me, has never been that. It is simply a Nothing. Inspiration leaves me. Want and will evaporate. I just want to be left alone, and be. I am tired, and have nothing to say, and want nothing to do. But, of course, there are things I *have* to do. Things I MUST do, and like the good warrior I am, of course - I do. But that takes so much energy, that once what I must do is done, there is even less of me left than where I began.

So I sit. And I sleep. And I watch the same million episodes of the same three shows that I've seen a million times before, because it is soothing. Because, somehow, they are still entertaining, and they are comforting and relaxing and I tell myself I'm just recouping - tomorrow I'll do something. But of course, tomorrow has a whole new list of *musts* and *have tos*. And the cycle continues.

The last post I made here, was not actually on this blog - but the Sister blog. The one I created solely for the dark and depressed rantings to be able to get it out and expell it from my being. It was my one and only post. And then I went dark. For four years. I was in a very bad place. It was hard for me to articulate, because I was still engulfed in it. I hadn't escaped yet.

About 5 years ago, I was in a car accident. A lady on her phone, speeding, not paying attention, ran a red light and hit me dead-on. She was going abput 60 in a 35. I was extremely lucky.

I was banged up pretty bad, I have chronic hip problems now because of it - but it could have been so much worse. I didn't even break a bone. I was extremely lucky. The car was unbelievable. My son could have been in the car, but I had -thankfully- just dropped him off at school. It would have hit directly where he would have been sitting. But, that didn't happen. I was extremely lucky - but it left me with some serious PTSD. I was terrified of the road. I was terrified of other drivers. It doesn't matter how safe you try to be when it's someone elses recklessness that takes you out. And there's not a damn thing you can do about that. I struggled real hard with that one - I still do.

I'm the one you're honking at for taking too long at the greenlight. I'm the one you're frustrated with for never seeming to know it's my turn at the 4-way. It's me. Because I no longer care about inconvenience- if 10 extra seconds means I know the other person is not blowing through the intersection, then I'll take it. You all can go before me at the stop sign, I'll wait. I don't mind. If it means I'm safe, then I'm fine with my commute taking an extra 10-15 min.

I had several months of physical therapy, and a year out of the workforce. But eventually, all things move on. Wounds heal. Bruises fade. Money runs out, and you have to get back to life, and the real world. And even though I thoroughly enjoyed my reprieve from the bump and grind - I was ready to get back. Or so I thought.

I'll be honest, I never even considered how PTSD would affect so many aspects of my life. I did not get help for it. After all, if I'm just hyper aware of my surrpundings, that's a good thing, isn't it? Of course it is!

Being aware of your surroundings is a good thing. But I was completely ignoring everything else that came with it. Hyper sensitivity. Paranoia. Trust issues. Control issues. Vulnerability. Fragility. Panic attacks. Let me tell you, starting a brand new job in the midst of this will certainly make you hyper aware of much more than just your surroundings.

I was not ready. Not only was I not ready, but I had no idea what I was walking into. And it crushed me, utterly and completely.

I was in a horrible, horrible abusive relationship, and it destroyed every ounce of my spirit. Extinguished it completely, not only did it trigger the worst depressive episode I have ever experienced, but my PTSD crippled me from recognizing it sooner, and then once I had, made it near impossible to actually act on.

I spent hours, upon hours crying. Not just simple little tears - sobbing. Heaving. Mental breaking point hysterics. It was toxic. It was manipulative. It was undermining. It was suffocating, and I could not get out. I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating. Then I ate everything all at once. My blood pressure skyrocketed, even had my DRs threaten to withhold certain medications that I needed - and wanted to put me on a ton more that I was adamantly against. They didn't understand - this wasn't an issue with my body. My body was reacting in exactly the way it was supposed to. It was the stress, it was the circumstance. I don't need to be on toxic, liver killing, kidney killing medications - I just needed to get out, then it would all be OK.

My phone would go off ....at dinner, at the grocery store, driving home - wherever, and I would have a panic attack. And it would go off all. The. Time. I would get upset in public, I couldn't control it.

Complete strangers would come up to me and try to help - offer to call the cops for me. Take me to a shelter. Give me a safe place to stay. They wouldn't want to leave me - gave my husband the most evil glares I've seen in real life. I had battered woman syndrome all over me. Only it wasn't him.

It was my job. My job was my abusive relationship. It. Was. Abuse. It was trauma. I was strongarmed into a position I didn't interview for, I wasn't hired for, and didn't want - but it just. Happened. And once I was in, there was too much going on to have the time to protest. And then I was stuck. I was given impossible tasks. Literally impossible. I should have recognized the red flag in the interview when he asked about getting things done - he had said he had problems with past hires because they would tell him "It can't be done" and he took issue with that because "nothing is impossible". And some more choice phrases in that conversation that I can't remember completely, but in that moment I couldn't comprehend that anything was impossible - as far as work goes. I had never been presented with a task that couldn't be resolved, in one way or another - even if it meant with help, or going a different route. So I had no qualms. In the clearview of hindsight, it should have been a warning. But these were, impossible. There is no other word for it - what they wanted, what they were asking for, could. Not. Be. Done. Short of kidnapping people off the street, holding them against their will, and forcing them at gunpoint, it could not be done.

And I was blamed for it. I was just incompetent, like the so many others that came before me. It wasn't their psychotic demands - it was me. And I quickly learned he was a legitimate, bonefide sociopath. I was berated. I was threatened, verbally and physically. I had bottles thrown at me. An office chair thrown at me. My "short comings" were broadcast across the entire office. Things I had absolutely no control over were my failings. Things I wasn't even *involved in*, were my failings. Things THEY DID, were my failings. I was actively, legitimately, sabotaged, and then mocked when I could not complete the task - and then again, broadcast across the entire office. People thought I was crazy. Thought I was weak. Thought I was incompetent to the point they actually believed the only reason I was ever hired was because I had fucked my way to get it - because I was, obviously, so unqualified. Nevermind the fact that there had been at least 7 others before me, with the exact. Same. Story.

You interviewed us. You vetted us. You hired us. Are we, coincidentally, ALL that incompetent? Or could it possibly be you? What's the common denominator here? But no - it was us. My entire life revolved around this job - from the time I woke up in the morning, the phone wouldn't stop. When I got to the office, I had a backlog of voicemails and emails that I could never get through in the day, which would just start again tomorrow - so I had an ever growing backlog that would never. Ever. Stop. When I left the office - HOURS after I had already supposed to have been gone - the phone would start immediately. And I would get reprimanded if I did not answer and respond immediately, even when I was driving - still not recovered from the car accident caused by a person ON THE PHONE in their car. Which they knew of - I laid all my cards on the table. They KNEW about my issues with driving, and what I was struggling with. They didn't care. They even started putting me on recruiting gigs where I'd have to drive hours a day, alone, in areas I was completely unfamiliar with. They scheduled me on days that went against my availability - without telling me - and then was reprimanded when clients would show up to a locked office after hours, and they'd call me wondering why I wasn't there. I can't work on Saturdays - But you're on the schedule - well who was going to tell me that? - well can you hurry up and get there - No. I can't work on Saturdays, you knew that.

I would go in to "unlock the doors" for other, lower level employees - under the premise that they were working instead - and then get trapped. My son left home alone for hours without knowing when I'd get back. There were days when I didn't get out of work in time to pick him up. They even threatened the cops and CPS for "abandonment". And they would make snide remarks about me "cutting out early" or being "lazy" to leave on time to pick him up - even though I was well past my hours. I was salary, mostly all of us were, so we did not have standard clocked hours daily to track - but I clocked them once, just to prove a point.

119. One Hundred Nineteen hours. IN ONE WEEK.

ONE. Week.

ONE.

And then when they discovered I was looking for another job - they fired me. Not only that, but gave me a horrendous, completely false, separation letter. A letter that prevented me from getting other jobs, for a good minute.

I was completely broken. My spirit was utterly gone. I spent days and days sobbing. Screaming. I have never felt so much rage and anger and helplessness in my entire life.

I, in all seriousness, actually contemplated homicide. Arson.

I think I could have won a temporary insanity plea.

Nothing I will ever write or say or tell will ever express accurately just how pure evil this company was, and how toxic and abusive and illegal and immoral everything about this place was.

So needless to say, I now had even more PTSD to deal with. I still wake up in cold sweats from nightmares about this place. I still have trauma, I still have not gotten closure - but I'm working on it. It sent me on such a mental breakdown, that crept out over years. Once the initial pain and anger subsided, I was left just numb and empty. I didn't write. I didn't draw. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to be exhausted. I didn't want to be angry. I didn't want to cry. And so the depression took hold, and held on to me. And I let it, because being in this numb place where I could at least get by from day to day was far better than where I was before, and I took comfort in that. And then slowly contentment set it. And so I was happy - not ideally. But at least I could enjoy my time again. At least I could relax, and laugh, and spend time with my family and just -be- and that was OK.

But, finally, I started to confront these things. I started to work on them. I started talking to people for help - help heal up what others had done to me. And now, finally, after years of numbness - that itch has returned. The musings are stirring. The ~want~ is returning. I *want* to write something.... I *want* to draw something....

The picking up of olde projects is still too much right now. And starting new ones hasn't quite happened yet - new inspirations haven't quite jumped to mind or lept to life - but the stirring is there, which I haven't felt in a very long time.

So this is my first baby step. To at least tell my story of what happened, if I can't yet invent a new fantastical one.

Can you hear me? There isn’t much time now, not these days. They’re watching. I must be quick. It’ll never be enough time… They have me now. Choked. Just tight enough not to run. Just loose enough to breathe. But not true, good, deep breaths. No, not free breaths. Just enough to survive. Because survive is all you can do, here. And they know… They know what they are doing. They know what is too…

I got lost…

… but I am trying to find my way back. I found somewhere. A place that was free. That was wondrous. That was peaceful and invigorating. A place where things come alive. Such a place, it was. What a place it was. I am trying to find my way back. The Spirit has been damaged too deep, but you must move on. Must keep going, keep searching. I will find my way back, at the end of the road. I will come…

Light the Fires, Drink the Dews

It is May Day, Bealtaine. Where has the year gone? I have been too busy to observe, but I have felt more connected than most years. I have learned how very much I rely on these callings from my bloodline. My history, my faith, and they have given me strength and peace this year. I am happy. I am productive. Goals are in my sight – and it is inspiring and motivating. Light the Fires in this Season…

An insult of Wicca

When did Witchcraft become a contest? They ask. But inside, my guts churn, and my blood boils, as I read the insulting lines that get pissed off at others unjustly judging poor, victimized Wiccans…the complaints of the “constant belittling” of Wiccans…whilst they so hautily, and casually belittle others. Others’ complaints of Wicca is apparently horrendous bullying. Even though we are constantly…

I have just begun a new job, and am still trying to adjust to syncing up all our life schedules into balance as I settle into my position, and our busy busy upcoming season, so bear with me as I get resituated. For the site, I have drawn up plans to add individual project pages, as well as hosted pages for each category for easier navigation than the archives, but will take a few weeks to…