rarely am i incensed to action by helpol discourse, but i saw something pretty egregious about how christian witches and pagans shouldn’t be allowed in pagan spaces which….. huh ??
so, speaking as someone who left christianity (ex-baptist) and had the opportunity to continue work for YWH and refused because of that trauma (and because i don’t align w YWH anymore), i’m gonna be talking about the magic i did while deep in the arms of the church. because paganism still exists in places of oppression and being divisive right now ?? when the world is the way it is ??? on tumblr where people turn for community ?????? is frankly asinine 💗
it takes very little to be kind. or ignore a community that triggers you. hopefully this will open some eyes.
in a lot of ways, church is where i learned how to do deity work and channel magic using a power Source other than myself. especially when i felt the most cared for and appreciated by YWH. if anything, i did work w Yeshua as well, but that’s neither here nor there.
so what did that look like ? here’s an itemised list of a few things.
prayer as a way to petition for something or in an attempt to build relationship
acting as a messenger between YWH and other followers
using gifts of prophecy in order to warn/ encourage other followers
acting as a vessel for YWH for whatever work he needed me to at that time
using words and affirmations in YWHs name in order to get my desired outcome
using song/ my voice in order to transmute my energy or a collective of worshippers
infusing wards into everyday objects for my protection and others
protective jewellery and protective sigils
lighting a candle, giving offerings and sitting in his presence
combining my Will with his energy in order to (again) obtain my desired outcome
these are largely the same things i do in my practice now and still. the mechanisms of worship didn’t really change at all. how can you say then that paganism is exclusive to just helpol ? how could you say we should push christopagans out ?
my unprompted suggestion is that if you are an ex-christian who wants to push christopagans out, reexamine why. what hurts and traumas are you still carrying ? why do you feel like an authority over who is pagan and who isn’t ?
if you are not ex-christian, but still want to push out christopagans, i urge you to look at the history behind your beliefs. religion is bloody because humanity is bloody. no religion, culture, practice or belief is entirely pure or entirely “clean”. do you think yours is ? why is the status of christian pagans of any sort of importance to you ?
i have no love for YWH. i respect Yeshua from very very far away. i never want to be attached or associated with christianity again in any capacity. but christopagans are my peers, and there is still so much to learn from them.
different faiths and perspectives are integral for progress and preservation. it is possible to share beliefs without trampling over one another or without one consuming another. the past still holds weight, but the only way we can move forward is if we keep extending out a hand.
be kind. or don’t interact. but the world is a lot scarier alone than together.
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aphrodite feels like a warm hug. a soft, heavy blanket. she feels like how the stars shift in time with us, how harmony can be found in the most drastic and distant of place.
my lady is sweet.
aphrodite feels like the cutting stroke of a discerning knife. she decides, she scrutinises, she cuts. swift. heavy. sure. she knows, and she smiles, and she cuts. she reminds me of a mothers embrace, a daughters laugher, a person’s joy. she reminds me of a fathers kindness, a brothers smile, a person’s choice.
choix.
my lady is sweet !
i met her when i hated myself. when i ascribed my worth to how much others love me, when i only saw my worth in my work. it was easy. it was what i knew. it was Love.
(i met her when i was born. my name means love. perhaps it was a prophecy.)
she stared at me. i stared back. she grabbed my hand. i let her.
my lady is sweet.
we are not the closest we could be. i don’t kneel at her altar, i don’t kiss the soles of her feet, but i do find home in the shape of her waves. she is my role model, in a way. how could i not want to learn the domain of my namesake ? how could i not be compelled by the way she laughs ?
my lady is sweet. my lady is sweet. my lady is sweet.
she challenges me. asks me about myself. points at the oozing bits of myself in passive devotion. (i flinch, i do. but how could i not step up ? how could i not wonder about the freedom she holds ?)
my lady is sweet. i sit at the edge of my altar for her. i pray. (i pray…)
