Love Notes From Freyja, 10/2/15

Cara Freyasdaughter of The Gold Thread passed the torch of Love Notes from Freyja on to me a little while back.  I accepted without being sure that I could do it, and worried that I wouldn’t be sufficient or up to the task.  I told her I had to wait until October began, as I was moving and undergoing a lot of upheaval.

However, when I asked the Lady this morning, She gave me one to post today and another to share in the future (I was given a specific day), so it seems like this will be a regular thing now.  The one She asked me to post today:

My heart is open to you.  Come inside and see the mirror of my love.  Come inside and swim in the sea of my love.  Come inside and drink from the well of my love.  None of these are exhausted by your use.  Come to me, come into my heart, and know.

Gullinbursti Is My Co-Pilot

So, we wanted a boar for the blot for Freyfaxi on Saturday, so Jim the Odinsman and I went to the craft store and found a boy pig.  (We couldn’t find a nice, tusky boar).  We brought it home, and Jim carefully painted him and added copper streaks and we put him on the dashboard of the car while we drove to go a blotting.  Speaking of which, between the alcohol and the food and the overwhelming presence of multiple divinities, I ended up feeling pretty… blotted.  Yes.  I went there.

Anyway, here’s the Gullinbursti riding on the dashboard of the car.  I wish I could get Jim a little Sleipnir to take his place (the golden-bristled one is coming with me 😉 ).


It just occurred to me that “Gullinbursti” has the same number of syllables as “Plastic Jesus” and thus would fit really well in that Plastic Jesus song.


“Gullinburst, Gullinbursti, riding on the dashboard of my car,

Through all the trial and tribulations, we will travel every nation,

with my Gullinbursti I’ll go far.”

Sorry folks.  I had to.

Freyja – Our Lady of the Runny Mascara

Freyja, Freyja, Freyja

The last two weeks I have been soaked in you.  I have languished in your light, in your warmth, in your passion, in your love, your sex, your heat, in your ecstasy, in your trance, in your dreams, in your seidh, in your magick, in your world, in your arms, in your heart.

Years ago you told me stop lying to myself and be who I knew myself to be, and it’s been a long journey, and you didn’t come to claim me until I was well past the point of no return.  Years ago you told me that you weren’t ready to inhabit me, and yet over the last couple of weeks I’ve accepted your sacrifices on your behalf, tears on Your altar of my lips, sex on Your altar of my body, love on Your altar of my heart, vision on Your altar of my soul.

Years ago you told me to accept and find my beauty, and only lately have I begun to feel it bloom like a heat beneath my skin.  You’ve been patient and indulgent with my own self-image issues, but I can feel that patience wearing thin.  Thank you for holding out as long as you could; I’m starting to understand.

Tears and sweat and sex and laughter and life and the breathing moist Earth and the warm, welcoming sky.  Crying, screaming in the heights, passing close, wild raptors dip and plunge, keening with our pain.  Oh, the Tears, lady.  The Tears always come when you are near.  I’ve felt like a wet rag on account of the Tears lately, but I know that you love them.  Each burns through me, working its alchemy on my soul, changing me as it passes, leaving a jewel behind in the world.  I try to cry freely and unfettered for you, at whatever emotion brings them.  We’re so used to tears being a thing of sorrow in our culture, but you’ve been teaching me how tears are the drool of passion, the wetness of head, the flame of transformation, the jewels of the world.  Every passion at its height is accompanied by them, and to you I dedicate them.  I call you Our Lady of the Runny Mascara because eyes are never dry around you.

Some of those tears are pain, Lady, and you know it.  Some are brought about by things you had your hand in, Lady, and you know it.  Some of those were offered unwillingly (or at least unwittingly), Lady, and you know it.  You know it well.

Thank you for them.  Thank you for your kind cruelty.  I trusted you through the pain, through the red haze of anger, through the agonizing self-realizations, through the absolute madness.  Through the tears I offered you I was transformed and will never be the same again, may each be a shining jewel in your hoard.

Giver, what you have given and keep giving to me overwhelms, it overflows, it is a river in which I cannot stand but must lie back.  When I do, when I let go, the sun above in the form of your smile warms me, and the waters in the form of your hands carry me where I need to go.  You bring me to shining valleys and lost groves, to hidden gatherings and boisterous throngs.  You give me experiences, ones that make me feel, blood and bone and heart and head.  The more I let go in your stream and learn to swim rather than struggle the greater the gifts I find you leaving in my path, Oh Giver.  I am grateful for your generosity.

Warm and soaked I lie panting beneath your heat, tears and drool spilling from me in my abandon, having passed satiety long before and traveled to the realms of indulgence.  I give you those indulgences, Lady.  I don’t need the excess, but you can handle it and I’ve seen how it makes you smile.

Thank you, Lady.  Thank you for the heat, the heath, the heather, the blood, the tears, the tearing, the screaming, the sobbing, the wracking passion that commands me at the height of my greatest offerings to you.  Tonight I do not thank you for the little light and warmth you have given me to warm my heart on the cold days; I thank you for that every day.  Tonight I thank you for the goldenred, throbbing Life that pulses through me so much more strongly than before I knew that I was yours.

Thank you, desiring and desired, beloved and loving, Beautiful Bearer of Brisingamen, Wand-Wise Witch-Woman, amber haired, fire-hearted, jewel-lipped.  Thank you for the terror and the beauty, for the love and joy and sorrow.  Thank you for making me feel in ways that I’ve never felt before and thank you for the pain that comes of stretching myself in ways I never thought possible.  That pain also belongs to you, Lady.  I offer it to you.

Thank you, Lady.  Because of you I will never be the same.  Hail Freyja!

Wellspring 2015

I was hoping to start this post with something like, “Pagan Church Lady, reporting on location at Brushwood Folklore Center for Wellspring 2015!”  Sadly, I could find no wifi and neither my lovely Fraulein (that’s my laptop) nor my Kindle (I don’t have a name for her yet) were up to the task of connecting to the Grand Interwebs.  It was probably for the best – I wasn’t allowed to hide behind a screen or avoid the notice of others.

Too much went on for me to record how I felt about all of it, so I’m going to give you the highlights of what I witnessed and participated in.  I know that I won’t be able to include everything worthy of note and I’m sorry for what I missed (most notably the Warrior games and Bardic stuff). I didn’t realize how insanely busy I’d be if I decided to participate in everything that I wanted to, but I slept solidly every night (except the night where it dropped below freezing) as a result.

Getting to meet everyone was wonderful.  I often had to tell people that I was “glad to put a voice to the words” since I know so many fellow ADFers through Facebook and their writing.  It was an honor and a privilege to be in good company like that.

So, highlights:

Opening Ritual:

We processed from the crossroads to the ADF Nemeton, and singing, filed in.  The rite was warm and welcoming.  It kind of felt like it was the “Initiating the Rite” “Purification”, “Establishing Group Mind”, and “Statement of Purpose” for the whole festival (for those of you familiar with the ADF Core Order of Ritual).  With the rite’s focus on the Earth Mother and the spirits of the land at Brushwood (which was a theme in many of the rites I attended, which made my happy) it also felt like the “Honoring the Earth Mother” – again, appropriate for an opening since it’s one of the things we do first in ritual.

I got to stand in a circle and sing the portal song with maybe thirty or forty other people while folks whose names and works I’d only read before honored the Sacred Center and helped to open the gates between the worlds.  Although I’ve attended three Groves’ rites now (and numerous large-scale public Pagan rites), there was a power in it that I’ve never experienced elsewhere, and it set a tone for the whole festival.

Stone Creed Grove’s tent

On the coldest night of the festival we were lead by the siren call of voices raised in song (yeah, Druids sing a lot apparently – fortunately there are usually enough of them that they can’t tell that I can’t sing when I join in).  On a frigid night it lead us across the campgrounds to the tent of Stone Creed Grove, where we were welcomed and waved in and joined in as a completely packed tent (I counted over twenty folks at one point) drummed, played guitar, messed with noisemakers, and sang Pagan campfire songs/ritual chants.  The faces were red with enthusiasm and joy and voices were raised in fellowship.

Some of the songs were familiar, and some were new (one of the ones that stood out in my mind out was a song about Isaac Bonewitz’ wake).  The tent was tightly packed – at one point I was sitting between a pair of swinging hips on one side and the violently jerking elbow of a drummer on the other and worried that my head might be pulped if ever the two met (there wasn’t much room to move without being even more awkward), but I came out of the tent later unscathed and refreshed.  The brief time I had in Stone Creed’s tent that night did as much to make me feel at home and part of the fellowship as much as any of the grand rites did.

Hecate Rite

We went to the crossroads, because that’s where we assumed that a rite for Hecate would begin processing.  We were wrong, but one of the clergy came and found us and lead us to where it was beginning.  We trailed through the assembled Druids, picking people up and waving them in for a spectacular twilight rite to Hecate Soteira.  It was interesting timing, as I had just completed a term of devotional service to her, and I felt far more comfortable at the rite than I would have before this past year.

I’ve never been to an Hellenic rite before, and while I don’t feel a pull in that direction it had a beauty and power that I appreciated.  I have a deep respect for Hecate and for the clergy who performed the rite and I’ll never forget the depths and clarity of the sky as we called to Ouranous nor the fading/lingering daylight as it slowly slipped away through the rite.

Norse Kin Meeting

It was wonderful to meet other members of the Norse Hearth Kin and discuss updates and future plans with them.  We discussed the dearth of information available on mainland Germanic mythology (as opposed to Norse, something that we’re still working to track down more sources for), increasing discussion of trance/seidh, magic, runework, and other esoteric practices, Rodney Cox’s Order of the Raven and Falcon (a magical order within ADF dedicated to Odhinn and Freyja) and other things that are slipping my mind (but I’m sure we’ll catch up on).

We also did a blot and trance right after the Unity rite.  It involved working with the places that ADF imagery and Norse imagery overlap particularly well (Flame, Well, and Tree, the Hallows).  I’m used to using Yggdrasil for journey work, but this was the first time for some folks.  It was a private journey for each of us that bore some surprising fruit for me (those who were there will understand).  It was also good to just be doing esoteric work with other Norsey people, Heathen or otherwise.

Seidh Lecture

I had mentioned that I was excited that Patricia Lafayllve was going to be there, and she surely didn’t dissapoint.  She did a presentation on the aspects of seidh that are rarely discussed nowadays (including all of the cursey and negative stuff) – a lot of it read like a list of things that witches and shamans the world over claim to be able to do, which I appreciated.

Another interesting aspect of the lecture was the connection between the Finns/Saami people and seidh.  She discussed places where the Saami were mentioned in Sagas and how their practices, appearance, and how the Northmen felt about them may have influenced both modern and old Northern Pagan faiths.  I can’t wait to read and hear more about it – my roomate Jim and I geeked out about references to the Finns in the Sagas once I returned to Buffalo and I’m sure that there will be more discussions and inquiry sparked by it.

Oracular Seidh

Patty also did an oracular seidh rite.  I always appreciate seeing different styles of trance and variations within traditions.  It was certainly different from the seidh/oracular work that I’ve witnessed, participated in, and trained in myself.  There was no bringing the entire group with her to where she went (she actually asked us very specifically not to follow her), nor were there lots of songs (other than when she called to Freyja at the beginning of the rite).

The answers that I received from my own questions were heavy and have left me pondering and “puzzling ’till my puzzler was sore”, and I’m grateful for them.  I appreciate being able to be there for what I consider an important form of “magical community service” and to witness a skilled seeress in action.

I did walk away with serious amber envy.  I thought I was all Freyja-blinged out with my amber earrings and ring and sunstone bracelet… nope.  Patty had enough amber strung on her apron dress (there we go again with the apron dresses!  One of these days…) to practically form armor, and every other woman with an association with the Lady came with ropes of the stuff (or so it seemed).  I felt very small when the observation was made that amber was a sign of a woman’s wealth in the old days – but then again, most of what I find of it goes to Freyja’s horde anyway (and given my current financial situation, it wasn’t entirely inappropriate).  Maybe I should let myself keep some occasionally, too.

Freyja’s Ve

It’s always threes, or at least it should be – Patricia also brought her travelling ve (basically a shrine) to Freyja.  While I’ve been aware of Freyja since my childhood the serious devotional relationship and dedication to her that I’ve developed lately started the first summer that I encountered that ve (which I believe was 2009(.  It was also involved in many other important wheels turning in my and others’ lives, so I have a history with it and it was good to see it and use it again.

Within the tent is a godpost for Freyja, bedecked with ropes of amber and other bright jewels.  Spread out on a cloth around the post are a wide variety of treasures that people have dedicated to her – jewelry, bottles of liquor, artwork, shiny things, and of course, amber everywhere. Soft rugs and shawls lined the corners of the tent.  I made some private offerings and had some time to commune with her in a place where she is closer than normal.  I also brought charcoal and a cauldron to light it in and offered her some small pieces of amber through the coals. That’s a scent I will never forget – the scent of a sap of a tree millions of years old, sweet and piney and pure, sacrificed to the Giver.  I could never bear to made burnt offering with it before, but like they say, if it hurts, it’s a good sacrifice.

People of the Purple Feather Ritual

The People of the Purple Feather is the LGBT special interest group within ADF.  We had a meeting where we got to introduce ourselves and discuss plans and hopes for the future, and the idea of doing a ritual for our SIG came up.  While it was too late to do something official, a few of us wanted to do something anyway, so Chris from Wild Onion Grove and I spent the next couple of days discussing and planning it and spreading the word.

We were given the stone circle right by Druid Heights to perform the rite, a very public and open place.  As a result we had people join who had just wandered in, unsure of what was going on.  Each of them ended up having something important to contribute, however.

The rite was dedicated to the LGBT dead, and was done in Norse Hearth Culture (calling to and honoring Norse deities for certain parts of the rite, specifically Bragi for inspiration and Heimdall as our gatekeeper).  The rainbow-based invocation of Heimdall was especially beautiful, and we also called to Oscar Wilde as a queer ancestor for inspiration.  When it was time to call the Beings of the Occasion, we each named LGBT Ancestors of blood, of heart (chosen family) and of spirit (those who have inspired us) and called them to join this rite in their honor.  We called to people who have been outcast and confused and hurt, to those whose lives were publicized and to those whose names we’ve never heard, to those who died of violence, of suicide, or of other causes, to those who shouldn’t have had to be alone and might have spent their entire lives feeling that way.  We called to the homosexual people, the bi and pan people, the trans people, the agendered and asexual people, and every color of the rainbow that we could think of, and we each offered water into the great offering bowl for them as part of the Key Offering.  Afterwards we made individual toasts to those who had passed.

For the return flow (the blessings that we receive when we make offering) we stuck our fingers in the Well, the Gate to the Underworld, and asked for inspiration and blessings from the LGBT Dead and sat in meditation to listen and hear if any of them bore messages for us.  It was an especially powerful experience for me as an Ancestor that I’ve been working with for a little while came forward in a big way and made herself heard to me (I’ll talk more about her at another point).

Not an eye was dry, and for an impromptu rite I think we did some powerful mojo.  It felt good to get together with another tribe that I am a part of and celebrate and honor the Dead that we share.  I’ve often wanted for queer pagan space and rites.  I pray that their inspiration and blessings pour out through us into the rest of our communities.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll emphasize it now – especially for our folk, reach out to your Ancestors.  They are grateful to be known, to be celebrated, to be heard, to be honored to be acknowledged at all, and they have so much to give us.  They want to, and they will, and all we need to do is open the way and ask.  You don’t even need to know any of them by name.

Unity Rite

The main rite on the last night was a powerful experience.  Gifts were brought from the various regions that ADFers occupy to honor the land spirits in those places, and many varieties of Ancestors and Shining Ones were called to and honored.  I was excited to see Kirk Thomas (the Archdruid)’s Gate Opening and Closing – I’ve heard that they do it differently on the west coast and that he is the origin of that style, and it was wonderful and powerful to witness in person.  The ecstatic spinning with the robe and staff was very reminiscent of Sufi dances that I’ve seen.

Drawing that connection between earth and sky, Cosmos and Chaos, between us and each other, between all of our groves and solitaries (who were mentioned first in the roll call!) was immenseley powerful, and I felt the web that we worked to reinforce radiating outward from its burning center across the world.  I’ve participating in long-distance linking rites before during my time with the Fellowship of Isis and it’s one of my favorite types of large-scale workings – I like the feeling of drawing our disparate wyrds more tightly together.

I was happy to see the Nemeton in full use.  I’ve been going to Brushwood since ’99 and before this Wellspring only saw it used once before (by Whispering Lakes Grove for Beltaine of 2010).  It’s a beautiful space, but one that is made even more so by putting it to the use that it was intended.

Chenille Canopy

So, I didn’t go. (Long term readers will know that this is something that I’ve been agonizing over).

I am a genuinely (as in diagnosed) bipolar person and those dizzying (and sometimes dangerous) heights are often accompanied with soul-crushing lows, and I was experiencing one of the latter while the Chenile Canopy meeting (ADF’s unofficial womens’ group) was happening.  I was fighting my inner demons of dypshoria and low self-esteem, coping with bad brain chemicals, and couldn’t make myself go to a space where I was afraid that I would have to justify my presence – it happens a lot for trans women in womens’ space.  When we’re not specifically made welcome we assume that we are not welcome at all, because it’s often easier than having to fight for it and be turned away because someone uses an aspect of our anatomy to define our identities.

I do, however, regret not going.

I know that others who I’ve met online have told me that it would be accepting, but it was different to hear it in person.  When I expressed my concerns later I was taken aside by one of the organizers and vigorously encouraged to attend whenever I had the chance.  She explained to me that it is open to anyone who identifies as a woman, and that trans women are never a problem there.  Having someone talk to me about it and convey it in person made all of the difference for me.

I miss womens’ space, and I especially miss Pagan/spiritual womens’ space.  It’s a wonderful and powerful thing and I’ve had far too little of it over my life.   If I ever get a chance again to go to a Chenille event I’ll be there in a heartbeat.  If you’re a trans woman and a member of ADF and have the inclination, please do so also – not only are we very specifically welcome, but our voices are needed there too.  All women, regardless of anatomy, are welcome to be a part of it.

Other notes:

Doing multiple big trance rites in a day means you should be grounding hardcore and all the time.  I thought, “It’s okay, I can take it.  I’ll be fine and it’ll be cool and trippy.”  It was indeed cool and trippy, but I had to be physically guided back to the tent when my limbs stopped listening well and just kind of wobbled in place; I could barely walk.  It was embarrassing and uncomfortable and hope to prepare better next time.

I made a small offering at Isaac Bonewitz’ memorial and felt deeply frustrated that we had been at the same camp at the same time numerous times and I never met or spoke to him.  I’m grateful to him for getting the ball rolling on this, and for a lot of his other work as well.

Sometimes doing loads of spiritual stuff makes me crave the touch of the mundane just a bit.  I found myself thinking at one point, “I need to do something left-brained.  I need to do math or something.”  It probably would have been helpful.

I don’t know if it was just the space and people used to dealing with trans people but I didn’t get misgendered once the entire weekend and I didn’t need to tell anyone what pronouns to use for me; they figured it out on their own.  I had long stretches of time where I was relaxed enough that I didn’t need to think about gender stuff at all.  May it someday be that way for everyone who wishes it so, all the time.  It certainly made me feel comfortable, at home, and not awkward in a way that I’m rarely not awkward outside of queer space (I had ninety-nine other social awkwardness factors but gender wasn’t one!)

Wellspring had so many powerful events and moments that no matter how much I write I’m going to feel like I’ve left things out.  The brewers’ competition, Emerald’s fantastic class on ritual crafting, Kirk’s impressive class on sacrifice and offerings, the fire at Druid heights, the late night, drunken, nerdy conversations, the piquancy of the closing rite and wrapup all deserve honorable mention but even so I feel like I’m not doing it justice.  I’m in love with the land at Brushwood and have been for a long time, and I feel at home with the other members of Ár nDraíocht Féin (even when we don’t agree, and even when we don’t agree very loudly and in each others’ faces) and that’s a new but welcome feeling.  It felt like an unexpected homecoming, a Wellspring of frith and community love and stories (oh so many new stories!) and new friends and family.

I also would like to give a special thanks to the readers who came up to me to chat.  Being recognized like that gave me the warm and fuzzies in a huge way, and I hope that someday soon someone does something that nice for you.


Why I Am Not an Heathen (Though I Kind of Wish That I Could Be)

This (long) post has been a long time coming.  I’ve referenced my feelings about personal background and development in some other articles and have been spending a lot of time trying to explore myself in relation to the modern Pagan movement and Heathenry.  Although the title was inspired by Bertrand Russel’s piece “Why I am Not A Christian” I won’t, as he does, seek to deconstruct the idea of a particular deity.  I will, as he does, explain why the values expressed in the religion in question do not fit mine, and why that leaves me in a difficult place.

Let me begin by explaining that I’ve had a love for the Aesir and Vanir since childhood.  I first read of them in children’s fiction when I was four or five and rapidly advanced to reading more adult storybooks about them.  Later on I discovered source material like the Eddas and Sagas and buried myself in them.  I love the tales and I love the Gods.  However, I cannot love the Gods within the same framework that so many others do as in many ways it (in the words of Walt Whitman) insults my soul.


When speaking to Heathens about where they derive the virtues that they form their community on, Havamal inevitably arises as the primary source.  While I cannot (and do not) argue with the value of the Nine Noble Virtues, I have irreconcilable differences with some of the source material.

It starts with the misogyny.  Hearing Har proclaim that “The speech of a maiden should no man trust, nor the words which a woman says, for their hearts were shaped on a whirling wheel and falsehood fixed in their breasts.” (83), and having “women’s bed-talk” and “witch’s flattery” being included in the list of things that none should trust scored me sorely.  I’m a woman of integrity and honor, and sweeping statements about my sex do no credit to my many sisters that stand by their words and honor their oaths and debts.

While we’re on the matter of integrity, allow me to raise this verse: “But hast thou one whom thou trustest ill
yet from whom thou cravest good?  Thou shalt speak him fair, but falsely think, and leasing pay for a lie.”  For some, this may be honor.  The other has breached honor and integrity, after all, both should be allowed to do it.

I can’t sit by this myself.  Whether or not another has been untrustworthy with you, I still consider if false to be false to them.  I know that the Allfather isn’t always known for fair dealings himself, and I take that into account when I read this.  However, I cannot use a philosophy like that as a basis for my own ethical beliefs.

Likewise, there are many verses that caution people against being too trusting.  While I understand them (having been a person who has trusted the wrong sorts of people in the past) they also feel paranoid.  I can’t base my behavior around a document that tells me not to trust people; trust builds trust and integrity builds integrity.

I love Havamal, and much of the advice found within is timeless and sound.  The tale of Odhinn and the runes makes my hair stand on end whenever it is recited (especially when recited in Norse).  However, I feel that that advice should be considered on a case-by-base basis, and not necessarily used as a be-all-end-all guide to human behavior and social interaction.  I think that that emphasis helps to account for the undercurrents of misogyny and xenophobia that I have encountered in Asatru and Heathenry – if devotion to Har’s sayings is unquestioned, the environment that is created will attract many sorts of people that I find questionable.

Dismissal of UPG

There are several problems that can arise from lack of grounding in lore in any polytheist tradition.  It is possible to think that you are honoring the Gods with ancient practices that turn out to be not so ancient.  It’s possible to be mislead by spirits and entities that may claim the identity or name of a deity to gain your attention or trust, and a grounding in the lore helps with discernment in the identification of wights that you deal with.  It’s even possible to look like a complete idiot in the face of scholars (Pagan and otherwise) who know better than you and can fill in the blanks while you trip over words trying to explain or discuss aspects of your faith.

I never met Snorri Sturluson (at least, not that I remember).  I can say that the window that he has provided us into the beliefs and poems of his time are invaluable.  I know that without him countless deities and tales would be forgotten, and as a storyteller and a Pagan I suppose that that makes him something of a hero of mine.

However, I don’t know him.  I don’t know the measure of his worth as a person, I haven’t seen his integrity in action, and I don’t know entirely why he did what he did.  What I do know is that even as a teenager reading the Eddas I recognized Christian influence in the tales, occasionally in a rather heavy-handed way.  I do know that Snorri made some odd claims about the ancestry of the Gods, and I do not agree with his suggestion that all deities were once human heroes.

The fact is, his work, and the Sagas we’ve kept in other ways, and hearsay are all we have to inform us of how people at the time when they were first written down felt about the Gods, and what they knew about the Gods, and what they did about those feelings.  Without this work reconstructionists wouldn’t have made it as far as they have.

I believe that the Eddas and the Sagas should be the first word, but not necessarily the last, and certainly not the most important.  The world that we live in is radically different from the world that those who recorded these things lived in.  We see it through different eyes, hear it through different ears, and filter it through different brains.

Yet some of us feel the call of the Gods and spirits from across whatever barrier of perception or dimension or both separates us.  Among those there are folks like myself, who find that the practices that have been reconstructed do not work as well for us as other techniques that we’ve learned or practiced, or who wish to supplement their practices.

Heathenry involves a degree of cultural reconstruction as well, and the awesomeness of Viking apron dresses aside, there are aspects to reconstructed Heathen culture that don’t fit with every person who honors the Aesir and Vanir.  There are those who don’t feel that we need to revisit age-old mores to create good relationships with the Gods.  There are even those like myself that feel that Gods might be okay with not being honored within a certain cultural context; that they might even care far less about human culture than we do.

I have been and perhaps still am a witch and a seeress and a priestess.  I know many others who fit into those and similar categories.  If I trust the person as a person I will tend to trust their words when speaking about their experiences with the Gods, the Wights, and the Ancestors.  I know that sometimes even honorable people lie, and that sometimes everyone is wrong, especially when feeling for signals from the spirits.

At the same time, if I am to truly believe in the Gods as real beings who really can communicate with us, I cannot ignore the gnosis of my fellow priestesses, seeresses, and spirit workers.  “UPG” or “Unverifiable Personal Gnosis” is often used interchangeably with “MUS” or “Made Up Shit” in modern Heathen discussion and dismissed out of hand.  Even when it is not it is treated with quite a bit of suspicion.

Like the layers of a pearl that form around an irritant, so do religions form around spiritual experiences.  Somewhere along the line, someone called that redgold Goddess “Freyja” for the first time.  Someone heard her voice, felt her presence, and decided to name her “Lady.”  Without that time-lost incident we also would not have the faith we had today, nor would Snorri and others have been able to write record what they had.

All religion starts with gnosis, both personal and shared.  Though the lore states nowhere that Freyja likes chocolate, I’ll challenge you to find a Freyjaswoman or Freyjasman who would argue that it’s not a worthy offering for her.  If someone said something confusing like “Freyja likes being offered bug spray.” I might be skeptical, but if many voices devoted to her spoke up for her love of pesticides I’d have to practice my own discernment and divination on the matter and see if that was part of my relationship with her.

At what point does “UPG” pass the threshold into accepted belief?   In a community where personal spiritual experiences of living worshipers are never considered to be of equal worth to the writings of those long gone, how can our understanding of the Gods evolve?  As our understanding of the physical universe and social realities of humankind evolve, so should our spiritual understanding and awareness.  Chaining this to modern interpretations of static words will put us into the same trap of stagnancy, corruption, and materialism as many other religions.

Rejection of Neopaganism

This takes many flavors and comes about for many reasons, but the majority of Heathens that I’ve spoken with do not consider Heathenry to be part of neopaganism.  Some claim that it is not a new religion, that it is an unbroken tradition (which I cannot answer to but I am always suspicious of those claims).  Some feel that the Gods and Ancestors are dishonored by association with deities and practices of other pantheons and cultures (regular readers know how I feel about that one).  Some claim that Heathenry is different enough in values and practice that Heathens don’t fit in to big umbrella Paganism.

I could take on any one of these individual points, and I understand the arguments both for and against them.  Personally, however, I do identify with the Neopagan community, because there are a great many within it that love the Aesir and the Vanir, the Landwights, Elves and Ancestors.  Our practices may be different, and our individual -theism or lack thereof may cause disagreements, but we all seek to revere the Gods dear to our hearts.  I would rather be exposed to a wide variety of practices and experiences with the Gods that I love, than to be in a strictly formulaic practice that allows no deviation.

The vitriol I’ve seen directed at those who identify as Pagan by those who identify as Heathen is excessive and shows a lack of willingness to assume good will or intent.  The fact that being called “Wiccatru” (a label I’ve seen applied to modern Heathen leaders and scholars who have a mystical or spiritual bent in practice) is considered an acceptable way to dismiss someone’s scholarship and practice brings me sorrow, as the many Pagan paths have quite a bit to teach one another.

Disregard for the Spiritual

As one of the God-bothered, a person who has always had experiences with spirits, I can’t reject or turn away from spiritual realities.  I’ve always lurked about and taken part in religions to help me find useful frameworks and techniques to deal with and make good use of my experiences.  Many of those experiences happen to be with the Aesir and Vanir and associated wights.

Thus it always baffles me when I encounter people who seem very devoted to religion or at least to religious identity but who mock spiritual experiences.  You know, the folks who claim that the runes were never used for magic (haven’t you read Sigridfumal?) or feel that the Gods don’t care about us or wish to interact with us personally (Ottar in the Lay of Hyndla?).  I’ve seen this in the Episcopalianism and Islam of my youth, and I’ve seen it in the Heathenry of my adulthood.  It’s a cultural attitude whose origins I am uncertain of but seems uncharacteristic of the people whose faith we’re trying to reconstruct or build on.  The sagas are full of tales of magick and seers and vitki and ghosts and spirits and Gods.  Why is it acceptable in our tales but not in our lives?

I’ve been told by at least one Heathen that Heathenry is an excuse to get drunk and dress like Vikings (and had pretty much the same words said by others).  If I wanted to get drunk and dress like a Viking I would not come up with such an elaborate excuse; I would have a Get Drunk And Dress Like A Viking Party.  I wouldn’t put work into reading lore.  I sure as anything wouldn’t be making offerings if I didn’t believe that anyone was on the receiving end.  I want a living faith that honors and builds relationships with the Gods and Spirits that I love dearly, not a frat party.

Community Focus (or Solitary Exclusionary)

Time and time again, it has been emphasized to me that Heathenry is community oriented, that without a community there is no purpose to it, that’s it’s not genuine, that’s it’s not right.

How nice for you.

Really, though, it’s nice to have community.  It’s affirming and validating and helpful when you have other people going through the same things with you.  It’s good to have people to be there for you through all of life’s transitions and vicissitudes.

However, not everyone can find communities that they fit into.  I struggle with both the Pagan and larger world community because of my trans status.  I struggle with the trans community because I have a religion that isn’t watered down non-spiritual Christianity or nihilistic modern American Buddhism.  I have to carve niches for myself wherever I go, and sometimes I don’t have that option.  I’m not alone in that, either.  There are a lot of people who, for reasons above or others (including the paucity of available Heathen communities in general) can’t find a Kindred or Hearth to belong to.

So when you don’t have a Kindred should you stop honoring the Ancestors and the wights and the Gods?  Should you just give them the shove and stop calling yourself Heathen because you don’t have a community?  “Well, I was Heathen but my Kindred broke up, so I’m an atheist until I can find another one.  No, following another religious tradition would be ‘drinking from someone elses’ well’, so I can’t do that either.  Just have to wait for another Kindred to form or form a new one before I can be a Heathen again.”

Which brings me to:

Folkish, Tribalist, Racialist, and other words that are used to say, “I’m not racist but…”

You know the story – your spiritual ancestry is carried in your DNA.  Only those whose blood is pure will receive blessing from the Norse Gods.  Only those of Pure European Heritage With Ancestors Who Were Never From Anywhere Else Ever Can Venerate Them.  Also, if you’re from Northern Europe, you shouldn’t pay any attention to any Gods or Spirits that aren’t in the Eddas or Sagas, because that’s “drinking from anothers’ well”.  You have different DNA, and that means that you are totally spiritually incompatible.  They either aren’t reaching out to you, or they are because they want to corrupt you, because foreign things are evil.

After all, the many races of the world are like instruments in an orchestra.  Each musician plays their own instruments; if you try and play the wrong instrument for you, all that will come out is a horrible sound and it will totally screw up the orchestra.  Also, unlike in the orchestra analogy, you can never learn to use an instrument that you are not designated to play at birth by skin color and last name on your birth certificate.

Godhi, please.

The concept of race is a dead one and should stay that way.  The idea that humans have distinct and pure bloodlines breaks down really quickly once you study any one person’s genealogy going back more than a century or so.  Throughout history, people have traveled, met other people, made war or trade with them, and whether it was war or trade also made babies with them.

There are ethnic enclaves that have been geographically isolated for long periods of time (like Tibet was up til around the 1950’s) where it could be argued that “pure” lineages developed.  Their ancestors still came from elsewhere, though.  As a Voudoun priestess once said to me, “It’s okay if you’re white; we all come from Africa, baby.”

I’ve studied my family genealogy.  This fat white girl from suburban America has black and native ancestors within the last two hundred years, and was raised by an Egyptian stepfather in an ethnically-mixed household.  I tan dark enough to look Italian in the summer (if you’re going to go by something as lame as skin color) – I know people from North Africa and the Levant who are paler than me.  I was raised on a combination of hummus, ta’amayah and the Qur’an on one side and white guilt, Tolkein, and liberal Episcopalianism on the other side.  Tell me, what faith do my genes or upbringing want me to follow?

I think that the Gods and spirits care far less about human culture and bloodlines than we do.  I think that they favor who they choose to favor, regardless of their ethnic or genetic background.  These beliefs come from observation and experience, both mine and those of folks who I know.  I’ve had a Kemetic Goddess (who I worship mostly in Her Greco-Roman aspects) tell me in a Norse oracular rite to join an organization that bills itself as Druidic.

As such, I can’t be okay with “racialism”, “folkishness” or “tribalism”.  I’m an educated person of my time who knows that no blood is unmixed, who knows that no “race” is pure or even really exists, and who has enough of a mixed background that were I to limit my spiritual practices only to one tradition I would be leaving out other, important things.

When I formally approached The Ancestors, my Ancestors, as a whole for the first time and asked them what they wanted me to know, I was taken out of myself, or rather back through myself.  I followed and spread out through endless lives like branching worm casts, spreading more and more until I couldn’t count or even pay attention to the details that were passing by me.  All life is my ancestry, every being who has lived has contributed to who I am today.  It’s the same for you, dear reader.  They are all part of you.

However, taking issue with folkishness (aka Heathen racism) is somehow naughty because Frith.  Because we should all be peaceful and safe with one another and trust one another.  Because we need to reach across the aisle and embrace all Heathens, regardless of what they believe.

This mutt, this mud-blooded, racially mixed lover of the Vanir and Aesir has no inclination to do so.  I’ll not share a space with those who discount me, or would discount my sisters or any of my family or loved ones because of their ancestry.  I’ll not drink with those who wouldn’t drink with me (or would because my skin is pale, but wouldn’t with my little sisters because theirs is not).  I’m also not going to pretend that I don’t have a problem with it, or that I think that pandering to folkish beliefs is in any way acceptable to me.  But, because people are afraid to stand up to their own beliefs and cover cowardice with Frith and make peace with people who would take our Gods away because of our ancestry (if they could) I don’t fit with any but the most stringently liberal of the Universalist/Folkish divide.

Not to mention the queer and trans thing.  That doesn’t go over too well either.

So where do I go from here?  What options does this non-Heathen have?  What space is there for a polytheist who wants to honor the Vanir and Aesir (and maybe a couple of the friendlier Jotnar like Gerda and Skadhi) but can’t abide many things that grate upon her in popular Heathen culture?  Stay tuned; my next post is going to explore all of the options that I’ve found and considered.

Oaths and Integrity

I’m choosing to use the word, “Oaths” for this post because, upon looking at given definitions it won out over vow or promise.  One of the definitions I found (on Google, sorry!) of Oath contained the wording, “A solemn promise, often invoking a divine witness, regarding one’s future action or behavior.” and decided that that was the most appropriate.

Oaths are vital to myself and my practice because how they intersect with a few different principles that are important to me: integrity, sovereignty, and relationship-building.

Integrity is a person’s “wholeness”.  We all start with a clean slate regarding this, but when we discover the ability for duplicity we discover a way that we can manipulate outcomes at the price of damage to the egos of ourselves and others.  My experience has been that lying is damaging to a person’s sense of self, as well as to that of those who are being lied to (or in some cases, about).

When we use words to define an experience and send it out to other humans (or other beings) we are making a statement about ourselves (“This happened to me.”) and often about others (“This happened/is happening/will happen to you/someone else”).  These words and definitions imprint themselves on human psyches constantly.  They build our identities both personally and collectively.

When someone lies or breaks an oath, they are using inferior materials for ego construction.  This effects the liar on a daily basis, as they know and absorb that much of how they define themselves or their lives is false.  This affects those that they lie to by breaking down their sense of reality when they discover the truth.  I can’t imagine that there is a person out there that hasn’t felt the world spinning or the ground dropping out from under their feet when a concealed truth was revealed or a lifelong promise shattered.  That sensation is made up of parts of your world, created by yourself and others in concert, being torn away.  Lies tear at the integrity of our being and identity.

Some say that personal integrity is a requirement for magickal power.  I only disagree with that because there are many well-known magicians in both lore and the modern day who are known for both their wisdom and their lies.  So much of what happens to us with magickal work is personal and subjective that it’s hard to check every thaumaturges’ claims.  Besides, the last thing we need are occult paparazzi!

Despite that I feel that while it may not be necessary, personal integrity is important and helpful to magickal practice (as well as to being a good human being).  Building a reality out of solid (or at least flexible) material helps to give you protections against the ego-storms that are sure to come, and helps to provide a quality of authority and personal sovereignty, both of which are invaluable in magickal work.

When I was young I was a liar.  Children learn to lie at a young age, and teenagers turn it into an art, and some people never grow out of it.  I lied artfully, creating palaces out of clouds and obtaining much of what I thought I needed through deceit.  As I matured, though, I realized that I had more and more trouble with self-control and self image and began to suspect that that was tied to my habits.  I eventually reached a breaking point where I I had no foundation on which to build my world.  I lost respect, friends, and community.  I lost confidence in my magick and my relationships with the Gods.  It took me a while to connect the dots and own the fact that I had done this to myself.  Once you’ve fallen so far, though, it’s hard to imagine a way to get out.

I had a friend who had successfully quit smoking, and when I asked him what he had done, and he told me, “Never break a promise to a God with a spear.”  This provoked me to consider the benefits and importance of oaths and promises.  Doing them simply out of fear of the one with whom the bargain is made seemed unattractive.  Nevertheless, I needed to find ways to control my behavior and improve my situation.

I started by making small promises to myself (working on my to-do list, refraining from talking about a situation, washing dishes after use).  The effect that making and keeping those promises had on my sense of self and my identity was subtle but built up over time.

Then I decided to make some oaths sacred and involve the Gods in them.  Following my friend’s example I chose things that needed to be done in my life that I had great difficulty gathering the willpower to do, and made oaths to complete them as devotional acts.  I could practically feel the bonds between myself and the Powers tighten as I completed fulfilled these oaths.

With each oath kept, whether made to myself, another human, or a spirit or God, I felt my sense of self and wholeness return.  The changes that these oaths made in me and my relationships (and if you know me at this point you know how important the web of relationships is to me) became obvious.  People started to trust me again, and I acquired a reputation for being reliable after years of being considered a flake.  Devotional relationships deepened and acquired nuance that they had previously lacked.  I was more confident, happier, and carried myself better than before.

I must emphasize that this process took years.  Like with physical exercise or meditation practice the day-to-day benefits came so slowly and built so gradually that I only noticed them once I had been doing it for a while.  It took a little faith and determination to keep with my integrity building practice, but it has become one of the cornerstones of the work that I do in life.

In my personal practice, I call upon Var to witness all of my oaths.  As it says in Gylfaginning:

“…she listens to people’s oaths and private agreements that women and men make between each other. Thus these contracts are called varar. She also punishes those who break them”

As I have great affection for Frigga’s handmaidens (among whom Var is numbered), because she is a warden and keeper of oaths, and because the utterance of her name with any oath renders it sacred I reach out to her when I make promises.  In my experience she is neutral and very firm but understanding – she won’t let you slide on a technicality but doesn’t seem to hold failure to maintain an oath personally.  She has also provided assistance when I’ve had trouble maintaining an oath.  It seems that she far prefers an oath to be honored and kept than to have to punish those who fail.

So while I may not jive with many aspects of modern Heathenry, I very much appreciate the emphasis on oaths and their importance.  I feel that the creation and maintenance of oaths, vows, and promises is a powerful magick for self-improvement and strengthening of the Great Web and our own selves and identities.  They serve as a cure for and inoculation against much of the ego sickness that pervades the modern world.

(This post was a draft that sat there for many months.  I decided to complete it and release it as a devotional act to Thor on his day.  Thor has often been called upon to witness oaths and sanctify oaths as well, and in many ways he embodies the concepts of integrity and sovereignty that I value and that oaths help to create and maintain.  Hail Thor, Thunderer, Friend of Man and Guardian of Midgard!)

Druitch? Wuid? Heathgan? Pitch?

I’ve got a mixed past, to say the least. I was raised by a convert to a monotheistic faith (Islam).  I grew up being told that polytheists and Pagans were evil because any God but the big one was really a devil in disguise, misleading people and giving them really kickass powers.  I kind of wanted those kickass powers; I’m not going to lie.  I tried interacting with the jinn while I was growing up in the Middle East, with interesting and varied results.  Not all jinn are devils, they’re viewed as being much like humans in that they have free will and choose their own paths.  I figured that if I dealt with goodly, God-fearing jinn I could get cool powerzzz and not have to worry about my immortal soul. Well, when I dealt with them stuff happened.

That could be a whole series of posts in and of itself – I might relay some of my experiences later.  It’s a shame that I didn’t have better occult training and discipline in my early teens, or I might have developed a very powerful practice.  Of course, the spirits there are far more active than they are here, largely because they’re used to being interacted with while the ones in the States are by and large used to being ignored (and often skeptical bordering on hostile to attempts at contact).  People there haven’t forgotten the jinn, they’re part of every day life in many places in the Middle East, so they still mess with people fairly regularly. Fast forward to me returning to the States for college.  I was supposed to experience a faith that wasn’t my own for an anthropology assignment so I went to a Pagan Coffee night.  I had this fantastic revelation that these totally weren’t evil people and in fact, some of them were super-nice and super-cool and with it.  I ended up taking a year-long 101 class by a very serious teacher, and then training for a year with a British Traditional coven.

I was a little too queer and weird for them (it’s been the story of my life).  So since I wasn’t officially invited to join, I started doing my own rites with others in the area.  I attracted a group and usually ended up leading rites.  My good friend Rose became an unofficial High Priestess and I was an unofficial High Priest who really, really wished people would label her a High Priestess and let her wear the silver moon crown. I loved Wiccan practice.  I loved the feel of power in casting a circle and the energy and presences I felt when calling the spirits of the quarters.  I loved the deep, resonant communion that I had with the Goddess when Drawing Down the Moon.  I developed a relationship with Isis early on for a lot of reasons – I was drawn to her and she had been worshiped as an All-Goddess since the days of her Hellenic and Roman followers like Lucius Apuleius, or perhaps even before that in Egypt.  I integrated some Kemetic things into my rites and felt the ringing, powerful and ancient might of those practices.

There were things that were missing, though, and it took me a while to work out what they were.  Every High Day seemed to revolve around us working some kind of magick and coming away with some new goody or spell, but it didn’t feel like we were giving back at all.  So myself and some other members of our group started instituting the practice of offerings.  We didn’t do physical offerings at first, but we would make an oath to whichever Goddess and/or God was presiding over a particular rite to do something appropriate in their name before the next Sabbat.  This immediately caught on, and the results were tangible and powerful – our relationships with those deities deepened and became more manifest.  We gave small amounts of our cakes and ale to the Gods and Spirits as well.

Something else that was missing was a genuine involvement with spirits and the dead.  There is no specific framework for that within standard Wiccan and Wiccanate practice.  I’ll admit that that confounded me.  I kept trying to approach High Ceremonial Magick for evocation, but I couldn’t stand the Judeo-Christian language; it wasn’t me.  I couldn’t reach back and incorporate the work I had done with the jinn; they lived elsewhere.  I was too afraid to work with the dead, to be honest, so I never reached out to them other than asking deities that worked with them to intercede and aid them.

Well, Rose died.  Other than completely shattering my world (she and I had a relationship that was not easily quantifiable or labelled but suffice it to say was unique and deeper than our bones and hearts) it ended up shattering our group and we all fell out of practice with one another.  Other than the monumental task of hand-copying her extensive Book of Shadows for her husband, I didn’t do a lot of work but the occasional Sabbat with a tiny crowd of friends or very private Moon rites. I started reading more on Isian practice and it filled the void for me.  Not all of it was Kemetic; some was Hellenic, some Roman, and some modern.  I joined the Fellowship of Isis, the work and spirit of which I appreciate, but I became very frustrated with the lack of organization.  It was difficult to find a functional Lyceum or Iseum that would provide the training that FoI advertises as free for all members.  It was a frustrating time spiritually for me.

I ended up moving to Rochester, New York to be with my partner, Maur, who was a member of ADF.  I knew nothing about ADF or Druidry, and just kind of listened to him talk about it and absorbed bits and pieces.  I was so frustrated with the lack of community, though, that I didn’t know what to do. So, when I went to the Sirius Rising festival in 2012, I went with a purpose.  I had done a week-long oracular intensive with Diana Paxson the year before, and I knew that she usually did oracular work as part of the festival.  When she does her oracular seidh she goes between answering questions through raw psychic ability and consulting with entities, often at the request of the querents.  The last querent had received a message about Greco-Egyptian practices, so I asked her if she could speak to Isis for me while she was “in that area”. Isis spoke through her.  There were a lot of manifestations that wowed the crowd – the sunlight got brighter and a nearby radio blared, “Let the sunshine in!” and then stopped.  I asked Her about community, and she told me to find take a journey to find the pieces of Her husband myself, and recreate him.  I’ll spare some of the details because, but later when I asked for clarification on how to find them, She told me to go to “the Groves of the North, the mountains of the East, the deserts of the South and the forests of the West, and wherever you go, you will find Me.”  She then reiterated that the first place that I should go was to the Groves of the North and the “Gods of my Childhood and Ancestors”.

Now, Norse mythology had fascinated me more than any other as a child and I greedily acquired books on the subject in those pre-internet days (before I moved to the Middle East, that is).  When consulting Maur about the “Groves” that he was most familiar with (ADF) I discovered that it wasn’t specifically Celtic – there were individuals and even whole Groves committed to various Indo-European cultures – Norse, Gaulish, Hellenic, Roman, Baltic, even Vedic. So at the behest of a Kemetic Goddess worshiped across many cultures in the ancient world I joined an organization that uses a Celtic word to describe its members (Druid) so that I could worship Norse deities in a structured environment and walk the path to finding and creating a good spiritual community.  Sorry not sorry, traditionalists.

I find myself still casting circles and using quarter calls when working magick.  I incorporate offering and the Druidic Hallows into my magickal rites and spells as well.  I still draw down the moon on occasion, but practice my High Days and much of my daily devotional in ADF’s style.  I still primarily am devoted to and honor a (at least originally) African Goddess while performing modern rites descended on the one hand from High Ceremonial Magick and on the other of modern scholarly interpretation of common themes in Indo-European religious practice.  I can just feel people (including my first teachers) twitching at this.

You know what?  It works for me.  For me, religion has always been about structured practices meant to bring about spiritual experiences and magickal connections.  People who gasp and pearl-clutch about mixing traditions and how no one can ever discover anything or “advance” without following some specific, structured, and ultimately man-made dictum simply haven’t had the experiences I have.  I try to be disciplined and regular and consistent in my practice, and I find that that has a whole lot more to do with successful God-talking and doing of hoodoo (as opposed to Hoodoo) and wondrous, magical, awe-inspiring, world-shaking experiences than following an initiatory ladder created by someone who has never met me.  Most of those systems were created by people who weren’t as multicultural as I am – I was raised Irish Protestant/WASP/(Modern) Egyptian Sunni/American Hippy Feminist who spent days with her Scottish/Egyptian best friend and practically became family to her Indian and Pakistani friends.  Most of those systems weren’t created by people in a world whose secret practices have been blown open by the internet and the marvelous sharing of consciousness altering, reality manipulating techniques from all corners of the globe. I truly feel that in this modern age, cultural context of practice is not as important as it once was mainly because it doesn’t exist anymore.

Culture and identity are changing so rapidly and wildly that what may have worked wonderfully for Upper-Middle class English people in the middle of the last century probably won’t work so well for us.  That doesn’t mean to leap around wildly between traditions – take some time and dedicate yourself to things.  Learn them inside and out.  Grow in them.  For your own sake, though, move on when you’re ready.  Don’t let that fancy ritual robe be a straightjacket.  The most successful witches, sorcerers, Pagans, and mystics and the ones that I admire most have that in common – dedication to practice, and practical open-mindedness. So what am I?  A Witch, a Wiccan, a Druid, a Pagan, a Heathen?  Any one of those fits; it depends on the rite I’m attending, who is going to be there, and what I need to accomplish.  I have grown to be unashamed of my eclecticism because over time it truly has strengthened my magick and connection to the Powers and helped me to refine and find mastery over myself, and that’s what matters to me.


“Hail to the Day and the Day’s bright boy!

Hail to the Night and her daughter’s joy!

With eyes that bless us may you see,

and grant to those here victory!

The Gods and Goddesses we call

And holy Earth who gives to all,

give us here wise words and weal,

and in this life, hands that heal.” – Sigridfumal (as translated by Diana Paxson)

Hail and welcome!  This being the first post of my blog, I would like to introduce myself.  I’m Laine, and I’m pleased that you’re reading this!  I’ve had other blogs in the past (and still use a couple of them; those will be linked at a different time).  I want to let you know a few things about me and this blog so that there are less questions and surprises later on.

The title of this blog comes from a joke that I made to my fiance.  I had just been confirmed as the Grove Organizer for Shining Valley Protogrove, ADF (a druidic congregation) and was fishing a copy of A Book Of Pagan Prayer out of my purse.  A realization sank in.

“Love?”  I called out.  “You do realize that you’re marrying the Pagan church lady, don’t you?”

“I have no problem with this.” he replied from the other room.

The name rattled around in my head for a few days, and as part of my effort to embrace some new things in my life, I decided to enshrine it with its own blog.

So, I’m Pagan.  I am eclectic and unconcerned with the negative opinions of others vis-a-vis eclecticism.  My path has taken me through British Traditional Withcraft to Heatherny to modern Isism to what is generously labeled the “Druidic” practice of Ár nDraíocht Féin.  As such, I’ve got quite a history and quite a wide variety of practices that I’ve devoted myself to.  I believe that each person’s spiritual path is unique, and while following a tradition strictly can be of benefit, most people who try to tend to outgrow it and seek other things with time.  This is natural, no one path but the one we walk leads us to where we need to be.

I’m Radical.  I think that there are a whole lot of messes in the world that require serious work to change.  A lot of these messes are based on deeply entrenched social and cultural mores.  To improve things, some very deep roots will need to be dragged out of the ground and the rifts they cause given time to heal and lay fallow.  I comfortably use the term “radical feminist” to describe my views of kyriarchy, which causes some confusion to some people because I’m also:

Transgender. For most of my life people tried to tell me that I was male, and I very simply knew they were wrong.  It’s been a long journey, but some thirty-odd years in I found a combination of support of Deities, family, friends, and community that helped me to have the strength to stop lying to the world and to let the world know that they were wrong about me.  I’m a community organizer and activist; I have the strength and the skill with words to speak out when other people are silenced and I consider it my responsibility to do so.

I’m an unabashed Theist.  Yes, I believe in Gods and Spirits and the Ancestors and other things that there are less well-known names for.  My personal experiences as well as some shared ones make it seem pretty clear to me that the Gods and the rest exist outside of us, though there are places for them to dwell within us.

I’m  a Devotional Polytheist.  I’m both a hard polytheist and a panentheist: I think that all the Gods are part of the same thing, but then, I think the same thing of people, so to avoid confusion I call them (both Gods and people) by different names and treat them as separate entities.  That’s a demand of the level of existence we are on.  I make offerings and work to establish relationships with them, because it’s helpful and frankly fascinating and amazing.

I’m also a Witch.  I do magick.  I am magick.  I practice magick because it is helpful and likewise amazing.  I geek out on it the way some people geek out over Dr. Who.  My views are far from mainstream and my practices may make some people lift their noses in the air and sniff but they work for me.  They might work for you, too, which is part of the reason that I share them.

I think I’m out of terms to put in bold and discuss at the time.  Suffice to say that these will be qualities that you’ll see rise again and again in my writing.  They are things that I like talking about and exploring with other people, so feel free to comment as long as you’re civil and well-mannered.

Welcome, and be blessed!