Category Archives: Spiritual Development

Should I stay or should I go? Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 2 of “Changing Paths”

[Content Warning: Mentions of suicidal ideation, religion trauma,]

Hello dear readers! It’s Friday morning so that means once again exploring a journal prompt from the wonderful book, Changing Paths by non-binary witch Yvonne Aburrow. This week’s prompt comes from chapter two, which is titled “Leaving Your Religion.”1 Today’s chosen prompt reads as follows:

Imagine yourself staying in your current situation, and fully inhabiting that choice. Fully experience all the emotions involved in that choice. Now imagine yourself leaving your current situation, and fully experience what that choice will be like. What feelings arise from that choice?

For this prompt, I’m going to hop into the wayback machine and share with you how I was feeling around the time I left Christianity, which was in early November 1998. I feel it’ll make for a far more interesting and instructive read that if I tried answering this question about my current religious path.

In the autumn of 1998, I was going through a bunch of emotional turmoil. I had come out as a gay man two and a half years ago and decided to accept that I was gay and that it was okay to pursue a romantic and sexual relationship with another man. I had even entered into such a relationship, which had just ended around this time due to a variety of reasons (which mostly boiled down to it was an unhealthy relationship and I probably wasn’t really ready for a relationship at the time.)

I had left my church in late August of that same year, but I still considered myself a Christian. I was still committed to Jesus, and thought he was the only way to heaven, though I was struggling with the thought that God would send some of my friends who I had recently come to rely on for support (I’ll talk more about them in a little bit) to hell just for not believing in Jesus.

I was also dealing with the religious trauma of growing up gay in a religious environment that told me gay people were bad little sinners who made God sad and/or angry as well as the emotional results of repressing my feelings for roughly a decade.2

I was also dealing with a lot of guilt at the time, and not just about being gay.3 I grew up in a church that really pushed the whole theology about people being sinners and unable to do anything for themselves about their retched state. So I had some serious self-esteem issues over my lack of perfection. So the fact that i had just watched my first relationship explode and watched the dissolution of dear friendship at the time — both of which I was largely responsible for — left me feeling extremely guilty and worthless. I also felt a great deal of guilt over the dissolution of my relationship because I was still operating under purity culture ideals, which told me that I should only ever have sex with one person (even if it was another guy), who would then be my lifetime partner. So I had failed in a great way in my mind and considered it a great moral failing.

This led to my second crisis and I realized that my feelings were slowly leading me to self-destruction. It became obvious to me that If I remained with the religion I was brought up, i wasn’t going to survive. So for the second time in my life, I chose survival over my religious indoctrination. I started looking at other religions.

So I found a religious tradition that saw me as inherently valuable rather than retched and in need of grace. I found a religion that looked at my flaws and told me that sure, I was flawed, but I could be so much better. Not only that, this new religion provided me motivation and the sense that such self-improvement was worthwhile rather than a hopelessly Sisyphean task.

As a result, I felt valued4 and hopeful. I felt freedom. I knew that this change was the right one for me. And I’ve never regretted it, no matter how difficult the transition and subsequent journey became.

Footnotes

  1. I would note that this chapter is not about how to leave your religion, but provides insights into the kinds of questions and ideas you might want to explore when trying to decide if it’s time to leave. It’s entirely possible you could read this chapter and come to the conclusion that you want to stick it out instead. ↩︎
  2. At one point, I realized that I did not emotionally feel like I was 24, which was my biological age at the time. When I considered how old I felt, I realized that I seemed to be emotionally fourteen trying to live in the adult world. I’m not sure when exactly it happened, but I’m glad my emotional development eventually caught up with my body. I now fully feel like a guy about to turn fifty. (How I feel about being about to turn fifty is a whole other conversation.) ↩︎
  3. To be honest, being gay was the one thing I didn’t feel guilty about. My coming out experience two and a half years prior had been its own crisis that almost did not end well. As a result, I don’t think I’ve ever looked back and wondered “what if I was right the first time and my feelings toward other guys are sinful. I will note, however, that there were other issues surrounding my sexuality. For example, see my reaction to the dissolution of my first relationship, which is describe later in this post. ↩︎
  4. There’s a reason one of my favorite personal slogans is “Jesus loved me. Freyja taught me to love myself.” ↩︎

Learning to love liturgy

In my previous post, I talked about how I love liturgical elements in ritual. This was not always the case. I was raised in an American Baptist church, and Baptists have historically not been huge fans of liturgy. Well, at least not by that name.1

I grew up thinking of something stodgy and unnecessary that Catholics2 do. To be honest, it seemed kind of stodgy and overly complicated. When I got to college and got involved in the more spontaneous worship of the charismatic church a cafeteria worker introduced me to, that opinion only grew worse. In fact, at that point, I started seeing the Baptist churches services of my childhood and teenage years equally stodgy and boring.3

Once I started getting into Paganism, my understanding of liturgy began to change and I started to gain an appreciation for liturgy. I think the firs step in that journey began when I started trying to write about the concept of mystery in Wicca. This was at a time when I was exploring non-initiatory Wicca and remember Scott Cunningham talking about mysteries and mystery traditions in his book. At least I think it was Cunningham where I first encountered the concept.

To help crystalize the concept in my head — and because I was already starting to develop a desire to explain concepts in my new spiritual tradition to others.4 So I decided to do this by writing an article5 in which I described Christian baptism as a mystery rite. I quoted the passage in which Paul describes baptism as symbolic of “dying and rising again with Christ” and suggested ways in which the rite of baptism might be performed to really drive that symbolism home in an experiential way.

At some point, i decided to share the article with a friend who was studying to be an Orthodox priest. He smiled and pointed out to me that I had unwittingly described the way the Orthodox church views the rite of baptism. He also mentioned that in the Orthodox church, the sacraments are often referred to as mysteries.6

Around the same time, I also started exploring other Pagan traditions as I was starting to realize that non-initiatory Wicca wasn’t really for me.7 One of the first organizations I checked out was Ar nDraiocht Fein, a Druid organization founded by Isaac Bonewits. I started working my way through the organizations Dedicant Program. I particularly spent a lot of time learning about the ADF8 ritual structure. I came to understand the purpose of each part of the rite and started to learn that liturgical elements had deep meaning to be explored and experienced. And I could appreciate how my Christian friends who came from Episcopalian and Catholic backgrounds had liturgies that offered that same sense of deeper meaning.

And while I joke about Baptists having liturgy by a different name, I do question the accuracy of that joke. While there was a structure to church services I attended as a kid, that structure seemed utterly devoid of symbolism or meaning. It seems to me that a proper liturgy needs more to it than letting you know when you’re going to sing a song, read from the Bible, collect the weekly offering, and so on.

I feel like my spiritual life has been greatly improved by gaining an appreciation and desire for some liturgy. How about you? Has your perspective on liturgy changed over time? If so, how? Let me know in the comments.

Footnotes

  1. Christian blogger Fred Clark once pointed out that Baptists have some sense of structure to their worship services, but prefer to refer to it by terms like “the order of worship” rather than “liturgy.” ↩︎
  2. Growing up, I didn’t have nearly the exposure to or understanding of the various Christian traditions that I do today. I did not realize that Episcopalians — who I only knew existed because my family drove past an Episcopal church on the way to our own church every Sunday — were similarly liturgical in their practice. ↩︎
  3. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. I always found the church services of my first church stodgy and boring. I just discovered church services didn’t have to be stodgy and boring when I started going to the charismatic church. ↩︎
  4. Have I ever mentioned that I wanted to be a minister when I was a young Christian? That desire to teach and help others survived the conversion process. In those early years, that was occasionally to my detriment, as I would occasionally think I knew more than I did. At the same time, I also got frequently frustrated at knowing I went to be a “Christian since I measured my age with single digits who had all the answers” to starting over from square one. Ah, the joys of realizing you really are a mediocre white man and not liking it. ↩︎
  5. Alas, my attempts to find a copy in recent years have failed so far. It’s a shame because as I recall, it was a pretty good article. But I think I wrote it for one of the online diary communities I was on and my accounts on those sites are long gone. ↩︎
  6. My friend also shared my article with his bishop at the time. He said the bishop responded by announcing that “I was Orthodox and just didn’t know it yet.” At the time, i was kind of flattered. As I’ve grown over the past decade or two, I still find the comment somewhat flattering, but also roll my eyes at the inherent Christian supremacy of it. ↩︎
  7. Years later, I encountered initiatory Wicca and explored that as well. I found it much more appealing and feel like there is a certain kinship between it and my own witchcraft practice. However, I never became a Wiccan initiate for a variety of reasons. I’ve recently considered whether I’d like to pursue that again. It’s an appealing thought, but I’ve also realized that my life circumstances just don’t make it a good choice. But I reserve the right to revisit that decision periodically. ↩︎
  8. To me, “ADF” will always stand for the Druid organization and not the Christian supremacist legal advocacy and training group (and SPLC-designated hate group) whose names also use the same initials. ↩︎

Ritual style preferences: Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 1 of “Changing Paths”

Earlier this week, I decided to start reading Changing Paths by Wiccan author Yvonne Aburrow. I’ve decided that as part of my effort to get back into blogging, I’m going to take one or more journal prompt Yvonne asks at the end of each chapter every Friday and blog about it here. This week, I’ll be covering a blog prompt from chapter 1, which is titled “What is Religion?” Here’s the prompt I chose:

What type of ritual do you prefer? Formal or informal, structured or spontaneous? Are you drawn to liturgical, celebratory, or magical styles of ritual?

To explore this question, it’s helpful to briefly summarize the types of styles of ritual Yvonne mentions and what they’re characterized:

  • Liturgical rituals are communal rites that are often structured and formalized. Yvonne suggests that they are designed to “avoid outbursts of emotion or spontaneity.
  • Celebratory rituals tend to be informal and involved elements of spontaneity. They note that these tend to be intended to release or unleash power.
  • Magical rituals involve wielding power and directing it toward a desired end.
  • Ceremonial rituals are those in which power is honored and existing power structures are maintained.

As I think of these styles, I find all four styles — or at least elements from them — appealing. I certainly like the familiarity of certain liturgical elements whose symbolism and meanings I can fall upon. Yet I’m not big on “avoiding outbursts of emotion” or embracing a total lack of spontaneity. So I prefer repeating a ritual structure that has been carefully thought out and contains deep meaning for me, yet leaves space for moments from the heart and the interjection of Divine (or human) ecstasy into a particular rite as well.

Of course, it’s no surprise that I like magical rites. After all, magic and witchcraft goes hand in hand (especially if a witch like me who thinks that the very process of connecting with the Divine and/or other people is magical in itself). I also feel that the magical aspect of ritual is what moves me from a mere participant or servant of the Divine to a co-creator with other humans and event he Divine themselves.

Possibly the least ritual style I’m interested in is ceremonial ritual. I’m not a fan of honoring power and maintaining existing power structures. Perhaps it’s just the connotations I personally have with the phrasing Yvonne for it, but the description of ceremonial ritual screams authoritarianism and I tend to be staunchly anti-authoritarian.

And yet, I want to pause and explore my assumptions in my assessment. After all, there are structures that I do think are worth preserving and even necessary. The thing is, I think those structures aren’t authoritarian. And I realize that the idea of non-authoritarian and non-authoritarian structures often feels like an oxymoron, but I do think they exist. We just tend to refer to them by other terms, like “networks” and “communities.”

So could there be a ceremonial ritual that celebrates community and mutual commitment and is designed to strengthen community ties and bonds behind people. Or to put it in terms of Heathen practice, would a Sumble focused primarily and building bonds n the community be seen as ceremonial? Or would it fall under a different style? I’d love to hear people’s thoughts in the comments.

Musings on worship from a magical/ritual point of view.

A topic that I’ve seen come up in many circles (most recently in a recent Meet and Greet for those of us who attend Gracepointe church services online) is the topic of worship. And a common question seems to be one over whether there is an actual Divine experience there or whether it’s a purely emotional experience. As a witch who has come to greatly appreciate religious and magical ritual alike, I suspect that worship involves — or at least can involve both of those things.

One of the things that I have learned as a witch is the importance of a ritual state of consciousness (and other altered states of consciousness). I’ve also come to understand that well-crafted rituals are designed to create various states of consciousness in the participants. And that includes evoking certain emotions.

I also don’t think that this is a bad thing. Evoking certain emotions and states of consciousness can be very useful and beneficial. (I’ll come back to that in a bit.) It’s okay that the worship music (or other aspects of some other ritual) are carefully selected to have a particular impact on participants, as long as participants are aware of what’s happening and they consent to it.

And I think it’s that if that creates the problem. I think a lot of people go into worship not understanding that they’re essentially participating in an activity that is designed to evoke these things. Instead, they’ve often be encouraged to think of them as something that “just happens” or that it’s a sure sign that their experience is “from God.” In my opinion, that’s dishonest and discourages those people from going into that experience and viewing it afterward through critical analysis and thought. But for those aware that they’re participating in an intentionally constructed experience, I think it can be both beneficial and illuminating.

This doesn’t mean I don’t think there’s no experience of the Divine in such experiences. As a matter of fact, as a witch who is heavily interested in theurgy (loosely defined as magic related to connecting/uniting with the divine1), I think that we go through these rituals that evoke these emotions and states of consciousness to aid and encourage an experience of the Divine. In that moment of emotionalism or ecstasy, we may gain a new insight which may cause us to see things in a new light. Hopefully it causes us to gain a renewed or deepened sense of compassion, a heightened desire to be a champion for justice, or some other positive outcome.2

To me, the important thing is to understand the difference between the intentionally generated emotions and the experience of the Divine (or other spiritual insight) that comes from it. I think far too many people have been encouraged to mistake the former for the latter and even completely ignore the latter altogether. Such people tend to think that the emotional trip is the end goal rather than a means to seek out something deeper. On the flip side, some people who realize that worship (and similar ritual activities) intentionally invokes emotions and respond by throwing the whole practice out altogether. I don’t think that’s necessary to do, though.


1I’m not entirely satisfied with this brief definition of theurgy because I believe we are always united with the Divine. Instead, I think we’re just often unawareness of that fact. So maybe theurgy would better be described as magical acts that raise our awareness of our connection to/union with the Divine.

2I am firmly convinced that the measure of any mystical experience should not be how “real” it is, but what effect it has on you and whether it makes you more inclined to want to make the world a better place.

New Video: Ritual Planning for Beginners

Image of my and my husband's permanent altar space.

This week, I posted a video about ritual planning for beginners over on my YouTube channel, A Wyrd-Worker’s Wisdom. Be sure to check it out.

[youtube https://youtu.be/Fv1PUSQGs6k]

When I first got started with witchcraft back in 1998, I struggled to figure out why I was doing a ritual. The books I was reading kept telling me that rituals — especially full moon rituals — were important. But I’d look over their example rituals and they seemed so…bland and pointless. They didn’t resonate with me.

For me personally, I think that’s because most books focused on rites performed for the full moon and Sabbats. I think it takes time tor really become comfortable with them. Hell, there are a couple Sabbats — like Mabon — that I’m still not entirely sure what to do with.

I think this is why it’s easier to start ritual planning with simple things, like a daily offering to the Divine. Or perhaps a daily ritual to center, ground, and shield. These are simple, yet important activities that are easily grasped. So it’s easy and good practice to make a ritual out of them. You can even ritualize little everyday practices.

How about you? What advice to you have for beginners who are just getting started with ritual planning?

Witchy Questions: How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life?

This post was inspired by Question #37 from this list.

I think a huge portion of everyday spirituality was covered by my podcast episode on the everyday sacred. Much of working my spirituality into daily life is just doing little things to help me remember that I and everyone and everything around me is sacred. This is reflecting in the fact that the coworker I’m talking to is another part of the Sacred Whole (so maybe I should rethink how I’m treating them). Or taking a moment to check in with my body, thanking it for getting me through the day so far, and asking if there’s anything I can do to keep it going.

Everyday spirituality also comes in those moments when I chant “Hail Freyja! Feed the flames!” and seek to rekindle my passion for and enjoyment of life.

Everyday spirituality is easy when you make spirituality about living and life.

Witchy Questions: Do you meditate?

This post was inspired by Question #34 from this list.

One of the practices I’ve ben trying to work on regularly is just spending a few minutes connecting with my body. I will close my eyes and try to calm my mind. Then I will breathe deeply and focus on my body. I try to get a feeling for each muscle in my body and gauge its state and how it is feeling at that moment. This is an important exercise for me because I’m the kind of person who gets “stuck in my head” a lot and forgets to pay attention to my body, how it feels, and what it’s trying to communicate with me.

Another thing that I’ve been doing lately — though other distractions have gotten in the way for the past week or so — is light a candle and start out by reading this invocation to Freyja, Afterward, I’ll sit there and think and repeat “Hail Freyja! Fan the flames!” in my mind like a mantra as I try to feel her passion and zeal for life rise in my body.

Witchy Questions: Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it?

This post was inspired by Question #30 from this list.

When it comes to everyday stuff, I tend to work most closely with Freyja. She’s the closest I have to a regular guide, as she offers me advice and guidance along with instructions on what she wants me to do as her devotee.

I have also communicated with various ancestral spirits and nature spirits, though not through anything so formal as a spirit guide relationship. I’ve also spoken with other gods in a more “one off” sort of situation.

Of course, I think one of the most interesting encounters I had was when a Norn decided to sit in with me during a rune reading I gave a friend a reading. The Norn didn’t identify herself beyond a simple statement of “I am Norn,” said in a tone that made it clear that I did not deserve nor should I expect any further details or elaboration on the point. It turned out to be a very profound reading for my friend, which probably explains why one of the keepers of wyrd herself decided to participate.

Witchy Questions: Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination?

This post was inspired by Question #6 on this list.

This is probably going to be a bit of a short answer, seeing as I already did an entire podcast episode about divination last summer. Personally, I think divination is absolutely essential to witchcraft or any other spiritual practice. Divination is what allows a dialogue between yourself and whatever you believe in — gods, guiding spirits, your higher self, you unconscious mind, or something else — and makes your spiritual and magical practice interactive. It’s a way to gain insight into what it is you want to accomplish and possibly how to best go about it. Personally, I am accustomed to using both runes — though I don’t divine with them nearly as often as I incorporate them into my magical workings — and tarot. And of course, I would also considering meditation and other practices I use to communicate directly with my goddess to be a type of divination.

Witchy Questions: Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other?

Today’s post is inspired by Question #2 on this list.

The word I use most often to describe myself is witch because I think that’s the best word for me. I’m an individual who practices something that is a fusion of magic and spirituality. Since that spirituality is not rooted in any particular tradition or culture — despite the fact that I heavily lean toward Norse mythology and lore — the most appropriate generic term for what I do is witchcraft. I personally do not like Wicca because in reality, my practice doesn’t really resemble what most people see as the the most common defining characteristics of Wicca.

I also identify as Pagan, as I do believe in a plethora of gods and tend to identify with the greater Pagan community. I don’t use that word much to describe myself, as I think it’s almost too generic and vague to really define who I am or what I do.

If I really want to get specific, I will often use the term Vanic witch, to draw more attention to how central my relationship to Freyja is in my understanding and practice of my Craft. On rare occasion, I will even refer to myself as a seithman (in fact, I use that as part of one of my email addresses), in reference to the practice of seidh. (Note: My practice doesn’t exactly match that as described in the linked site. But there’s certainly enough similarities, that I find it worth perusing. And I find it very inspiring.)