Happy Saturday, dear readers! In today’s post, I want to take a brief look at the fourth and final part of the Heathen self that Ryan Smith discusses in the third chapter of Spinning Wyrd.
What jumped out at me is that Smith (or at least those whose views he’s sharing) seems to hold two slightly different views of the hamingja. On the one hand, hamingja sounds as if its an impersonal force, that can be shared, given away, or pooled among people. At the same time, Smith (or his sources) describe the hamingja as a sort of guardian spirit, which in my mind would make such sharing and pooling less feasible. I suppose I’m more likely to lean into the former understanding myself, as the idea of the hamingja having its own intelligence would put me in the same quandry I have over the fylgja.
In many ways, Smith’s discussion of fylgja reminds me of the idea of will, talked about in many witchcraft and other occult communities. I see the will as that part of us which enables us to transform our desires into action, which makes it the root of magic. Smith’s discussion of the hamingja as that part of the Heathen self that most directly allows us to reshape wyrd and help build our reality seems to align with that understanding quite well.
Of course, this idea that hamginja is something we can direct and utilize makes me wonder at the choice to refer to it as “luck,” as that’s a term that I typically see as related to chance and forces beyond our control. This does not seem to fit hamingja as Smith describes it, other than in the sense that Smith notes that orlog has a role in defining and shaping our hamingja. To me, this reinforces the idea that magic and our ability to shape wyrd has its limits, something I’ve explored before in a video.
I think this also makes sense from a Heathen viewpoint, this mutual influence between orlog and our hamingja. it reminds me of the creative tension between two forces that seems to consistently pop up in Norse myth and lore, starting with the mixing of fire and ice in the creation story.
Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on October 4, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on October 5, 2024.
[Content Note: Brief references to of cults, homophobia, self-hatred, and authoritarian control.]
Happy Monday, dear readers! I thought I’d take a brief break from my polytheology series to talk about a book I recently finished reading. That book is An Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft: Finding Freedom Through Magic by Moss Matthey. In it, Matthey describes his own experiences leaving the cult he was raised in and finding a home in witchcraft. Along the way, he shares a bit about his own witchcraft practice and offers advice and simple exercises to those readers who might be interested in exploring whether witchcraft might be something they’re drawn to.
In a lot of ways, I found a lot of Matthey’s story relatable. After all, we are both gay men1 who grew up in fairly conservative Christian church2 that essentially taught us to hate ourselves. We both eventually found freedom in our respective witchcraft practices, which bear some unsurprising similarities.
One of the things that I appreciated about Matthey’s approach to the subject was that he was quite clear that he had no interest in spending a great deal of time dissecting the beliefs of “the cult”,3 setting these goals for the book instead:
Through these pages I will introduce you to a world of magic and spirits, where queerness is celebrated and sin does not exist. I will tell you how I left a cult and the lessons I learned along the way. Culture and community will be celebrated through folklore, myth, and folk magic. We may even take a detour into theology and philosophy, though hopefully it won’t be too boring. Above all, we will celebrate the joy and freedom of Witchcraft.
I think he accomplished those goals quite well. I cannot recommend this book enough for those who are coming out of any religion that asserted any degree of authoritarian control. I think those who, like Matthey and myself, experienced abuse and/or trauma due to their sexuality or gender will find it particularly helpful. And if a handful of people read it and find a home in witchcraft, all the better.
Another reason that this book holds special meaning for me is that I think it diversifies the stories available to those deconstructing. I often get the sense that the stories available — both those published in books and those shared less formally — tend to come from who have either found a way to remain in Christianity (albeit a more progressive form) or those who have walked away from religion altogether. While I think both of those trajectories are valid for those who find comfort and healing in them, I don’t think they are the only trajectories available. Also, I feel that the fact that those two trajectories get the lion’s share of the attention means that deconstruction discourse still often focuses exclusively on Christian theologies and Christian understandings of the world. Combined with Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow, this book could help provide a needed correction to that.4
Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on September 28, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on September 29, 2024.
Footnotes
I want to point out that I’m using these words carefully when describing Matthey. In the book, he notes that he has started to prefer referring to himself as “queer” rather than “gay,” though he affirms the latter is an accurate description. He also notes that his understanding of his sexuality and gender continues to be more expansive. So while everything I’ve been able to find suggests his pronouns are still he/him and it’s okay to refer to him as a man, I want to draw your attention to all this just in case I missed something and am unintentionally misgendering him here. ↩︎
I will note that I don’t feel that my church exerted quite the same degree of control over its members as the cult Matthey belonged to (the Jehovah’s Witnesses) tends to. For example, my family was not instructed to shun me at any time. But that’s the interesting thing you learn when you study cults: There are different degrees of cult behavior, and my church was “bad enough.” For more information on cults, I would recommend Cultish by Amanda Montell in addition to the books by Steven Hassan that Matthey recommends. I will note that I haven’t read any of Hassan’s books, but have looked over his BITE Model of Authoritarian Control (which Matthey also mentions) in the past and consider it an invaluable tool. ↩︎
Matthey only mentions the Jehovah’s Witnesses by name once in the entire book. The rest of the time, he simply refers to it as “the cult.” I’m not sure if this was his reasoning personally, but there are traditions of witchcraft that hold that naming something gives it power, so it is often better to not say the name of those who are a disruptive influence. Again, I don’t know if that motivated Matthey’s choice about how he chose to refer to his former cult in the book, but I think there’s a certain amount of wisdom in that line of reasoning. ↩︎
Of course, once Yvonne’s upcoming book, Pagan Roots, is released at the beginning of next year, I think all three books would make a powerful trio. ↩︎
Happy Friday, dear readers! in today’s blog post, I hope to continue my reflections of chapter three of Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith. Specifically, I want to explore the third part of the Heathen self that Smith talks about, the fylgja. This is the aspect of the Heathen self that I’ve always struggled with and have my doubts about.
To clarify, I have no problems believing that we have guiding spirits that offer us advice, companionship, and/or protection. and Smith himself notes the similarities between familiars or guardian spirits1 and the fylgja. However, he notes that the fylgja is so linked to the individual that he sees them as “a direct manifestation of of an individual even though they have a significant degree of autonomy.”
For some reason, I struggle with the idea that something so independent from my own mind — to the point of even have its own goals and views — is still a part of me. My mind insists that surely this being must be something outside of myself.
But Ryan Smith also mentions “your spiritual shadow” as an alternate term for the fylgja, which brings the shadow in Jungian psychology to mind. I certainly do consider Jung’s views (or what I’ve heard about them through secondary sources) helpful and useful. So perhaps a part of the self that is so radically different in views isn’t as far-fetched as I might think2
Either way, I do appreciate the idea of having close spiritual allies — whether they are part of the self or completely separate from us — is important and beneficial. Such a guide can offer insights we may not think of on our own or with our conscious minds. They also might even challenge our thought processes and force us to change and grow when needed. So no matter whether the fylgja is truly a part of our Heathen selves or some separate being, I think pursuing a greater relationship with one’s fylgja is well worth the effort.
Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on September 19, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on September 20, 204.
Footnotes
Given Smith’s dedication to being inclusive and aware in his Heathenry, I suspect he is choosing his terms carefully to avoid the culturally appropriative term “spirit animal.” I appreciate and share his goal here and encourage anyone who finds my own choice of terms in this or any other post to be a matter of cultural appropriation to point it out to me. ↩︎
Of course, I’ll note that Jung asserted that a major step in self-actualization was to embrace one’s shadow and integrate it into the true self. I wonder if Smith and other Heathens might see a similar integration with one’s fylgja as equally desirable. ↩︎
Happy Friday, dear readers! Today, I want to offer a quick review and a few reflections on Ryan Smith’s discussion of the hugr (“mind”) from chapter three of his book, Spinning Wyrd. Smith offers the following expansive idea bout the hugr:
These connotations strongly suggest that the mind was seen as more than just one’s internal thought processes and perspectives but also the kind of frenzied, excited inspiration that drives creativity and understanding. This is also seen in Fire and Ice practice as support for including intuition and emotion as part of the hugr.
I like how Smith explicitly brings up things like creativity and intuition in his explanation of the hugr. After all, I think creativity is one of the greatest gifts of our mind. It enables us to express ideas and communicate things through music, poetry, and other art, which are the foundational elements of group life and culture.
Linking intuition — and the ability to “send out” the hugr in a way way reminiscent of astral travel — to the hugr also appeals to me. In the Christianity I was raised in, certain theologians seemed to go through a great deal of mental gymnastics to separate the “spirit” and the “soul.” And I could see where under such models, someone might try to make astral travel a function of spirit rather than soul. This seems overly complicated to me.1
One of the other things I like about Smith’s discussion on the hugr is that he cites another author2 who suggests that Odin’s ravens Hugin and Munin are actually projections of that god’s own hugr. To me, this suggests that not only is the hugr one of the gifts given by the deities to humans, but it’s one of the things that most make us like them. This places a great deal of importance on the mind, which I think is appropriate.3
Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on September 12, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on September 13, 2024.
Footnotes
Lest anyone think I’m picking on the Christians alone, I similarly think New Age and occult systems that try to parse out concept like an “astral body” as separate from the soul to also be over-complicated and silly. ↩︎
Of course, it’s important to note that all four parts of the Heathen self are an essential part of the human existence. I for one reject any notions that we are really just “souls trapped in a body” or any such thing. I embrace the value and importance of my hamr right along with that of my hugr. This is a point I will most likely circle back to when I talk about concepts of the afterlife. ↩︎
Happy Friday, dear readers. I’m ready to get back to my normal blogging, which means it’s time for some reflections on chapter three of Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith. In this chapter, Smith discusses the four-part self, a common understanding of the human being among many Heathens. Smith explores each of the four parts of the Heathen self at a level of detail and to a degree of expansiveness that I don’t recall seeing elsewhere.
This became immediately noticeable when Smith began talking about the hamr,1 which is that part of the self that makes up our physical form. But Smith immediately suggests that the hamr includes more than our flesh, bones, and organs:
Hamr, according to their2 research, could potentially include one’s clothing, personal presentation, demeanor, effects, and even modifications to the body.
From there, Smith reinforces the idea that the physical form of the hamr is malleable, pointing out the stories and traditions of shapeshifting. He goes on to list numerous stories about the various Aesir changing themselves, including Loki’s transformation into a mare, Freyja’s coat granting the wearer the ability to transform into a falcon, and even Odin’s sacrifice of an eye in exchange for a drink from Mimir’s well.
As an inclusive Heathen, Smith goes so far as to suggest this malleability extends to the understanding — both modern and ancient — of gender. He cites the recent discovery of a female warrior’s skeleton buried in the BIrka warrior tomb who may have been non-binary or a trans man by today’s standards. This opens the door to the possibility of a Heathen who is trans seeing their own transition as a spiritual practice, which I would think many might find incredibly affirming.
Of course, even for we cis people, I think the idea of sanctifying the notion of making our physical form more comfortable for us to live in. In many ways, I see this as way of upholding the Heathen idea of independence and autonomy.3
Post HIstory: I wrote the first draft of this post on September 5, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on September 6, 2024.
Footnotes
Today’s post will focus almost entirely on hamr, one of the four parts to the self. I’m not sure if I’ll do separate posts on all four parts, but I felt at least hamr and fylgja deserved special attention. ↩︎
It seems to note that it’s important that Ryan is referring to various scholars and specifically cites publications by Lyonel D. Perabo and Neil Price. ↩︎
Of course, it’s always important to remember the equally Heathen values of hospitality, mutuality, and interdependence. Too much of even the most noble virtues can become a harmful thing. But in today’s society, I often feel that independence and autonomy tends to suffer more than the sense that we are responsible to others as well. Of course,t his also depends on a number of factors, including power imbalances and numerous axes of oppression and privilege. ↩︎
Also, there an aspect of circle casting I’ve found some Wiccans express that I find appealing — the idea of creating magical space, a “place that is not a place in a time that is not a time.” Or another way to put it would be “creating a liminal space for ritual.” This to me is different from creating sacred space and has a value. Setting aside a space to work magic in a given moment makes sense to me.
This also feels right for working with Freyja, though I’m not sure she likes liminal spaces, so much as wild spaces. My perception of Freyja is that much of her worship and magic is about stepping beyond the domain of humans and the bounds of civilization. In many ways, I imagine it as making forays from Midgard out into the wild and primal places of Utgard. So I’ve thought about exploring a way to create ritual space that is a sort of “pocket of Utgard.” Or perhaps a sort of outpost in Utgard. I haven’t made much progress with the idea, but it’s definitely one I keep toying with.
While reading Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith, I ran across his “Invoking Fire and Ice” rite, which may be an excellent starting point for what I want to do. To be honest, I’m a bit embarrassed I didn’t think of it myself. After all, the rite involves invoking and bringing together fire and ice — the opposing forces that were pivotal in sparking the creation process in the Norse myths — “in a way that leads to them meeting, joining, and creating a new synthesis of possibility and space for new creation.”1 I’ve often waxed poetic of the creative tension of the fire of Muspelheim and the ice of Niflheim. And yet, it did not occur to me to magically invoke these forces and that creative tension in order to make a space for my own efforts at creation and making changes to wyrd.
I also think this idea meets my needs for creating a sort of “wild space.” After all, the civilized order of Midgard did not come from the meeting of the fire and ice of the two elemental realms. That had to be shaped from the primal forces that resulted from that first moment of creation. I feel that my invocation of fire and ice would create a similarly primal space of unordered forces that I (and those working with me) could according to my (our) needs.
Post History: I began writing this post on July 21, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized the post on July 25, 2024.
Footnotes
I’m directly quoting from chapter one of the book here. ↩︎
Happy Friday readers! Isn’t it amazing how the Powers sometimes respond to us in interesting ways? Back on July 15, I commented that I really wanted to find a new book to blog my way through on Fridays. And almost immediately, I found what I believe to be that book. This post and the next few Friday posts will be about Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith.
I ran across Smith’s book a couple weeks ago when my Kindle app tossed it out as a book I might be interested in “based on my past reading.” I was mildly interested in the book right away because of the subtitle, “A Journey through the Nordic Mysteries.” So I took note of it and thought little more about it.
However, when I finished both books I had been reading (Cultish by Amanda Montell and a novel from the Crowns of Nyaxia series by Carissa Broadbent), I started looking for a new nonfiction book. As it’s been a while since Ive read a book about Asatru or any form of Heathenry/Norse Paganism,1 I started doing a bit of research. I wanted to find a book that was neither just presenting (non-initiatory) Wicca with Norse names tossed in nor written by someone with folkish or other bigoted views.2 Someone on the Norse Paganism subreddit mentioned, another of Smith’s books, The Way of Fire and Ice, as a good book and one that is radically inclusive. So I bought a copy of both books.
I began reading Spinning Wyrd and immediately started falling in love. In it, Smith describes and offers advice on a radical and radically inclusve type of Heathenry that embraces mysticism, which is right up my alley. One of the things I struggle with much of Heatherny, especially Asatru, is that it’s very academic and strikes me as exoteric. While I appreciate delving into the myths and lore of ancient Norse and other Germanic cultures, I’m not interested in creating a perfect replica of those culture’s beliefs or painstakingly recreate rites that match what those ancient worshipers of the Aesir and Vanir did.
Smith seems to share a similar sentiment. In the introduction to Spinning Wyrd, he lays out the following principle for his brand of Heathenry:3
At the core of Radical Heathenry are five points that set it apart from other forms of Heathen practice and define every aspect of this form of spirituality. These are living tradition, inspired adaptation, modern relevance, inclusive practice, and active involvement.
I also fell in love because his own description of wyrd in the introduction is extremely similar to how I view it:
Wyrd is the symphony of life cocreated by the actions of all beings, from the humblest living things to the mightiest of the godly and animistic Powers of Nordic practice.
I’m excited to read and blog about this book because for the first time, I feel like I may have found someone who sees honoring and working with the Aesir and Vanir very much as I do.4 I look forward to learning whatever i can from expanding my appreciation of the mystical side of Heathen practice and possibly further root my current mystical practices in the ways of Heathenry. I’m not quite ready to full on swear my commitment to the Way of Fire and Ice (the tradition founded by Smith), but I won’t deny that it’s certainly a possibility in the future.
I’m not sure I’ll blog through this book chapter-by-chapter like I did with Changing Paths. I figure I’ll just write a post on any aspect of the book that I feel I want to comment on and explore. It’s possible that might result in a post per chapter. Then again, it might result in me making multiple posts for some chapters.
I’ll also note that I feel like I’m going against some sort of rule here by blogging about Spinning Wyrd rather than first reading and blogging about The Way of Fire and ice, as Spinning Wyrd was written as a follow-up book for The Way of Fire and Ice. But the second book’s focus on wyrd really calls to me, so I want to jump right to it. I definitely plan to read both books, though. And I might even blog about the first one later on. Besides, are any of my readers really surprised that I might flout the rules a bit?
Post History:5 I started writing this post on July 20, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on July 21, 2024.
Footnotes
I appreciate that Smith seems to use these terms relatively interchangeably. I understand why some Asatruar prefer to distance themselves from the term “Paganism.” However, the term has its uses and I’m not sure I want to draw such hard boundaries between myself and other Pagans. Also, I personally haven’t felt comfortabe identifying with Asatru or even Heathenry because I often feel like a lot of Asatuar would not see my own practice as “reconstructionist” or “culturally pure” enough. Fortunately, I think Smith’s book(s) might help me feel differently on that count. ↩︎
To be honest, searching for a book that meets all of these requirements often feels like hunting for unicorns. ↩︎
In fairness, I do know of other Asatruar/Heathens who have mystical practices. For example, I’m familiar with Diana Paxson’s work to reconstruct a modern seidh practice and I loved Jenny Blain’s exploration of the same practice in her book. But everything I’ve read by both of them is more academic than practical or instructional. Granted, Paxson does have a couple of practical books on mysticism (Trance-portation and The Essential Guide to Possession, Depossession, and Divine Relationships) they are written outside of any specific cultural context in order to make them helpful to a wider audience. I appreciate that Smith’s books explicitly place his mystical explorations in the Heathen context. ↩︎
I’ve decided to experiment with including a brief history of my process for each blog post. I feel this offers me a lot of benefits, including enabling me to remember at a glance which posts are actually ready for publication. I hope my readers don’t find it too distracting. ↩︎
Last Tuesday marked the release of Youth Group, a comedic horror graphic novel by Jordan Morris and Bowen McCurdy. I had learned about it from listening to the interview Morris gave on the Thereafter podcast and pre-ordered it. As son as the book hit my Kindle account, I downloaded it and tore through it, even tweeting a bit about it as I read along.
The graphic novel is incredible and there are so many things I could say about it. But for this post, I want to focus on one particular aspect of the story: The way that the author (and illustrator) tackled the topic of interfaith cooperation.
Before I dig in too deep, I want to start by noting that this blog post will contain images of individual panels from the graphic novel. Rather than relying on a “Fair Use” defense, I decided to contact Jordan Morris directly and ask for permission to do so. He responded and gave me permission, asking that I only avoid including spoilers.1 I have done my best to honor that request, and I don’t think anything I’ve included gives away any major plot points. Special thanks to Jordan for giving me permission, though.
About a third of the way into the graphic novel, I was a bit concerned about how they might be treating non-Christian religions in it. After all, one demon seemed to be posing as a “crystal healing therapist” and in another case, a character scratching out runes was seen as a sign of demonic possession. I tweeted out a carefully nuanced tweet about my concerns regarding this, acknowledging that this might be unintentional. I explained where my concern really lie and how that was important without detracting from or erasing the positive qualities of the book.
But as it's a common stereotype/trope played out in both many real life theologies and many pop culture works, I also think it's important to note when it crops up. The trend is worth noting even while not judging a specific work for possibly playing along with it.
Of course, my fears were greatly alleviated a few pages later, when I ran across one of the evangelical Christian demon hunters saying the following:
“The Wiccans seem cool. The Satanists seem really cool.”
With that one thread, Morris and McCurdy let me know that in this world of theirs, there were Wiccans and Satanists who also hunted demons. I was immediately relieved that this was not a “Christians vs. the ‘weird occult religions'” scenario after all. And yet, what came later was even more of a surprise. Morris and McCurdy didn’t just tell us that that non-Christian demon hunters existed, but introduced us to a few of them.2
The protagonists — a trio of demon hunters from an evangelical church — talk about the existence of other religious groups having demon hunters and consider getting together with them to at least compare notes with one another. As they consider this, they find themselves obligated to deal with the prejudices many evangelical and other conservative/authoritarian Christians have against people from other religions. But eventually, our protagonists decide to have a party where they invite the other demon hunters,3 and they all get together. Some stereotypes are addressed and knowledge is shared, modeling beautifully what interfaith dialogue and cooperation should look like.
Meg the evangelical and Thorn the Wiccan introduce themselves.
This meeting of the minds becomes important to the plot. After the party, the classic “looks like the bad guys might win after all” event takes place and our demon hunters find themselves having to re-evaluate things and figure out what to do. During that time, the protagonist Cortland ends up meeting with the Wiccan demon hunters and they work together to uncover a secret that, in my opinion at least, seems central to the story and its resolution. (I won’t go into details because that would totally be a spoiler.)
The important thing to note though is that they learn this secret through a technique only the Wiccans seem to know about. Of course, the Wiccans also need Cortland because of experiences he has that make him uniquely qualified to help them out in this endeavor. So it is only through the cooperation of people from two different religious traditions that this pivotal (in my opinion at least) plot point can unfold.
This, my friends, is the kind of interfaith cooperation we need to see more of, both in popular culture and in the real world. This acknowledgement that none of these groups can hope to succeed in this fight alone is so vital and one that I hope people take to heart reading this graphic novel.
I, like Meghan Crozier, am rooting for there to be a sequel. And I hope that the sequel continues to portray the kind of interfaith cooperation that this first book did. Of course, as Morris and McCurdy continue to represent other faiths, I hope and trust they will consult members of those faiths.4 To that end, I’d like to offer myself as a non-Wiccan witch with a fair amount of knowledge about Wicca as someone they can run ideas by and/or ask for advice. If you don’t already have that connection through some other source.
Footnotes
Okay, he also asked me to tag him in the post. But that was a foregone conclusion whether he requested it or not. ↩︎
Sadly, we don’t get to meet any demon hunters that are Satanists (maybe that’ll come up in the sequel some of us are hoping for?) Which is a shame. Of course, I could see that leading to some interesting story-telling and world-building. Here in the real world, the two best known Satanic organizations don’t actually believe in supernatural beings. So did the Satanic demon hunters in this fictional universe start as theistic Satanists? Or are they members of the CoS/TST who are dealing with the realization that their disbelief in the supernatural was unfounded? ↩︎
Wiccan, Jewish, and Catholic demon hunters show up, though the Jewish and Catholic demon hunters are mostly silent/unseen during this part of the story beyond announcing their appearance. I will note a couple of the evangelical Christian demon hunters do receive training through a Catholic group later in the story, however. ↩︎
On that note, a minor nitpick/note for the authors: You two know that most Wiccans don’t actually draw pentagrams on the floor for their rituals, right? I’m hoping you did that because it’s an easy identifier despite being pretty trope-ish. ↩︎
Happy Friday, dear readers! This Friday marks my exploration of the final chapter in Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow. I thought I’d offer a few musings on the following journal prompt from the book:
Do you believe that all religions are paths up the same mountain, or up entirely different mountains?
As I think about this question, I suppose that all religions might have the same goal in an extremely broad sense, the sense that religions attempt to connect us with the numinous. But the nature of what the numinous actually is and the reasons to connect to it can be vastly different.
In certain forms of Christianity, such as evangelical Christianity as practiced among white people,1 the goal seems to be to cozy up to the Christian god in order to secure one’s place in a pleasant, satisfying afterlife. In extreme cases, this kind of theological framework views this life and this earth as completely unimportant, enabling some such Christians to not care about protecting the environment or making the world a better, more just place.2
Compare this to Judaism, where the message of the religion is mainly about building community and sticking together in this life as well as making this world a better place for everyone. Or consider the many Pagans who view this earth as sacred — or at least close to it — and life something to be celebrated in a religious context.
I think things get even more varied and nuanced when you consider how different religions perceive and talk about the numinous or even the Divine. Religions that are authoritarian and expect unquestioning obedience to their deities are quite different from religions that view deities as beings one can negotiate and argue with and possibly even enter into a mutually beneficial relationship to achieve common goals together. When you add in religions that might seek out connection with the numinous but not specific deities or similar entities, I think the possibilities become even more numerous and varied.
The reality is that such different conceptualizations of the Divine and/or the numinous further impacts the goals of a given religion. As my title for this post suggests, I’m not even sure we’re all traveling up the same mountain. Some of us may be headed toward and traversing different geological features entirely.
Footnotes
I should note that many non-white people take a similar view, especially those who attend churches that are predominantly led by white people. However, I think it’s important to note that there are non-white evangelical churches — most notably Black churches — that see things very differently. They tend to be deeply influenced by liberation theology (mainly because they developed it). This can best be seen by studying how the Black church was a key driver in the Civil Rights movement and continues to advocate for racial justice, as compared to white evangelicals who have tended to downplay racial justice issues, even suggesting it’s something that will only be resolved “when Christ returns and establishes his kingdom.” ↩︎
Again, I’m painting with a broad brush pointing out trends. There are Christians who take a completely different approach to their theology and the implications of what it means to live out a Christian life. I’d say that different Christians are even “traveling up different mountains” from one another. So if you’re a Christian and you’re getting ready to tell me I’m not describing what you believe as a Christian, relax. I’m not talking about you. It’s the whole reason I’ve been trying to use precise language here. ↩︎
Happy Friday, dear readers!. I hope you’ve all had a great week. And for my readers who, like me, are in the United States, I hope you had a pleasant and safe Fourth of July! Does everyone still have all their fingers?
For today’s post, I’d like to explore the following journal prompt from chapter twelve of Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow:
Do you feel that everything about you is accepted and welcomed by your spiritual community?
I should note — as I briefly mentioned in an earlier post in this series — that I don’t have much interaction with our local community at this time. At one point, I was part of a local non-initiatory Wiccan coven, which did fully accept me. Of course, I helped found that coven, so I had a strong say in the ideals, values, and inclusiveness of that coven. And there was a general idea of “everyone is welcome’ in the greater community. But I can’t say that we as a broader community made an intentional effort to welcome and accommodate people from diverse background and life experiences.
What I want to focus on i this post, however, is the question of inclusiveness in the greater (world-wide) Heathen and Norse Pagan community. I think most people are aware that there are large movements of white supremacists who use Norse/Germanic mythology and a twisted version of those cultures’ history to support their racist views. There are also many in those communities that are transphobic and homophobic, many of whom raise the specter of ergi1 in the lore to justify their restrictive views on gender and sexuality.
Fortunately, many Heathens and Norse Pagans have worked hard to condemn and counteract bigotry within their ranks. One of the most famous examples of this is the creation of the Declaration of Deeds, which many organizations and kindreds have signed.
The reality is that whether my community makes me feel fully accepted depends entirely on which segments of the greater Heathen/Norse Pagan community you’re talking about. There are groups that I avoid. There are groups I would gladly join in a blot or sumbel and feel perfectly welcome and safe to do so.
As I wrap up this post, I would also like to note that this series is coming to a close soon. I only have one more chapter to blog about, which I will do next Friday. After that, I will have to figure out a new Friday blog series to start on July 19. If any of my readers would like to recommend another book you’d like me to blog my way through, an alternative source of journal prompts I might work through, or any other ideas, I’d love to hear about them. Drop me a comment with your ideas.
Footnotes
The link I have provided is to an article by inclusive Heathen and author Diana L. Paxson that explains ergi and provides the historical context that explains why she does not believe the concept is a condemnation of homosexuality. ↩︎
The thoughts of a gay witch living in upstate New York.
