Desiring sacred community: Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 6 of “Changing Paths”

Hello and happy Friday, dear readers! In today’s post, I want to explore a journal prompt Yvonne Aburrow offers at the end of chapter six of their book, Changing Paths. This chapter is titled “The Conversion Process.” Here’s the prompt:

What do you experience as sacred? What do you regard as important, special, emotionally significant?

I’ve given a lot of thought over the past few years on what I think it means to call sacred. Most recently, I did a video on the subject:

I then did a couple of follow-up videos: one on the sacred self and the other one about acknowledging the sacred in others. I think that these three videos together make it clear that I think everything and everyone is sacred. I also think they give a glimpse into what it means to me to treat oneself, others, and even the world in light of that understanding.

As such, I’d like to focus on where this is currently leading me personally at this time. My belief that both I and the other are sacred has me focusing more on building and nurturing relationships between the sacred self, sacred others, and the sacred world. I find myself looking more at the importance of community.1

Wen I first came to Paganism and witchcraft, I was greatly focused on myself. I was relieved to find a spiritual tradition and magical practice that focused on empowering myself and celebrating my own worth. At the time, this was necessary, given the ways my former religious upbringing had stripped me of any sense of self-worth and value.

But as I’ve matured over the past couple decades, I’ve begun shifting my focus toward the people and the world around me. As someone who is confident in my own value and worth,2 I started once more looking for ways to connect with others and even help others. I wanted to share my experiences and what wisdom I have gained from them with others. In fact, this is one of my primary motivators in maintaining this blog, as well as some of my other projects.

Right now, a lot of this effort is focused online, though I’m starting to crave local community as well. I haven’t figured out what that looks like for me these days. I’m not sure if I would be best served by re-joining the local Pagan and Witches meetup (assuming they are back to having in-person meetings in addition to the online ones), getting involved with the local metaphysical shop, or starting my own coven or kindred. That latter one has a certain appeal to me, but I have my reservations, including whether there are others in the area that would want to work magic and/or honor the gods in the way that i do.3 Plus I’m not sure I have a well-enough defined ritual or focus to really build a communal practice. That may be something I work on developing, though.

So I suppose even after all these years, my path is still evolving and progressing. I’m not sure where my desire to have, build, and nurture community will lead me. But that’s what’s on my mind right now. Mainly because that connection with sacred others is what I value and desire most right now.

Footnotes

  1. One of the things that I love about this chapter and the book in general is how central Aburrow has made the concept of community to their discussion of religion and finding a religious home. ↩︎
  2. Though I do try to maintain a modicum of humility. After all, becoming an ego-maniacal boor would be an undesirable over-correction. ↩︎
  3. I’m in a weird niche where I tend to be too Norse-focused for most Wiccans and other witches, yet too “loosey-goosey” with ritual style for most Heathens’ comfort. ↩︎

Being a Curmudgeonly Witch: Asking for “First Spells”

Hello readers! For today’s blog post, i want to put on my old curmudgeon hat and grump a little about a trend I’ve seen lately that I just don’t understand. It’s about a request I’ve seen multiple times on social media. Here’s a pretty good example (the link is to my answer) of the kind of question I’m talking about:

What are some recommended spells for beginners in Wicca and witchcraft that are safe and effective?1

Understand that this post is not a rant about requests for spells in general. While I don’t personally believe in handing out “spells” to random strangers 99% of the time (I recently made an exception), i don’t blame people who make the request. Many witches — especially those who are just starting out — may need or even want help figuring out how to construct a spell. Seeing examples of spells other witches and magicians have developed can be instructive.2

Nor am I opposed to relatively new witches looking to get into magic right away. I think most of us would be kidding ourselves if we didn’t admit that working magic was a major motivator to get into witchcraft. And while I tend to practice a theistic form of witchcraft and would never consider my witchcraft solely in terms of “casting spells,” I do consider magic an important part of my practice. And everyone has to start sometime. So while I might encourage newer witches to spend some time working on basic disciplines like meditation and energy work, I would consider it reasonable for them to try their hand at actually working a little magic shortly after, if not concurrently. After all, what better way to practice those disciplines?

No, what bothers me about these questions is the failure to answer a simple question:

What do you want a spell to do?

I find myself looking at this question and wondering if there’s really a new batch of witchlings out there looking to cast any old spell just for the sake of casting a spell. If so, that’s just not a mentality I grok. When I got into witchcraft, it seemed pretty clear and obvious to me that the point of doing magic to accomplish something — usually something you needed or wanted to occur. It was this spirit in which I wrote my free magic lesson post back in 2019.

And surely there are things these witchlings want, yes? Besides just casting a spell for the sake of casting a spell? Surely they want to find love? Or maybe they need help paying a bill? Heck, this new trend to ask for spells without a desired goal in mind almost makes me long for the days when people would pop into witchcraft discussion boards to ask for a spell to change their hair or eye color.3

The only thing I can figure is that some people are drawn to witchcraft for the sense of self-empowerment. Looking to cast any old spell might feed into that desire for power and give them a sense that yes, they can work magic. And I can respect that. But imagine how much more empowering it is when that spell actually addresses a need or want you actually have. Plus, intent is an important aspect of effective magic, and actually focusing on an intent you actually want is helpful.

But what I’m really hoping is that these are just poorly worded questions. I’m hoping most newer witches still come to the craft seeking to use magic to fulfill needs and wants just beyond casting spells for their own sake. But some days, I worry.

Footnotes

  1. I will note that this particular question was not submitted by a person, but generated by the Quora Prompt Generator. However, I’ve seen this or similar questions asked by actual people as well. ↩︎
  2. I will note, though, that I encourage people to use the spells they get from other sources as templates for developing their own. At the very least, I think it’s wise to modify such spells to “make it their own.” Magic that we put our own effort into designing tend to be more effective, in my experience. Plus, how will you ever learn to craft your own spells/magical workings if you don’t try? ↩︎
  3. Yes, I did come to witchcraft right around the time The Craft was released/at the height of its popularity. Why do you ask? ↩︎

My religious deal-breakers: Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 5 of “Changing Paths.”

Hello readers and happy Friday! Time to tackle another journal prompt from Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow. This week, we’re looking at chapter 5, which is titled “At the Crossroads.” Unlike the previous two chapters, I easily fell in love with the thought of blogging about one of the journal prompts at the end of this chapter. And boy, is it a doozy!

Make a list of features that any religion or philosophical system that you would consider getting involved in should not have. Your list could include beliefs, values, rituals, metaphors, and practices.

Before I start pulling out my “laundry list” and discussing it, I should note that this is today’s list of my deal-breakers. I’m not sure everything would have been on my list back in 1998 when I was making my break from Christianity. After all, my only goal in 1996 was to make peace with the fact that I was gay. I didn’t plan on changing any other aspect of my faith at that time. But that’s the thing about such lists. They change and grow as we do. We need to allow them to change. Maybe we’ll add new items to the list. Maybe we’ll take some items back off it, or at least clarify what exactly it is we’re opposed to. But let’s get on with my current deal-breakers.

Homophobia and Transphobia

Homophobia would have definitely been on my list of deal-breakers back in 1998. In fact, it was the original deal-breaker that kicked off my deconstruction process. Being a gay man who had realized that denying my sexuality and denying myself fulfilling sexual experiences and relationships was unhealthy for me, I realized that I needed a religion that accepted, embraced, and celebrated my sexuality instead.

Back then however, I did not know much about tans issues. In fact, I’m not sure I had even heard of being trans. If I had, I probably thought it was some sort of “extreme gayness” rather than something different (though often related) to sexual orientation.1

But as I got to know trans people, I saw how their own struggles were often similar to my own. Furthermore, my own trials, tribulations, and harms at the hands of my religious upbringing caused me to experience empathy and compassion for trans people. As such, I want a religion that accepts, embraces, and celebrates them as much as it does me me. In fact, this leads to my next deal-breaker.

Bigotry, Exclusion, and the Establishment of Second Class Members

That same compassion for myself and trans people continued to expand outward, causing me to oppose all bigotries and the various ways a religion might exclude certain groups of people or even treat them as second class members if they were accepted into the religion at all. So I began to see ableism, racism, and sexism as deal-breakers as well.

I will note that I don’t understand these issues and how they express themselves as well as I’m familiar with homophobia, its manifestations, and its effects. I’m still learning about transphobia too, for that matter. So this is an ongoing process for me and one that I doubt I will ever truly complete.

Self-Denigration

This was another deal-breaker that I had back in 1998 and likely the second one I added. My evangelical upbringing had stripped me of any sense of self-worth with its constant messaging that I was a sinner in desperate need of grace, which I had been literally taught was “mercy that I did not deserve.” It was this messaging and the toll it took on my self-esteem that eventually made me realize that I needed a clean break from Christianity altogether. 2

I need (and fortunately found) a religion that embraced me as the wonderful person I am, full of inherent value and worth. Sure, I’m not perfect and needed to improve in many ways. But I am valuable and am worth improving due to that value. My improvement as a person has become a gift I give myself rather than something I have to do to try to appease some deity (and then grovel before that deity when I fail to meet his standard.)

Hell (or Any Other Eternal Punishment)

This is another deal-breaker that was quickly added if it was not on my list in 1998. As I made friends outside of Christian circles after coming out as gay and relying on them for emotional support, I struggled with my belief that these same people were going to be condemned to suffer for eternity simply for believing the “wrong” things. It seemed unfair and cruel, especially considering how much they were helping me keep myself together at the time.

Later, I began to think about the whole idea of hell and realized that in general, the idea of tormenting anyone (or allowing any to be tormented) forever was pure cruelty. I could not believe any deity worth respecting — let alone worshiping — would do such a thing.

This line of thinking eventually led me to thoughts that caused me to add the next two deal-breakers.

A Focus on Retributive or Punitive Justice

As I got thinking about the cruelty of hell, I also began to question what justice was altogether. I began to realize that retributive justice and punitive justice made no sense to me.3 It does nothing to restore those harmed by injustice or improve their circumstances. And even the argument of reform does not make sense if the punishment only comes at the end of the wrongdoer’s life. There’s no time for them do anything positive with their newly reformed ways.

A Focus on the Afterlife

I came to realize that there had to be more to this life than treating it as a test for getting into the preferred afterlife or gaining more converts to join you there. I began to sense that this life was what is important and what we did here matter for what the results here mattered. As such, I realized I needed (and thankfully found) a religion that not only offered insights into how to live a good and happy life here, but sought to celebrate that life for itself.

Divine Command Theory

Divine Command Theory is the moral philosophy that morality is noting more than the divine dictates of God or a group of deities. I am not a fan of this model, because it makes the entire concept of morality arbitrary. I also find it strange — and a bit of circular reasoning — that some religious people will tell you that God declares what is good and also that God is good. If God gets to declare that he is good like that, it is a meaningless statement.

I prefer to find a standard of morality that exists outside of the arbitrary dictates of an authoritarian figure. And that brings me to my next deal-breaker.

Authoritarianism

As someone who values critical thinking and independence, I am not a fan of authoritarianism. I certainly don’t want it in my religion. i want a religion where i can think for myself, grapple with the beliefs and values presented to me. I want the freedom to question and argue with the religious leaders — and even the deities themselves. And it’s even better if they celebrate me for doing so.

I like to think of my relationships with my deities as being centered on dialogue and cooperation, not subservience and unquestioning obedience.

Exclusive Claims to Truth and Totalizing Systems

Aburrow introduces the concept of totalizing systems later in the book (Chapter 7) and defines4 it as “an exclusive or sectarian system that also subsumes all other paradigms rather than accepting that other paradigns exist alongside it.” I have seen too much value in other religions — including religions that I probably would never follow personally — to just discount them as unimportant, let alone invalid. I much prefer approach that states “this is what we do/believe and others are free to believe/do as they please.” Which brings me to my next deal-breaker.

Proselytization

I have no desire to have people convince me to join their religion, nor do I wish to convince others to join mine. I strongly believe that the search for meaning and a connection with the numinous is a deeply personal one driven by an individual’s needs and context. Trying to force people to fit their personal journey into some predefined box strikes me as a sort of violence.

This is not to say I won’t share information about my religion with others. And if someone expresses a desire to follow my religion, i will gladly help them along in that process. But that is only if they come to me seeking such aid. I do not wish to go out actively seeking converts, let alone trying to convince people they need to convert.

Monotheism

I”m not sure this is a deal-breaker so much as just something I no longer believe. I don’t think I could believe it at this point. I think a polytheistic or animistic view of the numinous makes far more sense.

A “Three-O Compliant” Deity

This term is my own invention and a bit of a nod to my career as a software engineer, which is full of such jingoistic buzzwords. What I mean by it is the qualities that some monotheists attribute to their god: omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence.5 I actively reject the notion that any deity possesses the first two qualities and I have my doubts about the third.

Again, I’m not sure this is a true deal-breaker as it is something I just cannot believe anymore. I think the deities have their limits.6 I also believe that the deities are still growing and learning, so they can’t possibly be omniscient.

Closing Thoughts

That’s quite the list. I’m not sure it’s complete (after all, I didn’t cover sexual ethics in general), but I think it’s a great first attempt. As I noted, I reserve the right to update this list (possibly in a future blog post) in the future.

As I wrote this post, I also thought it might be interesting to explore what I want in my religion now that I’ve indicated a bunch of things I don’t want. I may have to do a future blog post on that subject.

In the meantime, I’d love to hear from my readers. Do you agree any of my deal-breakers? Do you disagree with them? Do you have other deal-breakers? Feel free to share them and your reasoning in the comments below.

Footnotes

  1. I will note that this has often been the position that anti-gay Christians — especially the conversion therapy proponents — have taken, either explicitly or implicitly. Often, their ideas about homosexuality and being trans is deeply rooted in strict gender roles and gender stereotypes. So everything that breaks from patriarchal cisheteronomativity tends to get homogonized into the same bucket. ↩︎
  2. I want to note that this statement is describing what was the best choice for me at the time. This is not a prescriptive declaration about what others should do. I fully acknowledge that others have managed to find a version of Christianity that affirms their inherent worth and value. That just isn’t my story. ↩︎
  3. This applies to more than just my theology, by the way. I’m deeply troubled by the way our criminal justice system seems to focus on punishing criminals. Sometimes, proponents of the current system will argue that they’re actually trying to reform criminals. However, research has shown that punishments are not a good method of reform. So that argument falls flat in my opinion. ↩︎
  4. I suspect this is actually a definition they got from another source, but I don’t recall what that source was or whether they cited it. ↩︎
  5. Recently, I’ve noticed some people — mostly atheists criticizing the Christian god — also mentioning omnibenevolence. It’s a term we never used when I was an evangelical Christian, but we certainly believed God was omnibenevolent. We just phrased it as “God is love.” So I have considered re-branding my term as “Four-O Compliance.” Also, for anyone wondering I have my doubts about whether any deity is truly omnibenevolent, either. I tend to think that the nature of the Divine is more complex than that. ↩︎
  6. This is where I note my controversial opinion that I don’t think any theist actually believes that their god is omnipotent. For example, start asking Christians about the problem of evil or how they justify eternal conscious torment and they’ll start saying things like their “all-powerful” god can’t be in the presence of sin. That sounds like a limitation on their god to me. ↩︎

Covens as a model for small groups?

A little over a week ago, Meghan Crozier offered the following cheeky comment1 over on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/thepursuinglife/status/1784019830280163693

While Meghan’s tweet was cheeky, a lot of us in the deconstruction community tend to have complicated feelings about small groups as we experienced them within the evangelical church (and possibly in other related authoritarian religious settings). Such small groups can often be another mechanism of control over members of the church and religion. They can also force a sense of intimacy between members of the group that they are not ready for and may not feel safe with.

And yet, as always, I’m the kind of person who is not ready to just throw the baby out with the bathwater2 and when I typed up my own response to Meghan’s tweet I came to a realization: In witchcraft, covens are more or less small groups.3

Granted, there are a lot of witches and other Pagans that don’t like the thought of being in a coven. And I do have to wonder how many of them feel that way because they’re applying their baggage from past experiences in Christian churches to their perception of covens. But neither covens nor small groups have to be for everyone.

At its core, a coven is simply a small group of witches that get together to collectively work magic, explore whatever spiritual mysteries they might embrace, and serve any powers they might believe in. Also, coven members also meet together to learn and develop their witchcraft practice together. To my mind, this mirrors my experiences in church/Christian small groups.4

Personally, my experience with covens has been greatly positive, and think that kind of comradery comes with great benefits. I also think that there are a few key features of covens that typically prevent them from having the same problems as church/Christian small groups.5

The biggest difference is that the evangelical church (and similar churches) tends to be quite authoritarian in structure and outlook, and that tends to get replicated in their small groups as a matter of course. Such small groups have leaders that tend to be able to exert a certain amount of influence and power over the other members of the group. Then the group itself is typically under the authority of the pastor (and other members of leadership) of the church itself. In most churches, a pastor or the elders can pressure small group leader about how they run the group and even disband the group altogether.6

Covens tend to be far more autonomous. Indeed, most covens are an island unto themselves. Even in an initiatory tradition like Alexandrian Wicca, once a Witch7 is elevated to the third degree and establishes their own coven, that Witch is free to run that coven independently.8

Similarly, individual coven members are given the autonomy to stay or leave as they please. So even if a coven leader has ultimate authority on coven matters (and they often do), members who don’t like the direction being taken are free to “vote with their feet” and leave.9 Typically, since a coven with no members ceases to exist, this leads most coven leaders to at least listen to other members’ input and seek out ways to keep them around. (Though there is such a thing as a coven and an individual not being a good fit, and parting ways really is the best and only option.)

In my experience, the way that intimacy and vulnerability is encouraged and developed tends to be different between church small groups and covens. Many church small groups feel to me like they force the members to become vulnerable to and intimate with the rest of the group. The moment you join such a small group, it’s expected — and those expectations are often explicitly stated — that you will start sharing deeply personal details about yourself, experiences you’ve, and even “sins” you’re “struggling with.” This is a level of intimacy and vulnerability that could be weaponized against you (and many have experienced exactly that) and you’re expected to submit to it before there’s been any effort to build any assurance that it won’t be.

Covens also tend to require a similar level of intimacy and vulnerability,10 but much more time is typically spent building up the sense of trust and safety between members before then. To illustrate what I’m saying here, I want to talk about my own past a bit.

Back in the 2000s, I joined a Yahoo Group where initiates and seekers discussed British Traditional Wicca. I had learned about non-initiatory (“eclectic”) Wicca and had decided it wasn’t for me. At that time, I had also discounted initiatory Wicca, assuming it was basically the same thing. As I joined the list, I learned that the assumption was incorrect and found out that in many ways, the Wicca the initiates and elders of the group discussed seemed far more similar to the kind of witchcraft I practiced. So I became a fairly involved member of the group, posed questions, and even shared my own thoughts. As a result, I ended up making friends with a number of members in the group.

One of the people I made friends with was an Alexandrian High Priestess who was living in the province of Ontario in Canada. We began to exchange emails outside of the group and after about a year, she invited me to a public Pagan event in Ontario. I accepted and had a great time, not least of which because I got to finally meet a Witch I had come to admire and respect.

After that first in-person meeting, we continued to converse via emails and I think we even met in person in public a couple more times. Eventually, though, she invited me to come visit her and her husband at her home and even spend a weekend with them. I accepted and made the six hour trek on the appointed Friday. While there, I met her husband, and a couple of members of both her coven and her outer court. I even had the opportunity to attend one of her outer court rites, which was a deeply moving experience.

It was during this trip that we discussed the possibility of me training with and eventually becoming an initiate in her coven.11 Note that it took one to two years to even get to that first conversation. During that time, we had talked frequently, met a few times, and had already started building a relationship. And while the idea of joining an Alexandrian coven was still scary, I felt that if I was going to join one, this was the one I’d probably be able to trust.

And my would-be High Priestess was okay with my trepidation. She expected it. She did not chide me for it, but took it in stride. At one point during that weekend, the topic of ritual nudity came up once. Like most people, the thought of being naked around other people made me uncomfortable. She acknowledged that and simply said that it’s something we could work on in time if I wanted to pursue membership in her coven.12

I think this slow build-up without a sense of pressure to join, fit in, or become immediately intimate with a small group is vital to healthy small group dynamics.

I’d be interested to hear what thoughts my readers have on this topic. Do you think my comparison is a fair one? Do you think there are other ways that covens demonstrate ways to create and maintain a healthy small group? Do you think there are potential pitfalls that are unique to covens? If so, how would you recommend preventing them from arising or mitigating them? Let us know in the comments.

Footnotes

  1. I should note that while that Tweet was cheeky, the thread she was quoting from when making it was quite serious. In that thread, Meghan was talking about one manifestation of the all-too-human tendency for many of us who are deconstructing our white evangelical Christian backgrounds to recreate some of the problematic elements and patterns from those backgrounds in our new spaces and communities. This is a real problem and one that Meghan and Cortland Coffey discuss somewhat frequently, both on social media and in various episodes of the podcast they host together. ↩︎
  2. I daresay that when I left my evangelical faith, I threw out just about every shred of doctrine, but kept a few nuggets of subtle theology, a handful of values I still found useful, a few ideas about community I found helpful, and some spiritual techniques. Not much of it is particularly Christian anymore, but I like to acknowledge where i picked these things up from, as it’s a part of my history. ↩︎
  3. I suspect a similar argument could be made about at least some Heathen kindreds and Druid groves as well. Though both of those are at least theoretically allowed to grow to any size. However, covens are typically expected to be kept rather small. For example, in Wicca, the maximum size for a coven is traditionally set at thirteen members. It’s expected that a coven that grows larger than that will spit into two or more independent (yet related) covens. ↩︎
  4. A lot of my experience with small groups doesn’t come from church, but from my involvement with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship while I was earning my bachelor’s degree. ↩︎
  5. Note that all-important word “typically” in that statement. There are covens and Pagan groups and organizations that are imperfect and absolutely have the same problems as many evangelical (and similar) churches. This is why it’s important to take note if a particular organization, group, or coven doesn’t fit the broad brushstrokes I’m painting with here. If it doesn’t, then what I’m saying will not apply to that particular organization, group, or coven. Also, covens often have their own problems that are different from the problems many of us have with Christian small groups. Those are just beyond the scope of this blog post. ↩︎
  6. Technically, members of a small group would be able to continue meeting without the official blessing of the church. However, given the authoritarian nature of evangelical Christianity (and similar Christianities), I suspect most members would consider this rebellious. Authoritarian followers often feel the need for the approval of the person in authority. It’s one of the things most of us who leave such religious environments need to deconstruct most. ↩︎
  7. While I do not capitalize “witch” in general or when speaking about myself, I am making a conscious effort to do so in this instance. This is because it is a common (though not universal) practice in Wicca to treat “Witch” as a religious term for its members similar to how followers n Christianity are called “Christians” and therefore capitalize it accordingly. ↩︎
  8. There are a few caveats to this. For example, if a coven’s founder starts practicing a different tradition in their coven or changes the practices of the tradition to a degree, the leaders of the coven that taught them may determine that the new coven is no longer practicing the same tradition and not recognize it’s new members/initiates as members of the original tradition. But they cannot stop the leader of the new coven from doing so. Similarly, most new coven leaders tend to seek the advice and guidance of their initiators, appreciating their past experience and wisdom. But again, they are ultimately free to run their own coven as they see fit. At least this is what I’ve learned from the initiatory Wiccans I’ve spoken to. I’m sure if any of them see this and disagree, they’ll be sure to voice their dissent with my assessment. ↩︎
  9. Technically, this option is available to members of Christian small groups as well. However, given the authoritarian nature and claims of exclusivity (i.e. the idea that the very fate of your eternal soul depends on belonging to that particular religion and possibly even that particular church), the thought of just leaving becomes much scarier than it is for a witch, most of whom know they will not suffer for eternity if they’re not part of any coven, let alone a particular coven. ↩︎
  10. I’ll note that witches don’t seem to be as obsessed with “sin” or moral failings though. Our tendency in with regards to moral failings is to take an attitude of, “I messed up. I need to do what I can to clean up after myself and learn from it so I do better in the future.” So conversations within a coven or other group of witches about such things is going to be more focused on asking for advice or assistance in cleaning up with oneself rather than endless self-recrimination and confessions of guilt and shame. This seems to be a common theme of “bonding” among Christian small groups, however. ↩︎
  11. For a variety of reasons, that never manifested. A huge reason for it was that I simply wasn’t ready to take that kind of plunge at that time. By the time I might have been ready, both of our life circumstances had changed so it was no longer an option. I still think of her regularly and often feel a deep sadness that I’ve lost contact with her since then. I’ve made efforts to find her again, but to no avail. I hope you’re doing well, C, wherever you are. (I don’t want to mention her name, as I feel weird doing so, as if I’m name-dropping.) ↩︎
  12. I’ll also note that she had acknowledged me as a fellow witch worthy of respect long before this point. I simply was a different kind of witch. She was simply offering me an invitation to join her family and learn her tradition alongside my current witchcraft practices. I think that a lot of people mistakenly assume that British Traditional Wiccans don’t think the rest of us are “real witches,” but that hasn’t been my experience at all. ↩︎

A weird boy, but definitely a boy: Freestyling it again for chapter 4 of “Changing Paths”

This Friday, I’ll be blogging some of my thoughts from reading Chapte 4, “Religion and Gender” of Yvonne Aburrow’s1 book, Changing Paths. Once again, I’m totally ad-libbing this post, as none of Yvonne’s wonderful prompts and exercises for this chapter jumped out at me or seemed suited to my blogging purposes.2

It’s taken me a bit to figure out what I was going to say about this chapter. To be honest, my gender was not a huge issue during my Christian upbringing. Certain, my sexual orientation was a huge issue, but in terms of gender, I was a cis man, which evangelical and other authoritarian forms of Christianity tend to practically cater to. Certainly, there are gender expectations within such forms of Christianity that I could not meet as a gay man — namely the idea of becoming a faithful husband and father of the next generation of culture warriors.3 But as a cis male, I was not seen as someone destined to be in a subservient role or someone trying to go against God’s design (again, other than the whole being gay thing).

My church also did not get too explicit about the gender essentialism either, nor did they push strict gender roles. While my church certainly wasn’t a bastion of full egalitarianism. no one there would have dreamed of releasing an official church statement reaffirming that wives were to submit to their husbands, to give just one example.4

In some ways, ideas about gender is something I still had to deconstruct when I converted to witchcraft and Paganism. I found a lot of freedom in being able to embrace a female deity, though it took me a few months to a year to resolve the idea of Divinity being at least partly female.5

It’s been interesting for me as a man primarily dedicated to and working with Freyja. It seems in some Pagan and witchcraft circles that it’s typically thought that men will dedicate themselves to a god and women will dedicate themselves to a goddess. In Wiccan circles, the High Priestess typically invokes the Goddess or has Her drawn down into her. and her male working partner invokes the God or has HIm drawn down into him.6 So in some ways, I’m a bit of a oddity in at least some Pagan and witch circles.

Another thing that is always in the back of my mind is something that doesn’t have to do with religion directly is a conversation i once had with an online feminist friend. (I think it was the blogger who went by the name Fannie Wolfe, but don’t recall for sure.) She observed that it is often the case that what it means to be a man is defined in opposition to what it means to be a woman (and then presented as being superior to it). I often come back to that thought when I’m trying to figure out what it means for me to say that I’m a man. I have yet to come up with a good definition. though listening to people like D.E. Anderson7 has helped me gain a vague perspective.

I also think this is one of those areas where Paganism as a whole tends to muddy the waters from time to time. After all, there’s a tendency in some Pagan circles to classify everything as “masculine” or “feminine,” and those often fit our wider culture’s gender stereotype. For example, masculine energy is often described s that which is “active” and “aggressive” while feminine energy is seen as that which is “passive” and “receptive.” Those of us who work closely with a goddess like Freyja are left laughing and/or scratching our heads.8 Our own deities don’t fit well into the masculine/feminine divide!

Working with Freyja has also helped me to accept that fuzziness around what it means for me to be a man is just a part of life. In fact, I don’t think that what it means to be a man is that high a priority for me.9 I know that whatever it means for me and no matter how I perceive myself, my deities will accept me and honor who I am.

Footnotes

  1. It occurs to me that while I’ve linked to Yvonne’s Threads profile multiple times, I have yet to mention that they also have a blog or provide a link to it. Consider this footnote my initial effort to correct that. ↩︎
  2. I hope it’s clear that I’m not intending this as a criticism of Yvonne. I think their prompts and exercises are fantastic and can see why other people reading this book will likely find them helpful to being the point of a god-send. But I’m also probably not quite the best exemplar of their target audience for the book, either. I went through the majority of my faith change(s) over two decades ago. (If only Yvonne could go back in time and release this book back then.) ↩︎
  3. I’ll also note that the whole Joshua Generation movement didn’t get started until the early-to-mid 2000s, roughly half a decade after I left Christianity altogether as an adult. So while there was a general consensus that Christian parents should raise faithful Christian children when I was growing up, there wasn’t the explicit message about raising up a generation of Christian soldiers to take over the country, either. ↩︎
  4. I’ll also note that gender roles were not strictly held in my own home. For example, my father frequently did laundry on the weekends. This was because my father was a practical man who (1) realized the laundry still needed to be done on weekends when my mother was working at the hospital and (2) was often just looking things to do to keep busy. I have always admired my father’s practicality and like to think I’ve inherited a bit of that from him. ↩︎
  5. At the time, i said that I considered God to be “genderless” and therefore the idea of applying any gender to the Divine struck me as weird. In time, I’ve come to realize this was a bit of self-delusion on my part. God in my mind had been male because male was the default. Granted, I’ll also note that I tended to link gender with sex and anatomy at the time, which made it that much easier to convince myself that God was “genderless,” because what does God need with genitals? Needless to say, my understanding of gender has evolved since then and continues to expand, particularly as I learn more about/from my trans friends. ↩︎
  6. I want to stress that I’m talking about what I understand to be common or typical. There are exceptions. In fact, a cursory search of Yvonne’s blog (because I just knew they must’ve said something about this topic at least once) found a blog post talking about how roles in ritual are and can be assigned. In the comments section, they even come out in support of drawing down deities across genders. I’d invite Yvonne (or anyone else who, unlike me, is actually Wiccan) to offer further resources in the comments of this post as well as any necessary corrections to my statements on the topic. ↩︎
  7. Mx. Anderson uses their full first name when writing professionally due to the fact that their first two books were published before they came out as non-binary. However, in more social settings, they tend to go by their first and middle initials. As I tend to spend a good bit of time socializing with them online, I tend to go with their initials when speaking to/about them.. ↩︎
  8. I could spend a day coming up with adjectives for Freyja and “passive” would never come up or be met with hysterical laughter if it did. ↩︎
  9. I acknowledge that the ability to say that is a sign of cis privilege. After all, it’s easy to not worry about what it means to be a man when it’s rare for anyone to challenge whether I have any business calling myself a man and every fiber of my being agrees with my self-assessment that I am a man. ↩︎

The uniqueness among religions

During my recent appearance on Di the Yoga Witch’s podcast, we got talking about our views on deities. And I provided a few thoughts on why I tend to favor hard polytheism — or at least treating the deities and individuals rather than the same deity (or divine couple) by different names. Here’s what I had to say:1

For those who may not have the time or ability to watch or listen to the video here’s a somewhat edited2 transcript of what I said:

I think one of the other things — and again, I think this is just my personal opinion, my approach to things. All due respect to anyone who take things differently. I’m not here to get into witch wars about whose theology is right and whose understanding of the deities is right. This is just mine. But from my perspective too, the uniqueness is important. One of the problems I see with “they’re all the same” is that there gets to be this homogenization and you lose some of that uniqueness and you lose some of those subtle stories. I’m sorry, the myth of the goddess as recorded by Gerald Gardner and the myth of the Descent of Inanna? Yes, there are some very broad brush similarities, but they also have their own individual story to tell. It’s in those details and those subtle differences…..

That’s the other thing. I’m very strong about myths and understanding meanings and I think that myths can have multiple meanings. For example, I have a couple different readings of the Binding of Fenrir. I have the one version that I tell that focus on Tyr sacrificing his hand. He puts his hand in the wolf’s mouth and makes a promise he knows he’s going to break. And he’s going to lose his hand. But because that’s what’s needed to save the world, he makes that sacrifice. That’s a story expressing that sometimes, seeking justice and doing the right thing does involve sacrifice.

On the flip side, I have a different telling of that same myth where I am a staunch believer that the Aesir, the Norse gods, did that poor doggie wrong. What they did to him was not right. I can hold both of those understandings of that myth in my mind at the same time.

That’s the kind of thing that exploring those meanings of the myths kind of get lost sometimes when you say “they’re all the same.” And I have the same issue with comparative mythology. Not that I think comparative mythology is totally worthless. But at some point you have to appreciate the uniqueness of each story and each personality and each portrayal.

I think this uniqueness applies to myths and deities, but religions in general. I think it’s important to understand that there are differences — both subtle and blatant — between many religions. They each have their own understanding of the world and the Divine (and there are even religions that have no concept of the Divine) is very different. Their goals are often quite different. And sometimes, even things that two religions appear to have in common are viewed quite differently.

I talked about this recently on Threads, where I addressed a number of misconceptions that some people seem to have about my religion by assuming it’s like the Christianity, the religion they’re most familiar with:

Hi. I am a religious person.

❌ I do not believe there’s only one god.

❌ I do not believe my deities are omnipotent or omniscient.

❌ I do not believe in original sin.

❌ I do not believe in heaven or hell.

❌ I do not believe that our eternal destination — assuming we even have one — is determined by where we have the correct beliefs or worship the “right d[eity.]

❌ I do not obey my deities without question.

❌ I do not believe everyone should honor my gods or even believe that they exist.

It’s been received well by adherents of other non-Christians religions (and even a few Christians who don’t believe in all of those points, either). I think it’s important that we appreciate our religion’s particular uniqueness and the uniqueness of other religions.

That’s an important thing to remember. Saying my religion is unique doesn’t mean that my religion is superior to other religions. I think that’s something that gets forgotten given the dominance of one or two religions who do push the idea that their religion is superior to the rest, and even try to manage this by pointing out how their religion “stands out” from the other religions.

To me, uniqueness is about identity, both individually and communally. By being part of my religion, I am a part of a community, and we have our own unique way of viewing ourselves, our world, and our values. And while other religions and communities may have very similar values, they express them in their own unique ways.

And as I often say, I’m a part of my religion because its unique way of seeing and expressing things speaks to and nourishes my soul in a way that other religions unique way of doing the same doesn’t. And I’m sure the people of those religions could say the same thing. And there’s something to be said about various religious communities coming together to celebrate both their common ground and their uniqueness. But to celebrate the latter, we first have to quit trying to erase the differences in an attempt at religious homogenization.

Footnote(s)

  1. Bear in mind that this is a small clip from a rambling conversation that lasted for over an hour. If you haven’t already done so, I’d strongly encourage you to check out the full episode over on Di’s YouTube channel. I provided a link to the full video earlier in this post. ↩︎
  2. I tried to limit my editing to removing filler words like “you know” and “um” as well. I also did not include Di’s responses, which are worth listening to when you have a chance. But they are not essential to this post. ↩︎

Being gaily religious and religiously gay: Blogging freestyle for chapter 3 of “Changing Paths.”

[Content Note: Frank sexual talk, including discussion of masturbation.]

This week, I want to blog about chapter three of Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow. This chapter is titled “Religion and Sexuailty.”

I’ve struggled a bit with figuring out how I want to handle this chapter. It’s the first chapter where none of the blog prompts really resonated with me in a way that made me think of a way to blog about them.1 So I’ve decided to “free-style” it and just share whatever thoughts on the topic came up while I was reading this chapter.

Of course, I’ve also struggled a bit with remembering what my thoughts and feelings were when reading this chapter. As of the time I’m writing this post, I’m ready to start chapter 11 in the book and will very likely have finished the entire book by the time it gets published. I guess that’s the one down side to establishing a posting schedule. But I shall do my best.

My relationship with my sexuality when I was an evangelical Christian was a complete mess, and not solely because I was gay. For those who may not be familiar with evangelical culture, purity culture is often a huge part of that, and my upbringing was no exception.

I will note that my experience with purity culture was not nearly as intense as some of my friends in the various deconstructing and former evangelical communities I’m involved with. While I got a few messages about how having sex before marriage makes you like a chewed up piece of gum or a tissue someone has already blown their nose into, I know many people who had those messages driven home to them far more frequently and emphatically than I ever did.

In some ways, I think I had it easier as a guy than many of my female friends did. There often seems to be a certain amount of “boys will be boys” mentality even among evangelicals when it comes to sex. This is not to say that boys get a free pass in purity culture, mind you. And there’s always that messaging that depicts men and boys as barely controlled monsters full of hormones and lust, so a lot of guys (and I wasn’t totally exempt from this myself) tend to have negative self-perceptions and internalize a lot of guilt and shame over perfectly normal urges.

That’s where it gets complicated for me. As a gay boy who is essentially a Kinsey 6. “Lusting”2 after girls and women was never really a problem. In fact, I remember trying to imagine kissing a female classmate when I was in high school and finding the idea weird and a little disturbing.

But when I eventually realized that I was attracted to male classmates, that became troubling. After all, the only thing worse (or so I thought) than lusting after a girl was lusting after a boy! I was devastated and spent years in denial, trying to convince myself that it was just a phase, then a few years trying to pray my way to deliverance from my “same sex attractions”3

As an aside, I was online acquaintances with Peterson Toscano and took part int he Beyond Ex-Gay website/movement, both of which got a mention in this chapter. That brought back pleasant memories.

In addition, like most teenage boys (and I suspect most teenagers in general), I greatly enjoyed pleasuring myself. I mean, why wouldn’t I? It feels good and offers some great health benefits. Granted, I didn’t know about the health benefits at the time. But it’s often difficult for a young person whose body is teaming with hormones to resist the urge. I did not resist them. Oh, I’d try, but I’d eventually give in and feel a mountain guilt over it.

In general, I’d say that purity culture tends to destroy young people’s connections to their bodies in addition to their sexuality in general. You’re taught to see your body as this great source of temptation and sinfulness, and that really messes you up. I know it certainly messed me up.

I think that’s one of the things that drew me to Freyja when I turned to Paganism. She is an unapologetically sexual goddess and owns her sexuality as something to be proud of. Furthermore, she embraces all expressions of sexuality, regardless of who you are attracted to or involved with.4 That’s something I needed, so I embraced her and learned to love myself, my body, and my sexuality.

It’s something I”m still working on in some ways, mind you. I do have certain body insecurities. But I know longer see my body or sexuality as a moral failing. And that’s a definite boon.

Footnotes

  1. I will note, however, that I absolutely loved the meditation Yvonne included at the end of this chapter. I have done similar exercises in my own witchcraft practice before, including an exercise that my mentor and would-be initiator had me do when I was exploring the possibility of becoming an initiate of the Minoan Brotherhood, which Yvonne mentioned in this chapter. ↩︎
  2. I will note that the way that purity culture turns all sexual desire — and especially sexual desire that’s not “purified” by romance and/or marriage — into something sinful and dirty totally grinds my gears. To the point that I once wrote something on the topic and titled it “Sacred Lust.” ↩︎
  3. I have complicated feelings about that phrase, given the way it’s used in ex-gay ministries and among conversion therapists. I am so thankful I can abandon it these days and just say I’m gay. But such organizations have long pushed the idea that even identifying as gay rather than just saying you “struggle with same-sex attractions” is bad. I’ve addressed that before. ↩︎
  4. If my readers will allow me to throw a but of unconfirmed personal gnosis out there, the only way I’ve seen to piss off Freyja when it comes to love and sexuality is if you weaponize them to abuse or otherwise intetionally harm another person. You do that, you better watch out. ↩︎

Another Podcast Appearance: Di the Yoga Witch

This past Thursday, I appeared live with Di the Yoga Witch on her podcast along with her friend Kat. (I didn’t think to ask if I could bring reinforcements!) We had a delightfully rambling conversation where we discussed various “witchy shit” in between random tangents and strolls down memory lane. (Di and I must have met nearly twenty years ago.) If you enjoy meandering conversations about everything from the “Witches of TikTok cursed the moon” rumor to what theistic witchcraft means to me to how lucky both Di and I are for ending up with men who are at least interested in witchcraft and Paganism, I’d encourage you to check it out.

This podcast appearance was another new experience to me, as Di streams her shows live, so we even got some feedback and interaction with one of the people who was watching at the time. It was also one of the most conversationally oriented podcast appearances i’ve made so far. Di and Kat (who I met for the first time tonight) were a delight to talk to.

About a week before the show, Kat had come up with a list of ten questions/conversation topics to possibly cover during the episode.1 We managed to get to six of them, and I could’ve still said a lot more about many of those. But alas, we went well over the planned hour (by sixteen minutes and twenty eight seconds, to be precise). So the other questions will just have to wait for another time.

And that’s the good news: I will be making another appearance on Di’s show. We haven’t set a date, but we both agreed there were more things we wanted to talk about — including things that were not included in the original list of questions. For example, Di would really love to talk to me more about deconstruction and religion in general.

So if you watch this conversation, let Di an myself know what you think!

Footnotes

  1. I will note that Kat deserves a lot of credit, because some of the questions suggest she did a bit of digging into what I’d said online. For example, one of the questions (which we covered) was about what it means to me to be a theistic witch. I would not expect that question from someone unless they’d looked around and noted I specifically refer to myself as such. ↩︎

Bonus Post: Setting a Posting Schedule

As readers may have noticed, I’ve started blogging more frequently again recently. In fact, I’ve tentatively set a schedule, which I decided I will formally announce:

I’m going to make every effort to post something new every Monday and Friday.1

Over the years, Ive read countless posts and watched countless videos extolling the importance of setting a regular schedule for you content. They all explain — and their arguments are impeccably logical and persuasive — how doing so sets expectations with your readers/viewers, enabling them to know when the should come back. They’ve even stressed that the frequency doesn’t matter nearly much as the regularity.

I think it also helps me when I set a schedule because it actually passes the releases of my posts. There are times when I feel extremely inspired and could shoot out a post every day or even several posts in a single day. Which is great until I drink my last bottle of the mead of inspiration. Then I have nothing to post for days or even weeks. I figure that by saving that flurry of posts and posting them over time, I can hopefully keep things going with a backlog when I find myself waiting for the delivery driver to bring me a new order of Kvasir’s blood.2

As always, I reserve the right to modify this schedule in the future. In fact, I’m already wondering if I might want to add a post every Wednesday as well. This is because I feel like I have a plethora of post ideas in my head and it’s going to take forever to get through them all posting just two times a week. But for now, I’m going to try this schedule for two to three weeks.

To further help myself, I’m setting a focus on the Friday posts. Currently, my plan is to blog about a journal prompt from Yvonne Aburrow’s book Changing Paths, though I’ve found at least one chapter where I may not use a journal prompt, but talk about some other aspect of the chapter I’m covering that week. Just yesterday, I blogged about a prompt from chapter two, and I have twelve more chapters (plus the experiences of individuals’ experiences that Yvonne collected and shred in part three) to go. After that, I’ll have to find a new focus for Friday posts.

Money will be “anything goes” day. This means that I’ll pot about anything that comes to mind. Granted, I suspect that most of those posts will regarding one of the things I’m interested in, knowledgeable about, and/or passionate about:

  • witchcraft and Paganism
  • religion and spirituality in general
  • thoughts about something I read (including extra Changing Paths posts)
  • sexuality and LGBTQIA+ issues
  • political issues
  • personal stories and memories
  • televisions shows, movies, and pop culture analysis

But I may go completely “off script” and post about something not on this list. For example, sometimes my computer geek side just needs to come out and play. But the above should hopefully set your expectations on what you will likely find here.

As always, I welcome feedback. For example, I will run out of chapters/prompts from Changing Paths, so if you have another book or other source of blog prompts/inspiration I might draw on for future Friday posts, I’d welcome that. And I’m always willing to write a Monday post in response to a question or topic suggestion, so feel free to leave those in the comments as well. Or if you’d feel more comfortable doing so, you can send them to me via my contact form.3

As a final note, you may note that the title of this post starts with “Bonus Post.” This is something else I’ve decided to do. If I decide to publish a post outside of the schedule, I’m going to mark it as a bonus post (I’ve even started a tag for it). I figure this will help people see them and give me a rough measure of how frequently I”m posting outside of my current schedule (and therefore whether I might need to modify the schedule).

Footnotes

  1. The joys of being a witch! Most normal people would just say “I’m going to make a new post every Monday and Friday. But as a witch who takes his word very seriously, I have to address that niggling part of me that asks, “But what if I say that and then don’t manage it?” Oy. ↩︎
  2. Okay, technically Kvasir’s blood is known as the mead of poetry, not the mead of inspiration. But I figure all things, including poetry, ultimately flow from the same source of inspiration. Call it personal gnosis, if you will. ↩︎
  3. Heck, it’d be a nice change of pace to check those emails and find one that isn’t from a spammer. ↩︎

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.” ↩︎

The thoughts of a gay witch living in upstate New York.