Oh, I wrote my previous E and D posts. They just never made it up onto this blog. Either written in my journal or in "unfinished" posts, they were done enough for me but not enough for public. Except all three were done in a manner that I eventually decided wasn't meant for public, that the need was to write them at all.
Also, in case this wasn't clear. I'm trans, FAAB, and will refer to my youth as a girl and my present existence that isn't binary.
I hate crying in public. Not to say I haven't ever shed tears in public, after all, how would I realize I hated it if I had no experience with it? I hate crying in public but I've certainly done my share of it. Hell, I spent my last semester of high school crying almost every day through class. Or before class. Or after. Yeah, lot of tears then. A lot of tears that summer too. Tears from stress, tears from pain, and especially tears of heartbreak.
I never used to cry in movies. I was one of three girls in my seventh grade class who didn't cry when we were taken to see a (truly bad) movie that involved some pretty gruesome and depressing deaths. I just found the movie tedious and badly done. I never cried at/in a movie until I was 18. And that movie I went to see alone. Opening night, I sat in the theater, surrounded by strangers, glad that no one I knew could look over in the dark and see the tears on my cheeks. Outside of the movies, I cried far too easily. I cried when people yelled. Not because of any particular emotional response actually, just a side-effect of the way I grew up. Despite being good at handling pain and fear, they still made me cry. And tears made me feel weak.
I don't cry much anymore.
Tears don't come to my eyes. They haven't in the last three plus years since I started testosterone. My emotions express themselves without tears falling from my eyes and it is a massive relief. Pain can lace my face, fear or hurt lining my eyes without a tear falling. Shaking, trembling, shouting, whispering, I can chose my preferred methods of expression. Excepting movies.
At first, I thought it was just that the Star Trek reboot movie happened to have incredibly powerful emotional associations (to events that some of my closest friends are still coping with PTSD over.) Until I realized that the tears sprang to my eyes and my throat closed up at more and more movies. Films done right induce massive swells of emotion. Music and lighting can evoke so much, even when I don't give a shit about the characters. Maybe it's the bombast, or the sudden silence startling you into the realization of how much something has gone wrong... but movies bring tears to my eyes all the damn time.
Each time my throat closes up, each time my eyes start leaking, it hurts. It doesn't hurt in the sense that I'm in emotional pain and this is some of that pain leaking out, it hurts in that I am out of control.
Every tear is an ordeal.
I cannot control it. I do not always understand it. I am stripped of control and the masks I have so carefully constructed. I am stripped of defense and the armor of pleasant amusement that I have cultivated as my default expression. I am at a loss as to why I'm crying. I'm not brought to tears from a powerful scene exactly. It isn't the gut wrenching, knife twisting, moments that tend to do it. I'm just as likely to cry at a overly bombastic ridiculous action sequence as a class Joss Whedon tear-your-heart-out-and-chop-because-he-lives-on-the-tears-of-his-fans moment.
Every tear is an ordeal.
It may be witnessed if I'm watching something in public. It may be a private ordeal, alone in my room before I fall asleep. I cannot let the moment rest. I can't let it just be. And maybe that's why it keeps happening. I cannot let it rest until I understand, and I have yet to understand it. Maybe I'm supposed to be learning a lesson and failing.
Every tear is an ordeal.
One that I don't understand. I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning. Maybe even just to be more open and expressive. Maybe to let things be. I don't know. And, maybe there is no point. It isn't that I'm insisting that this comes from Someone. That this is because of Something. That this ordeal must be caused by the Universe for some purpose. I can learn something without all of that.
Not every ordeal is set up for you, not every ordeal is expected. Not everything is a path set before you, sometimes you trip and fall on your face, and end up breaking three ribs. Those random accidents, those genuine coincidences? Those can be ordeal too. The difference is in how you look at them. So, I chose this path.
I chose to make each tear an ordeal.
The alternative is for it to mean nothing. I've been an existentialist for longer than I can remember. The fact is, in the long run, none of it matters. Which is why all of it matters to me. Every tear, every tremor of my body, every coursing stream of self-hatred I feel as another tear slides down my cheek is of meaning to me. I inscribe each tear into my body and mind. I ask why. I search for meaning, for cause.
And so far, I've failed this ordeal. And that is okay too.
Showing posts with label paganism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paganism. Show all posts
Friday, March 8, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
C is for Courting
Late... due to Nemo. The storm, not the fish.
Sometimes Deities stay at a distance. Spirits stay out of your life, and the mundane remains the focus of your life. Sometimes the world comes crashing down around your ears as Someone decides to get involved. But there is an in between space. Sometimes, you get courted.
Courtship... in so many ways a prelude and yet it is often all consuming. Outside of the spiritual/religious realms, we as a society are taught to fixate on the early stages of relationships. Does I like them? Do they like me back? Were they flirting? Why do I always make a fool of myself in front of them? Is this a date? On and on, we are engrossed to exhaustion. NRE comes and suddenly logic flies out the window. It is no surprise that something so dominant in our societies has become a tool of the Gods.
Though don't be surprised either if they use courting techniques that aren't so common anymore. They have many more years of courtship rituals to draw upon, and They will use whatever They so chose.
A flower here. A whisper there. Spaced out, wondering if it's all in your heard or if that Someone is actually noticing you. Not being sure if you actually want Their notice, because in so many ways that can be terrifying. Is terrifying. Even the questioning "Is this what I want?" can shake a person to the core. This courtship can come out of nowhere. It isn't always your "type" of Deity who comes knocking and doing the equivalent of asking you out. (For some people, not equivalent, they are being asked out by said Deity.) The courtship is a choice. It's a dance. They step, you step, perhaps a slow waltz, perhaps it's capoeira.
It is a two way street. Yes, you can go out and court Them, but just like with people, They have every right to reject you. Maybe you'll get a reason, such as "you're not what I'm looking for," and that will probably suck a lot. Rejection is like that. And it is rejection, so don't forget to treat it as such, and respect how much it will probably suck for you to feel said rejection. But as I said, two way street, you are perfectly allowed to reject them. Except, rejection has consequences. This will probably not endear you to Them. Perhaps it will slide by, with little effect. On the other hand, rejecting Hermes right before a lot of travel could very well lead to canceled flights and mechanical errors. I'm not saying this is likely, but if Someone is going through the effort to court you, just be prepared for the potential reaction if They're suit is rejected. Though that isn't how a failed suit necessarily ends. Sometimes things just fall to the wayside, sliding out of your life unnoticed until they day you sit up and realize it's been gone for a while. That happens too.
I like being courted, by mortals or by Them. I like courting too. I appreciate the structure of reaching out, learning about one another, and most importantly, the easy ways to refuse. Yeah, rejection sucks, but at least through courtship there are viable routes of rejection. "I'm just not that into Y/you" is a completely legitimate response, and approaching things this way makes that response appropriate. I'm a huge fan of consent, and this is one of the easiest ways for any and all parties to have an appropriate "out" early on. Not to mention it's a good deal politer on our side of things, instead of banging down the door begging for attention.
But for me, the biggest "Holy shit this makes sense" part of the courtship thing? I'm an oblivious person. In fact, I can (and have) sat friends down and explained every nuance of the body language of someone who was flirting with them. I broke it down and laid it out so they could both understand and reciprocate. Someone flirts with me? I'm totally clueless. Someone attempts to court me? I don't notice a damn thing, even when that Someone isn't at all subtle about it.
Thank you flashing neon signs of subtly.
Sometimes Deities stay at a distance. Spirits stay out of your life, and the mundane remains the focus of your life. Sometimes the world comes crashing down around your ears as Someone decides to get involved. But there is an in between space. Sometimes, you get courted.
Courtship... in so many ways a prelude and yet it is often all consuming. Outside of the spiritual/religious realms, we as a society are taught to fixate on the early stages of relationships. Does I like them? Do they like me back? Were they flirting? Why do I always make a fool of myself in front of them? Is this a date? On and on, we are engrossed to exhaustion. NRE comes and suddenly logic flies out the window. It is no surprise that something so dominant in our societies has become a tool of the Gods.
Though don't be surprised either if they use courting techniques that aren't so common anymore. They have many more years of courtship rituals to draw upon, and They will use whatever They so chose.
A flower here. A whisper there. Spaced out, wondering if it's all in your heard or if that Someone is actually noticing you. Not being sure if you actually want Their notice, because in so many ways that can be terrifying. Is terrifying. Even the questioning "Is this what I want?" can shake a person to the core. This courtship can come out of nowhere. It isn't always your "type" of Deity who comes knocking and doing the equivalent of asking you out. (For some people, not equivalent, they are being asked out by said Deity.) The courtship is a choice. It's a dance. They step, you step, perhaps a slow waltz, perhaps it's capoeira.
It is a two way street. Yes, you can go out and court Them, but just like with people, They have every right to reject you. Maybe you'll get a reason, such as "you're not what I'm looking for," and that will probably suck a lot. Rejection is like that. And it is rejection, so don't forget to treat it as such, and respect how much it will probably suck for you to feel said rejection. But as I said, two way street, you are perfectly allowed to reject them. Except, rejection has consequences. This will probably not endear you to Them. Perhaps it will slide by, with little effect. On the other hand, rejecting Hermes right before a lot of travel could very well lead to canceled flights and mechanical errors. I'm not saying this is likely, but if Someone is going through the effort to court you, just be prepared for the potential reaction if They're suit is rejected. Though that isn't how a failed suit necessarily ends. Sometimes things just fall to the wayside, sliding out of your life unnoticed until they day you sit up and realize it's been gone for a while. That happens too.
I like being courted, by mortals or by Them. I like courting too. I appreciate the structure of reaching out, learning about one another, and most importantly, the easy ways to refuse. Yeah, rejection sucks, but at least through courtship there are viable routes of rejection. "I'm just not that into Y/you" is a completely legitimate response, and approaching things this way makes that response appropriate. I'm a huge fan of consent, and this is one of the easiest ways for any and all parties to have an appropriate "out" early on. Not to mention it's a good deal politer on our side of things, instead of banging down the door begging for attention.
But for me, the biggest "Holy shit this makes sense" part of the courtship thing? I'm an oblivious person. In fact, I can (and have) sat friends down and explained every nuance of the body language of someone who was flirting with them. I broke it down and laid it out so they could both understand and reciprocate. Someone flirts with me? I'm totally clueless. Someone attempts to court me? I don't notice a damn thing, even when that Someone isn't at all subtle about it.
Thank you flashing neon signs of subtly.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
C is for Clue x 4
 |
| From Wikipedia. |
I'm not always the most observant person. It has taken some former partners of mine literally straddling my lap and kissing me before I realized that they might be interested back. As I said, as subtle as a 2x4 to the head. But what does this have to do with paganism, witchcraft, or other such woo?
Many of us are a little bit dense when it comes to our practices. Sometimes it takes getting beat over the head with a clue x 4 more than once for us to wake up and listen. Or, in my case, the ceiling literally falling in, because that's how much subtly is in my life.
A while ago I had one of my worst depressive episodes, shit got real bad. And that was when I started to really pick back up my practice. My college had not been religion-friendly, and I hadn't changed my non-practicing habits immediately after. So, when the shit hit the fan (unemployed, depressed, single) I had the time to sit down and begin again. I picked up my tarot deck and sat down to see what it had to say.
In the first few weeks after picking it up? I learned every way possible for my Tarot de Marseille deck to tell me I was depressed. I ask about anything, and it's reply was "you're depressed." Not advice on something to do, not telling me it was going to get better or worse, just every way possible of smacking reality in my face. Apparently, since I was finally learning to read from more than just the little white book, my deck decided to make it very easy for me to understand what it was saying. Anytime those cards pop up? I know what they mean. I know the variations on the theme, upright, reversed, sideways, blocked, blocking, I know those cards. And though I finally got it on another subject, my deck chooses to continue with the smackings of my head. When I branched out into another deck, it shared the head-smacking qualities.
I warn people when I read for them that I will seem to state the obvious. That my readings will not be what they want to hear, and that even when I have absolutely no clue what the shit I am saying to them means, they will have no doubt as to the meaning of my words.
My divination methods seem to think I'm a thick-headed child. Who is they must speak to slowly, in small words, and quite possibly at the top of their lungs.
Except the Runes. I've finally begun reading with them, and it still a clue x4, but instead of a simple 2x4, it's an elaborately carved 2x4 with beautiful and detailed drawings smacking my head repeatedly.
Maybe some people can pick up on the little things. A song or two, something overheard from conversations, etc. My ADHD brain doesn't pick up on them in any permanent way. It floats right on by, and even if I notice it's quickly lost to the next passing squirrel.
It isn't that the little things don't matter. The conversation after a class at a completely unrelated event, the squall line across a lake, a moment spent cuddling with the dog... They matter, personally and spiritually, even religiously. But the meaning is that which I have inscribed. Those moments are moments of faith and appreciation. They aren't unexamined, things to ponder, messages I need to understand, or lessons to learn.
So, Universe... what are you smacking me upside the head with tonight?
Friday, January 25, 2013
Pagan Blog Project: B is for Bard
Bards. Oh Bards.
Inevitably, my mind jumps to the (usually) least consequential member of an adventuring party in a game. Such as the spoony bard from Final Fantasy IV/II fame. My mind goes to the stereotypical useless class of bards in 3.5, except that the one time I did play a bard, she kicked so much ass that it got ridiculous. Bards, useless, lute-toting story tellers.
And all of those associations are full of shit. Yes, my associations are bullshit.
The Immortal Bard is Shakespeare, a playwright.* Stories are ridiculously important to me, as is music (even if my singing is painful beyond measure.) They speak to the kind of truth that isn't about facts, and that is something I hold dear. Allow me a digression (because I do love my digressions)...
Last May, I was in a discussion with a friend about my beliefs as a polytheist. Pretty sure this friend is an atheist, but not the proselytizing, anti-religious variety. Rather, she deeply and profoundly wanted to understand. And we spent a lot of time on the subject of mythologies. I said that myths could be true without having actually happened. That truth wasn't about factual instances, but something more. She truly had no idea what I was trying to say. No idea what I meant by separating truth from fact. I told her to read The Little Prince. A day and a half later she came to me and said she understood, though her precise words were thanking me for making her read that book.
Bards don't report facts. Facts are much like statistics, they can be twisted to mean just about anything. Bards are truth tellers. They speak to the truth of the matter, but they do so through the performance and written arts... the non-visual arts. The art of music, of dance, of theater, of poetry, of stories... and maybe too the visual arts but we don't call them Bards. Maybe we should. Because if you stand in the Musée d'Orsay in front Van Gogh's Starry Night Over the Rhone, I defy you not to see the truth in his work. Or more contemporarily, Bards are found in film. Casablanca is a fictional story, made during WWII in 1942, and it has became a classic. More importantly is the scene where the cast begins to sing the French national anthem, drowning out the nazis's own song. What most people don't realize is that extras and minors roles were filled with many refugees and exiles. The fictional film brings to light the truth that could not be otherwise felt deep in one's gut.
I have a deep and abiding love for art. Honestly, my deep and abiding love for art is especially true for those forms that are "traditionally" in the bardic arts. Written and spoken word, music and performance. Yet, my associations are so dismissive. I'm not saying there isn't frippery and really really BAD shit in those fields (I hesitate to use art to describe anything Katy Perry has touched); however, even in the shit-tastic land of pop music charts we get gems like Cee Lo's "Fuck You." And if you have ever been dumped, no matter the circumstances, you most likely can relate to that one.
The specific word "Bard" has been on my mind for over a year. Since a professional divination reading (in regards to a ritual I did that year) turned up the word, it has been on my mind. But it came up in connection to another word, and that to me is a large part of why Bards differ from other artists.
Community.
Bards serve communities. They speak for a people, even if that people has yet to emerge. Shakespeare wrote for England, and though he did write for royalty, his main audience was the average worker. Today's high brow art form is literally yesterday's flipping the finger (or even fart jokes.) It spoke to a community of people.
I am lacking in community these days. I have been remiss in establishing a spiritual network, or any sort of local network for that matter. My social systems are scattered around the country. Texas, Missouri, California, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, Washington, District of Columbia... Yeah, I'm not so locally based, and none of that community is spiritually based.
Which is something I've seen the need to change. And I'm beginning to. Slowly.
Except that word keeps ringing in my ears. Bard. Bard. Bard. Each time like a clear bell tone, cutting through the cacophony in my head. I am a writer. I am a story teller. I am occasionally even a poet. I've been a musician, and perhaps it is time to retrain that as well. That word ringing between my ears, and after over a year of marinating, I'm pretty sure it is something I need to become. At least, for now, as who knows what tomorrow shall bring. For now, though, it is an archetype to work with, to contextualize experience, and to give direction to my ever present learning.
None of this even begins to touch on the power that the bardic arts have. Words have power, and language is a spell, a magical system, even before we start down the path of us spooky types. Words the ingredients, grammar the structure, the rules to follow and break as we so choose. The power of practice and focused rehearsal, of the repetition of edits and hammering out that sentence or rhyme. But... I've rambled for long enough. The innate magics of Bards can be a subject for another time.
*Throughout this post I use and reference Shakespeare, and another dead white guy here and there. I actually am not a fan of how "big" such works are and how thoroughly canonized Shakespeare's plays have become, nor am I a huge fan of using yet another dead white dude; however, they are convient examples because of all that jazz, since most people are familiar with such works and general attitudes about it. Maybe one day I'll post a rant about the literary canon. My old professors would be so proud. (/sarcasm.)
 |
| A small, heavily armed Bard from the D&D 3.5 Player's Handbook. |
And all of those associations are full of shit. Yes, my associations are bullshit.
The Immortal Bard is Shakespeare, a playwright.* Stories are ridiculously important to me, as is music (even if my singing is painful beyond measure.) They speak to the kind of truth that isn't about facts, and that is something I hold dear. Allow me a digression (because I do love my digressions)...
Last May, I was in a discussion with a friend about my beliefs as a polytheist. Pretty sure this friend is an atheist, but not the proselytizing, anti-religious variety. Rather, she deeply and profoundly wanted to understand. And we spent a lot of time on the subject of mythologies. I said that myths could be true without having actually happened. That truth wasn't about factual instances, but something more. She truly had no idea what I was trying to say. No idea what I meant by separating truth from fact. I told her to read The Little Prince. A day and a half later she came to me and said she understood, though her precise words were thanking me for making her read that book.
Bards don't report facts. Facts are much like statistics, they can be twisted to mean just about anything. Bards are truth tellers. They speak to the truth of the matter, but they do so through the performance and written arts... the non-visual arts. The art of music, of dance, of theater, of poetry, of stories... and maybe too the visual arts but we don't call them Bards. Maybe we should. Because if you stand in the Musée d'Orsay in front Van Gogh's Starry Night Over the Rhone, I defy you not to see the truth in his work. Or more contemporarily, Bards are found in film. Casablanca is a fictional story, made during WWII in 1942, and it has became a classic. More importantly is the scene where the cast begins to sing the French national anthem, drowning out the nazis's own song. What most people don't realize is that extras and minors roles were filled with many refugees and exiles. The fictional film brings to light the truth that could not be otherwise felt deep in one's gut.
I have a deep and abiding love for art. Honestly, my deep and abiding love for art is especially true for those forms that are "traditionally" in the bardic arts. Written and spoken word, music and performance. Yet, my associations are so dismissive. I'm not saying there isn't frippery and really really BAD shit in those fields (I hesitate to use art to describe anything Katy Perry has touched); however, even in the shit-tastic land of pop music charts we get gems like Cee Lo's "Fuck You." And if you have ever been dumped, no matter the circumstances, you most likely can relate to that one.
The specific word "Bard" has been on my mind for over a year. Since a professional divination reading (in regards to a ritual I did that year) turned up the word, it has been on my mind. But it came up in connection to another word, and that to me is a large part of why Bards differ from other artists.
Community.
Bards serve communities. They speak for a people, even if that people has yet to emerge. Shakespeare wrote for England, and though he did write for royalty, his main audience was the average worker. Today's high brow art form is literally yesterday's flipping the finger (or even fart jokes.) It spoke to a community of people.
I am lacking in community these days. I have been remiss in establishing a spiritual network, or any sort of local network for that matter. My social systems are scattered around the country. Texas, Missouri, California, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, Washington, District of Columbia... Yeah, I'm not so locally based, and none of that community is spiritually based.
Which is something I've seen the need to change. And I'm beginning to. Slowly.
Except that word keeps ringing in my ears. Bard. Bard. Bard. Each time like a clear bell tone, cutting through the cacophony in my head. I am a writer. I am a story teller. I am occasionally even a poet. I've been a musician, and perhaps it is time to retrain that as well. That word ringing between my ears, and after over a year of marinating, I'm pretty sure it is something I need to become. At least, for now, as who knows what tomorrow shall bring. For now, though, it is an archetype to work with, to contextualize experience, and to give direction to my ever present learning.
None of this even begins to touch on the power that the bardic arts have. Words have power, and language is a spell, a magical system, even before we start down the path of us spooky types. Words the ingredients, grammar the structure, the rules to follow and break as we so choose. The power of practice and focused rehearsal, of the repetition of edits and hammering out that sentence or rhyme. But... I've rambled for long enough. The innate magics of Bards can be a subject for another time.
*Throughout this post I use and reference Shakespeare, and another dead white guy here and there. I actually am not a fan of how "big" such works are and how thoroughly canonized Shakespeare's plays have become, nor am I a huge fan of using yet another dead white dude; however, they are convient examples because of all that jazz, since most people are familiar with such works and general attitudes about it. Maybe one day I'll post a rant about the literary canon. My old professors would be so proud. (/sarcasm.)
Monday, January 21, 2013
Pagan Blog Project: B is for Boundaries
Maybe this post ought to belong more under L for Liminality, but boundaries will do. And if you wonder why this is a few days late, go look up Douglas Adams' opinion on deadlines.
I exist at midpoints and cross-sections, my life is a liminal space. Some of this is obvious, seeing as I'm not just trans (FAAB if you're wondering) but literally "in transition." My physical body hops back and forth across the line between what are considered traditionally male and female attributes. I'm not what most people would consider androgynous, but for those who really get to see my body there isn't a better word. Unless there was a word akin to ambivalent for androgynous, as I am not a blending, an absence, but rather a mix of strongly attributed signs of both male and female. But I digress. The point I make here, is that my life isn't actually filled with mixes of colors. It appears that way from a distance, like a Seurat painting, upon close inspection it is series of dots. I'm strangely unmixed, filled with boundaries instead of a smooth blend. So, unshockingly, boundaries have been on my mind a great deal lately.
Boundaries are something many (if not most) pagans/polytheists/etc. recognize as a thing power. Most magically inclined people I know have some kind of ward on their home specially based/focused on the threshold.
Look at transitional times and spaces, we find some truly spiritually powerful concepts. Dusk and dawn, the times of twilight when we exist in neither day or night. Midnight is the division between the days themselves, and aniversaries, be they the New Year, or the marking an occasion like the day one was born, are celebrated thresholds in time. The tops of cliffs mark the border between earth and sky, and sometimes water, if they fall off into a lake, river, ocean, etc. The boundaries are sacred places where difference meets.
Except, many woo/spooky sorts of people have a really terrible sense of personal boundaries. We don't admit to how much we nonconsensually push our energy on others. Coming from multiple communities where every touch was asked, even a handshake or a welcoming hug to an old friend, the I abhor idea of sending personal energy to another person without prior consent.
Except, many woo/spooky sorts of people have a really terrible sense of personal boundaries. We don't admit to how much we nonconsensually push our energy on others. Coming from multiple communities where every touch was asked, even a handshake or a welcoming hug to an old friend, the I abhor idea of sending personal energy to another person without prior consent.
A concept I picked up at a BDSM class was the idea of ETDs, energetically transmitted diseases. The woo-folk in the class all got sudden looks of realization. Upon the instructor saying "you know how you hook up with someone, and end up with their baggage?" everyone else's faces in the room got the same look. Ever since then I've been drastically more careful about my own personal energetic boundaries. Particularly when hooking up with people, I'm very careful about making sure neither of us walks away with the other's shit to deal with.
Except many people who work with energy do NOT think about boundaries. So many people send healing energies at others without prior consent. Sure, healing energies have their time and place, but to me it's akin to penicillin. Sure, it revolutionized medicine and treated all sorts of things, but if you give it to me, I end up in the hospital. Not to mention the number of things it doesn't do anything about. Sending unwanted energy? Same thing. Other people having written about this subject more in depth and more eloquently. But the fact remains, many pagans/woo type folk are shit about consent.
I hold no excuses, and in my early years as a practitioner I was not so great about consent either. But partway through high school I realized my energy didn't "play well with others." There were a lot of reasons for that, but those didn't matter half so much as the realization that pushing unwanted energy onto others caused actual problems. My life was a shitstorm of mostly-failed attempts at coping, and no one deserved an ounce of what I was going through. Their lives were hard enough without someone else's shit dropping in on them. When I finally heard the concept of ETDs, things clicked into place. Years prior I had that knowledge but not the words. I stopped working with others in any spiritual or magical capacity for years until my life, and energy, were drastically more under control.
Clear defined boundaries are something we need to pay a lot more attention to. Yes, because they are healthy useful things that keep us all healthy and productive. Yes, because of consent. Yes, because even spirits and Gods sometimes need to be told a clear "No." But beyond all that, we need clear boundaries because boundaries are sacred. That clear line delineating between my energy and yours? Sacred. It is a holy thing to me. Respecting that boundary, and crossing it with permission are sacred acts to be celebrated. Respecting the power found in boundaries, and liminal spaces, requires respecting those boundaries.
It isn't about crossing lines or not crossing them, it's about being aware of permission, of consent.
I hold no excuses, and in my early years as a practitioner I was not so great about consent either. But partway through high school I realized my energy didn't "play well with others." There were a lot of reasons for that, but those didn't matter half so much as the realization that pushing unwanted energy onto others caused actual problems. My life was a shitstorm of mostly-failed attempts at coping, and no one deserved an ounce of what I was going through. Their lives were hard enough without someone else's shit dropping in on them. When I finally heard the concept of ETDs, things clicked into place. Years prior I had that knowledge but not the words. I stopped working with others in any spiritual or magical capacity for years until my life, and energy, were drastically more under control.
Clear defined boundaries are something we need to pay a lot more attention to. Yes, because they are healthy useful things that keep us all healthy and productive. Yes, because of consent. Yes, because even spirits and Gods sometimes need to be told a clear "No." But beyond all that, we need clear boundaries because boundaries are sacred. That clear line delineating between my energy and yours? Sacred. It is a holy thing to me. Respecting that boundary, and crossing it with permission are sacred acts to be celebrated. Respecting the power found in boundaries, and liminal spaces, requires respecting those boundaries.
It isn't about crossing lines or not crossing them, it's about being aware of permission, of consent.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
PBP: A is for Ambivalent
Ambivalent is a delightful word, but not what many people assume. I like it's denotation. Definitionally: simultaneous and contradictory attitudes or feelings (as attraction and repulsion). Thank you Merriam-Webster.
Simultaneous. Contradictory.
Concurrent. Opposing.
As a person I am filled with ambivalence. I am rarely apathetic, but often appear to others that way because I am filled with such a mix of strong emotions. Getting excited meant being told to "calm down" or "there's no need to be upset" even if all I was doing was expressing interest. So, unless there is a strong emotion without a similarly strong opposition, I tend not to express myself overly much. There are too few words for adore/abhor, for petrified/pleasing, for desire/disgust... There is this notion that when you mix strong emotions, it is black + white = the banal flat grey. Instead, ambivalence is akin to mixing colored light. Red + Green = Yellow. A whole new color emerges. Magenta (Blue + Red) + Green = White. We always think of white as an absence of color, despite many of us knowing that really it is all the colors, formed by compliments and contrasts.
My path is one of opposition.
I am a person filled with ambivalence, so it is not shocking that ambivalence fills my spiritual practice as well. Strong contradicting emotions are an underlying theme in much of what I do. I am ambivalent towards much of Judaism, especially to the many things that leave any ancestor work out of the question. I am ambivalent even towards something as basic as meditation. I dread and welcome my dreams as well.
Every bed I slept in with regularity (in the years prior to my current bed) was warded against dreams. Not just warded to keep me from dreaming, but from all dreams. I daydreamed elsewhere. I drew up wards strong enough that a former lover could not spend the night in my bed because she would wake up unrested if she didn't dream. I warded good dreams and bad dreams, portents, contacts, and the ramblings of my own mind. I had to refresh them regularly, for they took quite a beating from my sleeping mind.
I warded against dreams because most of my dreams were nightmares, many related to my history of trauma and abuse. The little relief I had from nightmares were not actually better, as instead it became an escape from reality that made it incredibly difficult to function the following day. Knowing that without wards I had a 95% chance of not being able to handle it, I created quite possibly the strongest wards I have ever consciously set my mind to make. Repeatedly. (Especially as I moved quite often in those years.) Rather than attempting something beyond my capacities, I delayed dealing. It was a marathon to deal with, and attempting would not only leave me tired, sore and no where near the finish line, I was incredibly likely to injure myself in the process.
Since moving to this apartment, no wards against dreams have been erected. This bed, with two and a half years under me, is not a fortress against dreams. I relish each dream I receive, because with the years of warding they are infrequent. I remember them poorly, and understand them even less. I relish each one, even while I dread the dreams that leave me broken.
For me, not even love of Those Who I Work With is unopposed by another contradicting emotion. Nor do I think it should be (at least, for my current relationships with Them.) My gnosis and belief is filled with skepticism. I mix lights to bring out the shape of things, to bring out their shadows.
I need a word for adore/abhor. For disgusted desire. We know these states, but so rarely do single words describe the ambivalence. So, I seek words that describe them, the simple word to capture the rainbow in white and the contrasting shadow.
Decided to do PBP2013 with the following attitude in mind: Posts will happen when the time coincides with something that makes sense for me to post publicly. Just figured I'd mention in case anyone is going through this blog as a whole/not just from the Pagan Blog Project.
Simultaneous. Contradictory.
Concurrent. Opposing.
My path is one of opposition.
I am a person filled with ambivalence, so it is not shocking that ambivalence fills my spiritual practice as well. Strong contradicting emotions are an underlying theme in much of what I do. I am ambivalent towards much of Judaism, especially to the many things that leave any ancestor work out of the question. I am ambivalent even towards something as basic as meditation. I dread and welcome my dreams as well.
Every bed I slept in with regularity (in the years prior to my current bed) was warded against dreams. Not just warded to keep me from dreaming, but from all dreams. I daydreamed elsewhere. I drew up wards strong enough that a former lover could not spend the night in my bed because she would wake up unrested if she didn't dream. I warded good dreams and bad dreams, portents, contacts, and the ramblings of my own mind. I had to refresh them regularly, for they took quite a beating from my sleeping mind.
I warded against dreams because most of my dreams were nightmares, many related to my history of trauma and abuse. The little relief I had from nightmares were not actually better, as instead it became an escape from reality that made it incredibly difficult to function the following day. Knowing that without wards I had a 95% chance of not being able to handle it, I created quite possibly the strongest wards I have ever consciously set my mind to make. Repeatedly. (Especially as I moved quite often in those years.) Rather than attempting something beyond my capacities, I delayed dealing. It was a marathon to deal with, and attempting would not only leave me tired, sore and no where near the finish line, I was incredibly likely to injure myself in the process.
Since moving to this apartment, no wards against dreams have been erected. This bed, with two and a half years under me, is not a fortress against dreams. I relish each dream I receive, because with the years of warding they are infrequent. I remember them poorly, and understand them even less. I relish each one, even while I dread the dreams that leave me broken.
For me, not even love of Those Who I Work With is unopposed by another contradicting emotion. Nor do I think it should be (at least, for my current relationships with Them.) My gnosis and belief is filled with skepticism. I mix lights to bring out the shape of things, to bring out their shadows.
I need a word for adore/abhor. For disgusted desire. We know these states, but so rarely do single words describe the ambivalence. So, I seek words that describe them, the simple word to capture the rainbow in white and the contrasting shadow.
Decided to do PBP2013 with the following attitude in mind: Posts will happen when the time coincides with something that makes sense for me to post publicly. Just figured I'd mention in case anyone is going through this blog as a whole/not just from the Pagan Blog Project.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Just Do It (Pagan Blog Project)
Perseverance. Endurance. Dedication. Persistence. Diligence.
Basically, Dory had it right. I have to Just Keep Swimming (okay, I'm ignoring my utter dislike for actual swimming and/or being submerged in water because Dory is wonderful.) Motivation is not, and probably never will be, my strong suit. Nor is/will be joy. But I need to push through regardless.
Just do it. Like this blog entry for the PBP. Almost a week late, but hey, I'm doing it. And in my world that really matters. As does pretty much everything I do with my spirituality... both that my spirituality matters and also that it gets done. Just, that I do it. Even if it is late. A day, week, gods even a year late, it still gets done. Timing is not my virtue, but eventually I will get to it. Getting it done matters. Sometimes I have to do shit that I really don't want to do. Like stay up the extra half hour for an offering and meditation because I made the commitment. Like call someone who despises me because they are family and diagnosed with cancer.
There are days when getting out of bed to shower is a massive achievement, and leaving my apartment is unthinkable. If I'm lucky, I have enough food around the place to feed myself on these days. There are days when I'm on top of the world, starting my morning with push ups, running around all day, working, socializing, and no one has any clue what's going on. It varies that much. So, pushing through and "just doing it" even when I don't want to, have no interest in it, and would possibly rather fall out of existence than do it is a skill that is very important in my life. Not excelling at it, but it is there and I'm working on it.
It isn't glamorous and revelatory. Progress doesn't show up particularly quickly. Actually, it can be incredibly boring, which for an inattentive ADD creature like myself can be doom. But just getting it done, even if the intent is less than it could or should be, is still very important. There can be lessons learn through endurance. Maybe just that you can in fact make it through. Maybe you'll discover that this dreary task that was under the category of "just do it" because you were dreading the boredom turns out to be engaging and fulfilling. Maybe it doesn't, maybe you drag your feet and someone else is disappointed that you gave less than your best. Know what? Disappointment for less than one's best is still better than the anger and disappointment that comes from not having finished it at all. And when it is spirits and/or deities expressing that displeasure at having not even tried, well life will quickly get very unpleasant.
Even beyond the unpleasantness externally induced by spirits, deities and other beings, there is a lot of harm in not doing. There is shame, there is guilt, but more than that there is a profound absence of anything worthwhile.
So, maybe this entry is short, but it exists. So, maybe I know I've done less meditation than I should, but I haven't given up. So, maybe I need more diligence and patience, but I keep pushing myself through failure anyway.
Basically, Dory had it right. I have to Just Keep Swimming (okay, I'm ignoring my utter dislike for actual swimming and/or being submerged in water because Dory is wonderful.) Motivation is not, and probably never will be, my strong suit. Nor is/will be joy. But I need to push through regardless.
Just do it. Like this blog entry for the PBP. Almost a week late, but hey, I'm doing it. And in my world that really matters. As does pretty much everything I do with my spirituality... both that my spirituality matters and also that it gets done. Just, that I do it. Even if it is late. A day, week, gods even a year late, it still gets done. Timing is not my virtue, but eventually I will get to it. Getting it done matters. Sometimes I have to do shit that I really don't want to do. Like stay up the extra half hour for an offering and meditation because I made the commitment. Like call someone who despises me because they are family and diagnosed with cancer.
There are days when getting out of bed to shower is a massive achievement, and leaving my apartment is unthinkable. If I'm lucky, I have enough food around the place to feed myself on these days. There are days when I'm on top of the world, starting my morning with push ups, running around all day, working, socializing, and no one has any clue what's going on. It varies that much. So, pushing through and "just doing it" even when I don't want to, have no interest in it, and would possibly rather fall out of existence than do it is a skill that is very important in my life. Not excelling at it, but it is there and I'm working on it.
It isn't glamorous and revelatory. Progress doesn't show up particularly quickly. Actually, it can be incredibly boring, which for an inattentive ADD creature like myself can be doom. But just getting it done, even if the intent is less than it could or should be, is still very important. There can be lessons learn through endurance. Maybe just that you can in fact make it through. Maybe you'll discover that this dreary task that was under the category of "just do it" because you were dreading the boredom turns out to be engaging and fulfilling. Maybe it doesn't, maybe you drag your feet and someone else is disappointed that you gave less than your best. Know what? Disappointment for less than one's best is still better than the anger and disappointment that comes from not having finished it at all. And when it is spirits and/or deities expressing that displeasure at having not even tried, well life will quickly get very unpleasant.
Even beyond the unpleasantness externally induced by spirits, deities and other beings, there is a lot of harm in not doing. There is shame, there is guilt, but more than that there is a profound absence of anything worthwhile.
So, maybe this entry is short, but it exists. So, maybe I know I've done less meditation than I should, but I haven't given up. So, maybe I need more diligence and patience, but I keep pushing myself through failure anyway.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
J is for Jasmine (Pagan Blog Project)
Jasmine is a really awesome plant. Basic knowledge about it: it can be a shrub or a vine, it's related to olives, and could be deciduous or evergreen. Feel free to go look at the wikipedia article on it. Beyond being pretty, it also makes a wonderful tea/tisane and a great (if expensive) oil.
Tea/Tisane: This is where I have the most experience. I love jasmine tea. I think it tastes and smells wonderful. Additionally, it is really relaxing and has some sedative properties. Specifically, jasmine slows down your heart rate, though it also can act in stimulating manners so figure out its effect on yourself before drinking it at night. Additionally, it may have mood elevating properties and help with depression, specifically when you're dealing with apathy. As someone with a long history of anxiety and depression, this all makes jasmine tea really awesome, especially when I can find it as a tisane (aka- herbal tea) so I avoid the caffeine that keeps me up all night as jasmine itself doesn't keep me awake.
Oil: Jasmine oil is incredibly expensive because it takes a metric crapton of flowers to infuse a powerful enough oil; however it has a lot of the properties of the tea but stronger. It's a noted mood elevator, reducing apathy and helping induce a calm and vigorous state. It's also really good for dry and sensitive skin, especially if you have reactions to a lot of skin products.
Jasmine is also a supposed aphrodisiac, so perhaps if you're looking for less common flower to give to a (potential) partner this would be right up your alley.
Regardless, jasmine is often overlooked in favor of herbs that are less on the pretty and more about the strength, such as ginger or mint. Admittedly, I am not attempting jasmine as one of my first plant allies, but that is because I have no place to grow it as opposed to overlooking it. She is a spirit I would like to meet though, once I am able to develop a relationship with a specific plant.
Fun fact about myself: I'm really good at growing things. Right now it's incredibly hard to grow anything in my life, as I life in the middle of concrete and asphalt without even a small pile of dirt at the top of my driveway. So, I grow small things indoors, but haven't attempted Jasmine due to really terrible allergies. I'd love it, but any additional pollen in my life will destroy my already low levels of springtime functionality. Sadly, this means no jasmine plants for me until the day when I can have a garden, if said garden is in a climate that would support jasmine.
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| Picture of jasmine flowers from http://allamazingfacts.com/Jasmine-Flower/334.php |
Tea/Tisane: This is where I have the most experience. I love jasmine tea. I think it tastes and smells wonderful. Additionally, it is really relaxing and has some sedative properties. Specifically, jasmine slows down your heart rate, though it also can act in stimulating manners so figure out its effect on yourself before drinking it at night. Additionally, it may have mood elevating properties and help with depression, specifically when you're dealing with apathy. As someone with a long history of anxiety and depression, this all makes jasmine tea really awesome, especially when I can find it as a tisane (aka- herbal tea) so I avoid the caffeine that keeps me up all night as jasmine itself doesn't keep me awake.
Oil: Jasmine oil is incredibly expensive because it takes a metric crapton of flowers to infuse a powerful enough oil; however it has a lot of the properties of the tea but stronger. It's a noted mood elevator, reducing apathy and helping induce a calm and vigorous state. It's also really good for dry and sensitive skin, especially if you have reactions to a lot of skin products.
Jasmine is also a supposed aphrodisiac, so perhaps if you're looking for less common flower to give to a (potential) partner this would be right up your alley.
Regardless, jasmine is often overlooked in favor of herbs that are less on the pretty and more about the strength, such as ginger or mint. Admittedly, I am not attempting jasmine as one of my first plant allies, but that is because I have no place to grow it as opposed to overlooking it. She is a spirit I would like to meet though, once I am able to develop a relationship with a specific plant.
Fun fact about myself: I'm really good at growing things. Right now it's incredibly hard to grow anything in my life, as I life in the middle of concrete and asphalt without even a small pile of dirt at the top of my driveway. So, I grow small things indoors, but haven't attempted Jasmine due to really terrible allergies. I'd love it, but any additional pollen in my life will destroy my already low levels of springtime functionality. Sadly, this means no jasmine plants for me until the day when I can have a garden, if said garden is in a climate that would support jasmine.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Someone's Unholy Abomination
I'm someone's unholy abomination.
No, that's not true. I'm plenty of people's unholy abomination. I'm trans, meaning though I was female assigned at birth (FAAB,) I do not identify as a girl/women. I'm in fact, non-binary trans, in that I don't identify as a guy either. I've physiologically altered my body because I'm trans, shoving a needle in my ass every week to inject testosterone into my system. I'm queer, meaning that I sleep with and date people all over the gender map, and pretty much no matter who I sleep with there is some way it would be construed as homosexual sex. I'm poly, in that I date, love, and hookup with multiple people at a time in an open and honest manner. I'm kinky in that I like to hurt people, be hurt, as well as many other things (and if you think kinkiness isn't considered an abomination to some, just think about many people's reactions to the thought of slapping a partner around until they bruise.) I work/drive on the Sabbath, anyone's Sabbath in fact.
And that isn't even to mention my non-acceptance of monotheistic perspectives in my own life, let alone the lack of subservience to them.
I'm my brother's abomination. He's a very strict Jew (Chabad for those with a background in Judaism) and the fact that I transitioned, that I sleep with people, that I have and will continue to get tattoos, and that I don't keep kosher are huge deals to him. He pretty much can only handle interacting with me by internally convincing himself that I've got an inner Jew that actually does want to do mitzvot. There is a lot of not talking about religious issues when we spend time together, because both of us highly value family.
I'm my mother's abomination. I'm an abomination to her very ingrained feminist beliefs. She raised her daughter to grow up to be anything, and I grew up wanting to not be the daughter bit. Actually, she's generally great about gender stuff, but the idea that I want to get top surgery (removal of breast tissue and reconstruct my chest to look more as if estrogen never really got at me) is truly difficult for her. In her view, it's a radical mastectomy, it's body mutilation. When this comes up, she freely admits it's her bullshit and not mine, that she supports me regardless of her gut reaction. But regardless, I am still her abomination.
There are atheists who would find my strong belief in the gods abominable, even if they would vehemently deny the "unholy" aspect.
I don't believe in unconditional love from my Deities, from the Universe. Much like I don't believe in an omnipotent, omnipresent, (or similar omni traits) God, I don't believe in omnibenevolence. But I don't believe that simply because I'm queer, trans, simply because I had fish this morning or milk in my coffee that I'm unloved. I believe in disappointment, in apathy, and I do believe that some deities have things they hold as abominations, but the one's I worship and follow don't hold me as one such abomination.
Maybe I simply follow the darker gods, maybe I simply follow the Goddesses and Gods of Abominations... but that doesn't make me an unholy one.
No, that's not true. I'm plenty of people's unholy abomination. I'm trans, meaning though I was female assigned at birth (FAAB,) I do not identify as a girl/women. I'm in fact, non-binary trans, in that I don't identify as a guy either. I've physiologically altered my body because I'm trans, shoving a needle in my ass every week to inject testosterone into my system. I'm queer, meaning that I sleep with and date people all over the gender map, and pretty much no matter who I sleep with there is some way it would be construed as homosexual sex. I'm poly, in that I date, love, and hookup with multiple people at a time in an open and honest manner. I'm kinky in that I like to hurt people, be hurt, as well as many other things (and if you think kinkiness isn't considered an abomination to some, just think about many people's reactions to the thought of slapping a partner around until they bruise.) I work/drive on the Sabbath, anyone's Sabbath in fact.
And that isn't even to mention my non-acceptance of monotheistic perspectives in my own life, let alone the lack of subservience to them.
I'm my brother's abomination. He's a very strict Jew (Chabad for those with a background in Judaism) and the fact that I transitioned, that I sleep with people, that I have and will continue to get tattoos, and that I don't keep kosher are huge deals to him. He pretty much can only handle interacting with me by internally convincing himself that I've got an inner Jew that actually does want to do mitzvot. There is a lot of not talking about religious issues when we spend time together, because both of us highly value family.
I'm my mother's abomination. I'm an abomination to her very ingrained feminist beliefs. She raised her daughter to grow up to be anything, and I grew up wanting to not be the daughter bit. Actually, she's generally great about gender stuff, but the idea that I want to get top surgery (removal of breast tissue and reconstruct my chest to look more as if estrogen never really got at me) is truly difficult for her. In her view, it's a radical mastectomy, it's body mutilation. When this comes up, she freely admits it's her bullshit and not mine, that she supports me regardless of her gut reaction. But regardless, I am still her abomination.
There are atheists who would find my strong belief in the gods abominable, even if they would vehemently deny the "unholy" aspect.
I don't believe in unconditional love from my Deities, from the Universe. Much like I don't believe in an omnipotent, omnipresent, (or similar omni traits) God, I don't believe in omnibenevolence. But I don't believe that simply because I'm queer, trans, simply because I had fish this morning or milk in my coffee that I'm unloved. I believe in disappointment, in apathy, and I do believe that some deities have things they hold as abominations, but the one's I worship and follow don't hold me as one such abomination.
Maybe I simply follow the darker gods, maybe I simply follow the Goddesses and Gods of Abominations... but that doesn't make me an unholy one.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Intent (Pagan Blog Project)
Intent is something I hear a lot in religious, philosophical and magical discussions. Philosophical debates on whether or not intent matters in ethical situations are fascinating, but sadly beside the point at the moment. The fact is that various religions disagree on how much intent matters, from not at all to it's the most important part. Magical acts are often boiled down to nothing but intent.
We treat intention at it's extremes. Intent doesn't matter at all comes into play when attempting to understand the old religions many of us are reconstructing. One of the biggest things people did was make offerings, regardless of intent or belief. It didn't matter if you believed in the Deities who you were making offerings to, it didn't matter if you were They're followers, you did it because that is how people stayed safe and avoided Divine Displeasure. There are a lot of things that are done in religions regardless of the intent, especially in Judaism (although everything that can be said about Judaism is somewhere both supported and contradicted by rabbinical authority.) My brother tries to convince me to do Jewish things, even though my beliefs lay elsewhere, because it doesn't matter if I don't believe them, it is the act that matters. Belief will follow. But for me, that kind of act is a lie.
There is a lot of New Age thought around intent. The idea that when you put out intentions they come back to you. Now, there is some underlying truth to this thought. When doing magic, yes, intent definitely matters. If I'm not actually intending for a spell to work, odds are it isn't going to. By the same token, if the intent is there, but the rest of the components are not, there is a good chance the spell won't work. Trying to use Jupiter to help gain wealth works, but if you accidentally used the symbol for Saturn you'll probably find the intention won't overcome the inlaid spiritual paths of the universe. Even just dealing with intention magic, sometimes your intent isn't welcome.
It is really common in magical, energetic, and New Age communities to send energies of various kinds to people without their permission. There's this notion that with good intent, that magic can do no harm. Others have written wonderfully about this so I'm going to leave it short. Intent is not all that matters. Maybe your intent is to help someone with their pain, but they are meant to feel that pain to actually learn from it. Maybe your energy just isn't good for them. The fact is, intentions are not everything.
We think of intent as black or white. Either intent is everything, or it is nothing.
The world isn't black and white, it isn't even shades of gray. We have a wide range of colors and tones, so why are we limiting our understanding of intent to it's extremes?
Intention is a major factor and is a great guiding force. It is the compass and the map, but we will still get lost sometimes anyways. And know what? That's okay, not just okay but wonderful. And if you step on someone's toes, or trespass their boundaries, being able to hold up said map and compass and genuinely apologize, and ask for directions, it goes a long ways. Be it a spirit who you accidentally offended with an offering, or hugging a friend when they did not want to be touched, talking and communicating about intent really helps. You learn that when said friend gets upset, you two take a walk and decidedly do not touch. You learn that said spirit wants your ale, your whiskey, but by the gods do not give it flowers. Most of the time, these relationships are repairable once you explain intent and communicate about how you have fucked up. Or maybe how they have fucked up.
On the other hand, intention can also lead to irreparable harm. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions," being the most obvious example in common parlance. (If it was the road to Hel/Helheim instead, honestly, I wouldn't mind it particularly much.) You can trespass on territory that gets you seriously injured, or maybe someone else. There is only so far intention can go for feeding someone peanuts with a peanut allergy. Doing the research helps cut down on that. Getting smacked upside the head physically, psychically, metaphorically, etc. can really help as well. On the other hand, being on the receiving end of the comic wake up call to get your shit together probably won't be a pleasant experience.
We all fuck up. Intention doesn't make things better, but it makes them comprehensible and enables all of us to move the fuck on.
We treat intention at it's extremes. Intent doesn't matter at all comes into play when attempting to understand the old religions many of us are reconstructing. One of the biggest things people did was make offerings, regardless of intent or belief. It didn't matter if you believed in the Deities who you were making offerings to, it didn't matter if you were They're followers, you did it because that is how people stayed safe and avoided Divine Displeasure. There are a lot of things that are done in religions regardless of the intent, especially in Judaism (although everything that can be said about Judaism is somewhere both supported and contradicted by rabbinical authority.) My brother tries to convince me to do Jewish things, even though my beliefs lay elsewhere, because it doesn't matter if I don't believe them, it is the act that matters. Belief will follow. But for me, that kind of act is a lie.
There is a lot of New Age thought around intent. The idea that when you put out intentions they come back to you. Now, there is some underlying truth to this thought. When doing magic, yes, intent definitely matters. If I'm not actually intending for a spell to work, odds are it isn't going to. By the same token, if the intent is there, but the rest of the components are not, there is a good chance the spell won't work. Trying to use Jupiter to help gain wealth works, but if you accidentally used the symbol for Saturn you'll probably find the intention won't overcome the inlaid spiritual paths of the universe. Even just dealing with intention magic, sometimes your intent isn't welcome.
It is really common in magical, energetic, and New Age communities to send energies of various kinds to people without their permission. There's this notion that with good intent, that magic can do no harm. Others have written wonderfully about this so I'm going to leave it short. Intent is not all that matters. Maybe your intent is to help someone with their pain, but they are meant to feel that pain to actually learn from it. Maybe your energy just isn't good for them. The fact is, intentions are not everything.
We think of intent as black or white. Either intent is everything, or it is nothing.
The world isn't black and white, it isn't even shades of gray. We have a wide range of colors and tones, so why are we limiting our understanding of intent to it's extremes?
Intention is a major factor and is a great guiding force. It is the compass and the map, but we will still get lost sometimes anyways. And know what? That's okay, not just okay but wonderful. And if you step on someone's toes, or trespass their boundaries, being able to hold up said map and compass and genuinely apologize, and ask for directions, it goes a long ways. Be it a spirit who you accidentally offended with an offering, or hugging a friend when they did not want to be touched, talking and communicating about intent really helps. You learn that when said friend gets upset, you two take a walk and decidedly do not touch. You learn that said spirit wants your ale, your whiskey, but by the gods do not give it flowers. Most of the time, these relationships are repairable once you explain intent and communicate about how you have fucked up. Or maybe how they have fucked up.
On the other hand, intention can also lead to irreparable harm. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions," being the most obvious example in common parlance. (If it was the road to Hel/Helheim instead, honestly, I wouldn't mind it particularly much.) You can trespass on territory that gets you seriously injured, or maybe someone else. There is only so far intention can go for feeding someone peanuts with a peanut allergy. Doing the research helps cut down on that. Getting smacked upside the head physically, psychically, metaphorically, etc. can really help as well. On the other hand, being on the receiving end of the comic wake up call to get your shit together probably won't be a pleasant experience.
We all fuck up. Intention doesn't make things better, but it makes them comprehensible and enables all of us to move the fuck on.
Friday, April 27, 2012
I is for Iconoclastic Inertia (Pagan Blog Project)
Iconoclast- n. a person who attacks established or traditional concepts, principals, laws, etc. / a destroyer of religious images or sacred objects.1
America's main enduring tradition is iconoclasm. Less the religious aspect (although that frequently applies as well) American's love uprooting tradition and cheering for the underdog. Well, assuming America is the underdog, which in our cultural paradigm must always be the case. Logic need not apply. America is fairly young, and began with a revolution against a more powerful empire while uprooting and destroying the indigenous people and religion. Most of us were raised on the "greatness" of the iconoclasm of our predecessors, no matter how offensive the crimes of the past might be. We continue this tradition today by upholding the "Mavericks" in Congress, no matter how much such individuals actually support the status quo. Currently, there is a distressingly large push for radically regressive measures in the name of "traditional" values against actual traditional values of the country. As I said, logic need not apply.
It may make no sense, but there is a continual undercurrent against traditional principals.
That traditional disparaging of tradition is harmful for paganism. The view of so many Americans to most situations is a dismissal of how things were done, dismissing our parents as out of touch, dismissing previous wisdom and dismissing most rules as impinging on personal freedom. It's a view of destruction, destroying the past again and again. I'm not exactly a traditional person (being queer, trans, having visible ink, piercing, etc.) but I take issue with much of this destruction. We've destroyed indigenous cultures, both the Native Americans as well as Native Europeans. We've destroyed the past of most immigrants who were not white, erased our cultural histories until Irish, Italian, Jewish, Polish, and more blended into the same homogeneous 'whiteness' rather than enriching each other with distinctiveness. Nothing is coming out of it, because we're not paying enough attention before we smash something to realize there might just be something(s) worth learning. We destroy, but rather skip the rebuilding, recreating phase.
Polytheistic paganism requires rebuilding and recreating. We reconstruct because there is no other way to discover what came before (unless someone out there actually has a TARDIS, in which case, please come by yesterday.) We have to look back at older wisdom, because we can't always know exactly what was done, we must investigate why.
I'm not a pure reconstructionist. Gods, I'm not even in a specific pantheon, but I still spend two hours doing research for a five minute devotional offering to Apollon. Two hours, because I do very little Hellenic practice and despite having good resources I needed to know not just what to offer Apollon, but how and why. Two hours to piece together scraps from various people's personal gnoses (verified and unverified) in addition to the records left to know how I should do this small devotional offering.
Unlike most polytheistic pagans, I'm not huge on ancestor worship. Not because I don't want to, but rather my blood ancestors wouldn't appreciate it, and back much farther than most (as my family is really damn Jewish.) Until I can work out if it would be of use, it means I must look to other places for a similar connection. I recognize the wisdom these links to the past bring. The understanding of hardships that are often beyond our comprehension in an age where we can have a face to face chat with someone anywhere in the world. I'm not saying today's world isn't hard, quite the contrary, we can learn from the past to help us function in this rather shitty time of continual recession and the assault of the repressive right-wingers.
Maybe I am an iconoclast. I want to attack the underlying assumptions of monotheistic USA, from the conception of "self-made men" to American exceptionalism... but especially, I want to attack the notion of simple answers. "Self-made men" usually "pull themselves up by the bootstraps" and make money that the government takes and gives to "parasites." If you can't tell, I call bullshit on that entire sentence. This culture has a mythos that individuals make themselves, erasing family, mentors, friends, and the systematic opportunities that differ so greatly between people. American exceptionalism is a disastrous concept that states the USA is some morally upright country supposed to spread liberty throughout the world. I say disastrous because not just of the history of slavery, genocide, internment, but the present day wars on other cultures as well as our own. We have the highest prison rate in the world, and it is destroying swaths of our society instead of building towards a future. Not something worth spreading, but we are anyways. But I digress.
Regardless, really what I protest and attack is the simple question simple answer view of the world that is so prevalent. It's one of the things I love about polytheism, there are no simple answers. I have to look at this huge expanse of beliefs, and consider, deliberate, study and understand. No, not everyone seeks such a spiritual path or has the time to invest in such inquiry. That's just fine and dandy, but the questioning is important anyways. Mostly because I think that people don't have to be as stupid as they presently are. Critical thinking is something supposedly taught in schools, where everyone is told where and when to move according to bells. We aren't taught to question, because we're taught to look for the simplest answers, to get the grade, to get to college, to get the diploma, to get the job, etc. It's a mindset that in my view we have to break out of in general, but especially so to practice polytheism. Honestly, I feel it is a mindset needed in Christianity, Judaism, Atheism, in every sphere across the board. We need to question, and then listen to the answers.
Critical thinking doesn't work without listening. Typical inert iconoclasm that doesn't engage doesn't teach us anything. Ask why Athena might not be the best goddess to call upon for a female sexual empowerment ritual. Ask what happens next in a story, and listen. Especially listen when the entity speaking isn't exactly corporeal. They're words are all the more likely to get lost in translation from spirit to body. Rather than the dismissive, narcissistic, ignorance so often embodied to erase the past, listen. Listen to the Catholic grandmother who talks with spirits, the Jewish mother who prays to St. Anthony when something important got lost, as well as chosen mentors and teachers. They're wisdom is disappearing.
I'm not saying "do whatever your elders tell you" because lets face it, if I was I'd be doing rather different things with my life. At least listen, and understand their words, because it is a better foundation to build upon.
And because after my only semi-coherent ranting I need something cute, here's a picture of a sugar glider.
1. iconoclast. (n.d.). Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition. Retrieved April 26, 2012, from Dictionary.com website:http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/iconoclast
America's main enduring tradition is iconoclasm. Less the religious aspect (although that frequently applies as well) American's love uprooting tradition and cheering for the underdog. Well, assuming America is the underdog, which in our cultural paradigm must always be the case. Logic need not apply. America is fairly young, and began with a revolution against a more powerful empire while uprooting and destroying the indigenous people and religion. Most of us were raised on the "greatness" of the iconoclasm of our predecessors, no matter how offensive the crimes of the past might be. We continue this tradition today by upholding the "Mavericks" in Congress, no matter how much such individuals actually support the status quo. Currently, there is a distressingly large push for radically regressive measures in the name of "traditional" values against actual traditional values of the country. As I said, logic need not apply.
It may make no sense, but there is a continual undercurrent against traditional principals.
That traditional disparaging of tradition is harmful for paganism. The view of so many Americans to most situations is a dismissal of how things were done, dismissing our parents as out of touch, dismissing previous wisdom and dismissing most rules as impinging on personal freedom. It's a view of destruction, destroying the past again and again. I'm not exactly a traditional person (being queer, trans, having visible ink, piercing, etc.) but I take issue with much of this destruction. We've destroyed indigenous cultures, both the Native Americans as well as Native Europeans. We've destroyed the past of most immigrants who were not white, erased our cultural histories until Irish, Italian, Jewish, Polish, and more blended into the same homogeneous 'whiteness' rather than enriching each other with distinctiveness. Nothing is coming out of it, because we're not paying enough attention before we smash something to realize there might just be something(s) worth learning. We destroy, but rather skip the rebuilding, recreating phase.
Polytheistic paganism requires rebuilding and recreating. We reconstruct because there is no other way to discover what came before (unless someone out there actually has a TARDIS, in which case, please come by yesterday.) We have to look back at older wisdom, because we can't always know exactly what was done, we must investigate why.
I'm not a pure reconstructionist. Gods, I'm not even in a specific pantheon, but I still spend two hours doing research for a five minute devotional offering to Apollon. Two hours, because I do very little Hellenic practice and despite having good resources I needed to know not just what to offer Apollon, but how and why. Two hours to piece together scraps from various people's personal gnoses (verified and unverified) in addition to the records left to know how I should do this small devotional offering.
Unlike most polytheistic pagans, I'm not huge on ancestor worship. Not because I don't want to, but rather my blood ancestors wouldn't appreciate it, and back much farther than most (as my family is really damn Jewish.) Until I can work out if it would be of use, it means I must look to other places for a similar connection. I recognize the wisdom these links to the past bring. The understanding of hardships that are often beyond our comprehension in an age where we can have a face to face chat with someone anywhere in the world. I'm not saying today's world isn't hard, quite the contrary, we can learn from the past to help us function in this rather shitty time of continual recession and the assault of the repressive right-wingers.
Maybe I am an iconoclast. I want to attack the underlying assumptions of monotheistic USA, from the conception of "self-made men" to American exceptionalism... but especially, I want to attack the notion of simple answers. "Self-made men" usually "pull themselves up by the bootstraps" and make money that the government takes and gives to "parasites." If you can't tell, I call bullshit on that entire sentence. This culture has a mythos that individuals make themselves, erasing family, mentors, friends, and the systematic opportunities that differ so greatly between people. American exceptionalism is a disastrous concept that states the USA is some morally upright country supposed to spread liberty throughout the world. I say disastrous because not just of the history of slavery, genocide, internment, but the present day wars on other cultures as well as our own. We have the highest prison rate in the world, and it is destroying swaths of our society instead of building towards a future. Not something worth spreading, but we are anyways. But I digress.
Regardless, really what I protest and attack is the simple question simple answer view of the world that is so prevalent. It's one of the things I love about polytheism, there are no simple answers. I have to look at this huge expanse of beliefs, and consider, deliberate, study and understand. No, not everyone seeks such a spiritual path or has the time to invest in such inquiry. That's just fine and dandy, but the questioning is important anyways. Mostly because I think that people don't have to be as stupid as they presently are. Critical thinking is something supposedly taught in schools, where everyone is told where and when to move according to bells. We aren't taught to question, because we're taught to look for the simplest answers, to get the grade, to get to college, to get the diploma, to get the job, etc. It's a mindset that in my view we have to break out of in general, but especially so to practice polytheism. Honestly, I feel it is a mindset needed in Christianity, Judaism, Atheism, in every sphere across the board. We need to question, and then listen to the answers.
Critical thinking doesn't work without listening. Typical inert iconoclasm that doesn't engage doesn't teach us anything. Ask why Athena might not be the best goddess to call upon for a female sexual empowerment ritual. Ask what happens next in a story, and listen. Especially listen when the entity speaking isn't exactly corporeal. They're words are all the more likely to get lost in translation from spirit to body. Rather than the dismissive, narcissistic, ignorance so often embodied to erase the past, listen. Listen to the Catholic grandmother who talks with spirits, the Jewish mother who prays to St. Anthony when something important got lost, as well as chosen mentors and teachers. They're wisdom is disappearing.
I'm not saying "do whatever your elders tell you" because lets face it, if I was I'd be doing rather different things with my life. At least listen, and understand their words, because it is a better foundation to build upon.
And because after my only semi-coherent ranting I need something cute, here's a picture of a sugar glider.
1. iconoclast. (n.d.). Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition. Retrieved April 26, 2012, from Dictionary.com website:http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/iconoclast
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Knee Jerk Reactions and Milk Religion
There are a few things that I have both very in common with other pagans, and yet completely different. The main one involves my knee jerk reactions to Christianity.
Unlike many pagans, I wasn't raised Christian but Jewish. Monotheism was still much of the reason I walked away, not to mention all the other problems with contemporary Judaism, but I don't have to get over much of the deprogramming that other pagans did/do with regards to Christianity. I don't know the words to things like the Lord's Prayer, most of my understanding about Holy Communion comes from studying the Protestant Reformation, and I only know that the Gospels are Matthew, Mark, Luke and John because I randomly picked the knowledge up as a joke at my summer camp. Whenever I've felt compelled to study religions, I've always gone for something else. Christianity is so pervasive in America, I found any other religion more useful to study because I would actually be learning quite a bit more. Expand my paradigms so to speak. So, being the geek I am, lack of knowledge mostly means lack of experience. In many ways, I don't have the same issues.
But I despise being in a church.
I feel profoundly uncomfortable going to "Church." I've been a few times, twice for weddings, and a few times with a fundamentalist evangelical ex... and actually none of those were bad experiences. I feel so uncomfortable that I don't go with some friends to a local Unitarian Universalist church because they call it church. I know Jews, Wiccans, Buddhists, and Atheists there, but it doesn't matter. I have a gut reaction of "oh FUCK NO" to the mere thought of attending church. A lot of this probably comes from being raised Jewish in jointly the Bible Belt and the Midwest. Going to synagogue was actually quite a bit of a thing at my first school. Missing days because of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kipper wasn't common, and it was weird that I didn't eat pork and for a week each year I couldn't eat pretty much anything the school served for lunch because it always had bread somehow. Even when I transfered and ended up in the honors classes where 50% of the room would be absent on aforementioned days, the earlier lessons were still ingrained. When I started hanging out with almost anyone who wasn't from my high school, they were retaught to me in full. I've been asked where my horns are, and people have asked in a slightly nervous voice if the rumors about Jews using Christian babies blood to make matzah was true. Yeah, welcome to modern America people.
So it isn't just the attending church bit. That's probably the most irrational, as I haven't actually had any bad experiences in a church. The bigger issue and knee jerk reaction is when it comes to the Christian god(s). I use the parenthesis because Christians themselves don't actually agree on how separate Jesus (and the Holy Spirit) is from Jehovah. Some time ago I came across the term "hard polytheist" and it really rang true for me; however, I don't like claiming a term, an identity, without interrogating it a good deal.
I'm definitely a polytheist. I actually believe in multiple gods and goddesses, that they actually exist, and aren't just mental constructs, archetypes, or a part of "one big god or goddess." Fine if you do, that isn't my belief. And I certainly believed in more than one pantheon, especially as I wasn't really following any one in particular. I had (and still have) no doubt that Hela and Persephone are two distinctly separate individuals and not just facets of the same entity as interpreted by two different cultures. Where the line falls, I can't be sure. Where is the division between the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses? I don't know for sure, and unless I end up going in depth with those pantheons I probably never will because my brain power is better spent elsewhere.
There are loads of Deities throughout the world in this view. But what about Jehovah and Jesus? The Jewish, Christian, and Muslim gods may all be the same singular God, to me that is much like the distinction between the Greeks and the Romans. Where the specific line falls is not an issue. But regardless, if I am going to respect the divinity of all those gods as mentioned before, I have to come around to some acceptance of Jesus as divine.
This might seem backwards to other pagans. This definitely seems backwards to Jewish friends of mine. But, for my personal path, the only way I can call myself a hard polytheist is to come to terms with the concept that Jesus is divine and might even be a god. My brain reacted like this:
My brain did not like this. I spent a ton of energy throughout my youth dealing with attempts by my Christian friends to convert me. One memorable bus ride involve me crying my heart out because of how fucked up shit was in my life, with a good friend sitting next to me witnessing to me. I didn't have the energy to get her to stop, and I didn't even have the energy at the time to think about was how if she really gave a shit she'd be supporting me and not attempting to get me to make Jesus my personal savior (that came later.) I spent most that time thinking about the fact that I was in a large amount of emotional pain due to very non-metaphysical and very serious reasons, and no Deity was going to be helpful, let alone one getting shoved down my throat at the worst time. Needless to say, I've never accepted Jesus into my heart.
Acknowledging Jesus' divinity, not an easy thing for me to do at all. I went over why I was even trying to do this in my head. I don't have to be a hard polytheist. I can be something a little less hard; I don't have to be the diamond polytheist I can be quartz, or gypsum. But no, I found a right word for myself.
As of December, I was still vacillating. When I spoke about it, I generally mentioned how I was hesitant to call myself a hard polytheist because of things like the Greek/Roman distinctions. I didn't want to get into it, because I don't like to publicize something I see as a failing. I had no logical reason to think that son of one god should be any less than the son of so many other gods and goddesses. It was simple prejudice, and a long standing grudge. Despite years of effort to not Christian bash like so many non-Christians in America, despite years of focusing on the fucked-up people and their fucked-up politics rather than blaming the religion, I couldn't put said religion on the same level as every other religion. Years of invisibility, assumptions, and oppression kept my mind recoiling at the thought of Jesus as divine in any form. Heck, there's a passage in the Talmud about stoning him to death.
Slowly, I wore myself out. The knee jerk reaction was mental, not spiritual. I had no gut wrenching aversion from intuition or instinct. It was all learned. I remembered other things than the ways I've been bombarded with "Jesus Saves." I remembered my mom recently teaching me a prayer to St. Anthony to help me find lost things (an entry in itself.) I attempted to define what makes a being a god or goddess, which I'm still working at but at each turn the answer was pretty clear: I needed to get over it already.
I did. I celebrated this not with a drink, but by telling my very Jewish friend about it, because she was one of the only people I knew who would both understand my accomplishment without judging me for not being Jewish. The hardest part wasn't the comprehension, it was letting go of the grudge. A lesson I am probably going to have to learn again as I am truly terrible about grudges.
On the other hand, I still won't go to church.
NB- I do not at all feel that any of the above sentiments on my mental gymnastics around Jesus and Christianity reflect a requirement for other hard polytheists. Your views on individual Deities are your own. Less importantly, I never expected a blog of mine (let alone one on my spirituality) to talk about Christianity and Jesus this much.
Unlike many pagans, I wasn't raised Christian but Jewish. Monotheism was still much of the reason I walked away, not to mention all the other problems with contemporary Judaism, but I don't have to get over much of the deprogramming that other pagans did/do with regards to Christianity. I don't know the words to things like the Lord's Prayer, most of my understanding about Holy Communion comes from studying the Protestant Reformation, and I only know that the Gospels are Matthew, Mark, Luke and John because I randomly picked the knowledge up as a joke at my summer camp. Whenever I've felt compelled to study religions, I've always gone for something else. Christianity is so pervasive in America, I found any other religion more useful to study because I would actually be learning quite a bit more. Expand my paradigms so to speak. So, being the geek I am, lack of knowledge mostly means lack of experience. In many ways, I don't have the same issues.
But I despise being in a church.
I feel profoundly uncomfortable going to "Church." I've been a few times, twice for weddings, and a few times with a fundamentalist evangelical ex... and actually none of those were bad experiences. I feel so uncomfortable that I don't go with some friends to a local Unitarian Universalist church because they call it church. I know Jews, Wiccans, Buddhists, and Atheists there, but it doesn't matter. I have a gut reaction of "oh FUCK NO" to the mere thought of attending church. A lot of this probably comes from being raised Jewish in jointly the Bible Belt and the Midwest. Going to synagogue was actually quite a bit of a thing at my first school. Missing days because of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kipper wasn't common, and it was weird that I didn't eat pork and for a week each year I couldn't eat pretty much anything the school served for lunch because it always had bread somehow. Even when I transfered and ended up in the honors classes where 50% of the room would be absent on aforementioned days, the earlier lessons were still ingrained. When I started hanging out with almost anyone who wasn't from my high school, they were retaught to me in full. I've been asked where my horns are, and people have asked in a slightly nervous voice if the rumors about Jews using Christian babies blood to make matzah was true. Yeah, welcome to modern America people.
So it isn't just the attending church bit. That's probably the most irrational, as I haven't actually had any bad experiences in a church. The bigger issue and knee jerk reaction is when it comes to the Christian god(s). I use the parenthesis because Christians themselves don't actually agree on how separate Jesus (and the Holy Spirit) is from Jehovah. Some time ago I came across the term "hard polytheist" and it really rang true for me; however, I don't like claiming a term, an identity, without interrogating it a good deal.
I'm definitely a polytheist. I actually believe in multiple gods and goddesses, that they actually exist, and aren't just mental constructs, archetypes, or a part of "one big god or goddess." Fine if you do, that isn't my belief. And I certainly believed in more than one pantheon, especially as I wasn't really following any one in particular. I had (and still have) no doubt that Hela and Persephone are two distinctly separate individuals and not just facets of the same entity as interpreted by two different cultures. Where the line falls, I can't be sure. Where is the division between the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses? I don't know for sure, and unless I end up going in depth with those pantheons I probably never will because my brain power is better spent elsewhere.
There are loads of Deities throughout the world in this view. But what about Jehovah and Jesus? The Jewish, Christian, and Muslim gods may all be the same singular God, to me that is much like the distinction between the Greeks and the Romans. Where the specific line falls is not an issue. But regardless, if I am going to respect the divinity of all those gods as mentioned before, I have to come around to some acceptance of Jesus as divine.
This might seem backwards to other pagans. This definitely seems backwards to Jewish friends of mine. But, for my personal path, the only way I can call myself a hard polytheist is to come to terms with the concept that Jesus is divine and might even be a god. My brain reacted like this:
 |
| Picture of a shocked looking cat with WTF and a question mark. |
Acknowledging Jesus' divinity, not an easy thing for me to do at all. I went over why I was even trying to do this in my head. I don't have to be a hard polytheist. I can be something a little less hard; I don't have to be the diamond polytheist I can be quartz, or gypsum. But no, I found a right word for myself.
"The difference between the almost right word & the right word is really a large matter--it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning." -Mark TwainIt was the right word, so one way or another I had to come to terms with either not living up to my own expectations or the idea that Jesus was divine, and quite probably a god or an aspect of a god. I chose to simply deal with this concept, and find a way to wrap my mind around it, hoping the rest of me follows.
As of December, I was still vacillating. When I spoke about it, I generally mentioned how I was hesitant to call myself a hard polytheist because of things like the Greek/Roman distinctions. I didn't want to get into it, because I don't like to publicize something I see as a failing. I had no logical reason to think that son of one god should be any less than the son of so many other gods and goddesses. It was simple prejudice, and a long standing grudge. Despite years of effort to not Christian bash like so many non-Christians in America, despite years of focusing on the fucked-up people and their fucked-up politics rather than blaming the religion, I couldn't put said religion on the same level as every other religion. Years of invisibility, assumptions, and oppression kept my mind recoiling at the thought of Jesus as divine in any form. Heck, there's a passage in the Talmud about stoning him to death.
Slowly, I wore myself out. The knee jerk reaction was mental, not spiritual. I had no gut wrenching aversion from intuition or instinct. It was all learned. I remembered other things than the ways I've been bombarded with "Jesus Saves." I remembered my mom recently teaching me a prayer to St. Anthony to help me find lost things (an entry in itself.) I attempted to define what makes a being a god or goddess, which I'm still working at but at each turn the answer was pretty clear: I needed to get over it already.
I did. I celebrated this not with a drink, but by telling my very Jewish friend about it, because she was one of the only people I knew who would both understand my accomplishment without judging me for not being Jewish. The hardest part wasn't the comprehension, it was letting go of the grudge. A lesson I am probably going to have to learn again as I am truly terrible about grudges.
On the other hand, I still won't go to church.
NB- I do not at all feel that any of the above sentiments on my mental gymnastics around Jesus and Christianity reflect a requirement for other hard polytheists. Your views on individual Deities are your own. Less importantly, I never expected a blog of mine (let alone one on my spirituality) to talk about Christianity and Jesus this much.
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