Judge Not…?

It’s interesting to see the Pagan community grow these days. We’re still young, as a faith – yes, I know about the ‘Old Religion’, but contemporary Paganism is still very much finding its place in the 21st century. This isn’t an idealized Summerisle-style community either, but rooted in the lives that we lead, here and now, in city and country, through good and bad.

And so we have to deal with difficulties.

I’ve spoken before of personal issues, the challenges of balancing the hard times and the good in life, as well as the inspiration which can come from darkness. But there are various aspects of life which we as a society still find so hard to deal with that we are happier to ignore them. Death is one such issue (although Kristoffer Hughes is writing about that well enough). Myself and others are looking at mental illness and isolation.

Today I’m pondering the issue of Judgement.

The media has been quick to wield the Stick of Truth (ahem) in the past, castigating the ‘evil Pagans’, weirdos who gather together in their ‘occult rites’. Many of us know how frustrating this is, to read about and to be represented in such a ludicrous and disrespectful way. The idea of a Pagan ‘caste’ system has always scared me – I’ve spoken before of idolizing and the creation of celebrity ‘gurus’, but this is the opposite side of that dangerous coin.

Because now in my work, I’m finding myself meeting and getting to know some of those ‘evil Pagans’. Those whom even the wider Pagan community seems happy to ostracize. Sometimes I’m ashamed of my community, as they act in no better manner than those torch-wielding mob-rousers that they profess to hate when on the receiving end. Love, light and peace? Not for all, it seems.

Sometimes issues can seem black and white. With its soundbite-nature, the media is content to let it be so. But life isn’t that clear-cut. We know that, right?

I’ve seen a Pagan man weep about how he was represented in the papers, with provably false words printed that were later retracted – but the lies were on the front page, and the apology hidden inside. Can you guess which ones his friends, those who knew him better than any journalist, believed?

I’ve seen repentance and apology, the quest for redemption. Acknowledgement of wrongdoing and the punishment – far greater than any Judge can bestow – of having to live with that for the rest of their days. Justified, perhaps? 

A movie summed it up well for me this week, actually: 

‘Just because someone stumbles and loses their way, doesn’t mean they’re lost forever.’ 

(from ‘X-Man, Days of Future Past’)

I’m not saying that Pagans never do wrong. We all stumble; it’s the degree of stumbling, and the consequences, which need to be judged on their own individual cases. But we need to unite as a community, with maturity, honesty and bravery, to acknowledge that Bad Things Happen. What are we then to do about it? 

As Pagans, we find ourselves often tribal, in our own geographical areas of moods and social groups. That’s fine. The difficulty comes when someone strays from that, and is effectively ‘cast out’ from that tribe. 

I’m seeing calls today to ‘cast out’ someone from Paganism as a whole, for crimes committed. I’m shocked and saddened by this, because to me, it’s the mob mentality that’s so hateful to us in other circumstances. Not to mention a ludicrous idea – nobody has the right (or ability) to take another’s spirituality, and I would protest loudly if anyone tried. Perhaps this blog is that protest. I’m writing it in the hope that my words are read and understood, not knee-jerked and sound-bited. But I cannot stay silent, not today – that makes me complicit with that (scared, angry) mob, in my mind.

Yes, crimes are terrible, I’m not denying that. I absolutely cannot understand the mentality of some folk I meet, particularly those who do not (yet?) acknowledge their guilt  – but even though I can feel sick or scared, I still have to minister to them. I’ve chosen that path, and so I do my best. Not everyone can, and I know that too. It’s bloody hard. But so I raise my voice, because they are Pagans too. And human beings. Like it or not, we have commonality.

I’m suggesting that as Pagans, we need to act as an adult community, as a responsible tribe. We support those injured by the crimes, of course, but also acknowledge that sadly, such things will inevitably happen, and as a group we must deal with that, for all concerned. 

We’re human. Everyone has their issues, and some are expressed in ways so deeply socially unacceptable that it feels natural to kick out in response. The law of the land seems insufficient sometimes, and calls for death are easy to make on social media. But again, I’ve met those people whose heads are being demanded, spoken to them and looked into their eyes. They’re not the Devil (remember, he doesn’t exist in Paganism) – in fact, most are so confused, they cannot recognise themselves in those headlines, so sensational are the words.

As Pagans, it is part of our spiritual path that we are all responsible for our actions. The challenges there are part of our journey. So the wrongdoer must be responsible – and accept that he may have lost much of his life as a result. But is he then not allowed the opportunity of redemption? Is his community reduced to just me (a scary thought, I don’t mind admitting)? Or can we try to help him, should he ever return to those who called him friend?

A wise (and very realistic) Prison Officer once told me: ‘We can’t judge. The Judge did that. We just have to be there for them now.’ 

It’s not easy, I know that. I don’t know if we’ll ever find a solution. But as other faiths pray for those in pain, those lost and suffering, so I pray for those Pagans who’ve stumbled and fallen. Because if they hadn’t, I would possibly have once called them Friend.

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Vocation

I may be the last of a generation who remembers the local village vicar. As familiar a sight as the local Bobby (policeman) walking his beat, the vicar was often about, visiting parishioners, helping in schools, generally being part of the community.

Now this is a sight only for fiction – Agatha Christie dramas, ‘The Vicar of Dibley‘ and suchlike.

And yet I’ve discovered that the roaming priest is still very much needed.

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This image is not a place where I have personally walked. But it is cookie-cutter similar to those I, and many others, do.

As I lock the heavy gate-door behind me and enter the prison wing, I always feel a little nervous. But it’s similar to the feeling before a public ritual, a Handfasting or even visiting a private house for a supportive chat.

Because you are ‘on’ – you are Priest, Minister, Chaplain, Celebrant… whatever you want to call me (as I often say, you can call me anything provided it’s nice!).

I minister to those who identify as Pagan – but I am often approached by others too. In the prison environment it’s first of all because I’m female, but then out of curiosity. Again, it’s similar at public events when I’m in robes. I’ve spoken of it before and I’m still glad that people are curious rather than fearful, able to approach and ask questions rather than cower or even be abusive.

I’ve discovered, too, that despite my nerves, I rather love it.

I got back to the Chaplaincy at the prison a few weeks ago, after spending quite a while on the wings, and commented on how good it was to do, how worthwhile. The Church of England Chaplain looked around and smiled. “It is, isn’t it?” he remarked. He’s often out and about, Bible in hand, huddled against the cold but always busy, out there with those who need him. The prisoners have told me of the friendly Imam as well, often there for a chat.

The Priest serves their community as they are needed and called upon. This is regardless of faith path, religious doctrine or even personal preference. We help because that is our role and our job, but also our calling as people. We want to make friends, to find that common ground, to share and connect with others.

I’ve been reading a lot lately about Ministry, biographical accounts of women fighting to become priests in the Christian Church over recent decades, but also those taking vows to join monasteries or convents. The latter may seem to be removing themselves from their communities in order to better understand and work with their spirituality, but in fact they are often the busiest, getting out into the roughest areas to help those who the ‘regular’ world believes beyond help: the sick, dying, homeless… those in need.

I read of the ‘call’, vocational summons to live life for God. This is an interesting idea from a Pagan perspective, and one that I’m not sure has really been explored yet (not that I’ve seen, at least). Many of us live our lives with honour to our Gods, but giving everything up for Him/Her…?

And yet, I realize, perhaps I am doing this already. I mediate between the spiritual and the everyday, in my writing and my ‘walking the talk’. I represent deity (as named individuals and the wider Natural world) in public ritual. I end my day exhausted but glad, having worked as a Pagan for those who ask – and those who don’t, but who welcome me anyway.

I may not even mention ‘Gods’ to those who approach me as I walk the prison paths. But I do explain what my Paganism means, find common ground (often surprisingly easily!) and simply chat, as a visitor and potential friend. I’m not out to convert anyone, but respect those who step up to ask. The other day, as I locked those same barred gates behind me, I heard a (non-Pagan) prisoner commenting to a mate of how pleasant I was. The Pagan prisoner I’d come to see was beaming – proud at last that his spirituality was recognised and valued, rather than mocked. Just by my turning up and engaging.

So the Priest is still walking the streets, still needed. In traditional ways, but also exploring new ground – online, via social media and Skype – but where there are people who need companionship, help, just someone to hear them and be there. I suspect many ‘quiet’ or solitary Pagans do the same, in their small but meaningful way.

It might not be a job for all of us. I’m still often surprised that I’ve fallen onto such a path! Or perhaps… just perhaps… I answered that call.

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Really Real

It seems a common topic of conversation these days that the world is pretty chaotic. We find so many things hard to understand – from violence in the name of peaceful religion, to laws which seem to increase suffering for some in the ‘best interests’ of others, or just decisions to which we can only stammer ‘But… but… that’s just wrong!’ At heartfelt level, become intellect and rationality, we know this and are flummoxed that the other person cannot even grasp the possibility.

The craziness of ‘everyday’ life is brought home to me often, largely because of my work as a Professional Priest. This brings two worlds colliding in a very real sense. The secular, normal, nuts-and-bolts life that generally allows for the concept of spirituality but with an undercurrent of nervousness, unsure how to engage with it for fear of offending – and the spiritual, soul-deep understanding that we are actually all humans muddling through some greater journey together, albeit with a similar suspicion that the 9-5 family-and-day-job is mad in its own way. Is one more important than another? Is one more real than another?

Both worlds do acknowledge that we need help sometimes (though even asking for that can be a challenge in itself). We know that the ancients combined the roles of Support Staff – the Druid or Shaman could be a doctor, a teacher, a priest, a midwife. They were educated to do so, and saw those roles as interconnected.

So this compartmentalisation of life is perhaps helpful to organise the chaos in a general sense, but less so when trying to gauge how these parts come together within us, in fully understanding – going beyond a soundbite or simplification (including my brief descriptions here).

As I say, in my work as Priest, I see this line blurring between the Real and the Cosmic (yes, I know, both words are wildly inaccurate, but bear with me). I’ve been researching Mysticism for a while now, as well as Spiritual Crisis, and come across many tales where someone’s intense mystical experience – that is, engaging at deep level with Spirit – transforms their understanding of life to the extent that what is perhaps called madness ensues. This is a relatively new theory, whereby psychoses or neuroses are not in fact negative or harmful, but ways of processing experiences that our society does not allow for, understand, teach about or even acknowledge (except as ‘illness’).

While a new theory, it’s not a new concept. Many historic mystics suffered from physical and mental illness, and it could be argued that this affected artists and other creative folk too (Van Gogh leaps to mind, as well as Virginia Woolf, Byron, Sylvia Plath and any number of others). The Druid expression of the ‘Fire in the Head’ that affected the Bard in the grip of Awen/Inspiration also rings true here.

However, I’ve also been fortunate enough to see this from an entirely new perspective lately – in an enclosed community with its own rules and ways of life, outside of the regular everyday that most of us are used to.

Since December, I’ve been working as a Prison Chaplain. Even in this short time, the dramatic difference between the world inside the bars and that ‘on the outside’ has struck home to me, and I’ve no doubt that it will continue to do so. I am constantly learning from those I minister to and with. But one remarkable fact keeps raising its head.

Within this contained society of hard-core criminals, respect and understanding is given to the spiritual in an entirely different manner to that which I’m used to. I’m often approached by prisoners and asked what I’m doing, as a woman in a man’s world; I reply that I’m the Pagan Chaplain. I’ve noticed that this is met with an expression of wonder, more questions (as is normal) but also a far greater willingness to engage, to discuss spiritual matters and personal problems. While social masks are often still in place (for survival if nothing else), my being present as a Spiritual Professional is respected and appreciated. I’m welcomed in a refreshing manner, as virtually everyone acknowledges that my job is needed, and they’re glad that I’m there.

This does happen on the outside, but it is far rarer. It might be political correctness or simply not being sure how to ask what’s on your mind, but this is one of my main reasons for working hard to be approachable, down-to-earth and Real (as I’m often described!) – because for me, that line between the secular and the spiritual is pretty much pointless. And in the prison environment, I’m able to actually breathe more freely, because those around – without even conscious awareness – feel the same.

This week, a good friend asked about the viability of Pagan enclosed communities (almost like convents or monasteries), to more freely explore the spiritual and mystical in a safe environment without all the noise of the everyday world. This would be voluntary isolation, but I had to smile, seeing interesting parallels. Do we need to separate ourselves to really engage with our spirituality?

What works to get you through life? What do we honestly feel and believe? Why shouldn’t we talk about it, figure it out with others, share and connect? Why are we so afraid?

Perhaps it is these perceived boundaries which are the true bars, resulting in the mental illness, confusion or unhelpful isolation – because we don’t know how to process true experiences that we have within the ‘real life’ around us. Perhaps this is why the Priest is becoming even more relevant and necessary, rather than less.

The Priest might not have all the answers, but they are at least honest enough to listen and walk alongside to find the way forward through the chaos together. And so they are doctor, teacher and so much more stiill, here in this 21st century world.

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An Otherworldly View

The Autumn Equinox is upon us, and the world does feel like it’s turning, to me. The leaves are beautiful as they hold on for just a little longer, the fruit is ready for harvest, the fields are being prepared for winter…

But here at home, it’s change of a different sort. New challenges ahead, requests for work and projects, lots of ways to spend the days as they grow shorter and we look inside…

And I’ve been able to do none of it.

For the past few days, I’ve been unable to work, or do much of anything at all, due to a very bad reaction to some prescription medication. The doctors have been very helpful actually, encouraging me to stick with it and see if I can’t ride out the side-effects, while moderating them… with further medication.

Today, I agreed with another (lovely) medical professional that enough was enough. Alternatives must be found. We’re on the case.

But it’s been a true rollercoaster of a week, to coin an overused but apt metaphor. I’ve been unable to focus on much of anything for very long, but when I have, whatever that thing is receives my full attention. I’ve been devouring one book in a day, but then getting bored halfway through another. Unable to stand doing anything which my brain isn’t interested in, so – entirely involuntarily – I’m being told ‘No, you’re not going to be able to do that’. Or badness ensues.

My perspective is entirely off, my worldview skewed. Alice in Wonderland doesn’t quite cover it, but the analogy isn’t bad – I’m here, but the messages from my senses are being slightly misinterpreted by my brain. Even walking the dogs down the familiar streets is a challenge. Communicating with others… good grief. Let’s just say I’m taking my time and doing my best to understand. And avoiding the News, because that doesn’t always make sense at the best of times.

This evening, I’ve found a rather wonderful documentary about Viking storytellers. With my love of tale-telling, it truly grabbed me… and somehow, my mind began to consider how our ancestors would have dealt with the stories my mind has been telling me this week.

I’m often asked if Druidry is a kind of English Shamanism. I’m not getting into that here (although I agree, there are similarities). But one thing we don’t tend to do over in these little islands is induce trance through drugs. Not since the 1970s, at least, unless I’ve been going to the wrong parties.

But that’s essentially what’s been happening to me now. Unintentionally, I grant you, but my perspective on the world has been totally altered through artificial means. I’m not seeing the generally-understood ‘Pagan Otherworld’, but my connection to the real is more vague. I feel the land beneath my feet, but am not quite sure where the next step will take me, or even if gravity is to be relied upon. I’m walking in another world.

So what must I do? How do I interpret reality when the tried and tested traditions of my senses and physics are letting me down through unknown chemicals?

My appetite has almost completely gone… except for what my body tells me it needs. My attention is fractured… again, until my mind latches on to something it wants to know.

Until this wears off, I’m going to let this strangeness take its course and try not to be overwhelmed in too negative a manner. If the tears come, they do; if strange sights or sounds are encountered, then that’s fine. Like a child in a strange new world, I will do my best to pay attention, and see what is to be learned as I ride it out.

Because I’m finding that stripping back to the essentials is what’s getting me through. What do I need? What can I cope with? Who do I want with me? The barest of bones, necessities, priorities. Those I love and trust.

And so I write it out, because my mind is telling me that I should. I listened to the voices of those wonderful Scandinavians, with their storytelling tradition of so many thousand years, and despite my pounding brain, try to tell my tiny tale here. Because this is the most creative I’ve been for many days, and that’s been one of the most terrible things for me – as you may have gathered, I like to be doing.

I apologise if this post is a little odd. But that’s me, right now. The times are changing, and so this somehow seems to fit. I’m looking forward to the week ahead, to the Equinox itself, to see what strangeness it brings, both in the spiritual and the everyday worlds.

And one rather fun thing to bear in mind: these mad chemicals are considered ‘medicine’, even normal procedure for those who administer such things. I’m not reacting ‘as I should’, perhaps. But my body and mind don’t know that – and are simply responding. Positive and negative are in the eye of the beholder.

Moving forward, gently.

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Shields – Front and Back

I’m often asked about Shields. Usually it’s in context of energy work, protection, personal defence against negativity. That’s fine, as this is something that we will likely encounter in our lives and so have to deal with.

But how often do we consider what’s keeping those shields up, or what’s behind them?

All my life, I’ve been told what to think. Society does that, after all – from marketing billboards, to advertisements on television and via social media. But also from teachers, bosses, friends and family. Everyone has their ideas and wants to share them. I’m sharing my opinion right now.

The difficulty comes when someone is determined that their opinion is better, truer or more valid than your own. You have to give in to their Truth, because they’re right. End of discussion.

I wrote of Trolls yesterday, and suspect this is a logical progression. How do we deal with those who cross that line between a thoughtful suggestion and a demand? Often the root is intention – genuine caring versus a wish to dominate or ‘win’. Sometimes the demand stems from an insecurity – others must agree with this person, or they are somehow insulting him/her by insinuating that they are actually wrong.

I’m not going to get into that again today – I’m sure you all have experience of this to some extent. But it can be hard to deal with, and this is where the request for shields comes in.

Overbearing co-workers, demanding relatives, pushy friends… these aren’t Trolls, are they? They’re usually just other people who genuinely feel that they’re doing their best, without realising how uncomfortable they make us.

Or is it actually a problem with Me? Is it that I’m being challenged in ways I’m not comfortable with, and so want to hide rather than deal with the issues?

We throw our shields up and back away. These can be psychic/energetic or physical – going home and closing the door is a good reaction, to claim your own space once again! But once we’ve done that, then what?

We can whinge about the Troll or the person forcing their opinion. They don’t understand me. Sometimes that’s true, and we must respond accordingly.

But as we stand behind our shields, taking time to think, so we can place our feet, take a breath and consider ourselves as well.

What about this is making me uncomfortable? Is it the manner in which the ideas are being pushed, or do I genuinely disagree? Can I articulate my thoughts now, in this safe place? Am I able to consider a response, or would I prefer to keep hiding? I could always just leave, or avoid the person altogether…

We fuel our shields from our selves. If the ground beneath our feet is uncertain, so the protection will crumble; but if we are able to identify our own personal Truths, then our foundation is firm.

I read of a simple exercise to find your own Truth, to see what it feels like. Give it a try:

State your name: eg ‘I am Cat’.
Now state a wrong name: ‘I am Bernard’.

Can you feel the difference?

Try other obvious lies. Play with this. ‘I’m the world’s best accordion player.’ ‘I really like cucumber.’ ‘My favourite singer is Justin Bieber’. You get the idea.

Now try stating your truths with this in mind. ‘I think that this won’t work’. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t agree.’ ‘This might be a better option.’ ‘I don’t like that colour at all.’ Keep playing, with negative and positive angles, and levels of firmness. See what suits best.

Try stating some of the things you’ve been told so confidently. How do they feel? ‘I’m sure I can find time for that assignment.’ ‘I’d love to wear that outfit.’ Is it true? Were you just whinging, or do you genuinely disagree? Note how strongly you feel, see the difference in emotional tone.

Explore which of these statements is true to you. Each one can be a brick in your shield-wall (if it’s even needed now), but crafted with care. You are standing firm, but also remaining flexible – encouraging discussion and debate, connection and understanding, from within a place of safety that is held by you. You are standing up as equally valid, with a voice to be heard.

And you might start to notice the other person’s walls in turn. If your truths simply bounce off theirs, maybe it’s time to highlight that they’re not listening; or even to step away. Show people the truth of you, not an imagined version that they might be projecting – or which you have helped to build.

I see this a lot in Paganism, because spirituality is a topic which is deeply heartfelt to many people. Passions incite strong opinions, and often descend into all-or-nothing arguments. But they don’t necessarily need to.

I’ve been noticing those who listen versus those who don’t; individuals who seem to be seeking confrontation and argument, not discussion. Shields that are so inflexible, the person behind might not even know why they’re arguing at all – it’s just habit, or that sense of ‘because I should.’ Or fear of being exposed as ‘wrong’.

Take time to consider what’s behind your shields – and whether they work with you or keep you imprisoned.

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The Sacred and Me

Years ago, I came across a beautiful prayer in a Pagan book (I believe by Francesca de Grandis, but I’ve sadly not been able to find it since).

The prayer thanked the Goddess (if the speaker was female, God if male) by honouring Her/Him in every day life. Something like ‘I walk on Your body, with Your feet, and raise Your hands’…

I love playing with language, and this is just delicious. Boundaries are being pulled down, the binary of Me/You being removed. I am You. Goddess is Me.

It felt like that moment when you fully understand what walking on the body of the Goddess means – if you regard the Earth beneath us (and around us, and above us) as Her form. After contemplating this when first starting out as a baby Pagan, I was actually daunted to even take a single step. But I did, and I moved on. I felt a bit silly for worrying. She caught me, after all. Gravity’s a blessing too, and the Earth is pretty sturdy. Just don’t take it for granted (toddlers know this wisdom well).

Now, I know not everybody works with deity as a male or female form/idea – but many do, as it helps us to personify a very large concept in order to better understand it.

But you don’t have to acknowledge that personification to understand my point here: Your body is deity. Your hands are those of a Goddess or God. Your ideas have value, your words speak sacred truths, your spirit is immortal…

I can almost hear the doubt in you now. But bear with me.

I know we don’t regard ourselves as anything approaching deific, and the ego required to walk that path can perhaps be too monstrous to contemplate. But again, not quite what I mean. This is not about power or ego; this is about the sacred, value and intention.

Consider this idea for a moment. You are sacred. Your every word carries power, your touch is magical, your hugs are a blessing.

Isn’t that true? Even just a little bit? Certainly if you’re a parent to a young child – you are their universe, their guide and guardian. Best Mum/Dad Ever!

So if we walk in this truth, how do we honour ourselves as sacred? Do we dress well, in clothes of quality that suit us, or do we throw on a t-shirt and jeans? Do we nourish ourselves with well-cooked food or grab a pre-packed sandwich? Do we even notice as we clean ourselves in the morning, or just get done what needs to be done before rushing off to the next task?

I’m sure you see where I’m going now. This isn’t intended to be judgmental at all (I do all of those ‘lazy’ things above), but simply ask for consideration.

The intention of my challenge to myself was in the back of my mind as I began my day. I decided to get on with a reluctant job that I’d been putting off, and go through some old clothes (I’ve lost weight lately due to running). And I discovered the sheer value and appreciation of clothes which fit well and serve their purpose – whether that’s decent underwear, a sturdy coat or a fitted top. So many items ended up in the pile for charity because it didn’t fit as I’d physically changed, or – as I realized – it likely never had fit well, not really.

I don’t go clothes shopping for fun. It’s never been easy for me, as I do like things to look good, and am very aware of not fitting into the ‘trendy’ mould that society requires. But this means that sometimes I’ve had to make do. Being happy with how I present myself has had to be sacrificed to what I can afford and making do with the best I can find.

I’ve heard this from friends who are healers. We have to sacrifice decent cleansing and body products for those we can afford, regardless of what they contain. The same with food.

Again – this is not a guilt-trip. As I walk my day today, I am considering. If I am Goddess, how do I honour myself? If I wish to adorn myself, what fabrics, scents and colours do I use? Am I ‘making do’ or putting in effort? How much do I value myself, after all – would I treat friends or family this way?

And while I consider how I represent myself, how do I speak to others as I go about my day? Do I gossip and whinge, or share a smile and a happy story? Do I honestly seek help when needed, or hide in pain? Truth or falsehood, balance and power… inspiration and connection. The old song: What am I doing?

I honour my Goddess in my journey as I explore with good intention. Because by doing so, I am honouring my Self. I must remember, at heart, to care. To love.

I try my best. And I trust Her (Me) to catch me when I fall, and find the strength to try again.

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Seeking Sacred – A Challenge

Today, I was chatting with my partner about my current book projects. Which haven’t been moving very fast of late. Busyness, mental blocks, personal mood or external issues… ultimately, the words have just not been coming.

He suggested I take myself deeper into my own practice, diving into the topics I want to write about, to explore them more fully myself. I can see where this takes me, to give ideas for the work and also help with the overarching issue of Not Writing. The oldest trick in the book, really – Write What You Know.

So how can I do this, I thought? I’m not exactly Jack Kerouac, about to head out into the world to see what’s there (which I kind of do anyway, albeit in the course of my work!). Nor Edgar Allen Poe, locking himself in a garret to write from his madness. Hmm.

Perhaps a challenge that I can write about as I go, to find that flow again and also open myself to ideas from others – those who like the writing and themselves provide inspiration. Actively seeking the sacred each day, reconnecting with deity if that is the form it chooses; going beyond inspiration into the deep roots of my spirituality within my life.

As I type this, I find myself actually rather daunted. It sounded like a great idea in my head, but is no small thing in actuality. But if I want to write from experience, something true and valid that’s worth reading, I owe both myself and my readers the courtesy and honour of putting in that effort.

So here we go, then. I’ll be cross-posting with my Drops of Awen blog, as that seems an appropriate place for random inspiration bursts, but also here for considerations specific to my Druidry. I’ve no idea where this will end up, but I will, as always do my best. I’ve no doubt I’ll have tough days, but I will do my best to keep to that truth and not be self-indulgent or – horrors! – boring…

As always: onward.

 

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