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Solo person sitting on the beach I am a classic introvert, and a little socially anxious. I love "my people", but I frequently find crowds and strangers overwhelming. After socializing, even with the people I love most, I need time alone to recharge. So of all the ways of being Pagan, it seems a contradiction that I identify most as a community-centred Pagan, the only kind that would seem to require extroversion.

Though it may seem to be a contradiction, I think my introversion is actually why I'm drawn to community. It can be hard for introverts to meet and get to know people, so once we've got ourselves a good group of friends, we definitely want to hold on to them. Most people want to belong to a group and be a part of something, and introverts don't always have the easiest path to finding that, making it very valuable to us when we do. I've got my spiritual family, Silver Spiral, and I have found other pockets of community locally that I enjoy working with, such as the Vancouver Pagan Pride Day team.

Community building isn't just for extroverts. Some of it is outward facing, socializing, presenting, but there are also emails to write, schedules to manage, research to do, cookies to bake... community isn't just built by people who are willing to stand up in front of a group with a vision, but also those who are willing to sit with ideas for hours to help bring a vision to life, and those - introverts and extroverts alike - who are willing to pitch in at every level, including doing the dishes. Pagans with all kinds of belief systems - deity-centred, nature-centred, and inner-centred - can and do help build community, but for community-centred Pagans, this is our spiritual work.

To be a community-centred Pagan is to have spreadsheets as well as athames as religious tools. It means that writing a rite for a group is a ritual in and of itself, satisfying a spiritual need even before the space has been cleansed. It is to recognize that there's magical energy in coordinating a potluck as much as casting a circle, that offering a workshop or a helpful blog post can be as important a religious service as an offering to a deity, and that a call to assist at a concession stand is as much a sacred duty as calling a quarter.

2

Shiny new washing machine. My new washing machine arrived today. It is a thing of beauty, and so quiet compared to my old one that I actually watched it for several minutes before I reluctantly came to believe that it was actually running correctly. The clothing came out free of soap residue without an extra rinse cycle and were spun so completely that they will probably dry overnight on my basement line. A huge improvement over the machine that I've been using for the last eight years, which was a second hand machine that had served a family of four for many years before we got it. The very nice delivery men took away our grubby old washer and the matching dryer we've never used, leaving behind a gleaming new machine with led lights and pleasant chiming noises.

Since writing about offerings to non-human deities, I've been meditating further on the concept of sacrificing consumption as a sacred offering. I am in a financial position where I can choose how to spend my money. I can afford organic cotton t-shirts and to shop local even if it costs a bit more than the multinational chain store. I do try to spend responsibly - locally owned businesses, for example - but there's always room for improvement. One of the big places I am trying to improve is in the thoughtlessness of my spending.

A couple of months ago, I started a project of cleaning out drawers and cupboards that had gotten cluttered. As I created piles to throw out, donate, and keep, I realized how many things I have that I never use; how many things I have that I had forgotten I even owned. I cleaned my closet of two huge garbage bags of clothing that were ill-fitting or didn't match anything else or just weren't getting worn. It was embarrassing to realize how much money I had spent on things that I wasn't using and how many resources - water, minerals, energy - had been spent on trinkets and gadgets that were gathering dust.

I'll never be a minimalist or live in a home of clean white modern lines and bare shiny surfaces. I like my clutter and my overflowing bookshelves and my piles of craft supplies (though I don't like how out-of-control my craft room has become). However, I want to bring fewer things into my home. Consume less, and consume more thoughtfully.

This has been on my mind for a while, but this post was prompted by learning that a favourite food company of mine is on the side of "Hobby Lobby" in the recent efforts to make companies into legal people and give them rights on the basis of their religious beliefs - specially, the right to deny women health insurance coverage for birth control. Though Eden Foods makes healthy organic foods and are known for pioneering BPA-free can linings, it appears that the owner has some strong beliefs that run counter to my own values.

The company I work for sells Eden Organics products. I don't necessarily think we should stop - not everyone shares my values, and there is plenty to like about the products - but I won't be buy them for myself anymore. I hope I can find and stock alternatives for those who agree with me.

Some things are easier to give up than others. I will miss Eden Pizza and Pasta Sauce, but most other things will be easy once I've found a new brand for organic diced tomatoes. When I decided to only eat fair trade bananas, it was no problem because I don't eat that many bananas and I don't eat foods that contain bananas. Trying to switch to only fair trade chocolate has been a lot tougher. Chocolate bars are OK, and I got through last Christmas without any "Pot of Gold", but when I'm craving a cookie at the local coffee shop, I know those cookies aren't made with fair trade chocolate chips. And as my laptop and cell phone get older and slower, it is harder to remind myself that buying new ones isn't a spiritual or environmental priority; that having to wait an extra five minutes for the computer to boot up isn't justification for the social costs of most electronics.

I needed a new washing machine. The new one is more water and energy efficient, even without accounting for the extra rinse cycles I was using to get things soap-free with the old machine. This one was an easy decision, but I'm trying to find the right question to ask myself before every purchase. Something that combines "Can this object's purpose be served in any way that takes fewer resources?" with "Will the use of this object be worth the resources spent making and disposing of it?" with "Is this company aligned with my values?" with some sort of spiritual or sacred acknowledgement. Something simple that can be used equally well in the dollar store as in the electronics store or the car dealership. Something to remind me that I should be either making a thoughtful purchasing decision or making a deliberate conscious sacrifice by not buying. Something to add mind and spirit to consumption.

1

A sword, a horn, and some Gathering tokens. I've had three showers and put all the clothing that went with me in the laundry, but I can still occasionally smell smoke from the sacred fire at the Gathering on my skin. The Gathering is in my pores.

This year was a cocoon year for us: we were small and compact, getting ready for transformation. Our community could look very different in the future, but this year, there were old friends back again - some for the first time in years - and new friends to circle with and many much loved faces missing.

There were many wonderful rituals this year (they've been added to the Gathering timeline) and I was blessed enough to attend all but one. I know many people had powerful and magical experiences both in the circles and outside of them. In between, there were conversations about life, about science, about theology, and about where we are going next as a community.

At the annual general meeting, several people talked about ways to intensify or deepen the Gathering experience, to try to offer something more to potential Gatherers. A few people made reference to camps that offer more intense training, such as Witch Camp, and that sounds amazing, but somehow doesn't seem like a match to me. I don't think we should become a shorter version of something else, but more ourselves and offer our own unique event.

As often happens at the Gathering, I end up marveling at the diversity of our community. I ran one ritual and attended seven others, and the closest thing we had to the "conventional" Wiccan-like rituals that are common at public and semi-public events was the very fun and funny Chocolate Ritual (similar to this ritual). Attendees at the Gathering are from all over the typological map of magical traditions, from all parts of the colour triangle of the three deisms, and from all the overlapping circles of the centres of Paganism. But as a community, I think the Gathering as it is right now might be best categorized as part of the fourth centre of Paganism: community-centred. We come together to make a single event out of all our different beliefs, practices, and paths. At an event with fewer than 50 people, there were nine rituals (some with very large casts and a lot of preparation), as well as workshops. Fires were kept, rain protection was put up, lights were strung, a temple was assembled, and everything was cleared up at the end. So many people invested time and love before and during the weekend. Though as individuals we may be deity-centred, or focused on our higher selves, or about honouring nature first, at the Gathering, we make our offerings to each other and to the good of our community as a whole. We don't always succeed, but the effort is magical.

Working from the idea that, as a whole, the Gathering's spirituality is community-centred, and inspired by Steven Posch's beautiful post Sun Horns, Moon Horns, I have a plot afoot for next year. I'd like to recruit people from all parts of our community to say food blessings before each meal and to lead short rituals at sunrise and sunset (and maybe moonrise and moonset too, if I have enough volunteers). That's eight meals, three sunrises, and three sunsets; fourteen opportunities to be together in a sacred moment and to connect with each other, and maybe with something more, should the prayer be offered that way.

Anyone from the Gathering or considering the Gathering for next year: Please let me know if you would be interested in offering a food blessing or being a part of a brief sun or moon ritual next year, or even if you think this is a good idea or not. I promise that comments or constructive criticism will not result in you being volunteered for anything.

Richard: You have a year to perfect your horn blowing; no more drunken moose!

4

An empty offering bowl in candlelit.

I am still thinking about sacrifices and offerings. What would my gods ask of me if they spoke?

In wandering around the Pagan blogosphere and speaking to the few "hard" polytheists I know, the gods of the ancient worlds sometimes ask for specific things. They ask for things of value to be sacrificed to them, they give quests and tasks to be done, they ask for altars and shrines, they demand, quite rightly, that promises made to them be fulfilled, and sometimes they may even require blood. There is grace and awesome power in this: the gods asking and the people giving.

My religious beliefs are slippery and squirming things. If I were to name my gods right now, I might name Mother Pacific, the ocean of my city, and Father Lions, the mountains that tower over us. Maybe I'd name the Winds too: North, the fresh air; East, the morning breezes; South, the rain bringer; and West, the ocean’s breath. I love the whole post Gods Like Mountains, Gods Like Mist, but especially this paragraph:

My gods are not always like human beings. Sometimes my gods are like mountains, sometimes they are like mist. Sometimes I seek my gods in the forests, sometimes in ritual space or the beat of the drum. Sometimes my gods are inscrutable or apophatic, and my relationship with them is one of longing and seeking rather than invocation and offering. And sometimes it is the mountains themselves who are gods, and the rivers and trees who speak.

My gods do not speak, at least not in the way that Morrigan, Sekhmet, and Freyja do in the links above. My gods are both more and less literal, both more and less physical, but are definitely not asking things of me. What offerings I make and sacrifices I enact will be my own creations and by my own will alone.

If my gods were to speak and if my gods were to ask for something, they wouldn't ask me to sacrifice a tool or an item of sentimental value, they would not ask for statues and gems, and they certainly wouldn't want them broken or thrown in the ocean in their honour. My gods would not want altars or shrines covered in petrochemical-based decorations and tools made of metal pulled from the earth. To honour them with such would be as if I were to cut off my left pinky finger to offer it to my right hand.

If they are not asking, why am I concerned with offering? I don’t think of these gods in very human ways, but I am still in this human body and this time and place, and offering gifts and sharing food and drink are ways that people here and now create relationships. I want to know these gods in what ways I can, and I want to show respect and gratitude to the powers that shape my life and world, even if the gestures are inadequate to their beings. My cat shows us his love and respect by bringing us dead birds…

I have been meditating on suitable offerings for about a week, gazing periodically on the empty bowl that is the centre piece of my altar right now. I think a libation they'd appreciate would be rain water. I will collect it in a special container placed in the middle of my deck, where falling rain puddles and does not run down into the soil, and ultimately I would pour it on a plant blessed and consecrated to receive it.

If they were to speak, I think my gods would demand a different sacrifice than the giving of wine, blood, or jewelry: a sacrifice of consumption. I think they would have me not upgrade my phone, not purchase the random do-dad I have my eye on, and not buy the non-organic, non-fair trade chocolate bar I'm craving. They would want me to turn off the TV and turn down the heat. They’d only want candles burned in their honour if they were soy or beeswax and were being used instead of electric lights.

Some practice is definitely necessary, then perhaps some more thinking and some revising. What would your gods have of you?

3

A tax cheque surrounded by representation of the elements.

I'm staring at my tax bill and feeling a bit depressed. It isn't the money - it isn't a huge amount and we have it available - it is the seemingly endless parade of stories in the media of our senators, our MLAs, and our premiers blatantly wasting tax payer money on personal trips and other extravagances. Hearing so many of those stories and then being handed a bill makes it hard to be pleased to be sending our government more money.

I liked the Walrus' recent article about why tax time should make us happy. I would add that for people as lucky as I am - to leave in a free country with social programs and to have full time employment and a home and all the wonders of middle class life - tax time is sacred: it is when our ongoing sacrifice is made visible. We pay taxes all year around, but when it is all consolidated and made concrete, we know the details of our sacrifice and can "make sacred" any final offerings needed of us to support the place we call home: that's where the blessings can be most deeply felt.

I'll pay what I owe, but the government can get a bit more with my cheque this year: a bit of magic. I want my tax money distributed by wise and intelligent people with the greater good in mind... or, that being unlikely, I'll take my money going towards roads, schools, hospitals, and social programs and not ads about non-existent employment programs, trips for rich people, and creating corrupt election bills.

Cast a Circle. Call the sacred elements: Air for intelligence, Fire for strength, Water for compassion, and Earth for practicality. Invoke deities of justice and fairness. Cleanse the cheque by the elements to prepare it to hold the magic. Pray over it to make it a suitable sacrifice and write in the balance owing in. Put that cheque in your offering bowl and meditate on the sacrifices you make, of which this is just a symbol. Raise energy for the greatest good and pour it into the cheque, picturing the good your taxes will do: the nurses and teachers it will pay for, the MRI machine and surgery it will buy, the lives it will save and the homes it will provide and the jobs it will secure and the roads it will maintain. Write "for the greatest good" on the memo line, seal that cheque and your bill into an addressed envelope, and leave it in the offering bowl overnight. Thank the deities and elements and open the Circle. Send the cheque off with a hopeful heart.

A tax prayer:
This is my time and my energy and I sacrifice this willingly. I make this offering to what creates our future, to what keeps us safe, to what catches us if we fall, to what heals us if we are sick, and to what lets us follow our own path. I ask the gods to guide our leaders. I sacrifice this to the greatest good. So mote it be!

mythumbnailI have always been a bit interested in the idea of sacrifice. I remember listening in fascinated horror to the stories of human sacrifice when I visited the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza when I was about 12 years old. Though I have used the various myths of Gods who sacrifice themselves for the crops and the good of their people in rituals, and I have a line about sacrifice in my pre-meal prayer, I feel like there is a lot more to learn and explore about this topic in a modern Pagan context:

"While it is perhaps noble to make offering with your last or most precious bit, sacrifice is not based on suffering. Most sacrifice is done in a mood of thanksgiving and comes from the abundance of the offerer." - Pagan Restoration

About the two meanings of 'sacrifice': "The common meaning of sacrifice is "to give up." We pour a libation, giving up the opportunity to drink the wine in order to give it to the gods. We give money to worthy causes, giving up the opportunity to spend it on ourselves. ... Sacrifice in this regard is a tangible expression of unselfishness or of long term thinking or both. ... The older meaning of sacrifice is "to make sacred." By dedicating something to the gods through ritual and ceremony it becomes sacred – it takes on some of the essence of the gods. Some of that divine essence then returns to us." - Under the Ancient Oaks

From a review of Religion of the Gods: Ritual, Paradox, and Reflexivity about the meaning of ancient Greek artwork depicting Gods making offerings and sacrifices: "The question that follows is how that is possible as all sacrifices need a recipient; a recipient who stand higher than the donor so that could be propitiated or worshiped. The author gives a remarkable, but at the same time, simple answer: the sacrificing Gods and, thus, their religious praxis is not directed towards a higher being than themselves, because simply religion itself belongs to the Gods. Accordingly, They perform libations and sacrifices as Gods, and this divine practice does not intend to venerate the 'other' – as a human worshiper will do – but, on the contrary, the god's 'self' as the source of religion and not the participants – a clear proof of Their omnipotence." - Nikolaos Markoulakis, Tropaion

From a blog post about the book review: "But while I pour libations and make other offerings, I never once thought that I was making these offerings to someone or even to something. I do not pour libations out to gods, who I wouldn't imagine would need them if they did exist. Nor do I make offerings to the earth or nature — unless you count my compost box. Who then am I offering to? Not to myself. Instead, I find value in the act of making an offering, a ritualized giving, even when there is no recipient." - The Allergic Pagan

"Modern Pagans love to talk about how the Gods evolve with us, and how forms of offerings can be different in modern times. I agree – but I think the important thing that has shifted isn't whether or not living sacrifice is needed or useful. What has shifted is the importance of the individual soul and the idea of consent, the willing sacrifice. ... That focus on volition with regard to human offerings is reflective of how sacrifice can evolve in a modern context – a religious practice now shaped by modern values on individual liberty, but still preserving the core function of the act, which is the offering of vital life." - Banshee Arts

"Sacrifice is often seen, in modern times, as hardship endured for the greater good, while ancient sacrifices are stereotyped as some kind of Gods-mollifying bribe or payment. It's rarely thought of as an exchange between your present self and your potential for greatness. Odin's sacrifice "of himself, to himself" during a nine-night ordeal while hanging on the world tree brought forth insight in the form of runes." - Shirl Sazynski, Witches and Pagans

"When we share our food with the Gods we invite them to be part of our family. Sometimes that means giving up the food – pouring a libation on the ground or burning a piece of meat or bread in a fire. Sometimes it means offering it to them with ritual and prayer, and then eating what they do not consume – what the Egyptians called "reversion of offerings."" - Under the Ancient Oaks

Oh, and I can't forget "Destiny" by Mojo of Parnassus (lyrics and sample and song purchase), which makes me tear up every time I hear it.

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