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Tag: pagan actions

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Published on 1 Comment on What should a Pagan know?
A sand coloured half-ruined temple including a ramp to a second story and lines of columns and statues.
Photo by Ian Lloyd (lloydi.com). 7. Everything possible about Hatshepsut’s temple...

I love the podcast "99% Invisible" (who knew glass was so interesting?) and have frequently thought that I would listen to the host, Roman Mars, read the phone book. A recent episode - "The Smell of Concrete After Rain" - included a bit where Roman read some parts of a list called "Two Hundred Fifty Things An Architect Should Know", and I was completely charmed by it. I looked it up and read the rest of the list later, and though I didn't understand all of it, I was still taken by it even without Roman's lovely voice. What I most enjoyed was the mixture of whimsical (247. The depths of desire / 248. The heights of folly) and practical (11. The insulating properties of glass), academic (173. The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World) and poetic (78. The quality of light passing through ice), easy (38. The color wheel) and aspirational (133. Finding your way around Prague, Fez, Shanghai, Johannesburg, Kyoto, Rio, Mexico, Solo, Benares, Bangkok, Leningrad, Isfahan).

I once read an article about what Pagans should learn about their local environment - things like where your tap water comes from and what grows locally at different times of year. I tried to find the article again to see what else was on the list - finally, my collection of old Pagan magazines would be useful again! Alas, either I no longer have the magazine it was in, or maybe it wasn't in a magazine at all. I thought it was by Chas Clifton and I thought it was in PanGaia... if it rings a bell for anyone, please let me know. I remember that it seemed like a good, practical list. A good start for a summary of things for a Pagan to learn, though lacking in whimsy.

I try to avoid the word "should", so my list can't be "Things a Pagan Should Know". I don't know if I can get to two hundred and fifty on my own, so I welcome additions and suggestions.

(Some) Things a Pagan Will Want to Know

  1. The scent of the nearest body of water.
  2. Where your tap water comes from.
  3. When strawberry season starts where you live.
  4. The feeling of being alone in a forest.
  5. On a beach.
  6. In a desert.
  7. In a rain forest.
  8. Where to put your hands when skyclad.
  9. How to conduct a ritual with no tools or accessories.
  10. The four centres of Paganism.
  11. How to write a ritual for each centre.
  12. How to write a ritual that will please all the centres.
  13. How to get wax out of fabric.
  14. How to get wax out of carpet.
  15. What animals live in your neighbourhood.
  16. The geological history of the land you live on.
  17. The political and sociological history of the land you live on.
  18. How to grow a plant from a seed.
  19. The origins of "may you never thirst".
  20. How people pray.
  21. What consent means.
  22. How to hug a tree.
  23. How to compost.
  24. A dozen different ways to raise energy.
  25. Why a ritual works.
  26. Why a ritual doesn't work.
  27. How to be a good ritual participant, even if the ritual doesn't work.
  28. Mythology.
  29. Cells through a microscope.
  30. The moon through a telescope.

To be continued...

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Published on 1 Comment on Irony-free Circle
A red stop sign with "defacing stop signs" spray painted under "stop".
Scheinwerfermann / CC BY-SA

"In Defense of Seriousness":

I think it's that religious experience for me is ABOUT connecting with the serious and solemn. it's about the both literal and figurative gravity of the world on which we live; it's about grappling with things that are so much bigger (and so much smaller) then I am. I invoke religious awe as a tool for experiencing the parts of my life that are beyond my direct experience - it's how I step outside myself and see that, far from being the center of the universe, I am a fragment of happenstance. For me it's a tool to center and ground myself in a society that is perfectly happy to allow each of us to become as vapid and narcissistic as we please.

Winter Mute - Atheopaganism Facebook group

This is an excerpt from a lovely bit of writing about how and why a certain kind of ritual - solemn as opposed to ecstatic or fanciful - works for the writer. I appreciate the sentiment; I get discouraged when a serious ritual is disrupted by laughter. Sometimes I see ritual as a delicate soap bubble that is gradually inflated by each component of the ritual and can be popped by anything going wrong. Most rituals are a little heartier than that, though, thank goodness, and can withstand some stumbles and fumbles.

I love serious rituals. I also love ecstatic rituals, fanciful rituals, silly rituals, and experimental rituals. In ritual, I am seeking connection, defined broadly. If I connect to the great power of the universe, to a tiny plant, to a concept, or to the other people in the Circle, it has worked for me. But there is one thing that can pop the bubble of any ritual for me: irony.

Irony here is not the literary device - which probably also doesn't belong in ritual either - but the attitude:

One reason that irony is so confusing is that the word also refers to a certain perspective or style: one that is detached, aloof and seemingly world-weary. This affectation is often referred to as the "ironic attitude" and has come to be associated with adolescents or young adults.

Roger J Kreuz - What makes something ironic?

There's no space in any of my Circles for any of that. In fact, I think ritual demands a deliberate turning away from irony and a reaching for attachment, intimacy, and awe. For a good ritual, it isn't enough to simply not be cynical; all the participants must put effort into being trusting... suddenly the phrase "in perfect love and perfect trust" rings more true to me. Perhaps it isn't about loving and trusting everyone in the Circle perfectly, but about approaching the ritual with the kind of effort required to sustain love and trust.

I was a teenager in the 90s. I am tucked between the slackers who couldn't be bothered to care about anything and the hipsters who only care ironically. At the all-ages dance events, I would dance until I was overheated and exhausted. I was often asked if I was on drugs.

Life in postindustrial democracies came to seem listless and without flavor; loneliness and a kind of bland sadness were all one could expect of the new world order. At the end of history, irony transformed from an instrument of revolution to a symptom of the impossibility of revolution.

Lee Konstantinou - We had to get beyond irony

Maybe we need some cynicism in the world. "OK Boomer" is a response to real problems; maybe irony is becoming revolutionary again. I just want to leave it outside of my rituals. And I want its trappings gone too: I want people's voices to reflect that they care, not sound like they are going through the motions. I want people's motions to be expressive and their participation to be full, not self-conscious.

I want to invite participants to practice faith like it is exercise: practice being trusting and open. We can support each other in that work, and together we can practice being loving and connected. We don't always have to be solemn, but we do have to be sincere.

Published on Leave a comment on Link roundup: accessible Paganism


Blue and white stick figure actively wheeling a wheelchairAs Paganism matures, we have to address a huge range of accessibility issues for our religion: physical accessibility for Pagans with mobility issues, assistance for Pagan parents, audiobooks for Pagans who are blind, sign language interpreters for deaf Pagans, inclusivity for LGBTQ Pagans, a welcoming atmosphere for Pagans of colour, accommodations for Pagans with allergies, and more. Luckily, we have some smart, helpful, welcoming Pagans talking about those issues already:

"In this case, the unpopular thing is the idea that we – Pagan leaders and ritualists – may need to change how we approach rituals in order to make our rituals more accessible and inclusive. We may even need to re-evaluate some of our dearly-held theological beliefs. If we want the dominant culture to change, to legalize gay marriage, support people with disabilities, eliminate racism... don't we have to do that work first ourselves, within our community?"

- "Ritual: Physical Accessibility, Transgender Inclusion, and more"; Shauna Aura Knight: Pagan Activist

"Given the huge variation between and within lineages in Gardnerian and Alexandrian Wicca, adding a bit more variation to the mix shouldn't be in the slightest bit controversial - but strangely, as soon as you mention including LGBT people, disabled people, and people of colour, it becomes controversial. I wonder why that is?"

- "But what do you actually do?"; Yvonne Aburrow, inclusive Wicca

"If there's any piece in a ritual that's gendered, they're usually for one of the two most common genders. Where do I fit if I'm involved in that ritual but the best descriptor for my gender mode is "the green of the deep woods in shaded places" (and yes, that is a gender mode I experienced very recently, and no, I don't have any better way to describe it). And that's just in ritual; what do I do in social spaces before and after? "Hi, my name is Dee and my pronouns are they and them," isn't necessarily the best icebreaker that doesn't also completely derail the purpose of the gathering (depending on the group, of course)."

- "Gender - What's the Big Idea?"; Dee Shull: The Liminal Waters

"And yet when these sorts of things occur, it gets kinda frustrating, and isolating, and lonely, and sad, and painful, and emotional... because when things like this come up I feel these complex issues do separate me. They kinda split me in half. I know I can go into the Deaf Community and they get it, and they can provide support... but they can't always provide the magick and the healing, and the spiritualness that gets me through days like this. But where can I find that same comparable understanding and support within the Pagan Community? I'm not saying it doesn't exist... but it does seem more challenging to locate it."

- "Mandela’s Fake Interpreter"; Ocean: Deaf Pagan Crossroads

"One of the walls I often crash against in the wider pagan community is the inaccessibility of events and rituals for children who have special needs, from autism spectrum disorders to physical mobility issues, that require accommodation. We are a community that prides itself on inclusivity, and yet I often see a lack of it towards children in general and specifically towards children who have behavioral or physical challenges. The biggest argument against it seems to be that something important will be lost if we change what we are doing to make it easier for children with different needs to attend. I disagree, and I think by making our [open, public] rituals too focused on creating a numinous experience for the adults present we are losing a more genuine feeling of community that should be present in religious worship by open groups.

"What frustrates me is that it doesn't have to be this way – while it does require compromise and reworking it is not impossible to accommodate families that need it. And I will never believe the Gods, ancestors or spirits are offended by the actions or needs of a child who is doing their best in the moment and only wants to be part of a spiritual celebration."

- "Irish-American Witchcraft: Pagan Events and Special Needs Children (or Adults)"; Morgan Daimler: The Agora

"There are also a lot of festivals, rituals and events, whether as small as a coven or large as a regional festival, that aren't very accommodating. And that's a problem.

"You see, we're getting old. As a movement, we are aging. Today Gardner would be over 120, and Alex Sanders would be in his 90's. The youngest of their initiates would be in their 40's to 60's now, and most would be much older.

"The Beatles wanted to know if you'd still love them when they turned 64. I wonder if our community will still be there for us when we're 72 or 86?"

- "Is Paganism Blind To The Disabled?"; Star Foster: Pantheon

"Some people in the Pagan community get it. They design gatherings with flexibility built in. They communicate clearly but inclusively — "We will be doing X" rather than "X kind of people should not apply." They are more interested in providing a positive experience and encouraging their fellow Pagans than in excluding people whose bodies don't meet their preconceived notions. They welcome questions and find ways to work around limits."

- "Welcome vs. Go Away"; Jane Raeburn: "Vulcan's Sister"

"There are also many people with disabilities whose voices are not included in this article. Some are quite isolated and have difficulty attending events at all, and rely almost entirely upon the internet to make contact with people of like mind. The Wild Hunt did reach out to a number of Pagans with disabilities about sharing their perspectives, but one thing that is all too common is that some disabilities — regardless of its other impacts — sap energy and make otherwise simple tasks much more difficult, such as sending an email or typing out a sentence or two in reaction. We would like to acknowledge these unheard voices within our community."

- "Pagans with disabilities face unseen challenges"; Terence P Ward: The Wild Hunt

Published on Leave a comment on The problem of getting sh*t done


Cartoon person with a broom yelling "Let's cleanse this space!".
Art from Hyperbole and a Half.

I used to work for a small business. It was a really small business; the kind where the owner and I shared a walk-in closet as an office and we didn't have to make reservations for the company Christmas party. I was there for ten years, doing what needed to be done all day, every day. There wasn't a lot of theorizing - there wasn't time for theories. There wasn't a lot of philosophizing - there wasn't time for philosophy. There was shit to do.

I have moved into the non-profit world now. I am in operations - practical, day-to-day stuff - but some days it feels like it is all meetings anyway. And so many of the meetings don't seem to achieve anything: meetings about the wording of our mission statement, meetings about activities we don't have the capacity to do, and meetings about meetings. I despair as the minutes tick by while people theorize and philosophize and day dream... I just want to get back to my to-do list. I have shit to do.

My spiritual family tends to the practical too. We had to improvise ritual space the other day, and we busted that out: quick division of the roles such that everything was evenly divided and no one had to awkwardly skip around the circle to call a second quarter, and we were soon underway. We all spoke clearly, got our lines mostly right, and cued each other as needed. Not quite clockwork, but we got through the sacred space set-up efficiently as a team. And then we got to a certain point and were gearing up to get to the next task on the ritual checklist when one person said "we should take a moment".

Oh. right. A ritual is more than a list of tasks to complete.

The "get shit done" approach serves me well at work, where the task list is:

Buy forks.
Follow up on overdue invoices.
Fix the printer.
Buy more forks.
Issue membership contracts.
Order coffee.
Pay invoices.
Buy even more forks.1

But while the kind of experience that happens in Circle is crafted through a checklist of tasks, it isn't the checklist.2 The steps are not there for their own sake; they are the means by which we reach the state where we can connect beyond ourselves to deities, to community, to spirit, to grace... and if we lose sight of that, we risk creating empty containers instead of sacred space. Sometimes, getting shit done requires focusing on something bigger than getting shit done.

Published on Leave a comment on Get witchy


We're only going to get browner and queerer and witchier and louder and stronger and prouder and watch the dinosaurs die out.
By Johnny / jblackchurch: https://www.instagram.com/jblackchurch/

I want to be witchier, but I'm not sure what that means. I do own a black pointy hat, but maybe it doesn't count because it has a fuzzy pink brim.

Witches are outsiders. Witches are radical, transgressive, dangerous. And in this world, right now, that can't be just dancing naked under the moonlight, putting bones and deconsecrated relics on an altar, and reading Aradia: Gospel of the Witches - even though that book does call for poisoning economic oppressors.

In this world, right now, to stand up for the environment, for science, for rights for everyone is to be an outsider. It is radical to support Syrian refugees. It is transgressive to fight trans-phobia. It is dangerous to be brown or queer - some of us have the privilege of forgetting that it has always been dangerous to be brown or queer - so the least those of us who aren't can do is be dangerous enough to stand up if you witness harassment.

If you want to be witchier, then make plans to save yourself if you need to, practice and prepare to stand up to bigotry, set up a solidarity network, and fight like hell. Maybe consider some trickster work to make sure politics in your area can't include racism, xenophobia, intolerance. And if you want to do it in the forest, naked except for a pointy hat with a fuzzy pink brim... I'll be there right with you.

Published on Leave a comment on If only the activists see your activism, does it mean anything?


A restroom sign with a white triangle instead of a man or woman stick figure
Photo by sarahmirk, published under a Creative Commons license.

Every year, I go to a big local literary festival. I typically buy tickets for six or more events over the course of a week and come home with a pile of new books. I've mentioned before that this particular festival includes a territory acknowledgement before each event. This is something that started a year or two ago, and it's really the most basic of acknowledgements; the moderator reminds people to turn off their cell phones, that the event takes place on unceded Coast Salish Territory, and to please Tweet after the event using the hashtag... It's better than nothing.

I had the same moderator at two different events. At one, she did the same type of acknowledgement as everyone else had been doing. At the other, she asked everyone to take a moment of thoughtful silence after doing the acknowledgement. One was an event with Joy Kogawa, a Canadian author and poet of Japanese descent, and the other was an event that included two First Nations authors - Katherena Vermette and Joan Crate - and was about books that include Indigenous characters.

This festival includes simultaneous events at several different theatres. At one theatre for an evening event, the bathrooms had been relabeled as "gender neutral". The next day, there for another event, I found the conventional signs were back. One event was for transgender author Ivan Coyote's "Tomboy's Survival Guide" and the other was for a panel of thriller and suspense authors.

We weren't more on unceded territory one of those day and less on the other, and that fact was not more worthy of thoughtful consideration because there were First Nations people on the stage. Though "Tomboy's" attracted more transgender and non-binary audience members than the average event, everyone needs a safe place to pee every day, not just when they are represented on the stage. In fact, the reverse is true: if someone at "Tomboy's" had to use a gendered washroom that was not an obvious match to their gender presentation, there probably would have been no fuss or issue; the same could not necessarily be said of the same person in the same washroom during the thriller author event.

Social justice isn't something to nod to when forced to by the visible presence of a minority group. We need to do the right things to make our communities safe and comfortable for more people. If we make our public events and rituals inclusive and welcoming of people who aren't there, maybe one day they will be.

We need to practice social justice over and over until it becomes good, conscious, purposeful habit - until we are inclusive as a default. Good habits take time and effort to develop. The "3 R's" approach looks good...

... every time we first pick up the broom to cleanse the space, we acknowledge that we are on unceded First Nations territory, and we take a moment to sit with that knowledge.

... every time we light the central candle on the altar, we agree that we consent to being a part of the ritual and speak of our right to withdraw that consent any time we want, and we enjoy the mutual respect and self-care that creates.

... every time we take down the Circle, we deliberately distribute the clean up chores among everyone, and we appreciate the benefits of cooperation and undermining gender roles.

... every time we hold a ritual that includes social justice components, we remember that we want to make the world more fair, more just, more safe, more comfortable.

Published on Leave a comment on Becoming Pagan 101


We're not generally a religion that tries to convert people, but we are sometimes called a religion of converts - even now, very few Pagans grew up in the faith. Pagan Pride Project events might be as close as we come to proselytizing, simply by virtue of being public and publicized events. We're into Pagan Pride season, and since Pagan Pride events do tend to attract new Pagans and the curious public, I'm willing to bet a lot of them have a "Paganism 101" workshop.

I can't imagine seeing "Christianity 101" on a church fair schedule. You don't learn Christianity in courses or workshops like you would a hobby. There isn't beginner and advanced Christianity (not for the laypeople, anyway). To be considered an active Christian, a person must believe in the Christian God and probably attend services and say prayers. For a lot of Christian denominations, any deeper understanding of the theology is optional, but the books about both Christian belief and Christian action are in the Religion section of the bookstore.

In contrast, to be an active Pagan, a person must often be their own theologian and priest. They have to create their own religious rituals and conduct them. Even as part of an established tradition and a group that practices together, there's greater demands than to just follow a script. If you believe in the supernatural, than you must be part of an energetic flow at least, and often must be actively working with spirits or deities. If you don't believe in the supernatural, there's still a lot of psychology and work involved in being a part of a good ritual, much less writing one.

We're also generally a religion of orthopraxy - "correct action" - versus of orthodoxy - "correct belief". To simplify a great deal: Christians believe Christian things; Pagan do Pagan things. We do need workshops and books that treat our religion like a hobby to be learned; we don't have an equivalent to the sinner's prayer, unless it is the solitary self-initiation ritual that so many of us fumble through, shaking hands lighting candles while trying to remember which order the quarters are called in or the words to our deity invocations. Those varying rituals, often individual to each person, don't have to mean accepting the Goddess into your heart, but can be just practicing the skills of setting up sacred space, going through the motions of raising energy, and grounding and closing the space - it is the sampler of Pagan ritual.

There is Pagan theology, of course. It is a growing field, and I'm grateful to see it. After doing all the Paganism 101 stuff, there are philosophical issues to wrestle with, even if we aren't going to declare some of the answers to be definitive. Still, our books about the various ways to believe in Pagan ways are vastly outnumbered by the books of how to do Pagan things, and both usually end up in the New Age section of the bookstore. It is easy to get a bit self-conscious about our religion that acts like a hobby.

Even at Pagan Pride, we don't try to convert people to Paganism, but just inform them about who we are and what we do (and, unfortunately for our framing, sometimes what we don't do). I don't think we're even a religion of converts, really; we're a religion of student practitioners. And I hope it remains so, even if it means that our religious books continue to be put in the Occult and New Age sections of the bookstore. We aren't the same as most other religions, so maybe we shouldn't be treated the same. Let's embrace the Paganism 101 workshops and all it means about who we are.

Published on Leave a comment on Creating community isn’t growing a garden


Red Beltane flower This week, I attended an online conference for my day job. One of the themes was community building. I mentioned that my mantra for community building for my spiritual community is "work together, eat together, pray together" and I noted that you'd probably need an alternative to "pray" for a secular community. One of the other people suggested "grow together", harkening back to an earlier conversation comparing creating community to growing a garden. "Grow together" made me groan out loud. Luckily, being an online conference, no one heard that and I could compose a reasonable response.

There are two reasons I didn't like "grow together". The first - the one I gave in response at the conference - was that it is a result of community, not a way to create community. The second, unstated reason, was that I don't like metaphors.

Metaphors are useful when trying to explain abstract concepts in more concrete terms. Creating a community is just like growing a garden... until you actually want to get down to doing either one. If you want to do either, eventually you have to stop talking in pretty abstracts and make an action plan.

I like "work, eat, pray" for my spiritual family, but there are lots of other actions that could be considered crucial to community building, depending on the community: celebrate together, sweat together, sing together, play together, learn together... but since a Pagan community isn't a garden, we don't grow together; since it isn't a web or a blanket, we don't weave together; and since it isn't a ship, we don't sail or row together.

For Silver Spiral, "work together" means pulling invasive weeds in a local park, making giant batches of perogies, serving on community organizations, and painting walls in each other's homes and businesses. "Eat together" means preparing meals as a group, all contributing to our amazing potlucks, and enjoying fantastic conversations over food. "Pray together" means sharing sacred space, thinking of each other, and writing and rehearsing rituals for the larger community. These are real actions that lead to deeper friendships, good memories, positive associations, and, ultimately, that elusive feeling of community. No abstractions needed.

Published on Leave a comment on Our big questions – part 6: Our Pagan symposium


A view from below of a branching tree Last weekend, my spiritual family gathered around a dinner table to talk theology and eat and drink. It was the first Silver Spiral Pagan Symposium, as inspired by this post in "Under the Ancient Oaks".

The Symposium was doubling as my birthday party, so my partner and I had hired a chef as a special luxury for all of us. As fun as the potluck aspect sounded, for this occasion, we wanted it to be as little work as possible for everyone, especially since it was all planned for a Friday night. Besides overnight stuff for those staying over, the only thing our guests were asked to bring was a theology or philosophy question.

We came in our all beautiful chaos, most straight from work through truly awful traffic. Altogether, the Symposium was made up of most of the local Silver Spiral members and one from out of town, spouses from various spiritual backgrounds, three young kids, and a puppy who is in training to be a seeing eye dog. We came out of the pouring rain with overnight bags and toddlers in tow. Almost all of us were later arriving than we'd planned to be, we almost forgot to set the table, and we'd poured a first round of drinks and started nibbling on the appetizers before the last guests made it in. Throughout the multi-course dinner, there were breaks for the chef to tell us about the next course, for taking the dog out, to deal with children arguing, for baby bedtime, and for taking medications. Our conversations split and wandered from deep theology to community gossip to mundane things and back. We only poured two offerings. We didn't get to most people's questions. At one point, I was in full rant mode about something - cultural appropriation, Pagan fundamentalism, something else? - when I saw the chef step towards the dining room holding a cake with lit candles, see that it didn't look like quite the moment and start turning around. I was the only one facing that direction, so I interrupted myself by laughing and waving my birthday cake into the room.

It wasn't what John described in his post: an orderly dinner with each course proceeded by an offering and a question and an evening of thoughtful, focused, adult conversation. But what it was was beautiful: the extended Pagan family in all its glory, ending with sipping a truly perfect mead at around 2 am.

In the midst of all that, we did have some great theology discussions. Silver Spiral had a head start on those because our previous discussions had covered a lot of basics about what each of us believe, so we could dig directly into more specific topics such as why make offerings, the politics of being a nature religion on unceded First Nations territory, where we think we really are when in a sacred circle or ritual space, anthrocentricism, what makes a good leader in Paganism... We took good advantage of what we did know about each other, but we also drew on the different backgrounds of our non-member guests, such as a Unitarian and someone with an intense science background (who also told us about the sweetening effect of artichokes), which enriched the conversation further. We all brought open minds, which was most important.

It's not something we will do every month or even every quarter - too much rich food, too much wine, and too little sleep, especially for the parents of small children - but we will do it again. The most important part of our symposium was definitely the people, but great food and wine does facilitate conversation and some guidelines about the topics helps guide the group. Attempting to exert too much control over an evening like this would meant missing out on the magic of a full family experience. The only thing I would have changed is putting it on a Saturday night or starting a little later so people didn't have to rush as much.

Our evening may not have been "productive", but it was spiritually nourishing and a lot of fun. I did learn some really interesting things about my friends' beliefs and got some food for thought (that will probably show up in this blog soon). I highly recommend putting together your own version of the modern Pagan symposium.

Series to date:
Our big questions - part 1
Our big questions - part 2
Our big questions - part 3: Ritual structure 2.0
Our big questions – part 4: Circling from awkward to graceful (and back)
Our big questions - part 5: Hacking our religion

Published on Leave a comment on The fantasy schedule


A cat with a pen and a noteboook I don't know much about fantasy football, but it is my understanding that the game is to assemble the best team on paper that you can from all active players on all teams. That's how I have tended to create schedules for myself.

My fantasy schedule is dominated by "should": I should wash the kitchen floor every week, I should meditate, I should eat less sugar, I should practice parking more often, I should create a morning ritual, I should call my mother more often... in my head, I create elaborate schedules that include all the things I should do, but it is just a fantasy. "Should" isn't about intention or action; it's about guilt and (self-)criticism.

I've recently decided to try to give up the word "should". When I hear myself tell myself that I should do something, I stop and ask myself if I actually care about doing it. If the answer is "yes", then I change the sentence to one of real intention: "I will do that tonight". If the answer is "no", then I give myself permission to let go of the guilt and the fantasy.

I've been finding that a very big challenge, and one of the areas where I have particular trouble is related to spirituality. I have been having trouble letting go of the idea that one day I'll want to spend my mornings meditating, sipping herbal tea with a nutritious breakfast, and conducting simple but deeply meaningful rituals. The truth is, I want to spend my morning drinking espresso, playing Solitaire on my phone, and serving as a warm lap for my cat.

I been thinking about that gap between desire and action and why it exists. I have always wanted to be a spiritual person, but I never put plans into action, at least not for long. Then a friend of mine, who has been running Vancouver Pagan Pride Day for several years now, said something in one of the preparation meetings for the March 19th fundraiser event to the effect of "This is my spiritual work."

That rattled around in my head until I had one of those slap-your-forehead moments: for all my discussions about different ways to be Pagan and the centres of Paganism, I had never thought about what my own inclination towards Community-Centred Paganism actually meant for my personal practices. It should have been no wonder that meditating, praying, lighting candles, and making offerings didn't work for me; solitary ritual would never tick the right boxes for me. What does work for me is participating in group ritual, volunteering for the community, writing group rituals, and writing this blog. My spiritual work doesn't look like I expected it to, so I dismiss what I am actually doing - what is actually calling me and bringing me satisfaction - and try to make myself into what I picture religious looks like. And since that doesn't call me, it just leads to "should".

My spiritual practice doesn't look like kneeling in front of an altar praying. My spiritual practice looks like sitting in front of a laptop, it looks like long walks thinking about theology, it looks like my spiritual family sharing bread by candlelight after grounding, and it looks like editing a book and creating workshops. That's where my spirit wants to be, and it makes it easy to avoid fantasy schedules and just do things.



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