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Tag: pagan actions

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Published on 1 Comment on Responsible to the centres

The main lodge and fire pit at a Pagan gathering This past weekend, I went to my 18th Gathering for Life on Earth. There were rituals, and swimming, and workshops, and feasting, but best of all, there were juicy conversations. One of my favourite people to talk to every year is a brilliant woman who runs a local Pagan choir and who does a sung devotional ritual every year. She is so thoughtful in how she approaches ritual, and how she sets a tone and guides without controlling... her rituals inspire me on several levels.

Naturally, she leads devotional rituals because she is a polytheist, which I am not. This year, we touched on this briefly in our meandering theological discussion, and I mentioned the four centres of Paganism theory. Though we agreed that people may be centred in multiple areas or may slip between them, she did identify primarily as deity-centred and I as community-centred. We discussed how non-deity-centred public ritual leaders should be cognizant of not offending those for whom the gods and spirits are literal. It isn't that hard, and seems mostly common sense: don't invoke gods if you don't know at least a little about them, lest you offend them; don't invoke gods together who are enemies; don't call on spirits unless the literal energy is what is desired. Basically, it seemed all good practices to me anyway: avoiding cognitive dissonance amongst knowledgeable or conscientious non-believers, not offending believers, and not making a fool of yourself by parading your ignorance around the circle.

A good ritual leader wants everyone to get something out of their ritual. That's a challenge in a public or semi-public setting where people could be from any of the centres, and be any of the kinds of deism as well1. Making a ritual that works for everyone is a big challenge, but it isn't a bad start to figure out what responsibility you have as a leader to each of the four centres. Here are just some ideas to get us all started; feel free to add more in the comments:

To the deity-centre, you have the responsibility to use respectful language and actions towards the gods and spirits, as discussed above.

To the nature-centre, you have the responsibility to be conscience in your choice of materials and tools, avoiding plastics and waste and being aware of the kind of offerings being made and their impact on the plants and animals. You would also want to be aware of the actual environment of your ritual (and not, for example, turning your back on a lake in order to invoke Water in the West), know your science if you are going to be using natural concepts (and not, for example, calling on a non-local bird as your spirit in the East), and being careful in your language around grounding (really, stop dumping all your negative energy into the earth) and elevating or privileging people over nature.

To the inner-centre2, you have the responsibility to not preach or lecture, and not to imply that lack of belief in external, literal gods makes someone a bad Pagan, or that lack of faith will drive one mad. It is also important that your ritual have a coherent theme and that the components make psychological sense in how they come together and build towards something. I think this is also the centre that would most want to know what words mean when chanting or invoking in another language, since intent is so important to many inner-centred traditions. Providing context and translation would be crucial to their comfort and involvement.

To the community-centre, you have the responsibility to offer opportunities for people to participate together; to offer opportunities and activities that someone could not experience on their own. From the comfort of our homes, we can watch videos of liturgy being recited, we can listen to recordings of talented singers, we can mediate and pray - what we want from group ritual is that which we can't get any other way. Being asked to merely witness is usually not sufficient for this centre, except where community witnessing is the whole point, as in a handfasting.

Following these guidelines won't guarantee that everyone will grok or even enjoy your ritual, but it does mean that people won't be put off or jolted out of the experience you are trying to create by something that offends their fundamental beliefs. If you want to offer rituals to the Pagan community, especially in public or semi-public settings like festivals or Pagan Pride events, it is important to recognize that you are responsible to the whole community, not just the centres you are most familiar with. A public ritual is about more than your own practice, or even presenting your tradition to a larger audience; it is about engaging your community - your whole community - in something spiritual, religious, and meaningful.

I suspect some people will fear that in trying to please everyone, you will end up with a mess of compromises that pleases no one, but I think that reading over the points above makes it pretty clear that it is possible to make a ritual that fills at least the basic needs of all the centres without losing meaning or purpose. It is a great gift to the community to offer a ritual, but only if it is offered with respect and love for everyone.

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Published on 1 Comment on My Paganism is grey

Venn diagram of black and white making grey A recent article on the dystopian film trend starts: "Before your film can dominate the global box office, it needs ideally to have been a word-of-mouth bookshelf smash. And unless your name is John Green or JK Rowling, your best option is to write a piece of bestselling YA dystopian fiction or fantasy."

There's no shortage of dystopian fiction right now, and theories about why we can't seem to get enough of reading and watching it. I think I know why there's so much of it being written: it is easy.

Writing a great book is probably never easy, but it is easy for most of us to think of ways the world could go wrong – the news is full of examples every night – and creating suspense and tension through the simple means of putting freedom, lives, and basic rights at risk is a bit of a shortcut. Wallowing in this kind of dark fantasy is easy for us, like imagining what people would say at your funeral in the "they'll regret this when I'm gone" way of a dramatic teenager1.

I'm seeing some things pop up in the wider online Paganism that remind me of this. People talking a lot about bones and poisons, about using desecrated items from other religions, and about demons and curses. People reclaiming our connections to the occult and to Satanism. People talking about the dark and awful sides of our gods.

They aren't wrong. We shouldn't shy away from our history or from knowing about the ugliest, bloodiest, hardest parts of ourselves and of nature. To only talk about the bounty and beauty is false, but so much of what I see that is standing against the "white light"/"fluffy bunny" approach feels like just a dark fantasy version of the same thing.

Of course, if you genuinely believe that the world is dark and that nature is red is tooth and claw, your religious practices will and should reflect that. And if you genuinely believe that the universe is love and the gods are divine parents, your practices will and should look very different. But my concern is that in disparaging the latter as being childish and naive, we have made the former into the intelligent and realistic option (we do love our binaries), and I have seen as many Pagans burn out from the "darker-than-thou" competition as from getting tired of the pressure to throw positive thoughts at all problems.

My Paganism is a faith that tries to participate in and reflect reality, and edginess is not the same as realism. If others prefer their religion mixed with fantasy, that's really nothing to me, but I don't think it's fair to look down on bright fantasy while elevating dark. Escapism is the same whether cloaked in flowers and white light or in bones and shadows.

Published on Leave a comment on Not doing the work (yet)

Stone statue praying in a community garden. The abs class fitness instructor at the gym likes to remind us that in order to get a strong core, eventually you have to do crunches. You can do lots of other things too, but, eventually, you have to contract those muscles, and that means crunching. You have to do the work, and you have to do the right work.

I feel you, Niki: I'm also not doing the work I need to be doing.

I'm reading other people's inspirational and thought-provoking posts and thinking about their opinions instead of working on my own. I'm making new Pagan memes: seeking out quotes, matching them with photos, playing with fonts and frames. I'm also going to the gym and doing my crunches. What I'm not doing is authentic prayer.

Part of my current spiritual practices is praying prior to meals and sleep, but the prayers I've been using are the same as the ones I've been using for more than a decade and they no longer match my beliefs. They've become almost superstitions. Since I think best in writing, I've been telling myself to write it out – here or in my journal – and start revising my daily rituals, but the right time to do that never seems to be now.

This isn't the right time either. We have "House of Cards" on, which hardly sets the right atmosphere for deep introspection or real spiritual work, and I've got a sleeping cat in my lap that I don't want to disturb by getting up. But I need to start this work... one day.

It is like a physical exercise routine: you know it is good for you; you know you'll feel better when you do it; you know that once you build a new habit, it will be relatively easy to maintain; but, somehow, it is still just easier to keep finding excuses and keep putting it off. Maybe, like with exercise, I need a real motivation to go from excuses to actions. I had reasons - reasons that were very specific and deeply important to me - for starting to go to the gym, and I had measurable results to keep me motivated. To do the spiritual work I feel I need to do, I need a calling. A calling won't come from my gods, for they don't speak, so I must find it within, and I must find in that calling both reason and reward.

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Published on 2 Comments on Thoughtful consumption

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.

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Published on 6 Comments on The value of consent

Sign: "Emergency Shut Off Valve" Many prominent Pagans are now talking about consent culture and how to make Pagan spaces safer. It particular, I would recommend Christine Kraemer's Consent Culture 101: Basic Practices and Teaching Games, Yvonne Aburrow's Silence equals complicity: making Pagan groups safe for everyone, Shauna Aura Knight's Harassment and Boundaries, and especially Stasa Morgan-Appel's Some Experiences with a Culture of Consent and Radical Inclusion.

To me, a culture of consent means that activities only happen with the enthusiastic consent of all participants. It is where lack of enthusiastic consent is sufficient to stop an activity and seek better communication; a spoken "no" is not necessarily required. And it goes beyond sex and even beyond touch and into all interactions so that games and activities, religious rituals, and even conversations are all based on consent. If we establish an expectation for seeking consent in all things, maybe it will be easier for all us to create and respect boundaries in more challenging areas such as sex.

At a Pagan event, I was in the washroom with someone with whom I generally get along and she made a comment that I didn't want to engage with. I said "I don't want to get in the middle of that". She had started towards the exit as we talked and she then stopped in front of the door, blocking it, holding the handle, and proceeded to rant at me. It was brief – probably only 30 seconds – but I felt disrespected and annoyed. Had I been less startled, I would have spoken up, but it happened so fast. I don't think she thought about it either; she didn't consciously override me or disregard my feelings, but simply got caught up in her own head.

At a drumming workshop, the instructor asked each person to individually play back a rhythm. I decided to pass on that particular exercise, being self-conscious about my sense of rhythm. When it came to my turn, I told the instructor that I would prefer not to and he was fine with that, but someone else in the class said "we're allowed to not do it?". It shocked me that those around me didn't know that they were allowed to say "no" to something.

If we value consent as individuals and as a community, we will all develop the ability to lovingly enforce boundaries and respectfully step back if requested. That's what a complete culture of consent could help us all with. There's a phrase amongst people that are seeking to create "consent culture": "yes means yes". Instead of defining consent in terms of what we don't say no to, it is about seeking enthusiastic consent. Enthusiastic consent and participation is what we should want in all our rituals; it will make our magic and our worship stronger.

There a few things I consider non-negotiable to warn for going into a ritual: skyclad (especially if it is mandatory); blood drawing; and drugs, including alcohol, in the working portion of the rite (a small amount of alcohol in the food and drink portion seems acceptable to me as long as consumption is voluntary and an alternative is presented as equal in value). Unfortunately, I have seen or heard from trusted sources of all three of these things being sprung upon ritual participants at different times by ritual leaders who should know better. I believe that sometimes ritual leaders are using the element of surprise in these matters as ways to shortcut to intense experiences. By springing something controversial and difficult on the participants, they can provoke an emotional response to add to the energy of the ritual. I think it is a lazy way of creating a heightened atmosphere and has no place in a religion that calls all members priests and priestesses.

Warning for or avoiding nudity, blood, and drugs is just the minimum we should do, though. The next step would be doing what this year's event coordinator did at the Gathering: making sure all event descriptions include information about scents/incense and food so potential participants with allergies and sensitivities can make informed decisions in advance. Finally, I believe we should make it clear how people can opt out of any part of a ritual or leave the sacred space completely.

I feel like it is an incredibly powerful thing to be able to have a skyclad ritual at a Pagan event. I've felt and seen the magic that happens when people have the chance to be naked in Circle together: how people gain confidence and become more embodied, and sometimes even become more comfortable in their skin. I don't practice skyclad at home, but I lead mixed groups of almost strangers in nude rituals at the annual local Pagan camp (The Gathering for Life on Earth) because I believe it is important for the experience to be available there1.

This year, the camp's theme was "The Wild Hunt" and my ritual, called Challenges of the Wild Ones, was on the first night, at about 11 PM. This has been the traditional time slot for the "starlit skyclad" (known in previous years as the "nude moonlit"), and I like it for the feeling of jumping in to cold water: everyone who wants to take the plunge can do so early in the weekend, before they have time to talk themselves out of it. I know how much courage it takes for people, especially first timers, to take off their clothes in front of other people, especially if they are also coming to one of their first group rituals ever. I feel honoured that several times, my skyclad ritual has been someone's first group ritual besides the camp's opening. I am flattered by the trust they've put in me.

When I write rituals for strangers, I cast my mind back to when I was new to public rituals and I never include anything that would have made that self feel unsafe or embarrassed. So when I was writing "Challenges of the Wild Ones" and wanted to include a part where everyone had to respond to a question, I considered a couple of different ways of making that more comfortable while keeping the feeling of a challenge. One option I considered was to give the questions in the pre-ritual explanation so people would have more time to prepare their answer. This was ultimately rejected because I didn't want everyone distracted by thinking up and remembering their answers during the first part of the ritual. The solution I came up with was to offer the option of a silent response. Since everyone would have their eyes closed, people wouldn't necessarily know who spoke and who responded silently, so hopefully that would minimize peer pressure. Honestly, I expected most people would respond silently when given the option, but when that portion of the ritual started, every single person gave their answer out loud. I don't remember many of the answers - the answers were to the gods or spirits, so not mine to collect - but I was deeply touched by the authenticity and honesty in how people spoke. I felt that most people responded from deep truths, even when their words were simple.

Later that weekend, I spoke to someone else who had been in that circle about how that surprised me, and she said that maybe because I had given people an "out", they felt safe enough not to use it. This dovetails nicely with my theory that if we make it easy for people to know how to leave a ritual, they'll be less likely to want a way out. I don't think offering an opt-out option will usually result in a ritual of non-participants watching... if it does, the ritual needs to be redesigned from scratch.

The pre-ritual speech I had my priest give (while I ran down to the beach to finish setting up) included directions on what to do to opt out of an activity, permission to respond silently, mention that I would be touching people on the shoulder to prompt their response, and instructions to bring their cloaks and towels with them for the optional skinny dipping. Looking back, I would have liked to have added a note about how to leave the ritual completely. There was one originally, but when the opening ritual didn't include a circle casting, I hastily wrote a circle casting into my ritual and didn't have the time to thoughtfully consider how people should exit. I would have also made sure to draw attention to the ingredients in the food and drink (several people took only apple slices until they found out that the cookies were gluten- and nut- and dairy-free), and to mention that opting out or leaving would have no consequences and there would be no questions asked, though my priest and I would be available to talk or receive feedback throughout the weekend.

Our most popular Pagan liturgies hold that we are all divine, or at least all capable of reaching the divine on our own. If everyone is god/dess, or even if everyone is "merely" a priest or priestess, then we owe each other respect. One of the ways we can show each other respect is to seek consent in all things. It is the least we can do for our fellow deities.

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Published on 1 Comment on Gathering together

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!

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Published on 4 Comments on To the ocean and for a mountain

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?

Published on Leave a comment on Link roundup: sacrifice

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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