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The Orgiastic Madness of the Divine-Struck

September 20, 2012 in The First Dark

I can see why the mythically (or real) Maenads of olde would’ve LOVED a good rave in these times. It was through dance that they found themselves, found that higher state of being. It was through EXCESS that they became physically mad, psychotic, enraged with the need to service that which they considered ‘the divine’.

What could or couldn’t be divine? What’s right or what’s wrong, about the methods and choices other Pagans use in order to worship their patron Goddess or God? What is the necessity of following rules and guidelines, in order to perform magic ‘correctly?’

Magic isn’t about right or wrong, ceremony or decadence, what color you wore or how you interpret the words written in parchment.

A movie called Stigmata struck me with words that may or may not be true – but have always FELT true when it comes to my thoughts about the Divine Presence, whether male or female (it just happens to be female to me). This movie had a lost text of the bible that started with the following:

Jesus said the kingdom of God is in you and all about you not in a building of stone and wood Split a timber and I am there look under a stone and you will find me?

When I heard those words the first time, they struck me hard – actually made me cry. At the time, I was still a non-practicing Episcopalian. Now?  I’m very much making my moves; theological study and religious beliefs about Isis worship — it just simply makes sense, and feels right to me. It’s what was always there, for a very long time; I truly feel that I have simply reconnected with what was always there.

Egyptian/Kemetic-based Paganism & the Greco-Egyptian traditions have been in my heart since I was in elementary school. My borderline obsession with reading books about the old Dynasties of Egypt and the myths of old Rome & Greece, now comes full circle as I realize I was simply searching for something that reminded me of “me.” It simply, without fail, made sense to me. It wasn’t about dog-headed and bird-headed gods and goddesses, it was only about the one, she who had always been there. And there are a lot of people who feel offended by the fact that I don’t see ‘her’ as a HE, and vice-versa, that I don’t worship the others as patron Gods and Goddesses, also.

What I’ve learned is that the only person that you can satisfy when it comes to your personal theology, YOUR beliefs, is You. It’s what makes *your* heartbeat, what makes your pulse quicken, what floods your dreamscape. And what’s unfortunate as that the human race has not learned after all these millennia and years to respect each other’s beliefs and principles, as they are all simply based on one – doing to others as you would have done to yourself.

During my research on Greco-Egyptian Paganism and its history, I’ve begun looking into the story of Skopas, whose statue stands today as the simple of passion for one’s god/goddess, a symbol of Bacchic ‘frenzy’ or devotion, furor even, for their God. The Maenads’ mark on history most certainly may be gone but not forgotten. They are a part of Hellenic tradition & Greek mythos that still inspires me to this day – the part I most identify with. Excess has nearly killed me many a time; you’d think I’d learn. But that was the excess of the chemical, the material. The Excess of Passion – it’s an emotion and action I’ve never found myself quite able to let fully go of. My great passion for the things I do, and how I do them, more often offends others and gets me in trouble. But my great passion is what sets me apart – being fearless by being possessed by a nearly orgiastic ‘passion’ may be considered dangerous by some, but boundary-pushing by others. Me included. So as I start to study these things, I try to remember that it’s ok to express here the feelings inspired by being struck damn near dumb and stupified by the Divine. She called me home, I went. And regardless of where that takes me, I can tell you for a fact that the magic of she has led me nowhere that I can suffer harm throughout this new year of my worshipping her. My senses, and my instincts are so razor sharp now, that I doubt myself no more. I follow my heart without fear this time, and if that’s madness – so mote it be.

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Dining with Divinity

August 24, 2012 in The First Dark

 “I am not afraid. I was born to do this.”—Joan of Arc

This week, I was going to continue my “Strong Women Figures” in Pagan History series with Hekate; I decided instead to take a break.  It’s always been my motto that if I cannot do it justice, then I won’t do it at all.  And this particular Goddess deserves my full attention, same as Isis and Lilith before her.  Dare I say that she’s challenging me, to bring it with all the flavorful zest she knows I’m capable of?

Either way…What I will do this for this week’s column, is to explain my process.  Mind you, I’m not so much the megalomaniac that I assume anyone actually cares about that *chuckles*

But…I will tell you why I’m not ready for her just yet – and why She is actually OK with that.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…when writing, I have to wait until it comes to me.  I’m not one of those people that can make up a column or story from scratch on the spot.  When it hits me, I just know.  I know in a way that’s entirely physical, NOT mental.  It’s a warm feeling, spreading from my brain to the rest of my body like a strawberry, slow-dipped into warm chocolate.  It spreads and spreads and spreads until I am consumed by it.  Nothing and no one can fulfill the need that comes next; the overwhelming desire to put pen to paper on the idea that is suddenly consuming me whole.

For example, while writing this column I became overwhelmed with the idea of salty-tart things.  To be more specific; Tomatoes!  This gal LOVES a good tomato.  !!!

Obeying my hedonistic nature like always, I tiptoed my little self on over to the kitchen, and took out two of the most perfect little tomatoes I’ve seen in some time.  After washing them thoroughly, I sank my teeth into what quickly became THE firmest, most tart set of tomatoes I think I’ve ever had.  Again, I’ll profess my undying devotion to the fruit known as tomatoes.  I-LOVE-THEM.  I love them even better as the guiltiest of pleasures, dripping with ice-cold ranch dressing and sprinkled with shredded sharp cheddar cheese.  Though I was overwhelmed with the desire to eat some ranch-and-cheddar-smothered tomatoes, I wasn’t burning with the need to write or even think about them.  After I’d finished my impromptu meal, I cleaned up and put my condiments back into the refrigerator.  As I was about to close the door, my eyes spied “the trigger” to that feeling – that idea or ‘thing’ that becomes the call I must heed.  This call is the need to write, and write ASAP — or forever lose the message needing to be given.

Oddly enough, that burning ‘call’ to write was triggered by the sight of…apples.

A barrel of fresh, Pink Lady apples; even better than a Pink Lady?

An ice-cold and crispy Fuji apple. The combination of tart and sweet was is so insanely intoxicating to me, that each time I bite into an apple of any kind it’s like a mini-orgasm.

“Apples” was the word that came into my mind, when I first started writing this article.  The simplest word, item or thought I could ever think — and this would be the word and/or vision, that came to me when thinking about the Triple Goddess Hekate.  Really?

Absolutely.

I get it, Goddess.  Simplicity.  Pleasure.  Ecstacy, in the form of the simple.  Wonder, at how so much goodness, pleasure, health and happiness can come from an item so simple it can be found everywhere.

You see, while the stories and legends of Hekate are ANYTHING but simple – it’s simplicity that I feel  I’m being called toward.  Find her purpose, her reason and her uses but relay them with simplicity.  It’s not so complicated.  She is not so complicated.  Mayhap that’s something that all of us – from those that worship her exclusively to those that are simply curious, should remember.  It’s simplicity that’s appreciated, in our worship and rites towards the gods and goddesses who rule our hearts, hearths and homes.

That’s the message I received today.  It’s the message that I will proceed with, as I move forward with my research and summations on Hekate…for next time, of course.

Until we meet again…

Brightest Blessings, All!

~P

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She of One Name.

August 9, 2012 in The First Dark

                     

 

“Lilith said, ‘I will not lie below,’ and he said, ‘I will not lie beneath you, but only on top. For you are fit only to be in the bottom position, while I am to be the superior one.’  Lilith responded, ‘We are equal to each other inasmuch as we were both created from the earth.’

But they would not listen to one another. When Lilith saw this, she pronounced the Ineffable Name and flew away into the air.” 

 

While every other Goddess carries many “facades” and many different names; there is one who never lost her identity NOR her home.  Of all the rest, her name continues to reside as the one true name, that represents knowledge and strength in regards to the gender known as female.

 

Lilith.

 

Some say she IS the Dark Mother.  She is the one, who gave birth to all things evil that roam this earth; Vampire, Demon, Lycanthropes or any other version of the Undead.  She is rumored to be one who feeds on those who are too weak to resist her touch.

…but then, there are others – other people, who regard Lilith as above all that commonplace crap.  I am one of those others.

I don’t intend to re-write myths or legends here.  I only intend to spread the fact of what’s been written and retold, and relay in turn what I’ve come to believe.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t presume to say I know this particular Goddess anymore now than I did before.  She terrified me, to be perfectly honest with you.  But she terrifies me in that good way.

On a side note, let’s not forget a sprinkling of quotes from songs, movies and prose; some of my favourite writers and singers of my youth and adulthood. These people said it like it was in their minds, regardless of who it would offend. These ‘lines’ of praise are my very smallest bit of thanks to Her for aid received as I tentatively walked through her lore the past two weeks.

It’s my wish that I hopefully do not offend anyone out there; if I do offend I’m sorry but truthfully can’t concern myself beyond that statement.  That’s how this particular Goddess, this Monster of Knowledge and the Pursuit of Truth, makes me feel!

As usual, I digress – Let’s go back to the beginning and never ending theories regarding Mother Lilith.

She’s most commonly known as the betrayer of Adam, the first man; the first and most scorned of Heaven, per the Christians and some ‘paths’ of Ancient and Orthodox Judaism.  She’s also been called the “Bringer of Pestilence and Disease;” killer of newborn babies and children.  She’s been known as a maker of the infamous ‘nocturnal emission’ that all men (and some women!) claim to suffer from – THE Succubus, mate to the Incubus.  Or was that her daughters, the ‘lilim’ that some Jews still wear amulets to protect against today?  And of course, let’s not forget that her aforementioned title, as a creator of all Fallen or Fabled demonic creatures that walk the earth today.

Then, there are some softer versions of her myth.  Lilith, twin to Adam and joined together with him at the back!? Another fabled myth sees her as the Great Mother figure, who was worshipped by the settled agricultural tribes, who resisted the invasions of the nomadic herdsmen represented by Adam.  It is felt the early Hebrews disliked the Great Mother who drank the blood of Abel the herdsman, after being slain by the elder god of Agriculture and Smithcraft Cain.  (Genesis, 4:11).  Lilith’s Red Sea is but another version of Kali Ma’s Ocean of Blood, “which gave birth to all things – but needed periodical sacrificial replenishment.”

I could continue on quoting myths, legends, and folklore galore, but I will not.  There’s no point in saying what’s already been said.  So let’s get right to what I feel…and what Lilith makes me FEEL, starting with a passage from the epic song by The Doors – “The End”:

 

“Ride the snake…ride the snake…to the Lake…the Ancient Lake, baby.  The snake is long; 7 miles…ride the snake…he’s Old!  And his skin is cold!” –Jim Morrison, The Doors.

 

At first, when reading all of these myths and remembrances; seeing these ancient scriptures and statues I felt nothing but cold representation of something that could’ve never been real.  Granite, bronze and marble faces that stared back at me – representations of what the artist felt but not necessarily what those who may have once worshipped her saw.  She wasn’t really real to me.  After all, every other Goddess had some sort of purpose, or reason for existence.  The only reason ever truly accredited to Lilith was to plague and make misery on mankind.  But reading the Christian and Judaic orthodoxies on Lilith, I’ve come to see the truth hidden between the layers and lines of time.

 

 

“I love my baby ‘an I

Tell the world I do!’

‘What made me love her,

you will come ‘an love her, too!”

(“When Your Way Gets Dark” – by Charley Patton)

 

Lilith was, and is the Snake.  The Snake; unchanged after thousands of years because it never had to evolve.  She came into this world knowing; it didn’t take a bite of an apple like it did for poor, dumbed-down Eve to open her eyes.

Lilith’s only crime, if you really consider it that, was that she refused to subjugate to her mate.  I’m not saying she was smarter than Adam – quite the opposite, I believe they were evenly matched in most ways.  And that became the problem.  Lilith refused to “lie beneath” her ancient husband, not just physically but mentally as well.  If someone can’t see that logic between the lines of every religious genres tomes’ that have written about her, then they are blind as a bat.

“C’mon man, let’s plan a murder, let’s start a religion!  More More More!” – Jim Morrison; Lead Singer of The Doors. 

 

I’ve always been a firm believer that religious texts are heavily built on Metaphor.  Metaphor brings the signs, subjects, and dramas that telling the truth cannot.  Lakes of fire, blood-filled oceans, talking snakes, hooved-or-heeled Gods…the truth still stands, that within all of this metaphor a true believer can see the honest truth.  It’s the nonbeliever, that person which fears that there really isn’t anything at the inevitable end that becomes the hardcore atheist or the book-burning zealot – no matter the religion, practice or path.

That said, there is much more to Lilith than being some sort of ancient-day feminist.  I am completely against the idea that she disliked men to the point that she spent the rest of her existence torturing them in dreams, or tormenting and killing their children for pleasure.  I’m completely against the idea that she spawned demons, just to pollute the world.   It’s just the opposite; I believe that she simply wanted a mate who could share – share knowledge, share in the chores of life and share in the act of physical love. She didn’t want to just be a conduit for reproduction and sexual pleasure; the knowledge that she came into the world with and the strength of character she owned where what led her to stand next to her convictions fearlessly. Regardless of the punishment meted by karma or the hand of any creator god or good ‘ol fashioned Darwinism, she took a chance.  So what did she win, if anything?

She won her freedom, to be whatever she wanted.  Whether she took the dive to the darkest of places, or simply ran off into existence never to be seen again – the moral of the story here, in my humble opinion, is free will. 

It’s something a lot of us, Pagan or otherwise have seemed to forgotten that we have.  We hide bits and pieces of ourselves in order to just get along – with our environments and those in them.  What I admire most about the story of Lilith (once dusted off and set upright, of course!) is that she made her own choices, right or wrong.  And that’s a lesson that most of us in this life need to relearn – males and females alike!

As always, Brightest Blessings and Thanks for Reading!  ;)

I plan on riding this wave out until it expires like a burnt down candle wick, folks.  Next on my list?  The Triple Goddess – from Maiden to Crone, what does she represent for Pagan men and women, regardless of her flavor?  Until we meet again…

 

~P

Sources:  (http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sumer_anunnaki/esp_sumer_annunaki15e.htm), (http://www.pantheon.org/articles/l/lilith.html)

 

“King of the Delta Blues:  The Life and Music of Charlie Patton” by Stephen Calt and Gayle Wardlow.  (pg. 83)

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Only The Strong Survive

July 27, 2012 in Pagan Spirituality, The First Dark

“On an Ancient Stela it is written:  ‘I am Isis the Goddess, The Possessor of Magic (HEKA), Who Performs Magic; Effective of Speech, Excellent of Words.’”          (from the book “The Isis Oracle” by David Taylor –Brown, pg. 153)

 

This week in the mail, I finally received a book I’d been waiting on for some time; “The Isis Oracle” by David Taylor-Brown.  This book also came with these AMAZING Cards; pictures and definitions of the gods & goddesses of Kemetic Paganism.  Some of the cards also had beautiful hieroglyphics representing common terms and phrases that one would find themselves using often, when performing ritual and rites at their altar as worshipper of the ways of old Kemet.  The cards, in all actuality, or frankly more beautiful and interesting than the book itself!

So…what in the heck does this have to do with anything, eh?

What made me so happy about receiving these items this particular week, was that it was almost like getting an acknowledgement from the Great Mother herself, for writing about the subject of my column this week.  Truth is, I’ve been researching, writing and pondering on this topic since the day I uploaded my last column.

So what exactly have I been ruminating on for days on end, after recovering from a “total crisis of the self” last week?

STRENGTH.

 

Not just the general meaning of the term, but Women.  Strong Women.  More specifically, Strong Goddess Figures and Strong Women throughout this world’s storied past. I’ve found myself watching movies and other historical retellings via documentary, etc. – about Iconic Women in history.  I should really say that I’ve not just gravitated towards this subject for the past two weeks; more like been possessed by the urge to immerse myself in their legends, in order to bring myself back to purpose vs. succumbing to inner struggle and daily strife.

Being sucked in as I have by the topic of iconic women figures throughout history; I’ve decided to dedicate my next few columns to some of the Goddesses that I have studied the most in the past two years.  Of course, we’ll start this column with my Patron diety, my Isis.

When thinking about the ‘Great Mother’ icon, there is quite obviously a Great Mother figurehead for just about any religious path one may take – from my Blessed Mother, my Isis to the Greeks’ Eurynome – grandmother to Zeus…Cybele, one of the oldest known creation goddesses whose blessing made the crops grow; Brigit, Ireland’s infamous “Triple Goddess” to good Lilith, Mesopotamia’s Great Goddess of Wisdom, Independence and Strong-Will and Christianity’s Blessed Virgin Mary.

Regardless of their known tendencies or powers, one trait ALL Goddesses share across the board was STRENGTH.  In any and every story I have ever read, regarding my patron Goddess or otherwise – it was Strength of Will that always ever seemed to see them through their burden to the side of success.  For example, the story of Isis’ birth to Horus never fails to inspire me.  Poor Horus was deviled not only his entire existence, but even prior to that in the womb – by his jealous uncle, the god Seth.  As the story goes, Isis feared Seth would try to kill her son once born; she secretly gave birth to Horus in the marshes of the Nile delta.  Hidden from view and attended by Hathor and the Scorpion Goddess, Isis gave birth to her son.   As quoted in ‘The Isis Oracle’ by David Taylor-Brown (pg. 20):

“Childbirth was, and remains, a dangerous time for both mother and infant, and the wearing of an image of Isis, offers comfort at this time.  At every turn the young Horus was threatened by dangerous forces and beasts, but on each occasion Isis either cured him herself, or enlisted the help of other gods such as Thoth to ensure that her son survived.” 

Though translations may have been lost, and messages have been covered up by the glamour of mystery, magic, and misinterpretation – what stands truest to me will always be the “moral” of the story.  And to me, the moral of this or any story is being self-sufficient – believing in oneself and going against the odds to finish what you’ve started.

What I mean by this is that as a Pagan, it can be easy to get side-swept by “Fluffy Bunny Syndrome;” ie. Looking for or insisting that your every waking moment is a miracle of some sort.  Seeing a ‘sign’ of some sort, in every experience you have.  Professing that everything around you is now “glitter and gold” because you are a Pagan of ‘XYZ’ path.  What glitters and is gold isn’t what’s important.  What’s important is remembering the ‘moral’ of the story; the gods can only help us with so much; it’s up to us to use what they give us to find a resolution and set ourselves back to purpose.

I end these thoughts for the week by laying myself bare and vulnerable to the world; a retelling in words of my experiences when Goddess is interacting directly with me:

It is always ever in dreams that she comes to visit me, or relay her advice or messages.  In my dreams, she’s always in the guise of a modern-day “girls’ day out.”  It’s usually brunch, or a busy café or coffee shop in the modern world.  We are together, eating and drinking – everything warp speed around us; blurred and of no consequence.  Her voice is soft, always amused with me for some reason but only in the sense that I know She Knows I’m hearing her – but of course, will I absorb, understand and use the powerful knowledge she relays?  Her clothes could be from anytime, anywhere – both modern and timeless.  Her hand always touching mine; holding my ever-moving body, soul, mind firmly in her grasp.

She LOVES me; this feeling pours from every inch of her countenance into me.  She loves me, with all that she is and I love her; so much so that I’m constantly enthralled to her.  I could never make my mouth form words sufficient enough to tell her that, and it destroys small pieces of me inside knowing that fact.  She remains amused, stroking my fingers lovingly and letting me know that none of that matters right now; everything I know and everything I feel she has always been and will always be aware of because she made me.  I am a part of her core, like all things are.  When her messages are relayed, she whispers final words to me; words that it takes me DAYS Later to recall and understand!  And then….just like that, she is GONE, and I am awake – Wide Awake and Full of that FIRE that she always leaves me with; the fire of Purpose Realized.

 

In her honor and in parting, one of my favourite passages – via one of my favourite books, “Pandora: New Tales of the Vampires” by Anne Rice (pg. 153).  Here we see Pandora’s words prior to becoming a vampire, when she was human and worshipped as a member of the Cult of Isis:

“You are she who has separated the Heavens and the Earth.

You are she who rises in the Dog Star.

You are she who makes strong the right.

You are she who makes the children to love their parents.

You are she who decreed mercy for all who ask for it.”

 

Coming up next time…

Lilith; Dark Goddess — or, Redeemer and Patron of Scorned Women?

Until we meet again…Brightest Blessings!

~PW

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Does That Make Me Bad?

July 14, 2012 in The First Dark

“What can I say? I AM the Glorious Sun!” – Gaia; Spartacus-Gods of the Arena, Episode #1

I’ve spent most of this week, lamenting the fact that I can never write until Muse herself visits me! She sits on my shoulder, small as can be – whispers into my ear, and then? So Mote It Be! (That’s a little bit of poetry for these early morning hours; as I sit here and do as she demands). But I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when I find my own mind so preoccupied with the ‘daily droll’ that I cannot put it to the projects at hand.

But I digress…as I love to say to myself often, while writing…”What in the Sam.HELL are you talking about now, Porsha Williams?”

Everything and nothing, as usual.

So what did Muse say to me this morning, in her casual little conspiratorial whisper?

“You are good enough.”

I spend a lot of time, reading other Pagan blogs and sharing what I consider phenomenal. I do this in order to understand more about the path I have chosen, as well as learn from others who have long since been initiated into their craft. The downside of this is that I also spend a good amount of time wishing that I was just as good as they were, in my writing as well as choice of topics.

It’s funny; as a self-proclaimed Megalomaniac and borderline Narcissist, who only just recently learned to love and embrace her talents as well as her face…I am still easily wounded by the thought that what I put my heart and soul into – My Writing – is not worthy enough to be considered by any other eye than my own. Sad as well as ironic, eh?

Muse whispered again to me, while thinking on the aforementioned: “You ARE good enough. Everyone is. Now Write about it!”

And in saying these things to me, I finally found myself blessed with a topic that I could embrace; one that isn’t necessarily a ‘textbook’ Pagan topic nor current event – but one that has always meant something to me. After all, isn’t that what writing is about, when it’s all said and done? It’s not about a proper style, or arrangement, or choice of words or spelling or even the bloody topic. It’s about relaying in words, a part of your soul – be it past, present, or future in its center.

And there IS no right or wrong to that. !!!
What I’ve thought about more than anything this week, is what makes myself and others consider ourselves worthy enough in our own eyes; the world’s eyes and the eyes of the gods themselves.

Why are we so hard on ourselves? Why do we strive so hard to find definitions to account for the way we behave, what we do and why we do it? Why do people feel the need to join pack mentality, in order to feel validated in themselves and what they do? And why do those that stand alone – and always have, in the scheme of things – receive the harsh judgment of ‘stand-offish, weird, argumentative or cut-off’ from all things. The reality of it is that it’s never anything like that; moreso, it’s the knowledge that we’re connected to something much deeper than that – yet, afraid to relay that feeling or knowledge to anyone else for fear of mockery.

…I don’t fear mockery. I don’t fear the reprimands of a society that feels that my way is a way that was long-since seen as wrong. While it’s often times hard, to make others understand my point-of-view, I never go out of my way to make them think I’m right. In truth, I could care less whether they see me as right or not. My main concern is using what was given to me, by the blood and through the knowledge I have so far acquired as a Pagan to make others know that they are not alone in what they pursue.

But besides that? I hope to find a reckoning for myself. My guilty pleasure, and my greatest remorse is that when I DID find love for myself, I also found Ego and Vanity. These are two things that I abhor in others, yet privately indulge in myself. They are subjects that I often sit and wonder how the gods themselves feel about; I personally feel that if they didn’t have ego and vanity to contend with themselves, then they would not be OUR gods!

Food for thought – and though a little late, my thoughts at random…lighter topics than the norm this week, presented with an equally light touch from me to you.

Until we meet again…

Brightest Blessings,

~PW

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Black, White and Brown Are the Loneliest Colors in the Crayon Box

June 28, 2012 in The First Dark

DISCLAIMER:  Again, these are my personal opinions toward the subject of fighting racism in the Pagan community, as an African-American Pagan.  In no way, shape or form do I wish to promote ‘sectioning’ out based on race/gender/sex, etc.  I also am not writing this to ‘down’ covens or groups, nor promote being a solitary or eclectic witch. Lastly, I’m not writing this to ‘down’ Christianity.  I simply wish to point out some current affairs in the Pagan community, and my experiences and thoughts on a solution.  That is all!

 

“Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we’re opened, we’re red.” –Clive Barker, ‘Books of Blood 1-3’

I’ve found it easy, up until here lately, to stay out of mainstream Pagan politics.  Before I go into the true subject of my column this week, let me back up and give a little background before trotting all over the foreground.

Two years ago this October 2012, I cracked open the ‘broom closet’ and converted into Paganism.  To be specific, my flavor as a Polytheist tastes like Greco-Egyptian Polytheism, and the Kemetic Reconstructionist movement.  What in the Sam Hell does all that mean?  Without writing an encyclopedia, I was claimed by Aset right off the bat; owned by Dionysos, like it or not.  Sekhmet has been with me since I was a little girl, long before I recognized what my never-ending dreams of lions truly meant.

By modern Pagan terminology, I am a Solitary ‘Eclectic,’ I spend the majority of my time alone or in private with my gods.  I do this so that I can think what I want; worship as I like and say what I feel.  I don’t have to feel judged by anyone, in regards to the way I honour the gods.  I don’t have someone pushing this book or that object at me, telling me I should do it this way or that.  I can avoid what I experienced in my former life as a Christian.  I can experience true joy, I can be ECSTATIC and unashamed while solidifying my commitment as a Pagan.

Now back to the task at hand…as I’d said in the beginning, up until now I’ve successfully avoided writing about, or involving myself in current topics in Pagan ‘politics.’  Topics like the issues of whether we should have places of worship, or how to fund businesses in the Pagan community; racism and exclusion due to race/gender/creed (ie. Transvestites joining in “women-only” rituals, Norse or Celtic-based faiths excluding non-whites, etc.) within the different faiths and sub-genres.  And let’s not forget the usual “soap-box” bickering and nonsense, over what god/goddess likes what color flower – the list could go on and on!

Someone may read this and feel that I’ve still got a bitter taste in my mouth, in regards to the former missteps I’ve experienced at the hands of others regarding religion and religious practices.  However, I can promise you that that is not the case.  I’ve just become a master at avoiding zealots, know-it-alls and mentor-wannabes of all shapes and sizes.  What I know and have experienced with the gods is very personal to me.  And while I enjoy sharing it via this column or my personal blog, I do not feel that I need a special building, group, outfit or ‘campground sabbatical’ to validate what I’ve experienced.  I don’t feel that ‘real-world’ issues need to touch my religion; I don’t want my faith sullied by that which I feel is irrelevant compared to my goal – being touched by my gods, and becoming closer to them with each new thing I learn from and of them. Every single day since my conversion and commitment to spiritual growth as a Pagan, my relationships with my patrons and deities has grown.  Why would I ever slow these happenings down, by stopping to involve myself in what I’ve always considered drama in the scheme of things?

…I have been Very Naïve.

The time of the saints and mystics — in my humble opinion — has long since been over.  What I mean by that is that we can no longer afford to completely divorce ourselves from the material, just to be connected to the gods.

The gods are everywhere, in everything.  I do believe that some of our most important lessons to be learned via the gods, are through our interactions in the world and with others.  By believing that, I know that the gift of words and writing that I have been given by the gods can be used to spread their words; their lessons.  It can be used to spread knowledge and understanding.  And it is why I give apologies to the gods, for being so arrogant as to assume that I can carry on as I please without using what they’ve given me towards helping our community provide guidance for those that have lost view of their lessons.  If writing is my gift, why am I not paying it forward by spreading what I’ve experienced in order to educate and help those who are missing the point of what it is to be a pagan on the right path?  I’m not saying I have all the answers, or that I even know anything of worth.  But I am saying that experience sometimes is the best teacher, and you never know who may be in need of yours!  With that said, I wanted to address a current ‘hot topic’ in the world of Pagan issues today:

Racism.

So, I’m not going to reiterate what the majority of us already know; when most people think of Pagans they immediately think of the movie ‘The Craft’ and of Wicca.  Obviously, like Christianity, Paganisms has its major genres and then its sub-genres.  In my humble opinion, the majors are Wiccans and Pagans/Heathens.  While each group has different dieties it may worship, what I’ve always felt of Paganism over Christianity is that acceptance and respect were always offered prior to derision or scorn.  Your choice in paths may be different (ie. Druid vs. Greco-Egyptian) but it didn’t matter because you were accepted AND respected for being different.  Open Arms, all around, right?  WRONG.

Though the following isn’t the first time I’ve noted racism in the various online Pagan communities, I will say it was the most blatant of showings I’d ever seen.  In an article called Wicca, Paganism and Racial Identity — per the lovely Patti Wigington’s blog ‘About PaganWiccan’ (http://paganwiccan.about.com/b/2012/06/15/changingofwicca.htm) last week:

My friend Kazoo is a self-described “combo plate” of a variety of backgrounds. She’s got a mom who’s half Irish and half Puerto Rican. Her dad is from Somalia, but his mother is descended from Dutch settlers. Kazoo herself is Wiccan, and is married to a Jewish guy of Polish extraction. She’s raising her kids as Pagans, and she says, “We show up at a Pagan potluck, and you can always tell who the new people are. They stare at us, and you can tell they’re thinking “Who are all those brown people, and why are they here?” And then they realize I’m the High Priestess, and it’s a bit of a jolt. You can see it when the lightbulb clicks on.”

 

How sad is that?  Within her own religious community, AND as a High Priestess – she gets raised eyebrows, regarding her skin color?  In this day and age?

Most of the commentary following this article was positive, sans one reader named Silvia.  I won’t give her comment another view to the light of day – I’ll only acknowledge it by stating that Silvia felt the need to leave Wicca because of the advocacy for integration by minorities.  Patti’s response article addressed it so well (found here:  http://paganwiccan.about.com/b/2012/06/19/reader-says-leave-wicca-to-the-white-folks.htm) that I don’t think anyone else could’ve said it better.  But I use this more recent example as a background to why I felt the need to step out of my self-proclaimed shadow of silence.

As an African-American woman living in the Midwest, I have not experienced a lot of open racism.  This is mainly due to the fact that I live directly in the MIDDLE of the state of Missouri, which oddly enough is much more progressive than most of the Northern and Southern states that surround it.  Mind you, there are still some small towns and counties that I am aware need to be avoided after dark, as the ‘lynch-mob’ mindset is still alive and well there.  What racism I have experienced, is usually not the outward aggression that many have.  It’s actually more subtle occurrences; more displayed prejudices vs. racist acts — usually regarding my level of education and that “I speak so well!”  I take all of that with a grain of salt; my color has NEVER defined who I am.  Identifying with others simply because of color has always been a loser mentality to me; if you can’t be who you are on your own then you are weak.

Awhile after converting to Paganism, I realized that I was even more of a minority in the Pagan community than I am in life.  Regardless, I didn’t see it as an important thing to represent myself nor ‘affiliate’ as an African-American Pagan in any way, shape or form.

Somehow, this has changed in the past few days after reading the feedback to the aforementioned articles.  For some reason, this latest example of ‘racist pagan’ rhetoric hit a button that opened the floodgates to ‘soul-search land’ on my end.  Though I abhor the idea of groups, I’ve come to realize that I myself am being prejudiced by thinking that groups almost always equal group mentality.

By representing myself as an African-American Pagan, I’m not just saying I want to be considered over whites and other minorities simply for being black.  It doesn’t mean I’m going to join an organization and do/agree with everything they say simply because we are all minorities.  It doesn’t mean that I consider myself BETTER than other Pagans, because I am black and I worship a genre of Paganism that is a very small group compared to all the Wiccans, Druids and Celts out there.   It doesn’t mean that I’m going to *not* learn about other dieties because they were worshipped primarily by those of Anglo-Saxon or Caucasian persuasions.

So, what am I saying it means?

It means that I’m letting people — Pagan or otherwise — know that I support knowledge, education, and companionship for ANY minority looking into becoming a Pagan.  Regardless of whether they choose to be a Druid, a Kemetic or a Wiccan – I support their steps toward the pathways of Paganism.  I support helping them connect with reputable, knowledgeable individuals who can further their education and initiation into the path of their choosing.  I support freedom of choice for religion, no matter what it may be – but more importantly, EDUCATION for anyone who chooses the Pagan lifestyle.  I feel that advocating an organization like the AA Wiccan Society, or reading and promoting the writings from blogs like Black Witch or Daughters of Eve helps to open the doors for those minorities who may have felt like I did, but who are afraid to pursue what they feel because they don’t have the resources locally or otherwise.  I feel that by advocating and promoting those blogs/organizations, I make it a little easier for those non-minorities who are Pagans to feel more comfortable asking and getting information from the minority point of view.

By advocating and representing as an African-American Pagan, I feel that it’s not just about this group that I’m in but it’s also about opening the doors for those who are afraid to enter –simply because of how those around them may react or what they may say.  They would have an informed, reputable support system behind them so that they don’t have to be afraid.  Through kinship and communication, we open the doors for ANYONE to learn about who and what we are as Wiccans, Pagans and Heathens.

To me, this is the most important fight against racism within our community — online and in life.  This is how we beat it.  By communicating with each other, and spreading that communication through kinship with those around us; inside and outside the Pagan community.

Once done, we can then begin to educate about who and what we are; our dieties and their place in our lives, this earth and our respect for it.  We can explain why we are so proactive in the Pagan community to do our part to protect this Earth; our connection through the teachings on our chosen path that urge us to respect the Earth until the end of our days — so that our progeny can continue the tradition during theirs.

It’s my firm belief that ignorance is what feeds the flames of the fire – those flames that Hatred, Racism, Bigotry, and Prejudice ride upon to spread themselves into the world.  If my simple words in this humble column of mine do nothing else, I hope it is that they combat separation based simply on color, but promote communication and education beforehand.   Considering how the world looks at Pagans in the first place; racism, prejudice & exclusion of others based on the race/gender/creed should NEVER have a place to call home in the Pagan community.

Brightest Blessings, Until We Meet Again…

~PW

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Salvation in the Summertime

June 1, 2012 in The First Dark

“To the gods I am indebted for having good grandfathers, good parents, a good sister, good teachers, good associates, good kinsmen and friends, nearly everything good. Further, I owe it to the gods that I was not hurried into any offense against them, though I had a disposition that, if opportunity had offered, might have led me to do something of this kind…” (‘Meditations’– Book I, by Marcus Aurelius).

I wanted to take an opposite “avenue of travel,” compared to the one I took in my last article. I feel as if I’ve spent the past 2-3 months in the deepest pit of darkest night. For today’s column, I wanted to focus more on the things that make me feel strongest – and also, how these things connect with my path as a Pagan.

Now normally, I would say ‘newfound Pagan’ or, ‘as a new convert to the Pagan lifestyle’ – but as we’renearing the two-year mark this coming October of 2012, I don’t feel that I can continue to say that.

So…what has changed for me, in the past year-and-a-half since converting to Paganism?

Miles and SCORES; not in the way that many would seem to attest too!

You see, I have to agree with one of my favourite Pagan authors on Patheos.com. There is a “fluffy bunny” aspect to most new Pagans, Druids and Wiccans, that is a complete turn off to those who have followed the path for a longer time. It’s a turnoff mostly because of all the common misconceptions and missteps made in the fervor for one’s faith, right off the bat. You know; we all dress like goths a’la “The Craft,” we all change our names to Morganna SilverDust – we all go out on the full moon and dance nude, and wear pentagrams and commune regularly with dear old Aunt Agnes.

This was not what changed for me. *chuckles* I have always described good life changes for me, as “small blessings and tiny miracles.”

These small blessings and tiny miracles? They have come a bit more frequently than they had before. YES, I do believe a lot of that is because of my new path, but not because my fairy godmother deemed it so. I believe it is because I’m more open now than I have ever been, to realizing that life is about so much more than just work-school-home-pay bills-sleep-rewind and do over. The power of being open to change is so very underrated in today’s society, as well as in the various faiths people subscribe to today. I’m a firm believer that we left it behind, as early Paganism faded away and Christianity took prevalence. To me, there is not term or faith or ritual that can replace the simple yet powerful practice of acceptance, to what is, what can be and what will be.

Fast forward, back to today. Converting did not solve all my problems in one fell swoop. But as I finally accepted who I was and what I believed in – I found life’s challenges much less challenging. With a clear head, I began to research old Kemet; the divine feminine and the mysteries of Aset and Sekhmet. What did I find? A connection to my past; connection to the very strong and controversial female family figures who’s daguerreotypes I’d looked at in passing but never really thought much more on.

Everything that led up to these women’s successes wasn’t necessarily a battle, but a travel down a pathway which finally opened them to the good that they could do and would do – for themselves and others.

Via an article by Margreet Meijer in ‘The Theosophist’ – April 1976, the author says: “Isis speaks as follows: ‘I have come to be a protector unto thee. I waft unto thee air for thy nostrils…have made whole they lungs. I have made thee like unto a god…Thou hast been made victorious and thou are mighty to prevail with the gods.’

The time shortly before my converting to Paganism, I had forgotten about that – about what I could do, and the fact that I didn’t have to settle for the ‘routine’ in order to maybe get a little time doing what I dreamed. I truly feel that Goddess opened up doors for me that I had firmly locked shut. I had shut down, my creativity and my true purpose, because I was not strong enough to do what I **wanted** to do in life. How ironic – that while my muscle disease had taken some things from me, it had opened up numerous pathways and opportunities to other things – one of them being my dream to be a writer; the other, to be a better and more attentive mother to my son.

Today’s article documents just one of the many changes in thought process – and acceptance of that change, that has made a real difference in my life as I continue to take steps down the path laid before me as a Pagan. I find strength in the divine feminine; that great Goddess that is represented in many different ways, through my female ancestors as well as through her stories and examples of triumph in the many different stories we find throughout our libraries today.

Here’s hoping for a wonderful weekend for all who’ve read this and beyond – enjoy that Full Moon (naked or otherwise lol)!

~PW

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Psychotropic Drugs, Modern-Day Miracles & Our Link to the Divine

May 17, 2012 in The First Dark

DISCLAIMER:  Please be advised, this article in NO WAY CONDONES stopping the use of one’s doctor-prescribed, psychotropic medication.  Nor does this article condone the use of drugs and alcohol to alter one’s state of mind.  These are my thoughts and experiences, linked ONLY to my path as a practicing Pagan.

 

This past week-and-a-half, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I am truly mad.

Now, usually I find the topic of ‘madness’ a heavily subjective one.

I am a Pagan, after all.  In fact, I am a polytheist Pagan who has been studying about the many different Hellenic tales of the Mad God himself, Dionysos.  More about that in a sec…

Lately, I’ve had a very hard time in regards to my health.  Though I don’t like talking about it, I can’t help but use myself for an example of the obvious differences in perception under the influence of a psychotropic drug, vs. perception without the influence of a psychotropic drug.  Because for myself, those are two very different perceptions – so much so, that I will never live my life without some version of the topic at hand again.

To get to the point, I found myself yet again lacking the funds to cover the cost of my anti-anxiety/anti-depressant medication.  The first 48hrs sans this medication is tolerable.  By 72hrs, I find myself nauseated as well as easily irritated.  By six to seven days without my medication, I begin to not be able to sleep.  Insomnia sets in; when I attempt to sleep, I dream so heavily that Prometheus himself wishes I would wake up!  I’m become extremely nauseated, easily irritated by outside stimuli which would normally not concern me; so easily goaded into bouts of rage that I’d confine myself to alone time in my room just to avoid screaming at my fiancé.

…fast forward to today – Wednesday, May 16th 2012.

I’m two days into having my medication back in my system again, and lucky enough to have found out that I will be receiving it for free from now on from the manufacturer.  But as I’m back into the land of the sane, I have to ask myself – is it for the better?

What I mean by this is the intensity of the dreams, the messages, and the premonitions that I felt over the past week+ without my daily pill – I cannot deny that the stronger I felt everything, the more terrified I was by my ‘extremes’ in reaction.  Beyond fear, I also felt elation.  I was elated at finally feeling SOMETHING again, to the very core of my marrow.  I’ve always been a creature of extremes; my ancestors are people who worked hard, played even harder and live out loud one way or the other!

It is the intensity that I realized I missed, the fervor of my dedication.  The focus, the unwaning dedication to feeling that I missed. It got me to thinking a lot, about Dionysos.

He is my mad god, my little devil; a meaning for moments of raving and madness.  It got me to thinking about my younger days – that time between the realizations that I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ anymore; what I believed in was something a little more real and less punishing than the Christian god.  I looked to the excess of drugs & alcohol, as a way to block out the stressors of living life day-to-day.  I looked forward to the release of inhibitions, of finally not being afraid to see those premonitions and receive those messages in the darkness of a dead-drunk dream.  I used the illegal to open myself – same as I use the legal, to block it all from coming in, because it is so overwhelming to me now that I cannot tolerate it as I once did.

But…am I, and the many others who simply switched one addiction for another WRONG in what we now believe in, in how we now make it through the day?

After all, I was never suicidal, I was never depressed for weeks on end; sometimes I simply could not handle being the empath I am, and feeling the things that I felt.  It was never something I considered a curse until modern medicine told me it was – I simply felt I was more in-tune than others with the unseen.  Or could it be that I’m wrong again, and it’s better not to feel the things I felt or see the things I saw just this past week, when my medication was all but completely out of my system?  Is it better to block out what a nonbeliever would call the irrational because it’s based on feeling, so that we can simply live with only the rational?

Is the complete loss of extremes in our psyche and physical body, in reality a loss of our direct link to that ‘wild card’ factor that may truly just be, a link to the divine?

An excerpt from the book ‘Ecstatic’ by H. Jeremiah Lewis (from The Call of the Mainad, pg. 470):

“Will you come to the place where the wild ones are?

Away from your home, away from your life,

Away from everything that makes you you?

Will you run free with your hair down,

Naked feet leaping over rocks and roots

As tree branches whip your skin and you howl into the night?

Will you crawl on your belly like a hissing snake,

Like a ferocious leopard;

Will you claw the earth and tear the ivy with your teeth?

Will you sit in front of the fire with vacant eyes,

Watching the flames leap and dance

Until you can see him moving there?

Will you reach out and touch your god without being burned

-will you do it even if it hurts?”

 How much of ourselves are we willing to give to our gods or goddesses?  Forget our time, forget our ceremony, forget our offerings – how much of OURSELVES, are we willing to see reflection of in the eyes of the divine, and at what cost?

Sometimes gifts given by the gods are seen more as curses than gifts; modern society sees what’s considered as the irrational only as such.  We as believers in our faith, whether it be a Pagan-based faith, a Christian faith, a Muslim faith – cannot continue to look at everything that cannot be explained as ‘inconvenient’ but avoidable occurrence.  We as believers, have to be willing to take a little “dirt in the eye” in public in order to stay connected to that ageless power that never changes.

When your god(s) or goddesses call, how do you answer?  Do you answer?  Or do you let it go to voicemail?

Something to think about – beyond the topic of legal or illegal drugs – as society continues to disengage itself on this crash course to a higher level of consciousness.

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Are We Having Fun Yet?

May 3, 2012 in The First Dark

My first encounter with Paganism, was via a few of my co-workers at my previous job.

After working for the company for nearly 10 years, I had commended myself for not only knowing everyone that worked there – from top to bottom, but for being one of the few people that was open to any and every walk of life. By that, I mean that I am a lover of people – I had no shame in who I associated with; frankly, I ‘prided’ myself on the fact that I knew every gay/bisexual/lesbian/transgendered/latino/African/Asian/Caucasian person I could possibly know of and associated myself with them frequently. I was a walking melting pot, which caused me to hold myself on a rainbow pedestal as the poster-girl of cool.  Temperance, Tolerance…those are what I represented, selflessly and self-righteously.

So it took me completely by surprise, that my Pagan co-workers already considered me ‘in the know’ about the many different paths of Paganism – when in fact, I had no idea what the term represented or even really meant. At first thought, I figured the word should have some sort of negative connotation.  At first ‘Feel,’ however…I felt a door open up wide – my curiosity peaked.

Pagan.  Pagans?  What in the world is all that about. Was it like Voodoo, something I knew had been practiced and experienced firsthand by the previous generation on my father’s side?  Was is about Satan?  Was it something hippies in a commune danced naked ‘round a fire about?  Druids? Wiccans? Celts?  Greeks and Egyptians?  What does the term ‘pagan’ or ‘paganism’ mean? And why do these ladies use terms familiar to their pagan beliefs; terms that I surprisingly already understand and feel at home with, though I know I should not?

I had to know more about the terminology of the conversations I found myself blindly agreeing with.

Thus began my personal studies, and purchases of every book I could possibly find. Of course, it helped that I worked for the number one book and textbook wholesaler in the United States.  I, being a bookworm, could investigate all I wanted for little to no cost. And so I found my library swelling to near overflowing, with all genres of Pagan mythos. From Wicca to Druidism – from Voudon to Santeria, Hellenism and Polytheism, Celtic and Roman mythologies.  I had it, and HAVE it all.

…nothing.  Peanuts.

Now I found all these different gods and goddesses so very interesting; I may even had identified with some of them.  But kinship?  True belief?  Desire to worship?  Nothing.  Again, those darned peanuts.

And then came the hardest time in my life – taking a breather from 4+years of engagement with my current fiancé and the father of my child. I found myself moving back into my mother’s home; a home so very strict that I ran from it as soon as I had the option too, after graduating from high school.  Next?  A promotion to supervisor of my own team at my job of nearly 10 years; at the same time, finding out that my son may very well be autistic. At the end of that downward spiral?  Coping with the realization that I would now live with a mitochondrial disease–for the rest of my life.  Walls were closing in around me, and I could not breathe.

It was then that I had the dream.

I won’t go into the specifics of ‘the dream,’ other than to say that at the lowest point of my life, when I felt like I no longer could – SHE reminded me that I could.  I didn’t know who she was at first, all I knew was that she believed in me when I no longer did.  I felt loved, after a very long time of not feeling anything. It was a motherly love, a sisterly love, and so positively female that I could not deny it.

When I woke the next day, I began to peruse a new set of books I’d received from a recent order via Amazon.com.  Yet again, I had my fire lit to investigate this overwhelming need to understand what it meant to be a Pagan.  As I went through yet another book about Goddesses, I came upon a name and a face that I recognized with every cell in my body. Energy is what I felt when I came upon this new chapter and picture – it wasn’t a chill that came over me, but a flush of warmth so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe. I was so overwhelmingly Happy; I was on FIRE all of a sudden, wide awake and so alert it was if I’d drank two Redbulls at once!

Aset.

The voice in my head as I first read that name was my own, and every woman’s voice.  More warmth, as I looked at the statue of Isis – the Greeks’ name for Aset, holding her son to her breast.  A patron for children, artists, mothers, the elderly and infirm. The Goddess who nurtured and loved; love and light personified, energy and power that had always ever been there. Creation power – something that all throughout my life, I’d always had a strong link and personal patronage too.  She was a mother to all those around her, open arms for those who had become lost and needed to find their way home.  This was what I felt emotionally, as I read more about her through the following chapters of that book.

And that’s all she wrote.

Welcome to my column, TheFirstDark, named in her honor. Thank you for joining me on my journey, as I study and learn about Kemetic Orthodoxy, as well as my side studies on Hellenic-based faiths.

Blessed Be, by the Goddess through Me!

~PW

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