Walking the Grey Mists

Path Forging- Giving It A Name

2008-06-23T18:43:00.011-04:00

In an attempt to organize both my thoughts and my beliefs, I've recently begun to codify my spiritual path by asking questions about faith, religion, belief, and related issues. Each question seems to lead to more with no end in sight. I do not view this as a bad thing, however, for each new question gives me an opportunity to examine my beliefs and spiritual practices. Some questions are fairly straight-forward and are answered simply. Others are, well, without answers and probably will forever remain so.

I'm going to begin posting some of the questions here on my blog under entries titled "Path Forging". Each entry will have a central theme. Read the questions and if you like, add your comments and additional questions. If they help you in examining your path, terrific, my sharing will have served a purpose other than simply recording my own path. I may add some additional commentary on the subject and possibly share some of my own answers. In any case, it's shared here as a way to spark discussion and encourage deeper consideration of our individual paths.

So, here's the first set, centered around the names we give our spiritual/religious paths:

Is it either necessary or important to have a name by which to label your path?
By what name do you call your own beliefs/religion/spirituality?
What does your choice of labels imply about your actual beliefs and practices?
If you've chosen a name associated with an established religious tradition, are your practices and beliefs similar to those of others using that same label?
If you do not follow an established tradition, how did you name your path?
What things need to be taken into consideration when applying a name to our beliefs?

The name by which we call our path is usually the first thing that we present to other people regarding our religious beliefs. It's a convenient way to describe what we believe and how we practice without going into long explanations. When someone says that they are Eastern Orthodox, Buddhist, or Catholic, there is a nearly instantaneous association of these terms with a set of beliefs and spiritual practices. Correct or not, the impressions formed by labels paint to the person hearing them a certain picture of who we are spiritually.

The problems arise when someone is not following a traditional path or one that is not well understood in mainstream culture. I am a pagan. For some, this term conjures images of devil-worship, anti-Christian sentiment, and human sacrifice. For others, it stirs images of flower children singing praises to Gaia and hugging anyone and anything that stops moving long enough (particularly trees). The problem is that neither of these images comes close to reflecting my beliefs or practices. To make it more problematic, paganism has more "flavors" than Baskin-Robbins. Wicca, recon, druid, asatru, kemetic... all embody very different different beliefs and practices.

I tend to explain my path as eclectic paganism. The reason that I use the term eclectic is to 1). establish that I don't follow a particular tradition within Paganism and 2). reflect that my beliefs are influenced by a wide range of sources. Even the term eclectic tends to come with its own particular set of problems, the foremost of these being that many in the pagan "community" have a disdain for what they assume is a sloppily-assembled pile of beliefs without rhyme, reason, cohesion, or logic. While that's not my path, I can understand the frustration that people feel when they hear the term. I feel frustrated with the people who simply pick and choose what resonates with them without trying to put the puzzle pieces together in a whole.

I try to keep my spiritual label at just those two words however. As an eclectic, I am very wary about appropriating other people's terms for their religious practices. For example, I have a form of mediation that I use for specific spiritual purposes that is influenced both by shamanic techniques and zazen practices. To call myself either a shaman or Buddhist would be a falsehood. I cannot claim either path as my own, nor would either path claim me as a follower. I give credit to both paths for having helped me to craft a method that works well for me but I do not try to lay claim to their labels as my own. It is just one of the many things that I must consider when constructing my personal path.

Our names for our paths influence the view others take of us, what does yours say?

Blessings for Solstice

2008-06-20T17:51:00.004-04:00

I won't wax lyrically about this solstice day, except to wish you all an abundance of love and blessings. Whether it is the shortest or longest day of the year where you live, may it be filled with the things, events, and people who bring you happiness. May the gods smile upon you always, my friends.

Do You Believe In Magic?

2008-06-08T14:33:00.003-04:00

In the course of a conversation about business, someone recently inquired how LunaSea's Monster Away! Spray (a room spray for banishing Boogie Men)is different than a regular aromatherapy spray. When I explained that we make our spray from herbs traditionally used for banishing and protection and do so only during a waning or new moon, this other-wise sweet lady turned to me and said "Do you really believe in that magic crap?"

Why, yes, I do believe in magic, just not the kind that is portrayed in Harry Potter. As much as I'd love to be able to flick a wand, utter a few words, and turn someone into a weasel, it simply is not possible. 99.9% of what is portrayed as magic in Hollywood is simply fiction and nothing more. I don't believe in that form of magic any more than I believe that Hans Solo is skipping around the universe with a hairy co-pilot.

The magic that I believe in is a tool for focusing energy and intent. It is a way for me to confirm to myself, the universe, and my deities what it is that I desire, it goes beyond merely wishing or praying for something. Magic puts the power of intent back into the hands of the user. By forcing myself to focus on a goal via a magic spell, I have to take ownership of what it is I am trying to accomplish.

Do I believe that burning a candle or saying a few words accomplishes my intent on its own? Not at all,they are simply aides to focus my energy on the goal and to put myself in the right frame of mind. Because I associate certain herbs, colors, etc., with certain things, it helps me to focus my attention to the matter at hand. Just as I'd pick my clothing to match an occasion, I pick the tools that are most appropriate to the type of spell that I'm doing.

Sometimes, I succeed in achieving my goals, sometimes I don't. In the end, though, I do believe in the magic of focusing your thoughts and actions to achieve your desires.

Belated Birthday

2008-05-14T23:21:00.002-04:00

I didn't have the chance yesterday to note that it was (or would have been) Andy's 37th birthday. Needless to say, he's really been on my mind the last couple of days. I can't decide if it seems like just yesterday or a thousand lifetimes ago since he was here with me. As much as I wish things could have been different, life moves forward with or without us. I realize more and more every day that I still have much to do before I see him again.

Andy, I miss you my dear one, but I know you're never far way. Your light continues to shine on everyone you touched and we are blessed for having known you. May Isis keep you under her sheltering wings always. Love , Your Aisling

Answering the Call

2008-05-10T23:11:00.006-04:00

Anyone who reads tarot regularly knows the lovely lady shown here. Most often, the High Priestess card is interpreted as a card of hidden knowledge and intuition. It is her job to walk between worlds (heaven and earth, living and dead) and to be the keeper and dispenser of secret knowledge. She sits between pillars of light and darkness, surrounded by symbols of the divine feminine.

For me, this card always takes on a more specific meaning. When she appears in a reading being done for me (whether I read for myself or someone else reads for me), it's a very strong and clear signal that I am about to be placed in a situation where I have to step into the role of the High Priestess. It is a spiritual call to arms of sorts, a warning that I will need to draw deeply on spiritual energies and so-called supernatural abilities.

Two weeks ago, the High Priestess came up as the card of the day. That night, my dearest friend asked for my assistance in doing a banishing and cleansing at the house of a family member. The family felt that a negative spirit was bothering a small child in the household. A powerful witch in her own right, my friend has done many banishings and cleansings over the years on her own. That she asked for my help spoke volumes about her deep level of concern that she had about the situation as well as the level of trust we have in each other. Dearest friend upset, her family troubled, and a young one traumatized... I said yes to helping before she'd even gotten to the actual asking.

By accident or design, I found myself taking a more active role in this work than I'd originally thought I would. I hear and see spirits more clearly than my friend and was able to confirm her impressions from previous visits and that there was indeed the spirit of an older man who believed that the house was still his. We took a multi-faceted approach to the problem, working to banish this particular spirit from the house and then smudging and warding the home. We hung a protective amulet under the child's bed where most of the contact had occurred. For the child being bothered, my friend made a "Monster Trap" (a decorated wooden box to capture monsters) and I brewed up my version of Monster-B-Gone spray (which is a potion of non-toxic herbs that are said to repel negative energies and provide protection that's then scented with a mixture of calming oils).

Finally, we spent time talking to the family matriarch, who was full of well-thought, intelligent questions, most of which were directed toward me. I really hadn't come prepared for that aspect, but found that the right words came easily. Sharing my own experiences as a child helped, I think, give the family a perspective on their own child's reactions to things that had been happening in the house. Sometimes, I think that people in this situation just need reassurance that they aren't imaging things and that someone from the outside can understand and affirm what they've felt and seen. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone is believe them.

A week has passed since our afternoon of ghost wrangling and by all accounts, things are calmer and more peaceful in the house. The child in question takes the monster trap to bed each night and hasn't reported being bothered when he's trying to sleep. As for me, I'm still recovering from the inevitable energy drain that I always feel after intense workings. Yesterday was the first time I'd felt like reading for myself and lo and behold, the High Priestess was the first card turned over. A friend also read for me yesterday and the High Priestess and the Magician came up together. It looks like I still have some work ahead of me...

Random Thoughts - What Do You Send Out?

2008-04-18T22:58:00.010-04:00

A friend is not feeling well, so I spent some time this evening doing a little long-distance healing work. As I prepared a candle for her, I found myself thinking of other friends and acquaintances who have been struggling lately with health and other personal issues. One candle became many and I found that I'd spent two hours in a state of prayer, meditation and focused healing.

Shortly after I'd wrapped up my work, an out-of-state friend called to say that he'd suddenly thought of me in the midst of a horrible afternoon and he felt suddenly relaxed and calm. I laughed and told Beau that I'd been thinking of him as well, sending a prayer that he'd find some peace and a resolution to the difficulties he's been facing. That conversation made me think about the fact that I usually only hear from Beau when I've spent time concentrating on him, whether it's in the form of prayer or simply reminiscing about our long-time friendship. We can go for months without speaking, yet if I stop and wonder what he's up to, it never fails that he's on my phone within 48 hours.

I believe that whether we intend to or not, we project onto the world our emotions and energy. A visit to any place where people have been held against their wills can quickly confirm this idea. Places where people spend a great deal of time in pain or agony seem to take on that misery as their own. It permeates the structures and the land itself and can affect those who are sensitive to emotional upheavals.

We can shape our environment with what we project into it. We can each choose what we give to the world. Do we let the stress and unhappiness of our day color the way we treat others? Do we project our negativity and insecurities into the world instead of internally coping with and processing them? Do we give a little of ourselves in the form of love and kindness? Do we send our blessings to the world when we find an abundance in our lives? What do you send out?

Into the Woods

2008-03-31T14:50:00.004-04:00

I recently started reading Women Who Run with the Wolves and frankly, am surprised by the rave reviews and plaudits this work has received. So far it has come across as another piece of pop psychology, laden with annoying terminology and poorly analyzed analogies with little in the way of practical advice. For those of us who already run with the wolves, reading this book quickly turns into an exercise in tedium. Trying to imagine this book through the eyes of her target audience, I have to wonder if they're going to come away with anything more than empty words that inspire only discontent with their current lives.

Want to reconnect with the wild spirit that resides in you? Don't bother spending money on a Jungian analysis of fairy tales. If you feel you must have a written book to reconnect with that part of yourself, go out and buy a guidebook to local hiking trails, forests, or waterways. Then use it; go out into the woods and see for yourself what nature is, what wild means. Stay long enough to see the little details, both uplifting and unpleasant. Stand in silence and listen. The woods are never quiet or still. There is always something happening. A woodpecker's work may echo over your head or the wind may rattle dried leaves like so many old bones. Look for the little signs of life and death that surround you... fallen limbs, tender pine saplings, a spider's web. Don't fear what you find, just know it is all a part of that which you seek to reclaim. Your wild spirit does not reside in the pages of a book; it resides in the wilds of the land from which we have arisen and to which we again will return.

Eclipsed

2008-02-21T18:56:00.007-05:00

Last night, my little corner of the world had the good fortune of relatively clear skies for viewing the lunar eclipse. For the astronomy geek residing in my brain, the eclipse provided a glimpse into the workings of the heavens.

For another part of me, the event provided me with a new perspective on things. Friends and regular blog readers have by now figured out that the last few months have been rough. Sorrow and struggle have been daily companions and whenever I feel that I am about to part company with these two, they borrow a little deeper into my soul.

Life has been filled with darkness as of late, but the eclipse has reminded me that the darkness is only temporary. Like the moon, I now travel in darkness, shadowed by something greater than myself, the gravity of which I cannot escape. Like the eclipse, this darkness is only a temporary state. In time, I will again stand apart from darkness and reflect the light and beauty of the universe. This darkness is only an impermanent shadow, from which my soul will emerge full again.

Random Thoughts - Putting a Window in that Wall

2008-02-12T21:45:00.007-05:00

When life is not going well, I tend to withdraw into myself and put up barriers that would make a certain wall in China look less than Great. I am a Cancer after all and we excel at the fine art of retreating into our shell in times of turmoil. We also tend to snap at those who would try to come near us during those times, often whether they deserve it or not. Cancers have been known to snap at their dearest friends when feeling vulnerable; never mind what we do to those who we hold less dear. It's not right, but it is how we sometimes cope.

I have to admit that, in recent weeks (ok, since October) I've been playing the role of the crab a little too well. Those who know me well are aware of all things that conspired between Andy and myself, some of which I'm just not willing to share publicly. Sometimes I feel like I was handed a couple of very precious gifts only to have them taken back and smashed to bits in front of me. I miss him and I miss the life that I only had a mere moment of. Aside from love and loss, life in general just hasn't been very kind lately. So I've been slowly building layers of brick and mortar, withdrawing from my own life.

Closing doors and shutting out people is a well-honed skill for me. I excel at it after a childhood of constantly moving and a lifetime of battling depression. It's a good skill to have, unless of course, you close all the doors and shut everyone out. I've been edging closer and closer to doing just that.

Fortunately, I have a couple of friends and one guardian angel who will not stand for it. If the walls start getting too high, they start taking bricks down as fast as I can put them up. Between them, they always find some way to bring me out of myself. When simply saying "Stop behaving this way", one of them always manages to come up with a more subtle way to bring me out of my shell. This time they did it by giving me several pokes to check in with an online group where I had previously been fairly active.

After much resistance, I finally took a quick peek at the group. Someone who reminds me too much of myself (a depressed hermit crab!) had posted that day for the first time in weeks, a post full of deep pain, sorrow, and hurt. It was what I needed to snap me out of my self-imposed isolation and into action. It is impossible to stay withdrawn when I know that someone else needs desperately words of encouragement and acceptance. The geas to comfort and aid those I can is too strong and ingrained in me to be ignored. So I put a window into the wall I was building. I'm not quite ready to completely emerge, but I am ready to let in some light and air. Thank you to the people who helped me do that; you cannot know how much it means to me. I thank my Lady every day for putting you all in my life.

It Was Only a Dream... Thank the Gods!

2008-02-06T12:39:00.001-05:00

I've spent entirely too much time lately pondering all the ways in which my life hasn't lived up to its potential. Included in this pondering has been the question of how differently my life would be if I'd choosen the safe, well-trod path of all that is normal and average. Last night, I recieved the answer to that question, in the form of a long and horrific dream.

The dream lasted most of the night and came in various tableaus that roughly covered the entire period of cradle to grave. The highlights, if you can call them that, included becoming a hairdresser, having a simple yet terrifically expensive white wedding in a Christian church, accepting a husband who was a full-time accountant and part-time couch potato named Bob, creating a marriage based on begruding tolerance with a dash of affection, maintaining a ridiculous house in the 'burbs, having kids who thought playing football and going to the mall were religious experiences, taking a Disney cruise every year, and eventually dying of old age and boredom in a sappily-named retirement community in a skin-cancer ridden state. It was a very regular, secure, safe life in which the most upsetting occurrances tended to be things like the death of a pet or the family arguments about where to order take-out food. It was an existence protected from all that is dark, scary, and unknown. It was happy, safe, boring, and by most standards, perfect. It was full of sunshine and daisies and completely vanilla flavored. In short, it was hell.

What made it so bad was not what it provided, but all the things that were missing from the reality of who I am. The really obvious things were gone: tattoos, multiple peircings, love of all things dark, my ability to spew witty sarcasms at the speed of light. Then there were the other things that are so integral to who I am... the very strong spirituality, the ability to see and understand things that most people are blind to, the need to wander and explore, my insatiable curiousity, and my openness to lifestyles other than my own. The dream was filled with a bright pleasantness, yet enveloped by a mediocrity and closed-mindedness that I can't begin to wrap my head around. Frighteningly enough, I was quite happy within the context of the dream and wouldn't have traded that life for any other. That aspect scares me more than any other.

So, even though I've gotten a sneak peek at what my world could have been like, I'm more than grateful to have been given the life I have. No, it's not perfect and yes, I tend to be the token freak at most gatherings. However, I've been fortunate to have some incredible, unique experiences and I've also been blessed with a good deal of love in my life. Presented with the choice, I'd gladly take the precious time I had with Andy over a lifetime with the man I'd married in that dream. The well-trodden and secure path has never been mine to take. Although I may sometimes question it, deep in my soul I know that the life I am living is the one I'm meant to have. There may be pain and darkness at times, but I am a more complete person for it.

On Interconnectedness

2008-01-13T10:29:00.000-05:00

"Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to a divine purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: That we are here for the sake of others...for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day, I realize how much my outer and inner life is built upon the labors of people, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received."

-Albert Einstein

Well said. We often see ourselves as islands in the sea of humanity, cut off from much of the rest of the world. Yet we all are interconnected to those who came before, those who walk beside us, and those who will come after we've gone. Sometimes, it pays to step back and remember that we are not separate from the flow of time and space, but a part of the fabric that that is the universe.

Notes from the Coffehouse - Pagan is...

2008-01-04T22:23:00.000-05:00

My desire to measure an afternoon out in coffee spoons was once again thwarted this week. There's just something about this town and this region that attracts religious believers of all types and two of them descended on my favorite coffeehouse this week. May the gods bless them both, they ruined my plan to get some writing done by having a small battle over what is or isn't pagan. In this corner, a conservative right-wing Christian and in the opposite corner, his opponent, a liberal lesbian New Ager. wasn't a discussion so much as a raging debt. Their arguments, sadly, both came down to some worn-out cliches and stereotypes.

In the absolute simplest, practical terms, a pagan is someone who does not follow one of the "religions of the book": Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. This is complicated a bit by the fact that not everyone who is not of a JCI faith calls themselves pagan. There are religious groups who would find the term insulting. So we come to a slightly more specific definition, the one that I use whenever asked... a pagan is someone who is not of a JCI faith and who identifies themselves as pagan.

I find it quite amusing the number of pagans I've run across who are bothered by that definition. Mostly it seems that the dislike of this particular definition stems from the fact that it forces people to acknowledge that spiritual paths that they don't like or necessarily agree with fall under the same umbrella term as their own. Over the last few weeks, I've heard from the mouths of self-proclaimed pagans that you aren't pagan if...

You celebrate Christmas, even as a secular holiday.
You aren't a reconstructionist (i.e., someone who practices an ancient religion in the closest possible way to how the religion was originally practiced).
You have ever thought that [insert neo-pagan author here] might be a good source of information.
Your beliefs are not nature-based or goddess-centered.
You are a solitary practitioner.
Your beliefs are best described as eclectic or DIY.
You use crystals or meditate.
You don't own an athame, a wand, or a chalice.
You don't keep a Book of Shadows.
You don't follow the Wheel of the Year.
You follow deities from more than one pantheon.
You're a monotheist.

In short, there are a lot of people out there who would elect themselves head of the pagan police task force and gladly tell everyone else that if they don't believe x, y, and z, then their pagan membership card will be revoked. There are also those pagans who would like to present a united front to the rest of the world and be able to say "We are pagans and all of us believe..."

Frankly, those kinds of attitudes make me sad. Paganism is a very broad umbrella that covers a lot of different beliefs and spiritual paths with enough room to allow each individual to follow the individual path of her or his choosing. In fact that is one of the most beautiful things about being pagan in my eyes... I have the freedom and ability to seek my individual spiritual path without necessarily confining myself to a rigid religious dogma or established tradition. Ultimately, it is to my deities that I answer, not to another pagan nor a pagan group. If my deities grant me the use of the word pagan to describe my beliefs (and they haven't stated otherwise to date), then what human has the right to tell me differently?

Is It Over Yet?

2007-12-27T14:09:00.000-05:00

(peeking out from inside the closet) Is it safe yet? Has the cookie and eggnog induced frenzy ended? Have people stopped talking about a big guy in a red suit yet? Have the elves and reindeer returned to the North Pole? Has everyone stopped fighting about who owns the religious copyrights to the season? Is it safe to walk into a store yet, without being trampled, pushed, or otherwise treated badly? Can we take down the fake trees and greenery and get on with our lives now?

Someone please tell me it's over for another year!

Solstice Blessings

2007-12-21T16:29:00.000-05:00

The sun will be setting here in another hour, marking the longest night of the year here in the northern hemisphere. The calendar rolls quietly over into a new season and winter will be upon us.

My own celebrations will be quiet and solitary, reflecting on the coming farrow months and the darkness that gathers about us this time of year. The computer, TV, and radio will all be off by sunset and remain so overnight, as will all none essential-technology (exception made for the refrigerator and heat pump). I plan to use the early evening hours to complete a quilt for my bed which I've promised to complete before another season passes. After that, it will quiet time spent watching the fire and periodically going outside to watch the stars as they trek across the sky. Prayers and silent contemplation are the order of the evening.

However you choose to mark the turning of the seasons, here's hoping that the Solstice finds you happy and at peace and the new season brings you love, abundance and blessings. Happy Solstice everyone!

Random Thoughts - Seeking Balance

2007-12-16T15:28:00.000-05:00

It amazes me how many books, groups, websites, and other information sources there are that promote "positive" ideals... love, compassion, forgiveness, kindness, humility. Many of these sources would have us shun other aspects of ourselves that are considered "bad", "evil", or "negative." For many, anger, pride, and other "negative" feelings are in direct opposition to what they believe it means to be a spiritual person. The claim is often put out that we cannot be in touch with the divine if we indulge in "negative" behaviors. If we allow anger and hate in our lives, then by default, we must close the door on the spiritual and divine.

However, this viewpoint leaves a lot to be desired. It makes no room for middle ground, for spiritual development or for emotional complexity. Emotion is neither good nor bad on its own; it is how we act on these emotions that counts. If I am angry because of a grave injustice, that anger can be a motivating force that allows me to correct the situation and make the world better. If I practice forgiveness with someone who has repeatedly hurt me, I may open myself for even more abuse from this person.

For me, learning to accept all that I feel and finding a balance between extremes is a key aspect of spiritual development. There are lessons to be learned in all that we experience. Rather than repress or deny so-called negative emotions, it would benefit us all to learn to use them in a non-destructive way and to allow them to be expressed without automatic condemnation. Of course, that would require that we stop seeing everything in terms of black and white and acknowledge that the world is, in fact, made up of shades of grey. I'm not sure we're capable of this as a species... it is far easier to pigeonhole thoughts and emotions into extremes than to allow for a full spectrum of possibilities.

"The best and safest thing is to keep a balance in your life, acknowledge the great powers around us and in us. If you can do that, and live that way, you are really a wise man.” - Euripides

'Tis the Season

2007-12-09T18:04:00.000-05:00

'Tis the Season... but for what exactly?

One thing is for certain: it's the time of year when folks start quibbling about the true nature of the holiday season. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. Yes, pagans, Jesus is one of the reasons for the season. Yes, Christians, yule time celebrations predate Christianity. Yes, everyone, there is a Hanukkah, Bodhi Day, Eid al Adha, Kwanzaa, solstice, Yule/Litha, Christmas, and other religious and cultural holidays in the month of December.

I won't get drawn into the usual debates which just seem to boil down to who has the right to claim this time of year as their own. We all do, every one of us. My beliefs are my own, just as yours belong to you. I respect your right as a human being to celebrate your beliefs and embrace that which is important to you. I only ask that you will do the same. You don't have to agree with me, nor I with you. Disagreement does not, however, require conflict.

So, I want to wish everyone a happy season, regardless of what they celebrate. I hope that you will find peace and joy in whatever holiday you embrace as your own. May the season find you well and if not well, then on the mend. Blessings all!

On Dying & Death - Notes from the Coffeehouse

2007-12-02T14:25:00.000-05:00

So a guy walks into coffeehouse, sits down and says to a fellow coffee drinker, "Blog much?"

No, this isn't the start of a bad joke, just the way my last outing for coffee went. The guy was nice enough and we got to talking about blogging and the reasons for doing it. He asked if he could read one of my blogs ("just out of curiosity"). So I pointed him at this one --frankly, in the hopes that the fact that I don't follow a traditional religion would be enough to send him scurrying away and give me a chance to get back to the novel I'd been trying to draft. To which he responded by whipping out his laptop and promptly settling down to read the blog in its entirety. Fortunately for him, it's only a half dozen entries at this point.

After he finished reading, he made a "hmph" noise and looked at me with a critical eye. I expected some smart remark or biting criticism, but instead he asked the question "If you're blogging about spirituality, why have you been so focused on the dying and the dead?" He went on to say that he is a Christian (denomination unspecified) and that for him, with the notable exception of where does the soul go, the process of dying and death is not a spiritual concern. If someone dies, it is technically their problem and is of no concern to him on a spiritual level (although his choice of words were considerable more polite and less brutal than mine).

I'm not sure how broadly representative this point of view is, but it jarred me a bit, to be honest. It further disturbed me when a minister who was sitting near us jumped into the conversation and stated that he encouraged his parishioners not to dwell on death itself, as the actual process of dying and death was of no real consequence in the grand scheme of things. He went on to elaborate that one's relationship with God determines what happens after death and that the transition from life to death is merely a mode of getting from point A (walking around this planet) to point B (the afterlife), just like "taking a bus- nothing to dwell on. It has no particular importance or meaning." I think my jaw may be still be sitting on the coffee shop floor next to a discarded newspaper.

I admit that I have focused on the dead and dying here, but that's because it is of spiritual importance to me. I cannot view this transition as having "no real consequence" or liken it to "taking the bus." This is one of the biggest and least well understood moments in a person's life. Other than fear of the unknown, I can't understand why someone suggest that this isn't a subject worthy of time or consideration.

Mysteries aside, I am blessed with the gift (or hindered with the curse) of drawing people to me who are transitioning between life and death. I don't know if this particular "talent" is an innate one or what its origins may be; I just know that it has always been with me in some form or another. As an adult, I've walked beside more people than I care to remember as they've made this journey. If I cannot be there physically with them, I still find that I am with them in my meditations, thoughts, and dreams. I am haunted, literally and figuratively, by those who have not passed directly into whatever world awaits us after this one. Even they ask that I be a witness to what it is they are experiencing.

Ironically, the more I try to avoid "being there" for those who are in transition, the more I am pushed into it by various forces. With Andy, I'd intended to walk away and not become a witness to that transition (as he'd also intended). However, we shared a patron deity and it was She who demanded that I be there for him. It is She who has also demanded that I heal those I can, give comfort to those I cannot, and give aid to those who ask. I did not ask for this geis and did not want it when it was given, but it is one that I will not walk away from. Dying and death is a transition that each of us must face. As long as I am able, I will be there for those I care about when they make that transition, to give them comfort, to give them reassurance, to help them understand that it is not an end, but a birth into another world, to guide them as far as I can. I have been given the gift of understanding what it is to travel between worlds. For me, this is very much a part of who I am as a spiritual being and so, to answer the question posed to me by my fellow coffee drinker and anyone else who might inquire, that is why I blog about it here.

Honoring the Dead

2007-11-19T08:46:00.000-05:00

Admittedly, things have been a bit more strange and crazy in my world than they usually are, so it comes as no surprise to me when I forget to do things like taking the trash out to the curb or answering emails. Some things are so ingrained into my spiritual practices that forgetting them would be like forgetting to get up in the morning. One of these practices is to honor the dead who have in some way positively affected my life. Typically, I do this on either on their birthdays or the anniversary of their deaths. For a few individuals, both occasions are honored, as they have influenced me not only with their lives, but with their deaths as well.

Over the weekend, I forgot to celebrate the birthday of one such person, a friend and partner from college named Raven. I woke up this morning after dreaming of him and could not believe that I'd somehow forgotten to honor him on his birthday. Raven had more influence on my spiritual path than anyone else I've known, as well as future choices about my life path- boyfriends, sex, emotional openness. Furthermore, it was through Raven that I originally met Andy, who as it has turned out came and went out of my life in that same spectacular, bittersweet way that Raven did. I loved and lost each of them in a relatively short time span and my life after each of their passings has been fundamentally altered. Raven's death became an excuse to emotionally shut down; Andy's passing, at least for now, has resulted in my heart reopening to some scary possibilities- like the fact that I am still capable of love, no matter how much I might deny it.

How could I forget to honor someone who has played such a role in my life, someone whose influence continues more than a dozen years after his death, someone who still haunts my dreams? How do you forget someone who quiet literally died in your arms? I didn't forget because I've been too busy or too wrapped up in other thoughts. On the contrary, I've thought more about Raven in last two months than I have in the last two years. I also check my book of days on a weekly basis and his birthday is clearly noted there. I remember thinking to myself "Hmm, that's right. Raven's birthday is Saturday." No, I cannot plead the excuse that it had completely slipped my mind.

The answer is simple, I think, as to why I failed to offer up prayers and burn a white candle as is my normal ritual.... I don't need Raven anymore. I no longer need to hold on to the feelings I had for him and the feelings that I had because of him. For too long, he held a venerated place in my mind, a sort of martyrdom for having loved me and for dying at a young age. I hate to admit it, but he could do no wrong in my memories. Interestingly it was our mutual friend, Andy, who gave me a new perspective on Raven, who after all these years, told me some hard truths about the man I thought I knew. Andy opened my eyes to Raven's flaws, let me see him as a human being again.

We've come full circle now, Raven and I. Our work here is done, at least as far as each other are concerned. I have finally let go of all that he was to me and his influence on my life has essentially come to an end. It's not that I don't feel appreciative of Raven, but I no longer feel that I need to offer my time and energy in honoring him. I don't need to be tied to that part of my past any longer. I'll burn one last candle for him and let him go... for good.

Giving Thanks

2007-11-11T20:07:00.000-05:00

Our family celebrated an early Thanksgiving today. My mother’s sisters are in town for the week, their first pilgrimage in twenty years to visit their oldest sibling. Since my brother’s schedule is torn between four kids from two marriages, a girlfriend with two kids of her own, and a demanding work schedule, we all agreed to move our usual Thanksgiving weekend get together to coincide with the aunties’ visit. My usually quiet house has been filled with the sounds of laughter and shared stories, not to mention the perpetual nagging of the family elders about the failings of the younger members. It was a long day and I’m grateful for the relative silence that descended after my brother’s brood departed and everyone else settled in front of the television for the night.
Today was a bittersweet one for me. Before Andy’s passing, we’d made plans for him to be here this weekend, to introduce him to my family, to announce that we intended to make legal the vows that we’d already sworn to each other. It was going to be a bombshell, I admit, and it was probably unfair to unleash such a revelation upon my family who have no idea that Andy even existed. There were so many factors driving our decision to present him to my family at this gathering and if I displayed doubt, Andy had been quick to remind me that I was not facing this alone, that at the end of the day, he’d be by my side. And that was all that mattered.
Andy was not by my side today but I still could feel the peaceful presence of him, the same feeling I’d experienced the last time I saw him. It was both painful and comforting, feeling that he’d kept his promise as best he could, that he was still watching over me, keeping me from being alone. I chopped five pounds of onions today in a pathetic attempt to cover the fact that I needed very desperately to cry for awhile. Finding a quiet, isolated place to grieve is difficult when you’re in a house full of people, especially a group of people who have the best of intentions and insist in helping with every problem, even those that require introspection and solitude. So I chopped every last onion in the house and gave myself to cry as much as I needed to and to shout (at least in my own head) all those things that I wanted to say… that life was cruel, that I hated having been given the gift of seeing the beauty of someone only to have them taken away (for the umpteenth time in my life), that I wanted everyone to leave me alone to my grief and stop expecting me to act like life was wonderful. Never mind that I’ve steadfastly refused to even say Andy’s name to anyone in my family; I wanted still wanted them to give me space and let my private grief be allowed to find expression. At the end of chopping a half dozen large onions and three bunches of spring onions, I felt better and started to believe the whispering in my brain that kept repeating "You are not alone. You are loved."
This feeling persisted throughout the day. It felt to me that he was there, watchful and encouraging. Even in the midst of large family gatherings, I often feel alone and isolated, as if I don’t quite belong with the group (it would take a lifetime of blogging to explain the reasons for that!). Today, I felt content with being a part of things instead of the usual anxiety of feeling like a bug under a microscope. My heart and mind were calm for a change and as much as the word is over-used, zen would describe the hours that followed crying over chopped onions.
When it came time for our family’s annual dinner game of "What Are You Thankful For", I prepared myself to list the usual… family, spirituality, health, friends, enough abundance to not want. Then one of my aunts decided to throw her own rule into this round of sharing: no one was allowed to repeat what someone had already said. By the time the questioning had come around to me, all of my answers had been taken. My brother poked me in the ribs and teased me about being thankful for only having to cook for everyone once a year. Since I love to cook for other people, I’d be thankful for the opportunity to do it more often, actually. Instead, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and said "I’m thankful for getting to spend time with my friend Andy before he passed away."
There… I’ve done it. I’ve said his name in the presence of not just one family member, but an entire gathering of them. My mother gave me a look that spoke volumes. Who was this Andy person? Why haven’t you mentioned him before? What’s this about a friend dying? You never told me a word about this. I live under your roof and you kept this from me. What else are you not telling me?
Everyone else accepted this with murmurs of sympathy, but no questions, no inquiries about it, no probing into who this person might have been to me. Perhaps the questions will come later in a less public forum. I’m fairly certain that my mother will ask… or spend many hours telling the rest of the family that she just doesn’t know me anymore and that I hide things from her. Our relationship is sometimes a little difficult, she depends too much on me and I withdraw further from her when she leans. There’s much about Andy that I won’t tell her. I haven’t yet decided just how much I will say to her. Sometimes, less is more with my family. Yet my silence is broken and I answered the "thankful" question with the only honest answer I could muster at that moment. I am thankful for the time spent with him. I wish he could have been here with us today, but in a way, he was there, bestowing in me a confidence that I could face whatever might come and survive stronger than I’d been before. If there has been a lesson in knowing Andy, it is the knowledge that I can experience heartbreak and still feel strong and loved. For that I’m the most thankful.
Now at the end of the day, my mind is still calm and centered. Even as I’ve written this blog, my thoughts have been clear and focused on a single issue. Not my family, not myself, not even Andy. No, the only burning question in my mind is "what am I going to do with five pounds of chopped onions?"

Not According to Plan

2007-10-29T18:00:00.000-04:00

A few long weeks ago, I heard from an old college acquaintance, asking if I cared to have lunch with him while he was in town. We'd done a poor job of staying in touch over the years and "in town" was now 500 miles away for me and four times that for him. By a fateful twist, I'd made plans to be in our shared former city the week that he'd planned to be there. I hadn't seen Andy in several years and agreed to meet for lunch to catch up. If things went as they usually did, I'd see him again in a few years with a handful of emails exchanged in the intervening years.

We met for lunch, but that's when things stopped going as planned. Seeing him, it became readily apparent that he was ill. It took several subsequent conversations for him to admit that he was suffering from advanced CNS lymphoma and that the prognosis was quite grim. He'd already put his life in order, taken care of all the little details, and was quite ready to pass whenever the gods saw fit to take him. He'd asked to meet to say goodbye and to say things that he'd been afraid to say.

Andy had been trying hard to isolate himself over the last few months in a misguided attempt to spare his friends and family the pain of seeing his declining health and inevitable passing. Yet, we began to talk and email everyday. Life threw a couple of surprises at us, not the least of which was an affection that quickly bloomed into something more precious. Neither of us had intended to deepen the relationship beyond what it had always been, yet it happened in spite of our intentions. We'd both isolated ourselves for a long time, nursing old heartbreaks and fearful of exposing tender scars to potential new pain. Still, we found ourselves making plans to spend whatever remaining time he had together.

He came to visit on Friday, flying across the country to be there for me on an important day. Always full of surprises, he came with a friend and asked if I would consider a hand fasting until we could "make it legal". Friday was a very good day, one that I could never have predicted a few weeks ago. We were hand fasted in a quiet park among the oak and holly trees on a perfect autumn afternoon. The smile never left his face in the few hours that he was here and in spite of an uncertain future, we were both happy.

The plan was that he would take care of some personal business and return here in mid-November to stay... for good. Whatever came our way, we'd find a way to cope with it. It was important to him to be near me and for me, the only thing that mattered that this dear sweet man not go through life alone. We made plans, knowing that they might be short-lived or change rapidly without notice. We both knew there wouldn't be a happily ever after, but as he'd put it, we were both content to have a "happily right now".

Andy passed away Saturday afternoon. According to his friend, the flight back had been rough. Andy suffered from seizures as a result of his illness and had a mild one while traveling. Sometime during the drive home from the airport, he slipped into unconsciousness and never woke again. I had not planned to mourn for him, yet I grieve his loss in ways that I didn't think was possible.

Nothing has gone as planned lately and I will blatantly disregard Andy's plan to slip away with no fanfare, no funeral service, not even an obituary. He wanted to pass quietly and unnoticed. However, I will celebrate his life and ask my friends to celebrate with me and honor his memory by burning a white candle for him. Andy was 36 years old, an elementary school teacher who served as a volunteer fire-fighter and literacy advocate. His own troubles never took priority and he could always be counted on for kind words, a genuine smile, and a helping hand. A once bright light has been extinguished and the world is a little bit darker for it. He will be missed.

On Doing Nothing

2007-10-05T17:55:00.000-04:00

Life teaches us so many lessons and one of the most difficult for me has been learning to do nothing. No, I don't mean that I need lessons on being a couch potato and using the remote control on a Sunday afternoon (I manage that very well on my own!). What I'm talking about is inaction in the face of something that causes every fiber of your being to scream "Do something, dammit!!!"

This lesson came up recently on a forum that I regularly visit, when someone else was desperately wanting to help an ill co-worker whose condition was supposed to be a secret from everyone (including the person wanting to help). My sage advice was that sometimes the hardest and only thing to be done is nothing at all... just wait and see and let the actions of the person who you want to help dictate your next step.

I shouldn't be surprised, but once again, life has handed me one of those "let's see if you can practice what you preach" orders. An old acquaintance recently resurfaced in my life and it truly felt like rediscovering a long lost friend. We have a lot in common, he and I, more than I remembered or would have given him credit for. In getting to know him again (it's been 15 years since we "hung out"), I realize that he's one of the few people who have always accepted me as is, even the strange and unusual bits of me that most people don't get. In short, he's been a friend whose on-again, off-again presence I never really appreciated.
We've talked more in the last two weeks than in the last decade. What he won't talk about in any detail, however, is that he's ill. Not he has a bad cold ill, but terminally ill. When I saw him recently for the first time, the shadow of death was already upon him. It's one of those strange and unusual aspects of me... I can sometimes see when someone's close to death, even if they appear outwardly healthy. And Death is most assuredly stalking Andy and he knows it. He refuses to go into detail, but from what he has shared, it's a fairly safe assumption that he has a brain tumor that's getting progressively worse. He won't say exactly what's going on, only glosses over it, and tells me that it's not for me to worry over.

Here's where every fiber of my being screams "Do something, Aisling!" I'm a healer and my patron deity demands of me that I help when it's asked of me. I can't cure him, but I can certainly help to ease his pain and give comfort. I can do something, dammit, something to help him through this... healings, prayers, holding his hand, making tea, being a shoulder to cry on.

My friend does not want my help. "Don't even think about a healing and don't try to help, Aisling. I'm not dead yet and if I need your help then, I'll let you know." (All said with a silly grin, poking slight fun at another of my strange and unusual talents, mediumship). So, I get to sit on my hands and wait patiently for what? For my friend to die. He's ready to let go of this life; I'm not ready for him to go yet. I never will be. Yet, because he has asked it, I will not take healing actions on his behalf. It is my friend's wish, perhaps one of the last that I'll be able to grant for him. That far outweighs my own need to "do something."

A Serious Step Lightly Taken

2007-09-21T17:58:00.000-04:00

There has been a strong push lately for me to write more about spirituality and faith, many pushes, in fact, from multiple directions. I find myself here, staring at a mostly blank screen and wondering where to even begin. Let me then begin lightly with the most basic information about my own spirituality.

If it isn't painfully obvious already, my "official" religion is paganism. Those not on the inside or familiar with it should be first aware that paganism is not a single religion or set of beliefs. At best it's an umbrella term generally used to describe faiths other than Christianity, Judaism, and Islam (and sometimes Eastern religions as well). Pagans are incredibly diverse in their attitudes and beliefs and frankly, as a group, we probably have more differences than similarities among our beliefs. If you're interested in learning more, there is a link on my blog page to the Cauldron where you can find a Pagan Primer that discusses this a little more in depth.

My particular path within paganism is at best described as eclectic. I do not follow an established tradition such as Wicca or Asatru. They simply don't work for me; I admit it, I have an issue with authority... human authority at least. I have a great deal of difficulty with the concept that I should shape my beliefs according to what another human being claims they should be (and yes, that does include Mohammad, Jesus, Buddha, the pope, Gerald Gardner, Alex Sanders, etc). While I can accept that humans may spiritually lead and teach, I feel that no human can speak for the gods or claim to know what the gods think. My beliefs have been shaped by a broad spectrum of religious teachings, by my own experiences, and by the deities that have claimed me as their own.

Before anyone begins to fret and wring their hands about what I've said, keep in mind that this is my conceptualization of my own path. Just because I have said something does not make it so for all. Spirituality is so highly individualistic that no two people walk exactly the same path, even though they may share a single faith. Our experiences shape our relationships to our faith, our gods, and our beliefs so that each of us stand on a slightly different path from the rest. More importantly, all paths are valid as long as the person on a particular path has sincere belief in their path.

So there it is, a serious step lightly taken (with gratitude to Robert Frost for such a wonderful phrase). :)