The Gift

It's odd, really.

I'd been looking forward to my year and a day celebration, well, for an entire year and a day. Although I'd flirted with Paganism for years...my flirtation came to a sudden, grinding halt when my son was diagnosed with autism. Heart and soul, I was completely focused and determined on making him well again.

And it took years.

I had no room, or at least that was my thought at the time, for anything else. Looking back, I realize this spiritual path could have helped our entire family had my autism tunnel vision not kicked in. But alas, it did. As I think it would for most mothers faced with this diagnosis for their child.

Nevertheless, my little man is now well on his way to making an extraordinary autism recovery. When I realized this back in April 2009, I jumped back into my Pagan education head first. I finally had time to focus on my needs and wants again. And, oh, what a joyous reunion it was! I can't remember a happier time in my life. The spring and summer of '09 was full of excitement and happiness for me. I was the thinnest I'd been in years, the kids were happy and healthy, we spent a lot of time outdoors--including several camping trips, I was reading every Pagan-related book I could get my hands on and learning more everyday, and I'd started my very first herb garden which was thriving. It was a lovely time.

But.

There is always a but, isn't there?

As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. As summer faded into the first vibrant days of fall, the sparkle and glow of my life began to fade as well. It's that darn balance thingy our Mother is so fond of. :)

Doug and I began having marital difficulties, Parker was having a rough time transitioning back into the structured routines of a school classroom, and money was as tight as it has ever been. For awhile, I believed we were going to have to stop the very expensive biomedical interventions which had so aided in Parker's recovery. Obviously, this was devastating news to me. I'd spent years healing Parker's poor, weakened little body, yet all that work hung in a very precarious balance. Depression was inevitable. As autumn flowed seamlessly into winter, I found myself reevaluating my life, particularly my new found faith.

Did I really want to follow a path which I'd be unable to share with my fundamentalist Christian family? A path which seemed quite bleak and lonely, as I live in the uber conservative Bible belt? A path which would ultimately lead to the loss of many friendships?

My answer, which I think is probably obvious at this point, was a resounding YES! Christianity is not and never was an option for me. I knew that as soon as I was old enough to understand the teachings I heard every Sunday in the little country church. Yet the day I found Paganism, my heart started singing. FINALLY. A religion I could relate to. A religion which made me feel so at home. A religion I could call my own.

My original intention was to have a big party with my coven sisters on Beltane, which happened to be my official 'year and a day' graduation. Yet as the day grew near, I found myself becoming introspective and craving reflective time with our Mother only. So that's what I did. Beltane rang in and back out again very quietly in this household. Yet internally, I'd reached a new level of dedication and loyalty to our path. Inside, I was celebrating loudly and boldly.

I did, however, mark the event 'externally' as well.

Here is how:

A tattoo I designed along with my local artist, which is located on my right shoulder blade. (Please note...this photograph was taken mere minutes after the tattoo was completed. My skin is red, irritated all over, blotchy, swollen, and even oozing a little blood too. Also, it's not lopsided as it appears in the picture...that's just my husband's crappy camera skills showing. ;)





Beautiful, isn't it? :)


Blessed be, my friends.

Hanging Out in the Broom Closet

A few minutes ago, I saw that my SS had joined a Facebook page specifically for witches living in the Bible Belt.  For a moment, my cursor hovered over the Join button, and then I turned away.

And--finally--I realized what it meant to be "in the broom closet."

For a few weeks now, I've been sort of struggling with this concept, as it seems that being "in the broom closet" means to many Pagans, that they can't wear their pentagrams out in public.  The pentagram doesn't resonate with me, and any dove or triskele amulet I might wear would probably be associated with Christianity around these parts.  Religion doesn't really come up around here;  it's assumed that everybody is a Christian.  There's no need for me to discuss my faith.  It doesn't come up. 

But, lately, I've felt stymied.  It started in Jeffrey's taekwondo class.

We were discussing the downfall of cartoons--whatever happened to the Snorks or Smurfs or Scooby Doo?  And then somebody brought up the Disney tween programming and a lady said, "Ooh, and those 'Witches of Waverly Place.'  We will NOT watch that.  I don't need no witchcraft and demons in my house."

Blink.  Blink blink.

Because A of all, lady, that isn't witchcraft.  It's a goofy little show with magic wands that shoot out lasers and stuff.  (Which I love, actually.  I admit it.  I'm thirty-five-years-old and I love that show.)  There's no mention of deity or practice or whatever.

And B, was it possible, ma'am, that you stumbled on a later episode of Buffy?  Because I'll buy the demons and witchcraft stuff with that show.  (And I'll take a Spike, preferably with his leather coat, while I'm at it.)

Anyway, the other ladies agreed with her and for a few seconds, the conversation drifted into a discussion of Magic that was not really cool with me.

And I sat there.  Like a little lump.  I wanted to say, "That's not true.  That's not right."  But I didn't.  Finally, the conversation moved on and I could speak again.

Then last week, we were discussing the fact that our state legislature had passed a law to ban the involuntary implantation of humans with microchips.  (Yes, that's what I said.  They also approved eating roadkill.  Our state workers are being flattened by furloughs, our teachers are being fired left and right, our interstates are a mess, and insurance companies can deny children treatment for their behavioral and developmental disorders, but we will spend money so they can protect us from the federal government inserting microchips in our "vaginal-rectum area"s--per a witness' sworn testimony.)  And somehow, the same lady, started talking about End Times and how the microchips were the Mark of the Beast and other fun stuff from John's revelation and I just sat there.  AGAIN.  To be honest, this time I just sat there because I couldn't quite believe the mess coming out of her mouth.  It was like a science fiction novel.  A BAD science fiction novel. 

But the other part of me, the part of me that wanted to say, "Yeah, um, I don't believe in the revelation.  I think it's craziness.  Also?  I've been researching Jewish prophesy because of 'Lost' and I've pretty much figured out why the Jews weren't all down with Jesus, and they're TOTALLY right about that, and...also?  Can we discuss the whacko interpretation of the Hebrew that was done by the Catholic church?"  Um, yeah.  That part just sat there.

So for the first time, I get it.  My family knows I'm a Pagan.  Some of my more open-minded friends do, as well.  Some think this is a phase.  Some think that I'm actually a Christian, dallying with something else.  No doubt a few believe I'm going to hell, but they won't discuss it.  These people LOVE me.  But they don't discuss my religion with me most of the time. 

It's not these folks I'm worried about.  It's the other folks.  It's my former coworkers and various members of the community, most of whom I don't call "friend," but who I wave and smile at in HellMart.  And there are even a few folks on FB who I DO love, but who I would never just come out and say, "Well, for Beltane this year I..."  Because it would freak them the frick out.  And they would unfriend me, which would hurt my feelings. Or gossip about me, which could have ramifications for our finances.  And I already loathe this place enough that I really need some positive folks in my life and these Christians are good people who care about me.  Some of them are family.  I don't feel like they would be comfortable with me talking about my religious stuff on Facebook.

So now, I get it.  Being in the broom closet isn't about myself.  It's about the other folks.  I'm essentially being not my full self on Facebook--in my LIFE--because I don't want to be challenged by other people.  They have the power in my life.  Not me. 

And that sucks.

I'm thinking about giving myself a magical name and joining up with Facebook on THAT, using another email address so that I can TALK to people like me around here.  I've poked fun of people with magical names, and now, in some small way, I understand it.  It doesn't feel authentic to me.  It feels like I'm hiding.

Which I guess I am.  Here in my broom closet.