We are the Pharaoh, we uphold Ma’at

This is an interesting article about how we are all, each of us, a King. I found it when VeggieWolf reblogged it on her blog.You can read the article for further details, but I thought I’d connect it to my own thoughts. Go ahead. Go read it. I’ll wait. Here’s the link to the original post: Hills of the Horizon: A Defense of Sacred Kingship

So, as someone who works with Aset, one of whose epithets is “Maker of Kings”, I share many sentiments within this article. I do feel that, as moderns, using the King/Pharaoh as a symbol for what any of us can be in reaching our potential is apt. As the King /Pharaoh was, at least according to what the state material would tell us, literally Ra/Heru on earth, so can we also be Ra/Heru on earth. The Netjeru are as much us as they are the world about us. For me, Aset is one who can help you to plunge the depths of your mind and development, discover your desires and demons and strengths and weaknesses, and mold you into the Pharaoh you can become.

As much as the King/Pharaoh was responsible for upholding Ma’at, so are we responsible for upholding Ma’at. The King/Pharaoh works through us; we can all become Kings/Pharaohs when we uphold Ma’at and strive for our potential (I’ve read that even the ancients eventually democratized the afterlife, allowing all people to access eternity after death. I think its an interesting idea to extent the other perks and responsibilities as well). This article focuses on social justice, but there are other aspects of Ma’at as well (well, in my version of Ma’at. YMMV, of course😀 ). There is “personal Ma’at”, which is akin to learning to accept and understand your inner “demons” or “shadow”, learning your strengths and weaknesses, learning who you are, what you want to be, and how to get there, learning to be disciplined but also self-compassionate, and striving to be contented and “successful”, however you define those things. There is also “ecological Ma’at”, which entails doing your part to either help the environment/world you live in or avoid doing harm. I’m sure there are many other forms/versions of Ma’at…things that are “orderly” or most beneficial for all persons. But in any arena, while we usually aren’t entirely responsible for the outcome of whether Ma’at is established/upheld, we are connected enough to the world about us to have an influence.

In short, we can all “bloom”. We all affect the world around us. We are one way the gods can uphold Ma’at in this world, because the gods are within and around us. In a sense, as the Pharaoh was seen as a Netjer, so are we Netjeru.

I am very much reminded of part of St. Teresa of Avila’s poem, “Christ Has No Body”.

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Intuitive Understanding and “Divination”

Atheopaganism

I read Tarot cards. Not as much as I used to, but I still do it.

I don’t think of it as “fortune telling”. I think of the Tarot as a magnificently complex set of symbols from which I randomly choose, creating therefrom a narrative which draws up my intuitive understanding of a situation or question and illuminates it in complex, interesting and often surprising ways. In a way, Tarot is like a Rorschach test, only with much richer set of available symbols and a long history of interpretation and lore.

Besides, it’s really, really cool. Tarot by candlelight, with a bit of incense? You won’t feel much witchier than that, short of dancing naked around a fire.

In the Atheist community, I see a lot of hyperfocus on rationality, and discounting of intuitive thinking (and of emotion, generally). What cannot be logically explained is often dismissed entirely, to a fault…

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Reblog: How the Present Changes the Past

For whatever reason, I can’t reblog this, so I’ll put the link here and you can check it out.

Nimue Brown discusses briefly how the meanings we attribute to graves can send our biases to the past. An interesting thought experiment. What are your opinions? Is there credit to questioning the meanings we assign to objects found with bodies in graves and the inferences we make from them? Is it more relevant in some cultures (from which we have more information from the mouth of the culture itself via art or writing) than others?

https://druidlife.wordpress.com/2016/04/29/how-the-present-changes-the-past/

Shame, Trust, Safety and the Freedom to Make Magic

Atheopaganism

Shame. It impedes so much.

It’s easy to succumb to the impulse to think that it’s something to be overcome, and that’s the end of it. Freedom, eh?

And yet…

Someone completely without shame is a sociopath.

Shame is a guide. It can help us to understand how best to fit to the fractal puzzle which is human relations. And once having learned its lessons, it’s time to let it go.

But we don’t.

Unfortunately, we tend to seize it too closely, to internalize its voices, to make into Big Truth About Me what should really only be a gentle nudge, a wise voice about how to be a Better Me.

And because Shame is so powerful, we can learn to cower from its view. We can learn to be timid about expressing ourselves, for fear of feeling shame.

And so we come to the challenging work of Letting Ourselves Shine…

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Integrating into a community: Bringing Geb and Nut to Beltane

So, back home (roughly 4 hours away), my pagan friends are getting together to celebrate Beltane/May Day. The themes will center around life/rejuvenation/fertility, but there’s also a strong theme around children (we will crown May Queens and Kings and they will dance around a May Pole). Among other themes, the myth of Rhiannon will also be recited/celebrated/reflected upon.

This circle is very inclusive. While the overall feel is pretty “generic pagan”, there are touches of secular, Egyptian, and other influences, however small or brief. The coordinators have gone through some great lengths to make sure people have a sense of ownership with respect to this ritual, should they choose. For example, everyone is invited to bring something sacred to the ritual and place it on the altar to be blessed. The point here is celebrating together. Everyone comes together to celebrate something we all celebrate and could have celebrated on our own (spring). Togetherness is emphasized by allowing for ownership, input, and voice from the community. There is always the danger that you could wind up with something incoherent…a jumble of traditions and mythologies and ideas that never really form a narrative. However, with focus and careful revision, I think those planning this day have created something that allow everyone to get the biggest bang for their buck, balancing the elements allowing for personalisation with those that provide a generic enough experience that most can partake in (considering it is a public ritual).

The ritual was written by a number of people together. Everyone was allowed to comment, suggest, or change the ritual. While a core group of people ensured that there was consistency and a lack of complete juxtaposition among elements in the ritual, anyone could contribute. The core group wrote the draft and revised it over time. As suggestions were made, they incorporated them. They asked others for input (present company included).

This allowed the group to decrease (hopefully)  what I think can be common phenomena in many pagan get-togethers can be. So many pagans do their own thing that when its time to get a diverse group of pagans together for a public ceremony, that public ritual just feels very “generic”, sometimes too generic to be meaningful (not always, but for me, usually). Obviously, there is merit to generic rituals…it means no one is left out or left feeling out of place by something that is said or done. In this way, it actually increases the likelihood that people will find something meaningful when you aren’t sure who is coming to the ritual. Without mentions of specific myths, symbols, deities, or traditions, you lower the chances any participant will encounter something incongruent  with their personal practice.However, sometimes we can feel “left out” by what isn’t said or done.

Obviously, groups that practice together as a circle/temple/coven don’t have this issue nearly as often (because everyone is working from the same paradigm). But many of us in this area (and I suspect others) either (a) don’t feel any coven in the area suits their needs, or (b) do not have many/any covens available to them period. Thus, a diverse group of people must come together to do what they can to feel a sense of community.

Wait a minute though. It sounds like I’m looking the gift horse in the mouth. I mean, finding others to practice with, period, is a luxury. Why whine when you experience a few things that don’t jive with you? I agree. Completely.  But at this time, we were given the chance to be inclusive (given the powers of facebook and our smaller numbers). I’m sharing not because “We will do it better and everyone should do it this way.” I’m sharing because I’m proud of my community, I’m proud to be a part of it, and I want to share the experience in case anyone is able to replicate.

So why does it matter that it speaks to people on a personal level?

Consider, for example, if one person, Peter, believes in invocation but another, Paul, does not. If part of the ritual involves drawing down the moon, Paul may not get much at all out of this rite while Peter is having a profound experience. If the ritual didn’t draw down the moon, Paul might feel as if something is missing while Peter is happy with the ritual. In both instance, someone misses out. But, to really feel the most connected/get the most out of it, the symbols and actions in the ritual have to “jive” with the everyone in the circle. The jive can be aggregated to the group level at this point, and have even better effects. In public ritual where people from all walks attend, that’s hard to do because people think/feel/do so differently from each other. I think this group circumvented this (or tried to) by providing voice.

The guy that orchestrated this really went out of his way to give everyone ample time and opportunity to say their piece. Maybe someone out there thinks letting the kids dance around the May Pole is dumb, but no one has said anything, so hopefully that means that even if it doesn’t “jive” with them, it also won’t kill their buzz. But I can honestly say that he did listen and try to incorporate everyone’s feedback and suggestions.

Granted, we don’t call in many different gods; I suppose for many people, that might allow for the biggest feeling of “jive” that there could be. I’m sure somethings were compromised to some degree. But you have to draw a fence around something. If we put everything into the pot, it goes back to being very generic and feeling as if all the elements are juxtaposed against each other. Instead, we incorporate different symbols, phrases, poems, and songs that pull from different people’s traditions. I certainly don’t deal with Rhiannon, but I do feel close ties to the overall theme, many of the songs used, and pretty much all of the symbols used. There’s a tension to keep between specificity and generality, and that tension is easy when the group is small and voice is used.

One portion of the ritual involves blessing/offering objects everyone brings. They are small trinkets that will soak up and serve as reminders of the energy we drum up and wallow in during May Day. They can be anything, so long as they don’t take up too much real estate, and they will all be placed on the altar with other offerings. This is one of the portions meant to allow people to individualize to their hearts’ content.

Enter the Netjeru.

I’ve already celebrated Heru’s coronation and the marriage of Aset and Wesir earlier at the equinox, so I was thinking of focusing on the love/products of the love of Nut and Geb. Nut and Geb are especially appropriate at there will be a May Pole. Most of us have seen the images of Geb laying beneath Nut, and the idea of seeing the May Pole as Geb’s manhood seems quite appropriate. Also, I think this celebration shifts focus from Aset and Wesir (who, though they are connected to Nature, deal mostly with the intersection of humanity and nature – agriculture and kingship are both examples of how we relate/respond to nature and civilization) to purely “natural” Netjer – the sky and earth, Nut and Geb. I know it’s not totally traditional to do things for Nut and Geb, but I always have incorporated them into my practice, especially Nut. I also like how the “sneakiness” inherent in the story of Nut and Geb (namely, the conception and birth of their kids) ties into the sense of mischievousness and celebration of love/sex inherent in Beltane (I know mischievousness might not be there originally, because its a celebration of sex and thus counter to the “naughtyness” we impose upon it falsely, but I like the playfulness it brings).

Had I thought of this earlier, I would have suggested something to the group. But at this point, I would like to simply (a) dedicate my time to Nut and Geb and (b) bring an item that I use for Nut and Geb/could use in the future when offering to Nut and/or Geb.

An offering to the pine

The past two days have been days of realization.

We have a very big test coming up, and I have the next 7 months to study for it. While this seems like more than enough time, the task is large and my career (and everything I’ve put into it for the past year and a half, including my savings account) rests upon its outcome. Starting to focus on this task has been difficult, as the other things on my plate are not leaving. I still have obligations at school and at work. Other people are are affected by the decisions and efforts I put forth…people who are in the same boat as me.

My adviser discussed with me my ability to take some things off of the plate today. I know it has to be done, but it’s hard to let go. I don’t want to let others down, and I want to amass as much experience as I can. But, I know he’s right. I have to finish a research paper (which is akin to a thesis which replaces the proposal and defense with an open and continuous dialogue [which can feel like a continuous proposal and defense at times]) in order to qualify to take the exam (whose date is not movable). This paper takes a lot of time and is included in the school obligations.

I sat outside today to polish off my literature review and refine my methods section. And I was reminded of something else entirely about mid-way. The smell of grass and sun and shade mingling with the sounds of AC units and traffic reminded me of the summers and springs of my childhood. I remembered sitting and playing in the grass, letting the shade grow deeper and darker until the grass looked blue in the twilight. I remember my mother calling from the porch that it was either time for supper (when I was at home) or time to go home (when we were visiting my grandmother).

It made me  nostalgic. It gave me a sense of comfort, a sense of joy. It made me happy. But why was that? Was I running from the work I aimed to do (totally possible – when I’m not doing things a week in advance I am procrastinating with the best of them)? Was I longing for a simplicity that I since lost? I don’t think so.

So I put my work aside and sat in the grass, a grass which was much less uniform and much more diverse when you are out among its blades. There were different types of plants and flowers which from afar all seem a bright green homogeneous blanket of foliage. But from the intimacy afforded by my new proximity, it was revealed that this blanket was really a host of clover, toadstools, butter cups yet to bloom, “yard grass”, and lots of things I couldn’t identify. And it reminded me of the grass I used to play with as a girl. So that’s what I did.

I took a pine cone from the tree near my house and started to decorate it with the leaves and clovers nearby. I plucked a buttercup from a plant that had another to spare and then realized that it wasn’t the most ecologically-conscious thing to do, so I made it the last addition. This started a spiral of thoughts about how connected we all our in our ecosystems, how much the land gives to us, how much we take (either benevolently or by force) and how the ripples of our actions chisel out our futures in the passage of time. For example, the tree near my home gives me shade, which lowers my (sometimes obnoxiously high despite all my efforts) electricity bill, gives me oxygen, and drops the pine cones I use for fall decorations and fires.

And I think of how lovely it is in the world, and how nice it is to have a space to work outside. Which starts to bring me back to my nostalgia. It is then that I realize that my memories of childhood summers and my momma’s voice remind me of a time when I was very happy. While I cherish that happiness (and everyone that aided in the creation of that happiness), I also have happiness now. It’s the sun and grass and world around me that connects the happiness that founded me to the happiness I am currently building, with my own efforts (after having “escaped” a time and mindset of being unhappy).

A happiness I am building…which reminds me again of the work I had temporarily forsaken to reminisce. It reminded me of the present, of which I should be mindful. At the moment, I found myself needing to work but also a blip in a beautiful world, sitting near the tree shadowing my home. When I was “back home”, I used to connect to the trees there, thinking of their age and strength and function. So I connected to this one. I let it be a god in my world.

It is older than I am. It stands stationary, guarding my home, not intentional, but as a byproduct of its life. It waits. It watches the time pass. Day by day, it grows a little. It may stand a good 40-50 feet tall now, but once upon a time it was only a seed from the cone I held. It got there over time. It is patient. And while it probably doesn’t look forward to or anticipate the future in any of the ways I do, that’s a good lesson to learn…to wait.  To grow incrementally. To make strides each day, small as they are, to reach a goal. I wonder, I ask, “Has anyone every prayed to you? Cause I think I might. You have a lot to say.” It doesn’t need to say anything though. Its speech is its standing. It answers my prayers with its sway and its sap and its stance.

I have to know when to get rid of things that aren’t so useful at the moment (like the pine sheds its cones), and then just do a portion of the work, each day, a little at a time (like the pine grows a little each day).

I left my decorated pine cone at the bottom of the tree. I thanked it for its lesson and its shade and beauty. And I left it towering over the hill, looming over the road, peering over my roof, to return to my work. But its roots are near (and likely beneath) the foundation of my apartment. Its branches are over my head, and its teaching is in my heart. Its smell, the piney musk, it’s still on my clothes and feet. It gives and gives, with its leaves and its stance and its metaphors and spirit. So today I tried to give a little bit back; I offered to it that pine cone which it dropped so casually in its efforts to reproduce. But, even in attempting to be generous, I think I still took home more than what I offered.

Pantheacon 2016 Presentations

Imperishable Stars

[Update 4/6/2016: I have added the short descriptions of the talks, as well as a couple of notes about them]

Here are two presentations delivered at Pantheacon 2016:

Waking up Gods, Waking up Creation: The Egyptian Morning Hymn

Descriptive blurb submitted for the Pantheacon Program: “We will explore the Morning Hymn used to waken the Gods and Goddesses in Egyptian Temples – covering the hymn’s history, meaning, parts, and performance. We will end by learning to pronounce and sing choral portions of the hymn and then perform a complete hymn together for a God or Goddess”.

Presentation – PDF rendering of PowerPoint slides and a PDF handout distributed at the talk.

Waking The Gods Presentation

Waking The Gods Handout

Weaving the Cloth of Reality: Word and Sound in Egyptian Ritual

Descriptive blurb submitted for the Pantheacon Program: “Egyptian rituals use the sounds of words, along with their meanings, to connect…

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Godless Paganism: Voices of Non-Theistic Pagans is available for sale!

Humanistic Paganism

From the back cover:

“Those godless pagans!”

Even in pagan antiquity, there were individuals and groups who, while participating in the community’s religious life, did not believe in literal gods. In the centuries that followed the Christian domination of the West, the epithet “godless pagan” was leveled at a wide variety of people, from polytheists and indigenous peoples to heretics and atheists.

In the 1960s, though, there emerged a community of people who sought to reclaim the name “pagan” from its history of opprobrium. These Neo-Pagans were interested in nature spirituality and polytheism, and identified with the misunderstood and persecuted pagans of antiquity. Over the following decades, a stunning variety of spiritualities blossomed under the umbrella of contemporary Paganism.

While many Pagans today believe in literal gods, there are a growing number of Pagans who are “godless.” Today, the diverse assemblage of spiritual paths known as Paganism includes atheist Pagans…

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Spring!

IMG_1784.jpg

I finally found a moment to celebrate the Spring Equinox, the Marriage and Love of Aset and Wesir, the Light overcoming the Dark, and the Birth of Heru-sa-Aset. I’ve recently been contemplating the relationship between Aset and Min, but haven’t acted on anything..yet.

To parallel the Mysteries of Wesir in the fall, I like to give thanks for what I have and celebrate the cycles in nature, usually focusing on how the world around us springs to life. I also adorned my statues with rose oil (for the goddesses) and jasmine oil (for the gods). I also made some lavender water and spritzed the altar and reblessed the jewelry I wear often.

I hope you all have a wonderful Spring! My your ears be open to Ma’at, and may your eyes be wide to the beauty in the world.

 

Community

Recently, I ventured to an Easter Vigil mass with a friend of mine. It was held by the Episcopalian Church in a small town, and one of the priests leading the service is actually a Celtic Christian who has been invited to use the church for his services whenever he might need. During and after this service, I had a number of reflections about the role community in religion and spirituality. My friend was also a friend of the Celtic Christian priest, and the three of us (along with the Father’s partner) ate dinner together. It was a small community of our own, temporary but sure. And it was at this dinner that I learned how some of the Christian communities within this small town faced similar challenges as the pagan community back home and the pagan community where I am. I suppose this post is my reflection on my own perceptions of a lack of “real life” community, and how I think these sorts of real-life relationships and practice can add to a practice (which is not to say that they are necessary for practice at all, only that they can have perks).

The Episcopalians in this town were few, and those with any interest or identification with my Celtic Christian friend’s denomination were even fewer. And yet, standing in a church that couldn’t have been larger than about 12 X 25, I realized how powerful group belief and practice can be. While the East Vigil is focuses on the Resurrection of Christ, it also focuses on the reintroduction of two very important symbols into the church building: water and light. During Lent, the water is taken from the church (for example, at the entrances, where people generally make the sign of the cross in Catholicism). I’m not entirely sure where the water is taken from at the Episcopalian church (as I’ve forgotten), but I believe they drain the baptismal fount (but I could certainly be wrong). The Pascal candle is also taken away, a symbol of light. On this day, the light and water return. There were many passages read that allude to these symbols – to light and water.

While it is  a stretch to say one could easily use this as a template for Neopagan or Kemetic services at this time of year, there are some parallels to the use of these symbols and my own practice: At the Spring Equinox, the light overtakes the dark. I associate light with Heru, Ra, and Aset.  Water, for me, is a symbol of rebirth and life, ushering in the green of the world (with the help of the sun). Aset, in my practice, brings life-giving rain. I see Wesir in rivers and lakes. Water and light are strong symbols to me. While these services were neither Kemetic nor Neopagan, the use of these symbols made me feel connected to those around me. Further, the use of these symbols to create a space and mark the passage of time was especially powerful. It was ritual at its finest – each symbol had many layers of meaning, and all the participants were transported to a space of reverence and celebration.

We began the service outside, near a bonfire. We lit the Pashal candle from this bonfire, then proceeded in the church. Within the church  was a pall of darkness. Only the flicker of the Pashal candle shone in the little church. From it, every member of the congregation lit another candle, and the warm light lit our faces but little else. When the moment came in the service to signal the resurrection of Christ, the lights came on, revealing the Easter lilies in the windows and the smiles on each others’ faces. It was a powerful use of symbol, even for someone who was not a part of the tradition. But I think what makes it powerful was that this experience is shared.

Before I continue, I feel its important to state that I do NOT think one can’t have a legitimate spiritual practice as a solitary practitioner. However, I do think there is something to be considered about a group experience. There is something that amplifies the space we create when we share the experience with others when done right (in my experience).

Gathered around the bonfire or exchanging “Peace” within the church, I was made aware of the ritual space that shared belief and practice can create. There was a moment when the children would open the doors to go outside in the middle of the service, and for a moment the outside world peered into our affairs: the music from next door, the pedestrians in the street, a woman waiting in a Jeep at the intersection. It felt as if we weren’t apart of that understanding of the world – rushing to supper or home or a party. Instead, we were a part of a different interpretation of that same world,  celebrating its underlying structure. But the passersby didn’t seem particularly interested; they either didn’t notice or simply moved along. Interestingly, we acted the same…the interruption was hardly noticed and not at all legitimized. The priest continued with his reading, everyone remained with heads bowed. It’s as if a boundary had been made by our songs and focus, and when the outside world was let in, it was hardly a distraction. With so many people focused on the same idea or purpose, it was easier to keep that feeling of, “Something special is going on, right now.” When the wooden door closed softly, muffling the music and traffic, it was all the easier to attend, once more, to the things in the church, if one’s attention ever even left it.

I do not get this feeling of “boundary” when I practice on my own, at least not very often. For one thing, if the outside world interrupts what I am doing, my first reaction is to safeguard my privacy. I’m still very closeted, and the last thing I want is for my upstairs neighbor to over hear my prayers or for the land lady to look curiously at my shrine or statues or whatever and ask questions I don’t want to answer. I’ve experienced this at public, group rituals as well. If we are at someone’s house and a new car pulls up in the driveway and we can see it, everyone cranes their necks to see who it is, if they are a friend or an outsider. If we are in an isolated park, though we know its public, there are still some of us (myself included), who feel the onlookers’ gaze and allow it to interrupt our affairs. They notice, and at least some of us notice. The boundary is weaker. I’m sure the fear of being discovered adds to this weakness, and overcoming this fear is still a lesson I’m learning.

Another is that, through these group experiences, I think, our experiences are validated, in a sense…well, I don’t know if validated is the right word. It provides a sense of belonging and a sense of shared reality. It’s one thing to feel and do on your own…it’s another (and sometimes more powerful thing to share this with others) And, I think, the boundary is stronger when its shared…its no longer my focus alone that makes this time and space special, its a shared focus, which is harder to break or penetrate. From practicing together, we can create traditions together, which can be passed from one generation to the next or from one family to the next. Sure, I’ve had great things happen on my own, and there are certainly times when only solitude can gift you certain experiences…but the same can be said for community.

I think this idea can be seen in Pagan meet-ups, public (or web-based) rituals, and pagan festivals – we are widely dispersed and often differ in our labels, opinions, and practice, but even still we find ways to come together and partake of a community. We are social creatures, after all. And we seek, I think, to build these palpable boundaries, shared experiences, and communal realities in safe and accepting places.

***

So this space that’s created…I don’t think it’s just during the rituals or services we do as groups. I think there is also a space created within the group that continues outside of formal ritual. Groups have informal social rituals (for example, Suzy and Arianna always text each other on Friday night) and traditions, either formal or informal. I’ve written about traditions once before, but this seems like another appropriate time to bring it up – I think traditions can be more easily cemented when they are shared with others. There’s something about celebrating with others externally that makes it seem even more concrete. Having others share in the same actions and profess the same commitments or joy makes it feel “real”. While we should never strive for the approval of others and while it is as real as you allow it to be, religion is socially constructed, and so it helps to construct with others. Even those of us who practice a solitary path, we are connected through others and we are practicing with others…via the internet where we share ideas, disagree or agree, and co-create an amalgamation of religions.

But the type of traditions we see in other churches are hard to recreate in the pagan community. We are more orthopraxic while they are orthodoxic. They gather regularly and have a long line of (often) bureaucratic records of their traditions. Some in the pagan community who belong to real life groups do have regular meetings and a long line of well-recorded traditions…but some of us do not. Some of us build our traditions slowly, over time. Some of us practice those celebrations alone. And while we can discuss it online with others, discussing together is not the same as doing together. What’s more is that without time and experience and the help of others, the layering of symbols (which I find, personally, to make ritual all the more rich) can be harder. At least, it has proven to be harder for me. For example, water can mean many different things in any one tradition. It can be tied to many different experiences and stories. However, the more time that passes, the more experiences and resources we can tie back to that symbol. The more people there are to connect to that symbol, the more richness they can provide to the traditions and rituals using it. A single person can certainly reach that level of symbolic depth…but I do think it will take more time and practice usually (two heads are better than one, sometimes).

***

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