It's Not So Black and White
The first time I started calling myself "Pagan" was after I had come across others who used the word to describe themselves. But the outlook and approach to life that I now call Pagan was a part of my life much earlier than that, possibly even since I was a toddler. But this is old news to many of you with similar "coming home" stories.
I didn't consciously choose to leave Christianity. In fact I can be quite honest in saying that for a period in my life, both strands intermingled almost imperceptibly. Though, I have no lost love for fundamentalist strains of Christianity, let me be clear that I didn't "leave" Christianity in the usual sense. No great moments of realization that many "former" Christians talk about. No great upheavals of the soul experienced by those who realize they don't believe in the religion they belong to. I simply grew from the first religion in my life towards and into the two religions (one is very Pagan and the other is very Buddhist) that now sustain me and inspire me and have given so much to my life and its celebration.
There was no black and white demarcation. No distinct boundary. Only a gradual and almost imperceptible shading between the two "periods" which I now think of as the Christian period and the Pagan period respectively. Perhaps it can be described like walking. (The walk itself took a while.) I walked from one area to another and between the two areas there was no great border or any other mark. There were a lot of trees and much grassy field with a few hills off in the distance. And the sun and moon rose and set all the same. I simply knew that somewhere in the past I left one home on a walk about. And eventually I reached another home. A home that spoke to me poignantly because it was a home I was both unconsciously and consciously seeking. I know that the two areas are distinct and different from each other. But at their shared liminal area, no border exists. Perhaps, to the gods, it matters little, this human attempt at organizing what probably can't be organized into little vignettes that are more easily written and shared. (Perhaps, to the gods, our little human borders on this earth, demarcating nations, matter little as well.)
Sure, I can recall the time I first decided to call myself Pagan. The time I first started in Wicca and called myself a Witch. (Actually, I was called Witch first by another and the word seemed to fit, as weird as it sounded to me. Thankfully, I had ran into a staunch Wiccan years before, during my Christian period, and I had no negative associations or ideas, thanks to her patience in answering my dumb questions.) I recall my dedications; both self made and shared with others. My first rituals. I remember that during those early days (for me, anyway), the only books I had to read about what I was getting into were Margot Adler's "Drawing Down the Moon" and an ethnography entitled "Never Again The Burning Times". I can even recall all the little innuendoes I picked up from my love and exploration of Celtic cultures which pointed me to start living out those approaches we nowadays call Pagan. (Like my personal observations of the four Celtic festival days I had started years before.) I can even recall the trance exercises I first started out on years before I would ever have thought of myself as Pagan. I recall Macha being my first "Pagan" Goddess. I recall even when I first met Eris. (Two of my earliest experiences with the old gods.) Then there is Lugh, and some of the other Celtic deities.
Years have passed. Things have changed. I have learned quite a bit, not just about Paganism or Wicca or magic or Buddhism, but also about things like society, science, human nature and behavior and so on. Most importantly I have learned so much about how to skillfully appreciate life and choose to celebrate it, whether for sad or happy occasions. I am more Pagan now than ever, if that has any meaning for anyone out there. (Just because it seems to make sense to me to say it, doesn't mean it makes sense.) I still have my love for Macha and Eris, though their company has grown somewhat. My defiant Erisianism keeps me healthily on my proverbial toes. I still practice Buddhism, again one of those "now more than ever" sentiments. This stuff is less conscious for me as the years pass because they are so interwoven into the fabric of my life that I rarely need to give pause to think about them....though to say I am unaware of them is missing the mark. One doesn't have to have a mental discourse in their heads to be aware.
I look back on that Christian period in my life as one of profound mystery and divinity and I don't ever regret having that. Unlike many of you, I cannot say however that I had to consciously use effort in getting over previous religious habits or any of that sort since the transition was so gradual for me. It also helps that I don't mind any survivals from those younger days when they appear for brief visits in memory. I also don't regret for one minute that I have grown into not one but two religious traditions. (Pagan and Buddhist.) As I said above, there is no black and white for me. There are no clear boundaries. Perhaps that is the result of my attempts at recovering my Celtic cultural roots, trunks, branches, leaves, and blossoms. (One fruit of which may be what this essay is attempting to point out.) The ancient Celts seemed to disdain clear boundaries. The modern Celts sure have problems living in a world where the dominant cultures insist on clear distinctions. I am one of them and this essay may be an example.
I am Pagan because I am alive. You are what you are because you are alive. We are alive because everyone is alive. That said, I hope many of you who look back upon your early days as Pagans will give pause and reflect on this. Perhaps who you were before you called yourself Pagan wasn't as neatly different from who you are now as you would like to think.
November 22nd, 2005
-Irreverend Hugh, KSC
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