Samhuinn

This was my second seasonal ritual done "by the book" - the book being the Druidry Handbook, of course. The first, Alban Elued, was done shortly after I first learned that there was such a thing as Revival druidry, and I didn't really know much about the symbolism I was using. I'm glad I did it because it gave a nice little taste - and you have to start somewhere, after all - but it lacked profundity. Samhuinn was more in-depth. It helps to have the opening memorized, but I need to memorize the seasonal ceremonies as well. I'm used to winging it a little in ritual. I'll have an outline in my head and important points to hit, but usually what happens between formal opening and closing is improvised. It's always worked well for me, and it's nice to be able to shift on the fly to account for energy changes in groups.

Working from a script is kind of new to me. I see all sorts of things I want to add in. My husband joined me for this one, and I never like to feel like I'm performing for an audience - everyone in a ritual should have the opportunity to contribute something, so I gave him his space to speak and contribute, and I felt that this helped enormously. I feel like what I need to do for the seasonal rituals is memorize what is provided in the book, but leave spaces for improvisation and group participation. The ritual as written seems a little dry, with no room for sharing those "aha!" moments that come. I suppose it's intended as a solitary ritual.

So, tonight's ritual - we did it in the living room. I set up the altar, the four cauldrons, and decorated the altar with a white silk cloth, candles, autumn leaves, some mums from the garden, and an acorn squash. It looked nicely festive and seasonal. My cat came and sat under the altar table as she always does when I do ritual like this, and stayed the whole time quietly observing. I brewed mugwort and lavender tea for the Hirlas horn (which in this case was a nice ceramic mug, since I haven't gotten it together to buy an actual horn yet) and my stone athame stood in for Excalibur, (since I also haven't found budget room for a sword yet, though when I do it will be this one) I've gotten the opening memorized well enough that it went without a stumble, which was a great feeling. It was altogether a solemn, somewhat sad ritual, but we wound up talking about black holes and the creation of the universe, and how every ending contains a beginning, and the bigger the ending, the bigger the new beginning. Which for us right now is a very profound and comforting thought.

Overall it was a nice little ritual. I like wearing my robe and cord - it feels very... hmm... correct, I guess. I'm doing the bigger one for my eclectic pagan tribe on Sunday, the full moon, and it will be interesting to see how it compares. It will of course be completely different, but I'm most interested in analyzing why it's different.

Thoughts on reconstructionism

I just joined the ADF out of curiousity, and because we have a fairly active ADF grove in the area. I thought it was worth a look. I really admire that they have created such an active and well-organized system.

Anyway, I found the following paragraph in their offical Membership Guide that kind of made my eyes bug out, and I’m wondering what others’ thoughts are.

Here’s the quote: “We’re not wasting our time with romantic or ideological pseudo-scholarship by such “authorities” as Lewis Spence, Robert Graves, H.P. Blavatsky, Iolo Morganwg, Barbara Walker, Merlin Stone, or D. J. Conway. Instead, we rely on the work of serious mainstream scholars such as George Dumezil, Stuart Piggott, Mricea Eliade, Patricia Monaghan, A. & B. Rees, Anne Ross, C. S. Littleton, Miranda Green, Ronald Hutton, etc.” (from page 3 of the 6^th edition of the ADF Membership Guide, Isaac Bonewits.)

Now, getting past the brief cognitive dissonance brought on by a Druid group using “romantic” as a dirty word, I find the two categories presented here to be thought-provoking. Bonewits sets out two different kinds of writing – “serious mainstream scholars” and “ideological pseudo-scholarship.” I’m fairly new to this path, so not all the names he lists are familiar to me, but I recognize a few.

Thinking about what all the “pseudo-scholars” have in common, it seems that they all write for practitioners rather than scholars (with the exception of Spence and possibly Graves). Walker and Stone both write for a feminist audience, and they retell the myths in a way that speaks to that audience and, Stone especially, gives them a mythic world that resonates with the way women experience life now. Blavatsky was writing for the Theosophists. Conway writes for modern pagans who are looking for relatively simple and easily followed material to help them along their paths. Morganwg related (and possibly created) a system for practicing Druidry, and accomplished some really great things in the process.

Now for the second list – the “serious mainstream scholars.” I have no idea how Patricia Monaghan got onto this list – I like her work but it’s hardly scholarly. Hutton is great for giving modern Pagans some welcome historical context. The rest seem to be Celtic scholars who were hot stuff 20 years ago or so (I may be wrong about this – as I said, I’m new to this path – but most of them look a little dated.) I don’t know well enough to judge, but I’ll take Bonewits’ word that these are all mainstream scholars, writing for a scholarly rather than a popular audience (though the inclusion of Monaghan on that list makes me wonder – I suspect she was put there as a feminist foil to Stone and Walker from the other list, but I don’t really know.)

Background on me – I was a classics major with a minor in classical archeology at a college that takes its classical studies department very seriously. We were always told when writing an archeology paper to rely on the most recent possible sources, because it’s the nature of scholarship to constantly change. Journal articles and books from more than ten years ago were generally frowned upon – after all, what’s the point in citing something from a conversation that happened a decade ago when the conversation has moved on since then? Scholarship is a conversation. One person writes, another reacts, more research gets done, theories are revised – it’s ongoing. So it seems like a really dangerous thing to make “serious mainstream scholars” the (however unaware) authors of practical religious texts. The ADF says it’s here for the long term, but what happens when, twenty years from now, the mainstream scholars become the ideological pseudo-scholars? It happens all the time. Does the whole religion change?

I actually feel much better about basing a practice on actual mystics like Iolo Morganwg. While he may have made some stuff up, he did give us the basis of a self-contained system that is built on methods that seem practical and sustainable. It might make the serious scholars giggle, but the fact is they’ll giggle at us no matter what.

Lugus

This whole Druid thing started for me with Lugh. He showed up around June of this year and said, "OK, now you need to learn about me and about your ancestors." This was a little confusing to me since I'd never done a whole lot of studying or work on the Celtic path, and I had a longstanding allergy to the ADF, which I'm trying to get over. I also have no more than a few drops of Scottish or Irish blood in me. I knew without a doubt who the god was talking to me, though, and I'm not one to ignore a message like that. So I started reading about Celtic mythology, history, and druidry, which led me to the AODA.

Out of curiousity about my ancestors, I've been doing some genealogical research. My dad's side of the family is all Acadian. My last name is Acadian, I look kind of Acadian, and it's an easy and well-documented line to trace. My ancestors on this continent (on that side of the family) all came from a band of about 100 families that traveled to Acadia in the 1600's. Their names appear all over my family tree - I have the last name of one of the families, but I'm descended from pretty much all of them. So I looked for the place in France where they came from.

They all came from the vicinity of the town of Loudun, about 60 km south of Tours - smack dab in the heart of old Gaul. So there's that Celtic ancestry I was looking for. What's more, a little research into the town of Loudun revealed that the name came from "Lugudunum," meaning "fort of Lugus."

Home

Book review: Voluntary Simplicity, by Duane Elgin

Book Review: Voluntary Simplicity
Duane Elgin's Voluntary Simplicity is a plea for a simpler, more balanced way of living. I never quite figured out why the lifestyle he describes is any more simple than other ways. I have what I suspect is a knee-jerk annoyance with those who have always had enough to eat and hot and cold running water in their lives, who romanticize pre-industrial living. I tried to keep an open mind for this, but I think I'm just not the correct audience for this book.
The audience seems to be affluent urbanites. Elgin is clear that he's not talking about actual poverty, just a clever simulation. He describes what he means by "simple," and while I don't think it's actually all that simple, I get what he's talking about. Simplicity involves reducing spending and possessions to the things that are really needed, getting in touch with the really important things in life such as family and vocation, and maintaining awareness of the plight of the poor.

I think it's the "voluntary" part that I have a hard time understanding. The audience seems to be affluent urbanites. Elgin is clear that he's not talking about actual poverty, just a clever simulation. He makes it clear that this is a choice, so if you're not making the choice it's not voluntary and, apparently, less worthwhile or laudable. While I practice much of what he talks about, I don't know how "voluntary" it is. I don't own a car, and I walk, bike or take public everywhere I go. Is this voluntary? Well, I hate cars and think they're evil and dangerous. I also can't afford one right now. I live in an area where it's not difficult at all to live without a car. I prefer not owning a car, but right now I couldn't have one if I wanted one. So is this voluntary?

If I lived out in the country, I'd have a car. I'd use it as little as possible, because I hate cars, but I'd have to use it now and then. Is my lack of a car now voluntary? Would my car ownership at my rural home be voluntary? I mostly am just reacting to my circumstances. How could I make this voluntary?

I buy local produce and meat as much as possible. This qualifies as "simple" in Elgin's scenario. It tastes better and the produce is usually cheaper. It's also really convenient to go to the farmer's market down the street. I like it better. If you told me tomorrow that it would benefit the planet for me to buy at the supermarket instead, I might still buy at the farmer's market - I'd feel a little guilty about it but cheap, tasty, healthy and convenient are all important to me. So is this voluntary? Should I be feeling the warm glow of moral superiority when what I'm doing is exactly what I want?

It sounds like, to really practice voluntary simplicity, you have to be an affluent urban professional who enjoys shopping at the supermarket, driving a cushy SUV, and buying lots of toys. It would be a sacrifice for this hypothetical person to give all this up, but that warm glow I just mentioned is meant to make up for all those nice things. I don't like any of that stuff. I dress like a librarian. I shop at the farmer's market. I take SEPTA. I'm not the right audience for this book - I'd be miserable with the kind of lifestyle he describes as what we'd all choose if we weren't volunteering to be simple. I think there was something he was trying to say that I just didn't get, because I'm just not the right audience.

I got more out of the last part of the book, "Simplicity and Social Renewal." Elgin take a complete turn from the personal to the global, and this is where I really got interested. He discusses the importance of a positive shared vision of the future, which is something really lacking right now. He gives a plan for creating that future, and that kind of practical approach seems much more useful than the exclusionary and elitist kinds of talk he engages in at the start of the book.

October Accomplishments

I just noticed that this got posted as an October 13 post - which is the day I sarted a draft copy, to make this an ongoing list. I didn't finish this until October 29th, which is the actual day it was posted. Not sure how to change this in blogger - anyone?

Here's a summary of what I've been up to in Druidry practice for the month of October. I've arranged it as though I'm working on the second degree curriculum - I appealed to JMG to "skip ahead," and I've yet to hear the results of that appeal. Over the course of the month, I've realized that it wouldn't be such a bad thing to do Candidate work for a year - there's always more to learn down that path. So this could all get reorganized into a "first degree" format. Either way is becoming OK with me.

The Earth Path

-Gathered dandelion root, burdock root, chamomile and rosehips in the park; brought several students to show how to find and gather wild plants in an urban setting
-Bought and started using a kitchen compost pail, in order to become more conscientious about composting kitchen waste - I compost already but sporadically, as often I was just too lazy/busy to walk the scraps all the way down to the heap. Now with this bucket, I can fill it in the kitchen and empty it once a week.
-Wrote a short essay on foraging as a Druid practice
-Meditated daily, did Sphere of Protection daily.
-Planned, designed and carried out three completely different Samhain rituals: the one from the Handbook (solitary), one for my Witch circle, and one for my magic group.
Books read:
Theodore Roszak, Where the Wasteland Ends
Mother Earth News Yes, it's not on the reading list, but I have a subscription and read it every month. It counts.

Water Path
-Took three students on an herb walk; explained spiritual importance of gathering and using herbal medicine.
Books read:
Judy Harrow, Spiritual Mentoring: A Pagan Guide

Fire path
-Memorized opening of Druid Grove ritual
-Created and conducted Samhain ceremony
-Performed Candidate initiation on myself
Books read:
Pauline Campanelli, Wheel of the Year: Living the Magical Life
John Michael Greer, Inside a Magical Lodge

Air path
Books read:
Sir Thomas Malory, Mort d'Arthur - still in progress, actually
Ross Nichols, Book of Druidry - also still in progress - this book will take me a decade or so to get through, and then I'll find things I missed and need to start over. I'm including it on the Air path because I see it as Revival scholarship, but it could go anywhere. There's a whole lifetime worth of work in this one book.

Spirit path
Found and pledged myself to Lugh as my patron deity (saying this is very quick but wow is this a huge deal for me).
Books read:
John Michael Greer, A World Full of Gods (again, not on the list but I think it belongs here)

Healing Spiral:
-Collected herbs, selected (or was selected by) Dandelion as my green ally for the coming year.
Books:
Ellen Evert Hopman, A Druid's Herbal for the Sacred Earth Year

Divination Spiral
-Started ogham notebook, began working with ogham sticks as divination tool
-Memorized the first aicme - symbol, names, meaning, elemental associations and divinatory meanings for each one.
Books:
Caitlin Matthews, Celtic Wisdom Sticks: An Ogam Oracle
John Michael Greer, The Druidry Handbook - so far this is my main source for Ogham information.

Music path:
Started practicing the tin whistle regularly. I'm finally starting to figure out ornamentation, however slightly.
Books: The Clarke Tin Whistle Book (a how-to book)

Odd Fellows

The tall square building is the old Bartlett Odd Fellow's Hall. Whoever has it now put a coat of paint on it. When I lived there, it all looked like that top dormer, and the letters "IOOF" could just be made out above the second story windows.

Following is a post that I made on the AODA_Public board, but I also want to put it here because it's kind of important to me, and it gives a brief review of a book I just read that is relevant to the topic of this blog:

"I just got this book [Inside a Magical Lodge, by John Michael Greer] based on the posts here, and I have to add to the chorus of praise - I love this book! As a founder and leader of a small magical/religious pagan group, I've found that there aren't many helpful books on the subject - the only other really valuable one I've found was Judy Harrow's "Wicca Covens," which has more of a psychotherapy-influenced group-process approach. Everything else I've found on the subject seems to be aimed at teenage girls.
"Inside a Magical Lodge" comes from a different perspective and has gotten me really interested in the old fraternal orders. It's also very practical and useful.

When I was about 11, my mom bought a big, falling-down old building that had the letters "IOOF" in faded paint across the top of the third floor. This place was totally unsuited for being a home, but it was lots of square footage for cheap. I now realize that my bedroom throughout my early teenage years was most likely the antechamber to the main lodge hall. There was a peephole in the door into the big
main room whose purpose I now understand. I knew what "IOOF" stood for, but I never gave it that much thought - though I spent many hours in that room as a kid reading books by Crowley and Regardie and others, wishing that there was something like the Golden Dawn for bright twelve-year-olds. Kind of gives me another perspective on the
whole thing.

. . . [edited out irrelevant bit about OES floor cloth, and bit about PA Grand Lodge. Leaving in the link for those who might be interested]

Here in Philadelphia we have an enormous and spectacular Masonic temple. "

I had forgotten about much of this. I mean, I remember that we lived in an Odd Fellow's Hall, but I never thought of it as anything all that interesting. Mostly I resented the place. It was drafty and cold and sort of embarrassing. I wanted a real house. As an adult, people hear that I lived in a tipi and an Odd Fellow's Hall and we had sled dogs and stuff, it sounds interesting and exotic. At the time, I felt poor and wierd. I'm grateful now for much of it, because it made me into the person I am, and I like me. I'm not "normal" and I would have felt even worse trying to pretend that I was. I don't think I realized that as a kid, so it didn't help back then.

I'm now overwhelmed with curiousity about the history of fraternal orders in New Hampshire. I've tried to find information about the chapter that would have used our house as their lodge, but to no avail. The NH historical society seems to have the information on the IOOF in New Hampshire, but I'd have to go use their library to find out more. I may still do that, but not for at least a few months yet. I also found that there was a Knights of Pythias lodge in town, as well. I'm trying to find where that would have been - I have a suspicion but I don't know. It's not like it's a huge town.

That's another thing - such a small town, with two fraternal orders? Every man in town must have belonged to at least one. The Hall is a huge building, as you can see, and if the K. of P. lodge was the place I think it might have been, it was almost as big. I don't know of any Odd Fellows or Knights in town anymore. There is a Masonic lodge in N. Conway, and the Grange is active all over, but those two seem to have melted away.

I looked into the IOOF, to see if I wanted to join. There doesn't seem to be a Philadelphia chapter, but even if there was, monotheism is one of the requirements for admission. I don't qualify. The OES sounds interesting, and there is a lodge, here, and I was tempted in spite of the "Supreme Being" thing when I found this from the Chick people. If they think it's a source of evil, then there has to be something good going on. They want you to be related to a Mason, though, and I'm not.

When I finally get back to something like rural life, I'll look into joining something - it seems really important, in spite of the Christian thing. Actually, I should say because of the Christian thing - it's not like I'll be joining a church, so this is a way of getting to know the neighbors. As long as they don't burn me at the stake, we should be fine.

*Apologies to whoever I swiped the above picture from - I did a web search to find a picture, and I think that came from someone's Flickr vacation pictures (seems to have been taken from the train). I right-clicked, saved, and moved on without recording where I found it, and now I can't find it again. I wanted to find some old photos of Bartlett, but couldn't. Got homesick looking for them, though.

Book review: "Spiritual Mentoring" by Judy Harrow

I was sitting down to write this review, when I got an email from a friend asking about mentoring. Imagine that. So, my response to him also counts as my blog entry. Here's the email:

By an Amazing Coincidence, I was just sitting down to write a blog review of one of the AODA's Required Reading books, "Spiritual Mentoring" by Judy Harrow, which is all about how to help people along in their spiritual development, from a specifically Pagan perspective. So, instead of writing the review, I'll tell you all about it so maybe you can help your friend.
First, a quote from page 39:
"Mentoring is both a relationship and an activity. The relationship is more important because the goal of the activity is personal development rather than either training or education. Information can be shared without any personal relationship at all; all of us have learned from books or from broadcast documentaries. Skills can be transferred from one person to another through very narrow interactions; I can learn how to bake bread or write a computer program quite well from someone who is otherwise dysfunctional. But only a truly spiritual person can show another how to become spiritual - and not by precept, only by example."
This is really the heart of what Harrow has to say. You can't teach someone how to be spiritual. You can't personally introduce them to the Divine. You can teach techniques, practices, lore, ritual - but a book can teach that just as well. So what is there to teach? The best thing a spiritual mentor can be is a good example, and that example is shown through relationship.

The rest of the book is about developing that relationship, and an exploration of religious and spiritual development, using models from both within and without the Pagan community.

Here's a list of questions she recommends "for people considering commitment" Here she defines "commitment" as a stage of conversion marking the decision to join a new faith community. The focus in this book is on people working within specific traditions and communities, but I think what she says applies just as well to someone looking to commit to their own solitary path.

What do you experience as Sacred in your life?
What is your source of hope? of pride? of power?
To what are you loyal? To what are you devoted?
For what are you thankful?
Where do you find nurturance?
Which Deity guides or empowers you?
How would that Deity describe you?
Whom or what do you trust? Whom or what do you fear?
What are your most inspiring goals, your most Sacred hopes?
With whom do you share these things? What are your sources of human guidance or support? Whom do you trust?

Harrow recommends really pondering and meditating on these answers, because the answers will show you the callings of your own heart. I would also add that having thought about the answers to these questions leads to greater commitment to the Path, because the answers are reminders of what is really important. This set of questions seems very much like the questionnaire that you are working on.

The concept that stood out the most for me from this book, the thing that was really an "Aha!" moment for me, is a description of the three main concepts of Deity. She (actually, not Harrow here but a pair of elders whom she refers to) categorizes them as "colors."
The "red" concept is the orthodox deist position. Gods are real, personal, individuals whose existence is objectively verifiable.
The "blue" concept is that Deity exists as the Ultimate Sacred/Great Mystery/Source. Humans cannot comprehend the Great Mystery, so we have gods that are humanlike metaphors for aspects of the Ultimate (this sounds like your concept below)
The "yellow" concept is that the gods are constructs of the human imagination. They are Truths in the abstract sense - personifications of concepts. They are not Facts in the objective sense.
The neat thing about this model is that it's a triangle - red, yellow, and blue are the points, but your own personal deity concept can fall anywhere on the triangle, and can change depending on your state of mind or where you are in life. My deity concept is kind of purplish, with a little more blue than red - but there are occasions where it suddenly goes bright red, and others where it mellows to a cool blue. It's hardly ever yellow, though it has been in the past - I've had a few too many Red experiences to go back to Yellow.

The book is terrific, and I highly recommend it to anyone on the Path, whether you have any intention of mentoring others or not. It's been my experience that students show up whether you invite them or not, so you might as well have some idea of how to relate to them.

The best advice I can give is to be yourself, and allow your friend to be himself too, but that's probably an irritatingly vague way of putting it. You have the advantage of a long friendship there, so you don't have to worry about that horrible idealizing transference thing (the whole "I bow before you O great witch queen" thing - which Harrow also talks about - she thinks it's necessary to put up with at the start, but it just gives me the creeps) and you have a basis of trust. Show him what you do, tell him why you do it, and be there to answer questions - that's about what it boils down to.

I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter...

Me, only little

Book review: "Plant Spirit Medicine" by Eliot Cowan

I wanted to like this book. It's the sort of thing I ought to like. I didn't, though.

There are parts of it that are beautiful and wise, especially the interviews with traditional healers. I loved those. Cowan's insistence on the power of using local plants is right in line with my own feelings, and his focus on the spirit of the plant, as opposed to the physical constituents, as the source of healing is an important point, except...
it's not actually "as opposed to", it's "along with." That's a big part of why I didn't like the book. We live in a culture that vastly privileges the physical over the spiritual, but going completely the other direction isn't healthy either. Cowan talks about working with plants, and he makes a very good point about the fact that plants are far more than "little phytochemical factories," but he seems to completely ignore the fact that the phytochemicals are still there, and still very powerful. I believe that it takes the substance AND the spirit of the plant to help the body heal.
The healings that Cowan describes are entirely unhelpful. He doesn't have anything useful to say about his technique. The pattern throughout the book is to describe a patient with some kind of big, complicated health problem. The patient comes to Cowan, Cowan gives a vague, usually unspecified treatment, and within moments the patient is all better. Many of the problems he describes, such as trauma from childhood abuse, are deep-rooted complex issues that take time and work to heal. Perhaps the patient felt better after a treatment, but what about two weeks later? A year later? He never says. The worst example of this was the patient with pancreatic cancer. Cowan treats the patient, the patient instantly feels better, and we never hear the end of the story. Pancreatic cancer is fatal. If the cancer was healed, that would be wonderful and miraculous, but Cowan doesn't say that. If the treatment allowed the patient to meet his death with courage and serenity, that would be less miraculous but also wonderful. Cowan doesn't say that either. Patient has cancer, Cowan treats patient, patient feels better. It's unsatisfying both as an explanation of a healing technique and as a story.

Cowan also gives the impression that he's the first person ever (besides native shamanic healers, who apparently don't count) to connect with plant spirits in healing. He seems completely unaware that there is an ongoing tradition among European and European-American folk healers that connects with plant spirits, in spite of the fact that these people have been writing books for years before Cowan did. He speaks of making a connection with a plantain spirit, who tells him that the plantain have been waiting 200 years for someone to connect with them and ask for healing. Rubbish. People have been working with the plantain spirit continously for a very long time - it was brought to this continent by the Europeans for its healing power.

At one point, while rhapsodizing over the power of the mother's breast, he laments that "Women are no longer solely devoted to motherhood..." If he really believes that there ever was a time when women were solely devoted to motherhood, then it's no wonder that he's missed all those female herbalists who have been quietly and effectively working with plant spirits all along.

I also have to disagree with his whole philosophy of healing. He claims that you cannot heal yourself, and that only another (person) can heal you, because when you're ill you are too sick to figure out what you need. There is a grain of truth in this, in that a sick person needs counseling and care, but there is no one that can heal you but yourself. The "healer" doesn't heal you. The plants deserve a little more credit, but they don't heal you either. All anyone can do, however skilled or knowledgable they may be, is help you to have the best conditions where your body can heal itself. Not only can you heal yourself, you are the ONLY person who can heal you.

"Plant Spirit Medicine" has some good moments and is worth reading for the voices of various Central and South American healers who speak through it. Cowan's own voice is much less interesting or useful. He may indeed be able to help people as well as he claims he does. I hope so; we need that sort of thing. I'm less than convinced by this book.

Welcome, and all that

I've always been a Pagan. The world is alive, in every detail, and there is magic all around me. I love this awareness and have found that the rituals and much of the philosophy of Paganism speaks to and enhances that awareness. The practices keep me on my toes and keep me paying attention. The connection to the gods is the most important relationship in my life. Yet, there was no particular path that felt right.

Wicca has become too vague and watered down in the past decade or so, and it doesn't provide all that I'm looking for. I love the ritual style, the poetry, and the magic of it, but it seems to have come ungrounded, if it ever was grounded. I can't find a center to it, and people who call themselves Wiccans can have widely diverging concepts about what their religion is about. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, and it's not meant as a bash at Wicca, but as a path for me it's not satisfying. I'm sure there are niches within Wicca that would fit me well, but I don't know what they are or how to find them, because the term is so vague. The Wiccans I have met have been, for the most part, wonderful people, but even they seemed really uncertain as to what they were doing and why they were doing it.

I found, and rejected, the Druid path years ago. In theory, it seemed ideal for me - more strongly and explicitly nature-based than Wicca, rooted in a tradition of scholarship, with a background of Celtic mythology and that dreamy, misty Celtic way of thinking. I went to a few Druid rituals, all put on by ADF groups, and found them to be the most ponderous, deadly dull rituals I had ever attended. If it's all about standing around listening to Mr./Ms. High Mucky-Muck talk, then it ain't ritual, no matter how many people are wearing robes or how nice the altar looks, and that's all this was. The Druids I met were mostly porky bearded guys who tried to impress me with their (bad) scholarship. There seemed to be no connection with the Divine, just a bunch of people in robes standing around repeating things that they'd read in books. It was like the SCA with all the fun parts sucked out. So I said "meh" to Druidism and moved on.

I've focused on the Greek pantheon over the years because they are part of a culture that is at the root of our civilization. Neo-Platonic thoughts informs so much of modern Pagan practice that it seemed important to me, and still does, to learn about that tradition. There's still more to learn - one does not "finish" Neo-Platonism - but all that Hermetic stuff seemed so disconnected from the Earth, what drew me to Paganism in the first place. When I think of the Gods, I think of the smell of moss and damp earth and leaves on the forest floor. I want my religious philosophy to reflect that.

A few months ago, the Celtic deities showed up in my life with a thundering force I don't quite understand. After years of paying no attention to them and having very little interest in them, suddenly I can't get enough of Celtic stories and writing. The Celtic gods, particularly Lugh, are suddenly present for me in a way I don't understand but can't ignore. My way of dealing with this sort of thing is by reading everything I can about it, so all of my reading lately (with the exception of the occasional Terry Pratchett novel) has been about the old Celtic stories. I also started looking into Druidry again, and finding that things have grown since the last time I checked it out. One of the books I read recently was this one, and I was delighted to find a philosophy of religion similar enough to mine that I decided to, finally, after all these years, join an organization and give my path work a name. So, I'm a student of Druidry now. Imagine that.

I started this blog to give myself a place to write about my AODA work that could be shared. Much of the work I'll be doing is private and won't be shared, but I want one place that I can send people to and say "Here. Read this, this is what I've been up to."

So, hi, welcome, and all that.