Doing It Alone on the Equinox

March 6, 2012 By Teo Bishop 18 Comments

I find that the best way to get my house clean is to throw a party.

My desk may be covered with books and papers, my laundry bin filled, and my various interests — knitting and sewing being those that come with the most accessories — all sprawled out across the dining room table, but as soon as I decide to invite people over? POOF!! I’m a bearded Mary Poppins, snapping my fingers at the furniture. Before the song is over, my house looks marvelous.

All it took was a spoon full of sugar and an Evite.

This happens in extreme cases, too. When my husband and I sold our house last year and moved across town to a slightly smaller, more manageable rental, we scheduled a gathering with friends exactly one week after our move in date. It wasn’t a “help us unpack our boxes” party, or a “let’s hang art” soiree. Nnnnope. It was the end of October, and we threw a Halloween party. Boxes be damned!!

In seven days, we unpacked all of our bags, hung all of our art, filled every drawer and shelf, and made the crucial decisions about where to sit, where to eat, and where to place the plants so that they’d have the best chance of survival. It was a whirlwind of a week, but we got it done. And, were it not for us becoming impromptu party planners, the process may have dragged on for weeks — months, even.

I bring this up because The Spring Equinox (Alban Eilir/Eostre/Ostara) is exactly two weeks from today, and I have no idea what I’m going to do to celebrate. I’ll be away from home, cloistered in a hotel room in Los Angeles, far from my altar, my ritual garb, and the big, budding Maple Tree in my backyard. I imagined myself doing ritual under that tree once the snow melted, inviting a few friends to take part with me. But, that isn’t going to happen this month.

I could just prepare a personal ritual, making it a full-fledged, ADF style, bells and whistles affair, and perform it alone on the morning of the Equinox. There is an ADF grove in Southern California, Raven’s Cry Grove, and they celebrate (as many of our groups do) on the Saturday following the actual Equinox, but I’ll be traveling on that day as well.

See, part of my study requirement with ADF (Ár nDraíocht Féin) is to honor and celebrate each of the eight High Days throughout a single year, and to record my experiences. Ideally, I would celebrate the High Days with a group of ADF Druids, but this isn’t a strict requirement. Only four of the eight rituals need to be ADF style.

It’s just that I want to have an ADF ritual on the Equinox, and I want to share it with others. The quality of my religious experience changes greatly when I take part in ritual and fellowship with like-minded folk. I felt this most profoundly during PantheaCon when I was asked to participate in the ADF ritual alongside the Senior Clergy.

I wasn’t expecting to be involved in any way. It was a last-minute decision made by the clergy — literally, the night before the ritual. And, just like with our moving-in Halloween party, I made it work. I purchased a long, green robe in the PantheaCon vendor room, I processed into the room beside the priests like a pro, and when it was my time, I stepped into the center, lifted my voice, invoked the spirit of Inspiration, and felt a real sense of purpose and belonging.

For the rest of the ritual, I was fully present, fully engaged, and swept up in reverent worship.

And that’s the thing — I love being with people. It doesn’t matter if it’s a themed party or a sacred ritual, I love the energy of a group. When I clean house, I’m readying the space so that all those who enter will feel welcome, relaxed, and happy. My guests are my motivators, and my reward. But now, as I look toward the coming Equinox, I have no guests for which to prepare, or even a fixed space to make ready.

So, I’m reaching out to you, my friends and loyal readers. Maybe you could brainstorm with me.

If you’ve been a solitary — either by choice or by circumstance — how did you celebrate the High Days? If you have experience at leading groups, what do you do to prepare for your gatherings? If you have insights into how I might approach my situation, I would love hear them! Please post them in the comments.

Filed Under: High Days, Paganism, Practice Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , 18 Comments

What do we want from our Pagan leaders?

February 27, 2012 By Teo Bishop 42 Comments

In this last week of post-Pantheacon decompression, I’ve discovered a few things about myself.

First, as much as I am invested in my online work, either through blogging or social networking, nothing compares to real-life, skin and sweat, handshakes and hugs interaction. You can imagine all you want about how great it would feel to dance, but that isn’t the same as dancing.

And, I love to dance.

Pantheacon, my first large Pagan gathering, provided me with the opportunity to embody my spiritual practice, and to present myself as a spiritual and religious person. I wore my little “Druid” nameplate, a keepsake of Uncle Isaac, I introduced myself proudly to everyone I met, and I became at different moments a student, an inquisitor, a historian and a kid in a candy store. I had permission to engage in dialogue about complicated, esoteric ideas with a number of great thinkers, not because that permission was explicitly given to me by someone else, but because I gave it to myself. It was kind of self-liberation. I highly recommend it.

Second, I’ve learned that I have an easier time investing in my religious practice if I’m given — or, again, if I give myself — a more active role. If I’m left to watch from the sidelines I may be more inclined to criticize, analyze, and generally keep a distance between me and what’s actually going on. Skills of observation are useful to a writer, but observation doesn’t always trump experience. Sometimes it’s better to get your hands dirty.

And, I love dirt.

As I wrote about in my last post, I’ve been consistent in approaching my altar each morning for the better part of the last month. No matter how groggy I feel, I perform a short ceremony to honor Those who I honor, and then I start my day. I do what’s worked for me before, and open myself to whatever happens. Sometimes I improvise, and other times I follow my simple liturgy. Regardless of what transpires, the regularity of the ritual is proving to be very nourishing.

With my daily ritual firmly in place, I’ve decided to return to the Dedicant Path, an ADF study program which seeks to develop one’s own personal religion (Neopagan Druidism), while deepening one’s knowledge about the Indo-European cultures of antiquity. I feel that ADF has something very valuable to offer me, and this was confirmed by my experience in ritual and in fellowship with the ADF members I met at Pantheacon.

I’ve also decided to return to University and seek a degree in religious studies. This decision requires much more planning and preparation, and it probably won’t come to pass for another 12 or 18 months. But, I feel that if I’m going to take myself seriously as a writer on religious matters, not to mention if I’m going to ask anyone else to do the same, I have to put in the work.

When I commented on my Facebook page about looking into applying to Marylhurst University for further study, an ADF Druid who I met in San Jose replied,

“Do it, brother. You were called to lead.”

If he’s right, then I have a lot of work to do. And, if he’s right, I have a lot thinking to do about what it means to be a leader.

There have been great discussions on blogs and in podcasts about Pagan leadership, and I’d like to continue that dialogue here at Bishop in the Grove. My readership is so diverse, and so willing to engage in deep thinking about practice, tradition, philosophy, and belief, that it would be foolish of me not to ask you what you think about leadership.

What does effective religious leadership look like to you? Do you expect leaders to be well-educated? Charismatic? Inspirational? Instructive?

When you think about leadership in the Pagan community, where do you think we’ve gotten it right, and where do we have room for improvement?

Please, lend me your insights into what leadership means. And then, if you know someone who might have a valuable perspective on this subject, pass along this post.

Filed Under: Leadership, Paganism Tagged With: , , , , , , , 42 Comments

The Action of Worship

February 24, 2012 By Teo Bishop 23 Comments

My religion is experienced in the doing.

This became clear to me as I entered the sacred space of our ADF ritual at Pantheacon, lifted my voice to invoke the spirit of Inspiration, and, for a moment, left my mind behind.

When I stepped in front of the altar and began to sing, I was performing a religious and magickal act. It was spontaneous and improvisational, and it originated from within my heart. It was the purest offering I could make.

In that moment, I was not thinking about what it meant to be a Druid. I was not weighing the strengths and weaknesses of the various Druid traditions, or squabbling over the definition of a word or title. No – I was invoking. I was calling down, stirring up, igniting the fire of inspiration in my own heart and in the hearts of all those present.

There was nothing intellectual about it.

“Worship requires action – it is not an intellectual task.”

These words came from Jean “Drum” Pagano, a man I met during my weekend in San Jose. Drum has been involved with ADF since the earliest days, and he serves in various leadership positions within the organization. Drum’s voice, in the few conversations we had in person and through his written word, resonates deeply with me.

Have you ever met someone and felt instantly as though you understood something about them, as though something inside them was very similar to something inside you?

That’s how it felt when I met Drum.

Drum says that worship requires action, and I heard that very message echoed by other Pagan leaders during the conference. So much of what we do in our day-to-day lives is mind work. We blog about our ideas, we argue about our differences, we share memes on Facebook ad nauseam (which, in my opinion, is very low mind work), and we allow this to consume great portions of our day.

What happens, then, when we spend our lives in our mind, on our screens, and even in the pages of our books, but we do not practice the action of worship?

It is no surprise that during November and December of last year, a time when I felt most conflicted about my religious path, that my altar was a wasteland; vacant, and unused. I did not approach it because I was uncertain if I believed in the words that I was saying each morning. I thought about it, and thought about it, and when I couldn’t decide how to think about it, I did nothing.

(If you were reading my blog during that time, you might remember a change in my tone. If you weren’t, you’ll find evidence of the change in the Archives.)

The result of my lack of doing was a period of spiritual stasis. In the absence of regular worship I became a bit more cynical, a little jaded even, and there was no sign of the fire in my heart which I speak of so often. I sing from this fire. I write from this fire. I make love from this fire. Worship keeps the fire burning, even as worship is an extension of this fire.

But then, after I became tired of the cold, dim reality of a life without reverence, I began my daily practice again. When I did, something changed.

I lit a candle, prepared a chalice of water, and laid out a wand made of wood. I gave thanks to the Mother. I called upon the God who had aided me before in the creation of sacred space, and was happy to discover that I could feel His presence again. I made offerings to the Gods and Goddesses, known and unknown, to the Ancestors, and to the Spirits of the Land. I lit a fire for Brighid, and gave thanks to Her. I did all of these things, stumbling from time to time, but reverent as I could muster, and my consciousness began to shift back toward the fire.

Worship requires action. You cannot think yourself into a state of transpersonal awareness. You must do something.

I wonder (more of an imaginative act than an intellection one) if you’ve experienced something similar. Have you been through periods when you thought more than you felt? And, if so, did that throw you off? Perhaps you have a different relationship to the intellect altogether. Perhaps it is a starting point for your experience of worship.

I always love to know what my readers think, but this time I’m going ask:

What do you do?

Filed Under: Paganism, Pantheacon, Practice Tagged With: , , , , , , 23 Comments
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