A UU Spiritual Practice

September 1, 2009 By John Beckett

In the comments of the last entry, Ogre pointed out that Rev. Robert Hardies (senior minister of All Souls Church in Washington DC) taught a class on UU spiritual practice at Meadville Lombard seminary. A little googling turned up the syllabus from that class and this sermon Rev. Hardies preached on “The Practice of Reverence.” I encourage you to read them both – they’re worth your time, even if you already have a strong spiritual practice.

A syllabus and a sermon isn’t the same as a week-long intensive seminar, and condensing both into a blog entry cuts them back even more. But it should provide a starting point. Perhaps those who attended the class and have begun the practice can fill in some of the blanks.

The first thing that struck me from the syllabus was that there was a lot of preparatory reading – three required books (from 2005, 1982, and 1852), plus one more from a list of biographies. This is the foundational work – if you don’t know the roots of Unitarianism, how can you expect to follow a Unitarian practice?

The emphasis on meditation and prayer seems like a given to me, but I’ve heard so little about it from UU pulpits it might come as a surprise to some. I think I’ve probably said more about meditation and prayer as a two-or-three-times-a-year lay speaker than I’ve heard from ordained ministers the rest of the time.

Devotional reading comes out of the Congregationalist tradition of Bible reading. It helps you keep the subject fresh in your mind – I know that when I’m reading anything remotely religious or spiritual my daily practice seems fuller and happier. For a daily devotional reading, you can’t do much better than Boston Unitarian’s blog.

Reflection and especially writing is something I’ve always found helpful. But while I’ve spent countless hours reviewing what happened and why, I must admit I’ve never been very good at asking if I was living in accordance with my principles. In his sermon, Rev. Hardies said of our Unitarian predecessors “They pored over their lives like the rabbi over his Torah, convinced that it would yield truth and meaning.”

And finally, there’s group practice and worship. It’s the rare person who can live a truly spiritual life alone – most of us need the encouragement and reinforcement and accountability that comes from being in community with other like-minded folks.

A couple of things strike me about this outline. The first is the discipline required. Not only was there a lot of work for the class, there is the very real work of the practice required every day, every day, every day. But I go back to the discussion I had with Archdruid John Michael Greer at the Gorsedd – “you have to do the work.” There is no substitute.

The second is the similarity to religious practices of other traditions. The Christian and Jewish roots are clear, but I also see a similarity to the Buddhist practice of meditation, dharma study and especially mindfulness. This isn’t so much an exclusively UU (or Unitarian) practice so much as it is a universal spiritual practice done in a Unitarian context. The tools and techniques are common to many traditions, but the context drives the content.

Those of you who were there – did I summarize this fairly, if briefly?

Those of you who are looking for a UU spiritual practice – does this sound like what you’re looking for? I can’t see most of the members of my congregation doing this, but for those who want something more, something deeper, I think it would be very helpful.

A Deeper UU Spiritual Practice

January 15, 2009 By John Beckett

Here’s an article on UU World that picks up a topic I’ve been discussing with Rev. Diana: what would a Unitarian Universalist spiritual practice look like?

Members of every religious community differ widely in their interest in spiritual practice. Some simply want to belong. Some get all they need from Sunday services. Others add Adult RE. But in the UU world, if you want more than that, if you want a structured program of spiritual exploration and depth, the only real option is to go to seminary and become a minister. As a denomination, we don’t have any advanced theological training for lay people.

Today, if a visitor walks into DUUF and asks about “spirituality” we may point him or her toward CUUPS or the Zen Group. But what if this person isn’t interested in Paganism or Buddhism – if they wanted to be a Buddhist, they’d be at a Buddhist temple and not a UU church.

As Rev. Diana points out, a large part of this is left over from the 1961 merger of the Unitarians and the Universalists. The two denominations agreed on polity, but left questions of theology, spirituality, and practice untouched. It’s finally getting some attention – and some funding. The UUA has committed $150,000 for projects on lay theological education.

This is a big question and I don’t have an easy answer –but I’m trying to come up with something. Here’s a blog (that uses the same Blogger format as mine – kinda startled me for a minute) by the author of the UU World piece that frames the question a bit better than I do. And here’s another blog set up by the UUA for soliciting feedback.

What are your thoughts? What would a uniquely UU spiritual practice consist of? What have you seen done in other religions and denominations that you’d like to have in Unitarian Universalism?

Hold Loosely But Practice Deeply

September 17, 2023 By John Beckett

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Hold Loosely But Practice Deeply

by John Beckett
The Denton Unitarian Universalist Fellowship
September 17, 2023

When someone finds out I’m a Unitarian Universalist, it’s not long before they ask “so, what do you all believe?” My usual response is to say that UUs are united not by common beliefs but by shared values. If they push harder, I’ll say we believe what’s most important is to live fully and virtuously, and to build a better world for all, here and now. I think that’s a fairly accurate response, even if it’s not the kind of response people who’ve always been taught that religion is all about doctrines and creeds would expect.

That doesn’t mean UUs don’t have beliefs – because we do. We have no collective orthodoxy – for which I am thankful – but we still wonder about the Big Questions of Life. How did the Universe begin? Are there many Gods, one God, or no Gods? What happens after death – if anything? How do we understand our deeply spiritual experiences, especially those that call us to do something?

These questions aren’t important to everyone. If that’s you, know that I respect your position, and I hope you learn something this morning that’s interesting, even if it doesn’t directly apply to you. In any case, we’ll continue to work together to build a better world here and now.

But these questions have been with us for at least as long as we’ve been human. People have been wondering, and speculating, and arguing for and against various answers for thousands of years. Many of us still wonder about them.

And also, some of us grew up in a religion where we were told these questions were of utmost importance. We were told there were things we had to believe, or suffer dire and eternal consequences. We may have rejected those ideas a long time ago, but their tentacles can reach deep into our minds and into our souls, particularly the ideas we were taught as young children.

So for those of us who are recovering from toxic religion, or who have a deep curiosity in metaphysical and theological questions, or who feel a call to something more, we need a path forward. We need a process, we need a roadmap. I want to offer you one such approach this morning. I call it hold loosely but practice deeply.

The inherent uncertainly of religious questions

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian church. I was told I had to believe some things, but I was also told I could believe them with certainty. Now, I was a very literal-minded kid. When they told me I could know something, I assumed I could know it in the same way I know two plus two equals four, or that Austin is the capital of Texas. But the scriptures they liked to quote were metaphorical and ambiguous – almost as though they were meant to be read that way. When I challenged their certainty, I was told “you just need to believe.”

It would take me many years to understand they were struggling with the same questions I was. But they were afraid to consider that maybe what they had always been told was true wasn’t true. Maybe they were afraid that if they abandoned fundamentalist Christianity they’d end up in hell. Maybe they couldn’t deal with the possibility of losing their religious identity. Both are serious concerns and they have my sincere sympathy.

But the fact is that all religious questions are inherently uncertain.

What happens after death? Do we live on in an afterlife? Does the afterlife have one place for everyone? Does it have one place for “the good” and another place for “the bad”? Does it have many different places and states of being? Perhaps we’re reincarnated into this life. Or maybe there is just this one life, and we only live on in the hearts and minds of those who knew us?

How do we know which is right and which is wrong? Outside of an occurrence that would properly be described as miraculous, how could we know? We can’t, at least not with any sort of objective certainty.

And still we wonder: what happens after death?

Perhaps you can say “we don’t know” and leave it at that. I occasionally see a bumper sticker in UU parking lots that says “Militant Agnostic: I don’t know and neither do you.” That’s certainly a valid approach. But it doesn’t work for me, and it doesn’t work for those of us who can’t help wondering about the Big Questions of Life.

And so our first step in dealing with these questions is to accept their inherent uncertainty.

Questions lead to inquiry

I occasionally encounter the phrase “questions demand answers.” There’s some truth to that. Unfortunately, the phrase is often used in bad faith, to insist that one particular answer must be the only answer. A better approach, I think, is “questions demand inquiry.”

Again, this assumes you find the question worthy of your time. It’s like when people knock on your door to “share” their religion with you. You owe them nothing, and you certainly don’t owe them a debate on their terms.

But if you do find a question important, or fascinating, or frustrating, you owe it to yourself to explore it in honest inquiry.

We are fortunate to live in an era where most of the world’s knowledge is literally at our fingertips. If you want something deeper, books that were all but impossible to find not all that long ago can be delivered to your doorstep – translated into English – in a matter of days.

What answers have other people proposed? Whose arguments do you find persuasive? Whose arguments do you find lacking? How does thinking vary within a religious or cultural tradition? What have people outside your tradition proposed?

I found Buddhist sources to be very helpful in the early days of my spiritual journey. Even though I quickly figured out that Buddhism isn’t for me, seeing how other cultures approached the Big Questions of Life helped reinforce the fact that there are many valid approaches to them. Which is not to say that “deep down it’s all the same” – it isn’t. The world’s religions aren’t many paths up one mountain, they’re many paths up many different mountains.

Which mountain do you want to climb?

And sometimes, we read and think and meditate, and at the end of it all we realize that the real benefit isn’t in finding “the answer” – it’s in the process of inquiry, the spiritual and intellectual growth that inquiry stimulates.

The role of religious experiences

Reading the thinking of others throughout the course of history give us a place to start, and it gives us context for our own thinking. But even more important are our first-hand religious and spiritual experiences.

Many of these experiences are subtle. Looking up at the night sky, realizing how old and how vast the universe is, how small and brief we are, and realizing that here we are, a part of it all, contemplating it all. Sunrises and sunsets – not just that beautiful orange glow on the horizon, but being outside long enough to start in full darkness and experiencing the gradual transition to full light.

Some are not subtle at all. Births, deaths, illnesses. Joyous victories and crushing defeats. All perfectly natural, and yet packed with meaning far beyond the ordinary.

And some experiences can only be described as mysterious. Prophetic dreams that come true. Intuition about something we had no way of knowing. A first-hand encounter with a God or other mighty spirit.

Can I tell you a secret? Most people have these experiences. Many of us don’t recognize them because they’re subtle, and we’re expecting Zeus to appear in-body and throwing lightning bolts. But even when we do recognize them we don’t talk about them for fear of being ridiculed. Or we rationalize them away, because we’re convinced there’s no “logical explanation” for them and therefore they can’t be real. But get ordinary people in a safe setting and they’ll start talking. “You know, one time I saw this thing and I was sure it wasn’t from this world.” Or they’ll say something like “sometimes I hear my grandmother’s voice, and she’s been dead for years.”

Not all of our wondering comes from metaphysical questions. Some of it comes from our own first-hand experiences.

The role of discernment

Our religious and spiritual experiences are always real. We saw what we saw, heard what we heard, felt what we felt. Never let anyone tell you it couldn’t have happened, especially when you were there and they weren’t. But while our experiences are always real, some interpretations of those experiences are more accurate and more helpful than others.

This is the process of discernment.

The dictionary defines discernment as “the ability to judge well.” It’s the process of drawing fine distinctions between two or more things that are similar but not identical. It’s separating facts from errors and from opinions, distilling the facts into truth, and then figuring out what to do what all of it.

All that reading we were talking about? That provides context, a reference for understanding our experiences and for locating ourselves in them.

At one level, discernment is a matching operation. We look at our experience, then we look at something we know – a story, a theory, another experience –and say “is this like that?” Then we pick up another comparison and say “is it like this?” We do this over and over and over again, comparing what we saw and heard and felt to anything in our breadth of knowledge and seeing if it matches. If our knowledge isn’t particularly broad, we may not be able to make a good match.

This is what happens when young children see unfamiliar animals and end up giving them funny names, like the kid who called a camel a “sand horse.” It’s cute, and it kinda makes sense, but a camel isn’t a horse.

If you just need a ride across town, that may not matter. If you’re trying to win a race at the horse track, or if you’re trying to make it across a desert, it matters a lot.

Whether we’re trying to answer one of the Big Questions of Life or interpret our own spiritual experiences, the process of discernment helps us find an answer.

But whatever we find is only a tentative answer.

Practice deeply

What do you think is the best answer, the best explanation? Is it reasonable? Is it plausible? We want to make sure it’s our best guess and not just what we want to be true. But if we wait for certainty we’ll never do anything. So my suggestion is to take that tentative answer and run with it.

If there are Gods, how can we best relate to them and understand them? Polytheist tradition says with prayers, offerings, and meditation. Even if nothing else happens, we know that Emerson spoke the truth when he said “that which we are worshipping, we are becoming.” Becoming more God-like – embodying the virtues of the Gods – is a very good thing.

Are our cats and dogs persons? Of course they are, and we treat them like persons. What happens if we take that a step farther and treat the trees like persons, the land like persons, the winds like persons? It’s not very hard, and our planet would be a better place if we did.

Many of us already practice some sort of ancestor veneration. We have our grandparents’ and great grandparents’ pictures on our wall. We have their mementos on our shelves. We remember them – including those we never met in this life. It’s not much farther to speak to them on a regular basis – and to listen for their responses. Are the responses we get the voices of our ancestors speaking to us from the afterlife? Are they only our memories? This much we know: that which is remembered, lives.

We take our tentative answers and we put them into practice. That gets us started. In the beginning it takes some effort – you’re doing something new and different. It takes time and repetition for it to become a habit. Give it the time it needs – that’s somewhere between three weeks and three months.

This is the “practice deeply” part.

Review and remain open

Beginning a spiritual practice is beginning a journey, a journey that we’re not exactly sure where it will lead. As with any new practice, we have to give it some time and not abandon it the first time things get difficult. But before too long, where we’re going should start to become apparent.

Do you like where you’re going? Does it help you deal with the Big Questions of Life? Does it make your life more meaningful, even if it doesn’t make it any easier? If so, good – keep doing it. If not, then take a closer look. Are you giving it an honest try? Do you need to be more consistent with your practice? Or is this just not for you? There are many different spiritual traditions, and most of them can be practiced within a UU context. If this one isn’t for you, perhaps another one is.

Where ever we go, we will have new experiences – what do those experience tell us? We continue reading, and listening, and thinking. What do we learn along the way? As we learn, we periodically revisit our Big Questions. Do our tentative answers still make good sense? Do we need to adjust them? Or have we have learned something that forces us to go back to the beginning and start over?

If new evidence or new experiences or new ways of thinking contradict our beliefs, we owe it to ourselves to re-evaluate those beliefs, to go through another process of discernment, and come up with a new answer – which will also be tentative. Our commitment to truth must be greater than our commitment to any tradition, no matter how long, or to any belief, no matter how cherished. We can never be sure we’re exactly right, but we can move closer in that direction.

Those of us who didn’t grow up UU have already done that. There was something in the religion of our childhood that wasn’t quite right – or maybe was very wrong. We abandoned one path and picked up another path, a path that eventually led us here. And just as we did that and found a new religious community, we can do that and find new religious and spiritual beliefs, ideas, and practices.

This is the “hold loosely” part. No belief, no line of thinking is above questioning.

This can be difficult. When presented with evidence that their beliefs are wrong – about religion, spirituality, politics, science, pretty much anything – most people will reject the evidence and double down on what they’ve always believed. If you want to change people’s minds you have to it indirectly, with stories and art and relationships. That’s another subject for another time. What’s important this morning is that we’re aware of this human tendency, and so we can do better in our own lives.

Which would you rather do? Change your beliefs and be closer to right, or tell yourself a comfortable lie and insist you was right all along? There’s no shame in admitting you were wrong, especially if you were wrong because you were taught wrong growing up. Continuing to be wrong because you don’t want to change? That’s another matter entirely.

Conclusion

Perhaps someday we will discover or develop a way to answer religious, spiritual, and metaphysical questions with certainty, though I do not think so. I believe – there’s that word again – these questions are inherently uncertain. And in any case, they are uncertain for us here and now. How do we deal with them?

One approach is to simply decline to deal with them. If you find these questions uninteresting or unhelpful, this is the approach for you. But some of us can’t stop wondering.

Some people’s approach is to claim that their tradition has all the answers, or at least all the important ones. Without fail, they overstate the evidence for their own belief and understate – or outright deny – any evidence to the contrary.

Or, we can build a strong foundation through reading and study. We can examine our spiritual experiences, and find what’s meaningful and helpful within them. We can develop answers that will never be final, but are enough to get us started. Then we practice deeply and see where that practice takes us. All the while, we remain open to new evidence, new experiences, and new ways of thinking. If we discover that what we think is wrong, or something else is better, we change what we think, and we adjust our practices accordingly.

Hold loosely, but practice deeply.

Benediction

I grew up in a religion that was certain it had all the answers to all the questions. Figuring out they were wrong was easy. Figuring out what to do instead has been the work of a lifetime, work that will continue as long as I’m in this world, and perhaps, beyond.

I want to answer the Big Questions of Life with certainty, and I can’t. But the answers I’ve found are reasonable, and the practices they inspire help me live a life that is meaningful and satisfying. I hope you can do the same, even if your answers are different from my answers.

Hold loosely, but practice deeply.

AI in Spiritual Education: Caveat Emptor

September 13, 2023 By John Beckett

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So apparently the hot new trend is people using artificial intelligence to create courses and then selling them. And other people offering to show you how to make tons of money doing that… for a fee, of course. We’ve known for some time that there are many books on magic, witchcraft, and Paganism that are either written by AI, or are directly plagiarized from flesh-and-blood authors.

I haven’t written much about AI, because I haven’t seen the need. At this point it’s more of a search engine on steroids than anything we can properly call intelligence. It regurgitates what it thinks you want to hear (or see, in the case of images) with no new insights. I wrote better papers in high school. It’s still very new and the technology will likely get better – at some point we may have to have a serious debate about the place of artificial intelligence in our metaphysics. But that day is not today.

My concern today is with the people who think this trend is inevitable so we might as well get on the bandwagon. I think they’re wrong. Whether you’re a reader / student or an author / teacher – or both – I want you to know that these books and courses exist, that they’re not helpful, and that there’s a better way.

Caveat Emptor – let the buyer beware.

photo by John Beckett — What, you expected AI illustrations in an essay about the shortcomings of AI? All these are my own photographs.

AI can’t vet its sources

Last week I put a post on Instagram asking for recommendations for magical people to follow. I was trying to find people who are informing and inspiring, but who I’m overlooking because they aren’t in my usual circles. Yvonne Aburrow responded with 15 names – I immediately followed them all. I’ve known Yvonne for a long time – they were an alpha reader for The Path of Paganism – and I trust them. So I didn’t have to vet their suggestions. I couldn’t be sure I’d enjoy following all of their suggestions, but I was confident none of them are folkish or TERFish or someone who teaches concepts I’d find ridiculous or harmful.

That’s what you get when you read a book or take a course from a flesh-and-blood author: ideas, practices, and suggestions the author has enough experience with to recommend to others. Anything I put out is something that’s important enough to me that I’ve given it some serious thought, tried it out for myself, and found it inspiring enough to write about. I can’t promise you I’m always right – I’m not – but I can tell you I’ve thought seriously about everything I create. I’ve vetted the material for you.

You don’t get that with AI. You get what the algorithm thinks you want to hear. It draws on the resources of the internet, which as anyone who’s been online for more than 15 minutes knows is filled with misinformation, half truths, and outright lies. Yes, the better algorithms (including ordinary search engines like Google) try to assess the reliability of various sources, but mainly it weeds out things that are so bad they’re not popular.

Always check your sources. You can’t do that with AI in spiritual education.

AI can’t give you a connection to an author

I’ve seen a couple people who say that AI-created spiritual education is just the next point on the slippery slope that started with book-taught solitary practitioners. They say these things were intended to be taught person-to-person, face-to-face, and once we got away from that, this was inevitable. I don’t agree.

When you learn from a book or a course, you learn from the author. When I reviewed Deborah Castellano’s Magic For Troubled Times, I said it was the closest thing you can get to apprenticing under an experienced witch without actually going to the witch’s cottage and stirring her cauldron while she explains the spells you’re helping her cast.

The Path of Paganism and Paganism in Depth are my words, written by me. They’re what I would teach you if you were sitting in my living room sharing a pot of tea with me. My courses are even closer to that experience – you’re hearing my voice, speaking unscripted (I use PowerPoint slides the same way I use outlines with in-person presentations – they’re prompts, not a script).

It’s not the same as actually being there – that’s why I enjoy Pagan conferences and festivals so much. But what you learn is much the same.

You don’t get that with AI. You get a mishmash of vague and generic concepts from a mishmash of vague and unknown sources. There’s no human connection, not even one mediated through a book or a computer.

Much of AI is unethical

All of this is before we get to the ethics of AI. Facts can’t be owned and information wants to be free, but books are the work of their authors and therefore their intellectual property. Taking them and repackaging them into some slick e-book on Amazon is theft. It gets worse when we talk about photography and other visual arts. AI has to start somewhere – it starts with an existing picture, created by a human. AI “artwork” isn’t derivative work – it’s plagiarism.

And considering how little most authors, photographers, and visual artists make, the theft is significant. Theft is never OK, but the argument that stealing from record companies and movie studios is no big deal is far weaker when it comes to the material AI is stealing.

AI in someone’s presentation

A couple months ago I came across a video by someone I used to follow (no, I won’t name them, for multiple reasons) who used AI to create their presentation. At least they were honest about it. They pointed out some places where AI got facts wrong, but mainly they used it as their talking points. My initial reaction was “how lazy can you get?” If I wanted AI’s take on a subject I could have asked it myself. I wanted the presenter’s thoughts and ideas.

At least it was free. But it still cost me time. That’s not the reason why I no longer follow them, but it’s yet another reason why I’m unlikely to follow them again.

Learn to spot AI-created works (it’s not hard)

If you’re a reader, I encourage you – I implore you – to avoid AI-created spiritual education. It’s not hard to spot, but sometimes you have to do a little investigation. If you don’t know the author, look them up. Do they have the kind of internet and social media presence that indicates they’re a real person? I’m not going to carry on a casual conversation with someone I don’t know (or with someone I do know), but I do my best to answer questions. Most authors in the Pagan and magical world will answer inquiries. If you don’t know them, can’t find them, and can’t find anyone else who knows them, odds are good they’re not a real person.

Also look at their catalog. Do they have an impossibly large offering of books and/or courses, publishing at a rate no human could accomplish? If their output is greater and faster than Morgan Daimler (whose output amazes me) they’re probably not human.

Authors and teachers: offer what AI can’t

In the first season of Penny Dreadful, Brona tells Ethan “I’m off to look for work that a machine can’t do… yet anyway.” There’s wisdom in that for us. Which is not to say we should be whores but that we have to offer our readers, students, and clients something AI can’t give them.

The most valuable thing we can offer is our experience. Anyone can write about the Wheel of the Year. Only a handful of people can write about celebrating the Fall Equinox in Denton, Texas for twenty years. Most anyone can write about a deity. Only a few of us can write about our first-hand experiences of Cernunnos.

Yes, there’s still a need for Witchcraft 101 books. Yes, there’s still money to be made from writing them. The Path of Paganism (which I consider a 200 level book) outsells Paganism in Depth (a 300 level book) four to one. But we don’t create value by repackaging the same old material for a new generation. We create value by bringing new and unique approaches to timeless traditions.

AI can’t do that. AI will never be able to do that, because AI can’t imagine a new ritual, go outside in the back yard, light some candles, and then do witchcraft. And then write about it.

Lineage flows through people

The other thing we can give people is lineage. Now, “lineage” has a specific meaning in some traditions, especially in Gardnerian Wicca. Here I mean it more generically.

When you read Mat Auryn’s Psychic Witch you learn from Mat and his experiences. But you also learn from the people who taught Mat, and the people who taught them. Mat lists Laurie Cabot as one of his biggest influences. I read some of her books very early on my Pagan journey and I can see her influence in his work. Not in a way that would be plagiarism, but in a way that is truly derivative work. Mat took what he learned from Laurie and built on it (and added his own original work, of course). Someday someone will take Mat’s teachings and build on them, taking that line of witchcraft to new depths – they will extend the lineage.

This is how people become spiritual ancestors. This is how we find our spiritual ancestors. As a Druid, Ross Nichols is my spiritual ancestor. I learned from his books, I learned from his direct spiritual descendant (Philip Carr-Gomm), and I learned from the order Nichols founded. Transmission of ideas creates a spiritual lineage. AI can’t do that.

Caveat Emptor – let the buyer beware

AI is still very new. It is likely to get better over time. There may come a day when it has a use in spiritual education beyond a low-value cheat code, but that day is not today.

Caveat Emptor – let the buyer beware. Know what you’re buying, where it comes from, and who created it. Magical, religious, and spiritual education created by AI may be cheap and easy, but it hasn’t been vetted. Even if it’s not wrong, it’s going to be bland and generic. Spend your money and time on something better.

If you’re an author or a teacher – or if you want to be – I encourage you to offer what AI can’t: your own experiences, your own thinking, and the lineage of which you’re a part.

AI is going to be part of our world going forward. Let’s make sure it’s always our servant and never our master – or our teacher.

Ross Douthat Is Right: Spiritual Experimentation Is Dangerous

February 12, 2023 By John Beckett

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The Hell that doesn’t exist has frozen over: I agree with Ross Douthat.

For those of you who don’t recognize the name, Douthat is a conservative columnist for The New York Times. He’s an articulate and thoughtful conservative in the mold of William F. Buckley, not a conspiracy-spouting populist like Donald Trump or Ted Cruz… though he usually arrives at the same policy positions.

Earlier this month Douthat wrote an opinion piece titled “Be open to spiritual experience, but be really careful.” The NYT site is paywalled, but this syndicated edition at the Salt Lake Tribune is not. The subtitle is “with the decline of traditional religion, you don’t know what you are getting.”

As a practitioner of a non-traditional religion (or perhaps, the modern reimagining of a very old tradition), I completely agree.

Douthat begins by saying:

the dissolution of the old order of American religion — the decline of churches and denominations and the rise of deinstitutionalized spirituality — means that more and more religious lives are lived in-between worldviews, in experimental territory where it’s a mistake to expect coherence, theological consistency, a definite set of prior assumptions or beliefs.

In this column I want to defend the rationality of this kind of spiritual experimentation and then to warn about its dangers.

He gives three examples: people who experiment with witchcraft, people who experiment with DMT, and a new statue outside a New York courthouse “meant to symbolize female power in a historically male-dominated legal world and to protest Roe v. Wade’s reversal.” He sees all of them as understandable given the lack of religious consensus in this country, but also as potentially dangerous.

I’m not Douthat’s target audience. He’s mainly talking to atheists and other materialists who believe there’s no danger in spiritual experimentation, because there are no spirits to cause danger. Or if there are, they just want the best for us. He says:

it’s important to emphasize something taught by almost every horror movie but nonetheless skated over in a lot of American spirituality: the importance of being really careful in your openness, and not just taking the beneficence of the metaphysical realm for granted.

Douthat is a Catholic monotheist – I’m a Pagan polytheist. But we’re in agreement here. We live in a world full of spirits. Many of them are ambivalent towards humans and some are antagonistic. “The Universe” is not a divine helicopter parent just waiting to give us stuff if only we’ll “claim” it. Even the many Gods often influence and impact our lives in ways that we would rather they not.

As for magic, I’m fond of the line from the musical Into The Woods: “wishes come true, not free.”

I agree with what Douthat says in this piece and I’m glad he said it.

I want to talk about what he left out.

“Broken down structures” are crumbling for a reason

Near the end of his essay, Douthat says:

there’s reason to worry about a society in which structures have broken down and masses of people are going searching without maps, or playing around in half-belief, or deploying, against what remains of Christianity, symbols that invoke multiple spiritualities at once.

Why have religious structures broken down? Because they’re no longer relevant to the people they’re entrusted with serving. They’re more intent on maintaining (and in many cases, reimposing) archaic social norms than with promoting spiritual growth. They make claims of exclusive possession of Truth that cannot be substantiated and that run contrary to the experiences and reasoning of ordinary people.

And they no longer have the political or social power to compel people to go along with them. Christianity has been declining for 500 years and that decline has steepened in this century. Any problem that flows from crumbling structures needs to be addressed with structural changes. Few churches have shown any willingness to do that.

As a Pagan, that’s not my problem. My job is to be here for those who are looking for spiritual depth in Nature, in magic, and especially in relationships with the many Gods.

If the map doesn’t lead where you want to go, get a different map

Douthat says “masses of people are going searching without maps” and he’s right. His Catholic church has a well-established map for spiritual exploration. But it’s a very limited map, with huge sections of territory either marked “off limits” or simply not included.

And some people aren’t allowed access to the map.

Our ancestors had more maps. They showed different routes to different places. Most of those maps are lost, some to ordinary decay and some to deliberate destruction.

Some of us are trying to recreate those maps. Others are starting from scratch, exploring off the edge of the current maps and trying to leave good directions for those who come after us.

We’re doing this because we want to go to those places. We want to meet the Gods of our ancestors (whether our ancestors of blood or our ancestors of spirit), we want to form and maintain relationships with the spirits of the places where we live, and we want to learn magic. This is a challenging world and it’s only getting more challenging. We need all the allies we can get. We need all the skills we can get.

We have some maps. I drew (wrote) two of them and I hope to draw more, either here on the blog or with future books. Other “explorers” have drawn their own maps. Where ever you want to go there’s plenty of help getting started.

But keep practicing and sooner or later you’ll find yourself off the map. The answer is to keep moving and take good notes, not to reach back for a map that leads to some place you already know you don’t want to go.

Nothing generates belief like results

“Playing around in half-belief” is dangerous. In my experience, though, the primary danger is to comfortable half-beliefs.

While research shows that believing in magic brings better magical results, magic isn’t powered by faith. Magic is powered by action. Do the spells – and do them right – and you’ll get results.

Maybe the first time is coincidence. Maybe the second time is confirmation bias. But sooner or later, it becomes easier to just accept that magic is real than to keep rationalizing it away.

Sometimes “results” are scary. I once watched someone have a first-hand encounter with a God and shortly after declare themselves an atheist. It was easier for them to deny their own experience than to deal with the implications of real Gods who are active in our world.

Can I be honest with you? I still get scared occasionally. My calling is to be a bridge from the Otherworld to the mundane world, but the vast majority of my time and attention is spent here. Sometimes I get a little too comfortable with “here.” And then I get smacked in the face with a reminder that yes, “all this” is real. That happened this week. No, I won’t write about it. Ask me about it in person and I’ll explain.

But after I composed myself, I was back where I always am. If this is real – and I’m convinced it is – then I want to learn as much about it as possible.

Even if I don’t have a map to help me navigate.

Other religions should not be our enemies – but some are

We live in the most religiously diverse society in the history of humanity. Contrary to what the religious exclusivists believe, this is a good thing. People can find the set of beliefs and practices that call to them. If they try, they can find others on the same path – religion is best done in community.

I’m a Pagan. Christians and Buddhists and others aren’t my competitors. We do different things in different ways for different reasons. If you’re interested in what I believe and do, I’ll be happy to help you get started. If you’d be better off practicing Zen Buddhism (and to be clear: that’s your call, not mine) that’s where I want you to be. It’s not a contest.

Except some religions insist that it is a contest. And if they can’t win with honest persuasion, they’re more than happy to use the power of government to compel the rest of us to live the way they think we ought to live.

These religions are my enemies. They’re the enemies of every person who values freedom of religion, freedom of conscience, and freedom of expression.

So when Douthat complains about people who “deploy mixed symbols” “against what remains of Christianity” he needs to understand that few of us (on the Pagan side, anyway) have anything against the followers of Jesus. Many of them are our friends and allies.

But those who would re-establish Christendom are our enemies and will be opposed with all legal and ethical means.

Spiritual experimentation is dangerous

Ross Douthat is right: spiritual experimentation is dangerous. I join him in encouraging everyone to be careful and pay attention. Not every spirit you encounter is your friend.

But unlike Douthat, I have no regrets and no misgivings about the direction spiritual experimentation is taking. His tradition is still meaningful and helpful to some, but it doesn’t speak to others and it actively excludes many. Other traditions, other paths, and other practices are both necessary and helpful.

And some of us are doing our best to draw maps for those who come after us.

For a different perspective on Douthat’s column, see this piece by Nathan Hall on Friday’s The Wild Hunt titled NYT prints advice for new Witches – from a conservative Catholic.

9 Ways to Facilitate Spiritual Experiences For Yourself

December 7, 2022 By John Beckett

Lately I’ve seen multiple people speaking – usually with some sadness – about not being able have deep spiritual experiences. The Gods aren’t talking to them. Their magic isn’t working, or if it is working it’s the kind of subtle magic that’s all too easy to rationalize away. There’s no sense of connection to the Otherworld.

Can I be honest? I understand that feeling – and that sadness – more than I wish I did.

The Gods are still there. I’ve made too many connections over too many years, done too much worship, and made too many long-term commitments to lose touch with Them. But They seem more distant than in previous years. My magic is still working (quite well most of time) but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a “wow!” experience.

On one hand, this is normal and to be expected. Most of life is lived in this world, dealing with the needs and concerns of this world – there will be plenty of time for the Otherworld after we’re dead. “Peak experiences” are just that – peaks that happen occasionally, not all the time. Our Paganism, polytheism, and witchcraft are primarily about the simple things we do on a regular basis that form a solid foundation for a good life, not something that creates a drug-like high and leaves us in withdrawal when it’s gone.

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss those big spiritual experiences.

And some people have never had them.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve heard the same message in meditation twice, from two different persons: “if you want to have mystical experiences, you have to put yourself in positions where they can happen.”

The good news is that I’ve been here before. I know what I’ve done that’s worked and what I’ve seen other people do that’s worked. I also know what I’ve tried that didn’t work.

Spiritual and mystical experiences of any variety happen in their own time. They cannot be programmed. The Gods cannot be commanded. But there are things we can do to facilitate these experiences: to put ourselves in a position where they can happen and are more likely to happen.

1. Build and maintain a regular spiritual practice

The extraordinary is built on a foundation of the ordinary. Peak experiences are built on a foundation of common experiences.

There are many spiritual practices. My core practices are prayer, meditation, and offerings. Some I do daily, some weekly, some seasonally, and some annually. There is no “best” spiritual practice and no one right combination of them. There is only what you’re called to do, and what helps you form and maintain respectful and reciprocal relationships with your Gods, ancestors, spirits, and the persons with whom you share this world, both human and otherwise.

There are some people whose journey into Paganism (or another religion – this isn’t exclusively a Pagan thing) began with an unplanned and unexpected ecstatic experience. But those are rare. For most of us, the journey begins with ordinary things done with dedication and consistency.

2. Read and watch magical fiction

Magical fiction is fiction. We can’t do what the witches and wizards and priestesses we see on TV can do. People who base their metaphysics and theology on fictional worlds set themselves up for disappointment (treat them kindly – most of them are beginners who haven’t learned better yet).

And still…

When I watch or read about fictional magicians doing the kind of magic we can’t do, I’m almost always inspired to delve more deeply into the kind of magic we can do. In 2017 I wrote 12 Movies to Inspire Your Magic: that lists some of my favorites.

If you’re already deep into your practice this may not add much for you. But if you’re having trouble getting started – especially if you’re trying to start again for the second or third or tenth time – grab some magical fiction and see if it will help get you in the right frame of mind for some non-fictional magic.

3. Perform a rite of purification

Purification rites were very important to many of our Pagan ancestors. They understood the importance of being in the proper spiritual state and frame of mind when approaching the Gods. In our world, this practice has been corrupted by the Christian emphasis on sin – especially in regards to the elements of life they call sinful that we know are good and holy.

Still, if you’re cooking dinner you’re going to wash your hands – and your knives – after you finish chopping onions. Not because onions are bad or sinful or impure, but because you don’t want to get onions in the cake you’re baking for dessert.

So if you’re trying to put yourself in a place where a mystical experience can happen – especially if you’re feeling stuck – do a rite of purification. Take a ritual bath, cleanse yourself with sacred smoke (sage is not required – use something native to where you live), make a special offering. Do your best to set aside your mundane concerns. You can’t forget about them forever (wish we could) but you can leave them long enough to concentrate fully on your worship, your magic, or whatever spiritual activities you have going on.

4. Make a pilgrimage

This is not a quick and easy option (and it’s certainly not cheap) but it’s been effective for many people in many religions for many, many years.

A pilgrimage is a journey you make, to a sacred place, for the purpose of doing some religious act – worship, veneration, sacrifice. We can pray to the Gods anywhere, we can work magic anywhere, but some places are especially well-suited for these activities. Plus the pilgrimage is as much about the journey as the destination. Done well, you will learn things along the way (both going there and coming home) that are at least as valuable as your experience while you’re there.

So if you’re trying to facilitate a spiritual experience, one way is to begin the process of preparing for pilgrimage.

Newgrange – Ireland – 2018. A wonderful place for a pilgrimage – and not just at the Winter Solstice.

5. Spend time in wild places

Nature is everywhere. The Gods are everywhere. But it’s easier to hear and see and experience Them in wild places… or at least, it is for me.

I’ve had some amazing experiences in national parks, in remote deserts, and on the sea shore. But for facilitating spiritual experiences, the local greenbelt parks work just fine. All you need is enough trees and lakes and rocks to block out “civilization.”

Doing ritual in a public park can attract unwanted attention. Solitary ritual – especially the kind that doesn’t use a lot of gear – is less obtrusive. Prayer and meditation are easy. But for me, the best use of wild places is simply to walk through them, becoming a part of the place. Even if I don’t experience Cernunnos on the trails through the woods, walking them puts me in the right frame of mind to experience Him when I get home.

6. Create a magical atmosphere

Can’t get to the woods? Need something you can do indoors? Then create a magical atmosphere in your house.

Perhaps you have the space to set up a dedicated shrine room. I don’t, but I can turn my office or bedroom into a temple in just a few minutes. Cover the windows, turn off the electronics (though playing some music can help), light some candles and incense. Take the deity statues off the bookshelves and create a working altar. If you have a private back yard, you can do the same thing outdoors.

And then work your magic. Perform your acts of worship. Do divination – some of my best divination has been done in dark candlelit rooms with Pagan-ish instrumental music playing softly in the background.

Is that overly dramatic? I don’t know – does it put you in the right frame of mind? If it does then it’s good.

7. Work in small groups

I love leading big formal rituals. There were 75 people in the Tower Time ritual at this year’s Mystic South – it was amazing. Most of my regular spiritual practice is solitary: my daily prayers, weekly offerings, and weekly meditations are all done with just me and the Gods and spirits.

But the most powerful mystical experiences I’ve had have been in small groups – somewhere between two and thirteen people. There were seven people at my first ecstatic experience of Cernunnos. I was one of two people in a group of ten who journeyed into the Otherworld in search of knowledge. I was called to an ecstatic communion at a retreat in rural Texas and I asked one trusted friend to accompany me as a “lifeguard.”

You need not have a coven for this. You can assemble different groups of different people for different workings. But a small group of people who see the world in the same way can support you in your efforts to experience the Gods and spirits first hand.

And you can support them.

8. Have goals that are bigger than yourself

Ecstatic experiences are amazing. They can be addictive. With someone who isn’t properly prepared for them, they can make it difficult to concentrate on living in the ordinary world. Or they can feed someone’s needy ego and turn them into a would-be prophet.

I think the Gods know this. And I’m pretty sure They aren’t concerned with “proving” Their existence to you or to anyone else. And so the Gods and the other spirits who are capable of creating mystical experiences are rather reserved about who they give them to.

They give them to someone when there’s a need for that person to have one. Sometimes that’s for personal growth (I’m pretty sure my second one was exactly that), but most of mine have been in the context of a larger effort, a larger project – something that furthers the work of the Gods.

When you’re working on something that’s magical and spiritual but it’s about something more than yourself, you’re in a better position to receive a spiritual experience.

9. Keep at it!

Persistence is important in any worthwhile endeavor. It’s especially important in spiritual matters.

Every time you put yourself in a situation where a magical or mystical or spiritual experience can happen, you increase the odds that it will happen. The more often you put yourself in the right frame of mind, the more likely you’ll be in the right frame of mind when something comes your way. The more you work with others the more you’ll see what these experiences look and feel like, so the more likely you’ll recognize one when you encounter it.

Keep at it.

What’s most important is living a virtuous life

Still, there are some people who can’t experience the Gods for themselves. They aren’t unworthy or damaged or sinful, they’re just “God-blind” – like color blind, only with Gods. I don’t know why.

Your value as a person and your authenticity as a Pagan or polytheist or witch are not dependent on your ability to have ecstatic experiences.

Honor the Gods. Live virtuously. Leave your corner of the world a better place than you found it. The rest will take care of itself.

Worship, Practice, and Spirits from Pop Culture

September 21, 2022 By John Beckett

Today we have four questions: on worship, practice, spirits from pop culture, and comparing different Pagan traditions.

What is worship and why should we do it?

What is “worship” from a Pagan perspective, and is it necessary for a Pagan to worship a deity?

To address the second question first, “Pagan” is a very broad term. It includes some people who are non-theists, and others who are theists but for whatever reason do not worship any Gods. Those people are still Pagans. So no, it is not necessary for Pagans to worship a deity.

But many Pagans do. More relevantly to this question, many Pagans who don’t worship the Gods refrain from worship because of a misunderstanding about what worship is. That’s what I’d like to address here.

Many people – and not just Pagans – have the idea that worship is about self-debasement, about proclaiming the majesty and greatness of some deity and the worthlessness of the worshipper and of humans in general. This is wrong from a Christian perspective and very wrong from a Pagan one.

Our word “worship” comes from the Old English weorthscipe meaning “worthiness” and “an acknowledgment of worth.” To worship someone (or some thing) is to declare that they are worthy. We need not and should not declare ourselves unworthy to acknowledge that our Gods are worthy.

So to worship – in any religious tradition – is to say “this is worthy of our honor, our respect, and our devotion.”

Worship can take many forms. It can be elaborate rituals with offerings and hymns of praise. It can be quiet prayers and devotions. It can be acts of service dedicated to a deity and to Their virtues. Anything that proclaims “our Gods are worthy” is worship.

Worship requires reverence, an attitude of respect and awe. It doesn’t have to be serious and somber all the time, as those of us who worship Gods of the Wild will attest. But it needs a core of respect, not for the form of worship but for the person being worshipped. Without that respect and awe we’re just playing. And while there’s nothing wrong with play (it’s good and necessary, for adults as well as for children) it’s not worship.

My favorite quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson says: “a person will worship something … That which dominates will determine their life and character. Therefore it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping we are becoming.”

When we worship the Gods we become more God-like. And that’s a very good thing.

When you can’t practice “by the book”

I am reaching out to Hecate and Frigg. The resources I am using all talk about elaborate rituals and the use of candles and incense. We have pet birds that that get flight time – candles will be dangerous, and incense is deadly for them. Is there an alternative? Also our house is chaotic at the best of times. I am trying to just pray to them, talk to them, and my very poor attempt to meditate (I have ADHD). Any suggestions?

I love high ritual. I love rituals that are based on the worship and celebrations of our ancient ancestors. But this is one way, not the only way.

Individual traditions (both ancient and contemporary) have their own protocols that must be observed. But the Gods are not bound by human practices. In my experience, when you approach most any deity with respect and with a genuine desire for a reciprocal relationship, They respond positively.

So, yes, just pray. Just talk to Them. Listen for Their responses. Meditation works well for this, but so does ending your prayers with a few moments of silent attention. Make offerings. If you can’t leave them on your indoor altar, pour (or burn, or bury) them outside. Read and study, both what we have from ancient times and what we have from contemporary practitioners.

If in doubt, ask. Ask your question in prayer and listen for an answer. Or ask in divination. Or just pay attention. Over time, you’ll learn which forms of practice are most helpful in building and maintaining a relationship with the deities who call to you, or who you seek out.

Spirits from pop culture

Alanna Blackwood asked:

What are your thoughts on pop culture deities/spirits/entities? Fictional and non-fictional characters/celebrities apply.

And then Rowen Grove added:

What of folk who sincerely believe they have encountered an entity generally considered as fictional – say, Aragorn, or Qui Gon Jinn from Star Wars? I think such encounters are usually dismissed, but what if there is something to it? And if the individual in question is not only an egregore (thought form) but something on which, perhaps, the author picked up?

My thoughts on any sort of religious practice based on pop culture are generally unfavorable. People have a real, legitimate religious experience, but because they’re ignorant of traditional religious understandings of such experiences, they interpret them in the context of some novel or TV show or movie that they’re more familiar with.

But my standard practice is to take anyone’s religious experience at face value. So if someone tells me they encountered Aragorn or Qui Gon Jinn, I’m not going to tell them they’re making it all up. I’m also not going to waste my time with people who obviously are making it all up, either because they really want it to be true or because they’re being a troll. But that’s another topic for another time.

Perhaps, as Rowen mentioned, what these people encounter is an egregore: a thought-form, a spirit that arises from the thoughts and actions of multiple people. For at least as long as people have been talking about egregores, they’ve questioned whether they’re sentient beings or simply organized energies. I don’t have a enough first-hand experience to form a strong opinion – my best guess is mostly the second but occasionally the first.

Rowan also mentions “something on which the author picked up.” Anyone who’s ever written fiction knows that characters can take on a life of their own – I’ve seen some authors describe their writing process as “watching what they do and then writing it down.” Attempts to force characters to do something they don’t want to do often doesn’t end well. Not every time with every author – many are simply the imaginings of the writer. But some characters appear to be spirits who existed before the author ever started writing.

Writers have been using Gods as fictional characters for centuries, sometimes in-character and sometimes in ways best described as appropriation. Are real deities behind those characters? Sometimes I think They are, using fiction to remind people that They’re still here, and still able and willing to enter into divine relationships with people. The fictional character is an aspect of the non-fictional God.

And let’s not forget that some spirits pretend to be someone they’re not, either because they’re trying to manipulate a gullible human or because they’re tricksters and that’s just what they do.

So yes, people do occasionally encounter spirits that at least appear to be characters from pop culture and other fictional sources. There are many things those spirits could be.

As for me, I prefer to direct my thoughts (and especially my devotions) to more traditional Gods and spirits. But at times I’ve been inspired by fictional characters in ways that greatly exceed what you’d expect from someone’s imagination. I’m not going to worship them, but I am going to pay attention.

Comparing and contrasting Pagan traditions and seeking the right tradition for you

How does eclectic Paganism differ from more traditionalist paths such as Wicca, Heathenry, Druidry, etc., and from reconstructionist traditions.

This question is difficult to answer for numerous reasons.

Let me start by saying I respect the question and the questioner. It comes from a place of genuine curiosity, and – as best I can tell – from an attitude of seeking. Most of us were there at one point – we owe it to those who come after us to be as helpful as we can.

But Pagan traditions are notoriously difficult to classify and categorize. Wicca is witchcraft in the tradition of Gerald Gardner. But it’s also witchcraft in the tradition of Raymond Buckland and Scott Cunningham, and witchcraft in the tradition of Jason Mankey and Thorn Mooney (who are both Gardnerian Wiccans, but whose writing and teaching is more than Gardnerian).

There have been Druid orders in operation for close to 300 years. But the Western-Mystery-Tradition-through-a-Celtic-lens spirituality taught by OBOD is very different from the Indo-European polytheist religion taught by ADF. I’m a Druid who’s a member of both orders – my Druidry is influenced by both, and it’s also its own thing.

And remember: when it comes to how we see the world, most everyone inside the Big Tent of Paganism has more in common with each other than we do with the Christian monotheists who still dominate Western culture.

The basics of any modern Pagan tradition can be found in a 101 level book. After that, what you experience with any author, teacher, or group is going to vary, sometimes a little and sometimes a lot.

So to answer the question in the seeking spirit in which it was asked, my suggestion is to read one or two books in the traditions that interest you. See what seems to fit with you and what doesn’t. Then pick one and try it on. Practice it diligently, look for a group, see if it works for you. There is no one right way and there is no one best way. There is only the way that works for you.

Good luck on your journey.

How to Break Spiritual Ties that No Longer Support You

December 16, 2021 By John Beckett

Did you make a commitment to a religious or spiritual group that you’re no longer a part of? Are you still officially a member of a religion you no longer follow? Were religious commitments made on your behalf when you were too young to know what was going on?

Apparently a lot of people fall into this category. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen something along these lines, ranging from “how do I cut ties with this group?” to “how do I unbaptize myself?”

And also, I’m seeing people in these groups saying things like “your oath still binds you” and “baptism is forever.” Or in many cases, simply ignoring a request to remove someone’s name from their membership rolls.

There is no one simple answer for all these different situations. In 2018 I wrote Integrity is Complicated: Breaking a Promise From Your Old Religion. That covers the ethical side of changing paths. In this post, I want to talk about the practical side. Can you be held in a religion or a tradition against your will? Mainly, what are the most effective ways to break the spiritual ties that no longer support you?

What are spiritual ties?

When I speak of spiritual ties, I’m talking about metaphors and metaphysics, psychology and magic. I’m talking about the power of Gods and spirits, and the power of contracts and of those who enforce them.

These spiritual ties (bonds, connections, pacts – choose the word that best fits your situation) are made by association. Hang around a group of people and you become connected to them – you develop relationships. Make commitments – formally or informally – and those ties get stronger.

Make oaths and they get stronger still.

These may end up being contracts that can be enforced in state courts or in church courts. I have no reason to believe otherworldly courts exist, but if a God chooses to hold you to your commitment, They have the power to do so. If you want to break a tie to a God, negotiation is pretty much your only option.

Other ties can be broken – if you have the power and will do it.

Maintaining ties: power and will

Our modern Western society believes that the absolute autonomy of the individual human is the greatest good. Other societies saw things very differently. Many still do, in this world and in the spirit world. What we think about the ethics of such arrangements is less important than the fact that they exist. Once you make a commitment – or once a commitment is made for you – you are bound by it.

Further, some spiritual connections have a life of their own, independent of the person or persons on either end.

I occasionally hear well-intentioned but naïve people say “no one can harm you without your consent.” Anyone who has ever been a child knows this is a lie.

What matters is this: how strong are the ties? Who or what is on the other end of those ties? Do they have the power and the will to maintain them?

Do you have the power and the will to break them?

Sometimes you really can just walk away

This is the first step in breaking any tie: walk away. Put physical distance between yourself and the people and groups you wish to leave. This is critically important if you’re trying to get away from Christian fundamentalism. Stop attending fundamentalist churches. Stop listening to TV and radio preachers and stay off their websites. Stop debating the Bible. When you argue from the Bible – even to make a religiously liberal point – you reinforce the idea that the Bible is a legitimate source of authority. It is not.

If you have family connections to the church – or to other spiritual organizations – that may be difficult. Many people see rejecting their religion as rejecting them. But the better job you can do of drawing clear boundaries, the better you’ll be able to heal from a bad spiritual experience.

Walking away is the most powerful thing you can do to break spiritual ties. Depending on your circumstances it may not be all you need (though it may) but without walking away, breaking the ties is virtually impossible.

Ask to be released

Again, sometimes it really is this simple. Any ethical tradition should be willing to break ties with anyone who no longer wishes to be a part of it. I’m part of a group that includes oaths of commitment. But when people have left this group, we have released them from their obligations. We did not release them from their oaths of confidentiality, and as far as I know, no one has broken them.

To be clear: oaths that protect the confidentiality of deep spiritual experiences and of sacred traditions are good and necessary. If you’ve taken such oaths, keep them, even if you’re no longer a part of that group – and even if you don’t like the people in it. Oaths that hide abuse and abusers are manipulative and should be broken to whatever extent is necessary.

The problem is that some people are possessive and vindictive. Some religions believe they have the One True Way and they’re doing you a favor by keeping you on their rolls. And sometimes an oath really is forever.

Then you have to work to break the ties.

Don’t play by their rules

In some traditions, the way to break free from Christianity is to perform an act of blasphemy, such as saying the Lord’s Prayer backwards. While that certainly burns some bridges, it also reinforces a Christian worldview. If you need a ritual to break ties, make it a Pagan ritual grounded in polytheism – something that affirms your new path, not the one you’re leaving.

A ritual to cut the cords

The spiritual ties that bind us to people, groups, and traditions may not be tangible, but they’re real nonetheless. And if they’re real they can be cut.

Put some time into creating a cord cutting ritual. Begin with cleansing: take a ritual bath, or at least shower and put on clean clothes. Set up the ritual space in your tradition. Cast a circle, invite the spirits of the elements and directions, and invite your Gods, ancestors, and the local spirits to join you. Welcome them with offerings – you’re going to need their support in your working.

See the connections you wish to sever in your mind. Take some long pieces of thread, string, or yarn – say “these cords are the ties between me and [name of group or tradition you wish to leave].” See the cords not just as cords, but as the spiritual and magical bonds and connections they represent. Give yourself time for it all to sink in – feel the presence of the connections.

Then when you’re ready, use a knife or scissors and cut the cords all the way through. As you cut, say “I sever these ties and I break them forever.” Add other words to customize the working to your particular situation.

See the spiritual cords severed and broken.

Feel yourself growing loosed and free.

When you’re done, either burn the cords or throw them in the trash – the further away from you and your house the better.

You can do this ritual alone, but if you have friends to help you and to add their power to yours, it’s likely to be easier.

Marks are harder to remove than ties

Sometimes what binds you to a group or a tradition is not a cord but a mark – something that’s on you or in you. Walking away, being released, or cutting cords will help, but it won’t remove the mark – it’s a part of you.

“Mark” is a metaphor, not a literal description – don’t go searching your body like some medieval witchfinder. It represents the concepts, philosophies, and doctrines of the tradition you left. If you find yourself thinking the way they think, and especially if you’re fearing the things they told you to fear, you’ve probably got a mark.

Marks can’t be scrubbed off. They have to be pushed out from the inside.

Cutting ties is the first step – a necessary step that stops the reinforcement of the mark. But that doesn’t remove what’s already there, and it’s not likely to fade away on its own.

The cure for bad religion is good religion

Religion, spirituality, magic. Traditions and groups within any of those. Individuals – particularly charismatic and manipulative individuals. Whatever has its mark on you, the best way to get rid of it is to crowd it out – to replace it with something good and helpful.

Start by examining your foundational assumptions about the world and how it works. What do you believe (as opposed to what you’ve been told you’re supposed to believe), why do you believe it, and why do you not believe something else?

Read and study. We live in the most religiously diverse society in the history of humanity, and most of those religions are open to you. Which one calls to you? Explore it in depth.

Begin a spiritual practice. Pray, meditate, and make offerings. Spend time outside in Nature. Initiation or self-initiation may be helpful, when you’re ready for it.

If you possibly can, find a group. Working on your own is good and necessary, but there is no substitute for a community of like-minded coreligionists. They can answer your questions, support your work, and encourage you when you’re down. Together you can do rituals and mundane projects that are beyond the capacity of any solitary individual. If you can’t find a local group, consider an organization that works remotely, such as the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids.

While I’m a committed polytheist, I recognize that this can be done in a non-theistic manner. But that requires developing a non-theistic spirituality. Atheism that defines itself in opposition to theism (usually in opposition to conservative Christianity) simply continues the battle under the rules of the religion it supposedly left behind.

Time, but not only time

Time alone will not remove a spiritual mark. Time may allow it to fade (though that’s not guaranteed) but it will always be there, ready to flare up when something triggers a bad memory.

It takes dedicated, consistent work. In my case it took years. That’s the bad news.

The good news is that as soon as you begin, the mark starts to fade and things start to get better. How long it takes to be completely gone depends both on how diligently and effectively you work, and also on how deep the mark was in the first place. Mine was very, very deep.

But now it’s gone.

Exercising the will to break harmful ties

I’m thankful for the helpful and supportive ties and connections in my life: my oaths to my Gods and to other spiritual persons. My connections to various organizations and institutions – some of those ties are formal and some are informal. The bonds of friendship, especially with my local co-religionists. These ties have been essential to my health and well-being over the past year and a half, and the four years or so before that.

But not all such ties are beneficial.

Some spiritual ties are made in ignorance. Some are made under duress. Some are made in good faith, but then others break that faith. And some are made with the idea that they’ll last forever, but then one or both parties move in a different direction.

Breaking the spiritual ties that no longer support us requires more than disavowing them. It requires walking away and staying away. It requires breaking the connections, either by mutual consent or with ritual action, or both. And it may require consistent practice to remove a mark from the inside, to crowd out bad religion with good religion.

Intention is the starting point, but intention without action produces nothing.

We need the will to do what must be done.

Blessings to you as you break the harmful spiritual ties in your life, and as you strengthen the helpful ties.