Converting to Paganism

I saw Deity as the whole of existence, including all the myriad alternate universes that must exist. I saw Deity as both transcendent and immanent, existing both apart from and as a part of all Life. I saw no paradox in this, at least none that could not be resolved by a truly infinite Deity. And why then should that Deity be limited to any single gender, nationality, or form? To even consider such a thing was ludicrous. An omnipotent God must, by definition, be able to assume any form, any gender, in any place or places, any time or times, simultaneously or uniquely.

Long before I new that modern Paganism or the Craft existed, I had decided that God could be Goddess and vice versa, if She/He/They wanted to.

With this general spiritual bent and direction, I probably would have found the Craft years earlier than I did, had my voyage not run aground on the shoals of alcoholism in my early 20s. But run aground it did, and I stayed a prisoner of the disease for the next 15 years.

One of the significant effects of active alcoholism is that it leads inevitably to what we call "spiritual bankruptcy," a loss of all connection with any concept of a Higher Power. This isn't surprising, since prayer and meditation don't work very well if you are getting up every five minutes for a cold beer. Nor does a spiritual life mesh well with the desperation, frustration, humiliation, and degradation that the alcoholic experiences with increasing frequency and force. Both the physical addiction to the substance and the mental obsession with it crowd out all other considerations, and the first to go is often our faith and belief in a Power Greater Than Ourselves. For many of us, it happens as a result of the shame we feel at what we believe we have become. How could any Deity, no matter how loving, love us?

The beautiful truth is that the Gods do love us and care for us, even when we do not love or care for ourselves. For those of us who become desperate enough, They ultimately lead us to the solution.

In May of '93, I had finally had enough, and I reached out for help. I went into treatment, where I received the bad news that, if I wanted long-term sobriety, I would have to join AA. Like so many, I thought AA was something of a cult, but I was desperate enough to try anything.

Happily, I discovered that AA was anything but a cult, and that the only thing required of me was a desire to stop drinking. I fell in with a group where not drinking one day at a time was the single most important thing in the world. No one really cared about your race, creed, color, politics, job, sexual preference, or anything else. The quest for sobriety eclipsed all other considerations. It was from that group that I learned the true heart and purpose of AA. "Our primary purpose is to stay sober, and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety." That's it. Period. It doesn't say anything about advancing our political, religious, or economic agendas, although I have seen people try over the years. But AA remains resistant to such tampering, and for that I am grateful to the Gods.

AA's concept of a personal relationship with a "God of our understanding" validated rather that repudiated what I had come to believe about spirituality in the early days of my quest. I found that quest renewed and nurtured in AA, and it was from the foundation of physical sobriety and spiritual awakening that I found in AA that I struck out again to find a personal spirituality that would "fill the hole in my soul."

After less than a year sober, a friend brought to my attention a workshop on shamanism being given by a Lakota "medicine man." Back then, I earnestly believed that everyone on Turtle Island was one big happy family, and that there was nothing intrinsically wrong with a white learning the Red Way. I've since come to understand that some among the Native Peoples find this distressing and exploitative, and that some Native "teachers" peddle spurious goods against the wishes of their Nation's Elders. But I knew nothing of such things then, and I was intrigued by the advertisement for the workshop.

Whether Ghost Wolf was the real thing or not, whether he was earnestly trying to teach for the good of all mankind or was a faker making a buck off of credulous white folk, I do not really know. Nor does it matter, in the final analysis. Because whether Ghost Wolf was a true and sincere teacher or not, he set me off in a new direction that ultimately led, not to the Red Way, but to the Way of the Witch.

I assimilated everything I could get my hands on regarding shamanism, eventually finding Michael Harner's excellent book on the subject. In addition, I joined the online community discussing shamanism and journeying, and it wasn't a far leap from there to the online Wiccan community. Again, my interest was sparked, and I took the "road less traveled" at the next fork. For some time, a desire had been growing in me to externalize some of the internal work I had been pursuing with such fervor, and the richness of Wiccan ritual seemed the perfect vehicle for that expression. Shamelessly, I admit that I began my career in the Craft as a "dabbler," trying out various rituals and techniques gleaned from books and the online community. But it wasn't long before I was hooked.