Why the Redneck Pagan

Why the Redneck Pagan? I haven’t been asked this particular question yet, but I have had some similar questions posed in the past (and I figure the question will come up soon enough) . My favorite ones include: “Redneck… you?” or “Why on earth would you call yourself a Redneck?” and of course “What the hell makes you a Redneck”. Most of these questions have come up when I have self identified as a Redneck at work. And I can understand that question. You see at work I dress in nice slacks, a nice shirt or sweater, my hair is done and I typically wear very modest makeup. I speak in a low and calm voice, using very professional language. Not what most people think of when they hear the word Redneck!

For many people the name Redneck calls up a much different character. The person most people would associate with being a Redneck is loud and crass. She or he would be wearing very bright and almost inappropriate clothing. They would be the kind of people who are under or even uneducated, living in the trailer park and are often drunk. They tend to listen to country western music and really love either the Rodeo’s or NASCAR. This is the stereotype most people associate with Rednecks, and this stereotype has been played up by the media for comedic effect. But there is more to this term and the people who embrace it than you think!

For example how many people know where the term came from? I do, it started in the southern United States over 100 years ago, around 1893. The term was used to mean the poor farmers, their necks were often red from the sunburn. The term also was used in the earlier part of the 1900s to designate Union Members of the Coal Miners. As the century marched on the term was no longer used for just poor farmers and coal miners. Many members of the lower classes in the southern United States began to refer to themselves by this term and it really gained popularity with comedic acts such as Jeff Foxworthy, Bill Engvall, Ron White and Larry the Cable Guy.

Are you impressed yet? No? I don’t blame you. Anybody with an internet connection could have checked Google and Wikipedia for these same facts (and is where I found them a few years ago). So let’s examine some of these stereotypes in detail. To help me with this I rely on the comedy act of Jeff Foxworthy and his “you might be a Redneck If…” lines.

“If you own a house that is mobile and fourteen cars that aren’t, you might be a Redneck”. This joke hits on two classical Redneck Stereotypes: Rednecks have messy yards and live in trailer parks. Well look a little deeper. I have a neighbor like this (lives across the street actually) do you know why he has a mobile home and fourteen cars (well right now it’s three trucks and a rider mower). The mobile home is actually a double wide trailer and at the time he and his wife bought it they were building a life together and the only financing they had available at the time was to buy the trailer. Over time they moved it onto a larger lot in our small town. They have found with some improvements and placing it onto a basement that it more than suits their needs.

You see we Rednecks typically are not greedy people. We find what it is we need, and go with it. My husband and I lucked out with our house as it is a bit larger than what we needed, but being in a smaller town it was well in our price range. Prior to finding that house we were looking at smaller places in the larger city near our home now. We were not looking for a mansion, just a nice little corner to call our own. All Rednecks that I have been honored to know actually do have the finances to get larger homes, they choose not to because they have what they need.

As to the fourteen cars? Most of the Rednecks I know are very mechanically inclined and work well with their hands. They hate to see anything go to waste if they can find a way to use it. My neighbor for example is fixing up an old truck, the other two on his lot he is salvaging for parts. Once he is done with them he will take them to the scrap yard to recycle the metal. He is not afraid of getting his hands dirty, or crawl under a rusty truck if it means being able to use something. His philosophy is that somebody, somewhere put a heck of a lot of time and effort to gather the materials and have the trucks built, he  might as well appreciate their effort and use it. He’s the same way about anybody’s cooking, if you make him something he will eat it (even my terrible cooking). And for those asking, he’s not Pagan, not very spiritual actually. Once he asked us if we went to church or something. I replied we had other spiritual pursuits. He laughed and said that’s ok because he’s not really anything “there’s something out there, figure if I live good I’ll get where I have to go.”

As a Pagan I fully embrace both of these ideals! So many people today are fixated on mass consumerism. Buying the latest greatest toys, the hottest cars, gadgets, makeup, food and houses. So many of these things are tossed aside as the next greatest thing comes along. As a Pagan I know the Earth, and everything in her is Sacred. I also know that unchecked consumerism creates a whole slew of problems for the Earth, and I am sure those reading my blog do as well. Our society is very far out of balance, taking far more than we need and not using everything we have. I know I am guilty of this myself, but I am trying to change.

“If you’ve ever had to climb to the top of the water tower with a bucket of paint to defend your sister’s honor, you might be a redneck”. For those of you who might not get this joke, water towers are popular places to paint obscene comments about other people in some communities. So basically somebody wrote something nasty about your sister, you have to paint over it before anybody see’s it. But what does this tell you. It tells you that family is important, and we look after our own. It doesn’t matter what your sister is like, you get up on that water tower and paint over whatever they wrote. If your mother is sick, you take care of her, if dad calls and needs your help over the weekend, you go and help.

Family is everything. We all are born into a family, some are good, some are bad, but they are still family. Now obviously I am not talking about extreme cases where there was abuse. I am talking about the average everyday family. We have an aunt in my family (well my husband’s side), who is “nuttier than a bedbug”, she can drive a Mormon to drink. I will spare you the details but she is not my, or my husband’s, favorite relative to visit. We have nothing in common other than blood. But if she called tomorrow and said she was sick or really needed help with something in her home we would be there as soon as possible to help her.

Service to others is a huge part of Paganism. We recognize that we are not alone, what we do comes back to us. And what we do to or for another, will have far reaching effects that we cannot begin to understand. The roots of our current faith lie in the tight knit clan societies of the past, where we looked out for one another. As a Pagan I take care of my family and as a Redneck I know that family matters.

“If you’ve ever hit a deer with your truck… on purpose, you might be a redneck”. Almost every Redneck I know is a hunter. I have never gone myself but we are planning to have me going for my general deer tag in September, so I am going to be soon enough. And yes there are antlers on our wall. We have one set of shed antler on the bookcase, several antler handled knives and a set of Mule Deer antlers on the wall. The ones on the wall are special; it was from the last buck my husband’s grandfather shot before he passed away. My husband mounted the antlers for him and when his grandfather passed away the antlers went back to my husband and have stayed with him to this day. But here is something you might be surprised to hear: all the Rednecks I know HATE poachers with a passion. They believe that anybody who shoots an animal and only takes the head or hide, and leaves behind the meat, should be shot and left the way they left the animal.

You see the Rednecks I know respect the animal; they take a long time getting to know the animal, their habitat, their behavior. They spend hours walking the land, learning the terrain. They also make sure they know the law and all purchase their “tags”. In the province of Alberta hunting is regulated, anybody who wishes to hunt and kill an animal that is not labeled as vermin (skunks, mice and coyotes are examples of vermin in Alberta) has to purchase a tag for permission to kill the animal. The number of tags granted is based on population counts, fewer animals in the wild equals smaller number of tags issued. The goal is sustainability of the animal species.

 All the Rednecks I know respect this system and hunt within sustainable limits. When they finally (and after listening to stories about long hours and days on end sitting and waiting it is a finally moment) shoot the animal they spring to work. There is of course a few pictures and congratulations to each other, but then they begin the work of skinning and butchering. My husband typically will say a prayer of thanks to the animal as he is skinning it. They will collect all the meat they can, using as much of the animal as possible (granted most do not keep the brain, intestine or hoofs). The meat is stored, and eaten by the hunters family and friends for months. And remember what I said earlier, even if the meal is awful, they will eat it.

Now the topic of hunting is a very sticky one in the Pagan community. Some Pagans are ok with it, some are uneasy about it and others are against it. Some Pagans still eat meat while others have become staunch vegetarians. My stance is that yes, all life is sacred, from the smallest stone to the Himalayan Mountains, from the single cell amoeba to the Humpback whale. However in order to live, some must die. Even the carrot you pull out of the ground for your salad has given its life so that you may live. And when we die we feed the life force, becoming food for bacteria that will nourish the soil and help the sapling grow. The key to me is gratitude. If you take a life, any life, you are thankful and use it without wasting. I have no problem with hunters, who put in the effort to hunt legally, who know and understand where there food comes from and will use the animal and not waste it. I do have an issue with the poacher who only takes the head, or even the punk that buys a steak in a supermarket and then lets half of rot.

“If your family tree does not fork… you might be a redneck” well this one I am not sure how to comment. My family tree forks, so does my husbands. I have not spent a lot of time following the genealogy of the other Rednecks I know, however I have not heard of any cousins marrying, or other similar cases. So I cannot fully comment on this particular stereotype, however Rednecks are not alone in this stereotype. Ever gone and traced the family tree of the Monarchs and Noble Families of Europe? Yeah…. Read up on it sometime, up until recently they seem to have a similar problem with their family trees.

Now obviously I have not touched up on all the myths and stereotypes and jokes there are about Rednecks. That might take a book or ten to go over! I have only selected a few to showcase, and to tell my perspective on! This may or may not be the perspective of other Rednecks out there, but I do hope at the very least it has given you something to mull over. Rednecks are like any other people, we have our good aspects, and our not so good aspects, but there is always more to us than people usually see.

Yours Humbly

The Redneck Pagan

All Redneck Jokes are the creative property of Jeff Foxworthy: http://www.jefffoxworthy.com

Top Ten…. Stupid Things I did as a New Pagan Part 3

And finally the cream of the crop of the stupid things I did that make me shudder to this day!

4. Bonfire on the Hill: This was yet another one of my Year and a Day flubs. I think I really understand why many witches insist on the Year and Day period, it gives you enough time to do some really stupid things and if you live through them then you’ve earned your broom! Anyway it was June and the Midsummer Solstice was on its way. I had read a book that talked about bonfire jumping (this book talked about bonfire jumps at all the Sabbats) and had a great ritual for honoring the sun I wanted to try out, so I took great pains to write it into my own ritual. I then rewrote it several times.

Now the next day I was going to be leaving in the morning to go work for two months at a Summer Camp in another province so I wanted to do the ritual rather early in the evening so I would get to bed early. I woke up early that morning and finished packing for my trip, and then re-read my ritual notes for the night and packed up all my supplies in my Rubbermaid tote of magic (I used that thing for years, with a lid and a handle it was great, until I found a great leather bag to use).

I decided to do the ritual around 9 at night in my dad’s back yard, but ran into a small problem. You see it was a lovely warm evening with just a light breeze cooling everything off. Everybody and their dog was out and enjoying the evening. I can’t say that I blame them, here in Canada winter comes around mid October and will cling on until May. It is not unusual to have a snowstorm during the May Long Weekend! I stepped out onto the deck and had three different sets of friendly and curious neighbors proceeded to wave to me.

Well crap, this is not going to work. I really do not want a bunch of neighbors watching me as I clumsily cast my circle and perform my rituals… I am going to have to think of something else.

At that time my neighborhood was still rather new and just across the street from us was a big field with several built up dirt hills. They had not started the construction of the new subdivision yet so I had lots of room to find a spot for the ritual. So I grabbed my script, my tote and the brass cauldron I had got at a thrift store. I double checked my list and then told my parents I would be back in an hour.

I went across the street and ran into my brother on his bike and after he asked told him what I was up to. He wanted to ride his bike in the field and offered to keep an eye out for trouble with me. I went to the top of one of the mounds (having read about the fires being on a hill top) and proceeded with my ritual. I placed sticks and grass in the cauldron and then proceeded to light it. It worked out rather well, the fire was contained and I had recently given up on the dress for my rituals so in shorts and a tee-shirt I did not have any problems.

The fire was nice and chipper, and I could see the sun starting to dip to the west… and the police car driving down the road and the lights coming on.

Oh Hell! I am in for it!

Having nothing to douse the flames over, and being in a state of alarm, I kicked the cauldron over and began to kick dirt on the flaming sticks that had fallen over. I threw everything into my tote as my brother came speeding up the hill on his bike freaking out over the fact that the cop had his lights on and was driving towards the construction road. I shoved a few things at him and told him to peddle his assets home. I grabbed the cauldron, and then dropped it as I singed my hands. I grabbed the blanket I had been sitting on and wrapped it around the cauldron.

Picking up the last of my things I flew into the tall grass and into the wooded area at the bottom of the hill. I stayed low to the ground as I snaked my way home. Once I got home I went out onto the deck and could see the police officer walking across the top of the hill where I had been five minutes prior. I had escaped just in time! My dad walked onto the deck, looked at where I was looking, I think he suspected I might have had something to do with the police officer up on that hill because he said  “If you get arrested I don’t know you”.

3. Bell Sleeves: I hate to have to sound like a broken record, but this one also makes the list of Year and Day flubs. Again, I really think the Year and the Day is a chance for you to really make some bad choices, fall on your assets and do some really stupid things before you finally get some proper respect for the power of energies beyond you (or just learn to be less of a klutz and really thing your decisions through…) But I digress!

In Central Alberta Imbolc can often be one of the coldest times of year. It is not uncommon to see -40 degrees Celsius on a February night (to which I say kudos to all the ranchers around here. Calving season starts in February, lots of ranchers are out amongst their cows making sure that if they are ready to give birth that help is at hand, and keeping coyotes away from the herds.) Anyway I was really not feeling the Sabbat, I mean really not feeling it.

That particular year had been very cold indeed and it was hard for me to really think about Imbolc being the beginning of warmth again. The days were getting longer its true, but it wasn’t very noticeable and people up here tend to get grumpy in February (or really hung over from all the New Year’s parties and getting their Christmas credit card bills). I was not exempt from this, it was cold and dark and I was in the middle of a really hard class in college that was testing my brains, patience and ability not to have a screaming fit in a room full of people.

I spent several days at the end of January being a miserable pain in the assets to everyone around me, moping, grumbling and to quote a character from a television show “General carrying on cranky”. It was to the point where my brother asked me one day “Don’t you have some voodoo spell or something for this?” (My family, while very loving and accepting, runs on sarcasm). I finally decided to pull my head out of my derrière and get back into a good mood. And what better for that than learning to love and appreciate the wheel of the year and my place on it.

I pulled out my books, determined to write a beautiful Imbolc ritual to get me in tune and grateful for the gifts of the season. I also went on an internet search for some nice Altar set ups. I found a beautiful one with some taper candles on it and wrote my ritual around the set up. I bought special scented candles and treated myself to a nice bath bomb for my pre-ritual soak. Two days before the ritual I cleaned out my closet and had two full garbage bags of clothes to get rid of, I also made sure my ritual dress was clean and ready to go.

In my bedroom late Imbolc night I cast my circle, and prepared my ritual. I even blessed the clothing in the garbage bags so that the next person who got them would find warmth in them. I blessed my room and then prepared for the candle lighting. All four candles were lit (in addition to my illuminator, quarter and deity candles. I threw both arms up in the air over the altar preparing to launch into a devotional to Brighid (Irish Goddess of Fire, Smith craft, poetry and childbearing. Imbolc is Her sacred time). When I suddenly realized that it was really warm in the room. I put my arms down for a second, realizing my right one felt really hot. I looked down and yipped! My belled sleeve from my ritual dress was fully ablaze!

I immediately grabbed the water on the altar and threw it on the sleeve. I also dropped down and in the confined area rolled until things felt cool again. I ripped the crunchy sleeve up and was relieved to see that while I no longer had hair on my arm, I still had skin. Tucking the sleeves up I finished my ritual, thanked the Goddess of Fire for not burning my body and opened the circle.

The Halloween Costume Ritual Dress became a wonderful rag for polishing my boots and cleaning my tools and I have since practiced rituals in Yoga Pants and practical shirts. I currently have my eyes on a lovely dress that I might wish to use as a ritual dress, it fits tight to the body from the waist up and the sleeves fit tight to the arm.

2. Flowing Hair and High Heels: After I determined that I wanted to do the Year and a Day I read about the requirements, and all the books suggested a dedication ritual. So being eager to do things the right way I wrote one! I worked hard at it, reading several books to get the right ritual down, making sure all my colors were right (from candles right down to my undergarments… yes I am that nuts). I did not have any ritual clothing as of yet but I figured that I would get them when Halloween costumes went on sale in the next few weeks. (I did my dedication at Samhain, seemed deliciously perfect at the time).

Not having the ritual clothing I decided to wear my best clothes, including a pair of high heels. I even took the time to apply a “full face” of makeup (I only ever wear a full face of makeup for important events and decided that this counted as such). The night before I had braided my hair and before the ritual I brushed it out so it was full and flowing, just like the images of priestesses I had seen in movies and had visualized.

The time came, and with my family firmly tucked into bed I prepared my ritual space (my family knew what I was up to but the first time I went to do a ritual my younger brother popped himself a bag of popcorn and sat down to watch me, and provide a running commentary on what I was doing). At the time my bedroom was a small room in the basement and so my space was limited. I used my bedside table as my altar, placed a picture I had photocopied of the God and Goddess on the table, and placed the deity candles on top of it.

I cast my circle and lit the candles. I called the quarters and then the Gods. I prayed for a long time and then pulled out the Charge of the Goddess and read it aloud. I stated my intent, and then lit a candle I had set aside as my dedication candle. After thanking the Gods and the elements I closed the circle and began to clean up. As I walked around my altar I went to lean down to blow out the candles… and promptly wobbled on the high heels and heard a lovely fizz. I jumped back from the altar as the smell of singed hair filled the space around me and my face felt rather warm. Looking down I noticed on the left side of my body that my hair was almost three inches shorter than the other side!

I said nothing and cleaned everything up. The next morning I pulled my hair into a ponytail and announced to my mother that I wanted to borrow the car and go get a haircut. I said I wanted to get a few inches taken off to make it more manageable. She gave me her keys and I raced into town. I went to three hairdressers before I found one that had space for me.

The hairdresser looked perplexed at the chunk of charred hair before her, and I said “Halloween party, one too many” She cut the rest of my hair and on I went. I got home and showed my mom my hair as I handed back the keys. As she took them back she looked at me and said “Nope, can’t even see where you burnt it”, and left the room, leaving me standing there looking like a cod. (I also relearned the lesson to never try and pull one over on my mother).

1. Methyl Hydrate and my Cauldron: Picture this, a gentle Yule night, after learning in an earlier example that an outdoor ritual in -20 is a bad idea I checked the Weather Network and discovered that the time I had planned to do my ritual would be very cold. Feeling rather smug at how intelligent I was I determined that an indoor ritual would have to do. Now the ritual I had planned involved having a little fire in our fire pit and burning some papers that I had written down things I wanted to be reborn within me.

So I decided that a small fire in the cauldron would be a great idea. It would allow me to have the same effect as the fire in the fire pit and I would not have hypothermia. Now I did not want to have a lot of smoke (previous lesson on sage), but my really outdoorsy friend (my future husband) had been telling me all about this awesome stove he had bought, that it would burn Methyl Hydrate (a type of Alcohol based liquid fuel). That it was lightweight, the fuel was cheap, burned well, was odorless and no smoke. After trying his stove I had gone out and bought my own, along with the fuel. So I dug out the fuel and put the bottle next to my cauldron.

I made my ritual space (my bedroom in my dad’s basement was rather large so I had a very nice sized circle), placed candles at the four quarters and a few illuminators where I had set up a small table as my altar. I cast my circle, called the quarters, the Gods, recited some poetry then got ready for the working. I sat on the floor with my cauldron and carefully poured the liquid into the cauldron. I then lit the match and dropped it in…

WOOF went the fire ball! It almost touched the ceiling and it got very hot very fast!

My dogs, who had been sleeping in the corner, woke up and upon seeing the fire ball in the middle of the floor proceeded to lose their cheese! They ran in circles barking, trying to get close to me, knocking things off the altar (a very wobbly table) and almost singeing their tails on the quarter candles.

I panicked!!!, Actually I freaked right out of my skull!!! I jumped to my feet in full fledged freak out, and kicked the cauldron over… drops of the alcohol flew onto the carpet and the flames followed right behind it. I began to do the most amazing version of Pajamas clad River Dance as I stomped the flames out. I then had to right the cauldron, while it was still aflame to keep it from spilling. I retrieved the cauldron lid (lesson from the bonfire on the hill top) and dropped it on the top and proceeded to wait 20 minutes before I dared to open it. I quickly closed down the ritual and began to clean up the destruction.

In my hurry I didn’t notice the dogs sharing the upset plate of ritual cakes, which they stuffed themselves with so fast that the female dog ended up getting sick all over the carpet just ten minutes later... I ended up scrubbing some scorch marks and doggy upset out of the carpet. I even had to cut a few of the extra crispy strands (luckily my father was planning to replace that carpet within the New Year). To this day I have not told my dad what happened…

My husband happened to note that most of my mistakes have to do with fire… I wonder if perhaps there was an imbalance there… you know, fire being the element associated with passion, energy etc. Hmmm… must have been a bit of imbalance there! Or it could also be my arrogance in thinking that I was the one in control of the fire, when really fire is a tool to be respected and honored! Either way there is a lesson in this…

For the love of the Gods PLEASE learn from my mistakes!

Yours Humbly
The Redneck Pagan

Top Ten…. Stupid Things I did as a New Pagan Part 2

Let’s jump right into the stupidity… shall we?

7. Staying in my first group: This one I really cringe at because this happened less than a year ago. I include it as part of my new pagan list since it was the first group I had joined, so a new experience for me. A little over a year ago I decided that I wanted to get more involved in the Pagan community, to be part of it and help build it. So I and a friend of mine set up a Pagan Coffee meet-up. It went well and I met some people who were working at forming a coven as part of an offshoot to a group initially founded in British Columbia.

They seemed nice enough, a little young and green, but who was I to judge that? I had never been in a Pagan group before and did not know the first thing about forming one. The one who was trying to form the Coven had just finished her First Degree training in Wicca and was about to start her Second Degree with an online training program. It seemed a little odd to me that one could get their Degrees via an online training program, but being in Central Alberta established covens are rather rare, especially away from the larger urban centers of Calgary and Edmonton.

At first things seemed to be ok, the young lady running the coven was rather inexperienced with leadership, but leadership is not something they teach in school. (And before I say anything else I want to emphasize that leadership is a SKILL, it is something you must learn. I have been learning the art of leadership for the past 17 years and I still have a ton of work to do. It is something you have to work at, to continue to learn and adapt. I think another 20 years and I might consider myself proficient at it. But a rant for another day…) Anyway, the young lady in question was only 23 (younger than myself), had finished her high school degree, and was married with a child. We had similar ideas about community and practices so I figured it was a good fit for me. And at first it was, the group was off to a nice start and she and I started becoming good friends.

Unfortunately I did not bank on a few things for starters she had never been in a leadership role, had worked jobs that did not hold much responsibility and as a stay at home mom she did not have much outside of the home for her self identity. Being the high priestess became her entire identity. After three months I was no longer talking to my friend any of the time, I was talking to the high priestess non stop. Any time I tried to have a conversation with her it immediately became a conversation about the coven and the temple. When my work life, personal life and youth organization commitments became a bit heavy and I needed to back down from the coven a bit she tried to task me with more and more things to do. I was getting burned out and fast, and felt like I had lost a friend and was starting to feel hurt.

Her lack of leadership experience also meant that when the group started to expand she did not tolerate any form of competition, real or perceived. When a few people came to public rituals that were not Wiccan (as she was) she would tell them not to talk about their own beliefs (which were still Pagan). Anytime something different than her vision of the group came up she became very resistant and dismissive. Small incidents became blown well out of proportion and problems within the Coven were not handled in a timely matter.

By the time I left I was drained, emotionally and spiritually. I personally felt that the time and commitment I had put in had been swept aside. It felt as if none of my ideas or input mattered anymore, it felt that it was all about the High Priestess. I had tried to approach her on this topic a few times but she would rapidly change the topic. Now obviously this is only my side of the story, and I am sure I made mistakes in communication and in expressing myself. I am sure that there were other mistakes that I made, but am still a little too close to the situation to objectively see them at this time.

At the end of the day the group was no longer healthy for me and I should have left earlier. My own spiritual, mental and physical health had been compromised and at the end of the journey my resentfulness made me a difficult person to be around and did not help the group. I was also mourning the loss of a friendship and was very angry at the person that my former friend had become. Since then a mutual friend has told me that the group has grown and I wish them the very best in the future.

6. Not putting the Athame down: this one is one I am very embarrassed about. This one happened about two or three years into my practice. It was Beltaine and I had reached a point in my life where I was starting to really desire to share my life with a partner, somebody to spend the ups and downs with. I wanted to gaze into his eyes, to tell him how much he meant, and have him say the same to me. In short I wanted to find somebody to fall in love with (my husband just leaned over, read the last line and said “blah… mush”, Love You Honey!).

Having decided this about a month prior to Beltaine I felt that would be the perfect time for me to perform a spell, to petition the universe to help me find love. I made a list of the attributes I wanted in a mate (minds out of the gutter please. Things I was looking for was a similar sense of humor to me, who loved to camp, would accept my work with the Youth group, had a spirituality similar to mine etc.) I planned it out well, tracked the weather to make sure I would not get caught in a storm outside, make sure that it was on a good day, that I had all my herbs and candles at the ready. The night of the spell it started to rain a little, then it rained some more, then it poured! So I set up my altar and cast indoors.

The ritual and spell went well! No mishaps, no fires, no plumes of smoke wafting through the house. I had empowered a red and a pink candle as part of my spell and left them to burn down on my altar when I had wrapped the spell up. In the morning I cleaned up the altar and noticed that some red wax had gotten stuck to my Athame. I put all my other supplies away, placed the wax remnants in a bag to burry later, put the alter cloth in the washing machine, and finally tackled the waxy Athame.

The wax did not want to come off. I had to scrape like crazy at it. My one dog was at the groomers for the day and the other was snoozing on my bed when the doorbell went off. Scared the tar out of the dog, and out of me! He went crazy and began barking like a lunatic! In frustration I grabbed the dog to hush him and ran up the stairs. I threw the door open to greet a middle aged woman dressed very nicely (like suit jacket and skirt nice) and holding a Watchtower publication (for those unfamiliar with it that is the Jehovah’s Witness publication). I felt a little out of place at that moment since I was wearing a pair of old shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top.

“Hi, can I help you”

“Ummm…. I am sorry… I… think I have… the wrong house. Yes the wrong house. Pardon me” She stammered and then almost ran down the walkway.

“Crazy lady at my door, awesome” I said, and shut the door.

I turned around to go downstairs when it hit me… I opened the door in a rather revealing tank top, while I was still wearing my Pentacle necklace. I was holding a small animal in my one hand… and a knife with a red substance in my other hand... Shit. I had just scared the crap out of the Jehovah’s Witness lady. Actually scared is the wrong word. After that day we had lots of Jehovah’s Witnesses coming down the street, they would actually get off the sidewalk in front of our house to get to the next house. Some even crossed the street, walked past our house and then came back to the next door neighbor’s house. I had certainly made an impression.

On the surface it was very funny… and very wrong. This poor woman might have annoyed me, but she was out there, doing what she was doing because she truly believed she was helping. That what she was doing the right thing, while I may not agree with her, I respect that, and her right to believe in what she will. Had I not had the Athame and the dog in my hands I could have easily said “No thank you” and shut the door. She could have gone on her way, with no harm to her. My lack of thinking and planning in this case caused harm and unnecessary fear, and would not have helped the case that Pagans are normal people.

5. Arguing with Christians: I think this one we all do at some point or another, as I said in a prior post Christians seem to get a really bad rap in the pagan community , and I am guilty of this. Some of the earlier books I read, and some of the online forums I was  a part of was really bad for this. There were the stories of the burning times, that the Catholic Church stomped out the pagan religion, persecuted the midwives etc. Christians in a new pagan’s world are basically evil!

I think some of this is part of the process of separating oneself from your previous faith. Many Pagans I have talked to, and myself, tried really hard to believe in the faith of their childhood (and all I have talked to were Christians or raised in a Christian family). So when we first come to Paganism we feel this overwhelming need to totally separate ourselves from the former belief system.
We also seem to get this desire to show the world that our new found faith is just as valid and perhaps even better than the one we left behind. To that end some of us, and I cringe to admit that I am included in this, will engage in long conversations over which path is better. Now we don’t phrase it as such, of course not, that would be rude! But we do have that attitude.

I remember one person in particular, we had known each other when we were younger and part of the same youth group. He “aged out” of the program and moved on and I finished my time. Years later when I came to volunteer with the youth program again he was already working there. Being on somewhat friendly terms we talked and discovered that while I had embraced the Pagan path, he had devoted himself to a very Biblical Christian Path.

Our superior officers knew that we had worked together in the past and we were on  friendly terms. The level this person was working with had 50 kids in it, so he needed help and I needed hands on training. They placed us working together so we ended up spending lots of time outside of the youth group, working on planning and coordinating activities for the youth group. We were rather effective as a team, having worked together in the past, however after our work was done we would have long discussions.

Actually “discussions” is not quite the right word for the conversations we had. They were very civilized and polite arguments. We spent umpteen hours talking about how our chosen spiritual path had made us a better person, why the path was so great, what historical facts supported our faith, different sciences that proved our path was correct. While we were both talking, I don’t think either of us were listening to the other very well. He was rather determined to “save me”, and I was determined to prove to him that my path was a good and valid one. And in the end neither of us proved anything.

You see I knew I was not going to change his mind, so why was I bothering!?! What a waste of time. When arguing over who is superior nobody wins. And arguing over who is a more spiritual person with the better path… well think about how that last line made you feel. I know when I re-read it I got a sense of dread and revulsion, and was actually rather ashamed.

His path has brought him inner peace, happiness and has helped him create a better life for himself. That is awesome, and all that matters. My path has brought me the same thing, which is also awesome. And at the end of the day that is all that matters. That is what a spiritual path is supposed to do, and it is a very personal thing. My path is not identical to my husband’s path, and if we ever have children they will have their own path. No two people are the same, and their path will be their own. It took me a long time to learn and be at peace with that.
Stay tuned for Part 3!