It is so very comforting to have people in your life that understand, accept and help you celebrate your faith — even if only to wish you a “Happy…” whatever it is.
When I was 13, I consciously understood that I was on a different path and that the religion I had been exposed to for most of my life was not the end-all and be-all. Having never been baptized, or christened, I technically did not belong to a formalized religion — even if some of their followers thought they had a claim to me and/or my soul.
I was a free agent I suppose; my mother having left us to make our own decisions when we were old enough to understand such things. The priest would not approve if he knew, and she had to break a vow to give us this freedom (I am grateful to her), but this lack of formal introduction did not prevent indoctrination. Although discussions and outward displays of faith weren’t practiced in our home for the most part, it is near impossible, not to be affected by the dominant views of extended family, society, and the institutions that you rely on for community programs. Alas, “the word” was inevitably instilled in me to some degree.
Puberty was upon me. Change was already in the air, not just in body or in mental process, but in spirit. I had always felt this unseen force, rippling under the surface, but now I felt mature enough to consciously declare to myself and to the universe, that yes — this was my path, and magick did exist.
Even now as I type this, my spell check is trying to warn me that, no, magic(k) is not spelled with a "k“, but I must insist it is — and it is real.
It was not until a few more years had passed that I felt a strong enough internal push, and was bold enough to declare to my family that I was ditching the language and beliefs of the past for an even older way. Even then, I did not so much brand myself with a distinct moniker, as to announce that I would no longer be adhering to prior labels. After all — this was who I had always been!
Now, I was just recognizing more fully and openly that there were other expressions of faith, and my relationship to myself — and the gods — was strengthening, while the rapport with God had all but been destroyed in the war that arose after my father’s death.
If I had been born into a different culture or society, perhaps my talents (and supposed transgressions) would have been noticed as a child, and I would have been guided into some sort of mystery school or secretive sect to be groomed in a life of mysticism. Maybe I would have lived in a way that integrated esotericism into the religion. Maybe I would have never been exposed to outside influences… or perhaps I would have realized my truth regardless. I can’t help but feel that some things are universal, but we often let language get in the way… I suppose life could have turned out very differently in any number of ways.
It took some time to convince my mother that by dropping the terminology, I was not casting aside the lessons and moral values she had imparted and had raised me to believe. My denial of her deity and system was not a rejection of her. She was quite upset at my revelation — which seems a bit odd given that she herself had left that metaphorical door open even as she married my father (whose denomination was different from her own, and dictated that any children they had would be raised in the faith). Her own mother had converted — if one can call the shedding of religion for a life philosophy a conversion (I do). Even she had shifted sects over the years, and had become increasingly lax in her observances.
My atheist step-father probably saw my movement away from monotheism as evolution in the right direction. I think he also understood my position; saw it as a return to the elements. Ritual for me would now be more in-line with what he could accept — a more natural order of things (consider the Shakespearean meaning of the word ‘natural’).
In any event, with some time; explanation; some reasurrance and a heartfelt discussion, my mother would come to accept this new identity of mine — after-all, I was perhaps now even more bound by the golden rule! Her lessons would not go unheeded; the spirit of everything she had taught me would still be adhered to.
I was still me, only…more so.
My mother may not always understand the how’s or why’s — but she accepts me and my practices. She acknowledges my “high holy days”, and has a healthy respect for what they represent. In fact, she has been much more gracious and amiable than I have been toward her religion.
I am glad to have grown up with a healthy dose of secularism. Our household could have been much more difficult to live in if this were only a couple of generations back. Hers may not have been a matriarchal belief system, but my mother was raised by her mother — and thankfully, my grandmother was a rebel; I sometimes ponder how much of an influence these things have had on my life.
It is said that we do not get to choose where and when we are born — that we cannot choose our parents (I have different views on the selection of our human existence, but let’s leave that for a future post). I think there is a wealth of opportunity — now, more than ever — for us to examine our beliefs (not only our religious ones), regardless of our parental influence and lineage. These are unique times.
We live in a world that is much more connected and diverse than that of previous generations; exposure to differing perspectives is a valuable tool both in building empathy for our fellow humans, and in examining our own values and motivations. I think many of us are no longer bound by the past in the way many of our ancestors were, and I think this is a good thing. I am not saying everyone should line-up to change their religion — just that it’s worth looking at why you believe what you believe in the first place.
“The unexamined life is not worth living”.
Or, so says Socrates. Whether this is the case, I cannot say for certain, but I would contend that this digital age affords us occasion to explore many facets of our lives. Some may find their views are challenged, some may find their faith or convictions strengthened. Personally, my own spiritual journey continues to shift and evolve. I am grateful for having a living practice that is somewhat fluid in its structure, and I am indebted to the many teachers I have crossed paths with — whether they are aware of their lessons or not.
I started off the morning with a happy holiday text message from a friend. It was the first thing I saw when I opened my phone, and it wouldn’t be the last of the well-wishes. In an increasingly divisive world, religion is just one of the many things that can create a very significant divide between folks, so when friends and colleagues, or yes — even family — accept you for who you are and what you believe, that is a gift! Not everyone is so lucky.
I was reminded of this connection and support when I woke to find a simple text message. I also recognize there is an opportunity here for me to extend that same kindness to others. If you are celebrating a holiday or marking a significant occasion —
I wish you glad tidings and I would like to learn more about what it is you are observing.
I hope we can all share our values and stories with each other; we may just find that our hopes and joys and fears are more similar than we originally believed.
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