Big A, little a, What begins with A?

Anathema. It’s a beautiful word, isn’t it? It rolls off the tongue and feels so good in the mouth…Annnnatheeeemaaa. Mmmmmmmmm.  Say it with me…Anathema. That’s good isn’t it? It has this breathy, sexy quality. So sumptuous and sensual but then there is the definition.

According to dictionary.com Anathema is “a person or thing detested or loathed.”  Woah! Such a dark meaning for such a lovely word, but isn’t that so true for so much in the world? In nature beautiful things are often poisonous. Some of the most repulsive are decadent (Ugli fruit anyone?).  However, as pagans we seem to encounter this all too often. The second definition offered for anathema is “a person or thing accursed or consigned to damnation or destruction.” Sigh

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? How often do we hear that those who aren’t of a majority religion are damned? Our faith is feared though rarely questioned in a thoughtful conversation, and thus we become the damned. I can not think of a pagan that I personally know who has not encountered this, from strangers who see a piece of our jewelry and view it as an invitation to blow their top at us to family members who want nothing more than to save us, everyone seems to have an opinion on the safety of our eternal souls. All too often we are called out to defend ourselves, our faith, to those who prefer to hear their own denouncements over our explanations. It can be exhausting work being a pagan, just trying to either keep it secret or get it accepted.

Ohhhh…that last word. Another “A” word. Acceptance. It goes hand in hand with anathema really.

I spent years angry…no. That’s an understatement. I spent years IRATE at being condemned on the supposition that somehow I am a lesser person for following a natural path. Talking to other pagans only served to anger me further. To hear tales of our parenting, our intelligence, our goodness, the very validity of our existence being called into question scorched my broomstick. Truth be told, it still does. Thinking about it now I can feel the flush of blood hot beneath my skin and the pulsing in my ears starting to drown out the Celtic music playing in the background. deep breath

M’kay. I feel better now.

Like many, I figured if I’m educated and well thought out then I would be heard. I learned as much as I could about every form of paganism, working my way through the “Llewelyns” and beyond. This resulted in conflicts now becoming yelling matches. They would preach at me, I would raise my voice to be heard and it would escalate from there. Ahhh…the folly of youth. One of my favorite quotes is “It’s hard to hear a whisper when hate is shouting in your ear.”- Will Ryker from Star Trek:TNG  When two people are yelling all it creates is a stress migraine and hard feelings. Lesson learned.

The next step, in my mind, was to educate myself on the religions of my opponents (mostly my family, btw). I learned the Old Testament and The King James Version. I found I really love the fables in the pages and encourage anyone to read them, but reading them only served to fill me with more conviction in my own beliefs. Then I turned my sights on the Qur’an and the Torah. Once more I found the stories intriguing, the lessons enlightening and my belief in my faith more steadfast than ever. I was armed to the teeth with contradictions and hypocrisies. This war was going to be won by me.

 
All of that studying and arming only lead to more fighting. Somewhere in my ignorant mind I thought if I could use religious reason, THEIR religion, against them that they would understand why I am pagan better. They would see the error in their own ways. In all of my plotting and planning I overlooked something quite profound…it’s faith. Faith does not need facts as much as I do. Faith does not need to make sense to be believed and so those who blindly follow their faith unquestioningly will only be confused when they are called into question. When you take an already defensive animal and you back it into a corner, it does not become meek but rather seems to sprout an extra row of razor sharp teeth and daggers from its palms. That animal changes form and becomes something so beastly and dastardly there is no recognizing it and absolutely no fighting it. I have the war wounds to prove it, btw.

This was the time I went into hiding, not because these beasts were hunting me, which it did feel like as I swear “Operation Convert Lynnie” was in full swing at one point, but because my head was now bursting with all this religious information and I couldn’t win. Not with the majority religions and not with my own. I knew everything from Gardner to Cunningham, the Farrars to Telesco and it all clashed horribly. In the eyes of others I was the “go-to” knowledgeable one when information was needed but what good is the education without the wisdom to apply it? Feeling lower than low I retreated.

The Universe knew that was what I needed. I recoiled from religious conversation and attempted conversions. I pulled away from the pagan community and I did my own thing. My. Own. Thing.

This was a turning point. I accepted. Through the simple act of living I sifted through all the “you’re supposed to do this and this”, through the “rules” and found what felt good, what feels natural.
Woah.

That was a realization. The glorious history of the pagan faith is nature. Not just nature that happens outside our windows. Not nature in a recycling-green energy-not wearing make-up-crunchy granola kinda way. Nature is in the core of who we are; listening to our inner voices, our gut instincts, not thinking and just being, looking to the universe and tapping into that. When I was being religious I was not being natural. When I was over thinking and being studious, my mind governed over everything and I forgot to just live. I made war and called it defense, a very human thing to do. When I stopped and came back to what I personally believe in- the power of nature and my place in it- I realized that I missed the point all along.

To accept.

To accept who I am, what I believe and what the Universe throws at me. To accept the continuing learning process that is life. To accept that others do not believe the same, and never will, and that they don’t need to. To accept that fighting them is really a waste of energy, of time, of personal peace- all of which are far to precious to toss away in some search of intellectual self-satisfaction.

When I found that acceptance I no longer felt the need to wear pentacle clothing and flash my faith around.  I realized that by being loud and proud I was inviting that anathema into my life and I didn’t need to do either. The desire to defend myself and my faith melted away, being simply content to smile and nod or shrug and walk away when someone feels the need to “save my soul”. In fact my father-in-law, whom I love dearly, recently gave me a gift, a book meant to convince people to convert to Christianity. My husband pointed out how insulting the gift is, which yes it is, but I prefer to think of it as my father-in-law caring enough about me to try to save me…and I feel badly that he can’t see that I’m safe. When a conversation begins that would once have resulted in a verbal sparring match, I instead thank them for their interest in my well being and assure them I am just fine as I am. I’ve learned to accept it all.

Because, truly, I am just fine with who I am and on the path that I’m on.

Just as I hope you all are.

Be blessed and be well.