There is a conversation I want to have with you, friends. And it stems from my tumblr fixation.
I wish I were joking about that last part.
I don't post a whole lot on tumblr. Or anywhere, really. I prefer to read: to take in, to watch, to wait, to learn. I'm pretty similar in person a lot of times too--it takes some pushing to get me to interject into debates or conversation, or even to partake in good-natured story telling, which I've discovered a bit of a passion for.
What that means, practically speaking, is that I joined tumblr mostly so I could see pretty pictures. Most of the folks (if not all the folks) I follow post mostly pagan or polytheist related "stuff"--quotes, discussions, images of altars and paintings of gods. There is a lot of beauty to be found there, even amidst the typical drama. And I enjoy it... but.
But I'm tired.
This could be a facet of the nature of my tumblr and internet use in general, but I am overwhelmed. I see beautiful altars, read writeups of amazing and intense ritual, hear about folks' daily, weekly, monthly, seasonal devotions, with intense trance, divination, elaborate sacrifices, preparations, etc. I think it's WONDERFUL that we have that kind of devotion happening in our communities.
But friends... I'm tired. I've been tired for a very, very long time. My struggles with Bipolar Disorder (type 2) are very real, and very present: my mood tanked in May, I started medication, it helped, but I was taken off of it due to side effects three days before my grandfather died (which I'll be writing about when I'm emotionally capable of doing so). As you can imagine, the mood got worse. I'm tired, to my very core. And those beautiful devotions, those elaborate rituals, just seem... overwhelming, instead of inspiring. Exhausting, instead of awe-inducing.
The dust on my shrine is a lie: I still do devotions. I still make offerings. I still do trancework. But my devotions are a couple of words when my heart beats faster, my offerings are a blown kiss to a statue, my trance is the shifting between dreams and reality that happens when I wake up and cannot sleep. This, friends, is what I want to hear about.
Those tiny acts of devotion are not always spurred on by necessity. They are not always the "best" you have to offer. I imagine many of us have small acts--a couple of words here, a touch of a fingertip there--that help maintain our relationships with the Kindred, when we are away from the shrine. And I want you to tell me about them.
Tell me about the way you always incline your head when you pass the State building, because Athena sits perched on its apex. Tell me about the briefest prayer of thanks to Dionysos when a drop of wine touches your lips. Tell me about the surge of joy, the remembrance of Zeus, when lightening flashes across the sky--gone in an instant, but enough, for that moment. Tell me about the simplest acts of devotion in your life.
Devotion, and religion in general, does not have to be elaborate, or expensive, or even lengthy. There are times in everyone's lives (and for some, it is their whole life) where even three bowls and a stick are too much effort. And that's 150% okay.
Pomp and circumstance and fancy altars and statues and elaborate poems and hymns are all well and good, but they aren't what makes a religion. Religion, as I see it, boils down to love: love for the spirits, love for the land, love for the folk around you, and love for yourself.
The rest is all details.
A spoon made of mother of pearl that I got from my grandmother. I use every morning to dip a bit of coffee as an offering to the ancestors. A song sung at dawn or in the evening. A moment to say, "Earth Mother accept our offering." when one of the kids or adults accidentally dumps some food on the ground. Sometimes it's just a moment of stillness when I think of my breath and the emptiness of the space between the atoms that make up my body.
ReplyDeleteThis is a fantastic topic. Every night we pray with our kids and it's a sort of piety. When i think about it, i take cora around and make her tell me who everyone is on the altars. She's knows turtle and beaver and boar and gaea and Morrigan and Brigit and Hephestus and garanus. She's working of Taranis and Gwydion.
ReplyDeleteHaving the option of walking through my faith with my children is actually really good for me, because I don't always have time or the energy to do devotionals myself, but this is a small way i can kindly my own fire while kindling theirs.
When I see the sun shining on the Monongahela river on my way to work in the morning, I give thanks for the beauty of the new day.
ReplyDeleteEvery morning when I put on the necklace my late father gave me the last Christmas before he died, I kiss the pendant and say, "Good morning, Papa; I love you."
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