Into the New Year December 28, 2009

By the standard calendar, at least, the New Year is four days away. If you’re a Northern European-inspired Pagan, the New Year started at either Hallowmas (October 31) or on Yule/Winter Solstice (December 21 this year).Or perhaps it doesn’t really start until the end of the twelve nights of Yule (January 1, conveniently enough) or the other Twelfth Night (January 6). My Asian relatives won’t celebrate the New Year until February 14. No matter how you reckon it, however, sooner or later a new year will be upon us.

Various folks have expressed a relief that not only this year but that this entire decade is almost over. A recent cover of Time magazine had a crying baby depicted with the caption “The Decade from Hell” in reference to the ’00s, or as some call them, the “Naughties.” I suppose from an American point of view it has been a pretty bad ten years, between 9/11, the ensuing “War on Terrorism,” the second Gulf War, Hurricane Katrina, national and worldwide economic fail, political scandal after scandal, the polarization of the American people into rabid “us” versus “them” camps on just about every issue, the gradual but inexorable erosion of American civil rights at the same time as our popularity with other nations has fallen even lower, and a Presidency so unpopular that it drove even many Republicans to vote for “them” last year. On a personal level, for me the last decade included two cross-country moves, a great deal of personal trauma, diagnoses of three chronic illnesses, and the deaths and losses of some people who were important to me.

However, I personally can’t view the ’00s with complete regret — it was during this past decade that I became the beloved of my Interloper and took oaths to become His consort and eventually a monastic devoted to Him. I understood for the first time why some things had happened in my life, and I managed to get past a great deal of childhood and adolescent baggage. My eyes and heart were opened to a world I would have found scarcely imaginable before. It was only within the last ten years that I realized what my life was about and how I am meant to live it. I’m grateful for all of that, even thought with it came a considerable amount of negativity in the world around me and which I brought upon myself.

Whether your experiences these past ten years were good, bad or some of each, I hope that this New Year brings you joy and that the second decade of this century and of this millennium brings us all hope, strength and the means to make our world a better place in whatever ways we are capable, great or small. Many blessings to you and yours.

Carrying On December 3, 2009

I’ve had a couple of changes in my life recently that have impacted my practice in different ways, but have together helped me see where I’m going a bit more clearly.

One is that my income has basically disappeared, so that I am living even closer to the bone for the foreseeable future as I try to drum up an alternative source. Fortunately this development is not catastrophic. I am in no danger of becoming a homeless Lokean nun or starving to death. My basic needs have all been met — food, clothing, health care, shelter. I have no dependents and my material needs outside of the basics are very few. It was a shock to learn of this at first, but mostly because it also involves family members who are now worse off than I am. I know we’re among far too many people who have recently had this most recent economic depression affect their lives in inescapable ways. We’re in good company…even though it really sucks.

I had been expecting this, although perhaps not in so drastic a form. I’ve been feeling a strong tug towards a much simpler lifestyle for a number of years now. Since I’m as human as the next person, I’ve been resisting the call to some extent. I did willingly give up my car, most of my furniture and a great number of other possessions when I moved to Providence from Colorado Springs a couple of years ago. When I left Providence for Hubbardston I got rid of even more. Since then I’ve been steadily making forays to the Salvation Army to donate things I no longer use or wear as well as to look for appropriate clothing. Everything I now own can fit in the back of a moderately-sized car. (This often amuses me because two out of my three housemates are unapologetic pack rats; the third is more like me in the sense of not liking to own very much. Even the room I sleep in is mostly full of other people’s things. I suppose it’s just as well. If all four of us were pack rats we’d have to sleep in the barn because there wouldn’t be room for us and all our stuff.)

I have the distinct impression that part of the reason for the recent narrowing and eventual departure of my income was Hela saying, “Look, I’ve told you already — you don’t need nearly as much as you think you do.” No, I don’t. It’s been surprisingly hard to accept, though. That’s not because I’m all that materialistic. I’m happy and committed to my choice to be a monastic for life, but some of the things I owned and some of the money I was free to use as I pleased represented aspects of my old life that are hard, even now, to let go of. If I’m honest with myself I can agree that I don’t need those things anymore, and the emotional gaps they once filled have been filled with something far more sustaining and meaningful.

The other change is that in the past couple of months I’ve started training as a yoga teacher. I don’t find this at all incompatible with being a Pagan who worships Northern European gods. If that makes me one of those hated eclectics who are supposed to be the ones ruining other traditions and being cultural appropriators…well, tough. It works for me, and while I won’t pretend that yoga has anything to do with Loki, Hela, the other gods or what I do for Them, its potential to help me become a better nun and priest is nothing to sneeze at.

True, there are some concepts and ideas among the various branches of practice that are very foreign to me and which I’m not all that excited about, but the basic premise of yoga (which is not a religion, by the way) is that one should strive for truth. Trying to understand one’s own essential nature and how that fits into or reflects the nature of reality is a perfectly respectable monastic goal no matter what tradition you follow. To find the Divine — that essence that lives within gods and mortals alike — within oneself, barring some cosmic intervention on a mythic or legendary scale, one must generally undertake a certain amount of discipline and training, be patient, and strive to release whatever is unnecessary and which stands in the way of one’s goal. Or at least, that’s how it works for me. I find that yoga is a more than adequate tool for all of that.

This isn’t all about my spiritual life, however. My more practical goal in undertaking this course of study is to learn how to teach hatha yoga (which is mainly about the asanas or physical postures) to other people. It’s a fallacy that in order to practice hatha yoga one must be able to put one’s feet behind one’s head or do every pose perfectly. In the United States, the emphasis on competitiveness and doing physical things as well as or better than everyone else has led to a lot of misunderstanding about yoga. It’s not about proving how flexible you are or doing every pose as well as the person next to you. It’s about achieving a synthesis of physical, mental and spiritual centering, which is supposed to lead to greater awareness.

But my opinion is that if people just want to focus on the physical part and aren’t so interested in the spiritual, that’s fine too. There are many benefits to be had from doing just that. And of course, should I manage to find enough students willing to pay for my classes, that’d be money which I can use to support myself without compromising my spiritual vocation. Even though I’d be charging for my classes, working with yoga students counts as service, and I intend to put as much into it as I can if I ever find myself actually teaching. I particularly want to reach folks who might feel uncomfortable in other yoga classes (i.e. people with impaired mobility, overweight people, the elderly and surprisingly, men in general, many of whom seem to have the idea that yoga is something only women do).

I did undertake some divination beforehand to find out whether this was something I ought to be pursuing. I was a little worried because I couldn’t afford to pay for the tuition, although the course instructor was willing to work with me to find a solution, even if that meant doing a lot of work-study and constant wrangling with my housemates for use of their car. However, the readings all came out very positively. The strongest sign that undertaking this would constitute right action was when an old friend, upon hearing about my intentions, blurted out that he’d gladly finance my yoga education. It was an incredibly generous offer but while I’m very grateful to my friend, I also know that it was a sign that this was indeed something I should pursue. I’ve already found that the benefits have helped me in many ways — physically (I’m noticeably better at some asanas than I was before, and my overall posture has improved), mentally (I find myself living more mindfully) and spiritually (my religious viewpoint hasn’t changed, but my approach to it is more consistent and determined).

Now that I’ve made myself sound like some kind of “yogavangelist” and probably put people to sleep, I’ll get around to the point of relating all this, which is that sometimes when you’re uncertain how to proceed, the Universe (or the gods, fate, wyrd or some other force) will drop hints or perhaps even smack you upside the head to show the way. I find it less than coincidental that the change in my income and the opportunity to study yoga came along so soon after I made the conscious choice to be a monastic for life. It makes it much harder to doubt that the choice was a right one.

A few weeks ago, I went to a bookstore and bought a little red hardback journal with a replica of a British World War II-era poster on the front. I starting using it to keep copies of my various bead prayers, a list of the eight limbs of astanga yoga and the yamas and niyamas, the Witches’ Pyramid, other people’s various deity invocations and prayers, and other bits and pieces that are important to me. So far I’ve memorized three Sanskrit chants for class but haven’t adopted a personal mantra. If I had one, though, it would be the one from the journal: KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON.

On Monastic Restrictions: Clothing October 28, 2009

Interestingly, there has been some debate in the last couple of decades about whether or not Catholic nuns should forgo wearing the habit entirely. Some feel that modest clothing and maybe a head covering is enough, while more traditional orders (particularly cloistered ones) have retained the full habit. Since I am neither a member of an established order nor cloistered (nor Catholic) and am a material-world-loving Pagan to boot, theoretically I should be able to wear anything, but that isn’t necessarily the case. As with the dietary restrictions, some of them come from Those whom I serve and some are self-generated.

The question of whether or not Loki and Hela really give a damn what I’m wearing from day to day is beside the point. I don’t bother with specific types of clothing because my connection to Them rests on what I have on at any given time (though you’d be surprised how interested Loki can act about these things). I wear certain clothing items because doing so is the most tangible outward symbol of my vocation — even if no one else recognizes that. It’s kind of like wearing a uniform. It signals to my subconscious that I should strive to be in a certain frame of mind when I’m so attired. Which is every waking hour that I’m active in my household and beyond.

First of all, I’ve been confined to wearing certain colors — red and black, specifically. Red for Loki and the Iron Wood Jotnar, black for Hela and the dead. It is much easier to find decent-looking black clothing than red (or at least, I think so) and therefore the former color predominates in my wardrobe, making me look like the world’s plainest, most impoverished goth. Except for occasional bursts of wistful thinking, experimentation or outward rebellion, I’ve actually been wearing those two colors for years now. I suppose that counts as a fashion rut, but I’ve never been very concerned with being stylish even before I was a monastic.

Which is good, since I’m also wearing some rather unfashionably long skirts. I’m less sure about the reasons for this, but the garments in question tend to be made of sturdy material like twill and in the words of one of my housemates, they look “industrial.” They’re practical and can be layered or thrown on with whatever shirt I happen to have clean and ready to wear. They remind me of a cross between a monk’s cassock and a nun’s habit, which is entirely appropriate for me. I do actually own a cassock which a friend made for me (it’s black with red flames) but it is not very practical for daily wear and might get me stoned to death by hostile preppies if I wore it through Harvard Square.

I’m also covering my hair. I’m currently growing it out after having worn it short and spiky for about eight years and right now it looks tragic, neither long nor short but bushy as hell. Flattened under a bandanna, it’s even more so; when I wake up in the morning I resemble Ludwig van Beethoven and in my head I hear “da da da DAAAA!”  each time I gaze into a mirror. However, the reasoning behind this requirement doesn’t have to do with being modest and asexual; it has to do with Loki and me, but I’m not willing to go into the details here. Suffice it to say that some things in my life are reserved for Himself.

Also, I’m in the habit of buying secondhand clothing and looking for organic, fairly traded items whenever possible. This is largely a personal choice based on concerns about waste, environmental sensibilities and the fact that although I’ve not taken a vow of poverty my cash reserves are limited, devotional writing not being a highly paying market. I do find it perversely entertaining to buy Ralph Lauren shirts at the Salvation Army for my monastic uniform (hey, they may even keep me from the aforementioned stoning.)

To my surprise, I was not made to give away my bellydancing costume, maybe because I only dance for Himself (and whoever else happens to be watching). It is hard to bellydance successfully in combat boots, an ankle-length skirt and a T-shirt. Similarly, I have no restrictions against wearing yoga clothes for class, overalls or jeans for certain farm chores, or bizarre costumes for ritual purposes. (I do not regret giving away the neon orange, traffic-cone-shaped hat with CAUTION: VIAGRA IN USE that I wore for a large ritual where I played an archetypal Trickster. It’s times like this when I feel grateful for Hela’s presence in my life, since if it were solely up to Loki, no doubt I’d be required to wear the Viagra cone wherever I went.)

As for jewelry, I have my wedding ring, a copy of a late medieval Icelandic Thor’s hammer with a wolf’s head, and one or two items worn expressly for occult purposes. I don’t wear makeup except as part of a costume, but that’s another thing I’ve been doing for years anyway. All my shoes are black and/or red, too.

So there you have it. There are times when I avidly do not want to wear a skirt, and times when I long to wear something purple or green, and times when I feel like some misguided Grateful Dead burnout wandering around the vegetable garden in a long skirt, T-shirt and bandanna. Shopping for clothing is both easier and harder. On the other hand, when I get dressed I need only put on any one of a number of shirts with one of my skirts, tie my hair up, and I’m more or less ready to go. I don’t have to fuss over my appearance because I look the same every day. I don’t have to worry about whether or not something is appropriate for work because I don’t work an office job. I don’t care about whether or not people think I dress funny because A) I do, and B) I know the reasons I’m doing it. As with any monastic practice, wearing particular items of clothing is best done with an open mind and a clear sense of why.

On Monastic Restrictions: Dietary October 24, 2009

This afternoon, I took my life-oath as a monastic. The ceremony was short and to the point, witnessed by ten people and held up in my room (a.k.a. the “Convent of Our Lady of the Pointy Boot,”  a tongue-in-cheek reference to Hela). As of now I’m supposed to be living according to the restrictions my gods have placed upon me or which I’ve chosen to follow for my own reasons. The main areas of my life which this affects are clothing, diet and personal conduct. I’d like to talk about these in the next three posts. First, I’ll address food.

In other traditions, the reasons why a monk or nun might live by dietary rules usually have to do with one of two things: transcending the physical body, or avoiding violence against other sentient beings. Sometimes it’s both. My reasons for adopting particular restrictions are somewhat different. I do not believe that killing animals for food is intrinsically wrong, nor do I believe in the mortification of the flesh. I can’t really fast anyway, what with being a diabetic on time-released medication. As with any diet, my success at sticking to the rules will have a great deal to do with how mindful I am.

First, I have decided to swear off refined sugar entirely. Honestly, I should have done this long ago. I am also avoiding artificial sweeteners like aspartame and sucralose, and high fructose corn syrup which I’m convinced is an evil substance anyway (and which is in a shocking number of processed foods). I’ll be using honey or agave in my tea and limiting my consumption of baked goods with these sweeteners or maple syrup in them. Having a bit once in a while won’t hurt me; having sweet things every day eventually will.

I no longer drink alcohol, but that’s nothing new because I’m on medication which interacts badly with liquor. Despite having been a binge drinker in my college and grad school days, I don’t really like booze that much and was never very fond of beer, so this has been an easy thing to give up. I still buy it for offering to my gods, however, and I just pour a bit out on the ground when the horn or cup is passed to me in a ritual. Similarly, I’m swearing off caffeine, as it does me no good — it makes me jittery and keeps me awake at night.  Since I can’t drink most sodas because of the sweeteners and am not that fond of coffee, I won’t miss those things — but I will miss my dear friends Earl Grey and Lapsang Souchong. Anybody have tasty herbal tea recommendations?

Any meat, eggs or dairy I consume from now on must not be factory farmed. This was most adamantly “suggested” by Hela, although I feel obligated to obey it for the sake of Frey and Nerthus as well. It might seem odd that a goddess of death would care about such things, but as I perceive Hela to be a parsimonious deity who does not approve of waste, I can see how She would not think highly of an industry that causes animal and human suffering, poisons the water and earth, and is guilty of all manner of unhealthy, underhanded practices. Why Frey and Nerthus would not think highly of all this should be fairly obvious to those familiar with the Vanic deities.

I do live on a small farm and the meat, dairy and eggs we produce here are “safe” for me to eat, as is any animal food I can verify beyond the shadow of a doubt was humanely raised without dubious industrial practices. I’ll also not be consuming seafood species that are overfished or come from certain kinds of farms, as my dedication to the sea-gods demands that I treat all Their creatures with respect as well. (The Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch program offers brochures for download that list good and bad seafood choices.) Essentially, what this means is that overall I’ll be eating a lot less meat, eggs and dairy, and that when I go out to eat I’ll mostly have to stick to the vegetarian options.

Along these same lines, I’ll be eating organic and/or local produce whenever possible. If it’s a toss-up between something local and something organic, I’m better off picking the lesser of two evils.  How much damage do apples from a partially sprayed apple orchard down the road cause the environment versus organic apples driven in a petrol-belching truck all the way from Oregon? Also, paying attention to what foods are or aren’t in season has been advised. (The Order of the Horae has a page about eating seasonal foods based on a Northern European climate, and eat the seasons has lists of foods that are currently in season, though not necessarily local to everyone). The idea is to think about what I’m doing and make the best judgment I can.

Finally, although this may sound strange, even contraindicative of a monastic point of view, I have to eat at least three decent meals a day. Because of the kind of medication I’m on, I can’t just wake up in the morning, avoid breakfast, eat a snack in mid-afternoon and then overdo it at a late-night dinner — which is what I’ve done most of my life. (Not that that’s good for a person anyway, monastic or not.) So I’ll be endeavoring to stick to a regular meal schedule for the first time in my life. And by “decent meals,” I don’t mean a three-course dinner, a bag of fast food or the meat-and-potatoes model most of us understand. I mean mostly vegetables, some grain and a bit of protein. I’ll have to actually cook more, but it isn’t as if I have an office job, kids or the other responsibilities that prevent most people from cooking meals from scratch these days.

I get a little bit of leeway from these rules on holidays. If I want a piece of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, I can have one without guilt or feeling that I’m breaking the rules. But that’s no excuse for going overboard and stuffing all the cookies within reach into my mouth, or getting smashed on mead at Beltane, or going to McDonald’s on Litha because it’s too hot to cook. Once again, the keyword here is mindfulness. Thinking about where food comes from, how it was raised or grown and what has gone into getting it onto one’s plate might be viewed as a holy act of contemplation for a Pagan concerned with the state of the planet and dedicated to the reverence of nature. I hope to find a new appreciation of the agriculturally-based seasonal cycle of Sabbats by doing all of this.

Of course, I don’t believe all Pagan monastics should abide by these rules. This is what my gods expect of me and what I want for myself. This is how my food choices express my reverence for the earth and the holiness of embodied existence while at the same time being careful not to cause more harm than necessary, to myself as well as to other beings.

Prayer Beads: An Update September 14, 2009

Part of the issue with saying daily prayers for me has been that since I initially wrote the ones that I came up with for my set of beads, my life, my understanding of my gods and my role as a nun have all altered significantly. Saying these prayers came to feel more and more like whining to the gods to help me and give me things, rather than what I felt prayer ought to be about. Consequently, I decided to update the words that correspond with my own set of prayer beads to reflect both what I am trying to accomplish by doing them at all, and to emphasize the fact that I’m trying to understand what They have to teach us. Some of the original prayers have remained more or less unchanged, while I chose to reword or totally rewrite others. The new prayer series is given below.

FIRST BEAD:

Hail to Sunna, Fair Wheel racing across the sky, who teaches us to find joy in each sunrise.

NORNS:

Hail to Urd, That Which Is, who teaches us to use our orlog wisely.

Hail to Verdande, That Which Is Becoming, who teaches us to strengthen our maegan and hamingja.

Hail to Skuld, That Which Must Be, who teaches us to bravely accept our wyrd.

NINE WORLDS:

Hail to the wights of Asgard, mighty home of the Aesir.

Hail to the wights of Ljossalfheim, glimmering realm of the Light-elves.

Hail to the wights of Vanaheim, golden country of the Vanir.

Hail to the wights of Jotunheim, ancient home of the giant-folk.

Hail to the wights of Midgard, lively world of mortal men.

Hail to the wights of Muspellheim, burning world of the fire-giants.

Hail to the wights of Svartalfheim, shadowy realm of the Duergar and Dark-elves.

Hail to the wights of Niflheim, ice-rimed world of the frost-giants.

Hail to the wights of Helheim, the refuge of the dead.

(NORNS)

VANIR & AESIR:

Hail to Frey, Golden Lord of Vanaheim, who teaches us the value of sacrifice.

Hail to Gerda, Lady of the Walled Garden, who teaches us to find strength in solitude.

Hail to Freya, Lady of Brisingamen, who teaches us to understand our own self-worth.

Hail to Nerthus, Earth Mother, who teaches us to respect the power of the land and all of its creatures.

Hail to Njord, Lord of Ships, who teaches us to provide safe harbor for those who need it most of us.

Hail to Holda, Lady of Hearth and Home, who teaches us to take pride and pleasure in providing a haven for our families, our guests and ourselves.

Hail to Bragi, Skald of Skalds, who teaches us that things need not have happened to be true.

Hail to Idunna, Lady of the Orchard, who teaches us to seek health of body and vitality of spirit.

(NORNS)

SEA-ETINS:

Hail to Aegir, Ale-Brewer beneath the sea, who teaches us the value of hospitality.

Hail to Ran, Storm-bringing Ravager, who teaches us to respect the power of the sea and all of its creatures.

Hail to Kolga, Mermaid of Cold Waters, who teaches us to be still.

Hail to Duva, Mermaid of the Hidden Island, who teaches us to see through illusions to the reality behind.

Hail to Blodughadda, Mermaid of the Sea-Bound Rivers, who teaches us the mysteries of the blood.

Hail to Hronn, Mermaid of the Whirlpool, who teaches us to name and accept our greatest fears.

Hail to Hevring, Mermaid of the Surface Waves, who teaches us to name and accept our deepest sorrows.

Hail to Bylgja, Mermaid of the Rip Tide, who teaches us to face danger as a part of life.

Hail to Bara, Mermaid of the Big Wave, who teaches us patience in the face of slow but constant change.

Hail to Unn, Mermaid of the Tidal Rhythms, who teaches us to be mindful of the patterns and passage of time.

Hail to Himinglava, Mermaid of Fair Weather, who teaches us faith in the sunshine that follows the storm.

(NORNS)

JOTNAR:

Hail to Loki, Shape-shifter and Trickster, who teaches us humor in the face of the inevitable.

Hail to Angrboda, Chieftain of the Iron Wood, who teaches us loyalty towards our kith and kin.

Hail to Fenrir, Great Wolf, who teaches us to accept our inner monsters as we learn to control them.

Hail to Jormungand, World Serpent, who teaches us the value of setting boundaries.

Hail to Hati, Moon-Chasing Wolf, who teaches us to accept our most unwelcome duties.

Hail to Skoll, Sun-Chasing Wolf, who teaches us to find what joy we can in our unwelcome duties.

Hail to Sigyn, Lady of Endurance, who teaches us about love that knows no limits.

Hail to Narvi, eldest son of Sigyn and Loki, who teaches us to remember those who died too young.

Hail to Vali, youngest son of Sigyn and Loki, who teaches us compassion for those who suffer unjustly.

Hail to Sleipnir, eight-legged son of Loki, who teaches us to carry our burdens with good will.

Hail to Laufey, Lady of the Leafy Isle, who teaches us to be true to ourselves.

Hail to Farbauti, Flaming Arrow, who teaches us to use our wits as well as our might against our enemies.

Hail to Surt, Lord of Muspellheim, who teaches us that resurrection follows destruction.

Hail to Gunnlod, fair-voiced Lady Under the Mountain, who teaches us that from isolation can come beauty and joy.

Hail to Hyndla, Hag of the Northern Mountains, who teaches us to honor our bloodlines and ancestry.

Hail to Mengloth, Healer of Lyfja Mount, who teaches us to recognize when we cause pain to others.

Hail to Utgard-Loki, crafty Sorcerer-King, who teaches us when to speak and when to remain silent.

Hail to Mordgud, Guardian of Helheim’s Gate, who teaches us discernment between what is and what is not ours to protect.

Hail to Nidhogg, Gnawer at the Roots, who teaches us mindfulness about the things we cast aside and away.

Hail to Hela, Goddess of the Dead, who teaches us compassion for the souls of the departed.

(NORNS)

LAST BEADS:

Hail to Mani, Walker in the Darkness, who teaches us to seek peace in the shadows of the night.

Hail to Yggdrasil, World Tree, who teaches us to withstand the fire and frost of mortal existence, and to remain rooted in our faith and troth.

I usually end with additional prayers to specific deities and prayers on behalf of other people.

That Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul September 12, 2009

Time for some honesty. I’ve been wrestling with acedia for months now. It’s impacted my practice as a monastic, my service as a priestess and my relationships with other people.

I find myself wanting to withdraw more and more, unwilling to engage with others and unable to voice my discontent in ways that encourage others to help me find solutions rather than listen to me compalin.

I have the feeling that I’m waiting for something special to happen, but I don’t know what that might be. In the meantime I rationalize my lack of activity and dedication with “what ifs” and the notion that when that special thing arrives, all will be made clear.

I distract myself with nonessentials. All I want to do these days is drink tea and read pointless fiction and play video games online. So not what a Pagan nun — or anybody, really — ought to be spending entire days doing.

I resent and envy those of my friends who have goals and are seeking to accomplish them, who are in training for services or jobs that will benefit them and help them benefit others, and who are motivated to do something rather than feel stuck and helpless. I don’t do anything to get myself out of the rut, however.

This has gone on for months now, but only recently have I recognized it in myself, with that kind of hard-edged clarity that comes to alcoholics and abusers when they realize that yes, they have a problem and it’s up to them and them alone to find a way to fix it.

I’ve learned something valuable through all this, however. It’s not that I can’t do my job when it arises, when it’s forced into my face and I must deal with it or fail. When my friends need me, I can be there instantly. When I’m needed in my community, I spring into action. When someone I care about is harmed or is in need of solace or support, I have endless resources of enthusiasm and compassion to draw on.

Acedia does not stop me from attending to emergencies and people’s needs in times of desperation. What it does do is make me less likely to want to deal with the in-betweens, the times when nobody is having a crisis and the community is at rest, the times when I am not needed to counsel or bear witness or make food or drive people home late at night. Acedia is the foe of the everyday, rather than the enemy and obstacle of the extraordinary. This is something that people have to learn for themselves, and probably why Kathleen Norris does not come out and state this in her book. Or maybe she does, and I haven’t been able to hear the message until now.

It’s easier for me to go out of my way to be kind to my housemates when they are experiencing difficulty or facing unpleasant tasks than it is for me to be patient with their human and understandable habits. It’s easier for me to forgo acknowledgment for doing something like organizing a weekend-long gathering than it is for me to continue to do ordinary tasks day in and day out with neither thanks nor recognition. It’s easier for me to make grand gestures of love and devotion towards my gods rather than to keep Their ordinary home fires burning, so to speak, night after night, whether I am cognizant of Their presence or not.

This is why acedia has been said to be hardest on the novice and the inexperienced monk — because early on in one’s monastic career, one hasn’t yet had time to learn that the true enemy of disciplined religious devotion isn’t a need for the continuously spectacular, but letting the toil and drudgery of the everyday wear you down.

I can deal with crises just fine. It’s everyday life that I struggle with, and that causes me to lose faith in my purpose and enthusiasm for my vocation.

So what can I do about this? I’ve learned that rote repetition does nothing for me, spiritually. I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work. What does work is doing things wholeheartedly when it’s time to do them, and being mindful of the process even if I’m not always regular and disciplined. I’ve not been doing that enough lately. Paying attention is, after all, half the work of becoming wise.

I’ve realized that I’ve been reading the Norris acedia book with less than an open mind, certain that it didn’t apply to me — but flipping back through it, I can see that it most certainly does. People often run across certain things in our lives — books, movies, music, places, other people, random messages — for a reason, often not discernible until much later. The reason I’ve got this book right now is fairly obvious. I’ve decided to go back and start at the beginning of Acedia and Me and read it more mindfully. Denial is never a useful mindset for a monk or a nun, after all.

This entry has been embarrassing to write. There might even be people out there thinking, “Ha! I knew all this nun stuff was bullshit.” But I am committed to being honest about my spiritual journey as a monastic, and if that means I occasionally have to reveal myself as a bumbling idiot with no idea what I’m doing, so be it. I have never claimed to be an expert or authority on how to live a life of Pagan religious devotion, and I’m sure that my version is going to be a lot different than most people’s — if only for the fact that it’s a liminal trickster deity and a goddess of the underworld who are calling my shots.

Your mileage may vary, and your tea-time may be much shorter or longer than mine. I hope some of what I’ve said here is useful if you’ve been laboring under acedia, or suspect that you may be.

Well, then… September 1, 2009

I haven’t updated in a while because I’ve been either out of town, or busy, or both. I hope to write a review of the Kathleen Norris book I’m still reading, and perhaps get back on track with more general posts about living as a monastic Pagan.

The thing is, I have drifted further and further away from specifically and solely Northern/Norse practices (not my primary gods, though — I am still Loki’s and Hela’s, through and through) and while this actually doesn’t change the nature of my personal devotional life all that much, it does have somewhat of an impact on my status as a priestess and my status with other Northern Traditionists. I wouldn’t call myself an eclectic Pagan so much as one who has largely stopped doing a lot of magic and sorcery as part and parcel of my religion, and whose focus seems to be less and less on either ancient Norse practices or modern NT Pagan ones.

I pray, write, sing, give offerings, do work for my gods and my communities and help friends and clients as part of my day-to-day life, while at the same time, my interior spiritual life is quite rich (at least, compared to when I began all this over six years ago). But I am neither a reconstructionist, nor have I consciously decided to ignore all that wonderful and rich Norse culture and history in favor of the usual modern Neo-Pagan beliefs and practices. And it all feels less like what most of us think of as “religion.” I just consider it part of my life. Does that mean I’ve succeeded at something? If so, I have no idea what.

I use “Pagan” because that’s the closest term that describes my religious views, and “nun” because, well…that’s what I am, although it took me some time to realize this. Perhaps I oughtn’t be so concerned with what to call what it is that I do and live and believe. I should just worry about whether or not I’m living my beliefs according to whatever internal consistency they have (the best way, I think, to reconcile oneself to the personal vagaries of one’s own UPG) and whether or not I’m doing what my gods would have me do. Obedience is something that most Pagans are not very fond of as a virtue to be cultivated, and while it isn’t necessarily a trait that everybody needs to cultivate, it is personally important to me where my gods are concerned — if only because if I don’t do what They ask of me, I feel out of sorts and as if I’m doing things the wrong way. And I don’t need other people’s (largely unsolicited) opinions and judgment or threats or smiting from Them to feel like this — which is largely because I’ve tried to cultivate self-awareness as well.

The point of all this is not to trumpet how great I think I am or to bore readers with personal woolgathering, but to say that I am not sure at this point what direction I’ll take with my blog, which is supposed to reflect my experience as a nun — just that I am going to strive to be as honest as possible and as open as I am comfortable being about the things I learn on the path to being a lifelong Pagan monastic. I do intend to make a formal vow of profession, as I stated before, but I do not know exactly when that will happen. I get the feeling there are things I need to do first, although I’m not entirely certain what they are. (This is, apparently, one of the dubious joys of being a monastic in a religious tradition, or body of traditions rather, where there is no modern precedent for your role. Yay.)

I am currently away from home working for some friends of mine on a project involving a good deal of physical labor and practical problem-solving — which is a far cry from my everyday life of household chores and thinking about theological issues. The change of pace has so far agreed with me, and although I hope to be back home at the end of this week, I hope also that having had a break from my “anchoritic cell” for a week or two will refresh me enough to buckle down to my daily routine once more, and to provide a clearer picture of the destination before me. But as they say, getting there is half the fun.

Lammastide August 1, 2009

Today in central Massachusetts we had beautiful, if rather hot weather for the Lammas ritual and potluck held by Asphodel, the Pagan church I belong to. For those who aren’t familiar, in modern Neo-Paganism, Lammas (from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “loaf mass”) is commonly associated with the grain harvest and thus, with the making of beer and bread. Often at this time, Pagans will pay homage to the gods of the harvest and of (agricultural) sacrifice. Or they may simply honor the Earth as the giver of plenty, as this day used to mark the first major harvest for those in northerly-to-temperate climes.

As part of today’s ritual, those of us in attendance each took three cut-out paper wheat stalks and on them named things we need to let go of or quit doing, but have ignored because they aren’t life-or-death (no pun intended) matters. These sorts of sacrifices are often overlooked in favor of the big, obvious and dramatic ones — how many people, when asked in a ritual context what kind of sacrifice they feel they ought to make, will answer something like “stop going to McDonald’s so much” or “telling jokes at inappropriate times”? After everyone had written theirs down, a person dressed as Death came around and randomly snipped off one of each person’s three, which ended up as the thing that person would be bound to give up this year (for the record, mine was “caring too much about other people’s drama.”) Then we took the snipped-off “wheat stalks” and burned them in a ritual fire.

This is the sort of thing that a monastic can really get into — being mindful enough to name the things you need to lose that aren’t necessarily life-changing issues, and being willing to sacrifice at least one of them. It might surprise some people that a monk or a nun would need to do this along with everyone else during a holiday ritual — after all, aren’t we supposed to be working on self-knowledge and combating our weaknesses all the time? Well, yes, but monastics are human too, and whether one lives in the peace of a cloister or interacts more with the outside world, there are always things that come up, from within and/or from one’s interactions with others, that need attending to. Just when you think you’ve worked through all your baggage, another suitcase comes down the ramp. Spiritual growth is an ongoing process, not a goal that, once met, one never has to consider again. And whether one is a monastic or an ordinary worshiper, being self-aware enough to see one’s flaws or weaknesses, and then willing to allow the powers that be to choose the one most necessary to improve, is a powerful act.

I hope everyone reading this has had a happy Lammas/Lughnasadh (or Candlemas/Imbolc if you live in the Southern Hemisphere.) Hail to Frey the Golden, and to all the gods and goddesses of grain, bread and beer. Hail to our ancestors who tilled the soil and to those who work it now so that we may continue to survive.

High Holidays and Why They’re Important July 15, 2009

I haven’t yet decided if or when I’m going to separately address each of the eight high holidays (or Sabbats, as some Pagans call them.) If so, that will probably start happening around Yule, since the Winter Solstice marks the new year for many modern Pagans. However, I’ve been thinking about the function of celebratory events in a specifically monastic context, and this is what I have come up with.

I feel that it’s very important for monks and nuns to enjoy the high holidays with as much enthusiasm and revelry as seems fitting and as one is capable of showing. Some may not see much point to this — after all, aren’t monastics already striving for a constant state of reverence for holy things? In a sense, there is really no difference between the contemplative devotionalism of the monastic path and the pomp and circumstance, joy and fun of a celebration which may be broadened to include one’s family, religious community or even one’s community at large. The former does require a keen awareness of the interior life, while the latter largely emphasizes the world around us — plants and animals, stars and moon and sun, sky and weather, seas and wind and stones, trees and people. Both of these, however, seek to unite the seeker or the worshiper with the gods and spirits and with all that is sacred — which, for Pagans, includes the natural world, the body and all that goes with it.

Because we may be heavily influenced by other religious traditions where embodiment is seen as an obstacle to enlightenment, Pagan monastics might sometimes have a harder time honoring that immanent sacredness, especially if one is on a more ascetic path. It can be tempting to feel that one’s moral integrity rests on never deviating from one’s work routine or spiritual restrictions, even for ritual or celebratory purposes. That’s a matter for one’s own conscience (or perhaps one’s own gods) to determine, but remember, moderation is our friend — and after all, we’re only talking about eight times a year. Joyful acts like feasting, drinking, dancing, making love or other earthy, sensual activities force us to acknowledge before all the gods as well as our fellow mortals that embodied existence is quite a good thing, really.

I’m not saying here that less prosaic acts of spiritual devotion are inferior or that an individual cannot learn on his/her own to appreciate or honor the physical.  However, there is something special about coming together with like-minded folk to celebrate each of the turning points of the year, during which the seasons shift and the natural world undergoes its many spectacular changes. The energy raised during a good ritual is as much of a celebration as any prayer, offering or sacred drama, and the gods and spirits feel and savor that energy as much as we do — which is part of the point. But even if all you can manage is to share a special meal with people who are close to you, if you’re paying attention, you will sense the difference.

So I think that participating in household or community celebrations of the high holidays provides a useful and necessary counterpoint to the vast amounts of time a monk or nun may spend in solitary devotion and contemplation, even if that solitude only exists in the privacy of the mind. I also feel it’s important for us to acknowledge that we do not live in a vacuum, and that we are all part of something greater than ourselves whether we’ve donned a habit or not. Before the might of the gods, and in celebration of the powerful tides and forces that rule our planet, we humans might seem frail and even superfluous. Around the sacred fire or in the ritual circle, however, the divisions between us and everything else drop away, and we may see into the heart of the Mystery…even though it is staring us in the face every day.

Community Service July 5, 2009

It is late and I am tired, so this is somewhat rambly. Here’s hoping the point is made anyway.

This week I’m going to attend a small gathering where I have volunteered to do some of the cooking for the entire camp. Specifically, I am making breakfast for everyone and lunch and dinner for the vegetarian/vegan attendees. This is the first time I’ve been to this gathering and I am largely unfamiliar with the sponsoring group as well, so I’m a bit wary. I’m also not exactly a member of what you’d call the target demographic; the event is primarily aimed at transmasculine people, whereas I am somewhat female of center. Nevertheless, this was something I chose to do because I felt it’d be a good experience, and it was a good excuse to go camping in the mountains and spend my non-cooking hours doing nothing. (These days if I get to leave the house for an extended period it’s probably connected with my work in some way.)

It is hard to be a monastic and not have a community of like-minded individuals — many solitaries have teachers and even the early desert fathers and mothers of Chrisitian tradition had elders to advise them whether or not they lived in isolated huts in the desert. I personally do not know any other Pagan monks or nuns, although I know they exist. Sometimes I even wish I were Catholic or Buddhist, not because I want to give up my religion and my relationship with Himself, but because of the fellowship and support to be found in a community of fellow monastics all devoted to the same religious calling. If I want a sense of community I need to look elsewhere. Fortunately, as I mentioned, I don’t have to look very far.

Some of the same people I’ve seen at spiritwork events, Pagan events and kink events are going to be at this one. Others who were in attendance at one or the other of those wouldn’t be caught dead at this particular gathering, or are at best totally uninterested. I suppose from one standpoint, the fact that I don’t move in the same circles with the same people is a liability — perhaps even more of a liability for a nun than for a lay person. However, rather than feeling deprived because my community is so fragmented, with such varying interests, I feel that my life is enriched by having so many friends and colleagues whose interests may or may not overlap.

Admittedly I am not always consistent or gracious about it, but I can’t use the excuse that opportunities don’t exist right here at home and that in order to be of service to other people I need to travel all the way to West Virginia, as I’m doing later this week. There’s my household, which currently consists of me, three housemates and a plethora of animals, including a highly energetic dog who needs lots of attention and exercise. There’s my geographic community — the semi-rural neighborhood and the town where I live. There’s the aforementioned Neo-Pagan church, and also the exclusively Norse/Germanic kindred I helped found. There are the friends and colleagues I know who are shamans, diviners, magicians and other technicians of the occult from various traditions. There’s the kink community, of which I am but a peripheral member — but hey, I get a kick out of hearing stories from my friends. There are other god-spouses and other Lokeans, many of whom have been kind enough to say nice things about Trickster, My Beloved. I can’t say that I serve one or another of these groups than I serve the rest, or that the lines between them are neatly drawn, or that the service is all the same. Most of the time it’s something They have requested that I do, and how it might help other people isn’t clear to me until it’s long finished.

Would I be as involved in “worldly” things if I was part of an established Pagan monastic tradition? Probably not. But as one of my other jobs is to act as a priestess when called to do so (which happens more often than you’d think) retreating entirely from the rest of the world isn’t an option for me. I have to be available to a certain extent, and I have to be just as willing to be of service as I am when it’s all my idea, or when I can clearly see how beneficial my service is to others. I have a harder time seeing that as a priest, and often the things I do in that capacity take longer to come to fruition.

And, of course, my primary obligation of service is to Loki and Hela. In fact, many times when I do service to others I serve Them as well, often unwittingly. (Little did I know that Loki would later use my devotional to woo other consorts to His side, for instance.) Knowing that, however, often makes hard tasks easier and takes the sting off of the unhappy but inevitable lack of acknowledgement or thanks that happens from time to time. I know it isn’t all about me, but it’s natural to want to have one’s efforts recognized, and when they aren’t, I have to remember that ultimately I am working for Her Ladyship, or doing something to please Himself. And in that light, it hardly matters whether or not I am part of a community of fellow religious, because They often send me where I am most needed and useful…even if it’s not necessarily what I might have chosen to do myself.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, since I’m not part of a monastic community and do have to do priestly duties from time to time, my focus has to be on service. At the same time, I have to be a part of various communities without prioritizing any of them over my religious calling. That can be really difficult to pull off all the time. But then, I expect that I wouldn’t have found myself in this situation if it wasn’t good for me in some way to learn to grapple with it, and it’s not my gods’ responsibility to make sure I can do my job correctly. It’s mine. And if that means taking a 14 hour drive to make pancakes for a bunch of strangers next a weekend, I suppose it’ll be what they call a “learning experience” no matter which way it falls out.