Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Our deities are so bored that you can give them passing lip service, and they'll love the stuffing out of you! Tithes and offerings? Pish tosh! Stuff a twenty into a jar for breast cancer research, tell yourself you're honoring Chonganda, and old Chonganda will burst with happiness!
Yesterday I was talking with my daughter The Heir about my plans to attend a Wild Hunt in October. When I started describing what happens at a Wild Hunt, she stopped me. She said, "Oh man, Mom, I can remember when you were all crazy to get to choir practice on time, pushing me and Spare out the door, scolding Spare for being slow! And all those long Sundays in church! And now look at you!"
Look at me, indeed.
I did not choose to be a Pagan because of the demands put upon me by the United Methodist Church. I sat myself down at the Lord Fairfax Spring in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia and had a mystical moment. For a blessed few minutes, a plethora of bored gods, faeries, and Sacred Thunderbirds called me unto them, and I chucked the Methodist Church rather as a shot-putter heaves his best in the Olympics.
I've said this before, but since it's Pagan Values Month, it bears repeating. One vow I made to myself when I became a disciple of the bored gods was that everything I did would be holy to them, not just what I did on holy days. In other words, I decided to back off of full immersion in any specific praise and worship team.
I go to Druid Grove on the Sabbats, and I love that. Our rituals are eclectic and easygoing, occasionally being interrupted by giggles, just as occasionally bringing people to tears. I come home from the meetings immersed in calm. Eight times a year, plus Fairy Festivals, I celebrate the Celtic pathway.
Otherwise, I ain't much of a Druid.
Can't tell you when the next full moon will be, unless I Google it. Hardly ever hold rituals at home, although I do pray at a big old oak near my house. Never visit the Druid groups on my Facebook. Haven't opened my Grove's Ning page in months.
What I otherwise try to do is just be goddessly. I read. I sing. I try to memorize poetry. I parent, and parent, and parent some more. I keep this silly web site. Most of all, I just try to be kind to people. And if I can't be kind to them, I leave them alone.
Today I gave one of my students a book to take home for summer reading. The book was for him to keep, I told him. No need to return it. He said to me, "Miss, no one has ever given me a book before."
Call it Pagan Pathway Lite, but this moment to me was magic. It honors Queen Brighid the Bright, Ogma, and all deities who direct intellectual pursuit.
The best part of this moment? I didn't have to spend half the night making a casserole or decorating six dozen cookies. I pulled a book off my shelf, I took it to school, I gave it to a student.
From all goodness grows greater good.
Now I think I'll go take a load off and watch Dr. Phil.
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS
Photo: Pretty girl at Lord Fairfax Spring, spring 2009