Gods > Archetypes

I am a polytheist, but I am not exactly sure what kind of polytheist I am. I believe that the gods are individual personalities, that they are autonomous beings with their own likes, dislikes, wants, and agendas. Yet I also believe that there is an underlying Supreme Divinity—something similar to the Brahman of Vedic tradition. I believe that this Supreme Divine unifies all things, the gods included. My own beliefs, then, lie somewhere between hard polytheism and pantheism/animism. Perhaps this makes me a semi-firm polytheist?

Whatever the case, there is one thing that my semi-firm polytheism cannot stand: the treatment of individual divinities as if they were nothing more than magical correspondences. There seems to be a lot of this in the “pop-Pagan” community, wherein the gods have been devalued to faceless, divine robots. Many Pagans in this trap of “mushy” soft polytheism explain away the gods as simply manifestations of archetypal energies. While I do believe that there is some truth in this credence, I do not find it to be particularly appropriate.

Rather, I propose the Gestalt theory (of divinity): The whole (i.e. the god) is greater than the sum of its individual parts (i.e. the archetypal energies).

To begin to understand this theory of divinity, we must first look at the nature of archetypes.

The human mind loves to classify and organize things into neat little categories. Indeed, in a world and a reality that is constantly changing, the human mind has to do this! If it did not, insanity would quickly ensue. Most of the time, these categories are very beneficial. They distinguish safety from danger, mine from yours, and professional-doctor-who-is-apt-to-do-your-life-threatening-surgery from hobo. In far more arbitrary terms, these categories also distinguish green from red, plant from animal, right foot from left foot, etc. The human mind categorizes virtually everything with which it comes in contact. Archetypes are an outcome of this elaborate filing system.

An archetype is a fundamental classification of energy. In other words, it is the long-lasting imprint that results when the mind categorizes something. These imprints exist in the Collective Unconscious—an area of the psyche that is shared between all generations of a species. As the name implies, the essence of the Collective Unconscious is not consciously passed from one person to another. Rather it is an inherited and therefore an integral part of one’s nature of being—in our case, human nature. Existing here, archetypes form a sort of collective “heading,” under which people can organize their subjective experiences.

For example, a healer is an archetype. It is a fundamental role of the human experience. An individual, then, may categorize people under this archetype when they seem to exhibit healing qualities—such as Doctor Kelsey or Nurse Pat. To compare this to a filing system: the archetype becomes the folder and the individual experience becomes the paper in that folder.

The problem with understanding gods as archetypes comes into play when people forget about the “paper in the folder” and instead just equate the god with “the folder.” In other words, when people neglect the individuality of the god and instead focus on his or her likeness to other gods who may fit into the same category. In this way, people begin to equate vastly different gods with one another, reasoning that because they fit into the same group, they must be the same deity. Thus a number of modern Pagans find the Irish god Lugh and the Greek Apollo synonymous, simply because they are both gods of light! (Of course, this is far from the truth. Apollo’s development as a god of light was a relatively late addition to his mythos, and then he was understood to be a god of the sun. Lugh, on the other hand, is connected with the light of knowledge, a very different kind of illumination.) To me, this seems absolutely absurd. I would never believe that all university students are the same—the university student, of course, being an archetype. Why, then, should all gods who are connected with illumination be qualitatively identical?

What we need to remember is that our archetypes are human constructions. At its base form, energy is energy. It is not until conscious beings begin to imprint emotionality and other qualities upon it that it becomes categorized. Thus archetypes do not exist in objective nature—only in our humanely subjective nature. Going off from this, it needs to be borne in mind that the gods are not human. To confine the personalities of the gods to human constructs is simply unnatural—we are vastly different forms of beings!

Yet all of this blathering is not meant to downgrade archetypes, simply to put them in their proper place. Indeed, archetypes can be a very powerful means by which to connect with deities. It was the Greek philosopher Xenophanes who wrote: “But if oxen (and horses) and lions had hands or could draw with hands and create works of art like those made by men, horses would draw pictures of gods like horses, and oxen gods like oxen, and they would make the bodies (of their gods) in accordance with the form that each species itself possesses.”[1] In other words, all species seek to understand the Divine—as well as the world—in their own, subjective terms. Accordingly we as humans can only connect with things in human terms. Archetypes are these human terms, and while they are not divinities in and of themselves, they are certainly roads to the gods—as it is much easier to connect with Brighid, the poet (a profession that I can experience) versus Brighid, the divinity (a quality that I cannot replicate in my subjective experience).

While gods are not the same as an archetypal energy, they may at times work as embodiments or “ambassadors” of this energy. In this context, the god becomes a personal, conscious filter through which archetypal energy can funnel. Compare these two invocations:

A Dhanu, bless this new mother.
A Dhanu, Mother of the Gods, bless this new mother.

The first statement appeals to Danu as a personal divinity. The second appeals to the archetype of mother as it manifests itself in Danu. Thus in the latter Danu becomes a conduit of mothering energy. (Note, however, that Danu is not, herself, the same as the mothering energy.) While the archetypal energy of “mother” is largely undifferentiated, Danu can bend this energy so as to fit the desires of the situation. It is much the same as a Japanese ambassador. The ambassador is able to phrase his country’s policies so as to persuade foreign rulers—i.e. making Japanese principles fit the current situation. Yet, at the same time, the ambassador is not Japan.

My Gestalt theory of divinity can be confusing, and I must admit that by this point, even I am getting a little light-headed! So let’s recap the basics:

- Archetypes are human constructs, and since the gods and humans are qualitatively different, archetypes cannot be one-and-the-same with gods
- Thus the gods are greater than the sum of the individual archetypes they embody
- Archetypes can function as ways to reach the gods, but it needs to be borne in mind that they (archetypes) are human vehicles
- And although the gods can act as conduits of archetypal energy, they are not synonymous with this energy

If things are still a little fuzzy, answer this: To humans a bug with a set of colorful wings is a butterfly; but to a butterfly, what is a gigantic, two-legged mammal?

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[1] Xenophanes (570-475 BC), Fragment 15.

Wicca is NOT Paganism

As one of the awesome people that I know so nicely put it: “Everyone has their soapbox.” Well, here is mine.

Very few things frustrate me more than opening up an introduction to Paganism book only to read about how Pagans worship the Goddess and the God, revere the four Classical Elements, conduct full moon rites in magic circles, etc, etc…Why do these statements bother me so much? Well, it is because they are simply lies. Pagans do not do these things.

Now before I go any further with this rant, let me take a step back and make some things perfectly clear. No, Pagans do not do any of the aforementioned things. That being said, some Pagans do. What I am getting at here is the distinction of Paganism in general versus a particular Pagan religion/spirituality. So no; Pagans do not worship in magic circles, but Wiccans, who belong to a specific Pagan tradition, do worship in magic circles. This division is akin to saying that Christians, as a generality, do not practice the sacrament of Confession, but Roman Catholicism, which is a form of Christianity, does practice Confession.

But I digress…

Wicca, appearing in the 1950’s, really gave the “jumpstart” to the modern Pagan movement. As such, Wicca provided many people who were seeking an alternative religious path a means of practicing a cohesive Pagan faith. This trend continues today, with many people initially coming to Paganism through the path of Wicca. In this sense, Wicca serves as a great beacon of strength for the modern Pagan communities. However, it also tends to befuddle the definition of Paganism.

Since many people have come to Paganism through Wicca, many of the modern forms of Paganism heavily rely on Wiccan material, whether they realize it or not—this is especially true of Pagan traditions in the U.S. While this is all fine and dandy, a real problem comes into play when these Wiccan-based traditions begin to believe that all other Pagan paths are essentially like them—something that is just plainly not true.

So what are these untruths of which I speak? Good question. In a compact answer, anything that claims “Pagans believe…” or “Pagans do…” is essentially false. Paganism is such a broad range of traditions that it can never be definitively said to believe or practice something cohesively.

In less compact terms, the falsehood propagated by modern Pagan communities and, especially, modern Pagan authors are quite extensive. However there are a few more “standard” ones that tend to pop up. Here are some off the top of my head:

1) Pagans believe in the Goddess and the God – FALSE!

Pagans hold a variety of opinions on Divinity. True, there are some that are rigorously duotheistic, meaning that they see Divinity as being composed of polar opposites. The most common manifestation of this theism is the belief in “the” Goddess and “the” God. Often times this ideology includes the principle that “All gods are one god, and all goddesses are one goddess.”[1]

Duotheism is appears in many of the “classical” Wiccan traditions, and even today it is a popular belief amongst both Wiccan and non-Wiccans. However, it is not the only theistic belief that exists amongst Pagans. A particular theism that has been gaining a considerable amount of ground during the evolution of modern Paganism is polytheism. Polytheism is the belief in many (poly-) gods. Many people group polytheism into two categories: soft polytheism and hard polytheism. Soft polytheism holds that the gods are individual personalities—as separately autonomous as you and me. However, in soft polytheism there is still an idea of an underlying, all-inclusive principle, such as a pervasive Divine Consciousness. Thus while all of the gods may be individuals, they—and all things—are ultimately connected under one Supreme Spirit. In a sense, soft polytheism is somewhat of a hybrid between a rigid polytheism and a concept of pantheism.

Hard polytheism also accepts the gods as individual personalities, but unlike soft polytheism, it does not accept a “Divine undercurrent,” which permeates existence.

In both polytheisms, it is generally understood that the gods, like humans, have their individual likes, dislikes, needs, wants, and agendas. They do not necessarily share the same moralistic ideals nor the same knowledge and understanding. In many polytheistic traditions, the gods are thought to be “imperfect.” They do not always know what is “best” nor do they always do what is “right.” Yet, because they are older and wiser than humans, they are generally understood to make mistakes a lot more infrequently than mortals.

Briefly alluded to above, pantheism is also a popular belief amongst Pagans. Pantheism is the idea that all things are imbued with a Divine essence and that, generally, Divinity and Creation are one-and-the-same. Different traditions of Paganism will often adopt varying degrees of pantheistic belief, so as to complement their beliefs about individual divinities.

Going along with pantheism is the doctrine of animism, which holds that all things have individual souls. As with pantheism, animism may also be adopted into Pagan theologies so as to create a fuller picture and understanding of Divinity.

2) Pagans celebrate eight seasonal festivals, called Sabbats, which combine to form the Wheel of the Year – FALSE!

The sequence of seasonal festivals known as the Wheel of the Year, or more simply the Year Wheel, came into being—as far as modern scholarship can tell—with Gerald Gardner. As such it functioned as the Wiccan sacred calendar, and is a rather eclectic conglomeration of culturally distinct and distant festivals—and, indeed, some festivals that were never historically practiced!

Since its introduction by Wicca, the Wheel of the Year has also been adopted by many Neo-Druid groups (most notably the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids, the founder of which, Ross Nicholas, was a friend of Gardner). This seasonal cycle thus appears in a variety of modern Pagan religions/spiritualities. However to say that it is universal is a great underestimation.

There are a great number of Pagan paths that do not recognize the Wheel of the Year, particularly those traditions who are more reconstructionist in nature. For example, Gaelic Polytheists generally only give religious credence to the festivals of Samhain, Imbolg, Bealtaine, and Lughnasadh—the four Gaelic agricultural festivals. Likewise, a Kemetic Reconstructionist—i.e. a Pagan attempting to reconstruct the ancient religion(s) of Egypt—would find it very strange to participate in a festival as foreign as the Germanic Yule. Indeed, there are some Pagan religions/spiritualities that do not celebrate any of the festivals in the Wheel of the Year, but that does not make them any less Pagan.

3) Pagans worship their gods in magic circles – FALSE!

The magic circle is essentially a ceremonial magic practice that, after a variety of incarnations, was incorporated into the general practices of Wicca. Again, many Pagan traditions today utilize the magic circle—and hey, it is a pretty meaningful and spectacular set-up! Of those that do not use a magic circle, many still perform rites in a circular formation; however, this is not an essential.

For example, many Celtic Reconstructionist rites may, in fact, be performed in the context of a feast. In this situation, people may be seated around elongated tables in a mess-hall type setting.

4) Pagans perform magic – FALSE!

Many magical systems can be combined with nearly any religion or other spirituality. While many “orthodox” religions condemn magical practices, a majority of Pagan traditions accept that magic is not only possible but also acceptable, reclaiming it as part of their religio-cultural past. This allows for a greater density of magical practitioners in Paganism. (Wicca is very notable for this, as many see it as providing both a religion and a magical system.)

Yet not all Pagans practice magic, and—sure to be shocking to some—not all Pagans are for the use of magic, believing it to undermine the gods. In addition, there are many Pagan paths, such as Ásatrú, that believe magical practice to be confined to a select few rather than as a practice for the masses. In these types of systems, magic often functions as a cultural and/or religious specialty, much as smithcrafting would be.

5) Pagans work with the four Classical Elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water – FALSE!

Like the magic circle, the Classical Elements came into Wicca through ceremonial magic. Wicca, in turn, lent these elements into modern Paganism. A number of Pagans find that the Classical Elements are a meaningful way to divide and categorize the energies of the Universe, and so they keep this ideology. Still, there are many Pagan religions/spiritualities that do not recognize the Classical Elements, such as Slavianism—the modern revival of Slavic Paganism—and Nova Roma—meaning “New Rome,” this is the attempt to reconstruct ancient Roman culture and, in accordance, religion.

The above are just a few examples of general Wiccan theology that often gets conflated as universal Pagan doctrine. The simple fact of the matter is that none of these—and more!—are general Pagan practices and beliefs.

But this causes an important question to arise: If none of the above is Pagan, then what exactly is Paganism? In truth that cannot be answered, because there is nothing about the term Paganism which can be simplified to exactness. That is why there are so many definitions of the term. Despite this, I will attempt my best to endeavor to give a rough definition of Paganism.

My definition:

Paganism is a collection of religions and spiritual systems that have been reconstructed, re-interpreted, and/or inspired by pre-Abrahamic religions and cultures.

Paganism is non-essentialist and non-normative.

Now what does this mean? Let’s break it down.

Firstly, Paganism is a collection. It is an umbrella term, encompassing a myriad of beliefs, practices, traditions, and communities—some of which have a lot in common and others of which are quite distinct.

Secondly, Paganism may be reconstructed. This means that some forms of Paganism take the literal and actual practices and religious structures of pre-Abrahamic peoples and endeavor to resurrect them as they appeared in the past.

Paganism may be re-interpreted. This is the process of taking pre-Abrahamic practices and translating them so that they can be compatible with the modern world. It is the difference between constructing a 300-foot wicker-man and throwing a small offering of food into a fire to honor one’s gods.

Paganism may also be inspired. Inspiration, in this context, applies to taking how ancient cultures viewed the world and the Divine and putting it into a present context. For example, a person liking the way that a certain culture was able to approach their gods without the necessity of a priesthood decides to incorporate this philosophy into his own practice. (This sort of inspiration often serves to fuel the eclecticism of modern Paganism.)

Thirdly, Paganism is pre-Abrahamic, meaning that it draws on the structures of cultures which have been displaced and/or distorted by the later presence of Judaism, Christianity, and/or Islam. (Under this definition, then something like Hinduism would not be considered Pagan as it is still a thriving cultural religion in its own right.)

Fourthly, Paganism is non-essentialist—i.e. there is no “Paganism believes…” or “Paganism does…” As we have seen, it is too broad a category to define in this way.

Fifthly, Paganism is non-normative. There is no “Pagans should…” There are no central moral or ethical constructs the reign over all Paganism. (Even the Wiccan Rede is just that—Wiccan not Pagan!)

Finally, as a side note, Pagan is a self-donned title. It is something that can only be applied by the individual; people must agree to be called Pagan. It is not a title to force on someone.

These are just a few of my thoughts on the subject, but I hope that they have been enjoyable and, at least, intriguing. My biggest point is this: When we define Paganism in strict terms (such as those given at the beginning of this article) we ostracize members of the Pagan community. So someone does not celebrate the Wheel of the Year, does not accept the Wiccan Rede, does not believe in the Goddess and the God. Does that make said person any less Pagan if she wishes to use the title? Absolutely not. Our definitions of Paganism, however they may vary, should make this openness to diversification an apparent element of Paganism. Perhaps this is the one thing that can be put forth essentially: Paganism is diverse.

A "Family Tree" of Paganism created by me (click to enlarge)

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[1] As stated in The Sea Priestess by Dion Fortune -- Fortune, Dion; Knight, Gareth (30 June 2003). The Sea

Priestess. Weiser. p. 169

Imbolg Article

I have decided to be festive and have posted an article on Imbolg on the Essays page. The article gives a very, very, very brief rundown on some of the history and practices of the festival. It was originally published last year in A Stone's Throw, a publication distributed by the now disbanded Tiger's Eye Temple.

Hope you enjoy!

Some Ethics of Magic

Yesterday afternoon, after a couple days spent working on the computer, I decided that I needed to get out of the house and take a walk. I find that just being outside is a great way to reconnect with yourself as well as Existence in general. It gives me time to appreciate and to reflect on the world within and around me. On this particular walk, I spent sometime contemplating magic, in particular the ethics of using magic. I thought that I would share these thoughts with you.

When most people think of Paganism, and Witchcraft especially, they automatically conjure up images of people in long robes dancing wildly in circles while trying to drum up energy—in other words, they think of magic. While this may be an unavoidable knee-jerk reaction for some people, on an educational level, I have to completely disagree with it. True, many Pagans and many Witches do practice magic, at least occasionally. However, I firmly believe that the practice of magic is separate from both of these paths—it is a distinctive and independent discipline. And, although magic may be drawn into Pagan and Witchcraft practices, it is not an essential nuance.

I currently live in a community that hosts a booming Pagan culture, and I am very happy about this. It is great to see so many people “out, loud, and proud.” Yet, I am always a little dismayed when I go to a larger Pagan gathering. It seems that 99% of the workshops, lectures, and group rituals that I have attended deal not with Pagan religions and traditions, but rather with some form of magic. I understand that magic definitely figures into a generalized Pagan spirituality, but what about the religions that underlie this spirituality? When did Paganism stop being a group of religions and diverse spiritualities to become a magical tradition? I claim to participate in a Pagan religion. Yet my religion does not rely on or use magic. Where does this leave my path?

This is my problem with magic: in the modern Pagan community, magic replaces religion.

Now, before I go any further, what do I mean by ‘magic?’ Truth be told, there are many different and diverse definitions of this word, but I will stick with the one that I find rolls off my tongue best: magic is the conscious manipulation of natural energies so as to bring about a desired change. It involves focusing intent and using that intent to shape the world around us. This is done by tapping into the individual Divine Essence (i.e. soul) that each person harbors.

Now to get back to my point, where does the use of this personal Divinity end and the relationship with the Gods begin? In the modern Pagan communities, I see too much reliance on personal (magical) Divinity, and I think that people are beginning to substitute—or have already substituted—magic for religion. Part of this may be due to the age in which we live; we have seriously lost our cultural understanding of tribe and community (but that is another topic altogether). And, perhaps at least part of this has to do with the ever decreasingly popular belief that the Gods are all just archetypal models and are therefore contained within the human soul. In any case, I do not see placing magic before religion as a good idea.

As alluded to above, I firmly believe that each everyone—and every“thing”—has a personal soul. This soul is the absolute Divine Essence which allows the person to exist, and is itself Divine, obviously. I also firmly believe that all of these individual souls are part of a larger, collective soul—something which I call Anam (Irish for “soul”)—and that this larger soul is the Supreme Source. (This belief is parallel to that of the atman/Brahman philosophy of Hinduism.) Essentially, then, humans and all “things” are Divine.

But if humans are, at their cores, Divine, it doesn’t matter if they practice magic over seeking religion, right? They are the same as the Gods themselves, right? Wrong and, yet again, wrong.

Humans may be Divine at their cores, but they are not Divine beings in and of themselves, and this makes all the difference. As humans, we are not always aware of our Divinity and its ramifications. Our human nature often causes us to forget about the Divine—a concept which is very prominent within Islam. Because of this forgetfulness, we are disconnected from our highest Divine Selves. True, we do have the ability to realize this Divinity and we continually grow in understanding of it, but until we have reached a state of “liberation”—such as Hindu moksha—we are not totally aware of our Divinity. To act as our own Deity, then, creates a number of problems. Not being able to fully see our Divine Selves, we fall into the traps of human nature, such as unnecessary and unbalanced qualities of lust, desire, pride, and greed. In this light, being our own, ultimate Divine is simply a bad, bad idea.

Gods, on the other hand, are more evolved than humans. They are higher spirits, and thus they are able to recognize both their own and the “general” Divinity better. I do not believe that Gods are perfect beings, but I do surely believe that they are more knowledgeable and more insightful. A God is close to his or her Divinity and is therefore able to understand and use it in a much more effective, better, and smarter way. When humans rely on Gods (e.g. religion) instead of themselves (e.g. magic), they are not necessarily saying that everything is going to be perfect. But they are allowing to be made better. Gods do not have the same “muddied” qualities as humans, at least not in the same way. They are therefore less likely to spin things in a truly selfish and sinister manner, and they are way more likely to understand the wider ramifications of the situation and to treat is accordingly—something human magic just cannot always do.

The above discussion leaves an odd question in my mind: If all of this is true, is there ever a reason to use magic?

I believe that the answer to this question is a hearty yes. I believe that magic is a great spiritual tool, and that it can—and in some cases even should—be used. When performed sensibly it has the ability to accomplish tremendously wonderful things. Great healing, peace, and joy have been achieved through magical efforts. Not to mention that magic is capable of uniting the Divine Self with the Greater Divinity, allowing the practitioner to realize a deeper level of Existence—a truly wonderful thing. Yet, the key in all of this that magic must be used sensibly.

What does this mean: performing magic sensibly?

As already discussed, magic uses personal Divinity so as to create a desired change. However, the human understanding of this Divinity is imperfect and so it leads to problems. In lieu of this, my answer to the question is that performing magic sensibly means leaving the effects of the magic up to a higher power—i.e. one that better understands the nature of Divinity/Existence, such as a God.

This is actually incredibly easy and astoundingly more beneficial to do. To perform this kind of sensible magic, raise energy as you would normally, filling it with your intention(s). Then, instead of releasing it, turn it over to a higher power. In this sense, the raised energy serves as an offering for the higher power—the rite of magic also becomes a rite of sacrifice. You then give the energy over to the higher being, stating that this energy is given for a purpose and that you entrust the being to know better than yourself on this matter. In this scenario, magic is both a product of and reinforces religious relationships between the practitioner and the higher beings of the religion.

Here is an example of what I mean:

Say that I had recently been having some trouble producing a sustainable income. Feeling an affinity with candle magic, I whip out my green candle, cover it in clove oil, sprinkle basil around it, and carve the Ogham luis into it. Having decorated the candle with my intent, I then lay my hands over it and chant/focus energy into it. Once I feel that all the energy has been absorbed and that the candle is aligned with my purpose, I say the following prayer: “An Dagda! Lord of prosperity and plenty! Lord from whom no one ever went away unsatisfied! I craft this spell and place it before you this day, seeking a decent income. A Ollathair, let this energy be a sacrifice to you, that you may appoint me a sufficient purse, for you are wiser than I. My honor to you always!” As usual, the candle is then lit and left to burn out.

In the above example, the energy is an offering to An Dagda in hopes that he will use it to appoint you a sustainable income. In a very crude sense, this form of sacrificial magic is akin to hiring an agent: If you were going on vacation in a foreign country for the first time, it may be wise of you to hire a travel agent. The agent will make sure that everything winds up in its proper place and at its proper time. Of course, the agent needs to know where you are looking to go, for how long, how much you wish to spend, etc. There is also a fee (a sort of gratuity) presented to the agent in exchange for his or her help. Using this metaphor, An Dagda acts as the agent, making sure that all things go smoothly and appropriately; your energy is the information needed to plan the trip; and any extra energy left over after the spell is the gratuity for the agent.

I find the above means of sensible magic not only the most, well, sensible, but also the most effective. If it is a truly important cause, I have at times even felt the God or Goddess lend his or her own energy to the spell, making it all the more effective.

All of this being said, I do not feel that humans must use this system every time they practice magic. (Although I do believe that it would be much more beneficial if they did!) If it is a small and hurried working, such as the consecration of water, it is perhaps less necessary to entrust the spell to a higher power than if you were working to end a global conflict. Still, it never hurts to include the powers of your religion. As I have stated a number of times throughout this essay: Magic should NOT replace religion. Rather it should be a means of reinforcing religious beliefs, ideas, and relationships.

Think of it this way:

A wave sees where its destination lies; yet it does not know the destination of a wave half-way around the world. We are the waves. Why, then, do we not entrust those who can see the whole ocean with directing its flow?

New Additions

I have added two new pages to this blog. The first page describes my understand of Witchcraft. I feel that it is important for those who read this blog to understand where I am coming from. While I realize that my idea of Witchcraft is by far not the general consensus, it is the basis from which I talk, write, and act. Eventually I would like to include a page on my rendition of Gaelic Polytheism as well, but that will have to wait for a little bit.

Secondly, I have created a page for essays. On this page I will temporarily host a variety of essays which I have written, be they for an academic class, for a publication, or just for fun. Some of these essays draw on outside materials and so may not be the most intelligible to everyone. Still, they may be of interest. Right now there are two essays on this page: "A Look into the Celtic Roots of Betsy Whyte's The Black Laird" and "Exploring Pre-Christian Otherworldly Imagery in The Voyage of Saint Brendan."

Enjoy!
Bryce

Uncovering Religion and Spirituality

Lately I have been thinking about the relationship between religion and spirituality. Like most people, I originally came to Paganism through Wicca, and I spent several years as a self-proclaimed Wiccan—though that I ever was one in earnest is doubtful. Either way, I eventually realized that the Wiccan path I had been walking was not for me. So, I wandered away from it, wanting to find something more historically accurate and less “fabricated.” After a few years of research and soul searching, I finally decided that the title of Gaelic Polytheist fit my religious beliefs best. Since then I have been quite content.

Nevertheless, I have recently had some experiences—or maybe I have just been paying attention for once?—and they have told me that, while I am religiously happy as a Gaelic Polytheist, I spiritually need to be a Witch—a title that I left by the wayside long ago when I meandered from Wicca. This self-discovery has caused a bit of turmoil in my life; I just cannot see the two systems cohabitating. Gaelic Polytheism is, in many ways, very reconstructive. Witchcraft, on the other hand, is infamous for borrowing, mixing, blurring, and falsely attributing historical facts, practices, and ideologies. Bringing the two together, then, could be a bit like mixing baking soda and vinegar: Something is bound to explode. Still, I feel the need—and, indeed, the prompting—to live both. This has led me to rethink and reform my ideas of religion and spirituality.

RELIGION

Dictionary.com gives a nice definition of religion, calling it “a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.”[1] Taking this definition piece by piece, the general nature of religion becomes clear. First, religion is a set, or in a better word, a system. As a system, it has many ideas and beliefs that work together in order to create a comprehensive outlook. Secondly, the goal of religion is to explain the universe, particularly its origins and its direction. Third, it (often) concerns superhuman powers—i.e. divinities. Fourthly, religion involves the enactment of certain practices which embody religious ideals. And finally, religion prescribes a code of conduct by which its adherents are prompted to live.

I find all of these nuances fulfilled in my Gaelic Polytheistic beliefs: they provide me with an understanding of the universe in the doctrine of Talamh (Land), Neamh (Sky), and Muir (Sea); they acknowledge the oversight of the Túatha Dé Danann; the have a number of Feiseanna (festivals), such as Samhain, Imbolg, Bealtaine, and Lughnasadh, by which I am reminded of my sacred connections to my Gods, my Ancestors, and my Tribe; and they supply me with a set code of ethical actions in the Values of muintir (family), fírinne (truth), and aíocht (hospitality) as well as in the Virtues of Túath (Tribe), Cumhacht (Power), Cóimheá (Balance), Fios (Knowledge), and Críonnacht (Wisdom). Clearly Gaelic Polytheism is my religion: It is my foundation of belief and thus the metaphorical rock upon which I build my “church.”

SPIRITUALITY

The idea of spirituality has always been hard for me to grasp. Prior to all of this crazy Witch mess, I had never been able to conceptualize spirituality as truly being distinct from religion. Even now it is a bit hard and frequently awkward to do so. Still, I can theoretically see where one stops and the other begins.

If I may barrow from the World English Dictionary, spirituality is “a distinctive approach to religion or prayer.”[2] In other words, spirituality is the way in which a person enacts his or her religion; it is religion informing everyday action. So, whereas “love thy neighbor” is religion, helping the widow next door bring in her groceries is spirituality. To go back to my rock metaphor, then, spirituality is the way in which a person builds the church on the rock.

The fact that spirituality is so personal is what gives rise to the multitude of ways in which any one religion is practiced. For example, the Roman Catholic priesthood and Roman Catholic Franciscan monasticism are very different paths, and yet they are both fundamentally Roman Catholic. They are simply different spiritualities—different ways of understanding and living this common faith.

As I am increasingly coming to understand, Witchcraft plays an integral role in my own spirituality. Many people in the Pagan community readily lump Witchcraft with the Wiccan religion—both intentionally and inadvertently. For this reason, Witchcraft is often considered a religion or, if not, at least a religious practice. I, however, understand this system in quite different terms. While the details are a bit too much to get into right now, my basic—but still a little exhaustive—definition holds Witchcraft to be an esoteric practice, which seeks to make the practitioner aware of the interplay of the Energies of Life and Death as they weave within, with-out, and through all things. In this respect, it is a fairly open-ended philosophy—well as far as interpretation goes, anyway.

With the abovementioned definition in mind, I am finding that Witchcraft and Gaelic Polytheism can work together quite nicely in my life. I have my footing in Gaelic Polytheism, and this informs my practice as a Witch, giving it a moral and cosmological framework in which to function. On the flip side, Witchcraft reaffirms my place in Gaelic Polytheism by providing me with ways in which to express my religious dedication. In my life, each of these systems necessitates the other.

Essentially, this whole stream of rambling boils down to a very simple phrase, the very phrase which, in fact, prompted this whole creative mess:

I am a Gaelic Polytheist because of the Gods that I serve
I am a Witch because of the way in which I serve these Gods.

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[1]"Religion." Dictionary.com. Web. 02 Jan. 2011. .
[2]"Spirituality." Collins English Dictionary. 10th ed. 2009. Dictionary.com. Web. 02 Jan. 2011.