It’s not Lust, it’s…… sacred sexuality using tantra.

It’s not Gluttony, it’s….just my natural Earth Mother Goddess body.

It’s not Greed, it’s… my Goddess given right to do money spells.

It’s not Sloth, it’s….being too busy finding enlightenment online, to do the dishes and feed the kids.

It’s not Wrath, it’s…just Dark God/dess energy.

It’s not Envy, it’s…”The Secret” to Success.

It’s not Pride, it’s… “Being a Celt” (or Norse, or High Priestess, or…)

Yup; Seven Deadly Sins. And in case you might think I’m only picking on pagans here, I’m not. It was, after all, Christians who defined them. Actually, we’ve gotten really good at sinning; we just don’t use our religion as an excuse for sinning. All too often it seems pagans, do.

But ya know, when you’re surrounded by people all doing the same thing, you don’t really see it. After awhile it becomes the norm. When everyone around you eats too much, it’s easy for you to eat too much. When everyone you know is sleeping with everyone else, it’s easy to believe that’s a good and normal thing to do.

The problem arises when you start having to pay the price.

Forget the word “Sin” for a minute. Think about what is HEALTHY. What you KNOW is good and healthy for your body, for your mind, for your soul. Takes you right back to those ol’ Puritanical values, doesn’t it?

Let’s take lust for example.
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Yesterday, as I was getting ready to go to my very first RCIA class, I was nervous as all get-out. Not so much in what I was doing, but in the fact that it’s a new place, with people I’ve never met before, etc etc. The fact that I couldn’t get the church’s webpage to load filled me with a kind of superstitious dread - “maybe it’s a BAD OMEN that I’m not supposed to go.”

So I said a quick prayer. Not so much demanding that I BE GIVEN A SIGN, as much as a “Hey God, can you kinda let me know that I’m doing the right thing??” - kinda thing.

None was forthcoming. But I got in the car to go, anyway.

Guess what was on the car radio. Go on, guess!
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Sometimes I get some very rude comments on my blog. Most of the time, I just delete them - I don’t need the negativity. I do find it interesting that nine times out of ten, they come from someone claiming to be a pagan.

Such was the case in my last blog entry. Here it is, with my response. It’s just too good to let it hide under comments.

Robyn writes:

This site is wonderful! You seem like a very nice sort…and you illustrate a thought I’ve had for a long time. That Witchcraft should be made illegal, so that the Playgans will go back to Christianity and it will drive the serious ones underground. I have come to think that this neo Wiccan stuff is just Christianity with multiple deities, and it looks like it… you can switch back and forth with ease.
May you have luck on your chosen path, whichever one it is!

My response:

lol - well, Robyn, I can honestly say that it’s been a long time since I’ve received such an interesting backhand compliment. I’m afraid you’ve erred in a few of your assumptions, however; please allow me to correct you.

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I’ve pretty much avoided reading new age philosophy books for most of my adult life, mostly because the fluffy-bunny-sing-kumbaya-feel!-good!-goddammit! smarm just makes me feel like someone shoved a garden hose up my ass and gave me a white light enema.

But my momma did raise me right, so when my sister gave me such a tome for my birthday, complete with the recommendation from Oprah’s Book Club and herself of “It SAVED my LIFE!” I just ooohed and ahhed and thanked her profusely, promising to read it as soon as I finished the book I was working on.

Well, finishing said book came and went, and my birthday present kept staring up at me from the spare sofa, where I had thrown it as soon as I got home that day. So, I started taking it to work, to try and read it during my lunch break.

It’s been slow going. I dunno if it’s because I’m getting older and just don’t have the patience for flowery language anymore (get!-to!-the!-point!-goddamit!) but I’m not able to get through more than a page a day without too much pain.

But today, I actually found something I can USE. And it was about sin. Figures, doesn’t it?

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Have you ever noticed how, when you need to learn a lesson about something, that point will be driven home time and time again, until you fucking get it?

Yes, yes I see you have.

Whether you believe that cosmic 2×4 is delivered by “God” or “The Universe” or “The Great Cosmic Dustbunny in the Sky,” is really irrelevant. When we have a life lesson to learn, we’ll get hints, reminders,  outright lectures, or one painful experience after another until we have learned it.

Such is what has happened to me, recently.

A couple of days ago, I experienced an incident at work. One of my co-workers, a lady I relieve from the 11-7 shift, literally - tried to set me up to take a fall. It was nothing serious, but without saying anything to me about it, she brought it to the attention of out boss, who pretty much reemed me a new asshole for it. Why did she do this? I have no idea. She’s a new nurse, working nights, and I’ve never had issue with her before. The only thing I could figure out is she wanted me to get pissed so I’d quit and she could slide into a nice day position.

I was able to prove later, without a shadow of a doubt - that she was completely wrong in her accusations, and that should have been the end of that. But it wasn’t. What did I do instead?

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Larry said something to me the other day that struck a nerve.

We were discussing a particular photo he took, and he wanted to know why I like his photos, why I think they turn out well. I said it was because he has a passion for his work; he said no, it was because of discipline. He also said, if I ever want to get good at photography, I’d better learn how to be disciplined.

I realized, after that conversation - I’m not really good at discipline. Oh sure there are somethings I’m very disciplined about, my work being one, but when it comes to my private life - not so much so!

And I started wondering - why is that?
well….
I work hard, everyday. When I come home I just want to pamper myself. Everyday.

But there’s a very slight difference between pampering yourself, and feeling sorry for yourself. Pamper parties quickly turn into pity parties. And I’ve been living a pity party.

So what’s the answer to pulling out of a pity party? Of actually achieving what you want to achieve? Of actually doing something with your life?

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I hate, with the firey passion of a hundred-thousand suns, scary movies.

Yes, I know that makes me the only person on the planet who does, and boy did I ever have to hide that fact when I was pagan. It’s like a pre-requisite to become a pagan, or something. “Must Love ‘Halloween’.”

But the way I look at it, the world is a scary enough place without having to go to a theatre to make your asshole clamp shut. On purpose. You want scary? Turn on CNN.

It all goes back to my childhood, I’m sure. Although it is usually a topic that is just too difficult to talk about *stifles sob* - I’ll try and suck it up, just for you.

“Bambi” was playing at the local theatre, and my baby sister and I wanted to go see it. Well, we could, our parents said, as long as we went with our older sister, who was going to the double feature that Saturday afternoon. A double feature that included “Frankenstein” as the other biling.

What sadist paired “Frankenstein” with “Bambi” for a Saturday afternoon feature, I’ll never know. It’s not as if “Bambi” wasn’t scary enough, what with Bambi’s mom dying and all. Oh no. Let’s scare the wee little bairns with a tall green man with screws in his head, who likes to stalk women in their bedrooms. Holy crap. It’s amazing any woman would sleep with any man, after seeing that movie. For two years, my baby sister would be terrified of getting any dirt under her nails; she was scared she was turning into Frankenstein!

So, after having the bejeebus scared out of me that day, I’ve rather avoided seeing scary movies. It’s no surprise I never managed to see “The Exorcist.” Lawd, the previews were enough to give me nightmares. Actually, I take that back - I’ve probably seen the whole movie, in bits and pieces, here and there. Never in one sitting, though.

I do know about dealing with demons, however. (more…)

Ya know, being a pagan for those 13 years was not entirely a loss. During the harsh years I did learn a lot (oh NO! Not ANUDDER life lesson!) loved a lot and made a lot of wonderful friends.

I think it would be stupid to just throw those years away, without remembering the lessons that I learned from them. So here we go - a short synopsis of the lessons I learned as a pagan:

• I’ve learned that Christians really can be obnoxious when it comes to their religion. When you’re a Christian, you don’t even realize it, but when you’re a member of a minority religion, you’re just amazed at how often you are reminded that you are in the minority. Take the Ten Commandments, for instance. Yes, they are a wonderful set of laws, but they have no business in a court of law. This is a country of many religions, not one.

• Likewise, I was amazed to learn how often Christians try to put into law their own beliefs. Don’t get me wrong, I think it is wonderful to have beliefs, but as one good friar once said - the Good Book doesn’t say, “Go forth and legislate.”

• I’ve learned that magic really does work, whether you believe in it or not, and so you should pay very close attention to the old adage: be careful what you wish for, you might get it.

• I’ve learned that God is not always just in a church; God can be equally found in a sacred grove, with naked people dancing.

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One thing I’ve never really understood, is why people lie about who they are, and what they believe. It’s a matter of living authentically to me. Why pretend to be someone you’re not? Lies always get caught up with you eventually. So when I was a pagan, from the very beginning even, I’ve been pretty much “out” at work and with people I know.

Some know more than others, obviously. How does the saying go? Meat for men, milk for babies. But everyone knew me as different, some saw me as just another root worker, some as a “new ager” - some as an out -and-out pagan. I’ve borrowed their popcorn maker for the Masquerade balls, read tarot cards for Halloween, and for some, would even bring them a lucky nickel or a money candle if they were going to Biloxi to play the slots.

Today, as I’m trying to finish up my charting, I overhear a couple of my co-workers discussing ghosts and spirits. They’d say something, then hush, turn to me, expecting me to say something, and I’d just bury my head in the chart. Newp. Not today.
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It’s all Stewart’s fault.

Of all the married men I’ve been involved with, he’s the one I worried about the most. Part of his job involved going over to “the sandbox” - i.e., the Middle East, on a routine basis. While he was gone, it was rare indeed for me to hear from him. They just don’t have that many internet cafes in Afghanistan.

Anyone who knows me, know how I worry. If I care about you, I’m going to worry about you - that’s just how it is. I talked with Stewart for two years online before I met him; even then, I still worried about him while he was gone.

And me worrying about him, used to drive him absolutely batshit. “Don’t worry about me! I can take care of myself!” Well I knew he could take care of himself; I knew he wouldn’t be taking any stupid chances; it was the pure chaos of war that I worried about.

What do pagans do when they’re worried about the safety of someone? that’s right. They drum out ye ol protection spells. One problem there, tho. Stewart was Catholic, or at least I thought so. We really never discussed it; however, I did see a picture of him holding a small gold statue of the Virgin Mary at a market, thinking about buying it. A Protestant never would have even picked her up.

So in my crooked way of thinking, no pagan spell would help. If I wanted to do something besides worry all the time, do something pro-active, I’d have to venture back over to the Christian pantheon and enlist their help. Besides, I figured St. Michael would know the terrain in the Middle East a bit better than my Celtic gods and goddesses.

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