An Administrative Note

I will be using the tag "dedicant thoughts" for anything pertaining to the Dedicant's Path program in ADF. I'm not entirely sure how to go about formally pursuing the DP, but I know about the requirements, and I'm already keeping a pen-and-paper journal about my progress in understanding ADF tradition and the Dedicant's Path. This is a place where I'll be posting my thoughts about each of the essay topics, but not the essays I write themselves. I may at some point make a blog dedicated to DP essays, but for now this is just another place to gather my thoughts regarding my pagan path.

On the Ancestors

I've decided to make a post about my ancestors because, when doing a simple daily devotional before my newly-redecorated main altar, I felt their presence very strongly. I'm not sure if it was the apple cinnamon tea I made to toast to the kindred with tonight, or something about today that made them particularly interested in visiting me, but I felt more connected to them than I usually do. It's easiest for me to connect with gods and goddesses, probably because they're what I initially perceived as the focus of my paganism. Since joining ADF, I've restructured my practice to include all of the kindred, but sometimes I still find myself focusing on the deities more than anyone else, and that's a shame, because my ancestors are very important. After all, they are why I am here today!

But perhaps I never really forget my ancestors, even when the shining ones overshadow them in my practice. Although I feel like my hearth culture is Hellenic, I have no Greek ancestry. However, I have Irish, Scottish, Polish, and Italian ancestry. I thought perhaps my Italian ancestry was responsible for my pull towards the Greek hearth culture, since there were certainly many Greeks in parts of Italy. But my family is from northern Italy, and I've been told that it's more likely that I have cultural ties to the Norse pantheon than to anything Hellenic. Perhaps this explains why I feel called to have a small Norse shrine in my room, dedicated mostly to Freyja. It certainly makes sense that I'd need a space for the Irish gods as well. My Irish shrine is mainly to the Morrigan, although at various times I have had candles or symbols for other deities present there as well. So while my ancestors might not be of the pantheon that chose me, I still feel a strong connection to my ancestors when I interact with the Norse and Irish cultures in ritual or in study.

So far I have said a bit about how the ancestors fit into my modern pagan practice. I think it is important to note that my practice is definitely different from the way my ancestors may have done things. I don't think that doing things the way we think our ancestors did them is always advisable. My ancestors have done things I disagreed with, and my pagan ancestors are no exception. So I do remove things from my practice that do not resonate with me, or are not a part of the ADF tradition. I also don't hold the same beliefs my ancestors did about a lot of things. Again, I don't think that this is inauthenticity. I think it is actually a part of carrying on the legacy of my ancestors to adapt when necessary, and to hopefully leave the world a better place than it was when they walked it as living beings.

So who are my ancestors?

There are of course those ancestors related to me by blood. The ancestor I mention the most is my grandmother, who passed away about two years ago, around this time. She had Alzheimer's, and it was very difficult to watch someone who I knew was very intelligent struggle to make us understand what she wanted us to know. My grandmother and I did not see eye to eye about everything, although I doubt she knew it. And sometimes I wonder if she feels uncomfortable when I bring up her name at pagan rituals. However, I felt pretty strongly the day she died that what I needed to do was set out an offering of food for her.

I also count as ancestors those who are not related to me by blood, but who are related to me by common experience. One such ancestor is a girl from my high school who died a few years after graduating. She wrote some excellent poetry and prose for the school's literary magazine. Although I did not know her very well, I admired her writing. I recall thinking of her one weekend, only to find out that week that the day I remembered her name was the day she died. I feel that she is one of those departed friends whose spirit has spoken to me. A group of people who I also consider spiritual ancestors are those who've died tragic and sometimes violent deaths, at their own hands or at the hands of another, because of their sexual orientation or gender expression and identity. I can't speak for my ancestors, and I don't really know if they see me as a beacon of hope for the future, but I often feel like it is my duty to make the world a better place for them by fighting the forms of oppression they faced in life.

Finally, I consider the heroes of history and legend a part of my ancestral line, as well as the ordinary people. In particular, I think of those heroes and common folk of ancient Greece. This might not be in the strictest sense what ancestors are, but in my chosen academic path, I encounter the stories of these people often, and I find myself drawn to them. Whether through a common profession, common gods, or another common experience, I feel a connection, and I feel that my work is often an offering to their spirits. I try my best to remember their stories, and to recall the common people. It is a historical fallacy to think that history is only about those who are exceptional. I try very hard not to project my belief systems onto a culture and a time that are not my own, and in doing so, hopefully I avoid anachronism. It is very important to me to remember these people as they were, and not as we would imagine them to be.

I was not expecting this post to take such a heavy turn when I began writing. I thought mostly of the warmth I felt when toasting my ancestors tonight, but now I am feeling the weight of their legacy. There is still a warmth and a presence there, but there's a challenge as well. I know that the blood of my ancestors flows through me, and that their spirits are never far away. And I know I can call on them when I need. I feel as though they are guiding me to write these words, to make this post, to remember them always. And I think they believe in me. Sometimes it really feels like the world is too unpleasant a place for little bits of hope to thrive. But I also know that the kindred are with us, and I believe we are capable of rising to the challenge of our ancestors.

Carry On

So this is a somewhat inevitable post, yet it is one I am having some difficulty writing. "Coming out" sounds like an event- a one-time deal, where you put your soul on display, and prepare yourself for an onslaught of criticism that may or may not come. But it's not an event, it's a process. Maybe your parents know. Maybe people at work don't. Maybe at school you're a completely different person than you are at home. And maybe you have to "come out" several times, possibly even to the same people, because your sense of self is evolving constantly. You are a work in progress. We are all works in progress.

Sometimes I find myself asking, Why me? Why is this the path the gods have made for me? I don't have an answer, and I don't think I'm going to get one anytime soon. I don't like to indulge in that line of questioning, anyway. It's too easy for me to slip back into depression when I begin to feel sorry for myself.

In my journey through modern paganism, I have discovered plenty of men devoted to female deities. But I still think I turn a few heads when I say that I'm devoted to Artemis, and I identify as male. I have seen some pagans insist that Artemis hates men. In my experience, that's not true at all. Artemis came into my life at a time when I was first discovering my gender identity, and she's been with me ever since. When I've been scared that my identity meant that she'd abandon me, she's reminded me that she's still there, in big ways.

I don't like to talk too much about my gender in pagan spaces. More often than not, it's something I find embarrassing to bring up, even among people who know about such an intimate part of me as my spirituality. Revealing something like that about myself is somewhat exhilarating, but also really exhausting. But it's something I often need to talk about, even if I'd really rather not.

Some people will talk about magical names or craft names. I often think that Andrew is my magical name. It may not sound particularly spiritual, but for me, it is. It represents the will to find my own way through the forest, to listen to the voice inside of me that tells me what is right for me, to risk many things for the sake of integrity. What name could be more magical than that?

Right now, I'm uncertain of many things in my life. I don't really know where my journey to a truer sense of self will take me. I know it will probably be a difficult path, but I also know the consequences of not listening to my inner voice will be far worse than any danger I face by listening to it. And I know that I'm not alone. That is the most comforting thing of all.

"Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more." - Kansas, "Carry On Wayward Son"