Choosing to Do the Hoodoo

I've been thinking a lot over the past two years, mostly to myself, about how much I've been struggling religiously or spiritually, and how much I've been fighting against some inner change. I realize I've been in conflict with myself for pretty much all of the ten years I've been practicing witchcraft, as well as attempting to fit into any number of Pagan traditions. I've researched and gone through motions of Wicca, Druidry, Celtic Recon, Thelema, some eclectic version of Egyptian religion. I kept looking and trying because I was holding so hard onto what had developed into my identity as a religious, Pagan person. I was willing to accept anything in order to be a religious person, but the whole time, I was forcing it. And my lack of progress in these traditions was evident. My identity is changing and I am embracing it, because now I'm really beginning to understand what everyone else is talking about when they say, "It just feels right."

My makeup for opening ritual at last week's Hoodoo Fest to invite in the Ancestors.

I'm no longer a religious person. I don't believe the gods exist as anything other than archetypes. I don't believe in karma, though that's sort of old news. I'm losing faith everyday in the occurrence reincarnation. I no longer view the elements as individual, conscious energies. I'm basically an atheist.

But I still consider myself a spiritual person, because I do hold beliefs in things that aren't directly observable, things that haven't been explained (or accepted) by science. I believe there is a truth to energy manipulation. There is truth in being able to sense and respond to energy that is outside of your own. Energies that belong to the air and the soil and the plants, ponds, rivers, lightning, stones, the moon, animals, the dead. I believe that land spirits are a real thing, they are unique to their own ecosystems, and that we can learn about them by spending time in our environments, paying attention to what we feel when we're there. And I think it's because that I believe in these things that I don't need the religion anymore.

Probably the biggest influence on this personal change entered my life two years ago, when my church began its West Kentucky Hoodoo Rootworker Heritage Festival. Our third consecutive Hoodoo Fest just ended last week and each time I attend, I learn and become even more confident in leaving religion behind to pursue a craft-like approach to spirituality that is rooted in the practices of energy manipulation (magic) and ancestor reverence. And these practices also have a different quality that captivates me more than any others ever have: they're American.

One of the biggest things I've been struggling with for the last decade is that I don't know how to practice something that is so culturally-involved when I myself am not a part of that culture. Yes, my ancestors came from Ireland and England and Prussia, but I didn't. Even having lived in Europe, attending a British school, studying abroad in England, visiting Ireland, hanging out in Germany every weekend, I'm not Irish or English or German. I am American, and before I knew what hoodoo was, it seemed like there was no practice of which that I was ever going to feel truly a part. I might not be a native of the Carolinas or grew up in a household with a grandma who sprinkled brick dust and had superstitions about how to store a broom, but I don't think that matters. Since I've began my own personal research and practice, and since I've been attending hoodoo-focused workshops every year at my church, I've enjoyed success and improvement in my spiritual life that I feel I was always missing out on before. When I dress candles and write petition papers and create sachets, I feel like I'm participating in something that works and enriches my life, rather than something frustrating and discouraging.

I'm even shying away from what I called European witchcraft. There is a feeling of so much freedom in Hoodoo when my materials are just yarn, salt, paper, herbs (among other very easy to find or make ingredients). No need for wands and athamés and censers and grand gestures. Hoodoo is the kind of craft that I can practice sitting on my deck listening to the birds, wrapping string around a little piece of paper. I don't have to be chanting and raising my arms and dancing around an altar at midnight. It's a relief.

And it's also relieving to understand and come to terms with how my beliefs are evolving. I think there's a lot of pressure in the Pagan community to be a polytheist, and to adhere to a karmic worldview, and to never harm anyone or anything, even in self defense. There's a stark dichotomy between "black/dark" and "white" witchcraft that frankly, I hate. It's always been my opinion that overall, Neo-Paganism should draw its spiritual inspiration from nature and it just drives me crazy when Pagans devise all these ethical constructs and fantastic beliefs that have nothing connecting them to the natural world. Hoodoo seems so different in the still early stages of my practice because it is directly connected to the land and the community in which I live. The rainwater I collect comes from my backyard. My petition paper comes from local thrift store packaging that wraps the many jars I also purchase there. The more I learn about this craft, the more I try to use materials that I can walk outside of my house and find right in my yard. I want to personally make my materials as much as I can, like when I made my own Florida Water. Next, I'd like to make my own rose water, and try my hand at my own candles and oils.

Hoodoo to me represents a practice of self-accountability, responsibility, and creativity. It provides so many opportunities for an individual to experience self-growth through trial and error and learning at one's own pace, along with practicing traditional methods. Specifically to me, it allows me to figure out my own ethics and beliefs without the requirement of belief in gods and karma and all the other things that hang me up about other spiritual/religious systems. But it's flexible enough that many practitioners of it (at least most of the people I've met), do approach it from a religious point of view. Some even identify as Christian or at least work the magic within a Christian context, using psalms, calling on Mary and Jesus. It's that flexibility that really makes hoodoo a true craft to me, not just a spiritual activity. From all I've learned and done so far, it's not a meditate-y, prayerful, fluffy bunny, unconditional love and peace type of spirituality. And I need that because nature and life and my own experience are sometimes rarely those things. I need a practice that is grounded in the type of reality that I'm looking at everyday. I don't want a religion or a spirituality for which I have to set time aside, or get into the right (somewhat altered) mindset to participate, or ignore my education as a scientist, or any other ways of removing myself from this world. I'm looking for a spirituality that isn't supernatural, but is still mysterious, with concepts and skills to learn throughout my life.

I believe ultimately that spirituality should be about enriching one's life in the present. I also believe that the enrichment should be driven by oneself, through study, active practice, learning from mistakes and remembering successes for next time. The practice of hoodoo allows these things to happen for the individual, for me, and it's because of that that I don't think I'll be looking back at much of anything else as I move forward. The deeper I go into the study and practice of hoodoo, the farther away these inner conflicts about gods and religion and fitting in with other Neo-Pagans become. This system of American folk magic makes me feel like I know what home is. And home to me is not worshipping deities and drawing down the moon and turning the other cheek until there's nothing left because performing a curse is "wrong." Home is reading and coffee and little red bags filled with lodestones and herbs, enjoying a breeze, sitting with friends, sprinkling salt in the corners of the house, cooking and beer and laughter. Religion or spirituality should not be separated from everyday life, and it just feels right to finally be experiencing them together.

Pagan Coming Out Day - May 2, 2013

Today is Pagan Coming Out Day, a celebration that began, as far as I know, in 2011. It's become an important tradition for many Pagans of all different spiritual identities, and I feel that each year its importance grows stronger than the last. I've never had any sort of official "coming out of the broom closet," so I wanted to take some time today to write about my experiences and participate in the PCOD tradition.

As it seems with most people who are not born into Pagan families, I encountered Wicca through pop culture when I was around 12 years old. I saw movies like The Craft, or watched shows like Charmed and Buffy on TV. I was curious and started talking to a friend about it in junior high school. He also liked all the supernatural shows, but I had no idea that he had already began exploring Wicca as an actual religion -- I didn't even know it was an actual religion! This friend really changed my entire life because of a book he let me borrow one day, and I don't think there's a Pagan in the United States today who isn't at least familiar with it: Dorothy Morrison's The Craft. That book created something like a paradigm shift in me. I was completely fascinated and obsessed, I think I finished reading it in only two or three days before starting it over again. What followed is predictable. I moved on to Buckland's "Big Blue Book," made my way through Scott Cunningham's bibliography. I tried one Silver Ravenwolf book (but even back then, I knew I didn't want anything to do with her writing, hahaha). I dedicated myself, very privately and very quietly, in November of 2003.

Fast forwarding to the present, I no longer identify as Wiccan (the more I studied it, the more theological issues I had with it), but I am proudly Pagan, with a heavy focus on European witchcraft and a growing passion for Hoodoo and conjure practices. I suppose I officially work with the Egyptian pantheon, though lately I've been combatting a lot of deep spiritual issues when it comes to Deity. I don't want to get too side-tracked, however, I just wanted to lay down a little bit of my religious history.

It took a long time for me to really be a public Pagan, both in terms of people who knew and also participating in public rituals and holidays. I went to a Yule party once in a high school, and a few different rituals in New York after I moved there, but I didn't ever stay with a particular group. A lot of Pagan communities can be really difficult to break into, and I think that leaves a lot of solitary practitioners feeling lonely. I know I did, because while I was practicing witchcraft at home alone, I didn't get the kind of community that comes with holidays. Think about our sympathy toward those people who are alone on Christmas or Thanksgiving -- I felt like that every time I was alone on Beltaine or Lughnasadh or Yule. Ironically (perhaps) it took moving to the Bible Belt before I found a stable, wonderful, diverse Pagan community, and I'm proud to be a member of it.

And now that I am a member of a Pagan church, I feel like I'm more "out" than ever -- I have one of their stickers on my car and my laptop, I have their business cards, I talk about them frequently with my friends, both those who are Pagan and who are not. Since I've been attending their festivals and rituals, my first one being Samhain 2010, I've lived everyday as an out and proud Pagan.

Except with my family.

It's a strange feeling, not really lying to them, but cutting them off from what's become a huge focal point to my life and my identity. I did talk to my parents about Wicca occasionally when I was in early high school, but I'm not sure they ever took it seriously. When I went to that Yule party, my mom tried to convince me that that wasn't what they were actually celebrating and that I shouldn't assume. My dad once made a joke about casting spells on my brother with the clay pentacle I was making. Though, he also once brought me back a pentacle necklace from a business trip. I don't believe that either of them wanted to make me feel weird or bad about my religious interests, but I did anyway. I've never been comfortable with the idea of discussing that with them. And I don't really know why.

Last summer, I visited with some cousins in Texas and while I was there, one of them asked me what my religious beliefs are. I'm sure she knew the answer; I have them displayed on my Facebook page (where all my family can see it), but even knowing that she most likely knew, it still felt strange or foreign to say it out loud to her. I mean, it was also a little weird for me because her family is very Christian, which is fine, but I always get a little weird about discussing any alternative religion with most active Christians, but the discomfort I was feeling was also because she is my blood family. Maybe it's because of the obligations that exist between blood relatives, whether real or imagined, I'm not sure, but I'm afraid of their judgment. I'm not afraid of anyone else's. I feel awkward truly letting in any of my family. I don't hide from them, but I don't bring it up either. It's difficult and depressing.

And I don't want it to be that way. I want to be able to tell them about the awesome friends I've made in Kentucky, about the cool new things I learned from these friends, about how much I look forward to festival season and how happy my church makes me. I want to tell them when I finish my degree, I want to go through my church's ministry education to become a Pagan minister myself. I want to tell them about how much being Pagan means to me, how passionate I am about it, but they just don't get the opportunity to know that side of me. And for that, I feel guilty and dishonest, as well as sad because I don't think it's going to change. It's a conversation that I don't know how to begin and I've used that fear to block off a huge portion of my life. It also makes me feel like a hypocrite, because I believe the greater Pagan community should be out and public and known, when I myself am not those things entirely. Maybe someday I'll be ready to remove those self-imposed chains from my life. And wouldn't that be relieving?

Part of my temple room (and my dog who likes to hang out in there)

"Someday's Garden" Is Growing

Sometimes when you look at the light coming from the East in the early morning, you can tell that everything will be alright in the coming day. I felt like that this morning when I looked out into my backyard. The light was just perfect, and golden.

And it has been a good day so far! Best of all, the Bleeding Hearts bulb I ordered from my professor arrived. It was sitting on my desk waiting for me when I got to lab today. Bleeding Hearts are one of my absolute favorite flowers (and I'm a goth at heart, so it makes sense)! They are supposed to be very strong, hardy plants so I hope so badly that they will grow. I got a big, black, square container to house them this afternoon.

It makes me very anxious thinking about them growing, because so far, there isn't a peep coming from the Harlequin Flowers and Persian Buttercups I planted on April 2nd. Those bulbs are guaranteed to grow, but the pots sit there looking no differently than when I first filled them. I'm crossing my fingers that I didn't do something terribly wrong, (black thumb, black thumb, black thumb...) and it's scaring me even a little bit more because my African Marigolds are looking very sad. They aren't as wilty as they were a few days ago, so I think the huge thunderstorm we had helped a lot, but they aren't looking great. I've read on several gardening sites that one of the most common causes of death in container plants is over-watering, but now I wonder if I've been under-watering. It seems so hard to find the balance sometimes.

But I can't spend too much time worrying about it, because I also made another addition to my collection today: Basil, finally!! I eat so much Basil and it gets expensive. It's one of my favorite herbs and it's a rare meal I cook that doesn't have something to do with Basil in some way. I've been wanting to grow my own for ages, but I've been too afraid to start from seed. Today I found a plant that already appears well-established, so hopefully I can continue to increase the growth and for the first time, provide food for myself that I grew myself. It might not be a big deal, just a little Basil plant, but it's so important to me.

My other plants, the Philodendron and the Jaguar Daisy are doing very well though. As you can see above, Betty had two sister flowers open up. I'm very happy about that, they are bringing so much beauty to my deck.

Philodendron is a plant that prefers shade to sun, so when/if my Bleeding Hearts grow, they and Phil' will be moved to my front porch where the light is less intense. 

I've always heard that talking to plants is great for their health. I try to spend a little bit of time doing that each day. When I let Sól out in the yard in the morning, (if the bees and wasps aren't already flying around -- I'm scared insane of them), I like to take my coffee out and just tell them about positive things. I think I remember seeing a Mythbusters episode once about talking to plants, but I can't remember if they were able to show any results. I'll have to look into whether other studies have been done showing this to have a positive effect on plant growth. Maybe it's weird, but I think would talk to them either way. I also talk to the surrounding environment, the birds, the insects, the universe, the land spirits, to whomever, and ask them to bless my little container garden. It's quickly becoming a passion of mine; I want so badly to succeed in this endeavor. 

How I Must Take Myself Back

I've really started letting myself go, in the way overwhelmed, 40-something mothers do, before they cut all their hair off, becoming shapeless grey blobs of sweatsuits and birkenstocks. That's exactly how I feel.

I didn't think that would start to happen until my mid-30's or 40's, not my mid-20's. I feel incredibly old and immature at the same time. There are so many things I want to do, that are right there within reach, but I procrastinate everything. I'm lazy and sluggish, and up until the last few weeks, I've been indifferent as well. Getting by on knowledge and daydreams rather than action. It's really pathetic of me.

It may seem as if I'm having a pity party over here, but there's a difference between low self esteem and being realistic about how one has given up on oneself. For example : Though I wear yoga pants most days I'm not wearing scrubs, I only go occasionally now, despite having more time and more studios to visit. I used to go to yoga at least three times a week, sometimes two classes a day. Now I'm lucky if I make it to even two classes a month.

I used to be a health-food fiend, strict vegetarian, spending hours on shopping trips reading every label, cooking 3 or more meals at home each day, never touching bread or rice that was bleached, never eating frozen dinners, fast food of any kind wasn't even on my radar. Now, I drink soda, I cook more with my microwave than I do with my stove. Though I stopped eating vegetarian for other reasons, I've also completely slacked off on my Mediterranean (low glycemic index) diet. I haven't been to the farmers market in months.

And because of that, I'm gaining weight. I'm around 127-128 pounds, almost 20 pounds heavier than I've ever been before, none of it in muscle weight. I've stopped exercising, I've stopped hiking, I've stopped biking. I barely have enough energy to take my dog for a decent walk each day. Two years ago, I was doing P90X, I was going to the gym almost everyday, at least every other. When I see how out of shape I've become so quickly, it makes me feel defeated, which makes me feel indifferent.

I used to read obsessively, finishing 2-3 new books each month. I carried books everywhere, and turned their pages every chance I got a moment. It was one of the most important daily activities I had. And I still read now, but so much else has taken priority over it. My poor books gather dust faster than my eyes get to see their words. I'm still reading the same novel I was a month and a half ago. I haven't even gotten close to starting all the new ones I wanted to by now.

I used to have a dedicated spiritual practice. I spent a lot of time studying different texts, practicing new and old techniques, meditating, speaking to the Earth, experiencing Nature and Paganism in different ways. I do have to say that my church is one of the only things today that can get me awakened, energized, excited, interested. But it's so often now that I don't bring back home the things I learn there. My private life now is pretty empty, and it feels pretty meaningless. I'm fucking sick of it.

I want my life back, my sense of self, my whole self back. My identity has become that of a depressed, lonely, boring shell. I've not even started any of the 2013 resolutions I wrote for myself on January 1st. I said 2013 was my year, but I haven't yet accomplished one thing other than excuses and being afraid. I'm beyond wanting everything to change, and waiting for that to happen. I've been living passively and isolated, and it's bullshit. I'm glad I feel angry at myself for allowing all of this to happen. I wasn't ever angry about it before, just sad. Sadness doesn't motivate anything, it hinders and distracts and eventually cripples. But isn't it so easy to give into sadness? That's the real insanity of my own life right now. Up until this point, I've been content with being sad. How ridiculous is that?

There are so many things I want to accomplish, and so many changes that need to be made, ones I will have to force myself to embrace. Ones that I used to live out naturally that now seem so impossible. It's like I've forgotten how to be healthy and positive, somewhere, somehow, I fell out of rhythm and convinced myself that none of my old lifestyle mattered, because everything was stressful or chaotic. I've been less passionate than a zombie toward everything lately, and it is stopping now. I'm reaching in, and grabbing my mind or my soul or my higher self or whatever it is that we have, I'm grabbing it by the throat, slapping its face, demanding it to Wake Up, and possess me.

Dawn was so beautiful this morning. I won't keep wasting dawns like today's with hours that I throw away burying myself under negativity, irritation, and indifference. I am taking myself back, and I will not hold back to do so. No more laziness, or self-loathing, or self-sabotage. I no longer have patience for it in my mind or room for it in my heart. No one should ever let their self go.

My (All-Time) Favorite Movie Scene

I meant to write this entry days ago, but my classes and work have really been suffocating my free time. My fellow blogging friend Keith posted an entry about his favorite movie scene and I wanted to write my own. I'm not a huge movie buff and I don't watch them often - I much prefer television - but there are some movies with which I'm eternally obsessed, and that makes choosing only one scene particularly difficult to me. This sort of entry might need to turn into a series . . .

Lady in the Water is a lesser-known, and pretty widely-disliked M. Night Shyamalan film from 2006. It's a contemporary fantasy movie based around a lonely superintendent and a girl from a storybook who is trapped in our world. I'm not much of a fan of Shyamalan's other work, but I was immediately inspired and fell in love with this movie the first time I saw it. It's visually gorgeous, with strange comedy, and terribly tragic characters, the kind of movie at which I'll laugh and cry simultaneously. It's also a movie about fate and interconnectedness between people and places that leads to something larger. It's about the roles that even insignificant, average, and forgotten people play in that interconnectedness.

I think the following clip can be played without spoiling the movie. It's a scene during which the superintendent, Cleveland, discovers his own role, and lets go of the silence and sadness that his character harbors.

When I watch this movie, and others like it, it gives me hope that the universe is indeed larger than Earth (and I mean that figuratively, or spiritually), that there are reasons for the circumstances we face, that we can make ourselves better and make ourselves an important part of something larger. I love this movie, and I don't understand why so many other people do not.

"Once, man and those in the water were linked. They inspired us. They spoke of the future. Man listened and it became real. But man does not listen very well. Man's need to own everything led him deeper into land. The magic world of the ones that lived in the ocean... and the world of men... separated. Through the centuries, their world and all the inhabitants of it... stopped trying. The world of man became more violent. War upon war played out, as there were no guides to listen to. Now those in the water are trying again... trying to reach us. A handful of their precious young ones have been sent into the world of man. They are brought in the dead of night... to where man lives. They need only be glimpsed... and the awakening of man will happen. But their enemies roam the land. There are laws that are meant to keep the young ones safe... but they are sent at great risk to their lives. Many... do not return. Yet still they try... try to help man. But man has forgotten how to listen..."