Ink Blot

So… I had to go to the doctor today. Joy. (not). This was a new doctor for me, and as such, I had the requisite 9 million pages of medical history and insurance information to fill out. On the top of the medical history form, they asked my religion. Apparently I was feeling brave and so I put Pagan. Typically, I’ll say None, or Other.

The first thing this doctor said was upon walking in the exam room was: What’s Pagan?

Zuh??

So, I proceeded to trip over myself to explain Paganism to him. I think I assumed that he knew it wasn’t Satanism. Or Idolatry, or something made exclusively for Hollywood.  He didn’t know that - and then there was much back pedaling.

So, For Doctor Prin, since I am sure I forgot stuff:

Pratciners of Wicca are called Witches. Even the boys.

I am not Wiccan, I am Pagan.

Pagan is to Wicca what Christianity is to Catholicism

I belong to a church in York that is mostly Pagan.

Druids, Wiccans, Cerimonal Magicians and a whole lot of others typically fall into the Pagan umbrella.

I am not personally a big follower of a specific pantheon, but there are those who worship the Ancient Greek, Roman, Hindu, Egyptian pantheons, among others. Yes, seriously.

Yes, I do believe in God…and the Goddess (the look on his face was PRICELESS)

No we do not sacrifice babies…or anything else.

Yes, sometimes we wear costumes, but then, so do priests and the pope.

Wanna know more? Read anything by Scott Cunningham.  He’s a good white-lighter.

Driving to daycare this morning, Bolt (who can barley talk) was having a conversation in Baby to his reflection in the car window.

/cute kid alert.

** Yeah, I know this is a week late.

I know almost NOTHING about Judaism. I know from my 10th grade religion teacher (taught by Mr. Heilskamp) that Yom Kippur translates roughly as ‘Day of Atonement’. No idea what that really means for followers of the religion.

So, today at Shakesville, one of their regualar posters put up something on Yom Kippur that really struck me.

Today is the Jewish holy day of Yom Kippur. It is the most important and solemn day of the Jewish calendar: a time to amend behavior and seek forgiveness.

Every religion has just such a time; for example, Catholics and some other Christian denominations observe Lent and Muslims observe Ramadan, just to name a couple. But making amends is more than just a religious obligation; it is a reflection of something that is basically human, and taking one day, one month, or forty days is merely a symbolic of something we should be doing all the time.

…

You don’t have to be Jewish or Catholic or Quaker or Muslim or Hindi or Pastafarian to stop for a while, even if it’s only a moment, to realize that you and that which you believe in are not the center of the universe and that getting your way or winning the argument and hurting someone else in the process isn’t just something we shouldn’t do because God or the Flying Spaghetti Monster says so. We know through our human instinct that making amends for our flaws and hurts is the most human thing we do.

This feels like a gap in my own path that I have no similar sentiment. One of the very first things that turned me off of the Catholic Church was the idea of Penance. I’m ok with making things right by God, the proxy of the priest bothers me. I’m more ok (however painful it may be) about making things right with those you have hurt.

I’ve talked with my Deities and tried to find bridges that help me to walk better paths. Looking back on the past is always painful to me.  Maybe some method of atonement would help.

There aren’t many. After the Spoutwood Fairie Festival and FaerieCon, I’ve seen my share of fairy paraphernalia. The only real boy fairy art I have seen was found by Raven and is called Dusk by Shelia Wolk. There are always ambiguous baby fairies too, but that’s not the same. What if Bear or Bolt wants a fairy statue or poster or whatever?

How do you label yourself? What’s top on the list? Name. Stutter. Job title. Spiritual path.  Relationship status. Geography. Sexuality.  Dreams.

I still can’t (won’t) identify with my married name, perhaps since Q identifies with it SOOO very strongly. My first name is all mine, you can’t have it.

I speak with a stutter, which I am afraid of. Means I don’t speak when I should. I don’t speak when I want to. Blog don’t require speaking.

I tend to hold a lot of value in my own job title. I am a career girl, and I need to keep it that way. Not that I know what I want to be when I grow up. That would be too easy.

I am Pagan both because it is a consice word for what otherwise is very longwinded explaination, and also because the original meaning of the word is Not Christian. Which matters to me. Sorry, Q & J.

I am a mother of 2, which some days still surprises me. I love my kids more than words express. We’ll leave it at that.

I am an Oregonian. I can live elsewhere for the rest of my days, and I will always be an Oregonian. The rain water has seeped into my soul.

I am bisexual. Duh. And apparently, more butch that I thought.

I WILL own my own business someday. Making something useful.