A White Wolf's Identity
So here I was, with the dubious honor of being quasi-spiritual advisor to another. She was looking to me for answers because I was at a greater level of enlightenment than her, or so it seemed. Ultimately, it seemed to me that it was a burden based on the mind boggling fact that she was more lost than I was.
I had far from indicated that I had gotten it all together at this point. Even as I walked along the path I had chosen, I took plenty of opportunities to pontificate on issues that I hadn't really gotten a grasp of yet. Prior to the coven disintegrating, I was fairly well aware of my limited knowledge in some areas. It wasn't until I witnessed this destructive impact by others that I realized the potential hazards of being recognized as a highly knowledgeable individual and refusing to acknowledge your own shortcomings.
This could prove problematic if someone was relying on me for the answers, and I couldn't make her realize the limitations of my ability to help her. A much bigger problem than such circumstances had caused me to that point. Up until that point, the worst impact had been some conversations, primarily with MC, that I have since then wished at points that I could take back.
One having started as a conversation about the sanctity of all life, that led him to ask if there was hypocrisy in the fact that I lived in a wooden house. That my very shelter demanded that damage be done to sacred life. The short version would simply indicate that this ended badly, as I made some rather asinine statements in a combination of defensiveness and stretching for what the answer should be. This conversation is the one of many that I particularly remember as it serves as an example of several things.
First, an example of something that I not only failed to grasp, but demonstrated to another that I failed to grasp the very fact that I failed to grasp it. Second, it serves as an example of me being too busy at the time trying to defend what I believed to take the time to figure out what it was that I actually believed. Finally, it served as an example of one of the most important lessons I would learn. That my spiritual journey would not be defined by encouraging those around me to validate my beliefs. It would have to be defined personally. (This most important lesson might have come into fruition with time anyway, but was most significantly taught to me by MC through our many conversations on these subjects.)
So here I was, studying the tattoo on my arm and trying to figure out what significance it held for the present stage of my journey. It didn't state any universal truth. It didn't even point very far towards any belief system. The pentagram and moons would leave little question as to the direction of my religious leanings, but they didn't hold any deep dark secrets that I needed to grasp.
Time to dissect it. (Because that is what I do when a puzzle presents itself.) Central to the theme was the pentagram. A religious symbol most commonly used by pagan paths. It serves as an indicator of the four elements and a higher power, or spirit. I could go on for volumes about this symbol, but will save the space here. Eventually I will devote posts to various symbols, but not here. Suffice it to say, the symbol wasn't telling me much. Not in the greater scheme of the question at hand.
The moons. In various phases the moons surround the rest of the tattoo. They were actually added about a year after the original. The moon and its phases are significant to the Wiccan path, and many others. Again, I had studied the effects of the moon, and many of the theologies, but it wasn't telling me what I was looking to find out.
Blessed be. A common phrase amongst pagans. A well wishing statement. Perhaps a reminder to live my life in a blessed or holy way. Didn't seem to be what I was looking for.
The only thing left were the words, in three different alphabets that surrounded the tattoo. They would have to be the least important. All they said was who I was. All they indicated was who I was. A dedication that was made of myself to the Goddess back when I was simply wanting to know her, and what she would have of me. A blind desire and faith, untainted as of yet but the confines of the established religious viewpoint of another. Unmodified to fit into a coven I was attached to. Unsegmented by my desire to show myself more knowledgeable than I was. The simple faith of a man that said, "I feel you now, and I would like to know you."
And there was the breeze, saying, "Beautiful. Now remember that, and you can guide her and others as far as you are able."
I had far from indicated that I had gotten it all together at this point. Even as I walked along the path I had chosen, I took plenty of opportunities to pontificate on issues that I hadn't really gotten a grasp of yet. Prior to the coven disintegrating, I was fairly well aware of my limited knowledge in some areas. It wasn't until I witnessed this destructive impact by others that I realized the potential hazards of being recognized as a highly knowledgeable individual and refusing to acknowledge your own shortcomings.
This could prove problematic if someone was relying on me for the answers, and I couldn't make her realize the limitations of my ability to help her. A much bigger problem than such circumstances had caused me to that point. Up until that point, the worst impact had been some conversations, primarily with MC, that I have since then wished at points that I could take back.
One having started as a conversation about the sanctity of all life, that led him to ask if there was hypocrisy in the fact that I lived in a wooden house. That my very shelter demanded that damage be done to sacred life. The short version would simply indicate that this ended badly, as I made some rather asinine statements in a combination of defensiveness and stretching for what the answer should be. This conversation is the one of many that I particularly remember as it serves as an example of several things.
First, an example of something that I not only failed to grasp, but demonstrated to another that I failed to grasp the very fact that I failed to grasp it. Second, it serves as an example of me being too busy at the time trying to defend what I believed to take the time to figure out what it was that I actually believed. Finally, it served as an example of one of the most important lessons I would learn. That my spiritual journey would not be defined by encouraging those around me to validate my beliefs. It would have to be defined personally. (This most important lesson might have come into fruition with time anyway, but was most significantly taught to me by MC through our many conversations on these subjects.)
So here I was, studying the tattoo on my arm and trying to figure out what significance it held for the present stage of my journey. It didn't state any universal truth. It didn't even point very far towards any belief system. The pentagram and moons would leave little question as to the direction of my religious leanings, but they didn't hold any deep dark secrets that I needed to grasp.
Time to dissect it. (Because that is what I do when a puzzle presents itself.) Central to the theme was the pentagram. A religious symbol most commonly used by pagan paths. It serves as an indicator of the four elements and a higher power, or spirit. I could go on for volumes about this symbol, but will save the space here. Eventually I will devote posts to various symbols, but not here. Suffice it to say, the symbol wasn't telling me much. Not in the greater scheme of the question at hand.
The moons. In various phases the moons surround the rest of the tattoo. They were actually added about a year after the original. The moon and its phases are significant to the Wiccan path, and many others. Again, I had studied the effects of the moon, and many of the theologies, but it wasn't telling me what I was looking to find out.
Blessed be. A common phrase amongst pagans. A well wishing statement. Perhaps a reminder to live my life in a blessed or holy way. Didn't seem to be what I was looking for.
The only thing left were the words, in three different alphabets that surrounded the tattoo. They would have to be the least important. All they said was who I was. All they indicated was who I was. A dedication that was made of myself to the Goddess back when I was simply wanting to know her, and what she would have of me. A blind desire and faith, untainted as of yet but the confines of the established religious viewpoint of another. Unmodified to fit into a coven I was attached to. Unsegmented by my desire to show myself more knowledgeable than I was. The simple faith of a man that said, "I feel you now, and I would like to know you."
And there was the breeze, saying, "Beautiful. Now remember that, and you can guide her and others as far as you are able."
posted by Wanderer at 3:41 AM
3 Comments:
Hey just a thought. Would you ever be interested in a corollary about my journey to atheism? It has more stops and turns than people think.
I would definitely be interested. I am sure some others might be as well.
a higher level of enlightenment, that is such a familiar phrase.
it is interesting to hear about ones Journey, wanna see the slides of my vacation? :) But one's life journey is never complete is it? Is Atheism, or Paganism, or Christianity a destination?
Do we get comfortable at a rest stop and just stay there?
A few years back I was a camp counselor at a camp high in the Rockies. We took the kids on a five mile hike that nearly killed me. At one point we came to a beautiful spot with trees and a stream and wild flowers and I told the other counselors, I'll just stay here. Build myself a cabin. I'll be the crazy old lady who couldn't complete the hike and just stayed here forever.
One time I climbed to the top of a rock formation and was too scared to come down. I told my companion to just leave me there, bring me water and fruit every few days. I'd be fine. I could be the wise woman on the rock that seekers would ask for words of wisdom.
I am not living by that stream, or on that rock. I am not a Catholic, or a witch or a Methodist, but I was there once. My life, my journey continues...
I'm going down to your post on the Lady and leave a comment...I've been thinking about her lately.
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