On Faith: Washington Post's Question on Religion

“As voted by the Religion Newswriters Association’s members, among the year’s most consequential religion newsmakers were Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, Pope Benedict XVI, Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin, and the U.S. bishops. How would you have ranked them? Has their influence been harmful or constructive? What issue or person do you expect to have the biggest impact in the year to come?”

First the positive...I like the choice of Feisal Abdul Rauf. He condemned the attacks of 9/11 which inspired my own son's enlistment and current service in the Marines. He has worked hard to create peace and understanding between the Muslim world and the West. I doubt many Westerners, however, even know who he is. Moreover, I admire a man who speaks the truth. It's hard for an American to hear that we might be responsible for the some of the unrest in the world, "because we have been accessory to a lot of innocent lives dying in the world. In fact, in the most direct sense, Osama bin Laden is made in the USA." Tough to own responsibility. But look at our role in Iraq or Afghanistan which are obviously more politically motivated than humanitarian and I see his point.

Now my objections...

Are you kidding me??? We are naming conservative, hostile people as leaders in the faith community? What happened to the separation of church and state in this country anyway? Seems to me that GLBT issues and paganism are prime examples of other people's religious views legislating morality. Indeed, many of our founding fathers were actually what's now known as Unitarian Universalist. How many of these people have attended their Sunday morning services? Religion doesn't even necessarily appear to be a part of their service. Communication, discussion and respect is.

Pope Benedict XVI might do a lot of things right. But until we stop legislating morality and denying the world the choice and education to use birth control, people will continue to die of things like AIDS. Until the Pope and the Catholic Church promote birth control, I cannot see them as a positive influence. At the heart of the issue, for this feminist witch, is the need for women to have control over their own bodies. Otherwise, patriarchy controls them. And don't even get me started on the number of people in other countries we have harmed because we teach abstinence rather than common sense. Certainly handing out condoms may not suit many fundamentalists, but the cost to humanity needs to be evaluated.

Now, we all understand that the Pope has made insensitive and critical comments about Paganism and indigenous faiths...but Glenn Beck believes Pagans don't deserve the same protection under the Constitution as Christians. I have to wonder what he would say about someone like myself who walks a duel path of paganism/Christianity. I get half my rights? Beck incites the world rather than bringing it insight. Having looked over his books and listened to him on cable, his negativistic views are over the top.

Sarah Palin scares the bejesus out of me. She has a knack for surrounding herself with folks who know how to make her look good. Now she is going to have a TV reality show. What a lovely way to get oneself elected to office. Now everyone will feel as if they "know" her and trust her because they saw it on TV. Most of those viewers won't be troubled to look beneath the story to the core; to question, to investigate. Instead, entertainment will become fact. And yes, this means of marketing would scare the bejesus out of me regardless of who was being portrayed in a "reality" show and wants to run for office.

Now my joy...

U.S. Bishops: well, if that includes Gene Robinson, the first openly gay, non-celibate priest to be ordained a bishop in a major Christian denomination, I'm all about it. He has made it possible for Cameron and I to hold our heads up and attend church. He has made it possible for our priests to support us. While it may well cause a split in the Episcopalian Church, his courage has inspired me. And I'm saddened he has decided to retire in 2013 because of the strain on him and his family due to the worldwide backlash he has faced. Episcopalians again showed their support for same-sex relationships last year by authorizing bishops to bless same-sex unions and by consecrating a lesbian, Assistant Bishop Mary Glasspool of Los Angeles. Unfortunately, since the SC dioces does not support homosexual unions, my own relationship with Cameron cannot be blessed in our own dioces.

Wiccan, Christian, Lesbian

From CBS News:

Another major issue facing Episcopal Church leaders during their 10-day national convention, which began Wednesday, is the blessing of same-sex unions. The church legislature is expected to consider it next week.

One proposal being discussed would codify the church's unofficial policy of allowing each diocese to decide whether to ordain homosexuals and bless gay relationships. Another proposal suggests the church develop rites for couples who live in monogamus, committed relationships but do not get married.

A delegate to the convention resigned after he scattered salt—a traditional method of battling the devil—under the tables of openly gay and lesbian delegates and their supporters.

Church officials announced Saturday the Rev. Nelson W. Koscheski resigned as a delegate from the Diocese of Dallas after the "salting" brought the church's House of Deputies to a halt Friday for prayers and songs of reconciliation.

I work hard to reconcile my faith in the goddess with my Christian faith. Wounded, damaged and broken, it took many years to reenter the Christian faith. And I'm proud to be Episca-pagan. I whisper goddess in all the parts where they say god, because my image of male Diety is not positive. I keep going because I need community. I need a buidling that represents safety. I need ritual. And I deeply value attendance with Cameron because it deepens and strengths our spirituality together. But that introduces yet another quandry. Yesterday pretty much sums it up.

With little money to buy even by groceries, when our church announced a "Quite Day" at the cost of $20 each, I asked if we could pay half and both attend. Mother L agreed. We basically paid the cost of our box lunch from Panara Bread. We have been looking forward to Quiet Day for weeks. Then Friday an article was published in the local paper that talked about the battle raging in our church regarding gays and lesbians. So I approached Mother L in tears, needing to know Cameron and I will always be welcome regardless of what the bishop of our diocese decides. Mother L affirmed that she and Father M have our backs. My mistake lies in asking what can we do to help. Her response was predictable and heartbreaking: "Watch your public displays of affection. Don't sit with your arms around each other in the pew or hold hands in public. Don't sit too close to each other. When people see you together, time after time, they'll know you are together." Granted, Mother L is extremely reserved, and does not like much of anyone's PDAs. But I doubt she would have said the same thing to an adult heterosexual woman. She would have said it to a teenager.

Cameron was in so much pain when I relayed the conversation, that she immediately sought out Mother L as well. Mother L admitted she would not counsel a heterosexual couple the same way. When she was done, Mother L could see Cameron's point of view, sort of. She admits she is not comfortable with any public displays of affection. Cameron attended church with her parents the whole time she was growing up. Her father always had his arm around her mother. Her mother, in turn, alwasy had her arm around Cameron. Touch became another way to connect in faith as a family. So telling Cameron not to put her arm around me was like telling her we cannot behave as a real family.

I did a little more research, to see exactly what the Anglican leadership has to say. It isn't pretty. Indeed, its mysogenistic and condescending:

No Bible-believing Christian can say that “men are from Mars and women from Venus.” They are not distinct species but have been made for each other in their distinctiveness and complement each other. This is the burden of the earliest chapters of Genesis that are strongly and unambiguously affirmed in the teaching of Jesus himself. As a whole, the Bible’s teaching on human sexuality clearly affirms that the proper expression of our sexual nature is within the context of married love. The alternative, for those who have this gift, is dedicated singleness in the fulfillment of God’s purposes.

In the pagan world, in which the Bible was written, such a view was vigorously countercultural. Many of Israel’s neighbors tolerated both heterosexual and homosexual practices that are rejected by the Bible because they violate the holiness of God, the order of creation and respect for persons.

It is often the case that where the fundamental teaching of the Bible regarding marriage is not upheld, the status of women, in particular, suffers and they are reduced to being either a source for male self-gratification or chattel who maintain the home while men seek gratification elsewhere.

As to same-sex attraction, there may be a predisposition toward it, even if we do not know all the reasons for it. That does not mean it must be gratified. Not every desire can or should be given active expression.

There may be relationship issues with a parent or a seeking of the man or the woman “I want to be” in others of the same sex. Those in such situations need to be cared for and to know that God loves them. They need to be helped so they can conform their lives to the stature of the fullness of Christ.

Never mind that my Anglican brothers of my church leadership judges me by the Old Testament world -- the same world where the book of Levitacus dictates what food may be eaten, and the instructions for the passover feast and minutely dictated. Let's just take what we want and leave the rest. Certainly, let's not point out that Old Testament law ended, was fullfilled, by Christ's death. That Christ himself followed the law before fullfilling it with his own sacrifice for the express purpose of creating a space in which Wisdom, God and the Holy Spirit might be recreated in a world of grace, where forgiveness is available for asking rather than through blood, because he had shed his own blood for all. Yeah, I know my bible. I even believe in it. No wonder the Americans may have to break away Anglicans.

Today we went to church, and we took Mother L's words to heart. We want to reach out to our community, show them that being lesbian is another family dynamic. The whole hour, Cameron was bitterly, painfully aware of Mother L's advise. She never put her arm around me. And by the time communion came, she had tears pouring down her face. Another myth of safety has been ripped away. We have come of age. Our church, while loving us and welcoming us, doesn't quite know what to do with us. And while they support our attendance, and would defy anyone regarding our right to be present, still lacks the skill and education to know how to support us as a family. They see a lesbian couple, rather than a lesbian family.

My church is like the rest of the world, which says, "Why do gays have to talk about being homosexual. I don't talk about being heterosexual." Well, if you are the majority, your identity is assumed. Dynamics and interactions are a forgone conclusion. The dominate story fits and you don't have to protest. But I'm a lesbian. My wife is gender dysphoric. We are wives--which mother supports, even when she finds it jarring (she's never asked when/how we were married). Our world is colored by discrimination and our safety is compromised by headlines and the threat of violence.

So we will remain in our church (we've been attending for years, but only occassionally--we've now been three weeks in a row). Indeed, I'm going to confirmation classes at the end of the month, and will be confirmed as a member by the Bishop in October. Cameron's parents will even come, as they did for her! And we are the token "out" couple everyone can pat themselves on the back about being so open minded. Goddess knows, change begins must start somewhere. Let it be with me. Or US.

A Gift from My Lover

Cameron and I spend way to much time apart with our conflicting schedules. One way we remain close is photos taken with our camera phones. She just sent me this one; it's so beautiful I had share immediately!

Indeed, this a perfect Lughnasadh gift. In keeping with next week's Sabat, I wanted to think about this first harvest. This year I am harvesting the grains of my hard work. I am half way through my clinical practicum experience and have successfully "graduated" several clients this month. I have been at my job as a substance abuse counselor for six months, and will be able to use vacation time to take my sex ed class next week.

My vision continues to grower clearer for the next steps in my spiritual path. I will begin a fellowship next fall and begin building my business as a lesbian identified, pagan therapist. Mine and Cameron's dream of beginning a spiritual mentorship program for Wicca is beginning to coalesce. We've begun the tentative thought process and private blog to begin working our ideas into a concept.

Moreover, despite financial and school challenges, my relationship with Cameron continues to flourish. Everyday I am more amazed at the fruits of this relationship.

Paganism and Christianity: Walking a Duel Path

As Truth Teller’s funeral looms over us all, I can’t help but pause to reflect upon duel paths. I was raised first Methodist then Church of Christ. I spent many years bearing tremendous burdens of guilt and seek absolution in repeated baptisms (four total) and always had the internal voice of castigation haunting me.

Cameron’s spirituality over the years provided a powerful influence upon my path of healing. I could not run from my Christian faith, no matter how much I wanted to leave it behind. Now I find myself weaving the various parts of my spirituality into a whole that provides me with the spiritual nourishment that carries me through times like these.

I admit I still cringe at altar calls do the unfaithful to confess their sins. And yet I did go through the rite of absolution in the Episcopalian Church. I do share in the rite of communion. I do find healing in Episcopalian rituals and the music of my childhood. And I have found spaces to reconcile my faith and religious practice.

I’m part of a Christian Gay email group. Last night I accidently let my signature line post to them – I usually delete it because I don’t want to offend. The response had a sentence that beautifully summarized my faith: "We are co-creators of our own selves, our own destinies, we co-create with God, with His approval; His Grace."

And over the years my burden of guilt has been mostly alleviated. I have come to see myself as a child of the universe born of Divinity and carrying that spark within.

The Last Spiral

The cycle of birth, death and rebirth is at the heart of paganism. Tonight Truth Teller stands on that spiral path that leads to the summerlands. Stories of Inanna, Persephone and Demeter, Lugh’s Crossing, Ishtar and Tammuz, Venus and Adonis, Isis and Osiris remind us of this eternal pattern. The wheel of the year, the Holly King and the Greenman all speak to that sacred space we call death. Like the labyrinth, the only way out is through the center.

Tonight Truth Teller walks the spiral ever inward. He leaves behind his body, destroyed by diabetes. He leaves behind this physical reality and the demands of the living. He takes with him the love of his wife, the love of his friends, and his higher self.

I carry away my memories of a man who could patiently wait for me to learn that not all men are scum. I will remember a man who was a safe friend. I carry the memory of man who had honor and love to offer his friends. A memory of man handfasting a woman he loved more than his own life. When I needed money to care for a puppy, he was there. When I needed to hear what I wanted to deny, he was there.

With this light, may Truth Teller find his way to the Summerlands. Tonight we cannot walk with him. It is a journey for Truth Teller alone and whatever concept of Deity he has come to know. May he know that he goes in perfect love and perfect trust. As all must go in our time, we release Truth Teller to go in your own time into the Summerlands.

So mote it be.

A Followup on the Dream

The dreaded call came this afternoon. Just before I was to have supervision at our clinic, Cameron called me to say she had talked to Priestess. As I stood in that lonely upstairs room, darkened by threatening storm clouds, Cameron said she had just gotten off the phone with Priestess. Determined to hold herself together, and to be strong for me, Cameron said that Priestess was about to meet with the palliative care/hospice team to determine best care for Truth Teller.

This once strong, beautiful man with graceful fingers and keen insight lies in a hospital bed, dependent on dialysis. He is missing seven fingers. Gangrene proceeds its way up his leg. Emaciated because his body cannot digest food, he is in agony and drugged to the point of having hallucinations. No wonder he could spirit walk.

Two years ago Cameron and I witnessed his second handfasting with Priestess. Knowing he would not live out a normal life expectancy, they promised to find each other again, vowing: "Around the wheel and down through the years." Tears came to my eyes.

Later, Cameron, Hermit and I witnessed Priestess' croning. Priestess asked to break with tradition and have her husband there. But he couldn't come because Truth Teller was ill that night. Other circles, other nights, other joys and other pains. Priestess and Truth Teller always had a place on the back porch for friends.

When I was so wounded that I decided all men were scum, Truth Teller's presence offered a safe friend. When I needed to learn to reconnect with men who had honor and love to offer their friends, he was there. When I needed a camera to take to my son's wedding, he had one. When I needed money to care for a puppy, he was there. When I needed to hear what I wanted to deny, he was there.

Tonight I will gather earth from garden. I'll draw a spiral in the earth and I place a lit candle in the center. May Truth Teller follow his path home to the summerlands. May he know we all honor him with perfect love and perfect trust.

So mote it be.

Dream: The Truth Teller

Truth Teller is one of those difficult people you can’t do without. I have only eaten out with him a few times because he is so picky about what he will eat and where. None of his food can touch. His toys and money belong to him and are kept completely separate and apart from his wife’s toys and money. While he did not begin his pagan path believing in Deity, he does worship the Holy Motherboard. Moreover, any computer will sit, beg or roll over to please him.

When Cameron and I were coming back from my eldest son’s marriage a few years ago, we were victims of trauma. A mother dog and her pups had gotten on the interstate and stopped traffic. I did not know why we were stopped, and inching forward, I hit a pup. Her back paw was broken. Alarmed, we found an emergency vet. Calling Truth Teller for help, he offered to cover up to $400 in vet bills. We had Bronte examined, and made the heart breaking decision to have her put down rather risk thousands in vet bills and future arthritis – the damage was that bad. My heart has never recovered from the loss of my puppy of four hours. I tear just writing about her. Truth Teller knew full well it would be years before we could pay him back.

Cameron and I broke up for an extremely painful six months, during our courtship, while she made decisions regarding her former wife. During that time, chaos happened and I found myself unemployed. That same week, Cameron and I began talking again. We met at Priestess' and Truth Teller's home, talking out the past and possibilities for the future. When Cameron left to tell her wife it was over, because her wife had made some unconscionable decisions, Truth Teller warned me that she might not be back. Such cautions over the years had mostly proved right, especially when I didn’t want to hear him. Indeed, that was the only time he was wrong. Because Truth Teller always spoke what needed saying, rather than I want to hear, he has become an archetype of my dream language. That is why I call him Truth Teller.

I had a dream several years ago in which I was driving on winding roads when I got a flat tire. I dreamed that I called Truth Teller, who came to get me. My car had been overfilled with books, which he helped me to got back to retrieve. Truth Teller had helped me recapture my own inner wisdom.

Today Truth Teller lies in a hospital bed with diabetes taking his life one body part at a time. Most of his fingers are gone. Now they are decided if they are going to remove a gangrene foot.

Last night I dreamed of Truth Teller. Cameron and I could not close a lower dresser drawer. We had tried for weeks, and I was entirely frustrated. Cats were sleeping on my work clothes. At last she mentioned it to Truth Teller, who offered to take a look. I was trying to sleep, but Cameron had put a cat in the bedroom who was crying, so I woke. In the dream, I was dozing in the bed when he came into the room and removed all the clothing, refolded it, and put it back. The drawer worked perfectly. He started to leave when I realized he had been there. Afraid he would get away before I could say anything, I ran through the kitchen and outside. He was driving Priestess’ old car, Mobie. He had started to back out of the driveway, and the headlights of the car caught my figure as I came out the door. I made a hugging motion with my arms and blew him a kiss. Truth Teller pulled back into the driveway and I ran to the car. I could his voice as clear as a bell as I thanked him for fixing the dresser drawer. Truth Teller hugged me and said good bye.

I do not have the gift of prophesy, but this dream is alarming.

Maid, Mother and Crone (with Enchantress and Warrior)

I remember reading Robert Jordan’s series The Wheel of the World and being amused by a young heroine who kept wishing for grey hair. As a wise woman, she felt that people would respect her a whole a lot more with a streak of grey; thus allowing them to overlook her youth when she gave them good answers.

While my words are not disregarded, there is truth in trusting the words of a mature woman over youth. While our society values youth, idolizing the young and expecting beauty to reside in a lack of wrinkles, we still seem to believe experience makes us better therapists, counselors, and village wise ones.

With these thoughts in mind, I created this created this collage. I wanted to honor all aspects of the goddess within.

Of course, in my house we are servants of the Goddess Bastet. Notice the image of a black cat on the collage. Liu is asleep in the art back, and Thor, the grey cat, oversees all.

Blessed be the furbabies, and we their servants.

So mote it be.

Dream: The Challenger

I was in an abbey, only I was a male named Griffen. I had healing powers, which the high priest knew. But our church, while endorsing healing, did not endorse magick. I was brought in to heal a homeless woman who was out of her mind.

A very young, female challenger for my position was also there, but she did not believe in healing magic. She considered any form of magick disdainful, dangerous and forbidden. She was very competitive and any healing I gave the lost woman had to be done in a ritual circle without the challenger really realizing what I had done.

With the priest’s permission, I created a healing circle for the wandering woman. The circle was for damaged mind to know that she could always return and could always find healing within our abbey. I placed several enchanted stone candy jars around the entrance and the ritual hall. Anytime the woman needed additional healing, or an affirmation that she was loved or welcome, she could return get some of the candies.

The challenger could not see the enchantment on the candy jars, and she was angry because she could not stop the magick. To keep my book of shadows safe from her, I also created an enchanted false bottom in the altar, concealing my book of shadows in the drawer. While she was certain that she was a better magician/priestess than me, she could not find ways to undo my simple spells.

At the end of the dream she was trying to force the wandering woman, who had named herself Sarah, from the premises. Despite the challenger’s rough handling and insistence that she leave, Sarah kept plucking candies from hidden jars that I had left for her. The challenger couldn’t even see that the candies were from my magick, but believed they were from the Sarah’s magick which was wild and uncontrollable due to her mental condition.

Christians and Pagans in the Waiting Room

I was at our teaching clinic the other day seeing clients when I overheard a conversation. A woman in the waiting room was explaining the meaning of a pentacle that she wore, relating it back to the four elements. She went on to discuss a number of explanatory things about Wiccans. Initially I was quite impressed. She obviously had studied and was a self-professed solitaire. However, her voice really carried, and I also soon noted the discomfort of other people in our waiting room.

It would have been a relief to go and talk shop with her. It has been quite some time since I had one of those conversations where sniff each other over and test the degree of flakiness. She certainly did not appear flaky which have been a relief in a world where most paganism I encounter is based upon “I read a book.” Yet I hung back. As a therapist in the clinic, I wanted to know if she was a client or was waiting for one.

I am relieved I held back, because the complaints began in short order. A lady paying at the window was muttering under her breath about wanting out of the waiting room. The office staff were commenting on how loud she was. I pointed out that she seemed to know her stuff, and they pointed out that I do too and don’t make it intrusive on others.

I’m saddened to still live in a world where freedom of religion does not include pagan. I’m equally saddened that many of my fellow pagans can be just as intrusive as the Christians that they criticize. Moreover, I was uncomfortable with the woman’s comments, “We believe” as if Wicca has a cohesive belief system. One of those statements was, “We believe that Jesus was not the product of immaculate conception, but was a wise prophet and teacher.” On the one hand, I have heard a former priestess make the same assertion about Jesus. On the other hand, I’ve never heard someone say immaculate conception did not happen. Indeed, I have my own ideas about how it could.

What I resented was the concept that being Wiccan is mutually exclusive to being Christian. While I don’t often discuss my Christian faith, it certainly shapes my life in equally powerful ways. I have found ways to balance my Christian and Pagan beliefs, which really is not a stretch when you consider the fact that Christians borrowed heavily for Pagans.

Unfortunately, my combined spirituality leads to problems. Pagans and Christians both criticize because I am not a purist. Nevertheless, I have long been accustomed to living in the margins. I am too old to care if people do not agree with my beliefs.

My Path to Wicca

I played the edges of the metaphysical world for some time before I met my first self professed witch. A technical writer in Atlanta, I had a lot of time on my hands waiting for our project to begin. A coworker told me about a metaphysical bookstore she though I would enjoy. I went to hear a man talk about reincarnation. While much of what he had to say sounded really hokey at the time, the experience stayed with me. Having found the bookstore, I returned for a what I then called a Halloween celebration which hosted free readings (fortune telling). Afterward, participants were invited to the parking lot for a Wiccan circle. My best friend Dell and I stepped in circle and were transformed. I knew I was called to be a priestess.

I don’t ordinarily see energy with eyes of this world, but I did that night. I saw the blue light of the circle as it was laid. I saw the blue flame come down and dance the blade of the priest’s athame. I was entranced with the circle. I began classes at the bookstore with Lord Galen Firestorm and called myself Weaver. I completed my classes and the year and a day requirement. I did not initiate with him because I did not believe his path was mine. So I continued to seek.

My seeking led me to another group, called the Grove of the Unicorns. Lady Galadrial was not accepting students, unfortunately. But she did arrange introduction at another bookstore where I met Lady Amber and Lord Alex. My best friend Dell accompanied me. I’ll never forget Alex sitting on the floor cross legged talking about listening to the change of seasons in the wind. I felt like I had come home. We became a part of their grove. My friend became Spinner and I was Weaver.

Wiccans are human and make mistakes. Especially when charismatic men with talent misrepresent their intentions and manipulate the truth. When I finally clued in to the damage my boyfriend had done behind my back, it was too late. Everyone believed him over me. I lost everything because of that man, including my home, my children, and my spiritual community. For six months I even lost my best-friend until she twigged to the danger of that former boyfriend. I turned in my crystal, a representation of my place in the Wiccan community, and moved to South Carolina to start over.

Some months later I received a formal apology from my former priest and priestess. My son called to say that he had been wrong. But the damage was done and I had moved on. I finally received that first initiation at the hands of Lady Gena Moonkist. I became Grace. Lady Moonkist created a ritual drama of the journey of Persephone. As I walked a spiral of lights, my eclectic community challenged me, stripping me of the past. As I stood before my priest who channeled Kali, I finally understood that divinity existed within me. It was the last amazing gift she gave me before my world blew apart yet again.

I’ve seen two priestess loose their faith. It is a grievous experience to watch such spiritual crisis. Due to illness, Lady Moonkist had to step away from her role as priestess for a while. I don’t know if she has found her path again. I bless her presence at the ritual and transformation she facilitated. At yet another pagan bookstore I found Lady Alauda.

Lady Alauda eventually announced that she was ready to give me my second degree and then did not show up at the next circle. I believe it was part of my challenge for second to tell the group members what had happened and to request the ritual. As flashy, beautiful and powerful as my first ritual had been, I did not expect the same for the second. I was over ready for the first, like a kid with her nose pressed against a door too long, which had become painful. The second degree was like having doors opened and simply gliding through. Unfortunately, Lady Alauda had lost her way. She disbanded her grove and sent us on our way. The new community was not my place. My partner and I left the group.

In the mean time, I began graduate school for marriage and family therapy. The journey transformed me again. I knew I wanted to be a priestess the first time I stepped in circle. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a third degree high priestess. I had looked to the leaders of groves and covens, and wanted to do the things they did. My calling was clear, but my path was not. Those were hard years of trial and disillusionment.

The eclectic circle of elders in our community once again gathered and they were the ones to guide me through the ritual of my third degree. I became Lady Grace Dreamweaver, Priestess and Daughter to the Gods. A loose collection of wise ones, representatives of our community, witnessed my third degree. Mine is not a path that traces its roots to a heritage or a hide bound tradition. I think of my calling as having become incorporated in with my journey to become a therapist. It has been a spiritual journey leading to a much broader path than I expected those many years ago. It took ten years for my path to spiral to that third degree. It has been several years since that ceremony. I continue my to feed my spiritual self with a loose collection of women of whom only a few would call themselves either pagan or Wiccan. Not at all what I envisioned when I was in Atlanta. Yet so much more than the restrictions of a grove or coven would ever embrace.