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A Letter to Portland from a Colorado Pagan

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Photo and sketch by Mike Rohde (CC)

Photo and sketch by Mike Rohde (CC)Dear Portland,

I’m moving to you in August.

My husband and I are packing up all of our things, loading up our three dogs in the car, and driving for two days across Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, a bit of Idaho, and a good stretch of eastern Oregon to get to you.

Neither of us have lived in you before. Sean’s visited more than I have, but every time I’ve been I’ve really loved you.

Part of me thinks you’re kind of a pagan who doesn’t really identify as Pagan. You don’t like labels. But you compost, and your people seem more aware of their impact on the natural world. It’s not like you’re one big coven or something, but you do have a lot of trees. You’re kind of one gigantic grove.

That sounds lovely to me.

Moving to you during this time when I’m without a defined religious identity feels like it may be a portent of some new Way on the horizon. My husband reminds me, though, that this change I’m feeling is really about me, and what’s going on inside of me.

You’re just a coincidence.

But you seem like more than that sometimes. You seem like the promise of something better; the hope of a greener, more contemplative practice. You seem like fertile soil for the kind of religious life I feel drawn to.

I’m sorry if that’s putting a lot of pressure on you. It may be unfair of me. I don’t want to create unrealistic expectations of you. You’re a city, after all. You don’t really owe me anything, and nobody asked me to move to you. We’re moving, in part, because a number of changes are lining up to make this feel like the exact right moment to leave Colorado.

For one, our kid is starting college. He doesn’t really need us the way that he did before. We’ve been prepping him for a while about wanting to leave Colorado one day, and he’s even though about moving to Oregon after he has a few years of school under his belt. He’s still got his mom here, and we’ve promised to be back for some holidays and to fly him out for other ones. We think he’ll be ok without us.

We’ve also been offered a really terrific living situation once we arrive. Our friends are moving eastward, and they’re letting us rent their house. We won’t be paying any more to live there than we are to live here. All we’ve got to do is come up with the money for the moving expenses, and I think we can cover that.

More than anything, we just really want to be in Oregon. There’s been a pull toward that state for years, and neither of us has been able to understand why.

I guess I’m telling you all of this, Portland, because I’m trying to make sense of what this move means. I’m looking around at all of my things, all of them representing some period of my life — my Christianity, my Druidry, my time with ADF and the Fellowship — and I’m considering what it means to pack all of that up and move it to you. I don’t know which of these things are still important to me, or which I will have no use for once I’m there. I don’t know if I should get rid of everything and start from scratch, or if I should cherry-pick the things that seem worth taking.

[The fact that my stuff is such a concern to me is something worth noting, perhaps something worth it’s own post.]

I have 6 weeks to prepare myself to be in you and I don’t really know how to start.

So, I’ll begin with this letter. A one-way correspondence. You won’t read it — and that’s ok — but writing it helps me start to process through all of this.

Your future resident,

Teo

P.S. Did you know that John Michael Greer lives used to live only about 4 hours south of you? I love his beard. Maybe I’ll grow a beard like that once I arrive. Maybe I’ll start looking into AODA, too.

 

Think, Drink, and Be a Druid in Honor of Isaac Bonewits

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In his brief, “immodest third-person” biography, Isaac Bonewits called himself, “articulate, witty, yet reasonably scholarly.” I never knew the man, but I hear he was a bit cantankerous, too.

In the early part of 2009, a year before Isaac’s passing, I was encouraged by T. Thorn Coyle during an intuitive reading she gave me to make my way to a Druid gathering in California to meet Issac. The event would be a Lughnasadh celebration at the Pema Osel Ling Retreat Center in Corralitos, California, organized by the House of Danu, an alliance of California OBOD groves and seed groups. In attendance would be Phillip Carr-Gomm, Chosen Chief of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids, John Michael Greer, Grand Archdruid of the Ancient Order of Druids in America, and Issac, the articulate, witty, yet reasonably scholarly Founder and Archdruid Emeritus of Ár nDraíocht Féin: A Druid Fellowship.

At the end of the reading, Thorn looked at me and said,

You really should go to this.

I didn’t quite understand her urgency, and she explained that Isaac wasn’t well and may not live much longer. This was also an unusual intra-faith gathering; it wasn’t often that ADF, AODA and OBOD representatives came together to celebrate their commonalities.

I felt such a pull towards the Pagan community at the time, and a real sense that Druidry would provide me the spiritual and religious tools that I’d been missing. The three leaders in attendance at this gathering had each made an impact on my early introduction to Druidism, and I knew that meeting them in person would pull me in deeper; seal the deal, so to speak.

But I didn’t go.

In 2009 I was gearing up for the release of an album, one which had been in the making for years. In preparation for the release I’d become hyperaware of my public image. Druidry, and Paganism for that matter, seemed more a little difficult to work into the marketing plan. I was afraid that if I went to the Gorsedd, I might wind up on a YouTube video in some compromising Pagan position — naked around a fire, perhaps — and that the work that I, and so many others had invested in would fall by the wayside before it had a chance to live in the world.

I’m not an advocate of regret, but if I were, this would be a moment I might indulge.

I didn’t go, and I didn’t meet Isaac. He passed the following year — two years ago today (August 12). On October 13th of that year I would join ADF and begin exploring my religiosity through the tradition he founded in 1986.

Someone asked today on Facebook whether or not Isaac would have wanted to be remembered. They wondered if, in death, he might still want that today. I read the question, and I thought back to my last few posts here on Bishop In The Grove. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about the origin of gods, the evolution of consciousness, and all sorts of difficult-to-know things. There’s a time and place for the philosophizing — I like to imagine that Isaac would agree — but there is also a time to put aside the musings and simply do your religion.

I didn’t go to the Druid gathering because I was trapped in my head. I was over-thinking the implications of every little action, avoiding any choice that might interfere with my career goals. And while I was in my head, the Druids danced around the fire and celebrated the earth.

I’m choosing not to be in my head today.

Today I will remember Isaac. I will pin on his “Druid” name-tag, hold up my pants with his belt buckle, and I’ll be a Druid.

So I leave you with this video of Isaac. Enjoy it. Share it, or share this whole post. Then, share your memories of Isaac here in the comments. I’d love to know how you knew him.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGbN9FVU6Ro[/youtube]

Tree Roots and Druid Groups

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My relationship with Druidry is growing deeper, more committed and a little bit complicated. Tree roots come to mind.

I began searching out information on modern expressions of Druidism a few years ago, finding The Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids (OBOD) first. I immediately connected with the spirit of the organization, and was delighted that they put such a great emphasis on creativity. I’m a writer and musician, and I’ve always sought out ways to express my spirituality through my creative gifts. That this tradition was encouraging it seemed like a sign that I was in the right place.

After a period of a few months working through their Bardic course, I drifted away from OBOD. Looking back, I attribute that to a lack of community around my spiritual work, as well as a lack of a religious structure. I got a great deal out of it, but there was something missing. Leaving the studies wasn’t a failure in my eyes; it was just the choice that felt best for me.

Then I found Ár nDraíocht Féin: A Druid Fellowship (ADF), the group I’m working with now. ADF is a religious organization, and through them I found the structure and religiosity I was missing with OBOD. The community I was searching for has, more or less, been available to me, and I’m working my way though the year-long course of the Dedicant Path.

Here’s where the roots begin jutting out in yet another direction.

I just read The Druidry Handbook, written by John Michael Greer, Archdruid of yet another Druid group, The Ancient Order of Druids in America (AODA). I flew through the book, and found myself enchanted by their philosophy and approach. I loved the book so much that I purchased The Druid Magic Handbook, a follow up title built on the principles in the first book.

If you are unaware of the subtle differences between these organizations, and their respective takes on Druidry, let me try and explain one key point. OBOD and AODA accept the work created during the “Druid Revival” of the 18th and 19th century as valid material, created by inspired individuals and worthy to include in a modern spiritual practice of Druidry. They both acknowledge that some of the work created during this period was forged and misrepresented, and that there were great historical inaccuracies in the Revivalists’ perspective about Druids and Celtic culture. But, in accepting that they also believe in the idea that if the writing and traditions which originated from that period are inspiring and useful, then they should be celebrated and made use of. In the end, for them, its all about doing what works.

ADF takes a different perspective altogether. The emphasis, for them, is on building a new tradition around what is historically accurate, as best we know, about the ancient religious practices of not just the Celts, but the Indo-European cultures as a whole. ADF dismisses the writing created during the Revival, and places the emphasis on striving for a kind of historical authenticity that feels, to me, to be bordering on re-constructionism. It isn’t quite that rigid, but it still is searching to graft the new ways on top of the old, as best we can assess what those were. Being as true as can be to the “old ways” is very important in ADF.

Now, back to me.

I feel a pull towards the writing and approach of the Revivalist Movement, and I don’t really care that they made up or borrowed a great deal of what they were doing. What they created speaks to my heart, and that counts for a great deal, I think. I’m seeking to live a life that is rooted in this world, and that allows me to expand in my creative expression and my spiritual awareness. I’m looking to grow in my connectedness to the world while simultaneously become more fully myself. Shouldn’t the heart lead the way in that quest?

The question is, must I be a strict adherent to any one of these traditions in order to accomplish that? Can I be an ADF member, following through on my commitment to the Dedicant Path, while still harboring this love for the Druid Revivalists and their modern spiritual offspring?

I’m open to thoughts and comments from members of any of these groups. What has your experience been like? What resonates about ADF, OBOD or AODA for you, and why do you lean towards one or the other? Or, do you pull from all three traditions? Tell me about your tree roots and Druid groups.