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I keep three blogs now.


This means that I’m either always writing or always thinking about writing. My life becomes the stuff of posts, sometimes the stuff of songs. The medium, with its requirements of regularity and consistency, force me to see stories in my life and lay those stories down in text.

When I started this blog, it was my experiences with Druidry that were the meat of my writing. Discovering Druidry was the focus, and unpacking the questions provided countless opportunities to write. What does it mean? How is it relevant? Why? Why?

If I didn’t have anything to write, I probably wasn’t investing enough in my own spiritual work. That’s how I saw it. Writer’s block? Do ritual, read something, dig deeper.

But now with these three blogs — BITG, the Solitary Druid Fellowship blog, and the newest, #allofthesongs — my writing is broken into very different themes.

The SDF blog is an extension of service. I write there, or I organize the writing of others, in order to provide solitaries the opportunity to reflect on the meaning of solitude in their lives. A deeper engagement with solitude is a primary goal of the Fellowship, and this blog encourages that with each new post.

#allofthesongs is my foray back into music. It is the blog I created to give me a place to write about music — my music — and to process what it means to be a songwriter and performer. Many of the readers of this new blog come with the hopes of hearing about famous people, but the fans who’ve been following my career for the longest seem to appreciate the candidness with which I write about my creative process. Transparency is rare in the entertainment world.

But this blog, my First and Foremost, has alluded me lately. This was the place I created to ask questions about my spiritual path, and I’m not sure how to ask those questions right now. My journey into leadership with SDF and the Solitary SIG (a sub-group of ADF for solitaries) has made the asking of questions seem less timely or appropriate. Inquiry for inquiry’s sake might seem confusing to those who are looking to me for direction.

At least, that’s how it feels at times.

Inquiry is so important, though. Asking ourselves why we’re doing the things we’re doing opens up the possibility for new awareness. Our growth is dependent upon our occasional disassembling of our preconceptions and our assumptions. We have to keep asking questions or things get stale. The soil gets hard. Nothing can penetrate it.

Perhaps this is a natural thing to be thinking as we inch closer to the spring. There are eight High Days in my tradition, but sometimes I think it would be better if we recognized the seasons between them instead. These are the days we’re living. These are the days that require context. This season of Imbolc could be filled with inquiries into what it means to me making our way to a place of planting. This time could become a time of closer inspection of what is in our pantry (the one inside) to see what remains after the winter. We could use this time to reevaluate where we are, and to make plans about where we’d like to be when the sun returns.

I think I’d like to bring some synchronicity to these three blogs I keep. The post I wrote on #allofthesongs today is one that could have easily been on this blog, and this a post could have — with a little more focus on practice and solitude — been on Maybe that’s the key to managing all of this creative work; to see how the various parts of myself are not actually so separate, and to allow them to become more integrated.

Perhaps this is a season of bringing things together.

This has been a challenging week.

My post on Monday transformed this blog into a dynamic, charged space. The reactions and responses to my account of the PPD ritual covered the whole spectrum of human emotion, and reading them took me on quite a ride.

Today, I’d like to simply offer my heartfelt thanks to everyone who visited the blog this week, especially to those of you who were willing to share your perspectives and voice your concerns. Having dialogue around matters of religious identity — which is what we did by discussing the multiple meanings of a circle and the role of inclusivity in Pagan communities — can be challenging. It’s easy to project onto each others our own doubts, troubles, or insecurities. Sometimes we do it without realizing.

I know I’m capable of this.

Digital writing, and the community it creates, provides us each the platform to share our perspectives, but there’s a risk in doing that. You never know if someone’s going to pounce or praise, if your words will be understood in context or taken to mean something completely different. All of what you’ve presented about yourself in the past, which for me is a lot on this blog, can be used to better interpret your meaning or to point out a perceived flaw in your logic.

It can get really messy, really fast.

But I believe in taking the risk.

I believe (and I’m not to trying to get preachy here) that by sharing our understandings in a respectful, open way we each become agents of positive change in the community. By working to respect one another with our words, holding back the snark for just a moment, we foster a safe space for one another to question, to grow, to be shown a new way of thinking.

Perhaps it seems I’m being overly sensitive when I consider these things. But consider that our words, these little bits of text we casually throw onto the screen, are bite sized bits of magickal intent. If we are careless with them, harm can be done. If we’re careful, compassionate, and thoughtful, our words can initiate the most brilliant changes in the lives of others.

Words are that powerful.

This brings me back to the new feature on Bishop In The Grove: Letters.

Photo by Christine and David Schmitt, Flickr

I created Letters as a way of allowing my readership to direct the conversation of this blog. My approach to writing has always been to start with something personal, to reflect on what it means to me, and then to see if there’s a way to translate that personal experience for the greater community. Most of the time I offer up questions, because I don’t have all the answers. And, I trust in the idea of a collective wisdom.

I discovered this morning that the first Letters contact form was on the blog was broken, so if you’ve already sent a letter in I’m afraid I haven’t received it. I apologize for this, and I encourage you to re-send your letter.

If you have not yet participated in Letters, please consider visiting the page and sharing a bit about yourself. Your letter can be a testimony about an experience you’ve had, a question about Paganism that you’re having a hard time answering, or anything that you think would be appropriate for discussion in the “community forum” that arrises within the comment section of this blog. I promise I’ll do my best to present your letter in a respectful, kind, and considerate fashion.

I do hope to hear from you, and again — thank you to all who visit this site and bring it to life.

Bright blessings.

[P.S. Thanks for sharing these newly independent BITG posts on your social networks!]