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Bishop In The Grove on Temporary Hiatus

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Juggler

Bishop In The Grove needs to go on a temporary hiatus.

These are the words that popped into my head yesterday. As soon as I heard them, I knew they were true.

Blame it on the New Moon.

I’ve had the feeling for a little while that something needed to give. I’m a decent juggler (3 oranges, no more), but the message was clear:

DO LESS.

My schedule has been quite full lately. Between my contributions to The Wild Hunt, my seasonal entries to HuffPost, my work for the Solitary Druid Fellowship, and the small pile of books that have come my way via Witches and Pagans to review (not to mention Thorn’s book that we’re tweeting about on a daily basis), I’ve been stretched pretty thin.

Then yesterday hits. I take a meeting, and during the meeting I realize that a dream project is staring me straight in the face. A quiet voice inside says,

This opportunity is yours, if you’re willing to do the work.

And I’m willing. I knew that instantly. I want to do this. I’m uniquely qualified for the work, and excited at the challenge.

So, the blog needs a break because I need to be less divided.

The Morrigan’s presence in my life continues to reveal itself.

(What will you fight for? When will you take up your sword? When will you lay it down?) 

I’m not giving up everything, though. That doesn’t feel right to do.

Here’s what I’m imagining:

  • I give myself as long a break as I need from writing on BITG. During this time, when I feel the impulse to write about my thoughts on practice, Paganism, or anything that might fit naturally in the archive, I’ll write about it in a document entitled, “Book.”
  • I keep writing liturgies and devotionals for the Solitary Druid Fellowship. The next will be up in a week or so. Doing service work is soul food, really.
  • I continue as a contributor to The Wild Hunt and HuffPost.
  • I read books when they move me, and not accept any more for review. It’s so hard to turn down a book, but I need to get better at it.
  • I love on my family, celebrate my soon-to-be 18 year old kid, and spend time doing things that make us feel strong and happy.
  • I make music happen.

As plans go, I think this is a good one.

While I’m away, make sure you’re following the Bishop In The Grove feed. If you choose to get your posts by email, you’ll receive my next post directly in your inbox. I highly recommend doing that.

And please know how much I appreciate you. This community of readers has helped me gain clarity in so many ways. I look forward to more conversations with you.

See you real soon.

Teo

P.S. You can also follow me on Facebook, Twitter or Google+. Sometimes I post pictures of me in kilts. You won’t want to miss that.

 

Photo by Markus Lütkemeyer

How Do You Know It’s The Gods You’re Listening To?

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Since I began working through the Dedicant Path this second time, I’ve run across a number of people who are also starting their studies with ADF. They’re showing up in the comment section on Bishop In The Grove, on Facebook, and I’m wondering if there’s some deeper meaning behind it.

A friend of mine suggested that we should distrust the Volkswagen Bug syndrome. You know — the one where you buy a VW bug, and then all you see around you are VW bugs. They start popping up everywhere — in parking lots, next to you while driving on the freeway, trailing you home from your knitting class…

…that last one isn’t part of the lore. It just came to me.

You know what I’m talking about, though. You make some change to your life, and then you see that change reflected in the world around you.

If I was an adherent to a popular New Age theory like The Secret (which my husband calls “The Trick”), I might say that this is the Universe providing me what I asked for. Although, it would seem a bit more like the Universe on overdrive, wouldn’t it? How many VW bugs does one guy need?

Photo by Marty Desilets

This search for the source of the repeating VW — or the new wave of ADF Dedicants — may be fruitless. If it’s the Universe, there’s no good way to trace that. Same goes for the gods.

Right?

In the comment section of my last post people went to town explaining their relationship to Pagan and metaphysical stuff. It was eye-opening.

I’m reminded of one comment now.

“On the one hand, I fully agree with the idea that Pagans collect too much stuff….On the other hand, what if it’s what the gods demand of us?”

How do we know (he asks with no clear answer) if the gods are encouraging us to buy that fancy wand or that new “mysterious” crystal skull? How do we discern the meaning behind the multiplying VW’s and Druids?

Perhaps that word — discernment — is a key to unlocking some of this.

Photo by Jef Safi

A quick search for the meaning of discernment reveals this (the secondary definition):

(in Christian contexts) Perception in the absence of judgment with a view to obtaining spiritual direction and understanding

  • – without providing for a time of healing and discernment, there will be no hope of living through this present moment without a shattering of our common life

Why, I wonder, is this labeled as “in Christian contexts”?

The Christian context for discernment assumes that you’re listing to the One True God, but if he isn’t your Mr. Right you’re going to be listening for something, or someone else.

Many a Pagan turns to divination for answers, and perhaps for them divination is the Pagan version of discernment. But, for those who divine as a way of listening to the gods (or the dead, or the spirits of place), isn’t there a teensy-weensy bit of discernment involved in that process? Don’t you have to suspend your judgement — or, at least your immediate, knee-jerk, influenced-by-your-cultural-conditioning-and-prejudices judgement in order to tap into the knowledge of something other than yourself — something non-human?

In my ADF studies, I’m doing a lot of book work. I’m also being called to do a lot of personal reflection. In reflection, an act of seeing inward, there is an auditory component. There is inner-listening.

I think “inner-listening” might be another way to think of discernment.

The question is, listening for what?

Your personal truth? The voice of Demeter? The advice of your dead great-grandmother?

Discernment is nuanced in the Christian world. It points to a personal relationship with deity, and when I’ve heard it used it was done so with seriousness and sensitivity. You don’t just hear God without freaking out a little, or without having to go through a process of trying to figure out — did I just hear God?

So what about discernment outside of the Christian context? I have this strong feeling (perhaps I’m discerning something) that there is a place for discernment in the religious lives of polytheists and Pagans.

So, what is that place?

What is the use of discernment in your life?

Yes, but what do we NEED from our Pagan leaders?

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The discussion around the post, What do we want from our Pagan leaders? was enlightening for me. Admittedly, I have a close, personal connection to the subject, as I’m seeking to discover what it might mean that I am, as a friend told me, “called to lead” in some way.

This comment really stood out to me:

I think that’s one of the basic yardsticks of spiritual maturity: can what you offer to others be about what’s needed rather than all about self-promotion? Or self-effacement, or self-absorption, or deprivation, or justification, or any of the other funky little trips we can run that get between what we have to offer and actually offering it, freely and lovingly, as we’re called to do?

– Cat C-B

Ah…the need. I started out with the want, but the real answer may lie in the need.

Religious leadership can be complicated, I think, especially within a community that isn’t in agreement about our collective identity, our purpose in the greater society, or even if we should classify what we do as religion. By and large, the comments reflected that what we want is a co-creative, egalitarian model of group interaction rather than one which relies on a single leader. We want all of our strengths to be put to good use, we want our fellow coven or grove members to support us as we support them, and we want to experience our community without the sense that we are being governed.

This is what we want. But, is this what we need?

Another commentor, John Beckett, started off with a slightly more active tone:

Any leader has to begin with a vision. Who are you going to lead? Where are you going to lead them? Who and what do you serve?

A leader has to articulate his vision. If you keep it to yourself, you aren’t leading anyone.

A leader has to implement her vision. Talk is cheap – how are we going to do the work necessary to make the vision a reality?

I find this connection between vision and leadership to be interesting, especially in contrast to the idea that leadership functions best when it serves the needs of the community. I wonder if this idea of “beginning with a vision” would be better phrased as “beginning with vision”.

Should the vision of a leader be thought of as more of a quality of seeing; a refinement of one’s faculties of observation? Perhaps we need our leaders to see what is happening in our communities and in the lives of individual with greater clarity. In this way, their “vision” isn’t a noun. It isn’t a platform on which they can run for election. Instead, it is a tool which they use in order to better understand their brothers and sisters.

But then the question is, what do we do when, through our clear vision we recognize a specific need? Is that the moment where leadership begins?

I like the idea that leaders should be teachers, or possessors of knowledge. They shouldn’t be so bookish as to be unapproachable, but I like to think they’ve put in some time learning about the nuts and bolts of their practice or tradition. I also feel that pastoral care should be a primary focus of religious leadership. If we’re going to work in service to the community, we should understand how to serve the real, human needs. I’m talking about skills of compassion and empathy.

To be clear, in all of this musing I’m not feeling conflicted about the subject of Pagan leadership. I just find the discussion to be fascinating. I think there’s value in stepping back and thinking about the difference between what we want and what we need in all aspects of our life, but particularly when we’re thinking about the leaders of our covens, our groves, or our larger Pagan institutions.

Do you see a difference between what Pagans want from our leaders and what we need from them? If you have led a group, have you found it challenging to discern the needs of the group, or did you have clear vision from the start?

This blog is a safe space to unpack your ideas and experiences, and I encourage you to do so in the Comment section.