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For the last couple days, I've been moping around the house. I wanted to start work on a short story, but equally strong was the desire to finish another essay before I did so. Why, I don't really know. It just felt like something I had to do first. But I trust that sort of inward monition, and so I began looking for something good to write about. I considered all sorts of topics, but nothing clicked. I searched the web, looking at horrible site after horrible site, hoping it would inspire me. I went to chatrooms, I bothered my friends, I picked up books and opened them at random, hoping the answer would present itself to me. Nothing. With each passing hour, I felt worse and worse. Why should it be so hard to write about Paganism. I've been practicing various forms of it for almost ten years. I should be filled with essays, jostling to get free. And yet, I couldn't write a good essay if my life depended on it. (And it was starting to feel as if it did!) That's when I noticed that the wind was blowing outside. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the giant tree in the neighbor's yard swaying elegantly. I watched it for a couple moments, smiling. It looked so beautiful. Like an old woman, dancing slowly to a record she's heard a thousand times before. Then I broke out of my riverie, and went back in search of a serious Pagan topic. Hmm ... maybe something on the history of the Wiccan Rede. And then the winds really started picking up. Heavy wooshes as they rolled along the alleyway, knocking over garbage cans. A chorus of trees, dancing. And the winds kept rubbing against my window, as if they were enticing me to come outside and join them. But I fought the urge to go outside. I needed to finish this. I had to write an important Pagan essay. There are so many children out there, who don't take their religion seriously. They just crib stuff from books. Never think critically about their beliefs. They do it because it's a fad, the kewl thing to do. Our community is saturated with them, and damn it, I want to provide an alternative to that. I want to challenge people to think, to question, to make their religion better. I have to do this. I could almost hear laughter among the winds. They kept tapping at my window, and whooshing between the houses,. and chasing the neighbor cats, and it looked like so much fun! So, I gave in. I was talking to a friend as I looked for important ideas, and I just told her, "It's windy outside. I'm gonna go for a walk." Then I shut down my computer, got dressed, and ran outside to play with the winds. I didn't want to look like a complete moron, so I walked down the street as if I had some place to go. But my step was much lighter. I was practically skipping down the street. A wind would chase after me, grabbing my overshirt and flipping it up. Another tugged at my pony-tail, so I finally took out my hairband, shook loose my hair, and the wind teased my long tresses and played with my beard. I didn't care. I kept walking, a great big smile on my face, lost in the sheer wonder and happiness of the moment. It was like I had entered another world. The masks were slipping, and I could see that inside the trees there were beautiful young women, dancing, dancing, always dancing. I saw squirrels racing each other. I saw plastic bags leaping and twirling and spinning, going from the arms of one wind to the next. I greeted a dog who had gotten free, and was running down the street, enjoying the wind with his lolling red tongue. I greeted him as a fellow reveler, and he gave me the same consideration. I glanced inside people's homes. They were watching the nightly news, with it's grisly tableux of human suffering, or game shows, holding out false hopes of avarice as the key to man's happiness. I passed an old man on the street, who was tugging his coat out of the grasp of a wind, and holding his hat to his bald head. He didn't see, or understand, and just muttered about the weather. I felt too good to worry about these poor souls. I was alive! Not just I, but the whole world. We seemed to be caught
up in the timeless revelry of the Gods. The world seemed
lighter, happier, warmer, just a little closer to perfection
than it had been before. All the many parts were coming
together in celebration. I had no idea what they were
celebrating. I was just glad that the winds, squirrels,
bags, dogs, streets, and trees had invited me to this feast
of the Gods. I knew, too, that this was the natural state of
the world. It was constantly suffused with the festive
spirit. I just usually don't perceive it, because I'm
trapped in my own little world, dull and grey and safe. For
a few moments last night, I could look at the world as it
was, not as it appeared behind the dark glass. The scales
had fallen from my eyes, soon to be replaced, but not before
I got a glimpse of the joy and silliness that is our natural
state. But I knew that this awareness, this ability to let
go and live vitally, wholly, joyously - for however long,
even a few short minutes - was the essence of the Dionysian
religion. It's not in arguing semantics, or in accepting the
right dogmas. It's about making friends with the world, and
yourself, and joining in life's great feast. Last night, I
could call out, "Io Bacchus! Io io Bacchus!" and truly
understand what it means. |
