This is the last of my Yahoo! stuff. One of my very few forays into poetry.
Dancing in the Moonlight
I dreamed I was dancing in the moonlight
On a forest shrowded hill.
The wind swirled around my naked body
Alighting every nerve with the earth's will.
I looked out over the world
The magic coloring my sight
And I knew in my very heart of hearts
That this was the night.
The earth balanced on the precipice
Of time changing time
The stars and planets swirled into infinity
In a perfect straight line.
And all around me the forest hushed
Pregnant with sorrow, fear, joy
Our little planet insignificant and bold
Hurtling wildly through space
Moved another inch, and then two
And then we were prone.
I stood at the very axis of the change
Feeling the power shoot straight through me
Taking away my body and my soul
But in a tiny little part
No more than a spec I was still me
Watching the world
I saw futures that would never be born
I saw pasts that were wiped from memory
I saw the coliding of realities
The wars and the harmonies
Of all that has been and all that never will be
It was time.
The universe plucked my soul like a musical string.
I could not be sorrowful
For the world that would be lost
I could not be excited
For the world this would bring.
It was time.
My existence sweeped out over infinity
And strangely there was no time left.
The universe called
And only I was left.
The traveler, the shaman
The carrier of the mysteries.
With a giant heave
I was scarcely strong enough to hold
I pulled myself back in
To one single existence,
One single vessel
One single home.
A planet hurtling wildly through space
Insignificant and bold
The cord to infinity snapped
The sound whipcracking through existence
To be heard by all
But those whose hearts it was supposed to change
The universe held it's breath
Then the earth moved
An inch and then two
The connection was broken
The change begun
The world made new.
I walked on wobbly legs
And slipped through the trees
Back to my bed
Followed by a moonlit breeze
The people watched the sky
Finally feeling what they had missed
But the time was past
The future of our world shapped by the will
Of a single solitary witch
I returned to my home and my bed
Covered myself up in the night
And dreamed of dancing
In the full moonlight
This short story was originally published on the now gone Yahoo! Contributor Network. It is a good summary of how I view the myriad of faiths in this world.
The traveler walked down the path. He couldn't remember having started on his journey, he only remembered walking. He didn't know where he was going, or where he had come from. It seemed to him that he had walked from time out of mind. He never stopped walking because all he knew was this path and that he was supposed to walk. It never occurred to him to stop or go the other way.
The traveler slowly became aware that he had been walking a long time and began to wonder where he was going. It seemed to him that there must be a purpose to all this walking and journeying. Where was this path taking him?
Every now and again he would come to a crossroads. He didn't know where the other paths led so he was afraid of them and simply moved on, but he did ponder what those paths might look like.
One day he came to giant hill, so high he couldn't see the top. He thought if he could just reach the top maybe he would see where he was going. So the traveler climbed and climbed for many days, until it seemed there was no end at all, but just when he was ready to give up, he reached the top and felt he could touch the clouds.
He stood atop the hill and looked at all of creation before him. He could see the forests and streams and the mountains. Far, far into the distance there was a golden city that filled his soul with warmth. He watched the sun and moon and skies and earth around this city with great longing. He knew he belonged in the golden city.
All around the city were paths of every kind, some dark jewels breathing of night stars, some brightly colored as rainbows, some as pure and luminous as pearls, and others as simple and relaxing as floating on a mountain stream, but each one different and each one with its own beauty. The traveler searched as far as he could see and found that all the paths led to the golden city. What this meant he didn't know but he was content to walk again because he knew his path would get him there.
One day he came upon an old woman standing in the road crying. The traveler stopped and stared for a long time. In all his days he had never seen another person. He had no idea that other people had walked the path too. Stunned he was afraid to approach her, but she seemed so sad and he wanted to understand why. Carefully he walked to her and asked her what was wrong.
"I'm blind!" she proclaimed. "The road was here, I know it was," she fretted, "but I cannot find it and now I am so old I cannot even see."
"I can see the path," the traveler said. "You can walk with me." This made the old woman smile. He took her arm and they walked together.
"Why are you blind?" he asked her after a time.
"I have forgotten," she told him. "I used to know where I was going but then I stopped walking and I forgot where I was or where I wanted to go and then my eyes became too dark to see." The traveler thought about this for awhile and then told her of all the things on the path around them and of the golden city he had seen high on a hill. Slowly her eyes began to clear and after a time she could see as well as he did and set off on her own path.
Again the traveler walked alone, but for the first time he knew there were others. It occurred to him as he stopped to rest, that if there was a person on the path ahead of him there might be others behind him. It might be nice for them to know they were not alone after all. In the morning he gathered some berries and left them with a simple note. "Please eat these and ease your hunger."
Leaving the gift made him happy so he made another. He gathered water from a clear stream. "Please drink this so you won't be thirsty." He made a bed. "Please rest here so you'll be stronger tomorrow." He even left a bundle of bright flowers. "Please take these and brighten your heart." The traveler made many gifts always smiling when he thought of what the people would do when they found them.
Another day he came upon a man weighed down by a large burden. The man struggled with it, his eyes crinkled shut in strain his body heavily bowed and unable to move. It seemed all of creation was on his shoulders.
"Help!" he cried. "It is too heavy! I cannot bear it!" and he fell to his knees. Overcome with emotion the traveler ran to the man and tried to help him up, but no matter how much he tried he could not get the man to his feet.
"Let me help you carry this," the traveler said and finally the man was able to stand. Together they walked holding the burden. As they walked the burden got smaller and smaller, each step a little piece of it seemed to melt away.
The traveler and the man walked together and talked of many things. The traveler told him about the golden city and together they made gifts for those that would come after them. One day the man's burden was gone and he turned down his own path with a light heart.
The traveler met many people on his way and with each one he learned something. He met hate, and greed, and sadness. But all these people were not bad, they simply needed help on their path. He walked for a long time helping those he met and leaving gifts.
One day when it seemed the traveler was no longer a young man and had walked so long he thought he'd lived a hundred years, the path around him began to change. The world became filled with a bright golden light and soon his feet were walking on nothing but luminous air. As he floated in the loving golden mist he realized that the golden city wasn't at the end of the path…it was everywhere all the time.
"What do you wish of me?" the creator asked, the sound vibrating in the traveler's very soul. The traveler only had one wish. "I wish to go back," he said.
"You do not wish to be with me?" the creator asked
"But you are everywhere," the traveler said. "I am still with you if I go back, and I want to see the other paths and leave gifts."
The golden light grew even brighter and filled the traveler with a joy he had never known before. "As you wish," the creator said. The traveler lived his days wandering from path to path helping those he found, leaving gifts and telling everyone about the golden city. Everywhere he walked, on every path, the world glowed bright and gold even if he was the only one who could see it. And at last he understood. All paths lead to the truth.
This is one of those blogs that I’m unsure how to go about. I have this political soap box about religious equality in my head, and my feet are stomping on it. They’re not tightly organized and intricate, tap dancing for rhythm; these are all out, hard core percussionist playground stomps. I know this stream of thought has to come out, but my organization in it is lacking. My mother used to tell me I would go on these little journeys in my head, and when I finally spoke I was so far beyond the original idea that got me thinking, that no one knew where I was or how I got there. I will attempt to take you through the hoops and over the leaps with me.
I have a very dear friend, really he is my brother from another mother, that I’ve spoken about before, just not mentioned names. Those that know me best typically know who it is. This man was born to be a first responder. He eats, sleeps, and lives preparedness and survival, search and rescue. He’s got the heart of gold that puts others before himself in almost all things, and the calling to help others. He happens to be Heathen, like me. We follow the teachings of the Norse/Germanic pantheon best known of from the Vikings. Before finding Asatru, I was a non-wiccan witch studying the use of magick and pagan ways for most of my adult life.
I’m waiting for someone of a more well known mono-theistic faith to say something akin to, Isn’t it wonderful he is the exception. This pagan is here to help. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times in my life that I’ve heard similar things. I’m not too different from my brother. I follow a shamanic path as a seidr, a Viking witch/shaman/seer. I’m here to help. It’s in my make up. I actually can’t ignore someone in pain (emotional or physical) even if I highly dislike them. I’m just not good at the whole repelling-into-broken-buildings-to-dig-someone-out or reading-the-doplar-to-know-where-that-storm-is going-to-hit- so-they-can-be-there-first-to-help kind of thing he does (wow those dashes were long).
One thing I’ve learned over the years, every pagan faith has a call to help others. To give to the community. To respond when help is needed. I donate to shelters and volunteer *because* of my faith, not in spite of it. It is not two separate sides of me, but intricately intertwined. Embedded in the noble nine virtues, the cornerstone of Asatru, are words like bravery, honor, hospitality, perseverance. By the most basic principles we, as heathens, are called upon by forces that are greater than ourselves to serve the community. I would say I am hard pressed to find one pagan I have ever met that does *not* give or volunteer in some way. However very few are open about their faith when they do it.
There are exceptions, like the Hands of the Goddess in Florida, whom a friend of mine does a lot of work with. They work with local charities and separately with their own, openly, as pagans. I love seeing this. I love seeing the non-pagans that drop stuff off at her door because they believe in what they do, but they are still considered something unique.
Another friend of mine, landed a dream job, that centers around service to the community. They almost lost it because they were openly pagan and the rest of the group was Christian, even though this was a secular organization. The others felt ooky about working with a pagan. I don’t know man, they might be a devil worshiper. No one took the time to learn the belief system this person followed or that, that very belief system was the entire reason they were there and so dedicated in the first place.
I was angry when I learned this. It’s a free country with supposedly freedom of religion. No one should ever have to hide or modify or step back from their faith to appease the few. I was also told by this friend that most of the better organizations for community service, everything from search and rescue to soup kitchens, were Christian, Muslim, or Jewish based, as if the myriad of other faiths in this country didn’t exist or were all inherently evil.
Why is that? Why are faiths so intrinsically dedicated to service to fellow man not making a bigger impression on the scene. Why is Hands of the Goddess considered unique? Why are good pagans not being counted for?
You’re not going to like my answer.
This happens because religious intolerance in this country is so deeply ingrained and been going on so long, that it has been accepted by the pagan community. It is considered normal to hide one’s faith when giving for fear of the gift being refused.
That’s a real fear. I totally get it. You just want to make sure help gets to those that need it. Not only does it feel bad on a personal level when that happens, but it denies those that that need it, the help. It is still wrong. Let me say that again.
*It is still wrong.*
Allowing this situation to continue only perpetuates all the stereotypes we fight against every day. It allows people to remain ignorant and intolerant. It teaches the public nothing, and our community hides further into the shadows.
Nothing will ever change if we don’t make it change. I want to live in a world where my friends and loved ones can be proud of being first responders, volunteer coordinators, teachers, *and* pagan.
How do we fix it?
Simple. In fact it’s alarmingly simple. It’s so basic, that I bet every single one of you has already thought of it and passed it over as not being enough.
We educate. When talking to a volunteer coordinator: I’m here because as a heathen it is my duty to and my honor to serve. When collecting cans of food: The Goddess reminds us that we are all equal and to serve those in need. When pulling wreckage from a downed house: You and me are equal, and I’m here to help. My pagan faith teaches that.
That’s a lovely necklace. It’s my Thor’s hammer. It reminds me to be strong and act with courage. Or It’s my pentacle, it reminds me to stay in balance with all the elements. It stands for mother and earth and protection.
Believe it or not these sorts of simple statements will cause ripples all around us, and slowly, person by person, our voices will be heard, and the community will understand we belong at the table.
I have a favorite story. The Starfish. This lady walks out onto the beach and it’s covered in starfish. As far as the eye can see, thousands of starfish, all of them dying when they were washed up by the tide. She turns around stunned at the sight and finds another woman throwing starfish out into the sea. The first woman asks, “What are you doing? You can’t save all these starfish, there are too many.” The second woman replies, with a starfish in her hand, “No. But I can save this one,” and she chucks it back out to sea. She picks up another one, “And this one,” she throws that one out as well.
We need to get over this idea that small actions aren’t enough or don’t have impact. They have more impact than you or I will ever be able to track. We cannot allow a society to continue when even our attempts at service are pushed away.
My name is Susan Simone. I am an author, an artist, and a Heathen; and I proudly serve the community. Do you serve?
**This blog has been cross posted.**
Susan is a writer and artist by day, a child and pet wrangler by night, and occasional crazy person on the weekends. She walks the path of a Siedr and strives to grow day by day.