It’s just
about one year from the time I
disaffiliated myself from my longtime Craft tradition. This seems like a good time to reflect
on whether, and if so, how, my life may have changed.
At first I
felt relieved, and I still do. But
in a way I felt I had performed an amputation, and even the cleanest
amputations involve the shedding of blood. And the necessity of closing the wound, stitching the gap
together, and learning to reuse the limb as much as possible, perhaps with the
aid of a prosthetic.
I also felt
anxious and worried about what friends I might be losing, if any. My anxiety befitted the situation,
because I did lose friends. Oh, some
protested undying love while in the same breath disavowing my experiences. Others simply avoided me. Among those who’ve avoided me are
Witches I have sponsored and/or initiated, and that really smarts. Not all of them, I’m grateful to be
saying.
I also felt
at sea in terms of firm footing, like someone seeking to stay upright in a
turbulent oceanic storm.
This was not
a good feeling, and it was exacerbated by a flurry of unwarranted, inaccurate,
and unsustainable ad feminem attacks
by people who don’t even know me polluting cyberspace on listserves and
Facebook by accusing me of various kinds of “un-PC-ness.”[1]
In
counterbalance, many people praised my decision and offered lots of moral
support.
I guess it
takes a critical change to bring out the best and the worst.
* * * * *
As some of
you know, my
grandson Ian appeared out of nowhere last April. With that connection, I began to learn more about my
biological son, Nick
Kappos. I had hoped both to
share my community with Ian and to honor Nick’s life at my then-community’s
annual Spiral Dance Samhain ritual.
I had arranged to have a section of the North altar for a memorial to
Nick. My decision in August to
leave Reclaiming made the question of my following through with this altar
difficult. In some ways I wanted
nothing to do with the ritual or anyone who might be there. In others, I really wanted to publicly
honor his memory, and I knew that there would be plenty of people there who’d
be glad to see me and whom I’d be glad to see. I deliberated.
I consulted. I
pondered. In the end, I took my
pal Sparky’s advice and went surrounded by family: my partner Corby, grandson Ian, Ian’s mom Tuesday, and his
then-girlfriend.
Ian and
Tuesday both had some snapshots of Nick.
I digitized some, then printed and framed them for the altar. Tuesday brought a plaid shirt like Nick
used to wear, and some foods he liked.
Nicholas Jon Kappos, 5 Sept. 1962 - 6 April 1989 |
While we
were erecting the memorial, some of my friends greeted me warmly, and
graciously acknowledged Ian and the others, but not without a bit of
awkwardness. During the time
before the ritual began, others gave me big smiles and heartfelt hugs, while
others entirely avoided me.
Sometimes I caught a glimpse of a distasteful grimace directed my way.
We simply sat as a group in one section and observed the unfolding of the rite.
I told them to hold on for the
dance.
The dance
itself, as always, I found intoxicating.[2] Everyone in our party danced, and
enjoyed it, while I participated from the center where I had a chair for when I
needed to sit.
I’m glad I
went, but attending served as the first of several tyings up of loose
ends. I have no desire to go
again, although Ian plans to bring friends this year just in time to dance the
spiral.
Since then
few have made any effort to keep in touch, even those with whom I had been
close for many years and who’d been mannerly in our encounters there. I have made some tentative efforts at
reconnecting, but they’ve not resulted in anyone meeting me in the middle. So I’m not considering those
relationships to be viable at this point, although I keep the doors of
communication open.
* * * * *
The Spiral
Dance was in October. By the time
January had come along I had been invited to present at the Claremont Pagan Studies Conference where’s
I’d spoken in the past, with the specific message that those organizers did consider me to be part of their community. How kind, how affirming, how
validating! I thank them with all
my heart.
I have also
remained as welcome a participant in a Gardnerian coven as I had been prior to
my disaffiliation. Corby and I
usually join them for sabbat rites and they have assured me that I have one
foot firmly planted with them. I’m
grateful for that comfort.
Then in
February I celebrated my seventieth birthday, Corby his sixtieth, as
well as our twentieth year together with a big once-a-decade party. A few Reclaiming friends responded
affirmatively to our invitation as soon as we sent it, said they wouldn’t miss
it. When the night arrived,
however, they didn’t show up. Only
four people who are presently active in local Reclaiming groups came to
celebrate with us.
At this
point, some don’t return my phone calls or emails. My analysis is that these few folks perhaps found it useful
to cultivate my involvement in internal political differences of perspective
when it seemed useful to them to have my support for their positions. Now that I am no longer a factor, I am
also no longer worth the bother. I
remain open to being proven mistaken in this analysis.
*
* * * *
A young man
approached me at a Reclaiming Brigit ritual the year before I left and told me
he was newly initiated and “of my line.”[3]
Wow! This comment gave me
pause, because Reclaiming
ostensibly is not a lineaged tradition.
Initiation has never been considered a requirement for any level of
involvement. In fact, there was a
time when the very notion of needing to be “authorized” by another to call
oneself a Witch was anathema to many.
Over this
past Fall and Winter I contacted everyone in whose Reclaiming initiation I had
any involvement[4] and created
a lineage tree. This tree includes dates, places, personnel, and any specific memories from those I
contacted and from myself. I then
sent a copy to each of these persons.
With this I tied up another loose end.
For most of
Reclaiming’s existence, and more formally (although even using the word “formally”
stretches its meaning) since the formation of BIRCH[5],
I’ve had a habit of noting to myself such things as what chant was written for
what purpose when, leading me to take on the task of history and lore-keeping. In March I
passed on all historical and lore materials I had and listserve ownership
to the poet Slippery Elm. I was
relieved to have tied up another loose end.
* * * * *
On the plus
side, my colleagues at Cherry Hill
Seminary continue to appreciate my involvement and contributions. Interfaith organizers respect me and invite
my participation. Many Pagans
have expressed support for whatever work I do in service to the wider
community. Witches & Pagans
magazine published an interview with me and featured me on the cover. I was invited to contribute to two more
blogs: Witch at Large at Pagan Square
and Wild Garden: Pagans
in the Growing Interfaith Landscape at Patheos. Starr
King School for the Ministry hired me as adjunct faculty to teach course
called Ritual Theory & Liturgical Design this past Spring semester. That experience bolstered my confidence
and reaffirmed that my offerings have value even beyond the little Pagan pond.
At this
point I still feel somewhat unmoored.
This feeling intensifies at each approaching point on the Wheel of the
Year. But overall, I’m regaining
my balance. I’m grateful for the
support and love I have in my life.
I’m blessed with a loving family, precious friends, and countless
experiences in a long life in the Craft – experiences wonderful and dreadful,
powerful and scary, practical and magical, profane and sacred.
If I
discover any more loose ends, I’m ready to tie them off.
[1] Un-PC-ness
meaning not politically correct.
[2] Interestingly
enough, there are folks nowadays who find little meaning in the unfolding of
the ritual, but arrive around 10:00 PM
so they can join in dancing the spiral.
[3] The
“NightMare Line.”
[4] Everyone
for whom I had any contact information and who was still living.
[5] Search
Reclaiming BIRCH if you really wanna know.
3 comments:
Blessings to you, Aline. You're describing human nature which is often stupid and venal as well as honourable and gentle. I spent a decade as part of an entwined and dedicated community with friends and compatriots who swore undying fealty. Lots of breathless poetry, lots of perfect love and perfect trust and in the blink of an eye, almost all gone. Those who're still in contact are worth my time.
Narratives simplify things and people have never been good at dealing with complexity. I hope this coming season of harvest and community brings you worthier friends and connections.
I am an occultist, not a witch, and came across this casually. I found it a beautiful bit of writing, very insightful, and full of wisdom and guts. Thankyou for writing it.
Honour to you lady; where ever you go the people around you will gain an elder.I wish you well in this new phase of your life.
Josephine McCarthy
A decade or more ago I went to one of your speaks, you spoke on ritual, public ritual, I was captivated by your words and the intense feeling behind them. Since then I have been happy to read what you write, anywhere you write it,this Blog is wonderful.
I am so sorry that you felt you had to take the actions that you did, but honesty is better than being somewhere you no longer feel at home. Those who do not keep their oaths, that sever friendship, that shun, really underscore the reasons you left in the first place.
Respect to you, thank you for your teachings, and dance on sister, you do not dance alone.
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