My hair is red because of Ms. Angela Chase.[/caption]Amazon asked me why I have an easy time with America-Southern magic, which is a v. good question. It made me think about all the bits and bots of pieces that make up my spiritual practice and that I should reflect on them and how they've changed. Naturally, since I'm a blogger, there is no "inside voice" in my head. I start thinking about anything too long and I want to immediately write it down and tell a bunch of strangers. I guess that's an author thing too? (The word is still weird in reference to myself. Author. Author. Weird) And before the internet there were letters so someone was always spilling their guts to someone else.
Before I get too deep in, I think it's important to discuss the sticky issue of Cultural Appropriation. Gordon thoughtfully discussed the issue three years ago, essentially saying that if you're not claiming anything that a layperson of the culture couldn't claim then you're good. (THREE YEARS AGO? So weird! It feels like just yesterday I was forcing you into blogosphere marriage, PEH!) Andrew picked up the discussion a few days ago, in regard to his own practice, contemplating where the line is for himself. Then Jow picked up the thread and contemplated how perhaps gods aren't static and are influenced by where they live. People aren't, why should they be? For the full trip of localized gods, I agree with Jow (soak it up, husband) that one should really read Neil Gaiman's American Gods.
So, to begin:
1. I don't claim to be an initiated expert in anything except St. Germain (and I aggressively recruit to that cult) and Pretty Little Liars. I'm a worker (hey, maybe that's my word!) with a personal practice and I'm not too into labels right now (which Beth and Sarah also discuss in their respective blogs. Maybe the hivemind is working again, blogosphere!) because I'm not any one thing and neither of you. We need some words so that know where-ish we are - Do we do magic? Do we believe in more than one god?
2. I am a white middle class suburban chick with a degree in Women's Studies. I know I come from a place of privilege and I try to be mindful of it. I'm not perfect, but I try to learn and be thoughtful.
This One Time? In Mexico?
So, did you know that your gods may not always pick up the phone? It's true. If you're visiting a place that has a strong local pantheon of its own, your call may not be connected. Especially if your god/dess/es have no local connection and you're not connecting with the land/spirits you're visiting. I love Mexico! Especially around the Mayan Rivera. The ocean is so beautiful, the food is delish, tequila lives there and the area has this fun, boho vibe. Do I personally connect with any Mayan or Aztec gods? Noooooooo. Are they interested in me, a soft squishy girl from Jersey who must seem entitled and spoiled? Um, no.
But I'm by an ocean! Surely Yemaya can just buzz right up to me? If I lived there, maybe? If I lived there, I could establish a better connection to the land and the local spirits and have my altar with its strong connection to my gods. But I don't and She's not a locally worshipped goddess unless you go way of Mary which for me is a dicey connection. Does that mean that when I go on vacation that my gods stop loving me, listening to me, protecting me? Of course not. My mom still did all of those things while I went on walkabout in Europe after college. Could she rush right to Scotland in a day if I was feeling sad? No, she was in New Jersey. I could call her maybe, but there was a time difference and a vague understanding about how to make international calls so who knows if she would pick up?
But Why Doesn't He Love Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?
I think a lot of times people mistake god/dess/es for gumball machine who can't wait to give you candy instead of Beings with their own thoughts, feelings and agendas. This means sometimes They Are Just Not That Into You. Take St. Expedite. Most Hoodoo practitioners swear by him. He gets shit done! Fast! He likes rum and pound cake, sounds like a party guy! When Jow and I first learned about him from Jason, we were so excited. He's quick and motivated! Other friends of ours like him and he likes them! We got out our little shrine to him and made him offerings and put on our best New Friend Smiles and poured him Our Best Rum. We gave compliments! We didn't ask for anything, just tried to make a connection. We waited.
And waited.
And waited.
We tried calling again. Maybe he didn't get our message! That happens, New Friend! We understand! Call us! We waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And. . .nothing. He didn't want anything to do with us. We were indignant. How could New Friend not like us? We are incredibly likable! We were polite! And nice! We tried to talk about crap that New Friend would be interested in! New Friend likes our other friends, how could New Friend not like us? WE WOULD BE SUPER AWESOME FRIENDS, NEW FRIEND.
We don't really know why still, just like how at a cocktail party you don't really know why someone won't warm up to you. We weren't desperate per se. We weren't asking for anything, we weren't in dire straits. We just wanted New Friend to be pals with us. Not everyone's going to like you in this life or in the spiritual life. C'est la vie!
It's Not You, It's Me.
Sometimes, the opposite happens. I was asked to invoke Saraswati for a ritual once. I didn't have a personal relationship with Her, but I gave her a ring and She picked up so I agreed to invoke Her. I thought, we could be ritual pals. And then we started working together. It quickly became apparent that any Lady MacBeth overachieving qualities I have ever been accused of having would be incredibly exacerbated if we became New Friends. I knew I would become (more) unbearable to live with and oh, if I was a pusher before, Cady . . .
My mentor, N. quickly confirmed that Saraswati would run me into the ground if I let Her. But how to break things off with a goddess? N. told me that I would need to be as boring as possible to Her for the next few weeks and keep my head down and my mouth shut. That meant no writing, no spinning, nothing creative, nothing interesting. Just lie on the couch and watch a batrillion episodes of Real Housewives in my sweats eating wholesome, bland food. Done and done! And it worked.
France, American Style
Spit, Blood and Bone