I didn't grow up in a church community, though I had a brief love affair with the ritual I found in an Episcopal church in Oregon in my twenties. My legitimate quest to create a spiritual practice was birthed in middle age by borrowing from the Buddhist practice of mindfulness, and the strong connection I felt for the worship of the Earth as taught us by our first nations. In Native American cultures The Great Spirit is a deity intertwined with the fabric of the Universe and the web of the life on Earth. It wasn't until recent years I discovered my Wiccan roots and the pre-Christian possibility that my ancestors were Earth worshippers. When I started this journey I worried because I didn’t know how to pray. Turns out we all know how to pray through our love of and gratitude for the gifts of life. This vault is for those who, like me, hunger for a spiritual practice and are learning to braid their own.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Braiding a practice in winter


Back from holiday vacation at the coast I am ruminating about how little I was outside during the 9-day stay, focusing more on stoking the home fires from the kitchen than on connecting with the Earth. Some of the reticence was warranted by the harshness of the wind and rain. And in my own defense when I did venture out I immersed myself totally in the sights/smells of the deserted stretch of Oregon coast line. But my wool sox/lined boot/down vested body likes to be warm. And the weather was punishing. 

I am a product of my generation and upbringing and likely to push for comfort and security rather than push for growth like my ancestors did. That worries me a bit. How can I balance the gravity that pulls me toward comfort with the learning and growth that can come from a reciprocal relationship with Pachamama, especially in winter? Indigenous wisdom is developed through direct experience. Only regular connection and ritual demonstrate my gratitude and respect.