Whither Intellectual Rigor?

Serving Suggestion: Try this post with a double-tall latte and a chocolate croissant!

(by Kele)

Michael and I don’t buy Pagan non-fiction as a rule. I think the last time was fifteen years ago, when we ran across a couple titles on “Faery Wicca” in a little metaphysical shop in Michigan. The books looked to have possibilities, so we got them. They turned out to be pretty bad: the same old stuff with a varnish of Fairy Lore and a truly insulting attitude of “This is the one true path handed down by the Little People.”

We keep looking and hoping. We keep wanting that really deep exploration of the path to which we’ve dedicated ourselves. But we never find it.

Recently I was selected to review books for a major Pagan publication. I applied because I felt I needed an outlet for my opinions and I felt they have value—in fact, they might be very appealing to some people. I mean, I can’t be the only opinionated Pagan bitch out there. Also, I thought it might be a good opportunity to see what’s out there in the Pagan non-fiction front, maybe discover some of the kind of book Michael and I are constantly looking for.

The first book I received was an exploration of Welsh myth, and I was really excited about reading it. I’ve always loved the mythology of the British Isles, and I got my first copy of The Mabinogion in eighth grade. The author’s bio said he was a Druid, Bard, and Scholar. I thought, “Maybe this guy will have something new to say.”

Well, he did and he didn’t. See, he hadn’t chosen his audience. He had no idea whether he was talking to someone just starting out on a Pagan path or someone more experienced. So the book wandered between really great scholarship and exercises that, while well-constructed, seemed boring and basic to a person who’s been practicing the Craft for well over twenty years. The exercises included a lot of hand-holding, and pep talks about how it’s okay to have an experience, and condescending cautions about stuff that an experienced practitioner shouldn’t even have to think about. It made me want to throw the book against a wall, which was a shame because some of the scholarship really was excellent. And I got the impression that the scholarship was really what interested the author, but he felt he had to throw in the basics to keep the work accessible to everyone.

But the whole thing made me ask again: Where are all the books on Advanced Pagan Studies? Why do we get stuck in beginners’ mode? Why do we keep going through that same door over and over again? And why do we feel that everything has to be accessible to everyone?

A little about me: I come from a family of religious scholars. My dad was a Presbyterian Minister. His brother was a Presbyterian Minister. My grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather back in the Old Country were all Presbyterian Ministers. So yeah, I’m not a Fam-Trad Witch. But I grew up behind the scenes of religion. I know how it works and how it doesn’t work. I know how to relate to a congregation and, above all, how to establish and maintain a deep connection with your belief system and your gods. And I’m sorry to say this, but a lot of modern Paganism really falls flat in this arena.

Let’s take a minute to look at my dad’s library. A lot of different editions of The Bible, check. You’d expect this for a Christian clergyman. What else? The history of the Christian Holy Land. Geography. Translations of sacred texts. Travel diaries from people who had been there at different times. The history of the Roman Empire. The archaeology of Ancient Egypt. Symbolic interpretations of Bible stories. Jewish scholarly works.

Do you see what I see? My dad’s library did not contain fifteen different instructional volumes on how to run a church service or how to serve communion. That is, he was past the beginners’ stuff. He learned that in seminary. He did not feel the need to go over it again and again, or to keep telling other clergy members how to do it.

This is where Pagans can learn a whole lot from Christian Scholars.

Many Pagans espouse this idea that “we’re all clergy.” It’s the great leveler, and it also causes a shitload of problems, as anyone who’s tried to run a successful ritual can tell you. Well, the issue of Pagan clergy is for another blog. But one thing I must say here is this: If you need to refer to a book to tell you what to do in a ritual, you have no business functioning as clergy. Yeah, okay: we all want to be initiated right away, and some of us self-initiate, and no one can define your relationship with the gods for you. But that doesn’t change the fact that if you are studying the “how-to,” you are a beginner at this and you cannot have the experience to minister to anyone.

But this mindset is precisely why authors of Pagan non-fiction feel, consciously or not, that they need to cater to everyone, no matter what the experience level. There’s this overriding thought-form that every discussion should be open and everyone has something meaningful to say. This may have a certain amount of truth; after all, it took a child to point out that the Emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes. However, it is also true that there are some things beginners simply will not understand, and when they try to engage it only serves to drag the discussion down to the level of the least educated.

Advanced practitioners need to be able to go deeper. We need books of myths and mythological scholarship. A lot of Pagans shudder at this kind of thing, but remember that what is written down is a starting point for your own work and your personal relationship. It might be better to get stuff through oral channels, but we live in a culture where information is written down. Don’t get stuck in Dogma-Mind—by this, I mean the tendency to disdain the written word as insignificant and impersonal—because something valuable is printed on a page.

We need to have the courage to examine the etymological, social and cultural origins of our gods, and to discuss our findings. Pagans get stuck in this mindset where they keep justifying themselves ad nauseam, saying stuff like, “No, really—our gods exist!” Well, so they do. But it becomes a case of “The lady doth protest too much” when you keep going on about it. It makes you look weak in your belief. We say that our gods live and grow and change, but we try to cast them in stone. And we refuse to examine them. How can you claim to know something if you won’t delve into it? It gives you an undifferentiated and undefined image of deity that is neither supported by myth nor susceptible to a relationship with the living gods.

Personal experience, visionary inspiration and all are great. They have a lot of value. But there is so much more you can learn from studying how others have related to the gods you choose over the centuries of the human story. Why would you not want to learn everything you can? Why cling to intellectual cowardice? World philosophies and religions have so much to offer. You don’t have to believe in them, but for gods’ sakes, you can at least study them and discuss them. And when you share your findings, that will be the kind of Advanced Pagan Work we need.

In the end, here are some tips for people wanting to write about advanced topics in Pagan Studies:

If you’re teaching someone to ground and center, you’re not writing advanced work.

If you’re explaining how to go about visualization or trance work, you are not writing advanced work.

If you’re explaining ritual structure or sacred space, you’re not writing advanced work.

If you’re constantly reassuring your reader that her personal experience has value, you are not writing advanced work.

Leave it alone. Let go. Above all, trust your reader to find what she needs in your work and go elsewhere if you do not offer what she is looking for. You do not have to be all things to all Pagans. Extend yourself and let the work carry you forward into realms that have not been explored in every  book ever written. You’ll be doing us all a service.

Welcome

So, the other day Michael and I are sitting in Back Country Coffee, having the kind of conversation you have in a coffeehouse and also lamenting that we don't spend nearly enough time in coffeehouses having this kind of conversation.

In comes this guy. You know the one I mean. He's older, maybe late fifties, but he's dressed like a skate punk: ratty jeans, wrinkled shirt, stocking cap over uncombed grey hair. Some jewelry that looks like it's meant to be significant. He's carrying a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and he immediately engages the barrista in a conversation about how meaningful and profound it is.

 I roll my eyes. This is not something I have missed during the time I have not been hanging out in coffeehouses. I say in what I hope is an undertone: "Yeah, and I read that book in seventh grade."

Michael is more generous. He says: "Give him a break. It's not bad. And it was the first of those seventies self-help enlightenment find your path books."

Someone else comes in. He greets the first guy by the name of a legendary Buddhist sage. I believe this is not the guy's birth name, but one he has chosen. I find this really ironic for a guy who is now declaiming the merits of egolessness.

Michael and I start talking about people who get really excited about things we find basic, and the way others flock to them, and how people exploring alternative spirituality get stuck in beginner's mode and never seem to be able to progress from there. We wonder if this has something to do with a social attitude, where it is assumed that everyone has to have access to everything, whether or not they're cut out for it, whether or not they're in any state of mind to understand it. Along the way, Michael starts in on his experiences as a public school teacher. He says, "Oops, I didn't mean to go there."

I say, "You can go anywhere you want. We're in a coffeehouse."

So, we got the idea for this blog. See, we spend a lot of time--not just in coffeehouses, but sitting around the house or at the dinner table--discussing Pagan* Issues that no one else seems to address. We've both been practicing Pagans/Witches/What-Have-You for more than twenty years, and frankly, the whole business kind of irritates us. We're not sweetness-and-light Pagans. We don't think everything is great and the goddess (whichever name you call her by) showers her divine blessings on us in the form of flower petals and unicorn poop. We're more the Blood-and-Bones kind of Pagan. I'm sure there are more of us out there. But we rarely seem to meet any of them.

We want to speak up about what's important to us and what troubles us. Some people may find this offensive or challenging. We don't care. You can think whatever you want to think about us and our opinions; it's your privilege.

Pour yourself a cuppa joe and pull up a chair.

*For the purposes of this blog, the word "Pagan" will be used to encompass any of the non-Western standard spiritual/religious paths based in the Spiritualist Movement of the late 19th century. At the discretion of the authors, it may also be used to describe Westerners incorporating some Eastern practices and belief systems into a path which is does not strictly adhere to any Eastern religious or philosophical practice.