By veggiewolf When I first became a pagan (of the Wiccanoid variety), I believed any number of things that I now look back on and, well, cringe. I am sure that I drove the other pagans around me crazy – I was full of light and love (despite not being that variety of human in any other circumstance), and blessings, and merry meetings, and ancient matriarchies, and Joseph Campbell, and Margaret Mead and…and…and
I was, in a word, better. Better than those hapless Christians who knew not what they stole from us; better than monotheists who refused to believe in more than one god; better than the random people walking 0n the Earth who couldn’t feel the incredible connection between themselves and Mother Earth.
And then, I woke up. Or, rather, then I was smacked across the head repeatedly by a clawed hand and told to listen and that, until I was able to sort things deftly, I wasn’t permitted to do anything but watch and learn. And I nearly keened with frustration because I needed to do ALL THE THINGS and I KNEW WHAT I WAS DOING!!!! But I listened, and I watched, and I read, and began …read more
Source: Fluid Morality