The High Cost of Anger
Anger is a vampire. All attempts to impale the thing fall short of efficacy and leave you tired and gasping until you've staked the heart of the matter. Until that time, the beast will drain you. It renders you inaccessible to your friends and dwindles their power and yours. It blinds you to everything but the pain of it, when finally you recognize what the source is and healing can begin.
Anger always brings a gift basket along: doubt, despair, and depression, all of which intoxicate me to the point where my head begins to ache and my eyes glaze over from a frustrated cry. When I get to that point, there is very little anyone can do to reach me in that place.
That's where my faith comes in, and hope my friends will still be with me when the smoke clears. I have trouble letting go of people I love; even when it is in my best interest to guard myself from a harmful relationship. I petition my faith for quarter, heart in hands, and place it between those spiritual jaws as an act of devotion. Of this I am unafraid, but lately it seems that the so-called heart of my anger is in bed with my faith.
I am a spiritual Druid. I claim membership with a Druidic Religious organization, because it can and has taught me tools with which to function effectively with my spirituality. Perhaps it is a latent problem I have with authority (ironic, given my service as Witan to my Grove), but I have noticed a darkened corner of my religious order as it delves too deeply into dogmas and doctrines. I watch with growing fear that the ADF is quickly establishing a fundamentalist odor within it's ranks. This clashes a bit with my spiritual nature for a number of reasons, of which I will elaborate.
When I am sitting beneath a tree and listening, or running my hands through a stream, or laying in a field watching the sky, or dreaming up the future in son, there is not a single part of me which worries about whether or not the connection I feel is ADF appropriate. There is no part of my soul which grants a single worry as to whether healing Reiki, or appreciating an indigenous wonder tale that resonates strongly within me is Indo-European enough to be acceptable for inclusion in my worship. Nature doesn't give a single shit, and neither does history. It is said of Druids (and Celtic peoples in general...because to ME, Druid is an inherently Celtic word appropriate for this usage) that they discovered sacred space and honored it for what it was. When my ancestors moved here, they sought a new future here in North America, not to avoid the local sacred as though they only place it could be found was within their own culture. That is racism. We adapt and grow no matter our surroundings, just as nature does or it will perish for its defiance. Man does not shape anything which nature cannot utterly destroy, human nature especially.
Right now, I have come to the conclusion that: men in white robes cannot act as intercessor for me and filter my connection to the divine or the sacred. My authority is found within; the Goddess which permeates my entire body and spirit with no regard to what these councils have decided for me. To an extent, this is what is happening. I do not hate these men (and occasional women). I do not envy their position nor the heat that they catch on a regular basis, as I have experienced it myself firsthand often enough to not desire power over another in that way. It's sad.
Hopefully, I will be able to stake this vampire quickly and get back to being there for my friends, who well deserve a good friend that cares rather than the pile of bitterness I am experiencing right now.
I think I will start with cookies.
Anger always brings a gift basket along: doubt, despair, and depression, all of which intoxicate me to the point where my head begins to ache and my eyes glaze over from a frustrated cry. When I get to that point, there is very little anyone can do to reach me in that place.
That's where my faith comes in, and hope my friends will still be with me when the smoke clears. I have trouble letting go of people I love; even when it is in my best interest to guard myself from a harmful relationship. I petition my faith for quarter, heart in hands, and place it between those spiritual jaws as an act of devotion. Of this I am unafraid, but lately it seems that the so-called heart of my anger is in bed with my faith.
I am a spiritual Druid. I claim membership with a Druidic Religious organization, because it can and has taught me tools with which to function effectively with my spirituality. Perhaps it is a latent problem I have with authority (ironic, given my service as Witan to my Grove), but I have noticed a darkened corner of my religious order as it delves too deeply into dogmas and doctrines. I watch with growing fear that the ADF is quickly establishing a fundamentalist odor within it's ranks. This clashes a bit with my spiritual nature for a number of reasons, of which I will elaborate.
When I am sitting beneath a tree and listening, or running my hands through a stream, or laying in a field watching the sky, or dreaming up the future in son, there is not a single part of me which worries about whether or not the connection I feel is ADF appropriate. There is no part of my soul which grants a single worry as to whether healing Reiki, or appreciating an indigenous wonder tale that resonates strongly within me is Indo-European enough to be acceptable for inclusion in my worship. Nature doesn't give a single shit, and neither does history. It is said of Druids (and Celtic peoples in general...because to ME, Druid is an inherently Celtic word appropriate for this usage) that they discovered sacred space and honored it for what it was. When my ancestors moved here, they sought a new future here in North America, not to avoid the local sacred as though they only place it could be found was within their own culture. That is racism. We adapt and grow no matter our surroundings, just as nature does or it will perish for its defiance. Man does not shape anything which nature cannot utterly destroy, human nature especially.
Right now, I have come to the conclusion that: men in white robes cannot act as intercessor for me and filter my connection to the divine or the sacred. My authority is found within; the Goddess which permeates my entire body and spirit with no regard to what these councils have decided for me. To an extent, this is what is happening. I do not hate these men (and occasional women). I do not envy their position nor the heat that they catch on a regular basis, as I have experienced it myself firsthand often enough to not desire power over another in that way. It's sad.
Hopefully, I will be able to stake this vampire quickly and get back to being there for my friends, who well deserve a good friend that cares rather than the pile of bitterness I am experiencing right now.
I think I will start with cookies.
Cookies are a most excellent place to start. ^^
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