The other day when talking to my mother on the phone, I realized that there is something that is actually really bothering me a lot about all this talk about “fluffy bunnies.” I thought back to my experience as a very enthusiastic Pagan teenager, and the way I was treated by many of the adults in the Pagan community around me. Needless to say it wasn’t a very good one. In fact, ten years later I’m still put off by it, and would love a chance to sit down and talk to those adults about how they treated me.

So here are my questions – Where have all the elders gone? Where are those people that are willing to attempt to help bring people into the fold in a gentle way? Why is it that so many of us are looking down our noses at others, and couldn’t we put our energy into better things?

Now I know that there are those that will never change. They will be perma-bunnies. However, I don’t think it’s fair to assume that every “white-lighter” that we find out there isn’t willing to learn more about their own religion. And I think that was the original thought behind those first webpages talking about fluffies.

As a teenager, I would have loved for someone to hand me or even suggest a book to me not written by Silver Ravenwolf. I’d have greeted knowledge about the “burning times” explained to me by an elder if it had been gently given. Basically I was a sponge just waiting to soak up information, and no one took up the challenge of it.

It’s not safe to assume that every teenager out there is just embracing a passing fad to anger their parents. I understand the legality of letting someone under the age of 18 join a coven, but what I don’t understand is when it became illegal to simply suggest a book or a website with information to someone.

If they don’t seem open to it, fine. Just leave knowing that you tried. But until you try, don’t write a person off as a hopeless case.

So instead of looking down your nose at that pentacle covered kid running around at your Pagan gathering, introduce yourself to them, talk to them in a way that doesn’t say you’re trying to cram information down their throat, and generally treat them like a person. It’s not that hard.

You are an older, more experienced person, and it is an honor. I would go so far as to say that it is your sacred duty to help those that are less experienced than you are. If it wasn’t for the elders teaching us through books and in-person learning, none of us would have gotten as far as we are today. (Though some of us are further along the path than others, and I don’t claim to be that far along!)

I’m a huge fan of Confessions of a Pagan Soccer Mom. The blog is absolutely great. The author, Mrs. B, put up a prompt last night:

Today, think about what the most frustrating part of being a pagan is. Being “in the broom closet”? The cost of gathering appropriate tools? Finding the time to actually get out in nature? Not being able to find other pagans in your area? Then consider what you can do to change that thing.

I think the most frustrating thing for me is the fact that the other day I realized that I was, indeed, back in the broom closet. I’ve been left longing for the days when I was a teenager and didn’t care what anyone thought about my religion – I was so brave and enthusiastic about teaching others about this great subject I thought I knew everything about.

Last week I asked for Samhain off from work, because I plan on having a giant feast for my mother, boyfriend, and myself. (Fortunately I have a great relationship with my mother and am completely out with her, who raised me with her own brand of Buddhist/Taoist/Pagan/Methodist beliefs.) One of my co-workers was standing there, and asked “Do you have a party to go to that night?”

I froze.

I was terrified.

“No,” I replied, hoping we could leave it at that.

“Oh, you have kids! You’re going to take them out that night,” she guessed.

“No,” I said. “It’s… Sort of a religious holiday for me.”

I prayed silently that we could leave it at that.

“Well, what kind of religious holiday?”

It was at this point that I was getting more and more worried about what she’d think of me. Of course the smart-alek in me wanted to say, “I’ll sacrifice puppies to my Dark Lord.” I managed to keep myself from saying it.

Instead my mind fortunately jumped to the next (better) answer – One that could easily be written off as Catholic due to All Saints Day or any other possibilities. I found myself explaining as carefully as possible, “I celebrate my ancestors and those that have passed on that night. I hope to have a big dinner that night, so I want the day off to prep for it.”

Thank the Goddess, she didn’t ask any more about my religion! I was so relieved. Instead we went on to talk about dinner parties, then I scurried away to clean out a fitting room.

It was later that evening that the whole situation really started to get to me. I started questioning exactly what it was that made me so nervous about it. Granted, I don’t know the woman very well. We don’t work together all that often. But even my coworkers that I consider friends I don’t feel comfortable telling.

Could it be their crosses that they wear? Why can’t I wear a pentacle without worrying about it?

Could it be that I live in a place where the population is predominately Christian? And what do I even care what they think about me?

Could it be that, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun to believe that spirituality and religion, like politics, are personal things that you shouldn’t talk about? No, that couldn’t be it. I love religion and want to hear all about others.

So why, exactly, is it that I’m scared to be out of the broom closet? I do know that I’m annoyed when it’s assumed that I believe in Christianity. I do know that I’m not ashamed to believe in what I do.

I do know that I love my religion and wish more people understood it, but apparently I’d like someone else to do all the teaching to them.

Why is it that on my Facebook page, I have “Unitarian Universalist” as my religious beliefs instead of Pagan?

The fact is that I’m still pondering all of these questions. I’m trying to decide if I’m really truly uncomfortable with being in the broom closet at work or with people in general (many that knew I was a Pagan as a teenager). Maybe I’m not. Maybe my religion has taken a more private place in my life as it’s become more serious.

I still feel like it’s almost a sacred duty to teach others about Paganism. It’s important for others to understand that we aren’t all “sacrificing puppies to the Dark Lord.” But then maybe someone else would be better about it than me.

Me who had a very profound moment in life where I felt the calling towards ministry. Me who loves her religion. Me who actually loves religion in general and wants to know what other people believe, despite the fact that a lot of times they’d think I was going to hell if they knew the truth.

I’m a Pagan. I’m in the broom closet.

I have a lot of thinking to do.

This starts my (hopefully light-hearted) blog posts on what Pagan/Witch stereotypes are true for me.

Stereotype Fulfilled #1: Witches have black cats as familiars.

My mother would tell you that I’ve been attracted to black cats since I was a little girl. Strangely enough all the cats I’ve picked out in my life have been black. Never white. Never gray. Never anything fancy, really. Just black. I love my black cats.

This is Jasper, though we call him both Pete and Binky more than Jasper. I suppose you can call him my familiar. I like to call him my soul mate though, but don’t tell my boyfriend. Jasper means the world to me to the point that I’ve broken up with people in the past over them not liking him.

I rescued Jasper when he was just 8-weeks-old. His mother had been a stray that was hit by a car. He was the only boy in his litter, and I was determined to have a boy cat – Though I almost brought home a girl that was very sweet. But fortunately my mother reminded me that I wanted a boy. When I picked him up and he started trying to squirm away from me, I knew it was love.

A few days after getting him home, we discovered that he had the herpes virus. It was a frightening experience, because the poor thing would start coughing and foaming at the mouth. So for our first month together he was on antibiotics to fight a secondary infection.

But he’s well now! Well, he sometimes has a flare-up of herpes, and he coughs still from time-to-time. You wouldn’t realize that he had it, though, because the cat has more energy than I’ve seen other cats have.

He’s going on five-years-old. He has ripped up my couch, because I’ve finally given up on having nice furniture with him around – Nothing will stop him from clawing. He will make you play fetch with him for hours at a time. He chirps at birds. He does this thing where he curls his head under your chin just right when you’re holding him that makes my heart just melt. And he’s always around to watch whatever I’m doing.

So basically I love him. I love him lots and lots. I think I love him more than anything else in the world, but once again don’t tell my boyfriend!

Ants! Ants everywhere! They aren’t even in our kitchen, but instead they’re in our computer room. They honestly don’t bother me any, but my boyfriend basically panics when he sees them going after a crumb or a place where our Siamese cat has thrown up (gross, I know). It’s not like we’re pigs. The place is clean – Cluttered, but clean!

Anyway, there’s been much discussion about how we’re going to get rid of our little six-legged friends. I’ve been really, really torn about it. I couldn’t figure out why it was bothering me so much until today when I was going over the concepts of ahimsa and non-violence. I realized that’s why it had been bothering me. These little guys have as much right to be alive as I do.

My mother reminded me of bay leaves, though. So I’ve strategically placed them about the room in hopes of making the ants go hang out somewhere else. I will update you when I find out if this works or not.

Wish me luck! I don’t want to have to kill them. (There was so much more I wanted to say in this blog post, but my brain just sort of failed me and it’s time for dinner.)

I’m starting this blog for many reasons. Mainly, though, I’m hoping that somewhere out there, there’s another person like me. Someone that has gotten weird looks at Pagan festivals for announcing that they think voudon is awesome or that Hecate is a maiden and not a crone. Someone that thinks the name they were born with is magical enough. Someone that believes that belief is an ever-evolving thing, and sometimes you’re just not what you started off as when you woke up.

I am not a Wiccan. I haven’t been since I was sixteen when I was the type of girl that every rational Wiccan groans at. You know what I’m talking about… The pentacle-wearing, clutching my book of shadows as they burnt me at Salem in a past life, persecuted Wiccan. There we go. I admit it. I was a fluffy bunny.

At the same time, I am not a Reconstructionist. I’ve spent quite a few years trying to wedge a square peg into a circular hole with that one. Don’t get me wrong, I love research and scholarly work. I really do. But when it comes to beliefs and ritual (what ritual I have, that is), I need it to fit into my world – The world of the internet, vending machines, and cars. A lot of time has passed since Ancient Greece, and a lot of cultures have been smashed together to make me an American.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bashing either ways of going about things. I’m not bashing any other Neopagan religion either. Nor any religion for that matter. In fact, I think all religions are pretty great for one reason or another.

So what am I? I’m a searcher of truth as I know and understand it. Yes, I’m opinionated. Yes, I’m a little stubborn. But for the most part I’m just me. I like to refer to myself as a rational, eclectic pagan.

That’s what my blog is about. Religion, life, and anything else that strikes my fancy. Spirituality. Domesticity. My loud options on Paganism and life in general.