8. Your job is to fix you. If others learn from your example, great. If not? Move along.
I learned a thing from one of my mentors this summer. (If she knew that this was about her, she’d be VERY upset with me. HI PAM!) Here’s the thing: A priestess or priest runs rituals, ceremonies and creates spiritual experiences for themselves. If anyone else, wants to come along, do the work and do the homework, that’s great. If not? Oh well.
That very thought added a foundation to my ideas of what a priestess is, stuck a pin where I have my convictions and made the globe of “who am I?” stop spinning.
I stopped waiting for my community to formally recognize me as a priestess. I stopped fantasizing over a regal neck torc and elaborate ceremony to get it. I realize now that I fully believed that the ceremony and the ‘thing’ of getting a torc were the end all and be all of a priestess. Honestly, they just part of the window dressing. Those things are not what makes me a priestess.
NO Lia Fáil NEEDED.
Forget the super expensive brass or gold neck torc. I went out, got a functioning wrist one – made with copper and bullets – and got back to work.
Once my head stopped spinning, I took a look at my ritual archive. No, not of the ones I’ve done publically – the “other” one. I have a scary impressive bank of ideas, rituals, thought processes and ceremonies that I’ve never felt I had the support to pull off.
I’ve got a proposal for creating a new way to learn to be a bard by using what we have available.
I can travel with my own painted labyrinth when introspection is needed:
I can make a mean magic potion
I know what I am. I know who I am. I know what I want to do in my spiritual life. And, if ya’ll want to come along for the ride? Do the homework and get a helmet. Cuz I got this idea for a road opening ritual that will be pretty epic… along with a few more crazy ideas.
Who am I? You can call me Rev Terrie Mountain Fire