I finish an awesome ritual, filled with insights, keenings, one can damn-near hear the footsteps of the Ancestors and spirits near you as if they’re physically next to you, feel their touch against your face… And I conclude the ritual, then look around.
There isn’t a damned person around. No, I don’t refer to spirits or Ancestors. There’s no humans, no people. The only one dancing with the spirits out here – was me.
While I am becoming perfectly ok with being a hermit, sometimes – the solitude hits like a ton of bricks. That feeling of being ‘tiny,’ sets in – I know I’m just a blip in the bigger scheme of this world. But that isn’t the entirety of that feeling. It’s the feeling of being the only one around.
After my sister in law moved to Greeley, it seems the well dried up. At least, to my eyes. I haven’t spoken to anyone about Paganism much (the last time has been… I think three weeks is it? Four?), and the sharing of ideas hasn’t happened with anyone since she left. Sometimes, it hits me out here.
Now, I’m not a socialite, that’s all too true. But that doesn’t mean I won’t wander around town on a Solstice, just – being outside in the night air. There isn’t a soul outside, and the mention of ‘Blessed Solstice,’ this year earned me a shit-ton of odd stares, and some of the more knowing individuals gave me a ‘you damned heathen‘ glare.
What happened? I used to practice, well – kinda regularly with other Pagans. But this summer – it was silence. It’s just, it’s so hard to believe where I live in BFE, there’s – no one? Not one? I have to drive 30 min to 1.5 hours to find any Pagans? To attend any festivals it’s looking to be a 2.5 hour to 4 hour drive!
I can’t afford the gas to drive to even Ft. Morgan lately (20ish minutes via interstate), not with the fiasco’s that have happened to us. But I don’t know anyone there besides two people, and with scheduling issues and one’s own life – it’s impossible to get together. Plus, I suck at networking.
So, I’ve slowly been becoming accustomed and contented with just me, myself, and I as the ‘Token Pagan,’ around here as a couple of the residents call me.
So looking at all the joys, the laughter, and the festivals on Google images sucks at times like this. I’m just me, in my bearskin dancing in the wee hours of the morning. Yes, I know I have my Hubs. But – he’s a Jew. Love him as I do, it’s still me out here.
But this is what I get: I don’t belong in a city, I can’t function there properly, and the constant noise and lights don’t allow me to sleep. I am not a herd animal, nor pack animal – I don’t need constant human contact; I end up raw, and even more abrasive not to mention stand-offish. So I live in the boonies. It’s where I belong, and as much as moments like this hit as hard – I’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it.
Furthermore, I don’t have much in common with other Pagans, and try as I
may to just talk to them – my social skills are little more than primitive. Add in to the fact that I eat meat, drink, smoke, cuss, hunt (with some Pagans I met in Co Springs that didn’t make me an asshole – but a bastard) I uh, tend to have a difficult time at gatherings. I’m gritty, cynical, and practical to the point that annoys many people. After I got described by other Pagans trying to ‘introduce me,’ some time ago – the description I got from Co Springs’ Celtic Pagan group (no, I don’t remember the name at the moment, it’s been four years) even Army Pagans was the photo listed here in the end.
The urge to visit festivals and gatherings may be tiny – but that tiny mouse casts a huge fucking shadow sometimes. I wish there was one Pagan (even I can handle that!) around here to chat with, maybe work together with, and mostly – just to understand and have that understanding.
Hermit or not – one nearby Pagan friend would be damned nice. Just, nice. And – I’d even share my precious rum with them.