Today, I’m testing out a new client called ecto, that may help me keep up with this blog slightly more regularly. So far I am liking it, though naturally the last thing in the world I need to spend money on is a new piece of software (I have so many trials and demos of other programs already, it’s rather ridiculous).
Appropriately, today is a flamekeeping shift for one of the cills I belong to. Unfortunately, more than one obstacle is blocking my spiritual connection and my own path development, not least of which is a recent doubt of depression.
Fortunately, Pagan Prompts has something for me to muse on.
How open are you about your religious beliefs? What do you do when you are asked questions about them?
Many different sites, forums, and articles talk about how the new spiritual deivant, longing to be accepted openly, has to deal with curious onlookers and family members who can’t help but notice she doesn’t like church anymore. This advice runs the gamut between, “Answer their questions fully and thoroughly so as to educate them,” (which I think would make the questioner run for the hills out of boredom more often than not) and “say as little as civilly possible”, (which rather defeats the purpose of being questioned). I believe firmly it is all meant in good spirit, because having an answer to someone’s question, even if it is “I don’t know,” is something I always aspire to do.
I have rarely had to implement any of this advice, however, partly because for a long time, I kept my own beliefs to myself, and often outright lied about them.
At the time, I felt it necessary. Now that I am not so much open as exposed to those whom I lied to, I still keep quiet because I’m still a little afraid of burning the bridges I’ve built since then. But mainly, I’ve never had to use any techniques because so few people actually ask me about my spiritual beliefs. Perhaps it’s the crowd I run with, but by and large, most of my friends and extended family just aren’t interested.
This is actually a much better thing than the new deviant feels to be: few cards are more fun to play at the beginning of a spiritual journey than “help! help! I’m being repressed!”. It saves a lot of time, energy and social anguish on both parts. I do have to say, though, if there is one thing that eventually helped me feel this way, it was the discovery of TC, and the discovery that frank, open discussion of religion doesn’t always need to turn into an apology, or a defense.
That said, I’ve been asked about my spiritual beliefs a few times, and to those who inquired completely out of curiosity, I’ve answered their questions, albeit sparingly and with regard to how well I knew them. To those who have asked out of worry, or out of suspicion, I’ve kept my answers vague, general, and sometimes untruthful. It is an active work of mine to speak more truth–it’s all too easy for me to hide things, to lie by exclusion–because in the end, it is truth that hurts less, and heals what wounds I’ve caused with my words, or, worse, my silence.
This isn’t to say that silence, or exclusion or avoidance, are bad things: it is in excess, and when they build up devastating walls between people, that they hurt. And so, I speak carefully, choosing a middle way between silence and speech: the way of the poet, who knows what each word means.
In the end, being open is a reciprocal process. As I become more open to answering truthfully about my spiritual beliefs, I find that others are willing to answer me in return. Being open means being willing to speak, and being prepared to defend, but most of all, being ready to give. And that, perhaps, is what I have to struggle with more than a novice deviant, who can’t wait to give of herself, has to. Instead of giving all of myself away, I’ve kept myself inside from the very beginning. But, slowly, I am learning to open myself up, and give.
