It has been six months now since the COVID-19 lockdowns began in Ontario. Then, we were just coming up on the Spring Equinox. Now, an entire summer has passed and we’re already out the other side of the Fall Equinox. We have another six months of this to come, probably more, until an effective vaccine is developed and deployed throughout the population.
What does it mean to be Pagan when we cannot be Pagan in front of other people? If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound?
In a way, the lockdown has felt a little bit like the years that I was in the “broom closet”, keeping my Wiccan identity strictly hidden from co-workers and all but the closest friends and family. A big difference is that now I am a member of a traditional Wiccan coven; this makes it much better in some ways, but in other ways much worse. I’m acutely missing our regular meetings for ritual, our potlucks at the sabbats, and our get-togethers to discuss the tradition, sharing the oral lore that constitutes so much of our practice. Instead, we’ve been distanced, and our interactions are reduced to the occasional video-chat or text-message exchange, plus a precious handful of meetings of two or three of us, masked and distanced outdoors. But despite these interactions I’ve still felt that old feeling of invisibleness, as if as far as the rest of the world is concerned, my Pagan self might as well not even exist. As if I am irrelevant so long as nothing I think or do propagates beyond my self.
Propagating these thoughts beyond myself is part of my motivation for writing this essay. I think the remedy under the circumstances is going to have to be one-to-one communications — long letters or emails or telephone calls or video chats with individual people, with the emphasis on sharing our deep thoughts and feelings. Back in the normal times when we could meet in person, Pagan-oriented group events were wonderful for this, because they offered the opportunity to listen quietly or engage in conversations as one became more comfortable with the people there, and through which deep sharing in one-to-one or small-group conversations would arise naturally over time. But group events by videoconference are turning out to be fundamentally different. Going deep becomes impossible. No-one can tell when it’s their turn to talk, or when they’ve gone on too long and their audience is starting to tune them out. And we’re all too exhausted from a day of online classes or meetings, and yet another videoconference doesn’t recharge our spiritual batteries the way a cozy gathering with like-minded people and a nice cup of tea would.
So, what’s my solution? Many of us have already tried to embrace the solitude by spending time communing with nature, meditating, journaling, and listening to the small voice inside. Now I think it’s time to take those experiences and insights and start to communicate them to others. Write a letter, or an essay, or collect your thoughts and tell a long story to another person. Let us listen, one on one, to each others’ words without judgement or impatience, and reciprocate with our own words.
What have you experienced during this time apart?
guest post by Heather L.
Pagans of Carleton 