This past week has been interesting to say the least. It opened within me a level of introspection and discovery I didn't expect. I'll try to explain.
When the week was coming up, I had all of these ideas in my head. Some of them fantasies, some of them were ideas about how productive I would be with the writing I should have gotten done in the week. I should have gotten all this writing on my dissertation done and I should have gotten more research done. In terms of the fantasy portion, I had these ideas of what I would do with a week with the house to myself. Even though I knew I wasn't going to be trolling Craigslist or anything to have men at the house, I did have some sort of thing in my mind of what that amount of free time would mean. The reality of the week was different.
I found myself on my computer a lot and watching Netflix. I ran typical errands and took care of the dog, but I found myself wanting attention and contact with someone. I wandered down to a New Age bookstore that I had never been to and walked in. A bearish man was paying no attention to me and had his nose buried in an accounting book. So I looked around. I found two books that stood out to me. One of them was "The Path of a Christian Witch", a book that I have almost finished. The book tells the story of a Canadian woman raised Catholic and her interaction and ultimate blending of Christianity and Paganism (I'll talk more about this in a minute). The second book was called "Scared Paths for Men" and had a picture of the Green Man on the cover. I haven't started it yet (it's after a Leatherboy text I'm reading) but it is supposed to discuss rekindling the masculine divinity in a Wiccan world where the focus is almost entirely upon the Goddesses and how to live the masculine in the day to day world. I figure being a submissive gay boy I could relate to the masculine. Anyway...
I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian household. My folks were Bible thumpers who belonged to a very strict sect of Christianity that forbade alcohol, dancing, and women wearing pants (dresses only). You get the idea. Anyway, after I was kicked out of two churches due to being out in a small town I discovered a Unitarian church that had a pagan group. I went to their moon phase rituals in the forests of the southern state I lived in because I felt a deep connection with nature and the ritualistic aspect of what we were doing. I came upon a contradiction, but like being gay and Christian, I sorta wrote some of it off and just did it anyway. When people online would ask (my only connection outside of the pagan group), I'd say I was "Christopagan" which I thought I had made up. Apparently not, as there are books and websites on it now. At the time I had this attraction and infatuation with Pan, the Greek God of the fields, the shepherd, and of fertility and agriculture. Looking back, Pan held a deep connection with me because he came around at a time when I needed him. I was having trouble finding who I was sexually and being comfortable with being a hairy gay boy in a sexually repressed area, religion, and family.
Although the pagan group was totally female oriented and balked at Pan (they felt he was a symbol of the patriarchy, I kid you not) and almost always focused on the Goddess...I ended up doing what I felt were rituals alone in my bedroom. When I moved, I took the mini altar with me but left behind a lot of my books. In the midwestern state I moved to, I had an altar but was not living with people who appreciated it or were accepting, so I didn't practice at all. This was the time in college when I was introduced to the Hindu god Ganesh, and he clicked with me as well in a very different way. As the remover of obstacles and the diety of students and livelong learners, it made sense. But again, I didn't practice, I just read about him a lot, had pics of him I liked and had a statue of him on my mini altar.
Fast forward to this week. After having not practiced or done anything, it came rushing back and I felt drawn to the bookstore. I picked up more sage for smudging, but something was missing. I drove clear across town to the only other "New Age/Occult" shop I knew of and bought an abalone shell and a pouch of tobacco. I went home and smudged the house and myself with sage. It was a very intense experience and the smell of sage quite literally brought me to tears. It all came rushing back in a whirlwind I couldn't control. That night I was sitting at my computer...smelling of sage...and all I wanted was to talk to somebody about what was happening. In many ways I wanted guidance on what to do, what kind of ritual would help get back into it, ect. Sir was going to bed and told me to do whatever felt right and we'd talk about it the next day. Except, nothing felt "right". All of this hadn't been touched or unearthed in me for almost a full decade. I started looking for people I knew online, anyone I knew who identified as a gay pagan....but everyone was either offline in bed, or busy playing games online and didnt want to be disturbed.
I sat on the couch feeling "cried out". I was emotionally worn down. I guess I passed out on my couch because I woke up three hours later lacking any knowledge of what happened to the TV (it was on when I passed out) or why it was now 3am, and I had a searing headache. I crawled in bed, lit some sage and prayed. I just had an overwhelming feeling of being alone tho. I didn't feel anything other than a) I'm doing something wrong and b) I don't want to be alone right now.
The next day I was just...lost feeling. Sir asked me how it went and I told him honestly. I tried the next night and it felt more like prayer with props, but maybe that's how it works for right now. This post has quickly become longer than I thought....
Anyway, the rest of the week (and the time before) was spent reading, watching Netflix and probably drinking more than I usually do. With the exception of the days I did the rituals when I didnt drink at all, I had drank on the other days more than I typically would. Other than the extra calories (which I don't need) it wasn't to excess which was good. Besides, school, work, and people return starting tomorrow night and Monday, so it'll be back to me being quiet in the house, unable to watch or listen to what I want or to play games when I want. And maybe that's for the best.
Alone and left to my own devices, I tend to want connection with others. There was this film called "A Home at the End of the World" which has a poly relationship in it and the way the families we choose change over time. The film touched me on a level few films had because I felt like the main character. There is this touching scene where the main character Bobby (played by Colin Farrell) is playing with an infant and the female lead says "Is there anything you couldn't do?" in reference to his being able to be at home and adapt to so many different life situations. Bobby keeps his eyes on the baby and says "I couldn't be alone..." And that's how I feel. It's not that I need people with me all of the time, its that I feel safest and most comfortable when in service to someone, when I can touch and be touch and feel connected. I'm very much a pack animal in that way I guess.
A pack animal by himself in a big house who is still trying to find himself and his place in the world. I have a trip booked back to the Northeast in November. I miss Sir terribly. It might sound sappy, but even the brief phone call chats or text messages he sends me make my day. I miss him daily, and most of my thoughts and actions are directed at how to be better for him and to make him happy. I hope I succeed at that. I want to go back home to him.
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