I cannot even keep track of my own contradictions and the myriad culs-de-sac in my brain. I am loving all over this incredible Julia Sweeney monologue, (thank you Eden, this is so smart!) and I’m trying to figure out about my involvement in the pagan circle at church. I had a big heart to heart with Blue and told him I wasn’t in, wasn’t coming to the organizational meeting Thursday. Then I had a whim and emailed him and the informal leader of the group and said I was coming. That I need to make my spiritual well-being a priority and blah blah blah. Now I’m regretting my RSVP and thinking I’ll just keep having these reservations about the group and Wicca in general and I should bail. But these are friends… I’ll go, it’s not a commitment to participate from here on out.
Fuck. I can’t even get my ass in gear to get to church ever.
I don’t know. On one hand I’m really feeling athiest at my core- believing and cherishing the metaphors of all my beloved myths and Goddesses but not believing per se in any literal way at all. But that doesn’t take away the power of ritual. It feels so primal and ancient, and even if that connection is only with primitive human beings, so what? That’s an unbelievably important connection- to feel rooted in the wonder and magic we created out of not knowing why and how the universe is and works.
And I see Molly learning about the Goddess as she grows, I want to teach her this. Meh, I’m overthinking again. I’d love so much to be able to just be tired and go to sleep like my husband and daughter. OK, she fought it some tonight. But Bu just lies down, and zip-pow: snoring stillness. A brain that feels like a weird clovkwork machine should have a weird clockwork off switch.
Waiting for Benadryl to knock me out.