Born Again Pagan

'Born Again Pagan', declares the tongue-in-cheek bumper sticker adorning the amp under my desk, and it couldn't be more true. I had been a fervent Christian for as long as I could remember. I was always good, tried to read my Bible, said my prayers, and did my best to convert my unbelieving friends. I was horrified by the idea of the occult, including those dreadful alien creatures, Pagans. (After all, I was a virgin: they burned people like us, right?). Nothing could shake my faith. Christianity was the be-all-and-end-all, the one true religion. If there was any problem, it was with me. My church was evangelical - one where, within reason, you could use any means to express your love for God. You could sing, dance, shout, proclaim, love. Perfect, or so I thought. Unfortunately, as I grew the cracks started to show in this supershiny veneer. You could sing, as long as the song was conventional and inoffensive. You could dance, as long as your dance didn't glorify your unholy body. You could shout, but only about the great things - never about your pain. You could proclaim, but you couldn't proclaim doubt. And while a chaste love that resulted in marriage and kids was of God, a passionate pre-marital love-affair was near-satanic. Under these circumstances, I thought it best not to tell my youth leader that I believed in faeries.

The final straw came at a 'Bible Week', when I was particularly missing my then boyfriend, and in turmoil because he wasn't a Christian. I sought help amongst my friends. The general answer: you have to dump him, he's not a Christian. I asked my youth leader, who said the same but kindly added, 'I don't really think you should be wearing that short top either, do you? It's a bit...' a bit what? Tarty? Reminiscent of a 10-cent whore? '...a bit...unsuitable'. Fair enough. That was how I felt in church. A bit unsuitable. Just a little bit out of place and disturbing. So for a while I drifted, still touched by the teachings of Jesus but disillusioned by the attitudes of some of his people. I wondered why there had to be one true religion, how anyone could actually presume to know the ultimate truth, and why not harming anyone, trying to help where you can and having respect for all around couldn't be the sole, simple doctrine.

I couldn't hide from my spirituality for long. I began to formulate a vague idea in my head, that if Christianity didn't fit my spiritual leanings I should strike out on my own, and mould an individual faith. This handily coincided with two things. My best friend declared herself a Wiccan (I was still shocked and warned her against the occult), and I stumbled upon a book called 'The Celtic Devotional'. For the first time in months I was excited about religion again. The book, a selection of prayers and meditations for every day of the year, named no deity, and honoured both a Lord and a Lady. What a revelation. Of course, I always assumed that God was called 'He' for convenience, and was really ungendered, but this was different. This was the feminine genuinely and separately glorified. The prayers were deep, not at all trite, and honoured the physical world as well as the spiritual. The wind, the mountain, the stars, the stag, the human body. It honoured the elements, which I thought made good sense. So I covered a big book in paper, and placed a bowl of water, a bowl of earth, a feather from my eiderdown and a candle on it. I did not know that this was my first altar.

Soon this aspect of the worship began to eclipse the pseudo-Christian theme with which I had up till then decorated my prayers. I began to peruse the mind-body-spirit sections of bookshops. I began to buy myself the books that looked most promising. I began to suspect that there were names (and not insulting ones either) for people like me. I wrote reams of notes. I discovered the phrase 'Book of Shadows' in a book about Wicca and dutifully copied my notes into a book. Paganism, I discovered, was not just one religion but an umbrella term covering many different paths. The idea of Wicca and Witchcraft was (and remains) exciting to me, but I wasn't again to limit myself to the wisdom of just one religion, however noble. I coined the phrase 'Eclectic Pagan' to describe myself, and discovered that it was actually already a reasonably widely used phrase. And today this is where I stand. Pagan hippie to the core, proud to declare that I have among my friends Witches, Hermetic magicians, Christians, people who aren't sure and one particularly lovely Methodist Druid, and proud to make my highest and only rule,

'An it harm none, do as ye will.'