Approaching Spirit Work with Enthusiasm and Dedication, Part I

Part I I've been thinking about these entries quite a bit and, after reading the previous post a few times to set my direction, I realized that I think "commitment" is the wrong word for the job, and that "dedication" might be more appropriate, considering its own connotations to devotion of self toward sacred use. See Oxford English Dictionary entry below:

1. a. trans. To devote (to the Deity or to a sacred person or purpose) with solemn rites; to surrender, set apart, and consecrate to sacred uses.
(The leading sense, which more or less colours the others.)

b. fig.

2. transf. To give up earnestly, seriously, or wholly, to a particular person or specific purpose; to assign or appropriate; to devote.

This seems a more fitting word when paired with "enthusiasm," and gets to the meat of what I'm attempting to say within the body of the post that follows.

How is it that we can become dedicated enthusiasts in our spirit work? How can we bring these ideas into the practice setting, to enjoy the routine of the work without losing focus or intensity? How can we inspire others to such ends when those within our community are bored or feeling lost and confused? Where does this energy live, and how can we tap into it reliably and regularly?

Remember when you first heard your call to the gods and goddesses of your chosen path? Do you recall how the world hit your senses with such clarity, as your eyes re-focused, your senses heightened, and your experience broadened? How far away is the feeling of wanting nothing more than to fully immerse yourself in this new experience, the joy and elation of getting to know the deity within yourself, and sharing with the deity you experienced in others? What happened? When/Why/How did your experiences with the divine become dull and mundane, the signs and omens once so prevalent few and far between, if they come at all? Maybe this is why you initially joined a spiritual group, to find others who are experiencing what you have/had experienced. Perhaps interacting with others of a similar spiritual mindset could re-ignite your inner spiritual fire, hoping the shared experience would be enough to see you to reclaiming "that old feeling." Well, after some months, you discover you were wrong, and not only are you suffering from a lack of godhead, but so is everyone else. What happened?

For many of us in the pagan micro-culture, our entire reason for coming to our spiritual paths was for a sense of individuality and non-conformity, for a unique spiritual relationship we developed or discovered that was outside the larger spiritual culture of our youth, our own personal relationship with deity, beholden to nothing larger than ourselves. Of course, that is exciting! It's new and different, and we so want to believe that this experience is unique unto ourselves. We're forging our own trail, wandering undiscovered country. We may find teachers along the way, but we think of them as teachers and not "preachers," as the reality of our separation from the churches of our youths is still fresh and rebellious. If we can change paths so radically, we feel we can do anything. And for this we thank our gods, our ancestors, our sprits, our holy ones within the new tradition, forgetting that every prayer, every ritual, every faining or sacrifice on our new holy days sets up a pattern, a routine, a tradition.

For some this is comforting, and for others, after years of following patterns such as these, it becomes a lulling blanket. This blanket dulls the senses, and we let it. This blanket weighs on us, over-familiar and heavy to bear, and we let it. It covers our ability to recognize the simple beauty of everyday, the little rites and signs and spontaneous spirituality we experience just by living in the natural world. We blame this dulling lull on everything we can, with the exception of the true culprit, ourselves and our routine. We become restless and frustrated, feeling that our gods have forsaken us and left us in a wasteland, a spiritual desert.

We have done this to ourselves. The gods are still here, we have simply forgotten how to listen. The holy-tides are still holy, we have chosen not to feel them, witness them, live them. Our groups are still worthy of great deeds, only we have gotten away from the mindful work that necessitates great works. Those of us on "reconstructionist" paths can get lost in our books, our research, calling this divine work, but we forget that spirituality is experienced through living, not through the words of others. We have forgotten the pleasures of the senses, the cool earth freshly tilled, the new green of sprouting leaves, what melody in a birdsong at twilight, the salutation at dawn. The natural world is and will remain our church, and we must experience it to know fully our deity within. And this experience can only be had alone. Our gods won't speak to the group, only to the individual, to the dedicant.