I've been away, it's true. I won't bore you with the details, but the sands have settled somewhat, and I can catch up on writing. To reward myself for all my hard work lately, I gave myself the gift of a pagan midsummer festival. To say it has been life-changing would be an understatement.
I'm no stranger to the Pagan Spirit Gathering, or, more affectionately known as psg. I went every year from 1999-2007 -- even when I had little more than a bag of apples, a jar of peanut butter, and a duffel bag stuffed with colorful clothes. Why had it been so long? Why hadn't I taken the time to go to the most spiritually awakening festival I'd ever been to? I had a list of excuses -- asshole jobs that wouldn't let me take vacations, a severe lack of funds, the presence of more than one troublesome ex there, and a few strange interactions that put me off the scene . . . Those seemed like good excuses at the time, and I moved on.
I filled the gap with developing my brilliant fire performance group, Soul Fire Tribe. I wrote two novels. I courted and married the love of my life, went to graduate school, and worked my ass off. Instead of pagan gatherings, I went to fire-dancing festivals, or took staycations where I meditated and did yoga and walked under the moonlight in a forest with my best friend. I took actual vacations too, to places I'd always wanted to go to or return to. San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, and Ann Arbor impressed me with their architecture, history, and experiences.
But none of those things felt like psg. Part of my soul felt diminished. I hadn't felt the overbrimming magical sensation of belonging in a tribe in a long time. This festival was more than a thing I did every now and then. It was the high-point celebration of my religion, my spirituality. This feeling, combined with the recent politics, made me know I needed it more than ever this year. I bought my ticket on the first day of open registration. I was #64, so some people beat me to it, but it's a pretty low number.
On opening day, this past Sunday, I drove six hours to the site, my heart racing with each curve in the country roads. The festival was at a new site to me -- the tall trees and lake weren't familiar -- but I picked a spot to pitch the tent and set up camp with the help from a few kind strangers that would later become friends. I walked through the long, meandering road that ran through the campsite, scanning the faces of the wild and beautiful people for my long-lost tribe. Even thought it had been nine years, I recognized my old tribe members almost instantly, and they welcomed me back with loving arms.
Of course, not everyone was there. Some people had moved on, as I had years ago. But it was just as easy to make new friends. The festival was filled with people whose personalities and spirits sparkled so much, I wondered if they were fey, or otherworldly, or perhaps a god or goddess wearing a human form for the week. The workshops were magical, and the rituals were meaningful and enlightening. Everyone was unique in the aspects of their spirituality, but together we felt united.
I made a wish for my time spent there, and it has already come true. I've found my spiritual voice again. Even now, back at my desk in my still-new-feeling house, I can still feel the vibrant energy, can still hear the distant drumming, and can still feel the love and hugs from so many wonderful people.
Next month, I'll be running another special for a free ebook of Belle Dame Sans Merci, and I plan to continue the 30 days of Quotes from Belle Dame Sans Merci. Subscribe to keep in touch.
Until next time.
*
