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A Quasi-Hedonist Lapsed Pagan in the Pursuit of Happiness
Author: Eir's Initiate
Posted: March 22nd. 2009
Times Viewed: 1,259
Yep, that’s me, a quasi-hedonist lapsed Pagan in the pursuit of happiness! Quite a title, huh? Well, I like it better than “High Priestess, ” which I’m not, and “Lady So-and-So Random Celtic-Sounding Last Name, ” which is just silly, in my mind. After all, feudalist Europe is a little passé these days, don’t you think?
Now, some of you are probably wondering, who is this girl, why is she writing such tripe, and what on earth does that even mean, “lapsed Pagan?” Well, allow me to illuminate you.
In my mind, a lapsed Pagan is someone, like me, who found Paganism and liked most of it, but wasn’t particularly religious or even spiritual. They may have, like me, come from a not particularly strongly religious, but rather observant Lutheran family, or from any religious tradition (or lack thereof) at all. And perhaps other lapsed Pagans (and lapsed religions of all kinds) , like me, don’t particularly want a “personal relationship” with any deity, be it Jesus or Odin.
So what does that leave? Why tie myself, however loosely, to a religion that doesn’t seem to fit, that I might even mostly reject? Well, because it’s the best description out there. “Atheist” is highly inaccurate. “Agnostic” implies that I don’t know my own mind. And “spiritual” just reminds me of Spiritualists, which reminds me of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, which brings me to Sherlock Holmes, whom I rather like. But that, of course, was a complete digression. So really, let’s get down to the bare, jumbled bones of what I (and possibly other lapsed Pagans like me) really do believe.
Let’s start with dos and don’ts: I note the solstices and equinoxes (usually, unless for some reason I forget them, which is more often than I’d like) , and the passing of the seasons, but I don’t generally go through the hullabaloo of ritually celebrating them. I don’t cast circles or consecrate altars, I don’t pray (well, not usually) or do rituals.
I don’t anoint green candles by the light of the waxing moon in hopes that money will miraculously come my way. And I don’t memorize lines from the Havamal in the original Old Norse or Icelandic to recite by rote at every blot.
I don’t dance naked around bonfires (though dancing around bonfires is really quite fun, especially when you’re polka-ing with your dad, who is a superb dancer, at Walpurgisnacht with the Swedish Society) .
I do dance around a Maypole near the summer solstice, but only in conjunction with a local Scandinavian-American festival, which is comprised almost completely of really Lutheran old people. But other than that, I don’t do a whole lot of anything that would be easily recognizable as belonging to any major or minor religion.
(A side note: In case the Nordic terminology has escaped you, I consider myself a lapsed Norse Pagan, but not necessarily Asatru and certainly not Troth. Pretty sure it comes from the heritage, which is mostly Norwegian with a little Swedish and a dash of Danish thrown in, and that’s about it.)
So, I don’t do a lot of stuff, but what exactly do I do? And what on earth does this mean I believe?
Well, it’s complicated (as my boyfriend well knows, most things are complicated when it comes to me) .
You see, I suppose I’m something of a deist (the boyfriend argues that I’m not Pagan at all, but am in fact a deist along the lines of Thomas Jefferson. But he works at a Revolutionary War historic site as an interpreter, so what does he know anyway?) . Like the majority of our Founding Fathers (or so the boy and history classes tell me) , I believe in some sort of quasi-sentient “Creator” (Gods how I hate that term, but it is apt in the core meaning of the word) who sparked the universe and life itself and now is content to simply sit back and watch it unfold.
If the Christian God is kind of like someone playing the Sims, then my version of God is someone who plants native flowers and grasses and watches them grow and spread. A kind of “live and let live” God. (Sometimes though, I must confess, I think that this God is kind of like Terry Pratchett or as Terry Pratchett’s versions of Death: someone who powerful, inscrutable, has a dry and wry sense of humor, and is infinitely amused by us. Because seriously, why else would God create life unless s/he/it were bored?)
But then again, there are also the Gods. I definitely do not believe that “All Gods are One God” mumbo-jumbo. Gods are their own specific beings with minds of their own. And while the deist God doesn’t get involved, these other Gods sometimes do. (See? I told you it was complicated!) But, not as much as people seem to think they do. I like to think that they don’t make things happen or appear out of thin air like magicians, but rather nudge things in one direction or another when absolutely necessary.
At the same time, me being the complex person I am, I don’t necessarily want the Gods to nudge things around. Oh, I might occasionally ask them for advice (particularly Idun, Eir, and Frigg) , and very rarely do I ask for intercession, but it’s usually to ask that things go as planned, not to make new things happen. Mostly I do a lot of thanking, attributing especially nice things to them, like when my boyfriend’s father came through major surgery just fine, I thanked Eir for taking care of him like I’d asked. Or when I plan an outdoor event (as my job often has me do) and the weather is just perfect.
That’s another thing, I’m well aware that the Gods can refuse to listen, deem requests unworthy, or simply are unable do anything about them. Many people, in all religions, don’t seem to understand this. They treat God (or the Gods) more like servants there to do bidding than deities worthy of worship (not that I do a whole lot of that, either.
The Gods and I, we’re on relatively equal footing. They’re more like distant relatives you feel sort of close to, and feel like you could ask things of, but do it in a respectful way because they’re not really obligated, just because they’re family) . Luckily, I think this type of behavior amuses them more than anything else. Besides, I think we’re much more fun to watch when we make our own decisions and triumphs and mistakes, rather than having to guide us around a lot.
I never really liked the Sims for that reason, because you were always having to make sure that they ate food and went to the bathroom and cleaned up after themselves or they were miserable and sometimes died. And if you turned around for a second, they were always arguing or not calling 911 when there was a kitchen fire and letting the whole house burn down. If you were a God, would you want to be doing that with us? Of course not! It’s so much more fun to watch and occasionally nudge something one way or the other to see what happens.
Like many lapsed Christians though, I turn to my Gods in times of need. And, if faced with something supernatural, instead of holy water or crosses, I’d turn to magick.
But I’m not often in need. I am lucky enough to live a comfortable (if not wealthy) life, to be in relatively good health, to have only an average amount of student loan debt, to be able to pay my bills on time and in full, to be surrounded by healthy and loving friends and family, and most of all, to have met the love of my life after waiting pretty much my entire life for the right man to come along.
Since I am so blessed, I don’t bother the Gods with petty requests. In fact, I often forget that they are there. Mostly, I delight in the small things. You see I’m something of a hedonist. Hedonism has its limits (for instance, double bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and butterfinger shakes are delicious and give pleasure in the short term, but indulge too much or too often and it ceases to be pleasurable and instead makes you gain weight, feel awful about yourself, and in the short-term, possibly throw up) , but I revel in the senses; taste and touch and sound and sight and smell.
In this case, I go for quality over quantity: pure, not chemical scents; being outdoors in all kinds of beautiful weather; cooking delicious fresh food from scratch and improvisation (even if it means doing the dishes) ; planting seeds and caring for them and watching them grow and then harvesting all the veggie-goodness (now that’s magick) .
I love listening to and creating beautiful music; cuddling and holding hands and simply being with my guy; sating my hunger for beautiful dinnerware; dancing my ass off (even thought it makes me sweat and my legs hurt) , to really fun fast polkas with a good partner; appreciating and creating art and the aesthetic; and most of all, loving and being in love.
Mostly, I pursue happiness, in the traditional way that Thomas Jefferson meant it, which was farther from pure, incandescent joy, and somewhat closer to contentment. So I indulge in the things that make me happy. And if that means being an incurable bibliophile and a hopeless romantic with a jones for blue transferware and garden-fresh veggies, an addiction to cute cheap shoes, and a serious thing for nerdy, slightly silly, ridiculously intelligent tall boys, so be it.
So really, I’m a lapsed Pagan because I don’t truly need the Gods, at least not very often. Some people need religion and Gods and ritual and fellowship, but I don’t because I’m lucky enough to get my fixes for love, beauty, satisfaction, and happiness elsewhere. So while my beliefs on the surface seem superficial or non-existent, remember that most people are a lot more complicated than they initially seem, self included.
And just because I don’t always need the Gods, doesn’t mean they’re not there.
So what did all this long rambling mean? Well, I guess I want to let other possible lapsed Pagans out there know that they’re not alone, that there’s more to life than whether it’s pronounced “ah-THAIM” or “AH-tha-MAY, ” and that religion and spirituality (or semi-coherent quasi-lack thereof) are what you make of them.
Plus, hedonism has a bad rap. And really, the pursuit of happiness is nothing more than hedonism immortalized in the Declaration of Independence (you thought I was going to say “Constitution, ” didn’t you?) . So please, instead of putting on lotion from Bath and Body Works, stop and smell the actual roses. Instead of visiting Breadsmith, try your hand at some homemade biscuits.
And for the love of all things (holy and otherwise) , tell someone that you love that you love them. Because part of the pursuit of happiness is making other people happy, too.
Besides, I’m sure the Gods enjoy watching the occasional feel-good romantic comedy with happy endings, too.
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