That was the last thought I had last night as my head hit the pillow.
I love being pagan.
And not just any kind of pagan. I have respect for all pagan paths — all religions, really, even the non-pagan ones, but I LOVE my particular path of pagan.
I’m initiated into the Yoruba tradition, two different lineages of the tradition. I’m an astrologer. I’m a diviner. I talk to the dead…and get answers. And I work Hoodoo.
I hope I haven’t scared you off yet. If I had read this same blog post about seven years ago my face would have looked like
About five years ago I would have been more curious and looked like
Which is a lot better than my face would have looked about ten years ago:
I was devout Christian at that time and I definitely didn’t want to even associate with icky pagans. (By no means am I saying all Christians share this mindset. I am just sharing how I used to think.)
Being pagan, for me, means that I get to have fun figuring out what the Universe and Spirit is all about.
I have a tradition but there is freedom to move around in order to figure out what makes the most sense for me.
There is a greater sense of fulfillment now that I believe what I believe based on experience.
I have learned how to trust myself and my intuitive wisdom.
This blog is not going to just be about all the wonderful aspects of bring pagan but I figured it’s best to start out on a high note.
I am going to be sharing my experience as an American African (we can talk about why this a preferred descriptor to “African-American”) practitioner of African traditional spirituality, who is also a hoodooist, a spiritual wanderer (in a sense), an avid meditator, a tarot card reader, a feminist, and a newlywed.
So sit back, relax, and enjoy the par-tay. Oh, and pass that bottle of tequila around to share.