I’ve been thinking a lot lately about faith, particularly mine. As a child, I was adamantly Roman Catholic. Through High School I started questioning too much, and was told my questions were “bad”. In college, I met my first Wiccans and was initiated into a small Coven. Soon after, after a dogma disagreement, I left that Coven to practice as a solitary Neo-Pagan, focusing on the Egyptian Pantheon and my patrons of Isis and Osiris. And so it was for fifteen years. Then I started to slip away from my God and Goddess.
I felt disconnected from them, and my faith didn’t bring me the joy it once did in my life. It felt hollow to me. Empty, like I was just going through the motions. Eventually, I stopped practicing altogether.
Shortly after, I stumbled onto Buddhism, and found something that brought me truth. I was such an angry person, and Buddhism brought me peace. The teachings were meaningful, and I fell in love with Zen. This kept me sated for more than five years, but soon – recently – that old ache started to grow in me again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my faith – and my crisis of faith. I feel the calling back to my God and Goddess, and hope that they will accept me back into the fold. It is said that Isis will always open her arms to those who call on her, in unconditional love.
So I’ve decided to reboot from the ground up. I need to acquire all new altar tools (mine are in other states, sadly, as is my altar itself), rewrite my rituals, etc. Part of that is facing my deities, admitting that I had slipped and tell them I am lifting myself up and bettering myself in their Name.
I spent the other night reading up on the Gods and Goddess of Egypt. When I went to bed, as I lie there, I slowed my breathing to meditate (I do that sometimes, because I have trouble sleeping). I thought of Isis and Osiris. I said to them “Please accept my devotion to you.” or words to that effect. It was more of a feeling than actual words.
Slowly, to my mind, the image came to me: their hands spread in front of me, motioning to a massive banquet table, only the bottoms of their bodies visible. Their upper forms and heads were cast in shadow. I felt peaceful and welcomed. It was as if they wished for me to sit with them and partake of their bounty. They were happy to have me return to their table. I ate with them, and as my meditation slowed to a close, I fell into a restful sleep.
Some might blow off the experience as a lucid dream, or fanciful thinking of a sleepy mind. To me, it was something substantial. Tangible. I know now where my steps are leading. I am not leaving my love of Zen behind, but integrating what I’ve learned there with where I am going from here. I have reawakened to my faith, and eagerly await my future with my God and Goddess.