I finally found out that my mother knows about my faith, although I think she has misgivings.

I got the usual warnings that she was not thrilled about it, and that I should be careful about spirits “apart from God.” There was a veiled reference in her words to the “creator/creation” dichotomy (which I have roundly rejected), and she strongly hinted that she thought being gay was the reason I left the church.

But being gay was the last thing on my mind when I left the church. I had much deeper questions- not about myself, but about the nature of faith, of God, and of the Holy Writ that dwarfed any personal matter. Many of those questions are hard to articulate and I’m still trying my best to put them into words.

I also got the distinct feeling that she thought my vast swings in mood and my tendency to swing to extreme viewpoints were because of not being a Christian, and not in spite of trying to move on from those things.

I was an angry extremist so much of my life, but there’s really no room for that in the path I have chosen. What, after all, would I be an extremist for? If all things are united, if all life, all spirits, all deities are only nodes on a continuum of consciousness, what room is there for talk of extremes?

I am not perfect and the Way of the Witch will never make me that way. That insidious drive to split the world into “my way” and “their way” will be present no matter what I believe. But, I feel, I’m better off on a path that gives it little room to prosper.

And so I vascillate from time to time, I stray from what I truly believe in for an arrogant streak that I forever have to reckon with. But that is not because I walk this path; it is despite that fact.

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