It was the first major Pagan convention I’d ever attended, back in the early ’00s, and I was awash in wonder, awe, and raging curiosity. In those days, PantheaCon was still small enough that the facilitator could ask the attendees to go around the room and share their name and a bit about their Pagan practice or tradition in the opening ceremony. (Fast forward 15 years or so and if we tried this, we’d still be introducing ourselves at the closing ceremony!)

             As I listened to all these fascinating people with fascinating names—Raven and Rowan and Fox, oh my!—and all their mystical, exotic practices, my anxiety escalated: What the heck am I going to say when it’s my turn? I don’t know where I fit in, or if I fit in! I’m still floundering along on my own! If I could keep my mouth shut, no one will know. Now I have to open my mouth! Ack!

             I was such a newbie. I’d read a couple books—the classics, of course: Cunningham, Buckland, and RavenWolf—because most of the books we now know and love weren’t even written yet. And these were the dial-up AOL days of the internet. There were no cool, witchy websites and social media groups to join. And, I was very isolated in my new Pagan venture. I pretty much was the Pagan community in the tiny rural town where I live, all by myself; a community of one. I’d attended a couple small, local Pagan festivals, but this massive kaleidoscope of people and practices at PantheaCon was astounding. What had I gotten myself into!

            The self-introductions crept ever closer, and then all eyes turned to me. An anticipatory cushion of silence hushed the room, as my turn to open my mouth and force words out arrived. I had no fancy, witchy name, and no glorious, mysterious tradition to announce, so I blurted out, “I’m Debra, and I’m just an eclectic garden variety Pagan.” I cringed and waited for the scornful snickers to ripple through the room, and calculated the fastest path to the door so I could bolt out of there like my hair was on fire and hightail it for home. But instead, the facilitator replied, “Welcome, Debra,” and the collective attention simply turned to the next person to speak.

            Wait, what?

            My answer was acceptable? I am acceptable?

            Wowsers.

            So far, I’d felt like an imposter. Not part of the group. Like I had a neon light flashing over my head that said, “Not one of us!” or just “Big, fat weirdo!” that would warn all the cool kids to walk in the other direction. But this began to dissipate with that gentle little welcome, and on into the rest of the convention, I softened to the possibility that I really did fit in. I belonged. I found like-minded folks. Friends. Family. Tribe.

            The yearning for tribe had fueled my long search for the place where I belonged. Trouble is, I didn’t know where “where” was, or even what it was. I only knew that I must keep searching for it. This propelled me through Renn Faires, psychic and Whole Earth festivals, and Goddess workshops. They all felt like “close but not quite.” At one of these events, I saw a flyer about a “Pagan Harvest Festival,” and it was like an elbow to the gut: I had to go.

            When I walked into that festival, I was instantly dazzled by sights, sounds, and scents—music and dancing and vendors and activities, and, and, and. What are they all doing? What are all these symbols? Mabon? What is a Mabon? How do you even say that? Mah-bone? May-bone? It’s not even May! It’s September! What is all this crazy wonderfulness?

            I hand no clue where to begin, so I just randomly wandered around, even right into a joyful group ritual. I had absolutely no idea what we were doing or what it meant, but I did know one thing for sure: I’d finally, finally, finally found my “where.” I’d finally found home. I’d finally found what I’d been seeking for so long: Tribe.

            This experience gave me clarity about what exactly I was seeking: Paganism. There was lots of trial and error, listening and learning, discoveries and dead ends, and over time, I formed my own personal Pagan path. I ultimately decided that although I love group rituals, gatherings, and celebrations, I’m not a “joiner.” I’m truly a solitary at heart. Fundamental religion had left a bad taste in my mouth, and I’d made a clean and clear break from it. All of it. When I see an authority figure declaring, “This is the way we do it,” surrounded by a group of people nodding earnestly in agreement, gulping down every word, I just keep on walking. It’s just not my gig. (And, my birth card in the tarot is The Heirophant. My fellow tarot enthusiasts should get a good chuckle out of that.)

            I don’t need or want an intermediary between me and Spirit. I don’t want anyone telling me where and how to go about forming that relationship, or trying to shape it. I say I’m solitary, but I’m not really. Spirit is always with me, and we’ll make our own shapes, thank you very much.

            Turns out, that title I blurted out at PantheaCon suits me perfectly: Garden Variety Pagan. When I was a kid, they used to label the perfect, superior produce as “Grade A Fancy.” Everything else was just “garden variety,” meaning the plain old imperfect stuff you grow in your back yard. It might be a little oddly shaped, and not as pretty as the “Fancy” varieties, maybe a little nibbled around the edges, but it’s solid, tasty, and healthy. Yup, that’s me. I’ve never been a fancy person, Pagan or otherwise. I’m more barefoot than high heels, more jeans and T-shirt than Little Black Dress, and “doing my hair” means fluffing it out wet and heading for the door—let the curls fall where they may.

            My approach to Paganism is pretty much the same. I just want to live comfortably within my own skin and spirit, and live compatibly with my environment and everything existing within it. You know—”Do as thy will and harm none.” Yeah, I like that one. A lot. Sovereignty, baby. It’s a beautiful thing.

            I want to open myself up to the miracles of nature and life around me, as well as the metaphysical energies of magic and the Universe. I don’t want to be a Third Degree High Priestess of anything. I just want to be plain old me, physically, psychologically, and spiritually in congruence with nature and the Universe… a miniscule part of a much larger whole. I don’t follow any path other than the one I make. That may get some people’s panties all up in a judgey bunch because I’m not “doing it right,” but that’s okay. They can take that opportunity to just experience their uncomfortableness. Be one with it. Me, I’m just gonna keep on me-ing. (Rhymes with “being”… what a happy little coincidence!) Plain old Garden Variety Pagan. And to be clear, that doesn’t have anything to do with gardening. A “Garden Variety Pagan” is what I am in this Big Pagan Garden, with all its beautiful flowerbeds (traditions)—just a happy little wildflower that took seed there.

            If you’re also more “garden variety” than “fancy,” and seek to create your own spiritual lifestyle, and to be the sovereign of your own life rather than adhering to someone else’s perspective, well, let’s hang. I’ll share some tidbits and treasures I’ve gathered along my journey, and if they feel useful and true for you, you can collect them for your own spiritual basket. Keep what you like, pass on what you don’t. No pressure.

            Although I had to forge my own Pagan path alone, it would’ve been super to have someone walking alongside me while I took those early baby steps. If having a Pagan exploration buddy sounds good to you too, allow me that honor. I’ll offer a friendly hand to hold—not pull you this way or that, but to walk beside you as you wander and explore, and offer a little clarity and well-seasoned guidance. (You can take it or leave it.) I’ll explain what the choices are, but leave the choosing to you. You can ask any question, and I’ll answer openly and honestly, never belittling or ridiculing. I’ll validate your search for yourself, and point out the rabbit trails that don’t lead anywhere except down a hole. We’re not looking for Wonderland… we’re looking for true wonder.

            If Paganism is new to you, and feel unsure or overwhelmed, and you’re filled with more curiosity than experience, you’ve come to the right place. Let me be your Walmart greeter to the Pagan community: “Come on in! The Wiccans are on aisle 5, the oracle decks are over on aisle 7, next to the pendulums, and Sabbats are right next to the altar displays!”Particularly if you’re a beginner, and even more so if you’re solitary, I want to be sure that when you wander into the Big Pagan Garden, filled with curiosity and wonder, that you’re greeted with a happy and hearty, “Welcome!”

Activity: A Little Plant Magick

            Here’s a living, loving little activity to help the magickal energy sprout in your life. Literally! Anybody, anywhere will be able to do it easily.

            First, you’ll need to go shopping—for a plant! It could be the garden department at a hardware store, the grocery store plant rack, the local farmer’s market, or anywhere they sell plants. It could even be a cutting from a friend’s plant.

            It doesn’t have to be big (in fact, the smaller, the better), or expensive. The main thing is that the plant calls to you. Don’t just grab any old plant off the rack, or just pick the biggest one. Carefully browse the selection. Gently brush the plants with your fingertips. One will say, “Pick me!” You’ll feel it in your gut, intuitively. You see, you aren’t merely picking out a plant—you’re allowing your intuition to emerge, and learning to pay attention to it, rather than tune it out. Intuition is a key component of magick.

            While intuition is key to this activity, there are practical components too. Is the spot where you’ll this plant in your home sunny? Shaded? You must pick a plant suited for that amount of light. Picking a shade-loving plant for a sunny spot or vice versa is a sure-fire way to get your plant-lovin’ little heart broken. Also, do you have pets? Kids? If so, pick a non-toxic plant.

            Is this your first houseplant or do you have a less-than-green thumb? Then don’t pick a finicky, difficult plant like a Boston fern. A spider plant or pothos are perfect for newbies—they’ll forgive a lot of abuse, mistakes, and less-than optimal situations. And, both will give you tons of new baby plants! And one more thing: Don’t use bottled or filtered water on plants. They need the natural minerals in plain old tap water.

            You’ll be repotting this new plant for this spell, and will need a pot one size larger than the container it’s in. You can repurpose one you already have or buy a new one. Make sure it has a drainage hole, over which you can place a small stone to allow water to drain slowly. Get potting soil if you need it.

            When you get your new plant baby home, welcome it. Yes, right out loud! Speak your affection and determination to care for it right into its leaves. Plants are perfect for experiencing the four Elements—Earth, Air, Fire, and Water—because they represent them all: They stretch their roots into Earth, they capture carbon dioxide from Air and release oxygen, they must have the warmth and light of Fire (the sun) to grow and stay green, and life-sustaining Water flows through them to keep them healthy and supple. Humans also need all four Elements to thrive, and the Elements are often a component of magickal spells and rituals.

            Now we’ll do a Little Green Spell as you repot your special plant. Get everything all set—new soil in the pot, a small strip of paper, and a pen or pencil.

            On the paper, write this spell or create one of your own in a similar tone:

            May I be rooted in the rhythms of nature.

            May the Elements invigorate and sustain me.

            May I grow and thrive joyfully, and in good health.

            So Mote it Be.*

            Slide the paper down between the soil and outside wall of the pot. As you lovingly place your little plant friend into the soil and tuck it in, say the spell out loud. Place your plant in its spot, and really look at it. Memorize each little variation in color and how each leaf looks, until you’d know this plant from any other. Talk to it. Show it some love. Become sensitive to its slow, serene plant energy. Visit with it daily and welcome its peacefulness, joy, growth, and good health. This isn’t a mere plant—it’s your own little plant spirit; your magickal plant familiar.

            As your plant grows and thrives, may you do likewise.

            So Mote it Be.

(Green Thumb note: Sometimes plants just wilt and fail, no matter what we do. It’s not your magick—it’s just plants. It happens to the best of us. If your plant is clearly dead or dying, release its remains in the garden and just start over. See if you can detect anything you might do differently.)

*”So Mote it Be” is a traditional Pagan way of saying, “Amen!” or “May it be so,” and frequently is amongst the final steps in casting a spell.

 

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If you want to find out more about what it’s like being a plain old Garden Variety Pagan, it’s all in my book, “Pagan Curious — A Beginner’s Guide to Nature, Magic & Spirituality.” Available at Llewellyn.com, Amazon, bookstores, and a metaphysical shop near your!