Faith (Part 1)

It’s been three years since I lost my faith.   Well, technically, three years since irreversibly acknowledging that I’d lost it

Most of the time it doesn’t impinge but yesterday was a bit fraught.

I believed in Gods (multiple) and, for ease, I called myself a witch.   I’m not sure what happened but one day I woke up and just thought “Hang on . . .”  For an unidentifiable reason, suddenly Gods, Magick, etc.  Just stopped making sense.

I fought against it for a year or so but inexorably, it just dawned that the thing I found most comforting in a largely cruel world, was a lie.

I’m sure there are rationalists out there cheering and, ironically, telling me I’ve stepped into the light, but what has actually happened is that I’ve stepped in into a colder, less caring and more brutal universe.  I”m finding that a huge struggle.

I miss the comfort of ritual.  I miss the community. I miss the warmth of knowing that what I do and how I behave impacts on how I live my next life.   I have no next life.  I get stuck in a hole in the ground and that’s it.

Yesterday was something of a test for me.  I’ve been going to Avebury since I was 18 and considered it a holy place.  I’d often meditate there, occasionally doing some small scale ritual. It cropped up in my writings and poetry and left a massive psychic – and I use the term advisedly – imprint on my life.

I’d not managed to get there for some years as I was in Leeds and since getting back I’ve been avoiding going for what must be obvious reasons.  However, yesterday I decided it was time to bite the bullet.

We did the whole experience.   We stopped off at the Polly Tea Rooms in Marlborough for elevenses, moved on to Silbury Hill and West Kennet Long Barrow – places merely of historical interest rather than places of emotional attachment – and then onto Avebury.

Have you ever met an ex-lover in the street, years after breaking up, and although it’s nice to see how they are doing, you wonder why you ever loved them?

Seeing Avebury was a bit like that, except Avebury broke up with me and I still loved it.

For the first time, I could only see Avebury in terms of History, Archaeology, Anthropology and folk tale.  That mysterious ‘other’ was missing.  It wasn’t like losing a limb, it was deeper than that.   More like losing a cardio-vasular system.

I only managed to walk round about a quarter of the circle before weeping.   I can’t believe how painful it was.
I noted with a certain dryness that I couldn’t even rail against the sky, shouting cliches like “My Gods why have you forsaken me” because no one was there to listen.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone.

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