My First Pagan Festival: Orion Foxwood, Charisma and Self-Esteem

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Admittedly, I didn't recognize most of the names listed as presenters at EarthSpirit's Feast of Lights, but then I am more widely read in Druidry than in Paganism more generally, and my tastes tend towards the academic and non-Pagan in any case. But one person I was looking forward to seeing at the festival was Orion Foxwood, whose books (Tree of Enchantment and The Feary Teachings) had left me feeling intrigued but a bit perplexed. It was hard to put my finger on exactly why his writings weren't "clicking" for me, but certainly his emphasis on the Ancestors as the gateway to Faery Seership had left me feeling if not intimidated then at least unsure about how to step into the process.^[1] And so I was hoping that being able to attend at least one of Orion's talks in person might perhaps give me some insight into his teachings, knowing the Tree by its fruits, so to speak.

It seems that, despite my preliminary investigations into Faery Seership, reading through Orion's two books and even getting in touch with folks who had attended workshops with him or worked with him in the past, at no point did anyone bother to mention that he was, well, flamboyantly gay. Though in retrospect, I suppose describing him as "a wonderful man" might have been a polite hint. And that he is: quite wonderful, an energetic and engaging person who is quick to laugh and eager to compliment, and who obviously loves his work a great deal. Still, attending his talk "Lifting the Spelle of Forgetfulness" (which did not include any reminder, sadly, on how to spell "spell"), I was struck by just how much his homosexuality, blended with his Appalachian accent and two-toned-goatee, cleaned-up hippie look, became part of his teaching not just in style but in substance. He careened through his talk with a certain enthusiastic charisma that rested in part on his ability to turn at once from serious spiritual insight to distracted frivolity at the briefest mention of sushi or the mere suggestion of a bad pun on "faery wife."

Having read two books full of Rivers of Blood, ancient wounds needing redemption, and beings of all kinds of mischievous, startling, mystical and intimidating natures, I suppose I was expecting someone a bit... heavier, more serious, more reticent, more grounded in the dark earth. Instead, Orion was dazzling, almost dizzying (and practically the incarnation of coffee). And suddenly those things I read in his books didn't seem so strange or difficult, the way he talked about them. His words might speak, as though in passing, of wading through rivers of blood lapping up to your knees, but his charisma told you it was all a metaphor, that it was, in fact, all about you. You are a wonderful person, a lovable person, and you have Sacredness in you. Redemption? You can do it, you can redeem all those past generations; in fact, that's why you're here, and you're here because you're wonderful, and you are wonderful simply by dint of existing.

And I'm not saying there isn't truth in this, that there isn't real soul-deep insight in his quick quips about finding one's path or facing one's shadow. But I was interested in Faery Seership because (and this is me admitting something that might be a bit embarrassing) I was interested in faeries, not because I needed a boost to my self-esteem. The message that we are all, deep down, worthy and beautiful people is an important message. But it's not one that I particularly need to hear, at least not anymore. And maybe in some ways this just means that I have done the work of centering and grounding myself, walking into the shadows and coming out whole, even if I did not undertake that work using the metaphors and practices of Faery Seership. But, as Cat pointed out a few times during our visit, there comes a point after which being "healed" is not enough, because if that's all your spirituality has to offer then either you'll soon lose interest, or you'll soon discover that you're always feeling broken and wounded and in need of healing.^[2]

All of these reflections lead me to something about the role of charisma in the Pagan community, but I'm not quite sure what precisely that is. I'm reminded of the book I'm currently reading, The Serpent and the Goddess by Mary Condren, in which she speaks of patriarchal religious institutions passing on through ordination into the priesthood the kind of spiritual leadership and power that individuals once had to earn on their own through charisma, i.e. being valuable to the community. Wikipedia has this to say about charisma: it is kind of divine or divinely-inspired gift,

a trait found in persons whose personalities are characterized by a personal charm and magnetism (attractiveness), along with innate and powerfully sophisticated abilities of interpersonal communication and persuasion. One who is charismatic is said to be capable of using their personal being, rather than just speech or logic alone, to interface with other human beings in a personal and direct manner, and effectively communicate an argument or concept to them.

Now if charisma is a kind of living or embodied communication that moves beyond the merely rational (and is not, presumably, merely charming rhetoric), then I'm all for it, and I can understand why a person of charisma might serve the needs of a community engaged in the process of finding a new, trans-/nonrational way of leading an embodied and earth-centered spiritual life. If we think of charisma in this way, then perhaps Orion actually is speaking to those needs that many in the Pagan community find to be most vital and pressing (there were an awful lot of people there who were earnestly taking notes). Walking a new and often misunderstood path, it's not surprising that plenty of us suffer from even more uncertainty about our worthiness than does the general population (which is itself riddled with low self-esteem and fear drummed up by advertisers hoping to create insecure and gullible consumers). But now I'm just indulging in a bit of couch-psychology.

One last observation on Orion's talk, which would become a running theme throughout the festival: group-led ritual, discussion and presentation is, all charisma aside, an art form in itself. It can be poorly done. And while Orion's talk was engaging enough, the group exercises in breath and energy-work that he led us through at the end of the workshop left me feeling like I'd been forced to stand too close to someone with particularly bad halitosis. Imagine standing in a room with twenty to thirty other people, mostly strangers, who are being instructed to "breathe out all of your tension and anxiety" and breathe in fountains of intense energy from the sun above and the deep earth below. All that ickiness and all those issues, vented into the space between bodies being charged up with heat and energy: the effect was like baking rotting garbage in an oven. Rather than leaving me feeling refreshed with a balanced sense of center, it gave me the overwhelming urge to go bury my face in snow and breathe the fresh, clean, frigid air outdoors (I had to settle for a cup of cold water). So... note to future self (and the selves reading along): I wouldn't recommend that kind of work except in grounded, small-group settings.

^[1] My family life has been pretty well defined by an absence of ancestors, to no apparent detriment, my mother's side of the family having basically cut off contact with us after I was born and my father's parents (both now dead) having struggled with alcoholism and mental illness all their lives. Orion's word of caution against inviting unhealthy presences into our lives seemed reason enough not to pursue reconnecting with these various patterns of dysfunctional relationship, most of which I feel I have fairly well come to terms with in my own way. Plus, I'm not really a gregarious people-person even with the living.
^[2] I suspect that this is why all the really interesting Christian mystics talk not so much about salvation, but about love. Love is, after all, an on-going process and practice that you can't ever really outgrow. Salvation without love is like a revolution without dancing.