Jumping is Not Less Valid than Being Pushed

This bothers me, but it took a while for me to figure out why. 

I think what niggles at me most is that, though I respect the author greatly, it just feels patronizing. It's too much like an argument my mother used to make when she was trying to convince me not to pursue paganism in general: “This will make you an outcast if anyone ever finds out. It could ruin your life and your father’s political career. Even if no one ever finds out, you’ll be lonely because you won’t be able to tell anyone. Why would you do that to yourself? You should think hard about it and see if that is really what you want.” Look at how bad this can be. Think hard about “inviting” these troubles into your life… If I was scared away by arguments like that, I wouldn’t be pagan.

I know that (or hope), in this case at least, it wasn’t the intent to imply that anyone who chooses to engage the astral instead of being chosen by it (and therefore unwillingly engaged) is somehow irresponsible simply for having sought it out. But this isn’t an issue with just this article or with the topic of astral specifically.

 I’ve seen this building trend around in the pagan world—this sudden bout of warning people away from paths and gods and disciplines that can be difficult or that exact a heavy price. I particularly dislike the number of qualifying statements I see that go something like “sure this is an important and meaningful part of my life, but I didn’t choose it” as if the act of choosing to enter into something difficult but meaningful would somehow be wrong.

Do I want these difficulties in my life? No, of course not, and furthermore, it’s insulting to ask me that. No one wants the oogy-boogy “bad things” to happen to them, but sometimes we decide that the wonder of the knowing is worth the price of the asking.

Did I seek it out? Yes. In a way. I’ve been invited, sure,  but only because I took the initiative and knocked on the door. Astral wasn’t poking me, I was poking it. And when I did, someone opened His eyes and took notice and saw an opportunity in my willingness to consider the option. And yes: I know enough to know how dangerous that is.

But if you do ask, and if you do get the "invitation"…what then? Does that make me a glutton for punishment? When you’re standing at the edge of the cliff looking down to where the misty hills roll far below and even though you know how high up you are, and even though you know that if you fail to learn how to fly by the time you reach those distant hills you will never recover from the impact that comes after, and even if you know that there are bones sticking up out of the that dirt giving testament to failure of your predecessors…even still, what do you do when your god, who stands patiently behind you waiting for your decision, smiles and whispers “Jump”...

Did I put myself in this position? Yes. Am I terrified? Absolutely. Was it irresponsible of me? 

Not. at. all.

Near the end of her life, my mother finally did accept the path I walk and weary with the battle against cancer, she had some very different wisdom to share: "You cannot go through life without pain."

There is pain forced upon us, and pain chosen by us. Neither is any less important or less valid. Neither is foolish or irresponsible. Both are a testament of human will and mortal courage. Both are the very substance of our being. We are not made by our moments of safety and security, we are made by our moments of trial and suffering.

Nothing is more exhilarating, and sickening, than that last step off the edge—no matter whether we take the step ourselves or are pushed. Nothing is more empowering than facing the fall, even if we chose it hastily or didn't choose it. And nothing is more important to our sense of self than making the most of that moment whenever it comes, in whatever form it takes. If we ask, we are ready--even if we don't realize it or cry and whimper and flail afterward. Because the secret is that "regret" is merely failing to fly. 

“Jump”

I do.

Not because I must and not because I desire it, but because I exist and because sometimes the price of existing, of truly existing and truly embracing that existence, is jumping even if I am not certain I can manage to miss the ground.