Pagan Potluck

When I first joined the First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia, I was mostly dazzled by just how freaking queer it is. I grew up in a very strict Catholic environment in central Ohio, so to see this 200 year old church just awash in rainbows and trans flags completely blew my mind. So much gay—and not just the congregation. The leaders of this church were both extremely queer. It was a feeling of acceptance that I've rarely encountered as a trans woman outside specifically queer-defined spaces (and sometimes even in them).

But the reason I attended this church was not merely to bask in queerness. It was to make friends and build community. So I started looking at various groups I could join, and "Pagan Potluck" caught my eye. I asked one of the organizers about it, and he said that it's basically what it sounds like. Once a month, some folks who either have a pagan spiritual practice, or are curious about paganism, bring a dish to share. There's usually a short ritual or meditation, and then just socializing over delicious food.

While I'm always up for sharing delicious food, I wasn't sure if a pagan group was really for me. But I am curious about a lot of things. I don't know how anyone could write as many books as I have without being intensely and widely curious.

And I did have this...tickle in the back of my mind. A question of sorts.

Some context: I split with Catholicism way back in high school, largely because the leaders of the Church never missed an opportunity to point out that because of who and what I am, I'm 100% for sure going to Hell. There were other, more frightening reasons as well, but that's for another time. Over the years since I decided Catholicism wasn't for me, I've cobbled together a spiritual practice based around art and creativity that I've drawn from a variety of traditions and philosophies. There isn't (wasn't?) a theology to speak of, but the whole thing coalesced around an idea I had one evening while sitting on the toilet—that the only way I could believe there was some sort of higher power was if that entity was a capricious trickster with an absolutely dreadful sense of humor. The notion alarmed me, but I couldn't shake it. In fact, the more I experienced the world, the more it seemed the only explanation that made any sense to me.

Was that paganism? A vague and somewhat fraught relationship with an unnamed trickster deity? I wasn't sure, but I thought why not check out this Pagan Potlock thing and see if there was some overlap. Also, delicious food.

There was no big dramatic experience that first time. Good food and pleasant conversation with nice people—I brought a chicken curry dish. The leaders of the event had set up an alter dedicated to the elements of wind, water, fire, earth, air, and spirit. One person led us in a short meditative practice that was not so different from the sort of thing you might find at a Buddhist gathering. Overall it was an enjoyable experience, but nothing earth-shattering.

Yet there was still that tickle, a little stronger now. I could feel there was something here for me...

We'll this "intuition", for lack of a better word. Although I should say, I haven't always been so attentive to my intuition. Before I came out as trans, my brain was largely occupied with reverse engineering all the complicated behaviors expected of men, so that I could pass as one. But once I realized none of that applied to me, I jettisoned that massive cognitive load and was free to start paying better attention to others, and to myself. I'm tempted to semi-jokingly call it "woman's intuition", but unpacking what that antiquated concept would actually mean in the modern context of gender and witchcraft would take an entire entry, so I'll save that for another time as well.

For now just say I listened to my intuition, and made a point of coming to the next Pagan Potluck. And the next. And finally at our Summer Solstice event (which featured a performance by members of local Philly goth folk band 49 Burning Condors), my intuition grew insistent enough that I decided to act.

After the event, I went up to one of the group leaders, a sweet man with an astonishing skill at reading Buffy the Vampire Slayer themed Tarot cards, and told him, "I feel this pull toward...something at these gatherings. I want to go deeper, but I don't know where to start."

Without a word, he picked up a book from the spirit element alter and handed it to me.

"Kelley, this is where you should start."

The book was called Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics by Starhawk.

And within a week, it changed everything for me.