BGBR, Part Three

Previously, I mapped out the path I took from determined atheist to half-hearted pagan. I needed something to shake me out of my disbelief and, about a month later, I found it.

Pagan Pride Day was my first major pagan event. I was so excited to go, despite knowing very little about it. I hoped to find some sort of guidance as I was still just flailing around, trying to figure out what appealed to me. The event was held in DuPont Circle in Washington, D.C. and barely filled a quarter of the circle. There were maybe five booths, and it took me twenty minutes to make my way through all of them.

Everyone there seemed to be much older than I was. There were a few people near my age, bearing the hallmarks of the “white person with a weird hobby”: dark clothes, dyed hair, piercings in unconventional places, you know the drill. I myself am a white person with several weird hobbies so I know how to recognize my own. Unfortunately, previous experiences had taught me that I never really felt comfortable around my own people, so this sight didn’t really inspire me with confidence.

I sat down on a nearby bench to check my phone and debate my options. I’d clearly exhausted the potential of the gathering, but there were going to be some speakers later and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stick around and wait for them or just go home and write the whole thing off for a loss.

It is important at this point in the story to give the Reader a vague idea of what I looked like on that particular day. While I was dressed innocuously enough, my hair was an intense shade of blue (my mark of “white person with a weird hobby”), and I was wearing a large pair of purple headphones. I was clearly alone, and clearly out of my element.

“Three crows converging on a piece of shiny tinfoil” is probably the best way to describe our first meeting. Instead of a shiny toy, you have me (the baby pagan). Instead of three crows, you have two wonderfully enthusiastic pagan women and a second baby pagan they’d picked up previously.

Chase gave me her wonderful “death worker elevator pitch” and Kaye grilled me about my practice thus far, and between the two of them I got the sense that there was an entire world of paganism that I’d been missing out on by practicing alone.

The other girl with them has since moved on from paganism, so she features no more in this story. That day, however, was a whirlwind of excitement for me. Not only had I met three pagans my own age, they had their shit together. These were not white people with weird hobbies, these were actual adults! We exchanged numbers and parted ways that afternoon, and it was all I could do not to immediately start pestering them. I had pagan friends!

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Frigga devotee, Dedicant of Ar nDraiocht Fein

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