While hope may spring eternal, memory -hope's inspirational ancestor- is a tricky thing.

   Memory rises from both importance and desire. Without one of these two ingredients, it is merely a recollection. Even the spawning event that gave rise to the memory should possess these elements. In fact, by looking at memory itself, you find yourself in the middle of an examination of what makes something important. It follows, therefore, that if a person wants to construct something memorable for a group of people -such as a community- it must rise from those two elements: an honest desire and a broadly appealing value.

   Often, I've seen Pagans apply a value to things such as "gathering", "community" or "unity" but not address what qualities they possess or why they are of importance. It is assumed that everyone holds the same understanding of these commonly used words and concepts. Like the term "balance" -still overused and misunderstood in Pagan circles- "community" rises from within us, not from without. In this regard it is like a memory: it is rooted in something other than desire but isn't always well-understood. On top of that, attempts to create such a construct from the outside always seem to fail since those attempts are based upon a single definition. One person's vision of what a comprises a community runs contrary to the more organic process from which communities grow. Mutual interests, friendships and bonds formed over time by individuals in close contact is the natural process by which both memories and communities are grown ... but at times it is hard to remember this principle.

   Between the two extremes of slow, gradual community development and the more rapid, create-a-set-of-rules-and-invite-people-in process of conjuring a coherent group, there exist a multitude of means by which people may be brought together. Such an act of creation is daunting, to say the least, and represents an investment of time, care and dedication that is not necessarily going to succeed. No matter how difficult, however, the roadblocks and complexity of the task should not dissuade a person from trying to build a group like this; in fact, if the organic side of things is to be believed, it may be inevitable.

   Either way, the very process itself -whether it succeeds or fails- can yield benefits lasting a lifetime!

   There have been several recent memorable and uplifting examples of community in my life that highlight the organic and structured approaches described, previously. These examples came from diverse elements within the existing Pagan community already within my area but have also given rise to other communities within that grouping. They are: a Gardnerian Coven, individual mentorships and Pagan Pride Day.

   Many years ago, a group of Gardnerians welcomed me into their fold for about six months during my early days of learning about what it meant to be a Wiccan. I had already studied the basics from books but to learn what it all meant (in a practical, daily sense) really required human contact. I was able to arrange a meeting at a coffee shop near the University of Minnesota with one of this Coven's members. There, we sat down and talked about what Wicca meant and what a Gardnerian Coven was like.

   We spoke for an hour or two getting to know one another. Even when that first meeting had ended, quite a few of my questions remained unanswered. It would only be over the next few weeks in email correspondence that I would discover more and more about what it meant to be part of a Pagan community ... and a Wiccan group, in specific. Through my initial contact, I met other members of the Coven; a group that I still am grateful for, today.

   Once they got to know me, the Coven invited me into their home to learn from them by being amongst them. No, I was not initiated as a Gardnerian; I was learning in a more general sense. From observation and immersion, I began to appreciate fundamentals of Pagan interaction, philosophy-sharing and self-reliance. On top of this, issues of oath-bound secret knowledge were not flaunted before me as some Gardnerian stereotypes may have you believe, but were explained to me as pieces of information that accompanied the learning process of an actual Initiate. In other words, there were things that they only taught someone going through the process of initiation. It wasn't a personal slight or hoarding of knowledge, it was a part of their way ... a facet of their community beliefs on how a person learns.

   For the several rituals I attended with them, I was never made to feel like an outsider ... I was welcome and shown the nature of their group. There were religious observances, an expectation of an open mind and participation in the close-knit community that grew out of their mutual desire to celebrate the natural world around us all. These were a group of people not necessarily related by law, biology or employment who had forged a family out of a desire to learn from each other as well as to practice their faith together.

   This was long ago, but it remains in my mind as my first true exposure to a community. It showed me how they were structured and allowed me to see the interactive nature of such a group's development. We are all a part of the process. But, eventually, I went on my way to continue learning.

   In subsequent years, I sought out individual mentorships.

   In my pursuit of a first degree Initiation in American Traditional Wicca, I studied with a training circle for nearly two years. While a few classmates came and left, a core grew out of it. It was here that I appreciated the concept of higher authority without the feeling of sovereignty. My teacher (and his teacher, who helped guide each class) was -without a doubt- in charge. However, never once did he impose a feeling of inferiority within us. Again, this can be a stereotype that solitary practitioners -such as myself- have heard in regards to more structured settings such as circles or Covens.

   We, in the circle, knew he had the authority -it was inherent in the structure of the class- but that power was never abused or rubbed in our faces. We were welcomed to ask questions, to participate and make our mistakes. Our questions, interactions and lessons also shaped the group dynamic. Even our teacher's approaches and lessons became modified to our individual personalities and needs.

   It is much the way in any sort of class, really... A good teacher always weaves their efforts into the fabric of the unique students in the class.

   During this time, my teacher even took us to spend a weekend with a Druid Grove to experience and learn from their form of religion. We watched their ceremonies, participated in one and learned by immersion about these Pagan cousins. The class I was attending was quite malleable.

   My participation in this class, like my time with the Gardnerians, was born of a desire to learn but only flourished because of a mutual respect that was shared in the structured setting. There were rules and a framework, even a hierarchy, but it fostered participation rather than obedience.

   The most recent example of community building I have found, has been Pagan Pride Day.

   This annual autumn event has been instrumental in helping me see how disparate community elements may be brought together. It's like looking at a fractal image: while each specific group or sub-community has it's own identity and structure, when you back up and look at them as a whole, you start to see the over-arching elements that link them.

   I have been involved with Pagan Pride from the beginning, devoting my time and effort to creating a day where people of mutual background can get together and celebrate their heritage proudly, without fear or reservation. This institution, now past its fifth anniversary, provides not just a space for Pagans to gather, but also a chance to explore the various facets of the larger community. The event plans its programming around what the community wants to offer ... it presents forums in which anyone in the Pagan fold can come forth and share their unique insights with everyone else. It encourages participation, debate and individuality by fielding a wide range of representations from across the local area.

   Now, before this turns into a drum-beating for Pagan Pride, I must apologize. I do get a bit carried away by it all.

   Every year, I have worried that it would fall apart ... that it would cease to be. I have dreaded missed opportunities or lost chances. But every year, those of us who come together to make it happen have experienced fellowship, contact and networking as well as a synthesis of our knowledge, desire and hopes.

   When you look at it, Pagans develop their communities in incremental steps through human contact. Person-to-person, they open themselves up; doing their best when their own beliefs are given the opportunity to come to the foreground. Essentially, the philosophical construct known as "the marketplace of ideas" is the cauldron in which a Pagan community grows. To foster it, all you really need to do is give it a chance and some encouragement. But the direction in which it will grow from there is anyone's guess.

   Like riding a bucking bronco, no one person can sculpt a community: it grows through the efforts or organic desires of hundreds of people. But it can still wither and fade without upkeep. A person has to have the patience to persevere but not to keep lifting the lid and stirring the pot.

   Sure, there are times when aspects of the community have let me down or failed; this happens in every group. The keys to creating a Pagan community are tenacity, humility, cooperation and immersion. We must inundate ourselves within it, cooperate with its diverse elements, humbly allow for a blending of ideas without dominance. We must have the strength of will to see it through past our individual lifetimes. We can't stay on the sidelines but we can't call the shots, either.

   A Pagan community will flower and grow. It will become a thing of enduring memory and hope. Grand, sweeping events are not as much needed as consistent, individual gestures or broad opportunities that open us up for mutual exploration of what it means to be a Pagan.

   My advice to everyone is to go forth into the world and meet as many people as possible, adding your own uniqueness to the cauldron. Get involved. The community you work on today will be the fabric our descendants wrap themselves within, tomorrow.

©2003 Sylvan SilverNight
February 27th, 2003