Conversion or Initiation

What do you believe in? Why do you believe it? Were you born into it or did you change your beliefs as you came upon it? Is it mutually exclusive of other viewpoints and beliefs, or is it inclusive and expansive with them? The two words: conversion and initiation used in a religious or spiritual context have subtle differences in meaning. They both usually refer to coming to a new religious system or belief, but they depart from there.

When I was first introduced to Hinduism, I was told it was something people can’t convert to. At the time my 20-something brain said to me, don’t tell me what I can and cannot do; I was put off. Whenever I’m told there is something I can’t do, my first reaction is gut-wrench abhorrence to the idea: why not? Whether the statement itself is true or not, the answer underlying it is rooted more in philosophy and perspective than mere facts. My current understanding is: you can’t convert to Hinduism, but you can initiate into it. The difference seems subtle, but the meaning is very important. (I’ll leave caste aside.)

Most of the dominant Western religions [Judaism, Catholicism, Islam] have a conversation aspect to them. You shed your previous beliefs and proclaim you now have taken on the new dogma. You are converted. You now believe what the others believe. Of course there are variances. Not all people from a religion are generic and believe the same things wholeheartedly, but the conversion takes place and in doing so you proclaim your faith in the new dogma and doctrines. The door closes on your past belief system. These systems are usually exclusive in their beliefs with the religion you converted into.

Oungan François

On May 9th, I became an Oungan Sur Pwenn, a priest of Vodou. I serve the spirits. I chose the name François of the Crow; François after my grandfather Francis. I live on the Crow River. The Crow feeds into the Mississippi, which in turn flows down to New Orleans (NOLA), a sacred city to me.

Sur Pwenn means on the point; I’m at the beginning. While I can’t speak much of the actual process of initiation, it would nevertheless be meaningless. I’ll try to explain what I mean.

Now I Get It

After returning home I had a laugh to myself. I had a thought, “Now I get it,” thinking back on my initiation, when I remembered hearing pretty much the same thing said by others before.

Winter Solstice

The longest night of the darkest day, the land sleeps. While we may sleep at night, some of us synchronized to the turnings of the earth, the absence of the sun, we often don’t take the time to think about the land.

Winter has been a depressing time of year for me the last few years. As I’ve moved out of the city and into the country, as I’ve grown more accustom to my connection to the land, I feel the loss of life around me. The world is not dead, I can still hear the yips of coyotes, the chirping of birds who refuse to leave, the trees that resist the urge to dump their leaves, mostly long and needle-like, I do feel it sleep. The ground freezes. The flowers disappear, and all I’m left with is those nocturnal creatures of the season, not the night. Those that refuse to give up, but go on. I myself am resisting the urge to sleep.

As the solstice approaches, I feel depressed. I miss that light. This feeling starts in June, at the Summer Solstice and progresses, grows slowly until it’s height in December, the Winter Solstice. As it approaches, my mood grows dim, reflective, dark. But once the Winter climax hits, I light up with hope. I now know each day will be more, each day contains a bit more energy than what proceeded it. It is the new year!