Do check out evcelt's grand post here which gives some background about why this topic is on my mind, as well as a lot of great stuff to think about.

So, because of various things mentioned at Between the Worlds this past weekend, I've been thinking a lot about the concept of an indigenous American spirituality-- something that cuts across racial, religious, political, and socioeconomic divisions, something that is part of our cultural DNA and national identity moreso than a distinct spiritual path. I think every nation has its ancient symbols, traditions, lore, and figures that continually inform the hearts and souls of its people throughout time; things that speak to patriotism, but on a deeper, more devotional, less left-brained level, that inspire pride, love, hope, faith. I believe we have that here in America too, but I think we're on the whole only intermittently aware of it, and I think the reason why is that we are so young as a nation that our heroes, lore, symbols still have that new-country smell-- age has not yet softened their edges, let them sink so deep into our collective marrow that they lose the sharpness of factual immediacy and become transmuted into mythology.

I think that we really are a nation of the faithful, but it is a secular faith that we have in common. Our patriotism overwhelms the rational mind and floods deep into the cavernous recesses of emotion. Perhaps part of the reason we as a nation fight so bitterly on a political level is that the subtext of all our discussions of quantifiable policy and law is one rife with deeply personal impressions of what "America" is, what it means to each of us, what it should be. Impressions that shape who each of us is, about which we care passionately and deeply and about which it is hard to be totally rational. It's like trying to have a discussion about the true meaning and purpose of love. For all that it is widely shared, it is also intensely personal and highly mutable, as difficult to pin down as running water.

America has no state religion, which is as it should be. Yet we honor our homeland with a distinctly spiritual zeal, imbuing our national holy-days with ritualistic traditions, offering anthems and recitations as powerful as any invocation or prayer; we enter monumental buildings and grow quietly respectful, sensing the presence of something vast and powerful and strong and somehow comforting. We enshrine our sacred documents and other items of power. We mark our celebrations with processions and festivals. And we share ideals-- ones whose meanings we endlessly debate, to be sure, but never deny-- ideals of hope, courage, freedom, indomitable spirit, strength, compassion, exploration, discovery, justice, community, possibility. In times of trial personal or public it is to the spirit of the land that we turn, always believing in its strength and will to persevere, taking from its radiant soul the fortitude and hope and inspiration we need to face whatever comes; and we move forward as surely as any ancient warrior believing himself blessed by the hand of deity. "The American Dream" is a phrase tossed around rather cheaply these days to signify the desire for lots of money and nice homes and cars and other materialistic goals, but it goes much deeper than that, to a shared and perhaps even utopian longing for a way of life that is peaceful, prosperous, safe, joyful, and meaningful...something that is almost beyond words, something that describes more accurately a journey than a destination. Inasmuch as we can be said to share any particular dogma, it must be summed up as "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness".

Atheists and those whose religions forbid any spiritual devotion outside of itself may take some issue with my characterization; that's fine. I might add "cantankerousness" and "argument" to the list of ideals to which we generally all subscribe. =) But what this does offer in particular to pagans and others whose spirituality is generally fluid, is a veritable treasure trove of possibility for the development of a truly American paganism, something as firmly rooted in our land and identity as, say, Celtic paganism, or Russian shamanism.

Why would such a thing be necessary? I submit that pagans (I am using the term loosely to encompass witches, animists, polytheists, goddess-worshippers, magicians, etc) in America are collectively somewhat rootless. Whereas modern witchcraft, in its inception in Britain, drew a great deal from the history and native traditions of the land, that same movement upon taking root in America had something of an identity crisis, tending to retain its Anglo-Celtic (among others) mythological foundation without really taking on a strong American identity to truly make it our own. (While a case could be made for some traditions like Hexcraft, Hoodoo, and much of Voudoun as indigenous American paths, I would argue these as exceptions that tended not to have a great influence on the main thrust of the Wicca-goddess worship-pagan movement in America but remained fairly locally contained especially within specific cultural communities until somewhat recently.) As a result, most American pagans have either developed traditions stemming from the British Wicca movement or have sought out some version of the indigenous ancient faith structures of other countries (Ireland, Egypt, Scandinavia, Italy, Greece for example) which in many if not most cases they have no ancestral or cultural ties to and little direct experience of.

Let me note that I don't *condemn* anyone for that-- besides that it would be highly hypocritical of me, I also believe that it is a mistake to believe that our souls are limited to the physical and geographical circumstances of our current incarnations; our spirits can encompass far wider worlds than the ones our bodies may have experienced, and what we may be drawn to may be completely foreign to our current conscious experience. Likewise, I believe that the "global village" and the advances in communication and travel are-- pardon the term-- a mandate to learn about and understand one another better, and to cross-pollinate and export our spiritual practices as people throughout time have *always* done, just less efficiently in the past. Additionally, it is a particularly American trait to preserve and integrate the customs, cuisines, art, and philosophies of other cultures.

But given all of that, what this still comes down to is the reality that for most American pagans, the quest for a spiritual path and a guiding set of principles and practices is one that is almost wholly external. We are continually looking beyond our own borders for our beliefs and structures. We aren't gloriously divergent branches sprouting from a common tree, but tumbleweeds rolling independently along an apparent spiritual desert.

Now some will argue that we do in fact have a strong indigenous spiritual tradition in the collective Native American belief structures. I don't deny that, and I know that many American pagans have chosen to explore those paths. What I would argue in return is that collectively, non-Native Americans don't have an automatic *right* to those paths-- and that in fact there is a very fine line between approaching them with respect and humility and a desire for healing, and approaching them in a way that usurps and appropriates them, uncomfortably similar to our ugly and brutal historical treatment of native tribes. There's an incendiary political and historical reality to take into account, and I think it's therefore presumptuous for anyone to assume that tribal faiths are accessible to any curious person who wants to partake of them.

However, I think that there is a potential solution to this identity crisis in the "American spirituality" I described above. Not that we need to cast aside Athena and Cernunnos and Thor in favor of Jefferson and Washington and Franklin; not at all. Rather I suggest that we as American pagans could find something grounding and immediately relevant were we to consciously incorporate-- or in some cases perhaps even center around-- the traditions and touchstones of our own land's guiding spirit. That we could come to develop stronger roots and identity, not merely imitating our cousins around the world but finding out what it really means to be an *American* pagan.

We have our own gods, guardian spirits, and heroes. Our Lord and Lady (if you're a dualist) can be seen as Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty. We have our Founding Fathers (and some unsung but vital Founding Mothers as well), our Minutemen, our Patrick Henry flying on the back of the night. We have our ghostly halls of Presidents past; our freedom fighters like Harriet Tubman, Mother Jones and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Can you look at Johnny Reb and Billy Yank and not see echoes of Hero Twins, of Osiris and Set, of the Holly King and the Oak King? We have our Hercules, our titans and demigods and sages: Paul Bunyan, John Henry, Slue Foot Sue, Texas Jack, Pecos Bill, Johnny Appleseed. We even have our own demons and monsters-- the Jersey Devil, Champ, Old Nick.

We have our sacred places. Is there such a great difference between Mt. Rushmore and the great Buddhas carved into the mountains of Afghanistan? We have our monuments, our majestic redwoods, our geysers, our parks. We have the Grand Canyon, the Sears Tower, the Empire State Building; hell, we have Graceland, and if people aren't religiously fanatic about that...

We have a wealth of epic poetry and great documents to read from or recite; beautiful anthems to sing; we have incredibly strong sympathetic magic possibilities with our deep ties to our national colors. We have indigenous plants and herbs, we have stones and metals and minerals deeply imbued with the power of their gifts to our country's development. (I read that the 25 windows on the crown of the Statue of Liberty represent either the rays of heaven shining upon us, or 25 different gemstones mined in the US. How amazing would it be-- if we could find out what those 25 gems were-- to cast a circle with each of those gems around the periphery, with red white and blue candles on the altar, perhaps a copper icon of Lady Liberty, even a handmade incense redolent of pine and spruce, or apples and vanilla and cinnamon?) We have an eagle totem, five-pointed stars on our flag, any number of symbols at our disposal.

We have our own holidays. Should we, as pagans, treat Thanksgiving or Independence Day or Memorial Day or even the not-entirely-American New Year's Eve with less reverence than Beltane or Midsummer? We have secular rituals and festivals to celebrate those; it is a small step, in my opinion, to bring them into our calendars of sacred days.

There is so much possibility surrounding us everywhere. I think now is a fine time to draw on it, to explore it, and to perhaps find a common thread in all our wonderfully disparate practices. Besides strengthening and shaping our own identities as American pagans, I believe we have the potential to nurture and strengthen our land and its guardians and guides in return by recognizing and incorporating its aspects and symbols. And I think the land, and all of us, can really use that strength and grace now.