Druidess: My Interspiritual Priestess Path Leads Me To Druidry

I am an Interspiritual priestess, which means I honor wisdom wherever it flows, whether it be through Jesus’ teachings of compassion, John Wesley’s vision of prevenient grace, the Avalonian mysteries reclaimed by Jhenah Telyndru and the Sisters of Avalon, the mythic landscapes illuminated by Caitlín and John Matthews, or the prophetic spiritual imagination of Matthew Fox. Each voice, these and many others, contributes to the tapestry of my life, helping me navigate a sacred path that is both grounded and expansive.

What I see at the heart of Druidry is also at the heart of my priestesshood. It is Awen, the flowing spirit of inspiration. In Druidic tradition, Awen is the creative current that animates the universe, carrying poetry, ritual, and sacred knowing. It is the same Spirit that Evelyn Underhill explored in her writings on contemplative prayer. It is a presence that invites the soul into direct experience of the Divine. Awen is also the life force that Starhawk evokes in her rituals, grounding spirituality in practical engagement with the world and its cycles. It is the living thread that connects creativity, ethics, and reverence for all beings.

Seth, the entity revealed in the book Seth Speaks by Jane Roberts, taught me that we co-create our consciousness and reality through our intentions, our awareness, and our connection to the unseen. In Awen, I recognize that same intelligence: a responsive, generative Spirit that flows through human imagination, ritual, and our daily acts of care. This is not unlike the idea of Process Theology, influenced by the metaphysical process philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead. Process Theologian Marjorie Suchock said that “God works with the world; God’s plans are necessarily responsive to the world.” In other words, each decision we make influences what happens next. In this way, we co-create with the Divine and with one another.

Druidry is a practical spirituality: the altar, the grove, and the seasonal cycle are not only symbols, but they are also laboratories for living in alignment with Awen, with Spirit, and with the sacredness of the earth itself. In this laboratory of life, I experiment with the effects of my actions, my thoughts, and my relationship with All That Is.

Science, too, mirrors these truths. Quantum physics shows that all matter is interwoven, entangled across space and time, vibrating with energy and potential. Awen feels like the spiritual name for this energetic interconnection, the breath that moves through trees, stars, and human hearts alike. Ritual, for me, becomes a way of aligning consciousness with that current: lighting a candle, telling a story, offering gratitude at a well or a cauldron, or blessing the land. Each practice is both a symbolic acknowledgment of the sacred and a tangible participation in the intelligence that flows through all things.

Druidry, as an Interspiritual practice, does not demand exclusivity. I do not leave behind Jesus’ compassion, Wesley’s theology, Matthew Fox’s cosmic Christ, Evelyn Underhill’s contemplative wisdom, Starhawk’s activist magic, or the guidance of Telyndru and the Matthews. Instead, I carry them into the grove, weaving them together with the voice of Awen and the rhythms of the earth. Each voice is a note in a living symphony, each teaching a thread in a tapestry of ritual, spirituality, and practical life.

For me, Druidry is not a detour from Interspirituality. It is its flowering. It deepens what I already know: that Spirit moves through all creation, that human consciousness is a co-creative force, and that ritual and ethical action are inseparable. In the circle of Druidry, with Awen flowing through it, I find a space where all these threads—mythic, contemplative, visionary, and practical—meet and resonate, inviting me to live fully, spiritually, and responsibly in a world that is itself holy.

“There But For…Go I”

One of the phrases I hate the most, and why

When people say or write the phrase, “There but for the grace of God go I,” I think they’re trying to be empathetic to someone else’s pain and suffering. I’ve said it in the past myself, but somewhere along the line, I began to question what it really meant.

I was beginning to hear in that little phrase a sort of conceit not uncommon in modern Christianity. Used as a platitude in an effort to somehow connect oneself to another’s suffering, to say “there but for the grace of God go I” sounds to me a lot like sayiang “because I have the grace of God, I am not like that person,” therefore, “that person doesn’t have the grace of God.”

A little research tells me that the phrase probably comes from something written by 16th-century Protestant reformer, John Bradford. What he said was, “There but for the grace of God goes John Bradford.” He was likely paraphrasing from the Pauline letter to the Corinthians recorded as 1 Corinthians 15:10:

10 But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I but the grace of God that is with me.*

This is pulled out of context, of course, from a letter in which Paul is proclaiming not that he has some special grace that no one else has, but that the grace given him by God has changed him, and his recognition of this gave him strength. He continues to write about the resurrection stories about Jesus and of the dead, which does not interest me in this particular conversation, as it doesn’t apply to the modern-day platitude I’m addressing.

Though I am no longer a United Methodist, or even a Christian in the current interpretation of that moniker, I follow John Wesley’s train of thought on “grace,” though perhaps not with the detailed verbiage he applied to it.

Grace, to me, is the Presence of the Divine that is always available to us. It is Energy, Breath, Life.

It is Being.

We draw on it as a matter of course. We can intentionally draw on it through prayer and meditative practices. Through ritual. Through faith. By which I mean, not belief, but the unmitigated understanding that all will be well, even when all does not seem to be well.

This grace, to me, is the grace of God/Spirit/Universe/All that Is. It is not something to be tightly grasped as something we possess and others don’t have.

“There but for the grace of God go I” is a fallacy that people tell themselves to make themselves feel better. There is no empathy in it. It’s not biblical.

The closest biblical reference I can think of comes from a parable recorded as having been told by Jesus in Luke 18:9–14:

10‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’ *

In this case, the “there but for the grace of God” character does not come out looking so good.

***

*Scripture from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

God Is Meditation

Often when I walk the labyrinth in my yard, I practice a form of walking meditation in which I breathe in on a word or saying and breathe out another. One of my favorites is "God Is/Goddess." Much of the time, I only breathe in "God Is" and out "Goddess." 

Yesterday as I walked beneath the setting sun, I found myself walking to an extended version. I wanted to share it with you, so I created a short video to guide you.

On the first slide, prepare yourself. Then:

Breathe in: God Is

Breathe out: Goddess

Breathe in: God Is

Breathe out: Quantum

Breathe in: God Is

Breathe out: Being

Return to normal breathing on the last slide.

"The Goddess is Alive and Magic is Afoot"

The world is in turmoil once again. In the United States, rights that were hard fought for have been taken away, and we seem to be headed to a day when women, people of color, and immigrants face exclusion from all they had seemed to gain.

Sadly, many who claim to love God believe that this is right--U.S. leadership is doing the right thing. They are wrong, and I'm not afraid to say so. 

Just yesterday, Saturday, June 21, 2025, the U.S. President ordered that three bombs be dropped on Iran in an effort to destroy Iranian nuclear sites. These attacks were "successful." Juxtaposed against this news was that of a White House renovation project in which the traditional rose garden--where press meetings have been held since 1913-- has been razed to give way to pavement and flagpoles.

The bulldozing of the garden seems symbolic of the demolition of our democratic way of life, when presidents sweep away freedoms and lives with the stroke of a pen. Further research, however, tells me that the roses are still there; what is not there is the grass, which will be replaced by pavement. It's not as bad as it seems, but is it a good use of taxpayer money as they spend more on the military and military parades while simultaneously shutting down perfectly good programs across the nation?

Lately on social media, I have noticed an increase in posts about feminine spirituality. I don't mean the plethora of cute "witchy vibe" products and the uptick in videos touting the "goth aesthetic." I mean solid goddess spirituality and Craft-related videos and information.

I believe that this preponderance of warmongering, the resurgence of racial tensions, and the normalization of pushing women back into second-class status is reawakening the Goddess. I think that the things that are happening for women and others these days are stirring the cauldron and second-wave style feminism may be about ready to strike again.

The Divine Feminine is present in the air. She is moving. She is speaking. Are we listening?

She is calling us to action.

She calls the wind

In unknown tongues

Melodies dance resonant

Molecular

Quantum invisible

Mysteries weave ancient fury

Whirlwind wild

Drums beat thunderous

Goddess wakes!

©2025 Suzy Jacobson Cherry

The New Background Image

It's difficult to see the background image in whole. Because of this, I thought I would share it in a post so you can see it better. The image is meant to convey a feeling of peace in a desert space. The base photo is of my yard, with the labyrinth, small bridge, and trees. I've added the well, two humans meditating, and a number of desert flora and fauna. These creatures, among others, have wandered through the yard at some point in the almost twenty years I've lived here.

Speaking Up About Microaggression

Helping others shift perspective isn’t easy.

It's not easy doing the right thing when it means correcting a coworker or a friend. Personally, I'm new at it. For years, I have avoided conflict by turning away from opportunities to speak up. I would talk about what should have been, what I should have said, and why that was...later, with others who I knew agreed with me. This year, for some reason, something shifted in me. I lost my fear of speaking up when I felt the urge.

During the summer, I worked the summer school program at my workplace. One day, I opened my mouth. Afterward, I thought I might have been mean to a coworker. I didn’t mean to be mean, honestly. It’s just that for some reason, all the years I was afraid to speak out when I saw or heard someone tell an insensitive joke or casually make a racist, sexist, homophobic, or agist statement have slipped away.

In the past, afraid of confrontation, I would close my ears and eyes to the seemingly small comments, brush them off, and go on my way. On the other hand, we have all made such remarks, often unthinkingly. We are influenced by the society around us, and that society has profited greatly by leveraging stereotypes and prejudices.

Think about all those high-school coming-of-age movies in the 80s and 90s. The fat girls, the nerd boys, the ugly girls, the one Black or Hispanic family, and the over-the-top gay men were fodder for the entertainment of the general public. All of that becomes ingrained in us. We don’t want to be the one everyone makes fun of, so we end up falling in line with the others, laughing at the expense of varying groups of people unlike us.

Then we began to become aware of what had been happening for all of our lives. We had believed that we were not racist, homophobic, or prejudiced. We were certain those were other people. We cared about all humanity, loved our neighbors, no matter who they were.

Then we learned about microaggressions and began to catch ourselves doing it. “Oh, that’s gay.” “Black girls are strong.” “My, you’re wise for your age.” “You speak such good English!” “Let me do that for you, at your age you shouldn’t be climbing up there.”

By we, of course, I mean I. My personal little microaggressions began to be revealed. I began to catch myself. Then I began to hear it in others. People I had admired made some of the most hurful assumptions, leading them to make hurtful comments.

In the past couple of months, I have begun to feel a strong urge to inform people when they commit a microaggression and help them learn ways to avoid doing so again. It all started with myself.

Ya’ll, I’m 66 years old and I work in a school for autistic children. I’m often running after a child, moving fast to keep a child from sticking their hands in places where they don’t belong, or climbing up cabinets to bring down the small toys tossed up there by a nonverbal child who wants to keep them safe from others. I just do what needs to be done, and if I need help, I ask for it. Inevitably, though, someone will say, “Let me do that for you.”

No, thank you. I’m perfectly capable. If I need help, I’ll ask.

I’ve finally started speaking out and telling people that while I appreciate their offer, I would rather they didn’t unless they can see that I’m truly struggling. Otherwise, leave it up to me to ask. Trust me to know my own limitations. Keep asking, offering, or insisting, I might get annoyed enough to pick up the phone and call the Equal Employment Office.

Back to the other day

Twice the other day, I suggested that a person I work with to rethink something in their frame of reference.

In the first instance, they mentioned that a drawing of a woman would be “prettier” and “look more feminine” if the drawing had a “thinner” chin.

I asked the coworker to consider rethinking their idea of beauty and suggested that our ideas about these things are so embedded that we sometimes don’t realize that we’re being judgmental and, in this case, fatphobic.

Later the same day, the person showed me a picture of a rainbow-colored pickup truck, with something about “men who listen to Taylor Swift” in the text.

After being shown the meme twice, I blurted out that it wasn’t really appropriate to use the concept suggested by the brightly colored truck in a negative and demeaning way. i.e., “men who listen to Taylor Swift are gay.”

This was clearly the message to me, with the further insinuation that being gay was a bad thing.

This is the meme. Origin unclear.

“It’s just supposed to be a joke,” the person said.

In the way they said it, they intimated that I may have embarrassed them or hurt their feelings by telling them this.

Perhaps they truly didn’t make the connection between the rainbow truck and the suggestion of gayness. I know I wasn't rude about how I “called them out,” but the innate fear of confrontation that remains in me felt a little ashamed for saying anything at all.

Maybe they didn’t understand that saying the woman in the drawing would be prettier with a thinner chin is equal to saying a woman with a fatter chin is not pretty.

Yet, I know I did the right thing. My conscience tells me I did, and I will do it again. The reality, though, is that often, doing the right thing is not easy.

What would you have done?

The Crack Where the Light Gets In

Or, Christmas on the Event Horizon

Photo by the author

Disclaimer: As I refer to quantum physics in the following story, I make no claim to have a strong understanding of the concepts. I simply share my perspective based on my somewhat intuitive interpretation of what I have read about it.

A number of years back, I was reading the Diane Duane Young Wizards series. I came to the series on the recommendation of my son, and I truly enjoyed the story. In this series, the wizards’ work is to slow down the entropy that was introduced into the world when one of the Powers of the Universe went rogue, becoming the Lone Power, or the Lone One.

It isn’t hard to draw parallels between this plotline and Judeo-Christian tales of fallen angels and the beginning of death in the world. However, the theology of Duane’s young adult series is not that of traditional religious teachings; rather, it’s more mystical…and more scientific.

Ms. Duane has an educational background in astronomy and astrophysics, and may not have been thinking about theology…but I was. What I was reading about in her books was Process Theology. Duane was writing about life and death. She was writing about teamwork and she was writing about hope.

That’s what it’s all about, you know; hope and our part in maintaining hope in our world.

Death is not the end of things. Isn’t that one of the real messages of religion, that there is nothing to fear from death? Doesn’t religion teach that we are to work together, to give one another hope when the darkness seems inevitable?

The young wizards in the series each have their own Ordeals to undergo, and their own tasks to perform, yet they work with one another to keep the Lone One at bay. In the third book of the series, High Wizardry, Ms. Duane writes of the Lone One, “…It doesn’t have infinite power. It’s peer to all the Powers, but not to That in Which They Move.”

According to Luke, in Acts 17, Paul taught that we “live and move and have our being” in God. Jesus claimed that he was The Light of the World, yet in his Sermon on the Mount, he is recorded as teaching that we are the Light of the World.

How can that be? How can both be true?

Process Theology uses the language of quantum physics to explain the invisible intelligence behind — and in — all creation.

“Wave and particle,” writes theologian Marjorie Suchocki in Divinity and Diversity: A Christian Affirmation of Religious Pluralism, “are both truly light, and we live in a radically incarnational world where truth itself is a many-splendored thing.”

Like the quantum elements of light, God is like a wave that is constantly moving and flowing, until such time as a thinking being perceives the Presence of God. At that point, God is like a particle, and that particle is named according to the cultural expectation of the one who perceives that Presence.

In scientific arenas, that “perceiver” is called the “observer.” For the Christian observer, that “particle” is named Jesus.

I believe that Jesus is a “manifestation of God with us;” as Suchocki writes in God-Christ-Church: A Practical Guide to Process Theology. To continue with the analogy of quantum physics, Jesus is an observable particle of the wave that is God. He is a particle of the Light that when observed reflects the qualities of the ineffable, invisible wave of “All That Is.”

I might call the birth and death of Jesus “event horizons.” In quantum physics, the event horizon is the boundary of a black hole. To enter into a black hole would mean certain death. In his popular book A Brief History of Time: From the Big Bang to Black Holes, physicist Stephen Hawking describes a black hole as a “boundary of the region of space-time from which it is not possible to escape.”

Yet, he describes a singularity as “a point in space-time at which the space-time curvature becomes infinite.” The birth and subsequent resurrection, then, are the “singularities,” for once born, Jesus is an identifiable individual in history; once resurrected, Christ is infinite.

The hope we find in this story is this: as Jesus was the Light of the World, so also are we. We are, each and every one of us, manifestations of “All That Is,” or as Diane Duane writes, “That In Which [We] Move.”

Born of the wave into this material world, we are truly the Light of the World. When we see that, when we connect with the Christ, who is with us in the Holy Spirit, we know the Light as Love, and we begin to reflect it. This is our job. We are the wizards of this world, trusted to slow down the darkness of death and shine the light on eternal love.

We are not perfect reflections of God’s love; indeed, we are flawed and we sometimes fear the things we do not understand. We don’t understand death, this threshold between this world and the next. We don’t understand other people, these also flawed beings whose light may not shine as brightly as another’s or who may seem not to shine any light at all. We need not be perfect.

We need to keep letting our light shine so that it might get into the cracks and ignite their glorious flame. As poet Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

This Christmas, as we light our candles, say our prayers, and sing our hymns, let us risk allowing our cracks to show, that we might find ourselves poised on the edge of the event horizon, welcoming the Christ into the world.

Let us remember that we are all brilliant particles of the Light of God, and we shine the brightest when we shine together.

(c) Suzy Jacobson Cherry