Three hours away from the sanctuary of Bear Path Cottage, I found a little home away from home. A cabin tucked away in a pine wood near the Uwharrie National Forest provided peace and shelter. I traveled there to spend time with my niece, who goes by Sunshine. At the time of my first visit, she was living outside. “Outside” is her chosen descriptor; others might say houseless, homeless, unhoused, sleeping rough, or vagrant. Since then, she has moved into transitional housing. My relief in knowing that she is in safer, healthier living conditions is immeasurable.
This is not the first time someone I love has lived on the streets. During the last years of my youngest daughter’s battle with mental illness, she was frequently unhoused. Her downward-spiraling health accompanied a downward-spiraling life, and she had brutal and demeaning experiences that broke her spirit and mind. They broke mine, too, and her dark journey brought an unbearable level of anguish to my education about the darker aspects of homelessness and humanity.
While planning my visit with my niece, I knew renting a cabin in the country would be better than staying in a hotel. For Sunshine, it meant she had two nights of feeling safe while she slept. She had immediate access to a bathroom, a shower, a washer, and a dryer. I think she was as happy to be able to grab a popsicle from the freezer as she was to have freshly cooked meals. On the first night, we ate dinner and sat on the porch, listening to the frogs and cicadas. We talked, cried, and laughed until we were both tired enough to sleep.
A highlight of that stay was that it occurred during the emergence of two broods of periodic cicadas. Sunshine had been sending me photos of her daily encounters with cicadas in the woods around her tent. Aspects of the cicada cycle appealed to her Pagan spirit, and she saw them as an example of the patient transformation that she was experiencing in her own life. We were both intrigued by the scores of nymphs, exoskeleton shells, and newly emerged adults that filled the wraparound porch and the trees and bushes surrounding the cabin. Their red eyes, clumsy bodies, and golden lacy wings made them fascinating, beautiful creatures.
A cicada [S. Barker]
They are earth and fire. Their constant ringing siren song is part of the universal harmony that includes the Earth’s hum and the reverberating symphony of the stars. They hold all of that power in their collective song and cause harm to no one during their time on Earth’s surface. Yet, despite their captivating appearance and life cycle, they frighten people. Cicadas are harbingers of difference and change, which is as unwelcome for some humans as an unexpected knock on the door.
Although they had gone quiet by the time I went to bed, I carried the cicada song with me as I went to sleep. I woke feeling refreshed and wandered around the grounds, as one does when getting to know a place and its spirits. As one does when grounding before starting a day of stepping into new spaces. Sunshine and I were going to meet some of her outside friends, and I was a little uneasy about walking into a world that had been part of my most profound grief.
I knew I might experience triggers, so I summoned the cicada song to ground myself throughout that day. Tuning into it helped me hold myself together so I could move with light and respectful steps among the lives of people who have been pushed to the edges of societal awareness—some to the very edge of existence.
A photo of Sunshine’s camp. [S. Barker, used with Sunshine’s permission]
Sunshine recently wrote a light summary of her experience and gave me permission to share it. I have changed or removed some names and other details for privacy purposes. Knowing a fuller version of the story her words skim over makes it painful to read, including the fact that she is a practicing Pagan without Pagan resources available to her in her time of need.
On January 29th, I spent my first night outside. Literally slept outside. My partner and I used some pallets to create a bed and a wall to shield us in a space behind Walmart. It was cold and clear skies, thankfully.
The next day, we gathered our bags, pillows, and blankets and started the two-mile walk to the Library to see the community navigator. We clearly needed help.
Before reaching our destination, we were spotted by community volunteers Mary and Lisa. We were told to put our things in the trunk and get in the car. They drove us the rest of the way to the library, and advised us they would be back when we finished to take us to the local soup kitchen for lunch.
Later in the evening, this same day, we went to the Methodist outreach service. There we were able to shower, wash clothes, and get dinner. We were also given a tent, so we now had shelter. We found a spot to set up that was close enough to allow us to walk to wherever we needed to go but out of the way of society’s judgment and people who might prey upon vulnerable people.
Over the next four months, our routine consisted of having lunch at the soup kitchen and volunteering to help distribute lunch to those who could not make it. Monday evenings are for showers, laundry, and a hot dinner, followed by Methodist service. Wednesday evenings are for Bible Study with Lisa. Thursday evenings are for Recovery Community and dinner with one of the most amazing groups of people. Friday afternoons, we spend at Love Church for showers and laundry. Sunday mornings are for service at Love Church, which has the best coffee bar, including tea and hot chocolate!
Sunshine invited me to have lunch with her at the soup kitchen, which had become a central part of her daily life. Some people there had become like family to her, although she had to hide her spiritual identity while she was among them. Like many Witches and Pagans, she is adept at giving neutral responses to the abundance of Christian greetings and commentary that are frequently offered in American communities. Compassion and blessings can be returned with careful phrasing that does not tie directly to a spiritual path.
I agreed to go to lunch with my niece because I wanted to support her in her new community. I wanted to meet the people she had told me about and read them for myself. Everyone is welcome at the soup kitchen, and not all of the guests were people who live outside. Residents of the neighborhood and community also attend for lunch and companionship. The friendly greetings from people on the front porch helped ease my discomfort in a familiar but unfamiliar setting.
I met Lisa, one of the women who helped Sunshine the second day she was living outside. She is physically a tiny woman, but her spiritual presence is humongous. A bit of online research told me that Lisa had done all the heavy lifting required to start the foundation that supports the soup kitchen, which feeds people on the premises and delivers meals to individuals and families who cannot or will not come for them. She also manages a mobile unit that provides showers and laundry services to those who might otherwise be unable to access them. Additionally, the foundation offers clothing, shoes, household goods, transportation, medical exams, mentors, and other services to those in need.
When we greeted each other, we hugged like aunties do. We each recognized the other’s caring, compassionate, loving, spiritual natures. She told me that her relationship with her divine led her to do the work she does. She loves people, and she loves her god. My read on her was that she is a genuinely good human who would never intentionally harm another living being.
During my brief time in Uwharrie, I saw some of the results of her efforts. She and her people helped my niece feel like part of a community and even part of a family during a time when she was dreadfully alone. Lisa inspires people to work together to help each other; a number of the recipients of services also volunteer. My niece is one of those, and I am proud of her and love how her light shines with an undiminished warmth these days.
Sunshine told me about other programs in that community that help those in need. Some are listed in the excerpt of her story above. There are non-profit programs all around the United States that provide various levels of care or assistance; in the southeastern United States, most of these programs are Christian faith-based. As a practicing Witch and Pagan, this is where things become sticky for me.
I dislike that any person might feel that they have to hide their spiritual identity in order to receive assistance. It makes me uncomfortable that there are organizations (even well-meaning ones) that present services as a trade: accept a hot meal or a shower and then listen to a sermon or accept being witnessed to so you do not appear ungrateful. I resent that recruitment efforts are wrapped in offers to help. I know Witches and Pagans like Sunshine who are so accustomed to processing Christian greetings, prayers, songs, and culture through a spiritual filter that translates the meaning of the words into something relatable that they do not even have to think about doing it. But that does not mean they do not experience discomfort in the process, especially when there is a give-and-take involved.
The truth is that in many communities and circumstances, Witches and Pagans must hide our spiritual light to keep the peace or feed a hungry belly. We mask our spiritual selves in order to fit in. Being open about our beliefs can cost us jobs or housing opportunities. It can hinder workplace and community friendships and volunteer opportunities. It can cause our children to be bullied or ostracized. Because of this, and despite everything about us that is so spectacular, we silence our cicada song so that people do not perceive us as different, a threat, or Other.
It is reassuring to know that compassion and kindness exist in the Uwharrie, where I met and witnessed heartbreak and shattered lives. I wish it did not carry an implied but unspoken cost. I believe the helpers I met there try their best to walk their spiritual talk. Still, they do not seem to comprehend that the presence of spirituality in their chosen ministries causes people to feel intimidated and excluded. The earnest, smart-ass part of me genuinely wants to understand why any human believes any deity needs them to manage their public relations work. If one is working to honor a deity, that work should stay between them and the deity. Proclaiming it to the world makes it about self instead of service. Why can’t they help people without telling them about their god?
Like millions of people, my everyday life goes on in its everyday ways with little disruption. I adapt to the rising cost of living by adjusting my thermostat and household budget and pinching pennies. Meanwhile, other people are trying their best to survive in a world where they are treated as if the circumstances or choices that left them unhoused also robbed them of their humanity and took away their right to exist. While they are struggling to survive, they should not have to play pretend with their spiritual beliefs just to be able to eat or obtain much-needed assistance.
A view from the cabin porch [S. Barker]
On my second morning waking up in the forest, I lingered in bed to watch the light play and scatter through the trees outside the window. I thought about the events of the day before, the people I met, situations I heard about, and families who Other their own people into nothingness.
I thought about people with lights that warm the hearts and spirits of those around them.
I thought about those things and once again summoned the living, breathing ballad shaped by the cicada song, earth hum, morning bird song, and other harmonies as it undergoes its constant organic revision. Anyone can hear this song anytime if they open their ears and heart. It sings of endurance and renewal. It sings of the coming change and a time when those who live magical lives will no longer have to hide their light.
I am ready for those times.
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