Brandi Makuski mostly encounters two kinds of people when
she shares her pagan spiritual beliefs - those who don't want to hear anymore
about it and those who tell her she's a Satanist.
She prefers to think of herself as spiritually satisfied.
Although raised as a Christian, the 25-year-old Portage County woman said she
didn't find inner spiritual peace until she embraced paganism, a nature-based
religion with ties back to the Druids of yore. Ma-kuski said she follows Celtic
Druidism. She belongs to Pa-gans for a Better Wisconsin.
She celebrated the pagan holiday of Yule on Dec. 21 much the way pagans have
through the ages - with prayers, offerings and an evergreen tree decorated in
her living room.
But she has an eye on her religion's future, too. As head researcher for the
Pagan Unity Campaign's Pagan Laws Project, she is working to ensure that pagans
can share their spiritual beliefs without fear of prejudice or ridicule.
"So many pagans have such a hard time when they come out and tell
people," she said.
There was a time, she said, when Christians and pagans got along just fine.
That changed through the centuries, however, and now when Makuski tells people
she follows the pagan beliefs, she said she braces herself for the inevitable
backlash.
"And it hurts," she said.
Her own spiritual journey began when Makuski was a teen living in Portage
County and attending a Christian church.
Told that certain television shows were anti-God, some rock groups were satanic
and those who believed the "wrong" religion were going to hell,
Makuski said her curiosity was piqued.
"All I did was read about it," she said. "I didn't join a group
or anything until about a year ago for fear of what others would think."
She struggled with her spirituality, trying to reconcile
herself to what she believed Christianity taught. She balked at the notion of
"some invisible man in the sky" setting down 10 rules that people
have to follow or risk hell.
Growing up, Makuski said she feared going to hell because no amount of
reconciliation would save her or make her good enough in the eyes of the
Christian church.
"Maybe it's sort of feminist of me, but I find it so difficult to be loyal
to a religion where the man has the final say," she said. "I could
never reconcile that. It was too harsh. It was too unloving and uncaring."
She wondered how a religion that preaches love and forgiveness could show
neither trait when dealing with people whose spiritual views aren't in line
with its teachings.
"There were certain discrepancies that I couldn't get answered in the
Christian religion," she said. "Where did Cain and Abel's wives come
from?"
She embraced the Goddess religion and its emphasis on
nature. There is no heaven or hell. People are accountable for the good and the
bad they do in this life. Whatever you do comes back to you threefold.
"I don't think I've ever been so happy in all of my life," she said.
"Being a pagan centers me more inside, keeps my feet on the ground. It's
oneness with nature and a closeness with a deity I believe in."
While she has wrapped herself in the cloak of pagan
spirituality, Makuski has not turned her back entirely on Christianity. She
doesn't intend to raise her two children as pagans. They will attend Catholic
Mass with her parents, and she said she plans to expose them to a variety of
religious thoughts and faiths.
"I want, when they are old enough, for them to make up their own
minds," she said. "Religion can't mean something to a person if it's
pushed down their throats."
Paganism is right for her, Makuski said, but it's foolish to
think that one religion is the only way for everyone.
"It's because I believe in it so strongly that I can say, for lack of a
better term, that I don't want it force-fed to my children," she said.
"I feel I found the one religion that's right for me."