This is a list of words that I may use at times, and that may bug you, if you are the type to be bugged by such things. Here, for some small amount of clarity, is *my* meaning for these words. Language is fluid, words are slippery and ever-changing creatures. This is my particular attempt to keep them in line, at least a little.
This page will be updated as necessary, as I see the need. People quoting dictionaries in an attempt to start a pointless Word Meaning fight will be summarily shot.
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Spirituality: I’ll use this one sometimes, if I’m desperately reaching for something to use as a tag for a kind of experience. I’m using it in the handwaving sense that encompasses that fullness of experience, of feeling part of something much, much bigger, of the ineffable. I’m meaning, in short, something akin to what Robin William’s character in Dead Poet’s Society said about Poetry — it’s the stuff that gives you a reason to live. I may also use it in reference to the creation of meaning in our lives. I may also use the term “poetic experience” to describe that.
Soul: There’s a long and fine tradition of using this term in a poetic sense. That’s how I’m using it. I mean, in short, the “deepest part of me,” or “truest part,” or how you like it. In other words, what I see as being Fundamental Gregory, the hidden core. And yes, I know the research that suggests that such a thing is a construct, and changeable. That just makes it even cooler.
Pagan: I’ve always liked the this-world focus of old pagan faiths, the lusty embrace of life many showed, the realism about how much the universe is “designed for humanity.” If I say I’m feeling pagan, that’s what I mean. It tends to pop up when I’m feeling one of those wild moods, big and lusty and filled with mighty huzzahs. I also have an interest in nontheistic paganism in the modern sense, mostly curiosity at this point. It’s born out of a love of ritual as a creative tool to play with poetic experience. I’m a big believer in play as a way of expressing that part of ourselves.
Redemption: I use this sometimes in reference to the long, difficult journey of my life. I don’t mean it in the Christian sense, though I’ve borrowed it happily from them. It encompasses a lot for me — pulling myself out of the mire of depression and anxiety and fear that dominated my life. Wriggling out of the grasp of the claws of the past. The Redeemer, in this case, is, well, me, and various people who provided help on the path. It has nothing to do with any guy from 2000 years ago. We create our own redemption. We save ourselves. With, as the Beatles remind us, a little help from our friends.
