The Light in the Tunnel

I've attended every Paganicon since the conference began in 2011. Sometimes I'm there for the whole weekend, and other times I've only managed to make it for a couple of hours, but there has never been a year that I didn't take away something useful and memorable from the time I spend learning from the larger community of pagans and folks participating in earth-based spiritual practices. One of the more memorable events I experienced there was a workshop given by Ivo Dominguez Jr. in 2018 or thereabouts, on the topic of political magic. After about an hour of exploring the intersections between pagan practice and activism, the floor was opened to questions and one person asked what I think was on everybody's mind: We've talked a lot about the influence our spirituality and religion has on our politics and vice versa, but what are some things we can do that will actually work? The presenter gave his answer immediately and without hesitation: "Focus on changing the things you can change within one square mile of your house."

This wasn't the answer anyone in the workshop wanted or expected to hear, myself included. But the more I've sat with it in the intervening years, the more I'm convinced it's the right one. We pagans are just as susceptible as members of any other faith in wishing for a spell or a prayer or a ritual we could do that will fix everything forever if we can just say the right words or channel the right energies or buy the right incense and candles. But what if the only magic that actually works is to go small?

I live in a diverse neighborhood within a diverse city. I can get to know my neighbors and their concerns, and vote and act as if those problems are important and worthy of consideration. I can support my local businesses over large corporations or big-box stores so my money stays close to home. The Mississippi River runs one block away from me; I can make choices that help to keep its water healthy and clean. One of my children attends a school just slightly outside that square-mile radius. My husband and I volunteer there when we can, giving our time and energy to the community, staying engaged in an effort that changed the school's namesake from that of a wildly problematic Civil War general to a new name chosen by the students themselves. And of course, I can do everything in my power to pass my values on to my kids and to prepare them to do what's right and to be able to act for justice in the world. With so many worthy causes just outside my front door, is it really best to spend my limited time and energy worrying about larger and more distant concerns that I am far less able to influence, for good or ill?

All of this was one small part of what was on my mind when I was asked to participate in the "FK-NO" virtual FilKONtario convention in April 2021. (I am very excited to attend FKO in-person as an Interfilk guest along with my bandmates in 2025!) When I decided to enter the con's songwriting contest whose subject was "the light at the end of the tunnel." Things were looking up after a year of isolation, with people getting vaccinated in droves and promising election results, and the topic invited optimistic compositions. Yet I found myself thinking about the systemic problems that had been increasingly laid bare by 2020 and whether they would really let us say we were at all close to the end of our journey. It's hard to create lasting change when "just the way things are" seems to fight that change every step of the way. It's hard to fix or remake a broken system when you yourself are enmeshed in it. So maybe the best we can do is to keep as much of our focus as we can on our individual square miles and the good we can do within them, and to try to make light for each other while we're in the thick of everything. Guante said it best:

There is no chosen one, no destiny, no fate

There's no such thing as magic

There is no light at the end of this tunnel

So it's a good thing we brought matches

"The Light in the Tunnel" won the FK-NO songwriting contest, which was reason enough to consider putting it on Sisyphus. More than that, I thought it was important to include a song that addressed systemic issues on an album that is otherwise fairly focused on individual experiences and my own pursuit of personal integrity. It's one thing, within my own square mile, to set up a contraption to pull trash out of the river when it flows past - but at a certain point it also becomes important to figure out who is putting all the trash in the river in the first place and why it keeps happening. And we're not always fortunate enough to be able to choose between good options in the first place (insert your own complaint about US electoral politics here). Neither I nor this song have a good answer to any of these dilemmas. But maybe, if we're all going to be stuck in a long dark tunnel together, we can start by making light for each other wherever and whenever we can, if only to make it a little easier for all of us to keep moving forward. I know which way I'm going.