I want to start journaling again, and I don’t mean blogging. Literally writing with ink on paper. I once did a lot of this as a devotional practice while I was Kemetic Orthodox. I often used a dip pen, or sometimes a fountain pen, and though it wasn’t calligraphy, the pace of writing was more deliberate and meditative. What I wrote was between me and God(s), and I destroyed all of those writings when I left the temple because there were some oathbound secrets, as well as some personal history that didn’t need to be preserved anymore. And this is fine, I have no regrets about doing that.
To keep this short and general and not too personal, I owe a lot to my first several years in the temple. It dragged my self-esteem out of a pit, got me taking care of myself at least somewhat, spurred me to be more serious about music, conspired to get me together with my spouse, and taught me a lot of things. But eventually, I both burned out with the work of being a reverend (while also being a socially anxious introvert) and came to the conclusion that I needed something else for my mental health and personal growth, even if I didn’t know what that was yet. I wasn’t looking for different gods (still loving the same ones), or a different organization (but very likely no organization).
I’ve certainly gone through some phases in the intervening years where I wasn’t sure what I believed or perhaps how I believed, but always disqualified from atheism by my experiences. (I feel like if I have to doubt certain things then I immediately have to doubt everything and that’s just impractical.) I’ve always believed that religion is an art, rather than a poor substitute for science, and now I feel the push to make that kind of art again.