Theology, for me, never started in a sanctuary. It began in the earth—in the grounded stillness beneath my feet and the tangled roots of connection I could feel long before I had words to name them. It began during my early teenage years in Indiana, on the quiet wooded grounds of Camp Chesterfield, where mystery hovered between the stones and the spirit world felt both near and real.
It didn't emerge from a pulpit but from practices shaped by soil, memory, and the sacredness of presence. As the saying goes, 'Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it.' My theology begins by listening to that web—to the past paths of ancestors, the teachings of trees, and the rare, fleeting echoes of unseen communion—and learning how to live in rhythm with its threads.
I now see that this theological rhythm—the seasonal, grounding cadence of returning to sacred truths—has mirrored the very systems that shape our lives. That connection came alive for me as I read Systems Theory in Action by Shelly Smith-Acuña. Her work bridges the clinical with the cosmic, offering a lens that helps name the interplay between self, spirit, and system.
🌿 Theology as Lived Pattern
My Druidic Pagan roots ground theology in land and lineage. In that space, theology is less about dogma and more about relationship—how we belong to each other, to the seasons, to story. Systems Theory in Action speaks to this implicitly: it insists that no person exists in isolation. Every belief, behavior, and breakthrough is shaped by the system around it—family, culture, context.
Smith-Acuña writes that “systems resist change” but can be disrupted through insight and intention. That insight mirrors the Pagan view of transformation: not as punishment or atonement, but as restoration. We don’t cast out imbalance—we reweave the pattern.
🔍 The Hermeneutic of Lived Experience
In Earth-Held Wisdom, my theology paper, I wrote: “Interpreting sacred meaning begins with identity.” Intersectionality—an essential lens from Grace Ji-Sun Kim—showed me that lived experiences filter our sacred understanding. Systems theory reinforced that we are shaped by multiple dynamics at once, all intersecting with our core sense of self.
Smith-Acuña’s acknowledgment of feedback loops and historical repetition helped me consider how both family and religious systems carry unresolved stories. Just as rituals can help heal these echoes, systems thinking gives language to the unseen dynamics we live within—and occasionally disrupt.
↺ Ritual as Recursive Healing
Systems theory is inherently recursive: it spirals through feedback, adaptation, and iteration. So does ritual. Whether preparing for a seasonal Sabbat, drawing tarot, or planting dill in the spring, ritual becomes a tool for transforming internal imbalance into external harmony. It's the sacred version of a system re-setting itself—intuitively, organically, over time.
Shelly Smith-Acuña emphasizes the power of pattern recognition. Paganism does too. From the Wheel of the Year to archetypal myth, Pagan spirituality thrives on recognizing patterns—and then choosing how to dance with them.
📟️ Ministry in the Web
In both systems theory and theology, the web is everything. Ministry is not top-down—it’s emergent. It happens at the dinner table, in the garden, at the bedside of a friend. When Smith-Acuña discusses how systems support healing, I think of Edain McCoy’s writings, where lighting a seasonal incense blend is as sacred as any church liturgy. It’s all connected—because we are.
🎐 Becoming as the Holiest Work
My theological walk is not a straight path. It moves through sensation, intuition, and mystical glimpses that catch me off guard. Systems theory teaches us to anticipate complexity. Acuña’s work gave me language to honor the messiness of transformation without pathologizing it. She reminds us that systems evolve. My theology does too.
In the end, both Smith-Acuña and the sacred texts I carry—like the Mabinogion, my journal, and the Higginbothams’ writings—teach me that becoming is the holiest work of all. Whether I’m navigating family legacies, ritual cycles, or the structure of a Pagan-Christian household, I’m not looking for the answer. I’m looking for the rhythm.
And as both system and spirit affirm: rhythm is everything.
