Me and manies

I'm going to discuss something inordinately private in this post, something I regard as more a private issue than sex (obviously) or disgusting habits. I write today of religion. I'm far more open about it than I used to be, but I'm still pretty secretive about my specific beliefs when I discuss the topic. I loosely identify as pagan, or neo-pagan, or as a witch when I'm feeling slangy. In reality, I'm a bit of an animist, a pinch of discordian, a whiff of pantheist and a dab of polytheist. Everything is gods, gods are many,gods are in everyone, immanent and transcendent, eternal and instantaneous. I study a bit of Khemetic faith and ritual (called as I was by the desert's bastard son), I have partied with that venerable old fiend Dionysus, and run wild with his grape frothing my mouth. Opposing ideas coexist in uneasy truce, different pantheons shoulder each other aside.
I have inordinately strict morals but they are not yours, I can almost guarantee. I have yet to live up to my own tight standards, but I strive at it everyday. With such a gods-drenched life, I can't help but to live my faith daily. It's hard not to follow every stated aspiration with a deadpan "I'm on a mission from gods." I am.
Sometimes that mission is no more than to bring a smile, or do that one thing that may guide someone into more useful pain. Currently the mission is lengthy and arduous, but I don't feel unfairly equipped for this peak.
Of course, concluding this wee post, I feel as if I've still said nothing of the specifics of my belief, even though I've waxed on and espoused all but monotheism. In this I think of taoism, the tao that can be spoken is not the tao. And now I dash aside from all of this and have a faux hotdog, fnord.