How I came to paganism isn’t really what this blog is about; it’s about what happens after a pagan has asked many questions and has dug a little deeper. But there is always a beginning, and every great love, great passion has many milestones.
The milestones that lead me to Druidry
My mother was a bit of a post-hippie-era wild child, according to her side of the family. In the 70’s she moved away from her bland Christian roots to study midwifery on the West Coast. She healed with crystals and herbs and cared deeply for the ancient traditions associated with womanhood. She died when I was a child and that naturally left me with a lot of questions, not so much about her death, but about her life; questions about spirituality and nature worship. I think of her life and her early death as a door that was left wide open.
When I was seventeen I was given a copy of The Witches Bible by Janet and Stewart Farrar. I hardly remember any of what it said, and I highly doubt I read more than a few excerpts. What I do remember is thinking that the mere possession of it made me a little mysterious, that it set me apart. So I wore black and read gothic literature. I wrote poetry and created art hat had me sent to the principal’s office. “They” said it was a phase, and for the most part “they” were right.
Despite my awkward teenage years, and however dry I found the Farrar’s work, it introduced me to something more tangible than childhood memories. For that I will be eternally grateful.
It wasn’t until years later that I’d return to Wicca. I started, where many do, with Silver RavenWolf. I look at her as the Kraft dinner of neo-paganism; she’ll feed you and keep you going if you’ve never eaten real food. What she lacks in (what I feel is) genuine spirituality, she makes up for in easy access; she’s the gateway drug into paganism.
I spent three years as a solitary, devouring book after book. I set fire to my first Yule log. I sliced my hand open with my first boline. I knocked candles over and ruined carpets with melted wax. My ego grew and I became arrogant and judgemental. I meditated on the beauty in humanity and became humbled and compassionate.
It was an important journey of self-discovery, reflection, and spiritual awakening. I know that sounds awfully trite, despite it being heartfelt and genuine.
Eventually, I joined an online college to study Wicca in a more formal setting. I craved community and, for the first time, spoke of religion with like-minded people. I quickly learned, however, that they weren’t like-minded, and I was very much the odd one out. Many of the people I met were indistinguishable from one another; quoted the same few authors, liked the same few books, followed the rules, questioned nothing. Contrary opinions weren’t welcome. Religion wasn’t discussed deeply or honestly. It was very surface-deep.
So I metaphorically packed my bags and went on what can only be considered a Westerner’s Walkabout. I dug deeper in my personal studies. I meditated in forests. I attuned myself with nature and asked for guidance.
The conclusion I came to is the mission behind this blog; a Witch’s journey through Druidry.
I am a practicing HedgeWitch and a herbalist. I believe in the spirits of the land and the divinity of our existence. I am deeply connected to the Celtic pantheon, with some ties to Norse traditions and hearth magick. But there will be more on this later.
I have only just begun my studies with ADF, but already feel that I’m finally on the right path.