Paths

It's been a long time since I started on my path to Paganism. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about it. Especially since my step-son will soon be dedicating and since my brother is a recent dedicant and recently starting living with me.

I remember being about 15. I was living in foster care in a small city in Missouri called Craig. Quite literally, my school housed kindergarten through high school. The graduating class was 8 people. I was the odd ball. I dressed in darker clothes. I wore combat boots, enjoyed listening to Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Violent Femms and of course the beginnings of Dave Matthews Band. Yes, I know, DMB has no place among the rest of those, but hey, what can I say?

One of my friends claimed to be a witch at the time. I had read books on the occult that my mother had on her book shelf when I had lived with her. She claimed to be able to fly, change shape... you know the kind. A complete nutso. She also claimed to be Anton LeVey's mistress, but I digress.... nut job. But she still has a special place in this story. Even without knowing a lot, I knew in my heart that the "witch" she claimed to be was not what I felt I was.

I had no formal training. No library to research information with, other than our schools "library" which consisted of mainly children's books and educational material. We didn't have internet. Still, I felt a connection with the earth and with the occult, which is the only name I knew it by.

I would go out in nature and talk to it. I knew people thought I was the crazy one, but I didn't care. I put wishes in bottles and buried them along the railroad tracks near my house. I prayed to the only "god" I knew which was the Christian God. I asked for direction. I asked for a path. About 6 months after doing this, my foster parent decided they no longer wished to have a teen-aged child in their home and I was sent to live with my aunt in the Kansas City area. I had lived in this area as a young child, but my mother had moved us to Missouri starting in 5th grade.

When I moved in, things were different. At first, I was painfully shy. I spent my time at work, a local Taco Bell, and at the library. I learned about witchcraft being a real religion- namely the Wiccan side of everything. We had internet, but I couldn't navigate it very well. I watched shows like X-Files and Ghost stories. I did what research I could.

Eventually, I found someone that I had went to school with back in elementary school. She in turn introduced me to a group of people. Things took off. Real witches, Wiccans, Shamans, natural livers etc. All had been a pretty interesting topic for me. I talked to everyone who would talk to me. These people also enjoyed my music, my tastes etc. Being with them made things a lot easier. Eventually, they led me to Scott Cunningham, Silver Raven Wolf, DJ Conway and Starhawk. They took me to my first Gaea experience and Heartland Festival.

At first, I was the type that did EVERYTHING the Wiccan way. I look back now and it's funny. I was a tree hugger, I wore patchuley, carried stones in my pocket, talked with spirits that really no one saw. I wrote down every dream and diagnosed it every morning. Everyone I met I had to tell them, "I am a Libra, so you know what that means". I eventually became very much like certain Christians I know. "Have you looked into Wicca as a religion"? "You shouldn't do that! Especially if you don't cast a circle and draw down the moon"! I even made up ancestors that had been witches to give me lineage. (Only later did I find out that some family had been Pow Wow artists or used natural remedies for healings, but none of them were "witches".)

Until one day someone told me that I wasn't a real witch. I got into an argument with this gentleman. He persisted. He told me I was nothing but a fake. His argument was I can talk the talk, but did I really practice? Did I really believe the things I was talking about? Did I just do it for the friendship and something to relate to. These questions weren't easy to answer either. And when he asked me, I just got angry and walked away. I complained to everyone I knew about him and trespassing my boundaries and how I was going to put a spell on him, for his own good of course.

After about a week, I sat down and did something I had never done before. I put my books away. I meditated. I asked Freya (who someone told me I reminded them of) for direction. To show me if I was really on the right path, the path of my spirituality. I must have sat there for over 2 hours, talking things out, writing things down. Eventually, I quieted my mind and envisioned a corn field and me having to find my way out.

A black haired Goddess eventually appeared to me. She never talked. She looked at me and touched my cheek in a loving manner. She took a dagger, a cup, some tarot cards, and a stone and threw them into a large fire. The then placed her cauldron on top of it, filled it with water and led me to it. As I gazed into the water all I saw was my reflection. Behind me, I heard nothing but the caw of crows or ravens. I turned around and the Goddess was gone.

I awoke the next morning deciding I had fallen asleep during my meditation, but wrote down my vision. Later, I decided that the Goddess might have been Morrigan, hence the ravens. I also had figured that the Goddess had given me a message of needing to find my own path, throwing out the tools I thought I just had to have or need and to follow my heart. After all, when you look into your reflection- you need to be just you. Not someone else.

So I took all the things I had learned and threw them out. No easy feat. I started with colors. What did a particular color mean to me. Most of them were the same, only certain ones a little different. Red was passion and anger, but also blood- a life force. Pink was love and family, but also communication. Black was void for me. It was comfort as well. It was shadows and the unknown. I went to stones and herbs. I went through a lot of things. I decided which friends I really wanted to be around and which ones just really weren't worth my time. By the end of High School I was really practicing. I still wasn't a know-it-all, but I knew enough to do the things I really wanted to do. I also stopped calling myself a Wiccan. I never really have identified with this name tag. Pagan, witch, even heathen fit me better.

I got distracted a few times. Once by a guy I liked who claimed to be an alien vampire that would bite me to get energy. Occasionally I would want to fit in again- have something that I identified with. One friend swore I was from Atlantis and we would talk for hours about going back. (Wasn't that part of a Styx song.... LOL) I chalk all of these experiences to being in my youth and having an imagination. Eventually, when something didn't fit, it went away.

It's been 12 years since I graduated high school. I have read even more books, studied different subjects, practiced, performed spells, cast circles, officiated handfastings, legal weddings, even birth and death rites. I still have never found a wrong way of doing things because the things I have done have felt right to me. I still ask questions, and for that I am proud.

I now write, I help others find paths. And my biggest piece of advice to them is the same that Morrigan gave me so many years ago now; Find yourself, the path will show its way once that is achieved.

Brightest Blessings,

Lorelei
Silver Raven