Chapter 2: I'm Not Alone!

How do you convince your parents that they didn't do anything wrong, that they did give you a solid foundation of religion and morals even when your choice isn't to follow their religious path? Isn't there any way to tell them that the years of weekly mass and Catholic school did affect my life in a positive way?

I was told by a friend that some people are born to Christ, some to the Goddess, and some to others. I honestly believe that we are all walking to the same place, but that we are taking different roads. Many times I've sat in a church and listened to the music sung by the what was supposed to be a family of worshippers. The singing sounded so empty to me, and it seemed that the priest told us nothing. I'd walk outside and feel so much closer to . . . I didn't know, but I did know that it wasn¹t "God" as I had been taught.

And then there were books. My high school years found me with a fascination for The Doors. In my quest for knowledge of my favorite band I came across Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison by Patricia Kennealy Morrison (on a family vacation, to boot!). From this I took only the words "handfasting" and "athame" with me. (I reread the book years later and learned an important lesson in that the information you need will come to you when is it meant to … there is MUCH more information on the Craft in that book than I first realized).

These two new words I took with me to a feminist bookstore in Madison, Wisconsin. The clerks either had no idea what I was talking about, or realized I needed to take this initial journey by myself. I did find a new book, though, To Know: A Guide to Women’s Magic and Spirituality by Samantha Jade River. (I leant this book to someone and I forget who … if you have it, can I have it back, please?) From there I found Scott Cunningham's books Living Wicca and Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner. Later I got a book by Laurie Cabot from the library … a few years later I found Silver RavenWolf. Four years of learning and reading and meditating and praying and realizing that the things I believed in had a name! The beautiful ways of the Old Religion; Witchcraft.

Looking for answer, people, anyone I cold talk or write to and learn from. I finally found people when one of my best friends was able to access IRC (internet relay chat - a program that allows you to access hundreds of different chat rooms on multiple servers) on the internet. (we’re talking 1994 here, a short while before AOL was a household name". She didn’t understand why I cold stay on the #wicca channel for hours on end and why I couldn’t say good-bye in a matter of seconds. I finally found someone willing to snail mail me who was not Wiccan, but Pagan and still very much like myself, exploring. I didn’t want to call myself "Wiccan" until I was totally sure of it. I had been warned by friends and parents not to get involved in any cults and to watch my step. This I did, and Goddess and God kept me safe.

Shortly after I graduated from high school, I met another Witch at a summer job. Unfortunately, she and I didn't get a chance to really talk. It wasn't until I actually started college that I met another Witch in real life that I could talk to. I also met three other Wiccans and many Pagans. I could not begin to tell you how I felt when I realized I was in the same room as another person who shared my beliefs!

I learned about grounding, centering, and energy like no book could have ever taught me. On a warm night in late August, I was called in a way I shall never forget ...

I was coming out of a night "into to the liberal arts class" in West Hall and stopped on the steps. I saw a beautiful moon in the sky and was just paralyzed. Two upperclassmen asked me if I was lost and I could only shake my head "no". After they turned their attention elsewhere, I walked ever so slowly under the big fir tree about twenty feet in front of me, my gaze fixed upward. As I looked, I knew, without a question or a doubt, that I was a Witch. The Goddess had called down to me and told me, "Its time."

I thought that if I gave my parents something to read, some literature, that they would be able to see into my religion with a more open mind and heart. I even found things written by Christians that gave a positive view of my faith. I thought they would want to understand what their eldest daughter believed. A few months later I asked them about the information I had given and was told, "I don’t even know where it is." I felt as though someone had plunged their athame through my heart. Not only to know they hurt me by their closed minds, but that I had hurt them by my "straying". I didn’t want to force it on them, but I did want them to realize it and to accept it. I didn’t want to have to walk on eggshells every time religion came up in conversation, or have them tell me to make sure I didn’t tell my siblings the "wrong" things about important issues – in other words, make sure I told them only a Christian viewpoint.

I excitedly told my parents about a Pagan event that was being planned in my hometown, the first I had ever heard of. My dad told me that if they started doing animal sacrifices that I should leave. I finally blew up at him and told him how I felt and how these feelings of frustration had been building up inside of me for so long, that I had been learning about Wicca for four years and that it wasn’t something I just jumped into. He told me that he was still praying for me to come back to the Catholic Church. I didn't have the guts to ask him why he couldn’t have been praying for understanding instead of for me to change?