on the subject of magik
I guess I should elaborate a bit on my thoughts on Wicca (or any religion for that matter). First a little background on myself:

I was raised in a Christian family. By this I mean that I was taken to a Presbyterian church almost every Sunday during my childhood, attended a youth group regularly on Wednesday nights, and was both baptized and made a member of the church during my 13th year. I'm still not sure what any of this means. For a while, I found freedom in Christianity. Freedom, mercy, and infinite frustration. My church was what the new evangelical crowd calls "dead." The minister was an old white guy whose sermons, while wise, were monotone. The congregation was mainly the elderly, who sat solemnly through each sunday's lesson and sang the hymns softly and without passion. There were a few families and children, mostly traditional middle-class down-home moms and pops. The kids all hated this church and were bored to sin. Literally.

I went to this church from about the time I was 9 until I was... 13. I never found anything in Christianity initially. It was like I had to force myself to believe in what was being preached. The bible is a great resource, in my opinion. There are many pearls of wisdom that can be gleaned from it and applied to life, as with any book. I believed in a benevolent spirit.... even a vengeful deity, certainly a greater power. But why would that power take special interest in humans, not the earth? Why would that power oppress women, dominate beasts? I didn't get it and still don't. And my biggest failing as a Christian is that I simply cannot worship Christ. I can worship God, I can worship creation... but I cannot worship one man, be he holy or not. I don't doubt Christ existed. At the same time, so did about 100 other men claiming to be the Messiah. Lucky him, he got the right people to believe. He may have been a Gifted or a Chosen One. He certainly was a leader. But even if he did every single great deed that is written of him, I still cannot worship him and I still believe God does not want him worshipped. God used Christ to bring people to Him not to glorify the man. To worship Christ seems like setting up an idol. I can only worship God directly, through creation and essence... and hence could never be a "good" Christian.

This was not for lack of trying or, as the case may be, being forced to try. My grandparents became, early in my youth, "born again" Christians. They were always pretty strict fundamentalists, hence the fact that my father (their son) is now an atheist, scientist, and skeptic. But they started attending a church that was "alive" and sending my sheltered, home schooled, christian cousins to church camp over the summer. I barely ever got to go to Girl Scout camp and, from what the others described, this "Camp Rock" sounded like fun. Actually, as bitter as I am, it really was fun. I may not love the principles of Christianity, but I do like Christians. They're very loving people- and fun to argue with! I went to the camp seeking answers; I was empty, I wanted to be filled. I found answers. I found what it meant for a church to be 'alive'- it rocks with music and with people crying and touching the holy spirit, speaking in tounges and finding god. Every day we went to two long sermons, morning and evening. It was a "kleenex box alter," meaning we usually ended in tears for sadness, guilt, or joy. There's definitely something to be said for the group mentality. I felt it all. I spoke in tongues once... though it now seems that I just wanted to so badly that I finally let it out. I was "born again" at that camp but, in a way, I already knew that God was inside me and always would be. A lot of my questions were answered but many more were voided. I was filled with complacency for a while.

It was after my "rebirth" that things started to really bother me. It bothered me that I was expected to witness to and convert my friends, that listening to "secular" music would corrupt me, that I should shelter myself from the world rather than experience and understand it. What had been a peace inside me became anger when I was told that my best friend, who was Wiccan and had lesbian parents, should be my primary "project" or if I couldn't bring myself to witness to her, I should avoid her. I was furious. The next year I went to camp angry and with more questions. This time they were answered more concretely and I knew, there was some huge discord between the essence that is me and the Christian belief system. I wasn't in the church for much longer. For a while I was really angry and then I realized that I wasn't any less a spiritual person and I started to build my own belief system- or rather, realized it had always been there.

Yes, I was also raised alongside a Pagan girl. Sian never witnessed to me, she never taught me any magic or rituals. In fact, I don't think she learned any herself until we were in high school and she joined Diana Circle. I always wondered what they did there; she went to "Diana Circle" and I to church. When my mother found out her family practiced Wicca, she forbade me to be Sian's friend. I still remember that moment like it were a photograph. I was sitting on the kitchen counter when she told me and I ran into the living room, slammed the door and cried on the couch. Sheryl Crow's "Strong Enough" was playing on the radio. Despite that Sian never told me anything about Wicca except what I asked (and that was very vague and made little sense given that I had only experience a Presbyterian church at that time and knew not very much about life) we raised each other with magic. When I say 'each other' I mean that I now understand that each of us had a hand in what we created, which was something magical beyond our control, a gate that only the pure and unfettered mind of a child could open. Now that I better know Wicca, it's strange to look back and think that I had a hand our experience as well. I was never trained, by her or by anyone. Sometimes I question whether she had more influence on me that I think... but the way I remember is that I was always the "leader" and the creator. I was the High Priestess in our triad, I worked the big magiks.

Essentially, what I'm trying to say is that now, reading up on Wicca, the only thing that is at all unfamiliar to me are the formalized rituals. Every other aspect of the religion is something I have already practiced or experienced. It has been within me since I was a child. I'm sure there was some draw to it because of the taboo but there was also fear, too. I was raised and taught to believe that Wiccans played with bad magic, that there was no "Goddess," only the "whore" of Revelations. I cannot imagine a universe so imbalanced. I never believed this, of course, but it did worm its way into my brain and I am still afraid to be seen by others as... something like that. I guess I fear the word "witch." I don't like it, at all. And I shouldn't feel this way if I'm to become one. I see nothing wrong with the words shaman, oracle, or priestess... so I should see nothing wrong with "witch." But the cultural and christian stereotype has been so drilled into my brain that despite my knowledge of the clean, earthy meaning of the term, I still picture a hag in a black hat and I still emotionally tie the word with fear and, actually, bitchiness. It's kind of ironic but I think we all retain stereotypes like this sometimes. I could just smile and pretend I don't have a problem with the word, but I'd rather work out what my difficulties are and overcome them. There's only one other fear I have concerning Wicca, and I'll get to that in a moment.

I've always felt a strange affinity with the natural and ancient magics ever since I was a little girl. Perhaps it's just my fantasy-mindedness, perhaps I really am born to walk this path. There's always been a certain amount of fear of the unknown and, when I was younger, a fear of persecution holding me back from fully experiencing this magic. The last few years have taught me to embrace what I fear, to walk through the unknown and even through my pain to learn from it. The last few years have also taught me that there is no greater mistake than to waste what is given you, to throw it away or forget about it. I can't forget about what is inside of me, but I can pretend to ignore it. I don't want to live life like that. I look through these books and pages on this way of life and I realized that I have already been living it, I already believe, I just have to affirm this belief. I know I have the power to do that, and I am eager to find what focusing that power can do for me. But I am also seriously afraid of being let down. Because I, my friends, on top of being a spititualist, am a skeptic. I am cautious to embrace that which I do not fully understand; I am cautious to validate it. And so I worry that in giving myself to this thing, in externalizing that which is inside me, I will only find that this most sacred, precious thing is not as real as it should be. That the ocean of essence inside of me will peter out into a small trickle at the laughter of a few cynics should it be let out. I'm afraid that I don't really believe.

As long as I keep my sacred space inside of me, no one can damage it. There is no way to be hurt or let down because it is pure, private, untouched. In a way, I suppose I'm letting it out here in telling the world about my dreams, but it is still just a story... words are not action, but they are magic in their own right. I feel like I could initiate myself as a Wiccan, that it would be a powerful ritual, that it is something I want to do because I don't want to waste what's inside of me and never find out if I can truly experience it. But thinking the words and saying them are two entirely different things. I worship in my head. I chant there, too. I weave blessings and curses and shelter myself behind a circle I cast with my mind. But I have never had the strength to voice these things. Why? Because it feels... silly Silly to say them and especially in English. I feel like they shouldn't be spoken, that words somehow break the concentration of the soul. But that's how one externalizes, so I'll have to learn to do it. If you don't speak, no one hears... but if no one hears, no one but you knows it didn't work. And that's what I'm really afraid of. I'm afraid I'm just convincing myself that what I believe is real, that were I to actually try it I would be let down. But I guess that's just what faith is, believing in the face of adversity. And I want it so badly. If so many people can believe and do, I must be able to. I already have so much, I don't want it blown away.

That's my dilemma.

So when I said yesterday that I'd decided to become a practicing witch, what I think I meant was that I'm eager to try. I haven't really decided yet, I think I still have some consideration to do. On one hand, I can't avoid it... it becomes more and mroe obvious as I think about it that this is what I am but on the other, I can't commit to something half-assedly and expect results. I need to know what I want and, as of yet, I'm not sure. I think I might start keeping a journal just on this subject: what I'm learning and what I've done. Maybe I'll share it, maybe I won't. There is a journey into this ahead of me... I just don't know where it will go.