In the introduction, I gave a handful of scenarios about how you might have ended up thinking about this path and coming here to this site.  I have my own story about how I realized I was a child of the Goddess.  I thought I’d share it with you as a way to introduce myself as something more than just pixelated words on a screen.

Looking back through the lovely clear-visioned lenses of hindsight, I can see now that I was different even as a child.  I was obsessed with Egypt; I still have some of my grade school artwork of Anubis and Osiris and Ma’at.  Some of my early memories are wrapped in the musty smell of my grandparents’ basement where I would sit in a tattered wingback with a National Geographic reading about tombs and lost civilizations.  I remember finding small rings strung of tiny flowers and bones down where grandpa would burn the trash, given in exchange for gifts of food.  I remember listening to my grandfather tell me about the wonder that was gardening, helping him whitewash the stones at the edges of the property, and the days I spent playing “Good Witch” beneath the porch of the house as I mixed up healing potions of dust and spiderwebs and creek water.

At the time, I simply thought I was different because I would rather sit down by the creek we dammed up, leaning in the arms of a black willow tree and watching the play of shadows on the water instead of playing Atari (now, that makes me feel old).  While I had friends, my childhood still felt isolated.  I understand at this point in my life it was because I walked on the edge of another world, one that I could still see and feel even though my Christian family took great care to instill in me the belief that this magickal world – the world I would choose for my own nonetheless – was not real.

Like a good many other people in my generation, my first taste of what might lie ahead came with the late Marion Zimmer Bradley’s book The Mists Of Avalon.  From there, a strange series of events led me to discover Z. Budapest’s The Holy Book of Women’s Mysteries and Starhawk’s The Spiral Dance.  From that glorious spring, there was really no doubt that I’d found my path.  In fervent yet fumbling newness, I dedicated myself that Beltaine, more than a little surprised when lightning did not, indeed, flash from the sky and incinerate me on the spot.

Later, college would bring me the good fortune of meeting my teachers in the Craft.  This couple offered a session on Meditation to assist with upcoming mid-term exams.  One of my friends tipped me off that they were a Wiccan High Priestess and High Priest, and that they had a study group.  Most of my friends were going, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it.  I was more afraid of that meeting than anything I could remember in my life up to that moment.  I paced outside the meeting room for a good hour, trying to screw up the courage to go inside and see that these were not crazy people, to ask them some questions about some of the things that were happening to me.  About the time I was ready to walk off, the door flew open and the tallest, skinniest mountain man you’ve ever seen strode out and stopped a foot from me.  He peered at me through coke-bottle-thick glasses, eyebrows arching like the niche in a swallow’s tail, and graveled out a “Hello.”

I don’t remember thinking about it.  I don’t even remember wondering if it was a good idea.  I do remember gulping like a cartoon character.  And I remember asking him to teach me.  It spilled out of my mouth so fast, it’s a wonder he understood a word I said.  But he smiled and laid his hand on my head and said lovingly, “I will consider this your first asking, my daughter.”

That was the first impassioned step on the journey of my life’s work.  For the next sixteen years, and to this day, regardless of what I might have done to earn a paycheck and pay the bills, the Craft has been my calling, my Muse, and my blessing (or my curse, depending on the day and how long it takes me to remember that, yes, I asked for it).  I have spent as much time pursuing this path as doctors spend pursuing their degree in medicine, amounting now to over half my life of conscious study and growth.  Where most people were throwing down and partying through their 20’s, I was facing my demons, working through my issues, learning everything I could with the goal of one day becoming a priestess and giving it all to the next generation.  I’ve had my hard lessons – haven’t we all? – yet I still wake up daily with the joy of knowing this path knows the shape of my feet and the birds singing along my way trill the song of my heart.

That, in a nutshell, is how I ended up at the trailhead of this path called the Craft.  It is only the beginning of the tale — well, this lifetime’s tale, that is.  It’s very special to me, even in its plainness.  After all, there were no moments of clouds parting and light shining down.  I didn’t discover my great-aunt Bessie’s secret magickal wardrobe in the closet and inherit my witchiness.  There aren’t secret symbols in the family Bible denoting a sect of ancient ceremonialists.  And I haven’t tripped on drugs and had a religious experience where I was told I was the chosen One to serve this or that Deity.

Pretty boring, huh?  Actually, I’m just putting this out there because I want you to know that you’re special enough, just the way you are.  You’re likely going to run into more than a few people who have stories of great-aunt Bessie’s and visions and a multitude of other experiences that — I don’t know — are supposed to prove something, maybe.  If you’ve had one of these, then treasure it.  But if you haven’t, treasure that, too.

Plain and simple, the Craft is about the Now.  So, my great-grandparents were FreeMasons/Eastern Star and I can trace my ancestry back to a Druidic sect.  Pardon my bluntness, here — all of that don’t mean shit compared to who I am now, what my ethics are, what I do to improve myself and the world around me, what I give to others, how I live from day to day.  We are people, not prized poodles.  Pedigrees mean far less than purpose, practice, and progress.

Take a moment now and look back at your life.  Ask Deity/Spirit/Your Higher Self to help you remember the stirrings of your path.  Go ahead and journal these moments of seeking and exploring.  This is the beginning of a special story.

Yours.

Next entry in New To Wicca? — What Is This Wicca Thing, Anyway?

Photo by Eddi 07 (via Flickr).