and welcome

 

My name is Aria Moonwake (formerly The Witch Named Savana) and I am pleased to meet you. I am not new to blogging or vlogging about my pagan passions and after quite a long sabbatical I am ready to take up the vocation once again.

I found Paganism and Wicca similarly to thousands of other Pagans and Wiccans around the world. I was raised as a Christian, specifically of the Pentecostal denomination, and over the years became disillusioned and dissatisfied with my faith in Christianity.

I have spent many hours of introspection to try to pin point the exact moment where Christianity had failed me, and so far have not been able to find it. My faith was a mountain, but only up close was I able to see that the mountain was actually a hill of pebbles ready to fall apart. I was never outwardly abused by the church or the people who practiced the faith along side of me, however, I never actually had their support neither. I was forced to attend church by my mother who was adamant that her children have a relationship with God and rely on him as she had relied on him. I wanted to be a good daughter and a good Christian and so I tried. Very hard I tried to express myself and my thoughts like a Christian would. I listened to the words of Christ from my pastors and shared testimony with my fellow Christians at weekly bible study and worship service. I tried to be a Christian in the secular world and express my love of God and Jesus to my non-theist friends. Outwardly I was everything a proper Christian was supposed to look and sound like. However, beneath the surface I was adrift in a sea of doubt, turmoil, and loneliness.

 

 

No matter how hard I tried to ignore it or overcome it I had the sense that nothing that I was doing or what the other Christians I was surrounding myself with were actually genuine to the real word of God or a true Christian intention. This feeling kept me in a dark sphere that, at the time, made me feel like a hippocrate Christian. It would not be until years later that I realized this “feeling” was my intuition warning me of the danger I was surrounding myself with. That is, the danger of blindly following a belief and tying my community, my logic, and my self-esteem to this belief system. The longer I stayed a Christian the more depressed, anxious, and desperate I became. I spoke to my Christian friends about my feelings, my pastors, and my mother; and all of their advice was more or less the same. Pray to God for understanding and wait for him to answer you. I was a good Christian and so I did, but God never answered me. I wanted to know why even though these Christian people I interacted with were outwardly good and charitable and caring of others, I still felt like in their hearts they did not believe what they were saying and were just as much fake as I was being. I suppose in the end I just needed validation that I wasn’t the only one doubting and left questioning on where God was and why I could not hear him. Even though I knew they knew what I was talking about, no one wanted to admit they had the same thoughts and fears that I did. And so, I left.

 

 

It was in this time of wandering that I felt the most alone. I grew up a Christian and did not know how to be anything else. I wandered among different faiths and belief systems learning a little of each before moving on. Nothing I read nor looked held my interest for long or made me feel the connection I was looking for to God, or whatever I understood God to be. This was a lonely time for. It was also made especially hard because I was facing the most extreme depression I have faced so far in my life. Without something or someone to believe in it was nearly impossible for me to drift day to day.This depression was also made worse by a development of hyper/hypo thyroid disease, but I will get to that at a later time. So, for most of my junior high and high school years I was ambivalent and without a sense of purpose. However, even though I could no longer call myself a Christian I still had to go to Sunday morning church and Wednesday night youth service at least until I was 18 years old and my mom had satisfied her obligation to God to expose her children to his religion. Paganism was never something I imagined would be a path I would one day follow.

I never really had a fascination with witchcraft, witches, magic, occult things, divination, or anything that is central to Pagan interests. I learned about the Salem Witch Trials and the Inquisition that murdered thousands, perhaps millions, of people through the Medieval ages and I only ever thought how unfortunate those convicted people were and how evil religion was for brainwashing people to torture and kill their neighbors for being different, or to steal their properties under the pretense of legal expenses. Beyond that, I was in the same attitude as most people that magic wasn’t real and witches were an archaic stereotype used to demean others. So I am not sure what prompted me to browse the new age section at Barnes and Noble one day while waiting for my mom to pick me up after work.

 

 

I suppose it could be because it was mid-November and the Halloween witches fascination was still fresh in my mind. Most of the books that I was looking at were about astrology, palm reading, tarot cards, crystal meanings, and a few encyclopedias on witchcraft. Everything looked interesting, but were subjects I had no interest in taking the time to invest in. That is until after this one title stood out to me and took over me like a compulsion. The first book on Wicca that I ever read was If You Want to be a Witch: A Practical Introduction to the Craft by Edain McCoy. However, if you had been there in the store with me as I was deciding whether or not to buy it you would have laughed. After all, this was a book about witchcraft and I was raised a good Christian daughter and my devote Christian mother was going to arrive any minute to take me to her “As for me and my house we will serve the Lord” house.

At first I nonchalantly flipped through the book, read the back cover, read the chapter index, nodded my head in aloof interest and put the book back on the shelf and walked away. Did a lap of the History section and then back to the book. Picked it up again and walked about halfway to the front of the store, turned around and put it back. I must have done that at least five times before I made it to the cashier. Then when I had finally paid for the book I quickly hid it in my purse with just a minute before my mom showed up. That night after everyone was asleep I read the book and it was revolutionary to me.

 

 

Reading that book, and then every Pagan book after, was the most awesome awakening for me. Everything I read made perfect sense to what I had been believing for a long time. I couldn’t get enough information about witchcraft and Paganism.The only issue was that I was still a minor living in an all out Christian household.

I couldn’t have any kind of Pagan paraphernalia displayed anywhere. I couldn’t leave my Wicca books out to be found so I cut a hole in my box spring and hid my books and first Book of Shadows in there. My Book of Shadows was a plain journal I had bought on sale from Target. Having an altar was especially tricky because it could not look like an altar in any way. Fortunately, I am good enough at decorating that having an altar hidden in plain sight wasn’t too much of a challenge (as conceited as that sounds). I think the hardest part in the beginning was not having anyone to talk to about my interests. So even though I found my life path, I was still alone. Thankfully, that all changed as I grew older and became more confident in my beliefs and knowing that being a Witch was the right path for me.

My journey to Paganism has not been overly unique in experience, and as time passed I have been able to be more open about my beliefs with my family, my friends, and even my co-workers. I am grateful for their understanding and support.