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Tarot Talk: the Ace of Swords
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The Gray of 'Tween
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A Child's First Yule
November 10th. 2016 ...
What Exactly Is Witchcraft?
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The Shadow of Disgust
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Living a Magickal Life with Fibromyalgia
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The Fear of Witchcraft
Magic in Sentences
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Revisiting The Spiral
January 22nd. 2016 ...
Coming Out of the Broom Closet
December 20th. 2015 ...
Magia y Wicca
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Feeling the Pulse of Autumn
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Sacred Lands, Sacred Hearts
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September 16th. 2015 ...
Vegan or Vegetarian? The Ethical Debate
August 6th. 2015 ...
Lost - A Pagan Parent's Tale
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Love Spells: The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly
The Magic of Weather
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A Pagan Altar
A Minority of a Minority of a Minority
May 6th. 2015 ...
13 Keys: The Crown of Kether
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A Thread in the Tapestry of Witchcraft
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On Wiccan Magick, Theurgy, Thaumaturgy and Setting Expectations
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Choosing to Write a Shadow Book
February 1st. 2015 ...
Seeker Advice From a Coven Leader
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Manipulation of the Concept of Witchcraft
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October 20th. 2014 ...
Thoughts on Conjuring Spirits
October 5th. 2014 ...
The History of the Sacred Circle
September 28th. 2014 ...
Seeking Pagan Lands for Pagan Burials
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August 31st. 2014 ...
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The Pagan Cleric
A Gathering of Sorcerers (A Strange Tale)
August 17th. 2014 ...
To Know, to Will, to Dare...
NOTE: For a complete list of articles related to this chapter... Visit the Main Index FOR this section.
Wake Up Exposure
Article Specs |
Article ID: 14303
Age Group: Adult
Days Up: 3,059
Times Read: 4,378
RSS Views: 15,235
Author: Shion Flame
Posted: January 30th. 2011
Times Viewed: 4,378
Recently I’ve been focusing on what message I may have to share with the community. Indecision isn’t very healthy for me so I’ve decided to simply start somewhere. I’ll begin with how my path found me.
I’ve often felt as though I am living my life backwards. My initiation began with my dreams and the voice of both an old woman and a young woman but with the vision of a young man. When I was fourteen year old my family lost our home. A friend of the family had a house available in town and we moved in. When I entered the house and stood in the kitchen a dream came rushing back to me. I knew I’d already been to the house.
About two months passed and a young man with cool dark eyes and black hair in a dream visited me; he asked me if I remembered. I did not answer. The room was empty save a coat rack by the front door and a snowy T.V. I sat staring blankly at the screen. My dream self stood watching the scene unfold. The young man hung up a black leather jacket on the coat rack and walked over to the part of me that was sitting in the floor. He reached out his hand and whispered in my ear. “I am back. Remember.”
I woke up with a rush of images, gasping for air and more confused than I’d ever been in my life. The images I seen were my memories but I’d somehow forgotten. I set out to understand this mystery in my life.
I never really considered myself a ‘witch’ but it was an accusation that stuck quite nicely. While I was still in the fifth grade I was accused of witchcraft. I pondered what might have led to the accusation; perhaps it was my interest in E.S.P., my studies of astral travel or my intense interest in mythology that led to it. Maybe, as a teacher told me years later, I just had a way of standing out and people were trying to figure out what it was. Whatever it was it followed me and I tried to run from it. Socially I withdrew and spent my time reading or studying the arts.
Accusation often led to discrimination; I changed schools but continued my research.
My interests led me to topics such as faith healing, basic quantum physics, philosophy, and lucid dreaming. The topics piled up in the bottom of my junior-high-school locker. One particular fated week I was given an assignment to do a report on the Salem Witchcraft trials. It was the same week my locker partner became curious and started going through my things. She confronted me later that afternoon and told me that she was concerned about my witchcraft practices. I was more than a little surprised and laughed it off as ridiculous.
It was no surprise that I quickly became the school witch. Even when I tried to keep my head down or frankly denied any accusation, I was still the witch and according to rumor not a kind one. By the eighth grade, I was a witch who could shape shift into a black cat and torment students and their relatives. I apparently spent my evenings praying to demons and on one interesting occasion I was said to be able to fly into a person’s bedroom and cause them horrible nightmares. The rumors sounded familiar but I was the only one reading the history books.
My mother heard about it from a co-worker although by that time I was rumor to study ‘black magic’. I’ll never forget how she tore my room apart in fear and sat down in relief after reading the books I’d checked out in the school library.
1998 was a year of firsts. My mother began working at a factory called WISE (I do laugh at that sometimes.) She met two women who became very good friends of hers. These two women were witches.
My mother started spending a lot of time with her new friends. It wasn’t something I thought about until they came to the house to do card readings one evening. I had my cards read for the first time, the reading changed my life. I was told a secret that only I knew... about the dreams of the young man I’d been having and she told me his name was Jason (meaning to heal) . I recall how my thoughts went spinning as I tried to make logical sense of anything that was occurring during this time in my life. Unusual dreams would wake me up in the middle of the night and my own secrets had come spilling out through cards on a table.
Mom brought me my first books about the craft: Amber K’s True Magick and Celtic Magic by D.J. Conway. I read them and found myself fascinated that within the books I read were concepts that were already a part of my life; it felt like a rediscovery. After a while I was invited to attend my first circle gathering, which was held deep in the woods on a hilltop under the full moon surrounded by uncountable firebugs.
High school told a slightly different tale. I still refused to ‘confess’ to my fellow students that I was a witch. I must admit I did think it was a pity I couldn’t do the things they said I could. I would have loved to jump on a broom and fly away but I’d already learned that running was pointless. After lunch one day, a student who saw a quartz crystal on my backpack called me out. Picture a student heading up the stairway to her next class, surrounded by a bunch of wide-eyed teens waiting for a response. Inside I panicked but for once I didn’t run. I smiled at the girl and said: “Well, I suppose that depends on what your definition of witch is.” After that day I didn’t have much of an issue from my classmates.
Many years have passed since that time. More dreams have come. The pieces of the puzzle make patterns I have come to understand. Sometimes the old woman comes to teach me things and the young one comes to remind me of things that I’ve forgotten. Like most stories there is always more to tell but the acceptance of this part of me came from a well-needed exposure. I embraced the Witch and she embraced me and we are still waking each other up.
Copyright: Copyright under Ceru 2010
Location: Kennett, Missouri
Author's Profile: To learn more about Shion Flame - Click HERE
Other Articles: Shion Flame has posted 8 additional articles- View them?
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