“How do you know she’s a witch?” 


A subject matter I dared not explore while in the throes of my own existential crisis. Religion was not built into my blood, but as a young person I had my friends of the Born Again variety who helped me develop a healthy sense of guilt around all things forbidden by the Bible. When life bore down on me in ways that I could scarcely comprehend, I sought out my first deck of Tarot. I wanted to talk to God and if a deck of cards was the only way to do it, then my soul be damned to hell. Then, it was explained to me, the Tarot became something that left me wondering…who really was in control here? And what of witchcraft, where incantations and hocus pocus bibbity-bobbitty was fun to fantasize about but hardly practical for a suffering wretch like me. Surely I needed God more than a Grimoire to rescue me from my pain? And yet, the Tarot kept beckoning to me like a reassuring friend inviting me in for tea. I realized that closing my mind to the mystical crafts was making me unhappy. I have a Hermit’s mind (and bookshelf) and could not discount that the many rituals practiced by witches were nearly identical to those practiced by the Catholic faith. And why is it that the same God is worshipped in the tradition of the Golden Dawn as in Christianity and Judaism? My mind was rent on such conundrums of faith and I finally came to the realization that I could love and worship a Most High God and still practice a Craft. My altar consists of a Buddha, a goddess, a crucifix, candles, crystals, mala beads, essential oils, singing bowls and Tarot Cards. I am by all accounts I guess a solitary (albeit eclectic) witch.

Benebell Wen explores this  interesting topic.

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