I've been a witch as long as I can remember. And when I say Witch I don't say it in traditional terms or even definable terms. I’ve never practiced in a coven. The Moon guides me and I know its position by the energy in my bones. I’ve read numerous books, but I define my Witchiness as my own. I’ve always practiced solo cause I know that's what I am supposed to do. Since I was ten I’ve had this voice in my head that told me so. That tells me when my Karma becomes unbalanced, when I need to re-direct. Sound’s crazy? Maybe. But I’ve made it to over half a century following the rules of Karma.
When I was 11, I had my first real revelation. I was, this awkward, chubby 11-year-old. Always spiritual, always saying prayers at night to who-knows-who; cause I sure didn’t. I knew there was someone listening, something, some force. I believed that fully.
So the 11-year-old’s parents are freshly divorced. Dad’s in California trying to be an actor (handsome man, my dad), Mom’s in Bogota getting ready to walk cocaine through customs so she could support us for a bit in comfort. I knew about the Columbia trip. She was gone for three weeks and we were left with my crazy Uncle who thought it would be a good idea to skinny dip in the pool with me and my friends: cue pre-adolescents running in every direction screaming. I did not know about the coke till years later when I had my own issues with the drug.
So chubby, unpopular me is up at base with a bat in my hand at school in PE. Everyone is making fun of me. I decide to rail at God. I yell out (in my mind), “God if you don’t give me a really good hit I’m never going to believe in you again.” What happens? God gives me a great fucking hit – the ball came right for me. Hit me square in the shin. I still have that mark. Don’t mess with God.
As I grew, I realized where and how my powers worked. They helped me get through some of the worst, most awful situations unscathed – moving 13 times before graduating High School, my mother’s drugs and alcoholism, taking care of my little sister and still making fairly decent grades, the year of acid trips at sixteen, and the rape at fourteen.
I’m an old soul. I started everything early. I was smoking cigarettes and reading Tarot Cards and dirty magazines when I was 12. We moved so many times, I had no choice but to figure out how to fit in quickly – turned me into a changeling.
At 12, I had a Voodoo reading in Jamaica with my Stepmom. The Priest told me I had incredible powers and that I would be fine. Not to worry, so long as I didn’t take any long cruises or spend too much time in wild animal parks. So far so good.
But when I was in transition from one home to another, in the summer of my sophomore year – I was raped. It’s taken me many years to come to terms with this. I’ve worked on it in therapy and also in my writing.
I was a promiscuous child of the '70s. I didn’t care about sex as long as it was on my terms. I lost my virginity at 13 to one of the most popular skater kids in town. He came to my house after I lead the Homecoming parade; I was co-caption of the Flag Corps and in a great act of coincidence our Caption was sick that night.
I had a crush on this boy for months and everyone said he would never look my way. He followed me and my flag home from the parade that night. Minutes after we finished, he noticed that I had all these silly Mad Magazine certificates cut out on my dresser drawer – he asked if he could take home the one that said “Worlds Best Lover.” I said sure – even then realizing that popularity does not equal intelligence and that he didn’t get the context or the joke.
Back to the rape – It was the summer of my 14th year. Dad had moved up north, mom was moving us out west. I was a mess. So I get to the crappy apartment complex we were living in and all I want is out. I head down the block to the park where all the teens hang out. I have a joint and figure that will gain me entrance. I make a couple of friends with the girls, and the guys are handing out Michelobs to all who wanted them.
I guess I drank a bit too much. Next thing I know I wake up on a hill in the back of the park with a guy inside me and another guy watching. I looked at both of them and said “What the fuck!!” They said, hey, you said yes. I had blacked out (the first but not the last time). Then one of the guys said “we thought you were enjoying it. You sure seemed to like it.” I have no memory or recollection of that. But there were a couple of condoms on the grass and it must have been going on for a while. Did they honestly not know? How could I have not said no? Why couldn’t I remember? What was I supposed to learn from that? I let it go. I stayed away from them for the rest of the summer. I still got high, and found a boyfriend for most of August. Then left for a new home out west.
Karma is a bitch - I got to see those two boys grow, summer by summer. By the time I was 18 and over it (well, I thought so at the time – that shit sticks, doesn’t it?), one was sent away to state prison and one was an addict. A teeny piece of justice had…
Following the path of Wicca, playing with Karma and using the powers of Three X Three has brought incredible highs and even more incredible lows. Being a Witch is nothing to take lightly or play around with. If you have that power in you, know you will weather all the storms, even the mighty ones. Follow the voice that tells you to take a chance. Light candles, collect crystals, keep your big black cats close and your loved ones closer. Keep it to yourself if you need to, or share. Mostly, follow your own path and keep on the lookout for those signs you can’t ignore.
Does Pandora or Spotify seem to always play the songs you need at the time you need them, like life force infusions? Ever been camping with a group of folks acting like they had power over the elements and waved your hand and made the winds stop? Have you constantly been put in power positions and had great encounters with people who have guided you, and then you lost them?
Then in a moment, found a piece of mail, or a poem, or a momento that brought them back to life and all felt fine again? Have you lost your best friend after you didn’t write to him for six months because he sent you a love letter, then decided to call him up to talk about it, and have his mother say “Are you sitting down?” And then, when you were pacing around your apartment crying and railing at the universe, did the one person who could take you out of that funk show up unexpectedly at your door take you bowling?
That’s where Karma comes in. It’s all about the balance.
The Highs come with the Lows.
This is why I wear my Pentacle proud; why on Halloween I don’t dress up.
I’m just me in a fancier hat.
Be Blessed Carefully.