The Path of a Christian Witch Read Free Page B

face. There was frustration, but I know I detected a hint of pride. I was not to be devastated this time, nor was my love going to be trampled through the mud. Love was my treasure. My whole being resonated with this truth. And I could see this resonance in my love’s eyes as well. Only a perverted mind could see evil in the bond we shared. Those who have been profiting from caging women in shame for centuries were still hard at work. This time they were wrong. I was no longer bound to this perversion. I was bound only to my honor and to my love.
    I started looking at my parents through adult eyes. They were wonderful, generous, loving people. But they were human. They were the sum total of their own life experiences—experiences that differed largely from my own. I realized that many of the things I had classified under the heading of “That’s just the way it is” were not marked in stone. All around me, I could see the golden cage of patriarchy, the legacy of thousands of years of Judeo-Christian rule. I saw the subtle way in which this ideology infiltrated every aspect of our lives, like a cancer poisoning us slowly. More than ever, I noticed its consequences on my life as a woman. And the church was largely to blame for this. It had soiled my sexuality, put sin into my childbearing. It had denied me my right to clergyhood. The world had followed this blindly, marking us all as cheap labor, second-rate citizens, a simple commodity to be traded and bargained for. Not only did this destroy the souls of women but of men as well, for whoever did not acquiesce to the image of the alpha male was no better than a woman.
    But, there were also good aspects of religion, weren’t there? Like love and spirit and a sense of community, of belonging somewhere. Of feeling safe. The ugliness was merely politics, the inner workings of the world. That was not all religion was about. Something became clear to me at this point: church and faith were two different things.
    Now, I knew.
    The rules I used to follow blindly simply crumbled to the ground. I wouldn’t listen to my family, nor my country, nor my church. I now knew what it felt like to resonate with something true and pure. From now on, I would follow only my heart, and let the magic of the world surround me.
    And There Was Magic in the World
    My first year of microbiology had just ended. It had been difficult, grueling work, and I was happy to finally get a moment to relax. I lay on my stomach in an old, rundown apartment that my boyfriend was repainting. I liked this building, despite its rundown looks and its busy location in the midst of the student ghetto. My boyfriend was working here as a local “superman,” taking care of poor students, their blocked plumbing and their failing heaters. Summer brought new waves of eager beavers looking for a dream in higher education. That meant hot days of painting and renovating for the caretakers of the building.
    I was here for a couple of hours, to relax while I waited for him to finish another apartment one floor up. I was reading Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman while lazily enjoying the summer afternoon. I had followed the author to the exotic land of Hawaii and had witnessed his many encounters. I felt great. I put the book down, turned on my back, and stretched.
    It was all around me.
    The Green Light.
    Aqua swirls filled the room, pulsating around me like a warm blanket. The Green Light . . . How long had it been? Five years? Ten? I was just a child then . . .
    I loved to read then, too, anything I could get my hands on. My father had an inclination for the paranormal and had a complete library of esoteric teachings. I remember hearing him talk about astral travel and the aura, how he had been fascinated by these phenomena. I must have been about twelve when I picked up one of his books: The Secrets of the Aura. [1] I would practice at night under my covers, marveling at the silver lining around my