I’m not sure how many vital epiphanies happen in an individual life, but I remember my first.
I was twelve years old and stepping out of the shower in the middle of the day. I remember the floor plan of the bathroom and my dad applying carpet squares over it’s linoleum. I discovered my younger sister sleepwalking there one night when I got up to pee and she wandered in to move towels from cupboard to counter and then return to bed.
I had candles burning and the lights off (there was also a small window). I pulled back the shower curtain, picked up a towel and stepped out. I stopped moving because I realized that, not only did things like butterflies, frogs and pets die, so would I.
I thought about having open heart surgery. I’m sure of only two memories from that time. I’m told I liked to climb out of my crib and escape outside. What I remember is running through grass, sliding underneath flowing shrubs and wanting to live there. And I remember holding the hand of a white lady while walking down a white hallway with bright lights.
All of this began a journey. I was shocked, but not aghast. I had questions. I corresponded (with parental supervision) with a Wiccan coven in Texas. I read more mythology and discovered Joseph Campbell. I studied the philosophies of multiple religions. I read about Native Americans.
I thought about starting my period and wishing I hadn’t. Despite being really girly and loving color, clothes, eyeshadow, nail polish and perfume, I hated messes and bodily fluids. I thought about Mom taking the stray Mama kitty and kittens to the vet and the vet euthanizing then because of an infection passed to the babies while nursing. I follow the wheel of the year, equinox/solstice, moon cycles, and nature. I tried attending Unitarian Universalist church and joining two different pagan groups. I studied reiki and shamanic journeying.
Many years later, I am pagan with beliefs leaning Native American, shamanic and Wiccan. I maintain altars and the smell of incense centers me. I’m not afraid of death, but the process still scares me. And, I still rail against loss. Who doesn’t?
The Practical Bohemian 