I grew up in a Methodist household. I wouldn't say my parents were bible-beaters, necessarily. They were strict, southern christians. And when I ran away from home, I had the unique fortune of landing in a home with two wiccan ladies. I finished growing up in a home that was nurturing and connected, animal loving and nature revering. Beltane festivals, Samhain, herbal remedies and tarot readings. At breakfast, they would bring up conversations about dreams and try to take meaning from it, as we should all. They discussed seeing signs that they were on the right or wrong paths... they felt instant connections with some people and instant ill feelings for some, and took it to mean something deeper than a "sense".I miss this. I don't know where I lost it. But we humans have the need to have ritual in our lives. We need to feel a purpose. We need to send and receive energies from each other.
Believing is more than just fun, it's therapeutic. It's a power. I've chosen my beliefs, as I believe everyone has the right to do, from a variety of teachings ranging from Christianity, Wicca, Druidry, Buddhism, Hinduism, various Native American beliefs, science and quantum physics. So it just FLOORS me when I come in contact with someone who has similar beliefs to me. And it's happened quite a bit lately.
The world IS mysterious and we DON'T know half of it. I'm gonna hold onto that this time.
