I came to Paganism by way of The Long and Arduous Journey from a Particularly Patriarchal Cult of Christianity. It was the religion of my parents, whose conversion took place when I was 5 years old. I watched from the safety of my Aunt's lap, as they were magically transformed into True Christians by being baptised in a water-filled horse trough. From that time on, they tried to teach me that this was the One True Religion. The only one acceptable to God. I never believed it.

As a child of six, I questioned my father about the nature of Divinity. My father explained that God is the Almighty Father. Oh…so God was a man. And who was the woman? What about Mrs. God? My father said that there wasn't one. It was only Him up there. But how God could make people if he was a man? Even a child of six knows that babies come from their mothers and not their fathers. My father explained that since God is Almighty, that he can do anything. I didn't believe it.

The rest of my time with the Church was spent learning to keep my questions to myself as much as possible, or else risk the exasperation of my father, and eventually the Church leaders. In the True Religion, everything the bible says is true. I was expected to believe the bible without questioning it. I was also expected to believe that what the leaders of the Church said was true. A good Christian doesn't question the bible, their faith, or the leaders of the Church. So I resisted asking questions. But I didn't believe any of it.

Why didn't I just leave? It is easier said than done. As with all Cults who use brain-washing techniques, self-imposed or otherwise, staying is easier than leaving. Those who leave are ostracized by other members, which usually includes most if not all of your relatives. You have few friends (if you are a bad Christian) or none at all (if you are an exemplary Christian) who exist outside the realm of the Particularly Patriarchal Cult of Christianity. To stay is to belong to a community. To leave is to be alone, to walk off the edge of the earth and disappear into the realm of the unknown. In the realm of the unknown, the "priesthood" assured us, only darkness and suffering reside. So I stayed. It would be a traumatic event that finally caused me to turn my back on the Particularly Patriarchal Cult of Christianity and walk off the edge of the earth and into the realm of the unknown…

"When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say,
"There is no other way"
I tilled the sorrows of stone."*

I was sexually assaulted by a member of my own Church. Someone I had come to trust as a friend, a sibling, a brother. After the assault, I came to be under the care and guidance of the "priesthood" of the Particularly Patriarchal Cult of Christianity. After all, it was their chosen duty to dress the wounds of the afflicted. To soothe the minds of the tortured. To help mend the tattered souls of those who fall victim to violent crime, like I had.

The "priesthood" demanded that I not tell anyone in the Church about the assault. When it became known that I had reported the crime to the police, the "priesthood" seemed displeased. They hinted that God would not approve.

When I sought counselling, the "priesthood" recommended bible reading and prayer more strongly.They hinted that God would not approve of counseling. The "priesthood" suggested that my being assaulted was understandable, due to the fact that I was an attractive woman. They suggested that I should have forseen the assault coming. After all, many in the Church knew that there was "something wrong with that family" for years. The "priests" decreed that they would not cooperate with the police, even if called before a Grand Jury. That they would indeed offer "sanctuary" to the rapist and conceal his confession. After all, he was considered a valuable member of their community. And finally, the "priests" told me that my "problem" was that I just didn't love God enough. That was the last straw. I didn't love God enough? Hadn't I spent my whole life following The Golden Rule? And here, when I really needed to feel loved and supported by Him, I am declared unworthy? What kind of God is this really? If this is what He is going to be like when I need Him most, then I don't want anything to do with Him! I gathered together every book I had that related to the Particularly Patriarchal Cult of Christianity, and I piled them up to create a bonfire so large that even God would notice it. A splash of lighter fluid, a match-and "whoosh" - the bonfire blazed! I glared up into the evening sky. As the bonfire quickly became ashes, I raised my hand high and extended my middle finger skyward, as a silent tear ran down my cheek. I was through with God.

"I did not believe because I could not see,
Though you came to me in the night.
When the dawn seemed forever lost,
You showed me your love in the light of the stars.
Cast your eyes on the ocean,
Cast your soul to the sea.
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me."*

The next morning, the sun rose, the birds were singing and I was still alive. Having not been struck by lightening after referring Him "to the digit", I wondered if He even really existed at all. I didn't want him to. I wanted nothing to do with Him anymore. I worked the soil to mend my tattered soul. I stood beneath the velvet night sky and wept until the tears would come no more. I sat beside the lake and searched for solace in the water.

"Then the mountain stood before me,
By the deep well of desire.
From the fountain of forgiveness,
Beyond the ice and the fire.
Cast your eyes on the ocean,
Cast your soul to the sea.
When the dark night seems endless,
Please remember me."*

Slowly, I began to heal. I also began to search. I wanted to find out for myself if there was really any One out there. If so, I wanted to find out for myself who They are. I searched through every religious book I could find at the local library. One day I found a book about Witchcraft. Or perhaps I should say that the book found me. It literally caught on my hand as I was walked beside the bookshelf. Though I was quite reluctant to even pick the book up, I cautiously opened it and scanned a few pages. The word "Goddess" caught my attention. I looked closer. "Divine Feminine". Time stood still just then. I felt like I was suddenly propelled backward in time to that day when I questioned my father about Mrs. God. A light was switched on somewhere in the dark recesses of my soul. I knew that this was true. There was a Mrs. God. A Goddess. I knew at that moment that I had arrived at home. Here I would find solace. Here I would heal my soul. I took the book home and read it.

"Though we share this humble path alone,
How fragile is the heart.
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars.
Breathe life into this feeble heart,
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes etched with tears,
We'll rise above these earthly cares.
Cast your eyes on the ocean,
Cast your soul to the sea.
When the dark night seems endless,
Please remember me..."*

The Goddess. I began to see her touch everywhere in nature. I began to hear her whisper on the breeze. I began to feel her in the sunshine on my face. Her physical form drew me to her. The roundness and curves were part of her Feminine Power. Something to be proud of, not something that made me a lesser being than a man. The Path of Paganism is full of awesome twists and turns. There is wonder and self-discovery around every bend in the road. I could feel myself changing, not into something new, but into that which I already was. "Thou art Goddess". I had uncovered my own Divine Femininity. It is here, at last, that all the pieces of my puzzle seem to fit together. Instead of trying to fit in with a religious teaching that I was expected to believe. found a belief system that mirrors what my soul has always known to be my personal truth. I am a child of the Goddess. I always have been, even when I didn't know who She was. I have traveled the Path, and my journey has lead me to Her. And God? I knew the answer when I was six. He is where I always thought he was - right by Her side. And you know what? God does have a sense of humor. He enjoyed that bonfire.

* Dante's Prayer by Loreena McKennit