How did I discover my religious faith? It kind of found me, truth be told - from the oddest source imagineable: an ex-professional wrestler.

I had been involved in an increasingly intimate email correspondence with him, when he told me I was a witch. Not in the way you would expect from a bald, tough-guy casino employee! I had used the term, "thank Goddess," and he asked me if I was a Pagan. Oh hell no! I countered: I'm an atheist! Then what's with all the Goddess references? he asked, and I replied, quite honestly, that I enjoyed using the term "Thank God" as an expression of relief, but as I didn't believe in God (not at least in the Western Christian version), and I'm a feminist, I thought "Goddess" was a healthier perjorative. *grin* You, an atheist? he asked. I don't have that impression from you, at all. Tell me about your spiritual beliefs...

My parents are atheists, and no one else ever cared, or cared to ask... so I did. I told him how I believed that if there is a "higher power" in the Universe, it is life itself, that the most sacred and infinite power is in the very living Earth upon which we all depend, and how I believe in divination and reincarnation, and have always been utterly fascinated by the moon, in all its aspects, how I attune to each separate season, and love each of them... I told him things I'd never discussed with anyone, before.
Oh, he replied. You're a Pagan.
No, I'm not! I retorted, indignantly. I thought Pagans & Wiccans were all 14 yr. old Goth girls, or Stevie Nicks-wanna-bees. That's not me! I'm ... well, I'm not that. Yes, you are, he avowed, patiently - you're a Pagan. (He wasn't a mind-reader! or he would have told me that Pagans come in all flavors, and to quit being so negative.) Go look up Pagan on the 'net.
I did . I wept. I *was* a Pagan - had been, all my life! So many things suddenly made sense to me - it was like I had new eyes inside my soul.
Driving my daughter to Madrigals at dawn, the next morning, I wept again, as I watched the most beautiful full moon setting I had ever seen - a glowing white orb sinking slowly into the sapphire blue western sky. And as I returned home, I marveled at the sunrise rising glowing gold and pink over the hills behind my house. I stood in the driveway of my house, and looked west at the moon, and east at the sun, and "going home" had an entirely new meaning for me from that morning on.

I consider myself an eclectic Wiccan, who worships the Vanir of Ásatrú.
Many Ásatrú (an Ancient Norse word which means "Troth," or "loyalty to the Gods," and is used to describe modern Norse Pagans) have a hard time accepting Pagans who consider themselves Wiccan, yet are loyal to the old Norse pantheon. Wiccans will accept almost anything as Wiccan, but individual groups within Wicca will draw sharp distinctions between each other. Ásatrúar will frequently reject people claiming they are "not Ásatrú" (or more often that they are "too Wiccan"), but once accepted as Ásatrú, there are little distinctions made between groups.
I say "fuck it." I am what I am. I am not comfortable with all aspects of Ásatrú, as I am far too Liberal in my political beliefs, nor am I purely Wiccan, in that I don't want to join a Coven, be initiated and formally trained, or taught to perform high ritual Magick. On the sabbats, I feel just as devout and loyal to my Goddess and God by drinking a goblet of wine or juice and engaging in a focused meditation as I would casting a circle and drawing down the quarters, etc. I have an altar, and I love performing candle magick, as well as other simple spellcasting, but I also love nothing more than exploring the mysteries of Rune-lore, and divination.
For a great article on this subject, please visit "Wicca and Asatru."

I didn't always know this, of course - I started out as most beginning Wiccans do, exploring other cultural pantheons, and it nearly discouraged me from further exploration of Wicca - none of them did much for me. Part of the problem lay with my own cultural identity - or lack thereof. As far as I can tell, I'm a big mutt - my Dad's ancestors came to the US in 1707, and cultural intermarriage apparently wasn't a problem with them. My Mom's folks are all German (with the exception of her father, whose own patronage was only known as "some Scots sailor"), and she was always shoving all things Germanic down my throat. Nonetheless, I've always considered myself about as American as the proverbial "hot dog & apple pie." Where's that pantheon? Do I worship the Statue of Liberty?!

I'm not of Celtic ancestry, so the Celtic pantheon wasn't calling me anywhere . Neither did the Egyptian, Greek, Roman, etc... how could I worship my Goddess without knowing Her, in my heart? I was at an impasse.

I have always had a fascination with divination tools, such as the Tarot and palmistry, etc., but the moment I first laid eyes and hands on the Runes, I was called home by Freyja, Frigg, and Odin, called right home into my own past lives and deepest soul. (I don't know if my Mom would be happy that I finally embraced the Germanic/Norse side of the family - she thinks my religious beliefs are silly. Ironic, huh? *g*)

I am currently studying "Northern Mysteries & Magik" by Freya Aswynn, as well as other books on rune divination. I enjoy reading Patricia Telesco - her books make me happy to be a kitchen witch! I also love "Wicca: Guide for the Solitary Practitioner" by Scott Cunningham. That's the first book I ever read about Wicca, and it's still like slipping under my favorite down throw - cozy and comfortable and soothing.

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WARNING! I'm about to get up on my soapbox, now! If I say anything offensive, please forgive me in advance... but I feel very strongly about what I'm about to say...

Both Wicca and Ásatrú have their own stigma attached, by those who know no better: the ignorant believe Wiccans to be "Satan worshippers," (due to misinterpretation of the Pentacle, most likely) and Ásatrú is tainted by the vocal beliefs of a very few White Supremacists and racists. I find the concept of Satan to be abhorrent, and just as offensive as any form of racism. I am married to an Asian-Pacific Islander American, and we have two multiracial children together. Both our fathers fought for the U.S. in the second World War, and risked their lives to save the world from the sickness of Nazi Germany and Facism. Regardless of whether or not the White Supremacists stole symbols of my faith, I'll be *&%^$ if I'll let the mental illness of those bastards keep me from loving my own cultural heritage!

My husband, although he considers himself a Pagan, doesn't worship my God and Goddess, and I will encourage my children to believe in whatever resonates for them. I am raising them by the Rede and Rule of Three, and that's as sound a foundation for tolerance and moral health as I can think of!

O.K.! It's safe to read, again. :^)

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I call this website my Brisingamen because as a bead artist, all I make are necklaces. LOL!! I find this soooo funny, now. Since I can't find any dwarves to give me my Brisingamen (yet), I have invented my own. I'm resourceful like that. *big grin*
Click on the flower bead, to see some of my Brisingamen.

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