In my early years, my family attended services at United Church of Christ. My memories from back then are likely similar to most young children's first religious experiences: church was boring, I hated wearing scratchy tights, Sunday School was lame, and summer Bible School was even worse. They would tell us stories from the Bible, introducing us to strange names and foreign lands and a history that seemed too long ago to even matter anymore. Some of the lessons, while entertaining, seemed dubious: a dude with an ark? A talking snake in a garden? A virgin birth? I was an early skeptic. I did, however, like Jesus. I liked Jesus a lot. He would sometimes be my "imaginary friend," and would dance with me in my bedroom late at night, when I was supposed to be asleep. He was a real brother alright... the nice kind, that would always be there when I needed him most.
I had other inclinations, however, even at that young age. I had a "thing" for the dead - not in a morbid sense, but felt that I had a connection with spirits. I "heard" angels and ancestors calling me - I would get a ringing in my ears, and would send my friends out looking for the spirits on the playground. I tried to listen to their voices. I believed back then I was simply "using my imagination," but now, years later, I think differently. I believe these were early signs of a spiritual path and awareness that would play a very great role in my future, and my destiny.
In junior high and early high school, we had moved towns, and churches too. Many of my friends went to a local Lutheran church, and so I convinced my mother to check it out. It truly was a wonderful church, and mom and I both took an immediate liking to it. I became very involved from the git-go... I joined the youth group and church choir, took confirmation classes, played "Lucifer" in a musical production, and even conducted a youth choir, "Chanter en Paix."
I was so blessed in that church to have had pastors who were so open and so tolerant. Although I was an active participant in most church activities, I remained skeptical about Christianity in general. The Bible stories seemed far-fetched, and doctored. The hypocrisies of the religion's role in history were glaring. And, why was there rarely ever mention of significant Christian women in the Bible or the history books? I questioned and debated with my pastors, and they not only allowed it, but they encouraged my quest for answers. "That's a very good question, Emily," I would hear, "and I wish I did, but I don't have an answer for that." They were humble, kind men, who accepted me, my questioning, and their own as well. They made me feel comfortable, and loved, always.
It was in my teenage years when I started traveling around to Renaissance Festivals, performing as a gypsy dancer. I spent years in this counter-culture, and began to learn about other religions, historical concepts, and spiritual practices. I gravitated towards women friends who were well-versed in astrology, the tarot, palmistry and other divinatory practices. I heard the word, "Goddess," for the first time ~ at first, thinking a goddess was a character from old myths and legends, but then came to understand that my friends referred to "the Goddess" as the supreme higher power. I had never even considered the idea of God as a woman before. I listened intently, and picked up what I could. I participated in Goddess rituals, and learned songs, stories, and ancient poetry dedicated to goddesses from other cultures around the world. The concept of the "divine female" was explained to me. I was being introduced to women's mysteries, and instructed in the ways of a woman.
Yet, there was a guilty feeling inside... for "Thou Shalt Not Have Any Other Gods Before Me," had been ingrained in my spiritual make-up from birth. I loved Jesus, I really did. But, the Goddess... something inside of me was vibing hard-core.
I chanced upon a book in those years, "The Mists of Avalon," by Marion Zimmer Bradley. An 800+ page saga about the Arthurian legend, told from the perspective of the women of the time. It also chronicled the shift in ancient Britain from the "Old Religion," (pagan/druid/nature-based/Goddess-worshipping culture) to the "New Religion," of Christianity. I must have read that huge tome a half dozen times. Though fictional, it shed light on a part of history that I had never even heard of before, and sparked an interest, a deep passion really, for learning the ways of a spiritual woman, a daughter of the Goddess. Not to be a nun, who is married to Jesus and spends a life in sacrifice and toil for her Lord... but as a priestess, who embodies all of the innate magic and power of the divine feminine, celebrating it, and acting as a living vessel for Her energy and will to manifest in this world.
But, how would one become a priestess? Were there actual priestesses of the Goddess in the world today? How would I find them? This was in the early 90s, mind you. I had no internet, if there even was one at that time. The New Age section at the book stores was typically one shelf, filled mostly with Carlos Castenada and astrology books. I really had no idea where to begin... so I took my queues from "The Mists," from my Renaissance friends, from what literature I was able to find, and became a solitary practitioner, teaching myself what I could about the history of women in religion, about the Goddess, about witchcraft (a nature-based spirituality) and other women's studies.
I was still tossing a bit, though, with the guilt from my Christian upbringings. Was I betraying God and Jesus? Was I a sinner, even though this new path felt so very right and good? Would I go to hell - did I even believe in hell? I spent a good few years struggling with this inner turmoil. It felt like I was allowing God and Jesus to die, in a sense, from my life. I was grieving them. I knew I must continue to strengthen my bond with the Goddess, and yet, hadn't the insight yet to even consider that there might be room for both, for all.
I travelled with the gypsies to Mexico in the winter of 1996 to perform for a couple months. I was twenty years-old, and on my own in a foreign country. We were staying in the Yucatan peninsula, on the Caribbean coast, and the Mother was evident everywhere in the stunning nature, landscape, and energy of this special earth. It was a transformative time for me in my life, as I began to assert my true independence - even from my gypsy friends with whom I was traveling. But I had no idea just how powerful Mexico, as a living entity of its own, could be. She wanted me, and took me: thieves had stolen my passport, plane ticket and all my money shortly before I was to return to the States. I was beside myself with fear and confusion - not knowing what I would do, how I would get back home. The crescent moon was a perfect smirk that fateful night. She laughed in Her knowing. I resented it.
A great lesson was presented to me: that even when it seems like you're in the worst situation in the world, there is a plan. Have faith, and you might gain the greatest experience of your life. But, in those first few days after being robbed, I was still in the throes of panic. I had miraculously been given a room to stay in on credit, and was eating on credit in a friend's restaurant. I was being taken care of by the Universe, by the Great Mother, and yet I was so utterly at a loss, and confused.
Walking down the street one day, penniless and hopeless, I came upon a Mayan woman with a blanket laid out in front of her. She was trading and selling what goods she had. Some odd trinkets, a few books, some fruit - nothing much, but I stopped for a look. A book with a pink spine caught my eye, and as I looked closer, I saw the title "Ariadne's Thread: A Workbook of Goddess Magic." I grabbed at it, and leafed through. It was the first book I had ever seen that had a "program" for Goddess studies. I wish I could remember what I had given her for the book that would come to mean so much to me in my life, but all I know is I got it. With that pink book in hand, a renewed energy and sense of purpose came over me. I read the guidelines and the first chapter, entitled "Entry." I made a ritual by the sea, cast off any guilt or shame I still carried about God and Jesus, and consecrated my spirit in the name of the Goddess.
Thus began a path and a pursuit that would shape the rest of my life. While in Mexico, with my pink guide in hand, I learned so much about the powers of manifestation, about women's mysteries, about nature and energy and all the little symbols surrounding us day to day. I made an altar in my home, prayed by the ocean each morning, filling my chalice with water and flowers. I started a women's group, delved into reading the tarot, and wrote countless songs and poems in Her honor.
I noticed that by small daily affirmations of spirit, expressions of gratitude and taking tiny, positive actions in my environment (like cleaning up garbage on the beach, or offering food to the poor), synchronicity swirled about me. I had found my true path, and was living my life in true expression of my spirit, which is exactly what the Goddess, God, and the Universe want for us all ~ and when we walk the true path, we are rewarded with endless opportunities, divine assistance and magical blessings.
Three years I lived in paradise, in ritual, a true daughter of the Goddess. With the proverbial machete in hand, I hacked my way through the dense jungle of my spirit, unearthing other lives which still sang through my soul, sensing my deeper purpose for this one. Still new in my learnings and understanding, I wasn't yet able to articulate the destiny I was sensing. But I knew it was something big, something very important not only for me, but for the world and the times we are living in. I had taken my first steps into Ariadne's labyrinth. I was to be a priestess of the New Age...
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