Back to Basics

I believed in God, because that is what I was told to do.

I still believe in a higher being, but not necessarily God

It’s in my genetics to trust in Nature

At an early age we are taught, especially in a catholic home to believe in God; church was an every other week “if we can make it” adventure; the whole ritual of it just never felt right, or for that matter believable. My mother did her due diligence and enrolled me in ¹CCD [at the very strong request of my Mémé]. None of CCD education made sense to me either how could ONE being have so much power? Was Jesus ever a boy and I KNOW how babies are made so why are they telling me this woman, Mary, is a virgin? That was just some of the questions that I asked and summarily got me kicked out of the program and asked not to return. Well, needless to say my mother was livid and my Mémé extremely disappointed.

After several hugs, and attempts at consoling me my father figured life would go on and I would stop asking the questions that had marred our already whispered name in the church. He was wrong. I really wanted those answers and for years along with trying to find them I was talking and asking “God” for help.

My childhood was less than happy, I had a bi-polar closet alcoholic mother, enough said. Even though I had doubts about the existence of God I would still pray because I had faith in “something” but I wasn’t sure what it was. I would pray everyday for help, for a new mom, for my mom to get help, amongst other things. No answer. Then I started to pray every other day because I figured “God” was busy helping others. My prayers became every third day because I am sure “God” was working to defeat world hunger [I had seen a Feed the Children commercial and was horrified]. Still no answer. I truly felt abandoned by what I was taught “God” does for his flock and I fell into despair, life was miserable and no one or thing could help, not even prayer.

Soon after my despair became disappointment we (an older brother and younger sister) were whisked away by child services to be placed in foster homes. It was scary and all too new for kids being under thumb their entire lives; the transition counseling was a joke and all we relied on one another for laughter and support. I began to pray again, what else was an 11 year old girl to do? I pray and asked forgiveness for not praying, I prayed for my siblings, I prayed for my parents and it was answered in a small way, my Aunt Sue (on my father’s side) had made contact and at the time she was a devout catholic. She was able to ease my worry that God might be mad at me for not praying and assured me that God would see things through for us. Sadly this short burst of inspiration and consolation came to a screeching halt when child services separated me and my sister from my older brother.

I gave up praying. I gave up believing.

Until, one day while trampling the pine cones and rotted wood of the forest behind our newest foster home I came upon a bunch of trees that had fallen over a huge rock to make a rustic shelter, which at that time was affectionately known as the “Cove”. It was at this time my love of nature blossomed. Every time the wind would howl I would consider it a song, the winds whistle would be a warning and when it would swirl the leaves from the ground I considered it a magical gift. The sun rising and setting made complete sense as to why all living things wake and sleep. Why the hunters were mostly boy animals and the moms were most girl animals. Why the lion eats the coyote that eats the hedgehog that eats the bugs made complete and utter sense.

My awe of nature was turning into an obsession I had to learn more about.

At this age, 11, I loved to read. Reading was television to me. I was familiar with the library of the school and the librarian and I became a close pair (as far as learning goes). Because of my fascination with nature the librarian would have several books for me to choose from to check out.

It occurred to me at some point that maybe I wasn’t the only person to think and feel the way I do about nature and what it all means. Soon I started to learn about the different ²ancient cultures of the world and how they saw nature, what I learned has stayed with me to this day

Before I could go further in to my adventures of how different cultures viewed certain events in their daily lives – we once again were moved out by child services, but this time back home.

Once back home I had so many more questions about what I had read and seen in the books I checked out from the library. My father would listen to me for hours on end describing my journeys through some of my favorite books I borrowed, mostly of which were about the Celts and Druids. He would laugh and say “I understand”.

On a great spring morning, my Dad decided to tell me a little bit about his side of family history. He went into great detail about some of our ancestors and where they came from and, more importantly, their beliefs and heritage. I was in constant awe, he never wavered or second guessed anything he told me it was as if he had rehearsed this speech over and over just waiting for it to be passed on to me.

The values and beliefs that I hold true were held by those who lived hundreds of years before me; and I am gifted to carry on the legends and blessings of my ancestors to pass on to those who look up to me {should their time come}.

Turns out my tree hugging, incent burning and homeopathic ways are directly descendent from my ancestors of Sweden. My belief system was also predispositioned because of my patriarchal family history in Sweden’s unknown ³Celtic nations.

To this day, I believe my belief in what nature has to offer in terms of history, medicine and life & death (to name a few) has given me a greater understanding and patience to learn about and from the world and people around me.

¹ http://www.ollparish.info/ccd.aspx

² http://wandertheglobe.com/ancient/

³ http://www.celticattic.com/contact_us/the_celts/druids.htm