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Neophyte_Rose
Guest
I have absolutely no idea where I can post this… the apologetic forums didn’t seem right, neither do the prayer request forums or the family life forums or this one, either, really… but I am most comfortable here, so … please forgive me if this is wrong and direct me where to go…
Sometimes I have to wonder if I haven’t just gone crazy.
Don’t get me wrong. I believe. I am Catholic and I always will be; I will not turn away, I will not abandon God in my will even if my passions insist on thus abandoning me.
Still sometimes I feel like it’s breaking me, literally.
I step out of doors, and it is as if the whole world is screaming at me to… explore my potential for magick, for Wicca and the Craft. Maybe this is why the Bible says “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”, maybe it’s because once one has tasted that power, the beauty of it, she really can’t be saved from it completely – ever.
Maybe I’ll just never really be at peace with this; except for during the MASS, or Eucharistic Adoration, or for some reason when I say the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, all of my passions seem to desire magick as I once had.
My passions desire astral projection, to enter into my sacred space in my soul and meditate upon it again as I once did. My passions desire runes and tarot cards, to explore the art of divination further and to know what to expect will happen so that I might alter it.
My passions desire to praise the moon for her resplendent glory, her beauty as she represents the Queen of all goddesses in her sphere. My passions desire to touch the waters of the lake, to worship the water and receive power from it. My passions desire to light a fire, and dance around it with a circle of pagans, to worship the dancing flames and imitate them with my body as I feel their power course through me again.
There is so much that I desire. To feel the cycle of seasons and tune myself in with it again; to stand an egg up at the Equinox and be still in the one moment of perfect earthly balance; to meditate on yin and yang, dark and light, and rejoice in the mystery of it.
To stand at the Yule fires and step forward when her turn comes, to sense oneness with the maiden goddess, the young girl before motherhood besets upon her.
To dress in the robes of white at a ritual and enjoy the good cheer as Holly King defeats Oak King, and the year Wheel turns again towards spring.
To kneel in prayer and guide gone-by spirits on the night of Saimhain, and then join in a night of rejoicing and leave out offerings to souls as they travel unto the next realm.
My passions desire it to be real, and I have seen that it is. I have SEEN these things work!!! So why, why oh why oh why is it that I don’t give them my heart and soul anymore? How did I ever come to the conclusion that they were evil or wrong?
What is wrong with me? Why do I desire a little piece of bread so desperately each and every day? Why does it seem hard to wait all the way to tomorrow to receive the Eucharist again? How did I come to believe that this is really Christ, really Jesus, really God physically present in the Eucharist? Have I gone insane?
I feel like, I am away at a Catholic school building a foundation for my Catholic faith. And I truly do believe. I do. Whenever I’m near the Eucharist, my doubts flee.
But I can’t spend the rest of my life beside the tabernacle, or in a chapel!
I feel like the foundation I am building is crumbling, not because there is anything wrong with the tools I am using of the base I am on – it is Jesus, it is his Church that holds me, and I will not be washed away. But my foundation is crumbling as I build it because there is a poisonous mould, or ants that eat away at the wood. Wood ants.
I am hurting. I am going to go and pray now. Please pray for me, and if anyone can help to convince me of why… paganism is …evil… please – help!
Pax Christi,
(and I’m desperate for some of His peace right now!)
Esther Rose
Sometimes I have to wonder if I haven’t just gone crazy.
Don’t get me wrong. I believe. I am Catholic and I always will be; I will not turn away, I will not abandon God in my will even if my passions insist on thus abandoning me.
Still sometimes I feel like it’s breaking me, literally.
I step out of doors, and it is as if the whole world is screaming at me to… explore my potential for magick, for Wicca and the Craft. Maybe this is why the Bible says “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”, maybe it’s because once one has tasted that power, the beauty of it, she really can’t be saved from it completely – ever.
Maybe I’ll just never really be at peace with this; except for during the MASS, or Eucharistic Adoration, or for some reason when I say the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, all of my passions seem to desire magick as I once had.
My passions desire astral projection, to enter into my sacred space in my soul and meditate upon it again as I once did. My passions desire runes and tarot cards, to explore the art of divination further and to know what to expect will happen so that I might alter it.
My passions desire to praise the moon for her resplendent glory, her beauty as she represents the Queen of all goddesses in her sphere. My passions desire to touch the waters of the lake, to worship the water and receive power from it. My passions desire to light a fire, and dance around it with a circle of pagans, to worship the dancing flames and imitate them with my body as I feel their power course through me again.
There is so much that I desire. To feel the cycle of seasons and tune myself in with it again; to stand an egg up at the Equinox and be still in the one moment of perfect earthly balance; to meditate on yin and yang, dark and light, and rejoice in the mystery of it.
To stand at the Yule fires and step forward when her turn comes, to sense oneness with the maiden goddess, the young girl before motherhood besets upon her.
To dress in the robes of white at a ritual and enjoy the good cheer as Holly King defeats Oak King, and the year Wheel turns again towards spring.
To kneel in prayer and guide gone-by spirits on the night of Saimhain, and then join in a night of rejoicing and leave out offerings to souls as they travel unto the next realm.
My passions desire it to be real, and I have seen that it is. I have SEEN these things work!!! So why, why oh why oh why is it that I don’t give them my heart and soul anymore? How did I ever come to the conclusion that they were evil or wrong?
What is wrong with me? Why do I desire a little piece of bread so desperately each and every day? Why does it seem hard to wait all the way to tomorrow to receive the Eucharist again? How did I come to believe that this is really Christ, really Jesus, really God physically present in the Eucharist? Have I gone insane?
I feel like, I am away at a Catholic school building a foundation for my Catholic faith. And I truly do believe. I do. Whenever I’m near the Eucharist, my doubts flee.
But I can’t spend the rest of my life beside the tabernacle, or in a chapel!
I feel like the foundation I am building is crumbling, not because there is anything wrong with the tools I am using of the base I am on – it is Jesus, it is his Church that holds me, and I will not be washed away. But my foundation is crumbling as I build it because there is a poisonous mould, or ants that eat away at the wood. Wood ants.
I am hurting. I am going to go and pray now. Please pray for me, and if anyone can help to convince me of why… paganism is …evil… please – help!
Pax Christi,
(and I’m desperate for some of His peace right now!)
Esther Rose
