Are you there God? It’s me, WillowThorn.

I’ve written a lot about the importance of keeping magical records. That includes a personal journal. It’s something I insist upon in my own coven. There are all kinds of good reasons to do so, but lately my favorite is that it keeps you humble.

You start practicing—or get initiated—and the years go by. You read books, experiment magically, meet people, learn new things, change your mind, meet the gods, change your mind again, start training your own students, organizing local (or bigger) events. Maybe even down the road people you know (or, more often, don’t) start applying terms like “Big Name Pagan” or “community leader” to you. More years go by. Maybe you become a little jaded. Maybe it’s a little harder to be nice to newcomers. Or people who just do things a bit differently. There’s a fair chance that, by this point, people have started to be at least a little intimidated by you (and is it because you’re “powerful” or is it because you’re no longer very nice?).

It happens.

But everyone starts somewhere. No one just springs forth into brilliant respectability. We have way fewer prodigies than we think we do. Everyone you admire has made mistakes, said something stupid at some point, made detours, and failed at something. Those things are usually just a little less public.

And, oh man, those first steps on any path can be the hardest. Often, that first foray into witchcraft (or whatever your flavor is) is particularly embarrassing in retrospect.   My own process has been long and arduous. It’s been as frustrating as it’s been exciting. I’ve had lows as impressive as any high. For every smart-sounding thing I may have said that inspired someone, I’ve got something dumb hidden in a notebook (or maybe online under a handle no one’s found yet). It’s all part of my history, and it’s all equally important to who I am.

In acknowledgment of this reality, I present to you, dear reader, excerpts from my own early journals. The following passages (with annotation below each) are pulled—spelling, grammatical errors, and hubris intact—word for word from my first “book of shadows” which I kept between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. Some of them are funny and shallow. Others are adorably naïve. Pretty much all of them are melodramatic and I can’t believe I’m putting them on the Internet:

My magickal name should stand for the following strengths: seeker, intelligence, endurance, keeper, leader, solitary, protector, reason, justice. This name should have the characteristics of the following deities, plants, animals, elements, personalities: wolf, lioness, falcon, raven, Maat, Anubis, Thoth.

I’ve taken a new name: WillowThorn. (Age 13)

[There are all kinds of serious, mystical reasons why my name is Thorn. But reason number one is that it’s the less-dumb version of the name I scrawled on EVERYTHING as a teenager. And the next time I want to mock someone for choosing a cliché, there’s a short list of my own. So shut up, Thorn. You’ve got no room to talk.]

A Witch is an active participator in the Craft. He or she has been enlightened through Spirit and through time spent learning (through reading, practicing, etc.) the ways of WitchCraft. He or she recognizes the power of the Earth and of its inhabitants. He or she recognizes the spiritual and magickal potential that resides in all human beings and seeks to unleash that power. He or she seeks learning and shares it with others so that we may know more of ourselves and our lives. WitchCraft is a religion and a way of life. It is a tool of learning and of enlightenment, a way to harness the power and potential of one’s self. (Age 13)

[This was literally the first paragraph I ever wrote about witchcraft (excuse me…WitchCraft) beyond school assignments (which, thankfully, read nothing like this). Definitely on the dramatic side, but it’s not that far flung from what many people actually believe. The content isn’t really the issue (nor is the sparkly purple gel ink I used). What you have to understand is that I had no idea what I was talking about. I was brought up in a secular household with secular parents in a secular neighborhood. No one in my life used words like enlightenment or the power of the Earth. I was parroting the Wiccan books I was reading. It was in a book, right? It must be true. ]

K* and I were talking on the phone last night (as usual), and she asked me how I felt about performing ritual skyclad. I don’t know. I guess I don’t mind other people doing it, but it’s not something I would ever want to do. How embarrassing! K pretty much said the same thing. S** doesn’t approve of working skyclad. I don’t exactly think it’s wrong, but I do have a problem with ritualistic sex. It’s not that it’s disgusting, but that should be private and based on emotions and being human beings. (Age 14)

[Well, WillowThorn, so long as everyone is being human beings. No need to wonder what 14 year-old me would think about adult me’s subsequent religious choices (and the fact that I affectionately refer to Foxfire as “my naked witch cult”), because there it is. Aside from clearly having the usual slew of body issues, I was also years away from having any kind of real handle on the significance of sex and sexuality in Wicca. Obviously, ritual sex couldn’t possibly be anything other than whatever lurid orgy I was imagining at the time.]

The Wolf Moon is upon us, as well as a lunar eclipse, and the Blood of the Moon on me. It’s freezing outside, but when I went out with [dog’s name redacted for privacy], I didn’t feel that I needed a jacket. We played in the snow for a long time, and watched the moon. I read somewhere that all animals are Pagan, and of course that makes sense. It was just such a beautiful time. You can see the moon perfectly and I could feel the energy. (Age 15)

[It’s weird how we’re supposed to reclaim our menstrual cycles by covering them up with more euphemisms, but I was really into my “moon time” for a month or two. Before I realized that the cramps never stopped being horrible and it never stopped being inconvenient, no matter how much I tried to pretend to embrace it as the source of my budding womanly power. I also have no idea what I was getting at with the whole “all animals are Pagan” thing, except that I was convinced that being Pagan meant I was automatically more “attuned” to them (so by extension…). I was also liberal with expressions like feel the energy, which have since come to elicit a gag reflex.]

Last night, I did a candle-burning spell where prayed that Arlington County schools would be closed today. I took a snow white candle, dressed it in olive oil, cleansing and consecrating it, and said a lot of prayers while I lit it with a with a birthday candle. I was sure to add “with harm to none” but there’s now an ambulance parked outside! It’s probably not related, but I did forget to check my yes/no stones beforehand. (Age 14)

[It’s a special sort of ego that thinks that a birthday candle and forgetting to add “with harm to none” could result in an ambulance appearing across the street. But I was convinced. More importantly, I needed a snow day so I wouldn’t have to take that French test I didn’t study for. And don’t even laugh at my yes/no stones. Teen Witch sold, like, a bazillion copies. I know plenty of you people had them, too. They were awesome.]

I’m posting these to emphasize that growing up takes times. Whatever I am, I didn’t get here in a year or two. I didn’t get here with one book, one festival, or even one coven. I’m also posting these because someone recently called me intimidating, and I could only laugh, because I know what’s behind whatever exterior I may be presenting in the moment. And there are a lot of people out there who are way more experienced, way savvier, and way scarier than me. I don’t really get intimidated that much anymore, and it’s because of the above.***

So the next time you meet some established badass and think you couldn’t possibly compare, remember: everyone starts somewhere. You’re only seeing the final product (rather, the product so far). There are likely embarrassing early versions tucked in a journal (or on a MySpace page, or in a Llewellyn Teen Witch Datebook *cough*) somewhere.

*K was my childhood best friend and the original purchaser of Silver RavenWolf’s Teen Witch. We saw The Craft together and took it from there.

**S went to school with K and was totally the instigator behind our haphazard, hormone-induced coven. She promptly changed her name to Rhiannon of the Fey and decided that her Irish heritage (i.e. her red hair) made her particularly suited to being our high priestess. This worked out poorly.

***Also because, as one of my wise, succinct first degrees puts it, “Everybody poops.”****

****It’s Corvus. It’s obviously Corvus.