All of my pagan life, I’ve been on a Quest. Not just a quest, but a QUEST. One of those big journeys that is supposed to culminate in some huge lesson, similar to the Quests that knights would go on in the old tales. Quest for the Grail and all that.

Strange right? I mean, I didn’t even know it was happening at first. I just studied wherever and whatever my heart led me to. I didn’t really have any goals in mind, any one thing that I was supposed to be learning. I just went where my heart led me.

It wasn’t until recently that it all began to come together. We’re not talking about a couple years of searching though. I mean, twenty years is a long time to be searching for something you didn’t even know you were searching for.

But that’s what happened…  Let me back up and explain a little of this journey…

I became pagan at the young age of 12. Yup, 12 years old. And yes, I knew what that meant then. I was the only one I knew, sort of. See, my grandmother was really New Age. As far as I know, she was Christian (at least nominally). Yet she had her own deck of Tarot cards (Rider-Waite) and a bag of runes. I remember sitting there somewhere between 10 and 11 years old, and playing with them. I read the little books, and tried to figure out what they meant, but just couldn’t grasp it at that point (it honestly took me years to be able to read Tarot, and I’m still only beginning my journey with runes).

After watching my efforts, my grandmother took me to the local bookstore she frequently haunted and let me roam the shelves of the New Age section. Nestles tightly between books on angels and crystals were spell books and books on REAL TRUE WITCHCRAFT!!!  Imagine the shock that went through my young mind to learn that witches were real! It was hands-down that most eye-opening moment of my life. I never struggled with the thought. Instead I embraced it, and began down the road that led me to this moment in my Quest.

At the age of 19, I began to study in earnest. I was finally able to understand what I was reading and I read everything I could. As it was the only word I knew, I called myself Wiccan, even knowing that it wasn’t the right word for what I did. More often than not, it was just Pagan, even though I was regularly having to explain what that was. It wasn’t a word that most people knew then. The internet was still a baby at that point, and shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed were just beginning their foray into the wonderful world of witchcraft.

Moving forward a few years, I was in university and my studies there led me into the Arthurian tales, as well as myth cycles such as Y Mabinogi. I didn’t then realize what an impact they would have on me. One tale led to the next, which led to some historical work, and eventually led me to the edges of Druidry. Along the way, I was still studying magick, but I was becoming more and more disenchanted with it. Something was missing…

That search for the missing whatever it was became a search for my “real” spiritual path. I explored so many things, among them Heathenry, Druidry, Irish Celtic, Kemetic, and an Avalonian Tradition. None of them was right for me in it’s entirety, although I learned a lot from them. I learned more about who I’m not than I did about who I am, which led me into a deeper confusion. I was searching in earnest now, but still didn’t know what I was searching for.

All this searching was leading me into a crisis of faith. I mean, if I couldn’t find my right path, how could I truly call myself pagan in any way? I realize that that question doesn’t exactly make a lot of sense, but it’s how I was feeling. My entire identity had become wrapped up in who I was spiritually.

A decade of searching led me down many paths, none of them what I truly needed. I finally gave up. I started coming to terms with the thought that I would always have this really, REALLY, eclectic practice. I felt incredibly alone, like no one would ever understand how I felt and what I was looking for. After all, I didn’t know myself.

It took some time, but I was finally able to just relax and accept that my practice was really different from the rest of the pagans I knew. I knew that in the end, it didn’t really matter, as long as my practice, such as it was, meant something to me.

Then lightning struck…

I came to realize that my faith matched up with my Arthurian studies from so long ago. What I had begun then was the forerunner of where I was to end up. Suddenly, everything began to make sense to me in a new way. It was like putting together a puzzle face down, and then turning it the right way and seeing the whole picture! I had the answers all along, I just didn’t see it!

My path is in search of Awen, which is the Welsh word for divine inspiration. You see, in my mundane life, I am a writer. Not just here, but in multiple places. I recently had a book of poetry published and am currently working on two new ones. I was so close to my spiritual path with my writing that I couldn’t see it.

I work now primarily with Welsh deities, although it’s still very new to me. The words, the language, the myths, I am taking baby steps down this path, soaking it all in bit by bit. The term for the path, for those who are like me and like labels to define things, is Awenydd. Those who seek Awen, and strive to bring it into every day life, who work with the gods and spirits of Brythonic culture, attempting to bring them forward again.

I have found more peace within myself since coming to realize that the signs have always been there. I will continue to work with the gods I’ve already established relationships with, but now my Quest has become more pressing than ever. I feel like I am 12 years old again, reaching for those books that taught me about this world in new ways. I have come full circle, and move now into a new journey.

©Lauren Michelle 2019