Maybe-you-are-too-weirdI remember the first time I came across witchcraft. I was about 13. I was flipping through the pages of a teen magazine and inbetween “I’m 14 and I’ve never snogged anyone AM I A FREAK!?” agony aunt pages (snogging is english for kissing, btw) and which S Club 7 boy was the fittest (the answer: None of them. They are not.) it had a regular wicca feature with purple pages and pink writing and a mysterious looking black-clad lady talking about the spell of the month.

GUH. Magic was REAL?!?!

I was hooked. I quickly bought a couple of spell books and formed a coven with my then best friend who, fickle as teenage besties are, I think ended up dating my brother and left wicca behind pronto.

I didn’t though.

After a few years I started to get lonely. I was the only witch in the villiage, and I had internet friends but they don’t quite fill the hole, do they? I knew a lot of teenagers who got into witchcraft (because back fifteen years ago it was hella trendy to be a witch) and then got out of it again a year or so later. I wanted my tribe. I wanted my people.

So as soon as I got to uni, I looked into setting up a Pagan Society to meet and blend with other pagans. Huzzah! Soulmates! Bosom buddies! Sisters of the goddess, ra ra ra!

And since then, I have met a lot of pagans. A lot of witches, a lot of wizards, tie die pagan hippies and stereotypical pentacle-dripping goth types. Geeks, freaks, and muggle-borns. I went to meet ups in London, I found the pagan and wiccan people out in my friend groups and got to know them. Anyone who dared sport a pentagram necklace or wheel of the year hoodie, anyone who listed “pagan” as religion on facebook, anyone who even smelled a whiff of Pagan, I saw them and I chatted to them if I could work up the courage.

And I came to a nasty conclusion.

A lot of pagans? Douchebags. Complete tools. So, so fucked up.

I thought I would be coming home, but I couldn’t feel more out of place around most of these people.

I remember going to events where every conversation would be a tense battle of who knows more about x subject. I saw that a LOT. I experienced a whole lot of name dropping. The old masters – Crowley, Gardiner, Fortune – and their books were casually mentioned at every turn (legitimate writers y’know, all the serious witches read them) and those of us who got here via Fiona Horne or even (horror of horrors) Silver Ravenwolf? Well, you could curdle the milk, wilt the crops and be chased out of Salem with that glare.

I met loads of people seemed to be chasing Alternative and seemed want to be as unusual and strange and cool as they could, and that felt weird. It was really frustrating to be looking for a deeper connection and keep finding people who wanted to be “different” or cool. Urgh.

I met a lot of seriously fucked up people too. People addicted to drama (HOOOOO mama, did I meet a bunch of those), people who were just terrible at people skills, people who were stuck in victim mode, people whose past was seriously messing with their present and really needed therapy, and people who were just out-and-out jerks.

The problem with paganisim, witchcraft, wicca and all that jazz is that it is a religion of individuals and it can really easily turn into a religion of ego.

Yup. I went there.

In a world where so many spiritualities preach denial of the ego, denial of the physical, paganism says “Hey there, isn’t the world great? It’s so nice down here! Look at all these lovely things. Physicality rocks dude, let’s party!”. This is so awesome and one of the main reasons why paganisim rocks: heaven is on earth, and the sacred is ever present. Hell YEAH!

There is no central governing Wicca body or Pagan body or Witchcraft body (and good luck ever changing that!) which means it’s a truly individual path, usually built on personal revelation and interests and it often attracts super individual folks. This is so brilliant. It even makes space for all the mermaid-lovin’ goddess-huggin’ spiritual weirdos out there (cough cough).

Problem is that this emphasis also means that, given the correct circumstances, that the ego can have free reign to go mental wreak it’s terrible rule. (By ego I mean that part of all of us that messes with our sense of self worth, makes us want to be right no matter what, prove ourselves as better than others and creates separation and competition and fear and, when fed too much, turns into an asshole.) Paganisim and witchcraft draws egos who want to find a way to be special, unique, different, who want a way to be better and more powerful than others. It attracts already epic egos with a Wizardly God complex, because, a religious system where God is optional and where you can make magic to make the things you want happen? It’s like overinflated ego heaven.

My ego is more of a downer than an upper: I couldn’t relate to all the competition and showing off and drama. I felt like the odd one out – the most muggle-esque pagan in a coven of eccentrics, the quiet one who just wanted to talk about goddess and not battle literature, the sensitive just overwhelmed by all the power play and annoyed by the new age cliches.

It seemed, in my own little weird-ass niche, I didn’t fit in.

I didn’t get on with other pagans. Hell, I didn’t even like other pagans.

So I gave up trying to make contact with the pagan world. I hermited it out and started actively avoiding pagans because I was afraid of meeting more assholes. I started eyeing those little tellsigns I was looking for before with suspicion. Pagan, hey? What’s wrong with you?

This sucked.

And then, something BIG happened.

I joined a year long spiritual training course and I remember dreading starting to the in-person classes because I was properly terrified and convinced the class would be filled with drama mama assholes. I made sure I had a get out plan in case I couldn’t hack the dickery.

I remember coming out of that first class elated, thinking (well, shout thinking) THANK THE CHRIST! NORMAL PEOPLE!!!!!!!!

So many lovely, polite, friendly, normal people (well, my baseline for normal is me so take from that what you will) who were passionate about spirituality and a complete lack of ego wizards and drama witches. Wonderful people who became dearest friends and inspirations for me. People who, of course, were fucked up in their own ways (aren’t we all?) but didn’t take their fucked up-ness out on others. Who fucking managed it like grown ups.

(I don’t know if you can hear the angelic chorus ringing in my ears here, but it’s there.)

Since that day, I have met more and more Awesome Pagans. I participate more in the community than I used to and, though I am still wary and do meet the odd in-person crazy, I know my people exist now and I look for them. I just have to let them know I’m there too. The lovely ones are just much quieter than the asshole ones so they are a bit harder to find.

What’s more is that in the last couple of years I have met a whole bunch of closet pagans who stopped trying to interact with other pagans because of the same reasons as me: they kept meeting jerks and began to think that’s all there was. I think there is a whole secret society of solitary pagans, goddess lovers and witchy folk out there out there who are just wishing to meet someone else who is as nice and sane and normal and witchy as them.

Maybe you are one of them.

If you are, I want you to know you are not alone. There is more to pagan people than power wars and the jerks you met already. There are sweet, sensitive people, fiercely intelligent people, fantastic exciting people, and grounded earthy people out there, just like you. Amazing people. Inspiring people.

They are just keeping quiet, like you are.

Wishing they could meet you and be your friend.

I think we just need to show up and be present so they can find us.

You are not alone.