Casting My First Circle

My first attempt at casting a Circle was a comic series of events that even now I look back on and chuckle about. At the time I was very new to the whole of the occult, and had only a single book to go off of. That particular book had me believing that the only way to truly become a ‘witch’ was to recite the lords prayer in reverse, or something along those lines. 

Looking back I realize that more than anything that book was not about Wicca or the Occult, but more about becoming a Satanist. Sure there were spells and some basic tennets of Witchcraft, like the Witches Rede and some rudimentary introduction to the metaphysical. Throughout the book though it made Wicca and Witchcraft as a whole seem like a dark thing used to hurt other people, and even then I didn’t much like the tone. 

Anyways, I had gathered all of the supplies that the book said I would need to complete the casting of my Circle. Even then I thought I was maybe being a little silly, but that didn’t stop me from stripping down naked and pouring a ring of salt….on my carpeted bedroom floor. If you’ve ever tried to get salt our of carpet, let me assure you, it’s not all that easy. 

The book told me that I would need an Athamé with a black handle, the only black handled knife I could find was a chefs knife. So, there I was, sitting in the middle of a ring of salt, naked, with a large knife in my hands, ready to trace the ring with the Athamé and imaging black flames floating just above the salt. I thought I was about to do the equivalent some spell from a Fantasy novel. 

I started reciting some bullshit ‘ancient’ chant as I circled the salt and traced my Athamé, imaging black flames in their wake. Everything seemed to be going famously…I felt a sense of calm wash through me as I closed the circle and just sat there, basking in the wonderful feeling of freedom that came with the completion of the circle. I think that looking back now, the reason the circle worked was that while the book I learned how to cast it from was a bunch of bullshit, I truly wanted to do it…and my intentions were pure.

I’ve since been in a circle cast by someone else who’s motives were anything BUT pure, that calm I felt only comes with the intention to do no harm, and only to make things better. Either way it worked, and I was totally at ease and in my own little world. Which is probably why I didn’t hear my Dad and his girlfriend come home.

There I am, sitting in my room by candle light, a rather large ring of salt around me, an old black leather bound book in front of me, and my dad’s favorite knife in my hand. Oh, and I was buck naked. Now imagine walking in on that, your son is eleven years old…and you were raised Catholic. My father flipped his lid, though it could have been worse I imagine.  

He was mad for a few hours, then he sat down and we talked about it. I told him I wanted to learn more about Wicca and that maybe I would become a Wiccan. I suppose I was lucky because my dad just nodded and told me to be careful. He bought me some books the next day and whenever I needed Oil or herbs, he would get them for me. He didn’t approve outright, but he was willing to let me find my own way.

Momma Racey’s reaction was….different. To say the least, but that’s a story for another day.  

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