When I was young, I enjoyed telling stories, but mostly I enjoyed talking. The feeling of breath and flesh becoming something ineffable fascinates me. As I grew older, I began to develop an appreciation for the written word as well, crafting the speech I loved so much into something concrete and immobile – though, as anyone can tell you, the written word isn’t always definite.
Later in life, I began to develop my faith, founded in the principles and stories I had grown up learning and reading. Folklore and mythology were my bread and butter, fairy tales my drink. I feasted on these tales of old, learning bits of lore here, tidbits of legend there. My grandmother and my mother told me stories young and old as I grew and my love of stories grew with me. Eventually, I came to realize I still believed in these ancient stories, the tales of my ancestors, the warnings and teachings they shared, passed down through the generations until one day I stumbled upon them in the confines of tattered books or heard them from my grandmother on the many nights I could not sleep.
Time passed and I grew ever older, but my love for words never died; it only grew. I became a writer, one who thrives on sharing words and stories with others, and I began to want to share my collected knowledge with others, to share the Path I had begun to construct from these bits and bobs with others, and to store them in one place where I could refer to them at any time, any place.
And so I started a blog.
It was June and my little college town began its summer slumber before the students awoke it again in a few months. I had just moved into my apartment a month before and was having a hard time with my faith. I identified as Pagan, this I knew, but I was having trouble in those days. Though, I still have trouble. That has not changed, but it becomes easier, in time. Heartache and yearning were my daily trials and I wondered if others shared my pain. Many an hour I had spent in front of my computer screen, reading entry after entry of witch and Pagan blogs, their lives seeming so glamorously magical.
But none of them were like my own journey.
And so, I started my blog, to document my journey from the Path I once knew and my current stumblings through a dark forest of faith. It grew, a little, and I grew with it. Until one day, I felt like I had grown too large for what that blog symbolized and what it had become. So with a flick of the wrist, I cast it aside and donned a new mantle.
And so we find ourselves here, at The Crow and the Hound.