Witchcraft? Really?

The first time I'd ever heard of witchcraft in a sense other than in Disney fashion (as I write this, I'm transported back to my 7yr old self, sitting in the theatre with my little sister and parents, watching the moment when the ugly old hag handed Snow White her poisoned apple.) was when my step mother boasted about putting a 'spell' on my Dad. They'd had an argument earlier that day and as he was mowing the front lawn afterwards, the mower ran over a stone that spiralled up and cracked the living room picture window. She was spouting off something about having cursed him and that was why it happened. I believe I was maybe 11 or 12yrs old at that point, and living in a predominantly Roman Catholic community, I'd never even heard of 'real' people being able to perform magic before. What was she talking about? Automatically, I just thought she was nuts...like everyone else did...but over the next couple of weeks, my curiosity got the better of me and I asked her what she'd meant by that statement. She was from a big city, a few provinces over, so I entertained the thought that she just might have had a larger world view than anyone else in my life at that time. ;D

She simply said "I'm a witch" and for the first time since she'd moved in with us, she excitedly brought me into their bedroom and showed me her book collection on the subject. Looking back now, I know she really wasn't a witch, she'd just bought a few books on the subject and liked to pretend she was something she wasn't, but that small incident was evidently going to have such a huge impact on shaping my spiritual development in the future. My curiosity grew and I would spend hours learning as much as I could from any books that I could get my hands on. As my knowledge grew about witchcraft, I began to understand the connection between the craft and nature...it wasn't about having a relationship with a personal God who should be feared and obeyed... and that struck a chord deep within me. I came to discover much later in life that this was likely the link between my 'indigenous soul' and my present life incarnate.

My Spiritual Indigenous Bloodlines

From a time before I was even able to read, I was obsessed with all things aboriginal. I would sneak the Encyclopedia under my covers with a flash light at bedtime and spend hours imagining that I was actually there in the pictures...playing all those games with the other children, helping to cook meals with the women in the camp or fishing and hunting fowl with other boys using our home made spears and bows & arrows. It was the strangest feeling...I knew it was just a book, but I could literally sense the warmth of the sun on my face and the dust beneath my bare feet as I flipped through it.

Danezaa Chief  with his family 1899

During this time in my young life, I often had a set of recurring dreams about being on a very high hill with a native woman and preteen girl, picking berries on a beautiful day with the sun shining and a soft breeze in the air. We were always laughing and singing while we worked. In the initial dreams, I was just there, I just assumed I was 'me' in this dream having fun picking berries. I didn't realize until many dreams later when I saw 'myself' from an outside view that I was actually a little boy of roughly the same age as I was in real life...about 6 or 8yrs old.

For some reason, I always felt connected to a male energy as well whenever we would play 'Cowboys and Indians' as children. (Yes, I AM old enough to be able to use those terms and still hold some sort of political correctness in my statement! lol ;D) Of course there was never a question of which side I would choose to play on and I felt an intense sense of pride in playing that role. Every time I could play as a child and young teen, I was playing something connected to an aboriginal existence, that was just where my interests were I suppose.

Danezaa Tipi near Peace River, AB 1899

I am 42yrs old this year, and nothing has changed. My wind down time in the evening before bed is spent on Youtube going through videos of Jingle, Round and Warrior dances from Powwows! lol After a lot of research, I am learning that the Danezaa people were the ones who inhabited the lands where I was born, prior to 1793 when Alexander Mackenzie first made contact with them. I look at the pictures dated from the late 1800's of women and children sitting outside their tipis in the cold winter and I am moved to tears...and I can't explain why! Was I there in a past life? I do believe in reincarnation...could that explain my obssession?! My half Cree niece calls me her 'White Indian' Aunty. I don't have a drop of native blood in me, but I feel in my SOUL that I am!! So I suppose that's why I've become comfortable in saying that I have spiritual indigenous bloodlines. ;D I don't know how else to explain it...

Where Is She?

Losing someone so close to me at such a young age began my initial search for life after death. I wanted reassurance that my Mom was somewhere...anywhere...other than in the frozen ground that we had left her in at the tiny community cemetery down the road. Being only 8 or 9 years old and having no conventional religious practice in place in our family, I really didn't know where she was.


I still vividly remember her funeral 33yrs later, how strange I felt, how void of emotion I was. As I sat there in the front row of chairs in the hall beside my little sister and Dad, all I could think of was wanting to play tag outside with the girls from my Brownie group. They were all there because Mom was our leader. The feeling of guilt would wash over me every time someone would come over to hug me and say they were sorry for my loss. I wasn't sad for some reason, never shed a tear that day and actually didn't until many years later. It was as if my gut was telling me not to worry. 


It wasn't that big of a deal, she wasn't REALLY gone after all. She just wasn't here...

A Simple Introduction

Hello there! *smile*

My name is Rhonda and I grew up in northern Alberta. My little sister and I were the only children in the family. Our dad was a proud 'dirt farmer', his own words, who really had no belief system when it came to worshiping a higher power. In fact, I remember times when my grandmother would come to dinner and insist on saying grace. While she prayed, my dad would interrupt her with "The food on this table was put here by MY hand, no one else's!" We would quietly snicker to ourselves as my grandmother would completely ignore Dad and continue to pray while he passed the roast chicken to us in a huff.

Our mother died when I was 8 years old, so we don't really know if she followed any personal faith, but we do know that her parents didn't. Her mother spent more time volunteering at her local Legion than any church in the area. My great grandmother was part of the Seventh Day Adventists. I do remember her following some special diet that my aunt told us had to do with her religious beliefs.

After our mom passed, my dad's mother would have us stay with her for summer and holiday visits. During these visits, she would take us to her Catholic church and at one point she even secretly baptized us in her bedroom with some holy water she'd smuggled out. *smile* Apart from the odd 'church picnic' afterwards, that was pretty much the extent of our education on religion!