As a child, I was deeply curious, imaginative, and connected to the world around me.
It was never a question of if magic existed, but rather a matter of how to find and interact with the magic that I knew to be abundant in the world.
I spoke to trees, insects, and even inanimate objects around the house. I daydreamed about the mysteries of the universe. I spent long days playing outside, feeling at home in — and held by — the natural world.
Yet over time, I lost that connection.
By the time I arrived into my early twenties, my life was a spiritual void. I struggled with severe anxiety (later diagnosed as OCD) that left me feeling terrified of my own body and the world around me — the world that for most of my life had brought me wonder and joy.
Through therapy, I learned the practice of mindfulness meditation. It helped me get a handle on my anxiety, but it also unlocked a desire for a different, deeper kind of meditation — something that would take me inwards, to the tangled roots of my traumas and emotional wounds.
I began working with crystals and listening to guided visualizations on YouTube: inner child healing, chakra healing, releasing stored trauma, and other topics that steered me towards a more spiritual way of approaching my self care and inner work.
Little by little, I felt the memory of my spirit beginning to return.
Fast forward four months after starting therapy and meditation; the date was December 17th.
As I often did at this point in time, I was meditating before bed. And the simple-yet-life-changing thought came to me: I am a soul.
For someone who is deep into their spiritual work, this is an insight that is easy to take for granted. But at the time, it felt like multiple lifetimes’ worth of wisdom returning to my consciousness.
I cried and thanked the universe as the truth of this thought sank in, reawakening that sense of connection I hadn’t felt in years.
In this moment of heartfelt joy and connection, I asked the universe to send me a sign letting me know if I was truly on the right path.
After getting into bed that night, I received the sign I had asked for.
As soon as my head hit the pillow and I closed my eyes, I saw a crystal clear image of the planet Saturn in my mind’s eye.
Having no idea what an image such as this might symbolize, I made a note in my phone to do research the next morning.
As I researched, I learned that in astrology, Saturn is the ruling planet of Capricorn and the 10th house (where my Sun and four other planets reside).
I learned that Saturn was not just a planet, but also a Roman god.
I learned that Saturn is associated with themes such as time, truth, death, structure, boundaries, and discipline — all concepts that I was struggling to navigate in that period of my life — but also with an ancient Golden Age.
I learned that December 17th, the date I received the image of Saturn in my mind’s eye, was the date of an ancient Roman festival in honor of Saturn called Saturnalia.
In complete disbelief, I read the date over and over and over again. I kept that tab open on my phone all day, checking it periodically to make sure my eyes or mind weren’t deceiving me.
If I’d had any doubts that the image of Saturn appearing to me was a sign before, this unlikely coincidence quelled them.
Truly, the synchronicities and symbolism of Saturn coming into my life at that moment in time would take thousands of words to describe.
I was fascinated and a little terrified by this ancient deity, so I kept studying, committing myself to learning whatever lessons Saturn (the planet, the god, the universe, whomever — I still wasn’t sure what I believed yet) was asking me to learn.
Then I began putting those lessons into practice. Every Saturday, for months straight, I set aside time to connect with Saturn. I figured that if Saturn ruled discipline and structure, he would respond well to a consistent routine.
On these Saturdays I meditated on Saturn’s themes and lessons, chanted a Shani mantra 108 times, and wrote my insights in a special journal.
Over time, I began feeling his presence more strongly during these rituals. It was around this time I realized the presence I was feeling was more than just a planetary energy — it felt almost grandfatherly, or like a teacher taking an apprentice under his wing.
And the primary emotion I felt in response to that presence was gratitude. So, I began giving offerings of appreciation, respect, and devotion during these weekly Saturday rituals.
This shifted my research from planetary magic towards paganism, and the more I learned, the more I felt called to connect with other pagan deities.
I was enthralled by the richness of pre-Christian spirituality.
The elements of existence that I had always found most beautiful and meaningful — the natural world, the seasons, the Sun and Moon, the stars, the planets, the Earth itself, ancestors, stories and legends, myths woven through time — were the very foundation of these ancient pagan belief systems.
Just as my ancient ancestors once did, I began turning to the skies above me and the earth beneath me when faced with the mysteries and challenges of life.
Just as my ancient ancestors once did, I began praying to the divine forces that shape and control the elements of nature: deities of the seas, of the skies, of the earth, of storms. Gods and goddesses of poetry, of divination, of justice, of creativity, of magic.
Years later and…here I am 😌 Though I now walk the path of Norse paganism, Saturn remains the deity that has influenced my life in the greatest and most powerful of ways.
Working with Saturn has reshaped my physical and mental health, my relationships, my career aspirations, and my life path for the better. He will always have a special place in my practice and on my altar.
…and that, my friends, is the story of how I became a pagan.
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