Finding My Mentor and Path: A Druid's Story

So I been writing my story of how I started my Druidic journey for awhile now. Thought I give you all a peak and get your thoughts on it.

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Part 1

The summer of '86 found me, a 21 yr old Wiccan still wet behind the ears, landing in Boulder, Colorado. My intention had been to reach the Pennsylvania Rainbow Gathering, but fate, it seemed, had other plans.  

Boulder, with its vibrant energy and eclectic mix of souls, quickly cast its spell on me. Days were spent amidst the swirling incense and animated conversations of Penny Lane's, a haven for artists, poets, activists, and those who danced to the beat of their own drum. It was a place where the lines between hippie, punk, and pagan blurred into a beautiful tapestry of alternative culture.

One afternoon, I was nestled in a corner, the aroma of my spiced chai mingling with the pages of my book, when a woman walked in who could only be described as an apparition of bohemian grace. Her silver hair flowed like moonlight, contrasting with a face remarkably devoid of age. She was the embodiment of the Stevie Nicks aesthetic, so prevalent among the witchy women of Boulder at the time. 

As she passed, a smile touched her lips, and I was captivated by the mischievous glint in her amber eyes. "I love Boulder," I thought to myself, feeling a sense of belonging I hadn't experienced before.

Moments later, she returned, her voice a melodic whisper as she greeted me with "Bendith i chwi."  Having encountered this Welsh blessing among other witches, I looked up and replied with a "Blessed be, sister." The café was bustling, and she asked if she could share my table. "Please," I offered, intrigued by this enigmatic woman.

She settled in, taking a sip of her coffee. A brief silence fell between us, and I retreated back into the pages of my book, acutely aware of her gaze upon me. Then, with a suddenness that made me jump, she declared, "You're all fucked up!"

The shock of her words, sent a jolt through me. I sprang to my feet, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and unleashed a torrent of indignant words. I could feel the eyes of the café patrons burning into me as I berated this stranger for her audacity. Mid-sentence, her gaze drifted past my shoulder, her hand rising in a gesture that silenced someone behind me. My tirade sputtered to a halt, leaving me breathless and fuming. "How dare she speak to me with such disrespect?" I seethed inwardly.

Her eyes locked with mine, a steely glint in their amber depths. "Are you done?" she asked, her voice firm and unwavering. I stood there, trembling with anger, unable to articulate a response.

Then, something extraordinary happened. In a low, commanding tone that resonated through my very core, she uttered a single word: "Sit!"

My body obeyed involuntarily, collapsing onto the chair with a force that I swore must have cracked the wood. It was as if an invisible hand had pushed me down, her voice a physical force that I couldn't resist. She began to speak, her words piercing through my anger like shards of truth. She spoke of imbalances, of an overabundance of the Goddess within me, hindering my spiritual growth. Later, I would come to understand that she was a Welsh Druidess and powerful empath, able to sense the turmoil within me and even discern my Dianic leanings. The hows and whys of her abilities, however, remained a mystery in that moment.

The rest of our conversation unfolded in a private bubble, the clamor of the café fading into the background. And just like that, my life took an abrupt turn. That very day, I found myself packing my meager belongings and moving into her quaint cottage nestled between Boulder and Nederland. It was the beginning of my Druidic Apprenticeship that would reshape my understanding of magic, spirituality, and the intricate dance between the divine feminine and masculine.

(To be continued...)