After that I practised occasionally. My main link to Paganism that I practiced in daily life was the Tarot. The first moment I saw Tarot cards was at a party, and I remember being totally fascinated while I watched the cards being laid out and interpreted. Almost as soon as I had started out on the path of Paganism I bought myself a deck of cards and a book. In fact my first large ritual involved consecrating the cards. I used the Tarot almost every single day that summer once I started. I loved it. I wasn't using them to define the future, I was actually using them to divine what was going on in my soul. That�s the way Tarot cards are meant to be used, not the Mrs. Cleo way. I still use the Tarot often and find the things they tell me amazing.

Time passed, and few people knew about my switch from Buddhism to Paganism. In fact, I don't think that there was a single person outside of my immediate family that knew. When school started that fall I found myself still getting questions on Buddhism, and I just pretended that I was still into it. In fact, I was having a lot of inner turmoil over the matter. I knew in my heart that I was Pagan, but the more others talked to me about Buddhism I began to question my beliefs. I saw my position as an outsider would see it, and I realized that to others my switch from Buddhism to Paganism would seem radical, even absurd. I realized with that fact, and the fact that my school was held a large majority of devout Christians, that I would never be taken seriously on the matter of religion again. For some, now seemingly stupid reason, this was important to me. After all, I was elected the person most likely to be future president, and was renowned for not only smart but opinionated. I was opinionated in such a way that I could beat my teachers in debates. There were times that I truly believed that my knowledge and superiority made me reign supreme. I felt like a queen, and like so many others, I was afraid to let my public see something about me that it wouldn't like. So I hid in the broom closet. And with time I all but forgot the religion that had once seemed so beautiful and strange to me.

The winter of that year brought changes. I had a break down of sorts, owing mostly to the fact that my parents had recently been divorced, and started to look at religion again. I first realized with a strong conviction that I was not Buddhist like I had been pretending, and proclaimed it to the world in one of the most powerful essays I've written to date. A month or two later, however, I was feeling lost again, and found an amazing book that�s roots are based in Buddhism. It was entitled There is Nothing Wrong With You, For Teens by Cheri Huber. This book was so excellent that I wrote an entire zine about it. It was basically about how the way we are socialized teaches us to hate ourselves, and the only way to break that hate is to sit down and look at it straight in the face. Meditation, in other words. It was a great book, and it got me to thinking I was Buddhist again. So there I was, thinking I was Buddhist again, telling people I was Buddhist again, and feeling pretty at peace with myself. It was a good time for me, the only problem being that the people who had read my essay stating that I wasn't Buddhist, who were now hearing me proclaim that I was Buddhist, were slightly confused, and with good reason I might add. They, like me, hadn't realized the connection that exists between Buddhism and Paganism. For a time I even had a Buddhist boyfriend, but the relationship didn't last long. I wove a tangled web.

Time passed. Yet again I had bought several Buddhist books, and yet again I found myself struggling to actually read them. I started practising yoga, which meant that I was actually practising meditation this time around, but the rest of my beliefs began to fall away. Religion got pushed to the back of my mind for a time. I was just too busy with my track team and the other aspects of my life to consider. Plus, religion was just proving too difficult for me. Then, one day, in my government class, while I was spouting off Buddhist beliefs on animal rights, several ideas started to hit me. Its important to note that it wasn't like all the sudden somebody turned on a light bulb in my head, but it was more like the fog that had been laying so thick in my mind started to clear. One night I had a good think on all of it. I remember I was sitting in the second floor of the Peter White Public Library, right in front of one of the huge windows that overlooks the city. The sun was setting and the sky was full of clouds resembling bright pink flamingos and deep purple whales and manatees. In front of me, reflecting the setting sun was a book called Women's Altars. I remember just putting the book down and letting my mind fall off into deep meditative state where several things hit me at once. First of all, I am not Buddhist. I have several Buddhist beliefs, but all of them I do not share. I believe that sometimes it is necessary to kill. Like insects, for example. I also believe that things have power. Relationships have power. Anything you believe in has power, and belief is important. I want to feel my emotions. My emotions fuel my writing. I would rather feel the deepest love and the strongest hate that exist in this world than just float along in a medium, contented state. I'm not a content kind of person. I'm a striver. I'm a dreamer. I realized that the goal of Buddhism is basically just to strip yourself of all socialization. To turn you into somewhat of an animal instead of a human being. Its important to note here that I do not say this with a negative meaning. I believe that on the plane of life humans and animals are equals. Though I love animals, I do not believe that it is my personal dream to become one. I also realized that the things I do agree with in Buddhism; the love, reincarnation, karma, enjoying the moment, and self-actualisation; are also a part of Paganism. The realization that I was a Pagan and there was just no way around it crept up on my slowly, but was no less profound than if it had hit me square in the forehead.