I was raised in a Jewish household, but I was born with the spirit of a Witch.I’m not very far along in my studies, but somehow it feels like I’ve come home.My mom died a year ago of cancer. Seeing her slowly waste away and watching her take her last breath changed the way I looked at the world forever. Kind of a strange comfortable numbness and a much greater capacity for accepting
the possibility that reality is usually stranger than fiction. I can’t walk into a synagogue and feel like I do when I open the door of a metaphysical bookshop and have the smell of incense wafting up my nose. When I was a child I always had this sense of adventure and bewilderment when my uncle Jerry took me to the Smithsonian. When I’m surrounded by crystals, athames, and books about Magick and Spellcraft those same energies which visited me as a child come calling again with an even stronger sense of wonder and curiosity.