“Two thousand years of Christianity represent only the surface. In the deep and intricate labyrinths of the psyche, the pagan gods still live.” — Nise da Silveira

Lately I have felt the pull to write more openly here, almost like keeping a journal, sharing my memories and reflections as they come. Today my mind drifts back to my childhood, to the very first moments I felt the presence of the Old Gods.

I can still see myself at twelve years old, staying up far too late with books spread out all around me, reading everything I could find about witchcraft and the occult. I grew up in Brazil, living in São Paulo until I was fifteen. We lived high up on the twelfth floor of a building inside a gated community, the kind of place where you’re always mindful of safety, where the world feels both close and far away at once. But where you feel isolated and the world within is the most vivid one…

Because I learned English very young, I had access to many more books than those available in Portuguese. That opened an entire world to me. My very first altar was small and simple, set up at twelve years old, dedicated to Áine and Cernunnos. I still remember the peace that washed over me, the feeling that I had stumbled back into a home I had once known.

As I began to meditate and practice pathworkings, something in me lit up. My visions would spill over into my dreams, and in those dreams the worlds I read about came alive. At school, while other children played, I would sit alone reading about the Old Ways. I didn’t fit in easily, and soon one friend told the whole school that I was a witch. Funny that this reputation followed me since that age! In Brazil, folk sorcery is common by traditions like Umbanda, Candomblé, and Quimbanda. I grew up around this culture: people working with spirits directly, in ways both powerful and beautiful. It is not uncommon to see offerings to spirits at crossroads in Brazil, or to find many practitioners of our folk sorcery. This culture shaped me in deep ways…

Catholicism never felt like home to me. My parents followed Spiritism, and my mother worked as an energy healer and necromancer for as long as I can remember. She did it freely, giving her time and energy often at great personal cost. She would bring me to a Spiritist center in São Paulo called Seara, where she worked. That place had a quiet peace about it, and when my out‑of‑body experiences became overwhelming, she brought me there to help me learn to manage them. I loved the energy work, and how good it made me feel, though I often found it difficult to sit through the long evangelium sessions. People would speak of Jesus in a way that never resonated with me, and my thoughts would always wander back to the Old Gods…

Around that time I discovered the Pathways of Shadows Tradition. You had to be eighteen to join, so I studied quietly on my own, hoping that one day I would find my place among them. Back then it felt like an impossible dream. Their teachings touched my heart and marked me deeply. Shaped who I am as a witch, much before I ever dreamed of being a priestess of the Tradition.Years later, after moving abroad, life unfolded in unexpected ways and led me directly to them. I am forever grateful…

I walked this path with my twin sister by my side. We practiced together, filled our first grimoires together, and in time, were initiated together. That is a gift the Gods gave me that I will always treasure. She complements my craft in ways only she can.

One day, a cousin from a side of the family I barely knew found out about my interest in tarot cards and told me that many women in our family believed a certain gift ran in our blood, of the gypsy and sorceresses of our bloodline. I heard of my great‑grandmother Libia, from Setubal, Portugal, who openly called herself a witch. That story felt like a warm light: maybe I wasn’t the odd one out after all! Maybe the call I felt had been echoing through my bloodline for generations, as these women of my family. I tried for years to talk to Libia’s immediate family and to get her instruments but they never answered me out of fear. Oh well. I learned to honor my Ancestors and I am grateful for them.

My childhood was also marked by strange nights. I would experience sleep paralysis, feeling myself float out of my body, seeing shapes and hearing whispers I couldn’t explain. In Northern Brazil there is a saying that when the encantados (fae) and the dead visit a child so insistently, she is being called to become a shaman one day. I think this is true for witches too. Those experiences were difficult as a child, but they were also part of my calling.

When I finally took ownership of those gifts, I realized every psychic gift has both a passive and an active side. You can’t experience one without the other. Once I learned that, I stopped letting them control me and began using them as tools…

I remember one night in particular, when I was struggling and felt completely alone. I asked the Gods for a sign. That night I woke suddenly to a whisper in my ear that startled me, and a voice spoke clearly:

“Listen to Nature.”

It was so simple, but it changed everything. I realized I didn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. I didn’t need special tools. I needed only myself, my trust in the Gods, and my willingness to truly listen. In the quietude of nature, I felt their presence and heard their voices. In nature, I found the hidden paths that my soul longed for.

I believe a pagan soul will always feel that ancient pull the moment it truly begins to listen. The drive to silently rebel against the dogmas imposed upon them, and the false idols of our world… Even now, in a reality woven of concrete, clamor, and shifting illusions, the Gods are in everything. Their voices rise from the hidden corners of the earth. May the hearts marked by the Old Ways remember, and may the Old Gods and their timeless ways flow back into this world through them.