Awakening Goddess: Empowering the Goddess Within

As above, so below, as within, so without - every thing that we desire, and every thing that we fear, exists within us. This blog explores nourishing our dreams, committing to our highest values, and healing ourselves from the inside out: awakening and empowering the Goddess within our bodies, hearts, and lives.

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My Inner Child Is A Goddess

Dark clouds snaked through the overcast sky like an airborne river, grumbling warning of impending deluge that summer afternoon in Orlando, Florida.  I was a ten-year-old sorceress with blonde curls and a need for magical sand.  My nine-year-old cousin and apprentice sorcerer collected the sand beneath the overhead bars as we discussed his infant sister, whom we knew was destined to be the most powerful sorceress of all.

The river in the sky grumbled louder, flashing a bit of lightning at us in warning.  I leaned against the metal bars, raised an eyebrow.  "Larak," I said, calling the thunder god by the name I'd given him, "You can just wait until we get home.  When I'm standing under the carport, you can pour all you want then."

My cousin cast a worried look heavenward.  "I think we have enough sand," he said.  "Let's get back before we get soaked!"

He took off running for a moment, then stopped to wait for me to catch up.  I strolled up to him.  "It won't rain until we're home," I said. "Maybe a few drops, but Larak will wait for me like I told him to."

I maintained my leisurely pace all the way home though my cousin ran ahead when the first drops splatted the asphalt around us.  I just smiled at him as I walked calmly to the carport, not a drop hitting me.

The second I stood under the overhang, the sky opened and the entire river poured out onto the road and lawn.  I grinned at my cousin's wide eyes and slack jaw.  "How do you DO that?" he asked.

I shrugged.  "Magic," I said, with an implied 'duh' in my tone, laughter in my heart.


When I was ten, I was often mistaken for an adult. I was wounded, abused and neglected by those who were supposed to protect and nourish me.  Most of the time I escaped into books, rather grown-up books, where I could feel loved and special along with my favorite characters.  

But, sometimes, I was an all-powerful, confident, talented Goddess.  In those fleeting moments, I could only feel joy.  I created and believed in my creation.  I was beautiful, strong, smart, a leader.  Those were the moments when I acted like the child that I was.

When I was twelve, my mother died, and with her, the abuse.  The neglect continued, as I was left home alone after school, raising myself.  My wounds festered, and I buried myself in books.

The Goddess wasted away until I could only find Her in my imagination.  But even in my imagination, that vibrant world in which I existed most of my waking life, I more often played the victim than the heroine.

The magic I'd once created in the world survived in my memory of Larak, whom I still ordered around up until college, when I began asking him instead of telling him, and then  stopped talking to him altogether.


Ten years after her death, I was walking my dog around our apartment complex, and for a moment, I swear I saw my mom.  She did not look like she had when she died, all sick and deformed from old wounds.  She appeared before me as the beautiful young woman she'd been before she had me, with long brown hair setting off milky skin, and thick-lens glasses magnifying big blue eyes.  Then I saw this precious toddler boy dancing with a pine needle in the middle of the fenced-tennis court, among rays of golden late-afternoon sunshine.  His mother watched him with an indulgent smile, her hand resting over her second child, who would be born in a few short weeks.

I envied her.  I'd always wanted to be a mother more than anything, more than I wanted to teach, more than I wanted to write.  I circled closer to the tennis court, letting my dog sniff and mark every bush he pleased so I could observe this woman living out my dream as long as possible.

When I got within a few feet of her, she spoke.  "Do they give you trouble about him?"


Oh, my dog.  "Oh, no," I said.  "He isn't a Pit.  He's half Shar Pei, half Boston Terrier."  I smiled, then noticed her necklace, a quarter-sized pentacle pendant on a silver chain.  "Are you Pagan?" I asked.

She smiled.

Just like that, the magic found me again.  The Goddess within me started to wake up.

This woman brought me home, and nourished the Goddess Child within me.  She helped me find fun in creativity as we made our own wands, robes, and scrying mirrors.  She and her husband both reminded me how to learn for the love of learning again, as we explored the powers of herbs and crystals, reading and discussing books about Goddess-centered spirituality and the Craft.  We attended public rituals together, dressing up in a Public park with lots of other grown people dressed like Witches, talking to magical beings and dancing in circles around fire.

In the decade that followed I learned about real magick, about gods and goddesses, fairies, angels, ghosts, totems, spirit guides.  I learned how to use pendulums, spirit boards, how to scry and find meaning in numbers, images, and feelings.

Most importantly, I learned that there were two kinds of fun: the fun that helps you escape, and the fun that helps you grow.


I couldn't find a picture of myself as a child looking happy, much less powerful, so the little boy smiling mischievously in this blog post is my own little miracle, the child I always wanted, who is going to be five in February 2014.

My son is magic.  He is creative, playful, confident, and loving.  He makes me all of those things.  He challenges me to be the mother he deserves.  He inspires me to let my inner Goddess shine.

My Inner Child is the Goddess.

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Ashley Rae published her first book, a memoir, in 2012, and has been a professional psychic, healer, and teacher since 2003. Ashley's goal in life is to help you empower the divine spark within yourself so that you can love yourself freely, make your life awesome, and make this world a more beautiful, compassionate place. Visit her website to check out her other blog, find out her schedule, book an appointment and register for her classes.


  • Jeanine Byers
    Jeanine Byers Friday, 20 September 2013

    BEAUTIFUL post!!! Brought tears to my eyes! So happy for you that the magic found you again.

  • Ashley Rae
    Ashley Rae Saturday, 21 September 2013

    Thank you, Jeanine!

  • Jeanine Byers
    Jeanine Byers Saturday, 21 September 2013

    You're welcome! :)

  • Lizann Bassham
    Lizann Bassham Sunday, 22 September 2013

    Lovely, thank you for sharing your journey.

  • Ashley Rae
    Ashley Rae Thursday, 26 September 2013

    Thank you, Lizann, for letting me know you enjoyed it! :D

  • Lia Hunter
    Lia Hunter Tuesday, 24 September 2013

    Lovely post!

    I wonder how many of us have the connection with magic from childhood, and if that's just natural for children to embrace it, and as adults have to re-learn to trust it. I remember playing with the wind in much the same way. :)

  • Ashley Rae
    Ashley Rae Thursday, 26 September 2013

    Thank you, Lia!

    I think we are most of us born with the connection, and lose it because the people around us keep setting limits and encouraging us to grow up and be "real."

    Wouldn't it be lovely to have a place where we could all share our most magical childhood memories, and just see comments from people who appreciate them and can relate? I'll have to look to see if such a forum exists.

  • Lia Hunter
    Lia Hunter Sunday, 06 October 2013

    That would be neat! I bet it would bring up forgotten memories in everyone, too. :)

  • Cindy Buxton
    Cindy Buxton Thursday, 26 June 2014

    I've always believed that children are natural magicians. I don't have any children, but I've observed them, without appearing to do so, of course. I don't relish the idea of an angry parent becoming freaked out by my attention to what his or her child is doing.

    I've been a child, though. Back in those days my un-ornamented broomstick was really a horse, my tire swing was an airplane, and I interacted with people no one else could see. My conviction was so strong about these things, that there was no question in my mind that they were so. Due to circumstances, I played alone, much of the time, and I was never lonely.

    Today, I can't say the same. Sometimes my loneliness is crushing, and I wish for my power to manifest snakes, just by saying the word, "snake". (The first time I did this, it scared the heck out of me, by the way. Fortunately, the snake in question was only a little green grass snake!)

    At this point in my life, I wonder if the magick is beaten and shaken out of us by our experiences in life, or do they just lie dormant, waiting for the magick word.

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