My whole life, I felt like two people battling for my soul’s intentions. I felt like I was living in the in-between space—two sides of the same coin. My Catholic faith built my foundation. I was lovingly devout. It’s also true that I was completely obsessed and enamored with folklore and witchcraft. I watched Hocus Pocus every day for a long time. I read all the Harry Potter or Witchy books I could get my hands on and dreamed of being a witch.
It feels surprising, even to me, that after all these years of attempting to release the Catholic faith from my life, I keep coming back to it. As a practitioner, it may be surprising how I keep returning to it. It’s even more astonishing how the tarot plays into it.
How do I undo a belief system built throughout my adolescence to create a new one?
You Talk Funny Magic Man
When you walk through the mahogany doors of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, just a block away from the beach in Sea Isle City, NJ, it’s difficult not to feel like magic lives there. You can smell the ocean and feel the salt in the air. My parents were married here. This is my hometown.
The church welcomes you with a deep red carpet, rows of wooden pews, and beams above speckled with classic smoky glass and metal lamps. The majestic nature of the altar is breathtaking. It always gave me chills and made me want to be up here under the wooden archways that invite in the Holy Spirit.
I distinctly remember studying the walls as a child. The stations of the cross always fascinated me—carvings that depict Jesus struggling to carry the cross as the Romans beat and torture Him before He’s mounted on it for more beating and torture. Then that same man comes back to life! Catholics get a few things right, and being absolutely undeniably Metal is one of them.
A massive crucifix hangs on wooden walls adorned with an altar that stands high on a small stage dotted by prayerful candles. A balcony sits under a round, spectacularly colored pane of stained glass, illuminating the ceiling and surrounding walls. It always smelled old in there, except at Christmas when it smelled like the frankincense and poinsettias that lined the church. Considering it was constructed in the 1800s, I think that’s fair.
While that gorgeous church was available for some masses, I spent (a lot of) my time as an altar server in the St. Joseph’s Catholic School auditorium, located a block west of the historic church, that accommodated the small town's large Catholic population.
I remember sitting in church, either in the front row or on the altar itself, thinking I wanted to be the priest on the pulpit. Not even ringing the bell during the presentation of the eucharist was enough for me. I wanted to be the priest saying words like Ecclesiastes (arguably one of the better books in the Bible), Hosanna in the Highest, Didymus, Liturgy, Ordinary Time (there’s other time?), or be the one giving the parishioners directions to use their mind’s eye to believe they’re consuming the actual blood and actual body of Christ, which we would feast on during the undisputed Catholic bop of One Bread One Body.
You’re telling me God is like, “Yeah, you can assist in making prayers come true and with miracles. Go forth, bro,” and no one else is losing their minds at that incredible permissible magic? I was focused on understanding how they did it, especially since they performed all shades of magic. Priests ushered the living through the veil with the Last Rites and baptized the young to deem them sin-free children of God. They can even perform exorcisms! It has plagued me for years. I didn’t just want to know the secrets; I needed to understand the mechanism by which the magic occurs.
The priest worked upon an altar glittered with gold wares, a stunning gold cabinet just for the eucharist (the body of Christ mentioned above, a Christ Cracker or Jeesit, depending on the Catholic), multiple servants to assist in his magic, and the power of (the Catholic) God behind him. I couldn’t wrap my young brain around it. Look up the Magician and the Hierophant cards in a tarot deck. You can’t tell me it isn’t Catholic-coded or an extension of this feeling crafted in the cards.
Even the fashion was impressive! I simply could not get over the priest's coordinated wardrobe, which consisted of robes that changed with the calendar. They were well made with embroidered embellishments, each vibrant color consistent with the time of the worship calendar.
Who gave the priest this magnificent color-and-time coordinated closest? Who gave him this crazy amount of gold? Who sanctioned this magic, and why is it so evil for me to practice this same magic?
While I wasn’t a Catholic School kid, I was a Catholic Night School kid, better known as CCD. I was the dork paying attention because, God forbid, I missed any magical instruction. My mom even told me they used to call me Sister Shannon. I was incredibly devout and uncool.
The times the CCD class watched The Prince of Egypt for the 15th time (it's a great movie—that soundtrack!), I just wanted to glean the information to make this magic happen for me as it did for our priest.
When I inquired about my new life’s goal, I was slapped to Earth with the emphatic “Women can’t be priests.” Crushed! How could I ever be the magic man (without sin) if I couldn’t also be a priest? “You could be a nun.” No. No, I couldn’t because that wasn’t my goal. I was going to be the magic man one day.
Don’t Stop Believing
This religious education would assist in my worldview and future as a practicing witch, pagan, or whatever you want to call it—I’ve removed the middleman. The journey wasn’t cute or pretty. Life is like that.
When I was about 13 or 14, I learned the Church condemned members of the LGBTQIA+ community—and declared them evil and unwelcome in the Church. (This was only amended recently, with an asterisk or two.) I was heartbroken. I was genuinely perplexed by it, especially since it is proudly proclaimed we were made in God’s image. That means everyone, gay, straight, or otherwise, deserves to be here. The biggest betrayal I felt was that groups of people were excluded from the place I loved and deemed holy. How could I support an institution that claimed that God loves all but not really? It was ludicrous. I immediately closed the beautiful mahogany doors on worshipping in the Catholic Church. I believed in the magic because it was what I always did, but it felt tarnished. I was cosmically lost.
When I unpacked my feelings and decided how to be comfortable as a practitioner, I was pleasantly surprised by how my credits would transfer.
There was a suspicious amount in common with the Pagan Wheel of the Year. The calendar's timing and celebrations were essentially copied homework from the Pagans. You can even find Candlemas, aka Imbolc (the celebration of the nearing spring season and [Saint] Goddess Brigid) on Catholic calendars. I was truly delighted to be rewarded with familiarity and comfort by following my intuitions and what felt magical. It opened a comfortable pathway to the practice I’ve cultivated over the years.
Siren’s Note: I want to be extremely clear–this worked for me personally. It will differ for everyone depending on their beliefs, where they are in life and a million other factors. This essay is a shared experience. It is not intended to condemn those still devoutly Catholic or devoutly practicing other religions. I still love you and respect your decisions, period, regardless of religious practices and beliefs. As always, love yourself and do no harm to others.
Over time, I could feel my light dimming. My path to becoming a practitioner involved radical and rebellious self-love and trust. I had to learn to meditate, forgive myself for my perceived sins, and rebuild my confidence through the beliefs I wanted (and needed) to lean into. It was no longer acceptable for me to be afraid of everything.
The New Jersey Devil is my Neighbor
I was very young when I learned of the Jersey Devil. It blew my young mind that my predominantly Irish Catholic community was super comfortable with a Devil galavanting about the state. First of all, that’s so cool. Second of all, why are we doing nothing about it?
I needed to know everything about the Jersey Devil and its accompanying folklore. I distinctly remember being at an event at my sister’s preschool and rifling through the books to see if there was one on this Jersey Devil. I found a red one and thought, “Pay dirt,” but it was just some small, silly book on a dog. This happened while I was deep in my Catholicism, too. What a wild mix of ideologies.
It didn’t help that I was consorting with the dead at a young age, seeing and speaking with spirits as if they were as real as you. (Still do, they’re great.)
Folklore and ghost stories have always felt like my compass. The truth is much more complicated than that. It’s religion, folklore, literature, personal beliefs, personal power, and self-trust. It’s a never-ending cycle of revisiting them constantly and reevaluating ad infinitum.
Crafting a practice is a never-ending education. It involves personal confrontation (affectionately known as shadow work), including undoing Church-specific messaging and feeling comfortable in my skin doing what the magic man did. But for me, as a woman on my own, it means freedom from feeling sinful.
The profound folkloric nature of New Jersey and the books I read made me comfortable on this new path. It was time to embrace what I always wanted, who I am.
The Devil is in The Mirror
I don’t know the exact moment I decided “I’m going to try and become a witch,” but I know it was a goddamn awkward one. I also knew it was a lifelong call I could no longer ignore. I bravely walked into Spencer’s Gifts and purchased a generic tarot deck. Oh my god, it was exhilarating and scary. All I could think was, “I’m going to Hell.” Mind you, I was well into my late 20s.
Finding yourself is the strangest experience. It’s another puberty with stumbling, mistakes, and intense learning (the new) and unlearning (the institutional) lessons. Looking back, it wasn’t the right choice to go cold turkey on my Catholic beliefs in favor of the witchy ones. It didn’t need to be drastic. I read too many of the wrong books I didn’t need, bought tarot decks I didn’t connect with, and bought tools I didn’t understand or need. Experimentation is part of this. Once I found my groove and enjoyed the experience, my intuition’s light shone again.
Shuffling through my new deck was exhilarating. Look at all this sinning! And then it happened. I pulled The Devil. It made my heart race with excitement and fear. I felt defiant, interested, and empowered. And truth be told, maybe a little scared. I said a Hail Mary and began my new education.
Let’s step back and break down what The Devil card is. When we examine the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the visual is intense as a first-timer. You observe a winged devil with goat legs seated on a throne. At the base of the throne are two people (male and female) chained to it. The male has a fire-tipped tail, and the female has a fruit-tipped tail—the Devil’s left-hand points up while his right points down with a torch (as above, so below). The background is black, and on his forehead is an upside-down pentagram representing the elements: earth, air, fire, water, and the unseen or spirit.
The Devil isn’t representative of external forces creating chaos in your life. It’s a sign to acknowledge personal demons getting in the way of the pathway of whatever it is you seek. Keywords include materialism, selfishness, addiction, temptation, manipulation, misguided priorities, and greed.
It’s important to note that the tarot is a mirror. The cards will always reflect the situation of your life, whatever it may be. It reveals brutal truths to assist with introspection and encouragement to make changes to succeed. If you see a card or repeated cards, the universe begs you to receive the message and take action.
Siren’s Note: Tarot is a tool. Yes, you can divine with it. But it’s also an excellent tool for recognizing archetypes and assessing feelings. What did you feel when you pulled The Devil card? Why did you feel that way?
Lettuce Pray
The Devil is not an easy card to deal with, especially the first time. In what ways have you become the villain in your story? Is the lack of accountability somewhere preventing your success?
While recently considering The Devil card and chatting with my friend about what you can learn, I reconnected with the Lord’s Prayer. (Catholic surprise!)
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.
The last two lines sparked a connection. If you reread the last two, the prayee asks God for His forgiveness for our indiscretions. What if we step back and involve the Devil from the tarot? In this case, the Devil is us. It changed how I viewed some of the lessons from the Church. The Devil was not ever a super ripped, gorgeous fallen angel with God-like evil power (well, maybe at least biblically or in scripture) but us. We’re the problem, it’s us. Hell is of our own making if we’re neglectful enough. You don’t need a Catholic-specific lesson for that.
Siren’s Note: It’s easy to consider this looking back, but maybe not so much at the time. Why would we go to Hell to spend time with Satan if we gave into his temptations to defy God? Wouldn’t it be a banger down there then? We gave in and did the bad. Why would Satan be the one punishing us? Doesn’t that make God the ruler of Hell? Just some food for thought!
Let’s reframe those last two lines: And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. We should forgive ourselves and our misdeeds the same way we forgive others who wrong us. Forgiveness is freedom. By freeing us of our burden of self-doubt and self-hate and giving ourselves the grace we give others, we make room for self-love and a world of opportunity. (This does not apply to egregious and unforgivable things. Sometimes you have to have hateration in this dancerey.)
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. There are undertones of distrust when we pull The Devil card in the tarot. Do people usually feel inclined to trust someone who’s been labeled a devil? Not really. Lots of trickster energy. Are you tricking yourself into believing in others who don’t reciprocate needs?
Using the tarot's lesson, we can reframe this by acknowledging that we’re the ones who don’t trust ourselves. The mistrust we hold space for causes us to make those decisions reflected in greed, misguided priorities, and self-loathing. Find that trust by giving yourself the chance to get out of your way. It takes work, but that is the lesson of the card. And since the tarot is the story of a journey and cycles we experience, we’ll learn this lesson (a lot) in different stages and a spectrum of ways. This journey is not one-size-fits-all. It’s very much this-size-fits-you.
Obviously, there are levels and nuances to all of this. As always, take what makes sense and leave the rest.
From Sister Shannon to The Siren
The last few months have been an exercise in stepping into my power. I’ve been committed to meaningful rituals, trusting my mediumship and intuition, and seeking community. Opening Siren Books was a leap of faith in self and practice.
While stepping into my power, I spent time at a cemetery for meditation and bird watching (cemeteries are fab bird-watching spots). Fairly recently, I learned that it was the resting place for nuns. What a comforting detail for me. So, I hadn’t been in a while, and not long ago, I went with my spirit box (a tool to chat with spirits) and a recently acquired Catholic relic.
Oh boy, did I miscalculate my popularity there! I was promptly and swiftly roasted by the dead. One sister asked if I was mentally stable (that made me laugh), the sound of spitting (I told them that wasn’t cool), another lovingly asked, “Are you really still talking?” and one kind sister told me my “devotion to practices of the past” made me enemy No.1. It was both affirming and hilariously (bad).
It confirmed I’m not Sister Shannon. I am The Siren.
The Siren Who Lived
While I’m no longer a practicing or faithful Catholic, making those connections to my current practice has been rewarding and uplifting. The saints, the imagery, the feelings of magic—it’s similar but different. Many things can exist at one time. You’re not any less of a whole person because you feel internal conflict through this journey.
I don’t support the institution of the Church. Centuries of colonization and stealing (pagan things, among many others, remember?) are the antithesis of my beliefs. The forgiveness to myself is acknowledging that Catholicism was a guidebook to witchcraft and the tarot for me. Prayers are incantations. Communion is a ritual. The stations of the cross are visual depictions of a journey–not unlike The Fool in the tarot.
Forgive yourself with grace in the way you forgive others who wrong you. Be open to receiving good and get out of your own way!
BONUS:
Every “recovering Catholic,” as many of us like to self-identify, knows that Catholic Mass has some hymnal bangers. Here are the top three for The Siren:
Be Not Afraid
Here I Am Lord
One Bread One Body
Book time with The Siren, shop the digital bookstore, get some merch, or book tarot tutoring! The Siren has it all.
Beautifully written!