Rooted in Magic

 

My second and current pentacle; my first one had been long ago mysteriously lost, closing a chapter in my life

My first pentacle was a cheap piece of jewelry that I'd shoplifted from Hot Topic with my cousin as teenagers. It was a necklace, the sort with a twisted chain that discolors when put in water.
By that point, I had long since removed myself from Wicca and was forming my own personal craft and religion. Additionally, despite being well-aware of the pentacle's much older origins, I'd known very little about the pentacle.
Still, it felt right, it felt complete, and it felt like a symbol of my craft nonetheless.

My cousin and I had both worn our matching pentacles proudly and everywhere, even when we went swimming in the ocean and consequently ended up with rusty rings around our necks.
Our families just sort of gave us weird looks or simply shrugged it off.
It was my grandmother, who, upon noticing the necklace, had stepped up to me with a beaming smile on her face as she momentarily brushed her fingers across the encircled star. She glanced up at me with a knowing look as she said, "We have a witch in the family."

The thing about my family is that we, at least the women, are fairly in tune with our intuitions. So much to the point that we can be scary accurate in our predictions.

My biological grandfather, a grade-A asshole and hard skeptic would even waver at my grandmother's uncommon knowing.
"He would refuse to buy a vehicle or home unless I would get inside and tell him that it felt 'alright'." My grandmother would recall.

Then, there's my mother, who's prophetic dreams have gotten her out of several sticky situations.
An example of this which I find funny was when she and her two sisters had stayed at a hotel on the beach together. My one aunt had put her stash of weed in that little safe that the pricier hotels provide. She had done it without either of the other two knowing and hadn't shared the code she'd made up with them either.
Unfortunately, as humans with fickle brains are prone to doing, my aunt had forgotten the code entirely. The three were panicking over what to do, considering asking for the hotel to unlock the safe would likely lead to them getting in legal trouble.
That night, my mother ended up having a dream that showed her a specific combination of numbers. Upon waking up, she entered the numbers into the safe's keypad, and lo and behold, it opened.

My two aunt's abilities lie more with plants and people. I don't know too much about them though because, it's simply something my family doesn't discuss very heavily. Our intuitive and empathetic abilities reside mostly in the back of my family's mind, offering us help in the background of our lives when we need it. Even my grandmother, who's just a little more forthcoming and proud of her abilities.

What made my grandmother so eager about seeing my pentacle, was that she recognized that I have not only decided to acknowledge my inherited abilities, but that I have also chosen to actively work with them.

I find it almost comical that my grandmother somehow ended up as a bit of the black sheep among her own children. She adores anything related to horror, otherworldly and the occult. Myself and my one out of eleven cousins seem to have taken after her in those regards.

Maybe that's why I'm far more adept at sensing and manipulating energy like my grandmother than I am at having prophetic dreams like my mother. I am my grandmother's granddaughter.

I may not be a hereditary witch, but magic definitely runs in my family. One need not have received their abilities from their ancestors in order to be successful in their craft. However, I feel very lucky to have the support of being rooted in magic.