As a seeker, I delved deep into good and evil. I trampled into the dark forest with the looming threat that I might lose my soul. No matter what I did, the sun still shined, and the rain still trickled upon my face without judgment. And then I smiled and knew that all those fears were merely shadows . . . I woke up.
— Zzenn
Seed and Soil
When I was six years old, I saw her—a mysterious woman standing silently atop a tall palm tree outside my childhood home. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She simply watched, like a sentinel from another world. I came to the conclusion decades later that she was my ancestral Witch Mother, appearing long before I had the language to name her.
At that age, I had no knowledge of the goddess crowned atop the palm in ancient iconography, no awareness of the sacred tree as a throne of divinity. And yet, there she was—poised exactly where countless deities have been placed across cultures and time.
This was not fantasy. It was symbol breaking through form. A spontaneous eruption of archetype—pure and undistorted. Proof, I believe, of what Jung called the collective unconscious: the soul’s ancient memory rising through the veil before the mind is trained to forget.
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That vision was a seed planted in the soil of my ancestry. On my mother’s side, my lineage flows through Italian Stregaria, the Old Religion. On my father’s side, Celtic blood and Druidic remembrance echo through the bones. I came to know these twin currents as Dragon and Dolphin—the fire of my father and the water of my mother—a living emblem of my dual spirit.
For years, this inheritance was an unnamed force. I was drawn to both light and shadow. The graceful beauty of Awen of the Druids calmed my soul balancing the power of the Lady of Shadows. The spirits of the Wizzan Oracle guided my steps long before I crafted it, and the muse of Led Zeppelin became a sonic gateway into the Druidic current.
In my 30s, I followed a strange compulsion and tattooed the Seed of Life—an ancient witch mark known as the Hexenrad—onto my palm, completely unaware of its legacy during the witch trials. The symbol lived in my ancestral memory.
Kundalini Release
In May 2014, everything changed. A five-week inner event cracked open my being in a spiritual supernova. It was violent. It was beautiful. It taught me that awakening is raw, bodily, and merciless in its honesty.
The Woman in Shadows reappeared, standing guard as my ancestors spoke through energy and metamorphosis. The fiery tension became a portal, opening a realm so unbelievably beautiful I wept in reverence, humbled by the Gnosis revealed.
What followed were initiations I could never have imagined: inner shape-shifting, Shakti fire, and occult secrets rooted in ancestral memory. For the complete account of this journey, you can read my biography: unSpiritual: A Spiritual Journey.
The Wizzan Way
As my path unfolded, the Wizzan Way revealed itself and continues to as this project unfolds. This platform is where I share my esoteric perspectives and invite readers to explore the hidden depths of their inner realms.
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My journey blew up in 2014 in a very similar way. I look forward to reading more.
I had a dream recently about sitting around a fire at night, in a time past, floating a sacred symbol back and forth between the group. Crafting it together. Silent, focused and powerful.