Why I Don't Follow an Organised Religion

People often ask me what I believe, or if I'm Wiccan, Pagan, or part of a particular religion. The simple answer is no.

My path has never really fit inside a label.

Growing up, I went to Catholic church every Sunday until I was about 15 years old. It was simply what we did. I listened, I learned the prayers but deep down I never truly believed what I was being taught. It never felt like my truth.

When I stopped going to church, something unexpected happened. Instead of walking away from spirituality, I became fascinated by it.

I began reading about religions and belief systems from around the world. I was amazed to discover just how many different ways people have connected with the sacred throughout history. Looking back, it dawned on me that at primary school we were only taught Christianity and Catholicism. At that age, we never knew we had a choice or an opportunity to explore other traditions. I only discovered that wider world once I started searching for myself at an older age where i guess your understanding is clearer.

As a teenager and into my early twenties, I studied and practised Wicca. It gave me a connection to nature which was emphasised by living in a coastal location where bush meets the sea, it was easy and felt natural to be surrounded by nature all the time.

But eventually I realised that it wasn't quite what I was searching for.

Modern Wicca was largely developed in the mid-20th century by Gerald Gardner. Gardner drew inspiration from ceremonial magic, folklore, Western esoteric traditions and older pagan beliefs to create a modern religion centred around nature and seasonal festivals. While many people find deep meaning in Wicca, I found myself wanting something even older and less structured.

For me, even Wicca began to feel like another organised path, with traditions, rituals, correspondences and expectations that I didn't feel called to follow.

I wasn't looking for another religion.

I was looking for something more primal.

Something that existed long before books told people what to believe.

Long before someone decided there should be rules.

I found myself drawn to the oldest relationship humans have ever known, our relationship with the Earth itself.

Over time, I realised I wasn't searching for another religion. I was searching for something that felt older. Simpler. More connected to the natural world.

As I learned about ancient Earth-based belief systems, something stirred within me. I can't explain it, but it felt like a quiet remembrance. Not a memory in the literal sense, but a deep feeling that living by the seasons, watching the moon, honouring the land and paying attention to nature was somehow familiar.

It felt like reconnecting with something our ancestors once understood, that the Earth itself was our greatest teacher. Long before organised religions, many cultures looked to the sun, the moon, the stars and the changing seasons as guides for living. That way of seeing the world speaks to my soul more than anything else I've found.

Whether it's ancestral remembrance, a pull towards ancient wisdom, or simply where my heart feels most at home, I don't know. I don't need to have all the answers. I only know that when I walk in the wilds, with the seasons and honour the land beneath my feet, I feel connected in a way no organised religion ever gave me.

The changing seasons.

The rising and setting of the sun.

The phases of the moon.

The first frost.

The returning birds.

The flowering trees.

The smell of rain before it arrives.

These became my teachers.

I became fascinated with the ancient peoples of Britain, Ireland and Europe who lived by the rhythm of the land. Their spiritual lives weren't separated from nature, they were nature. The seasons determined when they celebrated, planted, harvested, travelled and rested. The Earth wasn't something to own or control. It was part of their lives.

That feels like home to me.

I don't feel the need to belong to a church, a coven or an organised group.

My practice is quiet and solitary.

It's standing outside under the moon.

Watching the changing light across the seasons.

Listening to things like the currawongs arrive each winter here in Australia.

Lighting a candle with intention.

Walking barefoot on the earth.

Giving thanks to the land that feeds me.

For me, spirituality isn't about following someone else's path.

It's about remembering the one beneath my own feet.

I don't expect everyone to believe what I believe, and I don't think there is one right way to connect with the sacred. This is simply the path that feels honest to me.

Before I finish, I want to make one thing very clear.

I would never question or look down on another person's faith or spiritual path. What feels true to me may not feel true to someone else, and that's perfectly okay.

Spirituality is deeply personal. Every person has the right to believe in whatever brings them peace, purpose and connection, whether that's Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Wicca, Paganism, no religion at all, or something entirely their own.

This isn't about saying one path is better than another. It's simply the story of how I found mine.

For me, that path is the Earth beneath my feet, where I feel most connected, and where my spirit feels at home.