Why I Left a Wiccan Coven and Chose the Path of My Celtic Ancestors

I began my journey on this path in a Wiccan Coven.For a time, Wicca gave me structure. It gave me ritual. It gave me language for the reverence I’ve always felt toward the moon, the seasons, and the sacred feminine. I’ll always honour that chapter. But in the end, I had to walk away — not from witchcraft, not from spirit — but from the rules and rigidity of a system that no longer felt like home.

Instead, I found myself returning to something older, wilder, and deeply rooted: the path of my Celtic ancestors.

Wicca: A Beautiful Beginning, But Not My Destination

I was drawn to Wicca for the same reasons many of us are. It offers a clear system, beautiful rituals, and a sense of community. I loved celebrating the Wheel of the Year with others, calling the quarters, crafting altars, and learning from seasoned witches. There was power in that and I'll always be grateful for all I learned.

But over time, I started to feel... boxed in.

There were rules. Hierarchies. Expectations. Degrees and titles. A sense that there was always someone above you with the authority to tell you whether you were doing it "right." Some covens are beautifully run with kindness and care — but mine, like many, wasn’t immune to power dynamics and quiet gatekeeping.

I started to question: Who gets to decide what is "proper" witchcraft?

Who benefits from these systems of hierarchy — and who is left out?

I Wanted Wild. I Wanted Real.

I didn’t come to witchcraft to swap one set of rules for another. I came to remember who I was, beneath the conditioning.

I wanted my magic to be messy, intuitive, unashamedly mine. I wanted to cry under stormy skies and leave offerings in the woods without worrying if I’d used the right chant or cast the circle correctly. I wanted to sit with the old gods of my blood and ask them what they remembered.

And so, althoigh it was a difficult decision, I left.

Coming Home to My Celtic Roots

My ancestors whispered through hedgerows and hearth-smoke. They weren’t working from printed grimoires or high ceremonial rites — they were lighting candles in windows, tying clooties on trees, whispering prayers to Brigid and the spirits of the land. They honoured sacred wells, sung charms over sick animals, and spoke to the dead.

In choosing the path of Celtic Witchcraft, I chose to walk with them.

This isn’t a reconstructed religion or a codified system. It’s a living, breathing practice — shaped by nature, folklore, personal gnosis, and the spirits who walk beside me. There are no degrees. No high priestesses. No “one true way.” Only the path, the land, and the heart.

Problems I Found in the Wiccan Structure

Leaving Wicca wasn’t about rebellion — it was about truth. But I do feel it’s important to name the parts that didn’t sit right with me, in case they don’t sit right with you, either.

Hierarchy and gatekeeping: Titles and initiations can become tools of control rather than growth. Spiritual authority isn’t earned through degrees — it’s lived.

A moral code too simple for real life: “An it harm none, do what ye will” sounds lovely, but it doesn’t leave space for nuance, justice, or boundaries. The world isn’t black and white. The Morrigan isn’t, and neither am I.

Over-ritualisation: I grew weary of rules about the “right” tools, the “right” words, the “right” timing. Magic isn’t something you need permission to access — it’s your birthright.

What I’ve Gained

Since stepping onto my ancestral path, I’ve felt more myself than I ever did inside a formal system.

I've built deep, personal relationships with Brigid, Cernunnos, Danu, and the spirits of place

Honoured the wheel of the year through living in rhythm with the land

Found strength in intuitive, spirit-led practice

Felt proud to call myself a Celtic witch — not a title, not a rank, but a truth

A Note for Fellow Seekers

If Wicca fills your cup, I honour you. If your coven is a safe and sacred circle, may it thrive. But if you’ve felt out of place in the structure… if you’ve been told you're “not doing it right”… if you long for something older, deeper, and less concerned with spiritual performance — know this:

You are not lost. You are remembering.

There is a path through the trees. There is a well with your name on it.

The ancestors are waiting. The land remembers you.

You belong.