It’s six in the evening. I sit down at my desk, turn on my computer, and tie up by hair tightly while it boots up. I open Skype, my email, and a word document. I browse deviantArt, Cracked, and Vice. I spend a few minutes reading about Santa Muerta.
I flip over to the word document.
I go to YouTube and start watching The Syndicate Project. Then MakeUpGeek. And then CaptainSparklez.
Flip back to the word document.
Talk to friends on Skype. Of course you can visit. I’m sorry your girlfriend broke up with you. It’s so damn cold, isn’t it?
Watch some Netflix; Secrets of the Vatican, an episode of The Devil is a Part Timer. Go back to Youtube. Vice uploaded a new video. Clicky-click. Must watch. Poor California.
Flip back to the word document.
Child brides in Yemen. That’s disgusting and sad, so let’s go find something adorable to look at instead. Google cute kittens. Start Caturday early. Aww, so adorable.
Let’s read about the usage of BDSM in pagan ritual. Hook suspension. Sun Dance. Ouch. Pain to gather energy. Whips. Canes. Owwy. Hot. I’m wet. Where did I put my vibrator?
That’s much better.
Oh, Raven Kaldera writes poetry? This is some hot shit! Aphrodite is way more badass than I pictured her before. Masks? Archetypes? The Predator/Prey thing is so fucking hot ….Dammit.
That’s much better.
Flip back to word document. Look at clock. Ten-fifty and I haven’t written a thing. Shit. Thinkthinkthink.
But you don’t have to think. You know what to write about, Muse says.
It’s stupid and silly. No one will believe me, or if they do they might get mad at me!
Nornoriel has astral sex with a demon; Swartwulf is a god and heir to the throne of Helheim; and Beth and Jo are married to millennium old deities. I don’t think anyone will find it all that unbelievable…..especially since we’re part of a community where most people seem to communicate with gods and spirits on a daily fucking basis!
My Inner Muse smacked me upside my astral head then, before retreating into the dark corner of my mind, muttering;
Get over yourself and get writing, bitch! It isn’t like anyone has any right to get angry anyway, you lazy girl.
I suppose Muse does have a point about my irrational fear and my laziness. Not even suppose, actually. I know she has a point. I’ve been lazy the past two weeks and I’m being incredibly irrational, and I need to get over it. I’ll try not to make any more excuses for my lateness. Now, let’s get started before I get distracted by any more AMVs.
I have known what I would write for this first prompt since the moment I read about it back in December. It is an important tale, because what happened will affect every other thing I write on this topic in some way or another. I’ve spent nearly two weeks just trying to figure out how I should tell it to you, and have settled on simply using something close to its original format.
Maybe five years ago, my mom stopped making me go to church on Sundays and Wednesdays, and I found out quickly that I didn’t miss it at all. The longer I stayed away the less the rules Christianity imposed on me seemed to matter, and the happier I felt (though I was not quite as happy as I could have been, or as free as I imagined myself to be, but that is something for another time). Occasionally my mom would bring up church, Christianity, and how I need Jesus/God in my life, but never frequently, or with enough passion to really catch my attention.
So, for a few years, I remained in a strange limbo, caught between being a pagan and a witch, and the ethics of Christianity that effected me still (and do to this day). Basically, I dabbled infrequently with magick, never spoke to or summoned a deity or spirit, and, in the depths of my soul that I tried quite hard to ignore, I felt guilty for it all, because ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’. And so, you can see why I say I was not ever quite as happy as I could have been. Guilt can make happiness difficult, I have found.
Nothing changed until last June/July, when my parents packed my siblings and I off to New York to visit with our cousins for two weeks. Part of that time was going to be spent camping in the Adirondack Mountains, so, no cell service, or wifi. Not that we had it at their house, either. They are way out in the country. So, as one might guess, that left me with a whole lot of time for thinking, writing, and introspection, as well as reading.
A lot of things happened in New York, and I will keep coming back to it for awhile, but right now, we are focusing on two particular incidents, as they are pertinent to the story.
The first was my informal announcement to the universe that I was done with Christianity and YHWH, which I gather was a slap in the face to the deity in question, as I was, at the time, wearing a sweat shirt that my cousin, T, had told me He had provided for me (I salted that sweatshirt and danced on it in the dirt as a symbolic ‘fuck you’ later on).
Later that same day, I was reading By Oak, Ash, and Thorn. Everyone was gone so I decided to try and meditate. Now, I am not good at traditional meditation. I have to be riding my bike or walking or dancing to get to that sort of state, so when I actually felt something, I was surprised.
It was this overwhelming feeling of joy. Of freedom. Suddenly, the sounds of the forest grew a little louder, and I grew warmer, and I could just….feel something primal around me. I had to get outside. I left that camper. I did a little dance around our camp ground. Then, I ran a quarter mile down to the lake and I played with dogs that seemed to take joy in dancing around with me and getting me wet. And it was delightful, spiritual.
There was a lot of that sort of thing happening in New York and I’m not going to talk about all of it. Some of it just doesn’t need to be said right now.
That was a whole lot of build up for something so….small.