Unveiled

My whole life, until early adulthood, I was raised in a Christian family and taught to believe the appropriate beliefs. Along with the doctrine of "Always be nice to people.." and "Never talk with your mouth full.." I was taught that Jesus Christ is the Son of God; He was a perfect Man, who died on the cross for our sins. Through Him, we are born again, and through Him we are saved. This general synopsis is pretty standard Sunday school lesson material for all denominations of Christianity. I then began to venture outside of the tiny box I knew as life. This exploration encompassed everything from sexuality, drugs, and social environments, but the discovery with the largest impact and lasting impressions in my heart was the discovery of a new faith. I'd always been strangely fascinated with the occult every since I could remember.  When I was 25, I entered into classes on "Beginning Wicca." Wicca is a pagan and polytheistic faith that is older than most of the popular modern day, monotheistic religions, with which we are familiar today. Since it is something that always piqued my interest, I was excited to be learning it. Little did I know it was to change my outlook on Spirituality and Religion. This change was learning the truth, that there is a difference between those two concepts. Learning this truth altered my perception of God; which inevitably, yet unexpectedly, seeped  into all aspects of life. It all began the day I met the Horned God.  

     As I walked into the foreign establishment, a large bell hanging on the door jolted me backward in a startle. Yet, it did not seem to faze the lazy black cat, who was lying on a pile of herbs that were laid out to dry on the ground. It is at times like these, when staring at a cozy cat in a  sleepy curl, that I silently envy their life; for their nonchalance and general indifference to all things. They worry not if the rent gets paid; or if the checking account will be overdrawn this week. They could care less what grade this essay gets, because their future isn't resting on numbers, letters, contracts, or promotions; Come hell or high water,  better or worse, their days will always remain the same.  I later discovered the pile of herbs was catnip; giving cause to the unexcitement of the old feline. The place looked rustic and dark and dreary. The wallpaper was faded and discolored behind endless shelves of foggy glass jars containing exotic herbs, stones, and talismans. The air was thick and filled with the aroma of burning frankincense and myrrh. It was warm yet chilling; it was dark, it was creepy, and I absolutely loved it. As I entered a room in the back, lit by only candles, I was greeted by a stout woman with a round yet stunningly pretty face. With a larger than life smile stretched across exquisitely lined and painted lips, she asked me if I would like to partake in "cakes n' wine." 

"Excuse me?" I asked

"Cakes and Wine! It's a sort of tradition that happens after ritual, but I always sneak a little before." Her intoxicating giggles muffled by puffs of pastry made me feel like I was in high school sneaking a cigarette in the bathroom between third-period math and fourth period

 ...Well, the fourth period was blurry because I was rarely on time or sober when attending after our rebellious little bathroom break huddles. Her name was Lucinda, and she was nothing short of adorable. She was also to become my friend, roommate, and spiritual advisor and mentor through the following few years. 

  "That's beautiful!" I exclaimed, as I beheld a gorgeous bronze statue on an altar behind a cast iron cauldron with ribbons of incense smoke spilling straight upwards taking with it  burnt prayers and written petitions upward to the sky, to the heavens, to the Goddess. The statue stood, or rather sat, about 8 inches tall. I'd originally thought it was a figure representative of the astrological sign of Capricorn, which is a goat. However, as the smoke dissipated and my eyes adjusted, I took a step back as my heart thudded to the floor. It was a man, with a goat's head and goat's hoofs as his feet. It was the Devil.

I gasped "Oh! Shit!... Is that a statue of Satan?!" I asked in shock. These were supposed to be "white witches" not devil worshippers! Just then, Lucinda unexpectedly released a startlingly loud cackle that cracked the quiet room. Her half lidded eyes unsquinted, and that  jovial open-mouthed grin fell into a solemn rest.