Moving away from Wicca

Talked to Eleanor on the phone tonight and got my first real confirmation that there have been positive changes in my life over the past months. She gave a concrete example - complaining. She said that normally I would have complained to her endlessly about having to get up at 5 a.m., but that when we were out looking at the room last Sunday night I didn't complain. And she's right. I didn't. I did just state matter-of-factly that it had to be done. This is the first time really that someone has said I've changed. It felt really good to get outside confirmation because sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees.

At work tonight I was working with the Chinese guy I only work with once a week. He was being negative, complaining about work that Jerry or Tylor told him to do that he thought was not our job. (I later found out most of it is our job.) I told him it's our job. Later I was talking to Tylor to find out what he wanted done. He wanted the floor spot mopped for scuff marks and the cardboard taken down for recycling. It was slow so I left the Chinese guy in the dishroom and went to do these jobs. The funny thing is, something like this - Tylor telling me to do unexpected work, even if it was a slow night - would have really upset me. But it didn't phase me at all. I just stood there and said okay and accepted it. This is not like me. What is happening? Also, on the Chinese guy tonight I saw a mirror of myself, how I used to be. What is going on that I have not been like that lately?

Found out today I'm not supposed to have my Walkman at work. The Chinese guy got yelled at by Jerry for having his yesterday. I managed to sneak mine around him all day. Being able to listen made work a lot easier.

I took off my pentagram today, but it wasn't my choice. Just before work today, my pentagram and cross necklace chain broke. I decided to repair it when I got home. I wrapped it in tissue paper before leaving for home. When I got home it was hopelessly tangles. I spent quite a bit of time untangling it. In the middle, frustrated, I told God that if I got it untangles I wouldn't put the pentagram back on. So when I got it untangled and fixed the break, I left the pentagram off. The cross I'm still wearing. I paid good money for it and it was the cross I bought the day after I became a Christian. So I am wearing two crosses and no pentagrams. I think I will still carry the pentagram in my pocket, though. I only said I wouldn't put it back on the chain.

I also took down the little Brigid wall altar I had. This was more out of sheer joy and thankfulness for the good changes God has wrought in me. I keep wondering, "What if I change back? What if these changes aren't permanent?", but this is me questioning in my human weakness and/or demons. These questions are not from God. No doubt between the wall altar and the necklace this will put me under pressure. The enemy doesn't like it when I take steps toward God. Even praying seems to bring ramifications. This is more than praying. It's just that as I see God working in my life I have to give Him more because He's giving me more. He's trying to work me to the point of giving Him 100%. That's still a ways off. He's been getting maybe 80% so far.

Church Search, Week 9

Week 9: Vineyard Christian Fellowship

It hit me during church today why I had never sensed the Holy Spirit in a church service before, and felt Him as the concert (besides that, I haven't been to church in a long time {up until 3 months ago}). It's that in churches I was always closed to the Holy Spirit. At the concert I didn't put any walls up. I didn't think of it really as a worship service, so I didn't feel the need to wall myself off. And by remaining open/being open to the music, I left a space to feel God's presence.

Church Search, Week 8

Week 8: Episcopal Church of the Incarnation - 8 a.m.; Saint Francis' - 10 a.m.

I'll have to go back to the Church of the Incarnation for 10 a.m. services. There were only about 10 people and it was very low energy. Someone at St. Francis' recommended the Episcopal Church of the Advent as being high in ritual. I might check that place out.

Well, I found out today I have to work Friday night so I can't go to taize with Paul. (Sigh.) Maybe next month - or year.

IV is tonight. I sure don't feel like praising God, but it's the right thing to do, right? Most of our time is spent watching the movie anyway. That'll be okay.

Meeting with the Pastor

Talked to the pastor at the Baptist church today (the one across the street from the UUs). He was pretty understanding when I talked about how I can't commit to God 100%. He gave a couple practical suggestions. First, that I should start in the NT with Matthew and read 5-10 chapters a day (because I have time since it's summer). He also recommended their discipleship program, where I would meet with someone for one hour once a week for study and prayer. They took my name, address, and phone and said someone would be in contact within a week. The whole meeting lasted, give or take, about 45 minutes. Oh, the discipleship program is 12 weeks long.

It was nice to talk with the pastor, but I have to keep my church searching to myself. I don't feel drawn to join their church. I feel drawn to St. Mary's Catholic Church, and I really like the Episcopals - all the Catholic ritual without the communion restrictions and some of the dogma. Yet I'm continually drawn to St. Mary's and I don't know why.

I also talked to the pastor today about the two dreams I had, about the concert, and a little about my Paganism. It was good that he wasn't condemning of me.

Gifts from God, Gifts from Them

Both Wicca and Christianity have something to offer me. On Friday at the Intervarsity going-away dinner for the Peterson's, I made contact with Melissa and had a good chat with her. On Sunday at NROOGD someone left behind a bottle of good wine {as in, a perfectly good bottle of wine, not an expensive bottle} and no one claimed it after the "potluck." It was also unopened. As one of the last people to leave I snagged it. Then I got drunk that night. So I was given something by both. God gave me a gift, and the gods gave me a gift. And I was only a teeny bit hungover - and a bath cleared most of that.

Knowing Too Much

I used to say that "I know too much to ever be a Christian again." This is precisely what is making faith right now a difficult proposition. As a wannabe scholar I know too much. I can't take the Bible literally, and much of what must be taken on faith is, well, hard to believe: the virgin birth, the resurrection.

Church Search, Week 7

Week 7: St. Francis' Episcopal Church
St. Mary's for 7:30 a.m. services

This church was much more ritualized that St. Peter's. It was also larger, with real pews. (St. Peter's has been meeting in a "basement" room as their sanctuary was damaged in the '89 quake. So they have chairs rather than pews.) Anyway, when they were going through the motions of the Eucharist, I noticed all the way from my pew that they were using pita bread! I've seen so many different things used for communion - crackers, english muffins, "Catholic" wafers, and now pita bread.

They also had the Book of Common Prayer available for use in the pews, alongside the hymnals. Oh, and the service included reciting the Nicene Creed, which I was able to follow and declaim as it's in the Prayer Books. I don't think I've ever said it before (possibly at Catholic Easter, but I think not), and I don't think I've seen any of the Episcopal churches I've been to use it. It was a nice surprise to see it here. A real plus.

Communion went well. Everyone goes up front and kneels near and in front of the altar (at a "handrail"/railing). Everyone got a bit of pita bread, and a sip of wine from the cup. It seemed to be a blush or white wine.

They also had a kneeler of a sort; rectangular boxes with (insufficient) padding and covered with reddish velvet.

This church was high on ritual and very Catholic-y. I mostly liked it.

After seeing the different between this church and St. Peter's last week, I"m beginning to realize the good points to church shopping. Mostly, I'm seeing lots of different Christian denominations, and within the Episcopal tradition, I'm seeing different ways of practicing the same tradition. In a way, it's all very exciting and is a learning experience most people never get. This is God's gift to me in my church search. I also get to meet lots of people and talk with them, which is two edged. They're all really cool people to meeting and talk to, but most of them I will never see again. But at least I finally am seeing something good come out of this search.

Yesterday was NROOGD's Summer Solstice in Live Oak Park. It was okay, but really short. I met B. in West Oakland and we went together. We got there a little late. They had already started the meeting dance. It was a small crowd. E. (from AW) and her hubby (?) D. were there. It was not the best of experiences and certainly didn't help my Christian faith any.

My faith is doing a little better today. St. Mary's this morning prepared me for St. Francis' Eucharist. So I got to take communion which is good, because I was wondering if I should with my faith so low.

Listening to Sandi Patti's Le Voyage take as a Christian is a slightly different experience than as a Pagan. The songs also take on a different meaning as my life changes - the words still apply, but in other ways. The song Home Will find You used to give me hope about coming to SF. Now I can see it as a song about finding a church home. And with Long Look I can see that I got my long look when I moved here. That look ended March 30th with the concert; God showed me what lay ahead, then pushed me back down the hill toward that. In No Place To Lay My Head I can see how I have no place - no church home, and I'll be moving soon. I got my long look. Now I'm on the move again.

Consequences

America invited me on Thursday to a Christian thing on Friday. (It was a farewell dinner for Mike and Cindy Peterson.) I don't really know them, but I figured the dinner was a good opportunity to meet people. I had to skip the Gardnerian Solstice to go to this, since they did theirs one day late, yesterday. But I talked extensively there with a woman named Melissa, and if God wills we'll get together and talk sometime.

While God will not abandon me, He will let me suffer the consequences of my actions of such things as going to AW. When my faith ebbs due to Pagan events and contacts, He will let me experience the consequences to teach me that I shouldn't do it.

My faith it at a very low ebb right now and my interest in Wicca increases in direct proportion to my faith ebbing. I won't give up on Jehovah that easily because He's put effort toward me, but I can't deny a strong pull back. I could feel when I prayed last night that God won't give up on me because I'm still involved in Wicca, but He will let me suffer the consequences of Wiccan involvement. It is that that I am suffering now. To rescue me so easily and restore my faith would be to encourage me to go to rituals - God will rescue me so it doesn't matter what I do. So I must suffer this.

Wine can bring out reason. What has this God given me but hurt? Why should my only reason for following Him - love - be enough? He claims He's the answer, but He's not enough. Yet He gives me nothing else and expects me to follow Him?

Church Search, Week 6

I never would have begun looking into liturgical traditions (like Catholic and Episcopal) if I hadn't had the assignment in my Christian History class to go to a Catholic Easter service. Additionally, meeting Paul must have had an effect. So now I am looking at liturgical traditions.

Week 6: St. Peter's Episcopal Church

They had the communion wafers like I've seen at the Catholic Church. We dipped them in the wine and then ate them. I thought about Jesus' sacrifice for me. I don't like the "dipping," though is worked great this week because I'm still sick and couldn't drink for the cup. Some people drank from the cup (before the rest of us gathered for the "dipping" communion). I don't know if that just for the clergy and choir, or if it's for anyone who doesn't mind drinking from the communal cup.

Ancient Ways, Day 5

The main ritual last night (put on by NROOGD) was great! A wonderful ritual with one of the best post-ritual highs I've ever been on. So high. How am I supposed to leave this all behind to follow Jehovah? He asks too much. The festival, the ritual, the people, the energy. I'm just beginning to get known in the community. How can I leave it all behind?

Ancient Ways, Day 4

Had my picture taken today with D., G., and R. of Hole in the Stone. (They're here all the way from Denver.) I first met them Wednesday (?) and one of them told me they really liked my Coming Home article. She also said that my Pagan Standard Time article will appear in the next (Summer) issue.

Talking with someone in the kitchen area today they were talking about Jehovah and other gods. They were saying that Jehovah was just one god, one who wanted all power, and no power for any other god. How can I leave the Goddess behind? She's real. She loves me. How can I worship a God that would not let me worship Her? She doesn't care if I worship others, but He does. He's not being very fair.

Whatever your philosophy, Christian or not, I'm a walking target, especially at this gathering. The orthodox Christian viewpoint would say that as a new Christian, walking into a Pagan gathering is just asking for trouble from demons that would have me remain Pagan and keep me from the One True God. The non-Christian who still believes in demons who simply want to prevent us from growing spiritually would say that I am therefore a walking target as I try to take the next step. Either way, I'm a walking target.

Everything here makes me question whether I'm Christian or not, and whether I even want to be. The Goddess and God are real. How can I deny Them to follow a God that would deny Them? How can a God that would usurp all power for Himself be a good God? How can I worship and love That? So am I a Christian now? Where do my loyalties lie?

Tried talking with God down by the river. I know He heard at least part of what I said. I came to the center of the problem I think. Between being here and the conversation with the person in the kitchen area earlier today, I have lost my faith. I will need God's help to come back to Him. I can't do it alone. I told Him that. I asked Him to draw close, to be with me. He denied me this. I think He's angry. I don't like worshipping such an angry God. I told Him that I can't worship or love Him right now. I have lost my faith. The conversation in the kitchen made it so I can't go back to Him on my own. I have lost my faith. When I asked Him to help me, the only impression I received was to read the Bible. Whatever happens, if God is going to come get me I will have to be an active participant.

Psalm 88:18
Psalm 35:3
2 Corinthians 12:9
2 Corinthians 12:10

Ancient Ways, Day 3

I am also dealing with feelings of guilt and betrayal toward the Pagan community. How can I just leave? Not only am I starting to get better known, which strokes my ego, and there is so much work to do, and all my friends are in this community and they are good people, but how could any loving God send all these fine people to hell? How could any loving God send all non-Christians to hell? No. That kind of God is unacceptable.

Why do I not do the right thing and go back and reconcile with Him (assuming I ignored the above issues)? Because I want to have some fun and don't care if it's at the expense of taking advantage of His love. I want to be in circle; I want to do ritual; I want to worship in the old ways I know. And if He doesn't like it? Tough shit. He loves me; He'll take me back, if I choose to go back. Right now it's a choice of my will. I want to have fun. The old ways are fun. I want the old ways. Besides, it's a feeling of power to tell God to go away, to turn your back and walk away, to snub God.

Now to entertain for just a moment that Jehovah is the one true God and that all the Pagans here are being deceived. If that were true, then walking in here as a Christian, especially wearing my cross, and cross and pentacle, necklaces would instantly make me a target of the spiritual opposition. Also, their work would be very easy in this atmosphere. The mere fact of being surrounded by so many Pagans does all the hard work - effects that I was able to fight off in the city. Of course, all the spirits would do all they could to "unsave" me. Spiritually, I would be a major target.

Last night on the phone Charles said not to worry - once saved, always saved. I don't know what he means by this.

Through it all I can feel God out there just waiting for me to come back. I know if I called on Him to come back into my life and be taken back by Him, that He would be there. I just know it. He's...sad that I've gone away. But He knows I have no intention of coming back right now. I intend to steer clear of Him for the rest of the Festival. If I talk to Him it will only be to get mad.

Charles was right about how He'll listen. I was afraid last night He wouldn't listen if I talked to Him, but He did. And after, instead of the feeling of Him being so far, He felt nearer. It was a maddening, loving kind of nearness so I told Him to get lost. When He didn't, I walked away, for all the good that did. Even today, He seems (to me) nearer and less angry than He seemed before our talk. Why, I can't say. It's not a real close nearness, but He's not far off, and He's waiting.

I told someone regarding what's going on that I know what I should be doing, am not doing it, and am going to have a good time not doing it. R.G. asked, "What should you be doing?" Just then I overheard something outside talking to someone else - "Going home." I thought it was funny after Charles' advice last night to leave.

I did something this evening that I don't remember ever doing before - I left a ritual while it was still going on. It was CAW {Church of All Worlds}, and they had just invoked the deities, six of them. They started with Lilith - bad enough for me - and progressed through Pan, Aphrodite, Bacchus, and one other I can't remember (no problem with any of these). Then the clincher - they invoked Jesus! Not only that, but (of course) they played down the guilt and shame stuff they say he preached, and played up the love. If that wasn't enough, they spoke of the scene where he turned over the money changers in the temple saying that he was a "tax rebel." Mark 12:13 and Luke 20:20-16 are two places where Jesus clearly says that people should pay taxes. It's the story of the coin with Caesar's picture on it. "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's. Give to God what is God's." Calling Jesus a tax rebel, for me, crossed the line over into heresy. They invoke Jesus at a Pagan ritual, then completely misrepresent Him. I picked up my belongings, cut a doorway, and split.

After I left the ritual, I ended up talking to J. (of hospitality) for a good three hours. Talking with him oddly made me feel better. I know now that I came to Ancient Ways to say good-bye, to experience it all once more before turning to Him. I will go to the main ritual tomorrow, but it will not be out of rebellion against God; it will be doing the old, familiar, fun things one last time. My rebellion ended tonight. I'm willing to go back to Him, if He will take me, but first I have to finish the Festival. I'm sure He's not even happy about the form (going to rituals) of my good-bye, so I will not begin formal prayers again until the Festival is over. I'm tired now, but perhaps I will speak with Him tomorrow.

Ancient Ways, Day 2

First complete day.

There is more to what is going on than mere dissonance. I only wish it were that simple. What is happening is so obvious that I can't believe it never occurred to me that it would happen - being among all these Pagans, back at this Festival, is bringing back so many memories. Memories of the happiness at festivals past; memories of experiences of the Goddess and God being real - memories that battle it out with the "concert experience." Just being around all these Pagan people. The whole atmosphere of the place - no one thing in particular - is weakening and undermining my Christian faith. I've been feeling separated from the Christian God. I know He doesn't approve of me being here, and that He doesn't want me to go to any rituals. (I haven't been to any yet, but I know He wants me to worship Him alone.) So I didn't pray to Him last night knowing He was mad at me and afraid He wouldn't listen.

So I called Charles (using my phone card) from a pay phone here at Harbin a bit past 10 tonight. He helped me to see the issue more clearly, and talking to him also helped me to define better where I'm coming from. It is an issue of will, and I plan to stay firmly in control for now. He advised I catch the first bus home, even though he knew I probably wouldn't do it, which I won't. He also advised that I talk to God about it. I said I was afraid that since He was mad at me, He would not listen to me. He said God always listens. I told him that I knew what I should do, and that I was abusing God's love and disobeying Him, but that I wasn't going to do it. I was going to the circles. I am going to go to the circles. I am staying in control. And oh what a feeling of power that is! Never mind the emptiness or loneliness of the feeling of being separated from God.

So skip ahead in time to 2-3 hours later. I sit by the oak tree meeting place behind the Meadow Building, one of the few places accessible without a flashlight where it is quiet and I could be left alone. And I talk to God. (I talked to Him a little on the way back from the pools, but nothing was solved.) So I talk to Him again and nothing's getting solved until I get angry and tell Him to get lost. Just go away and I would talk with Him when I was ready. I felt He heard my "prayer" and I knew He wasn't far off. He didn't move off when I told Him to go away, even though I told Him more than once. I finally had to get up, turn my back on Him, and walk away. Even then, however, even now, I don't have the feeling of Him really going completely away. I'm disconnected from that Power, yes, but It hasn't gone away. I will tell Him again to go away before bed. Maybe He will then. If not, maybe when I attend my first festival "circle" (A Yemaya devotional) tomorrow. If I get Him angry enough, perhaps then He will go away and leave me in peace for a couple days.

First it felt like two opposing forces, like a handkerchief tied to two ropes. Now it seems like maybe I must go back, but I must do the Pagan stuff one last time. It was like this before, before going into the "handkerchief" phase, and now it is mostly back again. I pretty much have to follow Him - but not at this moment. At this moment the Lady and Lord have a chance to prove Themselves. At this moment, I am not His.

Ancient Ways, Day 1

As a Christian, how do I feel about being here? I feel okay, at least about the hot tubbing, but not so much about the rituals. I feel, if evil spirits do exist and hang out around ceremonial magicians or unethical people, like a walking target as a Christian, even more so with my cross. As a Pagan I am, of course, delighted to be here. As the Festival wears on, the dissonance between the two will, I am sure, increase.

Church Search, Week 5

Week 5 - St. Gregory's Episcopal for early morning Eucharist and services. Only 9 people were there for the 8 a.m. service. Much larger crowd (I am told) at 10. The Eucharist had a very "holy" feel to it for me. (It's all in the state of mind.)

I was running early and made it to Hamilton Baptist Church by around 9:30. Services don't start until 10:50 but the doors were open. I asked the pastor what was up; he said Bible Study. I could pick between one on the family or on Genesis. I chose Genesis.

These people are so literate {I meant literal} in Bible interpretation it drives me crazy! After the studies Wednesday and this morning I thought I would be just as uncomfortable at the regular service, but not so. It was okay. We even sang a hymn I remembered from my earlier Christian days, but I don't remember which one it was anymore.

They do communion once a month and they did it today. The pastor made it very clear what it's meaning is and who can and can't take it. I, of course, took it. They used these little tiny cracker-like things and grape juice in the teeny plastic cups. (Seventh Day Adventist flash back!) :)

I'm beginning to see church shopping as not a matter of black and white - either hating or loving every church. There is a large gray area - Hamilton Baptist fits that gray area.

I'm also beginning to define what kind of church I'm looking for. I like liturgical churches. I like being able to take the Eucharist. I don't like literal translations {I meant interpretations} of the Bible. I not only want a Christian community, but a Christian family. I want a place where God is because any place God is, also is mercy and love. Not necessarily from the churchgoers,no, but from the God that is there.

But for now I wait in the hallway {C.S. Lewis metaphor}, slowly tasting Christianity's "flavors," but a long way from deciding which cone to buy. Will He help me find the right door to knock on, the right flavor to buy?

God was at both services I was at today, but it was a different experience in each church - a slightly different flavor to that God. Here is where words fail. Also in the experiences of the Eucharist and communion - slightly different meanings producing different experiences.

Hah! Feast or famine. Two communions this week; there will be none next week.

Sunday number 5 of searching; four weeks and 2 days since becoming a Christian; tomorrow will mark one month. Oh, sorrow! No one to mark it with. Such is waiting in the hallway. Anniversaries are "celebrated" alone. Though He keep me waiting, though the powerful experiences of the "calling" are no more, yet I will follow Him. He didn't give up on me easily. How can I then so easily give up on Him?

Church Search, Weeks 1-4

Pentacost

Thus far:
Week 1: St. Mary's Cathedral (Catholic)
Week 2: Calvery Chapel (Protestant)
Week 3: St. Mary's and UU Church (for new member Sunday)
Week 4: St. Gregory's (Episcopal)

Woke up late so I had to make a choice between St. Gregory's or the Baptist church. Seeing as how at St. Gregory's I had more chance of taking communion, I chose them. (I was going to go to the early service at St. Gregory's, and then go to the Baptist church. Maybe next week.) Anyway, I did take communion. The guy who handed me the cup didn't realize it was empty, but I took the last drop. At least I got something. And it was real wine. I thought it was water until I tasted it, but it was wine, just like Jesus used.

I think this was one of the most (if not the most) positive church experiences I've had. The priest and deacons spoke to me at length, as well as members of the congregation. I told them of the role the Internet played in my "conversion." They were amazed. Their service was very much like the Catholic ones I've been to (a real plus), and I even noted elements from the two Eastern Orthodox services I went to. There was also a baptism of a 7 or 8 year old child.

The service lasted about 2 hours (little less). I'm told it's usually about an hour and a half long, made a little longer this time because of the baptism. But I wasn't tired or bored at all. It was a good service. Plenty of singing, a couple easy dance steps, and blessedly short litergy {I think I mean sermon} that was just the right length to get the point across. It was about the Holy Spirit because today is Pentacost. The priest discussed how, like the wind, you can't control the Holy Spirit. Then they asked the congregation to share any stories the litergy might have brought to mind. At that moment, not before, the relevance of the uncontrollable nature of the Spirit suddenly brought to mind my concert expereince. I debated speaking up (I don't know these people). I composed an outline of what I would say. Then I spoke - first. All the above took only seconds for my mind to do. I simply said that I was a new Christian and told about going to a Christian music concert and feeling an incredibly loving Presense fill the room ("in the room" might be a tad more truthful), and that I can't further describe the experience. Then I sat down. I should have said more - I should have briefly told the rest of the story. But I had at least 2 or 3 more people thank me for saying what I did. A couple people came up to me just to say that.

There was a part of the service where we could offer prayers for help or of thanksgiving. I said something about Charles, usung the form printed in the litergy and using only his first name, not expounding on any problem. I guess this is the equivelant to Candles of Sharing.

Between the service and taking communion for really the first time in years, I came away from that church glowing. (The communion on Easter was not "real"; it was an outward expression of the end of my [first] rebellion.)

Taking down the altar

Waking up this morning last night seemed just like a dream. But I know it wasn't. The book is missing from my shelf, and there is a second necklace around my neck. It was real.

Soon after getting up today, I decided to take my altar down. It just felt right. I don't know why. I wrapped most everything in newspaper and packed it away in the travel case. I took the cloth off. There's a few items sitting on the table still, but it is a table now, not an altar. What is happening to me? I'm quite sure that if yesterday had been a "normal" Friday and I had not met Charles, that it never would have occurred to me today to take down my altar. There was something magickal about our meeting last night. What else could cause me to dissemble something I've been creating for years?

Eleanor said she never know that the concert had had such an effect on my life. After talking to her today, though, I think she understands a bit clearer. She had offered to take me to see "Godspell" tomorrow.

Eleanor made me aware of one of the blessings of living in SF. If I was still living in Chico there's no way Charles and I could have met. There's no way he could have flown through; here he can. Here God has a chance to work.

Meeting Charles

I didn't want to be on campus today, but I had financial aid to take care if and needed to take care of a couple things at the campus bookstore. Naturally, since I was on campus, I logged on to the Net. There was a note from Charles in response to my last note to him, but there was another note as well stating that a relative had died and he was flying toward Florida today. Due to Memorial Day weekend, instead of passing though Chicago or some such more direct way, he was coming through San Francisco. Did I want to meet him at SFO for his short layover?

His Air Canada flight was 20 minutes late. We only had about an hour to talk before he had to board a flight to North Carolina where he will be staying with some family. A true (and for me highly emotionally charged) bittersweet moment. And a true gift. Thank you God.

I met him at the arrival gate, and spotted him in the crowd immediately. I had my old dog-eared, highlighter-penned, used-looking copy of "The Truth About Witchcraft Today," which he's never quite got around to picking up, wrapped in newspaper (to give it more the look of a gift). I had written a sort of "dedication" to him inside the front cover. He also had a gift for me - a small 14 karat gold heart with a cross inside it. It's real tiny on a real delicate, short chain, but it's the most wonderful gift, and how he came up with it on such short notice I don't know.

So I am touched. I see God's hand in Charles' flight coming through San Francisco. It is a wonderful gift (even if the circumstances could have been better) - undeserved, unexpected, a true present that also shows God's enormous power, and is bit humbling as well. How can I thank you, God, for this completely undeserved meeting? Thank you. You know how much it means to me.

poem: May 3rd

[About my conversion.]

May 15-16, 1996

May 3rd
She stands on the shore
Of the rainy day,
Unsure of what lay ahead.
Certainty stretched out behind her--
Certainty, hope, love:
Her friends and her God.
Now she was being asked to venture into the
Unknown darkness of the watery abyss.
Now she was being asked to trust this
New God and new experience.
She looks out on a sunset over a cloudless sea
As drizzle falls on the beach.
Can she take this leap of faith?
Can she abandon herself?

With a deep breath
She steps into the water,
Accepting its blessing and all it has to offer.
The clouds do not clear or the rain cease,
But from somewhere an unearthly light shines.
From within and without her, the
Seascape and beach are faintly illuminated.
She looks at the water lapping around her ankles,
Like wine from a long forgotten cup,
And smiles.

What Do I Believe?

Went to St. Mary's for church this morning. The first thing I noticed when walking through the doors was the smell of incense. The service was good - the processions, the gestures: the ritual. Ritual always turns me on. And I could feel more into it than I did when I went to the Easter service for my class. Still on the outside, but more "in" than before.

I am still beset with doubts - lots of them. I almost feel like I'm pretending belief. Do I really believe? Do I really want this? God, I'm so confused! Did he really die for me? Did he rise on the third day? Is he God? Dif God Himself die for me?! What do I believe?

Yesterday I went to a Christian bookstore and bought a small gold cross. I put it on with my pentagram. Or rather, I put the pentagram on the delicate chain with the cross as the chain the pentagram was on had broken several days earlier. Let's see how long this very delicate chain lasts...

I am just so tortured with doubts. No sooner do I recommit myself to Him, and ask Jesus back into my heart, than I have all these doubts. I don't know if I believe in Him as Savior or not. I feel like such a poser.

I've realized in the last couple days when speaking about who I am, I've always used the word "Pagan." "I am still a Pagan," I would say. I never said, "I am still Wiccan." Which brings me to a realization I had tonight that ties in with Jodie questioning whether or not she's still Christian. I don't know anymore whether or not I'm Wiccan. I would still call myself a Pagan, but am I Wiccan? And along those lines, why do I still call myself Pagan? In what sense am I a Pagan? In what sense am I and am I not a Pagan and Wiccan?

And what do I believe about Christianity? In what ways am I and am I not a Christian?

I do not have answers to these questions. They are hidden from me. I do not know much of anything right now beyond the feeling on longing in my heart.

Baptism is the Christian equivalent to Wiccan initiation. Neither should be undertaken lightly, which is why you won't see me getting baptized anytime soon.

But before Baptism, the Christian first lets Jesus into their heart, into their life. It struck me tonight that the Wiccan equivalent would be dedication. Nothing super binding, but a formal declaration of the willingness to learn and embrace the path.

I am a long way from Christian initiation. I need to study more and learn more about this man Jesus and this new God. I need to learn to love them. I need to know if I can accept this God as my own. I am struck by the love I felt from that Being at the concert. I am struck by Jesus' sacrifice for me. I am humbled and awed. But I am merely a dedicant at this point.

I know God loves me, even if I don't yet know if I love Him, and can't bring myself in prayer to say, "I love you." I have prayed that He help me to love Him, however.

I want to love Him; I want this to be real. It felt "right" to be in a Christian church today.

I've wanted this on some level all along. It wasn't just that He was calling me; I wanted it. I haven't been fighting only God these past weeks, but myself as well. That's why the struggle's been so intense. God didn't need to do a lot in my life; I was doing it to myself, and fighting that self in return.

Am I Christian? I don't know. I need to study Scripture to decide that. But I will keep praying for help, understanding, and love. I will pray to Jehovah in Jesus' name.

I'm still very much vacillating between the love or longing that I feel, and the pragmatism of knowing little of the real nature of God and Jesus, God and Christ.

Conversion

I, Spirit, do hereby declare on this, the third day of May, 1996, that I have accepted Jesus Christ in my heart. I am willing to follow, wherever that may lead.

This is not to say I'm not Pagan anymore. I guess that would put me in the category of Christo-Pagan, at least for now. Obviously, things are changing fast.

To back up...I was walking across campus today thinking about what I really think about Jesus, and I really don't have a big problem with His mercy mission to earth, death, and resurrection. A small problem perhaps, but not a big one.

So I (finally) got ahold of Jim at home and asked him some questions such as, "Do you believe He came to save humankind from sin?" and "Do you believe He is the Messiah the prophets spoke of in the Old Testament?" Getting affirmative answers, I knew what I had to do. I called Charles.

Now he told me not to call him because family pressures were bad, and relations strained between him and Christine. This however, being an emergency, overrode all of that in my book. The first time I dialed I got several rings, but no answer. Thinking I had misdialed, I called again. Christine picked up. I asked for Charles, said who I was, and she said he'd just walked in the door.

(Now mind you, I had called Sprint before this to find out what time weekend rates go on, and how much the off-rates were. I discovered that 10 cents a minute begins midnight on Friday/Saturday. Off rates are weekdays until 7 p.m. - $1 a minute, after 7, 40 cents or 45 cents [I forget which]. It was before 7 p.m. at this point.)

Paul was picking me up at 7 for taize, so I called at this expensive time and we spoke for 10 or 15 minutes. I strove to keep it short, even in my agitated state. I told him I was thinking of accepting Jesus into my heart. He told me what I might want to say in such a prayer, and I said I'd think about it, and then I had to hang up.

I prayed a simple prayer then, though I was unclear on whether or not it "took." Then I called Jodie who was astounded at my "conversion." Then I decided I needed someone to pray with me to make it "take" better and to have someone to share with.

It was 5-15 minutes before 7 when I called Charles back and asked him to pray with me - now. His prayer was a bit inadequate and short I felt, but in the next several minutes, along with me making a statement about wanted Jesus in my heart, I felt it "take."

It was 15 minutes after 7 when we hung up, and that was only after I got a promise from him that I could call him tomorrow. I asked him to keep praying for me and he said something like, "Do you think I'm going to stop now?"

So it begins. Right here, right now, in this bedroom. I will follow You, Christ.

Paul had called at 10 minutes to 7 (ain't call waiting grand?) to say he was leaving Alameda and traffic would probably not be good. He arrived at a quarter of 8 to take me to taize.

We had major problems finding the freeway onramp. At 8:07 we were still in the City. We even went the wrong way down a one way street! Talk about problems. We arrives at the place the taize was being held (on the peninsula) about 8:35 - 35 minutes late. They were about halfway through the service already. But Paul and I did go up to the front and I got to bow down at the foot of the cross they had laid on the floor and put my forehead on it and tell Jesus I wanted him to lead me.

I told Paul a little of my decision to follow Jesus, but he didn't seem to know what to say and seemed uncomfortable and awkward. I'm glad Charles was there for me earlier.

Happy Beltane!

Happy Beltane! Got to see the Morris Dancers dance the sun up this morning! As of Sunday, H. didn't have a working car. I prayed Sunday night that he would find one, and that night he did. Thank the Lady for small pleasures like this! It was (is even!) a glorious morning. H. and A. and I arrived just as the first glimmers of dawn were breaking the sky. The dancing had not started yet, and we even got a parking place in the lot! The earliest we've ever arrived, so we got to see them start the dancing. I also kept a close eye on the horizon and got to watch the sun rise. My mind was elsewhere as it rose, but my eyes were on it. Everyone whooped and cheered at its rising. In contrast to last year, not even one teeny tiny cloud obscurring it! Afterwards, the three of us went out to bagels and coffee and H. dropped me at BART to head home. This was the warmest May morning since I've been doing the Morris thing. Two years ago was, I think, the coldest.

This past weekend I did two rituals - NROOGD and Live Oak Park, and Reclaiming in Golden Gate Park, Saturday and Sunday respectively. NROOGD was by far the best - more space, less people. At Reclaiming we got to handmake flower crowns for ourselves.

Praying

Last night in my prayers to Jehovah I felt that I needed to tack on a part about asking Him to help me love Him. I was very fervent and emphatic about this request. I don't know what emotion moved me to ask for this. Was it an irrational love asking for help finding a rational love - a love that comes from experiences and knowing? Or was it rather just a yearning for this loving Being? And what is this feeling in my heart? How did it get there? How did it start, and how is it nourished?

When I pray I have been asking to get to know the new God and learn about Him. I ask Him to tell me what He wants me to do so I can do it if I can. I get no response to this. In response to getting to know and learn of Him, the only thoughts I get are to do what I am doing - read. Read the Catholic book, read the Bible - just read. The ball is still in my court. God's Holy Spirit may be moving in my life, but I have to actively chase Him.

I'm not at all sure the light at the end of the tunnel isn't an oncoming train.

At the Pagan Interest Group at church {the Unitarian Universalist church} I have to "hide" who I am becoming. These people cannot support me in this search. There is no one I physically talk to on a regular basis who is there for me. Physically, I am alone in this, as in everything.

The Dream

Last night I couldn't sleep. I took a shower around midnight figuring it has to be done and I wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon so I should take advantage of the time. Around 2:15 I was still wide awake. I used a visualization of me in the Goddess' arms and this calmed me down. I woke up at 3 a.m. sharp, from a nightmare. Usually a nightmare will just blend away into the rest of the night and I sleep fitfully. But this time was different. I slowly came "up" from sleep to a waking state, and I remembered every detail of the dream. I lay there a minute, deciding if I should write it down. I finally did.

In the dream I was walking to school, and it was night (I always walk from school at night, so this is already strange). The next things I know there is a van, and the Satanist guy from my class is driving it. Then, in the way dreams just "move," I was in the van, in the passenger seat. No invitation, no acceptance on my part, just there.

I ask him to let me out at the next block, but he doesn't. So I try to talk him into letting me out, as I don't want to talk to him. I crawl behind the front seats, but I soon realize this won't do any good, so I crawl back up front. I can't avoid him merely by going to a different part of the van. I'm trying to stay away from religious conversation with this person.

The next thing I know we're away from the school. I ask him where we're going and he says for a bite to eat. Now somewhere in here I remember thinking that we should have arrived at the place, and I try to switch the scene to a restaurant, but it's never clear to me whether or not we were even out of the van (I must have been semi-awake at this point, as I've never had a lucid dream before). Sometime along the trip I tell him that I am a "white-light, fluffybunny" type. This seems to turn him off.

Now for the interpretation. Jim is convinced that this is just my subconscious playing out my fears. I think so, too. For instance, (and I forgot to tell this part), when I asked him what he wanted, he said to get to know me better. This comes from the fact that I stare at him in class, and he has caught me staring a few times. It is just my own fears of what he wants.

There is, however, heavy symbolism that does have meaning.

1. I am walking in the dark.

2. I am walking to school. This could be interpreted as walking to a place of learning, possibly learning about God.

3. He takes me away from the place of learning. This is one of my fears.

4. I am afraid that he wants to get to know me, that evil and/or Satan wants me.

5. I realize in the dream that I can't avoid the issue.

6. I find myself in the van without my consent. This is another fear.

So there it is. The stress is finally taking a high enough toll that it's encroaching on my dreams. I wasn't able to get back to sleep until about 4 this morning, after writing everything down. I slept the next 5 hours very soundly and peacefully. That was a relief.

poem: Resurrection

Resurrection
Purifying sun,
Burning through,
Impurities consumed,
Strength returning.
Burning bright, blinding light.
Clearing day, warming ray.
Increasing thirst, fireburst.
Falling long, hearing song.
Pleading plight, praying at night.
Needing love from up above.
Cinging sun, it is done!

Coincidences

Prayed to Jehovah again tonight, asking Him to show me the way, walk with me down it, tell me what to do to serve Him, and tell me how to get to know Him. Like last night, most of the prayer was done with my head unbowed, and arms slightly raised, hands slightly in front of me, palms upturned. A great deal like an invoking posture actually, except I was sitting, knees bent under me. Some cultural conditioning does kick in, though. Kneeling next to my bed seems the "right" thing and feels okay, rather than kneeling in front of my altar as I do for the Goddess.

As like last night, my upturned palms tingled when I prayed. Why, I don't know. Am I sending out energy in my great need? (Very likely.) Feeling God around me? (Less likely.) Receiving energy? (Downright unlikely.) The tingling palms added a magickal dimension to these two prayers that wouldn't have been there otherwise.

Like yesterday's prayer, I felt Him listening.

Carlos gave me Thursday work detail, but didn't tell me what job. It won't be my usual beverages, as Dan does beverages every day but Wednesday when I do them. I hope he doesn't put me on salad bar. (God forbid!) Line serving I might be able to deal with. So now I will be working two days a week.

The name Paul seems to be cropping up in my life lately. The guy who took me to the concert that started this whole thing is Paul. Charles' Sikh friend's name is Paul, his self-proclaimed heathen friend's name is (I think) Paul, and the guy at church some weeks ago who seemed sympathetic to me is named Paul. While we're at it, the name of our school library in something like the J. Paul Leonard Library. It does not escape me that Paul is one of the major figures of early Christianity, and is known to have written several New Testament books, even though some of the book attributed to him were written by others who put his name on it. Still, he was a major mover and shaker of the early Church. Is it not strange that Paul is now cropping up? Hmmm. Makes one wonder...

There are times - quiet moments of aloneness, or the experience of friendship via e-mail - where the fear I feel toward Jehovah is almost non-existent, or ignorable. In these moments of the dissipation or ignoral of fear, a space for love to develop is created. It is nurtured by Him I have no doubt; He is moving in my life. He is pushing me toward love. In the ignoral of the fear, and yet the lack of love, the dominant emotion that comes into play is then awe. Awe of God's love, awe of His power, awe of Him. These are almost the closest to love I come. Almost.

The closest would seem to be in prayer when I call out in my need and know I am heard. He may not answer, but that is a matter for later. In the prayer itself it is enough to be heard. The Spirit of God listening is the answer. It is in the experience, the sense, of talking directly with God that I am closest to love because I am in communion with this Being who loves me and is taking the time to listen. It is almost hard not to love then, but only almost. I still barely trust this Being, but I think the trust is growing. It will take me a long time to really get to know Him, if indeed I ever do.

Prayer

After reading Charles' mail this morning, I realize the next move with God is mine, and that move has to be prayer. I haven't done any normal prayer in a while.

This whole three weeks or so that this has been going on I have been responding to a heart level call. God has reached out to me; now I need to reach out in return. Ball's in my court. He can do nothing more until I do something. How can a momentary realization at a concert become this? Is it one of God's Mysteries: taking something small and normal, like a grain of sand, and using it as an irritation and foundation for something beautiful and precious, like a pearl. It is only through the foundation of the sand and the irritation it engenders that growth is possible. No grain, no growth.

Coincidences remain. Tonight on Xena (TV) was a discussion of the One True God and a (major) reworking of the story of the sacrifice of Isaac. Is He still calling me? Does He want me? Xena usually deals with the Greek (or is it Roman) gods, when it deals with gods at all. That's what made today's show so strange.

I'm not at all sure what to do now. I prayed to God tonight to show Himself to me, to teach me about Him, to tell me what He wanted me to do, etc., but received no impressions as to what to do.

More on searching for God

Friday I climbed to the top of the student center at the very top of the concrete stairs. It was windy and threatening to rain (again). I yelled at God for a while and I know He was listening, but the only response I got was that it started to rain and the wind kept howling.

Last night I called Charles and we talked for about two hours. In the incident with the Satanist guy he saw the same symbology as me - evil moving toward me.

There were a lot of little coincidences last week. Coming home from work on the bus Friday night a Mormon guy was sitting next to me. He didn't bother me, though. I had my eyes closed and was working on the Jesus/Goddess/me/door visualization. I had briefly tried to earlier in the day and I seemed to be able to take the hand {that Jesus} offered, so I decided to further explore it on the way home. I could take the hand, but I had a hard time visualizing walking through the door. I finally did, but I don't think I'm ready to do that in real life yet. I have taken the hand, though.

Charles has been talking on e-mail about being honest with God and telling Him how I feel toward Him. I did that a little on Friday. Last night I went out on the back porch and talked with Him a few minutes, but I realized later I had been entirely too civil. The anger was still very much inside of me. So I sat in the dark and berated Him for a while for all the upheaval and such He's causing in my life. I felt a little better for finally telling God my feelings, although of course He already knows.

So even though last week was a rest compared to the two weeks before, little things happened all week, and I kept thinking about God and such. So I suppose I'm back to looking again.

Charles said that since I've been searching for God, I'm being rewarded by experiencing Him, such as at the concert. Some reward! He turns my life upside down and scares me by asking me to follow Him into the unknown.

I also told God last night that although I wasn't willing to trust or follow Him, I was willing to become willing to trust and follow Him at least a little way. I think I may be willing to trust Him a little. I have to start somewhere. I don't really trust Him right now. I don't love Him. I'm not sure if I like Him. But He loves me. This may be enough to start with. If it isn't, then at least the yearning He's put in my heart should be. I can't run; I can't close the door. There will always be a voice in my head, and the door will always be cracked.

poem: Trust

Trust
What can come of Sunday morning
When you want to stay in bed?
And what can come of all week morning
When all you feel is dead?
And how does one comprehend
Something never said?
How does one get up and walk,
One more street to tread?

How am I to look you
Straight in Mystery's eye?
How am I to know that
What you say won't be a lie?
How am I to comprehend
His death for me to die?
And how am I to say hello
When I was only taught good-bye?

Coincidence

I thought I had put all this yearning for God stuff behind me, but I keep bringing it up to Charles in e-mail (I really do need to talk about it still), and little things keep happening. The Mormons passing out Books of Mormon, the Satanist guy showing back up in class this week. Is He still calling me? (shakes head) Impossible.

Today the Satanist guy was not only in class, but instead of sitting at his usual spot in the back row, he sat in the row right behind me, in a place where I could see him out of the corner of my eye the whole time! Ick! The coincidences seem to be piling up. Maybe they'll step, or maybe I'm just imagining them.

Getting to Know You

So the door lies open. Do I take the hand being offered, and let it lead me into the unknown darkness, or do I turn my back on it? The greater the darkness, the greater the chance for light. I know this. What will I do?

I keep trying to visualize a door with myself on one side and Jesus on the other. He has his hand outstretched toward me. I know I should take his hand, but no matter how hard I try I just can't. Maybe I'm just not quite ready.

I felt a bit of a "recommitting" when talking to J. this morning. I keep vacillating between seriously wanting to study Christianity and not. I know I must study, and today (unlike yesterday) I do feel more like doing it.

He {J.} compared my situation with hanging onto a branch hanging over a pit. There's no technique he can teach me for letting go; it just has to be done. I have to trust God.

That's where getting to know God comes in. He said I couldn't get to know God until I committed. We can't get to know God and build a relationship until we commit ourselves. I said something about knowing or trusting the Goddess or some such before I committed to Her - until I remembered my initiation, and come to think of it now, my dedication a year earlier. I pledged to love, honor, and by extension, serve these Beings who I really didn't know that well. He said I needed to do the same with Jehovah.

Further Communion Thoughts

When I went to make coffee this morning, I found my mail, with two good arrivals - Hole in the Stone magazine, and a letter from Sc. (of Sc. and Su.). I opened the magazine straight away and looked for my article. It was there ! Then I remembered my letter to the editor. I looked, and it was there, too! Cut a bit, but it had all the important stuff.

I also called Charles Scott about last night. He said to only call in emergency, and this was not exactly, but I did need to talk to someone. We talking for about 1 1/2 hours I think. (I get special rates on weekends.) He gave me his idea of communion, and I told him why I wanted to take it.

The upshot of the call, the magazine arriving (with my Coming Home to Wicca article in it), and having a night to sleep on it, is that taking communion last night would have been wrong. I am not Christian; I am Wiccan, and Wiccan I shall remain. With the magazine arriving today my resolve was strengthened. This doesn't mean I'm setting aside Christianity, though. The search must go on. I think I just got caught up in the moment, and my tiredness didn't help.

I feel bad for making a fool out of myself in front of Paul, and for getting caught up in the moment. I will try to avoid future repeats. I will try to be more of who I am - a Wiccan.

If God wants me, He'll have to try harder. I will study the Bible still, but I am tired of actively looking so hard. Maybe I'll stop praying to Jehovah, or only pray for Christian friends. No more events - the energies always suck me in. I've got "cakes and wine." This should be good enough for me. This is my communion.

He's calling me away from someone who I love with all my heart - the Goddess. And I feel like I've lost touch with Her. This may be why I'm being drawn to Jehovah - it's another living presence to draw from. I must find a way to reconnect with Her, and make the need for Him no longer necessary.

Catholic Young Adult Conference

Went to the Catholic Young Adult Conference today. It was weird because I was so acutely aware of my outsider status. I tried to believe that the invisible wall wasn't there, tried to fit in, tried. But then came Mass at the end of the conference, and the Eucharist - communion.

Now I know that non-Catholics can't take communion, but it had been a good day around liberal people, right? So I asked Paul (my ride) if I had to be Catholic. He said yes, but that I could get a blessing (which I did).

With his yes you must be Catholic answer, the invisible wall I had been trying to ignore all day came into a focused, tangible reality. And it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I got my blessing and sat back down. What I should have done is head outside. No one would have noticed my departure, and I hardly would have been missed. Instead, I sat with my head in my arms so no one would see the tears forming in my eyes. It was as if someone had slammed a door in my face. I had just been told it was us vs. them, me being the "them." I was inextricably, hands-down, on the outside. And it bit. To go to the conference all day and then have this happen was more than I could bear. I never would have been denied communion in a Protestant church.

It hurt because to deny me communion is to relegate me to outsider status, out of the community. It really made me notice how different I was. And it hurt - bad.

Mass ended a few minutes later, during which I tried to compose myself, and Paul motioned to me. My frustration was near the surface, and I let just a little off. But I said much less than I would say to some, because I don't know Paul, and can't open up to him. I stood out in the night with him, little talk on either side. Not only had I been dissed, but now I was embarrassed, too.

Went to do a journal entry last night and found my journal missing! A frantic search turned up nothing. I thought back on my day and figured I must have left it in either the Old Administration building computer lab (probably), or on the bus (less likely). It was too late to call the lab, so I had to wait 'til morning.

I prayed about it (to Jehovah) (gasp!). It made me feel a bit better. To show I still had faith (even with these weird things happening) I pulled out my Bible and started where I left off in Acts. I got so absorbed in Paul's travails that pretty soon I'd finished the book! I am now ready to start in on Romans.

I called the computer lab this morning. They said they had my notebook, so I came down straight away to pick it up. (My Humanism and Mysticism class was not held today. The teacher told us Wednesday that there'd be no class today, so I wasn't planning on showing up until late [I have to work later].)

poem: The Search

The Search
Oh, brave new world.
Blinking in the sunshine of
Yesterday's afterglow
Does not brighten the nights
Of tomorrow,
Or ease today's burdens.
I pray only for release from the blinding
Light of Your shadow,
That I may rest in
Blissful darkness.

poem: Footfalls of God

Footfalls of God
Like a dream stealing into consciousness,
He came.
Like a drop that makes the cup overflow,
He came.
Like the unknown challenging the known,
He came.

Like a phone ringing,
He spoke.
Like a door opening,
He spoke.
Wrestling with Him,
He spoke.

With the sound of the candle's flame,
He claimed.
In the pain of the ecstasy,
He claimed.
Putting His heart on mine,
He claimed.

Like a stranger at the door,
He came.
Knocking at my heart,
He spoke.
Opening my heart,
He claimed.

Communion

Easter

The pull is back a little today between the Forum (X-tianity covered among other things) and reconsidering last night's beautiful service. The pageantry of everything last night had a distinctly Pagan flavor to it, and in many ways made me feel at home, especially in retrospect.

After church today there is a communion service in the chapel. I feel a strong need to check it out, though not necessarily participate. And yet, here I am trying very hard not to talk to Jehovah, and I find myself seriously thinking about taking communion. What is happening?

I still hate the Christian God - I think - yet there is a softening taking place within the hate. And what's this? My typo above - I began to write, "I still have the Christian God" instead of "I still hate the Christian God," even though I was thinking "hate."

This struggling with God, this hand-to-hand combat, do I really think I can win?

Later...I took communion. They left all reference to Jesus out of it, but I thought of it a little as I dunked the bread in the wine and ate it. I felt compelled to take communion. I don't remember the last time I took communion, but it has been several years.

What is happening to me I don't know, but I do not think my rebellion this past week can stand up to communion. I only took it because it was Easter. If it wasn't, I could have walked away. But I cannot stand up to the biggest Christian holy day of the year without investigating further. And so I struggled with God and my own curiosity, and lost, and took communion.

I crossed a line today, and there is no going back from here. God opened the door and pushed me toward it - that door of letting go of a Wiccan-only based idea about the world, and investigating where Christianity fits - and I in my fear dug my heels in. But God didn't give up, or maybe my own curiosity kept bugging me, or maybe both, but the softening of my heart even as I tried to hate Him, occurred anyway. I had a choice, yes - we always have a choice - but it was a clear choice.

So I've picked up the phone to stop the incessant ringing (it was really bugging me). Now what? What to where I was a week ago? Yes, but with a new focus and purpose. Everything's changed, and nothing. Anyway, this is not a commitment to Christianity; this is a commitment to seek the truth in Christianity. What happens from here, happens.

Okay, Lord, you've got my ear. I'm willing to listen. You better make this good.

I'm afraid, so very afraid of what what I will find and what might happen. But I have to try. It would do no good to ignore it anyway. Haven't I been studying some of the issues already, in my studies of Christianity and reading the New Testament? Buying a concordance; hanging out on soc.religion.christian?

I have to trust that God knows what He's doing in my life, that there a purpose and reason. I have to trust that God will do the best thing for me and lead me where I should go.

Later...I could have sworn when I prayed tonight that I could feel the presence of God in the room, ever so slight, but ever so there. I was heard tonight.

Easter vigil and thoughts

Woke up this morning and the pull wasn't bugging me. I think I can relax a bit in this vein.

On T.V. on Bonanza (?) one of the major groups on this show was some Quaker (?) or some God-fearing group. Another call? But it isn't bothering me much. Maybe Jehovah will go away, or maybe He's just busy because it's Easter weekend. Yeah, right. He's God. He can do me and Easter weekend at the same time.

From a song on the radio this evening: "I loved you, You didn't feel the same. Though we're apart, You're in my heart. Give me one more chance to make it real." This was on the way to St. Mary's for Easter services for my class.

When to St. Mary's Cathedral for Easter Vigil services tonight. Lasted about 2 1/2 hours. There were a couple of magick moments, but only a couple. One was when the organ wads playing, a bell was ringing, and I looked up at the thing above the altar that looks like silver rain that some guy had told my symbolized the Holy Spirit's descent. I could almost imagine the Spirit descending. The other time was communion. I can't give the specific portion, but it was before people lined up to take it.

The guy sitting next to me said that even though I couldn't take communion (because I'm not Catholic) I could cross my arms over my breast and receive a blessing. I do so and the priest touched my head with his right hand.

My back hurt a lot during the service, decreasing it's magic.

I felt a little tug during the service, but it's nothing I can't ignore. From Monday on through Friday night it was a terrible pull. This morning it was gone. It came ever so little during the service, but is almost nothing now.

I wonder. Is God changing His tactic? Is He going to wait for me to come to Him, knowing I'll have to at some point? He has more patience than me. I have no doubt He can wait me out.

But the hate that I've been cultivating has made me stronger. As long as I hate God, I cannot love Him.

I woke up late this morning again - third day in a row. I think my body is just getting onto a vacation schedule.

So, is God going to chase after me, or wait me out? Will I come back?

It's about midnight as I write, but we go on daylight saving tonight and lost an hour of sleep, so I have to be up in 5 hours. And I do have to be up. I told Cynthia I'd help with breakfast, and I need to be at church at 8 to do that. But I am not tired. Don't know why. Maybe something to do with church tonight. Maybe to do with daylight saving. It's harder to sleep when you know you have to.

Good Friday thoughts

Good Friday

Got home from Full Moon and H.& R.'s about 12:45 a.m. Then I overslept this morning again, by about an hour, waking up around 10.

So why am I trying to push Jehovah away? Am I trying to prove something? Am I truing to be better than God? Am I trying to punish God for leading/pulling me in the direction of Christianity, a leading/pulling that I have no control over? Perhaps. At least when I have my heels dug in I am taking control. Perhaps I am testing God, too, taunting Him, taking advantage of His love. My rebelliousness does have a certain allure - rebelling against God Himself. So far I'm holding my own, but the feeling of the need to search had not gone away.

So far the "coincidences" that are "supposed to get me on track" have been small. Today I saw a commercial for the Book of Mormon on T.V. A song, a commercial on the radio - these are small things. He better hit me with a metaphorical 2x4, or I won't come.

I hate Him, and I hate how He calls me. My rebelliousness feels good, and gives me a sense of power, even though I know it's wrong. If I can keep my anger against Him up for long enough, and continually remind myself of His vindictiveness. He might eventually stop bugging me. Right now He seems to be softening my heart toward Him, and I can't let that happen. If I can get myself to stop thinking about it so much, I will win. To that end, I am skipping Good Friday services at church this evening.

But then last Saturday comes to mind, and I find it hard to be angry at such a loving presence as I felt that night. My resolve wavers, and I find myself wavering between hate and love. Caught in the middle, I want to cry. Cry in the wrongness of my hate and sin, cry in the love He has for me - the very love I am abusing right now, cry to release the tension that is always around me.

But I hate Him, or am trying to. I am trying to hate this incredibly loving Being. It's hard. All I want is to pick up my Bible and start reading and thinking and studying. I find it difficult not to do so.

I guess I want to see if I can "force God's hand," make God do something He wouldn't normally do. I want to make Him come to get me; by running away I hope to make Him do that. He may not do anything precisely because He knows I'm trying to force Him to. It is not wise to try to force God to do something.

There is now more at stake than just me changing. There is now my pride at stake as well, and to see how long I can stay away. And a test of my strength vs. God's.

And yet there is this intense feeling that the answer has already been decided. Like no matter what I do, I will have to go to Jehovah.

Channel surfing tonight I happened upon a Jesus program, but it was on the Spanish channel so I couldn't understand it. Of course, it could be coincidence. It is Easter weekend.

Coincidences

Yesterday on the bus I was listening to the radio on my Walkman when I heard the song, "Right Here Waiting." The chorus goes, "Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you. Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right here waiting for you." This in the continuing saga of my pull away from X-tianity. I was wondering whether this song would come on. It only took one day after making my decision.

I turned on the radio on my way to the bus this afternoon and it was part of a commercial that greeted my ears - "Are you listening? Do you hear it?" I think this is what it said. Another in the saga, and I am listening if only because I have to. How do you not listen to God? But that doesn't mean that I have to head. I can feel myself turning into a Christo-Pagan, or a Christian, or something. And I don't like it because I don't like Jehovah. So when that God starts poking into my life now, I will just say, "No!"

I guess what worries me is I am one step away from being a Christo-Pagan. I have to make my stand somewhere. Yet, like I thought, it hasn't made the pull do away. Maybe God doesn't have to do anything. Maybe He knows that if He just waits me out, I'll come. Which is why it's all the more important for me to stay right where I am. I hate this powerless feeling of being called and no matter if I put the receiver down or don't answer, the phone just keep ringing.

No! The Christian God is too mean, too vindictive, too horrible. I have to make my stand. Right here. Right now. He is undeserving of my love.

And then I think that there is only one God, so He must be part of the One, and if I love the One, how can I not love Him? Well, the answer is that I can't love any portion of any God that is as mean as Jehovah is throughout the Bible. OT especially, but NT, too.

So right here, right now. He's pulling me; I'm digging my heels in. He's calling me; I'm letting the phone ring. I hate Jehovah. How can He love me?

poem: Flame of Peace

Flame of Peace
Light my candle,
I'll light his,
He'll light hers, and
She'll light theirs.
Keep the fire glowing,
Keep the love a'flowing,
Keep the love a'growing
In this circle of His peace.
The Spirit will keep bringing, and
We will all be singing, as to
God we're clinging
In His love that brings peace.

The Concert

Went to my first Christian music concert last night. Jesse Manibusan was opening for Margaret Becker. Margaret Becker was up on this small stage with colored lights and the gym was darkened. She's phenomenal. Very good singer. Pretty, too.

The concert was held in the gym at St. Mary's College, and was part of a Youth Conference going on.

Jesse is cool. He setup was on the main floor down at audience level, and all the main lights were left on when he sang. He was good. When he sang I could feel the Spirit of God in that room. God was there.

I got to meet Jesse before the concert, and my ride Paul introduced the whole group to him. (He knows him.) After, I bought one of his tapes, and found him to have him sign it. I told him that I could feel the Spirit of God when he was singing, and he said it was good that I was that open. Open, I'm thinking? I thought it {God being there} was pretty obvious.

Jesse Manibusan

I've been listening to Bernie Ward playing the music of Jesse Manibusan. I posted to s.r.c., and someone there suggested posting in (I think) rec.music.christian. So I did, and got a response from someone giving me his e-mail address. I wrote to the address and got a response back that same day (yesterday) from Jesse himself! He said he wasn't available in stores, but I could get it through him directly. I gave him my P.O. Box number so I could have a flier sent to me. I tried to quote him a line from one of the songs I remember Bernie playing, but I realized after sending the message that I had quoted the words wrong. "God is greater than you and me," I said, when it should have been, "God is bigger than you and me." (sigh)

Went to school and talking to Carlos about working this week. Last week to told me to call him and leave a message over the weekend, and he gave me the phone number and told me to call him. But I forgot that he gave me his number so I called the main number and left a message, but he never got it, so he thought I hadn't called. He went ahead and filled my shifts, so when I asked to work he said not until next week. Additionally, before I come back to work I need a doctor's note.

So I went to the Health Center to get a note, which necessitated an examination. The doctor asked me where my air cast was; I said I didn't have one. She asked why; I said no money. She said I needed one. It cost $28, but she said she could get it down to $10, and I could get an IOU to pay it later. She said my foot was still swollen and needed ice put on it.

At church on Sunday at the CUUPs {Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans} group I somehow got drafted (with 2 other people) to help out with the Full Moon on March 2. The person who was signed up had to back out because of a previous engagement. So I get to help out with a small, but public, ritual!

My ankle is feeling better today, though I still can't run, and I'm walking with a slight limp.

Sprained Ankle

On Thursday night at work (February 8) I sprained my ankle at work. I slipped in some water, my left foot twisted, and all my weight went down on my ankle. Ouch! It really hurt, I went home that night after turning down Carlos' offer to call a doctor, but decided later that I better go to the Student Health Center. Eleanor drive me to school the next day and I saw the doctor at the Health Center. My ankle was pronounced sprained. My first sprained ankle! They put ice on it and wrapped it in an Ace bandage. Whereas before I practically needed crutches to walk, I felt much better after this. I didn't know this {that my ankle felt better} until after I had gotten up, by which time I had told the doctor that walking was very painful, and she had got crutches for me. So I have them, but it turns out I don't need them. Just above my heel on both sides of my foot I have nice purple bruises. But I'm walking, if slowly, and I even did some spring cleaning today. Considering all, it could be worse.

poem: Sophia

[Written after my accident when I was struck by a motorcycle while crossing the street.]

Sophia
The meaning? The meaning?
Oh, to a child so clear,
She wants to believe that things are really that simple,
That God puts all things right.
But
She wonders if God can, and
If God does,
Does that interfere with free will?
What is the truth, and
How does it come?
Does it come like Jesus lovingly enveloping a small child in his arms,
Or does it come at you at top speed around a blind corner?
And from where does faith spring?
Love, or fear and pain?
Truth and faith are sisters;
Therein lies wisdom, the mother of both.

The meaning? The meaning?
If God interferes, it is faith,
If we ask God it is truth, but
Perhaps the deepest meaning is our own human reaction,
How we and our views change,
And how we change the world through them. the
Questioning, the
Search.
The goal is tangential.
The journey toward faith and truth
Is wisdom.
To reach the goal is to go too far.
The meaning is the wisdom that
The search is what matters.

More on the Accident

My injuries are getting better. It almost doesn't hurt to walk. Taking a bath tonight I discovered the true extent of my injuries. Lots of bruises - some big, some small; some very noticeable, some that only were noticed today.

It makes me think. What if these bruises weren't bruises? What if the skin had been broken? My injuries them would have been much more series. (Not to mention that the bruise on the back part of my upper thigh would have ruined my clothes. :) )

I'm not limping today. Yesterday I think I was only limping a little/off and on.

This morning on God Talk Bernie Ward was talking about free will and how God cannot interfere in out lives. Gives me a lot to think about.

Today I feel a little better. Everything still hurts, but it hurts less. Except tonight the right side of my back (lower back) hurts like hell (to do things life take a deep breath).

Eleanor took me to the beach today, and also helped me to begin tracking down the police report for my accident.

Today in church during Candles of Sharing I got up and told the congregation that I was happy to be with them today, and gave a real short version of the story. I was so nervous.

Accident

I am very relieved that my run-in with the motorcycle yesterday (about 3 p.m.) wasn't worse. I walked out of the emergency room at 7 p.m., only about 4 hours after the incident occurred.

I was mad at God at first for letting it happen, but now I am relieved that I was hurt so little. God or a guardian angel must have been looking out for me. I have thanks to the Lady and Lord that all I got was some cuts and bruises. I give thanks for being alive and not being seriously injured.

I called J.H. today to let him know what happened. (I know today is Saturday, but he's been putting in a lot of overtime.) He assured me that him and K. would be praying for me. Can't hurt. Might help.

I've never had to be in an ambulance before. It was scary yesterday, though (get this) I was more angry that I would be missing SBC {South Bay Circles, a Pagan group}, where I had been headed when the accident occurred.

I was crossing 6th Ave. with a yellow light against me (it would soon be green for me) when a motorcycle came out of nowhere. He was headed straight for me. He swerved to avoid me, but clipped me with the handlebars. That's what the doctors said. I just remember the intense pain of being hit, and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the ground, my Birkenstocks had been knocked off, and my nose started bleeding. Bystanders were handing me tissue - whatever they had with them - and some good Samaritan - Goddess bless them whoever they are - called 911 for an ambulance.

The motorcycle rider stopped for a few moments, but I think he rose on, making it a hit and run. I don't know for sure, but no one to my knowledge saw him after that. {This later proved to be false; he stayed.}

Every part of me aches today. I called in sick to work today, not because of my injuries, but because I didn't get to sleep last night for a long time - I just couldn't sleep.

I look at my cuts and bruises and think how bad things could have been, or would have been if the rider hadn't swerved. At the least I was given my health; at the most, my life.

They took six x-rays: one of my chest when I first came in; then when I complained that my right arm and shin hurt, they x-rayed those to be cautious. Two x-rays for my arm, two for my leg; but they messed up and had to take a third for my leg. A total of six.

In the ambulance they put a brace around my neck, an oxygen mask over my face, and an IV in my arm. The IV hurt when she put it in. I was crying, I think mostly out of anger that I wouldn't be going to SBC, but probably out of fear, too.

They tried to tell me that my pentagram necklace would have to come off (I think so they could take an x-ray - no metal allowed). I told them no way. It stays on my neck. It's a religious thing. They pushed it around to the back of my neck. The Asian doctor asked me what religion I was and I said Wicca. He asked me if I belonged to a coven and I said yeah.

Love is what life is about. That selfless love that one feels toward another human; that unconditional love that God has for us. Maybe one reason we're here is to learn to love the way S/He loves. A love for the Divine and a need to communicate with It drives people to churches. A love for the Divine drives people to worship. In both cases it is the same. The room of communion and worship is love. And the root of all positive magick, up to and including binding, is love, for in a binding you are binding one person to protect others.

To strive to live like Jesus,
To strive to love like God.
Keep your highest ideal in mind and strive ever toward it;
This is the life of righteousness.

Praying to Jehovah, take 2

Prayed for J.H. again last night. The first night I prayed to the Lady and Lord, the second night the Lady and Lord followed by Jehovah, last night only to Jehovah. Both times I prayed to Jehovah I tacked something on the end for myself about getting to know Him. The first time it was an afterthought, after the "Amen," but last night I remember to put it before. I guess I felt He heard me both times.

I didn't know whether or not Carlos would want me to work today, but he did. I worked from 3-8. He also wants me this Saturday. I don't know if he will want me most Saturdays. I have Sundays off, as well as Mondays, and hopefully Friday days.

Praying to Jehovah

I've been praying for J.H. the last couple of days, praying to the Lady and Lord to help him. (He's been having a hard time at work - lots of overtime and Saturday.) Last night I decided to take a chance and pray to Jehovah, since this is who he worships. It was weird praying to Him because I don't like Him much and haven't spoken to Him really in so long. But I felt like my prayer was heard.

Spring has sprung!

Winter came late last year, with our first rain not until Samhain, then little to no rain during November. Now, in January, the trees (plum blossoms?) have been blooming for more than a week, and leaves are starting to appear on some of the trees near my apartment. Spring is early.

Why does he worship Him?

I have a few questions to ask J.H. next time when I see him (well, talk to him), i.e. Jehovah in the Old Testament is a pretty nasty guy. Yet J. worships Him. Why?

Rats!

Last night I was trying to read my Bible with the rats {I had two pet rats} running around. Artemesia walked on my Bible and pissed on it! And she got away with it twice. Hmmm. A rat who's name is derived from that of a Greek goddess pissing on my Bible...

Sick

I'm 25 today!

On Saturday I had a tickle in my throat. I thought I would be really sick Sunday the 7th, but the tickle continued. When all I had Monday the 8th was still a tickle, I thought I had it beat. Then on Tuesday the 9th I came down with the cold finally, and Wednesday it was terrible. Today I feel much better - no need for any cold medicine today.

poem: The Darkness' Gift

The Darkness' Gift
She walked in bereft of fear, no thought of shedding a tear,
Knowing only joy and love, and trusting God from up above,
She walked into the blackest night, thinking it was really light,
And only found the milk had spilled when all her dreams were killed.

Fear now seeping in around, she tried to find a way to ground,
She cursed the One that stole her away, and snatched away the light of day,
Never seeing the gift in hand: a chance to fall, a chance to stand,
And so she fell away from hope, never seeing the way to cope.

She dared not dream that she could play, she dared not dream she would not stay,
When she was once more granted sun, then she did see the lessons won,
The darkness was a gift, she knew, the dark was light, it was so true!
The One who took her from her friends, restored what's good and made amends.

Without the dark she'd not know light, the sweetness from the serpent's bite.
The aching of orgasmic joy, or the separation of girl and boy,
And so she thanks the darkest night, for appreciation of the light,
Once more knowing only love, and once more trusting God above.

There was a heat wave here on the 1st and 2nd. The heat wave brought temps in the low 70s. But that broke today and the temp was back in the low 60s.

Yesterday I went down to the Haight to Curios and Candles to buy The Meaning of Witchcraft by Gardner. It seems to deal more in histories than his Witchcraft Today book, so it seems drier to me.

P. called today about their group having an ice cream social at L. and P.'s on the 14th. I'm invited, and I'd like to go.

poem: Songs of the Seasons

With thanks to Jim Hamp for the first two lines of the first and last verse.

Songs of the Seasons
Circles and cycles and songs of the seasons,
And rhymes without reason, and words with rhymes.
Slowly we spiral through the violet conundrum,
Weaving our pattern through time.

Litanies of power never spoken in silence,
Bind us together as seasons are bound.
Lovingly, longingly cycles surround me,
Leading me on with their sound.

Symbols of change all fall fast around me,
Decadence increase as summertime fades.
Soft beams of silver fall all around me,
While golden shadows are lost in the shade.

The stars of the heavens are all disappearing,
Fading so quickly as seasons roll on.
Earth sleeps around us as we pass unknowing,
We are the real sleepers at dawn.

A riot of colors call out before me,
Unhearing, I heed without knowing.
The song's speed increases, anticipation surrounding,
It beckons me on without slowing.

Finally the silver gives into the gold,
Golden shadows emerge from night.
I stand exulted, it falls all around me,
Warming me with a new sight.

Circles and cycles and songs of the seasons,
And rhymes without reason, and words without rhymes.
Slowly we spiral through the violet conundrum,
Weaving our pattern through time.

poem: In Memoriam

Both Duane Garrett, a radio talk show host in the San Francisco Bay Area, and Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead died in the summer of 1995, within weeks of one another. I was working in Yosemite National Park and therefore had no one to grieve with. I wrote this in response to my feelings on the matter. Stanza 2 is about Duane Garrett, and stanza 5, the last stanza, appears to be about Jerry Garcia. The last four lines of the last stanza are about both.

In Memoriam ­ for Duane Garrett and Jerry Garcia
Yes, I remember.
The newspapers contained only a
Shadow of Truth,
What could ever be Truth,
For the only real Truth is
Out on the street corners, and
Behind closed doors.
Emotion, raw emotion--
This is Truth.

Yes, I remember.
Glossy magazine pages and
Disembodied words in the night
Telling me news that was a week old--
Old news, but
New to me.
What am I supposed to think?
A part of my world--gone.
But there is no one here to talk with.
I am alone.

Yes, I remember.
I remember being left out.
Your world is but a fantasy to me.
Still pictures and images--
Lifeless.
I was denied the reality, the emotions.
I move away, and everything changes.
When I return, all will appear
Normal;
The water closes in over the stone,
Leaving only faint ripples
Of the past.

Yes, I remember.
I remember missing the TV pictures of the
Mourning of death, the
Celebration of life.
The pictures and voices and shared memories
That are all part of the grieving process,
However small.
But that is also part of another world,
Not mine.

Yes, I will remember.
How could I forget?
Some will mourn away their tears,
While others dance them away in
Celebration of what was.
Bodies move,
Transforming pain to action and an
Outpouring of love and support
For the mutually grieved.
I can see it so clearly in
My mind's eye--
So real.
If nothing else you will be remembered
In memory, thought, and lifestyle,
And as long as these endure,
So will you.

poem: In A Spirit of Friendship

{Later note: The Innovators were a group of Christian young people who I worked with in Yosemite National Park in the summer of 1995. We were of different faiths, but they were so nice and seemed so happy, even in the tough times. I would hang out with them, and occasionally go to the worship services they put on. They were a respite in a cold and unforgiving world that summer. I only wish I had a way of contacting them and letting them know that I finally came to Christ. Definitely something I will have to do in heaven. God bless each of you, wherever you are today.}

In A Spirit of Friendship ­ a poem for the Innovators of summer, 1995

Thank you­
For being there for me,
For being a
Modicum of spiritual sustenance for me.
We may not be of the same religion,
But there is only one God, so
Yours in mine, and mine is yours.
We have similar paths and goals,
Only different ways to reach them.

So in a spirit of friendship
I bid you all a fond farewell.
Even as I go back to my spiritual family,
I will not forget you.
Here,
So far from
Home,
You have helped to fill a void in my life.
So for being a friendly hand on this
Empty road--
Thank you.

poem: Tears

Tears

Tears.
Tears of joy, of hope, of love, of the
Change that kills being the
Change that births.
Tears
Of the rain that fell outside your window
As you cried at your losses.
Time meant everything then, but
Years to you is but seconds to
Gods.
You let the water carry you then,
Let it take you down,
Down,
Down to all you feared and ran from but
Now must face.
Those waters of life ran from your eyes
As you felt the very life ebb from you
Those forces confronted you in broad daylight
Till day was but a shadow of night and the
Sun had fled--
Or died.
Then you prayed.
Prayed for change,
Prayed for hope,
Prayed for all you knew to be again.
But you did not know that it was
Not meant to be.
You did not know all I know--
Or pretended not to.
I bring to birth only that which is useful
And kill that which is not.
You cried when I killed,
When in that emptiness before birth
Nothing was.
But in that blindness you forgot
That the circle flows one cycle into another.
And so the tide must turn,
The rain must stop,
The sun must be reborn.
And so, too, must you.
The light for once is not an oncoming train,
And the tears are not
Tears of sadness, but joy.
Yes,
Tears once flowed from your eyes
Of the rain that fell outside your window
As you cried at your losses.
But now,
Now no more.

poem: She

She
She turns,
But the gate closes behind her and
Locks maniacally,
She goes to it,
Looks through the bars,
A prisoner,
Trapped,
Unable to get back.
Everything she's ever known on one side,
Her on the other.
And so, to the unknown,
She turns.

She walks,
But her steps falter,
A baby, taking her first steps without assistance.
By day, she staggers in the hot sun,
By night, she gropes blindly in starlight.
In the morning and evening,
Parched and cold,
She stops to rest in the scattered shade of an oak tree.
But she knows she must continue on
For every time she turns
A gate closes.
She can look back, but
Never go back.
And so she turns, and so
She walks.

She becomes,
More than the person she was.
She realizes that the twisty road
Was really a spiral,
The gates only in her mind,
And the losses only a part of life.
She knows now that she could go back,
Could always have gone back,
But she knows better now.
She will always turn to look back,
Take what should be through the gate with her,
But then, as she must,
She turns,
She walks,
And finally, as fate ordains for all people,
She becomes.

poem: The Goddess

Untitled
Alone and frightened, I walk in the dark,
Above me glows a waning moon,
It speaks of death and life to come,
And I ask the question, "But how soon?"

"A mess I'm in!" I cry aloud,
"I've dug myself into this dark.
My Fire of Will lies dead and cold,
Who can relight it with their spark?"

Sadness now around me swirls,
While anger's Fire burns passion bright.
My Fire of Will may be dead and gone,
But can I turn the anger into light?

And now I tread through quickened time,
My future seen in one event,
Sadly now to sit and write,
Another lesson Goddess-sent.

I sadly sit here, realize slow,
That I'm not as mature as I had thought,
All my dreams that seemed so close,
Are gone again, and must be sought.

Once there was hope that kept me sane,
Once there was hope to give me light,
And now it's gone to ne'er return,
As my day turns into night.

So down my inner streets I go,
Looking for a sign of life,
Looking outside no stars glow,
Looking inside only strife.

Life's walls around me crumble now,
Faith is here, but hope is lost,
I'm on a journey of no return,
As on life's seas alone I'm tossed.

So on a journey just begun,
I stand here naked in the cold,
I walk on stones with bleeding feet,
Toward other pains as yet untold.

Good-bye to home, good-bye to hope,
Good-bye to all I hold so dear,
Alone I sit and weep aloud,
As inky blackness draws now near.

poem: The Broken Torch

The Broken Torch
I walk down a hallway of lackluster light,
Feeling how bad lonliness can bite,
And wondering if I'll ever find the light,
Of a new day dawning in my heart.

I fight my way through the days so cold,
The stone in my heart gives miseries untold,
And after five days this song and dance is so old,
And I just want to go home.

It's true tonight what he spoke to me,
If anything happens, it's I who'll make it be,
But sometimes in the dark it's just so hard to see,
And sometimes I can't light the torch.

I find it hard to just embrace the storm,
To leave behind all that's safe and warm,
As me and the known asunder are torn,
And God I'm feeling homesick tonight.

Now I'm center stage and on my own,
It's all up to me and I feel so alone,
And the certaintly of it chills me to the bone,
And I need some help to get by.

So friend I leave you now with this,
A final hug and one last kiss,
Then voyage I must into the mist,
And out lives part, broken by fate.

poem: Six Months After - For Rosebud

Six Months After - For Rosebud
And she died.
They killed her.
Six months ago
Today. the
Roses we planted in the Park
Died, too. her
Death showed just how close to
Death the will of the people is.

One more person.
One more person
Dead, and
Six months removed from
This world.
Six months does
Something to dull the
Pain.
Time gives us other concerns so that we
Forget.
The memories remain.
Conjure them up at will and
1993 disappears,
Replaced by whatever time you want.
Life is for the living, but the
Dead must be
Remembered.
And what is remembered,
Lives.