This morning I have been watching and listening to some pagan videos on YouTube. Even though I was raised a Catholic, I don’t identify with that religion. I follow the path of a solitary witch, and keep to myself about my beliefs.
My pagan path started from an early age. I was of course told about all the evil things witches do as a child by religious believers. As I grew older I discovered books about witchcraft and the old religions of man such as Greek and Roman pagans. While reading the Iliad one summer afternoon, right at the part where Zeus threw a thunderbolt at some Achean or other, lightning struck my chimney from a sky that was clear blue save for one fluffy little cloud over the house. I took this as some kind of sign and became intrigued by ancient literature.
I had the good fortune to go to The University of Michigan in Ann Arbor with its extensive libraries. I spent my free time between classes in the Graduate Library studying many of the eclectic books on floor 4A about drugs and the old religions. It was of course not really part of my curriculum as a physics major, but I was intrigued. I learned about pagan concepts of the world and of the ways of magic. I learned about the dark places of the mind and of the movements in the counterculture, of which, as a weed smoker, I was a part.
Over the years I have run into a few other pagans, but I never made a solid connection to any of them. I got heavily into drugs and alcohol after I graduated and lost the good years of my life chasing the empty gods of intoxication. I was a failure as a man and never was able to support myself for long before all hell broke loose with false friends. I sunk into the living hell of failure and became a recluse in my parents’ home. As the years passed and I went from unskilled job to unskilled job, running into ever more degenerate people who posed as my friends, I developed a major mental illness that the doctors still haven’t put a firm label on.
Today I live with my old father, keeping mostly to my room, taking care of cooking and cleaning and yard work. I spend my days trying to learn, and now writing. Through it all I have found some solace in my belief in benevolent gods and goddesses, in the power of magic, in the mercy of nature. This latest outbreak of corona virus really hasn’t affected me much. I do the grocery shopping. I stay at home. The library is closed so I have no outside activities. My friends have all abandoned me, because now I am a boring old man who doesn’t smoke or drink. I care for the house, the land, my father, and myself.
Writing and journaling has been with me all through this journey of life. I have stacks of notebooks full of my chronicles. I find it hard to read over the old books of mine however, because I look back on my life and realize that in many ways I was a fool who fell for the dark promises of the world instead of looking within myself for the strength to change my life for the better. Now at 58 years old I find myself on a path of discovery, a quest for happiness in a world turned dark with disease and death. I know I will find my way, but I need to ask for help from my pagan gods and goddesses because I am old and weak. This blog is in many ways the start of my journey. I will write about what’s important to me and let the chips fall where they may.
I hope nobody tries to reach out to me and save me from my pagan path. I am already saved from a life of drunken debauchery. I have people to follow online who are on the same path. I have a channel to reach out to the world, or just record my thoughts for all and sundry to look over. I have my books, and my art, and my work to keep me sane. I have people who care about me, even though I am a bit of a wastrel, and I have the future. The sun is shining now, and it’s time for another warm cup of green tea.