Better Believe
The teenage metalhead inside has been brought out by the likes of Salem, MA. Words of cleansing and blood for a time of wonder and unknown. In the familiar tropes of horror and kitsch-filled theme stores lies the philosophy of dark art and black magic.
The aforementioned young man was given Marilyn Manson and Columbine alongside puberty and reflection. The ideas of the dark arts made sense to the religious resistance building within. The blatant rejection of something so revered was alluring.
I am blessed to have had supporting parents who, though I was made to attend church, encouraged me to explore religion and spirituality. Visiting temples and discussing why’s and why not’s was expansive. It led to asking deeper and deeper and more and more until finally coming full circle.
That searching boy came full circle in Salem.
Statue of Roger Conant outside of Salem Witch Museum.
Salem’s visitor guide recommends a hodgepodge of witchy shops, and we began to visit them. While taking in a store, I flipped through the many possibilities of the town. One presence struck harder than all the others — The Satanic Temple.
As much as the aesthetic of witchy-ness appeals to me, Satanism is attractive for the words it put to ideas. It captured a way I wanted to relate to the world that no other doctrine had before, except science.
Satanic Rules of the Earth - Church of Satan
The impermanence of life and how to savor the experience.
An honesty filled with freedom and willingness instead of obligation.
And a desire to deeply know yourself, as only you can, in order to become helpful to the rest of the world.
Most importantly, I didn’t find the ideologies of politics tainting the clarity. This was bigger than politics. Its aim was the development of character. To try on ideas, gauge their compatibility, and not become them (to become them is for the ego).
So I took from Satanism the wisdom to be applied in life. Believe in yourself. Change yourself. Be true to yourself.
This is done without focus on the ego. Without arrogance or sureness. Something like that really makes sense to the young, reflecting mind. It calls to the dark place that needs a mirror to bounce a little light its way.
Through a dark art, so much light.
Naturally, when I discovered Salem, MA to be the home of The Satanic Temple I became excited. Typically, institutions don’t get much of anything going within me, but this one seemed worth a visit. Onward to the temple.
The street leading to the temple is littered with suburban-looking houses and apartments huddled side-by-side, as if crowding out of fear. An opening finally comes once the congestion meets a black gate and parking lot. A demand for territory by this imposing, Victorian structure.
What beauty. A display of power and presence. With a history to match: its past life was lived as a funeral home.
Full of excitement, we pull into the parking lot only to notice a gatekeeper before the door: requirements for entry.
I do not meet these requirements.
So many expletives and criticisms circulated throughout my head and heart. I felt baited and betrayed. Deceived by those whom my beliefs and understandings could align. The sting of the trick and no treat.
After a bit of complaining I came to a realization: life never stops pushing and shoving and testing every limit. It will constantly ask of you can you handle this? and the decision is yours.
It will ask if you can handle inconveniences and annoyances that wear and tear but aren’t meant to break. Or deal slight misfortunes to fuel judgements and hatreds that attempt to explain randomness.
Life will hand you heartache and heartbreak to see if you are willing to love more or if the pain isn’t worth another sacrifice.
An invaluable axiom for all to adopt is to set aside judgement. To look at something for what it is. I came to this temple thinking I already knew what it is, that I could assume what to expect. I was wrong.
I came expecting an apolitical institution focused on individualism. A place where all are accepted and respected and welcome. All the glories of what Satanism meant to me within a building. This is not what I found.
And I have no one but myself to blame for this. The responsibility of my assumption is mine and mine alone. So life asked me: are you ready to face the many people out there who disagree with your choice and will not associate with you for it?
I wonder why individuals become their ideas. What value does this provide? And the reflecting begins again.
What was once focused on the looming lords of the sky, reduces its scope to the righteous and holy tribe(s) claiming to have the answer. The black and white that dismiss every shade of grey for not having chosen either definite side. But the riches of the golden road are found in the middle.
I remember having a conversation with my father once and asking him why he believes in a god. He told me: I need something to believe in.
I respect the depth of such honesty. It’s a moment I have the privilege of cherishing.
But there is a sort of longing when I consider believing something based on a need. It feels paralyzed. As though the power given is crushing, so better surrendered. It does not seek out the light, instead, it assumes it.
My assumptions humble me with the truths they reveal. Then I can begin to see reasons why something is needed. It is why I desire to lead by example and uphold myself to the highest standard. To seek out the god within myself. And thrive as my highest self, sharing this dynamic being with all who welcome it.
There is more to learn than rage and disgust when faced with rejection. It is an opportunity to play with uncertainty and uncover the nature of duality. A time to see that one thing exists to give rise to its opposite. In polarity there is the creation of divide, but there is also the battle for balance.
So I move forward knowing that most of the world around me is unknown. The thoughts and feelings each one outside of me possesses are uncharted. And this extends out into the aimless darkness forever. An unstable terrain with strange secrets and exotic mysteries.
And the hunt for stable ground continues. But why is the thought of solid ground so enticing when most of us just want to fly?
Maybe in order to fly into darkness there is a requirement to survive — one must listen.
My endless questions have infinite answers. And the darkness becomes more welcoming. My lack of answer provides mystery. And the darkness more enticing. Onward we move in an attempt to better know ourselves, only to find that the darkness carries with it questions for questions for questions.
Flying blind has never been this much fun.
