Breathing, sometimes, can make you crazy.
The air has been emotionally toxic everywhere these past few days. With the planets up in arms, not to mention all the protesting and debates and conflicts and bitching along the way, all that prickly stuff was bound to get into our personal space. So, yeah, being an empath and a water sign, it’s been a little rough going to say the least.
So, no it’s not just you. It’s been pretty much everywhere, but it gets better. Always does. Promise!
At times like these, I’ve heard many a practitioner say, “You know, if I wasn’t a witch, I’d swear I’d…” or “Oh, I’d love to curse that…” Even I’ve threatened to make a doll from time to time, but I hardly ever do. That’s usually some pretty mean juju and I take the law very seriously: “Do as thou wilt, but harm ye none.”
I also never forget the “Three-fold” principle, either: “Whatever you do comes back to you three-fold.” Cuz let me tell you, I’ve seen it in action. I kid you not, it can be a miraculous, beautiful thing or a really nasty paper-cut coated in lemon juice.
But, regardless of our sense of morality, empathy, upbringing, faith, what-have-you, there are times in every single living human being’s life where we’re tempted to join Darth Vader in the Empire. We imagine how fun it would be to not have any responsibility for our actions, to just be an asshole and not care. We could do whatever to anyone and just say, “Screw it! It’s all about me!” and go about our merry ways enjoying the “ultraviolent.”
You can do it, you know! It is actually an option, though most of us deny it. It’s so tempting.
Let’s face it — Jekyll had all the respect, but Hyde had all the fun.
Yet, we’ve all met those who consciously make that choice and know what they’re capable of. Then again, there are those to whom being an ass just comes natural. Those people, I’m convinced, are here to elevate us. Can’t see the light without the dark, after all.
Ah, Darkness: An absolutely amazing teacher, but a really crappy master.
It’s easy to know the difference. In a nutshell, Darkness is an exclusive connection to our own selves, oblivious to others or our surroundings; Light is an exclusive connection to our surroundings, oblivious to ourselves. Neither one is necessarily “bad” or “good,” just is. Many denominations and practices teach that balance is key. Too much light makes one go blind, but too much darkness keeps one stuck. (Can’t really move if you can’t see where you’re going). Perfect demonstration of this imbalance is the story of “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.” One character was so full of hate he thought of nothing else and committed acts of evil and the other was so full of love, she thought of nothing else…and committed acts of evil.
“Evil: to cause purposeful harm to another without remorse.”
I’ve done it.
And that single act is my only regret…
I was about 16 or 17, attending a boarding school. I was a top-notch student, well respected by my peers and teachers, though I wore a Mohawk and combat boots. I looked like a monster, but played like a good girl. I was charitable, received awards of excellence in English and Art, I was a kick-ass pool player (won lots of cigarettes that way – I quit smoking over two years ago), and was liked by the girls, but one of the guys.
Still, I had boy problems (that hasn’t changed much!) and incidentally, not the best self-esteem. I exhausted much of my energy through heavy metal, art, my schoolwork, the tarot, and my life-long quest of finding my spiritual place, while always wondering why the boys didn’t like me.
I would find out years later that they actually did, they were just scared of me – and my weight had absolutely nothing to do with it. (I guess it was the black clothes, black makeup, the skull rings, leather, spikes and studs, and the razor blades I wore around my neck…*rolling my eyes*…yeah, “What do you mean I ‘intimidate you’?!” Duh.)
Anyway, there was this jock, sorta popular guy. One of the better students, very built, kinda sexy but a notorious bully. We’ll call him, “Dick.”
For the longest time, we paid each other very little mind, except in class. Sometimes he could be very charming and then there were other times when he was himself. I was never really attracted to him, though he wasn’t a finger in the eye, he wasn’t my type. One night, we were on our way back to the dorms after dinner, I heard him call my name from behind me. “Hey, Tray…you look pretty hot tonight.”
“Weird,” I thought. “Thanks,” and I just kept walking.
The next day he paid a little more attention to me, flirting a bit, checking me out. As I said, I wasn’t really that interested, but it did a lot for my fragile ego. A few people even told me that he was saying that he liked me. I was like, “Okay, that’s nice. Whatever.” Life went on. That night – and I remember it was dark and chilly – again, we were all ascending to the dorms when I heard “Pst! Pst! Tray, come here!”
I looked around, I didn’t see anyone.
“Pst! Hey!…Over here!” In the distance, I saw Dick’s form silhouetted by the light in front of the infirmary building. He was calling me over. I called back, “What do you want?”
“Come here,” he called in a forced whisper, looking both ways, “I need to talk to you.”
I could never resist when someone said they needed me for whatever reason. So, in the dark, alone, I went to him and asked him what the matter was, truly believing that he really needed to talk to me. He said, “Come here,” and pulled me to the pitch side of the building, away from all the lights.
He kissed me. It was nice. I kissed him back.
He said, “I like you,” and kissed me again.
I said, “Thanks,” and he kissed me again.
He said, “Suck my cock.”
I said no.
I heard him unzip his fly. I said no and tried to pull away.
He had me by my hair. I said no again. He pushed my head down on his very large, erect penis. I remember gagging.
The next thing I remember was him actually walking me back to my dorm with his arm around me, as if we had just enjoyed a casual dinner or something, and he instructed, “Hey, don’t tell anyone, okay?” I was in a daze. Stunned. He walked me to the door, knocked, someone let me in, and I was on my way to my room when not five minutes went by and one of the girls announced, “Hey, Tray, someone’s here to see you.”
I was baffled and confused and after washing my face (actually trying to scrub it off, more like), I went to the door to find one of my male friends there who said, “Hey, I just heard you gave Dick a blowjob.”
I wanted to die.
For three months thereafter, I was forced to endure unimaginable humiliation and bullying by that criminal. Every time he saw me, he had something snide to say about my “crappy sucking skills” and what an ugly whore I was and how I should fuck this one or that one. Sometimes, he’d pull the “Look, I’m really sorry” card and gain my forgiveness and confidence so he could set me up for further humiliation — like asking me for help with his schoolwork and then steering me into a room full of guys with their pants down while he laughed his ass off, calling me names you wouldn’t believe.
And he wasn’t being subtle about this, either. He flaunted his power over me everywhere, in front of everyone.
I begged the teachers to make him stop. I begged the counselors to make him stop. I couldn’t tell my family, my friends were afraid of him. Everyone was afraid of him, so I was, too.
The school did nothing because his father was a multi-millionaire in the (guess what) porno industry and he was generous to the school. Only once did a teacher stand up to him on my behalf, only to be reprimanded later.
I hated waking up in the morning. I hated my life. I hated myself. I just hated. No one did anything, no one was going to. I was alone, victimized, broken down, and had no idea what to do about it.
But, Satan did.
I was desperate. Desperate. I wasn’t aware of any other way – I didn’t know who the Goddess was back then, I didn’t even know she existed. I “knew” the only religions you could “pick” were Atheism, Christianity, and any other derivative thereof, that’s all. I was 17 and I believed that if you really needed something done on the “invisible level,” you called on Satan …for a price, of course.
I funneled all my hate, all my rage, all my sense of powerlessness and pain into the black candles and commanded this Satan guy to do his worst to my enemy. I don’t remember the exact request, but, I do remember the next day afterwards. Dick ended up in the infirmary for some reason. And after spending about three days in there, he was sent home…permanently. He was picked up in a frickin’ limo. A hearse could’ve taken him home for all I cared. I breathed easily as I watched him go.
He sneered and gave me the finger as the car drove by. I grinned. I was free and from what I understood, no one cried tears of woe to see him gone. “I won. And I now have a very powerful ally,” or so I thought.
Yeah, this Satan-guy (if it actually was Satan, who knows?) got rid of him, alright, but what came afterwards was barely worth it. Strange things came about: Out of the blue, I was falsely accused of stealing something from the school. My artwork was mysteriously destroyed and defaced. Things were stolen from my locked trunk without the lock being picked or broken. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find phantasmal figures looming over my bed and it seemed I was plagued with just bad luck everywhere. I was teased in public and strangers threw things at me for no reason. All kinds of weirdness.
Granted, none of it was ever as bad as what Dick did to me, but it was like Chinese water torture, just constant annoyance. But, that was enough to drive anyone insane, let alone a temperamental, recently-sodomized and terrorized, pissed-off teenager.
Of course, much later, I would learn that it wasn’t this Satan-guy’s rule of payment that was bugging me, but the “Three-Fold law” at work, which seemed to make more sense, given the principles of energy.
Still, one may wonder why I would regret taking a trip over to the ultimate shadow after such a really horrible experience. It wasn’t the aftermath that made me regret. It was realizing that I had more choices than I thought. If I made an effort to lift my head up from my fetal position, I could’ve done more research before I jumped to Hell for help.
Kinda like going to a “loan shark” on the street before I tried going to the bank.
I regret that I didn’t do something more constructive, like bringing my story to the public then. It was the late 80’s, maybe I could’ve done some good while I faced my foe on the battlefield. I could’ve talked to more people. Maybe I would’ve been able to find the Goddess a little sooner and took comfort in the Earth and Her glory so I wouldn’t have felt so alone.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret that he left and stayed out of my life! I revel in that. Even though he was a pig and a misogynist, I regret not knowing or completely understanding what I had actually done to him.
I regret never knowing if it was truly justice or revenge.
Later, wisdom would teach me that that no matter how desperate, I could’ve educated myself better in the ways of finding support and finding faith. Wisdom would teach me that there’s always a better way. After years and years of me constantly beating myself up over my “stupidity” for allowing myself to be alone with a man in the dark behind a building, one of my personal heroes pointed out to me that I had only acted with the knowledge that I had at the time. I was young, trusting, and I deserved to forgive myself for that. Thanks to her and with a lot of other help and the Goddess, I did.
Sometimes, I think what I would’ve become if I stayed a Stormtrooper in the Empire and I never like what I see. For some people, it’s a very healthy way of life and it works well for them. (And some are actually really cool, too). But, for me?
Jedis are really badass.