"Give It To Me Straight Doctor, I Can Take It!!!!!!!!!!"
-Dr. Johnny Fever
We were sitting in a noisy Ruby Tuesday restaurant on a Friday night. We had just finished interviewing several candidates for our small local group of Satanists. Our Unofficial grotto. We were waiting for the last interviewee and I was getting tired and looking forward to going home. My partner had gone up front to look for our person and soon returned with him. We settled into the booth and began the interview. The individual under questioning had filled out an application that seemed at first glance to have potential. We had learned in the past, however, that a face to face interview needed to be a mandatory part of the acceptance process. Paper does not always accurately convey the 'whole story' or the whole person.
We began with some simple small talk and I sat back to let my partner take the lead. I was still learning how he did things and taking my own small notes on the side. I liked to watch how he alternated between light hearted banter and grilling interrogation. It was infinitely more entertaining then anything I would be watching on television if I had stayed home that Friday night instead.
As the interview progressed it became increasingly evident that our interviewee was not actually a Satanist. At the conclusion, we asked him to give us a moment to discuss our decision and he wandered off to the bathroom. We both looked at each other, rolled our eyes and agreed that it was not going to be a fit. When he returned, I watched with interest as my partner rejected him. I had never seen someone rejected in the few interviews I had attended so I was curious as to how he would handle this. True to form, my partner was the picture of professionalism and manners. He graciously and politely informed our guest that he was not ready for participation in our group and we were going to have to turn down his application.
The man was stunned. He had made it clear that he had been a special forces team member and currently had an important job with a security clearance and was very obviously a high achiever. What he didn't understand was that he wasn't a Satanist. His immediate response was to ask for some guidance and feedback. That was fine and my partner rattled off a list of literature, publications and essays that he thought the guy would find enlightening. The man scribbled furiously into his day timer and made a nice neat little list of all the suggestions that were made.
Then he made the final and most critical error:
He asked, "If I do all this, how long should it take me to get there?"
My partner and I just blinked and looked at each other. Trying to be civil while feeling suddenly like two wolves who had stumbled upon a sheep right under their noses we tried to gently explain to him that you didn't achieve Satanism like a medal or a cub scout badge. He ignored this and demanded to know how soon he could interview again after he 'prepared'. My partner simply smiled and told him he would never be ready and we had no desire to revisit this with him. Good Bye.
He left looking hurt and slightly angry. We sighed and sat back to discuss the episode. My partner commented quite astutely that he appeared to be a man who had never been told no in his life or who had always managed to somehow accomplish everything through sheer determination. Which is fine if you are a Ranger but not how you discover your black flame. You can't force it. It either is or it isn't. "Do or do not, there is no try", as Master Yoda might say in his Top Ten of The Most Annoying Voices of All Times.
This prompted me to share my story on my search for God with my partner. He is a fairly neat fellow who I feel a bond with and felt comfortable enough to share with. I look back on it now and it is such an amusing story. Almost as nauseatingly cute as a Satanic After School Special. But, I shared it with him and I will share it with you.
***
It all began shortly after I got married. Keep in mind that I was not aware that the CoS actually still existed. I thought the extent of the group from the sixties was probably limited to a bunch of folks who met for dinner maybe once a year. That it had been a big fad but fell off the radar screen. I had no idea how wrong I was. My husband had been on the road for a year and I had been running the household, working two jobs and taking care of my step sons all by myself. I was growing more frustrated and tired by the day and started wondering why I felt so drained and empty. I am not sure how or why I came to the conclusion. I think it was some ridiculous television commercial. You know, the ones where they have little children singing about Jesus in the background and telling you how happy you can be if you just accept the Lord into your heart? Well, one night I started wondering. What if they were right ?!?!?!?!? Maybe that was what was wrong here. I didn't actually feel I was being punished for my non belief...it was more like I saw all these ignorant and seemingly blissful Christians and decided I wanted that. I wanted to be ignorantly happy and cheesy and blissful.
I decided I was gonna believe in God!
*pauses for the laughter to die down* And I was dead serious. I started that very night by going out into some AOL chat rooms where all the Christians gathered. I literally threw myself at them and begged them to save me. Convert me. Fix me. They were overjoyed, of course. It was almost the rapture for them. Fresh meat! A blank slate. So I listened. I tried. I said the words. I read the books. I studied the little handouts. I tried. OH LORD did I try. I didn't argue with them. I didn't challenge them. I didn't question them. I just told myself to follow the directions and it would happen. This wonderful big daddy God that loves everyone would see how hard I was trying and come take me in his majestic arms and welcome me into his Kingdom.
*pauses for more laughter* Soooo. I keep trying. And trying. And it wasn't happening. I am not believing. It's like there was this huge non-connection thing happening. I started to get angry. Frustrated. THIS IS NOT FAIR! How come all these morons get to believe and I can't??? I just have to try harder. I am smart. Successful. A 'good' person. Really I am. I CAN DO THIS!!!!
And.....................................
Finally, after several months, came the night. The breakthrough night. I was logged onto AOL again. Trying again. Begging, almost demanding that someone tell me HOW to do this. I could go through the motions but the blissful ignorance WAS ESCAPING me because I didn't believe deep down inside. And I couldn't figure out how to make it happen. Was there a switch? A button? A fucking return receipt card I had missed somewhere? Then this gentleman sent me a PM. We started talking and he started getting very philosophical on me. Which pissed me off even more because I wanted an answer and he wasn't giving me one. As a matter of fact he was being so ambiguous that I couldn't tell whose side he was arguing. He ended our chat by telling me I will find the truth when it was time to.
I shut off the computer in tears. Literally. I was crying. Why is this so hard? Why can't I do this? I got so angry with myself and then....I did what I always did when I hit a challenge. I gave myself a pep talk. And, whenever I did that, I always dragged poor Anton LaVey into it. WWAD? What would Anton do? What would the Doctor prescribe? He would tell me to stop my blubbering and do something about this. Every moment I spent crying was one less working towards what I really wanted. If what I was doing wasn't working then I needed to try harder or do something different. I got excited again! YES! I still could do this! Tomorrow I will go and find a church! I will .... I will.... I will figure this out. I WILL believe. I laid down in the dark. I felt happy again. I was going to do this. I was going to find God. And I laid there. Snuffling and sniffling and thinking warm kind thoughts towards LaVey for, once again, providing me with a proper ass kicking and perspective lesson.
I closed my eyes. Snuggled into the pillow. Cuddled under my blankets.....drifted off to sleep. Then bolted upright in bed. The closest description I could come to that moment is akin to some folks describing the moment they achieve Nirvana. It was this blinding flash of realization and insight. It hit me like a ton of bricks and literally knocked the breath out of me. My mind raced towards this light. All along the words I have been using to describe were that I felt empty. Alone. Incomplete. Unfulfilled. Confused. Unfocused. Lost.
And all the time I was looking outside for something to complete me. I was looking for an external solution to the problem. When .....the reason I was so empty and lost and confused and lacked focus...was because I had stopped or forgotten how to believe in myself. The realization stunned me so much that my chin literally dropped. I just sat there shaking my head and giggling. Chuckling. Then laughing. Great huge body shaking laughs. And with every laugh I felt more full. More clear. More focused. Less lost. I had been found. By myself. The realization that I was my own god was so profound that I was at a loss for words. I simply felt myself fill with happiness and joy and I was smiling and warm and happy for the first time in months. It was me all along. In the darkness of my bedroom I did it. For the first time in my life I whispered,
"Hail Satan!"
And it was magical. I finally understood. I finally felt complete. I had finally found God.
***
I finished my story and took a drink of my iced tea. My partner just laughed at me and commented on how now I must understand what it meant when they say you are born one. You don't become one. I nodded in agreement. "I could see it in his eyes," I commented further....as he begged for directions and lists of books to read and steps to follow. I remember being where he was. Only we were looking for different things. It was when I saw how hard he was trying that I knew he wasn't meant to be. If you are....it will flow like a natural current. There is no need to force it. It just will be. And if it is not there, it never will be.
Satanists are born. Not made. It is as simple as that.
Hail Satan, Hail Me.
Praise God!
Josephine Seven
January 22, 2003
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