Articles/Essays From Pagans
November 10th. 2016 ...
What Exactly Is Witchcraft?
A Witch in the Bible Belt: Questions are Opportunities
On Death and Passing: Compassion Burnout in Healers and Shamans
What I Get from Cooking (And How it’s Part of My Path)
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Witchcraft from the Outside
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Wild Mountain Woman: Landscape Goddess
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Rethinking Heaven: What Happens When We Die?
What is Happening in My Psychic Reading?
August 12th. 2016 ...
When Reality Rattles your Idea of the Perfect Witch
Hungarian Belief in Fairies
Designing a Pagan Last Will and Testament
July 13th. 2016 ...
What Every Pagan Should Know About Curses
Magic With A Flick of my Finger
An Open Mind and Heart
Finding and Caring for Your Frame Drum
June 13th. 2016 ...
Pollyanna Propaganda: The Distressing Trend of Victim-Blaming in Spirituality
Living a Magickal Life with Fibromyalgia
My Father, My First God
Life is Awesome... and the Flu
May 15th. 2016 ...
Faery Guided Journey
How to Bond with the Elements through Magick
Magical Household Cleaning
Working with the Elements
April 2nd. 2016 ...
An Alternative Conception of Divine Reciprocity
Becoming Wiccan: What I Never Expected
The Fear of Witchcraft
Rebirth By Fire: A Love Letter to Mama Maui and Lady Pele
Blowing Bubbles with the Goddess
Magic in Sentences
The Evolution of Thought Forms
March 28th. 2016 ...
Revisiting The Spiral
Lateral Transcendence: Toward Greater Compassion
Spring Has Sprung!
January 22nd. 2016 ...
Coming Out of the Broom Closet
Energy and Karma
Community and Perception
December 20th. 2015 ...
Introduction to Tarot For the Novice
Magia y Wicca
October 24th. 2015 ...
Facing Your Demons: The Shadow Self
The Dream Eater--A Practical Use of Summoning Talismans
Native American Spirituality Myopia
A Dream Message
Feeling the Pulse of Autumn
October 16th. 2015 ...
Sacred Lands, Sacred Hearts
September 30th. 2015 ...
September 16th. 2015 ...
Vegan or Vegetarian? The Ethical Debate
Nature Worship: or Seeing the Trees for the Ents
August 6th. 2015 ...
Lost - A Pagan Parent's Tale
July 9th. 2015 ...
Love Spells: The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly
The Magic of Weather
June 7th. 2015 ...
A Pagan Altar
A Minority of a Minority of a Minority
The Consort: Silent Partner or Hidden in Plain Sight?
Why I Bother With Ritual: Poetry and Eikonic Atheism
May 6th. 2015 ...
Gods, Myth, and Ritual in Naturalistic Paganism
I Claim Cronehood
13 Keys: The Crown of Kether
March 29th. 2015 ...
A Thread in the Tapestry of Witchcraft
March 28th. 2015 ...
On Wiccan Magick, Theurgy, Thaumaturgy and Setting Expectations
March 1st. 2015 ...
Choosing to Write a Shadow Book
Historiolae: The Spell Within the Story
February 1st. 2015 ...
Seeker Advice From a Coven Leader
The Three Centers of Paganism
Magick is No Illusion
The Ancient Use of God/Goddess Surnames
The Gods of My Heart
January 1st. 2015 ...
The Six Most Valuable Lessons I've Learned on My Path as a Witch
Manipulation of the Concept of Witchcraft
Publicly Other: Witchcraft in the Suburbs
Pagans All Around Us
Broomstick to the Emerald City
October 20th. 2014 ...
Thoughts on Conjuring Spirits
A Microcosmic View of Ma'at
October 5th. 2014 ...
The History of the Sacred Circle
Abandoning Expectations and Remembering Your Roots
NOTE: For a complete list of articles related to this chapter... Visit the Main Index FOR this section.
Confessions of a Living Satyr
Article ID: 15293
Age Group: Adult
Days Up: 1,439
Times Read: 2,900
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Author: Rev.Roman Delgado
Posted: December 30th. 2012
Times Viewed: 2,900
Tonight I write this in the shadow of death, a death of a personal Aeon. The days of the God that in its moral pedestal leaves the soul barren of pleasure and ecstasy for the sake of death have passed. A new star rises within me; the Great God Pan is seen among the woodlands of my heart and soul, proclaiming a rebirth to ecstasy that comes with joy and panic both.
For many years my life was desolate of hope and devoid of joy. My mother as child was of no comfort of support to me. Her own passions became the vices through which she escaped her own unwillingness to embrace her power. My childhood was a wasteland of violence and pain. I grew up amongst the worst criminals that Latin American streets could provide. In their desperate attempts to claim control through vice and violence, the shadow of The Horned One was seen. But alas it was but a shadow of a dream that they refused to dream, they feared their power a power they knew they could not wield.
As child I knew not innocence, at a very young age my childhood was taken from me. Both by force and abuse, and the need to function in a societal environment that could not foster innocence or joyful play. It was that sadness and anger born of a lost childhood that took me away from my own true self. The primordial child of the Great Mother was never nurtured. Because of that, the child within never became the primordial male that gives life and passion to the world. Yet the seed of passion lay dormant within me for a lifetime.
That seed began to grow slowly. It was kept alive by the spiritual influence of my Grandparents. Powerful practitioners of Brujeria, who knew their power and wielded it masterfully. My Grandfather in particular known to my community as “El Vendo” (The stag) , not only as a tryst to make fun of his sex drive, but as an association with the Horned One, Devil or God mattered not for he was a part of life. My Grandfather became that first true role model of what the true expression of the Divine Masculine was in full realization.
As the years went by, I too searched for the Masculine principle behind all nature. My childhood imaginary friend had a name that made my elders tremble in fear, the name my ancestors gave to chaos itself. A name unspoken by tradition, known only as the Elder God of the north, the embodiment of the wrathful side of nature. Through him, I learned the arts of Magick, Divination and Shamanic Journey. Through him I learned to hate, destroy, to desire and die and be born anew. But still my life was devoid of joy.
As I grew into an adult, my body could no longer withstand the force of such dark Archetype. My spirit lacked balance, and my body reflected that. Illness came forth as a teacher, a catalyst for change. Illness of the mind and soul lead me to the inner sanctum of my true path. A path that much like the mystery schools of ancient shall remained nameless, known only to those who have seen its doors and are willing to walk through them. It was in this place that is no place, but different set of eyes to see the world anew that I met the Gods.
I remember it as if it was just this very moment. My heart beating within my chest as I stood before him, he of the Cloven Hoof whose body is the stars, breath is the air, whose eyes are the sun and bears the horns of that are the moon of Sin. In my hour of initiation, I met The Great God Pan and heard him call my name. His gaze, his breath feed that seed of passion that lay dormant within me. In an instant the child became the man. The primordial Chaos of the north became the passion for the life that is this earth.
In the close to ten years that have gone by, I have heard the Panpipes calling me. I too lost myself to vice for fear of wielding my own power. Yet in the mist of my own self-destruction I heard the voice of Pan: “True indulgence lifts you up; it makes you and your life better. It makes life worth living by its decadence and it makes you stronger by living it”. I had through experience learned to give myself to Love and Pleasure both. I had to learn to live, yet not allow life to live me. The music of the Panpipes is my life, but it is my breath that makes body of that fallen nymph sing.
In these days, I am learning to stop blaming my childhood for my follies. I am learning to be who I want to be, not who my past made me. In doing so I am learning truly wield my power. I am learning to Love, to Lust, to Drink from the cup of Life in true religious ecstasy, knowing that I have seen both the light and the dark.
The Satyr within me is finally free. It roams the woodlands of my heart and mind; just as it dances through this concrete jungle I call my home. You see, I needed to know death and rebirth, to know the fire that destroys, to have that seed of the primordial male within me buried beneath the earth of my body and psyche. For it is in knowing what it was like to be captive that I have found freedom.
People fear the Great God Pan. He is the lord of Panic (Pan-ic) after all. He is the wilderness within all men. But he is a calling that cannot be ignored. Man cannot ignore his wilderness. A mankind cannot refuse to live life. To ignore the call of passion is to give in to death itself. To ignore the possibility of Life, without that possibility there is no Rebirth. If mankind hears not the Panpipes calling, if we ignore the sound of his cloven hoof near us, Mankind is doomed to become a shadow of itself, like the desolate creatures of my childhood, afraid to wield its own power, afraid to live. To ignore the call of the Panpipes is to be Lived by Life instead of Living Life. You see, passion will always find a way to express itself. Without a willful embrace and a way to work and wield it, all that is left is self-destruction.
Tonight, the Panpipes are calling. They sound through the air and the ether for the end of the Aeon of the Dying God is near. What shall come next is an expression of life itself. The God of the new Aeon is the Child of the mother, the child that shall one day grow to be the primordial man. And in the timeless recesses of the minds of mankind shall be forever waiting the Great God Pan, The inner Satyr waiting to be free and teach us once again to Love and Lust, to Sing and Dance and to Live life and not Be Lived by it.
Location: Seattle, Washington
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