Chapter IX

Sin is a morally bad act, an act not in accord with reason informed by Divine law; that which is decreed by God and made known to humanity through revelation. It is our conscience, a gift from God along with free-will and reason, that conveys to us when we do not act in accordance or conformity with what Divine law dictates. Since Divine law originated with God and God is perceived as the epiphany of perfection and thus essentially and by nature good, so is Divine law. Any word, behavior or deed that is in opposition to Divine law is evil and therefore is the root of all humanity’s suffering and pain.

That is what I was taught as a child attending CCD (Continuing Catholic Development) classes at Saint Mary’s, our family’s parish church, however as I matured I began questioning everything about my life including that religious ideology. It was during this personal inquisition that I determined that I didn’t really believe what I had been taught. Those teachings were based on a single perspective and the interpretation of that perspective depended solely on the individual that was absorbing the doctrine. All Catholics didn’t necessarily believe everything that was taught to them when they were children and surprisingly, I found that many of those whom I questioned relentlessly didn’t even believe a single word of it.

So, what did I gain from this realization?

I gained the understanding that these teachings were not absolute truth. Sin, good, and evil; they were subjective concepts and ideas that were malleable. This realization brought me the freedom to earnestly explore my own spirituality without any guilt or fear. I would spend hours in our local public library surrounded by books on metaphysics, transcendentalism, mysticism, theosophy, and the occult. I found myself exploring concepts that I didn’t even know existed. I would intently read texts written by men and women of various educational backgrounds and personal experiences seeking to explain the unexplainable and to define that which can never be truly comprehended. I was comfortably lost in the symphony of words and concepts seeking my own personal gnosis concerning the nature of what I had once named God.

It was during this time of intensive study that I first uncovered a hint to the enigma of who I truly was. Now I always knew that any sort of friendship or association with me was bound to be complicated, because as I’ve stated to you before, I am different. Only the females in my family bloodline, who have acknowledged their birthright, were truly able to fully grasp what I, what we, were capable of, however there weren’t many of us still alive and only a few of those who were, would willingly associate with my immediate family. Perhaps their reluctance was due to the fact that society had already experienced the uncomfortability of their nature, of them being different, which ultimately lead to the inevitable alienation from the community, possibly by labeling the women as mentally ill, branding them with paranoid schizophrenia, such as I was; or maybe it was for other mundane reasons, like my father was a pompous dick and my mother was an ignorant bitch. I can’t blame them for not wanting to be around such individuals, for the majority of my life, I haven’t wanted to associate with them either. So be it. My blood relatives had their justifications, whatever they were, and I was aware that there was nothing I could do to change that.

The only family member who would actually acknowledge and value me as an individual with ideas and thoughts separate from my parents was my Aunt Rachel, however her attention was constantly manipulated by my cousin Christian and any free time apart from his persistent drama was occupied by my parents, more specifically her brother. Aunt Rachel was four years younger than my father but according to what I have been told about the family dynamic in their childhood home, they had a very close relationship which clearly carried on into adulthood. My aunt is very different from my father. She didn’t pursue a career in finance, or in business of any type, but rather attended RISD, Rhode Island School of Design, and earned herself a degree in Fine Arts. She is expressive with her sculptures especially the pieces that resemble human forms. Each seems to have a personality and a life of their own, which is the reason why so many have been displayed in galleries throughout the world. I can’t help but admire her. I just wish I had more opportunities to speak with her.

One of my favorite books and the one I spent the bulk of my time with when I was in the library was Sacred Magick. It was shelved in the same section as The Book of Occult Philosophy, The Secret Doctrine, and Witchcraft Today. It was within the pages of this old book that I read about the Blood Omen. An idea that I once thought was just something I created within my imagination was really something that had been written about many years prior to my own birth.

“It has been stated in numerous ancient texts that the Blood Omen is a significant portent not to be  overlooked. The importance and the presentation are difficult enough to understand when taken    singularly; but the interpretation and the realization of the omen itself become tenfold more noteworthy, when, instead of being comprehended, is witnessed. The list of Seers who have             endeavoured to interpret the Blood Omen is long indeed. They have discovered with trepidation        that the child, usually female though on rare occasion male, associated with this portent is the    signifier of the advent of great change not only for the bloodline from which the child sprung but for   the community as well. The child harnesses within, a timeless and everlasting power that is I   rrefutably attributed, in the minds of the ancient Seers, to Spirit within blood. This merging of the   two into a unity becomes thereby significant when that power is recognized.”
– page 93, Sacred Magick

The music ended. I could once again hear the thud of my heart beat as I gently removed the ear pods, my sight fixed on the vacant hospital bed. I stifled the urge to shriek with joyful accomplishment as I quickly retrieved the abandoned set of ear pods from the floor beneath the bed and exited the hospital room. I knew it would only take seconds for the nursing staff to respond to the annoying beep of the various monitors that were no longer attached to a physical body. What would they think? How would they explain what had happened? I couldn’t help but laugh as I walked quickly down the corridor anxious to leave the building before Brittany had the opportunity to confront me again. I didn’t want to see or speak to her. I didn’t want to see or speak to anyone at the moment. I checked the MP3 player’s display. If I had been successful an asterisk would subtlety appear next to the title of the musical piece I had played for Josh. It took just a few seconds until –

There it was. Yes! I felt myself smile as the gleeful whispers of approval tickled my ears.

I had done extremely well