I have no idea why or how I became so interested in religion, then spirituality, and eventually the occult, which means the “hidden,” that truth that one has to actually look for, in order to find. For as he Bible says, “Seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened to you.” I just know I always had a curious mind, and I asked a lot of questions that my Sunday School teachers couldn’t seem to answer, so as I grew up, I just learned my own ways of looking for the answers, and what I found, didn’t always agree with what I learned in school, or in Sunday school.

I only remember attending Sunday School one or two times at the Lutheran church in Riverside, where my sister and I were baptized, when I was about five years old. A somewhat stern, middle-aged woman informed the class that unless you believed in Jesus, there was no way you could get into Heaven, but that just didn’t seem fair to me, for what about all those people all over the world who had never heard of him? My question didn’t seem to disturb the woman at all, but when I persisted in asking what happened to those people in countries where too many people had no way of learning about him, she got quite annoyed with me, and I now I realize she just didn’t know what would happen to them. But it continued to bother me.

I remember attending church with my mother and Aunt Frances one Easter Sunday. Usually the minister, Pastor Lorberg, was a calm, serene speaker who never raised his voice in the pulpit, but according to my Aunt, was prone to become quite animated and excited on Easter, when he found his little Church filled to capacity. My sister seemed quite amused at his antics on this day, and had to be shushed several times, when she began to giggle uncontrollably. She was only three years old. His sermon on Easter Sundays always had the same theme, why so many people flocked to church on that sacred day, but then forgot all about it the rest of the year. I noted that on this day, my father did not attend, and when I asked him why, he told me quite seriously, that he didn’t want to be responsible for the Church falling down on all those people when he walked in.

Even though my parents didn’t attend regularly, apparently the church kept up with the children, and visited the parents, to try to get the children baptized and into Confirmation classes at the appropriate age. I attended the classes after the Pastor at the church in Arlington tracked my family down, and invited me to attend the classes. I do remember the day, Pastor Lorberg visited out family in the Riverside home, and his main concern was getting my sister and me into Confirmation Classes, when we became twelve years old. That visit was marked by my Dad’s parakeet, Pete, deciding to show off his speaking skills, and just as my Daddy had trained him, he began prancing in front of his little mirror in his cage, and reciting with all his fervor, “I’m a pretty little boy, yes, I am, God damn it, Yes, I am, god damn it. Say Corby’s. ” The look on Pastor’s face was of shock, not humor, and I wonder if it was just because the little green bird spoke so clearly, or at what he said. Once Pete got going, there was no telling what other little tidbits my father had taught him that might come out, but the Pastor left not long after that.

Later after that, after we had moved to our new house, we received another visit from Pastor Gerkin, from the Arlington Lutheran Church, who followed up on getting me and my sister schooled in the teachings of the Lutheran Church. I wasn’t forced into it, indeed I looked forward to attending, while my sister had no interest, and what she didn’t want to do, she didn’t do. I really never even thought about why she didn’t attend, but she was a year and a half younger than I. Now in looking back, I wonder about why she seemed to get away with it, but this is about my experiences, so I’ll just stick to what I know. I noted that he made no inquiries into the little parakeet Pete, but sadly, Pete had flown away, when someone left the back door open, and though we called and called his name, he never returned home.

Pastor Gerkin was a fiery speaker in the pulpit, and he was a demanding teacher, but he was the first person I could call a Mentor, for he took a liking to me, and he didn’t mind answering my questions. I am very grateful to him to this day, for the first time, Christianity was explained to me, from Martin Luther’s point of view, of course. So I biked to the little church every Saturday, studied my lessons, and memorized verses from the Bible. I learned a lot of information about how Luther rebelled from certain practices in the Roman Catholic Church, and how the Protestant reformation got its beginning. It was all fascinating, to my young, eager-to-learn mind.

Unfortunately, I got myself in trouble later, when I became interested in a young Catholic boy, I’ll just call Kenneth, and began sending him letters about all the faults of the Roman Catholic Church. I wanted to remain anonymous, but I also assumed the lad would be so grateful for revealing this to him, I used my aunt’s last name and address, so he could get back to me. I was devastated when my Aunt called me one day, for the boy’s mother had called my Aunt and let her know she did not appreciate my efforts, and I got my first lesson in not meddling in other people’s beliefs. Pastor Gerkin had no idea his fiery debacles against the Catholic Church had had such an effect on me. I am still grateful to my aunt Frances for her discreet way of handling the situation. However, I cried and cried with embarrassment for weeks after that. I doubt the boy had any idea who the guilty person had been. I’ll never forget the young man, who was a year past me in school, and whom I mooned over for the next year or two. I guess you could say he was my first love, not real love but a very painful crush. I was thirteen, and thought I’d never fall in love again.

It was about that time when Cindy’s family moved in across the street from me, sometime during the end of the summer, and I had my first really close friend. We hung out the rest of the summer, and stuck together until she graduated from high school a year before me. We did everything together, that is, that she was allowed to do, and as it turned out, she was a born again Christian, and I got a taste of what it was like to have someone tell me my religion was all wrong. She pestered me to death about going to Church with her, although she refused to visit my church. I couldn’t understand why she considered me “unsaved,” and we had many discussions about it, for didn’t I believe in Jesus? I gave in and went to her church a few times, but honestly, the Baptist way of doing things, just didn’t seem like true worship to me, for the Lutheran Church just seemed more orderly and dignified, actually not being too different from the Catholic Church, except the service was all in English, although I did not know it then. There was a certain order to things, when a verse from the Bible was read, when songs were sung, prayers were said, and the Nicene Creed was recited by the congregation. In her church, to me, things just seemed so haphazard, and that people spoke out, usually, just an “Amen” seemed rude to me, and I just didn’t agree with her definition of what it meant to be saved.

Finally, we had one big argument, which almost broke up our friendship. We finally agreed we just wouldn’t talk about our religion anymore, but it still irked me that she was determined I was doomed to hell, because I wasn’t “saved” in her church.Today, I still don’t agree, even today with the way certain religions interpret the Bible, but then, perhaps that’s why there are so many different ways to find God. One day, we will have a better way and perhaps people will be more united in their ways, but for now, everyone has to find the way they can feel comfortable, and we need to be more tolerant of each other’s beliefs. Tolerance is the key. Universal Love for the Creator, or whatever view of that Deity, and Love for each other. What I like is the verse where Jesus said, “I have have not come to replace the Law, but to give you a higher Law, that is to love the Lord God with all your soul and your mind, and to love your neighbor as yourself. ” Sorry, I can’t remember the verse in the Bible, but I know it’s there.

What does all this have to do with Magic? Well, a lot more than you would suspect, but first let me explain what I mean by Magic, and I say this with a Capital M, for a reason, for I’m not talking about the kind of magic, where the magician comes out in a tuxedo and cape, pulls a bunny out of a hat, then continues by appearing to “saw” his beautiful assistant into pieces. As far as I know, that is just all illusion of some kind, of which I don’t know a single whit. What I’m talking about is what you might call High Magic, in which the magician in training begins a series of initiations into certain mysteries that have been passed down since the days of ancient Egypt, and has been preserved over the years, in certain Mystery Cults, either through word of mouth, and finally after publishing these mysteries in sacred books that are no longer kept secret from those not initiated into these mysteries.

One thing you must understand is that when a new initiate is taken into an Order, that initiate has to take vows not to reveal certain things about this Order to anyone other than those who are fellow brothers and sisters of that Order. Wowsa! I do not mean to tell you that everything about that Order is secret, for if no one knows the Order is there, how are they to add to their membership? Of course, back before the days of printing, that may not have been a problem, for teachers in the Order naturally had to limit the number of people admitted into the Order. Nowadays, from what I observed, the Orders I am familiar with, are pretty much run like a business, but with certain restrictions as to the ethical behavior of their members. Also, the Order has to take certain precautions about the privacy of its members.

As to what material is taught in that Order is really not much of a secret, for there are now a host of books on the subject that anyone on the street can pick up from a variety of publishers. In this sense, what is taught in these Orders is pretty much in the public domain. Even other sister or brother organizations, like the Free Masons, now have their material published for all to see. However, as the initiate works and makes his or her way up the Tree of Life, certain secrets are revealed to its members, which are best kept from those who have not prepared themselves for practicing this kind of magic. Also any legitimate Order will provide mentors, or proctors to those who seriously apply themselves to learning how to manipulate the world around them. The result for the initiate can be quite startling to the candidate, if he or she has not applied themselves diligently.

However, the purpose of this blog, is not to teach you magic, but to share with you some of my wonderful experiences, and relevant information I have learned about the way things operate in our world, as well as revealing a mundane record of many of my sometimes embarrassing, or humorous happenings I attracted into my life. Perhaps one day I will attempt to publish another book, Part 1 of my autobiography, of which the time may be due to reveal to the world. It depends on the reception I receive from the publishing of this blog. I am just in the learning-as-I-go-along phase of this enterprise, so I ask your patience and understanding of any mistakes I may make.