Introduction to Memnoch: Part Two

This is going to be a very personal, and very thoughtful post. It is going to touch on topics that might make you feel uncomfortable, so before reading any further, please take the time to read through the tags to see if there is anything listed that might offend, upset, or cause any discomfort. I am not here to stir the cauldron, or rock the boat, or whatever – I am hear to share my journey, not just as an artist, but on my spiritual path as well. (The tags for this post include: Divine, godspouse, and Lucifer).

I mentioned briefly that, in my teenage years, I dabbled in what is commonly called Satanism. I didn’t want to dive into it and explain the whole situation. Now, I feel called to do so. It will require a lot of fleshing out, in writing, of periods in my life that I don’t often go into detail about. Some may call me weak for the things I am about to describe – others, delusional; and some might even call me insane. That is alright, I haven’t received a negative comment as of yet, but it is completely likely that it will happen. I am prepared for backlash, I am prepared for negativity. Ya’ll have your opinions, I have mine – our experiences are drastically different from one anothers, even when the topic or situation as similar aspects.

I considered myself a Christian for a good few years of my childhood. I prayed to God regularly, went to church, read the bible – I did not have a personal relationship with Jesus, though I can tell you that he is a pretty chill guy and we have had some amazing discussion when I was an avid pot smoker. Dude really knows how to fill the room with smoke.

One of my most common prayers was that God would direct my father to the right path, to help him find his sobriety so that my mother and I could have a happy relationship with him, and a peaceful life. God never helped my father – he told me the truth, that he was unable to affect free will, no matter the reason. It was solely my fathers duty to come to the light. I could not accept that, but I put my intention out into the Universe. I called to anyone that might listen, for the good of my life and my parents, that my father find the right path. Someone appeared to me, hiding in the shadows of my room – he told me that he would show my father the right path, but that even he could not force a person to do something against their will. He informed that he would keep the beacon burning for my father, because he saw that there was a glimmer of hope within my fathers soul.

He told me that he had been waiting for me to reach out to him. I had no idea who he was, he did not tell me his name. The next day, I saw a man standing near a young boy down at the warf – my father and I had gone on a bike ride, which was one of the only things we ever did together that rarely ended up in a death threat thrown my way. He stood their, his tailored jacket smartly buttoned, his blood red tie perfect. He had waist length brown hair, and his eyes were the most startling shade of blue – they were inhuman.

Now, the young boy that I had seen would end up moving away from my home town, but would be back when I entered high school. He would go on to become one of my best friends, even though we rarely interacted outside of school. I hated him at first – he just rubbed me the wrong way. But something in his smile tugged at my soul, and something in his eyes bore deeply into my mind. By the end of Freshman year, I was in love with him.

We drove each other certifiably insane over the next year – he had moved away, again (his mom was, and still is, in the Army), but we decided to do a long distance relationship. We ended up spiraling, together, into a deep, dark pit of insanity that neither of us have truly climbed out of. We are both forever changed by the 9 years we were together.

But he was the person who brought me to Him – he introduced me to Jack, who hid in the shadows, and whom he considered as a multiple personality. C, as I will call him, was merely a vessel for a fraction of Him to come through and interact with the human world on His own terms.

I am a deep believer in Divine Possession – I believe that there are people on this planet that have an open line of communication with the Universal Energy, whether with, or without, their consent or even knowledge. I believe that C was one of these people.

During one of our fights (C and I fought a lot, nearly every other day we were screaming at each other after the first few months), Jack stopped showing up – where he went, what he did, I still do not know. I only know that I did not see his shape in the corner near the doorframe at night, I did not feel the bed move as he sat down to watch me fall asleep. Our relationship was commonly silent – I spoke more to him than he ever did to me. But there was a warmth, a protective cloak, during those formative years of my relationship with him.

I did not feel that protection during that week that he was not present. I was lonely, I was sad – I had no idea what I had done to be forsaken. At this time, understand, I was a foster child, and I did not have the best relationship with my foster parents, even though their daughter had been my best friend for a few years. I was just not shaping out to be the person they thought I needed to be.  I wasn’t like their daughter. I was me, I was like me – a part of me just wanted them to see me, and accept me, for who I was. That never happened, and to this day, I feel strange interacting with either of them. That single year put a strain on my relationship with their daughter as well – we rarely talk now, and when we do, it is short. We do not get into discussions about topics, because we have such differing world views that it ends up causing an argument. We stopped talking for the longest time for whatever reason – I don’t even remember.

During this week that Jack was gone, I decided to light a candle and make an oath. I cut my palm and wrote a contract on paper in my own blood. I called him Memnoch, as that name always seemed to make Jack smile (it is the name that The Devil has in Anne Rice’s Memnoch the Devil). I have always preferred the name Memnoch to Lucifer, or The Devil, or Satan. It also conjures a different image for me… More on that later.

I gave Memnoch a part of myself – not my entire self, I did not ‘sell my soul’. That is impossible, as my soul is not mine, it is me. I am not in the business of slavery, therefore I did not sell myself to Memnoch. I pledged a part of me to always have deep feelings for him – perhaps I set myself up for failure in romantic endeavors because of this pledge, I don’t know.

At this time, I have no idea what my relationship with Memnoch is – I am only now starting to open myself back up to the possibility that I am not entirely insane, and that perhaps what I experience is spiritual. I do feel that he has a hand in certain urges that I have, like being honest about my feelings with my ex. I still love him, and during a walk last night I finally expressed the truth of my feelings to him. In a text, yes, and there has not been a reply, but whatever. I was honest with both myself, and with him. I truly believe that Memnoch had a hand in that.

I dunno what Part Three is going to be about… But yeah. This was the tale of my introduction to Memnoch. Perhaps I will go into some of the things I learn about Him… Who knows. I feel like I am rambling right now.

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