For four years of my life, I practiced magic, celebrated the changes of the seasons, and worshipped the Goddess, Mother of All Life.
And now I am at a point where I am doubting Her existence.
I’ve seen a lot in my life, experienced a lot in my life. I know how it feels to go hungry, and so even today I understand the importance, the scarcity, the sacredness of food. I know how it feels to eat every meal as if it were your last. I know how it feels to be grateful for a heaping bowl or oatmeal in the morning and a bowl of rice for lunch.
I know how it feels to look at the news in the morning and to feel like your living in the Matrix. To feel that you no longer wish to live in such a world filled brimming with evil, where the good are slaughtered in their sleep , the Earth itself bleeding red.
I know how it feel to try to end your life, because there was no other way.
I know how it feels to tiptoe around your own house, silent as mice nesting in the walls, for fear of committing some unknown breach in protocol because your father would abuse you.
An yet, despite all these experiences, I continued to have faith in the Goddess. Until one day, I asked myself, “Why?”
Many people say they understand hunger. It’s often not true. True hunger is being hungry and knowing that there is no way for you to get food. It’s knowing that the fridge is empty and you used all the rest to get gas to go to work.
If there is a benevolent Goddess, where was she when my father screamed at me for leaving a soda can on the counter? When he hit my mother over and over again? Protectress of Women, where was She then?
Where was she when i ran out of rice and had to eat oatmeal three times a day?
Where was she when I overdosed on my depression medication and was in the hospital?
Where was she when I cut my skin over and over, leaving thick scars and gashes that decorate my arms and legs like tiger stripes?
Was she there when I offered her cakes and herbs? When I dedicated by garden to serving nature, planting beneficial herbs and flowers for the bees and birds?
Was she there whenever I freed and insect from my home, understanding the value of it’s tiny life?
Where the fuck was she? Because I’m not sure a benevolent, kind Goddess would sit back and let me hurt so much, while so many other people lived fat and happy?
So I turned by back on her.
I erased the rituals from my mind.
No more will pray in the morning and light pungent incense for her: myrrh, frankincense, dragon’s blood. No more will I make sweet cakes and leave them as offering on the alter.
No more will I trim fresh flowers, as beautiful as jewels, on the alter in honor of her.
And, Goddess, if you exist.
Then where the fuck were you?