Thursday, March 3, 2011
Beer: Good or Evil in Disguise?
When I was in sixth grade I became a witch. Not like a real Wiccan witch but like a witch from my favorite movie at the time, The Craft. I was not the only one who loved this movie, so me and a few friends became "witches" together. (I was the north witch in case you were curious.)
One night at one of my witch friend's houses, three of us were in her bedroom playing with supernatural forces. We had over-used the ouiji board and didn't really have enough people for "light as a feather, stiff as a board" (i'm sure there's an actual name for that).
Anyhoo, we closed all the doors and windows and lit two candles that were sitting on the floor. The black candle represented evil, and of course, the white candle was good.
And the battle of Good v. Evil was decided on the flame of a wick.
If Evil won, the devil would/could take our souls.
If good won, then we'd believe in god. Or something.
So the three of us sat up on my friend's bed watching the flames. All the lights were off so the candles were trancing and illuminated shadows in the wall.
None of us moved for what felt like hours.
Then out of nowhere the white candle went out. We all were shocked. We looked at each other in horror. We squirmed and moved in closer to each other. Suddenly we heard a growl, it sounded like the devil cackling. Never in my life had I been so afraid. I screamed my one and only truly terrified scream--this was nowhere near the same sound they make in horror movies. This was from deep within, I could feel the tremble of the high-pitch shake my brain. I thought I was going to become a demon or be brought down to hell or become the devil's puppet human. I still haven't figured out how my friend's parents didn't hear it or care to check on us. But they didn't.
The three of us were speechless. One held a stuffed bear tight to her chest. After about ten minutes of nothing happening my friend was no longer as scared; she dropped the stuffed bear on the bed, throwing it upside down in the process. The bear made a sound. We all looked at each other. My friend picked it back up and tipped it upside down again. The bear growled. The sound was just like the devil laughing.
We all started nervously laughing too. It was the bear all along. Nothing mystical, supernatural, or evil was going to happen. It was just a candle and a bunch of silly wanna-be witches playing with ideas that were bigger than them.
But ever so often, I wonder. Mainly when I wake up with a hangover, like I did today. Is the devil torturing me? Had he stolen my soul back in 1996? Have I just been a vessel for pure evil ever since? My ex-boyfriends probably think so. But how would one know--if we consider the devil as not necessarily a red colored man with horns, but the aura of wickedness--how would one be able to determine whether the air of evil entered them, or marked them in some way?
It's sort of silly. But sometimes I question what we were messing with and why we were doing it.
On a non-hungover day I generally feel that all humans have both the "lightness" and "darkness" in them--that we're genuinely good people but when pushed in the wrong direction we turn rotten.
It's about balance. Which makes me wonder--if beer makes me feel so lovely one night but like complete crap the next--is it a creation of "goodness" or evil disguised as deliciousness? And if I had actually gone down the path of witchcraft could I cast a spell that prevents hangovers?
Because that would save me a lot of pain; if I could I would totally consider taking another gander at the Wiccan ways. (Though not drinking so much could be an easier solution.)