Memoir of a Mystic, Book I: Spells

Introduction

          Greetings, Reader. My name is C.R. Roby, and I am a Mystic. But before we begin this journey of how I arrived at my current philosophical standing, allow me to give you some background to my life.

          I was raised in a Mormon family. The "read your scriptures and pray before you go to bed" type. All the way to the age of 18. If you don't know anything about the Mormon faith, they are very close-minded and strict in their practices. I hadn't even had iced tea for the first time until I was a sophomore in high school, and it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. To this day, absolutely love tea of any kind. But I digress. Every Sunday, we went to church. Every Thursday was a youth group meeting. Every morning, before high school classes would begin, I would wake up at 4am to go to a scripture class at a local members house. The study of religion was intense. And it got even more intense when I told my mother that I wanted to be Wiccan.

          I was 12 when I found Wicca. I didn't exactly fit in with my peers in junior high, so I ended up becoming friends with my cousin's goth group from the high school that was attached. One day, my friend Gil was helping me create a VampireFreaks account (basically MySpace for goth kids), and on her page was a large pentacle. Having been told that it was "the symbol of the devil", my curiosity peaked, and I asked. "Hey what's that?"

          "Oh, that's a pentacle. I am Wiccan. It represents the five elements: Earth, Wind, Water, Fire, and Spirit."

          "Oh. That's cool." And that was it. I was fascinated. I went home and got on my family's computer and began to look it up. From there, I was immersed in all kinds of information. An entirely different religion that had nothing to do with Christianity, and in some cases, completely opposed everything that I had been taught by my mother. I didn't even know that other religions really existed. The only thing I had been told was that "they are wrong, and of the devil." And the magic. The simple idea that I could alter my world with a spell sitting upon my young mind blew me away. I began looking at books in the local library and copying information down in journals to be accessed later. At one point, I had read that one must complete a year-and-a-day learning process before one could claim the religion, so I took it upon myself to do just that. All of this, under the ever-watchful eyes of my incredibly strict mother.

          I started hiding spell materials in different places, like under my bed or in my closet. Not that my mother really knew anything about it at the time, so even if she did manage to spy my things, it wasn't like she'd know what they were for. It was just a bunch of rocks and sticks and things; normal 12-year-old stuff. I even had candles and astrological sconces and whatnot, as I had an interest in astrology from an incredibly young age. So, nothing was really out of place when I started to study Wicca and Witchcraft. And the amazing part was that it seemed as natural to me as riding a bike or putting on a pair of pants. A friend of mine had actually started doing it with me, but when his mother found out, she scared the shit out of him with some horror movie. Not me though. I was hooked. I had always had a fascination with the paranormal and metaphysical, but now, I had finally had something to call it. Not only that but interact with it as well.

          By the time I was 14, I was neck deep in spells and magic and the Wiccan belief. This is when I finally decided to renounce my Mormon faith to my mother and take up my own spiritual path. This was probably a mistake. I left my mother a letter before going to a church youth group meeting explaining my choice. By the time I had returned home. My mother had descended into hysterical crying, asking where she went wrong. She was determined that I was worshipping the devil and decided that it was best to take away all forms of fantasy media. Harry Potter, video games, books, movies, anything that had any mention of magic or fantasy was taken away from me under the impression that they were influencing my decision. When I told her that I didn't have a testimony in her religion, she said "Well, then I will make you have one."

          The scripture study intensified. Temple visits became much more frequent. Family prayer happened from morning till night. It was insane. My mother honestly believed that if she completely cut me off from everything else and completely immersed me in her faith. That it would somehow "bring me back to Jesus." But the only thing it did was make me despise all forms of Christianity and organized religion. I pushed harder. I started buying books on Wicca. I bought my first pentacle and refused to take it off or cover it up for any reason. I was going to follow my own path whether or not my parents agreed with it. It wasn't their decision to make. I remember going to a church function, and my step father demanded that I "put it away" because of what other members in the church might think.

          It was a downright religious war between my family and I. My books would sometimes get thrown out into the rain. My mother would call me evil. I remember in my junior year of high school, I refused to write about how my parents were my role models in a writing class I took and got sent to the guidance counselor for it. The school intervened. They held a meeting with my mother and I and the guidance counselor told her that if she didn't lay off and I finally became old enough to leave, that I wouldn't ever return. She was right. I left, and only returned if I absolutely had to.

          It has since calmed in years gone by, but the division is still there. I am still looked at funny at larger family gatherings. I have become the black sheep of my family. But, as Hermes Trismegistus states in the Corpus Hermeticum,

"For this cause they who Gnostic are, please not the many, nor the many them. They are thought mad and laughed at; they're hated and despised, and sometimes even put to death."

          So, for those who are seeking the way, keep in mind that those around you will most likely laugh at you. They will call you names or hate you. But persevere anyway. It is the nature of having Knowledge.

          I personally can't stand long introductions, so, without further adieu, I introduce my first book, Spells.