(Thomas Martin)

My mother used to make us keep a diary when we were kids. We being my brother and I, sorry for the grammatical over-site. Well, we wrote these diaries when we were on vacation. At the end of the vacation we would write a one or two page paper on what we did and what we learned. I always felt that that made work out of the vacation. The important thing that came out of those experiences is that I still write in my diary. The sad revelation is that I think I understood so much more back then. It is said that God works in mysterious ways, and I believe it, I just wish that there was a book like Reality For Dummies. Maybe then I would not worry so much about the little things, like whether or not I'll be alive tomorrow, or whether or not the mice really are in charge. Maybe I'm paranoid. In fact, I probably am. But that might just be a blessing in disguise!

Unfortunately, I seem to have lost the diaries from the last couple of years, so I'm going to start from then and work up till now. Let's see, in 1985 I graduated from Jordan High School in Durham NC. It was actually a pretty good school at that point. Ever since the school board decided to merge the Durham City and Durham county schools, though, Jordan hasn't been what it could be. A pity, really. Then I went off to college. The hardest thing about that had to be getting used to a new church, a new priest, and a new community. Luckily, it was not a difficult transition. I had a wonderful sense of belonging when I was at St. Marina's in Durham. The music minister was particularly great. He really showed me how faith and music, especially song, could focus ones faith in amazing ways. When I got to the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, I immediately went by St. Mary's House, the on-campus Episcopalian congregation. Father Haus, Charlie as he insisted on being called, was great. Over the course of my college career, he had to have been the single most stable influence that I had. He helped me to keep the faith alive. It was due to such influences that I decided to go in for a degree in fine arts. My specialty was, of course, singing. Let me tell you, UNCG is not an easy school. It has a reputation for being easy because it is a liberal arts college, but oh no! That is anything but the truth. I worked hard for my degree! UNCG also has a reputation for having an incredibly high percentage of homosexual students. While that is true (oh boy is that true!) it was not a problem. I always looked at such things from the outlook that I had learned at church, all things in moderation. What I mean is that if you are going to do something, don't do it to absolute excess. Sex is like anything else. Try not to hurt anyone, have fun, and clean up any messes that occur. Also remember that God does forgive those who make mistakes. Life, like college, is a learning experience. Oh yes, please remember that the bible does not condemn homosexuality. It merely lists a singular act as being inappropriate. That should ruffle a few feathers, don't you think? Oh well, it has made my life a lot easier.

All good things must end, and in the spring of 1989 my college career was one of them. In my senior year I talked to Father Haus about my desire to do some good in the world, and that I wanted to go into seminary to become ordained. While this was a good idea, he said that the church prefers for the faithful to work in the outside world for a while before heading into the seminary. I realized then that he was right. How could I show a congregation the way if I did not know their obstacles? So I applied to the Durham Police academy. Luckily I was accepted (otherwise I would have had to find another direction for my life - ack, applications and interviews) and was able to enter the academy that fall. Until then, I worked at St. Marina's. The police academy was not particularly eventful, but I learned a lot. I felt that I would be able to do some good.

Unfortunately, our world is a much darker place than I had anticipated. After two years on the Durham police force I could not take it any more. Nearly every night had been spent in prayer; almost every day was spent singing away my disgust while I watched other officers' abuse their positions. We were not helping the community; we were bleeding off its humanity. Those of us that cared were too few, or too weak. It all came to a head in '92 when we were on a big bust at Few Gardens. The place is practically a demilitarized zone, fenced so as to keep the criminals in. Unfortunately, the people who live there because they can only afford low-income housing are the ones that suffer. It is a terrible place. We were supposed to be on backup for a drug bust. What happened was anything but normal. We found out latter that the perps had been tipped off by some of our less than conscientious coworkers. They did not like our view of their practices, and we would do anything to undermine them. So they threw us to the lions. Ten officers went in, only seven of us came out. All of us were battered, two were severely wounded, and three were given over to God. But we made the bust. My partner, Mike Chambers, was one of the severely wounded. He says that if it were not for me he would be dead. I just thank God that we are still alive.

After that, I couldn't take it any more. I resigned in July of '92. Mike stayed on. He said that he had to help change things around. I worried about him and awful lot. But he did it. It took time, but things are getting better. I see the general news on television and in the paper, but I get the good information when we get together for the occasional dinner.

The one thing that I never came to doubt during my time on the police force was my faith, so that was what I concentrated on. I worked for a while at St. Marina's until I was accepted into seminary later that year. I noticed that the congregation had less life and vibrancy to it than before, but I dismissed the idea as my depression being attributed to others. How wrong I was.

Seminary was wonderful. I learned about the history of the church, from the Anglican split with the Catholic Church under Henry the Eighth, to our becoming Episcopalians in America, and our continual evolution as disciples of God. I was fascinated by the obscure stories. My favorite was that after the battle of Wounded Knee, when the Lakota (Sioux) Indians were massacred, only an Episcopal mission would accept the survivors. God does not like for any to suffer, especially from such an injustice. They were not of our belief, but it did not matter. No one should endure what their people did. We helped as we could.

I sang much more those days. In fact, I had grown close to my music instructor - Father Matthews, and we would often study after class. He said that to truly understand the divine song was to break free of the constraints that we place upon ourselves. I did not fully understand, but that was not the point. Understanding would come from trying, and so I tried. I sang day and night, I sang song, poem, and prose alike. I sang my prayers and I sang my order at Burger Kingä . He even taught me to sing in Latin and in Greek, even though I could not understand the languages. I felt a stirring inside, a feeling that I was used to, but that had never been so intense before. I think that Father Matthews recognized this, because he gave me a set of prayers in song. He told me that the songs were in different languages, Latin, Greek and Lakota (due to my fascination with the Story of Wounded Knee). He gave me the pronunciations and told me to sing. I needed to sing them all because they were all different ways of expressing the faith of a people, and that all religions are just different ways of viewing the one. So I sang. In Latin I sang songs of the Goddess, in Greek I sang songs of the gods, in Lakota I sang songs of the spirits and in all I sang songs to God. As I sang I saw my belief, standing to my side, singing with me, but so that I could understand the words. The trinity came alive then - the Father of infinite wisdom, the Son of infinite compassion and the Holy Spirit that binds all together. And in the Holy Spirit I saw the mark of the female, and I knew that all was one. Goddess, gods, and spirits were all ways of looking at the one. I sang of them and I sang to them and all the while I sang of God and to God and I sang and sang and was never going to stop and then the world exploded in light and I Knew, I Became, I Awakened.

Then my belief stepped into me, and I became whole. I could feel the world and see it in new ways. I finally understood. It was three thirty in the morning, and I had been singing for over seven hours. I was both exhausted and elated. Luckily Father Matthews had intended for this to happen, and he was prepared. We walked to the Sanctuary and up to the altar. I genuflected and kneeled while Fathers Matthews pulled out wine and wafers and consecrated them. Then I took communion from his hands. He then took me to his office where some acolytes were waiting. Later I was to find out that they were his acolytes, but at the time I knew nothing of the ways. They had prepared a hearty but simple stew and spicy sausages with pasta. We sat in his office and ate like pigs and talked for hours. Father Matthews and his acolytes all helping me to understand my awakening and what it meant. Later that month I was initiated into the Celestial Chorus.

I learned so much in that first year of my awakened life. Father Matthews helped me in my magickal studies and tried to show me the importance of a well-rounded education. I learned the basics of the arts of life, matter and forces, but by far and away I was entranced with the study of the prime sphere. The knowledge of this basic concept of reality is as fascinating to me as any mystery. I found that I was lacking the ability to learn the secrets of the mind. No matter how hard I tried, I could not grasp the meaning. One night I was praying before bed, and asked what made me unable to understand. In answer, my avatar appeared. That shred of the divine in all of the awakened had come to speak with me directly. She explained that in a former incarnation a tragedy had occurred. An enemy of that mage had tried to destroy her so thoroughly that he had attacked her avatar. The only way to avoid destruction was to fight back with deadly force. She had been a disciple of mind, but our avatar helped her push back the limits of her abilities. She was able to stop the completion of the rite by seizing and shredding his mind, but the strain was too much, killing her in the process. Ever since that time, the incarnations of my avatar have been unable to learn the arts of the mind.

In May '95, I graduated from seminary. I was to go back to St. Marina's and study under Father Hall. I did not know if my duties in the Chorus would allow me to become ordained, but I hoped that they would. But no matter what, I would forever work to help humanity ascend. When I arrived at St. Marina's, I saw that the worst had indeed come to pass. The congregation was lifeless. Moving as if by remote control. Father Hall and I tried vigorously to instill some passion in them, but to no avail. The already declining numbers of the congregation slipped to a mere handful, and then to nothing. The church property was sold, but not even the local Bishop understood why. Then Father Hall disappeared. Within a year of my arrival my world was falling apart again as I watched the bulldozers raze the site. It took less than five months for them to destroy the church and build a cold, sterile factory in its place.

Luckily, I was able to get a job as a youth minister at St. Stephens, but without any other Chorus members in the immediate area, I didn't know what to do. I called Mike and we met for dinner. He told me of some strange things that were being said about the company that bought the church site, and that he might have to investigate it. I asked him to let me know what he found out as St. Marina's had been very important to me. That was the last time that I talked to Mike.

Now I spend my free time wandering the area, seeing what there is to see. I believe that the Technocracy is behind these problems and that they killed Father Hall. So now I search for other mages that I can ally with. If I can, I want to take the fight back to the Technocracy's door, and show them the true meaning of the fear of God!

© 1998 by Thomas Martin

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