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shepherd by Thomas LeRoy
Those on the left-hand path must be a person of self-worth. Your identity, your worth, should be found in your achievements. You do no find your value in religious faith, or in the herd you move along with. But those without self-worth are more than ready to claim perfection for their nation, religion, race or holy cause. For this type, a cause, any cause, is what’s important. It is very difficult for the person with a sheep-like mentality to find a worth-while purpose in personal self-advancement. The prospect of striving for the good of the individual doesn’t push them to achieve, nor can it evoke in them purposeful dedication. They look on self-interest as something evil; something tainted. Anything undertaken under the auspices of the “self” seems to be without any real purpose. Nothing based in the self can be noble or right. They are rendered guilt-ridden. What they crave is a chance to acquire new elements of pride, confidence, hope, a sense of purpose and worth by an identification with a greater cause, be it religious or otherwise.
The Wanderer heard the sheep before he saw them as he went down the path at night. And It was around a bend in the road, within shards of silver moon-light, that Wanderer saw the Shepherd standing amongst his great flock.
“How much further is it to Hyperborea?” said the Wanderer to the man.
The Shepherd shrugged. “I’ll tell you if you answer a question.”
“I don’t have time for this,” said the Wanderer.
“It will only be one question.”
The Wanderer sighed. “Make it quick.”
The Shepherd smiled. “What do you believe?”
“What?” said the Wanderer.
“What do you believe?” repeated the Shepherd.
The Wanderer thought for a moment, then shook his head. “In truth, I believe in nothing. I either know things, or I don’t. Besides, belief takes up room. I would rather save it for the truth.”
The Shepherd clapped his hands. “Very good. ‘Nothing’ should be the only answer to that question.”
“So,” said the Wanderer, “are you going to answer mine?”
The Shepherd grinned as he stepped to the side, shooing his sheep away. “The answer to your question is this: You will reach Hyperborea when you are ready to reach Hyperborea. But beware, there are many more forks and detours on the path.”
“That’s it?”
The Shepherd shrugged.
“What would have happened if I had given you the wrong answer?”
The Shepherd stared at the Wanderer, then smiled and gestured toward the sheep.”The believers? Lost, they are, and damnation awaits them at the end of their path. The faithful are the worms of the earth. They are the weak of mind and spirit, ever crawling, battered by Life. They have been impaled by the Spear of Belief, bleeding out. Many are waiting to die to become fulfilled. Their souls are empty, their will is gone.”
The Wanderer’s brow grew heavy. “What are you saying?”
“The Shepherd shrugged. “They came to me, asking questions. They thought they were on the path, but they never were. Now, they are my flock, just waiting to be slaughtered; my frightened guests in the abattoir.” Most people in the United States find solace and/or safety in either religion or in being governed. Those on the political far right, more often than not, find it in the Christian God. While those on the far left long to make government their god, striving for that great collectivist Utopian ideal. Both have dreams of a “glorious future to come” be it here on earth or the after-life. They shout out their bumper-sticker slogans about “freedom”, while both sides are terrified of real freedom. They are unlikely to be happy in a truly free society. True freedom aggravates the sheep. This is because freedom of choice places the blame of failure on the individual. True freedom is dangerous. It’s the ability to reach the highest highs, or plummet to the lowest lows without a safety net. In truth, the sheep’s innermost desire is for an end to this “free for all.” They want to eliminate the ruthless testing to which they are continually subjected to in a free society.
They long for a shepherd.
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Demons

by Thomas LeRoy demons17 Demons are an aspect of the self that reside in the subconscious, that space between the ego and the doorway to the collective unconscious. Demons represent the “dynamic of life”, to quote Joseph Campbell. They are metaphors of certain psychological attributes that those upon the RHP would like to ignore or repress. If utilized correctly, demons can be a positive force in the life of the individual.
There can be no doubt that everyone carries demons, and if not embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the more deadly and wilder the demons become. Most are frightened of their demons, locking them away deep in their subconscious where they run amok. The Individual was different than the others in his village. He had known this most of his life. He longed to go beyond the walls, but not take that same old path that all seemed to follow. He wanted to hike the trail to the left of the village, the dark path that some whispered led north to Hyperborea, beyond the “North Winds”.
The Individual became aware of his wander-lust while still a youth, living in his father’s home. Once his father aquired six pups. Beautiful creatures, over-zealous with an enthusiasm for existence. His father kept the pups in the cellar, where they slept and defecated on a cold earthen floor, lapped from a rusted pan filled with water, and ate from an old pot that he supplied with scraps from his dinner table. Only when he fed and watered the pups did the man spend any real time with them. And that time was usually spent beating them with a belt to keep them from leaping on him out of the sheer joy of seeing their master. After a time he decided to chain them to a post. He never once cleaned their habitat, and the feedings became less and less frequent until he fed them very rarely.
The months passed, and the pups grew to be filthy, wrathful creatures. But the Individual’s father ignored their howls of rage by going about his mundane existence. But the howling did not cease.
One morning the Individual awoke to a new sound coming from behind the cellar door, the sound of scratching, and chains clanking up and down the steps. The dogs had broken loose from the post. His father grabbed his belt, ready to teach them a lesson.
He opened the door . . .
The Individual found the remains of his father, scattered about like a bloody, broken doll.
And the dogs of wrath were gone.
This was only the first of many occurrences that fed the Individual’s wander-lust. To allow these otherwise harmless creatures (your demons) to be ignored, there eventually emerges a raging pack. Having a suspicion of this ugly possibility, the average person turns a blind eye to their demonic nature. But if their demons stay repressed and are isolated from the ego, this aspect of the self can never be utilized for the benefit of the self. But one’s demons must neither be repressed nor fully exploited, but through transformation into appropriate channels, brought into balance with the conscious personality. If this is not achieved, if the pit bulls are ignored, the outcome can be most grim. Your demons should be integrated, not eliminated. This is why it seems that those whom commit the most bizarre and heinous of crimes are not the out-spoken artist with the spike-covered leather jacket and mohawk, but instead the quiet church deacon behind the white picket fence.

Symbols and Archetypes

by Thomas LeRoy 2810013   Symbols and mythological archetypes are important on the left-hand path, and should be in all Satanic organizations, otherwise you’re simply atheists with an attitude.
Archetypes are universal within our species because many differing configurations of emotion are ubiquitious in the human experience. These images tend to lead to metaphorical structures, which eventually develop into complex representations with emotionally motivating schematic meanings. How does archetypal symbolism come about in the human psyche? Carl Jung believed we were born with them and that they reside in the collective unconscious. He believed that these models, or symbols, are innate, universal and hereditary. Archetypes should function to organize how we experience life. They are neither good nor bad. They simply are. Archetypes are not able to be tamed by society; they live an autonomous existence in their original raw and primitive forms. To most people, with their limited awareness and their many fears, certain archetypes seem good and others seem bad. Most are attracted to the “positive aspects” of the Mother, the Hero, the Sage, but terrified of the Devil, Demons and Serpents.
We on the left-hand path are drawn to those archetypes that survive in the darker reaches. Like Cerberus, they are standing guard over our own personal Underworld. They are sentinals between us and the herd. Within the Sect, the use of mythological archetypes may vary from person to person. Most Satanic groups use Satan, and only Satan. We also utilize Pan, Cernunnos, Prometheus, Dionysus, Shiva, the choice is that of the initiate. Hence the name “The Sect of the Horned God” and not the “The Sect of Satan”. These gods are guides to lead the individual through the deeper aspects of the self, through the malestrum that is the subconscious, and to the door of the collective unconscious, where aspects of these archetypes are recognized. The collective unconscious consists of these primordal images, the most ancient and universal “thought forms” of humanity. Jung pieced together the theory of the collective unconscious when he noticed that some of his less educated patients created delusional images that he found to be analogous to symbolic representations from many religions and mythologies. The link between the dreams, fantasies and drawings of these patients and the symbolic stucture of mythologies prompted Jung to speculate about a collective, or shared, origin of symbolic images. The horns and antlers of the Greco/Celtic gods, and the fire of Prometheus would be examples of recognizible universal forms. The horns representing power, the fire knowledge. Together they become what a true Satanist is: a synthesis of strength through personal knowledge.  

Different

The image of a LHP practitioner/Satanist/Okkultist/Luciferianist/Whatever has quite the bad reputation, as i’m sure you’re all aware. Whenever some misguided person(s) burn down a church and draw a pentagram on the wall we all are suddenly to blame. Whenever someone does a horrible act of depravity people will liken him/her to a devil worshiper. Because of this, and perhaps because of the reputation that Anton LaVey has, certain people will be attracted to the LHP expecting a bunch of upside-down lowercase t’s and a red man with horns. Most will never venture past the figure of Satan or websites such as JoyOfSatan (which, in my opinion, brainwashes their younger ‘adherents’. . . but this isn’t the place for my comments on that) to learn of all the possible views, interpretations, and the other paths available. Ask a supposed Satanist what the Crooked path is. Ask him/her if he knows what Gnosticism is. Question him/her about his/her views on organizations such as the Freemasons. Most will simply shrug or go off of conspiracies. Most will not spend their free time researching these paths, these rituals, let alone spend the time and money in trying to obtain our precious Grimoires (We really need to price those things lower. Seriously). Many people who adhere to the LHP, as you pointed out, do not know it. One does not simply wake up and say, “I’m going to be a Satanist!” or something similar. . . and then truthfully do it and adhere to it. Most of us are very individualistic. Some of us are probably outcasts. Face it, some of us are fucking weird. . . but that is the beauty of it all. The beauty of those who do follow the LHP, who do adhere to it, is that they dare to be different. Anton LaVey asked years ago “do you dare to be different?” I would rephrase that. Do you dare to ACCEPT that you are different? Are you able to look at the world, billions of people, and realize that you are simply different, odd, maybe even strange in their eyes? Can you handle this, yet walk with your head held high? If you answer is yes, then you truly are a goat for you had no hope of ever being a sheep. You cannot hide the horns you use to ram against others and to forge your own path, nor should you. We must know, accept, and foster the individuality that we are not only blessed with, but are lucky enough to express in a community during this day and age.

At times this can be difficult, at times this may be overwhelming. As adults we have a responsibility not only to ourselves but to our friends and loved ones. As LHP practitioners we work with demons, whether figuratively or in actuality (ritual-based/incense/etc.). This does not exclude our inner demons. Many a night have I sat in a chair for hours just contemplating and struggling with my life, even though I am just on the cusp of 20. No internet, no music, just alone in a dark room, staring into my mind, trying fruitlessly to find out where something could have gone wrong. . . but I am here to say that nothing went wrong. You are blessed to be an individual, and you are blessed to think for yourself. Many people will simply go along with what the higher ups say, as many LHP/Satanist groups show in their hypocrisy!, but not you. Not me. Not us. We think freely, and we MUST think freely. But, to think freely, you must know who you are. tumblr_n34e5lnTZN1rgdstmo3_500 So, I ask you. . . Do you know that you are different?

The Cloven Hoof July/August XII AS (1977)

anton12 Contributed by Jake Block This is a piece from The Cloven Hoof July/August XII AS (1977) that Satanists today might benefit from.  In it, Anton LaVey wrote: ” When I brought Satanism out of the closet, I had to put on a show to let the world know we existed in fact and not just in theologian’s rulebooks.  Once established, many roads of influence and control would present themselves.  And they have.  I won’t see Satanists cavorting for the public like monkeys anymore.  Professional performers who are …being well paid for Satanic show-and-tell can and will continue to take care of that area.
You are the real thing.  The public has a fine fun-fear image of Satanists that can be conveniently switched off on their TV sets or when they leave the theater or close the book.  Your purpose (and privilege) us to be able to reap the rewards of all that flack, not perform little theater in between times.  Let them know you’re a C/S member.  Explain philosophy if you feel like it and it invigorates you.  Otherwise, let them think the worst or best — whatever they need.  Above all, don’t provide entertainment unless the stakes are worth it. The Satanic Bible is available (or should be) to answer doctrinal questions others may ask.  Instead of being a colorful evangelist, eager to Spread The Word, you should be an enigmatic individual whom others have good reason to ponder and respect. Nothing infuriates — or scares — others so much as unpredictability.  When the pro/pop/show-and-tell Satanists condition the public to expect stereotypical appearance and lifestyle from Satanists, it is your cue to confound and confuse them “until the stars be numbered.”  Make them wonder what being a Satanist does for you and what strange and potent force you are linked with.  Just others’ knowledge that you are a Satanist is sufficient to accomplish that.  The more of a show you give them, the less they have to speculate upon.  And the more predictable (= safe) and entertaining you become. If you want to be a spooky Gothic type Satanist for the world to see, be prepared to lose more than a little of your potential power.  This doesn’t mean you can’t decorate your home in a bizarre manner.  It should only caution you to screen your guests carefully if you have devil statues in every corner.  Get the point?  Better yet, if you don’t send them away with anything to upset their balance — yet they know you’re with the C/S — they will REALLY be unhinged (or intrigued).  You made your point without entertaining them as a “Satanist” should.” 1977 or 2014, it’s still good advice and spot-on analysis that I’ve found has served me well.

The Cloven Hoof July/August XII AS (1977)

anton12 Contributed by Jake Block
This is a piece from The Cloven Hoof July/August XII AS (1977) that Satanists today might benefit from.  In it, Anton LaVey wrote:   ” When I brought Satanism out of the closet, I had to put on a show to let the world know we existed in fact and not just in theologian’s rulebooks.  Once established, many roads of influence and control would present themselves.  And they have.  I won’t see Satanists cavorting for the public like monkeys anymore.  Professional performers who are …being well paid for Satanic show-and-tell can and will continue to take care of that area.
You are the real thing.  The public has a fine fun-fear image of Satanists that can be conveniently switched off on their TV sets or when they leave the theater or close the book.  Your purpose (and privilege) is to be able to reap the rewards of all that flack, not perform little theater in between times.  Let them know you’re a C/S member.  Explain philosophy if you feel like it and it invigorates you.  Otherwise, let them think the worst or best — whatever they need.  Above all, don’t provide entertainment unless the stakes are worth it. The Satanic Bible is available (or should be) to answer doctrinal questions others may ask.  Instead of being a colorful evangelist, eager to Spread The Word, you should be an enigmatic individual whom others have good reason to ponder and respect. Nothing infuriates — or scares — others so much as unpredictability.  When the pro/pop/show-and-tell Satanists condition the public to expect stereotypical appearance and lifestyle from Satanists, it is your cue to confound and confuse them “until the stars be numbered.”  Make them wonder what being a Satanist does for you and what strange and potent force you are linked with.  Just others’ knowledge that you are a Satanist is sufficient to accomplish that.  The more of a show you give them, the less they have to speculate upon.  And the more predictable (= safe) and entertaining you become. If you want to be a spooky Gothic type Satanist for the world to see, be prepared to lose more than a little of your potential power.  This doesn’t mean you can’t decorate your home in a bizarre manner.  It should only caution you to screen your guests carefully if you have devil statues in every corner.  Get the point?  Better yet, if you don’t send them away with anything to upset their balance — yet they know you’re with the C/S — they will REALLY be unhinged (or intrigued).  You made your point without entertaining them as a “Satanist” should.” 1977 or 2014, it’s still good advice and spot-on analysis that I’ve found has served me well. – Jake Block

The Moral Bomb and Madness

 'The Moral Bomb and Madness<br /><br /><br /><br />
By Mistress-Babylon Consort,</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Rarely a day goes by that I am not, on some level, questioned or ‘accused’ of having no ‘moral standards’ because I am a LHP Atheist.<br /><br /><br /><br />
There is also not a day that goes by that I don’t question/challenge/debate it within myself. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Of course in the most general sense, I have a long list of self –imposed standards or morals that are as innate as primal instinct, ones that are based on physical and emotional survival, ones that are ‘best’ for me and my own. That in itself promotes a ‘pebble in the pond’ chain of events as it filters through extended family and community. But that’s the brainless and glossy end of self-defined morality. It would be easy enough to stand and beat my chest, like so many do, roaring Left-Hand Path/Atheistic-Satanic modes of well worn kindergarten philosophy involving anti-christian platitudes. What does that accomplish?.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Nothing. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>The day will and does come, for all of us, when life will throw a bomb into that carefully built hill of moral agenda. Mine certainly has. I’ve seen it coming for many years but chose to put it aside in hopes that the challenge and upheaval of self reflection would dissipate into a solution provided by the natural course of universal law. Foolish me.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>I have a younger sister who was recently locked away in a mental health facility where she will remain for the rest of her life.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Finally. It’s been years in coming.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Diagnosed at the age of 26 with schizophrenia, the pre and post diagnosis years saw our family life in ruins with her never-ending manic and irrational violence. She was a mean bitch right from birth. The level of violence she is capable of started early when she killed the family pets with nary a blink of an eye. The list is long and horrifying. It would be wrong of me to ever assume that she has never murdered another human.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Eventually, of course, the voices, hallucinations, and paranoia she experienced further led her delusional decision making. Fear and anger were my best friend when she was around. I recall an instance several years ago that stands out in my mind, where in Canada, just outside the city I am from and was living in at the time, a young college student was murdered and cannibalized on a GreyHound bus by Vince Lee, the gentleman who sat in the seat next to him. Lee was an un-diagnosed schizophrenic, and when the "demon voices" instructed him to kill and eat this young man, he did. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Upon hearing the initial sketchy news reports of this on television, my heart stopped. Was it her? Did she do it? Fear washed over me like a sickening sewer. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Regardless, and knowing this, the dozens of times I had petitioned the Canadian courts, pleaded with dozens of judges, and filled out reams of paper to have her committed fell on deaf ears for too many years.<br /><br /><br /><br />
Of course she had been arrested and/or hospitalized many many times before. Those were the nights I slept well. She was safe and the world was safe from her. Nobody would be hurt tonight. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>But then again, she was always released. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Those with the most severe of mental health issues have rights, despite the fact that they are a known danger to society and/or themselves. Vince Lee, himself, is currently preparing for his re-entry back in mainstream society, after what I consider a short hospital stay.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>My sister's last stand in "normal" society ended when she was quietly picked up in a coffee shop by the police on a special order (finally) from the courts, as by now her descent into madness was fully complete. It was -40 : she was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, sandals  and a parka. She is without conscious, rabid and feral.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>And I hate her. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Or at least I tell myself that. She is self-will run riot, with nary a capable thought in her head of cause and effect, yet I resent that the sweet lull of her madness will now cradle her. Whatever she did or has done, she got away with, and I say ‘got away with’ as in her world there are no repercussions. They do not exist, and never really have.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>I betray myself with the cold and sincere desire of having to admit wanting and wishing her dead for so many years. Is this my ‘easy way out’ or a desperate emotional attempt to just stop the pain and horror? Am I unfeeling for wanting that and have for so very long? But there is no relief, as paradoxically it holds the hand of crushing guilt. It’s hard to decipher as I pick up the pieces from years of her destruction and try to piece together a faded crumbling puzzle. Right now, unbidden, every moral of my being, every last frayed nerve and thought is colliding and called into question with my own behavior and thought processes. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>Don’t tell me to understand her illness. I do. Clinically and without emotion. Do I pity her? I can’t as the words of Nietzsche remind me “( Pity) preserves what is right for destruction; it defends those who have been disinherited and condemned by life; and by the abundance of the failures that keep it alive..” Pity would be an insult.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>And still, emotions and self-introspection unceasingly collide. I am angry and enraged, but it is coupled by a grief so deep it seems unmanageable. It’s like she ‘has’ died and my wish fulfilled. I am horrified at the thought of ever being capable of thinking such a thing. Around and around I go.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>She is alive, but gone. </p><br /><br /><br />
<p>The birth and hope of the innocent girl-child shattered by a disease that would take her mind early and turn her into a monster It’s not fair, but life isn't. Resolve seems fleeting.</p><br /><br /><br />
<p>This is my demon.'

By Mistress-Babylon Consort Rarely a day goes by that I am not, on some level, questioned or “accused” of having no “moral standards” because I am a LHP Atheist.
There is also not a day that goes by that I don’t question/challenge/debate it within myself. Of course in the most general sense, I have a long list of self –imposed standards or morals that are as innate as primal instinct, ones that are based on physical and emotional survival, ones that are best for me and my own. That in itself promotes a “pebble in the pond” chain of events as it filters through extended family and community. But that’s the brainless and glossy end of self-defined morality. It would be easy enough to stand and beat my chest, like so many do, roaring Left-Hand Path/Atheistic-Satanic modes of well worn kindergarten philosophy involving anti-christian platitudes. What does that accomplish?. Nothing. The day will and does come, for all of us, when life will throw a bomb into that carefully built hill of moral agenda. Mine certainly has. I’ve seen it coming for many years but chose to put it aside in hopes that the challenge and upheaval of self reflection would dissipate into a solution provided by the natural course of universal law. Foolish me. I have a younger sister who was recently locked away in a mental health facility where she will remain for the rest of her life. Finally. It’s been years in coming. Diagnosed at the age of 26 with schizophrenia, the pre and post diagnosis years saw our family life in ruins with her never-ending manic and irrational violence. She was a mean bitch right from birth. The level of violence she is capable of started early when she killed the family pets with nary a blink of an eye. The list is long and horrifying. It would be wrong of me to ever assume that she has never murdered another human. Eventually, of course, the voices, hallucinations, and paranoia she experienced further led her delusional decision making. Fear and anger were my best friend when she was around. I recall an instance several years ago that stands out in my mind, where in Canada, just outside the city I am from and was living in at the time, a young college student was murdered and cannibalized on a GreyHound bus by Vince Lee, the gentleman who sat in the seat next to him. Lee was an un-diagnosed schizophrenic, and when the “demon voices” instructed him to kill and eat this young man, he did. Upon hearing the initial sketchy news reports of this on television, my heart stopped. Was it her? Did she do it? Fear washed over me like a sickening sewer. Regardless, and knowing this, the dozens of times I had petitioned the Canadian courts, pleaded with dozens of judges, and filled out reams of paper to have her committed fell on deaf ears for too many years.
Of course she had been arrested and/or hospitalized many many times before. Those were the nights I slept well. She was safe and the world was safe from her. Nobody would be hurt tonight. But then again, she was always released. Those with the most severe of mental health issues have rights, despite the fact that they are a known danger to society and/or themselves. Vince Lee, himself, is currently preparing for his re-entry back in mainstream society, after what I consider a short hospital stay. My sister’s last stand in “normal” society ended when she was quietly picked up in a coffee shop by the police on a special order (finally) from the courts, as by now her descent into madness was fully complete. It was -40 : she was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, sandals and a parka. She is without conscious, rabid and feral. And I hate her. Or at least I tell myself that. She is self-will run riot, with nary a capable thought in her head of cause and effect, yet I resent that the sweet lull of her madness will now cradle her. Whatever she did or has done, she got away with, and I say “got away with” as in her world there are no repercussions. They do not exist, and never really have. I betray myself with the cold and sincere desire of having to admit wanting and wishing her dead for so many years. Is this my “easy way out” or a desperate emotional attempt to just stop the pain and horror? Am I unfeeling for wanting that and have for so very long? But there is no relief, as paradoxically it holds the hand of crushing guilt. It’s hard to decipher as I pick up the pieces from years of her destruction and try to piece together a faded crumbling puzzle. Right now, unbidden, every moral of my being, every last frayed nerve and thought is colliding and called into question with my own behavior and thought processes. Don’t tell me to understand her illness. I do. Clinically and without emotion. Do I pity her? I can’t as the words of Nietzsche remind me “( Pity) preserves what is right for destruction; it defends those who have been disinherited and condemned by life; and by the abundance of the failures that keep it alive..” Pity would be an insult. And still, emotions and self-introspection unceasingly collide. I am angry and enraged, but it is coupled by a grief so deep it seems unmanageable. It’s like she “has” died and my wish fulfilled. I am horrified at the thought of ever being capable of thinking such a thing. Around and around I go. She is alive, but gone. The birth and hope of the innocent girl-child shattered by a disease that would take her mind early and turn her into a monster is not fair, but life isn’t. Resolve seems fleeting. This is my demon.

To Err Is Human

by Jake Block
Once in a while, you can find little snippets of the past that you thought were long lost, looking through personal documents.  This happened to me yesterday, while looking for an old military form that had some information I needed.  There it was, for some reason, wedged in between my paperwork of my Serviceman’s Group Life Insurance policy and my orders promoting me to Staff Sergeant.  I smiled, because I haven’t seen it in decades.  A single, type-witten page (PCs were still years away), it was one of the first things I ever wrote for The Church of Satan, way back in about 1974.  My apologies for the writing… I think after decades and many, many words and rewrites, I might have gotten a bit better at it.
“To Err is Human
Recently, while shopping at a well-known center, congested with shoving Christmas shoppers and squalling children, I wandered into a plaster-craft store to browse.  Inside were the usual craft kits, religious plaques and paints, along with  an assortment of typical shoppers who seemed to lift each item up for a closer inspection.
I roamed the aisles, aimlessly threading my way through the few people who were in the shop, thankful for this brief respite from the throng outside.  My thoughts were my own, and the moments passed quickly until I found myself glancing at a small plaque.  On the plaque were the words, “TO ERR IS HUMAN … TO FORGIVE IS NOT MY POLICY.”
I picked up the plaque and smiled, for it had struck to the core of my personal philosophy.  My personal revulsion for the creeds of forgiveness were summed up on that small plaque, and it pleased me that it was there for all the world to see.  A reminder that “forgive and forget” is not the motto of all, and there were still some men in this world of sheep who dared to cry out for vengeance and justice for the errors and transgressions of others.
We, as Satanists, are bound to the earth by our own choosing.  We, the masters, make no concessions as we stand our ground against the sea of self righteous adversaries who would love to see us fall.  They tell us that WE are misguided and that they, in their mercy, forgive us, but what are we forgiven for?  We have done nothing, save the sin (to them) of pride.  We have pride in ourselves and refuse to accept the forgiveness of man or god, for we know we are right.
Perhaps one day the rest of the world will forsake the paths of righteousness and pursue their self-satisfaction.  Then, forgiveness will become as foreign and archaic as the chastity belt.  Mankind will be forced to accept responsibility for his own actions, and when unable to accept forgiveness an unseen and uncaring god, will be forced to use common sense, for a welcomed change.  Until such time as mankind forsakes his creed of divine forgiveness, beware MY creed.  “To err is human … To forgive is not my policy.”

The Chest-Beaters


by Thomas LeRoy
“I walked the path to the left!” said a man, beating his chest, in the village square. “I know all there is to know of it’s ups and downs, it’s hills and valleys, its crags and meadows.”
Another man stood and he, too, beat his chest proclaiming, “I have faced the demons on the path! I have conquered them and have made them my slaves!”
And still another. “Lo, I have trekked where no man has trekked before! I have seen sights that would melt the eyes of most men!”
And another.”I have tasted the spices of Hell, and have drunk the mead of Hades! Cerberus, I have made my pet, and Kali my lover! Satan and Shiva have bowed down before me for I am divine! I am my own God!”
“Excuse me,” said the Individual, raising his hand.
But the others kept pounding their chests, trying to out-do one another in volume and bombast.
“Excuse me!”
The square went quiet for a moment.
“I have a question,” said the Individual. “If you all had been on the path, and have found your divinity, then why are you still here in the village?”
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The Chest-Beaters


by Thomas LeRoy
“I walked the path to the left!” said a man, beating his chest, in the village square. “I know all there is to know of it’s ups and downs, it’s hills and valleys, its crags and meadows.”
Another man stood and he, too, beat his chest proclaiming, “I have faced the demons on the path! I have conquered them and have made them my slaves!”
And still another. “Lo, I have trekked where no man has trekked before! I have seen sights that would melt the eyes of most men!”
And another.”I have tasted the spices of Hell, and have drunk the mead of Hades! Cerberus, I have made my pet, and Kali my lover! Satan and Shiva have bowed down before me for I am divine! I am my own God!”
“Excuse me,” said the Individual, raising his hand.
But the others kept pounding their chests, trying to out-do one another in volume and bombast.
“Excuse me!”
The square went quiet for a moment.
“I have a question,” said the Individual. “If you all had been on the path, and have found your divinity, then why are you still here in the village?”
Posted in Uncategorized
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