
1 — How I learned to pray
He shall call upon me, and I will answer him:
I will be with him in trouble;
I will deliver him, and honour him
It was a dark and cold November night deep in the woods of the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, miles away from the nearest asphalt. There was no moon and the foliage took away most of the faint light from the stars. We were walking single file so that, come daylight, no-one would be able to distinguish what our numbers were by looking at our tracks.
The atmosphere was tense, because this night we were told to go into Hell. Everyone was silent, dealing with whatever they needed to deal with internally in order to be ready for what was up ahead. As ready as you can get anyway. The particular stretch of forest we called ‘Hell’ was appropriately named — not only for its history, but for the concentration of darkness that infests it. The only other places I have encountered that have anywhere near the concentration of demons are some of the church buildings I’ve visited over the years.
Its past was steeped in bloodshed, starting with the slaughter of the indigenous Indian tribe the Lenni Lenape a few hundred years ago. This was followed by pretty much every vile act that you would care to think of. Mass murders, rape, abductions, human sacrifices, you name it — one horrible event building upon the past, attracting more and more darkness simply by virtue of the ever increasing power of the place.
Right now a gravesite deep in its bowels was the home of a training centre for black shaman. They enjoy their own horrific style of teaching and ceremony. But that was not where we were told to go this night. We were supposed to stay only on the outer edges of Hell. All knives and weapons were left behind at camp. This was mandatory. Not so much for the risk of accidentally leaving something personal behind for them to find and use as an inroad to your life, but more for the risk of one of us losing our mind or becoming possessed. It is one thing to have to deal with a person who is demonically possessed in the middle of the night deep in the woods. It is something else entirely when this person is also armed with a knife.
Throughout the preceding week we were taught all manner of spiritual skills in preparation for tonight. If you think Hogwart’s is fictional, then it’s clear you weren’t with us that week. Among the various things we learned was the ability to sense the presence of things without actually being able to see them physically. By ‘things’ I mean beings both living or dead, human or animal, physical or spiritual and more to the point, light or dark.
Mostly, however we had focussed on sensing the presence of darkness in all its myriad manifestations. All of this was to help us eventually become a white shaman. That is why we were all there — what had drawn us to this place from all corners of the world. We were going to be shaman of the light; warriors of the light, fighting darkness and making the world a better place. Our agenda wasn’t the Star Wars sense of “bringing balance to the force”, but more towards eradicating the dark side of it. Magical Rambo’s, if you will, kicking demonic ass.
This was my dream come true. I had been looking for a school like this for as long as I could remember. A real Mystery School, like the ones you sometimes hear or read about, yet never seem to be able to get the address for.
Like many a searcher before me, I had given up on ever finding such a school and had dejectedly resigned myself to an average existence. After many fruitless years, I’d come to the sensible conclusion that these things were no longer to be found on planet Earth in this day and age. Sure, somewhere in the distant past schools like that must’ve been around, maybe in Tibet or somewhere similar, but alas, no more.
So I settled in for the ‘normal’ life — the one that involves trying to be a good father and husband, making money, planning vacations, retirement and death. Or so I thought.
Now classroom time was over and tonight was going to be the real deal. The instructions were clear, simple and unnervingly open-ended: “Go into Hell, split up into smaller groups and go with those groups into separate areas. Once you’re there, split off individually and find a place to sit on the forest floor where you can have some seclusion. Not within sight of each other, but still within shouting distance. When you’re settled in, and the forest has become quiet again, start sensing what’s around you. Start with your immediate surroundings and then work your way out. Start extending your awareness around you in a circular pattern, much like sonar does on the screen of a submarine. And see what you bump into…”.
Going by these instructions I find my spot in an area with some tall grass, sit down and try to get comfortable. Around me I hear the faint rustling sounds of the last few people getting settled in to their spots and then the frozen forest descends back into quiet again. Not a normal, peaceful-forest-at-night-type quiet, but an eerily cold silence. This is no ordinary forest. Everything around me is ‘off’. The trees don’t grow right. No animal sounds. Shadows seem to be watching me and the temperature is now actively dropping. Or is that just because I’ve stopped moving?
After a few minutes of sitting and procrastinating, knowing full well that now’s the time I should really have started the exercise, I find fear has gripped me tight. So rather than doing what I’m told, I attempt to physically shrink down to the size of a mouse. I pull all of my senses close to my skin in a futile attempt to disappear from the landscape or, at the very least, be hard to notice.
After some time of procrastinating like this I resolve to do the job I signed up for. “I’m not going back to camp knowing I chickened out. This is it. Step up. Step. Up!”
Ever so cautiously I start to expand my senses outward, like one of those sea creatures you see on Discovery channel that retreats like a flash into its cave when touched, only to slowly fan out again after enough time has passed for it to assume danger has moved on. I hesitantly sense a few yards out from me, nothing. A few yards more, nothing. Yet a little farther I venture…
I’m sensing roughly about 40 metres out when suddenly I come upon something that’s way up in a tree. Not only do I feel it, but whatever it is I ‘bump’ into notices being nudged as well. Instantly I pull away from it, all the way back to myself, but it is already too late.
In abject terror I hear this ‘thing’ or whatever it is, tearing its way down the tree, snapping off branches and twigs as it goes, incensed by my presence. Once on the ground it proceeds to completely rip all of the bark off the tree, slashing at it with its powerful claws in a demonstration of tremendous violence and strength.
Throughout all of this, I can not physically see anything through the pitch dark. Effectively blind, my worst fears are realised when it seems to turn its attention towards me. I’m go right back to being a mouse again, but it is of no avail; with crashing footsteps this monster charges straight towards me through the tall grass and the undergrowth, rapidly closing the remaining distance between us.
At this point I become painfully aware of my total vulnerability. I have nothing — no weapons of any kind, no natural defences such as teeth or claws, and no escape. In the face of this charging demon from Hell, I am nothing.
Much to my own surprise, I begin to pray.
Up to this moment in my life I had never prayed. I am convinced there is no God, not because I’m an atheist — it’s worse — it’s because I don’t need a God. Yet out of my mouth these very sincere words spring forth, “God, I know I’ve never prayed to you before, but I am now. I have nothing else; please help me. HELP ME!”
Just a few yards from me this thing stops dead in its tracks. Silence. I still can’t see anything, but I know it is there, eyes boring straight into me. I don’t move a muscle, attempt to sink into the ground and forget to breathe.
After what seems like an eternity, it takes one step out to the side. Then another and another and slowly, in a stalking manner, it starts circling me all the way around, crunching in the tall frozen grass and dried up leaves. All through the remainder of the time I sit there, I hear those heavy footsteps circling me.
But it never does come any closer. And I never do get to see it.
When we all walk out of Hell later that night the thing has just seemingly vanished into thin air and is nowhere to be seen or heard. One other student inexplicably has come out of the woods with bite marks matching no known animal on his side though.
Returning back to camp later on that night I’m left pondering to myself, “Really? Pray? And to… God?”
