As a child, I honored the shadows of my imagination far more than my playmates, it seemed. We would take turns coming up with games, as children do. When it came to me, my games had storylines that often ended with players' characters turning evil or "dark" in some way when boundaries were crossed or when someone was tagged "it." Then again, I often saw things that adults told me weren't there. Such is the burden of most children and animals. Innocence and the absence of a thought process that numbs senses allows the natural human (and base animal) psyche to observe the things that go bump in the night without restraint. As we grow and "evolve," the ability to connect with these forces are stripped from our minds. Perhaps it is all through the necessity to fit in, or the brainwashing of the thinking masses that abducts our souls from the primal. Regardless, that darkness lingered in the back of my mind as I aged.
My treasured drawings featured the lighter side of the ethereal all throughout elementary and middle school, even if my games and silent personal musings dwelled on the possibilities of those hidden from view. The creatures there certainly made sure I never forgot their existence. Even now, I feel someone looking over my shoulder as I type this. Could be my dad. (Ever since he passed, he turns up randomly and irritates me until I chase him away again.) Could be someone I never knew. Could just be another energy I grew up fearing but have accepted as I have accepted the lighter side energies. The point is the acknowledgment of the eternal, and the eventual embrace if the whole. High school, as it is with many people, due to puberty and its nasty hormonal surges, opened the gate for all manner of expression and all muses that cared to step forward.
My faerie and otherwise cheery characters took on more emaciated and sickly inspirations. Creatures grew fangs drenched in blood (my fascination with vampires deepened), ribs became more pronounced and cheekbones began a subtle protrusion, nails were now claws and talons. Nothing was safe from my shadows' gaze. The more I carved those deep lines, the more intrigued I was by "ugly" nature. Insects and decay were in direct opposition to the giggling prisms of rainbow light in which I dressed myself.
My sister closest in age to me and I have often been mistaken for twins, but we are nearly two years apart in age. Further, in high school, she was, essentially, everything I hid of myself from the world. While I painted my bedroom blue with murals of unicorns, faeries, jesters, and flowers, and danced around to oldies, boy and girl bands, and spoke only of hope and uplifting cheer, she hid away in her dark grey room, shielded from sunlight by heavy red velvet curtains, listening to Korn, Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, and Static X. I maintained throughout those early years that I detested the darkness of her room, drama of her crazy hair and makeup, and angry tunes that emanated from her very being. (Though, I must point out that we would listen to The Cure, Cruxshadows, and Voltaire together.) Yet, out and about, and as I became more comfortable with myself, these protestations began to fall away.
Fully realizing my Path, death and decay were finally openly accepted for their beauty in the natural progression of all things. The shadows, creatures, insects, and sadness that I continually pushed away or inwardly repressed were brought out to meet the light. A balance was struck. As we all know here, balance is required for all things to work in harmony. The color black was acknowledged as much as those of the rainbow, the bleached bones of beasts were appreciated for the structure they once provided, shells of previous crawling critters discarded by the mini souls once trapped within were collected for both decoration and magical aid.
Since my recent appreciation of the Goth culture, I am seeing all of these things (and so much more) that have been parts of me since the very beginning turning up time and again in Goth references. Yet, they all just make sense both within the practice of my faith and the parts of my soul that would leave me half of a person if they ever dissolved from my soul.
Am I merely a born Goth, and have fought it for so long? Are any of you Goth? Have you always been? Were you raised Goth? Perhaps you are a "baby bat" like me, but are seeing parallels from throughout your life that have lead you to the same conclusion I have drawn here? If you are experiencing the culture as I am, do you feel a bit like an outsider? (I still wear colors and listen to much of the same music I've always enjoyed. However, I have been returning to Goth artists I used to listen to and sampling other albums previously not heard.) I realize this is an incredibly rambling post, but it is exciting to me. Having come to this realization, I feel as though a part of me, long-rejected, has come home. It is a warm sweetness, and a calm I have not felt since I first came to The Path. As such, I feel a deeper pocket of power now available to me.
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