Or, maybe – it’s a pale shadow of what religion should be.
Real religions are what you do.
All the time – not just on Saturday, or Sunday, or the Sabbats.
So last night my religion was circulating energy around my soul(s) until I slipped sideways through the particles of this temporality, achieving for a few moments what would have been called an angelic plane in days gone.
My parents, bless ’em, gave me a name which is a diminutive of a word meaning Reaper. So, gosh I’m unsurprised that my strengths have been tied to harvesting, destruction and cthonic proclivities.
Until last night, when I realised that I can, in fact, heal other gods than myself. It’s not as easy as throwing a blanket over someone – but the act of sharing healing energy is a little bit similar to that.
The accompanying feeling of operating from another plane altogether, while still hearing your heartbeat, still keeping the data channels open through in breath and out breath, is almost beyond the scope of my words to express.
Something like throwing a blanket from another dimension, then. While the knowledge of being held, still and eternally, in the net of consciousness which makes up our creation informs the material plane that there is nothing to fear.
And that,contrary to all that conventional religions – which need the words to tell themselves they’re religions – have always told us, there never was. Anything. To Fear.