An Initiate’s Profound Spiritual Experience

  Prologue: Charlie was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. His psycho-therapist had signed the affidavits for the justification for his death. The plastic surgeon who performed the surgeries certified that the death occurred on the ancient day of Halloween. In the following weeks, a government clerk processed a birth certificate in 1990, a new woman had been born.

     Long, long ago, when I was in my twenties and in the Navy, I became Wiccan while on forward deployment on Imbolc 1977. The philosophy of those days dictated initiations had to take place in secrecy. Our location was actually Top Secret. I underwent my initiation in the bowels of a fast attack nuclear submarine on deployment deep in the North Atlantic! My sacred bath was a cup of fresh water poured over my head. Our cakes and ale were a muffin and a can of grape soda we snagged from the ship’s mess.

     I’ve been a priestess since the mid-eighties. I’ve been to a lot of priestess camp retreats, sacred festivals and, of course, a few hotel conference style events. Many of these events claimed they were sacred space. But to be honest, most of those events were long on party and short on sacred space. Sure, there were brief periods of deep introspection, but nothing that could be called deep immersion. 

     ATC’s Spring Mysteries Festival is unique. Imagine being in a convention center, where perhaps millions of people have been in the past. Yet. I found the floor where the Spring Mysteries Festival was being held to be remarkably quiet psychically. Nowhere on the Mysteries floor did I feel the composite echo signatures of past mundane conventions. The place was quiet! Whatever sacred rites and juice they used to cleanse the place, I want a barrel of it and the text to their invocation. 

     Before I flew out to Seattle, I was a little intimidated by being a visiting pilgrim from the court of the Egyptian Goddess ASET {ISIS} essentially visiting a Greek Spiritual Festival in the Olympia mountains of Washington State. But as a visiting pilgrim, they welcomed me with open arms.

     When I visited the Gods and Goddesses at their shrines; I bid them greetings from the Court of Isis and made suitable and respectful offerings.

     My first visit was to Apollo’s shrine. I gifted him a piece of jewelry, a small gold colored “Cross of Malta” with a yellow stone, which are his colors. He delighted in the gift and immediately put it on his yellow tunic over his heart. Looking back, I suppose that subtly started what was going to be an emotional outpouring.

     A short time later, I had an audience with Poseidon. I made my customary introduction to him with an offering, bidding him greetings from my patron Egyptian Goddess. I told him I had once been a sailor upon and under his oceans. His words to me were deeply personal, and he stirred deep memories that only I knew. That’s when I realized that this man wasn’t roleplaying! He sincerely was a vessel for Poseidon. I suppose that gently started my weepy eyes, and a heartfelt emotional churn within me.

     At the shrine to Ares, standing there was the Greek god of war and courage. He stood before me, not dressed in ancient armor and a helmet, but in a more modern and evolved uniform appearance. His red uniform jacket was reminiscent of a Canadian Mountie. I performed the customary offering, greetings and introduction. Then, unexpectedly, he engaged me in a conversation that only former warriors talk about, and in a way, that only former warriors speak. He saw past my elder womanly persona and knew I had been a warrior, and somehow, he knew I was a wounded warrior. I lost my emotional composure. He was significantly taller than me. He wrapped his arms around me and comforted me and spoke to me in a manner that only an endearing father confessor, a former warrior, would. I was a sobbing mess went I left his presence and had to go to the ladies’ room to compose myself. As I sat sobbing, I again realized this guy wasn’t roleplaying. He clearly was a vessel for Ares.

     My interaction with Charon, the ferryman, who transports the dead across the river Acheron to the underworld, was another deeply weepy encounter. I simply offered coins to Charon and named the close relatives for whom they were intended. Humbly, I gave him a coin for my father who died 14 years ago and has waited on the shore of the river Acheron without a coin. I gave him a coin for my mother, who is short for this world and finally; I gave him a silver dollar to reserve both my wife’s and my spot in his boat for when our time comes.

     Yes, of course, I left Charon’s presence again in a sobbing emotional state. I proceeded to my visit with Lord Hades for an audience with him. As silly as this sounds, he saw my emotional state and offered his arms in comfort and I fell into his arms. He gave me his blessing in words I knew to be Greek. I left the shrine of Hades and again retreated to the ladies’ room to settle myself and to gather an abundant supply of tissues.

     My Skyclad audience, with the goddess Aphrodite,  helped me feel comfortable within my own skin.

     Those of you reading this deeply personal sharing of my pilgrimage and spiritual experience. Please understand that from my view I met some amazing channeled godly presences. Each of these audiences was deeply touching in intensely personal ways that I don’t have words to describe. After each interaction devoted attendants at these shrines, gave me and others the ribbons to attach to our badges. In some cases, the gods and goddesses gave me other tokens after our profoundly esoteric encounters.

     My last deity encounter was a private audience with the Goddess Baubo. She is the Goddess of deep belly laughter and mirth that breaks through the barrier of sorrow that overwhelms us at times in our lives. During our chat, I shared with her I am sometimes called the Mad Priestess because I do Crazy Sacred Clown stuff and Crazy Yogi stuff in my classes and in my sacred rites. I told her how sad I am for those who leave my circles and classes thinking I’m not being serious enough or being too silly. She placed her hands around mine and remarked, “You, my child, understand that to do serious magick, you must be a child at heart.” Baubo gave me her blessing. I left her company giggling and snickering.

     All in all, I had fifteen intensely intimate and profoundly moving experiences. Why did I have such a deeply immersive experience? I left my mundane life and cell phone in the safe of my hotel room! I went to the shrines not expecting to be entertained but with the mindset that I was open to a deep profound mystical experience.

     While visiting the shrines at the Spring Mysteries Festival 38, I granted myself permission to let down all my defenses. I closed my eyes and surrendered my inner heart. I bravely lowered my inner cloak and was prepared to engage all my inner demons and darkest memories. As a spiritual pilgrim, I purged my thoughts of life’s troubles, relaxed, and let my spirit soar.

     In the past year since Spring Mysteries Festival 38, I published my first novel. I’ve allowed myself to explore and embrace things that my inner demons with never allow me to have. Things I never imagined for myself.

     A caveat, the Spring Mysteries Festival,  is not a substitute for psycho-therapy and professional mental health care. But the Spring Mysteries Festival  is a   powerful   and safe place to let yourself be naked with your thoughts and your heart.

     I’ve been in the craft 47 years to date. I have been to many pagan conferences and festivals in my nearly fifty years of mystical practice. Of nearly thirty pagan retreat events. Only three events have seriously kicked my Spiritual Ass!

     A very private invitation only, shamanic retreat in the high Jemez Mountains of New Mexico in 1994. Being found and recognized by my Tibetan Lama in 1997. Last but certainly not least. The “Spring Mysteries Festival 38” 2024.

     I left the event with two questions on my mind. “Why were there only hundreds of pilgrims? Why weren’t there thousands there?”

     If you are reading this narrative and are of a pagan leaning, I strongly encourage you to attend the “Spring Mysteries Festival” in the future. May a profound transformation bless your personal pilgrimage and spiritual journey!

Cheryl Costa - Priestess Emeritus

Priestess of ASET

Note: The author is a two-service veteran and served in combat in Vietnam and later in Nuclear Submarines.