An Encounter with Lucifer

Satan In His Original Glory by William Blake

“Satan in His Original Glory” by William Blake

I met Lucifer the Witch Father, and his consort in Dream in late 2014, many moons before I would know for sure that it had in fact been them I encountered. My first conscious encounter with him didn’t come until near the middle of 2015. Around that time I’d begun watching Salem, the then new TV series that aired on the WGN America network until January 2017 when it was canceled. As you can tell from the title, Salem was a dramatization of life in colonial Massachusetts at the head waters of the witch hunts. That dramatized story has been told before but what drew me to Salem was the show’s often overt engagement with issues of gender and power in colonial America and the struggles women faced in every facet of life. The show did a great job of demonstrating why a woman might be drawn into the Devil’s court. In my read of the show, the women weren’t drawn to “evil” but instead to the promise of agency in a world that otherwise denied them.


The Devil was referenced often early in the life of the show, but he didn’t make an appearance until later seasons. When he did finally appear in the flesh, it was in the form of a child. His principal servants were the Countess von Marburg and her son, Sebastian. Over the course of the show – plot details aside – the Salem universe resonated with me on some level. The dark labyrinthine woods just outside of the village were particularly compelling. The trees were tall and thin. Each was incredibly similar to the ones around it and so easily given to snaring those who wandered too far from known paths. Within the woods, there was a location called the Crags. The highly Puritanical town interred their undesirables there, everyone from criminals to plague victims. As you might guess the laws of dramatic sensationalism would demand from a show like Salem, the Crags served as a regular haunt for the various clans of witches in the town.

One night in 2015 my mind drifted to that place and my soul followed. I met Lucifer at the Crags in Salem’s dark and hollow woods. He came in the form of Sebastian, all curly hair and sinister smiles. When I asked Lucifer why we meet in the Salem universe, he said that it is a place where intellect and imagination meet. The writers made an intellectual foray into an old and primal energy current and brought the fruit of that project to the screen. He went on to say that Salem was a place of imagination, on the edge of human consciousness and awareness of that old and primal energy current. For these reasons, it was ripe (and low hanging) fruit that he could offer in order to draw my awareness to him.

sun-581377_1280As our conversation pressed on, I asked the Witch Father about his many faces. He said that one is full of knowledge and wisdom of the carnal and primal Craft. One is the source of inspiration and the light of progress. Another is the source of timidity and fear but also possibility and potential. He is the sprouting seed scorched away by the Inferno and the sprouting seed given new life after the blazing fires have passed. Lucifer mused that imagination and intellect fuel the fires of creation and destruction, progress and apocalypse. He communicated the importance of choice and will (both individual and collective) in navigating the narrow path between those two immense forces. He asserted that he is both the white hot fire of inspired creation and the apocalyptic Inferno of utter desolation. This is the power of the Cunning Fire.

Ave Lucifer, Light Bringer!
I give praise to you who ride into shadow,
The sun at your back.
Son of Night Cloaked in Morning,
With golden light above your brow,
You bestow the Cunning Fire.
Long may it burn.


Reflections from the Edge

Today I made my very first guest contribution to The Wild Hunt in which I examine the sociopolitical realities of marginalized identities at the intersection of spirituality. I share the impact that those realities have had on my spiritual path within Paganism, up to and including the deities and spirits with whom I work. My  identity as a Black Bisexual Woman is central to my discussion. Respectful thoughts and comments on the piece are welcome.

Reflections from the Edge can be accessed here!


The Man in Black and the Lady in Red

Witch Upon A Stang
And I shall go in the Devil’s name,

Ay while I come home again.

~ An excerpt from Isabel Gowdie’s shape-shifting charm

In the wee hours, I stood at the door between worlds; I closed my eyes and stepped through. When I opened them I was standing in the living room of a two-story house of modest size. As I walked toward the stairs I could hear my feet on the floor boards and feel the slide of my dress against my outer thigh. But most acutely I could sense that I wasn’t alone in the house. I cautiously made my way up the stairs.

Near the top of the staircase I called my fylgja to perch on my shoulder and we moved to one of the upstairs rooms where I found a tall man dressed in black standing near a fireplace. He wore the 17th century’s finest and had a glimmer in his eye as fiery bright as an ember. I knew that the man was more than he seemed. Every foot of gut in me screamed Devil. I was afraid, not of what he would do but of what he could do. I was also curious. Fear and curiosity are a well-known and often felt emotional brew for witches and spirit-workers in my experience. And so, standing before the Man in Black – the Devil himself – I respected my fear of him, and also indulged my curiosity. I circled him slowly and with my fylgja perched on my shoulder I posed a number of questions. My time between the worlds has taught me not to be shy about refusing to make assumptions about exactly who and what I am taking to. When asked, he said that he is a keeper of secrets and that he intends to pass a portion of those secrets on to me. His eyes seemed to shimmer and dance. His presence was strong and true. When I asked the man why, he answered that the wisdom he has must be passed on and preserved. We conversed for a while longer.

After my exchange with the Man in Black, I turned my head and saw a woman standing in the doorway. As she approached, again my fylgja was at the ready and I was circling with questions. In an instant her entire appearance changed: her clothing and her eyes waxed red as blood. She referred to herself as the Red Lady. And, growing wild inside the fireplace, I saw a bunch of beautiful purple trumpet-shaped flowers. The flowers had not been there during my interchange with the Devil. Intuition said that these flowers could be used to seek her out and call her nigh. We conversed for a while and then she pulled me back into everyday consciousness.

My instinct tells me that I spoke with the Witch-Father and Witch-Mother. The interaction was steeped in a fare bit of imagery traditionally associated with them and it was also steeped in magical bits that represent the core tools of their operation. I have a ton of research to do in combination with divination in order to learn more about what this encounter means for me overall. I am sure that I will write as much as possible about this journey as it unfolds.

Away I fly!