I'm standing in a dark room, watching a voodoo priest spit water on the floor. When he is done, a person named Goldie* wails and says what I can only assume is a prayer. The room is cold: even though we're inside, I'm still wearing my hat, scarf, and puffy jacket. The table in front of me is adorned with candles of varying shapes and sizes, cups filled with elixirs, plastic beads, and one stuffed rainbow-colored unicorn.
No, this isn't the start of an animal sacrifice; and no, I'm not on a hallucinogenic trip. I'm at a pagan love and sex ceremony... in New York City.
I don't really even know what this means; but when I heard about the event (held at a metaphysical boutique and event space in Brooklyn), I had to go. All things otherworldly intrigue me. I meditate and visualize on the reg, and I've even seen crazy and wild things manifest -- like coming into $10,000 when I needed it, and scoring free passes to a Foo Fighters concert. Still, I'd never cast a spell, didn't bother with the rituals of traditional religions, and certainly hadn't messed around with collecting the eye of a frog, or two bushels of thyme, or whatever.