When I first discovered the world of the occult; astrology, numerology, witchcraft, symbolism, all the things church folks warn you never to touch, I didn’t feel the wave of darkness or evil engulf me the way I’d been trained to expect. Instead of spirits crawling out of tarot cards or profanities hiding in birth charts, there was… curiosity. Calm, even. It felt almost suspiciously gentle. A feeling I craved in the church but never found.

Growing up in an African Christian household, you don’t just get taught to avoid anything “not Godly,” you get programmed. You learn early this type of curiosity is the devil controlling your mind. Anything beyond the Bible was branded “evil,” “demonic,” or “an express ticket to the hottest corner of hell.” And look, no one wants to gamble with eternal flames. Especially not when your pastor describes them so vividly you can practically feel your hair standing on end.

But there I was, diving deeper into things I was supposed to run from. And the scandalous part? I genuinely enjoyed it. These topics made more sense to me and gave me a deeper understanding of the Bible than Sunday school ever had. They felt familiar, almost like I was remembering rather than learning. It was strange… but comforting. A sense of home I wasn’t expecting.

The deeper I explored, the more the lines between “taboo” and “divine” blurred. To my surprise, many occult ideas felt Godlier than the rigid beliefs I grew up with. It was as if I’d been handed permission to color outside the religious lines and the picture only became clearer. I even prayed about it first, half expecting God to look down at me like a disappointed parent ready with the lightning bolt. Spoiler: no lightning.

Soon, I found myself wearing different spiritual hats. One minute I was studying planetary transits like an astrologer, the next I was analyzing numbers like a numerologist. I dipped a toe into witchcraft, learned about deities from different cultures, and even entertained the idea of offering a sacrifice to Archangel Michael (don’t ask me what the sacrifice was supposed to be I didn’t get that far). And when I found out people genuinely worship Loki—yes, Marvel Loki—I had to close my laptop to go touch grass. Some things require a moment.

But through these different paths, something deeper emerged: most humans aren’t trying to be rebellious, sinful, or demonic. We’re just trying to feel connected, to make sense of the unseen, the unexplainable, the part of life that refuses to fit neatly into doctrine.

And surprisingly, through every path I wandered, I kept finding God.

I found God in the stars,

I found God in the moon,
I found God in the deities. A reflection of archetypes we’ve known for millennia.
I even found God in the silence between my questions.

And the strangest part? So many occult teachings echoed the very Scriptures I grew up with.
John 1:1 “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God.” kept popping up in places it had no business being. Ancient traditions, esoteric texts, spiritual philosophies around the world, everyone seemed to be referencing the same divine blueprint in their own language.

It made me wonder if I had found God outside the walls of religion…
or if I had simply peeled back the layers of belief to find the same God wearing different outfits. The man has got a closet, dare I say!

Or and here’s the plot twist, maybe I’ve just narrated my slow descent into religious psychosis to the entire internet.

At this point, it could sincerely be either one.
And honestly? I’m okay with that.