Snap, Judgment, Studios.

Throughout communities, where you will never experience the divine, unless you've

first poor libations, not bread, not meat, not prayers, not offerings, it must

pour the liquid. Nothing else will call the God. With other groups, the ritual

must begin and end with fire. There is no substitution if there is no fire. There

will be no God. And as whole peoples are wiped from the planet, whole

traditions swallow, we've lost so much knowledge, so much access. But I know this.

Several cultures have revered Gods that only enter to the thump of a communal

drum. As I was reminded just the other day, walking through my neighborhood,

and happening upon a drum circle. This pounding incantation, this rhythmic plea

for the God to appear. You can't do this alone. There'll be no answer to one

person playing in solitude, only the rhythm of a collective will wake certain

powers. And the rhythms sparring, beats joining together, breaking off the

joust of drums and sound and thin as the beat builds to a frantic staccato, a

woman leaps into the center of the circle, she dances, thrashes with the

fury transformed as if inhabited by someone, something of power controlling her as

one would Amerianat. The drummers, they welcome this new visitor with reverence,

joy, with rhythm, they play in celebration of the God's presence amongst them.

Be you, even now, with all we've lost, not everything is forgotten.

But yet, today, step-touchment features supernatural stories from our evil twin

podcasts, spooked, spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars,

spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars, spooked stars,

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