By Dr. Vivianne Crowley blogger at the Patheos Pagan Channel
I was seven years old. I was returning from an afternoon spent playing in the woods and walking up the steep road home to the farm. The tarmac was hot and haze shimmered on the road and I was tired. Then shining on one side of the road, I saw what I thought was an egg. I stopped and picked it up and it was warm in my hand and heavy. It was a stone. I turned it over and there was that stopping in time and space that occurs when we first see the one we are to love, or when there is great danger; for on the other side of the stone was the face of a goat. I took the stone home and it seemed to me a sacred thing, a thing of power. I made an altar for it in my bedroom and covered the altar with a cloth and brought a vase of wild flowers and sat and looked at the stone until it was evening. Pan came to me then, the Horned One of the woods. And he has not left.