At the Voodoo festival Loa and Chaos gods mingled and discussed how much like one another they were: a love of offerings, of mischief and of possessing human beings united them.
The young girl danced with her ancestors, and they swung near the crowd of Voodoo and Chaos gods. “Humans only this side of the dance floor,”growled her grandfather.
“I’ve always observed these prejudices, and this lack of integration,”observed a god who shall not be named. “According to the Greeks, Aphrodite made a prospective human daughter-in–law sort out lots of little seeds that are impossible for humans to distinguish. I feel like I’m in one of those sci-fi stories about giving the cold shoulder to aliens.”
“Maybe there is God, who is beyond all these distinctions!” cried the young girl, who had been mixing in some Catholic saints.
“There is”, said the unnamed god, “he’s me, he’s you and he’s the dance floor.”
This sounded rather pantheistic to Pan who was theistic-towards himself.