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Visions of Dionysus

November 4, 2019 1 comment

Strange dreams heralded Your coming

Intense, vivid, real

Ivy and mead, yes, but more:

Drums in the distance, heavy and echoing

Spears and swords gleamed

Fangs shone

Something deeper and darker

Slather and blood dripped

Grinning

You stir them up

Drinking

Dancing

Howling

At first I cannot follow your footsteps

I cannot follow your rhythm

I cannot dance with you

I am too afraid

You stir them up with that bestial grin

That snapping of teeth and pawing the earth

That thudding of Your thyrsus

You stir them up with that roar

That shaking of Your body

That unbridled ferocity

You stir them up

You stir them up

You stir them up

How can I do other than follow my soul

As it leads me to dance

As it leads me to release

As it leads me to rage

Your wolfish grin invites

The forest unfolding

Come and be who you are

Io! Io! Io!

O Enualios!

O Holy Wild One!

O Dionysus!

Dancing

April 26, 2016 5 comments

The road rushes past

My cigar glows in my hand

The rainvaettir come down, a billion upon billion rattling dancers

The road, the car, all full of the sound of Their feet

 

The road rushes past and I see it

The first lightning bolt of the season here

Arc through the sky, behind the clouds

A silhouetted dancer

Whose drumming partner pounds and the sky shakes

 

Tendrils of smoke out the window and up to you all

The Thunderbird People

The rainvaettir

The stormvaettir

The Jotuns of storms

The Spirit of Storms

Odin

Thor

 

I call to you and say your names as Midgard fills with stomps with billions of feet

As the skies split with the fury of dancers and beating of wings

As the wind shakes and the clouds let loose the crowds

As the drumming thunderers crash and clash

The Worlds are alive and here

The Worlds are alive and there

and I am thankful to bear witness

Praise to the Blood-Moon Mani Mundilfari!

September 28, 2015 3 comments

You see us in our suffering, our joy, and our grief

In the quiet times, the loud times

The midst of Nött’s dance

You see us in our raging, our fury, our love

In the boisterous times, the soothing times

The steps we dance behind Her

You come o’er our heads tonight

Tinged with blood and Full

Your Charge glides graceful, dancing with Darkness

We mark Your dance, Your passage

Pour out offerings, words and drink

For You, Bright, Bloody, Glorious Mani!

Tonight, as You look upon us, millions look back to You

Some with tears, others wonder

Silence and prayer alike are spoken to Your Presence

Thank You for Your toil, O Bright One

For Your tireless Charge, the Tide and Turning,

Hail the Bright Moon, the Bloody Moon, O Mani Mundilfari!

Piety and Being Poor

December 24, 2013 8 comments

I have always been working poor.

When I was growing up I lived next to meth labs. Addicts walked around where we lived; I got to watch one around age 7 or 8 go through DTs on the street.  We had drug dealers with child drug mules as neighbors, one that was kiddie corner from where we lived. The police and the administration for where I lived was on the take. The cops used to watch the local would-be gangers beat the living shit out me. They would watch the local kids pile around a car, and get high as kites before getting on the bus.

During this time I was a young Catholic.  We still made time for prayer. We still went to Church. We didn’t leave our religion at the door because the neighborhood was tough; we clung to it because it helped us live.

Some years later, I was starving at one point so my son and my fiancee could eat. Our food stamps had been cut, and I was at the end of my rope trying to float enough money to make rent.  We still gave offerings. If we could not give food, we gave a cup of water. If we could not give that, either due to time or energy, we gave prayers. Always, we gave prayers. Sometimes it has been only water, sometimes it has been food we made for our family, and sometimes it has been something special I bought just for Them. Sometimes it was just a prayer at Their altar in our little apartment, sometimes it was prayers whispered while I worked a deadend job struggling in vain to make ends meet.  In every challenge in my life the Gods, Ancestors, and spirits have been there whether I recognized it or not.  The least I can do is offer my end of Gebo.

I can understand the crippling worry about money, the worry around “How will I afford this food”, “this thing”, “this sudden needed car repair”, “Will I make rent?” etc. When I starved was when our food money got cut. I have been achingly poor.  The only reason I am not there right now is because I am lucky enough to have supportive parents who are here for me regardless of disagreements we have on religion, and a job that helps to pay for the needs we have. I am lucky, damned lucky, and I get that.  My Gods’ altar was a gift, as are most of what are on the shrines and altars I have shown on this blog.  What are not gifts, are almost all bought from thrift stores.  All else was found, and when we had a little money to splurge, sometimes we bought something nice for our Gods, Ancestors, and/or spirits.  The latest addition to our Watervaettir shrine, three small branches shaped to look like a tie-down for a dock with a little plastic seagull hot glued to it, cost us $0.50 while we were looking for winter clothes.  The offering glass that sits on that altar was $1 at a local garage sale we hit up while on an errand.  An altar, a shrine, or an offering need not break the bank to be a good one.

A slice of bread, a thimble of alcohol, a palm of water, a slice of apple, a small chunk of meat, puffs of smoke, a pinch of tobacco.  These are all good offerings, all given in the tightest of times.  The Gods understand suffering, They understand when we have given what we can.  So why the resistance?

We can give offerings inside our own home, or wherever we happen to be in a given moment. I have poured water onto a city street to thank the spirit of that city for helping me find my way, and alcohol onto my family tree for thanks to the landvaettir for a good home and food in my belly. If you aren’t absolutely starving and actively looking for food, and even then you can at least give a prayer, then you can give an offering.

If you can breathe well, offer breath.  Offer breath whether it is song, dance, words, your poetry or someone else’s, or a hummed tuned if nothing else.  I suffered from asthma as a child and it flares up when I get sick, so I understand very well how precious breath can be!

Offer breath, even a hummed tune if you’re a completely hopeless cause at any of the aforementioned.  If you can you walk, walk and pray, especially is sitting still is hard/impossible for you to do.  There are countless ways of thanking the Gods for what you have.  Can you get down on your hands and knees without hurting yourself?  Then, if you have nothing else besides yourself to offer, prostrate, kneel, or bow.  Make a prayer.  Kiss a tree or a stone, or simply touch it with your hand, and whisper a prayer if you are worried about being seen or discovered.  There are a million and more ways to make an offering, to show your Gods, Ancestors, and spirits you care for Them, that They have blessed your life, many of which may be far more precious to Them than a cup of water or slice of bread.

Yet, that bread, that water, is still a precious offering, even more so when you are poor.  At that point a food and water (or other liquid) offering is a personal sacrifice with more weight on oneself than someone who has a good deal of resources.  In times of struggle, I believe, is when we need to make these sacrifices most.  That physical offering is still a precious thing, one which still needs to be given.  There is no substitute for it, any more than there is a substitute for food for you to eat or water to drink.  Say to a person who is a guest in your home who wants water “but I danced for you, is that not enough?” and the answer will be a definite no, even if they may be too gentle with you to say so.  They may still crave the water, especially if it is something to be expected between one another as guest and host.  Now, with the Egyptian Gods this can be a bit different, as the offering formulas for Egyptian Gods (which is the one case I can think of where this applies and even here, the Gods may have Their own preferences) have carvings of food, water, and so on that are allowed to be there in place of offerings.  However, I would think that this is probably a more expensive, roundabout way of fulfilling an offering to the Gods: either you have to have the tools to carve the offering yourself, or have an artisan who will make it for you.

There is no reason that I can fathom that a polytheist would have, regardless of their circumstances, where they had nothing to offer the Gods, Ancestors, and/or spirits.  There is no good reason that I can fathom why a polytheist would willingly deny their share of Gebo, reciprocity, with their Gods.

Devotion is not just important; devotion is VITAL. It is how a living, breathing religion continues. Acts of devotion keep that bridge between us and the Gods alive in our everyday life, whether it is a glass of water and a prayer, prayers made on prayer beads, food made in their honor, a pinch of mugwort or a small glass of mead offered at a tree, or an act of kindness for a human being.  Offerings, in and of themselves, are vital, and have always been vital regardless of which tradition one comes out of.

I put the Gods first because that is where They go in my life. The Gods are first; it is from Them that all good things in my life have come. My everyday (well, night) job is about helping a human being. The reason I can serve this person and meet some of the basics for my family is because the Gods, Ancestors, and spirits gave me life, a good family, a wonderful son, and so many blessings were I to count them all I would be dead and buried long before I finished. So my first attention, my first devotion, is to my Gods, Ancestors, and spirits. It must be, in good Gebo for all They have done, and continue to do for me, with me, to me.

Hail to the Gods, Ancestors, and spirits.  May Gebo be kept.

Sigyn Project: Day 27

February 28, 2013 Leave a comment

I am a Seeker

a month of writing to You

and I still do not know You

Your Presence is calm

Your Voice is gentle most times

Yet, I still do not know You

 

I do not know You as a Mother

not truly, though I can feel Your sadness

for Sons torn by rage and pain

 

I do not know You as a Wife

not truly, though I have seen Your cave

and toiling, emptying the great bowl

 

I do not know You as a Goddess

not truly, though I hail Your Name

and praise Your gifts

 

How could I know You?

I praise Your Name as true as any of the Gods I worship

 

How could I know You?

I pour out offerings and gift to You, sure as any of the Gods I hail

 

How could I know You?

I have held Your bowl in offering, and had but a taste of Your Work and pain

 

How could I know You?

There is so much more than story or word or song or dance or life could tell

 

How could I know You?

I pray, I offer, I sing, I dance, I play, I do

 

I do know You

If any mortal can know a Goddess

Who has blessed their life

Who has sat, waiting, for the mortal to comprehend

Who has held the ones I love as they weep

Who has stood by me when I thought I had few friends

Who spoke for me

Who touches my hands

Who speaks in my ear

Who hears

Who despite all, remains

 

Loki Project Day 4

July 4, 2012 Leave a comment

Inspired by Galina Krasskova’s post today.

 

You dance within the flames

Of campfire and rocket

Exploding little bits here and there

 

You dance within the flames

A shriek, a sonnet

The poetry unfurls from eruptions bright

 

You dance within the flames

A ballad, a myst’ry

Warm and scorching with your heat

 

So I will dance with the flames

Following Your rhythm

From pirouettes and unbound joy that teams

 

Each step each note

A constant praise

In upturned voice and soft sachets

I praise Your Holy, joyous Name

Oh Flame-hair’d Loki!

Categories: Loki Project, Poetry Tags: , , , ,

Adorations of Freya

June 5, 2012 3 comments

I adore You, Lady of Vanaheim

I adore You, Vanadís

I adore You, Gefn

I adore You, Hörn

I adore You, Mardöll

I adore You, Skyálf

I adore You, Sýr

I adore You, Thröng

I adore You, Thrungva

I adore You, Valfreyja

I adore You, Lady of Fólkvangr

I adore You, Lady of Sessrúmnir

I adore You, Bearer of Brisingamen

I adore You, Driver of Cats

I adore You, Possessor of Tom-cats

I adore You, Rider of Hildisvíni

I adore You, Daughter of Njord

I adore You, Whose Mother is Mystery

I adore You, Sister of Freyr

I adore You, Widow of Óðr

I adore You, Mother of Hnoss

I adore You, Mother of Gersemi

I adore You, Lover of Dvergr

I adore You, Whose Being is Beauty

I adore You, Whose Eyes see Truth in the heart

I adore You, Whose Ears hear the prayers of lovers

I adore You, Whose Hands caress the body

I adore You, Whose Feet tarry in all the roads of lust

I adore You, Whose hands wield the spear

I adore You, Whose Voice beckons the slain

I adore You, Whose Dance opens the soul

I adore You, Whose Words call the Disir

I adore You, Wanderer of Grief

I adore You, Weeping Widow

I adore You, Lustful Lover

I adore You, Gracious Hostess

I adore You, Blood-quicker

I adore You, Spear-Wielder

I adore You, Beloved One

I adore You, Falcon-borne

I adore You, Amber-Teared

I adore You, Seiðkona

I adore You, Spákona

I adore You Wand-Wielder

I adore You, Sitter Upon the High Seat

I adore You, Teacher of Útiseta

I adore You, Teacher of Spá

I adore You, Teacher of Seiðr

I adore You, Tutor of Odin

I adore You, Whose Form inspires the artist

I adore You, Whose Words give the lover grace

I adore You, Whose Works give the skald voice

I adore You, Whose Lust rouses mansöngr

I adore You, Whose Hands welcome all

I adore You, Whose Power shows Wyrd

I adore You, Whose Instruction bears Wisdom

I adore You, Who sees the innermost heart

I adore You, Who touches the closed mind

I adore You, Who embraces the widow and widower

I adore You, Who sees Love in the deepest dark

I adore You, Who accepts Love in all Its forms

I adore You, Who delights in lust

I adore You, Who seeks the hidden

I adore You, Who Loves the Lost

I adore You, Who welcomes the Dead

I adore You, Who calls the Military Dead home

I adore You, Who aids birth

I adore You, Who aids the wounded heart

I adore You, Who aids the grieving lover

I adore You, Who aids the broken warrior

I adore You, Whose Distaff is of the stars

I adore You, Most Glorious of Goddesses

From hall and bed, from field and grove,

I adore You, Freya

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