Visions of Dionysus

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!

100 Years

100 years since the signing of the Armistice.

100 years of silence and bells.

100 years since the end of World War 1.

The years that made our world what it is. The years that changed so much, that shaped so much. How to approach such a day?

With solemnity. With gratitude. With honoring. With remembering.

To the Warrior and Military Dead who sacrificed all they had to give.

To the Warriors and Military personnel who gave all they had to give.

To the families who never saw their loved ones again.

To the families that did.

To the lands that still bear countless scars of trenches and powder, artillery and countless bullets and the blood of all the Dead.

100 years and so many lives have passed that a great forgetting is coming over the nations.

We honor in remembering. In remembering the Dead live.

78. Cattle die, | and kinsmen die,
And so one dies one’s self;
One thing now | that never dies,
The fame of a dead man’s deeds.

Havamol, translated by Henry Adam Bellows

Some resources:

Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History: Blueprint for Armgageddon

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI

BBC Four: The First World War

BBC 26 Part Documentary on World War 1

A Prayer of Praise to Holy Healers

Hail Mengloth, Jotun Goddess whose hands heal and wisdom preserves health of body, mind, and soul!

Who knows the ways to knit flesh and bone

Who knows the ways to bring vitality and vigor

Who teaches those who listen in the holy arts of healing!

Whose work staunches the blood of wounds

Who guards the lines of the heart so all is kept free from infection

Whose skillful hands knit the skin and flesh that every wound may become a scar

Whose wisdom of herbs and medicine makes every illness become renewed vigor

Thank You for blessing the doctors, nurses, techs, and healers with wisdom, skill, care, and prudence!

Hail Mengloth!  Ves ðu heil!

 

Hail O Eir, Aesir Goddess of the healing hands!

O Wise Goddess who teaches the eager to learn how to heal!

O Battle Medic whose hands have tended the flesh from the bite of wood, bone, bronze, iron, steel, and powder!

O Careful One who brings the healing teams together in purpose!

Thank You! You have blessed the doctors, the nurses, the techs, the healers with care, caution, wisdom and skillful work!

Hail Eir! Ves ðu heil!

 

Io Asklepios, Divine Physician!

Io to the Son of Apollon and Koronis!

Io Kheiron’s Son!

O Wielder of the Serpent-Staff

Whose hands have healed holy and mortal flesh alike

Whose lessons have instructed the countless lines of doctors, nurses, techs, and all those who heal

Whose work has saved the lives of countless people

Whose wisdom has been preserved that the work and art of healing has continued

At Whose side stands Telesphorus that health and recovery are one in healing

Thank You for blessing the doctors, nurses, techs, and staff with knowledge, skill, care, and wisdom!

Io Asklepios! Khairete!

 

O Imhotep, Divine Physician

Whose words and works have blessed the world

In whose hands and heart Thoth worked good blessings

In whose mind and heart was brilliance and its blessings shared with every doctor and physician, every surgeon and assistant

O Wise Teacher, thank You, for Your lessons and writings that taught all who followed and read of You how to heal!

O Divine Physician, thank You, for your skill has blessed the harmed and sick with health and vigor!

O Divine Surgeon, thank You, for Your skill has delivered life from death!

O Supreme Magician, thank you, for Your Words and Works yet give wisdom, yet give insight, yet strive out sickness, and yet heal!

Em Hotep, Dua, Dua Neter en-ek O Imhotep!

To Those Who Share My Life

Thank You

For patience in my anger

Thank You

For making me take it easy when I least want to

Thank You

For reminding me that caring for the holy includes myself, my body, a part of my own soul

Thank You

For support and comfort, care and compassion when I have had it least for myself

Thank You

For determination and strength to draw on when I was weak

Thank You

For generosity and courage when I was in despair

Thank You

For being there when I wanted no one, but needed companionship

Thank You

For all these things and more,

For Gebo between us

For those who share my life

The Gods

The Disir, the Väter, the Ancestors all

The landvaettir, the housevaettir, and the vaettir of this world

The Warrior Dead, the Military Dead, the Queer Dead, the Trans* Dead, and all the Dead who I have come to, and Who have come to me

Tribe and family of blood, lineage, choice, and adoption

Thank You

Thank You

Thank You

Coffee with the Ancestors and Gods

Something I have not done in a very long time is sat down to coffee with my Ancestors and Gods.  I did it tonight/this morning, after taking care of the offerings and laying out fresh ones otherwise, all water, except for the stick of incense I left at the altars for the Ancestors, for the Dead and for the Gods.

I had two stools that belonged to people who are family to me, gifted to me before they took off for California.  One stool holds a Native American head carved into an arm-sized log that I give offerings to as representative of some of the Native Ancestors in the ways I have been brought into.  A while back I had used the other stool as part of an Ancestor elevation working, but it has sat in a corner since.  Tonight, I brought up some coffee my wife had brewed earlier in the day.  At first, I was going to sit on the floor at the Ancestor altar.  I couldn’t see many of Them from down there, and besides, They wanted to see me too.  So I dusted off the old stool, and sat at the Ancestor altar, lighting the candles in Ask and Embla’s tree candle-holders.

At first it was just…quiet, meditative even, serving Them coffee then myself.  I usually drink my coffee with non-dairy sweetener like Coffee Mate or something like that, but it didn’t seem right in this context.  So, I sat and drank my black coffee, and talked with the Ancestors about the week I’d been having, thanking Them for Their support, that kind of thing.  Mostly it was quiet, just being in one another’s Presence.  When it was over, and I thanked Them for coffee with me, I blew out the candles, and later lit some incense.  I walked away from Their altar with a sense of peace and being cared for.

My experience with the Gods was similar, but even more silence, being quite brief with my end of talking, mostly thanking Them for Their Presence and blessings on my family, and helping me through the last week.  It was mostly quiet, and considering the Work I’ve been doing for Them of late, I was okay with that.  I left Their altar, after lighting incense for Them, with a sense of peace, but it…was deep.  More than a sense of peace, really.  A sense of rightness, even with all the challenges I and my family are facing right now.

I got the message to clean my cups out after each time with the Ancestors then Gods, and returned the cup to the altar, my cup’s holder facing me, and Theirs to Them.   It looks like both sets of Holy Powers want this to be a more regular thing, so here’s a cup to a new tradition I’ll be keeping.  Thanks for the inspiration from a while back, Jim.  It proved a powerful, simple connection, one that I really needed.

Hail to the Warrior Dead This Labor Day

Hail to the Warrior Dead who bled and died so that children no longer had to work in factories and mines, so that safety for all those They left behind became a priority, so that the death-march drudge of factory and industry conditions stopped churning out as steady a line of corpses as products.  Hail to the Warrior Dead of Blair Mountain Ridge, of the Haymarket Riots, of the Black Patch Wars, of the Flint Sit-Down Strike known to the workers as “The Battle of the Bulls Run”, and so many other times where You All marched in solidarity, power, strength, and ferocity.

Hail to You All!  Thank You for your blood and body!  Thank You for your loved ones’ missed time with You!  Thank You for Your heart that inspired countless millions, whose stance, work, and sacrifice we still benefit from!  Thank you for Your sacrifices!  Hail to You!

Hail to Mary Harris Jones, known to millions as Mother Jones, tireless in her fight!  Hail to You Black-Dressed, Storyteller, Inspirer, Keeper of Protest’s Flame!  Hail to You, Whose tongue cut Oily John and Crystal Peter!

Hail to all Those Who marched, bled, and died!  Hail to Those Who sat down and were unmoved!  Hail to Those Who were struck and maimed!  Hail to Those Who were mocked and ridiculed!  Hail to Those Who were reviled, and dismissed!  Hail to Those Who were crushed in the gears!  Hail to Those Who were mauled by the dogs!  Hail to Those Who were killed by police!  Hail to Those Who were killed by the National Guard!  Hail to Those Who were killed by the companies’ employees!  Hail to Those Who were killed by the hired thugs and gunmen of the companies They worked for!  Hail to all These, Who still were unbent in Their righteous anger, and unabated until They achieved victory!

Hail to the Unknown Warriors, the hundreds and thousands who gave their life so their fellow people could have a better life!

May all of Them be with us again.  The struggles of Your  times have returned, and we need You All.

I shall do, and call upon anyone who reads these words to do, as Mother Jones called: “Pray for the Dead and fight like hell for the living.”  Hail to You All!  Remember the Dead, for They are still with us!

Praise for the Gods, Goddesses, and Vaettir of Nifelheim

In the deep cold we feel Your hands

Your icy breath brings the blessed Ice

Though we shiver now we will be thankful

when the orchards are full

when the crops grow

when the lakes rise

The ground crunches with our steps

The roads are pitted with holes

Yet I count us blessed

For You have brought us appreciation

of warmth and family and tribe

of the coming Spring

of generosity and care

Thank you, Frost-thurses

Thank you, Ancestor Ice

Thank you, Gods, Goddesses, and spirits of hoary Nifelheim

May you ever be hailed

May you be offered to well

May we never forget Your blessings

Piety and Being Poor

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.