What Say You of Sigyn?

I’ve got 7 or 8 drafts that I’ve been hemming and hawing over for the last month or so, but this one gets going to jump the queue. East Coast Thing (aka heathen summer camp) is in two weeks, and I’m just now starting to put together the presentation on Sigyn for the “Lesser Known Gods and Goddesses” lecture, as well as writing the blot I’ll be hosting at her ve. I’m legitimately proud of myself for getting started two whole weeks beforehand; I’ve always been the “I work best under pressure, so I’ll knock out this 35-page project around 11PM the night before it’s due!” kinda kid. I guess doing right by Sigyn is far more important to me than book reports ever were.

In any case, I pretty much have everything compiled, but I decided to open up the floor for contributions. My sources are from the lore, Galina Krasskova’s work, and, to a lesser degree, my own dealings with her/lessons I’ve learned from her and Loki. Does anyone have any other sources you’d like to share, or anything you want people to know about our Victory Woman? Let me know what your favorite kennings are, the kinds of things you put on altars for her, the sort of offerings you give to her. She doesn’t have a whole lot of representation in the community, so this is our chance to draw her from the cave and say “hi.” She’s a quiet goddess, but I’m excited to direct the spotlight onto her at ECT.

So what say you?

Like a Rhinestone Cowboy

Life as a conduit for Loki is pretty much what you’d expect. The energy is strong, but not overwhelming, and it’s the little, random things that make you question reality. Not a lot of wild existential crises here, just little moments of “wut.”

After work, I was settling in for a nap, because napping is one of my favorite hobbies ever since my health took a nosedive. The excitement is strong in this household, I can assure you. Real wild child shit. Few things are more blissful than burrowing in a pile of down pillows and weighted blankets and feeling the pain and tension melt into the mattress. Unless, of course, you feel a sharp jab in your shoulder blade when snuggling in. The stabbiness came courtesy of a rhinestone.

To my knowledge, I don’t own anything with rhinestones. I’m not a sparkly kinda gal. The only gleam in my life is the glint of sardonic glee in my eyes and the flare of the ember of a cigarette. And even if I did have stuff adorned with plastic gems, how the hell would a lone shard end up in the middle of my bed?

Cue the side eye.

And with that, cue the distinct impression of a defiantly jutted chin and upturned nose. “I wanted to feel pretty,” he said with a haughty sniff.

Contrary to popular fear, letting Loki into your life doesn’t mean a constant stream of chaos and torment. Most of the time, it’s just him whining for doughnuts and playing dress up. I’m not cleaning up the ashes of devastation, just cookie crumbs and mysterious stray rhinestones.

Loki: Trickster, Enchanter, Shapeshifter, Pretty Pretty Princess. Next time you hail him, please tell him how the sparkles really bring out the green in his eyes. Maybe give him some glitter. I don’t know. Just tell him to keep the rhinestones out of my bed.

You May Be Right… I May Be Crazy

So. This is going to be a very hard one to to publish and make public, but I’m feeling very much compelled to open up a bit about something that’s hugely important to me, something that has become the core of my identity. This is 100% going to raise eyebrows, because it’s an odd thing both within and outside of heathen community. A small handful of very close friends know, but I guess it’s time to just get it out there. I’ve always prided myself on integrity and being an open book; my honesty is one of the strengths I listed in therapy. But I haven’t been completely honest about my religious devotion. And I’m not sure if certain other Lokean friends are brilliant about reading between the lines, or if Loki’s been running his mouth, but after it was mentioned by her and confessed by me, I realized it’s time to get it out there.

My relationship with Loki? It goes beyond the fulltrui commitment.

Continue reading “You May Be Right… I May Be Crazy”

A Smile, A Troll Cross, and A LOT of Love

I’m creeping closer to the edge of the dark patch, finally tearing free from the brambles and thorns that held me tight and threatened to consume me. I credit the switch in medication, because I felt the smog lift when I started titrating down from the Lexapro. The new stuff is definitely helping with the brain chemicals, and my family and friends are helping me do the heavy lifting of getting back in touch with my sense of worth. Apparently I have a lot of value in my community, and it’s overwhelming to hear that and I’m working hard to accept and internalize that even as the nasty bits of my brain still try to convince me otherwise.

Continue reading “A Smile, A Troll Cross, and A LOT of Love”

Surprise! (Spoiler: No One Was Surprised)

After nearly ten years of celebrating holidays with my local kindred, I’m finally an official member of the family. We had our Midsummer celebration on Saturday, and I was welcomed in an unexpectedly emotional ceremony before the public arrived. I, of course, wasn’t the only one welcomed by the kindred: the doors were opened for Loki, too.

Longtime readers might recall the events that transpired the night the kindred invited me to join. Since then, I’ve (jokingly, kind of) given them plenty of “outs” in case they’d changed their minds about letting one of Loki’s Little Lunatics in. They’re a stubborn bunch, and they repeatedly insisted they wanted me. Hahahaha, k. At least they know what they’re getting themselves into. I mean, they’ve known me for many, many years, and I’m not shy in my adoration of Himself. Over the years, I very respectfully followed their “don’t toast Loki in sumbel, no offerings to him at blot, keep him out of ritual” rule, because I’m hardly about to tell people what to do in their own house, and because I genuinely admired everyone present and understood their past experiences with the Trickster and his followers weren’t the best. Besides, for the longest time, I was a stubborn Odhinnswoman, who just accepted Loki’s constant presence as part of the terms of hanging with Ol’ One Eye. I’d pour Loki a drink when I poured on for Grimnir per lore declarations, and I’d give Loki treats on my own time, but a kindred being Nokian wasn’t a deal breaker for me. A little sad, since I’ve always had a liking for the twerp, and he’d always been good to me, but I understood. He’s not for everyone. I just made up for it upon my return home from kindred events.

Continue reading “Surprise! (Spoiler: No One Was Surprised)”

Loki: God of Chaos, Truth, and Greeting Cards

My family isn’t really the Hallmark type. We’ll get cards out of obligation, if we find really funny ones, but suffice it to say, I don’t spend much time in the greeting card aisle when I hit the drug store.

Loki, on the other hand, seems to like to communicate via card. It’s interesting, to be sure, but also mildly irritating because he’s not exactly taking physical form to pay for them himself. And since I don’t know what to do with cards, I don’t really like to spend my limited funds on such. And yet…

I stopped at the store after work yesterday to grab ice cream since I was already feeling ill and figured I’d be able to indulge in some cookie dough nonsense without the pain getting worse. That’s the upside to whatever’s going on with my organs– if I eat something, the inflammation and pain kicks in pretty much immediately, but it doesn’t get worse if I eat something else within a few hours. I seem to reach max agony right away, so I don’t have to worry about making myself crazy sick. Ergo: ice cream. While I was there, I realized that since my mom’s birthday is Sunday, I might as well look for funny cards for her and for Steve. Sure, okay, assuming I could figure out where the cards were in this particular store. Finally found them tucked away in the back corner, and the very first aisle I went down had “birthday cards for her.” Cool. I spotted a fox peering up from a “birthday – mother” slot and felt the twerp poking me towards it. As you’ve already noticed in the pic above, it was neither a birthday card nor a mom card. It was a card intended for me. And I very nearly burst into tears in the back of a crappy little CVS while my ice cream melted in the basket at my feet.

“For fox sake, hope things get better soon.” Me, too, Loki. Me, too.

Things are in the process of getting better, in their way. My gas was finally restored after a month and a half of no hot water, so that’s a pretty big deal. My psychiatrist is squeezing me in before office hours on Monday so we can discuss changing my meds; I’ve been on the max dose of Lexapro for several years, and it seems it’s lost efficacy. As evidenced by the last month or so, I’ve been in a much worse place mentally than I have been in years. It’s been much, much harder to get through the day lately, and I shouldn’t be struggling with depression this much. All I do at home is sleep, and all I do when I’m at work is think about how much I want to go home to sleep some more. I’ve been really struggling to engage with my friends and the myriad hobbies I have, and when I’m awake, my thoughts are just in very dark places. Hopefully a change in meds will rebalance my brain chemicals so that I can do the work I need to in order to be more present and alive.

But for now, I can look at the card from Loki, and know that my gods are thinking of me. And if and when this passes, I can tuck it away with the other cards he’s pestered me into buying, because whenever I do venture into the greeting card aisle, the first one I pick up is always at his urging, and he gets huffy and naggy if I put it back and walk away. For someone who has no use for cards, I’m sure cultivating quite the collection. The Norse gods: they’re just as weird and as whiny as me. Hallmark and their ilk seem to serve as effective modern day oracles, I’ll admit that much. I might not be big on greeting cards, but damn if I don’t get timely messages from Loki through them. But until he gets a job to pay for them himself, I’m going to have to start leaving him in the car when I run into stores. That shit’s expensive.

Overwhelmed. But I Hear You.

I removed the last post for a few reasons. For one, I was alarmed and overwhelmed by everyone blowing up my phone, and I do thank you for your concern and reassurance. For another, I felt it didn’t necessarily belong here. This is a record of my religious and spiritual experiences, and to be honest, the depression and anxiety I deal with detract from that which is so vital to me. Even at my lowest of lows, when I’ve been crushed again by tangible circumstances and by my own brain, my faith has always remained firm and unshakable. I doubt myself all the damn time, but I’ve never doubted the gods. But instead of reaching out to them in my greatest need, I withdraw from them, the very same way I withdraw from the people I love. I always talk about how my gods, in Nordic tradition, are kin, friends, rather than distant, remote beings. The lore and sagas are full of stories of them walking among mortals in Midgard, and my own experience (and that of other heathens I’m privileged to know) speaks of the same. They’re not afraid to get down and dirty with humanity, experiencing what we experience, giving us a taste of what they experience. So I suppose it makes sense that when I’m ready to call it quits, I seclude myself from them as I do my parents and my friends. After all, my problems are so insignificant in the world. There’s better causes for them to dedicate their attention.

Continue reading “Overwhelmed. But I Hear You.”

So I Write.

Irony is following up a post wishing for a moment or a day of quiet from the gods with one about how I can’t hear them now over the roar of anxiety that’s finally taken over after months of fighting to keep it in check. I know they’re here, but the depression and panic have taken over because I feel as though my life is completely falling into shambles and I’m terrified. And the only thing I can do right now is write. And what I’m going to write and share isn’t a cry for pity or reassurance or help. It’s just the facts of what I’m dealing with, simple reporting on what’s going on in my head. I’m sure I’ll get through this, because I have to, because there’s no other choice. But this past month has been bad for me, and it’s taking an exorbitant toll. I have nowhere else to go, no one to reach out to at this hour, so I write.

How many times have I mentioned my PTSD? How often have I written about the horrifying depths of depression and paranoia and misery of the accompanying anxiety? The feeling that I’m being played and manipulated by everyone? The feeling that I’m a failure and a fraud who 100% deserves the disdain and disgust directed at me? That I’m barely tolerated by the people around me? I’m struggling, so hard, and today I broke and I fell apart. Publicly. At work. My worst nightmare. I try so hard to be cheerful and silly and chill, just roll my eyes and snark at the frustrations that abound, but today I fucking fell completely apart, and hours later, I might actually be feeling worse and more frightened than I did when I fled the office. More paranoid, more convinced that everything is going to be taken away from me, everything and everyone.

Continue reading “So I Write.”

Yup, Still Crazy

My cat Blue is doing a bang up job channeling Freyja here. This is absolutely how Freyja has been lately, all judgy and pissy and annoyed. Same, girl, same.

The tension around me is overly intense, and it’s wearing me out. Freyja and Loki haven’t given up on their spat and intrusions, and they’re giving each other the cold shoulder silent treatment with me stuck in the middle. More than once, I’ve spent the last few days asking people what it’s like to honor a God or gods who keep their distance, at least for a little bit. Loki’s in such a snit I actually screamed the other day. “WHO DIED AND MADE YOU JEHOVAH?!” I need a break from my own life.

I’ve also made several inquiries to people around me who, when I bitch about this, how they are so unfazed and nonchalant about this insanity. I tell the weirdest fucking stories, and nobody bats an eye. In fact, my nonheathen friends who have been listening to this annoyance are all saying they feel bad for Loki in this. Freyja’s not getting any love from any of my pals at this point. I’m torn, myself. The twerp is my boy, but I’m not about to tell the Queen of the Valkyries to go fuck herself. Because yikes. And also, I kind of want to hear her out. She’s not trying to interfere with the oaths between me and Himself, but I guess trying to remind Loki of the finer points of said oaths. It’s interesting, to say the least.

Continue reading “Yup, Still Crazy”

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑