My personal life, as rich as it is with friends and loved ones, is best described as “terminally single.” I used to wonder why I couldn’t get a date to save my life, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m not lacking companionship or love, and I’m independent to a fault. I joke that if I ever were to have a serious relationship again, my boy’d better be okay keeping his own place because I’m not sharing my house with anyone. It’s packed to the beams with books, art, coffee cups, cats, ghosts, gods, and wights. There’s not even room on my (tiny) bathroom sink for another toothbrush. There’s barely room for me here, sometimes. We’re a very happy, harmonious household, and I’d hate to disrupt the energy of my home. It’s just the way I like it (even if the carpets and tub need a good deep cleaning). I also have no intention of moving out of this house. I’ve been here for 10 years, and I’m ridiculously in love with the house and the neighborhood. It was a once in a lifetime find and deal, and I’m too attatched to the very bones of this house to ever leave.
Now, I’m smart enough to never say never. But seriously, this house is mine. If I ever date again, he’d better be okay with separate living arrangements. Visiting hours are limited. Don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
That said, I do wear Loki’s ring(s). I started wearing them a few months ago, when I finally accepted his proposal, as it were. A commitment has been made, oaths have been sworn, and being the visual creature I am, I wear a ring to represent that commitment. Nothing fancy, nothing ostentatious, just a reminder of the opportunity given to me and the oath I made in response.
After the Big Talk that started during the ECT Loki blot and whammied me immediately after, my mind fixated on a fox ring I had but had stopped wearing. It’s a silly little bit of brass, plated to look like rose gold, and I hadn’t worn it in eons because it only felt comfortable on my left ring finger. And hey, if I was actively looking for a relationship, I couldn’t very well flirt while wearing a ring there, could I? So for years, it sat on my nightstand, at the foot of the small Odhinn statue that resides there. And that night at ECT, as Loki laid it out in no uncertain terms, I immediately started thinking of that ring. And then I told Himself that I’d think about it.
Upon my return home that weekend, after fawning over my cats, I made a beeline to my nightstand to consider the fox ring.
Is anyone surprised to read that it suddenly wasn’t there? I searched around, crawled on the floor, looked under the bed, checked all of the possible places I could have put it (but knew I didn’t, because I hadn’t moved it from its place at Odhinn’s feet in forever). Nowhere to be found. Oh, I was pissed. I was even more pissed when it was explained that it was in safekeeping until I was ready, when my decision was made. That was my ring, no one had any right to hide it from me for any reason. Oooohhh, I’m still peeved thinking about it.
Time passed, and I still searched, and never came across it. I went to my diviner friend and had my cards read. I’m sure you’ve noticed a theme I’ve echoed time and again on this blog: the concept of being afraid to fall when I’m actually poised to fly. That was the theme being pounded into my head during the reading. In fact, at one point, my friend referenced one of my favorite quotes of all time, something I’ve copied into almost every journal I’ve kept over the years. It’s from The Sandman by Neil Gaiman: “Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes when you fall, you fly.” I was shocked when she mentioned that phrasing, and it really drove the point home (and then some). “By the way,” she said when I was getting ready to leave. “Let me know when and where you find that ring. I can’t wait to hear where it turns up.”
The day after the reading, when my decision had been made and my intentions declared, a different ring found me in my house. It was on my jewelry tree, which I’d checked countless times in my search for The Fox Ring, and yet I’d never noticed it. I was brushing my hair, and suddenly, there it was. It was my mom’s ring at some point, a marcesite feather. I don’t know when she gave it to me, and I’d never worn it. But I saw it, and I got chills. I tried it on all of my fingers, and it only fit my left ring finger. “But it’s a feather!” I said out loud. “Why a feather? What has that got to do with anything?!”
“To help you fly,” he said.
So I started wearing the ring.
Three weeks later, on the autumn equinox, I was getting ready to go to a heathen celebration. I walked into my room to grab a cardigan, and that’s when I caught a glint from the corner of my eye. Before I turned to look, I knew what it was. My fox ring, The Fox Ring, shining in the full beam of the ceiling light, sitting on the floor in front of the nightstand. Where it definitely hadn’t been even an hour before.
It fit nicely with the feather ring. Oh, the relief to have it returned to me!
A few months have passed, and I’ve been worried about damaging the rings. I wash my hands frequently throughout the day, and use lotions and creams like a maniac. I’m a hiker, and I do (very, very) basic maintenance on my car. So I decided to get a silicone wedding band for everyday life. It’s copper colored, debossed with a scale pattern (scaley like snek!). The ring company’s logo is an infinity symbol, carved amidst the scales. It’s my way of harassing Loki: “You wanted my attention? Well, now you’ve got it… FOREVER! YOU’RE STUCK NOW, SUCKER!!!”
Welp, that backfired, because he’s nagging me for his own for the altar. As my dear friend, my Shadow Spouse, said when I told him about the silicone ring and the threat I was making with the infinity symbol,” [Loki’s] response of course being ‘don’t you threaten ME with a good time.'”
So I’m terminally single. But I have a friend who’s dear enough to be called my Shadow Spouse (because I’m often confused for his actual spouse, so I joke I’m the slightly evil version of her, the Shadow Her, if you will), and I wear the symbol of commitment for Loki. As I’ve said time and again, he’s helping me to embrace joy, to stop being afraid of being happy, to fly instead of fall. He’s a good egg, that Loki-doki. He’s stuck with me now. He might be teaching me how to fly, but I’m teaching him to be careful what he wishes for. Pardon me a slightly evil giggle. Heh. Hehehehehe.
I’m single, but I’m not alone. I’m not lonely. I’m overwhelmed with love and adoration, and I couldn’t possibly ask for more. I’m flying higher than I ever thought possible.