Adventures in Veiling and Heathen Nunsense

Here we go again, another exercise in redundancy in which I ramble on about the same old nonsense I’ve been yammering about for months. Huzzah!

I’m currently two weeks into veiling, and it’s going to continue because I’m in love. It sounds counterintuitive, but it’s absolutely freeing. I feel so calm and chill; it’s not only a fantastic symbolic shield protecting my overwrought empathic brain, it’s also a practical release from worrying about what the fuck my hair is doing. My confidence has skyrocketed because I enjoy the physical representation of spiritual devotion and mindfulness, and because I look absurdly adorable with head coverings. There’s deep stuff going on, and also silly superficial shit, and I’m loving all of it.

Continue reading “Adventures in Veiling and Heathen Nunsense”

Veiling for Fun and Profit!

Okay, maybe not profit, and not necessarily for fun, but I’ve never been good at titles.

So long time readers might remember my little conundrum at the start of the year about veiling. For those who recall, the only thing I took away from my brief teenage foray into Christianity was the nun thing. The concept of monastic life appeals to me very strongly, and the older I get, the more I want to more thoroughly immerse myself in that sort of life of devotion. And since I still have hangups about the term “godspouse” I still generally refer to myself as a Lokian nun. Heathenry and paganism aren’t organized enough to support monastic members, so I just incorporate it into regular daily life (I have indeed researched multi-faith monastic groups, but my general reaction was, “Ah, so this is how people get sucked into cults.”). Veiling has no historical basis in heathenry (nor do concepts like “nuns” or “monks”), but as I’ve echoed time and again, I’m neither an academic heathen nor a reconstructionist. But I still feel as though there’s something I can incorporate into my life that signals to society my intense devotional lifestyle.

Continue reading “Veiling for Fun and Profit!”

What I Think About at 3AM

So. This may or may not be an “unpopular opinion” kind of post, but it’s been winding around my brain as a strange thread spun off from discussions online about religion. There have been some interesting conversations about how to distinguish oneself as an actual representative of heathenry without being mistaken for a Nazi fanboy, as it were. To me, that’s easy: my entire adult life has been about mindfully keeping the gods at the forefront of everything I do, and being a kind, friendly, helpful member of the community in which I live and making everyone I meet feel comfortable and safe. My actions and my attitude speak for the hammer I always wear. But that’s not what this post is about, not entirely. This post is about My Feelings regarding Christianity. Continue reading “What I Think About at 3AM”

Sweets for the Dead

While I’m not Rokkatru, I do have a bit of a soft spot for Loki’s kids. When I was younger, I felt bad for his older three being cast out and for his younger two for the cruel role they were forced to take on in their father’s punishment. As an adult with the capacity for better ruminating on the nature of prophecy and Odhinn’s decisions being reactive to (and contributing factors toward) said prophecy, I still think they had a raw deal in the stories. Really, Sleipnir is the only one of his children who had an okay go of things. But that’s a discussion for another day.

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Wound. Up.

So I’m back online, but I’ve been sick with my bi-annual sinus infection, because there’s no better way to celebrate seasonal changes than with a feverish morph into a mucus-creature. Gross. As such, I was eagerly anticipating the end of the work day so I could curl up in bed and sleep the heavily-medicated sleep of the ill while the pouring rain thrummed its lullaby at the windows. Clearly, that’s not happening, because I made the mistake of glancing at Facebook, and I saw a thing that angried up the blood. Someone had posted a screenshot of a shit-brained bigoted comment that an artist “didn’t deserve” the Thorr’s Hammer she painted because she was in an interracial relationship. Ugh, it makes my already throbbing head ache all the more, and my already tight chest hurt.

I’m going to tell you a little more about my family. I’ve written many, many times about how absolutely privileged I was to grow up in a diverse environment, because military bases overseas tend to expose you to all kinds of people from all kinds of backgrounds. My family, small though it is, is also pretty damn diverse. And it’s awesome. I don’t have a lot of kind (or even good) memories of my father, but I’m always grateful that he was never a bigot, and he had little patience for racism and cultural intolerance. But that’s not what comes to mind when jackaninnies actually type shit like, “you know nothing of the Nordic way, you don’t deserve that hammer.” What comes to mind, of course, is my grandpa.

Continue reading “Wound. Up.”


Just a quick check in to letchy’all know I’m still alive and bouncing around all oblivious like. Radio silence isn’t for lack of material, but rather lack of internet connection since my ISP decided to unexpectedly drop support of the connection I had in order to force everyone into upgrading to fiber, so I’m in that lull period waiting for the equipment for my new service, at which point I’ll be back to babbling.

When my internet started going all caterwonky a few weeks ago, I tried to bribe/threaten Loki with a donut: a frustrated, feeble attempt to feel like there was something I could do while I was on hold with customer service. Of course, the call was escalated without anything being resolved that night, and I surrendered the donut to the twerp anyway. Cue the distinct impression of a wry grin. You always give in to me at the end, he purred happily as the air took on the scent of strawberry sugar. I scowled at the idol on the altar. At least someone was in a good mood that night. Sure as hell wasn’t me.

In any case, I hope to have my new modem by the end of this week, and all I can do at this point is hope and pray that the upgraded service works. Until then, there won’t be much happening on this site. Bah.

No More Apologies

Something I’ve struggled with a lot in my life is recognizing that I have value of any sort. My therapists have fought tooth and nail – just as hard as my friends and family – to get me to acknowledge my right to exist (which is a tall order for someone whose father blatantly resented her existence). My current therapist has taken up a new battle in trying to get me to stop apologizing for everything. She noticed right from the get go that I always preface everything with a disclaimer of some sort, which is something that I’m sure has been noticed in this blog. So many things I’ve written have been self-discounted with statements like, “I know this is crazy,” “Yeah, I’m insane,” and “This is nuts, but…”

I need to stop doing that. I’ve worked way too hard to get where I am, and I need to stop devaluing my experiences and myself.

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It Takes Me a While, But I Get There in the End

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it to the bitter end: I can’t stand myself sometimes.

While lazing away my Friday night, listening to the music from the fair the next block over, I was just smacked straight in the face with the memory of something I wrote in college. I scrambled to uncover the passage I needed, read it, and began to laugh, loudly.

In my younger years, I wrote fiction. My stories had a taste of fantasy and action, steeped in legends I had created as a way to process old traumas long before I sought help through therapy. Because of the intensely personal threads weaving through my characters, I rarely ever let anyone read my work. But this segment, I think, can be shared now.

Continue reading “It Takes Me a While, But I Get There in the End”

To Sigyn: We See Your Influence, We’ll Follow Your Example

Today started on the most horrific of notes when I found myself in conversation with someone who had the gall to defend slavery to my face. I was at work, so I couldn’t act on the instinct to flay the bitch alive, both verbally and physically, but I did make it clear – in the most professional manner possible – that she was a disgusting human being and that she needed to leave. Once she was out of sight, I commenced raging. But that’s not the point of this post.

The point is that after that soul-shakingly awful encounter, every other person with whom I interacted for the rest of the day was an absolute goddamn delight. They were kind, and patient, and funny, quick with a smile and quick to laugh. My coworkers shared in my rage and upset at the racism when they heard about it, but we’re a shockingly great team, and we backed each other and supported each other throughout the long, surreal hours that followed. After an evening Dunkin run, during which the lady at the drive thru bantered with me and let out the most beautiful laugh when I shouted through the window to her boss that she was the best of all time, I realized that humanity is pretty fucking awesome. We just don’t realize it because the individuals who are miserable, hateful fucks are loud about it, and their venom blinds us to the myriad gestures of quiet kindness from everyone else.

Continue reading “To Sigyn: We See Your Influence, We’ll Follow Your Example”

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