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”

Fun With Freyja, or Crazy Cat Ladies Unite!

This is one of those posts that I hesitate to share, because holy crow does it make me sound crazy. But hey, I’m an open book, and if this amuses anyone, then I’m satisfied.

Not long after mentioning Freyja in my last post, she decided to make herself less scarce. She’s also making me question my sanity. This morning has been . . . curious. . . and odd. . . moreso than usual.

“You’ve come a long way,” she mused.

“Yup, thanks to me,” was Loki’s reply.

Despite you, maybe,” she said.

“Ummmmm,” said I.

Freyja was the one to welcome me back to the fold after my failed experiment with Christianity. She was the one who started helping me ease back into the old ways, reacquainting me with what I always knew, but had forgotten in my silly teenage rebellion. She was one of the first gods specifically pointed out by my grandfather in my dream about the foxes. And she was the one who handed me over to Odhinn when they decided I was ready. Though it happened seventeen years ago, I remember that moment keenly, as though it happened an hour ago, because it was pretty overwhelming and baffling. Of course, with Odhinn came Loki, who’d always been snuffling around in the background, but became more noticeable in my dealings with Ol’ One Eye. And while in my own UPG and experience, Freyja doesn’t have a problem with Loki and vice versa, the closer I got to Loki over the years, the more she drifted away.

Well, the bitch is back, and I mean that in the most endearing way.

Continue reading “Fun With Freyja, or Crazy Cat Ladies Unite!”

Nunsense, or Brace Yourself for LOTS of Parenthetical Asides

Oh, hem and haw, hem and haw. My mind has been spinning something fierce the last few weeks, primarily about clergy/priesthood within heathenry (and this started before all of the discussions within the Troth community this past week. Synchronicity!). I stated back at Yule that I was delighted about the Loki Ban being rescinded within The Troth, so I renewed my lapsed membership so I could pounce on the clergy training program. I’m currently working on the lore program prerequisites for acceptance into the clergy program, and all of this dovetails nicely with the research I’m doing re: moving to Reykjavik (to pursue a master’s degree in Old Norse Religion with the University of Iceland). I’ve written before at length about my lifelong (or nearly so) desire to be in greater service to the gods through community and service to community through the gods, and I’ve always been extremely devoted and dedicated to my gods.

To me, religion has never been a set of rubrics for worship or dogma or ritual; it’s always been the energy and force that shapes my life and influences my actions. It’s a literal way of life, impacting how I interpret and interact with the world and people around me. Excluding my brief foray into Christianity, I’ve always been aware of the different energies around me, and as I got older, I learned how to differentiate between energies and how to interact with what existed around me. Since oathing myself to Loki (and Sigyn, by proxy), their energies have been increasingly prominent, enough so that people around me tend to notice. Maybe it’s because through my oathing, I’ve provided a place for them to count among their homes, a place where they can relax and observe and snark without having to be all, like, godly, or something. Through me and with me, they can observe and interact with what interests them in Midgard, and they don’t have any pressure to do shit. They can just enjoy themselves, and chill, and take a load off or recharge or whatever. They have an intimacy and comfort level with me that Odhinn and Freyja never really had; Odhinn, throughout my life, has been a demanding mentor, and Freyja was a strong influence in my young adulthood, but started getting bit salty and scarce in my 20s when Loki was trying to elbow his way to the forefront of my attention. Basically, my relationships with the rest of the gang are more in line with a somewhat traditional concept of religion. I acknowledge them, I honor them, I make offerings and interact with them, but it’s definitely a god/dess-human relationship, mentor/mentee type of thing. Loki and Sigyn? Not so much. They make me feel like I’m living in a sitcom more often than not.

This is pretty much why I refer to myself as a Lokian nun: the dedication is absolute, and it’s an all day every day devotion. But this is where my mind starts whirring and rattling along, trying to really figure out my role in the community. Continue reading “Nunsense, or Brace Yourself for LOTS of Parenthetical Asides”

Loki Doki!

Random bit of cute for the day: I’ve mentioned before that I often address Himself as Loki-doki, to the chagrin of some. I don’t know why I started calling him that, but it became habit after the long blot at his Ve at ECT last year. As the hours went by and the bottle of vodka dwindled, I wandered back and forth between his Ve and Hel’s. “Come on, Loki-doki! I’m going to visit your daughter! Come with!” It’s a catchy little term of endearment that just slips out when I’m not even thinking about it.

Just now, on a whim, I wondered what “doki” even means, beyond being a nonsense word attached to “okey.” Evidently, there is a term out there in the great wide world that has meaning: doki doki is Japanese for the sound of a heart beating.


Loki is my heart, so it’s adorably appropriate that my nickname for him is a play on words for a heartbeat.

Lest this post get too cute, I’m also randomly having a mild existential crisis. The new Snapchat filter that shows you how you’d look as the opposite sex? Dude, I look better as a man than as a woman. Boy-me has a jawline, me-me is a boiled potato. I sent the pic to my mom, who simply replied, “Yup, that’s you as Gunnar Thorr. Classic square-headed Norwegian. Couldn’t look more like a viking if you tried.” Thanks, mom, for reminding me that even my name would have been cooler as a guy. So because today is being the Mondayest Monday ever to Monday, I keep bitching to Statler about how awesome my life would be if I was Gunnar and not Lea. “Gunnar would be living in Iceland. Gunnar wouldn’t have all of these health issues. Gunnar would have his pick of partners. Gunnar would Gunnar would Gunnar would.” Gunnar would have a fucking jawline. (Clearly, I’m hung up over the jawline/chin thing.) Statler is threatening to get me a “WWGD” bracelet because I won’t shut up about the hypothetical me-but-not-me. So I guess I’m just going to start making decisions based on what hypothetical dude-me would do. That’s normal and healthy, right? I’m such an amazingly well adjusted individual.

At least I unwittingly come up with adorably appropriate names for my best godfriend. Loki-doki is insisting that me-me is better than Gunnar-me. Which is true, I actually don’t have a lot of complaints about my life. It’s really just the potato-face that annoys me. Po – tay – toe.

Mood, or You’re All a Bunch of Masochists

As mentioned many times before, putting smiles on other people’s faces is my greatest joy. Loki has made it clear that he’s so keen on me because I’m a wry goof who puts people at ease and can elicit smiles and laughs more often than not. That was a surprising boon to me as a funeral director and a distinct point of pride; I’ve long lost count of the thanks families would express, telling me that I made such a terrible time much easier to cope with because I made them smile and giggle in the days that they thought they’d never be able to grin ever again. Chaos and change go hand in hand, but in the midst of it all, there’s always hope. There’s always a chance to feel joy again.

This is a bold claim for me to make at the moment. But I still hold to it.

Continue reading “Mood, or You’re All a Bunch of Masochists”

If You Give a God a Cookie. . .

My last update was pretty heavy, so I feel compelled to share a story from the other night to restore smiles to our faces. Listen up, there’s a pretty intense moral to this one.

I’ve written many a time about buying a single donut or sweet snack for Loki, and being surprised with mysterious magical free donuts and food. When I buy a donut just for myself, I’m given just the one donut. When I buy a donut for Loki, I always end up with two for the price of one. It’s always obvious that Loki wants me to sugar binge with him, and I’m always happy to comply. It’s a lovely, contented moment, sitting with him, munching on junk food and sharing a smoke. My offerings are not at all ritualistic; blots and sumbels are reserved for when I’m with my kindred or other community events. My daily devotions are really just acknowledging their presence and enjoying the companionship while snacking on things that will rot our teeth. No prayers, no chants, just hanging out with a little banter and plenty of snickering.

Wednesday night, I made the foolish mistake of refusing a cookie gift.

Continue reading “If You Give a God a Cookie. . .”

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