Break Out the Whisky: I’m Going to Write Something Poetic (But Not in This Post)

There’s a distinct downside to having grown up outside of the heathen community at large: it wasn’t until I was a young adult starting to lurk around the edges that I knew of any of the racist undertones and supporters that plague said community. As mentioned time and time again here, I was privileged to be raised on military bases overseas, in diverse communities, by parents who had no tolerance for bigotry. Because I was abroad, in the era before the internet, in a family that kept the gods close but didn’t know of others who shared belief in those gods, I was oblivious to the early stages of heathen community building in the US. Of course, as the community grew and strengthened, it split and reformed and split again as racism became apparent in a number of early leaders. Organizations had to redefine themselves after ousting the bigots in their midst, and new books and resources had to be compiled and published as certain authors aligned themselves with unsavory groups.

Even though I’ve been heathen for well over 30 years (save, of course, the 4 year experiment with Christianity), I’m still getting acclimated with the community at large, and still being shocked by discoveries of racism and racist-sympathizers with some authors. As there’s very few books published about devotion to Loki and Sigyn, I used one of Galina Krasskova’s prayers in the blót I led for Sigyn at ECT this past year. I even recommended her book about honoring Sigyn because there’s really nothing else out there. Even online, most of the prayers to her are written by Krasskova. Oops.

Continue reading “Break Out the Whisky: I’m Going to Write Something Poetic (But Not in This Post)”

In Memory of Narvi and Vali

The picture above is by one of my favorite heathen artists. You can see all of her delightfully cheeky paintings on Deviant Art under Hellanim, and if you’re not familiar with her collection of work, I insist you check it out. This is a bittersweet image in particular, because it’s a glimpse of a happy family doomed to a hideous fate. The worst part about what’s to come is what happens to the two little boys nodding off in Sigyn’s arms. As brutal as their deaths are, they’re all the more tragic for being forgotten.

As one bound to Loki and a priestess of Sigyn, I remember their sons in my devotions. In honor of Narvi and Vali, I buy toys to donate to local shelters. I don’t usually share or publicize the things I do for my community (this time “community” referencing where I live and work) or the charities I help when I’m able, because that’s just a me thing. However, with the holidays coming up, I hope to maybe inspire others who are fond of Loki and his family to, dare I say, spread a little cheer.

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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.

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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.

Continue reading “No More Apologies”

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