tek2way: (Default)
Today, I attended Summerland Grove's July church meeting, which was the third anniversary of the first time I attended the pagan church. Sadly, I was tired enough that I didn't think about that detail while I was there, but it's noteworthy nonetheless.

The topic for today's discussion was "patron deities". We didn't discuss much, but there was enough discussion that I heard the idea repeated that a patron deity is like a parent figure.

...parent figure?

I was a little too self-conscious to ask the question in the group, but "is that it?" Can that be the only possibility? A great deal of why I feel so much more solidly on my path this time was that I accepted that Freyja was my patron, but I also know that I don't look at her as a parental figure.

For twenty years now, I've dreamed of a beautiful girl. Months, and sometimes years, would go by without an appearance by her, but when she appeared, I always knew it was her. The first time, I went to a lodge that felt like it was someplace very important. Another time, I stepped into a room similar to a newpaper editor's office, and the dream went on without me while I spent time talking to my dream girl. Sporadically, I have been in a love affair with a woman unlike any I've ever met waking.

Well, the hypothesis that my dream girl is Freyja rings true in my head, and I embrace the idea wholeheartedly. Yet, how can she be a parent figure *and* my dream girl?

This conflict is seriously bugging me, and scares me a little bit. Am I investing too much into Freyja, because she isn't for me as a patron, or have I drastically misunderstood the nature of our relationship? The idea that my dream girl is just a fantasy upsets me every time I consider it. If Freyja isn't my dream girl, then who is?
tek2way: (Art (Unk.) - Sorrowful Knight)
Eight and a half years.

That's how long it has been since all of the crap that went down with "M" from New Jersey. For the record, her name is Michelle, and the last time I heard anything about her, she had moved to Tennessee. Hmph. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound.

Most of the entries from that time period are filtered to one group or another. The simple story is that Michelle began talking to me in October 2004, and made me feel like she was interested in me in no uncertain terms. Friends I talked to about her seemed sure she did. Over the next two months, she took advantage of my growing love for her to amuse herself. She would "punish" me by not talking to me on the phone, or by letting me see that she was sitting at her webcam, and chatting with others on MSN Messenger (but not me).

I almost drove to North Carolina to see her at Thanksgiving, because she was going to be there, visiting family. I was so sure that she felt the same that I was willing to do that, in a vehicle that was in need of repairs and tires. She sent a topless photo of her, and had me swear that I would tell no one about it, nor share it with anyone. Until this moment, I kept that promise, with the exception of only one other person. That other person is one of my best friends, and we discovered what happened when we finally met under a flag of truce to discuss things and compare notes.

I got my hands on a loan (that I couldn't afford), and used it to go see her, purchasing a plane ticket last minute and burning vacation time. The first night was fun, even though she brought her friend. Her friend left, and we were intimate. This was my first experience with a woman. Even then, right after it had occurred, the memory of what happened was a foggy haze.

The next day, she sent her friend over, because she claimed that she wanted me to hook up with her. When I delayed slightly in calling Michelle, she "punished" me again, by refusing to come see me. My memory that night was of laying in one of the two beds in the room, watching "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", and wishing that I would die in my sleep.

The next day, she arrived, and the night was magical. Despite all that bullshit she put me through the night before, I took her back without a second thought. We went to a nice Italian restaurant, and I was so in love that that memory -- to this day -- makes me feel a little soft-hearted. The way I felt, the way she looked, the ambience of the restaurant, the intimacy of our table; when I recall that night, I feel a little bit of what I felt then, and it cuts me so deeply to realize that I haven't had that since.

You see, that was my love story. That was the story of me, falling in love, completely innocent of what people can do in relationships to harm the other without using physical violence. I was prepared to move to New Jersey to be with her. I was prepared to sever a friendship I'd had for almost a decade, because I heard he was bothering her (she apparently was telling him the same about me). I wrote her poetry. I sent her flowers at random. I craved the moments when we could talk on the phone. I was blind to her manipulation, to her lies, to her way of treating me like shit and treating many of my friends the exact same as she treated me when she wasn't treating me like shit.

One day, several years ago, I walked out of a Cracker Barrel that was near where I worked at the time, and the way the sky looked, coupled with the unfamiliarity of the landscape (it was a place I didn't often go), made me remember New Jersey. The rest of my day was spent in a morbid depression. I think I even posted about it.

I said simple, not short.

Twice in the last two weeks, I spent nearly an hour each time, spilling my heart about random subjects. I always feel better when I'm done, and I feel like talking it out helped me immensely. Of course, I believe that I got nudges at times about the line of my talking.

Tonight, I began to talk to Freyja about it. I often talk to Her. I never ask anything of Her, except to listen to my words. I was struck by the appearance of the room. I had some Sarah Brightman/Josh Groban/Hayley Westenra playing, I was snuggled into my blankets, and I was turned to face my bedside table, on which I've placed a statue of Freyja (along with a piece of amber, a preserved rose from last year, and my Freyja oil, that I used to annoint the statue). The lava lamp was on, and casting its soft blue light on the walls, and I could see the outline of the statue without my glasses. All of those elements combined put me in a melancholy mood, and I thought, "I should imagine a place where I am away from it all, and in absolute love with someone."

...I immediately found myself thinking two words: New Jersey.

Over the next thirty minutes, I talked to Her about how the whole situation made me feel, what I thought of Michelle now, and how her actions have affected me ever since. I realized that I am scared. Before Michelle, I was afraid of rejection. After Michelle, I was more afraid that I would get into a relationship and get hurt the same way again. I mean, there was one night, when I thought I'd lost her, that I literally couldn't breathe when I tried to lay down to sleep. I was up for nearly two days.

Again, I had my nudges. I realized that I was blaming myself for how everything went down, when she willfully played with my emotions. Even if she thought it was a fun game, surely she realized that a person willing to fly nearly 2000 miles at a moment's notice was in it far deeper than a game. I was so happy when I stepped off the plane and saw her, and realized she was in front of me in the flesh.

I realized that blaming myself was the wrong direction to go. I hesitate to call it silly, because that's just more self-deprecation. I honestly feel a kind of pity for her, that she felt the need to manipulate no less than 3-4 people that fall. She deserved to be loved, too, and it's a shame that she didn't think so.

I also realized that I cannot fully excuse her actions. I can have pity for her, but I can certainly blame her. She willfully hurt me, and knew it would hurt me. She was the catalyst for the rift between my brother Aron and me, as he was apparently another of the 3-4. Unlike Scott, though, he wasn't interested in talking it out to compare notes. She accused me of horrible things, after the fact, to make herself look like the victim.

I have been scared of relationships for a long, long time. Since that fateful 2004 encounter, I have been the one to break things off, even if my passivity caused me to just avoid the person I was seeing. Once, when I was finally screwing up the courage to officially break it off, the woman chose to end it, and -- coward that I was (am?) -- I just let it go at that.

I want to get involved with a woman again. I want to have that soul-deep connection to another human being. I want to see someone, and know immediately that she is the woman I will grow old with. I crave that certainty. Yet, I know that no matter what I may feel about some woman I run into, the specter of being treated like shit -- I'll call it what it is: emotional abuse -- hangs around me, souring my feelings. When I was younger, when I saw a girl I liked, I'd eventually daydream about what it'd be like to live with her forever. I'd almost see the house/apartment. I'd imagine the children. Call it creepy if you want, but for me that daydream represented a blazing hope that I could have a lifelong love, that my parents didn't have.

I no longer daydream.

Almost. I have had two occurrences in which I daydreamed in the last couple of years. One was someone that I was so sure I'd have a meaningful relationship with, that I exited my comfort zone to pursue it. No, it isn't who you might think, and I will never identify who it is, nor will I give clues. The other person was a woman who cut my hair at Supercuts a few months back. She was a black woman with one of those wild-looking afros. She had light skin, and the feeling I got from her was California and modern living far away from the Bible Belt and Tennessee. I didn't daydream long, but I did. She felt... like someone I could live with forever.

This is a night of immense clarity, yet I know I have a long way yet to go before I can be comfortable dating. My own self-image stands in my way, but that is a fight for another night.



Freyja, Goddess of Love and Life. Lady of the Vanir. Bearer of Brisingamen. Mother of Hnoss and Gersemi. Odr's wife, who wept tears of gold.

Grant me the confidence I need in order that I may find the one whom I still seek, and let the time be right, that my story can have a happy ending.

Help me find myself, and I will walk proudly in the light. No longer will I hide my faith behind false assumptions. I will declare myself openly and publically to you. I will also burn the tangible memories of that time in a fire consecrated to you, and sacrifice a bottle of mead and a pork tenderloin in your name.

Before all the gods and by my hope of living and dying well, so do I swear it.




.
tek2way: (Spirituality - Thor's Hammer)
As I said last night, I am reading Travels Through Middle-Earth: The Path of a Saxon Pagan, by Alaric Albertsson. Tonight, I tackled the Weofod chapter. A weofod is basically a Saxon pagan's altar.

The author wisely indicated when he was going off personal gnosis, which I appreciated. That said, the description of a Saxon altar was a little "this is how it should be done, or you're doing it wrong." Oh, that's not to say that I threw the chapter out as worthless, but I question when he suggests that setting up the altar just so is necessary to show proper respect to the deities.

Even still, I did pick up some things that I could improve in my own practice.* First, I like his way of explaining a gift. Oh, I'm not saying that I had no clue or misunderstood how they worked, but I appreciated having the definition reinforced in my mind. I was mildly leery of his assertion that you shouldn't ask for something if you haven't been giving gifts, because that -- in my mind -- ties right into bribery or gifting with expectations of getting something in return, which he says is not the point. I agree it's not the point, and I do agree that it's bad form to go asking for more, more, more, without trying to maintain some kind of balance, but to say that your gods will not listen simply because you haven't given them a libation of mead or ale is harsh and misleading.

It made me think about what I do for my own practice, both now and before. Another point of his was that a weofod should be located in a central part of the home, unless it was strictly necessary for it to not be. He likened keeping a primary altar in a bedroom as sneaking a friend in and out of one's house. Speaking as someone who has his altar in his bedroom for the purpose of keeping his spirituality his own business, I take issue at the suggestion that I honor my gods less because they are in my room. Indeed, the knowledge that my altar is in the room in which I sleep actually makes me feel closer to my gods. I'm also far more honest in my bedroom, even when I live alone, than I am in a central location like a living room. All that said, I still may eventually move my altar back into the living room, but it will be because I feel that it's better out there, than because it's "the way it's supposed to be done if you respect your gods".

I questioned his suggestion that I should pick one -- and only one -- god to work with at first. He compared it to getting to know someone at a neighborhood barbecue versus visiting one neighbor at a time. I actually *do* like this comparison, and he made a point with me. However, as a polytheist (though "softer" than some of my friends), I find the idea of choosing one god to be odd. Of course, I have been very actively on this path, more or less, for three solid years now, so I'm hardly a wet-behind-the-ears baby pagan**.

Regardless, perhaps there is something with focusing on one god for a bit, to get to know them. This ties into his beliefs regarding how often to worship, and how to worship. He suggests that the altar should be somewhere that we are reminded frequently throughout the day about it. That is actually one thing I do like about having it in my living room. As for altar tools and items to have on the weofod, I understand that this is something of a "101" book, and some guiding is necessary. Also, I appreciated having an "outline" of things to consider. Oddly, my altar fits his criteria already, with the exception of my hammer (which is ABSOLUTELY appropriate, even if he failed to mention it). My candle images are my "weoh", or god images. Things like the Thor's Hammer bookmark, the raven and wolf miniatures, and the piece of amber are all associated with the gods on my altar/weofod, and are appropriate as a result. I have an offering bowl, though I rarely use it as such. I am far more likely to set a glass specifically on my altar to hold a god's libation, than use the generic bowl. I have it "just in case", but I have no compulsion to find a use for it often. (I'd likely use it -- and have used it -- for a food offering, but I rarely choose to offer food because of its nature to draw pests, and because if I throw too much food on the ground outside when I gift it, I might just get in trouble with my apartments.)

Now, I absolutely liked his point that there's no reason I couldn't have a deity-specific weofod. Obviously, my mind drifted directly to Freyja as the one for whom I'd like to do this. I would prefer to maintain some representation on my main altar for her, but this could perhaps be a nice use for my Idunna/Freyja statue (centerpiece to a goddess-specific altar).

Before spending time at the altar meditating or otherwise attempting to contact your deity, he suggested that you lay claim to the immediate area. His way of doing so is tied into the Norse method of house-claiming, in that you carry fire around the perimeter (though only the area instead of the property), and ask Thor (Thunor) to "ward this sacred space." I do like my hammer rite, frankly. :) Swing a big hammer, call on Thor at each cardinal point, and knowing that I'm protected by the Thunder God while I do what needs doing.

I appreciated his suggested turns of phrase for something like offering a libation to a deity. While he did emphasize that from the heart trumps pretty turn of phrase, I like the examples, because -- dammit -- I can turn a phrase if I put my mind to it.

He closes the chapter with what to expect when at your weofod, as well as how frequently to worship there. (He gets a little snarky here with the "or is this just a hobby?" comments, but I understand he means well.)

Out of everything that I picked up from this chapter, this is the part that made me think the most. You see, often all I do is light my candles and bask in the glow of my gods. I occasionally will leave libations for them. Rarely do I sit and meditate or spend time directly at the altar. While there isn't anything inherently wrong with what I've done, I had the distinct impression that my worship style was undisciplined, almost sloppy. I'm not saying that I should start spending an hour a day in front of it, offering libations and full ceremony, but I could definitely tighten up how I worship. I will think on specifics later, but what stands out immediately is spending time at my altar. Since Friday is associated with Frigga/Freyja, I could start spending time when I wake on Friday at my altar (since I'm usually off).

Interestingly, I was baptised Catholic back when I was about 5 years old. Scott Sumers suggested, half in jest and half seriously, that my affectation for candles as a means of worship stems from then. I think he may just have something of a point. It certainly may explain my desire for a set of prayer beads. :)

Well, it's ridiculously late, and I have work in the morning, so I better bring this to a close. As always, thoughts/comments are welcome, with the caveat that I prefer discourse to being told something. :)


* - Let's face it. I'm a Heathen (again). The doubts and fears that I mistook for atheism were just that: doubts and fears. I had to work past them, and either incorporate them or expunge them, in order to continue to grow spiritually. Now, whether I am a Saxon Heathen, a Germanic Heathen, or a Norse Heathen is still technically up for debate, though my British Isles heritage (from both sides of my family) indicates a distinct blood connection to Saxon Heathenry. Regardless, my choices are my choices.

** - That fact notwithstanding, I still absolutely have more to learn, and I am encouraged by this fact.




P.S. I was jotting down some thoughts elsewhere, when this part came to me. I am including it here, because it's relevant, but I am not asking for any interpretation. Thoughts on it are fine, as always, but I think this was one of those "shutting up and letting the gods speak" moments:

"I have made peace within myself regarding my spiritual path. My gods have welcomed me back, though I think it ranges from "relieved, with open arms" to "willing to listen, though not quite as close as before...yet". Freyja has accepted me back, and likely never went anywhere. Thor had my back no matter what, though I'm sure he's happier that I wear his hammer again. Odin will require some sweet-talking. He is not pleased, but neither is he angry, I feel. Freyr, as always, is aligned with his sister. Frigga feels like a mother, angry at what I did, understanding that I needed to do it, and grateful I have returned. Heimdall stands silently, watching as he always does, though I sense a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Long has he watched me, and long will he yet continue to do so."
tek2way: (Default)
I really should already be in bed, but the gods (and my own sense of order) demanded that I clean my place first. Since I'm still up, I thought I'd share a couple of interesting thoughts regarding my (lack of) path.

As I mentioned before, I had a moment where I made a completely new altar while I was on vacation, and it felt right. I still have it up, and am pleased with it. However, something has changed in the month since I put it back up. I have moved the Celtic deity candles off of it. You see, having them there didn't feel "wrong", per se, but I felt like I was missing a point somewhere. One day, I was looking at my altar, and I was struck by the realization that the Celtic deities are tied to me by blood. That is, they are in my mother's heritage, and so they are in mine.

However, the Norse deities speak more loudly to me (metaphorically speaking, of course -- something about them feels more "right"). While I think both can lay a claim to me by heritage (maternal side is Scottish, Irish, German; paternal side is English, at the very least), I think my active decision to worship the Norse brought them to prominence.

Yes, I said "worship". While I am hedging my bets and refusing to classify what I am doing, I can at least say that I am not an atheist. In fact, my hypothesis about being one because of a fear of worshipping the wrong gods or doing it wrong, is probably pretty accurate, but I have more soul-searching to do before I say that is the case for sure. I do know that the idea of paying homage to the Norse deities brings me a feeling of happiness, even without any tangible results. Regardless of why I worship, or what deity I choose to worship, I gather a distinct sense of calm and peace from my choices, so I have chosen to not question it, at least until science can prove otherwise. (I remain a proud scientific skeptic. No, they aren't contradictory. If science disproves something my path believes, then I will alter my path accordingly. Questioning why is vital to our existence on this planet, and I don't intend to give that up for even a second.)

At any rate, I decided to move my Celtic deity candles to a new location, and make them part of my ancestor's altar. For the time being, that is back on the fireplace mantle as it was before, but I want to find a better permanent place. This feels very good, though, almost like I have figured at least one thing out.

Also, I have had a golden statue of what appears to be Idunna since May Day last year. I felt such an urge to get it last year that it was almost a moral imperative. Ricky even talked to Champagne about getting it after her tent was closed for the night. Last year, I said, "oh, that's not Idunna. It's Freyja," and I made it the centerpiece of my altar. Earlier this year, even when I was looking to put my altar back together, I said, "Oh, I was being silly. That couldn't be anyone but Idunna."

However, while doing some random research online, I discovered that Wagner blended the two goddesses together in his Ring Cycle. That is, while it's clearly Idunna, there is precedent for identifying it as Freyja instead of, or in addition to, Idunna. That settled in my mind in such a way that I would almost swear I "heard" a voice saying, "see? you weren't being silly."

Finally, I've begun reading Travels Through Middle-Earth: The Path of a Saxon Pagan, on Brian's suggestion, when he heard my description of my mental idyllic pagan experience (which is thus far, only in my head). While I still prefer the Scandinavian names to the Saxon names for the deities, this almost feels like a better fit. I'm Heathen, but I still acknowledge from where my heritage comes. Another interesting thing, at least to my mind? I flipped through to the list of deities it gave: Sunne, Mona, Eostre, Tiw, Woden, Frigge, Thunor, Hama, Freo, Ing Freo. Put another way: Sun, Moon, Ostara, Tyr, Odin, Frigga, Thor, Heimdall, Freyja, Freyr. From Odin onward, every one of those gods were ones I named specificially for my New Year's Eve ritual back in 2011-12, when I made a list of oaths. Meanwhile, Tyr was the first god I was drawn to. Fascinating coincidence, if coincidence it is. Sometimes, a duck is a duck, but this has me wondering, at least a little.

At any rate, I was working on this far longer than I expected to be doing so. I hope it clears up some questions, if you had them. I have far more I need to address in this and my other blogs, but this begged attention first. :)

Good night, all, and may you wake wiser, happier, and more alive than today...

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August 2023

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