Prayer Beads: An Update September 14, 2009

Part of the issue with saying daily prayers for me has been that since I initially wrote the ones that I came up with for my set of beads, my life, my understanding of my gods and my role as a nun have all altered significantly. Saying these prayers came to feel more and more like whining to the gods to help me and give me things, rather than what I felt prayer ought to be about. Consequently, I decided to update the words that correspond with my own set of prayer beads to reflect both what I am trying to accomplish by doing them at all, and to emphasize the fact that I’m trying to understand what They have to teach us. Some of the original prayers have remained more or less unchanged, while I chose to reword or totally rewrite others. The new prayer series is given below.

FIRST BEAD:

Hail to Sunna, Fair Wheel racing across the sky, who teaches us to find joy in each sunrise.

NORNS:

Hail to Urd, That Which Is, who teaches us to use our orlog wisely.

Hail to Verdande, That Which Is Becoming, who teaches us to strengthen our maegan and hamingja.

Hail to Skuld, That Which Must Be, who teaches us to bravely accept our wyrd.

NINE WORLDS:

Hail to the wights of Asgard, mighty home of the Aesir.

Hail to the wights of Ljossalfheim, glimmering realm of the Light-elves.

Hail to the wights of Vanaheim, golden country of the Vanir.

Hail to the wights of Jotunheim, ancient home of the giant-folk.

Hail to the wights of Midgard, lively world of mortal men.

Hail to the wights of Muspellheim, burning world of the fire-giants.

Hail to the wights of Svartalfheim, shadowy realm of the Duergar and Dark-elves.

Hail to the wights of Niflheim, ice-rimed world of the frost-giants.

Hail to the wights of Helheim, the refuge of the dead.

(NORNS)

VANIR & AESIR:

Hail to Frey, Golden Lord of Vanaheim, who teaches us the value of sacrifice.

Hail to Gerda, Lady of the Walled Garden, who teaches us to find strength in solitude.

Hail to Freya, Lady of Brisingamen, who teaches us to understand our own self-worth.

Hail to Nerthus, Earth Mother, who teaches us to respect the power of the land and all of its creatures.

Hail to Njord, Lord of Ships, who teaches us to provide safe harbor for those who need it most of us.

Hail to Holda, Lady of Hearth and Home, who teaches us to take pride and pleasure in providing a haven for our families, our guests and ourselves.

Hail to Bragi, Skald of Skalds, who teaches us that things need not have happened to be true.

Hail to Idunna, Lady of the Orchard, who teaches us to seek health of body and vitality of spirit.

(NORNS)

SEA-ETINS:

Hail to Aegir, Ale-Brewer beneath the sea, who teaches us the value of hospitality.

Hail to Ran, Storm-bringing Ravager, who teaches us to respect the power of the sea and all of its creatures.

Hail to Kolga, Mermaid of Cold Waters, who teaches us to be still.

Hail to Duva, Mermaid of the Hidden Island, who teaches us to see through illusions to the reality behind.

Hail to Blodughadda, Mermaid of the Sea-Bound Rivers, who teaches us the mysteries of the blood.

Hail to Hronn, Mermaid of the Whirlpool, who teaches us to name and accept our greatest fears.

Hail to Hevring, Mermaid of the Surface Waves, who teaches us to name and accept our deepest sorrows.

Hail to Bylgja, Mermaid of the Rip Tide, who teaches us to face danger as a part of life.

Hail to Bara, Mermaid of the Big Wave, who teaches us patience in the face of slow but constant change.

Hail to Unn, Mermaid of the Tidal Rhythms, who teaches us to be mindful of the patterns and passage of time.

Hail to Himinglava, Mermaid of Fair Weather, who teaches us faith in the sunshine that follows the storm.

(NORNS)

JOTNAR:

Hail to Loki, Shape-shifter and Trickster, who teaches us humor in the face of the inevitable.

Hail to Angrboda, Chieftain of the Iron Wood, who teaches us loyalty towards our kith and kin.

Hail to Fenrir, Great Wolf, who teaches us to accept our inner monsters as we learn to control them.

Hail to Jormungand, World Serpent, who teaches us the value of setting boundaries.

Hail to Hati, Moon-Chasing Wolf, who teaches us to accept our most unwelcome duties.

Hail to Skoll, Sun-Chasing Wolf, who teaches us to find what joy we can in our unwelcome duties.

Hail to Sigyn, Lady of Endurance, who teaches us about love that knows no limits.

Hail to Narvi, eldest son of Sigyn and Loki, who teaches us to remember those who died too young.

Hail to Vali, youngest son of Sigyn and Loki, who teaches us compassion for those who suffer unjustly.

Hail to Sleipnir, eight-legged son of Loki, who teaches us to carry our burdens with good will.

Hail to Laufey, Lady of the Leafy Isle, who teaches us to be true to ourselves.

Hail to Farbauti, Flaming Arrow, who teaches us to use our wits as well as our might against our enemies.

Hail to Surt, Lord of Muspellheim, who teaches us that resurrection follows destruction.

Hail to Gunnlod, fair-voiced Lady Under the Mountain, who teaches us that from isolation can come beauty and joy.

Hail to Hyndla, Hag of the Northern Mountains, who teaches us to honor our bloodlines and ancestry.

Hail to Mengloth, Healer of Lyfja Mount, who teaches us to recognize when we cause pain to others.

Hail to Utgard-Loki, crafty Sorcerer-King, who teaches us when to speak and when to remain silent.

Hail to Mordgud, Guardian of Helheim’s Gate, who teaches us discernment between what is and what is not ours to protect.

Hail to Nidhogg, Gnawer at the Roots, who teaches us mindfulness about the things we cast aside and away.

Hail to Hela, Goddess of the Dead, who teaches us compassion for the souls of the departed.

(NORNS)

LAST BEADS:

Hail to Mani, Walker in the Darkness, who teaches us to seek peace in the shadows of the night.

Hail to Yggdrasil, World Tree, who teaches us to withstand the fire and frost of mortal existence, and to remain rooted in our faith and troth.

I usually end with additional prayers to specific deities and prayers on behalf of other people.

That Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul September 12, 2009

Time for some honesty. I’ve been wrestling with acedia for months now. It’s impacted my practice as a monastic, my service as a priestess and my relationships with other people.

I find myself wanting to withdraw more and more, unwilling to engage with others and unable to voice my discontent in ways that encourage others to help me find solutions rather than listen to me compalin.

I have the feeling that I’m waiting for something special to happen, but I don’t know what that might be. In the meantime I rationalize my lack of activity and dedication with “what ifs” and the notion that when that special thing arrives, all will be made clear.

I distract myself with nonessentials. All I want to do these days is drink tea and read pointless fiction and play video games online. So not what a Pagan nun — or anybody, really — ought to be spending entire days doing.

I resent and envy those of my friends who have goals and are seeking to accomplish them, who are in training for services or jobs that will benefit them and help them benefit others, and who are motivated to do something rather than feel stuck and helpless. I don’t do anything to get myself out of the rut, however.

This has gone on for months now, but only recently have I recognized it in myself, with that kind of hard-edged clarity that comes to alcoholics and abusers when they realize that yes, they have a problem and it’s up to them and them alone to find a way to fix it.

I’ve learned something valuable through all this, however. It’s not that I can’t do my job when it arises, when it’s forced into my face and I must deal with it or fail. When my friends need me, I can be there instantly. When I’m needed in my community, I spring into action. When someone I care about is harmed or is in need of solace or support, I have endless resources of enthusiasm and compassion to draw on.

Acedia does not stop me from attending to emergencies and people’s needs in times of desperation. What it does do is make me less likely to want to deal with the in-betweens, the times when nobody is having a crisis and the community is at rest, the times when I am not needed to counsel or bear witness or make food or drive people home late at night. Acedia is the foe of the everyday, rather than the enemy and obstacle of the extraordinary. This is something that people have to learn for themselves, and probably why Kathleen Norris does not come out and state this in her book. Or maybe she does, and I haven’t been able to hear the message until now.

It’s easier for me to go out of my way to be kind to my housemates when they are experiencing difficulty or facing unpleasant tasks than it is for me to be patient with their human and understandable habits. It’s easier for me to forgo acknowledgment for doing something like organizing a weekend-long gathering than it is for me to continue to do ordinary tasks day in and day out with neither thanks nor recognition. It’s easier for me to make grand gestures of love and devotion towards my gods rather than to keep Their ordinary home fires burning, so to speak, night after night, whether I am cognizant of Their presence or not.

This is why acedia has been said to be hardest on the novice and the inexperienced monk — because early on in one’s monastic career, one hasn’t yet had time to learn that the true enemy of disciplined religious devotion isn’t a need for the continuously spectacular, but letting the toil and drudgery of the everyday wear you down.

I can deal with crises just fine. It’s everyday life that I struggle with, and that causes me to lose faith in my purpose and enthusiasm for my vocation.

So what can I do about this? I’ve learned that rote repetition does nothing for me, spiritually. I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work. What does work is doing things wholeheartedly when it’s time to do them, and being mindful of the process even if I’m not always regular and disciplined. I’ve not been doing that enough lately. Paying attention is, after all, half the work of becoming wise.

I’ve realized that I’ve been reading the Norris acedia book with less than an open mind, certain that it didn’t apply to me — but flipping back through it, I can see that it most certainly does. People often run across certain things in our lives — books, movies, music, places, other people, random messages — for a reason, often not discernible until much later. The reason I’ve got this book right now is fairly obvious. I’ve decided to go back and start at the beginning of Acedia and Me and read it more mindfully. Denial is never a useful mindset for a monk or a nun, after all.

This entry has been embarrassing to write. There might even be people out there thinking, “Ha! I knew all this nun stuff was bullshit.” But I am committed to being honest about my spiritual journey as a monastic, and if that means I occasionally have to reveal myself as a bumbling idiot with no idea what I’m doing, so be it. I have never claimed to be an expert or authority on how to live a life of Pagan religious devotion, and I’m sure that my version is going to be a lot different than most people’s — if only for the fact that it’s a liminal trickster deity and a goddess of the underworld who are calling my shots.

Your mileage may vary, and your tea-time may be much shorter or longer than mine. I hope some of what I’ve said here is useful if you’ve been laboring under acedia, or suspect that you may be.

Well, then… September 1, 2009

I haven’t updated in a while because I’ve been either out of town, or busy, or both. I hope to write a review of the Kathleen Norris book I’m still reading, and perhaps get back on track with more general posts about living as a monastic Pagan.

The thing is, I have drifted further and further away from specifically and solely Northern/Norse practices (not my primary gods, though — I am still Loki’s and Hela’s, through and through) and while this actually doesn’t change the nature of my personal devotional life all that much, it does have somewhat of an impact on my status as a priestess and my status with other Northern Traditionists. I wouldn’t call myself an eclectic Pagan so much as one who has largely stopped doing a lot of magic and sorcery as part and parcel of my religion, and whose focus seems to be less and less on either ancient Norse practices or modern NT Pagan ones.

I pray, write, sing, give offerings, do work for my gods and my communities and help friends and clients as part of my day-to-day life, while at the same time, my interior spiritual life is quite rich (at least, compared to when I began all this over six years ago). But I am neither a reconstructionist, nor have I consciously decided to ignore all that wonderful and rich Norse culture and history in favor of the usual modern Neo-Pagan beliefs and practices. And it all feels less like what most of us think of as “religion.” I just consider it part of my life. Does that mean I’ve succeeded at something? If so, I have no idea what.

I use “Pagan” because that’s the closest term that describes my religious views, and “nun” because, well…that’s what I am, although it took me some time to realize this. Perhaps I oughtn’t be so concerned with what to call what it is that I do and live and believe. I should just worry about whether or not I’m living my beliefs according to whatever internal consistency they have (the best way, I think, to reconcile oneself to the personal vagaries of one’s own UPG) and whether or not I’m doing what my gods would have me do. Obedience is something that most Pagans are not very fond of as a virtue to be cultivated, and while it isn’t necessarily a trait that everybody needs to cultivate, it is personally important to me where my gods are concerned — if only because if I don’t do what They ask of me, I feel out of sorts and as if I’m doing things the wrong way. And I don’t need other people’s (largely unsolicited) opinions and judgment or threats or smiting from Them to feel like this — which is largely because I’ve tried to cultivate self-awareness as well.

The point of all this is not to trumpet how great I think I am or to bore readers with personal woolgathering, but to say that I am not sure at this point what direction I’ll take with my blog, which is supposed to reflect my experience as a nun — just that I am going to strive to be as honest as possible and as open as I am comfortable being about the things I learn on the path to being a lifelong Pagan monastic. I do intend to make a formal vow of profession, as I stated before, but I do not know exactly when that will happen. I get the feeling there are things I need to do first, although I’m not entirely certain what they are. (This is, apparently, one of the dubious joys of being a monastic in a religious tradition, or body of traditions rather, where there is no modern precedent for your role. Yay.)

I am currently away from home working for some friends of mine on a project involving a good deal of physical labor and practical problem-solving — which is a far cry from my everyday life of household chores and thinking about theological issues. The change of pace has so far agreed with me, and although I hope to be back home at the end of this week, I hope also that having had a break from my “anchoritic cell” for a week or two will refresh me enough to buckle down to my daily routine once more, and to provide a clearer picture of the destination before me. But as they say, getting there is half the fun.