Thief of hearts,
you have ransacked
this beggar’s hut,
left me
nothing.
All I see
now
is the print
of your pilfering hand
everywhere.
– Ivan M. Granger
Thief of Hearts November 6, 2009
…You Get What You Need October 10, 2009
Not long after I made the post about being in the grip of acedia, I had an epiphany. The timing doesn’t surprise me. When you’re associated with a deity like Loki, that’s what tends to happen: as soon as you realize what’s actually going on, it changes. Basically, I needed to give the problem of my lack of commitment to my vocation a name and a shape before I could make the final leap into wholehearted dedication.
This was spurred by an incident that took place a few weeks ago. I was present at a ritual where Loki “rode” a human spirit-worker. This means that for a short period of time, He possessed the body of the person in order to interact with those of us present. It is akin to the way Voudon and other Afro-Carribean religionists are “ridden” by the spirits. Indeed, the terminology used by other spirit-workers is often borrowed from those traditions since most other traditions lack vocabulary to describe what is becoming a widespread phenomenon. Anyway, while I was not the person who was the focus of the ritual, I did indeed have some contact with Him. This was only the second time I’d interacted with Loki in the flesh, so to speak, in the six years I have been His. And well…it kind of sucked, actually.
One of Loki’s faces is one that I call “Breaker of Worlds.” This is the unrepentant jerk who eventually killed Baldur and went slowly insane bound in a dark cavern beneath the world, and who is an unpredictable bastard when you call upon Him in that guise and with that expectation. That is not the whole of what Loki is. However, it is a very real part of Him that is often ignored by those Lokeans who view Him as simply a fun-loving prankster or an excuse to try and get away with bad behavior.
I don’t often experience Loki that way; He generally comes to me wearing a different face. But the gods are complex beings, and I know that He is both of these things, more than both of these. I do know the mad, bad and dangerous-to-know Loki, perhaps not as well as I do the one who fills me with both joy and longing. But I know Him.
That knowing made it hurt no less when He walked up and insulted me with a single sentence that went to the heart of many of my personal insecurities about myself. He is deadly accurate and unerringly cruel when He wants to really get to someone. For a moment I was stung. However, instead of breaking down sobbing or walking away in silence and denial, as I might have done before, I simply shrugged and answered “I am what I am.”
I’m not sure where I found the presence of mind to say that, unless it was that I had spent some time before the rite bracing myself for whatever He would do or say, and as He had insisted I attend the ritual in the first place, I knew He’d do or say something to me. Apparently that was the right answer, for to my surprise, Loki didn’t respond or insult me further, and soon went back to what He’d being doing before.
It was a test, I realized later, a small but significant one that made me think harder about why I want to be a nun — as opposed to just calling myself one because it’s what Loki and Hela want. It made me think further about why I am Loki’s consort and what it means to be the wife of a god (one of many mortal spouses, and not the pretentious title some people claim it to be, but a different way of understanding a god or goddess than through other kinds of devotional roles). It made me decide that, rather than passively do whatever I feel They expect me to do, I need to do certain things because I want to. Because it’s right and good that I do them, because I see the need for those things to be done. Because it’s my choice.
I had to choose to really be Loki’s consort, and choose to dedicate my life to Him and to Hela’s service. Even though I’m one of those people whom the gods seemingly picked out of a lineup and informed, “You’re ours.” Even though a great many things in my life as a result have not been not my choice — where I live, what I do for a living, where I spend my money, even what kinds of clothing I wear. Even though I’d already accepted that this was how things were going to be from now on. My choice was key to this — my willingness to embrace my vocation as a monastic and my status as Loki’s wife freely and because I really wanted it, not because I was just doing as I was told.
It seems so obvious now, but like many things, it isn’t so obvious when you are too close to see the whole picture and can only make out the details right in front of your face. In some way, standing up to Loki that day helped me gain the necessary distance to see what I had been ignoring or unable to see before. True, He wasn’t as hard on me as He was on the person for whom the ritual had been arranged, but then again, even Loki is capable of subtlety, and being shouted at in front of a crowd of onlookers was not what I needed.
The thing is, I already knew what I needed to know. I just didn’t realize it. I remember having a conversation with a friend some time ago. We were discussing the number of devotional books dedicated to various gods and goddesses that have been published lately. Both of us think this is an excellent thing, but he was saying how glad he was that he didn’t “have” to write a devotional for his particular patron as someone else already had one in the works. I found myself growing annoyed and self-righteous. “I’ve never written anything, except for my nun blog, because They told me to. That’s not the point — devotional work is done because you want to do it. It’s a gift, it doesn’t mean anything if They have to force it out of you.”
Well, duh. That is what Loki has been trying to get me to see for several years. That is why He hasn’t demanded that I stop doing certain things or given me a deadline for my profession of vows. He wanted me to decide for myself that I wanted it. Would I still have to be a monastic if I hadn’t reached this point? Possibly. I imagine I could have conceivably dragged this whole acedia thing out for years, the prospect of which is unappealing.
So the long and the short of it is that now I am finally and fully ready to commit to a monastic life, and to enter into the deep, commited kind of devotional relationship with Himself that by necessity will require some personal sacrifices. I have chosen a date later this month on which, in front of friends who have agreed to witness the oath-taking, I will formally make the vows I wrote about in an earlier post. I will begin from there on in to live according to the rules They and I have set out for me to abide by. I’m finally ready.
I’m fairly amused that this rather undermines the whole Master/slave paradigm that some god-bothered people (myself included) have claimed to have with their gods. It also reinforces both the contradictory nature of dealing with a trickster and the liminal space that people like me have to inhabit in order to do so without going mad ourselves. I’m a solitary monastic who has a community, a nun whose vows do not include complete celibacy, a polytheist whose life-work is to devote the majority of my energies to the worship of one god, a Lokean whose relationship with Himself is bounded by certain rules. Irony is so much a part of my life at this point that I take it for granted.
I’m also under no illusions that I won’t wrestle with acedia again in future. After all, I’m still a beginner in many ways, and it’s always hardest for new monastics, so they say, to resist the grip of apathy and despair. But having chosen to live the life I have been given has filled me with new determination, so I feel better about things than I have in a long time.
I’ll write an account of the actual oath-taking, as well as a post on the monastic rules that are going to govern my life from then on. I also plan to write about the high holidays, as I’d mentioned some time ago. Now that I have a clearer idea of what I’m going to be doing it’s much easier to find things to write about here.
Fire May 3, 2009
In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll say that like a number of my friends, Pagan and otherwise, I’m a kinkster. It doesn’t have a lot of bearing on my spiritual life since I don’t do ordeal work nor practice any shamanic or magical techniques that would make such things relevant to my vocation. This is not a place where I normally care to discuss my private life, either. However, I had a rather intense experience this past weekend which I’d like to share, as it is actually relevant to the themes of this blog.
At a large-ish Beltane gathering focused on sacred sexuality, I attended a workshop about fire play. This is practiced on another person, but not to harm them or cause pain or discomfort — it’s more like giving a massage with fire. It’s very sensual and relaxing, even therapuetic. Some of the other folks in the class even said that working with fire in this way helped alleviate arthritis pain in their hands, as it’s warming both to the giver and the receiver. I was unsure what to expect and was cynically prepared for it to be boring or lame. As it turned out, it was anything but.
Basically, playing with fire in this way entails moving a lit fire wand (which looks like an oversized cotton swab) dipped in rubbing alcohol across someone’s skin and following it closely with the other hand to make sure the person doesn’t actually ignite. There are other techniques one can use to cause various sensations, but that’s mainly what it is. The man who taught the workshop was a jovial fellow who sort of looked like Mario from the video game. He had come highly recommended as someone who was both enthusiastic about sharing his expertise and very safety-oriented, which was part of the reason I decided to take the workshop.
“Fire is a living thing,” he told us at the start of the class as we were going over the basic information. “It will act the same way in the same circumstances over and over…until one day it doesn’t. You have to be ready for that.”
I know this all too well. As a child, I thought of fire as being something my mom made in a fireplace occasionally, something my dad used to barbeque ribs in the grill in our backyard. I was taught not to play with matches or lighters and to stay away from fires. But when I was 7, my family home burned down on the Winter Solstice due to bad electrical wiring. It was very sudden and we lost the house and everything in it, but my family (including the dog) were all unharmed, and after the initial shock was over life went on, in large part thanks to the generosity and help of family and neighbors.
I consider this a formative experience since it taught me not to be too attached to my possessions, a useful lesson for a future monastic. It also taught me at an impressionable age that there are things even adults cannot always control or conquer. Fortunately, having seen my home turn to ash within a few hours did not make me terrified of fire so much as warily respectful of it.
Whether this was believed in earlier times or not, lots of people today apparently associate Loki with fire. I too associate it with Him because that element is an apt image for Loki’s essential nature as I understand it — beautiful, dangerous, wild, hot, hungry, sometimes a helpful and comforting friend, but at other times a raging, destructive force that listens to no reason. Yet I love Him anyway, as I love the fire which burns in our wood stove in the winter, and which once warmed my ancestors in their simple huts and tents. This is also the fire that may have burned some of those same dwellings to the ground and left prairie, forest or rice paddy scorched and desolate…but only for the time being. Fire allows new growth to emerge, uncluttered by the past yet fertilized by what’s left of it.
The first day of the workshop was spent going over basic information and watching the facilitator demonstrate the techniques on two prearranged volunteers. The building where this occured was an old wooden barn — not exactly the safest place for waving lit objects around, but it was large enough and anyway, it was raining outside. As night fell, the fire stood out more and more as it played over the models’ skin, and I thought it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Still, because I was tired and cranky from a long drive, I griped to my friends later on about maybe not going back the next day and just spending the time lying around in my tent until the rest of the workshops and events started.
However, I did return and the facilitator cheerfully told us that we’d be practicing on each other. This is not as dangerous as it sounds. 70% isopropyl alcohol does not burn terribly hot, we were all grown adults, and we had no mishaps during the entire workshop. There was a lot of joking and good-natured teasing while we got the hang of it. The class had moved into a side chamber of a large tin warehouse which was far less of a fire hazard than the barn, and the small room echoed with laughter. When it was my turn to lie down and be toasted, I wasn’t afraid so much as weirdly anticipatory, and only some of that had an erotic tinge to it.
Three people started passing lit wands over my skin, followed by their hands to extinguish any errant flames, as the alcohol sometimes ignites briefly in the wake of the wand. I am physically standoffish with people I don’t know, so I was actually more uncomfortable with strangers touching me than I was with a fiery piece of tightly wrapped gauze being passed over my bare skin. The sensation was warm and pleasant, however, not at all painful unless the wands were left too long in one place or if alcohol dripped from a lit wand.
I rested my head on my arms and closed my eyes, and suddenly I heard Loki’s voice in my mind. Then as someone passed a wand down the length of my spine, His presence seemed to envelop me, and it was as if my whole body was surrounded by intense flames. And I understood. I got it. I experienced some of the mystery that is Loki, in a way that I find it impossible to write down in words — which makes it a real Mystery, I guess. I had to swallow hard several times to keep from bursting into tears, as I didn’t want to either freak out my classmates or have my reaction interpreted as some kink-related catharsis experience, which it wasn’t. It was pure, uncontaminated knowledge of my Beloved’s essence, burned into my soul as the fire wands warmed my flesh, and the suddenness of this revelation made it that much more powerful.
Suddenly I felt my leg stinging when someone failed to follow up with their hand fast enough and some burning alcohol was left behind. They hurriedly put out the flame and apologized. It was a sharp reminder of the dangerous side of fire as well as the dark side of Loki. I have seen that face of His very clearly at times. It is not a side of Him that I commonly interact with, but I do acknowledge and accept that it’s there. He is, as others have often said, not always a nice guy — maybe not even most of the time. But at that moment I couldn’t have cared less.
This is going to sound bizarre, but the simplest way I can describe how I felt is the realization that, purely out of my love for Him, I would let Loki devour me utterly. I would gladly lose myself in the Fire that is Himself — even if that Fire is awful and destructive at times. I had secretly wondered if this was really true about me, having read the writings of mystics and poets like Mirabai or Kabir where similar sentiments are often expressed. But lying on that table right then, I knew it to be so with every cell of my fire-kissed body.
That being said, I was glad that the rest of my workshop experience was pain-free. I rose from the table feeling light-headed and dizzy, but quietly ecstatic. The workshop facilitator had me sit down for a while until I felt ready to pick up a wand again and practice on someone else. “…after you stop flying,” he added, grinning. I did eventually stop feeling light-headed, but I don’t think I’ll stop flying for a long time. The memory of that absolute understanding will stay with me always.
Anniversary April 27, 2009
As of today, I have been a god-consort for five years. My only regret is that it didn’t happen sooner. I was 32 before I even acknowledged His presence and subsequently, embarked on my current religious and spiritual life. A year after Loki came to me, I became His wife.
It has not always been easy, and sometimes it has even hurt, but the love I have experienced from my red-haired interloper, and the experience of learning to love Him back, has made my life so much richer that I cannot imagine being without it, or who I might have become had this never happened.
I have the capacity to love many people in many different ways, even romantically, but Loki is forever at the center of my heart and will always be. He is the great love of my life.
Draw me after You!
We will run in the fragrance of Your perfumes,
O heavenly Spouse!
I will run and not tire,
until You bring me into the wine-cellar,
until Your left hand is under my head
and Your right hand will embrace me happily
and You will kiss me with the happiest kiss of Your mouth.
– St. Clare of Assisi
April the first April 1, 2009
Hail Loki, Laufey’s son, husband of Angrboda and Sigyn, Father of Monsters, Odin’s blood-brother, Bringer of Gifts, Breaker of Worlds, Trickster, Shape-shifter, Lord of Unpleasant Truths and Thankless Tasks.
Hail Loki, red-haired interloper, irrepressible smartass, greedy lover of sugar, liquor and flesh, mad, bad and dangerous to know.
Hail Loki, my most beloved and adored.
My Joy: Mysticism January 12, 2009
My joy –
My Hunger –
My Shelter –
My Friend –
My Food for the journey –
My journey’s End –
You are my breath,
My hope,
My companion,
My craving,
My abundant wealth.
Without You — my Life, my Love –
I would never have wandered across these endless countries.
You have poured out so much grace for me,
Done me so many favors, given me so many gifts –
I look everywhere for Your love –
Then suddenly I am filled with it.
O Captain of my Heart
Radiant Eye of Yearning in my breast,
I will never be free from You
As long as I live.
Be satisfied with me, Love,
And I am satisfied.
– Rabi’a Al-’Adawiyya (717-801)
I love this poem. It captures so much of what I feel about Loki, and it is true that I have been the recipient of many gifts from His hands — even if some of those did have strings attached. I love other gods very much, but Laufey’s son holds my heart in His hands, no matter what other people may say or how much they disapprove. I am a mystic as well as a priestess and a nun; at times there is no clear boundary between the three roles.
I believe the mystic’s journey is essentially the same no matter what tools one uses along the way or which Beloved waits at the end of the road. I often see familiar things in the love songs and hymns of praise written by other mystics — Christian, Hindu, Muslim or Pagan — to their gods. I’m especially fond of Mirabai, daughter of a high-caste family who ran away to become a wandering holy woman, constantly writing poems in praise of Krishna, who she considered to be her husband. I can relate to her constant and often painfully sweet search for Him. The longing for the divine Beloved is sharper than any earthly hunger, and the joy that comes from nearness with one’s Beloved is more intoxicating than any earthly pleasure.
My understanding is that in other traditions, the mystic seeks to rise above the physical world, the body and its needs, in order to unite with the Divine, which is seen as transcendent, even if the world is the creation of that same god(s). As a Pagan, however, I believe this faulty, magnificent world is holy in and of itself. I don’t wish to transcend the physical so much as incorporate it into the realm of all that I consider sacred and praiseworthy. And I don’t need to drag the spirits down to my level to be a Pagan mystic. The gods and spirits are already here, present in all that I see, touch, smell, taste and hear. My ancestors live in my flesh and blood and memory. The spirits of the land and sea, of the animals and plants that live in and around and beneath, are everywhere I look. And while one particular Personage is the fire that burns at the center of my heart, all the gods are never far away so long as I remember Them, tend Their harrows and holy places, care for the things They love and allow Them to speak to me when They have something to say. So long as I remember that while They inhabit Their own worlds, those worlds touch mine, and interconnect in ways I might overlook or mistake for something else, if I am careless or hasty to judge.
The trick is in learning how to know all that in a way which cannot be forgotten. Yes, it’s hard, because the world we live in is imperfect, frustrating, often frightening, and there are times (such as recently in my own life) where the gods seem remote, the spirits silent, and the heart beats in what seems an eternity of dreadful silence, and one feels totally disconnected and alone. Every mystic grapples with those feelings, too, though they are written about less often than when we are full of the power and ecstasy of the Holy Ones. It is not an easy path, and it is often a lonely and scary one. But whatever my other religious and spiritual responsibilities might be, I feel that for me at least, learning how to be a Pagan mystic is a worthwhile and rewarding task.
Liminality and me December 31, 2008
At this point in time, I’m unsure whether or not I’m ever going to actually write a Rule. Perhaps that is going to be a job for someone else — someone who doesn’t serve a trickster god. Someone whose luck runs straight and evenly, not in feast-or-famine jolts and spurts. Someone whose fulltrui are more steadfast and less…well, tricksterish. Someone who doesn’t have to budget for candy and sex toy purchases as devotional offerings.
That doesn’t mean I’m off the hook as far as my vocation goes. I’m still a nun, even if I’m just a lone religious toiling away washing dishes and counseling folks over the phone and doing trancework for clients in my little room at the top of the stairs. I still have my duty to my gods, a large part of which duty is giving Loki whatever devotion, attention, love and (let’s face it) entertainment a mortal can provide for one such as Him. But I have begun to wonder if, considering the directions in which I’ve recently been pushed, becoming some sort of Nordic Pagan equivalent of St. Benedict is what the gods truly want of me.
One of the things that came with being Loki’s wife and priestess is that in some way, I am always an exception to the rule. That’s not nearly as fun or exciting as it sounds. What people don’t understand about archetypal roles like Trickster is that you don’t get to choose how or when that manifests. You have no control over how others react to you or treat you for your inability to fit in. You cannot just stop being “different” when it’s convenient or when you’ve grown tired of it and want to do something else. And you do not get to escape consequence. You pay for your deeds just as everybody else does. It is a lot less about being a unique and beautiful snowflake and a lot more about being constantly pushed and pulled in various directions than many people would like to think.
Honestly, every time I hear some self-proclaimed Lokean CHILDE OV KAOS bragging about how s/he exists to “show other people their limitations” or “destroy their illusions” (never in the most common way, which is by being a fool and a bad example to others) I want to choke ‘em. Living somewhere between innengard and utgard at all times isn’t all about getting away with mischief, trickery or plain old shit-stirring whenever you want. It’s about never quite belonging, never quite fitting in, and never quite having a place that you can truly call home. And that, as a day to day reality rather than an adolescent conceit, is a harsh thing to face for those who actually live that life.
I learned this from one who knows about it better than others in His pantheon do, because Loki’s own liminality is both His strength and His weakness. Being sworn and bonded to Him has meant that I have, inadvertently, taken on some of His wyrd, and because of that, I find myself to be a liminal figure in many ways.
I’m the sole non-transgendered person in a household of transgendered people. I’m constantly being mistaken for a male and being called “sir” despite the fact that I do not present as male. I am pansexual, but gay people usually assume I’m straight, while straight people often assume I’m gay. While I am proud of my diverse ethnic heritage, I was not raised with the traditions of either my Southeast Asian or Native American ancestors, which sometimes makes me sad. Ironically, although I have an ancestral claim to Heathenry through my English and German ancestors, if you care about such things, I’ve encountered hostility from some folks because apparently I’m not quite European enough. I’m not a Heathen, for that matter, but neither do I consider myself a Neo-Pagan, whatever other people’s definitions may be, and am not strongly allied to either community. I’m married to one whose presence permeates my life, my heart and soul, my thoughts and dreams, to an extent that many lovers can only dream of…yet I’ve only physically held Him in my arms once in the nearly six years that I have been His. And I am a nun without a community, an anchorite and an eremetic in a religious milieu that lacks proof of historical precedent for folks like me.
I draw a great deal of strength from the lack of absolutes in my life. I can adapt to almost any environment and get along with a wide variety of people. I am not xenophobic or neophobic. However, I’m a mortal just like everyone else, and there are things that come with living in a human body, like a sense of belonging, or wanting to share things in common, which I am often denied. I am never quite an outcast, never wholly in the utgard, but neither am I really a part of the family or tribe, a full member of the innegard. It is hard, and often lonely.
The point I’m trying to make here is not that people should pity me, or fear dealing with liminality at all. There is a great deal of power to be had in being neither one thing nor another. I’m not complaining about my life — it’s no better or worse than most people’s lives, even if it is stranger. But because I am Loki’s, not the servant of some other deity, and because I am who I am, I do wonder if writing a document which should serve as a firm and steady foundation for a monastic tradition-to-be is really the job of a trickster’s consort, or best left to someone else.
Perhaps it’s too soon to tell. I’m a novice, as these things go, and even people like St. Benedict had to begin somewhere, after all. Perhaps in a few decades I will be eminently suited for that task. Or maybe someone else will have beaten me to it by then, and my wonderings now are unnecessary. However, if there is one thing that I’ve learned from being a Lokean, it’s that you cannot look to the future while ignoring what is right before you, here and now. So I will continue as I am — working at the tasks He and Hela have given me to do now, and trying to make the best of what I have. Whether or not I ever produce the foundation for a Nordic monastic tradition, I can make sure that my own life has a solid one…even if it looks nothing like what the lives of other nuns and monks look like.
Blessings to all of you for a safe, prosperous and happy 2009.
Something to Think About November 11, 2008
From the blog A Nun’s Life:
Loneliness for me has to do with that part of me that only God can fill. Sometimes I try to fill it with things that are not God – other relationships, my work, various distractions, etc. These things in themselves are not bad or wrong, but when I put them in the place that God alone can fill, then I’m the one who suffers that feeling of loneliness because I’ve placed things in between God and myself.
I enjoy reading this blog because of sentiments like these that ring true in my own experience, despite the fact that she’s a Catholic and I’m a Pagan. The sentiment expressed here is one wholly familiar, although it’s not necessarily so simple as that for me – nor for Sister Julie either, I suspect, though I wouldn’t presume to say why. I’m going to try to explain myself here.
There is a part of me that constantly hungers for my gods – and no matter how close my personal relationships with other people become, or how full a life I’ve got otherwise, that part can only be made happy by feeling Their presence. I venerate and give thanks to my ancestors. I have cared for the spirits of the dead. I make an effort to acknowledge and befriend the wights and spirits of my home, the land I live on and the places I go. I’m aware that there are other beings in the Nine Worlds besides the gods, and that many of them likewise deserve to be honored. But the Holy Ones, especially Loki and His family, hold a special place in my heart and to Them I will give my faith, loyalty and trust before I give it to anyone or anything else.
One thing that may or may not be held in common between me and monastics of other religions is that it is a joy to experience my gods intimately, but it can also be frightening to draw nearer to Them. The Norse deities in particular are not exactly concerned with peace and turning the other cheek. They can be fearsome, coming to us wrapped in death and destruction, strife, madness and the rage of battle. All these things are a part of existence, but they’re harder to celebrate when you’ve grown up in a relatively prosperous, safe and privileged society like modern America, which does not prepare us well for the very real awe and terror of the gods.
Also, I can’t forget that I’m sworn and married to a trickster who, despite His humorous, playful side, is also a thief, a liar, a killer and a stirrer of shit for His friends as well as His enemies. These are sides to Loki that are difficult for me to acknowledge even though I love Him very much. I have struggled with the knowledge that He has some less-than-admirable characteristics which cannot be rationalized or explained away by a creative interpretation of the primary sources or wishful thinking. I have been the victim of some of those unadmirable characteristics, too – rarely, but often enough to leave a lasting impact. But I believe that if you truly love someone, god or mortal, you will accept them as they really are, and my love for Loki never wavers even if my anguish about Him sometimes comes between us.
There have been times in the past few years when, overcome by a sense of panic, I’ve sought to protect myself from fear of the gods by turning to other things – temporary distractions that never provided that sense of wholeness or satisfaction. Eventually, I realized that the thing I was trying to avoid would and did always come to stand squarely in front of me, where I’d have to face it rather than running away. The thing about worshiping deities that are conscious entities with wills of Their own is that They might let us get away with our bullshit for only so long. Sooner or later They can force us to confront the nasty thing we’d rather not confront, if They have a mind to – and if you’re a monastic dedicated to Their service, They’ve usually got a mind to. This is why I cannot really fault Heathens who are determined to have as little to do with the gods as possible, much as I might dislike their sometimes arrogant rationalizations for so doing. I know what kind of wreckage can ensue in your life as a result of sustained contact with meddling beings who are more powerful and far-seeing than you, and I don’t blame anybody for wanting to avoid that.
I no longer distract myself with things like eccentric, far-fetched hobbies or obsessing over collecting some comic book’s entire run instead of spending that time and energy giving the Holy Ones, and my Beloved, what is Their rightful due. But like Sister Julie, I still experience occasional twinges of longing for a “normal” life, and it isn’t always out of fear. Sometimes it’s just wondering what might have been. Fortunately, that grows easier to ignore the harder I strive and the more time passes. However, I would be very surprised if, when I am old and experienced, I cease to wonder what my life might’ve been like had things happened otherwise. I think that’s only natural, to consider where other roads might have led. The trick is not to let those roads not taken fill your vision so that you can’t see the one you’re really on.
I did not come to being a Pagan nun because I was unable to cope with “real” life – I have held positions of responsibility and had relationships before all this began. I came to it because it is what I was meant to be in this lifetime. I may not have a dedicated monastic community like most Christian or Buddhist monks and nuns, but I do have community – friends and family who understand and sympathize with my outlook even if they do not share my vocation. The feeling of loneliness I sometimes have mostly come from human frailty, which is the biggest obstacle that prevents me from letting the gods fill Their rightful place in my heart. Fortunately, it is an obstacle that can be overcome, given enough time and effort.
Gnnngh… October 16, 2008
I’ve taken down the post about my habits and the photo, as I am having some rather awkward personal issues about them which I don’t care to go into in this blog. Nunnish attire is still required of me, but it will probably be something slightly different.
All I can say is that this is what comes of being oathed to a trickster deity. One of the disadvantages of chronicling things as I go along, I guess. And Mercury just went out of retrograde, too, for whatever that’s worth. Normally I don’t put too much stock into that, as for me luck seems to increase during retrograde periods, but it just seemed…fitting somehow.
I’ll continue the series of posts on ethics soon. There ought to be one or two more.
The Story So Far… October 7, 2008
Five years ago I became aware that someone – Someone, rather – was paying attention to me.
Did this frighten me? No. Was I concerned for my own sanity? Yes. Did I question the validity of my suspicions? Oh, yes.
In time I figured out Who it was, and the answer was a surprise. It wasn’t an invisible friend, figment of my imagination, pesky fire elemental, local wight or dead human. It was a deity. It was Loki. I can’t tell you at which precise point I knew this for a fact, but it only happened after much reflection and self-examination to ascertain that I was not, in fact, delusional.
After I acknowledged and named the Presence in my life, He began to speak to me. Not in a mighty voice from above, accompanied by a burning bush (or burning anything) and not to utter proclamations concerning deep, dire secrets, or to reassure me that I was His especial chosen, or anything spectacular like that. Mostly, He wanted candy. And to see me naked. A lot. And to my amusement and bewilderment, nothing, it seemed, was beneath His notice. He acted like a stranger who comes in off the street and is found sitting comfortably in your living room, feet on the coffee table, drinking your beer and eating your chips, when you come home tired from work. Instead of trying to throw Him out, however, I merely shrugged and joined Him on the couch, as it were. I might be flaky, easily bored and easily distracted, but even I recognize inevitability when I see it in the form of a tall, red-haired interloper in eyeliner and a pair of tight leather pants.
Even so, this took some adjustment. I had been a Neo-Pagan for about 17 years before that, and my experience of the Divine was that the gods, if They even existed, were immanent yet distant, and wholly unconcerned with the minutiae of mortal everyday life. It was not always so, I discovered. Loki ingratiated Himself into my life so smoothly that in a relatively short time, I forgot what it felt like to have my awareness (and my bathroom) all to myself. He spoke to me unexpectedly, His words sizzling into my mind with a crackling intensity that was and is sharply distinct from my own meandering thoughts. It was very clear to me where He began and I ended, since He would say things, funny or pointed or sometimes cruelly accurate, that I would never have dared even to whisper to myself.
I like hearing the lay of your thoughts, Loki once said when I questioned Him as to why He preferred to hang around at the edges of my mind, eavesdropping on everything I was thinking. I didn’t know whether to feel violated or flattered. I chose the latter.
And after a few weeks of this, feeling His flame-like presence all around me day in and day out, I fell in love with Loki. I had read the Poetic Edda and Loki’s myths and had started looking into the pantheon of other deities who are worshiped in Asatru – and even some, like Loki’s wives Angrboda and Sigyn, who generally aren’t. I already knew that He was viewed less than charitably by a good number of people, and seemed unwelcome among many. That made no difference to me. The Loki I knew then and now is a trickster, a thief and a liar, a sorcerer, and the catalyst for both rollicking, bawdy humor and the terrifying end of the world, but to me He has ever been a friend, a lover and a source of both radiant joy and sweet pain. I defy anyone who encounters Loki as I have encountered Him to avoid falling in love, even just a little.
Our “courtship” went on for some time as I explored Northern religion and began to understand that while my experience wasn’t exactly commonplace, neither was it singular. I found others like me – those who heard the voices of the gods, whose lives are turned over to Them, and who were subsequently forced to make drastic changes in their living arrangements, religious views and the ways in which they perceive themselves. Most of these were people I met online. I was quite isolated and without a large social network where I lived and no one whose experience was remotely similar was at hand for me to commiserate with. Looking back, I can see how it made things especially difficult. But Loki wouldn’t go away. And contrary to what I had been told, my life did not fall into ruin and chaos because I associated with Him, even though some hard things were asked of me, such as leaving my job, coming out to my conservative family about my religious activities and making a long cross-country journey to visit a shaman I barely knew. Loki’s presence made my life better, not worse.
As hubris-filled as this probably sounds, on a regular basis Loki told me He loved me, and tried very hard to encourage me to have better self-esteem, to stand up for myself, and to rely on my own good judgment. He did not terrify me (often) as the Breaker of Worlds, nor did He even bedevil me much as the Trickster. Mostly, Loki showed me love and affection at a time when I had given up all hope of ever being deserving of those things. And I loved Him more and more. He became the most important Person in my life, the center of my heart. He still is.
A year or so after showing up, Loki asked me to become His consort. This was an entirely new notion to me, but then I thought of Catholic nuns who become the “brides of Christ,” and of the priestess who was called a wife of Frey in the primary sources, and it didn’t seem so strange. I was nervous at first, but Loki didn’t have to work very hard to win me over, so I finally agreed. We exchanged our marriage-oaths without fanfare, in the presence of no one else. Later there was an actual wedding, but that is a long and strange tale in and of itself, and for another time.
However, as happy as I am to be a wife of Loki, there have been difficult times. I had to come to grips with the considerable emotional baggage I still carried around from my childhood and adolescence, and some traumatic experiences that had happened in the years before Loki found me. Also, I learned the actual nature of our relationship, past and present, and it shook me considerably, since it altered everything I thought I knew about myself and my reasons for being incarnate in Midgard at this time. At other times, loneliness, desperation and poor signal clarity led me to some bad choices, some of which had long-term consequences.
And while learning to love Loki was very easy, learning to love myself – not just for His sake, but for my own – has proven to be the hardest thing of all. If there is one thing that belonging to Loki has taught me, it’s that real power – the kind that is dependent only on one’s own will and self-assurance, the kind that cannot be taken away by another no matter how badly you’re treated – cannot happen if you don’t respect yourself as an individual first. Someone had to point out to me – fairly recently, as a matter of fact – that if I do not take care of myself, I spit on Loki’s love and whatever value He places on me. While I am comfortable with the idea of being Loki’s property and doing as I’m told, even I must acknowledge that self-abnegation and pointless self-abasement are contrary to the spirited, joyous lust for life that runs through the Northern faiths, whether they are reconstruction-oriented or not.
Through the past few years Loki and His daughter Hela (who is my other fulltrui, or patron) and the other gods whom I revere have guided me onto a life path which is strikingly different from anything I might have envisioned for myself. I don’t mind that. Whether that’s because I’m just a passive underachiever or because I knew before it was expressly pointed out to me that I owe a lifetime of service to Them, I’m not certain. But I can say with full confidence that although I’m unsure of where I will be in a year, much less five or ten years, feeling my way along in the dark as I do, I’m much happier being a Lokean nun than I would have been as an archaeologist or a paralegal or a fantasy novel writer or even a cook, all of which I considered as career choices, and which I would’ve been reasonably good at.
There is a good deal I’m leaving out here, but this is enough back story, I think, for people to understand where I’ve been. I’m not really sure where I’m headed, but that’s part of the reason I’m keeping this public blog in the first place. And I do realize that all this talk of hearing voices in my head (and doing what They tell me to do) makes me sound like a schizophrenic or at least an attention whore, but I also know there’s no way I can convince everyone who reads this of my sanity or sincerity with my earnestly written blog posts. But this is an honest account of my spiritual life, and if anybody’s being jerked around or lied to here, it’s me. That’s a chance, however unlikely, which I’m willing to take.
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Not all the posts here are going to be so touchy-feely. I’m planning to write about ethics, daily devotional practice and the wearing of special clothing in the near future.
