For Thanksgiving November 25, 2009

We honor the predators and the prey,
those who stalk and devour,
and those who fall and are devoured.
Hail to thee, throughout the Nine Worlds.

We honor the hunters and the game,
those who give chase and kill,
and those who flee and are slain.
Hail to thee, throughout the Nine Worlds.

We honor the fisher-folk and the fish,
those who cast nets into the seas,
and those who are caught and taken.
Hail to thee, throughout the Nine Worlds.

We honor the farmers and their crops,
those who till the earth, sow and reap,
and those who grow and are harvested.
Hail to thee, throughout the Nine Worlds.

We honor the scavengers who come last of all,
those who feed on both predator and prey
and who devour what is left behind.
Hail to thee, throughout the Nine Worlds.

Hail the swift falcons of Asgard.
Hail the sweet herbs of Ljossalfheim.
Hail the golden grain of Vanaheim.
Hail the fierce wolves of Jotunheim.
Hail the green gardens of Midgard.
Hail the boiling seas of Muspellheim.
Hail the flowing brews of Svartalfheim.
Hail the shining fishes of Niflheim.
Hail the journey’s end in Helheim.

(from Be Thou My Hearth and Shield)

Hail to the soldiers, police officers and firefighters who work tirelessly to ensure our safety.

Hail to the doctors, nurses, healers, specialists and scientists who work tirelessly to protect our health.

Hail to the farmers, ranchers, gardeners, planters, harvesters and field workers who work tirelessly to provide our food.

Hail to the teachers, professors, researchers and scholars who work tirelessly to improve our store of knowledge.

Hail to the counselors, guides, psychiatrists, clergypersons, priests and lay religious people who work tirelessly to improve our mental, emotional and spiritual well-being.

Hail to the artists, poets, singers, dancers, actors and writers who work tirelessly to reflect the world in all its awesome terror and beauty.

Hail to those who work tirelessly in landfills and dumps, halfway houses, methadone clinics, morgues, prisons, nursing homes, welfare offices, slaughterhouses and everywhere else there is a job no one else wants to do.

Hail to all those who came here in search of freedom and a better life.

Hail to those who were here first and lived free for thousands of years.

Hail the beloved dead and those who are yet to be born.

This year I personally am thankful:

For finally, after many years of suffering, getting my chemically-based depression under control.

For having the opportunity to take yoga teacher training thanks to a loyal and good friend.

For the love and affection of my friends and family, both of the blood and otherwise.

For Fuzzybutt, who makes me happy and expects nothing but head pats, belly rubs and affection in return.

For waking up and realizing that it isn’t a sacrifice if someone has to demand it.

For love, passion, trust and devotion.

For Himself.

* * * * *
I will return to making more substantial posts after the holiday. Happy Thanksgiving to those in the U.S. and a fruitful week to everyone.

Thief of Hearts November 6, 2009

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

In honor of Mani October 5, 2009

How can I see the splendor of the moon
If his face shines over my heart,
Flaming like the sun?

The Turks in his eyes charge through my soul,
While untrue curling hair
Defeats faith.

Yet if he lifted the veil from his face,
The world would be undone,
The universe astounded.

He walks through the garden
With grace, erect,
His exquisite posture mocking even the straight cypresses.

He charges, riding his gnostic horse
Into the holy space of divinity,
The sacred sphere.

Tonight the Saki with its red-stained ruby lips
Pours wine for the luxury of every drunk,
And sates every reveler’s taste.

As Hayati has drunk his ecstasy,
Her soul now satisfied by the wine of his pure heart,
How can she drink any other nectar?

– Bibi Hayati (19th Century), translated by Aliki Barnstone

Mani is the Norse deity associated with the moon. He travels the night skies and observes much of what happens in the Nine Worlds. His is a gentle, joyous presence, and as a friend once pointed out during a faining for him, Mani is a god whose face you can see right in front of you every night, if you only take the time to look. His sister, Sunna, is the goddess of the sun.

(I found this via the Poetry Chaikhana email newsletter. I highly recommend a visit to this site if you are interested at all in devotional poetry, as it has a stunning collection of works by poets from many religious traditions around the world.)

A Long-Delayed Book August 11, 2009

Be Thou My Hearth and Shield: Prayers in the Northern Tradition, which I compiled and edited, is finally available from Asphodel Press/Lulu. It’s a collection of prayers written by eighteen contributors (and myself) for different purposes and in honor of various deities of the Aesir, Jotnar and Vanir. It is intended as an offering to my gods, which to me is the most important reason to write a book of this nature. And I hope it encourages people to pray. Speaking to the gods is just as important as listening to Them, and the all-too-common attitude that prayer is something Pagans don’t do (because it’s associated with those other religions) saddens me.

I expect the book will be controversial in some regards and with some people, but fame (or infamy) wasn’t my goal when I put this book together, and those who would find fault with it are unlikely to buy it anyway.

A blessing March 20, 2009

Love polished the rust from my heart’s mirror till I began to see the mysteries…

– Gharib Nawaz (1142?-1236?)

Happy Ostara/Eostre/Spring Equinox! May the coming of new life to the thawing soil herald a polishing of your own heart’s mirror.

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.