Hope Has Wings

I probably made it sound in my last post like everything is uniformly bleak, which wasn’t really what I’d intended. It’s not that none of it is true; I was just feeling overtired and sad and needed to vent, and it came out sounding more bitter than it might have otherwise. Our relationship goes through cycles, and at that particular moment, I was stuck in a heavy downswing and not interested in being more objective. And I think I hurt His feelings pretty badly, odd as it feels to contemplate such a thing.

We communicate best through dreams, I’ve found. I don’t have as many barriers in place when I’m asleep, so He can speak to me or show me things more easily without me locking Him out, flailing, or putting the worst possible spin on whatever’s going on. A few days ago, for example, I dreamed that it was snowing heavily. Yep, in the middle of summer; I distinctly thought “What the actual crap, this is July” in the dream. But snow’s become shorthand for “HAY GURL, THINKIN BOUT U” with us, so I was more fondly exasperated by it than surprised, overall.

And this morning, after finishing that post while studiously ignoring the waves of sadness rolling off of Him, I grumbled myself to sleep. He was waiting for me there, of course. We went up to Hlidskjalf together–the view was astonishing, but I was more than a little terrified by the height–and then, somehow, we ended up taking the form of eagles, soaring on the air currents, dipping and weaving around each other in an unexpectedly playful way.

I won’t say that everything’s completely fine a hundred percent of the time; we’ve hurt each other badly in a thousand little ways, and coming to trust after that is difficult on the best of days. But it’s moments like these that make me think that, yes, we can make it through the hard parts and build something better. Hope, after all, has wings like the eagle. <3

The Wheel: The Old Man

And here we are at the post I’ve been wanting to write the least. So much so that I’ve been doing anything and everything to distract myself from having to think about it. And now I’ve frittered the whole night away, and I still have to write the thing. (On the bright side, though, I did manage to rack up a pretty impressive solitaire winning streak in the process. :P )

So yeah. Enough procrastination, then. Let’s talk about Odin.

~

I’ve found I’m really bothered by the two major schools of thought for dealing with conflicts between deities and mortals. First, we have the “Suck it up and deal because They’re Gods and you’re not and also MOAR PIETY” paradigm; on the other end of the spectrum, we’re advised to “Dump The Motherfucker Already.” And that’s basically all there is out there.

The problem I have is that both of these viewpoints leverage all the blame for whatever’s happening onto one party or the other, with very little room for a more nuanced view of the situation: in the former case, it’s all the mortal’s fault for not being “devoted enough”; in the latter, the God is being a dickhead just for the lulz or the evulz and needs to be kicked to the curb forthwith.

Now, there are certainly cases where one or the other of these can be helpful–relationships with non-corporeal beings are not exempt from being fucked up, unfortunately–but, as in mortal-mortal relationships, the truth usually lies somewhere between the two extremes. And so I really wish I could say “Hey, Odin and I keep being awful to each other in different ways, and now we’re stuck in a positive feedback loop of shitty feelings, so how can we stop doing that?” and get some decent advice that doesn’t fall into one of those two categories.

It’s like we’re both trying to find a way in with each other, and nothing’s working the way we expect it to. And then we both get frustrated and snarky and say and do things that set the whole process back even further.

I think He’s used to being able to waltz into someone’s life and rearrange the furniture however He wants, so to speak. And I get pissed off because, hey, the couch is over on that side of the room for a reason, and Your easy chair is blocking access to the closet, and dear Gods You do not get to put Your muddy boots up on the table, were You raised in a fucking barn?

It doesn’t help, either, that I feel so isolated with all of this. His devotees tend to be… intense, to put it mildly, with Him unequivocally at the center of their lives, and all other relationships falling into orbit around Him. And then there’s me, with two other Husbands, several Lovers, and zero interest in giving any of Them up to try to fit into some predetermined mold.

So how exactly do I proceed, then? He has definite ideas about what He wants, but I change my mind about what I think of Him, what I want from Him, on a daily–sometimes hourly–basis. There’s a thorny, complicated snarl of feelings with His name on it lodged in my heart, and it bites back when I poke at it too hard. It would be so much easier to just hate Him, or just love Him, but when has anything involving Odin ever been simple?

Negotiations are ongoing–particularly since Gwydion’s not best pleased with certain incidents that have occurred this year, and is using that as leverage. Odin’s lobbying hard for an official Midgard-side wedding, with vows a little more definite than “Well, if we don’t end up killing each other by the end of the week, we’ll call it a success and proceed from there.” The word “lavish” has been used to describe the event, which makes me feel itchy and put-upon just contemplating it, and the time frame to prepare for all this is more than a little panic-inducing. And I still don’t know how I feel about it–or Him, for that matter.

Apparently there are Reasons why making things official sooner rather than later is important. I can sort of deal with it, maybe, if I think of this as an alliance necessitated by politics and expediency. But at the end of the day, I’ll still be stuck with Him. And I know that He’s interested in more than mere dutiful tolerance from me.

So where does that leave me? In a strange and difficult place, wishing for a simple solution that’s not likely to appear. I’m not sure if I want advice or not; I’m not sure what advice anyone could give, honestly. But now I’ve written this, messy and uncomfortable though it is, and maybe it’s the first step on the road to something better.

And that’s the only way to get anywhere, really: step by step, even when you can’t see what’s in front of you.

The Wheel: Flamehair

Astute readers of this blog may have realized at some point that I’m not participating in the Month for Loki project this July–and, further, that it hasn’t exactly been the All Loki, All the Time show around here for a while.

There are a couple of reasons for this. First off, due to various circumstances, I don’t have the energy or mental bandwidth to engage in extended writing projects right now. Among other things, my digestive system recently decided to be all “LOL, fuck you :D ” about certain foods that were previously fine for me, so on top of the sheer fun of repeated gastrointestinal shenanigans, there’s also a lot of flailing about as I try to narrow down exactly what I can and cannot eat now–not to mention that I’m also trying to figure out if this is a permanent condition, or if it’ll improve as various other (Elsewhere-related) Stuff and Things also settle down. So, as you can see, I’m shutting down a bunch of non-essential background tasks to help conserve battery power. :P

More to the point, though, I’ve been feeling really cranky and resentful lately about being a public Lokispouse. There’s a whole set of expectations about that particular role that, consciously or not, gets built up in people’s minds, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, I find myself becoming more and more frustrated with those perceptions–to the point where, even with constant reminders to myself that the public face is not the private reality, it’s started to affect my relationship with Him in some not so great ways, and that’s not something I’m prepared to tolerate.

So I’ve been pulling back a lot because of that. There’s a lot of stuff that Loki and I are working through right now, and frankly, this process is not the sort of thing that would benefit from other people’s involvement, however well-intentioned it might be. We haven’t broken up, and I’m not angry with Him, in case anyone’s concerned; we just need to focus on Us for the foreseeable future. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll resume more regular blogging about Him at some point; that’s going to depend, I suppose, on how this process turns out and what we decide is going to be most healthy for our relationship in the long term. Further bulletins will be provided as events warrant. :)

In the meantime, have some lighthearted frivolity we’ve been snickering over lately–AKA the reason the word “boner” is being used even more frequently in our household than usual. Also “PHENOMENAL.” And “BABAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR.”

 

The Wheel: The Gentleman

How hard it is to talk about the most important things. Especially since Gwydion’s so easy to be silent with, letting the deeper meanings underneath all those words I love to hide behind drift between us like tides from one shore to another.

I could describe Him to you: the graceful curve of His hands as He gestures to emphasize a point. His eyes, the blue of oceans, the green of forests, the gray of storm clouds. The way His cheek rasps against mine in the morning before He’s had a chance to shave. He winces when I try to pronounce anything in Welsh, and has Opinions about the way certain events in the Mabinogi really took place. He chain-smokes when He’s stressed, likes pigs a suspicious amount, and flatly refuses to drink any wine that comes from a box.

But all of that is what He’s like, not what He is. And what He is, more than anything else, is Mine. Mine, the way I’m His.

Some nights, that’s the only word that passes between us, gasped into the stolen intervals between kiss and kiss. Mine. Mine. Mine. O most precious, my dear one. My hand, my heart. MINE.

There’s a distinction in many other languages that English lacks: the difference between having something that you can use, break, sell, discard, leave behind, lose, forget; and having something that’s too deeply a part of you to ever be torn away.

It’s a nuance that could bring clarity to so many debates about what it means to be owned by a God, particularly given the scandalized fascination with slavery and BDSM that inevitably seems to creep into these discussions. Sometimes, it’s really not about any of that at all, but as I said, it’s hard to talk about what’s most important. I can try, though.

~

I’d like you to be My ambassador, He said one day, apropos of nothing much, with a small smile that didn’t fade even when I smugly informed Him that that word was clearly French in origin and so He couldn’t possibly given me the correct term for whatever it was He wanted from me.

I didn’t remain smug for long, though. An etymological perusal revealed that the word ambassador is ultimately derived from the Celtic word ambactos–servant, follower, vassal. And as an added bonus, the name of one of Gwydion’s Brothers, Amaethon the Great Plowman, comes from the same root, as well.

He didn’t gloat, exactly–He never does–but His satisfaction at my realization was palpable nonetheless.

But what answer could I give? At that point, our trust in each other had only just been rebuilt to a workable level, the wounds we’d sustained raw and barely clotted over. His offer appealed to me, more than I wanted to admit, but my heart was still bruised; even though what had happened hadn’t been His fault, there was still enough lingering uncertainty that handing myself over to Him so utterly seemed too much of a risk.

He gave me time to reach my decision, though–which mostly meant that He held me gently while I fought within myself. I wrestled with the endless shadows that wore His face–rapist, liar, betrayer, user–bringing down each one with my bare hands until there was nothing left but Him, and me, and the only answer that made sense anymore: yes, and yes, and always, ten thousand times, yes.

~

I wear no collar for Him, nor any other mark so obvious to most who’d think to look. The direct commands He’s given me could be counted on one hand, with fingers to spare. We have no set rules for how we interact, no protocols of proper behavior to follow to the letter.

And yet I call Him my King, my Lord. He is the only Power I’ll kneel before, and His hand resting on my head is a better reward for this devotion than the gold and jewels of all the Worlds combined. He owns me as surely and completely as He owns the blood in His veins, His exquisitely formed hands, the heart that beats so unerringly in His chest, and cares for me in kind.

Mine. So many layers of meaning in such a small word. But no other could come close to something so important, so utterly essential:

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine, as I am His; His, as He is Mine. Always.

Three Signs for the New Week (July 27, 2015)

The cards: The Sun, Queen of Shapeshifters (reversed), The Hierophant (reversed)

What Gwydion has to say:

Do not be sad. It is painful to set aside the beliefs that have held you up for so long, yes. But there is freedom and joy to be found in shedding them when they have become too small and restrictive for your continued growth. It is no bad thing to mourn what is ending–so weep, if you need to. But when the tears have passed, trust that you will know delight again, as you trust that the sun will always rise, no matter how long and dread the night.

This week’s reading is meant for someone besides me (I got the “no, seriously, take better care of yourself” message again, lucky me :P ), so I hope it reaches its intended recipient and provides some comfort during a trying time. <3

Wheel of Hearts

It still feels presumptuous, so much of the time, to mention that I have more than one Beloved. It would be so much simpler to hold up just one of Them as the center of my life, the hearth I’ve built my heart around, and say This, this is my place, and I will not be moved from it.

But there is always movement, one way or another. I can cling to a stubborn certainty as the earth trembles and batters me bloody against the very thing I seek solace from. Or I can put myself at the center, with all of Them radiating out from me, spokes on a wheel of hearts eternally turning, helping to move the Worlds in their ponderous dance through the ages.

And that’s the point, it seems. Like it or not, I’m responsible for more than just myself now. I look at this Realm, at other Realms, and see the scars of wars and upheavals, both large and small, that they’ve endured. So much pain, so many of those wounds still fresh and bleeding. So much to be done that it’s hard to know where to begin.

Not all of the damage is mine to repair, of course; no one person could hope to make a dent in it, even in a thousand lifetimes. But I can spin my own wheel, help keep the spokes strong and true on this journey, and maybe everything will move that small bit farther along.

It’s only an analogy, and a flawed one at that. And I still feel presumptuous talking about being poly, or afraid that people will see it as a gimmick (“Oh yes, Seren’s famous Man-harem,” with a wink and a nod and a roll of the eyes), and ignore the rest of what I have to say.

But listen: Is there truly such an excess of love that we can dismiss it as easily as the air we breathe? Or is it such a precious commodity that we must save and scrimp and hoard it jealously as a dragon’s jewels? It flows back and forth between the Worlds in threads of gold, binding us closer than Wyrd ever could. There is more love around us than we could ever dream possible; and yet there is always a need for more. More, of every kind: the sweet and the painful, the simple and the complex, the passionate and the gentle, the innocent and the erotic.

So where is the shame in this love, though it be built by many hands? I know I’ve become tired of hiding it away and making excuses for it, as though it’s some eccentric relative tolerated solely for the sake of keeping peace in the family.

And so, for the last few days this month, I’ll be introducing–or reintroducing, as the case may be–my Beloveds to you all. This will be easier for some of Them than Others; likewise, a few have been around for years, while one of Them has only been known to me for a few weeks (well, consciously, at least–it’s complicated). There’s a lot I want to write about–including some things that are threatening to split my head in two if I don’t give them an outlet soon–but so much of it hinges on these relationships that it’s the only way to start.

Love: where it all begins and ends. I hope you’ll join me in this exploration. <3

Three Signs for the New Week (July 20, 2015)

The cards: 10 of Four-Leggeds, Temperance (reversed), Page of Winged Ones (reversed)

What Gwydion has to say:

Trouble staying grounded this week? No wonder–just look at what’s been going on around you. Take the time to process and integrate everything you’ve experienced recently before rushing into anything new, no matter how tempting it may sound. Unless you’re properly rested, there’s no possibility of coping with any additional input right now. So nurture yourself, damn it–preferably before you’re forced to when you keel over from exhaustion.

*grumblemutter* Well, I won’t say He’s wrong about this. Especially since this is the second time I’ve gotten the “take care of yourself” message from Him in the past few days, and certain recent events have left me wrung out on every possible level to the extent that I’d like nothing better than to curl up in bed and sleep away the next month or two. But I still reserve the right to complain about His common sense, as usual. :P

Three Signs for the New Week (July 13, 2015)

The cards: Page of Ancients (reversed), 6 of Ancients, Ace of Ancients (reversed)

What Gwydion has to say:

Even with everything in your life spiraling out of control, you can still be the calm, still place within it: the center of the storm. In this way, you will accomplish your goals and triumph over any obstacles that appear in your path. Beware of the temptation to get pulled into drama along the way, however; your emotions are not your friend this week, particularly as they pertain to other people. Bite your tongue and sit on any blisteringly-worded missives until you have a chance to calm down and look at things more rationally. Yes, even if someone on the internet is wrong. Especially then. People will continue to hash out the same dozen topics in the sickly glow of their computer screens and think that they’re accomplishing something; but you know your purpose better than that, don’t you? Walk away, and continue the Work.

Have a great week, everyone, but listen to the Gentleman and watch out for those flamewars. ;)

Three Signs for the New Week (July 6, 2015)

The cards: 9 of Four-Leggeds (reversed), The Fool (reversed), Temperance (reversed)

What Gwydion has to say:

There are times when nothing in our life works out quite the way we want it to. This is one of those times. Instead of bashing your head against the problem uselessly, give it a little space and work on something else for a while. You’ve been overcomplicating everything through your insistence that this situation turn out a certain way; loosen your grip, take a few deep breaths, and reevaluate things when you’re calmer. It’s not like all of this is going to explode if you don’t watch it every second, you know.

The snark has spoken, everybody. :P His actual response was the energetic equivalent of an eye-roll and some muttered expletives, so I took the liberty of translating it into words (with Him vetting the the resulting message, of course). Also a lot of His attitude relates to current circumstances in my own life, so there’s that to take into account, too.

A Lighthearted but Entirely Earnest Summation of Certain Ongoing Events in this Blogger’s Life, Provided with Absolutely No Context or Explanation Whatsoever

Gifs and videos ahoy–provided behind the cut for courtesy.

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