the voice from here and beyond
They are here. They are real.
They are whispering
again
They are whispering
props and objects
sacred and profane
whispering my name
They are whispering
again
the things I have collected
have been entrusted with
to care for and love
They are whispering
I am moving my worldly goods. Bags are being packed, boxes stacked high. My things, and the things that have claimed me, are talking. As the world is sorted into “may not get to see until the fall or later,” “things that will be living part time with me” and “things I will travel with,” it is interesting to hear them talk.
They know better than me, I think, the work that will be being done in the coming months.
Anything belonging to Baphomet is out, and ready to go.
Peacocks, Ganesha, Lakshmi, Tiamat, Nuit, Naga. Serpent, Eagle, Raven, Beaver, Deer. Deep Ocean.
Beautiful Mother, my Patron, my Matron, my Owner… Bear.
My spine is creeping. My ears are burning. The winds of change move across my skin, and I time travel again. I feel rivers lapping at the back of my mind, and black leather wings sprouting. I feel fangs and soft caresses. I see the labyrinth, so soon, so soon.
I hear them whispering.
They are whispering because they know.
Over the years, I have been taking images of Gods and Goddesses as they appear before my lens. Here are a handful that I am sharing here with the world… I am grateful for each and every model, and for each and every deity that spoke through them…
I am sitting with a thing called Mystery.
When we work with Mysteries, with things not published in books and magical tools not yet analyzed under the neon light of critical analysis, sometimes the reflections feel… feel core? Feel true? Feel.
So tonight I am sitting with a thing called Mystery.
Last week I went to a temple space, set off from the road by an open field with a few statues. I went to a temple after visiting a smaller temple, and at the second temple found a space within a space. In that temple within a temple I found a River, I cast my lot upon the Altar, and we held hands and dived in.
This is a thing called Mystery. Do we write of Mystery? Do we put pen to paper and process? Do we set the map down for others to follow? Do we speak of bone and form and plane in a way that makes the Material and the Mana become as one? Or do we stay silent?
There are many Paths to the lands of the dead, many Paths to the stars. We worked within and between, we dove deep into one. I handed over keys, I tied lines, the Priestess before me cast the circle and set the protections. We dove in. What else could we do?
It is deeply refreshing to work with those who are working at the same level as us I think, or are further on the path. A few months back I sent a book outline to three folks who I was considering collaborating with. One said it looked amazing, and wasn’t sure what they could add. One said that there was nothing to add, and that they would love to help co-write. The third said that it was good, but needed some serious reorganization and that it needed some additional thought, but that they could be game to be part of the project if they thought we could work well together and within their crazy schedule. It is deeply refreshing to work with those who are playing at our level. Let me not settle. Please Gods, let me not settle.
So I didn’t settle. I sat with the Priestess under flickering lights as hearts open wide and we drank deep of our open wills. Our open minds. Dance with me. Tell me more. I am open to your Transmission of Truth, I am open to hear your words and see your forms. See me here. See me here. See us both here at the river’s edge and let us dive in.
I am sitting with a thing called Mystery.
For two days and three nights we worked in the Temple within a Temple. Each night we cast the circle, we dove deep, we worked in and out and through. Each morning we slept, and each afternoon we woke, processed, decompressed, and shared collective memory to the page.
When we work with Mystery this is important. To recall. To share. To see what was dream and what was shared dream. To understand the lines between our own perceptions and shared reality. What was our understanding of what Revelation meant? What words will we use to untangle the truths from beyond the veil? Let me not forget. Let me not transpose. Let us not look back three years from now and use the technology in a way that will not function, that might explode. Esoteric Technology, Magic as it is often called, is indeed Technology. And I have no interest in blowing out my own mind. My own spirit. These things must be done the right way… lest we lose ourselves and the machines we have made.
This is, after all, what Books of Shadows are for. Journals. Tomes. Grimoires. These are not just for finished technology, but for our experiments. If I do not recall the details of my experiments, even the failed ones, especially the failed ones, I am far more likely to repeat my learning curve time and time again. Oh, and as a note to self- remember to go back and look at the ones of the past when doing each line of research.
So here it is. So here we were. So then I am. Time folds as I look back on two days and three nights, because it must. Because Monday night is also just over five years ago. I touched her life deeply so that she might touch mine. We are chrononauts. Time is now. Yesterday is Tomorrow. We fold, we dance between the veils.
This is my shroud of death. This is the petition of my former self. For even in death the woman I was will not lay still.
This is a thing called Mystery. The Mystery of death. Of a place beyond death, for here, look at me, I am still walking. She died when I was 16. She died when I was 26. Will I die when I am 36? If so, then so be it, for I do not fear the waters of the Styx. For on the other side of the veil she that was me is waiting… and I am free to do my work on this side.
2 years ago I had a plan to do an art show called “Wake: The Erotic Life and Times of Bridgett Harrington.” I sat with a curator, we sorted through stacks and boxes and files. We catalogued artifacts of my life, her life… the life of the woman I was. And- I could not. I had medical adventures and sorrows deep and I could not hold this Wake.
And I do not need to. Because she who I was is dead and yet still working. By her passing beyond the veil the essential essence of who I was and who I am still has doubled in its’ capacity. She will work and I will work and the world will be better for it. I asked for more hours in a day and I have been given it. I asked for more capacity to do the Work given to my spirit and I have been given it.
Our reason for working, the Priestess and I, had nothing to do with the Mysteries of death and this work beyond the veil. But the reality is, we cannot do the deeper working if there are heaps and piles of Work that lay between us and our goals. I cannot unlock my potential if the door before me is inaccessible. Yes, the key was in my hand… and yet I could not reach the door!
What is in the way of your doorway? What is in the way of mine? I drink deep and I roll up my sleeves. I stack, I sort, I cry, I wail, I plea. I sweep, and clean the way to my heart. Let me find a route to my essence. Here, see me. I carry in my hands the weapons I need to fight my way. I carry in my hands the coins to pay my way. I carry in my hands the maps to find my way. I carry in my hands the secrets to bribe my way. Let me clear the way. Let us all clear our ways. The keys are NOT enough.
I am sitting with a thing called Mystery.
This is precise working. Both the Mystery work itself and the processing and sharing afterwards. I have pages of notes. They are in my tongue, my symbol set. I can only work in the symbol set of those I am sculpting reality and body for. And yet, here we share with the world at large, every one of us. Thinking that we each are communicating.
I am sitting with words that Tannin Schwatzstein once said to me as a joke. “Just because you have gone to the Underworld does not make you a deathworker, any more than going to a Garage makes you a car.” Yes, I know it is based off a similar Christian–based quote. And here I sit… not a deathworker.
I am river-working. I am star-working. I am plane-working. I see wrinkles upon wrinkles and within each wrinkle is a star.
I am shadow-working. I am love-working. I am form-working. I feel blood within blood and within each drop of blood is a truth.
Two days and three nights. Pages of notes. Bruises. A difference of shape as I look in the mirror. Understanding. How do we measure the effect of a Mystery? How do we determine quality of time spent? Work undertaken? Work completed?
I measure it in this thing called me. I measure it with I AM. I measure it in the knowing on an essential level. These were three nights well spent. These were two days well spent. These days were years ago and are a number of years from now as well. These days are within days, a temple within a temple. These are tiniest of athames, smallest of wands. These are truths unfolding, yet to have their ripples hit the river’s edge. And oh, how they will ripple.
I am grateful for collaboration and reflection. I am grateful for new skills, and passing on my own to those who are working with others who need them. This is the truth of interstitial collaboration- that together we make something that apart could never have been dreamed.
Dream me.
Dream Mystery, and give it form.
Give yourself Form, crafted from your map, your essence… you deserve it. We deserve it. The world deserves us in our greatness.
Let the Dead Part Ways
I taste you wet on my skin
I taste you shadowy river lapping at my mind
You pass through me
Over me
Under me
I taste you wet on my skin
You pass through me as you pass through Turkey
Become Firat
You pass through me as you pass through Iraq
Become al-Furat
You pass through me as you pass through Syria
Become Prath
I taste you wet on my skin
You are many tongued
Lapping at my mind
Perth
Yep’rat
Euphrates
I taste you wet on my skin
Kiss me sister of Tigris
Kiss me shining blackness and palm fronds
I taste you wet on my skin
I taste you shadowy river lapping at my mind
You pass through me
Over me
Under me
I taste you wet on my skin
I am wet with you
I am wet with your kisses
I am soaked through
Leannan the Living
Leannan of Earth
Of dust
Of dirt
Of fur and cum
I am soaked through
I am wet with you
I am wet with your kisses
I am soaked through
Leannan the Dead
Leannan of Water
Of tears
Of blood
Of moans and sighs
I am soaked through
We part here
Leannan and Leannan
Living and Dead
Earth and Water
Dust and tears
Dirt and blood
We part ways here
For we are soaked through
And she paddles away
I taste you wet on my skin
I taste you shadowy river lapping at my mind
You pass through me
Over me
Under me
You pass through me
and I taste you wet on my skin
Opening Moves
(learning each other’s dances)
Temple within temple I welcome you
Temple within temple we cast the protections
We turn
We turn
We spin
Writhing tentacles, writhing beasts
Opening under the hallowed words
Welcomed under the temple’s eye
How does one reflect back
Two days three nights work
In words where you are there lapping at my thigh?
I hand you my key
I bind blood to blood, thigh to thigh
We drink deep
Words flowing like the water you are
We drink deep
Eye to eye and heart to heart
Welcomed under the temple’s eye
Let us dance back
Two days three nights work
With our works there lapping at my thigh
Measure me by weights and scales
Measure me by my deeds and capacity
Measure me as we drink deep and measure again
Welcomed under the temple’s eye
Open me wide
Open me wider
Open me up
Open
We glimpse into the water
And know how to dance
It a room lit with candles, surrounded by mandalas, I was joined this Saturday by 12 other souls, 13 of us in total, to explore a new rite- Awakening The Ruby Pentacle. Honor-Integrity-Discipline-Responsibility-Purpose. Inspired by Saturday, I share the story of unfolding, and details about, The Ruby Pentacle.
(For those only interested in the details of the Ruby Pentacle, and not the story or other Pentacle Working, scroll down to the topic line “The Ruby Pentacle” below)
I have been exploring Feri Tradition and some of its spin-off concepts for a few years now. In February 2008 I sat and heard T. Thorn Coyle speak for the first time, and was blown away. Not only is she intelligent, but she resonated with a cord of what had been working inside me for some time. That day she introduced me to the Iron Pentacle, and my world was transformed.
Within Feri Tradition, and its offshoots and inspirations, there are many different pentacles that are seen to energetically flow through our astral bodies. Though, mind you, I am only describing this work from my own perspective, with language that others within Feri might disagree with or find to be far differently phrased then they would describe it. So be it- Feri is… many things.
As I sat with, danced with, and felt the Iron Pentacle resonate through my body, I was struck by a number of different things. The first was that my energetic body ran backwards compared to what Thorn was teaching. I had already had challenges with some forms of Tantra, trying to run energy in specific directions- only to find that it worked better going “widdershins” as it were. But Thorn, when she asked if others had questions or comments, I asked if it was weird that my pentacle ran down to my left foot from my crown, rather than down to my right. She looked and me and simply asked “are you from Australia?” I blinked and answered yes, as my energetic body is very much rooted in New South Wales, and she said “fair enough then- it flows the same direction as water down a drain.”
Secondly, that first day of working with the Iron Pentacle shook me up around the notion of balance, and finding a middle space. The five points of the Pentacle are Sex – Pride – Self – Power – Passion. Having any one of these be too small is a thing that is not sought after… nor any one of them being too hyper-manifested. That notion really took me on a journey into my own work.
So here I am, sitting with Pentacles. I am sitting with, and called to share my work with Pentacles, as well as to point folks towards resources of other Pentacles beyond my own. Beyond what I have found within myself and others.
There are many pentacles that have been explored by other Feri, and those who have been touched or affected by the work of Victor and Cora Anderson:
Iron Pentacle (explored in Veedub’s book/download, Thorn’s book, and Storm Faerywolf’s site):
Sex – Pride – Self – Power – Passion
Pearl Pentacle (explored in Veedub’s book, Thorn’s book, and Storm Faerywolf’s site):
Love – Law (I use Order) – Knowledge – Liberty (some say Power) – Wisdom
Blessing Pentacle (explored in Veedub’s book):
Devotion – Truth – Radiance – Grace – Blessing
Amethyst Pentacle (unveiled by Storm Faerywolf, and explored here):
Innocence – Desire – Awakening – Identity – Expression
Quartz Pentacle (introduced to me by a gentlefey named Greg):
Compassion – Harmony – Patience – Forgiveness – Gratitude
Rust Pentacle (explored in Thorn’s book):
Impotence – Shame – Deprecation – Powerlessness – Apathy
Gilded Pentacle (explored in Thorn’s book):
Greed – Arrogance – Egotism – Force – Obsession
Warrior Pentacle (Introduced by Thorn):
Commitment – Honor – Truth – Strength – Compassion
Water Pentacle (Introduced by Awen Stormfool on her blog):
Expansion – Becoming – The Source – Allowing – Guidance
And there are very likely others I am unaware of.
But something had been whispering to me. I listen to whispers. I listen across the veil, and I especially listen when cosmic clue-by-fours appear in my world. The cosmic clue-by-four in this case was Jack Malebranche’s (now Donovan) work, Androphilia: Rejecting the Gay Identity, Reclaiming Masculinity. I was one week post-hysterectomy, and the book literally appeared on my bed, thanks to a friend who saw of me and bought it at Bookman’s. Given that this book was a small distribution and is out of print, and that it now tends to retail for around $100 it turns out… I don’t believe in coincidence, we’ll just say that for now. Mind you, parts of the book pissed me off… but the best cosmic post it notes often do.
I had been exploring my place within men’s community and culture for some time. Debating that notion about “Boy” identity as compared to “Man” identity as someone on a distinct and unique gender journey. Where do I fit, within the world of men’s mysteries as a man with a history as a woman, a creature who has walked between, beyond, and through a variety of genders and gender expressions so far this lifetime. I had gotten a big ole’ cosmic post-it note in the past few months that having trained in my younger years in some women’s mysteries working, I was to acknowledge, thank and let go of much of my emotional and practical attachment to that (though retain the information should I be invited back as a guest, IE if women’s groups need someone to do god-form possession work but only allow in folks with Yonis), so that I could move forward as a man in this chapter.
So I started asking, what makes a “man” in our culture. I had fantastic conversations across occult, magical and pagan traditions on the topic (and continue to), and really sat with them. Isaac Bonewitzs’ boyhood into manhood initiatory theories. Ivan Richmond and Don Jon discussing the notions of verification, creation, and testing to find resonance rather than destruction. I sat with men in their 60s and guys just coming of age… and then Jack Malebranche’s work kicked me in the ass and I stopped sitting- that in combination with some pretty intense ordeal working and tribal vision working I went through.
The Ruby Pentacle is what manifested out of that working. And when Slave Caroline asked what I wanted to do at Our Place, the sacred dedicated space at SouthWest Leather, the answer was simple. I wanted to pass on the Ruby Pentacle, which I also consider the Leather Pentacle.
My personal explorations had found that Iron Pentacle worked resonated with my Vivi/Fetch/Body Consciousness/Physical Soul the most. Pearl resonated with my Emi/Talker/Mind Consciousness/Mental Soul the most. But when it came to my Ori/Daemon/God Consciousness/Spiritual Soul, I hit an interesting wall. The Blessing Pentacle, proposed by Veedub as being resonant… did not resonate for me. It was Yin, and my body cried for Yang as a base resonant system. And with the Ruby Pentacle, I found that Yang balance to the Yin- Devotion/Honor – Truth/Integrity – Radiance/Discipline – Grace/Responsibility – Blessing/Purpose.
But here I was, less than a week before SouthWest Leather Conference, and I realized that unlike the Iron and Amethyst Pentacles, that were firmly rooted within my energetic form, the Ruby Pentacle still felt like a theory, a concept, a tingle… a thing I knew to be true but not awake within myself to its potential. And how can I pass something onto others if I myself don’t believe it? It’s why I don’t teach a few of my classes anymore, because it’s not honest, invested and true. It is not from the core of me. And as a guru and teacher, how can I pass on that which I do not myself have the capacity to stand behind?
So I set aside 12 hours, and cast my circle. I set my space and did the work I needed to do to traverse within, without, and between. I did academic research before, I created index cards full of words and resonant concepts, I dived into theory… and then danced into practice. Because it is not enough to know. One must feel. One must experience. Or else it’s just theory.
I am grateful that I did, because I discovered something fascinating about the directionality of energetic movement. At least, I found it fascinating and useful. Mind you, I also said “duh”- because sometimes the simplest truths are the ones we didn’t notice before.
In most of the witchcraft I have done since I was a child, and in my working within Christian tradition as well, the bulk of energetic working comes vertically. It either roots down through our feet and into the earth, or is reaching up to the heavens. Or, it comes up from the earth, or down from the heavens. It is ascendant in nature, or descendant. It is vertical in one way or another.
Both of the Pentacles that I had anchored in my body, Iron and Amethyst, are vertical energetically. The Iron Pentacle is pulled up from the iron core of the earth, while the Amethyst Pentacle pulls down from ascendant Gods or Spirits up in higher astral realms. I tried and tried and tried and could not get the Ruby to anchor from anywhere…
Until I lay down and reached out horizontally. I found Honor facing me in the eyes of leatherfolk I knew and trusted. I found Integrity in the form of my mother. I found Discipline staring me down from authors whose dedication I respect profoundly. I found Responsibility in the faces of parents whose every day capacity blows me away. And I found Purpose echoing back in the eyes of other spirit workers and people of faith I admire.
We are all God. Namaste, I see god in you, is not just a pet saying. We are all God, literally. For most Hindus, maya, or illusion, is a thing to overcome so that we can become as gods, be fully energetically ourselves and see beyond the veil that falls over our eyes. But what if we choose to not fear the maya before us, but understand it as lila? Lila is the Hindu notion (thank you Silence Maestas for turning me onto this notion) that we can acknowledge that there is maya present, and thus every time we see someone or something new, our beloved, our Divine, our God, is there in a new form. That we play hide and seek with Deity and Essence.
Thus, I am opened up to a new direction of finding divine inspiration. Not just from up or down, but side to side. Side by side. I stand side by side with the deity in each of you that is each of you. And if that is the case, you can help awaken divinity in me, and I in you. And by becoming the most “me” that I can be, I help increase the presence of divinity on this plane, and beyond.
And then I came back, ate a quesadilla, enjoyed some horchata, and did laundry. Because this is the way of such things.
The Ruby Pentacle
Honor – Integrity – Discipline – Responsibility – Purpose
Within our bodies there are five major energetic centers that root information around the periphery of our form. The Chakras run down the center of us, from our Root up to our Crown, but we also have a second set, that wraps around our beings in a circle. If we stand in the form of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, arms outstretched and legs apart, our bodies form the shape of a pentacle. Our head is the first point of the pentacle, than a foot, the opposing hand, the other hand, the opposing foot, and back to the head. Which foot goes “first” is dependent upon the flow of our energetic forms… mine, based down under, flows to my left foot, while most Americans I meet flow to their right foot.
There is an energetic center within each of these five points. The first is located in our head- for some a spot at the third eye, for others just above the top of their head, and I have met some whose head-point is located at their cranial occiput (that little divot at the back of the scull).
Find here, resonating the focus of Honor. For those who cannot feel theirs, for it is slumbering, take this piece of ruby that I hold out, or this piece of the leather of my own Pentacle. I am not a font of this, I am not gifting it to you. You must still earn it… but sometimes we just need a spark of inspiration to find our own fire burning in the distance.
Honor is known by many names:
Dignity
Character
Nobility of the Soul
Duty
Virtuous Conduct
That which we measure against our conscious
Our social contract
Ethical Excellence
When we are without Honor, we walk in Shame. When we are overfilled with Honor, we are blinded by Hubris. Neither serves us on the fullness of our journey and potential.
Feel your Honor beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Once Honor is rooted in our energetic body, take a line of crystalline structure, glowing deep red, or a leather lash from the polished Honor you have found, and drawn a line down to your foot. Again, this will be the right foot on most westerners, left on those south of the equator… but follow what your energetic body tells you.
Find here, resonating the focus of Integrity. This may be at the toes, or just below the foot, or at its center, or at the ankle.
Integrity is known by many names:
Consistency of Actions
Following our values, measures and principles
Honesty
Truthfulness
To be an Integer, whole and complete
When we are without Integrity, we walk in Disgrace or Hypocrisy. When we are overfilled with Integrity, we are blinded by Absolutism. Neither serves us on the fullness of our journey and potential.
Feel your Integrity beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Once Integrity is rooted in our energetic body, take a line of crystalline structure, glowing deep red, or a leather lash from the polished Integrity you have found, and drawn a line down to your opposing hand. This will be the left hand on most westerners, right on those south of the equator… but follow what your energetic body tells you.
Find here, resonating the focus of Discipline. This may be at the fingertips, inside the palm, at the wrist, or just outside the frame of the hand.
Discipline is known by many names:
Self-Mastery
Will or Willpower
Order
Self-Control
Contribution
Follow-through
Motivation
Cultivation
Determination
When we are without Discipline, we walk in Negligence. When we are overfilled with Discipline, we are blinded by Abuse, of ourselves and others, by ourselves or others. Neither serves us on the fullness of our journey and potential.
Feel your Discipline beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Once Discipline is rooted in our energetic body, take a line of crystalline structure, glowing deep red, or a leather lash from the polished Integrity you have found, and drawn a line down to your other hand, feeling the line cross over your heart. This will be the right hand on most westerners, left on those south of the equator… but follow what your energetic body tells you.
Find here, resonating the focus of Responsibility. This may be at the fingertips, inside the palm, at the wrist, or just outside the frame of the hand.
Responsibility is known by many names:
Accountability (for one’s actions and decisions)
Obligation (Moral and Mortal)
Reliability
Dependability
Answerability
When we are without Responsibility, we walk in Irresponsibility. When we are overfilled with Responsibility, we are blinded by Compulsion or Preoccupation. Neither serves us on the fullness of our journey and potential.
Feel your Responsibility beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Once Responsibility is rooted in our energetic body, take a line of crystalline structure, glowing deep red, or a leather lash from the polished Integrity you have found, and drawn a line down to your opposing foot. This will be the left foot on most westerners, right on those south of the equator… but follow what your energetic body tells you.
Find here, resonating the focus of Purpose. This may be at the toes, or just below the foot, or at its center, or at the ankle.
Purpose is known by many names:
Ambition
Drive
Desire
Our life’s Mission
Guiding Ideals
Passion
Our Reason for Being
Our “Great Work”
When we are without Purpose, we walk Adrift or full of Apathy. When we are overfilled with Purpose, we are blinded by Obsession. Neither serves us on the fullness of our journey and potential.
Feel your Purpose beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Once Responsibility is rooted in our energetic body, take a line of crystalline structure, glowing deep red, or a leather lash from the polished Integrity you have found, and drawn a line back to your head or crown, where Honor is rooted.
Feel your Honor beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Feel your Integrity beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Feel your Discipline beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Feel your Responsibility beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Feel your Purpose beat and pulse, a beautiful ruby red or polished black leather.
Follow the ruby or leather lines, again and again, as they beat out with each breath…
Honor – Integrity – Discipline – Responsibility – Purpose
The Ruby Pentacle, awake.
I close my eyes.
Wrap her arms around me.
Faith is a mystery, the mystery of flesh known through flesh and breath and the vision of her eyes locked into mine. Dreams a conduit to her vision, her wisdom, I can feel myself sing into her service. My prayers wet on her lips, supped up by her.
To the outside world I might look the madman, for what can be said about being naked except for gold jewelry and a black bear pelt, music on repeat playing on my computer, lights off except for its glow under my fingertips and before my face. I see no conflict here- half digital mysticism, half cave paintings in blood. She and I have danced here in the space between tomorrow and the Neolithic before. She knows me well in this place, and I, her.
Breathing in, I call my body into focus. I call tender hips and incision lines into awareness. I note temperature on my skin and my tongue lit with peppermint. I feel tile beneath my toes, imprints of pack animals etched into the clay. I note the way my fur feels against hers. I breathe in, breathe out, a four count times four.
I am present in my body.
Breathing in, I call my mind into focus. I call chattering fears and beautiful dreams into awareness. I note the steadiness of my heart and my eyes perceiving feathers. I feel my inner critic’s whisper, my knowledge and uncertainty entwined in my grey matter. I note the way my mind smiles with love. I breathe in, breathe out, a four count times four.
I am present in my mind.
Breathing in, I call my spirit into focus. I call glowing rays of beingness into awareness. I note the rhythem of my energetic tides and my aura glowing about me. I feel the waves of the world upon me, the truths of divinity walking in and through my skin and sighs. I note the way my piercings echo and fingers hum. I breathe in, breathe out, a four count times four.
I am present in my spirit.
I am body-mind-spirit.
I am sex-pride-self-power-passion.
I am love-order-knowledge-liberty-wisdom.
I am innocence-desire-awakening-identity-expression.
I glow iron-pearl-amethyst.
I now hand my fingers over to body:
Kiss me feel my lips moving in knowingness tender teeth and tears as smears run down ink on my flesh I am lit up with this skin this tenderness such soreness in me such pain a dizziness as the world spins but I know this work know this will know this heat on my shoulders as the weight of her for she dances through us dances in us I am dancing spinning in my breath as I feel my lips part and weight for my tribe to enter me dance into me hold me black stars above my head as I wait for my fears of joints and capacity to melt away straining under my own lines tied off by brother hands and trance into oblivion there is work to be done
I gift my hands to mind:
How can I handle this Work I know is coming? I turn page after page and see stars there and know the lines laid out. I crawl through wet sand, feel the sun parch my fears, and know them to be my past speaking through me. I hold myself up, ruby and gold, and mourn the emerald work… and in mourning I have the capacity to move forward. In mourning I seek the power to move forward. I breathe in ruby, I breathe in, I sit up straighter. For this is the thing called LOVE- for love is the name of God, and this is writ upon my skin. This is not a metaphor. This is truth.
I pass my hands over to spirit:
We walk in the world of men, a journey into tongues and prayers. Here my call before the tower, hear my call beyond the tower. A time when words and wisdom was a single line laid out through time, a telephone to the mystic. I am prayer, we are answers. Together we know this work, Her work, the work of fur and fangs and gills and water washing across my shoulders and back into the ocean. O mama o. O breath and pain and love cast upon the stars. O shining one. O feathered one. O scaled one. O crowned one. O mama o.
I close my eyes and breathe.
I cast off my skin.
I walk into tomorrow.
I awake.
Tonight, a love of mine and I dreamed. We dreamed of lives and plans and ways of living and planning. We spun stories and debated how to make the words fly from our lips, fly from the page, fly free. We dreamed, and yet I held out caution. Held out possibilities. Held out truths of who I have been… because these things need to inform.
There are those who can dream freely, fly freely. But these truths of blood, of upbringing, of nature and nurture, hold onto me. They are my mire. They decry that I am a creature of vacillation, a creature that needs bars from time to time. I need territory within which to stomp, rage, rend.
It has been some time since that beast has ridden my skin, since I was blind in the muck. Since I raged and destroyed, slammed heads into walls and tore apart the things I hold dear. And yet I have been that creature, that mad being, that thing of unconquerable delirium. I have seen him shake the walls of heaven, rip down the gates of hell, have seen him be all he, and she, is.
Sitting with this thought, this thing in the shape of fear of destroying beauty, I put in a movie.
I put in “Sylvia.”
Just as she did in “Proof,” Gweneth Paltrow brough grace and honor to the face of madness. I did not know it would be a movie about madness… how could I have not known? How did I no know that Sylvia Plath committed suicide with her children in the next room? How did I not know of her desire for bones dashed to waves, the ocean spitting her back like a cork. The ocean did not want her, she said.
I watched and I breathed her in.
“I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time…”
— Sylvia Plath (The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath)
I breathed her in and I saw her through the mire. Saw her through my fear. Saw in her my fear and realized, dear Sylvia, sweet Sylvia… I am not you. I love you sweet Sylvia, mad Sylvia, drawn and quartered by the heat of your own heart Sylvia. And I am not you.
Dream through the muck and the mire with me. I am dreaming through the mire a love and a life and a family and a career. I am dreaming through the mire the shape of flesh to flesh and tears wiped away by steady hands. I am dreaming, and in the dreaming I birth a dream and let it fly free.
We were driving in the dark after a long day of processing, goodbyes, and a blown tire. The conversation turned to Deity and our relationships therein, God-owned and God-spouse discussing the difficulties of our respective paths, and the joys therein. She spoke of the love for her husband, disembodied though he may be, the love and bliss is real, the fights and frustrations are real. I have felt much the same over the years in my relationship with Deity myself.
I am owned. I am property. I call myself a God-slave, but it is more God-thing, God-land, a fertile place where possibilities in Her honor can take place. Things get arranged through me, no daily to do list from a single Boss. Instead the occasional work light goes off, and I am charged to do my job. I am not micromanaged.
When I was six or seven years old, mi madre asked me about a drawing I had done. It was me, about 3 inches tall, holding the hand of a large glowing Bear, almost a foot tall. What is this piece about honey? I was scared, and Bear walked me home. Mi madre gifted the piece back to me a few years back, and it hangs above my computer desk.
By that point I had seen spirits for some time. Mi madre is a crystal worker, and her mother could name her reincarnations, telling us where she was going next time before she passed away. When I was a baby pagan, I had it explained that I had The Sight through my matrilineal line- a fair enough assessment I suppose.
At a young age I was told that I would be working for the spirits when I grew up. It was my choices though that determined who I would work for. When I was violent and bit a girl on my school bus, Otter walked away. I remember when Owl flew, when Dog licked me one last time. By the time I was in my early twenties it was clear that I was meant to be a child of Bear, and Mama came to me.
Mama Bear. That’s what I call her. Because I am Hers, and also because I am her child. I oftentimes have folks assume I mean some human named Bear, the name being so prevalent in parts of my world. But no. No, I shake my head, and smile.
I have seen Her blot out the Sun, His moans escaping into Her giant maw. She is the beast that was feared in the woods by our Neolithic ancestors, cave paintings made in Her honor lest She come hungry in the night. She is terrible in Her beauty. Bear and Man have moved side by side for so long.
She is the Great Black Bear. You know Her in the sky as Ursa Major, the Big Bear. She is strength and groundedness. She slumbers when you need to hibernate to let your heart recover from great pain. She is an opener of doorways, a healer of spirits, a remover of bullshit from life to life the veil from your eyes. She whispers under her breath in the night with a low growl lest you forget that the darkness is terrible when taken for granted, including your own darkness. Don’t take yourself for granted, don’t assume it is all light, is one of Her lessons.
As a child when I saw Her, it made sense. Things make sense when magic is everywhere and we are building rockets to the moon and houses for leprechauns. When folks ask you every few weeks what you want to be when you grow up, you are given permission to dream big dreams. My dreams spoke of traveling the world for National Geographic, Sports Illustrated, camera in hand. My dreams spoke of sitting with old men with tattooed finger nails who chewed betel nut, sung of laying in the woods for weeks at a time for an elusive shot, spoke of sitting in darkness and pouring through images. I caught Her eye.
Predestination and personal choice are complex intertwined concepts in the eyes of the Gods. The shards of Deity are not just things made up by Man to understand the universe. In some cases they started that way and came into their own and grew their own personality, but others were born screaming from the night sky, the Starry Goddess seeing herself in the great mirror of night and masturbating until her flood of desire birthed the stars. Some were licked out of great salt licks by cosmic cows, others great women were cut in half for the world to be born, others uttered from an old man’s lips who longed to see the light. They are all true in their own way.
But Gods are real. They are here and present and now. Some have been forgotten, others are reborn with a new reality wrapped around them like a Tim Gunn makeover every generation when their holy books are re-translated for a new political vision. This is a tricky thing for me to sometime explain to lay folk- pagan, monotheist, or otherwise.
In the pagan community there are three major camps of reality concerning the Gods, Spirits, The Honored (and dishonored) Dead, Orisha, Sacred Souls, Fae, and more. The first states that Gods are Archetypes we are inspired by- that when we say we worship Diana, we are drawn to her strength and independence and want to invoke that energy into our life by inspiring our own inner mind using this visual. In this camp the Gods are real only insomuch as that we are real and the images in our heads help us- rituals are entirely metaphorical.
The second camp states that the Gods are Overarching Energies. At the end of the day all love Goddesses all come from THE Love Goddess, and thus working with Aphrodite is just as valid as working with Freya. The Love Goddess is real, is tangible, but the facets She takes on are not quite as important. This camp finds it perfectly acceptable to burn an effigy of Venus at their festivals, a Greco-Roman deity who valued the permanence of her sacred images and holy sites, where all statues in her honor could literally look out through her eyes- burning is not an issue because the Goddess understands our intent.
The third camp holds up a banner saying, no, really, the Gods are Real. Each one has its own personality, its own history, and like any human has a full personality. That some Gods will push your buttons, some are outright liars, some will smite you for using the wrong name with Them. That Odin and Zeus are most definitely not the same, and will get upset and even hurt if you say they are one in the same.
Now, obviously there is room for some crossover. Bear is Real, She has an attitude and a personality, but she is also an Archetype many are inspired by, and She also can be drawn upon by some as the Overarching Energy of doorway opening- and through this guise I have had a path open in my own heart towards Ganesha for example. But it is important to be clear where we stand when we discuss rituals as humans, oaths as human. Have I sworn myself to an Archetype, an Energy, or a Real entity.
I can work in metaphor and in concept, but when I say I am owned by Deity, I mean that I am OWNED by DEITY. I have met Her, have sat at Her feet, have fallen in love with Mama in ways that make my heart sing. I bitch at Her, and am not just talking at a shard of myself manifested in some strange version of Dissociative Identity Disorder. She is strange and beautiful and cranky and obtuse at times. She does not get some concepts or excuses, no matter how much I explain, because She is an old woman while still being in Her prime. Time, it works different on the other side of the veil.
I have acquired a bear skin and danced in Her flames, bloody flowers erupting on its skin. I have had Her ink tattood into my neck, a collar and a reminder to listen to Her wisdom and not pass it off as madness. I have hung on hooks unconscious from a tree and walked through the shadow doing Her work.
This is not a cop-out towards not being able to find a worthy human owner. Wow I sat with that one for a long time. No, I have had some really amazing human owners, and that is not it. The issues I have had with human owners have come up with Bear, because whether I am in relationship with Deity or human, I am still me. When I spent two years in service to Hera as a consort, I did not get to hide from my issues around dating women and romance with women. Instead I got to face them head on, with no place to hide. Even if it might have started as a “oh this might be easier, a relationship with someone who isn’t really Real…” it can get real. Really friggin’ real. And then shit needs dealt with.
Marriages to Deity need worked on too. Loving God requires spending time with Him. Negotiation, compromise, twitterpation, new relationship energy- this is all part of the dance, with any relationship. And our relationship to Deity, as pagans, Christians, Asatru, Muslims, Voudon, Feri, Jews- it is a relationship. Some of us have had Deity in our life like grandmas… we only see her once a year and she still loves us and gives us presents. Because she is our grandma. But others of us need to spend some quality time with our Gods, need to get off our asses and work on the relationship instead of just assuming it will all be okay if we ignore it. How well does that work in our mortal relationships?
We do not have to owned by Gods or married to them or be children of this or that to have a relationship with Deity. Even if we are Archtypalist Pagans we have the capacity to develop relationship. Being owned does not make me a special little snowflake- it just has me on my path. What is yours?
That said, I need to state clearly- Deity listens sometimes. I was going to say that Deity listens, but to be honest, sometimes they are busy. Sometimes they listen but need you to tough it out on your own to make you the you you need to be, I certainly have had that happen. I have been lucky that I have seen enough of the tapestry to get why some of the bad shit happened in my life. I have had my rapist sit with me and talk about why he did it, about his journey. But that aside, I need to state clearly- they listen.
Oaths matter. When we say “I am yours,” they may just take that seriously. We affect our Wyrd, our energetic bodies, our place in the tapestry, when we make oaths. I have heard people blink and wonder why they cannot have children, and I ask in return, um, could it have something to do with the fact that you swore your life to a virgin childless warrior goddess? I hear people make commitments all the time to God- if I pass this test I swear I will go to church. Scouts honor. Well, you passed the test, are you going to make good?
Verbal oaths can be binding oaths, even ones said when our dicks were hard. But we often say stupid shit when we get turned on, huh? How many folks have I met over the years that agreed to be collared by mortal lovers in the middle of sex. Um, what did I just agree to? With honorable owners and masters of the mortal ilk, there is usually space to talk this out when we are sober emotionally- but some folks take it seriously. You said you were mine!
I have certainly had relationships, both mortal and with Divinity, of the “what did I sign up for” ilk. Will you be my slave? Yes. Okay, hooray, we are done, right? True happiness accessible with a single lock. Um, why are we having miscommunications? What do you mean that is not what you think Slavery looks like?
Do we know the person’s track record, the Gods track record, before we sign over our soul? Their language framework and expectations on all sides of the relationship? Is there space for renegotiation? Or did that spellwork out of the Necronomicon in high school leave you with a brand in your ass on the astral plane? Does that circumcision mean that Yahweh still has a say over your life? (I know a former Jew who is regrowing his foreskin as a devotional act towards the God he now serves, to erase the marks of past ownership from his skin- it is hard for many Owners to look down on their property and see your last lover’s name on your skin)
Being owned did not get me a big red God Phone. I do not have the answers to all of reality at my fingertips, even if I have acquired magical and shamanic skills over the years that have let me tap the records from time to time. Bear did not give me a decoder ring. And unlike other God-owned, God-spouses, and God-leased that I know, I don’t even have lore to turn to. When Loki says something, a Lokean can pour through the Eddas. When a Spirit-worker for Christ is visited with images, there are a bevy of translations to research. I get grows, shadows, claws in my neck, hoping I read the clouds right, double checking with divination, triple checking the message with outside confirmation and blind message relay.
This is one of the reasons our community needs more than Spirit-Workers, Shamans and God-touched. We need Lore Keepers. We need Priests. We need Gaurdians. We need Pages. We need Healers. We need Diviners. We need Hearth Magicians. We need Clergy. We need Bards. We need you.
The community needs you. The people need you. What you are doing, today. This too is sacred. I see too many folks who look at the crazy shenanigans I get up to and consider it some sort of pinnacle. First off, I have a *lot* of climbing yet to do, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Second, I am on my path, and you are on your path. And your path, your path is incredibly valuable.
You who are helping the Gods by doing animal rescue, your work is important. You who are teaching the next generation of children and helping them heal from abuse, untangling the tapestry for the next generation, your work is important. You who are doing food service and keeping the rest of us supplied with coffee at stupid am, your work is important. You who dispose of the trash… you I worship the work of, and your work is sacred.
The work you are doing is sacred. Sitting at home showing your children that you love them, your work is sacred. You doing computer programming, your work is sacred. You building a bridge between communities, your work is sacred.
I see too many folks lift us crazy wild men and women in the woods up as some sort of higher thing. Thanks, but please, throw some of that adulation and adoration towards the mailperson, the line cook, the dog walker. Because as sacred people on this planet, everything we do is sacred work. Can be dedicated work towards whatever it is we are moved by. You do not have to be a spirit worker to serve deity, to worship deity, or to love them.
And love. And love.
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