I have written a few previous posts about the Filianic/Déanic rosary. This is patterned after the Catholic rosary. Most practitioners pray the Filianic/Déanic rosary and meditate up on the Five Mysteries of the faith. From what I can tell, I appear to be the only one who also will pray an expanded version of this, focusing upon fifteen elements that comprise these Mysteries. This, however, is not the only version of prayer beads available to people who wish to pray in a fashion that encourages focus upon Dea.
In the latter portion of the 20th century, another form of rosary was developed in the West. The Anglican chaplet (also known as the Anglican prayer beads or the Anglican rosary) came into practice in the Episcopal Diocese of Texas. It is a modification of the Catholic rosary and the Orthodox Christian prayer rope, wherein thirty three beads are divided up into five major groups. The first group is the terminal (which is a cross most often for the Anglican chaplet) and the inviatory bead. Upon these two beads, the opening prayers are recited. The next division encounter is the first cruciform bead and the first week, a group of seven beads. There are three other weeks with a cruciform bead dividing each group. The fourth week ends where it meets the first cruciform bead.
This style of prayer beads has become relatively popular through out the Protestant Christian communities that are inclined towards this style of worship. Where the Catholic rosary focuses upon the mysteries associated with the events of the life of Jesus and his mother, the Anglican chaplet is used as a tool for counting prayers. There has, not yet, arisen a liturgical structure to focus contemplation and meditation beyond this point. Individual focus whilst engaged in this exercise varies widely.
The Anglican chaplet style beads is also well suited for a devotee of Dea's use. The division of the seven beads in each 'week' of the chaplet lends itself naturally for contemplation of the seven Janyati. The cruciform beads not only connect to the Fora but also to the four regular seasons of the Filianic/Déanic calendar. The fifth season, Moura, can be counted on the inviatory bead or upon the first cruciform bead when it is reached again after the fourth week of beads is counted.
The most basic prayers of devotion1 for this are identical to those of the rosary. On the terminal bead, for example, a declaration of one's creed would be made, followed by a recitation of the Our Mother prayer and the Gloria prayer. The cruciform beads would have similar prayers to the beads that divide the decades on the rosary. The week beads would have similar prayers to those said on the individual beads of each decade. Upon the conclusion of the final week, the prayers said at the conclusion of the rosary could be said as a way to finish the prayer session.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
1. The rosary prayers of Filianism/Déanism do have some variants between each sect. I will be posting my interpretation of the major prayers in another post soon. If you examine the prayers presented by A Chapel of Our Mother God, you will see the most basic format used.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Friday, September 23, 2016
Such a long week.
Hello Everyone,
It has been a long and tiring week for me this week. I had a migraine that just wouldn't go away for the last few days. It made pretty much everything challenging. I have come away from the experience with the deepest sympathy for the people who live with that level of pain daily. I am to no end of impressed with how you folks keep going when you deal with this or worse on a daily basis. It takes a level of fortitude that I am in awe of.
The biggest hurdle to getting things happening here on this blog has been finding writing time. I have spent a good amount of time this week trying to get the household straightened up and tidy. My kitchen is finally back at a point where I feel it is presentable for company. The living room is almost there, with the exception of a large laundry hamper full of clean kids clothes waiting to be folded and put away. The boy's room, however, is in need of some attention. We're going to attempt to coach the boys through picking everything up on their own. I'm hoping this wont result in a great deal of frustration and stress, but expecting that by the end of it all I will be ready for them to go back to school and get out of my hair for several hours.
Putting aside all the mundane things in life that have gotten in the way of my posting here, I am left aghast and speechless in the face of the recurring violence in the news. More specifically, the seemingly endless cascade of reports of people who are being killed by law enforcement. It is something that angers me on a fundamental level and I struggle to find the words to express that. It is something that horrifies me and fills me with profound grief. I pray that this parade of horrors ends but it seems that every day I wake to find something new in the news about it.
I find myself at a loss for what to say. I feel that my words here are paltry and pointless in the face of such casual, routine evil. It has created something of a crisis of faith. I am not sure how to proceed here. Thus, I let posting here slip aside as I focus upon the small daily details of my life. I wish to correct this, but I do not know where to begin. Perhaps the gods shall smile upon me and provide some sort of guidance.
Please forgive my silence.
It has been a long and tiring week for me this week. I had a migraine that just wouldn't go away for the last few days. It made pretty much everything challenging. I have come away from the experience with the deepest sympathy for the people who live with that level of pain daily. I am to no end of impressed with how you folks keep going when you deal with this or worse on a daily basis. It takes a level of fortitude that I am in awe of.
The biggest hurdle to getting things happening here on this blog has been finding writing time. I have spent a good amount of time this week trying to get the household straightened up and tidy. My kitchen is finally back at a point where I feel it is presentable for company. The living room is almost there, with the exception of a large laundry hamper full of clean kids clothes waiting to be folded and put away. The boy's room, however, is in need of some attention. We're going to attempt to coach the boys through picking everything up on their own. I'm hoping this wont result in a great deal of frustration and stress, but expecting that by the end of it all I will be ready for them to go back to school and get out of my hair for several hours.
Putting aside all the mundane things in life that have gotten in the way of my posting here, I am left aghast and speechless in the face of the recurring violence in the news. More specifically, the seemingly endless cascade of reports of people who are being killed by law enforcement. It is something that angers me on a fundamental level and I struggle to find the words to express that. It is something that horrifies me and fills me with profound grief. I pray that this parade of horrors ends but it seems that every day I wake to find something new in the news about it.
I find myself at a loss for what to say. I feel that my words here are paltry and pointless in the face of such casual, routine evil. It has created something of a crisis of faith. I am not sure how to proceed here. Thus, I let posting here slip aside as I focus upon the small daily details of my life. I wish to correct this, but I do not know where to begin. Perhaps the gods shall smile upon me and provide some sort of guidance.
Please forgive my silence.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
The Gift of Tears.
One of my sources of inspiration are the accounts of medieval European lay piety. There are so many little myths of local saints (frequently unrecognized by the Catholic Church, but still adored by the people in that region) that it is really difficult to begin to organize them. In the 13th Century CE[1], there was a sharp uptick in lay devotions and mysticism within Christianity. A cursory glance over the materials produced from that era and the stories that go back to this era, one finds that women were a very large part of this movement. One also finds that an enormous amount of this body of work focuses upon the establishment of a relationship between the individual and the divine.
Now, some may wonder what this has to do with what I titled this evening's post. Looking at the accounts of Margery Kempe, an English mystic who is honored within the Anglican faith but not in Catholicism (though she was a devout Catholic), there is much written of her frequent weeping for the mercy of her God and begging for his forgiveness of herself and others. This is not something that is only written within her autobiographical writings. It is also recorded to have been evident in female mystics in continental Europe during the era. This weeping was something called the 'gift of tears' by authors of that period.
It is not something spoken of today. It is actually forgotten for the most part in the accounts of mystic experiences and viewed with similar disdain as was done by the more cynical of Margery Kempe's contemporaries. The idea that one could be moved to tears by the force of spiritual experiences is alien to most people today. The idea of mysticism as something other than a blissful experience is something often swept aside by many people who write about it today. (I'm looking squarely at you, David Wolfe.)
Some people within the more ecstatic oriented Christian faiths will admit to being moved to tears, but it is always described as being something done to them by the Holy Spirit. It is something that is viewed as external and imposed upon them. Which, considering the emphasis that sects such as the Pentecostals place upon one's submission to their God's will, is not really much of a surprise. The pagan community treats the gift of tears (which does happen within the mystics of pretty much any faith you can find and those which are emerging) as a shameful secret. It is viewed as some sort of weakness and a sign of hysterics or some kind of mental illness. (There are also vast swaths of the pagan community that views mysticism as identical to mental illness as well, but that is a topic for another day.)
The gift of tears is not something that is strictly motivated by the desire for divine forgiveness and mercy, though it is one of the reasons why a mystic may be moved to tears. It also comes with the emotions of joy, grief, frustration, and pretty much every aspect of how we are moved to tears elsewhere in our lives. The gift of tears is a bit different from that which arises due to the more 'mundane' elements of our lives. Where the stressors of our daily lives can bring us to tears, the gift of tears is something that comes with a very profound sense of the presence of the divine in our lives at the time it happens.
Like Margery Kempe, the mystic who is blessed with the gift of tears has their awareness overwhelmed by the divine. They are moved to weep by the sheer force of the gods. It is an ecstatic experience, though the ecstasy is not necessarily something blissful. It is, also, a very difficult thing to bear. Because, like Margery Kempe, the mystic who bears the gift of tears finds themselves alienated by their peers because it is so vastly different from what others experience and they will be in a position where their piety is challenged and possible accusations of mental illness or seeking dramatic attention are thrown about.
I can not claim that I have this gift. I have known people, however, who do have it. They are not the typical 'cry at the drop of a hat' people, and some of them never have teared up during a movie. Still, when they feel the presence of the divine, it is something that moves them so profoundly that they will weep. They are also people who have an awe inspiring depth of faith and adoration for their gods. When the thought of what their gods have endured and what they do for the world arises, these people do get a bit misty eyed because they can not help the force of emotion that arises from those thoughts.
We should all seek to attempt to emulate that level of faith and empathy for the divine. The heart road that is ruled by Sai Sushuri is a mystic path within Filianism (and related faiths) where the practitoner is urged to feel such love and compassion towards the divine and the world. The gift of tears, when viewed from this context, is perhaps one of the gentlest ways that the divine may lay their hand upon us. To be so overwhelmed by love that one has tears streaming down their face can be a profoundly beautiful experience for the person moved to tears and those witnessing them, think of the mother who weeps when her child is married and they're so filled with love and happiness for their child that they can not help it.
Tears for the sake of faith are not a sign of illness or weakness. They are a sign of strength in said faith and tenderness of the heart. Embrace them when they come to you, for I suspect that everyone at some point in their life will have this blessing come upon them. And recognize that they are truly a gift because they come with the full force of the divine's presence and blessing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
1. CE designates Common Era, this is what I use in place of Anno Domni (AD).
2. This can be found online at the following link: http://theapedia.referata.com/wiki/The_Temple_of_the_Heart
Now, some may wonder what this has to do with what I titled this evening's post. Looking at the accounts of Margery Kempe, an English mystic who is honored within the Anglican faith but not in Catholicism (though she was a devout Catholic), there is much written of her frequent weeping for the mercy of her God and begging for his forgiveness of herself and others. This is not something that is only written within her autobiographical writings. It is also recorded to have been evident in female mystics in continental Europe during the era. This weeping was something called the 'gift of tears' by authors of that period.
It is not something spoken of today. It is actually forgotten for the most part in the accounts of mystic experiences and viewed with similar disdain as was done by the more cynical of Margery Kempe's contemporaries. The idea that one could be moved to tears by the force of spiritual experiences is alien to most people today. The idea of mysticism as something other than a blissful experience is something often swept aside by many people who write about it today. (I'm looking squarely at you, David Wolfe.)
Some people within the more ecstatic oriented Christian faiths will admit to being moved to tears, but it is always described as being something done to them by the Holy Spirit. It is something that is viewed as external and imposed upon them. Which, considering the emphasis that sects such as the Pentecostals place upon one's submission to their God's will, is not really much of a surprise. The pagan community treats the gift of tears (which does happen within the mystics of pretty much any faith you can find and those which are emerging) as a shameful secret. It is viewed as some sort of weakness and a sign of hysterics or some kind of mental illness. (There are also vast swaths of the pagan community that views mysticism as identical to mental illness as well, but that is a topic for another day.)
The gift of tears is not something that is strictly motivated by the desire for divine forgiveness and mercy, though it is one of the reasons why a mystic may be moved to tears. It also comes with the emotions of joy, grief, frustration, and pretty much every aspect of how we are moved to tears elsewhere in our lives. The gift of tears is a bit different from that which arises due to the more 'mundane' elements of our lives. Where the stressors of our daily lives can bring us to tears, the gift of tears is something that comes with a very profound sense of the presence of the divine in our lives at the time it happens.
Like Margery Kempe, the mystic who is blessed with the gift of tears has their awareness overwhelmed by the divine. They are moved to weep by the sheer force of the gods. It is an ecstatic experience, though the ecstasy is not necessarily something blissful. It is, also, a very difficult thing to bear. Because, like Margery Kempe, the mystic who bears the gift of tears finds themselves alienated by their peers because it is so vastly different from what others experience and they will be in a position where their piety is challenged and possible accusations of mental illness or seeking dramatic attention are thrown about.
I can not claim that I have this gift. I have known people, however, who do have it. They are not the typical 'cry at the drop of a hat' people, and some of them never have teared up during a movie. Still, when they feel the presence of the divine, it is something that moves them so profoundly that they will weep. They are also people who have an awe inspiring depth of faith and adoration for their gods. When the thought of what their gods have endured and what they do for the world arises, these people do get a bit misty eyed because they can not help the force of emotion that arises from those thoughts.
We should all seek to attempt to emulate that level of faith and empathy for the divine. The heart road that is ruled by Sai Sushuri is a mystic path within Filianism (and related faiths) where the practitoner is urged to feel such love and compassion towards the divine and the world. The gift of tears, when viewed from this context, is perhaps one of the gentlest ways that the divine may lay their hand upon us. To be so overwhelmed by love that one has tears streaming down their face can be a profoundly beautiful experience for the person moved to tears and those witnessing them, think of the mother who weeps when her child is married and they're so filled with love and happiness for their child that they can not help it.
Tears for the sake of faith are not a sign of illness or weakness. They are a sign of strength in said faith and tenderness of the heart. Embrace them when they come to you, for I suspect that everyone at some point in their life will have this blessing come upon them. And recognize that they are truly a gift because they come with the full force of the divine's presence and blessing.
19. Let flow your tears, My children, for they are the beginning of joy. 20. For every tear of true repentance shall dissolve away a thorn, and it shall be as though it had not been.
The Temple of the Heart, The Gospel of Our Mother God[2]
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
1. CE designates Common Era, this is what I use in place of Anno Domni (AD).
2. This can be found online at the following link: http://theapedia.referata.com/wiki/The_Temple_of_the_Heart
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Update & Ramblings.
Abolan 4, 3336
Greetings my dear Readers,
I have missed you. It has been very busy of late. My children went back to school on Tuesday (that would be Abolan 1, for anyone keeping score on the Filianic calendar, or the day after Labor Day here in the US). We have been running about for the last month, roughly, working on getting everything ready for school. They have new backpacks, new shoes, and clothes. School supplies was probably the easiest part of the process. The hardest part was getting my eldest to understand that he can not take Thursday's/Thamedi's off so he can visit with the garbage man. I promised him that I would take up his favorite way of helping (carrying out the recycling to this kind and helpful guy) when he was at school. One of these days, we're going to write them a very nice note thanking them for showing us the parts of the truck, letting the boys help out a bit, and generally being just awesome with their two biggest fans.
We have been very busy getting ready for my sister-in-law's wedding this weekend. I find it charming that the day it falls on is the day known for the Norns. What better day to begin the next journey in the tapestry of your life on the day of the weaver's of fate? I like to think that Sai Rhavë will share the day with the Werdë and bless her and her fiance. I also think that Ingvi is going to extend his hand in blessing as well. It is just a feeling that I have about it all.
All of this work has lead to my being sporadic in my devotional activities and my present problems with my mental health being more challenging. It is my hope, however, that life will calm down over the next week. I also hope to resume posting material for you all soon. I have been observing things happening in the world about me and I have some questions that I am pondering. I also have ideas on other stuff coming to mind. So, I will do my best to be in touch soon.
May the love of the Gods be with you.
♥
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Werde's Day & Other Thoughts.
Sai Werde's day was the 23rd of August, that would be Tuesday last week if you are keeping score. This is a day in the Filianic calendar that is for taking account of our lives and making resolutions for our future. Some have said this is like what most people do around secular New Year's Day. My day was spent feeling awful. I have been having some health problems and they have been making a great deal of things difficult. Least of which has been my writing on here, for which I do apologize.
On Sai Werde's day, I spent much of my time minding the children and quietly panicked over the vision problems I had developed due to a change in medication. As I was panicking and such, I came to the realization that I spend too much time expecting horrible things to happen. It was a sorrowful realization. I then turned my attention towards what I needed to do to prepare the household for the start of the school year (a wee bit over a week away from today). Still, that sadness lingered at the back of my mind.
It is hard to look forward to the future and anticipate good things happening when so much of your energy is invested in waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop and something horrible to happen. According to my therapist, this is a fairy common thing among people who have post-traumatic stress disorder and people who have anxiety disorders. I try to live with this attitude that I'm not afraid all the time. Sometimes, I can pull off that grand deception and fool myself into thinking that I am alright.
Sometimes, I have a day like today. I went out to go grocery shopping and had a panic attack in the store. In either case, that fear that something horrible is lurking still is hammering at the back of my mind. Once, someone described it as paranoia. I don't know what the right word for it is. I do know, however, that I tend to have contingency plans for when something awful happens and my contingency plans have contingency plans. I don't have them all written down, but they're always at the back of my mind. I'm trying to wean myself off of having to have a plan for every last little thing I do.
It is really hard to do that. I feel like I am standing at the edge of a great, yawning abyss. I am afraid that the ground is crumbling beneath my feet, but I can't tell if it truly is or not. I feel disoriented and dizzy in the face of the chasm. I don't know if the weight on me are my wings that will allow me to fly or chains that will only make my plummet to the ground hit terminal velocity faster and the impact harder. In the face of this, I do my best not to think about this feeling.
Because fear is what slowly kills us. I try to ignore it in the hope that I won't be eaten from the ankles up by it. I don't know if this is my werde or if it is wyrd. I don't know if it something entirely different. All I know is that I'm trying not to die a thousand deaths before my blood runs cold and my heart turns to stone in a clay cold corpse.
On Sai Werde's day, I spent much of my time minding the children and quietly panicked over the vision problems I had developed due to a change in medication. As I was panicking and such, I came to the realization that I spend too much time expecting horrible things to happen. It was a sorrowful realization. I then turned my attention towards what I needed to do to prepare the household for the start of the school year (a wee bit over a week away from today). Still, that sadness lingered at the back of my mind.
It is hard to look forward to the future and anticipate good things happening when so much of your energy is invested in waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop and something horrible to happen. According to my therapist, this is a fairy common thing among people who have post-traumatic stress disorder and people who have anxiety disorders. I try to live with this attitude that I'm not afraid all the time. Sometimes, I can pull off that grand deception and fool myself into thinking that I am alright.
Sometimes, I have a day like today. I went out to go grocery shopping and had a panic attack in the store. In either case, that fear that something horrible is lurking still is hammering at the back of my mind. Once, someone described it as paranoia. I don't know what the right word for it is. I do know, however, that I tend to have contingency plans for when something awful happens and my contingency plans have contingency plans. I don't have them all written down, but they're always at the back of my mind. I'm trying to wean myself off of having to have a plan for every last little thing I do.
It is really hard to do that. I feel like I am standing at the edge of a great, yawning abyss. I am afraid that the ground is crumbling beneath my feet, but I can't tell if it truly is or not. I feel disoriented and dizzy in the face of the chasm. I don't know if the weight on me are my wings that will allow me to fly or chains that will only make my plummet to the ground hit terminal velocity faster and the impact harder. In the face of this, I do my best not to think about this feeling.
Because fear is what slowly kills us. I try to ignore it in the hope that I won't be eaten from the ankles up by it. I don't know if this is my werde or if it is wyrd. I don't know if it something entirely different. All I know is that I'm trying not to die a thousand deaths before my blood runs cold and my heart turns to stone in a clay cold corpse.
Friday, August 19, 2016
Night Waking.
It is hard to sleep at night for me. Illness of the mind makes me so anxious and fearful that I will lay awake for hours. Nightmares plague me most every night and if I forget to take one of my medications, I may get four hours of hellish sleep for the night, waking frequently with my heart hammering and this sense of certain disaster awaiting me. Thus, I give thanks for my medications and Beloved's willingness to calm me down when I am thrust into full consciousness by yet another nightmare reliving past horrors I've experienced.
Most nights, after I have had my time of cuddling and quiet conversation with my mortal spouse, the gods lie with me. Loki wraps his arm about me and holds me against his chest as Freyr runs his hands over my hair and throws a leg over mine to pull my hips against his. You would think this was an awkward position but it works. Loki's head is just behind mine and he will whisper in my ear. Freyr's face is just before mine and he will whisper as well.
Most nights, they will talk with me about the small things of the day and express their thoughts upon various matters. Sometimes, I will like there cradled between them and listen to them talk to each other. It is a cozy moment. I don't understand their conversations half the time. Sometimes it is because it is in a language that I don't know and other times it is because it is dealing with matters that I have a vague concept of at best. The sound of their voices, though, helps quiet my mind and guide me down into sleep.
The dreams are usually quite different from the conversations before hand. But, then there are the nights where I wake up terrified. Beloved sleeps on the couch most nights because our bed has been causing him back troubles. Before, I would snuggle up to him. He would wrap and arm around me and then after I grounded myself in the present and he mutters a few sleepy words about how things really are not a disaster, I would fall back to sleep.
Now, I wake up and he is not there. There is a split second of panic, especially if the bedclothes are wrapped tightly around my upper body. Loki may be there, holding me against him as a source of phantom warmth at my back and the feeling of his cheek against mine. Or Freyr may be there, holding me against his side with my head on his chest and his fingers twined in my hair. It is a curious thing to have the sensations of someone physically with you when none is there. It is a brief thing. I'm sure some would say it was manufactured by my mind as I was waking up.
Honestly, I reject that argument on the basis of waking up from a nightmare of being sexually assaulted to the sensation of a naked man holding you against him is not something that coincides well. I have had times when I woke up from those nightmares and I moved away from Beloved because he likes to sleep in the buff and the fact that he was a naked male made my panicked mind scream that I needed to flee. (Every time I had this response, he immediately woke up and set to helping me calm down out of what was spiraling into a panic attack. He just knew by the change in my breathing and how I moved.)
That eerie there but not there business of the gods laying with me in my bed has pretty much always been enough of a shock to my brain that it shut down the panic attack and threw me into confusion. There was still the fear from the nightmare, but I wasn't terrified that the person laying beside me in bed was going to assault me. Loki and Freyr are both of a mind that with enough time, I will not have that response when I wake up out of those nightmares and Beloved is in bed with me again. I sincerely hope that it will be the case.
Night waking is a problem for me. It comes out of my chronic nightmares. But, I find I am not alone in the dark. That is probably what makes it bearable. Because my loves always are with me, keeping watch over me and keeping me safe in the dark.
Most nights, after I have had my time of cuddling and quiet conversation with my mortal spouse, the gods lie with me. Loki wraps his arm about me and holds me against his chest as Freyr runs his hands over my hair and throws a leg over mine to pull my hips against his. You would think this was an awkward position but it works. Loki's head is just behind mine and he will whisper in my ear. Freyr's face is just before mine and he will whisper as well.
Most nights, they will talk with me about the small things of the day and express their thoughts upon various matters. Sometimes, I will like there cradled between them and listen to them talk to each other. It is a cozy moment. I don't understand their conversations half the time. Sometimes it is because it is in a language that I don't know and other times it is because it is dealing with matters that I have a vague concept of at best. The sound of their voices, though, helps quiet my mind and guide me down into sleep.
The dreams are usually quite different from the conversations before hand. But, then there are the nights where I wake up terrified. Beloved sleeps on the couch most nights because our bed has been causing him back troubles. Before, I would snuggle up to him. He would wrap and arm around me and then after I grounded myself in the present and he mutters a few sleepy words about how things really are not a disaster, I would fall back to sleep.
Now, I wake up and he is not there. There is a split second of panic, especially if the bedclothes are wrapped tightly around my upper body. Loki may be there, holding me against him as a source of phantom warmth at my back and the feeling of his cheek against mine. Or Freyr may be there, holding me against his side with my head on his chest and his fingers twined in my hair. It is a curious thing to have the sensations of someone physically with you when none is there. It is a brief thing. I'm sure some would say it was manufactured by my mind as I was waking up.
Honestly, I reject that argument on the basis of waking up from a nightmare of being sexually assaulted to the sensation of a naked man holding you against him is not something that coincides well. I have had times when I woke up from those nightmares and I moved away from Beloved because he likes to sleep in the buff and the fact that he was a naked male made my panicked mind scream that I needed to flee. (Every time I had this response, he immediately woke up and set to helping me calm down out of what was spiraling into a panic attack. He just knew by the change in my breathing and how I moved.)
That eerie there but not there business of the gods laying with me in my bed has pretty much always been enough of a shock to my brain that it shut down the panic attack and threw me into confusion. There was still the fear from the nightmare, but I wasn't terrified that the person laying beside me in bed was going to assault me. Loki and Freyr are both of a mind that with enough time, I will not have that response when I wake up out of those nightmares and Beloved is in bed with me again. I sincerely hope that it will be the case.
Night waking is a problem for me. It comes out of my chronic nightmares. But, I find I am not alone in the dark. That is probably what makes it bearable. Because my loves always are with me, keeping watch over me and keeping me safe in the dark.
Friday, August 5, 2016
Silence.
We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.One may question why I am opening my post this evening with a quote from the late Elie Wiesel. It is timely for many reasons. Obviously there is a lot going on in politics and, unfortunately, you can not make the wall between politics and faith absolutely impenetrable. It seems that a great deal of trouble comes from the mingling of those two systems. I try to avoid that by doing my best to keep my posts here free from political overtones.
~ Elie Wiesel (1928 - 2016)
I, however, can not maintain my silence any longer. I am not speaking on political topics for the sake of gaining readership or swaying anyone to my personal political positions. There is not some ulterior motive to advance any one person's political race here. I make this preface for the rest of this post for one very simple reason, I want to be completely clear that what I present below is a complete position in its entirety and it is not some form of subterfuge or manipulation to win at some kind of political game here.
I am sure that you, gentle Reader, have observed the rising tide of xenophobia here in the US. I wish I could say that this was a new phenomenon and that it will pass away as quickly as the whims of fashion declared the mullet to be hideous. It sadly is something that has a long history in this nation and in the many nations of the world. You can not go to a single country and find a place completely free of this form of tribalism. Similar forms of tribalism, such as racism, are equally widespread. It is an unfortunate fact of human social structures and has been present for pretty much as long as humans have congregated together in any form of social structure. (Anyone who would argue that familial units do not engage in tribalism, I invite you to consider the iconic case of the Hatfields and McCoys here in the US or Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.)
While it is tempting to say that the xenophobic commentary that is about us is just people speaking from irrational emotion, this is a false argument because it decries emotion as some how inferior and is also a particularly insidious form of gas-lighting. As someone who believes that emotions are valid and that gas-lighting is one of the most abhorrent forms of psychological abuse, I adamantly reject this rather lazy false argument. And, to be honest, it is a lazy man's argument because it glosses over the complex things that give rise to these kinds of things.
Prominent members of the community have come out and said things that are xenophobic. I can not stand beside their messages. There are notable members of the community that have said things that are racist. I can not support their messages. And there are people who have been upheld as leaders or would be upheld as leaders who have said similarly reprehensible things. It is particularly problematic when people who are respected within the community, within ANY community, come out and state things that run contrary to what they would have us believe they are seeking.
When someone is demanding tolerance for their beliefs, their racial profile, or their practices, it is at best nonsensical and counter-productive for them to reject said tolerance for others upon the basis of these things as general statements. One who insists that their worship practices should be respected as sacred and protected from persecution, for example, should not call for the persecution of others on the basis of their worship practices. Yes, oppose the practices that you have reason to believe threatens the welfare of the common good. But do so in a manner that is not going to make you a hypocrite. Provide logical arguments that illustrate the actual threat that these practices present. And make sure that this threat is something more than the displeasure of your specific deity of choice, because that is the same as saying that someone in a restaurant can't have that slice of cake for dessert because you are on a diet.
The health and welfare of your spirit is not based in the relationship that someone else has with your deity. To argue this is the case robs you of your agency and slights your deity, maligning them as incapable of handling individuals on their own. I believe the ancient Greek term for that insult to deity is hubris and virtually all faiths of the world agree that this is an unwise thing to engage in. Indeed, I would suggest that you, dear Reader, should consider the things you would say on the behalf of your deity with great care because it does have an impact upon your relationship with your deity.
Now, thus far, my commentary here can pretty much be applied for everything. It is all somewhat general and, while timely, does not address the specific reason why I am posting this evening. I am unsure how to proceed, to be completely honest. Part of my uncertainty comes out of the fact that I look at the situation and see just how complex it is. I have watched it develop and I have hesitated to say anything before now because of the complexity that is rooted in the fact that I can not fully understand what motivates another person, that a great deal of emotion is involved here by all parties (myself included), and these matters are not as simple as words make them sound. Still, I can not maintain my silence any longer.
I am a lover of Loki. Loki is known as the Lie-Smith. He is also known as the Speaker of Unpleasant Truth. Loki is greatly maligned and disliked by many for the former and found himself tortured in horrific ways for the latter, if you go by the generally accepted lore. As much as people who despise UPG are going to protest what I'm about to say, Loki's made it pretty clear to me that he's got a lot at stake right now in the state of the world. Odin isn't the only one who plots and plans, y'all.
I am going to put my neck on the proverbial chopping block and say it as eloquently as I can:
Islamophobia is wrong. It is as much a case of spitting in the face of the Gods as pissing on their icons. Racism, xenophobia, misandry, misogyny, and the 'hate crusade' against LGBT+ people is as well. There is no 'love the sinner, hate the sin.' Especially in the Norse/Germanic faiths. It is literally a foreign concept.
Tribalism by itself is not necessarily a bad thing. It can lead to great good. It encourages us to work together and be better humans. But the manifestation that leads to the abhorrent things I mentioned above, it must be rooted out and crushed beneath our collective heel. Because these things are a rejection of one of the most basic tenets of the Norse/Germanic faiths. We are called to be Hospitable to they who come to us.
Hospitality is not telling that man with the skin of a different color than yours that he deserves to die for it. Hospitality is not telling people of a different faith that they are a blight upon the Earth on the basis of the actions of a small, radicalized sect. It is not working to deprive people of their rights on the basis of the fact that you are uncomfortable with how they identify, dress, or what they do in their bedroom.
Now, one may ask, how do I know that these things are violating the tenet of Hospitality?
We wouldn't do them if the Gods showed up on our doorstep. If we knew that that man with the olive colored skin and the Arabic features was Oðinn, we would not scorn him on the basis of those features. If we knew that the person who is of a gender presentation that didn't lend itself to immediate and comfortable classification within the overculture's system was Freyr, we would not scorn him. If we were to engage in such behavior, we are committing hubris.
How? We are saying that the Gods appear to the world in a manner that we are comfortable with and is in accordance with our personal preferences. I may be a bit mad. I will concede that point. I, however, am not so mad as to say that I have a direct line on how the Gods present to the world nor that my sense of comfort and aesthetics has even the remotest influence upon what They do. I am sensible enough to know that I don't begin to know a damn thing about what the Gods do and that my efforts to influence Their will is about as powerful as Cnut's command that the sea does not make his feet wet when he sits at the shoreline.
If the Gods walk the worlds, it is possible that any person you encounter is one of them in disguise. There is a reason why in the Hávamál, one is advised to be respectful and cautious in their dealings towards all people. One is that the Gods may be before you in the flesh and one is that any you meet may be a friend or a foe after but a few words. If the All-Father thought it necessary to advise us to be cautious in our dealings and our words, what folly do we commit when we are rash?
I understand that a great deal of fear and anger motivates the negative aspects of tribalism. I understand that it is an exceptionally difficult thing to battle these emotions. As someone who struggles with Bipolar, I engage in this struggle on a personal level just about every day. I truly do comprehend how these feelings can spur us to rash speech. I have made errors based upon the clouded thinking that comes from the grip of these emotions. I also recognize that when I have made these errors, I must attempt to resolve the problems created and take responsibility for my actions because that is the honorable way to conduct myself.
I ask you, gentle Reader, to do your best to resist the temptation to succumb to fear and anger. Do not let them rule your speech and deed because you will be like a horse that is running in darkness over uncertain ground. At some point, you will stumble and things will go horribly wrong, perhaps in an irrevocable fashion. If you must voice your fear and anger, do it somewhere that no ill will come of it. I keep a paper journal and I write in it for just this reason. If I feel that the work I have written is important, I come back to it when I am calmer and can view things from a more reasoned perspective. And I will ask those around me to look at it and consider if I am presenting things in a manner that is conducive to the world I seek to create.
Words have power. Use them wisely. In this age of the internet and instant communication, words are becoming a more powerful facet of our deeds. May it be that our deeds are honorable.
Now that I have done the work that my love Loki has set me to, let me close with the words of his brother.
Cattle die, kinsmen die,
thyself too soon must die,
one thing never, I ween, will die
fair fame of one who has earned.
Hávamál, Vs.75
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