bloodteethandflame

A life in threes

Month for Loki, Thirtieth: Hail.

Hail to thee Loki of the dark and the light.
May your infinite flame be my torch in the night.
Hail Gammleid, lord of death and rebirth,
Who returns one and all to the womb of the earth.
Hail to thee, Hvedrung, the flame of the forge,
With all of your power to twist and transform.
Hail Ver Sigynjar, the father and spouse
And the gentle hearth-fire within your own house.
Hail bright Ve, who illuminates all;
Revealer of truth, by which the mighty do fall
Hail Lodur, the warmth in my loins and my veins,
Where the coiling serpent is all that remains.
Hail Loptr, the cunning of mind and of hand,
Born of the tree to give knowledge to man.
Hail Inn Bundi As, lord of vengeance and war
Who ends all worlds to create them once more.

-Dagulf Loptson,

from his book,

Playing with Fire: An Exploration of Loki Laufeyjarson

Aspodel Press, Hubbardston, MA.,

July 2015; p. 226.

Month for Loki, Twenty-Ninth: Faith.

Yesterday, this song featured in a movie I was watching.

It was the end-theme of a bittersweet movie.

Hearing this song made me sad…but it also made me smile.

And today, even though I was not sad anymore, I was thinking all morning of how yesterday had actually been such a wonderful day overall, and how thankful I was for having had the opportunity to spend time with the people I love the most.

As well, I was thinking of L too – and realizing that He had delivered on what I’d wanted, on what I’d asked.

And then this song turned up on my recommended Spotify list this morning.

Pandoramancy.

Month for Loki, Twenty-Eighth: My paths are open before me…

“You took my hand and drew me to your side, made me sit on the high seat before all men, till I became timid, unable to stir and walk my own way; doubting and debating at every step lest I should tread upon any thorn of their disfavour.

I am freed at last!

The blow has come, the drum of insult sounded, my seat is laid low in the dust.

My paths are open before me.

My wings are full of the desire of the sky.

I go to join the shooting stars of midnight, to plunge into the profound shadow.

I am like the storm-driven cloud of summer that, having cast off its crown of gold, hangs as a sword the thunderbolt upon a chain of lightning.

In desperate joy I run upon the dusty path of the despised; I draw near to your final welcome.

The child finds its mother when it leaves her womb.

When I am parted from you, thrown out from your household, I am free to see your face.

 – from  FRUIT GATHERING, by Rabindranath Tagore (May 1861 ~ August 1941)
[Translated from Bengali to English by Rabindranath Tagore]
Published in 1916

~~~

And suddenly…I understood.