beanalreasa

November 18, 2014

The God Phone, and the Devil in the details.

This past Saturday, I went to a local craftsperson/artisan event that was being held downtown from where I live.

Part of the reason for the event was to inspire folks to begin their holiday shopping locally, and I was happy to see that a lot of the shops along the main street were open and busy as a result of this event.

I also discovered a few (new to me) local stores that I realized that I hadn’t even known existed so close to my home.

So, as I was browsing in an antique store that I’d never thought to explore, I came across so many battered (yet overpriced) mundane items that filled me with childhood nostalgia.

One such item was a bulky black rotary telephone that reminded me of the one that sat on the side table in my Nana’s front hall in the early 70’s.

It looked just like the one that I had been warned by my Nana was a Very Important Thing that I must never play with.

It also made a very deep, jangling ring, and I remember being a bit terrified by the look of it and the sound of it when it rang.

I vaguely recall her explanations about how this telephone was a Very Important Thing for Hearing the Voices of Those Who Are Very Far Away, so I chuckle to think of it now, but I remember being entirely convinced in my young child-mind that only God would ever call my Nana on that phone.

And besides, how I understood it, it seemed to me that God was definitely a Someone Not to be trifled with, as well as Someone with a Voice, from Very Far Away.

~~~~

As I was mulling over that particular memory, and clumsily trying avoid disaster as I navigated the narrow spaces between the jumbled collections of antiques and the steady stream of my fellow-browsers, I found myself inevitably being jostled toward china cabinets that lined the farthest wall. I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in looking at shelves of dusty, gilt-edged dishes and bric-a-brac, until something caught my eye:

At first glance, I’d assumed that this brass match-holder (to be mounted near a fireplace) was supposed to depict the face of the Devil or an imp – and I would still say so – but upon inspection of the tag, I saw something else written there.

While I tried several times to capture a good angle that would allow a view of both the face and the tag, I couldn’t get it all within the frame.

The tag reads:

LCH

Brass “Norse Wind God”

Match Holder

$65.00

Doing more research on this piece through the Internet/Google – I went to Amazon sold lists, various antique websites, Pinterest, and eBay – this piece is listed as depicting any of several Beings: the Devil, Pan, Dionysus/Bacchus, and the Green Man.

One seller on eBay refers to it as a ‘Fire-God/Imp Match-holder.’

Another seller on an antique website refers to this face as ‘Zeus’

I was very taken aback to see ‘Norse Wind God’ however…because I know Who I thought of when I read that on the tag.

Hm.

Syncretism, anyone?

(PS: Loki seemed left out of all that reaching for description of ‘the possible Deity’ depicted on this antique match-safe — and I found that surprising, too.)

Leave a comment

October 29, 2014

Ways of Being Spirit-Married

This. So much this.

Thank you, Dver!

Leave a comment

October 22, 2014

Fear of drowning.

I had a strange dream last night.

Upon awakening, I realized that my brain is definitely trying to work something out.

In the dream, I was walking through my old neighborhood, on my way to visit a dear childhood friend of mine, Katherine. It had been raining all day, and it was dusk by the time that I had started out for her home. Oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid of the dark (as I usually am, since the night *is* dark and full of terrors in New England this time of year), and I was quite confident that I would reach her home before long.

Another prevalent detail was that I was wearing a pair of brand-new white sneakers, but for some reason, I didn’t want them to get dirty. (This is another odd thing, because I am usually much more worried about reaching my destination than I am about worrying over whether or not my shoes are going to still be ‘clean’ by the time I get there.) But, such as it was, the street was full of puddles, and try as I might to avoid stepping in the puddles, the persistent rain throughout the day had flooded the street, and the roadside was saturated with mud. So I walked, with my head down, my feet sloshing into each unavoidable puddle, watching the dark muddy water turn my sneakers grey, and I realized that I was surprisingly becoming irritable with that sodden sponginess of my wet socks and shoes.

But I reminded myself that while I couldn’t avoid walking, and I couldn’t avoid getting wet, I very much wanted to visit my friend, so I convinced myself that this temporary discomfort was at least worth that joy in some way.

Then I noticed that what was once mere puddles on the sidewalk and the street had turned into wide, low ruts, swollen with water. I now felt water sloshing against my ankles, and even my calves, soaking through my jeans as I walked. These shoes are definitely ruined, I thought grouchily, and I might need a change of clothes when I get there.

Then, while I was moving through a particularly wide rut in the middle of an empty street, I felt the ground turn spongy and completely give way. I felt myself sliding downward, and I realized that I must have fallen into a sinkhole in the street. I felt the shock of the icy, fetid water soaking into my clothes.

As I slid further down, I began immediately to panic: I realized that I couldn’t feel the bottom of the hole, and I was treading water.

Soon, I will be gulping water, my panicked brain screamed, and I felt the water go over my head.

Suddenly, the view of the street-lamps above me were a blur of hazy brown-grey light about 12″ above me, and I tried desperately not to inhale water.

I pushed myself upward, and I gasped for help.

My voice sounded small and choked to my own ears, and the water churned as I thrashed about.

In the brief moments that I could break the surface, I saw that I was right outside Katherine’s house.

I howled for help as loudly as I could, but I kept sinking back beneath the water.

I have a desperate fear of drowning, by the way, and I was beginning to despair that I would not be heard.

The force of my anger at my failure at being heard and my fear of drowning seemed to be driving me however, to keep trying. I was so angry that it seemed to give me the energy to keep treading water, and my fear of drowning, of dying, kept me working to get myself above the surface of the water, however briefly, to call for help.

I saw the brief hazy light of Katherine’s porch-light for a split second moment during each of my attempts to surface, and that sight made me resent my predicament. Oh, how I felt such an odd hatred for the serene glow of that porch light, the welcoming glimmer that bled around the window-shades!

How could she not hear me?

And then I realized that I had been treading water in just one spot.

In my panic, I hadn’t thought to try to find the edges of the sink-hole. I hadn’t thought to open my arms or search for anything in the water at all.

I had been just… flailing in place.

So I resolved to stop struggling, and I relaxed, and breathed.

I let myself float/roll a few feet to the left.

And there was the edge. And there was a handhold.

And I was suddenly able to climb out… quite easily.

EASILY.

Oh, I felt grateful.

But I felt more ashamed and embarrassed.

And it wasn’t just because I was wet, dirty, and soaked with the sweat of my effort and fear.

It suddenly occurred to me that the solution to my situation was not only available to me, but ridiculously close, and yet I had allowed myself to panic.

Did I trust myself to find the solution?

No.

I hadn’t even tried.

I immediately began calling for help.

I had believed that I was in danger…but I was not. Not really.

If that was not a lesson, I don’t know what is.

~~~~

Upon awakening, while I lay there in bed, feeling my pulse slacken, several things occurred to me.

Though I had felt stupid, this was not a stupid dream.

I mean, really.

How often have I called out to Him, and He has been silent?

How often have I felt Him just out of reach

always with that calm and infinitely patient look on His face….

…and I have resented Him for His silence, for His inaction?

Is He hearing me?

Why isn’t He helping me?

But it is just as it is with this dream, once I have calmed myself, and looked around, I’ve realized that I’ve the tools, the means, and sometimes, the answer to my own questions.

Sometimes, the solution has been within my grasp all along; sometimes I’m already in possession of everything required to solve the problem…and He is just waiting for me to realize it.

Sometimes the situation isn’t exactly dire…but it becomes exacerbated in my mind, and things suddenly seem insurmountable due to my impatience, my fear, my anger, or my rush to negativity.

(Oh, how I have cursed the light…)

I confess that I’ve got several emotional blind spots..and I’ve developed a pessimism, or perhaps, a learned helplessless about some of them.

Despite that, He’s got a word for each of those blind spots:

Stop.

Relax.

Open.

Think.

And I remember:

Whenever I have truly been in danger

(… could have been killed)

He has been there

(…the house could have burned down…)

He has heard

(…had been trying to hurt me…)

…and He has offered me guidance, and He has offered me help.

(Even though I have been known to stubbornly refuse to listen to and/or accept it.)

~~~~~

But one thing is certain: I do have a fear of drowning.

Sometimes, I think that I am drowning…

But then it turns out that I’m just struggling

I’m just flailing in place

…and I am making a lot of noise about it.

~~~

Maybe this is why the rune Laguz keeps coming up.

2 Comments

October 13, 2014

Breathe

Most people do not understand that their true power lies in releasing resistance, which is the only obstacle to their true power!

We want you to breathe rather than try, to relax rather than offer effort, to smile rather than struggle, to be rather than do.

For your true power is experienced only from inside the Vortex……

~ Abraham Hicks

Leave a comment

October 12, 2014

Candle.

There is so much that I often think that I might want to write about, but then again, things have been so strange, sometimes I think that it would be best to keep certain aspects of what has been happening to myself.

So, in its place, things such as this happen, and it makes a good filler for something else:

The white candle on my Loki altar had a thick clump in its wick this morning.

It was shaped like the Elder Futhark rune, Algiz (a Y intersected by a third stave):

….or perhaps a figure with its arms raised upright.
When I lit the candle, the wick flamed up very high, and the the three prongs of the wick were striated with a swirling orange glow, as the flame sputtered and danced about.

As I watched it burn, I meditated on the various interpretations of Algiz (or Elhaz)

“Elk-sedge” – (Z, or -R) – Protection, Shield. Wards, or guardians.

-Connection with higher self, or connection to gods; an awakening.

– Can be used to channel energies appropriately, or to protect or to hold a position that has been won or earned.

Then I blew out the candle, and the wick slowly shrank and curled downward a bit, as if the wick was a figure with arms lowered

…or perhaps, a person holding arms outward, as if to embrace another.

Or…maybe I am just overthinking, hmmm?

Leave a comment

October 1, 2014

Hela

I am getting the nudge to create two new altars.

One of them is going to be for various things that I am doing regarding ancestors, and perhaps other aspects of death-work, so I ordered a lovely ritual cord from Beth at Fiberwytch on Etsy.

It arrived in the mail the other day, and I cannot say enough how lovely it is.

(While I’m not usually one who is able to sense such things, I will admit that as soon as I held it in my hands, I could sense that this cord was definitely created with skill and powerful intent. The essential oils that she used creating it also seemed to strike me as… incredibly mentally stimulating. She does wonderful work.)

So I set to work on creating the altar space, and I went looking for some other helpful objects.

Like artwork.

You see, I like to have at least one piece of artwork on each of my altars to serve as a focal point for myself, since I sometimes need something to look at in order to focus.

But I was having difficulty finding any artwork of Hela that I liked.

And then this morning, as it sometimes happens, I had a short but rather intense dream…about Hela.

As soon as I awoke this morning, I felt the urgent need to sketch Her myself:

I’m not certain if I really want to fully color it, though I wanted to remember the sharp yellow color of that eye, as I could not seem to bring myself to look away from it.

That seemed to be the focal point of Her face in the dream, unfortunately, and I felt as if I was being rude for staring.

The yellow isn’t well-conveyed here as I realized too late how muddied it would get in being smudged beside the charcoal pencil lines.

Leave a comment

September 3, 2014

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly.

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,

Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear
He is in such a “playful drunken mood”
Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town.

Hafiz

(translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

~~~

Hail to that Sneaky Ton of Bricks Himself

❤

1 Comment

September 2, 2014

Earnestly occupied, and fascinated

From I09:

If time is a fluid concept, then I should really watch what I say from now on.

Gods, how I love language.

And I can so see some of my Gods being all over this sort of business. 😉

Leave a comment

August 24, 2014

Water, fire, love… and madness.

We survived the first week of school pretty well, so I cannot say that things are going as badly as they were.

As a matter of fact, I’m almost afraid to admit that things might be slowly moving towards ‘going well’ these days.

So, with that said, we went out this weekend.

We went grocery shopping on Saturday morning, and got enough groceries to re-stock the pantry.

We even remembered to get the supplies to square away the pool so that we could actually enjoy our pool more often.

And swim in it we did.

We spent the bulk of early daytime Saturday skimming, cleaning, and chlorinating the pool…followed by assembling pool floats so that we could spend the rest of the daylight enjoying the heat of the day in the water.

By the time that we were ready to be done with the pool for the day, it was time to settle in to watch the much anticipated new episode of Doctor Who, followed by the pilot episode of that new BBC series, Intruders.

We ordered out for Chinese, so I wouldn’t have to worry about cooking.

But then, I realized that I had a produce drawer full of the best pie apples, so I ended up baking an apple pie after dinner, while we watched Intruders.

~~~~

Intruders gave me something weird to think about in the first ten minutes, as there was that (heavily promoted) scene with that mysterious night visitor holding one of those yellow 45 rpm adapters… and as it turns out, that scene eerily played out so very much fucking closer to a very strange childhood memory of mine than I had previously expected…. that I very nearly had a full-on panic attack upon watching that scene.

*shudder* GAH.

NOW, while I can’t possibly guess at who those mysterious strangers will turn out to be in the series, there is a part of my psyche that was and still is both intrigued and terrified by the possibilities.

What if they turn out to be….?

O.o

But I am telling myself that if they do…I’ll just take it as yet another instance of Sneaky Ton of Bricks, simply on par with an extreme What is My Life Even Moment.

Perhaps, if things get really intense, my experience may reach levels at the Ratio of Several WTFs Per Minute.

*breathes*

Anyway….there was…. that yesterday.

~~~~

Today, we went to the Farmer’s Market, and I got my opportunity to pick up some locally grown cucumbers, tomatoes, and green peppers.

As well, I picked up 3 lbs of organic honey.

Do you know what time it is?

Why it’s mead-making time, of course ❤

(Though I still need to get some powdered milk if I’m ever going to make that honey candy that I have been meaning to make, as well.)

And then…I was lucky to find a great deal on a new firepit, and I’m no idiot, so I brought home that business.

It’s more like a steel fire-bowl with legs, like this:

But I am going to build a stone encasement around it, making it a more permanent structure in my yard, like this:

Of course, this means that I will likely be recycling the broken clay chiminea:

(lovingly nicknamed ‘Dick’)

that I have been using for all my firepit ritual needs for the last several years.

Unfortunately, ‘Dick’ was gifted to me by my oldest kid five years ago, and as much as ‘Dick’ received a lot of use – when home, I wrote a letter to burn as an offering at least every other week or so — ‘Dick’ has always seemed to be a haven for spiders.

Yes, even despite the heat and you know, flames(!)… these fearless spiders…still live there, and I am more than content to let them continue to do so.

I mean, these spiders risk being barbecued on a fairly regular basis, so I figure that they must be some pretty bad-ass spiders.

Bad-ass fire spiders.

That is why it is that I think it best to leave the bad-ass fire spiders alone and create a nice fire-pit well away from them, to keep everyone safe and happy.

(And besides, Someone seems to love the idea of a new fire-pit.

*nudge* *nudge*

How about FIRE NAO? I would LOVE FIRE NAO.)

~~~

Speaking of which, my Much Beloved….

This:

(Lyrics here)

Leave a comment

August 20, 2014

It’s the house telling you to close your eyes.

While I was out walking today, this song – by a relatively new band, Of Monsters and Men – came up on my YouTube recommendations:

Those lovely, haunting female vocals belong to Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir, and the male vocals are from guitarist/singer, Ragnar þórhallsson.

And what I discovered is that Of Monsters and Men hail from Iceland…and they have just started touring the US.

They are quickly becoming known for having a penchant for writing story-songs (full of jaunty, complex rhythms) which are sometimes sung in duets between Nanna and Ragnar, as showcased here.

~~~

There is a lot in this song that I can relate to…or at least a lot in there that is similar to my own present experience that I found myself relating to this morning.

Especially in the ‘little talks’ that I’ve been having between my insecurities and my fears that have led my brain into many a sleepless night.

Leave a comment