So, in case I hadn’t mentioned, I have been trying to learn German over the last six months.
Though as much as I have tried, according to the fluency paradigm of the application I’m using, I’ve only reached about 35% fluency and that supposedly corresponds to a vocabulary of approximately 800 words.
Only 800 words.*
In my waking life, I find myself translating simple phrases that I read or hear into German, as the program I use encourages this practice as it promotes intuitive learning.
Nonetheless, something odd has begun to occur: These basic German phrases have also begun to seep into my subconscious, as certain words and phrases have crept in during several of my daily meditations and have been popping up in a few of my dreams lately.
Thus, I was half-tempted to title this post:
Was sagt Er? (What does He say?)
Case in point, I had an intense meditation the other day, wherein this phrase kept echoing in my head:
Schauen sie mich an
(Look at me.)
Now that’s a phrase that I knew, as I’d been studying a unit on imperatives (ie; commands) last week, so I didn’t think much of it, and I mentally pushed it away, and continued to focus on my breathing.
However, that phrase continued to surface throughout my meditation, so I treated it as typical distracting mind-chatter, and I tried my best to accept that it was going to keep floating through my head for the duration.
But I found it difficult to focus after a while.
And then last night, I had a dream I was talking to a man in my dream – who had been speaking English -until suddenly he said:
Was wirst du mir beiten?**
Not once, but twice.
Now that immediately brought to mind the phrase I use to refer to Them – sie beiden – so I stopped, and began to examine the phrase itself, trying to translate it, wondering if I was hearing/understanding what I heard…
But thinking of ‘beiden’ made no sense:
Was wirst du mir beiden?
Which, off the top of my head, I was translating to mean: ‘What will you both to me?’
I was confused.
I said to the person, Was sagst du? (What are you saying?)
To which the person responded:
Wieso rennst du von mir?
Which I was pretty certain was
Why are you running from me?
* I feel a bit disappointed in myself, as a vocabulary of 800 words strikes me as being a rather small amount. I would think that I would be more fluent after six months of study.
** When I awoke this morning, I plugged the phrase ‘Was wirst du mir beiden?‘ into Google translate, it suggested that it was not ‘beiden‘ but ‘beiten‘ which is from the verb, ‘to offer’ – therefore, Was wirst du mir beiten? translates to ‘What will you offer me?’
(From dream of 29 October:)
I was talking to Him about conduits, and He was encouraging.
Then, suddenly…I heard V talking loudly.
So loudly, it woke me up.
I rolled over to look at V, and he had his eyes open.
He seemed wide awake, and he seemed to be looking right at me.
Then, V said to me:
“Just be me. Come… just be me.”
And that made no sense to me.
Then, V shut his eyes, and rolled over.
And even stranger – about 20 minutes later – V awakened, got out of the bed, and stumbled towards the toilet.
Evidently V had no memory of what he’d said.
I don’t know why we talk about these things.
Yes, I’m not certain as to how I feel about what He says about conduits.**
But I don’t like the part – the insinuation that I’m not sure if it’s an insinuation at all – that I *must* consider these things, even if I don’t talk about it.
Years ago, I wrote that people named Heather are always conceited in some way.
Heathers have a desire to be important.
And I think about what He’d said during a recent meditation, concerning the reasons for performing seidhr.
And He had this to say about a Heather I used to know – that is, L.O.L*:
Heather wanted recognition from the community.
Meanwhile, I just wanted a community of people to with whom to connect.
But after dream-interactions like this, I ask myself:
Do I want something more?
Do I want more than to be seen?
I feel shame over wanting recognition at all.
I feel selfish.
I ask myself why.
I just want a quiet community where I don’t have to talk about things with others unless I want to.
But I do know something about myself and that is …
To check myself, I often feel the need to share my experiences:
Is this happening to you too?
What does it mean?
Does He want this from you too?
What does it mean?
*(Local Other Lokean, named Heather)
** Edited to add.
So. I am still sick with the flu that I’d caught from V the week before last.
And I was talking to a friend – who is spirit-touched and a Reiki practitioner – about my symptoms the other day.
You see, I have been suffering a great deal of sinus congestion, a headache, and most concerning of all, I have had a near-constant nosebleed for the past week.
My friend was pointing out that the combination of sinus congestion followed by nosebleeds could indicate the opening of my third eye.
And I was surprised to hear that, as I have always felt that I am almost completely headblind, but since my return from Arizona (following the ritual that occurred there), I have felt more ‘open,’ and as a result, I have had several rather vivid experiences.
Though I hadn’t thought to connect the increase in my experiences with the frequency of my nosebleeds.
I have been stressing about what I should be writing again.
I woke up about 30 minutes ago.
I hadn’t intended on getting out of bed. I was still in that hypnogagic state, when I rolled toward the edge of the bed, and ‘sensed’ Loki there. He was standing there by the bed, and I distinctly remember muttering, ‘Let’s go.’
I had just awakened from a vivid dream concerning a small body of water, because I could recall seeing Him standing in the water, naked to the waist, waiting for me to join Him. And how, upon wading in, I received a clear visual of a short poem.
It looked like an Internet meme tile.
It was a poem about an experience – a magical experience – written by someone named Walter.
Unlike other times when I have dreamt of written words, the visual image of these words appeared surprisingly clear and easy to read, in black ink on a yellow lined paper.**
I think that I had been reading this paper.
But something had distracted me.
(Oddly enough, I could still hear the TV in the bedroom in the background — and it was distracting me. I could distinctly hear some news channel commentary concerning Donald Trump and Hilary Clinton, and all of that.)
I recall that I had been reading this poem to myself, as if I had been trying to memorize it, as I may have been intending to make a post of it today.
But then, I’d begun to wake up.
I am trying to think of what this poem had made me think and feel – as I’d felt that I’d almost had it memorized – but then I’d let the TV distract me.
All I can remember was the first line:
Let us go to the well, and you will chart your first experience here…
I recall that the poem had a lilting sort of subtle rhythm as I whispered the words to myself – possibly an ABBA or even an ABCD-ABCD rhyme scheme. I was amazed that I’d been able to see the words so clearly as I’d spoken them aloud, and I remember thinking that I wasn’t that deeply asleep and yet, so deep and so clear were the words that I was speaking. I repeated them to myself several times – but somehow – how? why? – had I allowed the TV to intrude, rather than to ignore it and focus on what I had been saying?
Maybe this is not about my memory of the poem at all.
Perhaps this is the lesson:
The words, the experiences would all be clear to me if I allowed them to be.
And yet I jump away from away from these experiences and cast about for a distraction to take my focus away from them, from the possibility of recalling them.
(Perhaps this is what He means when He insists that I am still running; I am still afraid.)
We are standing at the Well of Memory and I am fussing over poetry?
Relax. Let yourself be like water. The words were flowing over you, were they not?
You asked for a session. This was your session.
You heard [the television], yes, but you still had access to your vision of Me, and what We were doing…
These things can and do co-exist.
These ‘realities’ are nothing more than undercurrents of each other and you can tap into these multiple streams at any time that you wish.
(Am I so skilled as all that…or is it simply that easy?)
Yes…and no. It is that simple, but, as you might guess, it is not EASY.
Do you see the way you struggle with relaxing, with remembering? Let go of your need to describe every detail and just allow the flow.
That is the lesson. Stop putting these rules and all these parameters on it. Stop trying to document the experience as you are experiencing it and just let yourself see, let yourself feel, and you will remember it.
Stop thinking of these experiences as something unusual that is only given to you in pieces with all those attendant fears that suddenly you will forget.
Let yourself remember. Let yourself relax.
The fear drives it away from you, pushes it away from your understanding.
You will forget if you are always afraid to forget.
When I realized that I’d fully awakened, I blew my nose. There was blood coming out of my left nostril again.
(Clear out this logic…trust this process rang in my head.)
Perhaps this is what was meant when another Lokean friend and I were discussing this project at the beginning of the month.
I’d asked Him for a clue, a means to begin the project, and He’d said (through her, through some automatic writing):
Be fluid. Be more fluid.
And related to these hypnagogic conversations, here’s bit of pandoramancy:
** UPDATE: This was the poem that I was trying to memorize!
which I guess is not so much a poem as it is a song set to music by Gilbert and Sullivan
You are worthy.
I cannot make you understand.
But I will keep trying.
This is the connection between love and self-love.
Perhaps you will learn to love yourself in ways that you had not – but I hope that you find your way to me.
You are safe.
There is no need to fear being vulnerable with me.
I approach you without armor.
I see you for what and who you are, and I tell you:
You are worth loving.
You are loved.
I have chosen you. You have always been my choice, and you shall always be.
That’s the kind of loyal I am.
I was talking with a friend about an hour ago, regarding an article that someone else had posted concerning how – theoretically – if one were to consider structures in nature as ‘order’ (the natural order of things in a system) then attempts by humans to impose their own concepts or systems of ‘order’ upon natural structures by other means (by sorting, categorizing, or classifying) is therefore a form of ‘disorder,’ because such imposition is creating artificial (unnatural) systems:
I ❤ this graphic. Artificial order imposed upon systems *is* chaos because they’re useless to anybody BUT those utilizing the artificial order system.
To the greater system itself? It’s meaningless. Piles? Columns? Sorting by type? That’s all concessions to the limitations of our cognitive systems.
Sure, our cognitive systems are natural too – even the artificial/natural distinction isn’t “quite” right.
But in the greater scheme, the one where humans are optional, those piles and sorting is chaotic and meaningless.
I’d never thought of order or disorder as being defined this way, and yet, I have been thinking of the relation between the concepts of ‘order’ and ‘disorder’ a lot lately. It began, as most things do, with a simple conversation in a Rokkatru group concerning someone’s UPG of the Aesir representing ‘order’ and ‘civilization’ in the cosmos while the Rokkr represent ‘nature’ and a ‘natural sort of disorder.’ Of course, there was discussion of how nature has its own sense of ‘order’ – but how, from the point of view of ‘civilization,’ nature’s sense of order is random and therefore, considered by civilization to be ‘disorder.’ As well, others discussed the concepts of open and closed systems and how a closed system eventually falls apart because it can’t self-sustain and whatnot, and things quickly became rather meta.
And being a Rokkatru group, of course, this discussion wound its way towards discussion of Ragnarok, and the role of Loki, Fenrir, and Surtr in bringing on the end of the world. The world is a closed system and the role of the Rokkatru is to bring about the destruction of this closed system in order to make way for a new (and perhaps more open) system.
And so, it’s odd but not surprising to me that that conversation gave me a headache…because chaos theory usually does.
But then, there I was again tonight, having a conversation about order and disorder again, but this time, it was on a smaller scale.
I was talking to my friend about how Loki has laughed at me concerning my OCD need to arrange the items in a specific configuration on His altar, or my habit of overthinking that is a hallmark of my social anxiety, or my inability to let things go and/or trust the process.
I have no problem admitting that I am sort of control freak regarding several aspects of my life and practice. And my friend agreed that she has some of those issues too.
And then, she said a funny-strange but interesting thing that hit me like a ton of bricks:
She said that her life as a child was hellish and the only way that she could have control over her environment was to draw. The only world that she could control could be found at the end of a pencil. So she drew pictures and created stories. She created worlds. She told me how Loki told her that her best artwork seemed to come when she experienced personal turmoil. How He has asked her why she would draw, and she told Him it made her happy. But the truth was that she was often unhappy/angry/miserable while drawing. (And, of course, He noticed that.)
Well, that reminded me of my own artistic coping strategies.
Honestly, I suppose that it’s nothing new, but I wrote and drew my way through a miserable childhood…and adolescence…and fuck, I *still do.*
And yeah, that realization, of how I tried to make sense of confusing experiences by filling up notebooks, and drawing my imaginary friends, and how much it shocks me to think that it wasn’t just me being escapist.
That art was …that art is a rather dysfunctional coping mechanism for me.
I don’t make money with it.
It doesn’t make me happy.
Things still pile up in my head, and writing them, drawing them doesn’t serve to make me any more sane or stable.
And it sure as hell doesn’t help me or my loved ones to understand me any better than before.
It’s just another method I hide behind. (Funny -autocorrect suggests that the word ‘method’ should actually be ‘met God’ over and over. No, I’ve never met God by writing or drawing. Psht. I should be living.)
Perhaps my incessant writing and drawing are what I do to keep myself from meaningfully engaging with others.
I wasn’t meditating.
I was simply enjoying some quiet time after dinner, relaxing on my bed with eyes closed, letting thoughts run through my head…
I wasn’t actively thinking of L, but then, suddenly, I saw His face.
I wasn’t sleeping -I hadn’t any intention of sleeping – and yet I could see Him in front of me. I did a body inventory to check to see if I was dreaming. What was unusual was that I could still hear my kid (K) talking loudly in the kitchen, so I figured that I couldn’t have been dreaming. As a matter of fact, I could have easily followed the conversation that K was having with his brother in the kitchen – if I had to – and yet I was also experiencing this vision of L behind my closed eyelids.
I thought of how I could open my eyes.
I thought of how I could move and that vivid image of L sitting on a green hillock overlooking a valley below would have likely faded back to grey as these images usually do
… and yet I couldn’t shake it from my mind.
So I opened my eyes briefly, testing my theory, and upon closing, He remained…just as before. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a light blue shirt. He was, as usual, barefoot. I was standing a few feet behind Him, and He was sitting in the grass, looking over His shoulder at me, looking up at me.
I examined His face, trying to commit the details of His present form to memory: He had blue eyes, and His long hair didn’t match up with either His eyebrows or the stubble that shadowed along His jaw, as both were several shades darker than the bleached blonde of His hair. He had those familiar scars along His lips, that sarcastic grin…and He had facial piercings.
I couldn’t tell if He was going for ‘surfer dude’ or ‘suburban hipster.’
It struck me as strange, and I wondered if this was a sort of amusing game to Him; He kept tossing His head as if He was striking poses for me, and yet He slyly commented that I should stop trying to mentally inventory His face, and actually talk to Him for a change.
He was right in a way; perhaps I was trying to mentally inventory His face.
But what struck me was that I was neither sleeping, dreaming, nor meditating, and yet, I was *seeing* Him.
And even more unusual, when I tried to dispel the vision, it stayed in my mind’s eye.
So, you would not want to see Me? He pouted. He sat up straight, clasped His knee to His chest, and tilted His head prettily.
Sit with Me.
But all I could think of was how graceful was the curve of His neck as He looked up at me, and how seeing Him, feeling His presence like that suddenly engendered specific thoughts in my head that left me to grin like a smitten fool.
Perhaps you are, He drawled, and what of that?
(Perhaps those sudden thoughts that I think should remain unspoken.)
We talked for what seemed like two or three hours, on that hillock overlooking the valley below.
I felt the rain on my face as He drew complex diagrams in the dark soft dirt. Perhaps we talked of magic or runes or other matters entirely full of important points that could only be conveyed with the help of visual representations.
I’m not entirely certain of every thing that We discussed; I mostly remember His laughter and the steady humming patterns of His voice, along with those diagrams.
For once, I didn’t do much talking.
For once, I was simply content to listen to Him.
Talk less; listen more.
Another odd feature of this interaction was that this discussion which seemed to have lasted for two hours…
actually only lasted 19 minutes.
From 9:00 to 9:19pm
Last night, I got quite drunk off this strawberry moonshine, and had some incredible loving.
Then, this morning, I woke up with a killer hangover (possible ‘bangover’, too.)
My gods, the nausea, the headache was almost too much to bear. Almost.
I think that I might have been grateful to go back to bed once the MS got up for work at 8:00AM.
Oddly enough, it seemed that I may have still been drunk (or still feeling the effect of my drunkeness) because I definitely remember stumbling into the bathroom around 6:00AM. (My pre-disposition to kidney stones has made it so if I have to go, it is painfully uncomfortable if I do not.)
(All I can say is that things still looked/felt wobbly and hazy, which is unusual. It’s not as if I had that much.)
Right then I felt as if I was sweating out -my body temperature felt abnormally high, and I felt as if I had taken a ten-minute afternoon vacation to Panama at the height of summer.
And even though I don’t know how I did it, I vaguely recollect that I checked in on my kid and I did somehow get Loki a cup of coffee.
Then I remember drinking two large glasses of water and then collapsing on the couch in my living room….and I’m not ashamed to admit that that couch suddenly felt like the coolest side of every pillow ever.
I woke up to go to the bathroom again at some point, drank more water, and then I must’ve climbed into bed in my bedroom. I don’t remember going to the bedroom again, nor do I remember seeing my MS get up to go to work, but he obviously went to work.
What followed after 8:00 AM featured some very vivid hangover fever-dreams, complete with changing positions often because I kept waking up to find myself completely entangled in the bedsheets.
Meanwhile, I think that it is safe to assume that these dreams weren’t entirely unpleasant because I do remember talking to Loki somewhat, and there was a lot of trance-talk combined with a lot of sensually triggering imagery and sensation. There was much intensity and even more conversation over some specifically detailed philosophical concepts, and I think that the dream-Loki thought it was all very amusing.
I woke up several times, very much aware of my own liminally-aroused state, and often well-aware that I had been talking and reacting loudly enough to wake myself up O.o
(While this is not something that I didn’t know, I still felt an embarrassed sort of shame that I was being so…noisy.)
So, in short, my oddly self-aware yet half-drunken state led to a philosophical sex-magickal interaction between Loki and I.
I gather that He and I talked about other topics too, as I found out later that I had confused a conversation that I’d had with V last night about plans for the weekend with a conversation that I’d obviously had with Loki this morning.
Case in point, I seemed to have thought that V and I had had a conversation about smoking* last night because I remember talking about how I’d wanted to smoke and V was the person that I distinctly remember talking to about that.
And in that remembered conversation, I remember that V had teased me about hiding my stash and even jokingly admonished me for holding out on him, because didn’t I know how much he enjoyed smoking with me?
So I thought/remembered that V was insisting that we should smoke last night to celebrate the ending of the month.
But when I asked V later this morning why he wanted to smoke last night – a weekday night – when he usually insists upon waiting until the weekend–
V just looked at me blankly, and said,
“We can smoke if you want — but I don’t think that we talked about that at all – last night, or ever.”
So. I guess that this means that Loki is back to borrowing V’s face and form to convey Himself in dreams…as my husband.
And so I imagine that that means Loki wants me to smoke with Him in celebration of the end of the month.
Though, to note, usually Loki isn’t that obvious in His directives to me. Or rather, He hasn’t been so direct with me in quite a while.
Nonetheless, the point is taken.
Hail to Loki, Who is not above borrowing mundane faces ❤
*(And P.S.A: Lay off the strawberry moonshine, kids! And quite possibly, the dream-discussion of entheogens…)