sneaky ton of bricks | bloodteethandflame

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.)

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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.

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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

❤

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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. 😉

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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)

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August 7, 2014

This is what I meant to share on my Facebook wall:

From the Elephant Love & Relationships page:

“And I will love some of you with some of me, and then all of you with all of me, if you let me and if I let you, as we get to know. And I hope we each have the honor and pleasure to feel sad, together, and joy, together, and lust, together…and lunch on the lawn at Farmers’ Market, together. I like dumplings with too much hot sauce.”

Join, https://www.facebook.com/thingsiwouldliketodowithyou, get the book when it releases.”

Now I ask you:

Who does this sound like to you?

Hmm?

I dunno…Do you?

It is truly the Subtlesauce that sings!

So here goes….

Now won’t you sing *that* fscking song with me?

Alll of mee loves all of yooouuu…

*facepalm*

*sigh*

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August 4, 2014

Definitely.

To put it bluntly, I have been having a rough time as of late.

I tried posting about it, but for some reason, WordPress kept erroring out, so here goes another post.

We will see what happens.

I sense that there’s another complete overhaul of my life coming.

~~~

I woke up this morning with an earworm, that if nothing else, shows me to be a child of the 80’s:

(And just to note, it’s more like ‘at 4:00 AM’ rather than ‘at the midnight hour’ — but other than that, most things about this experience are about the same, relatively speaking.)

~~~

❤

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July 20, 2014

Month for Loki, Day 9: Eiwhaz

I learned something about Eiwhaz yesterday.

Eiwhaz is a rune of letting go.

Long ago, I got the message from Him, that it is my rune.

So, if that is true…then there is nothing more important than that for me to remember – Eiwhaz’s lesson is to allow change, to protect oneself, to defend oneself.

Of course, at the time that I was informed that I must learn this rune, it was a sort of Subtlesauce that I didn’t want to hear, that I didn’t want to know.

But yesterday, I was at a local mystical shop and I found Eiwhaz described as the ‘rune of the World Tree. A rune of letting go, protection, and transformation.’

And suddenly, it finally clicked in my head. Funny that.

Eiwhaz is a rune of letting go.
Now I understand exactly why it was the first rune that came forward to teach me after He strongly suggested that I should begin studying the runes.

He said that I should study it until I was told to do otherwise, and so, that rune had sat on my altar ever since early 2013, well over a year ago.

It was my understanding that Eiwhaz should be my sole focus, a fixed point.

And, I am nearly ashamed to admit this, but I definitely had days wherein I would inwardly grouse about it: When could I learn another rune? It’s not fair…I don’t understand….what am I supposed to understand? Why?

I pouted.

I whined.

And His response was to steeple His fingers, and regard me with a raised eyebrow, followed by an almost grim, implacable facial expression.

Between the two of us, I don’t know who was more frustrated.

~~~
So, that spring, I sent money to a well-respected spirit-worker that I’d met the summer before, and I ordered a custom set of runes that were to be made of ash wood.

And I waited.

And waited.

For six fucking months.

I got so tired of waiting for that order, that I gave up in disgust, and ordered a cheap wooden set off of eBay.

They were made of ash all right, but instead of being carved as I’d been led to believe by the seller, the runes were written on the blanks

black

ballpoint

ink.

O.o

There are no words for how I felt about that.

Sangry would be a good term, I guess.

~~~
But, that August, I was surprised.

I received a package from the spirit worker.

He sent me a rune set of semi-precious stones retailing for $75 -to make up for the fact that I’d gone six months, with no explanation as to why I’d never received the wooden runes that I’d ordered.

He apologized profusely in a nicely worded letter, explaining at length his frustration and disbelief about how the wood that he had been attempting to use to make the blanks kept splitting and warping, making the blanks unusable for runes.

He informed me that he’d attempted to cut the ash blanks with intent for my set on three separate occasions in the last six months, so he hoped that I’d accept the stone set as adequate compromise, with his apologies.
But when I poured the runes out of the bag to examine them – I was immediately disconcerted to see that the Eiwhaz rune – carved into a tumbled stone of bright yellow jasper – was broken in half.

(I never asked for a replacement simply because it was customer service recovery.)

~~~

But I studied Eiwhaz, anyway.

At least, I thought that I was.

I created a daily prayer for Eiwhaz, asking for – and trying to manifest – connection, protection, and transformation.

To be honest, even though I had convinced myself that I understood Eiwhaz on a few basic levels, looking back on my stubbornness, I realize now that I hardly knew what I was asking for.

(And, not surprisingly, He seemed to think that I should be working harder to figure that shit out. And rightfully so, I suppose.)

~~~
Then, in February 2014, I had the blind ignorance to ask Him what rune I should be using to represent myself in the bind rune that I was creating for us.

He drew the rune from the box, and pronounced it with a flourish, and a mysterious smirk.

Eiwhaz.

And of course, I gasped, and proceeded to whine and roll my eyes about the fact that, of course it is Eiwhaz…why is it always Eiwhaz?

I don’t understand WHY….!!

What’s wrong with Eiwhaz? He seemed mildly annoyed, eyebrows raised.

But His tone made it obvious to me that the subject was immutable. Not open to debate.

He then gave me the Holy Bitch Face, and sighed: Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered – as He drew the rune, Kenaz – for Himself – and suggested that I find a way to incorporate them together.

~~~~

In March, I embroidered our bindrune on the altar cloth for His altar.
In June 2014, I inked our bindrune on my body.

~~~~

Two weeks later, as He traced his fingers on the ink, He asked where the flames were.

There should be flames, He said.

Blood, teeth…and flames, my dear.

~~~

But it was not until yesterday that I had ever seen it come up that Eiwhaz was a rune of Letting Go.

Funny that.

It all comes back to Eiwhaz.
That’s my problem…that’s my work…of course, Eiwhaz would be, should be my sole focus.

Because, you see, I have so much trouble letting go.

So, it’s no wonder, really, that… it’s Eiwhaz.

It would have to be.

What other rune could there be?

Of course, Eiwhaz is MY rune.

~~~

So all I’ve got to say to Loki today is…

I’m sorry that it has taken me so long to figure it out, Simple Dog that I am…

but

Point taken, Sir.

❤

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July 6, 2014

Month for Loki, Day 6: Five words.

Y’know, this would have been a better post for yesterday — since yesterday was the 5th and all – but, ah well, I saw this article posted again today.

As if to remind me.

So, here we are.

And yes, I do believe that the writer of this article is correct.

I’d seen this life-changing statement that answered the endless plea that I had made to the Universe regarding What I Should Do several months ago – yes, I had seen the article before, you know – but I wasn’t ready to see any of my relationships in this statement of just 5 words:

Only stay where you’re valued.

Yes. That’s it. Simple yet powerful, if you think about it.

There were no complex quizzes, no lists of questions that I should be asking myself when I thought about ‘Should I stay or should I go?’ or any of the other fence-sitting navel-gazing sort of circular musing that I am famous for engaging in at 4 AM while lying awake with insomnia.

This article asks one to consider just one very vital aspect of any relationship – especially personal relationships – and that is to think about the concept of value.

Not ‘Are you needed?‘

Not ‘Are you happy?‘

Not ‘Are you paid attention to?’

or even

‘Am I loved?’

Or any of the other variations on the theme of that last one that a worried brain who questions the status of their relationship can come to at 4 AM.

Why?

Because, if you follow along the premise as presented in the article, if you are valued in a relationship, and you value those who are in a relationship with you*, then all those other questions answer themselves.

(*Psst: hey, even if the relationship is with yourself, *this statement still works*. Kinda sneaky ton of bricks, isn’t it?)

Seriously.

Go read it.

~~~

And with that, on the sixth day, I say,

Hail, Loki.

Thank You for the reminder, my Sweetest Friend ❤

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July 4, 2014

Month for Loki, Day 3: Pandoramancy

Today is a simple post.

It is about a few particular songs that have haunted me this past year — mostly through random television and radio commercials, and various ironic instances of radio pandoramancy.

The first instance featured Kelly Clarkson’s Breakaway:

My husband and I were attending a three-day weekend fetish event that was held at a pretty swank hotel, and I awakened early one morning to the chorus of this song playing loudly — as the theme to a travel commercial.

All I could think was that the chorus of the song somehow jibed with the concept of ‘breaking away’ from the mundane world, since the chorus of —

I’ll spread my wings and I’ll learn how to fly
I’ll do what it takes til’ I touch the sky
And I’ll make a wish
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway —

was set against a backdrop various highlights sponsored by the local tourist board – from pristine shores edged by serene blue ocean, to majestic blue-white mountains rising from lush carpets of evergreen trees, to the sophisticated glow and bustle of the theatre and shopping district of the capital city , all peopled by smiling faces of travelers enjoying themselves in the lovely state of ____, but I just noticed the tune of a song that I’d never heard before.

And the words of that chorus rang in my head:

make a wish

Take a chance

Make a change

And

break

away

and I looked blearily at the clock.

4:30AM.

I fished the remote out from beneath the pillow upon which my husband was sleeping soundly, and after several irritably clumsy attempts at jabbing random buttons in the dim light, I was finally able to mute the volume.

My husband never even stirred.

Then, I rolled over, and tried desperately to go back to sleep.

But sleep would not come.

I had that fucking song as an earworm for the rest of that event.

And I saw/heard that commercial at least six times in the next two days, though it was always when I was alone, and always when I was resolutely trying not to think about it being a specific nudge toward the inevitable.

Make a change

And break away….

(I ended up JFGI once I reached home, and was able to dislodge the earworm somewhat, but it shall forever remain a definitively Lokean earworm from that day forward, for the very reason for the awful realizations that I came to during that weekend…and what fresh hell of a twist came into my life not even two weeks later.)

~~~~

Cut to a few months later, there was Sara Bareilles’ ‘Brave’….

This song was used as a theme in a Microsoft Windows commercial…or maybe it was even for a cellphone that featured some sort of Microsoft technology.

I seem to remember arguing with V about our increasingly lack of connection, and our seeming inability to communicate as of late…and yet here was this fucking commercial suddenly blaring in the background, advertising some new aspect of communication technology.

Either way, the first time that I noticed the lyrics:

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I was actually in half-hearing the commercial, and the irony of that moment so unsettled me that I stopped me in mid-sentence.

My husband didn’t even notice.

I’d wager that he thought that my sudden silence had meant that he’d won the argument.

And, like the previous song, I hadn’t actually come across the opportunity to hear the whole song, until I was sitting in a Wendy’s having lunch one day, almost a month later. ( I had to JFGI’d the above video, because I’d caught the tail-end of the song, because it ended just as I was sitting down to eat. Only then, did I realize, with increasing dismay, what a spectacularly Lokean sneaky ton of bricks message that song was in its entirety.)

And would it surprise you that the song that immediately followed Brave was Jesse McCartney’s Beautiful Soul?

(Such an irrepressible flirt He is.)

~~~~

Hail Loki, Lord of Pandoramancy!

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