bloodteethandflame

A life in threes

Tag: love

Pandoramancy: Three.

Today is my Loki-versary.

Today marks three years since I made things official – three years since I made vows in front of witnesses and the like.

And yet since this past December – coming upon a little over two months now – my work regarding other things, as well as my working with Another has required Himself to step back a bit.

But I want to mark this day, and give Him some well deserved love and praise.

Hail Loki ❤

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Eight.

Today is my dog’s birthday.

He is 8 years old.

mois8

I made him his favorite foods for his birthday – hamburger, sausage, and bacon.

mois82

Happy Birthday Mo ❤

 

Here.

Here’s another subtle nudge from the Universe that came across my Facebook feed yesterday:

 

imhereiloveyou

Sometimes the words that I need to hear (to read!) find their way to me

and for that

I am grateful.

~~~

I especially love those final six words:

And nothing will

ever exhaust me.

 

Hail to my Beloved!

Context is everything.

This quote has been sitting in a folder on my computer for at least three or four years now.

I never knew where it was from, except that it was from a poem by American poet, Louise Glück:

“…from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant I was not loved.
It meant I loved.”

~~~~

Today, I found the whole poem.

The poem is titled

First Memory

 

Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was–
for what I was: from the beginning of time,
in childhood, I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.

~~~

 

Context is everything.

Crash…into me.

You’ve got your ball
you’ve got your chain
tied to me tight tie me up again
who’s got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart I’ll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you I’m so lost for you

You come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

Touch your lips just so I know
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I’m bare boned and crazy for you
When you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

If I’ve gone overboard
Then I’m begging you
to forgive me
in my haste
When I’m holding you so girl
close to me

Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream.. In a boys dream

Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I’d like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me

The Other Side of Judgment and Fear

Another re-blog…but it is good and necessary food for thought today.

I highly recommend reading if you are prone to negative self-talk and worrying, (ie, ‘brain-weasels’)

Element

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Hello everyone, welcome ❤

I was trying to get caught up reading and commenting to posts the other day and I came to a one that dray0308 from Dream Big Dream Often reblogged. The title of the post was “Worrying About Nothing” This post was about questioning yourself, your choices and decisions rather than just living and enjoying your life.

It’s sad how often we judge ourselves. We suffer under the crushing fear that we can’t live the life we want because we aren’t doing enough, we aren’t good enough, we aren’t smart enough, we aren’t pretty or handsome enough. We just aren’t, right enough.

I’ve been to that dark place. I spent 10 years struggling with little to no self esteem and believing everything bad in my life was my fault, that there was nothing I could do right. I spared no judgment against myself. I saw my son, how we…

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Month for Loki, Day 13: More pieces that fell into place.

I was sketching Loki the other day, and it got me to thinking about how other aspects of Him were showing up in my life back when I was a kid, and yet how a lot of the pieces didn’t fall into place until 2012-2013 or so.

And I got to thinking about what I did after the SitD left (around age 9), and I was thinking about how I used to draw…a lot.  I briefly touched upon the subject of those drawings in a post on this blog back in early 2013, but I never wrote out my thoughts as I intended.

Here are those thoughts from my notebook…

(From 27 February 2013)

Something occurred to me this morning that I wanted to write about.

I had a brief visual/sensory upload – an unbidden visual/sensory upload while I was awake – of a man standing in front of me, holding my face in his hands. He is holding my face in his hands as if to make sure that I am making eye contact with him, and he is leaning forward, preparing to whisper into my left ear.

And this visual that I had made me wish that I could sketch out what I saw.  I mean, I can draw, but I am not so skilled that I can sketch things out as quickly or as deftly as I would like.  Rather I am more likely to get hung up on agonizing over every detail in my sketch so much so that I often lose the flow of the imagery and it fades quickly away before I’ve finished sketching it out.

So I was wishing that I could convey the shifting color of his eyes and the unshaven whiskers on his chin.  I wish that I could convey that I had looked down at his feet, and he was wearing dirty black canvas Chuck Taylors, with laces untied and loose.  He was wearing faded jeans, a t-shirt, and a shabby cotton overshirt.  I remember seeing the silver glint of an earring in his ear, and I noticed the way that his russet hair curled over the collar of his shirt, and how his hair turned a darker auburn toward the ends.  I remember noticing the smattering of freckles on the backs of his hands and along his fingers, and how his hands felt slightly calloused but pleasantly warm, holding my face.  I remember the trace of his grin, and the way that he slowly blinked and tilted his head, as those light-colored and impossibly bright eyes of his flickered with…satisfaction?  Relief? I’m not certain what word I am looking for but when I looked into his eyes, all I could think of was laughter and warmth and…home.

And I wish that I could have drawn that – the image of both my standing there with him and somehow standing outside of myself watching the exchange and the slow dawning of my recognition of who he was.

But I don’t have the skills.  I cannot sketch  this fast enough or well enough for you to see the vision as I saw it.

And I remembered.  I realize it now.  I am seeing a face that I have tried to draw before, and my heart skips a beat to think of it.  Can it be?

When I was younger — younger like 11 or 12 years old – I used to draw the face of a man that I did not know.  Or rather, he wasn’t anyone that solidly existed, that could easily be pinned down.  Sometimes I thought that I’d made him up, that he was simply an amalgam of pretty facial features — a young man with long, light-colored hair, with larger than average, strikingly bright-colored eyes, an aquiline nose, finely arched eyebrows, and a smile that I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a flirtatious grin or a sarcastic smirk.   Most of the time I would draw him clean-shaven, but sometimes I would practice drawing facial hair  – usually a well-groomed goatee or a Van Dyke beard.  I’d always envisioned his ears being pierced (even though in the late 70’s/early 80’s, it was still considered rather bold and overly flamboyant for a man to have pierced ears, especially in the right ear…)

But nonetheless, this man had jewelry and his face was a mixture of traditionally masculine features (angular jaw, an Adam’s apple, whiskers/facial hair) and feminine features (long eyelashes, high cheekbones, thinly arched eyebrows).  He was, to put it mildly, a very pretty man, and I often drew him in either medieval clothing or casual, almost hippie style clothing.  I would always draw him into background settings, surrounded by woodlands, mountains or snow.

Over and over, I drew this man, thinking that someday I would fall in love with a man that had this face, or something close to it.  Sometimes I would find myself comparing someone’s chin or someone’s eyes or the color of their hair to this man’s face, this man’s features.  And I can tell you right now, that face, those features never changed.  No, this man had a particular face that I loved, but never could quite find in reality.   So I just kept drawing him, perfecting that face as it could be seen from a variety of angles, expressing a variety of moods.

My siblings used to tease me, that I was drawing my invisible friend.

Sometimes I would imagine him saying all sorts of clever, wonderful things to me, all the words that I’d hoped someday that somebody might say: what a friend, a lover, a confidante would say.  Sometimes I would write him into stories, and they were often stories about learning and doing various activities – things I hadn’t yet learned how to do, such as how to ride a horse, or swim, or climb a tree.  Sometimes I would walk in the woods, and I would imagine delightful, fantastic possibilities, almost visualizing that I might find him further along the path, sitting on a tree stump, or fishing in the river, or laying in the grass, watching the clouds.

I remember when I first experimented with smoking, oddly enough, it was easy to imagine that he smoked too.  He did seem to have this smoky, fragrant scent about him that was entirely his — though I could never draw his hands holding a cigarette very well (aside of the fact that hands are notoriously difficult to draw, especially hands holding things that cast light and shadow.)

I cannot deny that I drew him so often that it seemed as if I drew him into existence somehow.

He was not simply a masculine version of myself, unless he was perhaps a part of me that I wish that I could have been.

And for many years, I drew him just so I could see his face.

It hits me like a ton of bricks today to realize that whenever I draw Loki’s face, I am drawing him; I am drawing an old friend.

And whenever I visualize Loki, I realize that I am seeing him, the handsome face of my old friend.

And I never made that connection until today.

~~~

Hail to Loki, my sweetest friend ❤

 

~~~

A year or so after I wrote this notebook entry, I received a message from Him, that I suspect may have been intended to make me smile:

You didn’t make Me up; rather it is that I made *you* up. 

 

 

Questions and answers.

Have you ever played with the Ape of Thoth?

It’s a searchable database of Thelema texts – by verse and chapter, if one knows the number – but what makes it fun is that there is also a feature on the site that is a Thelemic text randomizer.

It’s pretty neat, actually.  You type/ask a question, and it brings up a portion of text from the books of Thelema as an answer.

Which makes it so much more interesting than the Magic 8-Ball these days.

So…I have an issue that is quite emotionally-laden for me, and I was having trouble keeping a clear head about things.

So I decided to ask the Ape of Thoth for some guidance, simply typing:

 

What to do? RE: LOKI

 

[And this was the answer:]

 

“Continuation. Further concerning occupation.

Let the devotee transmute within the alembic of his heart every thought, or word, or act into the spiritual gold of his devotion.
As thus: eating. Let him say: “I eat this food in gratitude to my Deity that hath sent it to me, in order to gain strength for my devotion to Him.”
Or: sleeping. Let him say: “I lie down to sleep, giving thanks for this blessing from my Deity, in order that I may be refreshed for new devotion to Him.”
Or: reading. Let him say: “I read this book that I may study the nature of my Deity, that further knowledge of Him may inspire me with deeper devotion to Him.”
Or: working. Let him say: “I drive my spade into the earth that fresh flowers (fruit, or what not) may spring up to His glory, and that I, purified by toil, may give better devotion to Him.”
Or: whatever it may be that he is doing, let him reason it out in his own mind, drawing it through circumstance and circumstance to that one end and conclusion of the matter. And let him not perform the act until he hath done this.
As it is written: Liber VII, cap. v. —
22. “Every breath, every word, every thought, ever deed is an act of love with Thee.
23. “The beat of my heart is the pendulum of love.
24. “The songs of me are the soft sighs:
25. “The thoughts of me are very rapture:
26. “And my deeds are the myriads of Thy Children, the stars and the atoms.” And Remember Well, that if thou wert in truth a lover, all this wouldst thou do of thine own nature without the slightest flaw or failure in the minutest part thereof.”

 

All I could think upon reading the above is – what remarkably specific advice – even if it doesn’t answer the question that I thought that I was asking.

But sometimes that happens.

Perhaps this is the connection in discovering the meaning of that phrase

Love is the movement that gives substance to the Will 

 

Hm.

Allow.

‘There is a secret about human love that is commonly overlooked: receiving it is much more scary and threatening than giving it.   How many times in your life have you been unable to let in someone’s love, or pushed it away?  Much as we proclaim the wish to be truly loved, we are often afraid of that, and find it difficult to open to love or let it all the way in.’

John Welwood

~~~

He said:

‘Is it so difficult?

And so I will tell you again what you must do: 

Open up to love. 

Just love.

Let love consume you.  

Let love engulf you in its joy.

You must trust in your love.

You must allow love to take hold of you.

You must allow yourself to feel.

You must forgive yourself and allow yourself 

Love without condition,

Love without attachments,

Love without goals,

Love without agendas.

You must love for the sake of love.

Don’t you see?

You must allow yourself to be taken by joy.

Release yourself to love.  Surrender yourself to joy.

You must not fear being open.

You must open up to love.’

~~~

Amazed.

~~~

Thank You, my Beloved.

For everything

Today and Always