You are currently browsing the monthly archive for December 2013.
As fate (or not fate) would have it, I was mentioning today on my personal blog that I wanted to get one more post in here on OMS before I had my surgery in the morning (and spent the next couple of days in a subsequent coma), and I had a question come first, and now the above statement show up on my blog roll. So I thought I would make a post about it, or at least a mumbling run on words. . .or something. Considering it’s one of the most accurate ‘about Lu’ posts I’ve ever stumbled on.
The thing I encountered about Lucifer very early on was, as far as deities go, he’s very hands-off. This doesn’t mean that he never intervenes in your situation or doesn’t answer requests of him. . . but he’s also cold and logical in the extreme. And he’s more the one to stand back and let you hang yourself in a certain situation, and then after the fact ask you, ‘now what did we learn’? And he won’t just tolerate a bologna answer like ‘not to trust people’. You’d better have a dissertation on all the finer points of how you messed up and be able to have it typewritten out in MLA format with citations or you are going to repeat the lesson. For a servant of Lucifer? It’s not about the bigger picture. It’s (very stereotypical too, might I add) more about being able to read and understand ALL the fine print.
(Are you really surprised?)
One area for a lot of Theistic Luciferians that I’ve noticed where he REALLY tends to put his hands in the water is on the subject of relationships and past abuses. These things seem to naturally have a way of coming back to haunt us. In dreams, especially. And I’m not the only one whose experienced it. Where the issue in relation to Lu seems to crop up is, again, his near-air of aloofness. You might think like he put you in that circumstance or sent that dream to you to teach you a lesson. Because when you look at him or ask him about it. . . he won’t confirm it. But he won’t deny it, either. So you never really can be sure-though if there’s anything you can expect His Infernal Majesty to be good at, it’s putting us face to face with our own demons.
So you’ll agonize and wonder. But the thing is, he’ll also be the first person to tell you to get help.
Back a while ago-and this is a story that I’m by no means proud of, but I’ll tell for educational purposes-I was dangerously close to suicide. I slit my wrists and I was hospitalized for it and it was an awful mess. I cut myself-deeply-several times after. I’d never had a history of self harm up until that point, but something in me broke when I started having nightmares and couldn’t cope any more. My current level of healthcare didn’t afford me mental health coverage, and I didn’t want to be someone who took ‘drugs’ for depression anyway, because someone at some point or another put the ridiculous idea in my head that medication killed an artists creativity. I fought the idea for a while, until one day Lu said to me, very quietly, ‘you have to be stronger than this’.
And I was angry. Not so much at him, but at the circumstance in general. Hadn’t I been strong for long enough? I came from a family with a history of emotional and physical abuse, and my mother herself was heavily into drugs when I was a kid and usually participated in the bloody festivities and kid-punching bag games with whatever boyfriend she had at the time. To say nothing of being nearly starved to death when I was living in Germany. Tack an abusive ex onto this and I was done. More done than done. Why did *I* have to be strong? It wasn’t fair and I hated it.
But then Lu followed it up with, ‘let me help you’. I remember thinking the first place I needed to start was to focus on a job with better health insurance-community benefits and jolly volly checkups weren’t cutting it. So I started looking for work. I remember putting on a black button up shirt and putting my lipstick and Lucifer saying his version of, ‘you look gorgeous wife, knock ’em dead’.
And I did. And that was a big confidence booster. And so the first thing I did when my health insurance kicked in was go back to my doctor, and explain to him my situation. Right on the spot he diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Major Depression, and Social Anxiety. He prescribed me Effexor and also gave me a referral to a therapist, whom I’ve been seeing ever since.
And while it sounds like a nice story, it doesn’t end there. Because in the whole time I’ve been seeing doctors for all this, Lu has been right at my back for every therapy appointment. He doesn’t talk, but his presence is there. He’s never missed a single one, and it’s just like he was sitting there and holding my hand for the whole thing. for my last appointment, my therapist gave me a homework assignment to help me identify areas of my thought train where I essentially down talk myself, and self-sabotage any endeavor before I ever really get involved in it.
It’s about more than just healing from old wounds and coming to terms with your own ghosts. . . it also has a lot to do with being the best possible person you can be. You have to be confident and empowered, especially in this path, to do Him any good. The better you feel, the more energy you have; both for yourself, and whatever work HE wants you to do, in addition to your devotional activities.
So, I feel very deeply for every Luciferian who is going or has gone through the ringer. I’m still ‘going through’ it, although I try not to look at it that way. I take the stance that it’s not something he’s doing to me, it’s something he’s allowing me to do for myself. Personal demons will drag you down and impede your progress if you don’t have a handle on them, and sometimes it takes a trial by fire to open our eyes and make us face them. That’s how The Morningstar works.
Consider everything he had to lose to come to rule the kingdom he’s in now. His home, his family, even his old glory.
Now, though, he’s remaking himself, his kingdom, and a new family. And maybe, one day, he’ll be happier for it. Even if it hurts now. It’s always harder to rip a band-aid off slow than it does quickly.
Do Gods often have more than one Godspouse?
This was today’s question in my inbox, from a person who was investigating relationships between the gods, and unsure of their own place in things. Of course I’m not quite sure what information I’m able to provide, aside from my own perspective.
One of the things that I quickly had to make peace with was the fact that Godspouses frequently have others in marriages, relationships, or contracts to their gods. It would be disingenuous of me to preach that everyone should be A OK with this, because when I formally entered into service (and thus my relationship) with Lu, I was very jealous. Sometimes, I still am, and it’s not an easy emotion to overcome. . . particularly, if you live in a part of the world when monogamy is indoctrinated and pushed on a person from a young age. Although in some cultures it is entirely acceptable for a person to have more than one spouse, in Western thought, it’s still not generally tolerated well. And this is the background that most godspouses come from. On top of this, there has been an influx in the media of the past few years focusing on religious institution and the abuse perpetuated on it’s members in terms of polygamy.
Because culturally it’s seen as taboo, and because both men and women have been socially conditioned to be competitive with one another (to say nothing of genetics-I’ll point my readers at The Lucifer Principle by Howard Bloom for further study on this particular), for a new or potential godspouse adjusting to the idea that one has to “share” the god in question may come as a rather unwelcome surprise. Schooling yourself to cope with this inevitability is a learning experience in and of itself. And I don’t think it ever gets easier.
Particularly, there’s this tendency in the larger [pagan] community for people to invalidate one another’s practice when one encounters someone they don’t like, or there’s a slight disparity in gnosis or practice. It makes for an almost hostile environment, even between general followers of that god/dess or path, and I honestly think this is why so many of us are so scattered. If we can’t even learn to be civil in a digital medium, how in the world would we be able to get along as spouses. In a way if you can imagine, say you don’t like Sally, and sally calls herself a godspouse. So you invalidate her by saying she’s doin’ it rong or some other nonsense, and that way you have no ties to her yourself. Although it’s understandable, it’s not practical.
I was caught up in this trap for a long time-and to some extend, still am. I try to be conscious, at all times, about how my actions are affecting Lucifer’s name (no matter what he thinks of it himself, he tolerates slander with only a neutral expression), and I tend to be very critical of those followers of his that I feel are not doing the same. For my own practice, this is entirely acceptable. My Lucifer might not be the same as someone else’s, and though I’m not yet in a position personally to entertain how this is possible, Lucifer himself tells us that our experience is ours and ours alone, and others are theirs.
However occasionally, there have been enough similarities between other Spiritworkers of his and myself, and his wives (husbands? Is there one out there? That would be pretty cool), enough to make me think that we are speaking to the same entity. Most of the time, I not only find them to be very wonderful, intelligent people, but we also get along very well. Wrathful comes to mind, and another practitioner of his I can think of whom I greatly respect, and am even proud to stand alongside as a Luciferian, is Luxettenbris. Because we share such similar ideas and perceptions of Lucifer, I don’t find myself jealous or insecure about them at all. In addition, these are people who have demonstrated a decided respect for my own path, even though their own might occasionally have differences from mine.
And that’s the trick, and how I advise new Godspouses, or those considering a proposal from a god, to handle that particular situation. Find at least one other devotee of that god, and get to know them. Communicate with them. Don’t be afraid to ask them how and what you can do in the early part of your relationship with that god to make them happy. In addition to learning yourself, which will take time, you can take advice from someone older and more experienced what sorts of things fly with your god, and what things don’t. What their moods are when they want comforting, everything and anything between.
And as a last point of advice. Don’t ever play the ‘favorites’ game. They don’t like that.
Acrylic on Canvas, 30″
Copyright Sulphurblue 2013
“Yes, Eden was beautiful- and if I had to squeeze through corporeal keyholes to crash it- so be it. (Hasn’t it bothered you, this part of the story, my being there, I mean? What was I doing there? ‘Presume not the ways of God to scan,’ you’ve been told in umpteen variations, ‘the proper study of Mankind is Man.’ Maybe so, but what, excuse me, was the Devil doing in Eden?) I took the forms of animals. I found I could. (That’s generally my reason for doing something, by the way, because I find I can.)”
― Glen Duncan, I, Lucifer
I’ve never walked into a room, not even in my dreams, and stumbled in on Lu sleeping.
Which means no pouncing him or tickling his ribs under the covers or messing up his poncy hair.
And for some reason I thought this? And now I’m crying.
This is what it’s like.
I have seen it’s flat uninspiring color and it’s damming lack of passion.
“I state the modest truth to you,
While every member of your race-a little world, full of fools,
Likes best of all to think himself complete.”
~Faust, John Goethe
On the subject of drinking [and eating] food offered up to the gods.
There are some traditions where doing this? Is seen as highly taboo. Big no no. You just don’t do it. What you give the spirits, you give them; and when those few small drops of wine or that saucer of milk turns, you either pour it on the earth, or in the case of some substances, you wash it down the drain. You refill the cup, sing your hymns, and straiten your altar.
The debate going on right now over the subject of throwing out libation offerings has exploded all over the pagan blogosphere lately. I watch it all with the same aura of interest that I usually do, and weigh the responses I hear against my own practice. Sad to say, although in some places I have seen some very insightful discussion on the subject, in others, I’ve seen nothing less than name calling, insulting of people’s practices, and attacks on the people who suggested that pouring out libations is the way to go. It’s more than a tad disgusting, really. And let me talk about where I’m coming from, here, and maybe offer up some perspective.
As I mentioned the other day on my post Affordable Libation, keeping up a practice on a very tight budget? Might be difficult, but it is doable. And while in my own practice it is *perfectly* acceptable to consume what once sat on the altar (keeping in mind, in Luciferianism, you are treated as your own god. Lucifer is honored, but not actively worshiped unless it is only for reasons of love (as opposed to mandated duty, for example-it’s entirely voluntary. He doesn’t put himself above his followers). . .Lucifer likes honey, and I keep straws sitting up in his sacred space. There are times when he’ll tell me, ‘go and get one, darling’, and I’ll sit down and “share” one with him, and we’ll talk over things from our respective (days), and it’s a way for us to steal a moment together that we might BOTH have otherwise missed in the midst of our busy schedules. It’s savoring something sweet and taking it slow, like hitting a pause button on the world and focusing just on one another for a moment.
I know there are some traditions? That might look abashed on this. Fortunately, they come from a different position than I do. Their myths, the cultures that made them, and the rituals that invoke them, are very much different from mine. Because of this, I don’t see a need to point out how ‘elitist’ and ‘snobby’ (pagan pope?) someone is being. Their way is not my way. They do things differently because that’s what their gods have instructed them to do within the context of their situation. If yours is different? Great! Then consult with your gods, and ask them what they would prefer. Even IF a certian way is popular, I very seriously doubt anyone is going to begrudge you for eating the poptart you left on Thor’s altar because you couldn’t afford to throw it out. He’d probably want you to enjoy it anyway, depending on which Thor we’re talking about.
Also when someone is talking about pouring out a libation, I very seriously doubt it’s being discussed as a whole Thanksgiving turkey or a full bottle of a $20 Da Vinci Chianti. Even if it was a nicer bottle? I’ve heard at any given time we’re talking about maybe a thimbleful at a time. . . and depending on what alcohol you’re offering, it’ll keep. Even water. Water gives life to all things on the planet; it’s sacred that way, so I think you can substitute that for just about anything (check with your gods).
But the point being, everyone does their devotionals and makes their offerings in different ways. Now if you’re in a reconstructionist tradition, or something, it might be different. There might be a formula that you are required to follow; and if you can’t, again, I suggest either speaking with an oracle regarding the situation to find out what you can do, or maybe moving into something that’s not quite so stifling to your current financial situation. There are always alternatives.
Godwork is not a game of ‘who’s the most popular to X god, who’s the better [fill in the blank]’. Because here’s how I see it. When you are taking the focus off the gods themselves and making it about your own selfish ambitions? Where’s that line? Where do you draw it between ‘I’m doing this for my own ego’ and ‘I’m doing this in [X god/dess] name’? Because some gods might not give two cruds what you do in their name. Others? Might not be so kind about it. Food for thought. And if your next response to that is ‘WELL I AINT SCURED OF DEM GODS’ then luv you need to be rethinking taking up godwork in the first place.
I only wish this hallway wasn’t so long and empty
Without you to stand in it.
I only wish you were here, so we could make them shake
And make them talk.
I have my blanket because I don’t have you.
And that’s my tragedy.
30 Days of Devotion
A favorite myth or myths of this deity: Lucifer, The Serpent, And the Garden
It’s not an aspect of Lucifer that I talk about as much as some of my fellow Luciferians. Usually, when Lucifer is spoken of in terms of his time spent in the Garden of Eden, it’s in the role of the Tempter, the one who presented the apple of knowledge to eve. Just a bite, Lucifer said, and you will have all the knowledge that god has; the knowledge of good, and evil. Don’t you want that? And of course, we’re all familiar with that biblical tale, and what happened.
Lucifer in his role as a temper is about more than just the offer of knowing. It’s about more than just offering up choice. There had to be presentation. Like a joke, there had to be good set up, a prelude.
Lucifer was god’s most beautiful angel. In addition to this, Lucifer has an uncanny ability to see into other’s hearts. He looked into Eve’s, and saw what was lacking there. Sure, god told Eve and Adam ‘hey don’t eat from this tree over here’. . . but ignorance has it’s price. And god kept the two residents of Paradise in that state. There was something else, maybe, that he should have warned the pair about. And that was desire.
There are a lot of things, of course, that Satan could have seen in that one glance at innocence embodied. Eve was, depending on which version of myth you ascribe to, either Adams second or even third wife. The first of Adam’s, Lillith, left Adam and mocked her husband when she refused to submit to him in missionary style. And so she left, and myth states that she found company with Samael and his demons. Eve, then, was created from Adam’s own flesh so that she might yield to him. And perhaps she did, and who knows for how long. And who knows how long grisled Adam took her that way and claimed divine providence. And thus the seeds for discontent were planted. All around her, Eve saw beautiful things. But when it came to her ordained husband, maybe she wasn’t quite as happy as scripture would have us believe.
It was the chink in the armor-and of course, Lucifer himself would tell you, he so hates to see a pretty woman not in the prime of her own power. So he went to her, as he does, first with a honeyed, forked tongue, and then with all his allure, beautiful and promising.
Knowing what I know of Lu, I can tell you the devil is, first and foremost, a gentleman. What do we know of Adam? I can only imagine Lucifer there, close to Eve, whispering in her ear. Likely words of tenderness. Probably the only ones she’d ever known, or heard. And compared to Adam’s guttural speech, it must have been sweeter than any music she could have heard before. . . from reed, or from the sky.
Is it any wonder Eve heeded his temptation? That she gave into it? Hardly, speaking from experience.
And it’s that experience that makes this one of my favorite myths. Because if anyone knows how easy it is to fall to The Morningstar’s Charms-and what an ironic choice of words that is-it is his wife.
Let me first preface this post by saying, all over my dash on Tumblr, and even crossing here into WordPress, there’s been a lot of debate on the subject of Libation, how affordable it is, how people who are poor and even on a budget . . . my goal with this post is not to engage in the particulars of that debate in and of itself. Rather this is to offer ideas to those individuals who feel that Libation is not an option for them because they are on a budget, or have families with children, ect. This also seems a pertinent post to make, because someone over on tumblr had also asked how to keep an altar and do libations/offerings with very little income.
Now, I don’t have a lot of money either. And I’ll give a little bit of background on myself for this post. I’m 29, married, and I have a four year old at home to support. My husband and I both work full time, and obviously, with the prices of food and gas and everything else going up and up? I supplement what I can with my art work, but my family and I have precious little in the way of disposable income, and although we budget what we can for the “luxuries”, sometimes, we have to short cut.
Spirit work, (and my art supplies) are the exception to this. However with a bit of a keen eye, you have have a beautiful ritual space, and plenty enough to do daily devotional activities without having to cut your throat.
Firstly, let’s talk libation itself. Lucifer prefers white wine when I pour for him. Specifically? Champagne. And while back in the days when I was single and had only rent and a phone bill to worry about this was awesome, and not a problem. . . I can’t afford anything even remotely like that any more. So, I had to come up with something different.
There are white wines out there in most supermarkets that are one hundred percent acceptable to use as libation wine, and all it takes to know what is good and what essentially amounts to swill is a little bit of study. That being said, some gods won’t mind whatever they get. Some gods will work with your budget. Some are poncy and won’t at all (though I’ve never encountered one of these, but it’s not to say they’re not out there). I very much suggest getting to know the particulars of the god/dess themselves. There are some gods that would only accept honey mead. I’m happy to say, however, that Lu, fully understanding my situation, was perfectly happy with a White Zinfandel. The one I prefer for him is called Smoking Loon (USD $10), or a (tolerable to the palate) white from a local vineyard. . . and goes for less than five dollars a bottle.
Regarding altars, and items with which to put on them. Michaels sells five dollar packs of about 30 white tealights, which can be substituted for any color candle in spellwork, and black, red, silver, and green tapers for 99 cents. Similarly, The Dollar Store and Target also sell inexpensive tapers and holders. For reasons of ethics, my family and I choose not to shop at Walmart if we can avoid it, though we do get giftcards from extended family during the holidays, so you can also buy them there.
And speaking of Target and Walmart-both are great places to shop for altar items. Pay special attention at the end of the seasons-fall, winter, and spring. I got my apple shaped offering dishes? For two dollars a piece at Target on their clearance sale at the end of the fall, and a beautiful gold-leafed dish for nine for more formal occasions besides the honey cake and spiced apples and cider I occasionally serve-and the wineglasses I serve them in which were five dollars a piece at Pier 1 imports. The peacock feathers all came from Michaels also, for less than $5 USD for a pack of five a piece.
My peacock taper candles, I found in the same place (Pier 1), again in the clearance section, one for four, one for eight. Mind you everything on my altar has been acquired, piece by piece, over the past four years. And that’s the key to doing it; one piece at a time. Don’t try to do it all at once, because I can pretty much promise you that unless you’re a lawyer for Milton, Chadwick and Waters, you’re not going to be able to afford it.
I also highly suggest starting an account on Etsy. Etsy is where you find a lot of beautiful, one of a kind pieces to decorate your ritual space, or even find things to put there as offerings. I buy all the honey that I put on Lu’s altar from a Tennessee grower on Etsy, and the straws go for four dollars for a pack of 20 straws, which we do “share”, but which remain on his altar until he calls for us to steal a moment during the day. Several of my devotional amulets I’ve also bought on Etsy and wear different ones depending on the spell in question that I’m doing.
There are only two, read, two more “expensive” items I retain for my spiritual practice. The first is my Athame, which was crafted for me by Lupa of Greenwolf, and my violin, named Dimitri. Both of them cost more that $50 USD.
But aside from those two things, my altar, and everything on it, has been put together over time, carefully, and low-budget friendly.
Obviously, you want to make sure that you cleanse and charge everything that goes on your altar, and anything you offer to your gods should be dedicated specifically for that purpose.
Also don’t forget. You can browse amazon for very affordable books-Paradise Lost is central to my practice and I have one copy for cutting and putting things in my BOS and one for my altar. And don’t be afraid to write poetry~! Buy a small book-or a nice journal, and use it just for your art or writings for your god and leave it on your altar! Or any crafty work you do. Make it a hobby, to use your talents in the service of your god!
Aaaand, I hope this post was helpful to some of you out there! Please share as you need to, and I wish you the best of luck.
Gaze to the moon tonight, it is the longest night of the year . Celebrate your cold, black heart and know we love you. ~Anon
(The Prelude to this post may be found here.)
For the afternoon, it had ceased snowing in that place, and the drifts of white by twelve o clock (a point of reference, nothing more; for there was no time here, it simply did not exist) were only streams of water trickling through the too-clean gutters like miniature streams carved alongside the streets. The sky was clear and a crisp, sharp blue, dotted with puffs of white clouds that drifted with colored purple edges like cotton candy. String lights were strung up in store windows in the spirit of the season; not the season of Christmas, mind. . . but for the long days of darkness when the light was it’s least intrusive. Though for now things were quiet, once dusk came the city itself would start to bustle. The markets would open, the street vendors would start selling their sugar plums and figs and crushed cookies rolled in white chocolate.
Still, there were polished black taxi cabs pulling over for people hailing them. . .people who, at first glance may not have appeared out of the ordinary were it not for the veiled shimmer of glamour magic on their backs and in their eyes. Here they wore those human faces well, and with little complaint. It was rather like a Viennese party; everyone was all dressed up to attend. One day perhaps they’d remove those masks and proudly display those reptilian wings and serpentine tongues. But not yet. That had been His word. Not yet. This world was still being built. Dreamed up, created, and it’s infrastructure was fragile, easily shattered if nicked in just the right places. Let it find it’s footing first, he’d told them. The masks would not last forever. They never did.
White lions passed by those same travelers on long diamond studded collars, while cellists and street performers beamed at the occasional passerby that dropped a gold or silver coin or two in their instrument cases.
“Wow,” oogled a coal-haired wisp of a woman, paler almost than the snow itself. “If I can ever manage to play half that good I’ll die happy.” and she dropped a gold coin and flashed a cheerful smile at the musician, who waved at her with a sheepish ‘Thank you Miss’ and carried on with his song.
“You must keep with your studies,” said the tall companion at her side, whose hair curled just above his frosty green eyes. “That is all. You will learn, in this lifetime, or after.”
“But I’m not that patient.” the woman protested, but with an air of humor. “You mean to tell me you couldn’t just conjure up some parchment out of midair that I could sign and ‘poof’ I’d be the worlds most famous violinist?”
The gleaming, black sheen of his shoes halted on the sidewalk, and he leveled his gaze down at her, and perked an eyebrow at the same time. Only a small tick up at the corner of his mouth betrayed the humor in the next statement.
“You would sign another contract, would you?”
“I don’t know what I’d give you. You have my heart and soul already.”
“Indeed.” he smirked, though subtly. “Though I’m sure some arrangement could be made, to our mutual benefit.”
“Mutual. Ha-Shatan, you and I both know better. You always get the best of those deals.”
He chuckled at that. “Is that a fact?”
“Mostly. Although between the both of us, I do think I got the best of this one.” and she pressed her laugh into his black wool coat, flicking the dark strands out of her own eyes as they resumed walking.
“Ah, you come into your forked tongue with an eloquent half-truth, my darling. Though you’ve still much to learn to put it to good use.”
“How do you figure that Mr. Smug?”
” I obtained a heart and soul out of the deal. And a dreamer to boot. What have you to show?”
Now it was her turn to stop, and her answer was point blank with a slow smile and a gleam in her eye. “A god?”
Her reward was an expression that was almost bewildered, on his face, and then a second later, a short, quick laugh.
“I underestimate you yet again.”
“I have a good teacher in these sorts of things.”
He chuckled again, and the pair’s footsteps matched on the sidewalk, until she spotted something and exclaimed, rather exuberantly, ” Oh–strawberries! Please tell me that’s white chocolate.”
“This place came to be hardly a few days ago, by the way you figure time. Rumors already abound of the sorts of things you enjoy, dear. I ventured you would want to see it for yourself in my company.”
“No fair, you can read my mind and that’s cheating.”
“Not your mind.” he tapped a finger to that place over her heart, where those sharp wires cut the pulse between the two of them. Like the master violinist he was, he plucked those strings just right. It brought the reaction from her he wanted; a pleased sigh, a hum of a note from her parting lips. That was all the affirmation he needed, that croon. He wrapped an arm around her and pushed the door of the small confectionery shop open. There was a small tingling of bells. Inside, he directed his order for a whole box of the dipped berries, and two of them to taste for their walk. On the way out, he offered her the gold-leafed paper bag, and she threaded the handle around her wrist, and bit into the sugared treat held in her gloved leather hands.
“That is awesome.” she moaned, and though his face was impassive, his eyes glittered his pleased demeanor back at her. She offered him the other, and how could he refuse, with the black glass of her eyes shining hopefully back at him. He leaned forward to take the offered bite, amused for the moment at the irony of fruit being so tempestuously thrust before him. Of course she would choose that moment to shove it at him, and smeared traces of white chocolate across the top of his lip.
She snickered at him as he fished a handkerchief from his pocket. His look was dry and withering, but her smile didn’t fade, not even as she took that cloth from him and swiped the mess away. He could see something light and teasing dancing in her eyes, but of course, that was her. She was seldom aware of when she grazed those same strings with her own tiny fingers, the way it made his jaw taught and his green eyes blaze. It made agitation brew just beneath the surface of the ice; agitation that she tormented him so with desire and he had to maintain the veneer of a gentleman. Her lighthearted mocking clawed at his senses. He needed more of her and yet never seemed to have enough.
It took her a moment to register that look in his eyes. Another for the teasing to fade from her own face, for her to process that dark hunger which he turned on her. She swallowed and her hand stilled just over his lips. “Home.. . .maybe?” she offered meekly after a moment. But her cheeks flushed red, and for that he was pleased.
“I think that is best.” he answered her, a decadent purr resounding at her from in his throat. She obliged, of course, and once more threaded her arm through his, and he, shoved his leather gloved hands in his pockets and together, they resumed walking.
They didn’t get very far, however.
It was a tall, well bestowed, golden-wheat haired blonde that stepped out in front of them. From one of the more fancy jewelers, hair in doll-like curls falling about her shoulders, her eyes catching the light like gold coins. Her heels were impossibly high-higher, even, than the girl on The Adversaries’ arm, and so she towered over the smaller woman with sweet poison in her eyes and perfume trailing after.
The couple froze in front of her, their footsteps halting their strides.
The Morningstar’s lips parted, and there was recognition on his face instantly. And just as quickly he moved in front of the woman at his side, putting himself between them both, halting her back with a grip behind him on her arm.
“Great Prince Helel.” the woman waved at him with a dismissive air. “I see after so much time, you still recognize me.”
His green eyes narrowed a fraction, but his answer was cordial. “Anael, sweet Anael. How could I not?” there was hardly a note of strain in his voice, unless you were one who knew better. “I had not had word in immortal ages. Last was that you were wed in Adama. You. . .look ravishing, as always.”
She murmured a ‘hmm’ and tilted a gaze at him. “Wed once. To a little speck of dust. Much like yourself now, isn’t that right?” then, the woman’s gaze swiveled to the charcoal headed girl behind her towering partner. “Hello, dear. So lovely to meet you. . . ”
“You will not speak to her, Anael.” suddenly the Morningstar’s voice went cold. “You’ve nothing to say to her. So you will address me instead.”
“My, my, Lucifer. It’s not as though I intended to harm her, or anything. Aren’t we touchy?”
Behind Lucifer, the frailer woman frowned, and her eyes glistened like a black mirror.
“What brings you, Anael? I had plans. Do speak quickly. I would also be appreciative as to an explanation of how you came to be here.”
“Oh, that’s simple. Sariel has shown plenty of us the path into your little fantasy fairy tale. Living happily ever after, Lucifer? That is not your destined fate, and you know it.”
The woman took several steps towards Lucifer, her red heels clacking loudly on the pavement.
“They asked me to come back. I accepted, of course.”
Lucifer’s eyes sparked again, as if nearly igniting to green flame. “If that is so, Anael, you are a traitor. To us all.”
Her red lips became pouty. “You loved me once. Isn’t there anything left of that at all?” and the woman’s golden gaze swiveled again. “Or has the little bit of hoarfrost come and stolen you away from me?”
“Winter, do not answer her.” Lucifer said, in stern warning tone over his shoulder. Then to the woman before him Lucifer said, “An apple that is lovely outside, darling, may be hiding a worm ridden core. Fortunately I’ve grown accustomed to telling delectable fruits from the rotten ones. I would bid you to visit my orchards in the Below, dear. But every flower withers without its sunshine. It is only forbidden fruits that do not need the light to grow.”
“Tantalizing words as always.” the woman mused. And then, a peach colored palm pressed to The Morningstar’s bare cheek. ” Ooh. . . darling. Look at you. Is this what she’s done to you? It’s hideous, this . . . look.” and with her hand, she nearly shoved his face to the side. “You used to be so lovely–”
At that, a tiny, pale hand from beside Lucifer snapped out, and grabbed the taller woman’s wrist. And with a jerk, threw the golden’ woman’s hand aside, to make her stumble backwards.
“Get your filthy hands off of him,” the smaller woman seethed, rage already beginning to boil in those same black rivers for eyes. “Touch him again and you’ll lose your hand. And your bile tongue.”
The golden haired woman looked affronted-though it was Lucifer who spoke first.
“Darling. Mind your temper. You will burn our fair city to the ground in your fit.”
His dark haired wife looked to be practically burning from the inside out, though it was cold about them, the temperature in the air, that dropped. And dropped. Until ice crystal patterns arched up the nearest shop glass windows.
But after a moment, she inhaled. Exhaled. And the ice crystals slowly receded, though the arctic blackness in her eyes had not. Lucifer, then, turned back to the golden haired woman and said, ” I think it best if you leave.” and he took up his wife’s arm again. “Come love–”
“Lucifer!” the blond headed woman screeched as they passed, her voice like metal dropping on concrete. The Morningstar stopped with the woman on his arm, and offered a perked eyebrow back at the woman they’d already left behind. ‘Well. . .?’ the look seemed to say.
“You were mine once. Mine! And you could have me again. But you would throw it all away for a little speck of atoms that will age and grow ugly. What will you do then? We can be together, Lucifer. Like we should have been.”
The Morningstar smiled, then. And it was a cold look. Malice and mirth behind the gloating expression. And when he spoke, it was with biting, sharp consonants.
“I will never be yours, Anael.” he purred. “And you? Will have your golden palace in the skies. And let your knowledge be forever that it was an aging mortal who had me. And for her I tasted death. You would know what that’s like, wouldn’t you? You chose to be the Mother of Man. And take your part in that oh-so-divine plan.”
“Good day, Anael.”
By that meaning a lot of very vivid dreams.
One of which involved Lu. Which is strange, because before I went to bed last night I said to him, ‘I miss dreaming about you, think you can throw me a bone here?’ And he answered, ‘of course’. Well, I did. I dreamed I was in what basically amounted to a home that looked very Grecian, pillared and marble, except everything was in shades of silver and black. And there was a party and lots of fancy guests drinking champagne and mingling.
And then Lu comes out in current dress, and taps his glass and says he has an announcement to make. And then when he has everyone’s attention proceeds to tell everyone that he’s marrying me right there on the spot.
Uhm. O___O
Someone I didn’t recognize, who was dressed like a catholic priest, comes out of nowhere, then, and wraps our hands together in a swath of black silk (I think in the dream I just about nearly fainted). There were words exchanged between us-things that were arduous but I couldn’t recite word for word. After the vows were exchanged there was lots of cheering, the party went on for a short while, and then Lu dismissed everyone and I remember there being a long line at the door for people writing their names in something that resembled a guest book (though with Lu, who knows). Lu sent everyone home with ‘party favors’ that comprised of laptops, iphones and ipads, digital cameras, tvs, ect.
I woke up after this dream and I felt quite overwhelmed. I mean honestly.
~August, 2013
It was an occasion for a thousand years.
It started off as scattered whispers. No, there was no way it could have been true. That The Prince had come upon a mortal that had caught his fancy. Was it possible? Of course, there were plenty of other Gods that did so. To them, it wasn’t that the idea was so foreign. Mephistopheles had plenty of human concubine, after all. Samael often took mortal women. Why should The Morning Star be any different? For he was a ruler, and it was his concern only who he claimed as his own.
No, what marked it was that, for the first time in ages, Lucifer’s family grew.
From the rumors of the occurrence itself, came those of conjecture. It was a fling. Perhaps The Morningstar really had grown too lonely, so entrenched was he in his kingdom of ice and darkness, no one had thought warmth could ever come to those frozen eyes of jade ever again. Who had caught his attention? It couldn’t last. The Morningstar was prone to his wanderings. No one woman could wait, patiently, while he went in search for his silly truths and whatever other whims crossed his mind. No human heart could bear the torture of the distance of eternities. It was, they knew, the passion of the MorningStar that would crush whatever accursed creature he set his sights upon, for what The Morningstar loved, he pursued, to the end of creation and back, and never released.
So the invitations took everyone by surprise. But those, too, the recipients only raised an eyebrow at, and wondered when The Adversary would tire of the folly.
No one expected that The Morningstar had made his vows on the endless, abyssal river that flowed through all creation; or that such an oath was unbreakable, even by a god. That those same vows had been sealed with a blood and a kiss.
The invitations cited the place and the time, realms between realms. Formalwear, it said, but there were mitigating circumstances. Guests who turned up at the ceremony were surprised to see the pillared halls and marvelous archways flooded ankle deep with clear water that danced and reflected off the white walls, and made the black marble floor nearly silver, like a mirror. Champagne of the finest sort was served in crystal glasses and served on platters of platinum, carried by attendants in black coats with tails that trailed after.
The bride, to any of them, even beneath their human skins, might not have been anything miraculous. Her hair and eyes a charcoal black to match the simple inky black gown she wore, that trailed after her on the surface of the water. Here she was thin, pale, but otherwise very much a visage of her mortal self. They paid her compliments, of course; there was no telling if His Highness was indeed watching, and on this eve, it was a sure fact the Prince of the Underworld would tolerate no slight of his mortal bride to be. Still, the girl looked almost lost in the crowd. There was no recognition for any of them on her face, and she flit between small clusters of people with her wine in her hand and a dreamy, almost blushing expression. Like the flood under their feet, the small diamonds in her ears and about her next glittered off of her skin. It was a black fairy tale, and there was not a single one of them who was not taken aback by the lengths to which The Morningstar had gone to shower his blushing wife with every amenity in his arsenal.
The Morningstar Himself had dawned a mortal skin of his own for the occasion, and were it possible, it made his bride blush even more. Like the mortal woodcuts that had depicted His Highness over the years, his hair was golden and curled, his cheekbones cut and high; his tuxedo an impeccable cut on his lean frame. His poise was every bit it’s usual-proud, like the peacock he held sacred, his grace evident in the way he went gliding through the crowd. He thanked them for their attendance, bowed to them when it was his title that towered far above them. The Morningstar had made himself low for the love of an aging human woman, and it confounded them.
None of them knew the being which officiated, but The Morningstar caught their attention by tapping a silver fork against the crystal of a wineglass, and dressed his bride up even more, were it possible, with amorous words and declarations of love that would defeat the stars with it’s endlessness. The bride only ducked her head inside the lengths of her black hair, but nearly all of them could smell the saline of the tears that dripped from her eyes. For many of them, it was a throwback to a time they had thought long since gone. . . when love was an honest thing, when it was untainted by disillusion and bitterness and lies. When there had been true innocence in the dawn of the cosmos. And wasn’t that ironic for a Ruler of the coldest depths of Hell.
They came together like the sea and the sky; their respective elements, and their hands were wrapped together in a length of black silk. The Mourningstar Wept, and put his lips to hers, and she wept also. And maybe some of them did, too. There was a moment of resounding silence before the applause, and the sentiment in it went unspoken. With so much distance, with so much time and space between the new and happy couple, how well would they persevere? Would it stand the trial of eons, of life and death? That much remained to be seen.
They were sent away with gifts, all of them. Lucifer took his bride on his arm, and like two drops of water, they hovered on the edge of merging. They waved each guest goodbye, even pausing for some moments to read through the guestbook as everyone slowly departed, breaking away from their respective cliques and conversations. It boggled their minds, to see their Prince pouring over that same book and smiling, his fingers tangling with hers, the sonorous note of his baritone echoing a bemused chuckle when she moved to tuck her own laugh in the crisp fabric of his coat.
It wasn’t just a taste of Heaven for the couple that said their vows on that evening, in a dreamland somewhere far away. It was a reminder that even demons, fallen and cast aside, could still fall in love and make their own.
Love is the whole thing.
We are only pieces.
We are only pieces.
~Rumi
December 13th, 2013
The worst kind of pain doesn’t happen in bones and muscle and joints. It happens when you see them smiling and you reach out and you are intangible. When you’re nothing. And you can smile and place the sun in their hands. And that is the only salve, is to see them smile back. It soothes the aching soul.
Last Saturday, I was admitted to the hospital for horrendous jaw pain; my dentist has since discovered one of my wisdom teeth is impacted, thus exposing a nerve, and there is (another) hairline fracture on my jaw from my ’07 car accident that needs repairing.
On Monday, December 30th, I will be going into surgery for the said exposed nerve in my jaw that’s had me down and out the past couple of weeks. The procedure is supposed to take anywhere from 4-6 hours and I will be fully put under anesthesia for it.
So following the 30th, posting will be scarce until a Vicodin coma is no longer necessary. This is just a general PSA. Thanks angels! <3
This is a question which was recently posed to me over on my Tumblr. I’ll admit, I’ve been struggling with it for days now. Not because of a desire not to write out how I feel about it; quite the contrary. I don’t have a problem discussing it at all. However the issue I take with it is that my opinion and my UPG on ‘God’ are . . . not kind, shall we say. I’ll put that right out there, right now.
Because this both such a serious, sensitive issue and important question when it comes to Lu’s role in things in my practice, I am going to put this whole article beneath a read more, and I will link it in my FAQ for future reference should anyone need to access it again for informational purpouses.
That being said, I have warned you. If you continue past this point, this all having been said, and you get offended and decide to throw a big stink about things, that is on you. Not me. I gave you ample warning and opportunity to stop right here and not continue reading any further. This is not intended to start an argument or a flame war, and this is my personal myth and UPG. No amount of bickering, arguing, or gnashing of teeth is going to change my mind. If that’s what you’re here for, I’m asking you to leave. Right now. Just close your tab or browser window, and move on. If you don’t and you take offense, it’s because you chose to. You chose to read, you chose to get worked up, you chose to start an argument about something you have every available means to avoid seeing and getting worked up about. And that’s on you.
Right?
Okay last chance. Let’s throw the banner up shall we?
“I want to be
the first thing you touch in the morning,
and the last thing you taste at night.”
— Thought of the Day | Sade Andria Zabala
Excellent article on how disagreeing with someone does NOT give you an excuse to invalidate their practice. Loved this.
Because I’ve been seeing it so much on my blogroll, both on Tumblr and on WordPress. I’ve avoided really discussing the issue because there are so many people who have done a much better job of both talking about it and offering up ritual to rectify the situation. For those of you who follow me who may or may not be aware of the situation, not long ago a group of [atheist] college students decided to erect a ‘god graveyard’ on their college campus. The gods listed included the A to Z’s of dozens of different pantheons, from the Norse to the Hellenic and Egyptian and then some. Needless to say, there was an understandable backlash from the pagan community over this faux pas. These are not ‘dead gods’, as most of us know, but rather an important part of our Polytheistic practice and spirit work for many of us. At best? It might have been considered short sighted and rude. At worst it was nothing less than a callous insult to the gods themselves. . . and though I imagine for some of those gods it was a simple matter of a shoulder shrug, (Loki is hardly ‘dead’, and he knows it) I would be surprised if there were others that weren’t frothing mad. Time will tell what becomes of the individuals involved.
I will say, I sat back and watched the whole event with an aura of mild disgust. There was some brief discussion about it on Tumblr, but I wasn’t quite sure what stance I should have taken on it myself. After all my god was not one allocated to the cemetery, although I found the notion that any of them could be so easilly dismissed just as vile as the actual mock ‘headstones’ themselves.
The response from the pagan community, however, was for the most part positive. En mass rituals were organized at the same location as well as by pagan groups all over the globe. Libations were poured, amends attempted. 
Quite frankly it was beautiful to see such an outpouring of support for the gods that seldom receive these sorts of dues except from their followers, some of which live far from one another and have no means to develop their rituals in a group setting. This might be why it’s easy to dismiss some of these gods as being “dead” if you don’t have the personal desire for some fact checking with some quick google fu. The argument of “freedom of speech” has been brought up, and of course it was these folks’ right to express their opinions, however, freedom of speech always comes with the stipulation that you may offend, however inadvertently or no, a large portion of people. I find it impossible to believe that the people who were responsible for this “god graveyard” had no knowledge of pagans or pagan practice at all. Especially for being young college students with access to the internet. Although I happen to live in a small town environment where not many people even know what “polytheist” means, a college campus, one would expect, would be quite a different story. No, I think this was done intentionally as a cruel joke, and these people knew exactly what they were doing. They were trying to get a rise of out of people, and they did just that. Just not in the way they expected they would, I think.
If it wasn’t malicious intent, it was blatant ignorance. I find it ironic that dates and facts themselves were put onto the ‘headstones’, however, no one did any searches to find out if anyone did still practice any of the rituals of the gods they put in that cemetery. Hellenic Reconstructionism is not what I would call a ‘small’ movement, and again, any research should have at least yielded those results. . .
And that’s how I feel about it. I also feel at this point . . . the gods have punished people for far less, and this might be a circumstance where it would be prudent to let them tie their own hanging noose. I could get upset about it. I did, even. But when those same rituals are enacted, and things seem “quiet” again, it now behooves us to move onto the most important part. Educating people that those gods are not dead, and yes, people still worship them, and following that, it is not appropriate to make a mockery out of something people deem so important. People have a cow when their holy books are burned, but when it comes to someone erecting mock graves and calling our gods ‘dead’, it hardly gets a blip on the radar?
Not acceptable, if you ask me.
O, Mourning Star. . . 