I was asked recently about my writing “process”.
I kinda hate that word; it makes what I do sound so mechanical. But I can’t think of a different term right now, so.
Like the blog title says: I open my spiritual “ears” and listen for Their voices. The voices of the Gods; of my ancestors; of the spirits of nature. I listen to what they tell me, then write it down in a way that’s as close to what they said as possible. (As only the ancestors, out of that group of beings, were ever human, it’s sometimes difficult to understand things told to me in the language of the Gods, or that of trees, or rocks, or wind. There is, of necessity, a certain amount of translation required, parsing the concepts shared with me in a way that other human beings can understand.) I also try to write it down in a way that’s pleasing to read.
Some beings are easier to hear than others. I have stronger connections with certain deities — and ancestors, and spirits — than others. For example, these days it is nearly impossible NOT to hear it when Odin speaks to me, or Hermes, or An Morrighan. Or my father, or coyotes and crows. But I have very little connection with, say, Ares, or any of the Aztec deities, or Hindu ones. Or with my father’s father, or with anole lizards, or mosquitoes.
Nonetheless, I keep my spiritual ears open to ANY that would speak to me. And I actively try to encourage more connections with those I know I have little to none with, because I believe that none should be left out. I automatically assume, when I listen, that if there are those I can’t hear, that the fault is with me; that I’m not trying hard enough, or subconsciously closing myself to them because I may not like what they have to say. This is especially true when I haven’t gotten any indications that someone isn’t talking to me because they don’t want anything to do with me (I know, for example, that there are many pagans and polytheists who’ve mentioned their experiences with deities they think they should be worshiping, only to be rebuffed by those deities with a “no, you don’t interest me right now, leave me alone.”)
I mention this because last night, after a very long time, right as I was at the edge of sleep, an idea finally came to mind for a poem about Zeus. I’ve written works for most of the Hellenic pantheon, and over the last few years, only three of the better-known deities (a term I choose rather than “important”, since all are important, or “major”, which implies that some are minor and not worth bothering with) remain whom I have yet to forge any connection with. These are Aphrodite (whom I finally was able to hear for the first time in Autumn of 2013), Ares (whom I heard in February of last year, and started writing a poem for [ https://alltheirvoices.wordpress.com/2014/02/21/first-section-of-poem-to-ares/ ] but stopped because I didn’t think it was good enough for Him), and Zeus.
I’m glad that He has finally shared something with me that I can write down for Him. Obviously, it’s a bad idea to reject any of the Deathless Ones; They don’t take kindly to such slights. It was never really rejection, though, just an inability — that I hope has ended at last — to hear Him speak.