All Their Voices

Words and thoughts in devotion to the Divine


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Not a poem, but a personal interlude

The first contact that I had with Loki *that I am aware of* happened back in…2007? 2008? Around the same time I joined the Troth. One of the members of the Kindred I belonged to at the time suggested holding a Loki ritual, where each of us sacrificed/destroyed something from an old part of our life that still brought us pain.


We did it; what I got rid of was a thin, tiny silver ring that my first husband had bought for me. The abusive one.


That was really the start of my healing from that marriage. I do not forget what my ex did to me, at this point, and I don’t forgive, but these days I am no longer in a blinding rage every time I think of him, nor is the PTSD quite so bad. (I was very, very broken; it isn’t completely gone, and I doubt it ever will be, but…it’s ebbing, bit by bit).


Shortly after that was when Odin began to move into my life like a tsunami washing over a seashore. The signs were everywhere, and he was very persistent. It took a few years, but I acknowledged after some time that He owned me.


Then in 2013 my second/then-current marriage fell apart. My ex would never tell me why he demanded a divorce, only that he ‘had changed’, but these days, I think it might have had something to do with what I found out a couple years later, that he was seeing a girl on the side who was the same age as his son from his first marriage. She was 19, which means that, since he and I had been together for 14 years, she had been in kindergarten when he and I first met.


I got through it. These days, I don’t know if I could say how, other than one day at a time. I thought about killing myself, a lot. But I didn’t. (I won’t say I didn’t try, though. I just didn’t succeed.)


But here’s the thing: almost from the first, I suspected that a god had had a hand in the dissolution of my marriage. Specifically, I thought one had assisted in its breakup, at the least, because they felt, in some way, it was bad for me. And you know what? It was. I know a lot of things now I didn’t know then, when I was still stupid in love and didn’t care.


At the time, I suspected it was Odin who did the breaking up. I belonged to him, after all. It made sense that he would take steps to protect what was his.


But Loki is not called ‘Worldbreaker’ for nothing. I never would have ended that marriage on my own; I didn’t even see the need for it. I would have continued in that…mess forever, if allowed.


These days, at the least, I suspect that, if it wasn’t Loki on his own, it was him and Odin together.


There’s been a lot of change in my life over the last year and a half to two years. After four years of trying to scrape by on starvation wages in Indiana–and only managing thanks to the generosity of some of the best friends in the world, who gave me a helping hand when I needed it most–I moved to New York, and things have been better here. Not perfect. Not even great. But better, and working on making things better still.


Since accepting that Odin owned me, when asked, I have never been a Nokean. I gave offerings to Loki every time I offered to Odin, because the two are blood brothers, and that’s what it says in the lore that we have that Odin wants. But when asked, I was always very careful to say that I was not a Lokean. I didn’t hate him; I wasn’t afraid of him like some boogeyman (though admittedly I was properly cautious–as I am of EVERY god–because after all, they are GODS, and can destroy our worlds), but I was carefully respectful.


However, Loki has been coming on a lot stronger in the last…year or so?–and I think my times of saying “I’m not a Lokean” are at an end. I hear him in my head–not constantly, but very, very often–and he has helped me work through a number of things that I was having problems with. He is master of coincidental saves. To keep denying him after all the healing and growth he’s helped me with would be the greatest of ingratitude.


This is somewhat demonstrated by how much more I hear his voice, which manifests as all the new poetry I’ve been writing for him. As the title of my first poetry collection–Listening for Their Voices–suggests, I have always indicated that the poems I come up with are not really my own creations, but more of simply listening to their voices and writing down–as elegantly as I’m capable of–what I hear. He has been very conversational, and thus, inspirational, of late.


Can I be a Lokean that is also owned by Odin? I don’t know. Given the issues that lie between them, that’s a question I can’t answer on my own. I’ll turn to divination for an answer, from a seer I know and trust well. I don’t know how clear the answers I get will be–not because of the diviner, but because divination lends itself to multiple interpretations and can be ambiguous, just as prophecy and dreams (which it shares some similarities to) can be.
But regardless of the answers, or who (if either of them) was involved, my days of keeping Loki at arms’ length are over. It’s a shitty way to treat a friend, and he has been that and so much more to me.


I’m just lucky he loves us broken ones so much.

(Postscript: My belief for so many years that Odin was behind the end of my marriage was, in large part, the driving force behind my continued discomfort with Odin, and inability to completely trust him. It’s why I still haven’t taken an oath to him as fulltrui. Even if the marriage was bad for me, I loved my husband, and I was griefstricken at losing him. And honestly, I’ve never found it all that easy to trust people in the first place, not since my first marriage, and the betrayal by a couple of friends.

But contemplating that it might have been Loki who ended it…I don’t feel the same anger and mistrust. And I don’t know why.)

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Process, and an upcoming poem for Zeus

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.