I had to wait at the dealership for about two and a half hours today for my car to get fixed. While doing so, I spent some time with a few books regarding everyone's favorite mad god, and pondering His holy symbols. And you know what? I think he's been calling me for a long time. I was just too bull-headed myself to listen. Brief summary...
-Above the main entry/exit of every house we've lived in, my parents (Christians) have hung a carved mask of a bearded man with ivy woven through his hair.
-High school mascot was a panther.
-Childhood friend once told me I was a Leopard, and the nickname stuck for a while.
-Childhood fascination with sculpting masks.
-The series of pitchers sitting in every kitchen at every house my parents have lived in, shaped like roosters.
-The Labyrinth at OSU, where I most strongly felt the pull of polytheism for the first time.
-Alternating fear and fascination with snakes (how many people with a serpentine phobia can enter trance by handling snakes?)
-Grapes follow me everywhere. No, seriously. And Ivy. I remember watching Ivy being pulled off an old building as a child, and weeping for hours for the lost beauty, the insanity of removing such a wonderful plant. My mother thought I was insane.
-Pines and evergreens are kinda my thing.
-Caves. I didn't know Dionysos was associated with caves, yet I've always met him in one.
I think Dionysos has been stalking me. Y'know? I'm pretty okay with that.
On a different note, Sannion recently put out a call for members of the Thiasos to submit poetry, altar images, prayers, etc. to be posted on the group's website. I sent him one of mine already, but beginning next Monday, I'm going to write a poem or prayer every day, in line with the group's daily devotional calendar, culminating with what will probably be a very long, personal SOMEthing for Dionysos on Sunday. Wish me luck.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
I got angry at Dionysos.
I got angry at Dionysos.
Wednesday morning, I texted my dad. "How's the dog?"
"Not well. We need you here by 7:45 tomorrow. It's time to let her go."
17 years she was with us, my pup. 17 blissful years of a stubby little tail wagging her entire bottom whenever I walked in the door, of tummy rubs and sloppy kisses and begging for carrots. Even though she'd been very ill for a few days, it was too much. I broke down and started crying at work. My supervisor, thankfully, has lost a pet before, and gave me some time to myself and a box of tissues. So I went into a room alone and cried.
Dionysos and I have had an agreement in the past--when my pain is unbearable, He will replace it with joy. This has worked well for the unexplained, untriggered bouts of depression. But this time... this time, when He stood before me, arms outstretched, offering, I snapped.
"Go away! I don't want you here! You can't have this! This is MINE, this is MY pain! I'm allowed to feel this right now. Go away!"
And He did. Later, I went home, to spend one last night with my dog. And as I cried in bed, He came to me again.
"Fuck you! Fuck you and your joy! Get the hell away from me! There is no joy that can replace this, you ass!"
This time, He did not go. He kept standing there, holding out His arms, looking at me. I continued screaming, ranting, raving. I threw things (which is a decidedly odd experience in trance, because you never know what's going to be there to throw). I cussed, I cried, I fell to my knees. And I looked at His face.
He was crying. I understood, then. He did not offer me joy. He did not offer to take my pain away. He offered me comfort. He offered me empathy. He knows what it's like, perhaps better than any other god I've worked with, to lose someone precious.
I went to him, then. And I wept, hot tears, bitter tears, angry tears, despairing tears. I wept for myself, I wept for my parents and sister, I wept for my dog. And He held me, and rocked me, until I slept.
I have never watched someone die before. I lost my great grandmother when I was in 6th grade, but I wasn't close to her. I lost my aunt in college, but I was away, and she had been very sick for a very long time. My dog, though, was simply old. When the sickness came, it was over in less than a week. Liver failure is like that. She just started shutting down. But I was there, with her, with my parents, and I watched her last breath. The vet took out a stethoscope and held it to her chest. "She's gone," and my father began to weep, and clung to me. My mother bent over on the table. And I cried out to Dionysos.
The pain is still very fresh. The grief is very real. It comes in waves... so long as I'm busy, I'm fine. I had to plan this post in small bits, throughout the day, in between activities that took all of my concentration. I'm still not sure it makes sense. Even planned as it was, I can't see the keyboard through the tears. But it's out there, now.
Hail, Comforter.
Hail, bringer of peace.
Hail, Dionysos.
Hail, Hekate.
Hail, Mistress of crossroads.
Hail, guardian of my pup, who runs with your hounds in the worlds beyond this one.
Hail, Sadie, flopping ear and wagging tail.
I love you.
I miss you.
Wednesday morning, I texted my dad. "How's the dog?"
"Not well. We need you here by 7:45 tomorrow. It's time to let her go."
17 years she was with us, my pup. 17 blissful years of a stubby little tail wagging her entire bottom whenever I walked in the door, of tummy rubs and sloppy kisses and begging for carrots. Even though she'd been very ill for a few days, it was too much. I broke down and started crying at work. My supervisor, thankfully, has lost a pet before, and gave me some time to myself and a box of tissues. So I went into a room alone and cried.
Dionysos and I have had an agreement in the past--when my pain is unbearable, He will replace it with joy. This has worked well for the unexplained, untriggered bouts of depression. But this time... this time, when He stood before me, arms outstretched, offering, I snapped.
"Go away! I don't want you here! You can't have this! This is MINE, this is MY pain! I'm allowed to feel this right now. Go away!"
And He did. Later, I went home, to spend one last night with my dog. And as I cried in bed, He came to me again.
"Fuck you! Fuck you and your joy! Get the hell away from me! There is no joy that can replace this, you ass!"
This time, He did not go. He kept standing there, holding out His arms, looking at me. I continued screaming, ranting, raving. I threw things (which is a decidedly odd experience in trance, because you never know what's going to be there to throw). I cussed, I cried, I fell to my knees. And I looked at His face.
He was crying. I understood, then. He did not offer me joy. He did not offer to take my pain away. He offered me comfort. He offered me empathy. He knows what it's like, perhaps better than any other god I've worked with, to lose someone precious.
I went to him, then. And I wept, hot tears, bitter tears, angry tears, despairing tears. I wept for myself, I wept for my parents and sister, I wept for my dog. And He held me, and rocked me, until I slept.
I have never watched someone die before. I lost my great grandmother when I was in 6th grade, but I wasn't close to her. I lost my aunt in college, but I was away, and she had been very sick for a very long time. My dog, though, was simply old. When the sickness came, it was over in less than a week. Liver failure is like that. She just started shutting down. But I was there, with her, with my parents, and I watched her last breath. The vet took out a stethoscope and held it to her chest. "She's gone," and my father began to weep, and clung to me. My mother bent over on the table. And I cried out to Dionysos.
The pain is still very fresh. The grief is very real. It comes in waves... so long as I'm busy, I'm fine. I had to plan this post in small bits, throughout the day, in between activities that took all of my concentration. I'm still not sure it makes sense. Even planned as it was, I can't see the keyboard through the tears. But it's out there, now.
Hail, Comforter.
Hail, bringer of peace.
Hail, Dionysos.
Hail, Hekate.
Hail, Mistress of crossroads.
Hail, guardian of my pup, who runs with your hounds in the worlds beyond this one.
Hail, Sadie, flopping ear and wagging tail.
I love you.
I miss you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)