It was October… 2015… The name Loki was all around me at festival. As was the sense that Loki was not appreciated by most… that he wasn’t to be trusted… and certainly not sought out.
Thursday night, while hula hooping in ritual circle, my grip seemed to be slipping more than usual resulting in my hoop rolling away. I chased it, beginning my dance again. The second or third time this happened, “Dammit, Loki!” was out of my mouth before I realized I was speaking.
“WHAT?! LOKI?!” A quizzical expression… a shrug… I ran after my hoop… and returned to my dance. That dance turned into an experience with Freyja. I was confused and not confused by my outburst towards Loki.
Festival ended. Months passed. I began experiencing occasional trances with visitations / conversations with various Norse deities. Then, 19 June 2016… Loki showed up. I recognized Loki immediately… Their name filling my mind… pausing, almost asking if I’d listen. I had an opportunity to dismiss Them.
Echoes in my mind. No visuals, just words. They spoke of self-denial, self-acceptance, the divine spark, me carrying a piece of Their energy. Emotionally, I was in a rough place when this conversation began. Struggling with my sexuality, my desire, and my expression of passion.
The advice I received felt comfortable, it felt right. It all made sense. Memories and feelings surfaced moving through me like a video playing in fast forward. I remembered expressing my frustration in middle/high school with feeling like a constant contradiction. Feeling like I never quite fit in with others. Thinking that for a girl… I sure did act like a boy. Reflecting on my ability to solve problems… though often making things more difficult than necessary.
According to Loki, accept Loki… and I accept myself. As the conversation ended… I felt both certain of doing so… and highly doubtful. I may have even argued back a bit, questioning… “But… you are a trickster… how do I trust you?!?!” At the same time, admitting that this was a connection I felt good about.
Fear enveloped me. It took quite some time to realize this fear was rooted in beliefs influenced by Christianity. I hadn’t been raised going to church every Sunday, none-the-less I certainly picked up the dichotomy of good and evil, black and white, right and wrong. Somewhere deep, buried in my subconscious, was the idea that listening to Loki… meant I was listening to THE DEVIL.
While this binary world didn’t seem right, I felt if I didn’t fall in line – maybe, I WAS EVIL, TOO. A belief that stayed with me… subconsciously informing my reluctance to accept my spiritual “father”.
Although, I have been surrounded by people who accepted Loki is the primary deity in my spiritual landscape… I tried to hide from this knowledge. I allowed and created space for Loki to be hailed at our rituals. I researched and read other’s experiences of Them. I completed a ritual or two honoring Them. I interacted with him while not quite accepting him.
Loki, isn’t one to be silenced or be kept as a “dirty little secret”. As I began serving as a Council Member of The Witches’ Realm (a Keeping Her Keys Facebook group), I found myself responding to posts about Loki… sharing that They are my “patron” a term that never quite felt right but managed to get the point across.
Now, three years after They set out to explain the importance of my acceptance… I’m being prodded to share this tale… to share my fears… my experiences. Admitting and accepting the mantle of Follower of Loki, Child of Loki (mayhaps even Priestess of Loki) publicly, still leaves me wondering about my sanity from time to time.
Following Loki… Listening to Loki… in my experience brings the dismantling of beliefs which hold one back. Walking with Loki is a journey towards fulfilling dreams… doing what makes my soul sing. It’s learning to use my voice again… after being silent for so long.
This love letter to myself was inspired by a post in The Black Hound Social Club (the “Pub” of The Witches’ Realm) created by Lisa Jade of Living the Liminal. The post was an invitation to share a selfie… and a love letter to ourselves. The thread popped up after a late night of self-reflection and writing a statement of my life’s purpose. I found this to be such an inspiring activity, I thought it should be saved and shared here.
Dearest Self, my Serendipitous Wyrd~o,
We’ve had a rocky relationship at times. It’s taken me a long while to realize my feelings for you. I was so caught up in who I thought you were supposed to be… that I was blind to who you already are.
Thank you for ripping off the blindfold. Thank you for your bravery and courage to wade through the darkness with me while as I stumbled towards your light!
I love you, today, and forever, for everything you are and have been. You are a thing of beauty, darling.
You have always created space for others to feel comfortable, as evidenced by your dog lying on your butt in this photo. I’m so proud of you for learning to create the space for YOU to be comfortable.
Take my love… and forge the glorious beacon you are becoming for your truth, your authenticity, your brilliance, your creativity, and your beauty!
Sincerely, with love and adoration,
Have you ever written yourself a love letter? How did it feel? Do you find it easy to love yourself? Is it a challenge? Let’s chat in the comments below!
One of my greatest spiritual challenges… has been a physical: Constructing an environment in which to create… to imagine… and to work.
I have memory after memory on Facebook that reminds me, my quest for organization and for crafting a space that’s usable for my artistic and witchy aims has been a challenge for over a decade.
This year… I’ve admitted I am a hoarder of treasures… that my dragon-like tendencies MUST be addressed. For months… I’ve wrestled with the anxiety and the frustration of too much stuff for the space I have. What kinda of stuff have I piled into my vast hoard?
Art supplies… trinkets… and seemingly random items which seemed to need a home.
I felt responsible for the items in my hoard – that I must hold them and maintain them because they might otherwise be lost and unloved. Problem was… I was suffocating spiritually and physically I was creating very real obstacles to my ability to bring my ideas to life.
Without physical space… I couldn’t craft… create… and produce the ideas, the spirits, that were screaming to be born!
So… for months… I’ve been pushing through my discomfort – physical and emotional – to work towards realizing a space which I can manifest all the magick sitting dormant in my soul.
I learned to loosen my grip on all of the things. I purged things. I dragged things to a friend’s house to sort through. I found some freedom in this activity instead of the fear of being without what I needed.
How to arrange the room… what furnishings… how much to keep for which projects continued to challenge me.
Then, recently, I awoke on the couch in the living room one morning (because there was no space to sleep in my own room) with a furniture change that would bring alignment to our familial living space by moving another desk into my room. I honestly thought I was crazy to even try… while the idea would fix the common area of our home it certainly would only create more problems in my room.
That day… with motivation I never expected… I moved the furniture despite my fears of wasted time and effort. I moved the desk into my room where I thought it would physically fit… but obstruct my ability to actually get the room in order.
I have a 10′ x 10′ room – 100 square feet – which needs to serve me in multiple ways:
It was pointed out to me by my fantastic mentor, Cyndi Brannen, that perhaps my priorities were out of whack. Sleep is essential to human functioning and it was last on the list of all the ways I wanted my space to work. Point taken.
I laid claim to a folding cot that the Fam was considering parting with. This would fulfill the requirement for a solo sleeping space without resorting to the couch (even if that occasionally brought epiphanies) AND it wouldn’t take up much space when not in use.
Still there was a small bookshelf and all the witchy supplies to deal with.
Tonight, as I dove back into the space creation project uncertain how I was going to fix it… I realized the small bookshelf would fit on the old desk (picture above).
Finally! All the furniture elements are in place… I can sort through the supplies. I sit, writing this, with the wonderful privilege of nearly having a functional space to create and work in. I’m enjoying discovering the supplies I want to keep… and what else can be released.
It might be a chaotic mess in this moment… yet, the outcome is tangible, believable, and becoming!
I’m so close to the functional multi-faceted sacred space of my dreams! I will push forward and manifest what I need. I’m a witch and my will be done!
I don’t know about you… but I can be incredibly stubborn – especially when it comes to answering the call of Spirit.
For many years… there’s been a nagging voice whispering in my ear… invading my thoughts… encouraging me to step into my power… accept the mantle of Witch… share my experiences and my journeys…
The site… Serendipity Wyrd – my public persona and magickal self – is the answer to that call… the refusal to remain living in fear of the “what ifs”.
I’ve spent my life engaging with emotion… with energy… with inspiration… while simultaneously hiding my gifts and talents… afraid of what others would say… afraid of myself, really.
I am learning to listen to myself… that whisper of the “true self”, the “higher self.” I’m not always fantastic at this skill… I’m much more practiced at living by fear. Yet, everyday, I practice.
I grow, I strengthen my belief in myself, my desire to create my own way, my manifestation of magick.
This is a journey and a practice that will never end… and has never ended. Even when this particular physical form ends… my soul shall continue its work.
I tried to ignore the nudge… but eventually… I couldn’t help but listen.