A couple recent posts by friends (specifically Beth’s “What do you seek from the divine?” and Heather’s “The Pagan Experience: Gebo”) got me thinking about who Loki is to me. That’s a very complicated subject and is actually one that’s difficult to talk about. For all that He is the center of my emotional and spiritual life, He doesn’t really make an appearance in a blog that’s primarily about my emotional and spiritual life. That’s because He is part of my most private life and this blog is as public a face as I’m comfortable having – on many days it’s more public than I’m comfortable with. But as a recent tarot reading reminded me, I am not the hidden hermit scholar. Or at least, I’m not only that.

Loki has been my beloved Husband for a decade. More, by a less formal reckoning. Much much more by a highly ambiguous reckoning. The length of time doesn’t really matter though, because in this respect He is the same. His place in my heart and by my side is constant except when it’s not and except when I forget.

I know because I’ve been told that what I feel is felt for me and the pain of wanting to believe this is immense. I have to trust. I have to have faith. I used to heap the little evidences of His affection into a pile that I would ruminate on when things got quiet but eventually they got so many that they simply blurred into an invisible infinity. They are hard to remember now. I have to trust that these moments are there.

I know His presence by my rising desire. His boundary is marked by hunger. The hard pressing border of demand is my proof of His proximity. I am not satisfied with anything so I’ve learned to fake contentment.

Our relationship has been likened to two planets forever in orbit, never meeting, but occasionally passing quite close together. This is not a chase that will be resolved. My pursuit seems to drive Him away. It is humbling to wait.

I know Him best as the Mother of All Exceptions. From Him all exceptional possibilities emanate; from His being derives disruption. He is also the Mother of exceptional creatures and the supreme exceptional circumstance, the final elusive factor. This has meant that our relationship has also been rather exceptional. It doesn’t quite follow the rules. It doesn’t quite adhere to form. It doesn’t quite measure up to standards. We are statistical outliers, deviant aggregates of divine relationship and devotional companionship.

And it’s not always easy. I wish – sometimes; selfishly – that He were another way and that I also was another way. I wish I were better, greater, more glamorous and  nifty, more capable of achieving His presence and delivering His power. I wish He could solve my problems. I wish He could deliver solutions. And He does, sometimes; and He does, more than I will ever realize.

Blessings and divine intervention are not proof that can be collected and pinned down. The miracle happens because you begin to see the world itself and the way it interacts with you as a blessing. Just as things are – a blessing. Just as things are – the immediate divine. A good thing happens and I say, “Ah! Thank you, Loki!” Did He give that to me? I don’t care. I don’t care either way. The outcome is my increased awareness of Him, an increased willingness to see the divine in the world right here, right now, here with me. That is the real blessing. (But oh, I still want that big lotto winning and a place to live quietly on my own. I still want good fortune and lucky turns and a solution to all life’s difficulties.)

He is my companion and friend, my heart’s other half, the hooded figure to my dog park, my dearest Beloved. As the Mother of Exceptions I’ve gotten to know Him in ways I would never have guessed at and every side is exponentially treasured. His precious proximity is my favorite experience and I wonder if He knows –

“I know.”

And I am happy.