I’m not an enormous believer in “X Power is communicating with me because I keep seeing Y bird/color/animal/plant/etc” phenomena. Do omens happen? Do the Powers reach out and shift things around so we encounter them? Of course. I’ve had numerous such experiences myself. Even when I do feel like a genuine communication is present I try to hold it very loosely. Giving too much weight to these incidents leaves one feeling lost when there are no signs forthcoming. Begging for signs and signals is simply a way of pleading to be left silent and alone at some point in the future.

I do ask for signs, though. I ask for signs and indications that I’m on the right track, not because I don’t trust myself (well, sometimes for that reason) but because I want S/someone else to tell me that I’m on the right track. I still fall into the tendency of yielding authority over my spiritual landscape to another agent and treat T/them as my store of knowledge. The Powers can be pretty indulgent about this and may even toss me a sign from time to time; the problem is that this sort of tendency puts me into a position relative to others (humans and not) that allows me to be exploited. It’s a willful sort of dependency that has led me to many pitfalls. Even the most benevolent sorts of beings can be convinced to steer a needy human being into further dependence.

I’ve had a more-or-less regular practice of praying to Papa Legba for a few months now. I do get a very genuine experience of contact when I pray to him. There is a distinct impression of an old, thin man, sometimes hunched over, sometimes plainly dressed, sometimes very plainly dressed. He is kind and so, so patient. I ask him for guidance, to lead me to my right road, to the best path, to the opportunities that will support my growth and best outcomes.

Last week I excused myself from prayers because I was in bed with a monster cold. (Oh, and remember those dizzy spells that I was sorta hoping was just a bad, chronic, endless ear infection? I’m getting sent to a neurologist. Hooray….) Last night I just said nope, not doing this. I decided that I was just talking to myself, that I was being firmly ignored, that the signs that pointed me to adopting this practice were all just nonsense and that I was fooling myself to think the loa wanted my attention at all. I was simply wasting their time and mine.

This afternoon I met a friend for lunch and a bit of thrift shopping. I found this little abandoned figure and knew at once he was coming home with me. I rather suspect that using a secondhand figure as a representation on an altar might be potentially problematic. I’ll wash it carefully and place it near the altar just to see how it feels. Then we’ll see what comes next.

I don’t want to – I’m  not – vesting this incident with heavy meaning. Religious icons are not unusual thrift store finds. That I stood in my tiny kitchen last night arguing with Papa about his weekly water offering and prayers didn’t deliver this little item into my hands (and for just a dollar!). I’m the only one in this exchange searching for meaning. “But what does it MEAN?” one might ask. “It means nothing,” I say. And this is true.

But…

I can choose to give this incident meaning. I choose that this incident is a reminder of my priorities. It is Tuesday but I will say my prayers tonight anyway. I will give him some fresh, clean water in that little glass teacup he seems to like. I will try to let my wavering daily willpower submit to the more enduring character of my lifelong ambitions and goals. I will try to remember what is actually important.

Varying degrees of asceticism are often on my mind. Though I closely relate to the spirit of many of the commitments made by my co-religionists, I can’t say that I’ve personally made all that many formal commitments, or or dedicated myself to a certain mode of behavior. In fact, I’m hard pressed to think of any practice I’ve taken up upon saying, “This is a thing I’m promising to do”. More often, it’s been that I formalize some kind of relationship and then figure out what things either promote the health of that relationship or detract from it.

Though I would never describe myself as a pagan monastic, I have much in common with those who do. I’ve adopted a particular diet as a result of my religious path and the choices I made each day reaffirm some of my most important connections (specifically those with the plants). I dress in a particular manner; though it’s not all that remarkable (and perhaps that’s part of the point), it’s still reflective of a particular aspect of my work and my identity as a spirit worker. Though I’m rather firmly beneath the poverty line, my frugal lifestyle (excepting perfumes, of course) is materially and spiritually necessary; simplicity lets me focus on what’s most important to me and having a few dollars left over for donations and for book purchases is important (I plan to leave a book legacy to a pagan library when I die; I buy books with the very specific intention that others will be able to benefit from them). Perhaps most notably, my interpersonal relationships are as non-sexual as I can make them.

None of these things are vows; they are choices, little pillars of decision that support what is most meaningful in my life. There are times when I make contrary decisions. I suffer guilt and personal dissatisfaction not because I went back on something I promised, but because I know that these are things that keep me happy, spiritually fulfilled, stable, and safe. There are times when I’ve mistakenly been contrary to these guidelines; buying a domain name was not a frugal decision nor one that simplified my life. I had hoped it would. Occasionally I’ve compromised on these things because of a circumstance where I thought things would simply be easier than arguing or where the personal discomfort associated with contrary action was less than that associated with sticking to my principles (you might scoff, but how much trouble are you willing to cause at your sister’s wedding?). There have even been moments, at least one, where the choice was taken from me and made by someone else. Rightly or wrongly, I still blame myself in part.

Some (non-pagan) renunciants I’ve known talk about living simply. The simple life is one that requires little upkeep in order to function; the extra time is devoted to spiritual pursuits and service. Owning few possessions means less effort is required to maintain them. Eating simply means being satisfied more easily. In many ways I agree with this and share a desire for a simple life. That said, precisely what is simple in my case? For reasons of ability, a car is the preferable mode of transportation on many days, though I walk to the bus stop nearly every day to go to work and try to use low-impact transportation strategies as much as I can. I have a PlayStation because someone gave it to me. I have a bunch of pills and other medical paraphernalia. I have beads and yarn and book making supplies and sewing stuff and jewelry stuff because being an artist makes me a (sometimes very) small amount of income each year; I have to have the right tools for the job. Spirit work is also rather notorious for being tool-heavy. I’ve managed to consolidate a lot of these items into certain places in my apartment but there’s not one room (except maybe the bathroom??) without some measure of spirit work nonsense hanging around.

I’ve decided that instead of aiming for some poorly defined simple life, I’d aim for a simpler life. Looking for a simpler method is good; discovering satisfaction in plainer forms is good. Though I still rather stand by the goal that I voiced upon moving to a lovely apartment with tangerine walls – that I wanted to be surrounded with beauty – there are simple ways of achieving this goal.

There’s much I need to improve on. I tend to hang on to objects even when they’re not useful out of some anxiety that I’ll perhaps need them someday (I will not). I tend to accept objects given to me simply because I worry that unless I take them, they’ll just be thrown away (even if I end up having to do the chore). I can be sentimental about objects that have no sentimental value (“But I’ve had those scissors FOREVER!”). I struggle with acquisitiveness for its own sake. I have no doubt I overcomplicate the food issue when a turkey sandwich is, in many ways, simpler. I wear things that are contrary to my convictions because I’m tired of fighting. I push away friendships and communities that I assume will have no acceptance of more than a decade of religious celibacy. I withdraw from engagements that might end up positively if I just stick it out. I accept a lot of complication because I’m unwilling to fight anymore.

Seeking a simpler life has been an unrelentingly positive tendency. It has delivered riches that I can’t enumerate, let alone name. My life is better this way; I am better this way. But simplicity has its costs and its compromises and plenty of complications. I hope that I will continue to seek ever greater refinement in this pursuit.

If you follow my craft blog, you have probably already seen the post announcing the addition of three new sets of prayer beads to my Etsy shop. (If not, here’s the link.)  I made these strings of prayer beads because my mind returned once again to the idea of prayer beads specifically for Loki.

I’ve used mala for a long time; in fact, my mala beads are among my very favorite tools, right up there with my staff. I was probably 16 or 17 when I first started using them and before that I kept track of rounds on my fingers. Earlier this year I had a little breakthrough in mantra practice where I got – really *got* – that mantras are powerful, transformative tools that really do have a spiritual/energetic impact on the self and the world.

So while the idea of prayer beads for Loki isn’t all that new in my world, I’ve tried making my own beads before and I’ve tried adopting self-styled mantra practices and simply haven’t found them very effective. I made a string of glass prayer beads for Hela seven or eight years ago and developed a series of prayers for their use but they never quite clicked. Looking back, I realize that the beads were really too heavy for such a practice and there was a tactile quality that didn’t work for me. Perhaps they were too slippery or just a smidge too small. I had used a traditional string of 108 sandalwood beads for almost a decade and was quite attached to those, even after they were tossed in a fire as a sacrifice. (To this day I still miss those beads. I’m terrible at sacrifice, apparently.) Maybe my hand missed those. Maybe there was other problems.

Add to this the fact that until fairly recently I didn’t pray to Loki. Even now it’s a pretty infrequent thing and pretty informal when it does happen. There’s an astral temple I use for contemplation and a sort of formal communion but that’s not exactly praying either. But nonetheless, as several little pieces of my spiritual life have moved into a new alignment, it’s a project I want to try again. These initial strings are practice, in a way. I wanted to know if I really could make the kind of beads I imagined using.

I’ve selected some beads and pretty soon I’ll start making them. I have a few different ideas in my head. The sort of prayer bead work I do seems well-suited to She!Loki so I might create a set specifically with Her in mind. Maybe I’ll make a set for each of them.

If you checked out the Etsy listings you might have noticed I made a small set for Hel. That was unexpected. Though this set isn’t formally dedicated to Her, that She had any input in the creation of these beads was a little surprising. She and I are still figuring our shit out. It’s hard – or maybe it’s just me that’s having the trouble. I thought about keeping this little set for myself. I like how small they are and how perfectly suited they are for tossing in a pocket or using while traveling. Nonetheless, I put them up for sale. I’ll revisit the design to make a set for myself at some point, probably quite soon.

I’m also fairly busy with writing at the moment. My editors have lots of work for us right now so I’m absolutely swamped with work The extra money I earn this month will be set aside for Many Gods West (oh yeah, and medical bills, blech); with any luck, Etsy-related money will go towards helping some other presenters and attendees travel, too (yay, helping others! My favorite!). I haven’t touched my presentation in a week so I’ll be getting back to that pretty soon. This week I’m also hammering out the basics of my submission for PantheaCon 2016. Woohoo – wish me luck!

And finally, I’ve been working on a wee little project that I haven’t talked about here yet – and still won’t. 😉 It’ll be done soon and I’m super excited to share it with everyone.

For quite a while I’ve been wanting to write a little entry about the nature of the spiritual body and the weird and wonderful things that can happen to it. But every time I reach into my head for something clever and interesting to say on the subject I just get back a resounding, “Meh.”

How about I write about fear instead?

Around a year ago I began experiencing dizzy spells. They were infrequent enough that I couldn’t determine any particular pattern. They always felt the same and they were unlike other forms of dizziness experienced before. I’ve always been prone to motion sickness, I struggle with metabolic problems affecting my blood sugar levels, I live with migraines and frequent severe headaches; none of these things were like the dizziness I was experiencing. I simply endured these spells because nothing resolved them. I just had to wait them out even if it meant staying in bed all day, missing work, or neglecting my chores. The dizzy spells gradually got more frequent, longer lasting, and more severe. I decided they were a side effect from some potent medication – never mind that I’d been on the stuff for a good few years with no major problems (persistent and increasingly deafening tinnitus aside).

But then a couple months ago I took a tumble in public. A dizzy spell came up suddenly, grabbed me, and dropped me right to the ground. A couple days later I nearly fell in the kitchen; I vomited into the sink. Because the need was pressing, I sucked up what would be a $350 /hr clinic visit and talked to a prescriber. I got a new prescription, filled it, and started taking it. I’ve been steadfastly ignoring the dizzy spells eating at the edge of my consciousness for a few weeks now. One came when I was between medications. I told myself that my body was still detoxing from the other med – two weeks later.

The stuff I’m on now I’ve been on before and had no problems then except for some initial sleepiness. Dizziness is, however, a known side effect, albeit one I haven’t experienced before. So I’m telling myself that despite having been on this stuff for more than a week that maybe I’m just now experiencing this side effect. Maybe two dizzy spells in three days is just the meds – again. Right?

Nah. I need to stop being such a stubborn dipshit.

I’m being stubborn because I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ve done something to myself through all my medical meddling. I’m scared that my crumbling cervical spine is pinching nerves or something and that there’s simply no hope of correcting it. I’m scared that I’ll end up spending a lot of money on expensive tests and office visits and blood tests. I’m scared that I will have no answers, no solutions, no justification for my expensive efforts. I’m not scared of knowing; I’m intimidated by the process of getting to the knowing.

But see, there’s this other aspect to all this. I’m scared that energetic/spiritual changes are triggering these spells or that, perhaps, that they’re heralding some new big change that headed my way.

Heavy, wyrd-shaping energy work and spiritual action can impact the physical self – and major physical traumas and triumphs can impact the spiritual self. It’s just a thing that happens. It happens perhaps less than people might imagine and it tends to happen at a slow rate (or major incidents of change happen at wide intervals); however, there are certain periods that are rather like a spiritual adolescence; lots of cascading changes happen in a very short time to propel one into a new stage.

I’m not the person to attribute every hiccup of my embodied experience to spiritual goings-on; in fact, I’m generally pretty reluctant to make this connection. I prefer practical, direct, straightforward, simple explanations; sometimes those explanations happen to be spiritual or woo-flavored but generally not. In this case, I don’t actually get the feeling that there’s a connection; this feels very much a physical body thing that’s probably chemical or structural in nature. Though I’ll ask my preferred diviner about it, I’ll be asking my primary care doc about it first.

All that said, my life experiences don’t let me rule out this possibility. I have firsthand experience of just how profoundly spirit-side changes can affect the body; there are also quantifiable changes in the physical body that result from manipulating subtle energies. Like, I can point to a chart mapping the intensity of certain known biological responses and say yes, this response is now considerably more intense and not only does it feel different, it functions different.

Oh, and I was told that my eyes are getting paler. More people than usual have been doing double-takes so yeah, I guess I’ll concede this.

So that’s it. I have no answers right now and not even a firm idea about what’s causing these debilitating dizzy spells. I’m determined to pay off my current medical bills before going off to chase another one but given how many I have and how long it takes me to pay them, I’m not looking at the possibility of an appointment until, oh, September. That’s only if nothing else major happens in the meantime. In the meantime I guess I’ll just go back to pretending that this is all a perfectly normal way to live.

Freelance work is a financial roller coaster but lucky for me, I’ve come out ahead in the last couple paychecks. Thanks to a gift certificate to a local used bookstore and to finding several books for sale online at less than $0.25 (not including shipping), I’ve been able to add all kinds of great reading material to my bookshelves.

In no particular order:

• The Hymns of Sankara by T.M.P Mahadevan
• A History of Celibacy by Elizabeth Abbott
• Rasa: Love Relationships in Transcendence and Aesthetic Vedanta: The Sacred Path of Passionate Love by Swami B.V. Tripurari
• Medusa’s Hair by Gananath Obeyesekere
• Sri-Mannarayananiyam translated by S. N. Sastri
• The Miracle Plays of Mathura by Norvin Hein

Whew! So much good stuff. Good thing the cat has it under control.

I’ve been pushing myself pretty hard at my writing job for the past several days. This is partly because I’ve had a little spike of focus thanks to resuming my 3x weekly megadose of Vitamin D and a big spike in energy thanks to cycling neurochemistry (it sounds fun but it actually mostly isn’t) and partly because I’m seeing the positive outcomes of my budgeting efforts over the past couple months. The end of 2013 was a real financial low point for me and wiped out what little savings I had put together; Pantheacon was another financial weight that I had to recover from so I got a little more serious about budgeting. It’s helped a lot but with rent increases, various medical woes, a chronic illness cat of my very own, and now the actual legitimate need for a tablet computer to save for, it’s been a tight few months. My writing job is piecework, so the more I do, the more I earn; getting lots done when I’m feeling good is my protection against lost earnings when I can’t focus.

(I’ve also been quite busy getting the hand bound Odin devotional books out the door. Let’s not forget that. There’s another 4 on my table now!)

I had planned on  giving a little attention to each of my personal writing projects on a rotating daily schedule. That worked fine for a couple days but I couldn’t keep it up. I’ll give it a try again this week but it might be that this schedule is not a good fit for the way I work. That said, I’ve gotten a few more hundred words done on a book that I’m very slowly putting together and I’ve developed a structure for my MGW presentation and I’ve gotten a few pages of notes written to go along with it.

I’ve also got another idea for a book that I’d love to work on but – well, just look at all that stuff I’ve complained about up there. I’m only making appreciable progress on *one* of my writing projects right now, never mind that I have a few thousand words promised to an editor like 2 months ago.

I know I’m not alone in these frustrations. I hate feeling so far behind on the things that I really care about, all the things I really want to accomplish. I also don’t like how slowly I work when I do manage to get moving. I’ve really only got 2 hours of good writing time in me in one session and I typically have only manage one writing session a day; there’s just too much else that needs done.

So I’m frustrated. I’m grumpy that my energy and focus is so entirely eaten up by my writing job – don’t get me wrong, I actually really like earning a living like this but the drawback is less attention spent on my own work. I don’t really make a lot of money off my personal writing; I never have. (How much do I make? In a month I might have earned enough to buy something from a fast food dollar menu. MIGHT.)

I like writing. I like it quite a bit, actually. I like working by myself, I’m a good self-starter, I can even occasionally follow a project through to completion. It’s work I happen to actually be reasonably good at and I feel that, with practice, I can get even better. It’s still work, though. I still have to show up for it every day and put in the effort. When I see just a few hundred more words on the page and I’m out of ideas I feel like my progress is not equivalent to my effort. Shouldn’t I have a book by now? I’ve been working on Heartroad 2 for something like 5 years. I’ve got maybe 8,000 words. I don’t need another book idea; I need to finish one of the ideas I’ve already been cooking.

Ah well. Others have managed to produce under considerably more pressing circumstances than myself. I’ll finish some of these projects eventually but I’m sure to leave this life with many, many things unsaid.