Can it really be December already? I seem to have lost all sense of the passage of time since Sassy’s death. It feels as though that’s something that happened so long ago, yet sometimes–because her presence in the house as a spirit cat is so palpable–as if it could never have happened at all and that entire set of memories must be false. It seems like I only just got Pumpkin, yet that was really two or three weeks ago, and it occurs to me that I haven’t posted here since then.
It has been a busy, yet quiet and introspective, few weeks. I’ve been oddly nonverbal when not at the office, and have spent most of my time spinning while listening to audiobooks, or dyeing wool in preparation for spinning, or wet felting cords and balls for a jewelry line I’m planning. A selection of my yarn has been on display at work the past two weeks, where it met with a gratifying reception and I sold several skeins–which was heartening, considering the paltry one sale I’ve had on Etsy since my new store opened. (But then, all of my work–whether yarn or jewelry–tends to sell much better in person than online.) In two weeks I’ll be at the Pic-a-dilly Flea Market here in Eugene, sharing a table with a couple of friends from work, and then my daughter will be here from Philly for two weeks.
We still have so much to do around the house to get ready for her visit–most notably, get something for her to sleep on (probably an air mattress; we really need a futon for the living room but aren’t ready to buy anything quite yet). We have done some re-arranging of the living room already though in the past few weeks and now have two matching wooden book cases, onto which we’ve relocated our respective God-husband shrines. Here’s what that side of the room looks like now:
Yes, that is a coyote face (in lieu of the much more expensive canid, wolf) above the center of the altar. To the left is my statue by Oberon Zell, which I’ve had for going on a decade now, along with some iron keys (a gift from Him) and a gris-gris bag. In the center in front of the bust is a scrap of wolf fur, two poppy pods (Papaver somniferum, grown myself two years ago), a wolf tooth, and a bear atlas bone. To the left is the Odin drinking horn I commissioned years ago back east, a stone bowl that serves as my mini Well stand-in (complete with Eye), the top of a deer skull with antlers, and some of my found feathers.
I’m pleased with this arrangement, though I’m sure it will continue to be rearranged a bit from time to time…He enjoys having me fiddle with it, I think.
This Sunday, the 4th, is the ninth anniversary of my sacred marriage vows to Him. For such a momentous anniversary (nine being , of course, the number most sacred to Him), this one is so far proving to be rather…well, not subdued, exactly, but relaxed. There are no commemorative tattoos this year (the next one I’m planning, after the new year, will be a cluster of three sassafras leaves, for my cat who is now something of a spirit-familiar), no huge and earthshaking vows, no dramatic rituals. There will be some quiet personal time with Him tomorrow, and after that an intensifying involvement with the Hunt, leading up to Yule. But this year there is, at last, no one to whom I need to prove how serious I am, no one against whom I need feel pulled to measure myself, no one around me who I need fear will feel threatened by who I am or what I do. These types of people have haunted me for so much of the past nine years–whether at a distance or in person–that it’s almost surreal to have them gone at last. I suspect they are still out there, actually, and the only difference is that I no longer care. What other people disapprove of or might feel threatened by, concerning my spiritual life, simply doesn’t concern me. As I get older, I find that I am becoming more of who I am, who I was always meant to be. It isn’t a huge dramatic change or transformation, merely a process of not fighting it as I once did, letting go of all of the self-doubts and inhibitions. I have been married to Odin for nine years now, and it has not been an easy path; it has involved sweeping life changes, harrowing loss, and more time spent tearing down and rebuilding my inner landscapes than I would have thought you could fit into an entire lifetime (and I’m sure I’m not done yet). But I can’t pretend to be an oppressed, long-suffering spirit worker, because I wouldn’t trade this for anything on earth (or elsewhere). I know who I am, what I am to Him, what we are together. Nothing else is relevant. I think I have finally learned to let other people go, to let their petty jealousies and competitiveness slide over me and go on with my own Work. Not an easy lesson, to be sure, but the alternative is to drive myself nuts agonizing over everyone and everything–and I’ve certainly had more than my fill of THAT.
Of course, I could always just sic the Hunt on them.
Just kidding, of course.