#devotional writings

we chatted through the cards (the deck devoted to Her) at the start of the day, where She told me to a) be patient with Her and myself (okay, cool) and b) cut myself from the fearful bonds of childhood (woof, that one’s harsh, but I’m slowly trying. made small steps, more on this later)

when I couldn’t decide what to do with myself, She implored me to light Her incense, make a cup of Her tea, and read a book (She picked, went with an old Gregory Maguire favorite) while listening to Hozier (She didn’t want Her playlist, it’s a bit too angry/war-minded for what She wanted for me today). I felt an extreme surge of emotions over the course of these actions, ranging from overwhelming (soul-clawing) love for my husband, fresh adoration- and kind of awe- at the existence of my cat, and then painful, hurtful guilt. guilt at the rejection of and isolation from what little family I have left. my fear of (the rest of that family, which I have cut off completely) engaging in any part of my past has driven me fully away from people I love and care about. I’m missing out on watching them grow up. I’m missing out on the comfort of familial ties. I’m missing out on pieces of my puzzle that have no need to be burned. so I reached out. I froze upon getting a reply, so I’ll tackle that tomorrow. but I think this was step 1 of freeing myself of those bonds She wants me free of. and then I shut my eyes and cried while listening to an old Gaelic folk song.

I feel a bit of relief, and also a tightness in my chest. I think She has important shadow work for me to be doing that I’ve long been ignoring. being in touch with Her means being in touch with my roots means being in touch with my past. not running from razed earth, but cultivating old soil and planting a new harvest. I feel Her hand on my back. I feel comforted and held by Her in these actions, a comfort I’ve never known before. it’ll all be okay.

I am alone, but I walk accompanied on this earth.

I am alone, but my hands move in sets of two.

I am alone, but I will never taste true loneliness.

I stand shackled and breathless.

O Meskhenet, who abided with me in the hour where I drew my first breath.

Sweet Meskhenet, who held my fragile body in Her hands.

Brave Meskhenet, who knew the labor of bringing something to Life, who knew the labor of staying alive. Who will not give up on me.

(Most Fierce Meskhenet, for when my will for Life was as embers, She was there to shield it from the cutting wind. She said, now push!)

Wise, far-seeing Meskhenet, who gazes at my eyes & see how it all will end.

Who, despite, holds my hand still.

I pray to remember the brilliance of the fire that consummately told me to live. To fight for the life & the world I wish to see.

I pray to hear Your sweet voice that proclaimed my Fate when my heart is on the scales.

I pray that You may attest my story with pride.

May I remember you in gratitude: when I am a star among the deep blue of Nut, may my gaze be kindly. For I learned it from She with cradling arms, flyaway hairs & dark circles of a long night. A life-saving wit & the tender pride of new & loving parents.

By means we must slow, quiet, settle to hear, they all speak in tongues that tremble secrets unknown and known to those that want to heed their call.

And some don’t.

Like the winds that never truly fly for your sail, sights blocked and tattered in blinds self made they claim the gods have gone mute to their ways.

But all of the gods answer.

They all willingly share and hesitantly reach out, hands stretched outwards to us at times where we turn and get caught in their claws on our own grief.

But they’re there.

Speaking. Muttering. Murmuring. Singing along to each hum and sigh you make when you sleep, to every desperate fight you have, to every single love you share, they sing melodies and symphonies hoping you’ll answer.

And some don’t.

So they wake and claim the gods have died, while they walk grounds covered in nightshade. While they walk grounds dripping in their blood. While they walk grounds thick with proof of their love and hate.

Continue to watch over me as I pave my path.

My footsteps in the sand are washed away, but the sea remembers it’s crevices and how it worked to smooth the land again.

The smell of the salt in the air was much missed, much the same as the freedom in my wings and the fire burning bright in my chest. I feed it every night, in my dreams of careful streams, and it burns at such intensity that often times I weep. I cannot contain my love, it’s too much to bear and singes my tongue. My cheeks are sun kissed, and I lost my fear of drowning, because I know it is you, whom I’ve seeked all eternity in our waltz, I will see when I forget the taste of air.

I give unto you what you give unto me, both the hurricane and the sunny days. Take my offering, my gratitude, my never-ending adoration, just as you took my burden, my suffering, my tears and pain.

We must not waste time.

We cannot waste time.