I don't have a clean introduction to what I do, trust me I've sat here and tried
This blog is just for my practice and any writings I feel the need to do
I mainly follow Dionysus and Athena, though I work with other, and non-hellenic guides too. I am referring to them as guides as I am an atheist, though they may not always be referred to in such ways (such as when I'm speaking more specifically, I'm using it as a catch-all here)
All are welcome, though hate will not be tolerated
I don't wish to use my real name here so you can call me Lovett. I also use He/Him. My tarot card is the chariot.
Be blessed in your endeavors
Key Tags:
Lovett writing - Longer form posts
Lovett rambles - Shorter posts
Lovett practice - Posts relating to practice
Lovett (type) (guide) - Post relating to a certain guide
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I have been ill for a few days but I've been thinking about something that happened many years ago
One year, for vacation, me and my family went to a mountain in North Georgia for a vacation, a week away from civilization. On the way up the mountain I saw a shop covered in rainbow pinwheels and colorful flags and kept it in my mind.
One day we decide to explore the the town at the base of the mountain, and we go to apple shops and all these neat little stores, and as we are about to head back to the cabin I saw the store again. Keep in mind, I am a child in this story. I say to my parents "I want to check out that shop", and for some reason, and completely out of character, they agree to the sudden detour.
So 10ish year old me is thrilled. On the mountain before this, I got a hat, a (fake) raccoon tail hat, and I have been wearing it proudly to every one of these stores
So we walk in the store and it is extremely colorful and packed and wonderful. Tapestries and clothes and crystals and books. We had stumbled into a small (by the owner's words) Magik store.
Little me was ecstatic.
Since the store was so small, we ended up being the only customers at the moment, so we chatted with the owner. She explained the shop and where she came from and explained various things to a very curious me.
But the thing that has stuck with me all these years was something she said about my hat. "That hat suits you, is it something you wear everyday?". It's not an extraordinary question, but it caught me off guard. This is not a normal hat. I got a raccoon tail hanging off me. I say this to her and she laughs and tell me I should wear it more often.
It's just stuck with me. My dog has long since destroyed it.
Another note is that this is where I got my first tarot deck!
my (maybe unpopular) opinion is that anyone interested in reconnecting to their ancestry via folk magic should begin by learning the names of plants in the language of the tradition. I cannot stress enough how language shapes the world, and our relationship with it
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I often find myself giving myself many different names, labels, ways to group myself instead of just being. I have people who call me by my given name, my chosen name, my last name, but I also refer to myself by many names, Lovett being the newest of the bunch. I also group myself under all these labels, for who I love, who I want, who I am, how I love, but truly must I categorize myself so others understand how I am? I've had people ask about my labels, I fumble between Panromantic and Aromantic, and they give me a straight answer in reply. I could call myself queer, but that also doesn't feel right.
This isn't actually related to names or queerness or gender (unmentioned due to a lack of words) however. All of this to say that I don't understand how to refer to my practice for the sake of whoever may be reading. I dislike the word Pagan, I find it reductive and patronizing. I am fond of the word witch but not fond of it's connotations. I'm not fond of the word spiritual as I don't feel it connects.
So I guess I'll keep calling it my practice till I figure out how to name things.
I've had a few of these so I'll group them by god. All Hellenistic, for some reason. I'm telling these a bit more story-like than I'd usually describe them as it's simply more interesting to read. I also cut some fluff as most of these dreams were solely not about the gods and would ultimately contribute nothing.
I don't want to type them all at once, so this post will be updated.
Dionysus
In this dream I was in a vast temple, pale yellow light sleeping in past the taller than life pillars that held up the structure, and dripping onto the cold stone floors. The air was still, but smelt of something fruity and something burning. At the center of the space, seeming out of place, was a couch, a large circle couch with sheer curtains around it, creating it's own sort of divide from the world around it.
On that couch sat who I understood to be Dionysus. He looked young, early twenties, with long black hair and a laurel to crown him. He wore just a purple chiton. What I remember most, however, are his eyes. His green eyes that seemed to just look through me.
He beckoned me over, I obeyed. He wanted me to sit, I sat. He wanted me to listen, I heard. He didn't need words to covey, yet I knew what he wanted.
He took my hands in his own and placed them upon a harp and helped me play. I still remember the song, but I am not so musically inclined to be able to recreate it. He helped me pluck each string and play each note, letting them ring out untill I woke up.
My next dream was less elaborate, and quite frankly more of a byproduct of a horrible fever than actual sleep.
He appeared different this time, more muscular than than the last, his body broader, stronger, defined by a effortless sort of statuesque musculature. His once straight hair had changed to loose curls, while still long, it only fell to his shoulders this time. He also had the addition of a beard, which gave him a more grounded, older, and comforting look than the last.
He wore a simple robe- an exomis I believe- with the fabric still being a deep purple, but with gold trim at the edges.
Again, his eyes are what I remember most are his eyes. A deep shape of what seemed like both green and purple at the same time, though they held more softness than when I saw him last.
The actual content of the dream was simple. The god had laid next to me, my head on his chest, as he comforted me through my fever. Still, the dream is vivid to me.
This topic has been stated here many times before so I'll keep this straightforward. Ai slop- written or pictures- has no place in practice, worship, or in any aspect of life. It is a crutch for the lazy and pathetic. It does not make practice more accessible, that is inaccurate and patronizing. Art and writing has always and always will be accessible and it is a disservice to the many disabled artists and writers that laid the foundation that your AI is trained on. Do better for yourself and whoever you worship.
The sea is a temple. The woods are a temple. Your own bedroom is a temple. The world is imbued with the spiritual. Worship is an act, not a place, and it can happen spontaneously, in reaction to the beauty of a moment.
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A coworker's child stopped them a morning before work this week to give them a small rock. Saying, "This is my best friend and he wants to go with you to work." At work she and I got talking and she stopped and said, "I don't know why, I feel like you need a best friend." And gave me the rock her son gave her.
This rock now travels with me in my pocket until it tells me to give him to someone else.
This is animism at its finest. Receiving awakened rocks from children that spoke them into being
