Ugh.

I am digging through my drafts trying to either find or make something publishable, but nothing is really there.

Between the bullshit that led to me shutting down most of my online presence, stepping back from the majority of my social circle, a massive increase in my day to day pain that has become periodically disabling (I finally broke down and started using a cane, I had to change jobs, and am looking down the barrel of doing it again because my workplace is fighting me over accomodations), major financial issues, and the prolonged illness and eventual death of my dog, I’m more exhausted than I was a few years ago when I genuinely thought it couldn’t get worse.

Maybe I was tempting fate. Whatever.

I think I have to just sit (or lay down, which is easier on my hips and back anyway) with the fact that I am not the same person I was when I could write here consistently. Unfortunately that, and all the circumstances surrounding that, also mean accepting that a lot of the external trappings I relied on as a frame of reference for who (or at least what) I am as a person are gone, and I have to reevaluate.

I don’t like that. It’s a lot of work. And pain and distress literally shrink your brain. It gets better when those get better. (Hooray for neuroplasticity.) But I have no idea what kind of timeline I’m on for getting better in a way that’s load bearing.

I didn’t want to talk about any of that because I didn’t want to grant that kind of satisfaction to people who I know would enjoy learning that I’m struggling. I don’t place a lot of trust in the likelihood of something stirring their conscience. I didn’t want to show weakness.

On the personal level I also resented my own weakness due to how abruptly I went from being a physically powerful, capable person to someone who can’t stand for more than a few hours on some days.

But giving into that, making concessions that go beyond my actual limitations, is just obeying people whose opinion isn’t actually that valuable. It’s letting other people run my life. I’ve had enough of that shit.

The weather is cooling off now and this was the time of year where I was starting on my very goofy path towards Heathenry. It is a little weird to think about how a religion I got into by accident ended up having such a deep (and unfortunately somewhat destructive) impact on my life. I feel a little more alive and hopeful. My body tolerated recent farm chores better than I anticipated, though I’m watching my physical state closely to make sure I don’t overdo it and get stuck in another flare.

Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe not. Still not a fan of uncertainty. But I’m trying to let myself at least enjoy feeling something good.

“But I didn’t and still don’t like making a cult of women’s knowledge, preening ourselves on knowing things men don’t know, women’s deep irrational wisdom, women’s instinctive knowledge of Nature, and so on. All that all too often merely reinforces the masculinist idea of women as primitive and inferior – women’s knowledge as elementary, primitive, always down below at the dark roots, while men get to cultivate and own the flowers and crops that come up into the light. But why should women keep talking baby talk while men get to grow up? Why should women feel blindly while men get to think?”

— Ursula K. Le Guin

Prompt No. 1: The Hardest Part of Faith

Hello Friends, Since I have been really struggling to write anything, I’ve gone to my trusty prompt box and I’m going to work through some prompts until the well fills up with ideas again. Update, for all y’all, I still am sick with walking pneumonia and having a terrible time sleeping. I have a feeling […]

Prompt No. 1: The Hardest Part of Faith

The Utterly Ridiculous Fanfiction Which Resulted in Me Becoming a Lokean

You may recall my post in which I described the very weird sequence of events that resulted in me becoming Heathen, which I often point out happened by accident. Or a series of small accidents and weird decisions which, if not necessarily HAPPY accidents, were at least entertaining.

Bob Ross would be so proud.

You may also recall that I said I never finished it. At the time, that was true. But in August, while checking my Facebook memories and seeing my contextless post about throwing a composition book out of a window, I was reminded that, holy shit, I set out to write that ridiculous trollfic TEN YEARS AGO. I became a Heathen by accident TEN YEARS AGO.

So, against all better judgement, I finished it. I have kept the kinkshaming. I have kept the thing about Beck (as in, the loser scientologist folk-singer slob) living in Loki’s closet. I have kept the stitch-n-bitch and the baby shower and all of the other absolutely ridiculous bullshit and–the stupidest decision of all–decided to publish it.

Notes on content: Because this is literally based on Loki getting knocked up by a horse, this is kind of unavoidably an mpreg fic. I have pointedly kept it goofy. Also, holy shit, this is over 4,000 words.

An edit of a page from the Frog and Toad books. The illustration used shows Frog handing an envelope to a snail. There is a text box on the image reading "here is an insurmountable amount of garbage. It disgusts me as well. I apologize in advance."
Abandon Hope, all Ye Who Click Here

Call for submissions: Jörð devotional

I am going to be compiling, editing and releasing a devotional through the Troth! I am seeking out work written in honor of the Earth through a Heathen perspective, by the various names she has in our traditions. Devotional works in honor of the land are also welcome.

I am placing particular emphasis on poems, prayers, and rituals, but artwork would be enthusiastically accepted as well!

You do not have to be a member of the Troth to submit your work, just bear in mind that because we are publishing through them, any submissions have to comply with the Troth’s stance on inclusivity. We will also be asking for first publishing rights in North America. This means that the Troth has the right to be the first to distribute your contribution—after that, you can republish your work with no restrictions. There is also a release form to sign, which I will provide.

Please also bear in mind that contributions are not paid. All proceeds from sales of the published devotional will go towards Red Hammer, which is the Troth’s disaster relief fund.

Contributions can be emailed to peaksinmay AT Gmail DOT com. Submission deadline is December 31st, 2022, with the goal of releasing the finished book in April.

Wealthy in Each Other’s Company

For three years now, I’ve been hosting a ritual to Jörð on the Saturday before Earth Day.

Photo by Robert L. Schreiwer

At first, the motivation behind these rituals was a bit selfish. Finally realizing the severity of the climate crisis was crushing, which should be unsurprising given that it is literally the biggest threat ever posed to living things on this planet. I vividly remember laying face-down in the dry clay, alternately crying when lucid, and dissociating when not. Even a few minutes earlier I would have still found the phrase “dirt-worshipping Heathen” obnoxious, but I couldn’t exactly act like this wasn’t a fair accusation now.

The thing is, this existential fear isn’t new. It was only new to me. And the reason it was new to me was because whiteness and my family’s class status had insulated me from having to actually confront it. I can buy my life off the shelf if I so choose, enabled by colonial government and exploitative industry. This crisis has been ongoing for literally everyone else, for hundreds of years.

This sense of interconnection that the looming threat of climate change brought me should have been intuitive. But the world built on my behalf requires being separated from the earth. The comparatively new sense of a sprawling, tangled web of fate under my feet filled me with cold-muscled fear.

Like most people who crack under the strain of pretending to cooperate with absolute bullshit and feeling like everyone else knows something you don’t, I brought it to therapy. My therapist tried his damndest to instill some hope in me for life on earth—namely Lif and Lifthrasir as a metaphor for plastic-eating, thermophilic microbes, should they evolve in our absence. But none of this took away from the core fear that the world is ending for real.

In part because I already associated the events in ragnarök with the carbon cycle, I decided that the way to cope with my eco-anxiety would be through designing rituals again. This time, something heavily inspired by Völuspá.

Initially, what I had in mind had zero resemblance to the way I do Jarðarblót now. I had originally contemplated something theatrical, angry, and involving fake blood and scorn poles. I still have the unfinished papier-mâché horse head on a shelf in my closet. But eventually, something clicked.

Continue reading “Wealthy in Each Other’s Company” →