How did you become involved with your devotional topic?
I actually first found this god through research. I think the Dreamer would have introduced us eventually, but the research that led me to his son was what prompted me to try and start including him in my devotional practice.
I don’t even remember now what prompted me to look up if [the Dreamer’s touchstone name] had any children, but I did a double take when I saw that yes, he had a child. (The reason why I was so surprised was because I thought I had read everything there was about [the Dreamer’s touchstone name], and he hadn’t mentioned his son to me before.)
I first became aware that this deity was actually around when I noticed images of stars (something I associate him) showing up a lot, along with a faint feeling of a cold presence. It was a feeling of someone being there, but being unsure of reaching out. I did introduce myself eventually, simply lighting a candle and talking.
The Dreamer, who is normally at least somewhat involved when I start forming new deity relationships, stepped back when it came to this one. (Now knowing what I do about my past life, I can understand why.) He did ask that I acknowledge his son as being part of my Family, but other than that he left my relationship with his son completely up to me (which I’ll probably talk about in the next post.)
I insisted that I had no idea how to draw people, so my stepson asked me to draw a portrait of him. I started this last night, after I finished my previous drawing, and finished the background today.
The full moon is in the background, and due to my shading the night sky kind of looks like it’s melting, which is actually something I’m proud of.
(Ballpoint pen and colored pencils)
Once there was nothing
behind your name, but
there is resonance now,
so soft, but I sense it.
I can sense your brother’s
trembling hope, that you will stay,
and his Beloved’s worry, that you will not.
Hope is not a fleeting thing for you,
(it is something you learned from all of us
you learned of hope along with magic)
my son, Prince of Darkness and Light.
Three jewels adorn your Crown
one for each of your fathers,
a legacy of love and royalty.
Step up, young Sovereign,
but not into destiny; into
Stars and Winter, that liminal
space between Land and Void.
Whether you walk the Sea or Sky
know that we love you, that there will always
be a place for you and yours in our Hearts.
There is a sheet of wood in the basement with holes from throwing stars, and one you always carry with you, to remind you that I’m safe.
There is paint and herbs, alchemy and magic; your father gets lost in painting (I do not comment on how he is nearly out of red) a way to channel his rage without burning an entire Kingdom down in fury for what was done to me.
You have stuck to me like a shadow since I was brought home; you are a young teen now; old enough to understand what happened to the man both your fathers fell in love with, old enough to know I have no family now besides the three of you.
You sit at my side, your eyes so much like my own (and how my Heart would break when I’d see that shared shade of green in another life, but not knowing why) going from me, to your father, and back. To the red of his canvas, hints of gold and black; he has painted the fire he so wishes to burn; there is rage in his eyes when he sees how I am hurt, how I am healing.
Our lives should have been different (we should have been planning a wedding) with my coming here. But it was ruin that brought me here; ruin and jailbreak and long nights with the three of you surrounding me; at my side through the night for fear of me dying; for fear of me being stolen yet again.
Is there hope that our small Family will not be torn apart by rage and grief?
In moments like this I can feel it; a small flame flickering at the edges of our Hearts.
As I mentioned in previous posts, I’ve recently gotten some Major Truth Bombs dropped on my head regarding past lives. Both that I had one (I had been told that I had lived before, and that I had not; it turns out that how the two Pantheons consider my “life” to have ended is different) and what the content of that past life was.
Which means that I have found myself in one hell of an Otherworld drama mess.
The short version is that a member of the Pantheon who let me go last year has suddenly decided (after nearly a year of silence) he wants me back. The way he’s going about it is actually making me want to have even less to do with him and his Pantheon. When I’ve reached out to other members of this Pantheon to see if I could get some help, I’ve gotten complete silence (and the one offer of help I have gotten I’m side-eyeing, because I’ve got a feeling there’s strings attached.)
The timing of all of this is incredibly suspicious, because the Dreamer is away. His Job gets incredibly busy over the Summer season so he’s totally Over There (in his Realm) until Autumn. He knows what’s going on, but he can’t do anything until he gets back; I do know he’s Very Displeased with all this drama exploding, especially while he’s gone.
Since all this has started, the Madman has been emphasizing (through both tarot and shufflemancy) that we’re a team. He’s determined to stay with me through all this drama, and my Husband has been sending me signs of his reassurance and love while the rest of my spiritual life feels like it’s falling apart. The rest of our Family is also supportive (and understands if this drama explosion turns me away from astral/Otherworld stuff even more.)
I was in the process of rearranging my practice so that it was more focused on my life Here, and all this drama has made me want to go back to the quiet practice that I had been building for myself.
Right now I feel confused and stuck, and not really sure what to do (other than stick close to my chosen Family and hope nothing escalates before the Dreamer gets back.)
light the air
as he walks
to the shore,
with his Fathers’
He holds the moon,
reflected in the pearls
in his palms, a gift
from his Fathers.
He stands and waits by the sea,
knowing that the stars
will guide him Home.
He is fearless