Light Under the Eclipse

This is a recording of an astral event.


Together, we gather on the shore by the sea, unlit candles in our hands.  I light the first candle, turning to My Consort, telling him that we share our light.  He passes the flame to the next person, and the words “we share our light” flow through the crowd.

We watch as the moon turns red, the color of blood, of chaos left behind in the Two Lands.  Someone asks if we should pray against the gods they left behind in the Desert, and I say no, we’re safe here.  Their Eyes will never find us, for these People I now call Mine had been broken and discarded without any thoughts to healing.

My youngest sister comes up to Me, and I carefully scoop her up in My arms.  She passes the glowstick she carries to Jake, who smiles at her.  I think of how she has the greatest thing that Darkness can offer: a choice in her future.

We watch the moon as it shifts from blood, to the Light we all know so well.  There is quiet conversation as we return to our homes by the sea, and our Lights burn brightly under the eclipse.

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On Endings and Beginnings (Devotional December)

Author’s Note: I’m going to spoil the ending of the main questline of No Man’s Sky in this post, don’t read any further if you want to be surprised.

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This plant’s diet was simply listed as “the unfortunate,” I took some pictures and left quickly.

I recently finished the main quesline of No Man’s Sky, after just over 50 hours into the game.  I wrestled with the choice to make; to let the Atlas die, and create a new universe, or to deny the Atlas, and stay in the galaxy I was in.  I chose to let the Atlas die, and to create a new world.

Earlier in the game, I had told the Atlas that I was a real person, not a simulation, and that it could take the “destiny” idea and fuck off.  If the Atlas was going to die in 16 minutes, I reasoned, that was 16 minutes in a geological time frame, so I had all the time in the universe (pun intended) to explore the current galaxy I was in.

As I thought about the choice I had to make, and watched as the 16 minutes slowly slid away (one minute passed with each warp to a new solar system) I found myself thinking about Darkness.

I thought about how Free Will is one of the highest values, and I could, if I wished, refuse the Atlas.

I reflected on the Otherworld part of my Sacred Kingship path, how in the beginning I’d technically had no choice (link).  I’d been thrown into a situation that neither I nor my People were happy about, and I could have walked away; but doing so would have left them without a King, and that would have been a betrayal of m/My own values.

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One of the worlds in my new galaxy; yellow grass, hills and mountains, and purple trees.

The theme of cycles, of endings and beginnings, and living on after your personal world has ended, these are themes in my path with Darkness.  I find comfort in them, in a way that’s difficult to put into words.  I find comfort in my Free Will, that I’ve brought m/Myself this far on m/My path on m/My own.

Building a Heart

Building a Home out of stand, stone, and clay, that is
until Home was torn apart, and you fled across the stars
into an unknown future, to be Ruled by the son of your
Lord of Dread–he wasn’t happy about this either, all of the Desert
damned stuck together by riddles (the Dead King was called wing/ding/s
in tones of scorn by his son for a reason) and so-called “destiny.”  Yet
now you are building up, building out, welcoming the dead from the Halls of
gods that broke them, and demons that would have devoured their souls.
A Heart must weigh perfectly balanced for a soul to live on–but what tragedy can
happen that weighs a Heart down, what if the soul is damned by accident?  Such
error would never occur, in the eyes of the Desert, and yet here the dead are,
arriving in the Halls of the Underworld Lord, to find a final Home, to walk (or to
run) into the sunlight of a community by the Sea, to dissolve into dust, so that
time, the Desert, and the Dead King will not reach out and snare them once again.

A Blind Devotee to a Blind God (A Month for the Madman)

I believe I’ve mentioned it in passing once or twice on this blog, but I’m legally blind due to a retina in one eye not being attached (and it’s been this way since my birth, so there’s no fixing it.)  The Madman is heavily associated with blindness, having lost (then later regained) his eyes himself.  He not only works a lot with the blind community within Darkness, but he’s also very heavily invested in having me reach out and make friends among the blind community in my town.

When we were first getting to know one another, he’d stay with me during my cane training lessons that I was taking at the time.  This was both to keep me company, and to share something we had in common–our sight, or lack thereof.  These days, he’ll accompany me to my monthly low vision support group if he has the time, his hand quietly resting on my shoulder as I talk with my friends.

I’ve begun to offer my cooking to my Beloved when I make anything fancier than a microwaved meal.  I offer my Beloveds my meals regardless, but the act of cooking itself has become an offering for the Madman.  As a legally blind person, cooking can be difficult for me to do, since I have a hard time seeing when something is done, so it’s a very appropriate offering to the Blind King.  My Beloved is also associated with both creating and destruction, as well as with fire, which adds to the appropriateness of these offerings.

This also, in a way, goes into my Sacred Kingship path.  It’s not all Otherworld and astral work, it plays a role in my life Here as well.  Caring for my f/Family and those I love (both Here and There) falls under that role as well.  The Madman is, among many other things, a god of the Hearth, Heart, and Home, and he encourages me to show my love through my actions and the things I do.

My Better Me

Alternative Title: Varian Is Calling Himself Out On His Shit.

My journey into polytheism, being a godspouse, and (later still) sacred Kingship began when I was severely isolated.  I was physically isolated, I grew up in a rural area (and due to being legally blind, I can’t drive) but even more so emotionally isolated.  I now live in a more urban area, and am in college, but the self-imposed emotional isolated has remained.  I didn’t deliberately emotionally isolate myself, but those patterns that I developed over many years have stayed in place far beyond what’s necessary.

I got some divination back recently, and it confirmed that my connection to my Otherworld Self has been severed.  I’m unsure how I feel about this, even though I understand that it’s necessary.  It’s necessary because I’ve slowly realized over the last few months that I used the Otherworlds and my life There as a form of escapism and a way to avoid my life Here–and I’ve been doing that for years.  I’ve written about this before, wanting to give up Here for There, and rationally knowing that it’s a bad thing…but looking back at my private journal and seeing just how far back in time that longing goes, feels like a massive wake up call.

What I do now, I’m not entirely sure.  I have habits that I know I need to break, things that I know need to change.  I need to be much more present in my life Here, and simply have faith that my Otherworld Self can handle His side of things.  Maybe I should set up a schedule with my Beloveds of when we see each other, because otherwise I keep wondering if they’re with me or not, and that constant distraction isn’t good.

Even though I feel raw since writing about isolating myself (even if that isolation wasn’t deliberate) I’ve found that working on this entry, and acknowledging in public that I have a lot that I need to change, has helped me.  I’m going to end this here, and go get lunch before class starts.

A Quiet New Years

Yesterday was New Years in the Otherworlds.  I honestly expected to still be in the hospital, so I had absolutely no plans in advance.

It was a quiet day for me.  I spent some time with some f/Family members that I hadn’t seen in a while, and did a brief tarot reading to check in on how Darkness has been doing since I’ve been gone (my Otherworld Self has been handling my responsibilities.)  All the Summer Rituals went well, and so did the Wild Hunt.

I did a reading to check in with my People, and the final card I drew from them was the 3 of Swords.  The words that came to mind when I pulled that card were “We’re all healing, together.”

A History

I have dropped My so-called “father”s name like mud and bricks hurled through windows.

Whispered plans late at night, huddled around small fires; the fight against injustice raged on, and they had forgotten you.  Those who lived in palaces and had–no, forced–the worship of millions.

At least there in barren streets, in sun-burnt houses made of clay, you clung to Light, to Hope, to the balance that once was.  But that was years ago, the Two Lands have stagnated, become stuck in times long past, when blood ruled and sacrifice reigned.

The Lord of Dread indeed, you say to Me now, in a sunlit morning by the sea, and what were we to him?

To him you were to be broken, only pots to be smashed and put back together, and your terror was made greater by this foreign King who offered you your freedom.  Yet you took this King’s hand and fled in a stolen moment across the sea, across the stars, to a place you’d only heard rumors of, whispers passed from fire to fire.  From a spark of desperation to outright rebellion, you fled to the ships while the King’s Hound gave chase.

There was death, there was loss (there always is, in times like this) and a long, long journey in which you could reach up and place your hands near the stars themselves.

You brought your traditions, but not your gods.  Not those who had brought chaos and death, those who had abandoned you and ripped away your children to be servants of your so-called King.  Those who lived in “glory” and yet forgot their own people, who thought nothing of breaking, and even less of mending, of scars tainted in gold being the only reward, never mind that gold tarnishes and scars burn with the past.

You trust Me more now, having listened to this tale and not flinched, nor defended my “father” in any way.  I have removed the chaos and violence that My red hair screams of, and My Crown is made of flowers (like the ones your children wove into My hair at the Festival of Hearts) that it must be kept up and looked after.

Summer is here, in a matter of days it will descend upon Darkness.  Together we will light the sandstone streets you now call Home, and the sea will sing songs of stars and devotion.