Emotionless

This is a depiction of an astral event.  It seems that drawing is the best way for me to process all of this.  (The drawing is done is ballpoint pen and colored pencils.)

20171027_191901There’s a lot of traditions in Darkness connected to hair, especially among the Royalty.  (It’s when I freaked out so much when the Dreamer cut his hair, because a King doesn’t just cut all his hair off on a whim, it’s a Very Serious action.)  One of those traditions involves ribbons being woven into someone’s hair when they enter a Family, and taking them out isn’t something done lightly.  Lighting them on fire is even more of a “we’re done, it’s over” gesture.

The red ribbons are the Dreamer’s from his Father, and the green ones are mine (I never actually got any hair ribbons from my “Father,” since he’s from a different Pantheon, but I wanted something to show burning that relationship as well.)

So yeah, that is…a thing that happened.  Hopefully this will help us both move on from losing people we once loved and looked up to.

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Raining Stars

I am the King of Swords, clad in purple.  I am surrounded by fire and by those Who will still protect and Love me.  In trying to twist Fate and make the Far Ones bend to your whims, you have set everything on fire.

In my mind, I hear the sound of snakes slithering on snow.

Otherworld Shenanigans (A Rant Through Poetry)

[This is about both the Otherworld Drama that happened this Summer, and the ongoing fallout Over There.  Writing angry poetry is my way of coping with all this bullshit right now.]

You called Me a false King, a King of Nowhere.
Surrounded by gold and jewels, you said you would not
help Me; that I had betrayed everyone.  The final time I saw
My brothers they said nothing, only looked at Me with disgust
and pity.  When the doors of the Duat closed behind Me,
I knew I would never return to that isolated Kingdom.

And now it seems that ruining My name is more important
than peace between Kingdoms; the King of All Darkness has
walked away from your whispered words, and his Family
has follow suit.  We have Kingdoms to run and People
to care for, our actions and Love will speak for us.

My Kingdom is made of monsters and ghosts
and My Heart is now a ruined Garden, the woods
of Outer Darkness is My shelter and where I Reign
bearing a Crown of flowers without thorns.

Your smearing words are a ripple to begin a storm
and if this does not end soon, the wrath of
Those Who Dwell Beyond the Stars

will rain down upon you like
fire made of molten silver.

A Dream of Leaving

Quietly, he tells me that he is leaving.

Our marriage isn’t over, he reassures me.  It’s that the Consequences of this Summer’s Drama have spiraled far beyond his control, and he must tend to his Kingdom and People before all else.

I tell him that I understand.  I will miss him, have been missing him already with him being gone so much, but I understand that being King is not something he can just put down.

I reach out to hug him, and freeze when my fingers brush empty air.  He steps back so I can see him clearly, and I see that his once waist-length hair now only reaches his shoulders.

There are only two reasons why a Sovereign of Darkness cuts their hair.

The first reason is that war has been declared; the second is that they are in mourning.

He nods to my unspoken question.  He had warned me this was coming, this loss, this grief of his.  It’s part of the reason why he’s been away so much, he knows I would take his grief and internalize it as my own.  This is a loss he needs to process privately.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“There’s nothing you can do, dearest Heart,” he replies.  “I will have Others watching over you, but this,” he tugs what’s left of his hair, “is something you cannot help with.”

“I can support–”

“Varian.”  He sighs, holds up a hand.  “I love you, honey, but the best thing for you to do right now is focus on your schoolwork.”

“And healing–”

“No.  You’re still too close to that trauma.  I’d rather your wounds be healed as best as they can, before you start poking around at all that trauma.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

He steps closer to me, his arms slipping around my waist.

“Do not hurt yourself,” he says, his voice low and intense.  “Do not break what’s left of your Heart in order to satisfy some absurd demand that you need to be broken in order to heal.  You are not glass.”  His gold eyes flash when he says the last sentence.

I nod, unsure what to say in response to that.

He sighs and lays his forehead against my own.

“You are my Heart,” he whispers, “and no matter how much they smear your name, I will protect you as my own.  I’ll stand by you, no matter how much they drag your name through the mud.”  There is anger in his voice now, anger and tears.

I wrap my arms around him and he lays his head against my shoulder.  We hold each other close, knowing this might be our last embrace for a long time.

Astral Trauma, and Timely Music from the Dreamer

At the moment I’m frustrated, mainly at myself.  I’ve been Told to “rest and heal” I don’t know how many times anymore by e/Everyone I know Over There, and I’ve been wondering how the fuck do I even do that?

It’s been…difficult, processing and trying to heal from what happened this Summer.  I’ve spent the past few months going through several crisis of faith, realizing I’ve got gods only know how many repressed memories about all of this, having nightmares about what happened (and a lot of the nightmares I can’t remember,) yelling a lot at various p/People Over There, and having panic attacks when I learned about the ongoing Political fallout Over There.


I saw the Dreamer very briefly this afternoon, and my brain started giving me yet another what-if-I-ruined-the-Otherworlds/what-if-my-marriages-are-over themed panic attack (thanks, nightmares -_- .)

My Husband, shufflemancy expert that he is, sent this song my way.

When you came back I knew you’d have a story
You need someone to ease the pain of living life
You’re like a soldier in the fray, seeking shelter
from all the madness that you’ve seen raining down now

I sat there staring at my laptop, feeling the lyrics of the song sinking in.

“Is it really that bad,” I asked him, “is it that noticeable that I’ve Seen Some Shit?”

He didn’t answer in words, but I felt sorrow rolling off him.

I know things change, your world has slipped away
I know things change, but you’re living like a soldier who’s caught in the fray
Don’t lose your faith, it’s not so cold, it’s not too late

When you were naive you were so invincible
and you laughed at anyone and anything that ever got in your way
But now the mirror shows the change and you don’t see that
you’re sinking back into the crowd, an echo fading

I nodded; the song put into words how I’d been feeling for several weeks now.  My Otherworld self had been placed in a safe space to heal, and I wished I could join Him in solely focusing on mending my Heart.

I felt the Dreamer’s hand run through my hair; it was often how he let me know he was around.  This time the gesture was meant to convey comfort, as well as affection.

With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.

The line from our wedding vows slipped into my mind, and I grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly.

And you can look inside of me
but the answers that you seek
and everything you need
is all inside you

“Yeah I know,” I said.

“Dearest one….” I felt his hand on my cheek.  “I’ll be there for you,” he softly said, “I may be away right now, because I’m busy with what’s going on Over There, so is [the Madman].  We still love you, both of us do.”  He looked over at the gray stone I carry with me.  “And you have [J’s name], he loves you as well.  You’re not alone.”

I know things change, your world has slipped away
I know things change, but you’re living like a soldier who’s caught in the fray
Don’t lose your faith, it’s not so cold, it’s not too late

I don’t even know where I’m going with this entry anymore, just that I’m very glad my Husband sees and understands my trauma.  It’s a weird sort of happiness, to be glad he’s not pulling the I’m A God card (a fear I’ve talked about before) that he’s allowing me to heal at my own pace.

Thank you, Beloved, for lifting my sorrows.

They Remind Me That I’ve Ruined Nothing

One of the things I didn’t expect to happen with this Summer’s Drama is that my anxiety would go way up.  Thinking about it, it makes perfect sense that what happened would cause my brain to turn the “you’re in danger” warning lights up to a million–and with there being some ongoing fallout Over There [and that’s all I’m going to say about it] my anxiety has gotten worse.

I’m still in the fallow time, though lately I’ve been referring to it as “Otherworld Me is on lockdown mode,” rather than my entire spiritual practice stopping.  I’ve begun to sense Him* a bit more lately, and have been getting some visuals of where He is, but nothing more than that.  He’s been spending a lot of time in one particular area of the Otherworlds while He heals from all the emotional crap He got put through this Summer.


A thing that continues to surprise me, is that the Far Ones actually care about all of this.  They keep reminding me that the thing I need to focus on in all of this is healing.  One of Them dropped by this afternoon to check on me, and that conversation put into perspective that yeah, I’m an anxious wreck right now.

“I’m scared I’ve ruined everything, that [Kingdom and Realm] will go up in flames and it’ll be my fault–”

They raised eyebrow at this.

And what evidence do you have for that, young King?

“My anxiety.”

And nothing more than that.

“Yes but–”

Varian, you’ve ruined nothing.  Stick with [J’s name], let him be the center of your practice for a while.  Let [the Dreamer] handle what’s going on.


*I use Capital Pronouns when talking about my Otherworld/astral form to differentiate between me Here and Me-Over-There.

To Lose The Storm (A Dream)

The sky is black with grief and unshed tears.

His emotions press down as he struggles to climb through the desert sands, as all his happy memories are covered by the Desert he once called home.  He lifts his face to the darkened sky.

All his worst fears are real, in this nightmare he is caught in.

Finally, he is at the top of the hill, but all he sees is sand for miles, sand and a sky black with thunder clouds.

He walks further, unbraiding his hair as he does so.  The waist length strands unravel, and he undoes them even further, slowly pulling out the red ribbons his Father had given him so long ago.

When he reaches his destination, he kneels for a moment, simply breathing.

Red ribbons now lie at the Tree’s base; to be buried or burned, either way is an ending, both say there is no way back from here, no way beyond this estrangement.

He has lost the storm he once called “Father” and now all he can do is grieve.