((The following blog is about my faith, my truth, and may not agree with the reality of others. I do not speak my truth to upset or offend you. I do not speak my truth to challenge you. In fact, if I had a choice about this post, I wouldn’t have it go out into the world. But this is my Work light going off, so I will set it out into the world, and tell folks that my specifically pagan/spirit worker posts/poetry/art is available over at TempleOracle.com if you want more))
My deals with divinity have come in so many forms over the years, but tonight I am thinking about lights and discernment. My word of the year of clarity, and clarity keeps pouring out across my skin like the waters of Aquarius, the the waters of the maiden, like a sea of stars falling from her starry cunt, her starry thighs from which the universe exploded out of her mighty womb.
Bear owns my ass. I am hers, locked and collared and claimed, by my own choices and by the growl on the back of my neck. Three vows by word, by mark, by blood. Three twists and turns and my forehead down on the ground, her pelt around me, her scull lit with incense as I prostrate myself before her. Her body so large that it blacks out the starry night sky. She moves and her fur is lit with dew. She moves and I am wet beneath her. She is Mother and I am child and son and daughter and monster and bear cub. I am hers and I am Hers and I am claimed and I am free for this is truth, my place, here on the dirt before her, here on the dirt beside her, here curled up in Her massive paws. I pour out my blood, and she pours out her light. I hunt with her grace. I open up my vessel and she acts through my claws. I open doorways in her name. I collect keys in her name. I am her emissary, and am nothing, because there is nothing wrong with being nothing.
When I became hers, we worked on a system, because I work for Others as well. I have danced with Trash (one person’s trash is another person’s treasure); I have tread under the cloven hooves of Baphomet and Gorson; I have bowed my head before the powerful grace of Hera; I have brought Isis a beer as an act of service that the great Goddess deserved. I used to say She deserved so much more than me, but She has since corrected my folly in believing the act of bringing a beer and a tray of dried fruit somehow is lowly. As I bow my head low, it is a powerful gift, one that She wanted, and thus deserved.
I speak the names of those who allow me to, and keep silent lips to the names of those who have asked otherwise.
When asked to do the work of others, it is like being rented out. And I no longer hang the shingle off the back of my head that says “FOR RENT.” I am not available unless I or I AM (that is I am she is he is they and we are all together, three souls in one, three cauldrons in alignment, vivi/emi/ori as the I AM) or my Matron/Owner says otherwise. But to know the difference requires clarity.
Clarity. The word echoes again. I stand beside myself again, tie the threads together. Sex and kink and spirit and authenticity. University and books and sweat and cum. Open heart and closed doors and silent mystery that none need see.
I see myself typing as she leans down and urges me onward. It is not disassociation when I am fully present. My body is here with me and we are one. I am one, fully and wholly in alignment. I know the rose above me, and I am following my path, and my path dances the fingers forward across the keyboard. I am in the temple of an open living room on a cold winter night, role playing game books and a box of Dr. Pepper.
When I asked for signal clarity years ago, I was gifted with a Work light. I did not know to call it that until another spirit worker called it by that term, and I smiled in recognition. When something is mine to take on, that my essence or my Owner knows it to be part of my purpose on this planet, the Work light goes off.
I often curse my Work light. Why the hell do I have to travel to do that when I would rather be at home? Why do I need to fall in love here and have my heart broken afterwards, and see it coming? Why do I need to sleep with them? Why do I need to, for no “particular reason,” get up from the table, say I’ll be back, walk a few blocks, follow a cat, break into a construction site leaving the gate open, and then head back for desert?
Why? Because the Work light is on.
And no… no work lights of love sort are on right now, for my dear ones who might be asking right now. But when they have happened… that have been such a profound blessing on my life in the long run, and I am grateful, now, for each and every one.
Because the Work light is a sign that I am on the right path, for it is a gift from divinity. I had to go to that seemingly random gig that I didn’t really want to do because one person wrote me years later and told me how my words (not even to them, funny enough) had changed their lives, and in turn had a ripple effect to other lives. Because I needed to remind the next person of the power they had in their capacity to leave someone when it wasn’t right, rather than being the one who always clung on in desperation. Because I was there to show someone how important it is to respect their gut instincts. Because, in the last case, I ran into a group of homeless guys, and was able to tell them where an open construction site had a place with a roof they could hide from the coming storm in for a night.
I am not saying in any way that in some cosmic jigsaw puzzle that I have some sort of mighty powers. I do not consider myself an all-powerful indigo star child born to lead the universal pattern into alignment. I just do my Work when it happens.
It makes some of the folks in life a bit nutty, because there are times I take gigs that make “no sense” financially, that I need to spend six hours in devotional prayer, that I have to give away yet another drum. Actually, on the last one, I was finally able to make a deal that I don’t have to buy any more drums, and thus don’t have to give away any more drums. My Owner might make demands on me, but she is incredibly reasonable in the long run.
But my life is not my Work light going off. I am guided by my journey, my Quest, my path, my great Work. I believe we all have a path, a journey, a sacred contract as Caroline Myss might call it. I believe we each have a reason to be, even if some of those reasons and contracts might not be so sexy or elegant or even what we “want” in the short term, or hell, in the medium or even long term. The world is not some happy fluffy perfect thing. But I believe it happens for some sort of cosmic overarching “I don’t really get why but, yeah, it’s what I believe” sort of way. This of course sucks as a belief, because it infers that I believe rape and genocide happen for a reason. I struggle with this, and have little of interest in debating it right now, but thank you for being present with your own beliefs if it triggers you. My faith is not about hurting you or challenging your beliefs.
I have two other lights, as a note. One is what I call my Black-light. It makes things look pretty and beautiful under it, like black lights in a dance club, but I now know that when that light turns off and the light of day comes back on, I will be in a crappy ass warehouse that is filthy and that I really don’t want to be stuck in. The other is the Blue-light, you know, like blue-light specials at K-Mart. It is here, now, on sale, shiny, good… but only here and now. Accept it, enjoy it, but this is not for long-term.
Not all of my lights are perfect, because I as a human am imperfect. When the Work light goes off saying to go to that event, that’s what I have. I don’t have details. Those are called human will. That is called independent action.
But discernment when working with my lights is important. Am I interpreting a message to the fullest of my capacity? When the memo says that something needs done, does it mean that it needs done now, does it mean that it needs done… but anyone can do it? That it may not be my own job, but that I am just there to deliver the telegram?
Being egotistical in the past, I have had windows where I thought I knew what certain Work lights meant, but in reality – never checked. I just assumed that I knew what something meant. As I work towards clarity, I have been coming to realize in the past few months that just because someone tells you something, it does not mean that you understand.
The problem with communication, after all, is our assumption that it is happening.
Repeat it back in your own words. Try doing it once in front of me. Make lists and notes, while it is fresh in your mind. Do it over and over again, until your body knows the knowledge. Ask questions. I say these things to students all the time. I teach from different approaches so that different folks pick up the knowledge. So why not, gasp, apply it to my own spirit working?
So tonight I am on a white leather couch, sitting with lights and discernment. I am curled up in front of a heater, and I am oddly smiling, yet fearful as I prep to send this out.
And then I breathe. And then I sit in reflection. And then I feel her claws tracing slowly op my spine, and her paw along the back of my neck, and I remember why.