The Coming Of The Dark

Made by my dearest friend Jess, over at https://jessicaannebreisnes.wordpress.com/

There are many kinds of darkness.
Some must be respected, avoided, acknowledged. Others are meant to heal us. Help us rest. Hibernate. Grow on the inside.

All seeds start in Darkness. Even ours.
We strive to be the creatures of light while being born of Darkness and Blood. We need not be ashamed of it. It is simply where we came from. Not who we are.

As the skies darken we must let go. Let go of all the things you don’t need anymore. Just like the leafy trees. Let go that which cannot be renewed. Pull your resources inward to survive The Long Dark. The Death of who we were. The germination of who we are. Dreams of who we will be.

It is also a time of Ghosts. Old and new ones. Ghosts you didn’t realize were following you. That you didn’t realize you cared so much about. Some you are desperate to be rid of, others you cling to.

My photo, my art.

This is the time of year I feel most myself. Most in tune with who and what I am. I wonder if Persephone has similar feelings? Does she relish the dark? The return of her Lovers caress? His all encompassing Darkness, and the comfort she finds there?

Hades is not my Lover but my God is similar. He is comfortable in Darkness. Was born into it. Comitted his first Tricks and Crimes in it. He travels through it. Becomes it. Bends it to his will with his masterful hands. I can feel him there the most.

Chthonic Hermes is who comes to me, his touch in the cooling winds, following in the footsteps of Death. The Aftermath of The Wild Hunt. The Wreckage. He walks among it, gathering souls to take Over.

Hail Hermes, my Beloved. Welcome Home.

Orphic Hymn 57 to Chthonian Hermes :
“To Hermes Khthonios (Chthonian, of the Underworld), Fumigation from Storax. Hermes, I call, whom fate decrees to dwell near to Kokytos, the famed stream of Haides, and in necessity’s (Ananke’s) dread path, whose bourn to none that reach it ever permits return. O Bakkheios (Bacchian) Hermes, progeny divine of Dionysos, parent of the vine, and of celestial Aphrodite, Paphian queen, dark-eyelashed Goddess, of a lovely mien: who constant wanderest through the sacred seats where Haides’ dread empress, Persephone, retreats; to wretched souls the leader of the way, when fate decrees, to regions void of day. Thine is the wand which causes sleep to fly, or lulls to slumberous rest the weary eye; for Persephone, through Tartaros dark and wide, gave thee for ever flowing souls to guide. Come, blessed power, the sacrifice attend, and grant thy mystics’ works a happy end.”

http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/Hermes.html

My photo and art.

The Final Harvest

Hail to the Dead
Who we honour at The Final Harvest
That which is remembered never truly dies.

Hail to the Beloved Dead
Those we kept close during life
Those who filled our hearts with love.

Hail to the Lost Dead
Those we never knew
Those we will never know due to the distance of Time and Place.

Hail to the Forgotten Dead
Those who have been lost and forgotten
Those whose names we do not know due to treachery and loss.

Hail to the Glorious Dead
Those who fell in combat
Those who survived and lived with the scars to pass later.

Hail to the Innocent Dead
Lost children and babes
Those who did not take a breath, or very few.

Hail to all those who have gone before us
The Veil is all but gone this night
We hear you and remember you.

-Angela Kurkiewicz, Samhain 2016

Invictus

Dreamt of a pair of long haired German Shepard’s. One male, one female. The male was named Invictus and was my protector? Guide? In the dream the pair were supposed to be staying at my former employer(a doggy daycare) but had for unknown reasons could not, so they came to stay with me. Once I had them at home I felt the need to make sure they weren’t dangerous. I played roughly with them, they both barely batted an eye, essentially just stood and took whatever I doled out. By the end of the dream it was made clear that the female was not important, she didn’t have a name, was more of a shadow, and faded as time went on. It was Invictus who was/is important. He kept by my side and though I can’t remember all the details now, he kept me safe. I have not dreamed of him since but I have felt him near, both in the incarnate realm and dream time. He seems to have great affection for me. He is most definitely not a Divine being in another form but a Spirit of some sort. 

Pathways

I asked for clarification on my path/studies the day before yesterday. I have since dreamed of literally going down into darkness for the third time. Last night I dreamt of being a “death talker” and the dream involved “taking in” the Spirits of the Dead so they could speak. There were also dogs again in the dream about going down into the Earth, into Darkness. Last night while poking around Pinterest when I couldn’t sleep I had suggestions for Nantosuelta and Sucelles. On Facebook this morning I came across a photograph of mushrooms growing from a deer skeleton. Will need to ponder a bit before I take any actions in regards to the Dead. Will be poking into Gaulish things and say hello again to The Mother of Rot.

Comments from the page Magic Mushrooms that posted it:

Interesting… It looks like whatever this deer was eating, most likely plant matter of sorts, had mushroom spores on it, ended up germenating inside the deers stomach, then fruited after the deer had died and decayed.
Photo courtesy of Lain Haigh.

This might also be of note, a couole weeks ago I first noticed that White Wings was back in the area. She(could be a he for all I know) was born or appeared about three years ago. I’m not sure if I don’t see her during the warmer months because she actually goes somewhere or if I’m just too busy to actually see her. She is a crow with white flight feathers and a mostly white tail. I managed to get some pictures, not the best quality but not too bad in regards to cell phone pictures. 

Singularity Rather Then Duality?

That moment you realize that that the two Gods you thought you were married to have morphed into one. Or maybe They’ve always been one and your little mortal brain couldn’t quite grasp it without seeing Him as a duality first. Of course it once again all comes down to The Horned One. Shaman and King. Man and God. Water and Firmament. Deer and Dolphin. Hunter and Hunted. You’d think this would make things a bit easier but right now it feels more complicated. Good times. I must admit though, having the familiar face of the Stag back is very good.

Fear

I’m afraid. For the first time in a long time I’m afraid of the world. I was childless and much less connected to the Gods the last time I felt this fear. I think it was actually in the early to mid nineties when my mortal Father was called up from his reserve regiment to be sent to Iraq. I’d never felt so grateful or gushed my love to the Divine like I did when he didn’t pass the medical tests. I currently have some very dear friends and some distant family still in the service, I may need to do a Vigil for them. Compounding the current state of affairs in the world is that I am married, corporeally and non-corporeally, and have a mortal child who will have to grow up in this world. I know living on the western coast of Canada provides me with a certain amount of safety, it doesn’t really help though. I’m afraid for everyone.

Coupled with the unease in my corporeal life, the non-corporeal is a howling, screaming mess, though it seems calm on the surface. Poseidon isn’t here, or rather I should say I’m not with Him. This is Hermes half of the year so I have moved house. I find myself in Hermes home now. The closest Lore that would explain and describe it involve a bit of name changing. Sometimes Poseidon likes to look/act/be called Njord, Hermes begrudgingly admitted His Heimdallr associations. I’ve moved from Noatun to Himinbjörg. Where Noatun was quiet but lived in, Himinbjörg is cold, dark, brooding. Most of the furnishings are covered in sheets, it is in need of a good cleaning. No One has lived here for some time. Not in the Castle proper anyways. His rooms are resplendent; The fabrics are dark but warm colours, browns and golds and reds. I find this extra fascinating because His colours right now are blues and greys. Oh wait, He’s in “war” mode currently He says, the blues are for official duties and more associated with Himself as Hermes. That’s going to be a post in and of itself I think. I realize as I write this that I have a lot to do at my Winter home. There are Beings here that need attending too.

For the first time in a long time He scares me too. Not intentionally, of course, but when you find your Beloved screaming in the Dark in rage and pain and madness. He is so tired already and there is only more coming. I worry for Him. I will be His Light in the Darkness, I will be the Beacon that helps Him find His way home.

War Dead

Today is a heavy day for me. The whole six months of the Dark Half of the year is hard for me but today is particularly hard. 

In this incarnation alone I have countless blood relatives who joined the armed forces. Those are just the ones I have found paper work for. My mortal father just retired from the armed forces last year. I lived with my maternal grandfather most of my life. I grew up spending regular time with The Seaforth Highlanders of Canada(my father’s regiment). I have seen and felt first hand the effects of war here on the material plain and through the stories The Dead tell me.

As I’ve gotten older the casualties of war have also worked their way into this day. The Innocent Dead. Military is the focus of the day but civilians and those left behind are also remembered.

Being married to a God of The Dead also makes this day important. I feel His grief acutely today. His sorrow, His rage, His frustration, His exhaustion. He is The Centurion, The Soldier in my Vision today. Dark hair slicked back with sweat and blood. His armour is dark matte metal and leather, the blood drying on it adds a shine. He smells of blood, horses, war dogs, leather, fear and pain. He pulses with energy that I can’t quite explain.

Physically and mentally I am exhausted from day to day life but I take His emotions as well because that is part of my promise to Him. To hold space, to bear witness, to remember.

Hail the Beloved Dead. Hail the Glorious Dead. Hail the Innocent Dead. Hail the Victorious Dead.

That which is remembered never dies.

My Wild King

The God Who generally likes to be called Hermes has been with me since childhood, since before this mortal life here. I can be a little slow on the uptake so it was only last year where I REALLY understood Who He was and is. My experience of the Wild Hunt last year with Him was very much on the sidelines. It was intense and scary and ecstatic but in comparison to this year it was like going to the zoo. You are surrounded by wild animals but they are securely locked behind bars. Hermes, himself, was very happy go lucky and care free. This year is very different.

I’ve gone from the zoo to a closed window safari, only issue being the windows won’t roll up. Meaning there is still protection between myself and the Otherworld and it’s denizens, but the training wheels are definitely off.

To make matters worse I got comfortable and lazy and took Him and Who He is for granted. I disrespected Him. I made a mistake, forgot some VERY important things. I’m already taking steps to rectify the issues and to avoid it happening in the future. This meant though that I was privy to His anger and His disappointment. I deal with neither of these things well.

His colours have changed from green and grey to blue and black(sometimes red). His eyes are a kaleidoscope of greens, the shades boiling and swirling, and yet His eyes are still human looking. His hair is shorter, wilder. He’s is my War Ceif, He is my Wild King. He scares me when He is like this, in the way an almost flooding river does.

Last year I complained about not being involved enough. Seems like He’s called me on that. I know He will keep me safe but it’s a terrifying and wild ride.m

Divine Madness

He whispers to me of madness. He comes clothed with darkness and death, the heavy scent of musk and leaf rot. Fresh death in His eyes. There is rage just below the surface and it seems to short circuit every now and again. There’s palpable tension and the colour of His eyes will flicker, to darkness and back. He keeps His distance…sort of. Right now He moves in silence mostly, not because He doesn’t speak but because it’s as if someone has turned on mute. I catch flickers of sound, as if the silence is a wind that dies down. There is the scent of fire, the heat from the bonfire in front of me and behind Him. He wears…robes? And skins and bones. Almost like a Shaman; The armour that I always associate with Him is there underneath but the metal has turned to leather. His…mojo?…is building, He is getting ready. 

I apologize to the owners of the images, I don’t have the spoons to get each link. I searched “the wild hunt” on Google Images.

   
    
 

A Night of Prayer

Prayers for the Dead and Dying. 

Prayers for those who wish to join them.