ok can we stop fuckin pushing the whole “santeria/voodoo” or anything that originates from the islands and africa in terms of spirtuality is inherently demonic or evil as if thats not something white imperialists ingrained in everyones head
anyone can rb this im just sick and tired of hearing people say “hell no i dont mess with demon shit” when they see someone practicing any form of these religions/beliefs
If you’re a Norse pagan that sympathizes with the alt-right/neo nazi movement or is a neo nazi that uses Norse pagan symbols, please smash that unfollow button and block me.
I don’t want that filth here.
I’m looking at other pagans here and begging y’all to reblog this and help us Norse pagans take back the symbols that have been twisted into a mark of hatred
White supremacists and neo nazis have no place on my blog. Please stop tainting my heratige with your bigotry, thanks and have a shitty day.
Yo
If I ever don’t reblog this, assume the trolls have come back for me
I’m a queer, brown, female with immigrant parents. If you sympathize with Nazis/the alt right/Trump & Pence, GTFO
They’re more and more infiltrating Gaelic Polytheism spaces, too. We can’t afford to be lazy about this either.
I feel like some of the discussion of Morrigan tends to lump her in with European or Norse ideas of war deities and she’s just so different. She’s arguably not even a war deity in the traditional sense.
The Morrigan rarely fights herself. She’s a talker and a planner and a prophet and poet.
She inspires heroes and sets up leaders.
She’ll go in disguise to judge your merit.
She’ll appear like a monster to test your resolve.
It’s not a case of not fighting, but choosing the moment carefully.
She crosses between this world and the next. She knows death, knows what the cost of fighting can be.
I couldn’t get it how it came out of my face. I couldn’t get all of it. I did get some of it. It needs to be preserved.
I wish there were words
to contain the sublime wonder
of the sea god himself
but how can there be
when we have not even scratched
one tenth of its depths
from which we crawled all those years ago
and which we are dragged down into
with sickly salt water
stinging at our throats and noses
stifling the breath and life itself
as he deals in both life and death
in equal measure
as that is the sea
and which we do not even understand
one tenth of its wisdom
and cannot hope to
except that we may
for finn did
and fedelm too
and we must only find the ways
of poetic frenzy
that reveal the way
in rambling rantings roads
of words upon words
that sing of the truth
of the waves that curl and pearl
like living jade shining in the sun
liquid and resplendent
is his cloak that we catch sight of
and hear the foams crackling from
for that is the way of the sea
that is life and death itself at once
and anger and love
and fear and courage
and sadness and joy
and dullness and levity
in equal measures
that call us to ride upon its waves
and pull up sustenance
that has fed one nation and many
for this year and many before
and many more to come
both present and future
and that is the way of the sea
which shall uplift us
and that is the way of the sea
which shall crush us
both in equal measure
for that is the way of the sea
and its son whose song
we sing in the vain hopes
that we shall know him fully
in the future which we shall know him fully
let us sing of the sea’s son
and wonder if there words
which can capture his radiance
and endless regal might
and know that there are not
and yet there are
both at once
as that is the way it is
with poetic frenzies
and how it shall always be
if only we choose to let it
and who can choose not
to be run over by the sea’s furies
when they come knocking
and there is no one who can
and if they say they are able
then they are liars for certain
revealed to us by the point of a sword
which cuts only the liars among us
wielded by the sea lord for whom
we search for the grandest of words
and which we hope not to disappoint
as he visits us for a cup of tea
and a joke and a jape
as that is his way
before he rushes out to punish
the foul for their crimes
and teach lessons to us all
through storm and thunder
and death and pain
but that which is life too
all at once
for that is the way of the sea
and we cannot know but one tenth of it
except that we can if only we search
if only we search
Hey all,
I’ve got an actual cocktail recipe for you today centered around the summer solstice/Litha on June 21st!
This is an original recipe.
Sun Seeker Cocktail
2 oz bourbon
1 tbslp honey
3 oz ginger beer (refrigerated)
Cinnamon stick
Grater or microplane
Sprig of rosemary
In a mixing glass pour bourbon and add honey. Stir until honey is dissolved and fully incorporated. Add ice and shake to chill. In a copper mug or lowball glass, pour ginger beer and strain bourbon honey mix into glass. Grate cinnamon over the top. Press rosemary to release oils, and rub around rim of glass (counter clockwise to reverse negativity) and place sprig in glass for garnish. Sip and feel the refreshing warmth deep through you and enjoy!
Whiskey for fire, rosemary for the sun, cinnamon for the warmth of summer, ginger for its healing and deep roots.
Tomorrow I’ll post the recipe to use the rose vodka ;)
The Irish kings, they say, had to be without blemish.
Some days I look at the mirror and cry at the shape my life has taken. Today, instead, my routine is interrupted by a bumblebee.
Its form is so unlike my own, yet exquisitely crafted for its purpose. Who am I to stare the countless generations that formed us in the face and declare that I too cannot fly anyway?
The Irish kings, they say, had to be without blemish. What they so often fail to add was that this was not a safeguard against outer ugliness, but internal failings. A loophole to depose terrible rulers with measures that stopped short of outright war in an age without much other recourse. There were, after all, those who lost an eye or a limb and kept ruling anyway.
Because there are many shapes a worthy life can take. Who am I to deny the battle-scarred sperm whale his domain over the abyss? To disparage the grim duty of the vulture? We all participate in life’s dance, as we can. We all play a part in its stewardship, as we must. And that, that, is beauty.
The original sin, so far as there is one, was to look at this beauty and declare that it needs to be earned.
