Neopagan Survey: Spectrosexuality and God Spousery

LadyOfTheLake

Hey there, Neopagans! If you have ever had a sexy experience with an unseen being (or an emotionally intense romantic experience) or if you are in a committed relationship (god spouse, god consort, etc.) with one or more unseen beings, I encourage you to take my brief, confidential survey. It is entirely confidential and voluntary. You must be 18 or over to take it.

As some readers know, I am very interested in this topic, both as a witchy neopagan and Lokean blogger, as well as a sexologist. However, this is a journalistic attempt to gather general data NOT an academic research project (though I wouldn’t mind doing one, if I had the chance).

There are ten questions and the survey takes about seven minutes to complete. There are several opportunities to make additional comments, as well as checking off answers.

Confidentiality will be strictly held. No ISP…

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Salmon of Irony

mainer74

It came to me in a whisper from an Alf.  I was making my offerings to the landwights, to the alfs and wights of the grove and stream when an Alf who usually dreamed in a throne like old tree that squatted atop a boulder the stream had dug a deep path around whispered to me.

“If you sought knowledge, you should return tomorrow.  There is a salmon you might catch who holds all you would know, and more beyond”

I was surprised and froze at the whisper.  The Alf had always seemed somewhat neutral.  The wights of the lands and waters had grown quite friendly with repeated offerings and gatherings, but the old Alf seemed to watch with the sort of aloof regard that reminded you not all intelligences worked at all the way that mortals did, nor judged by any standards we might ken.  The salmon of knowledge…

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“The burden of Sigyn’s arms”

The House of Vines

She sits on a rock while a cold wind blows her knotted hair
and the tattered, filthy remnants of her once lovely gown.
Before she was the fairest of all the Ásynjur;
now hardly anyone would recognize her for the lines of sorrow
and ache that etch her pale face like cracks in stone,
like threads of a spider’s web.
Before there was feasting and song and gay laughter
while her flame-haired husband poked fun at the gods
and said the things they most needed but least wanted to hear
– now all she knows is the cup of bone she holds in her strong hands,
a cup carved from the skull of her son Nari.
She hasn’t had time to mourn him properly,
he who was mauled by his brother,
he whose heart was devoured by wolfish Váli,
he whose guts bind the son of Laufey beneath the venom-dripping…

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Day I : To Loki

Gangleri's Grove

You rose up from the primordial grime
hand in hand with Your brothers,
savage yet determined fury
under the light of a cold-bladed moon.
You destroyed Your ancestor,
ruined Him, the indolent breeder,
clotted up his gaping maw
silenced his screeching snores and groans
that ever rattled the wyrm-like field.
You swept it all away and from his bones
built anew, a web of worlds-
bleak in their youth, rich in their promise,
rising and shining in the boughs of the Tree.
You made of his screams a symphony,
bone beautiful and clean.
There was no remorse in You
but elation, satisfaction.
Let there be no remorse in me either,
for the things that I must do
in devotion.
Hail to You, Loður,
Whose blood stained fingers
painted our flesh a lively hue.

(by G. Krasskova)

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Loki: Guardian of Sacrifice

A Polytheistic Life

One of my favorite myths about Loki is the one in which he kidnaps Idunn because it is the myth that I feel best demonstrates his character.

In the most common version of the myth, Loki, Odin, and Hoenir were traveling to Jotunheim and stopped to cook an ox they had hunted. A problem arose, however, as the fire refused to cook the meat.

Thiazi, in the form of an eagle, offered to help cook the meat if the gods would allow him to partake in the feast. The gods agreed, but when the meat was cooked, he took off with both hindquarters and both shoulders of the ox.

That angered Loki, so he struck at Thiazi with a stick (probably large enough to be considered a staff), but Loki ended up stuck at the end of the stick and dragged around until he begged for mercy. The only way…

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Revolutionary

All Their Voices

Some gods just want to watch the world burn.

Sometimes I do.

And sometimes you handle that quite nicely

on your own.

A friend once said:

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

You aren’t all fools, though.

Some of you understand what is important.

Some of you know what’s worth fighting for.

(Not the things that most of you think are worth

fighting for, though.)

I plot and I scheme, but do not call me oathbreaker:

I leave that for the likes of the one-handed one

and my dear blood brother.

I work to wreck:

I bring down the old,

the entrenched,

the corrupt,

the status quo–

those that would sit surrounded

by ill-earned gold

and stolen power

while others starve;

who feast and run roughshod

over those of humbler means and miens–

as if they deserve their bloody spoils

and lofty towers.

Do my words sting, cut, bruise,

bleed…

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