Category Archives: Land of Two Rivers

The Land of Two Rivers, and Beyond

Blood and rain.  Fish and rivers, and the sea.  Bobcats and javelinas.   Nereids and hamadryads.  Mesquite wood and fire ants.  Feral cats and grackles.  Sunshine and sea winds.  Peaches and figs, and cicadas. Dead soldiers and Spanish missions.  Sand dollars and jellyfish.  Live oaks and palm trees.  Foxes and road runners, and rattlesnakes.

These are the jewels of my path, local to South Texas.  This is my home, and these are my allies.

My path is a local one, where I concentrate on the needs of the lives lived around me.  When I offer to the sea, it is on behalf of the humans here who know not the price for the bounty they take.  It is to give thanks, and to celebrate the creatures and spirits who dwell here, those who make it possible for us to make a living here.

When I raise my arms to the Theoi it is in acknowledgment of the great tapestry They have woven around me; to celebrate Them and to honor Them, and to remind myself of all They hold dear.  This place is alive.  I am alive.  And we are paired to live our lives together.

When I pour wine and blood onto the Earth, it is so the grain and corn will thrive.  When I go to pick cotton out of its rugged husk, it is to feel what my ancestors felt, and to leave bits of myself in the field so they are not alone, and not forgotten.  When I pick flowers for offerings, it is to remind myself of the beautiful things which were plucked, in their ripeness and in their prime, all for the sake of a world gone by.

Those times that I stood upon the widow’s walk of the white mansion, it was to tell the spirits of my people, “I see you.  I remember you.  The masters are gone, and I am here.”

And when I give milk, now even the milk of my own body, it is to assure the Land that I will nourish it, as it nourishes me and mine.  Because I am the Land.  I am the Rivers.  I am the Sea and the Wind.

When I leave seed for the grackles, I know they are my brothers.  When I leave meat for the night creatures, I know they are my sisters.  When I fill the hummingbird feeders, and see the shrimp plants bloom, I know that my family is welcomed.  We are the spirits of the Land, and we rely on one another.

When I wade in the salt water, I know that I am purified.  And when I call to the Gods, I know that They are listening.  Poseidon.  Amphitrite.  Apollon.  Ares.  Zeus.  And Others still.  They hear me.  They know me.  They favor me and mine.

And when I take my children to greet Them upon the sparkling sea water, I feel Their many blessings, and Their encouragement, as surely as I feel the wind blow.  As long as we do our part to honor the Gods, the spirits, the Land, the Rivers, the Sea and the Wind, They will do Their part to keep us safe and fed.  Together, we are the reciprocal bond.  We are kharis.  We are life.  We are this world.

We are the Land of Two Rivers, and beyond.

Prostateria: Born Between the Rivers

Today is the celebration of Apollon’s birth in the Boeotian and Delphic traditions.  In the Boeotian tradition it takes it’s name from Apollon Prostaterios, the Lord before the doors, who ushers in the newness of things, and it is said that He was born on a small island near Thebes, between two rivers, during the lambing season, as Lykeia has touched upon in her own article today.

This event has a special place in my worship of Him, if simply because of where I happen to live.  My house sits at the edge of a bay which is fed by two nearby rivers.  And yes, we live between those rivers.

I awoke this morning with the intense feeling of Apollon watching over me. This is not altogether unusual, especially considering the day.  However, there was a pressing need for me to do something that I had yet not done in all the times I have celebrated His birth, and after a little bit more mental prodding from Him, I walked the single block which separates my land from the bay, and went out onto the long pier.

Gazing out into the water, which was sparkling in the Sunlight and crystal clear, I could hear Him whispering to me to complete the task He had sent me for.  So, after honoring Him a bit more, I went down the stairs onto the little platform that I see the fishermen using, occasionally.  Down there I was closer to the water, which was my goal.

I had brought with me a small container that I had previously used to carry khernips.  It was empty and I was told to fill it with the moving waters of the bay, on this particular day, in which the liminal and purifying qualities of the rivers would be enhanced.

I had to climb down the ladder to the very bottom rung and stretch myself down even further, risking a splash into the cold and shallow water, in order to fill the container.  Afterward, when I had climbed back up, I offered a bit of honey, first to Apollon, and then to Poseidon and Amphitrite for allowing me to partake of their waters.

I am Told by my Lord that this water will become an ingredient in our home-temple’s new purification formula, which Apollon is slowly revealing to me.  It certainly makes sense, for the sea is a potent purifier.

After that romp in the Sun, I went home and honored Him further before my shrines, and the pleasure with which I was received has stayed with me throughout the day, and especially while I prepared our simple feast of baked chicken, corn, cranberry sauce, and homemade bread.  Later, while the household sleeps, I will complete my worship of Him for this honorable day, by dancing for Him and stomping my feet to reawaken the land.  Only then will I retire to my bed, and to the dreams of Him that shall surely come.

May He be pleased by all of the devotion He receives this day/night, from all of the people who love, cherish and honor Him.  Hail to our Lord, Apollon on this day of His birth.

The End Begins

We give form to the formless with our words…
The night stills then rumbles while the storm passes overhead
And in the darkness the formless grows and spreads

It is black, deep, and unseen
It curls beside you in your pity
It feeds upon the stale air of resentment, or regret

The thunder, again after the lightning
Sweeping across the sky in horrible fury
Telling tales of those who’ve come before, and will come again in the night

This very night hooves thunder, like the sky thunders
Riders calling, wild, and gunshots sound across the plains
Here, right here, the killing-blow was struck

When the animal fell
It did not limp to the River, nor will you
For the Wait has ended, and the Hunt begins again…

Floating Back to the Land of Two Rivers

I’m going Home.  I’ve resisted this ever since the reality of it hit my family a few weeks ago.  Things that seem unfathomably bad have a way of opening doors, and creating potential where there was previously none.  I have to face facts. Opportunities for my family to succeed and to thrive are back home.  We came here for the same reasons which drive us back, and indeed we have thrived. But, everything changes.  I knew this from the beginning, though I sought out attachments here.  And now that I have them, who is to say this was not the plan of the Land all along?

“Go forth and learn.  Go forth and grow,” the spirits said to me the day I left them.  For the past year (a little over a year, actually) I’ve learned a lot about myself in this new location. Perhaps I am now better equipped to stand in my previous station, the station which awaits me.

Gods, I love this State, and every little bit of it that has called to me.  There is yet more to explore, so much more to see.  But now, the Land of Two Rivers is calling me.

So, I’m going Home.

And… because I am not one to dismiss astronomical omens, here is an image of the Comet ISON emerging from the Solar atmosphere.  [click image to watch]

IsonSunatmosphere