Tag Archives: Apollon

Gratitude Project 2017, Day 1 – Apollon

I didn’t plan on participating this year, but I just suddenly got the inspiration to hopefully carry me through the #GratitudeProject2017. So, each day, assuming I remember, I will be making a short post in honor of a Deity who I am thankful for, and why.  For the first day, the most obvious choice is Apollon.


Apollon is, and ever shall be, the love of my life.  He quite literally saved my life in so many different ways, be it ensuring that I survived to be born when my mother prayed to Him after losing my twin sister, or healing my emotional wounds from a painful childhood, or sustaining me through many years in an abusive marriage, or how He is always, always here for me when I need Him.

Apollon is the Father of my household, our Protector and our strength. With Him by my side, I know I can survive all the hardships life tosses my way, and through His grace, I know my goals are attainable.  He leads me down paths I’d not consider on my own, and He never allows me to be stagnant in my creativity.

For all the love and joy He brings into my life, I am grateful.  For the times when He must be stern, to help me understand a truth I would rather avoid, I am grateful.  For the promise of a long life together, raising two beautiful children in His wisdom, beauty and light, I am grateful.   And for the tremendous honor of standing by Him as His bride, and as His priestess, I am grateful.

#GratitudeProject2017

Heat Waves In the Dark

Have you ever looked out at the landscape from over the top of a hot grill, maybe while enjoying some family outing in a park or backyard?  You know how the heat rises in waves from the grill, distorting the view of everything seen through its movement?  It’s almost hypnotic, isn’t it?  I’ve always loved watching it, whenever I get a glimpse of that proof of the energy of fire contained.

You can see these heat waves in other places, and in other circumstances, too.  Like through the windshield of a car when driving through the desert.  The last time I saw it there was on the way through New Mexico.  It was a hot, hot day, and the waves were beautiful.  I saw them again today, and while it continues to be very hot in South Texas, I wasn’t outside when I saw them.  I was laying in bed.  Just laying, watching my son sleep beside me, when I looked up and noticed the heat waves, dancing just a few feet away.

I paused.  Looked.  Looked so deeply, wondering if I were mistaken.  After all, it was dark in my room.  Most of the lights were out, and I’ve never seen heat waves in the dark, before today.  And then I realized, Apollon’s shrine is just on the other side of the wall in front of the bed.  It wouldn’t take much for Him to just sort of reach through.  Then I smiled, because I knew it was Him, and because I could see, right before my eyes, the proof of His manifestation.

So I reached out toward the waves, and the heat slid across my arm so slow and steady, just a simple kindness from Him to me.  And I thanked Him, and I praised Him, and breathed Him in.  It was everything I’d needed.  You see, I’d had a bit of the breakdown early this morning, before the Sun rose.  Silently, I cried, as memories of my past, and all the pain of it came flooding back to me.  I thought I had heard His voice in my mind, pleading with me to go to Him, to see Him, to let that pain fall away in His presence, but I couldn’t.

So many years of thinking that my pain was undesirable to Him, that it would offend Him, hasn’t gone away completely.  It’s even harder when I’m depressed.  So instead, I laid there in bed until the numbness overtook me again, and I could begin my day.  Mostly, I’ve just been resting today, but I finally did go to see Him at His shrine.

I poured olive oil and water over the Agyieus stone, with my son on my hip.  I said the loving words, and meant them.  When I was able, I did some minor work to the statuette of Loxias I’m making for Him.  And He wasn’t upset that I didn’t feel one hundred percent, nor was He aloof because I’d waited a few hours to see Him, instead of coming immediately after He’d asked.  He just sat with me at the shrine, sharing His presence.

And when it was time to lay the little one down for a nap, Apollon joined us.  I don’t know how long He had been hovering in heat waves over the bed, and it doesn’t matter.  He was there, not because He needed to be noticed, but because He loves us– because He loves me.  And I love Him, and that’s all there is to know.

Intangible

There are times when I grasp

For the meaning of You

When I hope to tear

Molecules from the air

So they may explain what You are

 

To me

 

In my want

And in my need of You

 

For You see

Only the elements

In their most stripped down

And vulnerable form

Can truly understand

 

The depth of You

The layers of You

The many flavors of You

 

All intertwined in a cacophony

Of delicious Godhood

 

Apollon

 

The Mirror and the Reflection

The Master and the Destroyer

The Alpha and the Omega

 

Potential and Consequence

 

All and One

 

Beloved

Brother

King

 

© 2017

Deathless, Not Timeless…

“We who reign upon lofty Olympos, and under the gaping Earth, are no strangers to the marvels of your world.  Only technology, in its rapid evolution, is the truest metaphor for Our changing natures.  We have lived through your Dark Ages, and extended Our hands to lift you out of the mud.  We have inspired all manner of equipment, and We have whispered the blueprints of countless machines into the ears of geniuses.  So why then, when you look for Our hands in the world, do you see them gloved in the antiquated costumes of the past?  We are not Our stories, and We are not timeless, preserved in some fixed point in the Universe.  We live, and move among you, wearing your clothes, speaking your tongues, and making use of your fine instruments.  They were first, in fact, Our fine instruments.  It would do you well to remember that Our Deathless Lives have seen technologies come and go.  We have seen humans come and go, and come again.  What you think is new, is for Us, merely the newest breath upon a world of infinitely recycled air.”

— Apollon

Onward, Toward Phoibos

Things are changing in my cozy little world with Apollon.  I’ve gotten comfortable, I’ve gotten used to the ways in which I have related to Apollon for these last seven years.  Knowing Him has always before been like riding the edge of a massive storm, or being sucked into it. He has been harsh, never mincing His words or holding back in His actions.  He’s taught me so much under the epithets I’ve primarily interacted with Him as.  But, although those parts of Him are still here and are still of great importance to our unique relationship, now is the time for them to step quietly back, and to allow a new aspect to receive my primary devotion.

It was a year, perhaps two years ago, that I received an oracle from one of my Sisters, wherein Apollon had announced His intention to shift the dynamics of our relationship.  I did not fully understand this intention, at the time.  I was content, as I always had been, with dwelling in the midst of Apollon as Despota, Krysaoros, Telchinios and Lykeios.  I thought there would be no need for me to further understand Him as Phoibos (Phoebus, as my Roman Sister had said in the oracle).  But I was wrong.

His brightness is deep and powerful, and incendiary.  It is also warm and compassionate.  I think that warmth and compassion may have been two of the things most obviously lacking in our relationship.  To say that He has pushed me hard in the seven years that I’ve been exclusively His would be the grossest of understatements.  I have come to love Him in His harshness, to appreciate His care and concern, to revel in His possessiveness, and so now, as those lessons have become so deeply a part of me, He moves toward a new set of lessons, from a different part of Himself.

Like casting a light onto what no longer serves His fullest purposes, He shows me that it is not acceptable for me to become stagnant within His familiar forms.  It is time to move onward, toward Phoibos, to celebrate His light, to see through eyes unclouded.  What I will find there, I do not know.  I couldn’t even venture to guess.  It is dangerous to look directly into the sun, so perhaps my attention is better served by acknowledging that which He illuminates– to turn myself in the direction of His nod, or His gaze.  And perhaps, in so doing, in allowing His light to envelop me, I may In fact better notice my own shadow, casting darkness in my wake.  And perhaps I will learn to understand and accept myself in my totality, for that shadow is a part of me.