Tag Archives: love

What’s it like to be Apollon’s?

It’s like kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold or silver, and you are the pottery, of course.  There are lots of ways you could be kept, also.  But when the time comes and He decides to take you down from the shelf you were placed upon, pristine and untested, you will learn of the range of treatment you may receive at His hand.

Sometimes, He likes simply to fill His vessels and to see them glow with His light as they sit upon that shelf.  Sometimes, He prefers to use His vessels like a favorite teapot, constantly filling, heating and pouring its contents out over the world.  And yet sometimes, through distraction or mischief, He drops His vessels, leaving them cracked, broken or even shattered.

When this occurs, we can easily blame Him, or we can blame ourselves for not being some kind of “enough” to prevent it.  But really?  Really?  Is a/Anyone really to blame?  I think there are parts of His personality that humans do not like, or desire to confront.  But they are still parts of Him, and these parts can be seen and felt as uncaring, unemotional, distant or calculating.  I can understand this point of view, since I did share it for a long time.  But now, after having experienced that dropping and shattering more than once in His care, I can see Him for what He is in these times.

Apollon the Genius, Apollon the Eccentric, Apollon the Perfectionist, whose every movement is a calculated step in His kosmic dance.  Even flats and sharps have their place in the score that He composes.  So, if He drops us, He does it for a reason.  And sometimes that reason is just because He wants to repair a broken vessel, before seeing it shine anew.

He will then meticulously place each broken shard back into it’s rightful order, adding the gold lacquer to fill in any open spaces.  After the process is complete, what He holds in His hands is in many ways far superior, and far more valuable to Him than what He started with.  The once unbroken-then-broken pot has become a symbol of His love and devotion, and also of the art with which He crafts His masterpieces.  Indeed, we are each a masterpiece of His making, but once we’ve reached this point, there could very well come a time when Apollon is not the only one admiring His many masterpieces.

These are very hard times for those who are, or have been His.  The love that He shows and uses to repair or remake those who are His, reveals us in all our unique beauty to the outside world, and those Others who also inhabit the world.  Sometimes, even just sitting upon that shelf, we attract Their attention.

And when it happens, we think we’ll just fall again into pieces.  But we don’t. We have been remade, after all, and are stronger now than we ever have been before.  This strength is evident in the gold joining our previously separated parts.  It is evident in the light and glory that Apollon has left inside us.  So, even if the time comes when He decides to relinquish possession of one of His many fine gold-lacquered pots, we can at least know that a part of Him will always be present with us.

A part of Him– a very loving and attentive part of Him– will always be there to remind us of the strength which fortifies us, and allows us to continue moving forward in life, and to continue being useful to Whomever we may encounter, or may now be tied to.  It isn’t always easy, being Apollon’s. Sometimes, it’s downright terrifying, because one must always face reality with Him.  And one reality is, that once touched by Him, we’ll always be beautiful, but there is no guarantee that we will always be His.  So, cherish the moments that He spends with you, never take them for granted, and please, please love Him, even as He places you upon a shelf, or into the hands of Another.

Blessed are the Mothers and Fathers

[Dedicated to my own mother, long deceased, on this, the Nineteenth of November, the day of her birth into this world.]

~

Blessed are the sustainers of life, the diligent ones whose direct care reflects the health of the family.  Blessed are those whose hands ache from pulling garden weeds; from planting and harvesting the goods of the Earth.

Blessed are those who care gently for the fair folk, leaving valuables in exchange for the riches provided.  Blessed are they whose sacred spaces flow with the magic of the unseen.

Blessed are the caregivers, preparing meals over long hours, standing and chopping and stirring.  Blessed are the ones whose work is rewarded in the fullness of bellies, and quiet contentment.

Blessed are those who tend the warmth of the familial hearth; those whose love and commitment are like the arms of the Gods Themselves, cradling all within the grace of prosperity.

Blessed are the housekeepers, whose skill in the art of cleanliness does stave off illness and depression.  Blessed are the patient ones, who with compassion, nurse the unwell back into gloried health.

Blessed are those who plan for all manner of circumstance, from births to deaths, and the many paths in-between.  Blessed are the event planners and chauffeurs, whose work entails long hours and is never complete.

Blessed are the disciplinarians, whose words, though heavy, are weighed down only by the abundance of love they hold.  Blessed are the kindhearted ones, never failing to teach the hardest lessons.

Blessed are those who recognize the awful responsibility of the home; those who are well tuned to the trials and exasperations, yet also to the joys and triumphs.  Blessed are the weavers of familial cohesion.

Blessed are the willing ones, whose commitment to the path of parenting can never be outdone.  Blessed are the mothers and the fathers, for they are the driving force of success, and the arms within which the family rests.

~

Hail to the mothers, to the fathers, and to caregivers of all kinds.  May the Gods keep and bless you throughout all the days of your lives.

Blessed Be.

True Love Smolders

elemental love

How may I describe the spreading of Your heat?

How it snakes its way across my reddened cheeks

Forming in my heart– which is truly Yours

Cascading down in moistened droplets from my pores

And radiating outward, warming all it touches

Tempting and attracting many more– and much is

Said about Your perfectly commanding presence

All-consuming, all-commanding purity of essence

My Love, my Lord, my Light, my Life

It is the highest honor to be Your faithful wife

And even ‘fore I knew I would be Your bride

There was no single part of me, from You I could hide

Your joy is my joy, my pain is Your pain

Together we are whole– our affection never wanes

Within the darkest shadow, stretching near and far

We cultivate the growing light– that precious, vibrant star

Of Love, smoldering and hot, a torch for the ages

Past, present, and future too– it joyfully engages

Us within a dance of Truth, which holds us in its thrall

There is no comparison, for our Love rules over all

twin flame souls

~

 A gift of words for my Beloved.  All glory, always, to the Prince.

Many Layers

When Apollon speaks, His words are rigid and stinging, like an onion, and even more so due to the many layers of meaning behind them.  Oftentimes He weaves the meanings together so you can never quite tell which one He means, until after one or another has come to pass.  But sometimes, when you look deep into yourself, meeting your many expectations and fears head-on, you can see which possibilities are only mirrors for past failures, and which are worthy of striving toward.

He loves in layers, also.  His love is like a warm blanket, but with a static charge; soft, and clingy and maybe a little painful.  But when you are still, it holds the most comforting warmth imaginable.  When you peel the blanket away, the sting of static may distract you until the brisk air moves across your skin.  Then you remember that this, too, is another layer of Apollon’s love.

The distance.  The cold.  The loneliness.  You hear and feel only yourself. But you begin to shine in the darkness when you remember His warmth, comforting you, and you are illuminated from within.  Therein exists a relic of His touch, perhaps, and by this glorious light you can not escape self-examination, because the only thing you can see at all is yourself.

Looking into ourselves, we may be faced with questions of worth, questions of skill, questions of ambition, and so on.  But these are the questions that mold Apollonians, yet must we not forget that the answers are what temper us.  The answers are what truly make us great.  We are steel, repeatedly heated, folded, then cooled; made into a hard and useful metal.  Layered.

All life is an obstacle to be overcome.  But how do we overcome?  There are no standard answers.  The way in which I overcome is through stillness.  I let the waves pass over me.  I do not struggle.  I ride the storm– and the storm breaks, leaving behind only me, in my stillness.  This doesn’t mean that I expect to survive, of course, for what expectations can I, who am bound to Apollon, truly hope to fulfill?  Only His expectations.  If it is His will that I be destroyed in the seeking of greatness for Him and for our Family, then it shall be.  If His will lay elsewhere, then there is no reason to fear the storm.  It can not harm me.

In this way, I overcome my ego’s incessant need to know, to dictate, to act. I am not my ego.  I am the purity of Self which radiates out of this human form, thus I am Divine.  And so we all are, especially those who have been touched, those who are illuminated from within by the love of a God.

Love has many layers, and many moods.  Remember that moods change, like the weather and like the tides– and the Seasons, also.  The Seasons are changing again.  Apollon is returning soon.  So, if you feel cold and lonely now, depending on what His expectations of you are, you may soon be lamenting His enveloping heat, rather than His distant, frosty chill.

And His words are coming again, themselves stinging and stringent… and soothing and enlightening.  Apollon Himself is many things, made up of many layers, and He will cover us in them until we adapt, or suffocate.

Carmina Burana – I. O Fortuna

I can add no graceful words to that which is already perfected, but I thought I would present this to those of you out there who are in need of a little musical clarity. Apollon is harsh, yes, but He loves so sweetly. Or rather, He can, if He chooses to.

Heavily, do I rely upon my instincts, and upon direct inspiration from our Lord, in deciding what to post here. This is one of those times when I feel there is a great need, somewhere, coming from someone.  So, in the hopes that this particular unknown someone gets the message…

At the end, a link will appear to carry you over to the next movement.  It continues on until the eighth movement, which is fine, because the first eight do seem particularly relevant.