(these, like the other week day prayers, are being written out of order as inspiration strikes).
You, Kyrios, are the glory of the Sun,
washing the world clean with Your light
every moment Your horses thunder across its heavens.
Your very presence restores, as light drives out darkness.
Your very song reorders, as its resonance shatters stagnation.
In Your hands lies the balance, the ratio of all the spheres,
A scaffolding of perfection, a purity of sound,
Divine harmony resolving into beauty, through Your music,
You keep those holy chords whole and add to their substance,
filling the world with Your whispered descant,
the potential for regeneration. So, it is with You, oh Medicus.
Your hands bring healing and restoration to us too,
Restoring the harmonies of our flesh, our bones, our rattled synapses.
You hear our most desperate cries, driven by pain and fear, lost in illness,
You hear and the moment Your attention is caught, pain begins its retreat.
The sound of Your attention, the gentle and firm touch of Your power,
Begins again, a dance in which illness has no place save its flight,
Alexikakos, from Your power.
You are the glory of Olympos,
And Your blessings fill the world with beauty.
Hail to You, Apollo Medicus, Father of Healers,
Whose charmed arrows never fail to hit their mark.
(by G Krasskova)
(a prayer to be said on Wednesdays)
You are the fire that burns in Odin’s shadow
The stitch holding the worlds together,
The whisper ever unquiet igniting dissatisfaction.
You keep us from succumbing.
You make memory blaze and sear
Driving us inevitably back to the Gods
Our ancestors forgot.
Bright flickering fire
To Grimnir’s icey dark
The two of You brought the worlds to life
(Hoenir granting order and sense)
and You will bring it back to life again:
restoring what must be restored
even if it must be done in blood and fire.
May we work with the Gods always,
Grant us that, oh clever Roarer*,
And never, ever against,
No matter how rough and challenging
The road may grow.
Hail to You, Loki,
On this, Woden’s Day.
(by G. Krasskova)
*One of his lesser known by-names is Hveðrungr (Roarer).
Oh Goddess, Keeper of the most ancient and necessary of virtues,
Cultivator of the Holy, Guardian of sacred traditions,
Kindle within us the flame of fervent devotion.
Protect us from acedia, from pollution, from lack of care.
Inspire within us a desire, always, to do what is right and proper:
For our Gods, our ancestors, the land from which we draw sustenance,
And our traditions, the delicate and holy trust which have been given into our care.
Show us, Mighty Mother, how to tend these duties fully and well.
Let nothing deter us. Let nothing interfere, least of all our own fears
That our work will not be perfect.
Inspire in us a motivation as fierce and unstoppable
as the very turning of the seasons,
that we may cultivate within ourselves,
all the virtues necessary,
to live a life of devotion
pleasing to our Gods.
Teach us, Oh Goddess both gentle and firm,
To develop in ourselves the virtues of loyalty, fidelity,
Commitment and care, caritas toward the Gods
And each other.
Let us nourish what must be nourished.
With hearts and hands ever lifted in prayer.
Hail to You, Pietas, now and to our final breath.
(by G. Krasskova)
I love this: driving away evil and pollution, honoring ancestors and family, maintaining traditions. 🙂
You come like thunder roaring,
shattering, crashing, and pounding into the heart.
Howling God, breathing fury, Your frenzied shrieking
giving life to the runes, sacred synaptic power,
the Tree runs red with Your blood.
It was freely given. Your blessings strike,
like the hammer of Your Son,
like lightning’s fire, inescapable,
ecstatic terror, dancing, burning,
igniting worlds in the heads of those You favor.
A sharp-eyed eagle soaring over Hlidskjalf,
there is no secret You cannot know,
no world You will not plunder.
You and Your mighty Son,
hold up the scaffolding of the Worlds,
girding the elegance of its geometry
against entropy and destruction:
He with His might, You with Your hunger,
Your seeking, Your desire, as once You taunted Him
sardonically flyting in ferryman’s guise.
There is no world capable of containing Your frenzy,
Oh God grey of beard and ravenous of heart.
May Your favor fall upon us always,
until we are as hungry for the holy
as You are for power.
(by G. Krasskova, image by Sam Flegel)
A spot-on post from Kenaz about the utter mindlessness over at Patheos. Our traditions matter and it’s about time we stopped fucking around and gave a thought to preserving them.
Where does one begin with the ever entertaining if rarely enlightening Patheos Pagan portal? If you’re Cyndi Brennan and you’re set on “Dismantling The Widespread White Advantage in Witchcraft” you might start:
White advantage is everywhere in modern witchcraft, from pop culture to the common Wheel of the Year. While there is nothing inherently wrong with this, it is problematic when all this whiteness blinds us to the problems it causes for those who are from marginalized groups. However, there are ways those of us who want a more diverse witchcraft can be true allies. Diversity strengthens us personally and witchcraft as a whole.
Jim Goad has spoken of “the Men who taste Jews in their sandwiches.” This paragraph is redolent with the cloying Velveeta flavor of Whiteness. The Wheel of the Year is not just a mid-20th century attempt to compile various solstice and cross-solstice…
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This is one of the most horrifying things I think I’ve ever seen. it’s beautifully done, moving, utterly obscene and yet I can completely understand the power of loss and longing for a loved one shown here.
As a magus…no. just no. Dead is better. @_@
A beautiful prayer for Elen of the Ways. I love the imagery.
I call to you, secretive Goddess of the woods,
the grassy steppes, the marshland rich in flowers
and the unheimlich realm of dream and vision;
you who run through the night with the herds,
you who teach the sorcerer to hunt and to travel between worlds,
you who hold the luck of the tribe and the sovereignty of the land
within your majestic and moonwhite hands,
you who respond only to skill, cleverness
and those whose hearts are unsullied,
you who laugh at man’s attempts to constrain and define you
for you are a mighty and shapeshifting Goddess.
O Elen, ancient and inexorable one,
beautiful as a maiden in a linen dress and ivy crown
who, entranced, crosses the clearing to stroke the soft throat
of a placid fawn munching leaves of your sacred tree,
enticing as the mysteries you hide behind your inhuman eyes,
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Congratulations to the winners of the Morpheus Agon and the Agon for Anteros: Ellen and Amanda Artemisia Forrester respectively. 🙂 I’ll be reaching out to you both to coordinate sending your loot. A huge thank you to everyone who entered the agones and for your patience!
I have decided to run one more Agon, this time for Blodeuwedd. Somehow I received a second copy of the [relatively] new devotional for Her: “Flower Face: A Devotional Anthology in Honor of Blodeuwedd.” It’s a surprisingly good devotional. It’s worth reading for the forward and the articles on Blodeuwedd as a Goddess of seasonal Sovereignty alone. There are a few pieces that I could have happily left out, but 99% of this book is really quite excellent. I’m going to offer my extra copy as the prize for Blodeuwedd’s Agon. The winner, if he or she submits a prayer, will also have their prayer used on the upcoming prayer card for this Goddess.
Her Agon will run through May 31.
Happy writing, folks.