A moment ago I typed “what are Loki’s mysteries?” as the title of this blog. The question brought tears to my eyes, along with an inner shiver. My breathing even changed as I typed those words. You know that feeling on the edge of a cliff? It was just a little like that, but subtle. I decided to re-write the title.
Beyond, behind, underneath, and through the veils of everything that’s been written or portrayed about this potent being, or what I think about him, that’s where I want to go. Yes, I’m attached to my framed Skeith-A portrait of Loki, to my weekly purchase of sacred donut offerings, to the daily cup of cinnamon and honey tea placed on the altar… I’m attached to this blog and to writing about Loki. I’m attached to the work I’m about to do on Loki’s Torch (the anthology). I’m deeply entrenched in making LokiFest CA happen–both the online “conference” and the local park street fair. Daily ritual, devotion, and service have formed a great deal of what’s meaningful in my life this last year.
But this morning I noticed that the gingerbread house that I made for Loki last Yule is crumbling in all this summer heat. It’s been on the altar all this time. I tried white glue to reattach the sugar squiggles and candies, and it was fairly futile, and so I was also aware of a lesson: nothing stays the same, no matter how much we–or even a god!–may love and enjoy such trifles.
And I’m aware of the passage of time. I’m 64. I don’t have much of it left. And so as serious as I think I’ve been this last year, it’s time to get really serious and step up my game by stepping away from my preconceptions and patterns. I think… I’m really writing with much more surety than I actually have. Right now, I’m between, and I think my Lokean readers can smile at that. We’ve all been there. A lot.
I do sense deep mysteries with Loki. Was there ever a long-ago mystery school that taught and maintained a tradition of Loki magic, or magic of his under some other name, some other deified persona? Or were his people only found in ones or twos or threes at most? I sense that the gatherings now, via the internet, consist of unprecedented interlocking devotional energies, but I don’t feel this clustering is particularly potent yet. Few of us are adepts, as far as I can tell. I know I’m not.
I had a dream once, when I was in my early twenties. In the dream I sat on the edge of my bed and watched all the objects in my room begin to dissolve into a fog of unassembled molecules. It frightened me. I shouted, “Stop!” and the objects began to reassemble themselves, into their familiar shapes. And then I woke. I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I’d just let the dream continue.
I know that as this “reality” continues, I myself will eventually dissolve into a smear of unassembled minerals and molecules. In the meantime, what clues can I find to the true mysteries of this deity associated with shapeshifting, fire, creative “chaos”, liminal states, and more? I’ve speculated on Loki’s “tantric” aspects and others have mentioned his connection with sex magic. I’ve also pondered Loki as a deity of epigenetic shapeshifting (among other things).
In my daily practice, I try to allow a meditative and energetic connection with his “template” for growth and transformation. It’s hard, as I have an intellectual bent and I’m easily distracted by speculation. At times I “try” too hard. I also “spectator” a lot, which is (ironically) the very thing I try to get people to NOT do during sex (in my other life as a sexologist). I’m probably one of those people who is in great need of fabulous sex, a brilliant love affair, and/or a psychedelic journey right now (all favorite activities of my formative teen years). Except for how much I love my cats in the most tender-hearted, unbearably emotional way, I’m awfully dry-minded right now, rather grim and fell. Getting OUT of my head, or at least shifting my brainwave patterns, seems to be a necessity.
Loki’s template seems more fractal than anything…
I know that question about Loki’s deeper mysteries won’t be answered by intellect, though intellect can help with discernment, later.
There’s a change coming. Changes never stop coming. The trick may be to hang-ten on the yellow line (my metaphor is drawn from bus surfing) and ride what’s coming. Or it may be to jump off the bus altogether and push through the shrubbery to something beyond.
Dear Readers, may there be peace between us for all of our days.