This past Friday our household held a small observance for Gamelia, in honor of Hera and Zeus. Preparing for the festival helped me realize that I am in a period of ease when it comes to adding things to the walls. Typically, change in my environment has to come slowly or panic sets in, and I do challenge this, but this week it’s been easy. As in, what else can I get up on the walls while this is still so easy? I’m still searching around for images of Zeus and Hera separately to go on their wall-space, under the one I have of them together. Also, preparing for this festival made me realize just how much I want to do *more* for others that are not Poseidon and are nevertheless important to Him. I know this, and I then forget, and then I’m back to remembering again. One would think that after TWO DECADES it would get easier, but no. I am too often a “only what is right in front of me” sort of woman, alas.
Because this festival snuck up on me, and because I went from dismay at having missed it to elation at having realized that, according to the calendar reckoning I use, I hadn’t actually missed it, it would up being firmly in my mind for the week, and I had enough time, with enough “preholiday panic!” to plot and plan and shoot myself in the foot. Because there should be a wedding cake, right? And symbolic wedding candle? And new incense and new flowers and OODLES of pictures, and I should be making the cake myself, and the candles, and . . .
Breathe, relax, and offer what you have to offer.
Per usual with me, the sacrifice is presenting myself and daring to let attention fall on me. To look and praise and offer gratitude and have Them look back! I am not proud of the panic that clouds my mind and makes my words freeze up, especially before These Two, who aided me a ton back when I first offered Poseidon my vows and then promptly tried to destroy everything. Hera above all graced me with much wisdom and challenges for growth, helped me re-align my way of thinking about some things. Her touch was more impersonal than Aphrodite’s touch in my life — the sense is I came into Her attention because of Poseidon, not because of anything about me personally. And really, I don’t care; She is generous and giving and helped me so much. I can’t bring myself to care about Her motives. I can only continue to strive to be worthy of Her guidance, and I hope that I am.
Words, before the gods, do not come easily. Mostly, I think this okay, because They know.
(the offering was artisan pizza with olives, tomatoes, amazing cheese, basil, and artichoke hearts, bubbly pink Moscato, and a beautiful shortbread-and raspberry linzer cookies)
Yesterday, then, was my 10th wedding anniversary (and still, still that word comes difficult to me. I freeze, I stutter, I try to explain away or qualify. Wedding anniversary. Wedding.) Poseidon has yet to strike me down for my arrogance. He has yet to take His presence from my awareness. I can only conclude that I have not offended Him as yet. Phew.
I am filled with almost-words. Gratitude, devotion, affection, acknowledgement of the semi-solitude lifestyle I’m living, the pain it causes me for missing my loved ones while the gratitude that most of them understand and wan me to live my life true to myself, and my unending gratitude toward them for that understanding and their continued love. Even when they don’t understand my choices, they at least understand that I am happy, and that matters to them. This is good. I am blessed. Last night there was a very pointed dream that amounted to “These choices are the ones you could have made. You chose this instead, and I honor that.” Because one thing that has been constant, and that I’m hyper-aware of especially when I’m returning home from trips back east, is Poseidon’s . . . gratitude? . . . at my choices, the sacrifices of my heart.
Words suck at this. I wish they didn’t.