Yule has only just begun, in our tradition — beginning on the eve of the Solstice with Mother Night. Yule is settling in with its general flare of “wow, nothing happens when we don’t plan for it and make it happen, in Midgard, who knew?” which is what often happens. My resolve to not work the days around the Solstice didn’t make it to this month, apparently — instead, I’m working over time. The upside in the boss is actually giving me Christmas off, which is both more than what the ex-boss would have done, and is nice because the buses don’t run and so I don’t have a surprise 7 mile hike that day, rain or no rain. I’m not digging into myself as I might have, years ago — that causes nothing good to happen, and certainly it does not cause the changes to happen. But I’m newly resolved to have those days off next year *and* to see about working less in the retail arena, period.
That said, so far it hasn’t been bad, exactly. Work being as busy as it’s been has pushed me into the realm of altered state of consciousness pretty constantly. We’re beginning a wreath tradition (though technically the “wreath” we have now is less wreath and more cluster of evergreen boughs — our ceiling is too low, the hearth-shrine is too high, wreaths are generally too big) of one for one part of the year, one for the other, and burning the previous one (once we work out what to burn said wreath *in*. May need to get a grill after all). The new greenery is pretty, and the house smells nice.
Beth and I are sitting down and creating a list of the things we want to be doing *next* year for this time of year, and the goal is to have it all planned out by November. Previous lists have failed because we’ve made paper and pen lists. This one is going electronic so that it’s easier to find/not misplace.
Unexpected but welcomed devotional work for Odin cropped up yesterday, and that was nice all around. Grueling, and I’m left this morning sort of bewildered and dazed, but I’ll take that, too. He also planted a story-concept in my brain, and we’ll see how that blossoms.
I was reminded that I’m not exactly disassociated from His Hunt, either — two nights ago I dreamed about a stupid family that accidentally immolated themselves (they had candles on their tree, and then they had wreaths around their necks, and then they kept getting too close to the open flame. There were a couple of times when the flame was extinguished, and then eventually it spread too fast, and the with the screams and burning and dying — see? STUPID people) that ended with me in a small room with thunder reverberating all around, because it wasn’t thunder it was hooves, and I woke up terrified, but easily set it aside because, I am His. If it be His will to set His Horde upon me, there’s nothing I can do, and nothing I really want to do, and if it is not His Will to do this, They are not going to dare do more than frighten me. During the Witching Hour, on the morn’ of the Solstice, that was good enough logic for me.
Last night I dreamed of high places, also the second night local buttes have been in my dreams. Dare I suspect a certain fey creature trying to gain my attention?
Must get writing.
Once upon a time, I would have seen my lack of preparations as failure and I would have wallowed in self-pity. It’s still failure to a degree — I have failed at being prepared, or of even naming the things I’d like to do this holy tide, but that makes me a failure neither at being a polytheist nor at being a human being. Shit happens. Wallowing serves no purpose, and at the end of the day, it is *all* about keeping Them foremost in my mind. If I’m not failing at that, then I’m not really failing.