I am held.

So, I’m not all that good right now. It’s a number of things (retailhell season, anniversary of my grandmother’s death which generally make me think of them both as they were good enough to die in the same year and also because, hey, we buried her on my grandfather’s birthday–HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIPPY, LOOK WHAT WE GOT YOU!, but also  the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor always makes me think of my grandfather too — he was a WWII vet — and also, just THINGS. THINGS DAMN IT I DON’T NEED REASONS!)

A few days ago,  I had a day wherein a bunch of exciting things I was happy about sort of all crashed down around me.

So, I have a new phone, and it was cool and exciting, and it worked!  It actually dialed out and picked up when people called and I answered; it went online and did online things; it actually kept the time; it was an unexpected Xmas bonus from my  part-time job, woot! Only then we discovered that hey, that neat high speed internet we’ve got isn’t unlimited like we thought (curse you, fine print) and there was no way to re-up it once it was out for the month.

I ordered a Matsya print, and failed to receive confirmation of the order, and discovered that it wasn’t going to be here for forever. (Okay, a month).

I discovered that one of the other books I had purchased had been cancelled with no notification to me beforehand.

So, you know, a bunch of first world problems.

The struggle in this, for me, was — I was genuinely excited about these three things. Those who know me well will know that I generally do not get excited about things, I do not allow myself to become emotionally invested in outcomes going a particular way or in myself having a particular thing. This sounds like a nice, not-attachmenty way to be, but the truth of the matter is, I am this way due to a long history of things not working out/being what I wanted. This non-attachment comes from heaps and heaps of disappointment playing out and not any sort of altruistic, personal development crap. So every time it happens and is reinforced, I find myself in a place of, why the fuck do I expect to have happiness from things?

To which, His reponse is often, “Yes, well, why?”

(In the interest of full disclosure: hormones and deathaversies.)

Lately, He’s been supporting the excitement of having things and wanting things. Not all things indiscriminately, but specific things. I’m realizing that I’m increasingly unhappy with my lack of acquisition of physical books, and the fact that my bookshelves are so small and are not rotated through often. (Apparently I derive satisfaction, inspirations, and fulfillment from having books I can look at and remembering reading. Who knew?) We’re limited on space, granted, but we’re not so limited that a creative solution can’t be found. (Taller, deeper bookcases, for example).

There’s also the acquiring of new, totally different images and/or ritual tools — hence the Matsya print that is on its way to me. I also have a modest assemblage of puja tools (namely an extremely pretty tray and a bell and a mini-shrine for Durga), and I suspect more will be added over time. So far, they’re just sitting there, being present in my home, but they will get used. And it’s weird to me, to have Poseidon be supportive and encouraging of the gathering of things, because so much of o/Our discourse on the topic of material goods have been, “meh, sometimes nice, but ultimately unnecessary.”

It’s interesting.

Through this all, He is gentle. He is kind. I am wrapped up tight in love and acceptance. It’s really difficult to hold on to feeling threatened in any of this, because how can I be, with this sort of support?


2 thoughts on “I am held.

  1. This:

    (Apparently I derive satisfaction, inspirations, and fulfillment from having books I can look at and remembering reading. Who knew?)

    Yes. When I moved, and didn’t have room to put my books up, it drove me crazy. It still drives my fiance a bit crazy because I have a stack of boxes by the bedroom door (preventing it from opening all the way) that houses my books and ritual tools. I eventually pulled out some of my favorites to put on the little bit of shelf space we have. But I left the boxes of the rest there.

    Why? Books mean knowledge. Yes, even the fiction books contribute to our well of knowledge. Knowledge means growth. It is so hard to feel like I’m moving forward in my life, that having that connection to the self and soul (yes, I am still talking about books) is VITAL.

    Things like the ritual tools, and books, and anything relating at all to my spirit and personal growth – I have a hard time lumping that under “material goods” because it’s not about anything material. It’s not about having the biggest TV or the newest gadgets or anything else. It’s about the opposite, actually – being comfortable with my place in the world WITHOUT all of the things everybody else and their mother wants.

    On a final note – I always love reading about the relationships others have with their gods/goddesses. It brings forward a feeling of satisfaction, and hope that not all is lost – both for us reaching out to these beings, but for them still being here for us!

    • To my mind, books equal stories. All books. Stories. Because that’s what we are and what we do. Once upon a time, I was the person with a huge library. I’ve done three massive book purges in my adult life; I don’t want to do any more. I have more books in our storage shed (*weep*) than I do in the house and I MISS THEM. I miss looking at them and being comforted by them — and this is something that e-books can’t provide, which is I think the only thing that e-books fail at, in comparison with paper books. I’ve been reading a lot of e-books, and I love the ease of them — but lately I’ve been coveting books, paper books, give me books.

      And, you’re right in that these things are more than just material stuff, they are also a representation of other, deeper, less physical things, and that’s important to remember, too. (WANT MORE BOOKS)

      I’ve tried for the last number of years or so to be the sort of devotional polytheist that has the shrine spaces everywhere. In our other places, that was do-able, because we had the space. We’re currently two humans, four other incarnate animals, and a business, in 700 square feet. There simply isn’t the space for all the things. And the more space I have for shrines that I mostly don’t utilize the more I have to come to terms with the fact that my goals are not the same as they were when we had a room set aside as a temple space — and that’s okay. It’s OKAY that I want to have books to look at and see and just . . . just *have* them.

      It’s sort of exciting. Why do we trick ourselves? Why do I trick myself into thinking of being a certain way when I’m not? *sigh*

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