i love you, cernunnos
*yawns* I don't recall being this tired in... months. Damn, man. It's ridiculous. It's a tiredness way beyond sleepiness, a bone-deep weariness that will probably be surprisingly easy to shake if I can only get the energy to do so.... but not just yet. It's humid and unpleasantly overcast and grey and I just crawled home from working over time, and what I want to do right now is dissappear for a while into the sweet realm of my dreams. Then I can shower and cook dinner and clean and otherwise make myself useful... but that's it.
There will be no running tonight, nor bellydancing nor anything else. There will be no movies, no parties, no watching Frankie with wide-eyed curiosity as he attempts to explain Catholic mass with song and complicated hand gestures. I'm not making anyone anything tonight, nor am I writing any more letters, nor am I making any more cards nor contemplating any more rituals. I'm just... letting go. What happens happens. I feel the urgent need not to think or achieve.
Recently, a very simple visualization has been keeping me afloat. I am sitting on a smooth, grey stone floor at my patron's side as he administers... a kingdom, a world, or SOMETHING from his simple sturdy throne, and I am resting with my head and folded arms sleepily in his great lap. With one hand he is holding that rams-horned serpent, but with the other, he is very gently stroking my soft, sun-warmed hair. I don't know where the sun is coming from, the light is a neutral grey streaked with shafts of shadows... but I can feel it, warm and filtered, and I am perfectly safe there. I am not bothered by the monster resting in my patron's hand just inches away... because we both attend Cernunnos, he and I, and neither of us are simple. The shape of what we are to become is undetermined, and we do not question it, we simply stay here by Cernunnos for now. Both of us, in fact, rest our heads in his lap... serpent and fawn, neither creature truly innocent nor evil.
This is where I find myself when I close my eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of my Father... my eyes are closed and his are turned toward his duties, and yet he is aware of us and very gently clasps my shoulder in a possessive gesture when he stops to speak to whoever it is he converses with. Gods or mortals? I know not, it is not my language, nor is it my affair... I simply know that as all of this goes on around me, I am safe and Cernunnos is perfect.
There will be no running tonight, nor bellydancing nor anything else. There will be no movies, no parties, no watching Frankie with wide-eyed curiosity as he attempts to explain Catholic mass with song and complicated hand gestures. I'm not making anyone anything tonight, nor am I writing any more letters, nor am I making any more cards nor contemplating any more rituals. I'm just... letting go. What happens happens. I feel the urgent need not to think or achieve.
Recently, a very simple visualization has been keeping me afloat. I am sitting on a smooth, grey stone floor at my patron's side as he administers... a kingdom, a world, or SOMETHING from his simple sturdy throne, and I am resting with my head and folded arms sleepily in his great lap. With one hand he is holding that rams-horned serpent, but with the other, he is very gently stroking my soft, sun-warmed hair. I don't know where the sun is coming from, the light is a neutral grey streaked with shafts of shadows... but I can feel it, warm and filtered, and I am perfectly safe there. I am not bothered by the monster resting in my patron's hand just inches away... because we both attend Cernunnos, he and I, and neither of us are simple. The shape of what we are to become is undetermined, and we do not question it, we simply stay here by Cernunnos for now. Both of us, in fact, rest our heads in his lap... serpent and fawn, neither creature truly innocent nor evil.
This is where I find myself when I close my eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of my Father... my eyes are closed and his are turned toward his duties, and yet he is aware of us and very gently clasps my shoulder in a possessive gesture when he stops to speak to whoever it is he converses with. Gods or mortals? I know not, it is not my language, nor is it my affair... I simply know that as all of this goes on around me, I am safe and Cernunnos is perfect.