Spring is building into Summer, and Spring must die and pass into the Lower World before Summer’s potentiality descends into Haisuith. The Higher World is more Wyld with its potentialities being woven and selected by the Gods and others into instantiation in the Middle before those pass into the Maw of the Lower World and into Memory and finally into the void and into Chaos again.
The tautology that Spring is Spring until it’s no longer Spring has its merits, but does not articulate the process underlying the approaching shift.
I projected and fashioned a rath, more a glade, in the woods at night in a clearing with a bonfire and Elethis or my wyrd-tree rising behind me. Dana-Morrigan came, and we spoke of the nature of my desires. I saw I might be able to reweave my life and pattern [or imagined I could try], but she stayed my hand and then held them together, warning me to be careful of doing so, even in jest, to know what my desires are and what their consequences may be—or to look towards the consequences (at least). I’m okay being fey,…, androgynous, female, male, but the changes that could be wrought via the Higher Worlds can be disruptive and create paradoxes and so forth. Disruptions that the tapestry can overwhelm and reweave around with unintended consequences. I am not necessarily inured to the extended changes to history or more—nor may the gods be—and lacking familiarity with the Higher Worlds, I’d be a bit blind. Most magics here in the Middle that try to weave the wyrd or via gnosis (the unconscious method) get at the Higher Worlds indirectly and glancingly, like mailing in requests to a radio station (there’s a dated metaphor). Once you move beyond halthaya or to a point beyond it, the danger is you might get what you think you want. In part, this is why all that soul and psych work goes on, why it’s probably taken me to this point to get to where I am now.
And I suspect the gods pay attention the way they have because they want to see if I’m an idiot, if I fuck myself, or if I screw other things up and need to be taken care of for whatever reasons or ends. I think there’s also a testing of Morrigan’s kid/lover for her ethos through what I do. She has been testing desires and my willingness to accept or to give in or even just what I want and so on. What level of agency will I claim? I don’t want to be a crow or raven, one of her servants, even if “agent” is more how they’d parse it (and have from what I recall).
I stand at a new cusp and have begun transformations I have longed for ages. At this Midsummer, let this time inaugurate a new time for me. I recognize and reject, cast away my humanness, my anxieties and dreads, my frets—I reject them. Instead, I dedicate myself to the following: I embrace…
I find myself before Elethis and the Three Worlds She bridges. I choose to stand on Her, to soar among the branches and the wilds and woods about her, to dwell in the Dream and the Three Worlds and all realms. I choose the Dream, not the mere material or supposed “Real.”
I have lived there for too long, and I have kept myself alone, fearful, and blind for too long. I don’t want to live that life any longer, and I give it as sacrifice to the Lower World: let its memory remain, but let it die and fall away. I admit my ignorance and look to learn of the worlds and how to traverse them and to actualize my will. I choose this new life in this new world. I ask the blessings of those gods, wyrms, friends that have shown me their favor and friendship.
Glory to Dana-Morrigan, my mother-lover; Love to her.
Glory to Angus mac Og, my father-lover: Love to him.
Honor and thanks to <Pantheon>.
I had to walk home today, my Midsummer Eve ordeal in the heat and sun, but I managed, though I don’t relish it again. I did my Midsummer Ritual.
In my glade, Dana-Morrigan came and told me “it was time”—I’m not sure for what other than we soared above the clouds into light and more, and I was buffeted by Her as raven-crow—both love, transformation, shaping, experience—I think I was granted a first glimpse of the Higher Worlds, albeit a limited, confusing, feathery encounter. I squatted on the earth and let Elethis’s roots into me as I grew fey, titanic, androgynous. In the end, Angus & Dana-Morrigan came to love me,–
Today was, I think, an inauguration, an extended spell for which the effects will not be clear for some time—by the Equinox and my birthday, I suspect. I was upset at [friend] at first (traffic was merely horrid on [interstate]), but once it dawned on me I was caught in the first Summer’s heat, an ordeal and test, I grew more introspective (and sweaty).
Elethis is taller in my vision than I was thinking, for She rises almost to directly overhead.