A Return To The Altar, A Return To A Dialogue, A Return To The Dedicant Path

It has been too long.

I found myself drawn to my altar, now smaller in size than it once was, calling to The Kindreds initially out of personal obligation, a desire to return to a regular routine. Unsurprisingly this little sit with the dishes, stones, sticks and lights snowballed into a dialogue. I find myself once again embarking on the Dedicant Path. My calling echoing once again, the sound of it pounding against excuses and the strangeness that is Life As It Happens.

So I felt a need to draw omens. The Oracle hummed at me. I took the deck and held it against my breast. It had grown cold where it sat. I wanted it to be warm again. I turned it and shuffled it and rubbed it and smelled it until I knew there were words to be said and turned cards.

For some funny reason in my head I ended up drawing for Ancestors, then Shining Ones, then Nature Spirits. But that’s what happened. The Honored Dead brought to me the Adder. The Gods brought to me Wren, reversed. The spirits of Earth brought me Horse, reversed.

The message was pretty clear. I was experiencing a transformation. My journey was not going smoothly. My wit and my bond to the Gods was lacking, being wasted.

The first omen is pleasant to hear, I suppose. I have a difficult relationship with change. Perhaps how I see myself changing is experiencing a change. I would happily molt away that old skin. The second omen is something that, on the surface level, I want to say “Yeah, no shit.” but the creatures of the land see and hear far more than I could ever hope. I suppose it would behoove me to keep my ears open extra wide for the foreseeable future, lest I tumble into a ravine.

The Wren however… I mean, I get it. I haven’t sat at the altar earnestly in a very long time. I haven’t updated the journal since, like, March. And to a less patient Mother Bear my third crack at the DP would probably be an eye-roll. It’s also very, very easy to convince myself that some of the people in my life with whom I share my spiritual journey are little more than disappointed and irritated with me. I very well understand that there is waste.

So I dared to ask a follow up, directly to Dea Artio herself: What can I do to remedy that? How can I find the Wren’s lightning once more? To find that electric bond between my heart and the Gods?

The answer came as runes: Naudiz and Gebo. Continue to learn, engage in reciprocity.

I am literally the worst child. I whine and sigh and dramatize at how I’m doing poorly in school and I get in response “Just keep doing your work, you doofus.”

But it doesn’t matter does it? It never feels like my work is good enough. I’ll never be as good as him or her or be as smart as them or have the insight they do.

Yes, yes. I know I know. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re good the way you are. I’ve heard it. Why is it so damn hard to just… Accept and comprehend it?


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