Note: this post was originally posted at my old pagan-tumblr. I decided to put it here as well, in the interest of having all my things at my main blog.
I’ve decided to accept this challenge. One of my quests is to find family and create new traditions; I have very little to cling to from my upbringing. I still wish to connect to my ancestors, however, and so when I read Ms. Dirty’s Holy Supper Challenge (aka Midwinter Magic) I felt I had to participate.
My agnostic/non-religious/non-spiritual/fuckin’ pain-in-the-ass to the god-bothered partner seems on board, too, so that’s a bonus, seeing as he’s my family now and I want to start building traditions with him. Not sure if it’s going to happen at my house or his; that should be determined in the next few days.
So. My own personal heilig avondmaal (Dutch for holy supper, or so babel fish tells me – I’ll have to double-check with mom when it’s not three in the fucking morning; see beginning of post for Cherokee translation of holy supper) will include Dutch (me), Irish (both of us), Scottish (both of us), Welsh (me), Cherokee (me) and Choctaw (me) recipes. (I’m actually not sure if I’m Cherokee or Choctaw at this point, so I’m just including both to be safe until I can finish my genealogy work. I’ll also have to double-check with my bonus mom to see what their ancestors are.)
There’s a lot of overlap with dishes here; potatoes are common to just about all my backgrounds. (I do realize that potatoes were introduced from the New World to the Old, but it’s been a few centuries now and the potato has become a very large part of, at least, Irish cuisine so I think it counts as a traditional food.)
There are not many options when it comes to my Dutch – or, more accurately, Friesan – background. Friesland is in the North-eastern area of the Netherlands, and it is the historically least-populated and least-developed part of the country. So…sausage is the main dealio there, and I’m really not a fan of sausage. However, pastries and such are also a big deal there, and I am a fan of those. So I’m looking at making a koek (type of dense cake) for our holy supper to fulfill the Dutch component. I may also make a hutspot or stamppot, which is basically mashed potatoes or parsnips, the potato’s predecessor + whatever the fuck is around. (Generally vegetables like kale, turnip, carrots, etc, and bacon. Which is totally a vegetable.) Hutspot is generally very popular during the winter, as it is more of a hearty meal than a side dish. So it’s perfect for this time of year. I will also probably try to include andijvie, or endives, in our meal. And, of course, motherfucking apple sauce. My Oma made this all the time and it was fucking delicious.
As for the Irish, Scottish, and Welsh ancestry: lots of overlap here. Seafood is very popular in all three traditional cuisines, but I fucking hate seafood of most kinds and sooooo that will probably not be included. I am thinking of Tatws Pum Munud, or five-minute potatoes – it’s a Welsh stew that consists of potatoes, vegetables like onions, peas, and carrots, and smoked bacon or minced beef. The ingredients are sliced flat and it’s cooked in a large frying pan and served on a plate. Leeks are also figuring high on the list, because they’re delicious and the national vegetable of Wales. Faggots look intriguing to me as well. They’re a type of meatball. And I’ve found a recipe for Welsh Cawl which says one can substitute beef for the traditional lamb, so that’s also a possibility.
Irish and Scottish cuisine contain a lot of options, and I haven’t succeeded in narrowing them down yet. I’ve linked various pages below as a sort of bookmark for myself so I can find these things back. I may ask my partner to choose the Irish and Scottish recipes we do, as that’s his heritage as well.
Now, as for my American Indian side: fuckin’ fry bread, man. Seriously. It’s a must. It’s so damn tasty. Also common was bear and deer meat, which I may actually be able to get a hold of – in which case I am definitely cooking the fuck out of that. Lots of potatoes, so that’s happening. Corn pones look intriguing; bread pudding I’d like to attempt; soup you can never go wrong with; grape dumplings what is this I don’teven.
Yeah. Seems like a pretty good selection. I’m going to have trouble containing it all to one meal. (Also going to have trouble not repeating similar dishes. Lots of starch here.)
Today my own copy of The Twelve Wild Swans arrived in the mail; previously I was working out of a public library copy and it’s really the sort of book I need to be able to make notes in, highlight, and keep for all time. I’m part of a group wherein we’ve been working through the chapters as a way of exploring how stories can be a road to spiritual change and initiation. Some people have had issues with the Goddess-focused theme of the book which is, I suppose, fair enough — but it also makes me wonder how many people actually understand what Reclaiming is all about. The subtitle of the book — Rituals, Exercises, and Magical Training in the Reclaiming Tradition — does state explicitly that it’s a Reclaiming-focused book; while reviews may paint it as Wiccan or generically Pagan, the book itself doesn’t say that at all and it’s really not. Reclaiming is a Goddess tradition.
And perhaps I’m just tetchy because I’m tired of people constantly ripping Starhawk apart because they disagree with her — yes, she does cling to the bad history, which I also have problems with, but other than that I find her work inspirational and useful to me and I see no need to fling the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. Seems if you don’t like Goddess traditions you could simply ignore them.
Anyway, don’t want to make a big thing out of that. I just wanted to get it off my chest.
Cover of Evolutionary Witchcraft
Then, on a whim (by which I mean divine inspiration) I ordered something I’ve wanted for a long, long time: T. Thorn Coyle’s DVD of the devotional dances she teaches in Evolutionary Witchcraft. I’ve had troubles with the dances every time I’ve tried them; following pictures in a book is not an easy way to learn to dance. I need to watch someone else do it. And I know the dances will be powerful for me; moving meditation has always effected me deeply.
I suddenly realized that Feri and Reclaiming — really studying them, getting deep in the marrow with them — is the route to whatever my Primal Witchcraft will be in the future.
Only once I’ve learned the basics of Feri and Reclaiming will I be able to delve deeper, into the dirt, the bones of Primal Witchcraft.
Winter seems a good time to start. This is when it is cold and deep; when I can go within myself easily.
It’s also when I have some time off school to work through things. When I’m not being all family-happy-person. (It’s weird for me but I have a family beyond my mom now and we spend holidays together. I’m still constantly afraid I’m going to mess it up by being me. So far, I’m still loved by my in-laws. Yay.)
Forthcoming, when I get a chance to breathe and think:
-A post about how Morrigan’s domain of sovereignty works with my being a godslave for Her.
-Finishing that 44 Days of Witchery thing, because I’m a completionist.
-Pointless rambling with no coherency. As always.
It’s the end of the year tonight, and tomorrow Winter begins and the Hag rules. Tonight the ancestors come and feast with the living. The veil between the worlds is thin, and you must be careful not to get lost in a place you can’t return from.
This is my favourite holiday, usually. I greet it with joy and abandon most years.
However, this year I feel a strange melancholy, a solemnity settle over me. It’s time to get back to basics, the earth whispers to me, and I know it’s right.
So I am restarting my witchcraft education. From the beginning. Simplicity. I am reading The Twelve Wild Swans and doing the Elements Path. I am taking my time. Becoming a practicing witch is not a race against the clock; it’s the work of a lifetime. (Page 16.)
Today I attune myself with the earth, the air, the fire, the water, and the directions in which they reside. I get my hands messy in the guts of a pumpkin. I have a feast with some friends, enjoying the simple pleasures of companionship and fireworks (in celebration of Guy Fawkes Night; in this Commonwealth country we do it a week early). The night ends with a write-in for NaNoWriMo, at midnight, in a famous Canadian coffee shop that’s open 24/7 and has really bad coffee but pretty good hot chocolate.
I will also finish the homework that’s due tomorrow afternoon, and do the reading required for class so I can have the option of skipping lecture and going straight to seminar. (Lecture is at 9am, and I will be up fairly late tonight.)
My partner was supposed to be over visiting this weekend, but it may be better that he’s not. I miss him, of course, and am sad I don’t get to spend my favourite holiday with him — but I’m feeling the need for spiritual growth, spiritual solitude right now, and while we share many things in our life, spirituality is not one of them. (Which, overall, is a good thing.)
Most importantly, today I am going to allow myself to get things done at my own pace. I’m not going to allow myself to feel guilty if I’m not working on a particular project. I have things to do, but they can wait. It’s only the end of the year once every 365 days, after all, and this holiday requires my attention and meditation. Work can wait until tomorrow.
So, there’s this term — Godslave — for what I am. And a lot of people have problems with that term, and even the concept behind that term, to the point where they use rather hurtful language to describe their problems with that term.
For the record, that hurtful language does actually hurt real people. Like me, and many other Godslaves (though I don’t intend to speak for any one else but myself in this post).
A big part of the squick surrounding the concept of Godslave is because of vast ignorance — which is understandable, seeing as there’s very little info out there on this topic. Many of us involved in Sacred Kink would like to be able to talk about this, but there are problems with that — for one, it’s not always easy to talk about this stuff, and for another, we get a lot of bad, trigger-y reactions from people who are not involved in Sacred Kink and who have never heard the term “Your kink is not my kink and that’s OK”.
It’s fine to be squicked by things, but it’s also nice if you actually know what you’re being squicked by, based on the words of the people who practice it and not assumptions based on ignorance.
This post (and others that will come in the future) is an attempt to show the internet what godslavery is not, what godslavery can be, and what my own personal godslavery is, in the hopes of dispelling some of the ignorance around the topic and opening some minds. So without further ado:
What Godslavery is not:
a breaking of will, spirit, or mind.
an inability to do anything without the permission of one’s Deity.
having every waking second taken up with thoughts of one’s Deity, or ways to please one’s Deity.
complete and utter submission to the point of having no thoughts of one’s own, no free will, or no independence (see first point).
actions done out of fear of punishment or hope for reward.
born out of being forced, coerced, or threatened.
have anything to do with the American slave trade, which was aberrant in its behaviour and is not the only yardstick in existence for the word slave. (Slavery has a long and complicated history; associating it only with one chapter in the history of humanity is extremely narrow-minded.)
What Godslavery can be:
Godslavery can be sexual.
It can also be non-sexual.
It can be a marriage (God-spouse — though it is important to note that not all god-spouse relationships are godslave relationships, or even have any d/s elements present in them).
It can be for life.
It can be a temporary contract (though I’ve never heard of this, I’m not ruling it out, because it’s totally within the realm of possibility).
It can be consensual. (This is actually a complicated bit of godslavery, which I’ll get into in a moment. In my experience, consent is not a strong enough word to describe the choice of becoming a godslave.)
It can be extremely difficult, painful, dangerous, and crazy-making.
It can be extremely joyous, wonderful, ecstatic, and bliss-inducing.
It can influence one’s romantic or sex life.
It can have absolutely no effect on one’s romantic or sex life.
It can grow organically — and probably does most of the time.
It can be dynamic.
It can have compromises, or sacrifices — things you give up — just like every other relationship.
It can be active (certain tasks one must fulfill on a regular basis).
It can be passive (an aspect of the relationship that just is, without conditions to be met).
It can switch between active and passive.
It can include ordeal work.
It can include knock-down, drag-em-out fights with one’s Deity.
It can be mystic.
It can include an exclusive relationship with one deity.
It can be polytheistic.
There are a lot of other things that Godslavery can be, but I think this list should give you a pretty good idea of the diversity behind this word and the people who use it.
What my Godslavery is to me:
Not as epic as many people make godslavery sound (usually when they don’t know much about it). I live my life the way I want to live it. It helps that the way I want to live my life is generally aligned to the way my Ladies want me to live it. So, even if I weren’t technically a godslave, my whole life would be dedicated to my Ladies — being a godslave just means I’m held to a higher standard of behaviour than if I weren’t.
My relationship with Morrigan is dynamic. When I first posted about this stuff, I talked about wearing a collar at all times for Morrigan. Well, that’s changed: the collar is now used to suspend a candle holder from the ceiling. She’s okay with this. An understanding has been reached that I don’t need to wear a collar at all times because I’m already Hers, and the mark is superfluous. (Mind you, I do plan on getting a permanent mark for Her at some point — whether it’s a scar or a tattoo, I’m not sure, and I don’t know where or when, but it will most likely happen.)
My relationship with Brighid I don’t actually call godslavery, but it is related to it and to my relationship with Morrigan. The best way I’ve found of putting it is this: I am Morrigan’s weapon, Her tool, and Brighid is the One who forges me and makes me strong.
Sometimes, in the line of duty, I get broken — this is not the “slave breaking” that some people talk about with great relish in the BDSM community, nor a breaking of my spirit. Morrigan isn’t interested in breaking my spirit, because a tool with a broken spirit is useless. No, when I say I get broken, I mean I’m not functional for a while. The work that Morrigan has me do is hard work — it pushes all my buttons, trips all my triggers. When I’m damaged like that, Brighid takes me and fixes me, heals me, so I can get back into the fight.
There is a reason She is Smith along with Healer. (Bard is connected to Healing in a different, but just as important, way.)
Most importantly, my godslavery is a choice. It’s a choice I make every day. Consent is, as I said, not a strong enough word here — yes, I gave my consent, I wanted to belong to Morrigan. That’s not in question. Where it gets complicated is the fact that I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that not consenting would break my heart.
People may call that coercion, but it’s really not — it didn’t involve Morrigan telling me that if I didn’t consent I’d regret it. More — it’s knowing that the choice you are making will be incredibly hard and will require many sacrifices on your part, but that it will also fill out your life in a way that nothing else will, and not making the choice may deprive you of incredible joy and love. There are actually a lot of choices that are like that, but people don’t bring up the issue of consent when talking about them.
There is an incredible freedom in giving myself completely to Morrigan. I know She’s always going to be there. It’s a two-way street. Most relationships are. By consenting to be Her slave, I am entering into a contract. This contract states that She must take care of me — and She does. She and Brighid work closely together, and I know that I wouldn’t have been able to accept the contract with Morrigan had not Brighid claimed me a few months prior. While I’m not a slave to Brighid, I am devoted to Her as Her priestess, and my relationship with Her is not separate from my relationship with Morrigan; they intertwine, different aspects playing into one another.
Another aspect of the freedom my relationship with Morrigan gives me is that it makes me courageous in my romantic relationships. I know She’s never going to leave, and I’ve already committed myself completely to Her — so taking the step of, say, engagement or marriage with my partner is not so daunting or terrifying.
That, I think, is a fairly good overview on what my godslavery is, and a good start for a 101 post. When I get into the 201 posts, I’ll talk a bit more in depth about my relationship with Morrigan and what it entails.
A final note: on the kneejerk reaction to the word “slave” caused by instant association with the American slave trade
I understand that a lot of North Americans will have an instant reaction to the term godslave because of the American slave trade. This is fine, and valid, and I don’t mean to discount your reaction if, indeed, that is the one you have.
However. It is a kneejerk reaction, and it can lead to some very ugly statements. So I would like to clarify some things regarding the American slave trade and the word slave itself.
Slavery is a very, very, very old concept, and the word slave is not a simple one — it has many different connotations and denotations, different roots, and a large family of related words attached to it.
Use of the word slave to describe relationships within a sacred BDSM context or a non-sacred BDSM context does not “belittle” the experiences of slaves in the American slave trade or other slave trades: if it did, then so would the use of the word slave to refer to a printer, the word ciao, the word robot, the word maiden, the word concierge, and a whole host of other words that have their roots in the various words for slave.
Obviously, I can’t hope to eradicate the squick people might feel when reading about godslavery. I wouldn’t want to, either — people are entitled to their squicks. However, I am hoping that my posts help to dispel some of the ignorance around the topic, so that people know what is squicking them. Please remember that I only speak to my own experience as a godslave, and that other godslaves will have different things to say. Most of us (but not all) will agree, however, that our wills and spirits are not broken, we are not mindless automatons, and that we still have free will (as nebulous a concept as that is).
If you have questions about this post and/or godslavery, I encourage you to respectfully ask them in the comments section of this post.
Mom and I went to Seattle a week ago, and she bought me books because they are cheaper in the States. She also gave me a gift before we headed down! Here’s a picture of two of my witchy treasures:
The one on the left I found in Barnes and Noble and was about to put it down when I felt a very firm smack from Brighid, along with a “GET IT”, so I asked mom if we could and she said yes.
The one on the right is her gift to me from before heading down there. I love the We’Moon planners. I hate that they (Mother Tongue Ink) spell “woman” we’moon and “women” womyn, and that they’re fans of the feminist pagan revisionist history crap that makes my feminist pagan blood boil, but the planners are gorgeous and full of inspiring stories, poems, and art. Even though I don’t technically identify as a woman, I feel a stirring when I read a lot of the stuff in their planners.
Plus! My friend Autumn Skye got one of her paintings into the book. So that’s cool.
I feel “Spells and Rituals” is a bit of a misnomer here. The book is a collection of folk magic for the home — some spells and rituals are listed, but not many (my definition of ritual here is the more ceremonial magic inspired type, not the small little things we do everyday — your mileage may vary).
I would have called it Spells and Recipes for a Happy Household. Cunningham packs this book full of things you can do to ensure peace and wellbeing in your house, as well as a chapter on portents for when things may NOT be so peaceful.
Is this book essential to every witch’s practice? No, not hardly. However, for the hearthwitch who just doesn’t know where to begin, this book would be a very handy starting point. Someone looking for a very specific spell and quickly would be best advised to look elsewhere — this is the sort of book one has to read cover to cover to really reap the rewards of it.
I know I’m keeping it on my shelf of useful books.
This recipe is from one of my favourite books, A Kitchen Witch’s Cookbook, by Patricia Telesco. I’ve added notes on my own variations to the recipe.
Serendipity Cookies
Crust:
1/2 C. butter
1/4 C. white sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla (for love)
1 1/4 C. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
Topping:
2 eggs, beaten
1 1/4 C. packed brown sugar
1/2 C. shredded coconut
1 C. chopped pecans [I substitute walnuts here, because I dislike pecans. –Morag]
2 Tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. nutmeg (for awareness)
1 tsp. vanilla
Powdered sugar. [Optional. — Morag.]
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9 X 13-inch pan. Beat the butter, white sugar, egg, and vanilla in a medium-sized mixing bowl. Mix in the flour and salt. Pat the dough into the pan. Bake for 15 minutes.
To prepare the topping, mix the eggs, brown sugar, coconut, pecans, flour, baking powder, nutmeg, and vanilla in a medium-sized bowl. Spread on the hot crust. Bake 25 minutes. Cool. Dust with powdered sugar. Yield: 32 bars.
Variation: For romance or prosperity, add 1 C. chocolate chips to the topping. [I always do this. Chocolate is life. –Morag.]
Celebrations: May Day, Summer Solstice, Kamehameha Day, Aloha Week.
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When I lived in Hawaii I made this recipe all the time. It got to the point where I had it memorized. I’d make it for church events a lot.
Serendipity cookies are delicious. I recommend them. And the entire book, actually, because it’s full of other awesome recipes. I once cooked a Christmas dinner entirely with recipes from this book (except the turkey; mom taught me how to cook that).
I realize he’s technically a deity, but he’s always seemed more…nature spirity to me, if that makes sense. I’ll walk past a bush, or something, and it’ll rustle and he’ll be in there, part of the bush, and then he’ll be gone, to be part of something else. He moves through the natural world like a fish through water, and my interactions with him have never been anything like my interactions with other gods. (I’m not trying to denigrate him by calling him a nature spirit; just trying to explain the difference I feel between him and other gods.)
He crops up in my life in strange places, ever since I was a little kid. It’s almost been creepy betimes….
Kokopelli earrings I’ve had since I was very young.
It doesn’t feel like a thwapping. More like a sort of guardianship. Like he’s watching over me.
So he’s my favourite because he’s the only one I know by name; the others sort of gather around me and flit away like curious animals when I walk through the wild places in my life.
Kokopelli is the god of childbirth, fertility, and music in various Native American tribes in the Southwestern United States. Among the Hopi, he’s said to bring children to women on his back, which can cause young women to fear him (may explain why I’ve sometimes found his presence in my life creepy).
He plays a flute that chases away winter and brings spring, and he is associated with the rains by many tribes, including the Zuni.
He’s a trickster deity, and pretty playful, sometimes showing up to rituals where he hasn’t been invited. There’s a pretty intense sexual energy with him; very similar to Lugh’s energy, actually.
I may try to do some work with Kokopelli in the future. Perhaps not until I’m ready for kids. Kind of want to be careful there.
Recently I was feeling really uneasy in my house, so I got a set of little mason jars for spell-making purposes and whipped up this ditty for protecting my house.
It’s filled with various things; I can’t remember what all because I was in a hyper-state of panic as I tore around my house looking for things. Whatever felt right went in. I do know that there are needles and cayenne pepper inside, to really bite intruders in the ass.
I added a petition paper, and painted the inside and outside of the jar with protective symbols. Then I sealed it up with melted wax and lit a candle on top of it while chanting Bad spirits, bad spirits, go away; good spirits, good spirits, here to stay three times.
Boom! Add candle; make picture better.
If it needs topping up I just light another candle on top. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.
