So, the other day, I read Jolene’s post about her relationship with Odin and some of it reminded me of my relationship with my own divine Papa, Poseidon. I thought I’d write about him a little, because as the inimitable Jo has said more than once, there’s not enough stuff out there about modern people who know him.
First thing to know is that as a Papa, he can be unbelievably gentle. Kind, generous with his time, resolutely will not let me listen to my brain weasels in his presence, but never in a way that makes me angry or upset. Gentle about it, but completely firm in that particular boundary, in a way that somehow doesn’t set off my deep seated knee jerk resistance to authority. (And he has authority in spades.) Just a quiet voice, saying No. You are not worthless. You are my son and I love you and that is enough.
No. I am not angry that you think that way, but it isn’t true. I helped shape your soul to your flesh. I know.
I don’t ask for much- just that you treat yourself with the respect you would treat any of my other children. Sometimes you’ll stumble in this discipline and that’s okay too. But do try.
Take a moment. Breathe. Splash some water on your face. I am right here, every time you do this, if you need that physical touchstone.
I am your father and I am proud of you. You are more than a match for what life is throwing your way.
I’ve never known a god be so present, before. My two divine husbands are present in my life, obviously, but their presence waxes and wanes respectively. Papa is just always there, no matter what, quiet and gentle and regal and expecting that bit more than I am giving, but never so much I don’t feel like I can give it. His faith in me, that I will try my hardest at my endeavours, that I will take care of myself and my family, that I will try for a little more compassion today than I had yesterday, is seemingly unending. (Despite the fact that I am so frequently a misanthropic little sod. Go figure.)
The effect of that quiet faith in me means I don’t want to disappoint him. Not because I’d lose that faith- I haven’t thus far and I have fallen short of his expectations- but because he would simply expect me to do better tomorrow. No mess, no fuss, no brooding or guilt. Just try again. And again. That’s hard for me to grasp in a lot of ways. I have a *lot* of elemental water in my personality (Pisces Sun, Mercury and Jupiter, Scorpio Moon and Pluto, for those of you who speak astrology) and I can brood and hold grudges like nobody’s business. I find it hard to forgive and twice as hard to forgive myself, so it helps, very much, to be able to reach for my Papa’s presence and be able to feel he is walking his talk when he expects these things of me. To feel what it is I’m aiming for.
In Feri, there’s a practice called the kala rite, and it’s about self purification. Not because we’re inherently sinful beings who need cleansing of ourselves or anything, but because sometimes our energy and thoughts and emotions get stuck on things and in patterns that don’t serve the God Within us. Since I started studying Feri a few years ago, I’ve done a lot of kala. Kala is supposedly a state of cleanliness on a spiritual level, where none of your power is wasted and it’s all available for conscious direction towards your goals. I believe Cora Anderson said at one point that it was the fundamental ongoing practice of Feri- bringing yourself back to being kala, over and over again. Doing whatever work you need to face your demons or forgive whatever parts of you need forgiveness or keep yourself safe, so that your divinity can shine forth from you as clearly as possible.
The practical part of the ritual involves energy work and a glass of water and I think it’s telling that I started muttering a prayer to Poseidon when I did it. In so many ways, he embodies kala, in my mind. It’s the chief work he’d have me do, it’s how he feels when I talk to him and it’s evident in every interaction we’ve had. (Which is not to say he doesn’t get angry. I’m certain he does, but thus far, he hasn’t shown me that side of himself.)
He is a constant reminder, as well, that masculinity can be gentle. Being trans*, I find I angst about gender a lot, but I also enjoy picking it apart as a concept. I’ve found that because society has some truly screwed up ideas about what masculinity involves (frequently shit that hurts people of all genders), I really need some kind of anchor to show me what it looks like to be masculine and kind, masculine and gentle, masculine and not automatically on the defensive lest it be threatened. To remind me that it’s possible, that I shouldn’t listen when people say these traits in me are not gender appropriate and show me how to walk that walk. I’m lucky enough that both my Dad and my Papa embody that masculinity every single day and it inspires me to try harder. I’m not sure there’s any greater praise I can give.
Mud and Lightning 
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Reblogged this on Strip Me Back To The Bone and commented:
Reblogging because, despite the *ridiculous* names he calls me, this post is just . . . well? Well?
To read other people writing about Poseidon is a treat. To read their sweet words, to glean even the tiniest bit of their love for Him, to be allowed to see them Seeing Him . . . it makes me cry. I weep, that others know His presence. It’s silly, of course. People do. They know Him, have known Him, will know Him. I know I’m not the only one, I know people do, but to be able to see that, even in it’s smallest bit. It’s humbling and it’s beautiful. Hail, hail, oh hail, Poseidon.