tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2130307516605157822024-03-14T05:33:20.555+02:00KinaʻaniPolytheism and Devotional ExpressionTess Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10200802844772091789noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213030751660515782.post-78102367002333862582023-02-03T16:34:00.004+02:002023-02-03T16:45:14.528+02:00Festival of Oil, Ashuru Shamni<p><br /></p><p>A <a href="https://natibqadish.wordpress.com/2023/02/03/festival-of-oil-ashuru-shamni/" target="_blank">prayer for 'Ashuru Shamni</a></p><p>Excerpt:</p><p>May Ba'lu Haddu, Cloudrider, guide those who honor him. May the pukhru kina'ani be guided. May Motu know the limits, Yammu know the shores, and may Ba'lu Haddu know the boundaries. May the liminal spaces be blessed, may the thresholds be blessed. May the liminal spaces be guarded, may the thresholds be guarded. </p>Tess Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10200802844772091789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213030751660515782.post-67766918296553781072023-01-25T16:37:00.002+02:002023-01-25T16:37:22.287+02:00Winter Dawn's Praise<div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes the Dawn's light comes not in rose hues.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He works His way aloft at Night's shift's end</div><div style="text-align: left;">Or climbs the vaulted stairwell at Day's fresh bend</div><div style="text-align: left;">While clad in robes of chill and twilight blue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He edges, imperceptibly, at first.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He doesn't crack, but grows and pushes forth:</div><div style="text-align: left;">Quiet crescendo slightly right of North.</div><div style="text-align: left;">In dark, His face spills, flowing light; breath's burst.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The winter's Dawn is insulated; snow</div><div style="text-align: left;">Accumulations azure, without sound.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I shared with morn my song; no finch I found.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A gift I sing to winter Dawn's ice flows.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The season's cold, still Dawn I shall revere;</div><div style="text-align: left;">With Dawn's goodwill I pass through storms severe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Tess Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10200802844772091789noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213030751660515782.post-58994167650111057452023-01-25T04:09:00.000+02:002023-01-25T04:09:21.808+02:00Subsistence <div style="text-align: left;">I dare recall the days of dewy mist</div><div style="text-align: left;">When the expectant air parted, like lips</div><div style="text-align: left;">Through which the gloried names of Gods persist.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How dwindled now their offerings--but pips--</div><div style="text-align: left;">When first of harvest's fruits we once did give.</div><div style="text-align: left;">In ignorance our wants Their needs eclipsed. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Primordial, the Deities still live.</div><div style="text-align: left;">With prayer and song we lift our hopes once more.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The thorny chaff of mishap They do sieve.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When we shall seek Their goodly grace, a door</div><div style="text-align: left;">Will part. When in good faith we make amends</div><div style="text-align: left;">We heal the broken bonds; the roots restore.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Entanglement of worries we resist</div><div style="text-align: left;">With strength. In good relations we subsist.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Tess Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10200802844772091789noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213030751660515782.post-64323154244902576572014-03-01T20:48:00.016+02:002023-01-24T02:31:23.971+02:00God of the Meridian<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/98/F5_tornado_Elie_Manitoba_2007.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>"God of the Meridian,<br />And of the East and West,<br />To Thee my soul has flown,<br />And my body is earthward pressed.<br />It is an awful mission,<br />A terrible division,<br />And leaves a gulf austere<br />To be filled with worldly fear.<br />Ay, when the soul is fled<br />To high above our head,<br />Affrighted we do gaze<br />After its airy maze<br />As doth a mother wild, <br />When her young infant child<br />Is in an eagle's claws--<br />And is this not the cause<br />Of madness? -- God of Song,<br />Thou bearest me along<br />Through sights I scarce can bear:<br />O let me, let me share<br />With the hot lyre and Thee, <br />The staid Philosophy.<br />Temper my lonely hours, <br />And let me see Thy bowers<br />More unalarmed."</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div>
--John Keats</div>
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I'd been leafing through a beloved creased and flecked paperback volume of Keats when I rediscovered this poem. The words spoke deeply to me of divine trauma--something a few of us have experienced when working with and honoring our deities. I thought I would share these words here that it may lift the day of someone who has experienced similarly. </div>
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"God of the Meridian" by John Keats. Written prior to 1821, Public Domain.</div>
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Tess Dawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10200802844772091789noreply@blogger.com0