Great Ones of Earth and Sky

PANPAGAN DEVOTIONS -- A Sideblog of #rowegreentree

[paganshadowpanthermagickal]

[theghostking613]

is this is a safe place to say that I dont really keep grimoire? I get overwhelmed at rhe idea of writing things down like that. I dont have a journal either. I just go outside and talk to Gaea or Hades or whoever is listening. Sometimes tasks are too daunting so I condense

[pantheistpagan00]

My journey with spirituality and how I found pantheist paganism

I have recently learned about pantheism and the beliefs and practices surrounding it. I have went from a Wiccan, to just a witch, then to paganism. I never could find fully what I beleive in which in a nut shell is that nature and energy is a force in and of itself and what I would beleive to be "God". I have always beleived that God's are parts of earth, elements, lessons, history.... that have been given a physical form to be able to connect easier but not actually real people who once lived (with some exceptions). Wicca felt right for that because some Wiccans beleive the gods actually existed, some beleive what i do, so I practiced as a wiccan witch for years. But then I ran into a lot of boundaries and rules that I did not agree with, like the rules of 3 for example. I moved on to dropping the "Wiccan" and just referring to myself as a witch. Then I felt paganism was more open, less rules and lines I wasn't allowed to cross. So I started practicing as a pagan witch. Now I have come across pantheism and my god, this "religion" was built for me. Its hard to find information about paganism and pantheism working together but from what ive found they compliment each other nicely and it is very easy to practice pantheism within paganism and also quite common. Pantheism is a belief that we are all energy, we all intertwine with the universe, and there us no one God. God is not a person, it is an entity, an energy. Something that as a human we cant even describe or comprehend, it is a moving mass of energy and nature that fills our universe. That is what I have always beleived, we are souls within a body, not a body with a soul. We are energy, we are magic in a vessel. The stars, the moon, planets, plants, nature etc... all of that holds energy that we can tap into for spell work. After reading more about pentheism and learning that pantheism is exactly what I beleive I feel like I have found where I belong within a community while still taking parts from paganism that resonates with me. Im so excited to begin practicing within a community I feel so connected to🥹✨️🖤

[hellenicpaganism]

#repost

[saffronveiled-dreams]

Unbinding the Hair: In Defense of Magic in the Hellenic Polytheist Tradition

“Shall I write about things not to be spoken of? 

 divulge what ought not to be divulged? 

shall I utter the unutterable?”

Julian, Oration 5, Hymn to the Mother of the Gods

To be a hellenic polytheist is to advocate for the glory of the Gods; reach your arms out to embrace their warmth and lower your head in respect of their unimaginable power. It is generally believed that if one has trust in the Theoi then one has all they need. Among my fellow polytheists who follow a strictly reconstructional, or even revivalist, religious structure it is common belief that it is up to the Gods to take our wants, needs and desires into favor; and any personal dabbling in fate, especially in the form of magic or witchcraft, is hubris - an insult to the Gods. Many of our official religious organizations (Hellenion, Neokoroi, and YSEE to name a few.) are openly against the use of magic in conjunction with traditional hellenismos. 

If I am going to dismantle and combat this belief, it’s important for me to shed some light on the foundation for many HP Recons disdain for magic and explain its place in antiquity. In the major city-states of Greece, particularly Athens, witchcraft (specifically baneful magic was titled as such; curses, love spells, etc.) was outlawed and practitioners were persecuted. Not only was it feared, it was described as impiety and profane. If we are going to base our religion around the common state cultus of Athens then we should also note other religious requirements, perhaps about how we shouldn’t mention, or even utter the name of mighty Haides, also note that there are sources citing that Attic peoples did not worship Ares. Yet, interestingly, many of these formal Hellenismos organizations list their own ordained Priests and Priestesses, some of which are devoted to both Haides and Ares. Blasphemous! Unheard of in the old Greek way of life and faith!

…Or is it?

To have a religious practice that is only using sources from the common state cultus of major Greek cities is to turn a blind eye to the undeniable fact that one’s practice would be… rather sparse and open-ended without any of the seasoning that other minor city-state and mystery cult adds; particularly that relating to the natural world, various Theoi, the afterlife, and rites pertaining to such. Despite the fear of Haides’ name, there were temples erected in his honor. There were temples and festivals dedicated to Ares. Many examples of sacred symbols, rites and ways of devotion actually stem from preserved citations of religious behavior branching out from the common cult. I think it is also worthy to note that while much of Greece outlawed the practice of necromancy, it’s hard to ignore the relevance of the Necromanteion of Acheron; a temple for necromancy. Should we exclude these because they weren’t always honored by the major city’s common Priest? 

Many of us understand that our religious praxis will not mirror that of our polytheist peers and it’s important to understand this rings true for the ancient people as well. Ancient household worship was not temple worship and temple worship was not private cult worship yet someone could indulge in all of these to fatten and enrich their praxis.

I mention this because the sources we have detailing ancient Greek magic and witchcraft (particularly that of the PGM) are written and passed down from initiates of various private cults - especially that of the mysteries. If we take a look at the initiation rituals explained in the papyri, we won’t see your typical temple worship however the nature of the spells has one believing it’s still a Greek commoner (a spell for a failing business, an unwanted relationship, unrequited love, the victim of thievery, a slave with abusive masters, etc.) It’s generally believed that magic was taught to these mystai from various Gods. A good example of this is in the rather simple spell PGM IV 1265-74 where a secret name of Aphrodite “that becomes known to no one quickly” is used. To me, this implies a rather strong and long-term relationship must be met with the Goddess before one can learn this spell. It’s also not uncommon to find myths detailing various “priests” of a God as a practitioner of magic (see Medea or Kirke, priestesses of Hekate.) It would be very hard for me to believe that the Theoi would teach their devotees impious behavior. 

When we pick apart the complaint that magic is hubris, we find the idea that magic is actually someone trying to command, or even force, the hand of the Theoi. Ancient Greek magic was not only initiatory, it weaved animism throughout its formula. You can find this in the term “dynamis.” The Greek’s term for the magical consciousness within nature and the practitioner. If there is “dynamis,” or magical power in everything around us then it is divine in some way. I believe that the dynamis of plants, rocks and water are specific daimons that connect back to the Gods through planetary correspondence. One cannot perform a spell if they don’t work with the right daimons, or dynamis in question. You can also ruin the dynamis of the material you’re working with or even simply not be granted its assistance. For instance, ritual harvesting of plants is very important and the Greeks would only use bronze blades to cut or dig (iron is said to kill or remove power from spirits or lesser daimons) and would do certain ritual acts (singing, using a specific hand, etc.) before pouring an offering to the ground where the plant was harvested. This was a thank you, a small act of worship. The forces within Greek magic, may they be plant daimons or Gods, are respected. They’re feared. They’re adored. 

To me, this is far from hubris.

I also can’t look away and ignore some of the… magical inclination of certain Hellenic practices. Firstly, there are ancient home remedies such as having your daughter wear a small moon amulet to ward sickness, or placing basil on top of a door to bring in wealth to the home, maybe even sending your son to his exams with a necklace of rosemary. Some may consider this an old beginning to folk magic. However, a more commonly known practice for both antiquity and today would be the Kathiskos. The Kathiskos is a small jar containing olive oil, water and various food from ones home, made every Noumenia (first day of the lunar month) then dumped every Deipnon (last day of the lunar month) and dedicated to Zeus Ktesios. This jar, being stored away in the pantry, has apotropaic tendencies where it will protect one’s food supply. It’s almost hauntingly similar to a very popular spell jar practice that will evolve much later in 17th century Europe; the witch jar. Here, someone will create and bury a jar filled with various items to counteract witchcraft (specifically curses and love spells) and dismantle negative influence from entering their home. 

I don’t find the kathiskos to be rather impious, however.

My last, but most important point, is that the Gods encourage us to practice arete; personal excellence. The Gods will assist us and offer their hand to enrich and bless our lives with good luck and prosperity, of course. But this hand is not extended to those who do not try for themselves. I’d like to mention an antique joke here that was used to teach against being lazy and expecting divine influence to fix every problem we may have; 

 There was a man traveling down the road with a wagon, yet it drifted off the path and became stuck into a sinking in the earth. The man reached his hands to the sky and shook them with dismay, crying out to Hermes. “O’ Gracious God, will you please help my wagon back onto the road?” There was no answer, the wagon did not budge. The man’s desperate prayers continued from that morning until sunset, where his cries stopped once he began to believe Hermes had abandoned him. It wasn’t until late that night in his sleep that the God appeared to him. Angry, the man asked “O’ Lord, why did you not remove my wagon from the hole?” to which Hermes replied, “I would have, if you pushed it!”

This also ties into the delphic maxim “the Gods help those who help themselves.” From the sources I’ve found claiming the mystics being taught magic through divine initiation as well as considering my own personal accounts, I’ve come to believe that magic is a tool for mortals to learn, practice and perfect in order to better their lives. To help themselves.

The Gods have weaved magic into our backyards, it is not hubris to go find it. 

[vilelithium]

𝔞 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢

𝔵𝔵

[daugtertheblackflames]

Art unknown

[dionysianivy]

𝐋𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐡/𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐬

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What is Lughnasadh?

Lughnasadh, or Lammas, is the first of the three harvest festivals of the Wheel of the Year. In the Northern Hemisphere, Lammas is celebrated on August 1st, and in the Southern Hemisphere, on February 1st, representing a time to honour the first harvest, whether that means crops from your garden or the first results of your intentions finally coming to life. Lughnasadh marks the beginning of the season where the earth starts to give back. The days are still warm, the fields turn golden, and the air carries the scent of ripening grain. Even though the sun still shines brightly and summer feels strong, this sabbat reminds us that autumn is slowly approaching. That’s why it’s important to enjoy the warmth, the gifts of nature, and to begin preparing our homes and spirits for the colder months ahead. Also, Lammas celebrates the first fruits of the land, which is a moment of joy, gratitude, and celebration. More harvests will come later, but now is the time to notice that what you’ve planted, literally or metaphorically, is beginning to grow. Lughnasadh is about trusting that what’s to come will be abundant, and taking a moment to appreciate how far you've come.

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Origins of Lammas

Lughnasadh gets its name from the Celtic god Lugh, a solar deity associated with skill, harvest, and craftsmanship. The alternative name, Lammas, comes from the Old English hlaf-mæss, meaning “loaf-mass” or “feast of bread.” Traditionally, this was a time when communities gave thanks for the first grain harvest by baking loaves of bread and offering them in gratitude, both to deities and as part of the communal celebration. Harvesting grain, gathering fruit and vegetables, and honoring solar gods were all important parts of this sabbat.

August 1st was only the peak of a much longer celebration. The three days leading up to Lughnasadh were considered especially sacred and focused on purification rituals. These days were dedicated to Ana, an ancient Irish solar goddess, older and more primordial than Lugh himself. Some believe that the entire festival may have originally belonged to her, before being associated with Lugh later on.

The ancient Romans associated this time with the rising of the Dog Star, Sirius, calling it the dies caniculares, which is where the modern phrase “Dog Days” comes from. These days were seen as the most intense and unbearable of the summer.

In early Ireland, it was considered unlucky to harvest grain before Lughnasadh. Doing so meant that last year’s supplies had run out too early, before the next harvest was ready. Waiting until Lughnasadh symbolized proper abundance and care.

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God Lugh x Lammas

Lughnasadh takes its name from the Celtic deity Lugh, sometimes spelled Lug. In Irish tradition, he is Lugh, while in Wales he is known as Lleu Llaw Gyffes, the “Bright One of the Skillful Hand.” Across continental Europe, he was called Lugos, meaning “raven,” and held an important role in Gaul as well.

Today, Lugh is often seen as a solar god and a bringer of harvest, but in ancient times, he was much more: he was a god of skill, crafts, kingship, and heroic strength. He was a brilliant warrior and wise leader, ruling over the Tuatha Dé Danann, the divine people of the goddess Danu. Danu, a great mother goddess linked to earth, water, fertility, and victory, was the ancestral force behind this divine race. With Lugh's power, her people triumphed over the Fir Bolg and the Fomoiri, former divine rulers depicted in Irish myths as wild and monstrous beings. Lugh was also revered for his mastery in many arts, and over time, he came to be associated with the Roman god Mercury, both being patrons of intelligence, travel, skill, and strategy.

During Lammas, we celebrate his energy of mastery, fulfillment, and transformation. The sun is still warm, but its strength begins to fade. Lugh, as the radiant god, now pours the last of his energy into the land, bringing forth the first harvest. He has not disappeared yet, but his cycle is shifting. The goddess, too, has changed; she is now the Grain. Her role is to dry the fields, to release the seeds that will fall into the earth and sleep through winter, waiting to rise again at Imbolc. Some sources say that four weeks are especially sacred to Lugh, the last two weeks of July and the first two weeks of August, roughly the time when the sun passes through the sign of Leo, and reaches its symbolic height at 15 degrees.

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Lughnasadh Myths

One of the older names for this sabbat is Lughnasa, often translated as “the marriage of Lugh.” And there’s a deep sense of sacred romance woven into this time. Some traditions say that during the full moon of August, Lugh, the bright sun god, and the Earth Mother renew their vows, blessing the land through their union.it represents a celebration of love, abundance, and the harmony between earth and sky.

Long before Lugh became the central figure, this time of year may have belonged to the Corn Mother and her dying son or lover. In older myths, she offers him to the land as a sacrifice so life may continue. Her grief transforms her into the Mater Dolorosa, the Sorrowful Mother, while the grain falls and returns to the soil, waiting to rise again.

But the most well-known story linked to Lughnasadh isn’t about a wedding, it’s about remembrance. Many versions of the myth speak of the funeral games that Lugh held in honor of his foster mother, Tailtiu. Tailtiu had once been queen of the Fir Bolg, and after they were overthrown, she married into the Tuatha Dé Danann. According to legend, she died from exhaustion after clearing the lands of Ireland for farming. To honor her sacrifice, Lugh established the Fair of Tailtean, a great gathering filled with feasts, contests, and community rituals. This wasn’t considered just a legend. The fair was real, held each year on August 1st in what is now County Meath, near the place believed to be Tailtiu’s grave. It was one of the most important festivals in ancient Ireland.

The word Lughnasa itself can be interpreted as “the games or assembly of Lugh.” Across the Celtic world, from Ireland to Gaul and Britain, early August was marked by great gatherings in his name. These festivals included tribal meetings, athletic games, horseracing, and ceremonies to ensure a good harvest and to open the hunting and fishing seasons. At Telltown, the Tailtiu Games included events like spear-throwing (gaelbolga), stone-throwing, high jumping, triple jumping (geal-ruith), and even a ritual wheel toss (roth-deas). These competitions likely came from much older harvest rites, later merged with Lugh’s myth as his worship spread. The final recorded Tailtiu Games took place on August 1st, 1169, during the reign of Ruraigh Ó Conchobar, the last High King of Ireland. Though the games have ended, their spirit lingers in every festival fire, every loaf of harvest bread, and every quiet moment of thanks offered to the land.

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Lammas and Corn Dollies

There was once a deep belief that the spirit of the corn must be kept safe from one harvest to the next, to ensure the fields would thrive again. The very last sheaf cut held the heart of the corn’s life force, hidden away in that final bundle. Harvesters approached it with care and respect, often calling it “The Neck” or “The Mare”, and with a steady hand and a solemn cry, “I have the neck”, they freed it from the stalks.

That last sheaf was carefully woven into a corn dolly, a little figure meant to hold the spirit safe through the winter months. This small creation was honored and protected, waiting until spring. At Imbolc, bits of corn would be taken from the dolly and planted back into the earth, breathing new life into the soil.

This tradition is ancient, stretching back thousands of years, even the Egyptians made corn dollies as symbols of life and renewal. For the Celts, these woven figures were sometimes called “holy brides of the corn”, a living symbol of the earth’s blessing.

Each region developed its own style and patterns, from shapes like chandeliers and horns to horseshoes and stars. The ribbons that tied them held their own meanings too, yellow for the sun’s warmth, red for sacrifice, blue for love, green for wisdom, and white for strength. For modern Pagans, creating a corn dolly is a sacred act of honoring the harvest.

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Life and Death of Lughnasadh

Even though August still holds the warmth of summer, Lughnasadh quietly marks the turning of the wheel, since Midsummer, the days have slowly begun to shorten. This sabbat reminds us that we are moving toward the end of the season, step by step. Lughnasadh is the first of three harvest festivals, it opens the path toward Mabon, the great gathering of abundance, and finally to Samhain, when the last of the harvest is taken in. For now, the world is still full of green leaves, tall grain, and the life of young animals, but underneath all this, there’s the first whisper of change. This is also the time when we begin to think about death, not in fear, but as part of the cycle. In one of the old myths, Lugh must travel to the Underworld to defeat Bres, the god of death, his victory brings life back to the land, just like how the grain must fall in order to feed us. The harvest is a gift, but it is also a letting go, what was once alive must now be cut, gathered, and transformed. That’s the quiet truth at the heart of Lughnasadh, life and death walk together through the golden fields. Some say that Lugh becomes the lord of the waning year, and that his steps through the tall, whispering grain are a quiet dance of death. If that's true, then it's not something to fear, it’s a reminder that all things move in circles, and that endings are always part of something beautiful.

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The August Herbs

In parts of Northern Europe, the night before Lughnasadh was seen as the perfect time to create a special charm known as the August Herbs, if gathered in the right way, this bundle of summer plants was said to bring blessings that lasted through the year, protection against storms and dark magic, support during transitions, help in love, and even comfort in birth or in letting go at the end of life.

To gather the herbs with their full power, tradition said to pick them just before sunrise, in silence, some even believed the ritual should be done bare, in full openness to the earth, though over time, many simply went barefoot and uncovered their head, letting the morning air and dew touch their skin.

What mattered most was intention, moving gently through the fields or garden, listening to the quiet, and allowing the plants to speak, the bundle would later be hung in the home, placed on the altar, or kept close as a charm, holding the light and energy of that sacred morning, long after summer has faded.

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Magic Correspondences

Planets: Sun, Mercury

Season: Midpoint between Summer and Autumn

Element: Earth, Fire

Time Of The Day: Evening

Tarot Cards: Strength, The Sun, Seven of Pentacles, Ten of Pentacles, Four of Wands, Justice, Wheel of Fortune

Colors: Gold, Yellow, Green, Brown, Red, Royal Purple, Heather Purple, Bronze

Herbs: Blackberry, Bilberry, Allspice, Basil, Fennel, Rosemary, Garlic, Bay, Wheat

Fruits: Pears, plums, peaches, grapes, apples, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries

Vegetables: Corn, Root Vegetables, Squash, Potatoes, Cucumber, Tomatoes, Onion, Beans

Crystals: Tiger’s eye, Amber, Rutilated quartz, Citrine, Clear quartz, Golden topaz, Carnelian, Onyx, Aventurine, Cat’s eye

Runes: Jera, Sowilo, Wunjo

Trees: Apple, Hazel, Oak, Holly

Goddesses: Cailleach Bheur, Ana, Arianrhod, Artemis, Ceres, Corn Maiden, Cybele, Danu, Demeter, Diana, Inanna, Isis, Morrigan, Ops, Pomona, Persephone, Proserpina, Rhiannon, Tailtiu, Cerridwen, Brigid

Gods: Adonis, Gofannon, Hades, Hephaestus, Lugh, Mithras, Ninurta, Odin, Osiris, Set, Helios, Thor, Vulcan, Loki, Dionysus, Vertumnus, Apollo, Xiuhtecuhtli

Dragons: Fafnir

Flowers: Honeysuckle, Marigold, Sunflower, Gladiola, Poppy, Rose, Aster, Cornflower, Vervain, Lavender, Heather

Animals: Swan, Lion, Boar, Cat, Raven, Goat, Dog, Owl, Bear, Fox, Salmon, Horse, Cow, Eagle, Rooster, Ram, Snake, Stag, Hare, Bull, Wolf, Robin, Crane, Sow, Sheep, Otter

Magical Powers: Harvest, Gratitude, Abundance, Protection, Personal Transformation, Honoring Ancestors, Making Offerings, Reflection, Introspection, Discernment, Prosperity, Communication with the Dead, Renewal, Sacrifice, Death

Symbols: Corn dolly, Rowan cross, Cornucopia, Pentacle, Staff, Stang, Sickle, Flail, Wheel, Sun, Bread.

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Activities to do:

🌽 Make a Lammas loaf or other special bread. Before putting the loaf in the oven, dip a brush in milk and write on the crust what you desire most. You can also bake pastries, pies, or braided bread with solar or witchy symbols, and enjoy them while still warm.

🌾 Eat seasonal food made with ingredients like grains, fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Corn with butter is a perfect choice for this time :D

🌽 Cook something traditional and share a meal with loved ones using what you’ve grown in your garden.

🌾 Decorate your altar with seasonal fruits, vegetables, and flowers.

🌽 Practice sun magick.

🌾 Make a sun catcher to bring solar energy into your life.

🌽 Make sunflower crowns

🌾 Collect or buy some sunflowers. Dry the petals to use in spells for prosperity, luck and happiness.

🌽 Visit a farmer’s market and support local harvests.

🌾 Spend time in nature. Wake up early and take a peaceful walk, maybe you’ll hear roosters if you live in a rural area.

🌽 Tend your garden by trimming dry grass, collecting it for hay, and preparing the soil.

🌾 Harvest your first fruits or vegetables, and preserve anything you want to keep for winter.

🌽 Make a Lammas wreath using herbs, flowers, or grains.

🌾 Collect August herbs, seeds, and wild plants or berries. Let the herbs dry to use later in the year.

🌽 Face paint with bright colors, Celtic symbols, or Lughnasadh designs, or like a Celtic warrior :D

🌾 DIY a theatre mask for fun or ritual use.

🌽 Have a bonfire in the evening, and maybe dance around it.

🌾 Have a feast with your loved ones.

🌽 Make offerings to gods and ancestors

🌾 Play Lughnasadh games to honor strength and the harvest, like slap hands, horseshoes, archery, or arm wrestling. For a cozy option, play card games or board games.

🌽 Take time to connect with the dead.

🌾 Celebrate your successes so far this year, and reflect on what you’ve learned and achieved.

🌽 Do a gratitude journaling session to focus on the good things in your life.

🌾 Meditate and ground in the sun

🌽 Connect with the crystals associated with Lammas

🌾 Wear the colors of the sabbat.

🌽 Make a Lughnasadh magick jar with seasonal symbols.

🌾 Perform abundance and success spells.

🌽 Honor solar deities, especially the god Lugh.

🌾 Leave water outside for animals, and don’t forget to stay hydrated yourself.

🌽 Gather seasonal grains such as wheat, corn, oats, rye, barley, or onion to honor the harvest’s abundance.

🌾 Create a corn mother or a corn dolly using corn husks, reeds, or wheat from the first harvest.

🌽 Light a golden, orange, or yellow candle to welcome the light of the sabbat.

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Food and Drinks:

Fresh bread, soda bread, bannock, oat meal, potatoes, root vegetables, corn on the cob, sweetcorn, popcorn, wheat, rye, oats, fresh berries, apples in all forms, such as apple cider, apple cake, apple compote, apple pie, apple charlotte, mashed apples, baked apples, preserves, applesauce, fresh apples, grapes, vine leaves, fruity berry wines, fresh fruit, home-grown vegetables, soups, salads, salmon, oysters, basil, borage, fennel, summer pudding, nut pies, fruit pies, berry jams, preserves, potluck dishes, outdoor feast, peaches and apricots jams, fruit tarts, honey, tomatoes, cucumbers, mushrooms, pears, roasted meat, venison, fried meats, corn fritters, butter, pizza, barley cakes, wheat, squash, corn bread muffins, blackberries, blackberry cake, chia seeds, what beer, fruit and veggie salads, sour dough

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Sources used: Teresa Moorey, The Fairy Bible; Judika Illes, Encyclopedia of Witchcraft: The Complete A-Z for the Entire Magical World; Jean Pierre Blanchet, Blanche Magie; Melanie Marquis, Lughnasadh: Rituals, Recipes & Lore for Lammas (Llewellyn’s Sabbat Essentials #4); Anna Franklin & Paul Mason, Lammas: Celebrating the Fruits of the First Harvest; Harmony Nice, Wicca: A Modern Guide to Witchcraft and Magick; Llewellyn’s Sabbats Almanac.

[milksockets]

'dancing celestial deity, indian (uttar pradesh), early 12th century' in jewelry: the body transformed - melanie holcomb (2018)

[dionysianivy]

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐋𝐮𝐠𝐡

god of sun, war, all arts and crafts, justice,

light, victory, and storms.

[foamspell]

most likely already done before but here's a little self-indulgent meme i made since i've been feeling pretty insecure these days

[whatrealbeautylookslike]

hera still loves polyamorus people

aphrodite still loves aroace people

zeus still loves people who are scared of thunder

poseidon still loves people who can't swim

apollo still loves people who aren't musical

helios still loves people who sunburn easily

artemis still loves people who aren't virgins

persephone still loves people who are allergic to pollen

hades still loves people who are afraid of death

athena still loves people who aren't academic

ares still loves people who don't like to be angry

hephaestus still loves people who can't craft things

being who you are is not offensive to the gods. they still love you.

[writing-prompt-s]

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

[sadoeuphemist]

Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.

[sameenbyhat]

Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”

[stu-pot]

Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”

[panpagan-devotions]

BLESSED BE!!

[teawiththegods]

Stop Normalizing Abusive Relationships with Deities

I’ve been thinking more about the whole gods harming their worshipers discourse on TikTok and I think it goes a lot deeper than just spreading fear and misinformation in our community. 

By so casually going onto social media and posting about these experiences as if that’s just what happens as a worshiper, the message they are sending is “The gods can and will ABUSE you and you deserve it” 

They’re basically normalizing abusive relationships with deities. And I say this as someone who was in an abusive relationship. 

Swap out any of the gods in these stories for a mortal and we all would be calling the cops. So why is it okay for a deity to cause such harm?? The answer is that it isn’t. 

These people shouldn’t be promoting these kinds of relationships. It’s harmful, especially to the younger crowd who already struggles greatly with their own self worth. 

And truthfully by normalizing abusive relationships with the gods, they’re also normalizing abusive relationship in general. If you can accept a god causing you harm, you’ll likely accept it from anyone. Because the feeling of “I deserve this” and “This is my fault” will transfer over into other relationships. 

So essentially what these TikTokers are doing is creating an enviornment where more young people are going to be susceptible to abusers. 

[theskepticalwitch]

I have stood up to my deities when something has bothered me, and I encourage you not to feel afraid to do this. If you have a healthy relationship with your deities, you need to feel safe setting boundaries.

[gwynedd-chronicles]

Moodboard - pagan delights

[surfingkaliyuga]

“Pluto” Franz von Stuck 1909

[detailedart]

Supermoon. Temple of Poseidon, near Athens, Greece. July 3, 2023, by Alkis Konstantinidis