Last night I participated in my first blót, which our dear friend K led for us.
I don’t follow a Norse or Germanic path by any means, but a few of our friends do, and we love to explore other traditions, especially with the varied members of our group. It was a fantastic ritual, and I can’t thank these wonderful people enough for being a part of it (especially K for leading it).
One of the features of a blót is the passing of a horn containing alcohol of some sort (in our case, mead and tej). First round is to honor the gods, spirits, and/or ancestors. In our group, that becomes a very eclectic group. Among those honored were Maya, Odin, Freya, Castor & Polydeuces, the ancestors, Raven, Cernunnos (duh), and Anpu. (Even more were called at the start.) In our group’s rituals, the spirits and deities generally keep to the one who asks for Their presence, for which we are highly thankful.
Then came the oaths and boasts. This got both rowdy and solemn, lots of bawdy jokes and some near-tears. There have been some massive explosions in our group’s lives this year, and a lot of the boasts came in the form of “HOLY SHIT, I SURVIVED,” while the oaths took the form of self-care.
Sir is intensely patient. This year was hellish in so many ways, and I have been on the very edge of burnout more times than I can count. However, He is determined to see me healthy, and gave me a set goal before He passed – drop ten pounds by Yule. As with so many tasks He sets, the number was less important than the effort. As is unfortunately typical, my effort (although better than previous attempts) was not the best I could muster.
So my oath was to make myself more whole this year. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, physically. Mo ghrá has been more or less ignored this calendar year in favor of the mundane fires that had to be put out, and He will not be patient much longer – nor has He reason to be, and losing Him is something I couldn’t bear. While a few things about my physical health have changed for the better, my body hurts pretty constantly and is not supporting the things I need or want to do, because I am not taking care of it. I am not taking care of my self, of Kit’s partner, of His property.
Once again, my ever-patient and wonderful friend spoke up with an offer to help. We will be talking, lovely. 🙂 I still have to learn to get out of my own way, to re-train my inertia, but at just 30 years old, I’m seeing and feeling too many physical signs that I am running on very borrowed time. It is beyond time. I can’t ignore this anymore. My Kitten needs me whole. My Sunshine needs me whole. Mo ghrá needs me whole. Most of all, I need me whole.
So I say again: For my Sir, mo ghrá; for my Kitten; for my Sunshine; for my friends; for me. I vow to do all in my power to make myself as hale and healthy and whole as I possibly can, as healthfully as I can.