I spent hours and even days pondering what was going on, trying to reconcile, to not be a bitch. That only worked a little. Between all the forces pressing against me, I found myself pushed into defending my territory. And that meant getting arrogant when I should never have.
But the biocentric part of me says that humans are also not the center of the universe. It means understanding that the spirits, the land, the animals, and the Wyrd all have their own sovereign agency. You respect their domains. You don’t walk into someone else’s hall and demand they cater to you—like I learned the hard way with Bragi. You respect the ecosystem.
The old tales, especially with Ireland, talk a little bit about what happens to the bard that makes it back. They’re filled with longing for the green place. Their music is never the same – either it becomes hauntingly gorgeous but unbearably sad, or they can only speak the truth so that their songs become lays of prophecy. Touch the earth, they may age but a hundred years. They’re never the same again, and so for all they walk among former friends, family and lovers they’re still apart inside. Forever.
Odin wasn’t telling me to build a time machine, which is great because there’s no way I could’ve. I’ve realized that one thing he meant was for me to personally go back to when shamanism was the spiritual path no matter the spirits I encountered. It means I throw out the temples, the chains. It means going back to a time when we sat around the fire or hearth and the shaman was your entertainer.
The truth is, the best solution is to fall silent. Gender aside, they feel the need to lecture and have me quietly listen as if we were in a Chinese classroom or university study hall. I’d listen better if I didn’t feel the need to defend myself so often. But why am I defending myself? Oh, yeah. Because I desire connection, and being accused of things alienates. Being “put in my place” also. That.