stand on my own

I’m supposed to stand on my own culturally determined for me ahead of my life. It’s not manly to need help. It’s weak and unseemly. It’s demanding and dependent.

But, I feel so alone and I think better when I have help. I am a better person when I have help.

Three plus one

I didn’t really make the connection until last night that the triple columns of the tree of life could also represent the three part social functions: sovereignty, war, and fertility. I think I read in either Arjuna or How to Kill a Dragon about the three goddesses representing those functions, but the three columns of the tree of life also offer these functions.

The lightening path connects all three, like Arjuna and other indo-european heros also have qualities of all three functions.

In The Anger of Achilles, the hero is one that walks the edge, both upholding the cosmic order and testing it. This is a very interesting place to be. The hero then is a kind of edge-walker, neither just human nor fully divine.

The ten years of battle at Troy remind me of the tree of life also. I wonder about mapping the battle along the lightening path, for example, maybe the trojan horse represents Daath? or something.

The triple goddess plus one: there’s the triple functions of hera, athena and aphrodite … but there’s also eris as a fourth function. This is a function that is outside of normal behaviour. This is the 3+1 formula that repeats over and over as being that one more than normal action that threatens the cosmic order. So that makes eris represent not only edge-walkers but also heroic efforts that make the hero not just human, but like the gods.

Okay, so I’ve been browsing online looking to see if anyone else has been writing about this idea. It hit me when I was at the forum about the myths of troy that the tree of life’s 3 pillars are pretty closely similar to the tripartite functions in indo-european culture proposed by Dumezil.

In the story of Troy, one part is the attempt to determine which goddess deserves to have the golden apple, inscribed “to the fairest one,” that Eris rolled down the aisle of a wedding … like a grenade! And, Zeus passes the buck to Paris, the poor human. So Paris has to decide which goddess gets the apple. The three are Hera, representing the function of sovereignty, Athena, representing the function of the warrior, and Aphrodite, representing the fertility function.

So, these three functions (sovereignty, warrior, and fertility) seem to me to be equivalent to the pillars of beauty (topped by Kether, the crown), severity and mercy on the tree of life. I don’t know if I’ve ever read that connection made before, but it seems pretty evident so I’d be surprised if no one thought of it before!

Also, like the triple goddess with a hidden fourth “medusa” aspect, I find myself thinking about the tripartite functions of the three goddesses (Hera, Athena and Aphrodite) as having a hidden fourth, Eris. In this way, Eris is a fourth function of “outsiderness” … the edge-walker.

Well, so the whole story of the Illiad is about walking the edges of cosmic order, going too far and being forced back, and the way that the hero pushes the boundary by being more than human and becoming like the gods; but also, in the way that over and over there are transgressions against cosmic order that are pushed and balanced out.


she always picked so many projects that I could never figure out how to help her. I would help her try to do something, but she would not want my help on that and do something else instead. she hated having my help. except when she whined about me not helping.

she was constantly jealous of me. if I was walking in front of her, she would slow down and then get pissed that I was in front. If we were riding bikes and I fell behind I’d speed up to catch her, but then she’d slow down and I’d end up in front so she could complain. But, if she was in front, I would be the one that had to catch up. If I was behind, she wouldn’t notice or seem to care.

She was jealous that I was close to the pagan community, but she wouldn’t take any classes. Now she’s close to the community, and she doesn’t care if she takes up all the space. She’s afraid to step up, but when she’s up she doesn’t think to step back.

join me

I ask you to join me, not in the patriarchal bonds of marriage, but rather in becoming together better than we could be on our own. I wish to be your partner in living an adventure in equal partnership and as intimate witnesses to each other.


the proof that it was not the kind of love that lasts was in the fact that the minute she was free of feeling obligated to care for me she ran away and didn’t look back. the joy she feels now at being free of me proves to the world that the time we had together was just a lie she told herself.


the maiden trusted me to remove the veil from her head
and after kissing those honey lips I betrayed that trust
by only being adequate and growing distant

I drank from the virgin’s well and her sweet water
turned to vinegar in my mouth

beneath the faerie mound

as I descend in to her darkness
the twin peaks of mercy and severity
disappear in the distance
beneath the faerie mound
I travel widdershins
down within
the depths of her
looking for treasure
where the fae churn
dust into ambrosia
and emeralds line the walls
of the passage to paradise

re-animate something

I’m starting to feel like I’m trying too hard, even though I’m hardly trying at all. I feel like I’m trying to hold on to something that is gone. I’m trying to re-animate something in my past that I should just let pass into ashes.

For some reason I still think of myself as being an active part of the Olympia community, but I’m nowhere near Olympia anymore. I’m not there. I haven’t been there for months. I felt that part of my life was over when she dropped me off and drove away.

I’m holding on to the empty shell of what I wish I could still feel. Even if I manage to slip the puppet of the past on my hand, it’s still my own voice speaking. Even if I manage to keep up the act, it’s an empty lie of what it was.

a lesson of failure

My entire life I’ve felt vulnerable, as if at any moment anything that I cared for would be taken from me. I’ve felt as if anything that I believed to be true, and hoped for or relied on, would fail me. For a long time I’ve blamed myself for this.

My father would make promises to me that he could not keep. I would take these promises as assurance for the future. But, then my father would fall off the radar, become silent about what was promised, especially when it came time to deliver.

Finally, I would do something that my father could point to as a reason not to give me what he promised. Or, he would simply change the agreement so that he wouldn’t have to deliver.

I used to believe it was my fault, or that it just didn’t make any sense, that these failures would occur. Now, I’ve started to realize, even if I have a hard time not believing its still me that is to blame, that it’s been my father failing all along.

I don’t want to hate myself anymore for that fact that my father is a failure and that he is a liar willing to promise anything even when he knows or has fooled himself that he’s going to follow through. My father’s failure left me vulnerable in the world.

I’ve lived my entire life afraid of the future. I’ve lived my entire life feeling that what I believed to be true would turn out to be false. I’m so tired of being afraid. I’m so tired of always being in pain over not being able to make the future happen as promised. I have been cheated my entire life of having the chance to have dreams come true because I have been so certain they can’t be real that I constantly find ways to fulfill that failure.

My father has taught me a lesson of failure that I have learned so well that I can’t seem to shake free.


I feel the fire of her furnace on my face
as I forge and temper my athame
shaping and forming magick
in the belly of her bright flame
consecrated by the heat of her womb

honey scent

I miss the golden flower between her legs
and the heaven sent honey scent
holy rain purified by the touch of her skin
collecting morning dew from her petals
drinking deeply ambrosia for faeries
bringing her polished chalice to my lips
every drop is pleasure to me
every sip is ecstasy to her

a warning

The crucifixion is a warning that everyone that does not conform will be a target. The world will try to violate and emasculate anyone that does not fit in.

This is also a warning to the community to not destroy the men. It’s easy to reduce men in the community to either sex toys or emasculated buffoons. It’s harder, however, to accept men as being complex. It’s not enough for men to be sexualized as lovers. It’s not enough for men to be emasculated as feminine or safe. There’s more to the gods than that. There’s more to men than that, just as there is more to women than the simplistic view society enforces.

his compost

original thoughts are not his forte
unless by “original” you mean “imperial”
from his office above the garage
he pronounces his edicts over the intercom
that echo through the house
whether there’s anyone to listen or not
so it’s hard to care
he doesn’t think anything
that he’s not hear or read
he doesn’t say anything
that he’s thought himself
in his tower of equipment
for moving stuff
the stuff that he moves most
is his own compost
so it’s hard to care
except he’s a bastard if ignored
so he bullies his boys
and strikes his wife
with blows made of loud noise
blasting from every phone
but nothing he says is surprising
because it’s all so mundane
and the thing he’s lacking
is any form of imagination
he turns it over and over
in that composting bin
one might euphemistically
call his brain
nope, it’s not top soil yet
keep trying

perfect for her

I wanted to be perfect for her. I suppose that was my first mistake. But all she did, it seemed like, was complain. Every complaint was like a slap in the face telling me that I was a failure at being perfect for her. Eventually I think i just gave up thinking that I could ever succeed. But the truth is that I had lost faith very early in the relationship. She left for a summer break and ended up not coming back, until eight months later. It was in those eight months that I lost hope that she was actually coming back and that she kept saying she was coming back that I lost faith that what she said was really what was going on. I stopped believing that she was speaking the truth, even if she believed what she was saying. So, when she finally came back eight months later, I didn’t heal from that loss of faith so that I could believe she was really there to be with me. That’s when I really failed her, because I failed to realize that I lost faith and needed to either heal that or we should have ended our relationship then. Everything after that point was just a rehearsal for the end, because I couldn’t believe that it was going to last no matter what she said or did.