#happy early pentecost!

[queerprayers]

I’ve been following your blog for a while now, and it’s really been helping restore my relationship with faith. So firstly I want to say thank you. <3 I also wanted to ask how you learned to deal with adversity so well? I’ve seen other blogs on here that frequently invalidate queer christians and openly say they are not valid. How can one believe in a god that would “make all people in his image” but then turn around and tell his people to hate what he had created?

Welcome, beloved! I'm so glad this can be a good space for you and you're very welcome. My ability to deal with adversity is actually currently being tested because I wrote out a complete response for you and Tumblr did not save my draft!!! And yet we press on. Hopefully this second try from scratch is still helpful/relevant. Please assume any lack of genius is because I used it all up the first time around. :)

I'm honored you think I deal with adversity well—I have a long way to go but I am proud of where I am. Partially I've learned because I had to learn. My greatest wish was to continue being in faith communities as myself, and that sadly inherently puts me in adverse situations. I'm lucky to generally have experienced passive/"well-meaning" homophobia in my daily life rather than active violence or abuse, but it is of course still a hardship. In many ways I am not given a choice—if I live as I am, this is what I will experience. I wish this were not the case, but it is—which means part of fulfilling my journey (existing as I am within my faith) means dealing with adversity, and because of my beliefs, I strive always to deal with it in loving ways.

I know I am connected to generations of Christians experiencing adversity, both from within and outside the church, and, like many of them, I have decided it is worth it to not give up my allegiance. To be clear, I have immense empathy and respect for those who leave the church for these reasons, and I would never shame them or consider them cowardly/weak—for those I know it has been an act of bravery, strength, and self-preservation. I want everyone to be free to make that choice—and I have (sometimes grudgingly) chosen to stay. 

I similarly have empathy for those who attempt to repress or choose to hide/keep private their sexuality/gender—this is a very painful experience that I wish no one had to go through, but some are driven to it. There are generations of Christians (and queer people of all religions/cultures) who have experienced this, and it's often a choice between coming out or keeping your family/community/even life. Ultimately, some people do not wish to come out, not or ever. I do encourage people to be honest with themselves and God, and try their best to seek out affirming communities for their own health/well-being and ability to freely serve God, but again, this is a choice we are free to make—and I (joyfully and painfully, in an uncomfortable but safe environment) have chosen to be out.

I've had to learn how to curate my space on the Internet and generally avoid debates with strangers—my current rule when deciding whether to give someone time when they approach me with abuse is to ask, "Would answering this be useful (to me, to them, to those who might read it)?" and "Are they saying anything worth thinking about?" Often, the answer is no. Someone telling me to kill myself does not want to have a conversation, and there's nothing to respond to. But if someone shares a specific opinion, or cites a Bible verse, or criticizes a specific belief, then there's something there that could be useful to address. And then, of course, protecting myself is also relevant. It takes energy for me to write anything, but doubly so when I know the other person isn't approaching the conversation with the same love I attempt to. If I have the energy, and feel like there's something to actually say, sometimes I'll say something. 

Whether I'm responding or deleting, I am called to keep moving with prayer and love. I can't let my beliefs go out the window when I get hurt or angry (although that happens to all of us sometimes). And always always I remember that it's never about me. Homophobia comes from ignorance/fear/disgust, and although I am sometimes the one directly addressed, I am not what these people have an issue with. Problems with me living as a Christian generally come from past trauma, ideological issues with certain theologies, or ignorance/disrespect of religion generally, not me existing. Again, I'm the one being addressed, but their (often justified) anger is not about me. I'm not trying to make excuses for people, but I am making the space for my own compassion and their ability to grow, as my religion has taught me. (Obviously this doesn't include instances in which I might be the one who has made a mistake/caused harm; I'm talking about unjust adversity people experience, not consequences of actions.)

I will point out that it is much harder to deal with people like this in person. Writing involves distance and time from the aggressor. I can take a deep breath, wait a few days, choose whether to respond, and reread my words before sending them, thinking about how they might be received. But on the street? In school hallways? There is no distance and no time, and there is sometimes a lack of physical safety as well. This is when I have most often given in to anger, or meeting disgust with disgust. Obviously this has often been self-protection and survival, and I do not fault myself or anyone for not meeting oppression with perfect calm—this is impossible and not a value everyone holds. (That's a whole 'nother discussion!) When possible, though, I do try to do what I do here—if I feel safe, if I have the energy, I'm open, I ask questions. People filled with anger/fear/disgust/ignorance often can't keep it up for long. 

Why do people hate, especially when they claim to value love? I don't have definite answers, although I've provided some already. I do know that most of the homophobic people I know are not abusive/violent—they are well-meaning and put-together. They genuinely want what's best for people, and think that guiding people toward repression or conversion therapy or mandated celibacy will guide their life towards God. This is a deeply mistaken perspective, that causes real harm and is full of ignorance, but I do not experience it as hate (although there is a violence present). They think I am not whole as I am, and think that loving me involves fixing me. This is not loving, but it is something I can understand more than outright abuse. It's another kind of adversity, one that sometimes hurts more long-term, partially because I can understand it more—I can't dismiss it. And these people have a hard journey—admitting they're wrong means admitting their whole worldview is broken, but also often includes making this judgment about their family/community, and might mean losing it. Again, I do not seek excuses, but context and space.

In my life, I prove them wrong by living wholly, fully, and openly. I cannot make them see my happiness—we cannot force people to open their eyes. But we can show them light where we can. We cannot save them alone, but they can be saved, and they will be. ("Save" here meaning to fully experience love, not conversion or avoidance of a traditional Hell.) I know my patience and love (the little of it I can sometimes reach) can help people, because people have told me it has, and this an honor and a privilege and an overwhelming stress and a gift from a universe I cannot move. If the way I have chosen saves even one person, it is worth it—and if we include me, then it definitely has, but even if we don't, I have witnessed others' hearts change. Moving and writing and speaking with love will not fix everything, it is not magical, but Love will save all of us—They already have. Love (who is God) is with us, even when we cannot feel it, even when we don't have the energy to comprehend it, even when we are blinded and scared and cannot admit we are wrong.

My beliefs inherently make room for people to change, even when this truth makes me mad, even when I wish I could just give up on people. Christianity, at its best, equips us to take a deep breath and remember what we were made for. As Pentecost arrives, I hold the Spirit close—I've never spoken in tongues or been set on fire (and not to jinx it but I don't really desire to), but I've felt the wind on my face and bird-watched in my backyard and sat around a bonfire with people I love. I have so far to go, and the road rises to meet me.

In summary, TL;DR, don't mean to rant but always do: I learned to deal with adversity because I had to, and with practice, while honoring others, while figuring out a path of love in this weird and confusing life, even as I fail at what I set out to do all the time, God sees what I do in the name of survival, and gives me the strength to keep going. I know anger and fear and disgust and ignorance because they're in everyone; I know what it is to believe something and do things that go against that, because I do it all the time; I know what it is to hang on to things I've been taught even when they're harmful, because I've done that. We can only pray that they do not overtake us as they overtake those who hurt us.

Blessings to you as we move through an inhospitable world (and website). May we do all the good that we can.

Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving spirit may move every human heart, that the barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease, and that, with our divisions healed, we might live in justice and peace; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. —Lutheran Book of Worship (1978)

<3 Johanna

[otter1962crystalball]

Pride and Spirituality

June 2, 2024

Happy day two of Pride. The idea of spirituality came up in my blog yesterday and I also engaged in a conversation with a fascinating person on FaceBook who read my blog. So, here I go with my take on spirituality - a collection of memories that shaped my beliefs. I’d also like to discuss how this relates to our pride celebrations.

My mind has always been in the clouds. One of my earliest recollections was around three years of age. My mother told me that she came out of the house where we lived at the time and saw me lying on the sidewalk, face up. Her initial response was, of course, alarm seeing her child in such a state. It turned out that I was motionless, intently watching a bird circling far above me. Knowing my habits, I was definitely contemplating something - I have no clue what it was, but I know that I’ve found myself always thinking about many abstract things. That includes spirituality.

In my early years, God was in the same category as Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. He was a bigger than life image in my head based on what I knew at the time. I saw him as a friendly soul that loved me for who I was. As I grew up, I discovered these imaginary friends were made up. Gone were the times of joy when Santa came, or when I found chocolate eggs magically appearing or a quarter under my pillow after losing a tooth. God, however, stayed an friendly enigma - until one fateful day in Sunday School.

We moved to a farm in Southern Ontario when I was around four years old. The closest church was a tiny wooden church belonging to the Free Methodists. Their religion is based on being committed to the authority of the bible and live the life of loving religious integrity. As an adult it sounds rather enticing; until I recall my first wake up call in Sunday School around the age of five.

Our teacher was this severe looking middle-aged white woman dressed in farm clothing sitting in front of us children. We were resting on the cold floor listening to her. She looked down on us, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her message was clear and I can still hear it ringing in my ears more than 50 years later: “If you children don’t behave, God is going to wipe your name out of his book!” Her actions were as severe as her voice. Her hand wiped across an imaginary book with so much fervour that is scared the shit out of me. She didn’t say exactly what it meant to “behave,” but the wildly imaginative me absorbed it and created a totem of fear.

Methodism dictates that believers should be free of sin and live the life according the bible. To be a true Methodist one needed to be someone of perfection signifying the completeness of the Christian character. One would have freedom from all sin, and have possession of all the graces of the Spirit, complete in kind. To a five year old, this gave me nightmares - how could I go to heaven? I was a bad boy!

I didn’t actually belong to the church of the Methodists. We went there for convenience. I was later baptized in a Pentecostal church in town, along with my brothers and sister. While the Pentecostal beliefs aren’t as severe as the Methodists, it was still a place of fear for me.

So here I was, a five year old boy knowing in his heart that he was different than the other children. I didn’t have a name for what I felt - I had a fascination with the other boys and a total disregard for girls’ bodies. I did, however, hang out with girls - but that is a story for later. Everything in my heart said that I was going to hell and that God had already wiped my name out of his book.

I can remember a time after this happened where I questioned God’s motives. Mother was driving us home in the evening after some event in town, when a man my mother knew, approached the car and rattled the door and said hello. He was clearly drunk and mother locked the doors, hunched her shoulders and put the car in gear to leave. I looked out the window and saw the drunken man standing there watching us depart. I asked my mother whether the man would go to hell or not because he was drunk. If I remember correctly, Mom said something to the effect that it was between the man and God. Now, I knew that I had to face God for all that I did or would do.

My parents didn’t go to church. They sent us off on our own. I still don’t really know what their beliefs were as I never asked them. I didn’t think much of their position until they gave me permission to choose whether I wanted to go to church or not at the age of twelve. I believe they were being kind and letting me make the decision. I did make it; not in how they thought I would work out my beliefs, but out of sheer horror that I was a sick, disgusting creature that was going to hell for being interested in boys.

In my years childhood and most of my teenage years, I felt alone and faced all the things that the world threw at me - the bullying, the idea of the bad boy, and shame for being who I was, would be and so on - the tortured soul bound for hell. There are so many stories from that time in my life that I could write about later. Suffice it to say, religion was out of my reach and I avoided it with earnest. 

I can tell you that in all those years since I quit going to church, I’ve been in one a total of three times: one for a midnight Christmas mass with friends alone over the holidays, an Easter service because a friend had seen the light and wanted to go but not alone and a recent visit here in Nova Scotia. Last year I went to an Anglican Church, not far from where I live, to say goodbye to a friend who was the music director there. He was leaving for Ontario and they were celebrating his work with them. The church was also becoming a LGBTQ friendly church and had the celebration on that same day along with their gay pastor. The service was really friendly and non-judgemental. Here was a place that actually welcomed people like me. Quite the surprise!

Now here comes the part about my spirituality. I feel that my beliefs are closer to the First Nations of North America. The idea of Mother Earth and all of us being part of nature makes sense to me. As a gay man, I am not seen as a mistake or an evil thing. I am who I am and whoever the creator is, accepts me as such. To me, there is something that guides me, but doesn’t judge me for my humanly actions. What this exactly means to me is still not clear and I will probably ponder it for my entire life. All I know is that the hatred being spread by religious means is something that frightens me a lot. Dangerous beliefs can be dangerous weapons in the hands of hypocritical believers who preach love - as long as you are like them. If not then we are less than holy. You get my drift...

I no longer feel like a mistake or should be punished for being who I am. My spirituality is my belief in myself, self love and that I can genuinely be who I am without being judged for being gay. The bible pounders and the religious haters have no room in my life. I’ve even thought about attending a few services at that local Anglican church because they are a friendly community and that is what pride is about for me - community - supporting and loving one another; even though we are all so vastly different. What better reason to celebrate: our differences and our diversity?

Happy Pride, everyone. Carpe diem.

[shammah8]

Our Risen Christ” Bible Reading the fourth chapter of Acts.

Today we praise God for the fact that our glorious Jesus is the risen Christ. Those of us who have tasted the power of the indwelling Spirit know something of the manner in which the hearts of those two disciples burned as they walked to Emmaus with their risen Lord as their companion.

Note the words of verse 30, “And when they had prayed, the place was shaken.” There are many churches where they never pray the kind of prayer that you read of here. A church that does not know how to pray and to shout will never lie shaken.

If you live in a place like that you may as well write “Ichabod -the glory of the Lord has departed”-over the threshold. It is only when men have learned the secret of prayer, of power, and of praise, that God comes forth. Some people say, “Well, I praise God inwardly,” but if there is an abundance of praise in your heart, your mouth cannot help speaking it.

There was a man who had a large business in London who was a great church-Boer. The church he attended was beautifully decorated, and his pew was delightfully cushioned-just about enough to make it easy to sleep through the sermons. He was a prosperous man in business, but he had no peace in his heart.

But there was a boy at his business who always looked happy.

He was always jumping and whistling. One day he said to this boy, “I want to see you ?n my office.” When the boy was in his office he asked him, “How is it that you can always whistleand be happy?” “I cannot help it,” answered the boy. “Where did you get it?” asked the master. “I got it at the Pentecostal mission.” “Where is that?” The boy told him, and the next thing was, that the man was attending. The Lord broke him up there, and in a short while he was entirely changed. One day, shortly after this, he found that, instead of being distracted by his business as he formerly had been, he was actually whistling and jumping. His whole position and his whole life had been changed.

The shout cannot come out unless it is in. There must first be the inner working of the power of God. It is He who changes the heart, and transforms the life, and before there is any real outward evidence there must be the inflow of divine life.

Sometimes I say to people, “Y ou weren’t at meeting the other night.” They reply, “Oh yes, I was there in spirit.” I say to them, “Well, come next time with your body also. We don’t want a lot of spirit here and no bodies. We want you to come and get filled with God.” When all the people will come and pray and praise as did these early disciples there will be something doing. People who come will catch fire and they will want to come again. But they will have no use for a place where everything has become formal, dry, and dead.👌SMITH WIGGLESWORTH

[wander-yet-wonder]

Hi there! Happy to use my degree in medieval art with a specialisation in early Christianity to give you the most heartwarming answer possible:

He never needed to miss her because she was with him.

You ever heard it said of singers "yeah my mother was my first fan, driving me to band practice in her minivan because she knew I had something special going on."

That. But with holiness. Mary was Christ's first believer and closest follower. She's at the wedding of Cana (John 2.1-11). And during Christ's miracles (Mark 3.1-35), right as he's doing miracles and appointing his appostles he goes home for dinner and even gathers his family around him and proclaims that all who follow him will also be part of his family. (Jesus really said found family is also family).

In art history, which is my lense rather than text she also has a special role among the following of Christ. I'll give some examples from the Rabbula gospels, a very old Syrian illuminated manuscript. Made 586 CE, and trust me that's early and these images aren't just single occurrences, they're part of a tradition!!!

First let's look at the Pentecost Folio 14v:

During the Pentecost (after the death of Jesus) the holy spirit is poured out over all appostles and they become illuminated' and they can speak all languages. As symbolises by the flames above their heads. This enables them to teach the word and spread it. (When a fire starts to burn, it also starts to spread). And would you look who is front and center, with the biggest flame, burning the brightest. And this is doubly significant! Because religious and philosophical teaching was something reserved for men! She's a woman and she is teaching. And she's doing so better than her male peers.

The second is this image of Christ's ascension to heaven

Folia 13v:

So! First of this image includes one dope ass chariot angel covered in eyes and wheels and flames. But it actually combines a biblical event (Christ ascending, everyone is pointing and looking shocked, there's a clear narrative within the image. With an allegorical type of image of the 'parousia' or second coming! (Art historical foreshadowing!)

Here's a visually very similar image from the wooden doors of the Santa Sabina in Rome. These are from 423, so over a century earlier and a whole ocean away, so you can clearly see how far spread this type of image is:

Sorry for butt ass quality. But here we see mary again in the centre, flanked, like in the upper image by Peter and Paul. The two founding figures of the church. In this configuration Mary becomes a symbol for the church, that is to say the Christian community, in it's essence. She is us. She is the first believer, the first human to love this man.

Christ is a confusing and complicated amalgamation of humanity and divinity (we had to have a whole bunch of councils about that puzzle and we're none the wiser). But Mary was just a girl, just a woman, just like us, fully human. But she knew like no other how to talk to Jesus, how to listen to him, how to understand him. Because that's her son, that's her little boy.

(sorry for info dump!!! Your recent art has been making me feel things and it inspires me to write!)

Do you think Jesus ever felt homesick. Do you think he missed his mom

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

I didn't get baptized until I was nineteen years old. My family all refused to allow foster hell to baptize me, because they didn't want me to be a Pentecostal. Nanny was, of course, not attending any church at the time, and as I've detailed before, she ran the show religiously for me after Mom got me back. So she also never had me baptized. Mom and Dad didn't prioritize it at all. We (family) went to church once the entire time I lived with Grandma in Ohio. Strict adherence to doctrine was just not a thing on Dad's side of the family. Frankly, a blessing I desperately needed.

I had decided after moving back to Maryland that I wanted to go to church. Fortunately enough, there was a small church acting as part of the Angel Food Ministries that Mom and Dad got boxes from. It was a Methodist church, which is coincidentally what Dad's own denomination is to begin with. So they told me to try going there. And I honestly found it really good, for where I was in terms of my beliefs at that time. So after a few weeks, Dad joined me and they put the family together. Mom couldn't join us until they were able to install an accessible ramp probably a bit less than a year later.

It was either the late spring or early summer when I went ahead there and got baptized as a Methodist. And yes, I do have complicated feelings about it. It's always discussed as such, but getting baptized didn't have a single fucking thing with making sure my soul was saved from eternal damnation or whatever. That wasn't what was really important at the time, or even now. I did it because I saw it as something that would make Mom happy, because I did it of my own choice. I did it as an adult, after time spent contemplating doing so.

Even though it's complicated, I don't regret the choice I made. I did that for Mom, for my own emotional security. Now, if the sort of thing matters to you, what I'm about to say will be downright blasphemous. I don't care.

Mom meant infinitely more to me than Jesus growing up. And actually she still does to this day. She saved me from a living Hell.

I'm going to be a skeptic here for a moment. I can't empirically prove any of the personal spiritual stuff I've talked about. I can't pull my soul out and show it to you to prove it exists. I have no solid proof that an afterlife exists. Hell, half the time, I don't believe myself and what I go along with believing. Basically, I'm an agnostic who's decided to be spiritual/religious for the psychological benefits I've found personally. So, with that said?

The real life, tangible impact of Mom getting me back from the foster system matters far more than the theoretical destination of my presumably existing soul. This is what I mean whenever I say I'm "technically" a Methodist.

It also just so happens that this is the core of what turned me against my great-grandma over time. It's impossible to reconcile her favoritism across the generations of our family, especially in conjunction with her dogmatic religiosity.

[bernardo1969]

The Book of Acts of the Apostles begins its account by describing how the disciples who were fearful and confused received in tongues of fire the gifts of the Holy Spirit to preach the Kingdom of Heaven among Jews and pagans. But then the book goes on to explain how these gifts gave rise to the early church, and how the disciples had to face oppression and persecution from religious authorities who were enemies of the doctrine taught by Jesus. Not all were good news when the sect of the Nazarenes was developing into the first world religion in history, the Christianism. And thus the Book of Acts relates what that faith of the first believers was like in the early times of the Church: "They spent their time in learning from the apostles, taking part in the fellowship, and sharing in the fellowship meals and the prayers" Acts 2:42. But then the Bible relates that the religious authorities, filled with envy, decided to fight the new faith, and so they ordered the arrest of the disciples who were performing miracles in Solomon's Portico in Jerusalem. But once arrested, doubts arose among the enemies of the disciples and so a prominent person of the Sanhedrin gave his opinion: "However, if it's from God, you won't be able to stop them, and you may even discover that you are fighting against God!" Acts 5:39. The Book of Acts ends its account by explaining that after being whipped and threatened the disciples were freed and in the face of this the disciples had a common reaction through faith as the book relates with these words: "They were happy to have been considered worthy to suffer dishonor for speaking about Jesus" Acts 5:41. The Book of Acts ultimately speaks of a faith that in the face of adversity transformed the world and society.

[monsooninn]

Berakhot 8a:15. "The Ace of Silver."

In the prior frame, we learn the Mishnah includes a set of Conditions for the onset for Mashiach ordained by Jesus Himself. The Holy Talmud was written around 500 CE. There are no other Jewish records or hints of a continuity between the two religions other than in Acts 2 which states during Pentecost that Jews should always lead Christianity in the establishing of pantheism, i.e. the spread of common knowledge about the Mysteries of the Spirit of Heaven. All of this can be found in the Torah and the Tanakh, within which are references to Buddhism, Vedanta and the gods of the ancient world, identifying them as instruments of the God Yah in the evolution of mankind.

Acts of the Apostles, (circa 70-90 CE) Chapter 2:

2 When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place.   2 Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.  3 They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them.  4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues[a] as the Spirit enabled them. 5 Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven.  6 When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken.  7 Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language? 9 Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia,  10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome  11 (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!”

12 Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?” 13 Some, however, made fun of them and said, “They have had too much wine.”

The Values in Gematria for v. 12 and 13 explain. The Number is 8760, חזו‎‎אֶפֶס, xuefes, "the Ace of Silver, concealed right before your nose."

The Gematria says Jesus was the Ace of Silver because He was nice to everyone, and didn't care where they came from, what class they were, or what kind of work they did. This is the message of the Gospels the Mishnah says all Jews must bear to the world as the proper heirs the legacy of the Christ. The tract from the Book of Acts confirms this.

The next frame introduces the "sower", Mr. Zutra, Ha Demar Zutra, "The son of the one who understand the Myrrh", and states, no matter the time, the place, the language, the nation or the throne, Moses is still better than all of the rest, even the Son of Heaven.

Jesus Himself said this. Without freedom from delusion, freedom from slavery, from ignorance and the barbarism of the suburbs, Mashiach will not take place. We must always know Moses very well if we are to have any hopes of knowing the Mashiach.

15. Mr. Zutra said: "At the time of finding" - this is the house of the throne. Say in the evening: Ha Demar Zutra is better than all of them.

The Value in Gematria is 6097, סטז‎‎‎, stez, "that 16" "the life course" which is 209, באֶפֶסט‎, "in life there is no zero."

We are finite beings that have the ability to sense and interact with the finite, but we will never able to comprehend it or be like it. The closest we can get, according to the Torah, the Tanakh, the Mishnah, and the Gospels are to fight for freedom, fall in love and settle down in a happy marriage and honor the God of our Fathers with friends, family, and coworkers as often as possible.

This thinking appears very early in human history because of the appearance of the Jewish people, humanity's first civilization and we still flirt with the idea today. There can be no future, however, if we do not pay attention to the Torah, and entreat the Spirit of the God through the observance of Shabbos and then Shabbat.

There simply is no other way to peform as a mankind that wants to survive long and long in a state of bliss. All the scriptures, as the Book of Acts and the Talmud indicate this is our sole purpose in life.

[limeinaltime]

Omggg fans :D To continue the explanation, N and Uzi's first time drifting during a real battle is very different from the simulations and training exercises, and while it goes smoothly at first, when the stakes suddenly rise and Uzi and N's thoughts become more intertwined, Uzi basically brushes against the exposed nerve of N's trauma, resulting in him pulling out of the drift and leaving Uzi to pilot alone. In Pacific Rim canon, solo drifting is considered very taxing hence why it's a job built for duos, and a small, unmodified drone like Uzi takes just as much as a beating as their Jaeger while trying to pilot solo. She's barely able to clutch a win and drag herself and N back to the base, in which she is met with a very pissed off Commander X.

Since there are no in-canon characters who fit Pentecost's position, I got to throw in X, my OC. She's a (seemingly) cold, pragmatic, sarcastic, no-nonsense old lady, one of the very first drone soldiers turned pilots used during the war and the mentor of N and his peers. She lost her first partner, a human named Vincent, during the early stages of the war against the kaiju, and her second partner, her husband S, was critically injured and discharged during the early era of drone piloting. So as you can guess, this lady does not take kindly to stupid young soldiers playing hero, especially if they hero worship her. Which Uzi and N unfortunately do, knowing only her successes without the tragedies that the ops covers up.

While she is not entirely surprised when hotshot rookie Uzi staggers out of the Jaeger, X is definitely not happy when N, one of her former star students, sheepishly limps out after her. The two get an earful, with Uzi running her mouth and almost getting the brunt of it, but N steps in and lies on her behalf, resulting in Uzi being dismissed while N takes the blame and the lecture, although X dials it down a little since it's him. The Episode 2 breakup happens here, with both Uzi and N feeling too shaken and guilty to bring themselves to approach each other for the time being.

There's more but we're still screaming at each other in the Discord chat about it. The AU does currently follow the actual show with some changes to fit the Pacific Rim aspect, so we be cookin'.

I adore the Pacific Rim/Murder Drones Au! :o I wonder if its fine to ask questions.

Who was N's partner that he lost?

Are J and V possibly as well pilots for jaeger's?

OMG @limeinaltime we got fanz

i’m still parsing together the lore™️ but i imagine that in this au the worker drones were built originally to help assemble the jeagers, and then repurposed as pilots as the kaiju threat and human losses grew. the setback was the mechanics of the jeagers were too much for the worker drone’s little bodies, so they needed to be modified to accommodate that—hence disassembly drones. Tessa was the daughter of the ceo at JcJenson who were the original manufacturers of the workers and also a rookie pilot at the time, so it made sense that her drones would be the prototypes. Their AI originally proved to be ineffective when drifting with another drone and so they needed a human counterpart to drift with while the company worked out the kinks in their programming.

it just so happened that because she was so close with with them all and generally just an openhearted, good person she was sort of considered the MacGyver of the jaeger program and was virtually drift compatible with all of them. she would take turns drifting with them in their respective jeagers and training them until their AI was developed enough to be compatible with each other. then i think that N was paired off with V while Tessa stuck with J.

An incident happened shortly afterwards that ended up getting Tessa killed and N was so traumatized by the experience that him and V started to have issues with their drift and he eventually was retired as her partner, with J taking her place. J taunts N about this relentlessly. N was delegated the responsibility of training rookie drones, still in their worker bodies in preparation of their modification so that they can become pilots too and effectively make humans obsolete and therefore safer.

As time goes on, and the threat continues to grow, the company has no choice but to recommission N, but since the incident his terror of stepping back into a jeager hasn’t faded. It is virtually impossible to find somebody that’s compatible.

he ends up taking a liking to Uzi, a spunky, rebellious rookie, whose parents just so happened to also be pilots during the experimental days where jcjenson was still using worker drones as stand ins for humans. Khan also lost his partner, Nori and is very much opposed to the idea of Uzi following in their footsteps because of it. Uzi however is practically foaming at the mouth to get into a mech and eventually, despite her not being modified, N warily to take her to the launch bay for a joyride and finds out to Uzi’s joy and N’s horror that they are drift compatible.

I have more to say on this, but I’m actually driving right now and using voice to text I got so excited to answer this and was afraid that if I let it sit, I’d forget my autistic ponderings. Long story short, to answer your question via incredibly winded ramblings, yes, V and J are also pilots, Tessa was N’s original partner, Then got rotated to V, watched Tessa die And it all went downhill from there. Thank you for the ask, anon!

[dwuerch-blog]

Happy Birthday, Church!

Happy Birthday, Church!Today is the celebration of Pentecost in the Christian church and celebrated as the “birthday of the Church.” In the New Testament,the “Acts of the Apostles,” written by the Apostle Luke, tells the story of the early church, beginning with this event. There in Jerusalem at the Upper Room, 120 of Jesus followers experienced the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, described as…

[yhwhrulz]

Worthy Brief - May 26, 2023

Chag sameyach! (Happy Holiday!)

Acts 2:1,4 And when the day of Pentecost (Shavuot) was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.

In Israel, the celebration of Shavuot began last night. Most Christians would recognize this as the celebration of Pentecost in Acts 2. However, the very first Shavuot took place fifty days after the Israel crossed the Red Sea. It was on this day according to Jewish tradition that the law was given on tablets of stone.

Fifty days after the resurrection of Jesus, Shavuot was celebrated again when the Holy Spirit was poured out and the law of God became written upon the hearts of men. Just as God had promised in Ezekiel and in Jeremiah -- the law of God shall be written upon your heart.

Shavuot is both a celebration of the God's faithfulness in the early harvest and an anticipation of the abundance of the final harvest yet to come. Just as three thousand Jewish people came to faith in Messiah on this day a couple thousand years ago, the day will soon come when the fullness of the Gentiles will be completed and then "all of Israel shall be saved!"

Let's celebrate how the Lord has provided for us today and be assured that this is only a glimpse of our awaited home in glory -- a home that the Lord has spent thousands of years preparing for us!

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka, Obadiah and Elianna (Dallas, Texas)

[the-single-element]

Good morning, and happy Easter.

Yes, it's still Easter. Not with the same intensity as last Sunday (the last day of the Easter "Octave"), and certainly not with the intensity of Easter Sunday itself. But the season of Easter lasts about as long as the season of Lent. It stands to reason; we have a lot of rejoicing to do! And so, we continue to hear stories about Jesus as he was after his resurrection, when the disciples - trying to understand what had happened - are repeatedly met by Jesus at the moments they least expect him.

This week, in particular, the readings focus on that attempt to make sense of the miracle that we remembered and celebrated two weeks ago. They show Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit at Shavuot and speaking in words that defy the normal limitations of human communication, preaching in the streets of Jerusalem about what Jesus's resurrection accomplished, using the words of the Psalmists and the prophet Joel to explain what had occurred, and how it relates to the

But something about how he said it is lost in translation now. We don't get the benefit of the original miracle; Luke's account of this moment amid the birth pangs of the Church is written his usual literary Greek, not words that cut through to the soul through language barriers and convince three thousand people to be baptised on the spot. We, like the Apostles were in the early days after the Resurrection but before Pentecost, are left with a frustratingly partial picture.

And nowhere is that partial picture more frustrating than in today's excerpt from Luke's good news.

It feels like it shouldn't be frustrating, y'know? It's a beautiful scene, a beautiful story of Jesus's reunion and reconnection with his disciples, of him restoring their hope.

But if some of Peter's Spirit-inspired preaching is lost in translation... that's still nothing compared to what Jesus said, there, on the road to Emmaus. Those disciples got the whole package, the comprehensive explanation - how it all fits together, the Jewish prophets right alongside Christ’s new paradigm.

As for us? We have to somehow content ourselves with what Luke actually wrote down of the conversation. Which is... almost nothing. Somehow, by the time reports of that conversation made their way to him, the actual content had vanished, and all he could report was the metadata: the topics discussed, the effect after Jesus vanishes again. It feels like reading a mystery novel, and getting to the end, and reading “and Picklock Holes explained to them all how Snidely Whiplash had committed the crime, and the clues that undoubtably proved his guilt.” That’s all well and good, but couldn’t you tell us that reasoning too?!

...there’s so much of what happened, back then, that we don’t know about here and now.

Stories lost to time. Details John’s account alludes to, when it ends with “there wouldn’t be enough books in the whole world to tell the whole story”.

Maybe that’s why this week’s story and its lacuna is paired with Peter’s later letter: a reminder that, as precious as the Resurection was, it’s not like God isn’t telling us things today, too. The revelation continues. Just as the past has much it didn’t have time or bandwidth to pass on to us, God has much to tell us, now, that Jesus didn’t have time or bandwidth to explain to his own disciples.

Indeed, that’s the point of Penecost - the next feast of this season.

So maybe that’s the theme of this week’s Easter celebration: to rejoice that we, too, as those ransomed by Christ, have a God who still draws near to us, who still speaks to us. Perhaps we don't always recognize, at first, what he's saying, or that he's the one saying it. Perhaps it's only after the fact that we realize what we've heard. But once we realize... what a blessing! What new and wonderful things we'll discover, if only we open our ears to listen.

[childofchrist1983]

Then Peter, filled with the Holy Ghost, said unto them, Ye rulers of the people, and elders of Israel, If we this day be examined of the good deed done to the impotent man, by what means he is made whole; Be it known unto you all, and to all the people of Israel, that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom ye crucified, whom God raised from the dead, even by him doth this man stand here before you whole. This is the stone which was set at nought of you builders, which is become the head of the corner. Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved. - Acts 4:8-12 KJV

Peter was so much bolder following Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit. He and some of the other Apostles would walk around the temple area speaking about Jesus Christ and His teachings concerning the resurrection from the dead. The leaders of the community were not happy. They really wanted to arrest them, but because of events like the healing of a crippled man, they were afraid of what the people might do. Later, Peter, John and others would be arrested and beaten for continuing to preach about Jesus.

There has always been an element of danger for those who have worked to spread the Gospel. In the early days, the disciples had to worry about persecution from the Romans as well as from others who did not want their power threatened. There are still men and women today who go into areas that are dangerous to preach the Good News of Jesus and His gift of eternal salvation. Men and women have been murdered, women have been raped, and churches destroyed by those who fear Jesus' message of love. In spite of this, Christianity continues to spread.

Whether we are threatened for our beliefs or not, whether we are missionaries to far off lands, or only in our own households, it takes courage to live Jesus' message of love and justice in today's world. The message remains the same, and the fear of powerful people that this message could make them lose some of that power will always be there. The Holy Spirit was on their side and will also be with us. We thank the LORD Jesus Christ for the courage of all those who faced persecution and danger to bring your message of salvation to the whole world. May He give us the courage to face a world that does not want to hear His Gospel message of soul-saving Truth and witness to it boldly. May we always remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful Lord, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[lifeinthegladhouse]

.

[justforbooks]

Jerry Lee Lewis, who has died aged 87, achieved dazzling early success as a defining hero of rock’n’roll, when he muscled in among Elvis Presley, Little Richard and Chuck Berry, creating rock’n’roll piano from honky-tonk and hymn, as if doing so were as natural as breathing, and commandeering rhythm and blues with a casual authority achieved by no other white performer except Presley. With Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On, Great Balls of Fire and High School Confidential, he made three of the genre’s indispensable classics.

These hits, plus unbeatable versions of Mean Woman Blues, Berry’s Little Queenie and many more, shared an immediately identifiable style, an alchemy of the “Sun Studio sound”, fluid vocal brio and a pounding yet lyrical piano. Both hands were crucial in his playing, his striding left hand the foundation of the rhythm, even with a bass guitarist behind him.

Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On was his second single. Widely banned for lewdness, it sold poorly until Lewis shook up Steve Allen’s national TV show in July 1957, after which he was a star, undertaking nationwide tours while the record sold more than a million. The glorious Great Balls of Fire followed, then Breathless and the title song of the film High School Confidential, in which Lewis performed. All stormed the pop, country and R&B charts.

However, it was all to change in May 1958 when Lewis arrived in Britain. The press discovered that the 13-year-old girl with him was his wife of five months, Myra Gale Brown (who was also his third cousin). His tour was cancelled, Lewis was deported and his career under threat. Jerry confessed his whole hillbilly history: “I was a bigamist at 16 … My wife Myra and I are very happy.” The public were not.

Born in Ferriday, Louisiana, to Mary Ethel, who spoke in tongues, and Elmo Lewis, a labourer, Jerry had two sisters, Frankie Jean and Linda Gail. His elder brother, Elmo Jr, was killed by a drunk driver when they were boys. His father, imprisoned for bootlegging, was brought to the funeral in chains.

Jerry was raised in the Pentecostal church, on family gospel singing and country music by Jimmie Rodgers, Gene Autry, Hank Williams and the state’s singing governor, Jimmie Davis. He taught himself the guitar, drums and fiddle as well as the piano, and hung around a local club, Haney’s, where he claimed he heard top black performers from Duke Ellington to Muddy Waters.

At 12 he made his first paid appearance, moved on to Radio WNAT in Natchez, Mississippi, and at 13 played clubs there, while his cousin Betty Jo Slamper taught him to “smooch”.

Hired as a pianist by a travelling preacher, in February 1952 Lewis married the preacher’s 16-year-old daughter, Dorothy Barton. Jerry Lee, too, was 16. The following year he attended the Pentecostal Bible Institute in Waxahatchie, Texas. Expelled for playing gospel music “like coloured people”, he told them, rightly, that they “might as well accept it, ’cause some day that’s how it’s gonna be”. Back home in September 1953, a month before his divorce from Barton was finalised, he bigamously married a pregnant Jane Mitchum after three days’ jail for store-breaking and stealing a gun. Whether or not this second marriage was ever legalised, it ended in 1957.

In Shreveport he made two country music demos, and in Nashville sought work from Slim Whitman. But rock’n’roll was erupting across the south, and like others drawn to Sun Studios, Memphis, by Presley’s success, Lewis auditioned there. In December 1956 Sun issued Crazy Arms, which sold well despite Ray Price’s version having long been on the charts and despite Lewis sounding almost diffident (not something that would recur). The B-side, End of the Road, one of Lewis’s few compositions, was an authentic dark howl, a perfect expression of its name and place.

At year’s end Lewis played on the sessions for several other artists’ rockabilly cuts, among them Carl Perkins’s Matchbox and Billy Lee Riley’s Flyin’ Saucers Rock’n’Roll. Days later, Roy Orbison asked him to play. Lewis replied: “I don’t do sessions any more.” Later, pressed by a discographer as to who had played on Jerry Lee’s own records, he would offer one of the all-time great ripostes to the collector mentality: “I played on ’em: what the hell else d’you need to know?”

Live, he was an explosive performer in the early years, genuinely close to the edge. And uninhibitedly competitive. Resenting lower billing than Berry on a date at the Paramount Theater, Brooklyn, New York, in 1958, the rumour is that Lewis ended his act by setting the piano on fire. As they met in the wings, Lewis challenged Berry: “Follow that!” Whether or not it happened, it is a rumour Lewis himself perpetuated with glee.

Two 1964 live recordings show his genius. On a tawdry, humdrum date at the Star Club, Hamburg, playing to what sounds like about 50 people, and using, in the tradition of visiting American stars, an English backing group he met mere minutes before showtime, Lewis suddenly rose to a transcendent Your Cheating Heart, with exquisite vocal phrasing and unsurpassable piano, coursing with understatement and grace. In front of an audience of 50,000 in Birmingham, Alabama, he threw down a Hi-Heel Sneakers of shuddering, majestic excitement, stealing the song from all previous occupants.

Following his rise and fall, Lewis remained at Sun, its heaviest star, making rock’n’roll A-sides and wonderful country B-sides of the immaculate Hank Williams kind, years before country became an established new career for ex-rockers. Lewis would be a main player in opening up this route.

He regained the UK Top 10 once, in 1961, with a superb version of Ray Charles’s What’d I Say, its sumptuous thunder Sun Records’s last golden moment. Lewis left in 1962.

On record he lost direction for a time, but toured with an arrogance burnished into art, wilfully infuriating audiences of Teds by dwelling on slow country songs while provoking country crowds with unabashed rock’n’roll. In mid-song he would order a musician to “Play it, son!” only to prevent his doing so with a piano solo no one would interrupt.

For a while he joined the rock festivals circuit, including appearing at the 1969 Toronto Rock and Roll Revival, but by the 1970s he had cracked the mainstream country market with a succession of hits such as What’s Made Milwaukee Famous (Has Made a Loser Out of Me) and the impeccably wily She Still Comes Around (to Love What’s Left of Me). A rangey, muttering Me and Bobby McGee in 1971 was made “to show that damn woman [Janis Joplin] how it should be done”.

Ten years later, his skin waxy and his gait old, he combed his greased hair for the Wembley Country festival crowd, put on filthy sunglasses and delivered a consummate Over the Rainbow: the mic still placed to show off how stylishly his right hand could steer around it, his vocal control sublime. He continued to switch between the two genres for the rest of his career and, as late as October 2009, Lewis opened the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25th anniversary concert at Madison Square Garden in New York.

He proclaimed himself for ever a rock’n’roller, through his remaining decades of turmoil, lurid tragedy and farce. His son with Myra, Steve, drowned in their swimming pool in 1962 aged three; one of his two sons with Jane Mitchum, Jerry Lee Jr, died in a car crash at 19 in 1973; Myra divorced him, citing mental cruelty and physical abuse; in 1983 his fifth wife, Shawn Stevens, took a fatal overdose 10 weeks into their marriage, a year after his fourth wife, Jaren Pate, drowned in another swimming pool. Rolling Stone published The Strange and Mysterious Death of Mrs Jerry Lee Lewis, accusing him of murdering one wife and abusing and/or hounding to death several others.

In 1975 his plane was seized with cocaine and 11 kinds of amphetamine on board; in 1976 he was arrested outside the gates of Graceland, drunk in possession of a gun; the IRS seized his property in 1979 and 1983, and he filed for bankruptcy even as Dennis Quaid was making the 1989 Hollywood film of his life, Great Balls of Fire! A short, tax-avoiding emigration to Ireland with his sixth wife, Kerrie McCarver, and their young son, Jerry Lee Lewis III, followed in 1992.

The marriage to Kerrie, remarkably, lasted 21 years, from 1984 to 2005; in 2012 he married for the seventh time, to his former “caregiver”, Judith Brown. There had been decades of medical catastrophe, including a collapsed lung, gall-bladder removal, bleeding stomach ulcers, spinal surgery and car-crash injuries. In 1984 he was twice brought back to life in an ambulance, and had half his stomach removed in 1985, a year his wife said he also spent shooting up methadone, tranquillisers and speed. In old age he also suffered from arthritis, pneumonia and shingles, in Rick Bragg’s 2014 book Jerry Lee Lewis: His Story.

Lewis embodied pinched obduracy, brooding, malevolent ignorance, violent unreliability and borderline madness. He abused women, played with guns and shot at men; he drove the highways of the south blind drunk with his loaded pistol on the dashboard. Yet in the vivid contrast between the meanness of the man and the grandeur of the artist, the common denominators were his phenomenal energy and admirable, all-conquering self-belief.

He will be remembered for his lifetime of hillbilly delirium, but he will be renowned for his seizure of the musical moment at the dawn of rock’n’roll, when an incomparable talent was his intoxicant and ours: when he shot up the old order and played out his defiant dramas on the keyboard, in the studio and on the stage.

He is survived by Judith, and his children Ronnie, Phoebe, Lori and Jerry Lee III.

🔔 Jerry Lee Lewis, singer, songwriter, pianist and guitarist, born 29 September 1935; died 28 October 2022

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

From Anglicans Online

We doubt whether the name of Richard Hillary is particularly well known to many. Born in 1919 in Sydney, early in his life he came to England, was educated at Shrewsbury, and proceeded to Trinity College, Oxford. Possessed of a personality that courted daring and danger, he joined the University Air Squadron in 1938 and was called up to the Royal Air Force in 1939. He was handsome, flirtatious, and a bit unthinking. He flew brilliantly, but took risks. In August 1940 his plane was hit by gunfire and he bailed out of it, horrifically burned. Spending three excruciating months in hospital, he underwent a series of experimental plastic surgeries. He was eventually released, his striking face somewhat rebuilt, but still bearing the scars. His muscles were irreparably damaged and his movements forever impaired, but he insisted on resuming flying, despite being barely able to manipulate a knife and fork at the dinner table and despite all recommendation to the contrary. Hillary's last fatal flight was 'round midnight, 8 January 1943, wintry and windy. Shortly after take-off his plane straightaway ran into difficulty. The undercarriage would not come down for landing and the fuel was running low. Hillary and his navigator were instructed to circle a beacon near the centre of the aerodrome. 'Are you happy?', came the somewhat unusual question from the radiotelephone operator, querying their dire situation. 'Moderately', replied Hillary. 'I am continuing to circle'. Minutes after, the plane began losing altitude and soon smashed into the ground, killing both. On this last day after Pentecost or Sunday next before Advent or Stir-up Sunday or the Feat of Christ the King (however one counts it), Hillary's last words — 'I am continuing to circle' — resonate. We have come to the end of the Christian liturgical year, having woven our Sundays and Holy Days into yet one more annual ring of celebration, observance, feast, and fast. We have formed our circle once again. And yet, and yet, only for this life. Our yearly ring, through God's mercy and at a time unknown to us, will slow and stop. Our time will no longer be measured by feast and fast or marked off as 'ordinary'. We shan't 'continue to circle'. Our journey continues in a way we know not. But we trust it will continue, spiralling towards the centre, towards God. 'The disagreement between the two kinds of religion is chiefly on the point whether it is a good thing or a bad thing to be born at all', writes Eithne Wilkins*, continuing: 'The negative wheel is that which merely circles, causing birth and death to recur ceaselessly, and it also broke the spiked wheel of human passions under which we are torn to pieces. St Catherine might be regarded as a good Buddhist in that through her prayers she broke the wheel, so that it could no longer harm her, and after she was decapitated her unsullied body was wafted away by angels. She did not, in a negative sense, "continue to circle". The positive wheel is not that on which we dismally recognize "This is where we came in", but that with a spiralling movement towards the centre. It is the great glowing round that is also the western window, the rose'. We are part of the circle game of life, made meaningful by our following the pattern of Christian fast and feast, and marking the yearly passage of our pilgrimage. Our Lord broke through the circle of life and death on that first Easter, shattering its meaninglessness once for all: 'The Last Enemy to be destroyed is death'†. The circle was broken here on earth, spiralling to an eternal circle in the life of the world to come. Double helix indeed! And now — here's where we 'come in' — we stand on the threshold of Advent, waiting in this strange end-of-year space briefly before we enter that dark quiet time of count-down once again. The liturgical year is indeed a way of time travel, a circularity that brings with it the story of salvation. Our parts are waiting for us, if we will join in.

[Alive On All Channels]

[achilleaic]

.•° ✿ °•.

green week / rusalki week — may 16 through pentecost

"Green Week is connected to Slavic rituals of celebrating the full spring and the reborn greenery (the nature fully reborn after winter) after all the tree branches had already turned green. Its core nature is a form of maintenance of the rhythm of the nature, with magical practices of purifying the surroundings from demons or evil spirits that might have an effect on the further process of growth towards the end of spring. Goal of these rituals was designed to boost nature’s fertility, the ability to grow, and to prepare the soil, crops and livestock for the upcoming summer season and the later (expectantly abundant) harvest."

CUSTOMS

• adorning houses, pathways and shrines with green branches (particularly of the birch-tree), herbs and flowers

• sweeping floors with a green birch-tree branch to ‘purify’ it

• scattering sweet flag / calamus on floors as a protective barrier

• adorning cattle with flowers and incensing them with sacred smoke (more about it here)

• rolling eggs around cattle’s sides in rituals of protection and of boosting the fertility (same ritual was performed for humans)

• burning bonfires around which joyful celebrations with dances and singing were organized

• walking with torches around crop fields to get rid of evil spirits and demons

• walking with so-called ‘gaik’ or ‘maik’ (branches decorated with flowers and ribbons, held on a long stick)

some other ways we can celebrate in current time:

• honor your ancestors, especially the ones that passed away too early or in tragic circumstances (you can also honor Rod, the god of fate, bloodlines, ancestral magic and ancestral knowledge)

• honor the spirits of local woods and bodies of water - you could help clean the woods and waters and give offerings asking for blessings of abundance and good luck

• honor the gods - especially deities connected with spring, fertility, youth and beauty such as Lelya, Dodola/Perperuna, Mokosh, Lada, Jarilo, Vesna, Zhiva, Dazbog, Morana (in her spring-planting-mother aspect), Kostroma and Kupalo

• dress a birch tree, make offerings and perform rirtuals in front of it - you can take a couple of sticks found nearby home, for good luck and success

• while I discourage this course of action this particular year, because of the virus situation normally you’d also want to organize a party and sing and dance with your friends, or go watch/play sports game of some sort

• perform rituals and cast spells connected to wealth, health, beauty, happiness, friendship, love and fertility

• make a bonfire. us slavs love bonfires. slavs also love jumping through bonfires for good luck, but please make sure to spread the kindling around first and try not get hurt while performing your feat of agility.

• get a sword, real or fake and dance with it. don’t get hurt, it would ruin the fun.

°•. ✿ .•°

sources:

https://lamusdworski.wordpress.com/2016/05/24/green-week/

https://slavicfolklore.com/the-rusalka-and-the-green-week-festival

https://aminoapps.com/c/pagans-witches/amp/blog/rusalka-week-green-week/QKn0_VLjiXu3odYPNkbd8LzbXkMepd6zWg8