#religious paradigm

[skaldish]

Absolutely! I love talking about this stuff.

The short answer is that, the Old Norse religions were structured very differently from Greek and Roman ones.

The long answer requires a little bit more anthropological and historical context:

Religion is ultimately a product of culture. The way a given religion is structured emerges from the worldviews, sensibilities, experiences, and priorities of its people.

All of these ancient pagan religions started more or less the same way; they emerged out of people perceiving things about the world and telling stories about it. However, a religion doesn't really centralize until a society grows and develops things like agriculture and cities. Only then do we start to see a "canon" of myths and orthopraxy and orthodoxy emerge—that is, "how to do the religion."

Regardless of any similar features they may have, all religions have their own unique architecture or "operating system" that they run on. What determines the OS of a religion, is based on what factors shaped the development of the culture it comes from.

Take Rome, for example. Rome was shaped by the environment of conflict pretty much since its conception. Rome's neighboring societies constantly threatened invasion due to Rome's coveted position in the dead-center of the Mediterranean peninsula, which meant Rome started to value control over the land as a result. Religio Romano reflects this: All of the Roman gods are characterized as lords (read: land-owners) of the different "domains" of the world (i.e. "that which you hold dominion over"). A society that did not develop conquest as a value would not have a pantheon of gods that works like this.

Now here's where it gets interesting with the Norse people: Their society never actually got to the point where their religion could centralize, before Christianity swept through. Despite having multiple named gods, its overall structure was and is still mostly animistic, because it was only just starting to develop the characteristics of polytheism by the time of the Christian conversion. However, this late conversion means what remains is not as garbled and corroded as it could have been, giving us this impression that it was more centralized than it actually was.

There's still an issue of USAmerican pagans making the mistake that we almost always make when approaching old European form of paganism: Assuming that we can restore what has been lost by modeling them after Roman/Greek polytheism.

Why we have this assumption is pretty simple: Whenever our nation doesn't know how to do something, we turn to models of antiquity to guide us. After all, our entire democratic republic is based on Ancient Greek and Rome, so the structures found in Grecco-Roman societies are what feel the most familiar and sensible for us.

Unfortunately, this unchecked assumption is the mechanism behind the Imperialization of a lot of these old pagan practices. It's not something we're intentionally doing, of course, but it's something that emerges due to lacking methodology for switching religions; we think switching religions is just a matter of switching gods, rather than a process of changing our entire patterns of thinking.

Rome was very good at giving people the impression that everything about it represents the baseline default for "how to do society," including religion. This is evidenced in the way we discuss religion as a whole, using terms that derive from Grecco-Roman models: Theology. Religion. Cosmology. Pantheon. Deity. Orthopraxy. Orthodoxy. These are all Latin words, and truthfully they only accurately apply to Latin-derived belief-systems.

Heathenry is not one of those, and let me give some examples why:

Take the Old Norse word that we commonly translate into "god" in English: Ás. The actual implied meaning of this is "member of the Æsir." The Æsir are a family of people who live on the other side of the veil—in what we'd call "the Astral" or "the Otherworld" or "the Heavens", etc.—in a sphere called Asgard. But they are not the only kind of people there, for there's also the Vanir, who live in their own sphere called Vanaheim. (If you want to complicate things further, these spheres were not seen as separate from the material world, but rather nested within it, and how this works would take me too long to explain for the scope of this post.)

The names "Æsir" and "Vanir" do not actually describe different "species" of divine powers, but describe affiliations, similar to how we say "the Bloods" or "the Crips" when identifying those gangs. As far as I'm aware, there isn't a word like "god" in Old Norse because the Norse people did not identify these beings as anything other than people. We just gloss these terms as "god" in order to make it clear what their function is to Western readers, who are coming at this from a Latin paradigm.

Same goes with the word jötun, which is often translated as "giant" in English. At first we'd assume jötnar are similar to "titans" by virtue of this descriptor, but they're not. It's more accurate to say that they are "the powers that dwell in environments human beings can potentially visit, but not stay in forever."

Jötnar live in the "countries" we can't tame, such as on the peaks of mountains, in the depths of volcanoes, in the torrential oceans, etc, but this also applies to more abstract countries: For example, the god Loki is also a jötun, but he typically dwells in the "country" of parties, mischief, and entertainment. This is a realm we adore visiting and often invite into our lives, but just like how we invite fire into our lives, it needs a specific designation and cannot engulf our entire existence without harming us.

Compare this to, perhaps, Frigg's hall, which is the "hall" we visit whenever we work on fibercrafting and textile arts. Frigg is not jötun, but she also wouldn't be one because her hall emerges from domestic life, vs. Loki's nonsense, which is a wild thing we invite into the domestic sphere.

"Giant" is typically accepted as a gloss for jötnar because it's not exactly inaccurate—jötnar have energy that feels noisy and big compared to the usual hum of our lives—but this word is once again a gloss.

So...yeah. It's more complicated than we typically want to admit. A lot of people coming into paganism are looking to get a foundation beneath their feet as fast as possible, so they reach out for the most accessible paradigm they can find. But just because a tool is accessible doesn't automatically make it the right tool for the job. Many people end up recreating the Latin and Imperial structures of religion they were trying to get away from this way, and are left wondering why they do not feel fulfilled.

Pet peeve of mine: When it's assumed Norse polytheism works like Greek or Roman polytheism, when it really does not.

[craigtowens]

Links & Quotes

Some links and quotes that caught my eye this week.

Christians do a disservice to the Gospel when we’re known more for what we’re against than what we’re for. Check out this full message here. I have lots of new content every week, which you can check out on my YouTube channel. The Hebronites faithfully served God and King David without any fanfare or recognition. God shined His light on these “men of outstanding capability” so that they were…

[turiyatitta]

The Constructed Sovereign Born from Our Profound Void

The Illusion of Divinity and the Awakening of Inner Sovereignty When we summon the image of an omnipotent moral authority, an unseen deity, we’re sketching a specter birthed within the confines of our minds. This entity isn’t a divine phenomenon, but an offspring of our collective ego — an abstract amalgamation of ethics, morality, societal norms, rules, and dogmas. It thrives within the…

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[opencommunion]

"The Arab Jews were perceived in two different paradigmatic contexts by the Zionist consciousness. On the one hand, they were seen as Arabs, and hence as an 'other' of Europe and Zionism, and, on the other, as ancient Jews, hence as exalted, holy objects of the Zionist national-religious dis­course. The dichotomy gave rise to a confused and conflicted perception of reality. From the colonial point of view, for instance, the Arab Jews’ religios­ity was seen as superficial; from a national point of view, it was considered an­cient and authentic. ... 'True religiosity' served as a marker of the depth of the Arab Jews’ Zionist commitment and of the erasure of their Arabness. The Solel Boneh emissaries were engaged si­multaneously both in orientalizing the Arab Jews and in marking the differ­ence between them and the Arabs — that is, with establishing themselves as Western Jews. ... The depth of orientalist identification with European colonialism is seen in remarks made by Yitzhak Gruenbaum, a member of the World Zionist Organization executive, at a meeting with representatives of Solel Boneh held at the headquarters of the Jewish Agency in Jerusalem. There were two types of populations in Palestine, Gruenbaum said: 'We, the Jews, are twen­tieth-century people of Europe, whereas the Arab population is still at the de­velopmental level of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.' And, as 'people of Europe, we wish to create a European economy here. We believe that the Mandate government must conduct its affairs based on the point of view that Palestine is a European country like England or its dominions.' Yet, at the same time, as noted, the Arab Jews were perceived as Jews and as an integral element in the Zionist paradigm. As such, they were not considered as 'oth­ers' of Europe but as nearby 'outsiders' of European Zionism. The colonialist and nationalist categories are not mutually exclusive. In the Indian context, for example, as Partha Chatterjee explains, orientalist categories were subordinated to the ideology of nationalism in order to en­hance the glorification of the national past and its ancient lineage. Zionism, too, creates ethnicity within colonial na­tionalism. To constitute the Jewish community as a modern nation, Zionism seeks to reconstruct the community’s 'organic roots,' primordial lineage, and foundational theological narrative. The Arab Jews supplied the tribal and an­cient legitimacy for Jewish nationalism. Thus, for example, Zionism identi­fied the Yemenites as part of the ten lost tribes and as an integral part of the continuity of the nation. At the same time, however, it constituted them as in­ferior culturally, religiously, and nationally. ... In the Zionist context, the question of the encounter between European Jews and Arab Jews becomes complicated, because the encounter, which creates the 'otherness,' does not end there, but seeks also to recruit the 'other' into its ranks. It was here that the European emissaries in Abadan po­sitioned themselves vis-a-vis the Arab Jews and tried to define them as 'other' (Arab) yet also 'one of us' (Jewish, proto-Zionist). It is just here, in the inter­stices between the two categories, that the politics of 'difference' lies. The in­teresting thing is that Zionism (like other colonial enterprises) created a pol­itics of belonging and of difference and spoke in a number of voices, yet, at the same time, declined to acknowledge the cultural ambivalence of its own creation and attempted to enfold it within closed binary distinctions. It was a clear case of Jewish orientalism, where one Jewish group orientalized an­other."

Yehouda Shenhav, The Arab Jews: A Postcolonial Reading of Nationalism, Religion, and Ethnicity (2006)

[serpentface]

SPIRITS OF THE HIGHLANDS: A POST

Depiction of a dragon in regional animal-style (simplified visual motifs that impart and communicate key attributes of animals), as used in decoration or tattooing.

The term ‘spirit’ in the Hill Tribes cultural sphere is a very broad category that includes souls of the dead, supernatural entities, and some legendary creatures, but does not include gods (entities that were involved in the act of creation). The boundaries between spirits and gods can be ambiguous sometimes- a select few spirits are venerated in similar capacities to gods and/or are reckoned as similarly powerful, and some gods are instead considered spirits in certain traditions. The commonalities among all are that they are ascribed sapience and some degree of magical ability, and/or are souls of the dead.

Spirits are understood to be a material aspect of reality, mostly existing in physical bodies (though some are disembodied). The notion of a ‘spirit world’ and a ‘human world’ is usually differentiated, but not in the sense that they are physically discrete planes of existence, rather that they are separate modes of living and different parts of the same landscape- the human world exists in the villages, farmland, and well-established roads, and the spirit world exists in 'wilderness', and in places that are wholly inaccessible (the sky, mountaintops, deep underwater etc). People enter the spirit world as part of routine movements of life (herders moving up to high summer pastures are within the spirit world) but it is regarded as unfit for permanent occupation.

Spirits are loosely differentiated into the categories of granul ('wild spirits', entities that live in wilderness) and daigh (souls of dead humans and animals). An additional subset of granul are '-folk', regarded as a type of person in similar capacities to qilik being 'birdfolk' and elowey being 'dogfolk', but living specifically as magical aspects of nature.

All spirits are regarded as individuals and many are known by name (either as key folkloric figures, or with the names of local spirits discerned through the divination of witches). Their natures range from benevolent to mischievous to malevolent to deadly, with some having the capacity for all these at once. The vast majority are not venerated (only ancestors receive this treatment in full), just accepted as aspects of reality that one must know how to engage with.

Spirits are assumed to exist throughout the world in great number and variety, it is just those of the Highlands who are best known and most important to the Hill Tribes. Most people will very readily adopt other spirits (and some foreign gods) into their worldview without this being an act of religious conversion or other such cultural paradigm shift, instead simply assuming these entities to be the unfamiliar local spirits of foreign places.

---

Wildfolk: Humanlike spirits of the forests and mountains, associated with deer. These are tricky, sometimes malicious, and easily offended entities that must be dealt with respect and care. They mostly take the form of deer during the day and shapeshift into small, pale, long-bearded and wild-haired humans at night. They exist in a parallel society as deer herders, and are led by very powerful witches who can physically shapeshift into birds. The wildfolk witch Bernike is the most famous and has a prominent place as a major character in folklore, regularly interacting with gods and heroes and regarded as a (somewhat capricious) protective spirit of the Highlands.

Riverfolk: Humanlike river spirits, generally not as dangerous as wildfolk. They travel along rivers in canoes and will often rest and sunbathe along the shore, but are often very shy of people and will usually take the forms of trout to flee when spotted. They sometimes appear in folktales as seducers, or as brides/grooms (after being caught by fishermen in trout form). Said to once have had entire kingdoms to the southwest of the Highlands, but these were conquered by the Burri. (This aspect is partly a cultural memory of early Wardi tribes that lived in the lands now called Ephennos, most likely the eponymous Ephenni or a related group absorbed by them).

Seafolk: Humanlike sea spirits. The Highlands are fully landlocked (the far north of the region is fairly close to the coast of the Viper, but not enough for people to venture that far on any regular basis) and these mostly are just assumed to exist without being regularly encountered. They appear in myths in the migration and settlement cycles, described as being encountered by the ancestors of the Hill Tribes as they crossed the sea. They are described as akin to riverfolk, but more aggressive.

Dainhrudinnas: Spirits with the bodies of humans and the heads of dogs, who are excellent swimmers and are the spirits of lakes (dainhrudinnas having meaning akin to 'lake dogs', with the word for 'lake' translating dead literally as 'great river valley'). These are said to only live in far away places (usually regarded as being across the sea to the north, or somewhere vaguely 'east' or 'south' inland), but make semi frequent appearances in stories about distant lands. They may be partly rooted in cultural memories of various elowey peoples that were encountered by the pre-migratory ancestors of the Hill Tribes, and/or a loose conceptualization of the Jazait people based in secondhand knowledge. They are regarded as akin to elowey but not the same thing (in a similar capacity to wildfolk, riverfolk, and oceanfolk being akin to humans).

Kulsigranul: Minor wild spirits, mostly associated with barley. They are usually described as tiny (1 ft tall) humans who usually live alone in the wild, but convene in barley fields on nights of the full moon to engage in drunken revelry. They are also known to steal milk from the teats of cattle and horses, which is regarded as an intoxicant for them. Their presence is beneficial to the crops (though not to livestock), and cups of milk can be left out to attract them into fields. They hate being seen by humans and can cause bad luck or the withering of crops if their festivities are interrupted. On full moons, one should generally avoid entering barley fields and never follow sounds of distant music.

Virgranul: a malicious spirit with no body of its own, perpetually seeking to inhabit human flesh. It can enter the body only at moments of transition- during conception, or at the very moment of death. Virgranul possession at birth causes a person to become a witch, virganul possession at death results in the corpse wandering off and living as undead until it becomes too rotten to hold its shape (a dangerous situation for the original soul, given it is still partly attached to the body). Particularly experienced virgranul will mummify their corpse bodies to preserve them indefinitely, and some isolated places are known to be haunted by such undead.

Tírgranul: Minor malicious spirits who take pleasure in frightening those alone (especially at night) and spooking cattle. They are usually encountered as a human silhouette peering out from behind a tree or bolder, shadows darting out the corner of the eye, and the sound of footsteps that halt just after one stops moving to listen. Sudden and unexplained stampedes among cattle are attributed to their presence. It is often said that their faces are so horrifying that merely looking upon them can kill, but these spirits are very shy and will avoid directly being seen. One should never whistle at night, it attracts them.

Dulakgranul: Minor, benevolent wild spirits who live among rocks. Herders and travelers will build small cairns out of rocks along their routes, which will invite these spirits, who in turn displace less savory ones. They will grant boons to travelers who leave small gifts of food and drink at their cairns.

Dragons: legendary beasts, younger offspring of the goddess Ariakh and the King of Eagles, and associated with thunderstorms. They are massive birds with the bodies and wings of eagles, legs of pheasants, wrinkled bare faces and necks of vultures, and the heads and tails of snakes. They roost in eyries on mountaintops, and only emerge to hunt during storms. Horses and cattle are their favorite meals, but they will settle for humans given the chance. They are regarded as vain and egotistical, jealous of their bigger, older brothers (the Winds), and highly competitive amongst themselves (forming a hierarchy system in their level of venomousness). They are often defeated in folktales by manipulation of their competitiveness and vanity to turn them against one another.

As is very common worldwide, the depictions of dragons in this sphere are influenced by distant cultural memories (or culturally transmitted accounts) of giant azhdarchid pterosauroids, with mythological dragons in this world being far more ubiquitously described as a mixture of bird and reptile and almost always identified as winged, flying creatures. Eastern dragons such as these tend to have the feathered wings of birds (largely due to greater temporal space from encounters with these pterosauroids, whose last remnant populations were thousands of miles away in the far northwestern plains).

Fuldaigh: Malicious spirits of unburied/unburned (depending on tradition) dead, or those dead by suicide, who wander without rest. Fuldaigh are twisted by their suffering and aggressive and harmful towards the living. Their spirits can usually be freed by their remains being found and properly laid to rest.

Pylidaigh: Very dangerous, very malicious spirits who emerge during snowstorms, known to kill humans via a crushing hug and drink their blood to warm their own eternally cold bodies (in most traditions, they are a variant of fuldaigh, specifically ghosts of unburied dead who died in snow or of hypothermia). They exist as pale, naked humans with very long arms, which they use to wrap around and suffocate their prey in a close embrace. They are only capable of traveling over snow; doorways and windows should always be kept clear of snowfall so they cannot get close enough to reach their freakish arms into your house.

Duirdaigh: A little-understood type of spirit known to haunt the remains of ancient, overgrown burial cairns that can be found scattered throughout the Highlands. The builders of these cairns were already long gone at the time of settlement by the first Hill Tribes, and their exact nature is regarded as a great mystery. The spirits keep to their mounds and are thus generally harmless, but are regarded as ones to wholly avoid. It's said that people who walk over the cairns will often disappear, never to be seen again. This is attributed to duirdaigh, who drag them beneath the cairns to an ambiguous but certainly horrifying doom.

Ancestor spirits: This is what the honored dead become upon reaching the afterlife in the Celestial Fields, a great landscape hidden behind the stars. They will continue to watch over their descendants and can temporarily return to the land of the living as guides. Depending on tradition, they either come to land as invisible spirits, or physically manifest as birds and use this form to fly from and to the Fields. In either case, the flight and behavior of birds can be read and interpreted into messages and omens from one’s ancestors (with some care, both given that birdsign messages can be subtle, and that wildfolk witches can become birds too and use this for the sake of trickery). Ancestor spirits go through their afterlives much in the same way as the living, farming, herding, eating, drinking, sleeping, etc. Their basic physical needs are sustained by the Fields (they are fed on the milk of heavenly cattle and will never starve or thirst), but they still must labor if they want additional foods and goods, or receive them as offerings from living descendants.

While respected and generally assumed good-natured, ancestor spirits inflict punishments against lawbreakers and oathbreakers, and may also punish descendants who do not rightly honor them, or if they are merely insulted. A testy and contemptuous relative in life will likely remain so in death, and one should take care to keep them appeased. Naming and honoring one's ancestors and practicing routine offerings is the foremost form of spiritual protection, and will ultimately allow you to reach the afterlife. The veneration of and guidance from deceased ancestors is central to cultural practice, these are by far the most important spirits in day to day life (generally outstripping gods in importance as well).

Heavenly cattle: The cattle that inhabit the Celestial Fields. Traditions usually accept these as the ghosts of dead cattle, but some tales imply that they are separate entities created specifically for the afterlife (or a combination of the two, as they are known to breed). Their existence is credited to the agricultural goddess Od, who first brought them to the heavens to ensure the people remained fed in the afterlife. Ancestor spirits are sustained for perpetuity on their milk.

Queen of Spiders: a mostly benevolent entity, the first spider and mother of all other spiders. The hero Kulyos received her boon, and now her children feed on nasty biting flies and mosquitoes and trap malicious spirits in their webs, and are thus readily welcomed into the home. If you kill a spider, you should say an apology to the Queen of Spiders. Otherwise, she will punish you by not sending more spiders into your house.

King of Eagles: Created by and the husband of the storm goddess Ariakh, father of the Winds and dragons, the first eagle and chief of all birds. He is the one who brought fire to humanity, stealing it from the sun god Hraighne. He is elevated to the status of a god in some traditions (which describe him as the creator of birds, rather than simply the first), and is one of very few non-ancestor spirits to commonly receive veneration.

Animal masters: Spirits associated with each and every type of animal, being the first of each kind that was created. Most animal masters play little to no role in cultural practice and are merely acknowledged as an aspect of reality- there had to have been a first of every animal, so this is it. (This may have elements of syncretism with animistic practices ancient Wardi/Wogan tribes, accepting the notion that each kind of animal has a spirit, but not adopting additional levels of significance). Animal masters mostly appear as characters in folktales told for pure entertainment, with the biggest exceptions being the Queen of Spiders and King of Eagles listed above (having greater cultural significance). A few individual tribes place significance on additional animal masters (or interpret certain gods as also having been such), but no other animal masters have this degree of ubiquitous cultural status.

The Winds: spirits of the wind, the eldest sons of the storm goddess Ariakh and the King of Eagles. They are regarded as giant dragons, but will sometimes take the form of humans or hawks. They herd their mother's cattle in the clouds.

Mak-Urudain: A gigantic dírgrahdain dog with fiery fur and eyes like stars, who watches over the Celestial Fields as its guardian. He allows the honored dead to enter, ancestors to come and go, and prevents evil spirits or dishonored dead from passing into the Fields. He also guards the heavenly cattle that are grazed there, fiercely protecting them from mere wild spirits and powerful gods alike. The goddess Ariakh is the only one who has ever succeeded in stealing cattle from him. He is sometimes considered to be the dog animal-master, though usually just accepted as a very unique dog. Represented by the dog constellation.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

How much of our scientific thinking has an unconscious religious bias?

This is in response to this post, from @headspace-hotel, about campaigns to eradicate Hybrid Cattails as an "Invasive Species," even though both individual species hybridizing themselves are native plants (But I didn't want to muddy a discussion about science with a rant about religion. So: a separate post it is)

I sometimes wonder if our dominant views of "natural vs. unnatural/invasive" were shaped, are shaped, by the particular theologies of Protestant Christianity...

You Know, the theology that teaches / believes:

Our world was created by a single, all-knowing god

Humanity Fell by disobeying that god, and thus tainted the world with Sin (so Humans are now apart from Nature [aka the Garden of Eden])

The Protestant Christians fetishized the North American Continent as an example of what Eden was like "Before the Fall," and the people who were already living here were Noble Savages.*

So now, anything that evolves in response to human influence (such as brackish cattails hybridizing with freshwater cattails), is considered "unnatural," as if it's been tainted by our sin.

I sometimes wonder what our environmental understanding would be like in an alternate universe where the sciences had evolved in a polytheistic culture.** Would we be more generally accepting of the idea of coexisting forces constantly intertwining, and changing, rather than there being a single, fixed, "pure" world, that must be protected from contamination?

[BTW. I've become an atheist in this last third of my life, so I don't think any one religion is "more true" than any other: they're all metaphors that help us frame and understand the actual world we live in; they are very powerful metaphors, and for some, can be helpful and emotionally healthy ... for others, not so much.]

*(even though the abundant environment the colonizers found here was actually deliberately managed and curated by humans -- it's just that it wasn't managed in the form of fenced off square plots, and straight rows of crops).

**If you don't believe scientific thinking can evolve within a polytheistic paradigm, check out (what survives of) the writings of Democritus and Epicurus. Their philosophies weren't following what we now consider the Scientific Method, but they were already drifting in that direction.

[justajsworkshop]

neville and edward are not the only people to learn from; their ways are not the right and only ways, and the law of assumption is not the only paradigm to better understand yourself, reality, and yourself as reality.

i think it's so easy to get tunnel vision since neville is the current big shot people always defer to, but there's infinite ways to experience yourself/reality. so, please, do not make this fuckin white guy from the 1900s into a god and his teachings as a whole other set of rules you need to follow.

if the bible doesn't resonate with you, even as a metaphysical text, there are plenty of other cultures and spiritual practices that have been delving into all this waaaay before jesus.

and i think it's important to recognize the harm perpetuated by the church, christianity's fucked history, and people's individual experiences with religion that might make setting aside preconceptions and prejudices more challenging (even to accept the metaphysical message outside the religious).

all this to say: do not make barriers for yourself when you are limitless. if the words "feel it real" make you want to tear your hair out, forget them. please, for the love of you, drop the shit that you feel like you have to force to get or that just isn't clicking.

start getting curious about how you experience yourself and reality. start asking yourself who you really are. start asking yourself "who do i want to be?" vs. "how do i need to be?" set an intention to receive answers in language, analogies, and ways that deeply resonate with you and that will make an instant, profound impact on you.

you do not have to force yourself to fit into an external mold, no matter how alluded it is. not all that glitters is gold because this is YOUR subjective experience of yourself. this has, always has been, and always will be a journey of self, knowing yourself as the limitless, infinite, timeless being you are.

it's doesn't matter what neville said and did if it doesn't benefit you. it doesn't matter who he was or how much his teachings have helped others. what matters is YOU. stop looking at neville, and look at you. who do you know yourself to be? who do YOU say you are?

[transmutationisms]

Hi Caden don’t know if you listen to Ethel Cain but was wondering what u think abt her subverting the Americana aesthetic since I think she’s often compared to Lana, at least online. I do think she’s doing something different & to me more compelling than Lana, but I don’t really know how to articulate it.

yep i like ethel cain. i agree she and lana are doing very different things. like, i said before that lana uses american nationalism because she's playing off the fact that it makes/has an erotic appeal, and she places herself as the object of desire in that paradigm—tell me i'm your national anthem, etc. my read on ethel is that she's interested in the rural americana 'trad' aesthetic from a very different angle, where she's trying to connect the homestead and american rural social structures to the perpetuation of violence. there's some overlap here in the sense that lana is definitely also interested in sexual violence and sexuality-as-violence, but in her work the violent or abusive man is generally a specific figure who's aberrant from the norm, and a lot of the artistic interest for lana comes (i think) from her interrogating what it is about this man that's appealing to her and how she sees herself through his eyes. with ethel, on the other hand, she portrays violence as coming through the infrastructure of normal and normative social structures, like the family and the church, with abuse understood to be a feature of these and not a bug. family, church, etc are in turn understood to be part of the infrastructure of american rural communities, casting the critique she's making through the ethel character onto this entire social apparatus (& there is some implication here of how this is all a part of westward colonial settlement—which is a potentially fruitful direction to go in, the idea of expansion into the 'frontier' as a narrative of, or narrative prerequisite to, violence).

so for example this is partly why, for ethel, incest specifically is a mode of sexuality & violence that she continually uses and interrogates: she's invoking it as an intensification of the 'normal functioning' of the family, which means the whole family structure gets pretty ruthlessly questioned through the character of ethel and the violence she faces. she invokes the trad aesthetic and the idyllic family homestead, then shows you the brutality that creates and is created by them. for lana, the family is not a concern in this way and is not something she's questioning or challenging the way ethel does (the daddy/girl thing in lana's work is p far removed from even a pseudo-incestuous reading most of the time, even in her lolita references). there's a similar distinction with how ethel examines protestant theology and practice with the explicit goal of pointing out inherently violent aspects of it, whereas for lana, invoking god or christian imagery is generally more on the level of playing off the way that american nationalism resembles and uses rituals of religious worship. lana takes political phenomena like the appeal of nationalism, and expresses them through the erotic configuration of these relationships with older, dominant men. with ethel it's more that she looks at social structures and practices signified by the rural americana aesthetic, and pokes and prods at these structures until the violence inherent to them is glaringly obvious to listeners through the ethel character's story. it's a way of problematising these institutions and practices, not letting them hide in plain sight by presenting themselves as benevolent.

so yeah i can understand why people might want to compare these two artists, but i think they're actually doing very different things. i would probably not say either of them 'subverts' americana or signifiers of nationalism, which is not a criticism, i just think that concept is often poorly defined and less frequently applicable to art than people sometimes think lol. ethel uses her character's story to deconstruct and question the american aesthetics and institutions her work invokes; lana translates these aesthetics and institutions into explicitly erotic discourses and dissects them through the allegorical figures of the people and relationships in her songs. (this is not to discount the importance of erotics in ethel's work as well obvi but this post is already long :P)

[galadrieljones]

i actually wonder why you ship daryl and beth? i see them as friends and yeah i watched their scenes over and over and i didn’t see any love between them. And i see beth younger than him and i see daryl see her as a friend and sister So what is your reasons to ship them anyway!?

I'm going to assume this question is in good faith and that you are genuinely interested in why I (and many others) ship bethyl, so I'll answer in good (albeit cautious) faith. I'm also going to tag some of my friends and mutuals at the end who I would like to encourage to share why they, personally, ship bethyl.

First, know that I don't care if people don't ship bethyl. I also am not beholden to shipping "canon" ships. I don't care about any of that, and I think it's boring to restrict one's interest in shipping to what is canon or what the fandom accepts. You're free not to ship bethyl, and I won't be mad. That's your choice!!

BUT, since you're here of your own volition, realize that I personally don't buy the bethyl bond as "sibling-coded" argument at all lol. I can understand if someone just doesn't want them to be together, because they want Daryl to be with another character or something. That's fine and perfectly rational. I can also understand if someone does not like age difference ships, and they reject it on those grounds alone. Okay! That's your preference. BUT, Beth was 18 by the events of "Still." And the argument that they share a "sibling-coded" bond has never held water for me. Believe me when I say that I can see the argument for C*ryl before I can see the argument for Daryl and Beth being "sibling-coded," and that's saying a LOT. I've literally never had anyone successfully explain this perception to me using actual evidence from the show or from the actors/showrunners outside the show. It is ALWAYS subjective. And when confronted with evidence of a bethyl romance, these same people tend to just invoke their *age difference* as if that, in and of itself, is a dealbreaker.

IMPORTANT: It's NOT a dealbreaker, but some people in fandom these days mistake personal preference for moral paradigm, and these people tend to be very judgmental and to screech a lot and to spread rumors and to bully others. The same exact thing is happening to Neggie. But I'm not going to get into that right now.

Now, you say you don't see how they could possibly be "romantic." Of course, that's totally fine, but you will need to try and explain this to thousands of people lol. I am actually not super interested in going through, in detail, why I ship bethyl from a defensive position. I'm very sick of defending something that is, frankly, entirely unproblematic and also...popular! Other than Rickyl (which is a non-canon slash ship), Bethyl, even ten years after her exit from the flagship, is still the most popular TWD ship on AO3. It was popular at the time that the show aired. Jeffrey Dean Morgan's wife ships bethyl lol. Bethyl is not "weird." It's not even a rare pair!

AND YET, to put so briefly, if you *actually* care: I PERSONALLY love bethyl because I believe their characters exist in beautiful harmony. Beth is an artist. Her priority is beauty and continuously discovering what it means to live. She believes in the goodness of people. She is a religious character who has faith in God's love. She is, as Norman put it a long time ago, like a little light at the end of the tunnel for Daryl. She reminds Daryl of what it means to live, what it means to trust people and to have faith. She protects him from his own demons and reconnects him to the beauty that remains in a dying, horrific world. Daryl tends to forget about his own well-being and his own happiness. He prioritizes brute survival, because he was taught to do this over many years of emotional and physical abuse as a child. He is "used to things being ugly" and he frequently blames himself for things that go wrong. He closes himself off to others because he has a difficult time trusting that they won't abandon him or die. At the moonshine shack, Beth confronts him on this, and he confronts her right back. Beth isn't used to being challenged by men. But he challenges her to be better and to face her own insecurities as well. He makes her stronger. She pries open his heart. At the moonshine shack, she physically grabs him to remind him that he is still alive, and that everyone they've lost was once alive, too, and that just because they might be dead now, that's not his fault. The two of them still alive, while others are dead, that's not his fault, and there is still goodness in the world and things worth living for.

Speaking of physical touch, you really should rewatch "Alone" if you want to understand the physical and romantic chemistry between Beth and Daryl. There is literally so much that I could go through, but I don't have time lol.

The moment I fell in love with bethyl was actually in "30 Days Without an Accident," when Beth embraces Daryl in such a way that reassures him that he is not alone in a desperately lonely situation. Both characters are battling demons in this scene. But it's somewhat subtextual. If you don't watch closely, you may miss it.

That said, as has been established, a LOT of people did NOT miss it lol. It's just that a lot of people also want Daryl to be with someone else, or they feel the need to moralize on the internet. Neither one of those things is relevant to me, though I accept them as realities.

Anyway, I hope this helps! ->

@sasusc @frangipanilove @twdmusicboxmystery @pipergirl17 @sweetz1919

@emsee22 @drewmoll03 @bookqueenrules @bethiscomingsoon

@angelthefirst1 @bethgreeneprevails @im-immortal @rose-andthe-thorn @wdway @boltthrutheheart

and anyone else, I know I've forgotten some people 😩. I just went off the top of my head, so please chime in on why you love bethyl, or feel free to completely ignore this ❤️

[whencyclopedia]

A Gallery of Ziggurats of Ancient Mesopotamia

A ziggurat is an artificial mountain built by the ancient Mesopotamians to elevate the clergy toward the realm of the gods. A form of monumental architecture, the ziggurat had a rectangular base from which a series of steps rose to a flat platform where the temple honoring the god of the city stood.

Each ziggurat was built for a specific deity and was considered the earthly home of that god. These structures were not 'houses of worship' as one understands that term today – there were no daily or weekly services offered to the public – but were the center of the temple complex of a city where religious festivals were held (or were begun), grain and other goods for public consumption stored, scribes worked at their craft, and, most importantly, where the high priest and attendant clergy made offerings to the god at the temple atop the ziggurat. The most famous of these was the Etemenaki at Babylon, thought to be the inspiration for the story of the Tower of Babel from the biblical Book of Genesis.

The following gallery presents images of only a few of the many ziggurats that were raised across Mesopotamia from c. 3000 BCE, at the latest, to c. 500 BCE when Zoroastrianism changed the religious paradigm in the region.

Continue reading...

[skaldish]

A point of disambiguation I feel we should discuss more is "feeling" the gods vs. experiencing them.

Feelings are first and foremost a measurement of homeostasis: They indicate your body's reaction to circumstances inside it and around it.

One way religious cults compromise the cognitive faculties of its congregates is by teaching them to interpret "feeling good" as the presence of a higher power. This makes it so members can't meaningfully separate their emotional experience from a religious context. They can't leave the religion without losing the entire paradigm through which they interpret their own feelings.

Here are some things that typically give people euphoria that have nothing to do with the presence of higher powers:

Thinking about a beloved individual, including beloved deities

The act of singing

Music, especially live music

Being around nature; witnessing spectacular natural phenomena

Stories and storytelling

Orgasm

Oxygen; deep breathing and any activites that prompt it.

What DOES indicate a god or spirit is the experience of a unique personality, demonstrated through whatever medium the spirit decides to use. This doesn't feel like an emotion, but like an energy.

Now, it's possible to have an emotional reaction to a spiritual energy—no doubt we would—but this is still just us, reacting. And the purpose of reacting is to understand how it is we feel about their presence. It doesn't measure the true nature or intentions of the entity.

Differentating emotions from energies can take time, but it's worth it.

[cringefailvox]

https://www.tumblr.com/cringefailvox/764976225598029824/my-ultimate-fantasy-for-hazbin-s2-is-a-reveal-of?source=share

I give zero fucks about Alastor, but Valentino *IS* irredimable, rape *IS* the worst thing a person can commit. More than rape, Valentino ENSLAVES sex workers, dehumanizes them and abuse every single part of their existence. He is irredimable. He is a monster. Rapists are monsters and they don't deserve any kind of sympathy. The fandom hating Val more than Alastor is not a big deal as some people think it is, it's literally being a normal human being. (Alastor is also terrible, a serial killer and what he does to Husk is horrible, but even if he gets some sort of redemption it would be much better than giving a rapist redemption)

i hear you, but i respectfully disagree on a few points. apologies for how philosophical / unrelated to hazbin this is going to get, but i'm also a correlated philosophy major and i can't help it.

firstly, i generally resist the urge to strip the humanity from people who have committed atrocious crimes, because it's a slippery slope. dehumanization is always extremism, even if you're doing it to someone who you might think deserves it, because then how do we measure when a person has gone too far to be human anymore? how can we objectively measure the no-return threshold of irredeemability? i personally don't think we can, and that we shouldn't try. it classifies certain actions as outlandishly beyond the pale of the everyday person, when in reality anyone is capable of doing horrific things, and i'm not interested in obscuring that truth. it absolves responsibility.

secondly, with the understanding that obviously we're discussing a fictional character that has no bearing on the material world, i am wary of the claim that rape is the worst thing someone can do. not because i disagree, but because i don't believe in some objective scale of badness where each crime is neatly filed and ranked according to how horrible it is. it's sort of ridiculous how subjective morality is when you get down to brass tacks and super frustrating occasionally but it is what it is.

i also don't think there's such a thing as someone being irredeemable. cards on the table, i'm religious, and my tradition holds that redemption is possible for everyone - someone who is incapable of change may as well not be alive, and no one is incapable of missing the mark. in judaism, murder is the worst thing you can do someone, because there can be no complete repentance "unless the injured party has been appeased" (mishna yoma 8:9), and you can't repair a relationship with a dead person. of course, there's no compulsion for forgiveness either.

this is also tied to my rejection of punitive justice / the death penalty in general but i digress. this is really dicey, subjective moral territory, and i really don't have a perfect answer. i am just personally bothered by the idea that we can categorically revoke someone's ability to feel remorse and change their ways if they've "gone too far" and become some nebulous, inhuman monster by crossing the subjective line we've drawn in the sand. you can believe that rape is the absolute worst thing anyone can do, but i just want you to consider why you believe that beyond the cop-out that your belief makes you "a normal human being". your moral values are not universal, and neither are mine, and i would gently suggest examining your principles and whether they're based on punishment or rehabilitation & coexistence. there's really excellent scholarship out there on restorative justice and the shift away from carceral thinking, so i'll link some of those here:

breaking free of the prison paradigm by judy c. tsui

sexual violence and the possibilities of restorative justice by nicole westmarland, et al

restorative justice: the challenge of sexual and racial violence by barbara hudson

feminism, rape, and the search for justice by clare mcglynn

[wolfythewitch]

Honestly I want to hear all of your thoughts on Good Omens.

Uhhhh none here! Brain empty mostly. I think Crowley is lovely. I think he's the most human demon I've ever seen. I like that just because aziraphale defied heaven once doesn't mean he hasn't fully got rid of all his prejudices/ whatever you call them. Biases? Preconceived notions? I wish they would just talk but alas, communication doesn't come easy even to the most timeless of us. Aziraphale thinking what's best for Crowley is returning to what once was vs Crowley thinking what's best is what they've carved out for themselves FIGHT. The idea that Crowley thinks aziraphale chose heaven over him vs aziraphale thinking Crowley chose his bitterness over him. I think they should listen to two birds by Regina Spektor. They love each other so much but that doesn't really help if the other doesn't realize, does it. Crowley is a fallen angel, he knows the worst of both heaven and hell, and he wants neither of it. Aziraphale, unfortunately, still likes Heaven. That so religious trauma core of them. The thought of tearing full away from your only bastion of security and comfort must terrify you, doesn't it angel. You cannot conceive of heaven being unfixable because if heaven is as bad as hell, then what is good? How can you define it? If your paradigm shifts now, then the right you've been so righteously doling out, well, isn't so right anymore is it. But you can fix it. Surely you can fix it. But you're too human for them. They cannot love like you

Sorry, got off topic. Hope they make up in the next season.

[intersexcat-tboy]

Intersex (Sun) Monad / Intersex (Hieroglyphica) Monad flags

An intersex monadic individual acknowledges a divine aspect within oneself, who may embrace being whole and/or unaltered. There may be holiness felt in "l want to be how nature made me", resonating with the belief that one's existence aligns with the natural order, or a higher power's design, such as "God created mankind in his image", though this perspective is not confined to specific religious beliefs, but rather, encompassing a profound recognition that they were meant to be as they are.

The notion of being 'whole and/or unaltered' carries multifaceted meanings, and is inclusive of various experiences within the intersex community. It can include those who have survived Intersex Genital Mutilation and desire bodily integrity, as well as individuals undergoing medical treatments, surgeries, or are transitioning. For some, this includes changes that embrace their condition rather than 'correct' or 'fix'.

However, this concept applies specifically to somatic intersex variations; individuals who are transID, those who feel they "should have been born intersex", believe they can or want to "transition to intersex", or believe in “brain intersex" are excluded and should not interact.

Some intersex individuals acknowledge their journey may resemble a transgender journey 'on paper', but instead view their medical procedures as a unique form of 'correction’, rejecting the medicalized notion of 'correction' imposed by doctors to shoehorn individuals into a box to match society, instead, aligning the body to the mind.

Overall, it is for intersex individuals with whom their identity has stayed consistent and unwavering amidst societal pressures to conform. Existing independently of external categorizations or societal expectations.

It is for those who defiantly reject forced procedures, asserting their autonomy over their bodies, echoing the principles embodied by Carpenter's flag, which emphasizes genital integrity and choice. They refuse to alter themselves to fit into society's narrow definitions, steadfast in their authenticity and self-acceptance, encompassing both the challenges and the beauty of living authentically within a society that often struggles to understand and accept differences.

This may be particularly true for ('on paper') trans intersex individuals, who perceive their journey not as a transition, since they feel nothing changed, but as a process of embracing themselves into the light.

It is for those who feel there is nothing inherently wrong with their variation, recognizing the challenges it may entail but affirming that they are not disordered just for being different. Change and medicalization are understood as arising from an internal, personal desire for comfort and authenticity, rather than an expectation to conform to a binary paradigm that distorts their identity or views them as mutated, defective, anomaly, or otherwise needing to be fixed/corrected.

A monadic intersex individual's variation is indivisible and inseparable from their being, just as they cannot be neatly divisible into categories of male or female, but rather exist as a cohesive whole. It is especially for those who prefer not to be sexed at all.

A monadic intersex individual contains within themselves a living testament to the abundant beauty of our world, the infinite complexity and development that can occur, embracing the diversity of nature and its boundless creativity. They know they are a fundamental unit of reality, embracing their unique identity as an essential part of the human tapestry. Monadic individuals would be advocates for greater visibility and recognition of intersex rights and experiences.

Flag interpretations:

The sun monad flag (left) represents the foundational essence, the base and building block of the other forms. It symbolizes the intrinsic unity and wholeness of one's being, embracing the purity of existence without the constraints of classifications. Like the sun at the center of the solar system, it represents the core essence from which all other aspects of identity emanate. Intersex, inseparable from oneself, much like variance is inseparable from life, and life inseparable from the sun. It may resonate more with those who solely use intersex, are neutral, neutrois, null or other similar genders.

The hieroglyphic monad flag (right) embodies the concept of harmoniously encompassing all forms within itself, all different facets being viewable within one entity. This symbolism may resonate most with androgynous, multigender, or others with "contradictory" identities with whom resides in themselves the cosmos

(if you want the interpretations, I consider the sun the broader one; sun being "I am intersex, I am me" hieroglyphic as "l am me, I am everything". Both are monad flags)

[astrology-by-sita]

ON AQUARIUS RISINGS ♒️

This is a part of a series on the rising signs not necessarily in Zodiacal order.

Aquarius risings are social outcasts who feel that they don't belong in their birthplace. Saturn rules 12h and 1h. Night charts especially feel like their society doesn't want them. Their ruler exalts in 9h in libra - the house of foreign lands and religion. But they aren't really religious. They can be critical especially of conventional religion. Saturn exalts in libra because aquarians have that skepticism over traditional religion.

They exalt as in get success and status when they show a formidable rational critique of the dominant doctrine and dogma. They shift societal trends and paradigms. Karl Marx is a great example of an aquarius rising who reaches prominence by critiquing the dominant system in society, an economic system which privileges only the bourgeoisie.

They talk a lot they can be as talky as geminis cause they have aries in 3h and where you have aries is where you're impulsive. But their ruler saturn debilitates in 3h so they won't get success there. Talking just for the sake of talking takes them nowhere but if they show a rational, alternative view of the structures of society they'll be prominent influential figures in their country and even the world.

They view the general as well as the specific. Sagittarius 11h gives them a general (sagittarius) view on human society (11h) but saturn is also particular and detail oriented. Virgo 8h - they transform everything around them (8h) when they get into the details. They can transform a malfunctioning institution or organization into a more functional and efficient one for benefit of all members. State reform and organizational reform is their specialty.

11h is 4h from 8h - the home of 8h. Societal transformation and paradigm shifts are the basis of every personal transformation taking place in 8h. Aquarius has got the best of both. Jupiter is too busy with his grand visions to be occupied with details and mercury is too nitpicky, flighty, to visualize generalities. Saturn does both! Saturn is about small restrictions and binds but it rejoices in 12h where we transcend them all. Saturn rules their 12h.

They have scorpio 10h so bosses and authority figures are threatened by them. They can be better than their bosses at their job so the authority people sense a threat or intimidation. They don't get on well with people of higher positions than them. Especially day charts. Unlike Leos who might try to pander to people in power on order to reach status(Venus ruling 10h),aquarians don't do that and hate that as well. They'd rather work on their own as their 10h ruler Mars exalts in 12h in capricorn.

They have gemini 5h so without intellectual stimulation they won't be attracted to you. You have to impress their intellect and mind. Now let's address the elephant in the room, the moon ruling 6h. People close to aquarius risings (moon is close emotional connections) throw unnecessary burdens on their shoulders. People expect aquarius to serve them and when the aquarius rightfully sets boundaries, problems arise.

Sun rules 7h and 7h is sunset so it's not really a good place for the sun unless the condition of the sun plus its domicile lord states otherwise.

Aquarius get egoistic partners or partners who try to control them. They get arrogant partners who expect the aquarius to serve them. Sometimes partners who gossip behind their back as sun their 7h ruler exalts in 3h.

They should keep in mind that a healthy relationship is supposed to be between two equals. I think they and capricorns both know this deep down better than anyone cause their ruler exalts in libra the sign of equal partnership.

What the aquarius wants first of all is an identity, to be somebody. Where you have aquarius in your chart is what you wish for. They have it in 1h, so they wish for some sense of self. Of course saturn delays that but it never denies. They do find themselves even if somehow later in life. They are late bloomers but once they bloom they're unstoppable trend setters and ideological geniuses.