American Gods

The ways myths are interpreted are relative.  Beings receive only what they have explored wtihin the depths of themselves.  It’s a fundamental quality to the human condition, relative to the Law of Mirrors.

If we live on the Surface of the Worlds, we see only the surface of things.  Yet if we live in the Subtle, the depths of what really is, our interpretation of the myth changes.  We see from another vantage, the mysteries that were not hidden, but outside our previous perspective, revealed.

So.  A moment ago I read a text on Ragnarok.  On the ‘death of the Gods’.  The final Norse battle whereby the Age of Gods ends.

Having gone deep into the territories of the Mythica, this myth unveils for me in a particular way.  Relative to the great Revelation of the Mythica, which is this:

We are the Gods.  We are the Goddesses.  Literally.  Born and reborn again into new iterations of our Selves, existing at different octaves of our own embodiment.  What is “death” is merely forgetting, where we drift from the memory of who we really are through the veil of Time.  Such is the revelation, that occurs as one deepens into their Divine Self.

You are the Goddesses.  You are the Gods.  All of us are.  Living out the archetypes and mythologies that are echoes of our Divine unfoldment.  We are the Thors, the Bridgits, the Thoths and the Arthurs, the Morganna’s, the Lilith, the Christ.  All of them.

They are not things outside our Selves.  They are the deeper embodiment of who we really are.

(this is why I truly, truly loved the books ‘American Gods‘ and ‘Anansi’ by Neil Gaiman)

We move through our own mythology, manifest.  Whatever texture of the rainbow bridge makes up the prism of our current Self.  Living on the octave of our current realization.  It’s different for all of us, and yet, we share Worlds.

In the deep octaves of the Mythica I have met many ‘American Gods’, beings who occurred to my vantage as the living embodiments of the various Divinities, living in the manifestation of real Worlds of magick.  It has been a Hjeron at Faerieworldsjourney in which I have encountered beings most noble and rare, deeply connected to the Land, to the ancient and immortal ways, in varying states of their own embodiment.  A pantheon of bright souls on the road to their Remembrance.

Such is the return of Asgard.  Of Avalon.  Of Faerie.  Of all the realms, which occur as the spray of our own Light onto the Creation.  And as we awaken, so do they, for they have always been there, immortal and enduring past the haze of forget.

On the Journey Home, I have traveled through many realms.  Places that occurred as the current incarnation of a particular timbre of mythology, manifest.  Places like the Shire of Ashland, like the Dragon of Crestone, like Oberon’s Tavern and Onedoorland and many others.  Inhabited by the the magickians, the priestesses, the demigods and dakini, in various stages of their own realization.

Such was the wisdom shown to me when I studied the magick in the high, snowy mountains of Tahoe, filled with the incarnations and timbre of the Viking and the Norse, when I traveled, literally, to the Valhalla mountains to connect Hjeron O’Sidhe and the fabeled Mythmakers.  When the Path led me into the plains of Cascadia, sometimes called ‘Oregon’, to find fellowship in the faerie and Celtic realms of Livingwell and beyond.  Such is the Truth of the Mythica … that we live in the realms of magick and are only just coming to remember.

It is a thing that happens in stages, like the unfolding of the petals of a flower.  Where we go through different vantages, different states of the Self.  Where Ragnarok is not the end of a dream, but the beginning of waking up.

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