Tag Archives: Wedding

If I’m not on time.

Something about the migraine set off various other issues and I’ve been in bed except for when I needed to cook since then. It’s not that unusual or strange for me, or anyone else who has CFS among other things, for them to all blend together into a week or more of near-immobility. But I think stress had a heavy hand in it, and, ironically, I need energy to try to do something about getting through the next month.

It also came with reasonably bad joint pain, especially in my hands and wrists. The stand mixer is hopelessly glutened, and I’d always planned to do all of the kneading myself, anyway — it just seemed more correct, in this context — but as I’ve barely managed to cut vegetables for food, it hasn’t happened yet.

No one seems bothered in the slightest. It’s very confusing and strange.

We were married at home entirely on schedule, and everyone managed to come, except poor R., whom I couldn’t seem to take with me and he couldn’t find me.

And it was lovely.

I plan to write much more, myself, when my hands are behaving, but… well. If I ever wondered if things that happened there were just as valid and important as things that happen here, that’s settled.

 

Migraine Delay.

When I woke up and became increasingly incapacitated by a migraine, and wondered aloud, “What do you do about a migraine on your wedding day?” Brand responded with, “It’s like miGRAAAAiiiiAAAANES on your wedding day, it’s a free RIIIIeeeeIIII–” Except not nearly as loud as it sounds.

He and his father are, at times, extremely related.

I may be having my here-wedding tomorrow, instead of today, and my elsewhere-wedding today as planned, because sleep seems to be the most rational plan.

A Month for Freyr: Bread and Honey

By necessity, the extent of what I had planned to do for our wedding has been trimmed back severely; however, we will still bake bread, and we will eat it with raw honey.

It must be the simplest thing, though bread for celiacs is never simple or cheap, that anyone can do as an offering, as a devotion, as a way of connecting. Even if the bread is store-bought. If it’s not pre-sliced, it probably works a little better, but he is ever understanding and rarely picky. The heart is what matters.

The grains of the land, the sun, the work, tending, tilling, hoping, waiting, harvesting, milling. Fields rippling in the wind.

(“Fields of Gold” unintentionally starts playing in my head.)

The bread mix and other things it needs, minus eggs, and the raw honey were ordered from Amazon, because I don’t seem to have half of my insurance anymore and the reason I would’ve gone downtown on Tuesday seems to be moot. Also, not having to carry all of it is a distinct bonus.

It will be good to resume the habit of eating raw honey every day, as he would like me to do.

The honey we’ve had has been called “raw” but it is filtered and looks like any other sort of honey, and I feel distrustful of it in terms of fulfilling his request.

I used to cook with sourwood honey when I lived in the south, and there is no source for sourwood up here (you can order it online, but I don’t know if anyone sells it raw), and when I told the man at the honey stand about my love of sourwood, he and the woman both gushed about it. I left with a large container of buckwheat honey, which has a depth and richness that is reminiscent of sourwood, and is overall very, very good. I will eat wildflower and clover honey if I have no other choice, but my preferences lie in the direction of things that are less overwhelmingly sweet.

I tasted honey made from tea trees, which is very expensive and was purchased for medicinal use for someone (facial application after electrolysis treatments), and thought it was intriguing in flavor, but the price point — goodness. Still, if some money lies around, it would be good to have on hand for medicinal purposes.

Making this bread for him, with him, and eating it together… that will be what binds us.

There will be fancy everything elsewhere, with his family. I think I may port my marriage cord over with me, so that we can use it where we both have a corporeal substance, and let his father have the honor of tying it.

Here, I may wind it about my wrist and hand, and the offering bread, the marriage bread.

I have, in recent days, been feeling softer and quieter. Both heavy and ungrounded. As if I am seeping into something, or vice versa. My chest aches over my heart. There is so little room inside the human body for a heart that is trying to become a mountain, a woodland, a lake.

There is a great deal of receptivity in the softness. Whatever is becoming me, or whatever I am becoming, the assent is total, and I drift slowly into a silent place that is like a grotto at the bottom of the ocean. Tide moves unstoppably. There is no argument in me against any of it; I accept it completely. Shifted by currents, and the vast oceans of the sea sweeping through me.

A Month for Freyr: Byggvir and Beyla

I associate Beyla with honey, more than her other etymological possibilities. Also the color of the firelight on the wood inside the house, which is a warm yellow-brown. She is very fond of cooking and taking care of people with food. I don’t need to eat elsewhere, but it troubles her if I don’t eat twice during any full length of day time when I’m there and I know she worries and fusses about it because she cares.

They both have a mild parental view toward me — since Byggvir said he’d been with Freyr for most of Freyr’s life, it makes sense that they would be vaguely parental toward both him and his lovers who stay in his home.

Byggvir was accused of being a coward in Lokasenna, but he’s behaved protectively toward me. I associate him (for some reason) with early spring/late autumn greens, like kale, which are resistant to cold weather and a rich, dark green, and I also associate him with iron. Particularly the smell of it.

I was having a fair amount of trouble with someone when I went there once, and he took me aside and told me that if I needed someone to deal with it for me, he would take care of it.

They are an important part of my life, though I do not see them as often as I think I should. I would like to set aside some time to get to know them better.

I am weary of the lack of space I have to do anything, here. And I am wondering if a virtual space would be better, until after we’ve found new housing. It feels strange, the idea of creating  a non-physical space for them and the other people I am getting to know, but the time I spend with them is non-physical, as well.

When I was idly looking at sea shells after coming across a website about sea hearts, I got a prodding that someone would like shells. I kept thinking it was Freya, but Frigga’s name kept popping into my head. It turns out that most shells are not that expensive, so whomever would like some nicer shells, I can hopefully make it happen eventually.

I did buy plants, despite the lack of space issues, while I was at the greenmarket on Tuesday. Three varieties of sansevieria, a type of moss, a striped aloe, an unknown plant in muted autumn colors, and another unknown plant that has white veins. They were all shockingly inexpensive.

I thought that, with the space problems, and the difficulty in burning candles in the summer because of the fans, the plants could be a living altar. Freyr, and all of the plant spirits. I feel better, even crowded in here with an entire wall full of someone else’s disorganized books and more shelves above the bed with the same.

I had a collection of sansevieria about four years ago, but while I was away, only one of them survived never being watered by the person I’d asked to look after them. I also lost the collection of spider plants that I had except for one, as well. But spider plants are not usually as expensive as sansevieria and that really was a lot of money. However, at the greenmarket, I replaced two of the species I’d lost and got one I’d wanted but never had, for something like $14. Two 4″ pots and one 6″ pot. It blows my mind. Maybe it is also a wedding present!

A Month for Freyr: Suspicious Business

Not very long after I posted the previous entry that was partially about R. needing to be out of town when I was getting married, he received a sudden message saying that his appointment had been rescheduled to the 28th. He hadn’t asked to have it rescheduled.

I have always felt strange about getting married without R. there, as he was my first lover, and we are still together, and he has been incredibly supportive about Freyr and me. Since I don’t know anyone who can host Freyr, my earthly wedding portion will mainly consist of a reception sort of thing and a meal for my family, Freyr’s, and the spirits.

Apparently he wants R. there, too.

Boring godspouses

I’m extraordinary lacking in fondness for the the drama = godspouse = drama assumption.

R. will be coming back from a trip (a glorious vacation to get a lot of dental work done a few hours away) on the day of the wedding and may be too tired for it, as CFS is actually something safe to assume about me and my family, and travel is incredibly draining for all of us.

I think I must be supposed to explode with entitled rage because how dare some “foolish mortal” even dare to attempt to affect my plans, and stomp around and scream and start posting about what a hideous person he is, right?

It’s disappointing and saddening, but I’d planned to get married at night (for the moon, and also the lack of landlord and neighbors), and he will probably have time to get in a reasonable amount of sleep, and it will all work out just fine.

Tiny bit of wedding news.

I’ve decided that I would like to have my wedding at the Jefferson Market garden, which is very beautiful, and convenient enough to both the train and a place we like to eat.

I still plan on having a meal at home, with things I’ve made, but this would reduce the amount of things that I felt like I needed to do.

Right now, I’m dealing with severe pain from the weather changing drastically back and forth, and unfortunately not up to writing.

Rest

Another important bee petition.

I donated some money the other day to a fundraiser, also about bees.

My necklace came last night, and I opened the package enough to find out what was in it, but didn’t look further than glancing at the packing slip. It seems like I should save it for the wedding.  Which is now just slightly over a month away.

After his period of being furious about these recent circumstances, he came back to me and held on to me as if I were in danger of being evicted from him. I needed it. As much as I try to protest that I cannot possibly be important to anyone, let alone a god, further let alone a god that has many more interesting people to pay attention to, we do need each other, somehow, for some reason. I spent most of the intervening time with him, laying together in bed, not really talking, but being close to each other. I do not know how to be in a relationship that requires large amounts of conversation. I need these things. Silence. Closeness. Understanding.

Early this morning, I drew Isa, and just now, when I asked for one from Freyr, I drew Isa again.

There’s so much to do.

But rest, it says. Rest.

And he adds, warm, tender, nearly against my mouth, Rest. What can you do when you have nothing left to give? Rest. Sleep in my arms. The last bit a hovering question without quite necessitating a question mark, but neither an imperative. Something he wants me to do, but I have plenty of room to be uncomfortable about it for myriad reasons and need to not be that physically close to someone, or asleep in front of someone, which is a very vulnerable position, and so on.

But I think about going home and being wrapped in a robe that is somehow softer than silk, done in a shade to complement my eyes, with black trim, similar to my hair. And just laying down in his bed. Such a dense frame. Heavy wood. Deeply carven. A canopy, useful for shutting out the sunlight from the right, where there’s a fair sized window, and collecting the warmth from the fire on the left in cooler seasons.

Having him pass it along without my being aware of it, or before I get there, that we, or I, shouldn’t be disturbed, otherwise lovely, well-meaning people will fuss over me, because I am some sort of darling of theirs. When I can’t handle people. And he always knows when I can’t handle people. Even when I can’t handle spirits and wights.

I do feel very tired. I haven’t slept well since some time in June.

A month for Freyr?

Brand intends to spend the month writing about his father. On my own end, I will be out of town briefly, dealing with very stressful things, and then I have a retreat to attend, and I need to plan my wedding, write vows, figure something or other out about it all.

In an ideal situation, someone would be able to let Freyr borrow their body, but the two people I could ask are very bad at it. One is willing to try ahead of time to see if it’s possible. If not, I’m far from the first person who will be marrying a disembodied god.

I would like to plan a special meal. As it happens, where I will be upstate, there is a place that sells local raw honey very inexpensively, and we plan to get quite a bit of it. There’s a recipe for a honey liquor that will be ready in enough time, which I’m planning on doing. We need to buy a bread pan, and we can make a fresh loaf of gluten-free bread to eat warm with butter and raw honey.

What else? Since it’s summer, he loves feeding me extravagant salads. I could make a honey dressing or honey vinaigrette, and put together something using lots of different ingredients. I will be forever hunched over the cutting board, and my hands may be useless afterward, but it’s probably what I would be eating at home, along with roasted vegetables. Maybe roasted with rosemary and thyme? Trying to think of something to do with fruit. There is a vote for honey jasmine ice cream.

So, with all of this rushing around for that, I can only assume that he will be on my mind every single day in August. It seems appropriate to make it into a devotional act.

I don’t know if anyone else is interested in dedicating a month to writing about him, especially after so many people will be spending time writing about Loki in July. But I would certainly be very happy if other people decided to join me in doing it. He’s hardly unknown, and he’s completely acceptable to worship, so perhaps it isn’t as important as writing about a marginalized, misunderstood god, whose followers are demonized along with him, both because of him and because of the public perception of Lokeans, these days.

But because he’s completely acceptable, I don’t see as much writing about him. Especially not much that goes beyond “fertility god, penis, penis, penis, incest.”

Maybe the people who are drawn to him or vice versa have similar temperaments as me, and are quiet, and not prone to doing a lot in front of other people, because our relationship is so centered around the idea of home.

Thirty-one days will be difficult, but my energy does not cost money. And he is worth it.