So since I last posted here I’ve traveled to California and back, experienced a hurricane and even a small quake (everything’s fine though the wind still blows hard), so it’s time for a meme.
My polytheisms walk through cool eucalyptus groves, down mud lane, through the ferns, sometimes getting lost, but always striding on, sometimes a hint of panic in the woods. It’s on the mountaintop, in the flashing clouds, in the swirling mist, portals opening and closing. It is not something that can be dredged up and weighed in the lab, it has nothing to do with humanism and limited economies; it is slippery like elvers flashing in dawn light; it raises up stones and leaves flowers drifting in the stream, rushing to the sea. It is attentive to syntax, and fugitive languages of crime and polyglot economies, trades of the night; it serves and celebrates in multiple trackways.
They can cut, they can bring jouissance…they speak archaic languages and dream of weird futures. It raises lamentations on the clearcuts and plastic strewn strands and jubilates in the ruts of myths, and the voices of deities. It makes elaborate altars and shrines and prepares delectable foods for the Holy Ones and cracks hazelnuts and feasts on salmon. It is attentive to dandelions, and the hauntings of virtual space that unfurl through our collective neurologies. It sneaks through binaries and overturns logs and reads a lot of books. My polytheism burns juniper to purify, it mucks about in the sacred abject of the chthonic, of the base. It satires. It dives deep in black waters, and steps through caves, inhaling fumes from volcanic vents. The spirits speak to it in languages of cricket and beetle antenna, of sentient plant root tips, serpentine sibilance and data streams and is intoxicated by the potlatch of the sun and the sacrament of photosynthesis. It visits otherworld castles and ancient druid groves, and reads omens carved in twigs and marked on burnt bones. My polytheism laughs at those who would limit it in ideology and rambles on, arms raised in praise in the storm. My polytheism magics on the bridge; it leaps off my tongue, and runs through my fingers and dances in my synapses. It undermines my autonomy, it offers my ‘me’ in sacrifice. And fills my body with song. It throws me dead into the waters, onto the vast percolation of the sea into currents of the deep, where I am food, and casts me back up in time on a far shore. My polytheism is ecstatic, liminal, devotional and philosophical, takes me onto an island in the stream, like Ariadne. My polytheism is immeasurable, music, waves, photons….