Loki on the Beach?

I feel as though I often start a blog post with the caveat: “Put down your pitchforks, brooms, frying pans, and other random weapons.” I am going to do that again: hold on to your pointy hats, my darlings, because my horoscope today says “Do your best, screw the rest”! I am about to dive into the topic of Loki, and I would appreciate you hearing me out. In a past blog post called “Put Down Your Pitchforks“, I spoke about welcoming the Gods of my friends into my home without judgement and showing Them the hospitality that you show the living-breathing or the Dead that walk over your threshold and visit your hearth. When we welcome a God or Goddess, Fae, or Other into our hearth, we often receive more than we give:

“If you give a Goddess a cookie, She will ask for a sip of wine. When you give to Her the wine, She will probably ask you for a flame. When you light the candle for Her, She will tell you a secret. When the secret is shared, She may go from you with the one that brought Her, but that secret will be yours to keep and grow. She did not pass through and leave you empty, though you do not worship Her. She took that cookie, wine, and flame and left you just a little bit more magickal….”

This story that I am about to tell is about the time I got way more than I bargained for and had to gently move my new house guest along. It is the time I bumped into Loki and inadvertently brought Him home with me:

Now, I do not squash Loki into the box of “Trickster only God”, as so many others do. I see Loki through the journey of The Fool in the Tarot, as I am currently learning from my publisher, teacher, and best friend, Michelle. Having raised a wild and wonderful son, I see the value in a bit of Chaos accompanied by love, protection, and devotion that comes along with the sort of amazing young man that my son is. I know Loki to be a God that does what needs to be done to move you along to where you need to go in that same sort of way. Along the way, all hell breaks loose now and then.

It was toward the end of summer, as Autumn in New England was just beginning to take hold. A friend had suffered a horrible accident and I was feeling quite helpless to help them. So we decided to take a trip to Salem and spend this just-warm-enough day at Dead Horse Beach. The water was freezing, but the sun was bright and the tide was just coming back in. The moon was coming full soon, and I could feel the change: that prickle of energy, as I do at that time of the month, when the moon dares me to call it down, though the sun is still in view. I wore a long dress–it was not quite swimsuit weather–and I had decided to wade into the ocean, reach out to the spirits of the land and ocean and ask that they carry healing to our friend. I kicked off my sandals at the shore, hiked up the dress, and strode in, glancing at another group that was gathering just down the small beach: a water baptism. Well, I hoped that I didn’t gather the ire of a group of Christians performing their own ritual! I smiled over at them, and quietly wished them well; a bit of empathy for the one getting dunked in the water this day, as wow, it was cold! I tied a knot in my dress to hold it up and free my hands, my feet sinking into the soft sand this far out (I had to wander pretty far to have the water kiss my naked knees; the tide was, after all, just coming in). My feet stuck and squelched as I attempted to find my balance both physically and spiritually. I tapped in, breathing deep and drawing up from my salty standing place; reaching out to the land spirits close by. I reached up toward the sun, but held the moon in my mind instead, ever the defiant witch. I drew down from above, completing the circuit of energy within myself; becoming the conduit for it. I lowered my arms, drawing down; my consciousness in this world melting into another place. I felt them all around me, as I felt with me my darling puckwedgies (there are often one or two at my side, even so far from home). I asked them to carry this feeling of the ocean, the light of the sun, the power of the moon, the balance in the soft murky sand, to my friend. To bring my friend healing and comfort; to carry my love to them. It was a gut punch, the feeling that I had when there was an agreement of sorts, and an understanding of what tribute I would give them in return. Then I felt a gentle hand on my back: it seemed there was something of gentleness in it for me; a sort of side-eye to the gathering further up the beach. I brought myself back to self and squelched my way back to shore. I would lay out fruit and milk for the Fae in my little ve back home and give hospitality to those who would visit that ve.

Little did I know that chaos was about to ensue!

We stayed a bit longer, gathered some shells, rested, and talked about our individual experiences at Dead Horse Beach that day. We went home, I gave to the ve and we went on with the rest of our day.

That night, I woke to a tiny, prickly puckwedgie at the foot of my bed, almost adamant that he was under no circumstances going back outside that night. I reminded him not to harass the cats and drifted back off to a fitful and restless sleep, full of strange, wild dreams. When I woke the next morning and was getting ready to head out to work, I looked out the window and was slapped with shock: my little ve was an absolute wreck! Yard chairs were tipped, statues were tipped; it looked like a tiny tornado had blown through the yard! “Well, there was a Fairy keg party last night”, I said to myself, and straightened up the ve before heading to the office. I put fresh bird seed in the feeder and tried to shake off this sense that someone was hanging around. As the day went on and I came back home, I started to realize who the center of the chaos was, and who the gentle steadying hand for me and the side-eye glance for others had belonged to, the day before at the beach. I may have actually face-palmed: the friend I had sent the healing to had been working with Loki in their practice I thought, having remembered chatting about it at some point. I had gone and brought Loki home and He had kicked off either a wild party or an actual Faerie war in my yard!

So here we come to my point:

Yes, I welcome my Gods, Goddesses, and Fae, as well as those of my friends and family, but hospitality comes with some rules! I mean, you don’t just go to someone else’s house and tip all their stuff over on their altar. I was about to have a word of prayer, as they say, with a God!

So I sat myself in the yard, at the edge of my little ve, gathering the little puckwedgie who had snuggled in my bed (and now, having discovered bed is nice, still does so, now and then) close to me, and I spoke:

“You, those of the Other, 
Those of the wood, water, 
Sand and grass; 
Those whose home 
Has not been 
This space 
Until just now: 
You are welcome here,
But there cannot be chaos! 
There cannot be any harassment 
Of those that are mine, 
Whose home this is!  
Loki, 
Thank You for 
Your hand, 
Your humor; 
Your reminders 
To be bold and 
To be strong: 
You are welcome 
To pass through, 
But I will not 
Have my hearth disrupted, 
As it was last night!  
Travel on Loki, 
Go in peace; 
Come back, 
When you will. 
Thank you, 
Now kindly move on!”

Yes, I gave that God a cookie, but He is not moving in! I was glad for His visit, but not for permanent residence. I welcome friend and family; I welcome the Dead, the Fae, and the Gods, but not everyone is moving in permanently! My Momma told me never to pick up hitchhikers or bring a stranger into the house. Shhhh! Don’t go telling my Mom she was right!