May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your spiritual life, filled with the life-giving energy of inspiration, will brim over with hope!
I began my arduous search for the God of green hope in February of 2016, following the realization that I had become hopeless. Clearly, Jesus wasn’t “that guy”, because He and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms by that point. Lleu Llaw Gyffes wasn’t “that guy”, either, even though I had considered myself a practicing Druid for a number of years previously. So I began my dive into the Norse Tradition, in hopes of finding “that guy” there.
I had been a “weekend Druid”, but I was anything but a “weekend Heathen”. From the very start, my journey down the Norse Path led me to daily prayer, weekly blots, and active participation in my newfound Faith. By June of 2016, I had finally begun to “feel better”, but I still hadn’t fully recovered my hope, nor had I met the God of Green Hope. A year on, in February of 2017, I still had not found Him/Her/It, and those feelings of quiet desperation began to slowly seep back in, this time compounded by my inability to figure out the “riddle” within that verse that I had been given.
The truth of it was this: I couldn’t find the God of Green Hope because I was looking in all the wrong places. I was looking outside, when I should have been looking within.
I am the God of Green Hope. You are the God of Green Hope. We are the God of Green Hope.
I automatically hold anyone suspect who says in a serious tone that they are the god of anything. Sure, people may jokingly say things like “I am the god of homemade tacos”, and I’m perfectly fine with that, because it’s a joke. But to claim godhood for oneself smacks of a brand of pretentiousness that I have a difficult time fathoming. It’s part of why I take issue with the writings of Aleister Crowley. Yet, hear me out.
For a full year, I prayed, participated in rituals, researched, and searched, trying to find that one, great, outside source that would fill me up with joy and fill me up with peace as that passage promised. A full year, and yet I still felt that I was hanging on the tree. I looked outside, and outside, and outside, but only on the rarest of occasions did I look within. And even when I did, my focus was on where I fit into our business, rather than on where I fit into the World.
In March of 2017, I finally looked inside. The business was tanking yet again, and as I sat in my office literally crying, it finally dawned on me that doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results is the very definition of insanity. So I decided to do something different: instead of shaking my fist at the heavens, I took a deep, long look within. And I discovered something I definitely didn’t want to discover: I was the problem. The good news was, if I was the problem, I could also be the solution.
Becoming the God of Green Hope:
Stop looking back; you aren’t going that way!
Mistakes and triumphs you’ve experienced in the past are precisely that: in the past. The longer you dwell on either, the more they are allowed to control your present, which in turn leads them to shape your future. Do you want a future shaped by your past mistakes and triumphs, or do you want a future shaped by you, yourself?
Stop mourning, and start celebrating!
Stop mourning all of the things you don’t have, haven’t accomplished, or didn’t do, and instead focus on celebrating what you do have, are accomplishing, and are doing via showing gratitude. You’re likely great at sitting down and making detailed inventories of things to mourn; take that skill, and instead turn it towards making a detailed inventory of all the things about your life that are actually good. These don’t have to be big things! Things for which to be grateful can be as seemingly insignificant as a shockingly blue sky outside your window, or as mindblowing as having your art published on the cover of a popular newsletter or magazine.
While you’re making lists, make one of everything that worries you right now. Read through it, and then discard it, and actually let go.
Worrying is basically looking towards the future with dread, instead of looking towards the future with eager expectancy. We all do it, and we all have done it, and even after you make this list, discard it, and make a conscious decision to let go of those specific worries, the chances are fantastic you will find a whole new list of things to worry about at some point in the future. When that happens, you should repeat this exercise. Worrying is a useless endeavor: all it does is leave you feeling defeated, and make you tired. It actually accomplishes nothing, so why keep doing it?
The marrow of what we really want out of life is locked inside the bones of those things which bring us joy. Make a third list: a list of everything in your life, no matter how big or small, that actually sparks joy in you. In case it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten what joy even feels like, these would be things that create a sense of well-being for you; things that make you feel successful or fortunate; things that make you deeply happy or cause you to brim with delight. Your gratitude list might be a helpful jump-off point for creating this list. Once you have your list, take some time to actually spend time with these joy-sparkers.
Realize that you are enough.
Re-engage with yourself. The first question too many of us ask when attempting to “find ourselves” is “am I worthy?” That is an adversarial tone, and we all know what such a tone gets us when we’re talking about exterior human relationships, right? So why do we think it will go differently with interior ones? Think about it like this: let’s say you’ve just met a new person with whom you’re considering building a friendship. What would happen if, upon first meeting them, you introduced yourself by saying “I’m me, and I’m wondering if you’re worthy of being my friend”? That likely wouldn’t go over terribly well, now, would it? They would likely find you rude and pretentious, and they wouldn’t be wrong. So why do we approach our selves that way? The simple answer: we shouldn’t. Enough means “occurring in such a quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations.” If you are enough, that means that you are capable of meeting whatever life throws at you halfway. Look around at your life: you’ve made it this far. You’re still breathing; you’re still sitting here reading this. If you’ve made it this far, that is empirical proof that you are enough, and enough is the first important step towards plenty: a large or sufficient amount or quality; more than enough.
Once you have found the God of Green Hope within you, you should start experiencing more joy and peace in your life. You may find that you need to do these exercises multiple times–I certainly did–and there’s no shame in that. Don’t worry if you don’t immediately feel as though you have been filled up with joy and peace; that will come with time. This is just the beginning, and we’ll discuss where to go from here in the next blog post in this series.
In my last blog post, I talked about “faith ruts”, how people fall into them, and laid the foundation of a pathway out of them, kicking off this seven part blog series on Struggling Faith. My own struggle with faith began in December 2015, with the death of the family dog. As I said in the last post, that may seem like a small thing to cause someone to completely lose their faith, but when you are already hopeless, even the smallest of things can be enough to send you reeling into a faith chasm, because faith is the simple, pervading presence of hope.
Let’s take a deeper look at the modern definition of that word, hopeless, courtesy of Merriam-Webster:
Hopeless: having no expectation of good or success; not susceptible to remedy or cure; incapable of redemption or improvement; desperate; despairing; incapable of solution, management, or accomplishment; impossible.
Now, you would think, if I had reached a point where my outlook was that level of bleak, I would have realized it, right? You would think that as that downward spiral began, I would have noticed the signs, and begun to take steps to turn things around. Given all the blog posts I have written here about looking on the bright side and positive living, you would think that I, of all people, would never have allowed myself to reach such a state. Yes, you would think so, yet, there I was. I was hopeless, and I didn’t even realize it, until the bottom dropped out from under me.
At that point in time, I was operating this business in more of a “behind the scenes” capacity: Michelle was decidedly the “face” of the business, while I sat behind the screen every day, designing graphics, handling the web design, and making sure our marketing schedule was on par with the rest of the industry. Our primary focus at that point in time was her then-newly-published book, Dragonfly Theology, and attempting to establish her Tarot-reading business. The art was more or less a sideline: I was constantly churning things out, but with a focus on listing the art at RedBubble and CafePress, and under her name, not my own. We had not begun the digi-scrap business yet and I was, for the most part, still “in the coffin” to the outside world. I was the dude there, in Michelle’s shadow. At that point, we were operating from a primarily Christian-influenced Pagan base; I considered myself a practicing Druid.
And I honestly thought I was happy and, more importantly, hopeful. Turns out, I was wrong.
Looking back now, of course, I can see it. Hindsight is, after all, 20/20.
Through the fault of no one, our business was tanking. No one was buying Michelle’s book, which kept her perpetually depressed. I felt really bad for her. Her Tarot business wasn’t exactly sky-rocketing, either, and I felt bad about that, too, because it had been a lifelong dream for her. I was doing fairly well in the art-sales department, but everything was listed with her signature, so it wasn’t exactly like I was experiencing a “moment in the sun”. I woke up every morning and worked my ass off, yet never received any credit, because we had been taught for twenty years that our “situation” is one you “just don’t talk about”.
I was a “weekend Druid”, in the same sense that some people are “weekend Christians”: I “showed up” when there was a holiday, but beyond that, it wasn’t exactly a part of my daily life. Prayer was a thing reserved for when things got desperate. Candleburning was what one did when the dog farted. I’m not exaggerating, I swear. I dove a bit more deeply into my Buddhist/Taoist upbringing around that point in time, and I was publishing a Daily Kuan Yin meditation on our Facebook Page, but, once again, posing as Michelle, rather than taking any credit myself.
I could “be me” with a handful of people, including my Beloved, and with the dogs and the cat. I had already lost Elvis the previous Spring, and then I lost Boo. The number of “living entities” who actually knew me for me was slowly dwindling….
No wonder I was hopeless.
Let’s take some time now to talk about what hopelessnesslooks like:
An inability to see that tomorrow might actually be a better day.
Hopeful expectancy becomes a pie-in-the-sky notion, when compared with empirical data. In other words, yesterday sucked, and the day before that, and the day before that, so why in the heck should tomorrow be any different?
An unwillingness to believe anything or anyone can fix how sucktastic your life has become.
“Higher Powers” are viewed as “well and good”, but not profoundly helpful. In fact, They may be on the receiving end of the blame-game by this point. I mean, They let shit get this level of bad, right?
An intrinsic belief that clearly you are the problem.
The Gods aren’t the only ones on the receiving end of the blame-game: clearly, there’s also something deeply wrong with your self. You’ve come to believe that you are incompetent, incapable, and unworthy.
A constant, underlying need to simply sit somewhere and cry.
Even when everything seems rosey, you just can’t seem to shake it. It’s not exactly clinical depression, but a part of you wishes that it were, because at least there are medications for that….
A conviction that there is nowhere to go from here but down.
No matter how much you try to see a way to change course or otherwise somehow reorganize your plans, you see no way that this situation could be better managed. Accomplishments become hurdles you must cross, instead of accolades you can celebrate. Solutions become dragons you must slay, instead of actual repairs of the problem.
So how did I climb back up, after going through all of this? Is there hope for you as well, if you’re going through this right now?
Trust me, it didn’t happen overnight, and chances are, it won’t for you, either. As the kids say nowadays, the struggle is real, but it is a struggle that it is definitely worth enduring.
For three long months, that mantra with which I ended the last post kept running through my head, particularly in my darker moments:
May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your spiritual life, filled with the life-giving energy of inspiration, will brim over with hope!
So I began to try to unlock it, as if it were some riddle that somehow held the key to my very existence, because, clearly, it did!
Who was the God of green hope? Where might I find Him/Her/It? And would They really fill me up with joy and peace when I found Them?
I have spent most of my life attempting to emulate the famous Bruce Lee quote “Be water, my friend”, but for the past two weeks, I’ve felt more like the rock than the water: rock aching against water. Most of you already know that we’re in the midst of selling our home and attempting to find and buy a new one, and I’ve said before: moving is hard. As we go deeper and deeper down this tangled path, however, I’m discovering more and more every day that those three words are really too mild of a statement for precisely how difficult this entire scenario actually is. “Be water, my friend” went flying out the window, leaving nary a feather behind, somewhere around June 11th, and it’s been all uphill from there!
For a moment, let’s talk about what that quote means, before we talk about its opposite. In full, Bruce Lee said:
“Don’t get set into one form; adapt it, and build your own, and let it grow, be like water. Empty your mind; be formless; shapeless–like water. Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow, or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”
Basically, what this means it that you shouldn’t get locked into patterns; that you should basically learn to “roll with the punches”, and somehow keep landing on your feet. It requires being mindful of your environment and surrounding situations to the point that you can easily “change your shape” to fit that environment and those situations–the way water becomes a cup, or a bottle, or a teapot. It implies that you are adaptable; that you can take virtually any situation and “make it your own”; take command of it; know when to flow, and when to crash. Ultimately, “being like water” means being completely open to the fact that there are infinite possibilities open to us; it means being hard and soft at the same time; it means accepting the possibilities of success and failure equally. It is to believe that anything can happen, and that it actually might. From a Heathen perspective, it means being comfortable with the ebb and flow of Wyrd, rather than afraid of that ebb and flow. When we close ourselves off to all of that, we remove any chance for a sense of accomplishment, relegating ourselves to a constant state of feeling stymied, trapped, out of control, and basically doomed.
And that is where being the rock, instead of the water, comes into this discussion. Rocks don’t typically move. They are static entities; their shape is their shape, and they aren’t exactly legendary for adapting. Instead of adapting, they break and erode. Generally, with a rock, “what you see is what you get”, which is why we have phrases like “written in stone” and “set in stone” to denote things that are unchangeable or immutable. Rather than changing its environment, a rock is changed by its environment: moss grows, or the rock is broken apart by rushing water, or eroded into sand. “Rock people” (as opposed to “water people”) see Wyrd as something which is likewise set in stone, and they live in an environment of fearingthat Wyrd. It is a life of feeling as though something unknown is constantly impending, and almost every creature alive fears the unknown.
Up until June 11th, I was doing a fairly decent job of “being water”, instead of “being rock”, with this whole home-selling-home-buying scenario. I had dutifully packed up most of my office without batting an eye, looking upon the whole affair as the first key to a new future in our lives together. I was, in fact, actually excited about the whole thing. I had begun shopping around online for potential new home prospects, and we had already toured a few open houses. I began embracing the whole concept of “mobile home living” and the “mobile home lifestyle”, which honestly tugged at my California-born heartstrings in ways that I couldn’t even begin to readily describe to my partner or anyone else. I began feverishly creating home-plans (complete with decor motifs and furniture placement) at Roomstyler, and researching everything I could find on home makeovers (including fantastic accent wall treatments). I resolved that I was going to become the “ultimate house husband” upon moving to our new locale, complete with all that such entails, right down to making sure dinner was on the table promptly at 5:30 every day when my Beloved gets home. And I was super excited about all of that. Wyrd would take us where we needed to be, and I had ultimate faith in the Gods in bringing us there. So what changed? How did I suddenly go from “water” to “rock”?
Prepping for our first open house, on the heels of our favorite future home prospect being pulled from the market, while suffering from the worst outbreak of pustular psoriasis we have ever endured started my downhill slide. Still, I tried to remain hopeful, as we went that Wednesday to tour two other home prospects, the first of which we were both absolutely in love with. Cat-in-tow, we went to tour two properties, both of which had promise, and I immediately came home and sat down the very next day and started plugging in our furniture and coming up with decorating motifs via Roomstyler. Yes, I was terrified about where my health was taking me, but I kept reminding myself that soon our lifestyle would be way more laid back, and that somewhat helped me through. I continued to pray nightly (as I always do), even as I put my job on hold because I couldn’t write or even make art through the fever and the itching and the fear. I tried to keep my chin up, and wade through the itching, the pain, and the knowledge that this could be the outbreak that ended both me and Michelle, and remain hopeful. I tried to stay water, my friends.
On the 22nd, that prospect we were in love with sold to another buyer. I tried not to let that get me down, as my health was improving (however slightly), and instead focus on the other prospect we had toured. The more of our furniture I crammed into the houseplan of it on Roomstyler, the more cramped it became, but I found “work arounds”, and kept plugging away. “It’ll just be cozy”, I reminded myself and my partner; “and we love cozy, right?” Meanwhile, we scheduled two more open houses, and I watched my Beloved work her tail off while I had to sit humbly by and try to “pray away the pain”. I began to feel guilty that I couldn’t do as much as I had done around the house previously and internally beat myself up about that fact. I began to pine for another property we had found that is totally our dreamhouse, but also totally un-financeable. I began to hear the Princess Leia quote from Star Wars: A New Hope replayed over and over again inside my head, only with a real estate theme: “The more you tighten your grip, the more mobile homes will slip through your fingers”. Except our “grip” didn’t feel tight at all; instead, it felt more and more like “one hand clapping”: an appendage constantly reaching out for what it wants, yet only grasping air. My downward spiral from “water” into “rock” had officially begun.
I am officially breaking, eroding, and turning into sand. Where once I sat out in the swing to watch the bunnies and the birds, and it would bring me peace, now I sit out in the swing and watch the bunnies and the birds to hide my tears. What will life be like in a place where I can no longer hear the coyotes sing? All I want to be able to do is look out my window and see a tree, and it doesn’t even have be my tree; it just needs to be a tree! All the while I am constantly reminded that I am a financial disaster, living on the good graces of the people who love me, and cannot help with anything whatsoever except maybe a little housework here and there, and right now, I’m not even fully able to do that. I feel like a piece of dandelion fluff blown on the wind; some magical thing, perhaps, to the eye of a child, but when it’s all said and done, wherever I come to land I will grow into a weed. And weeds are a nuisance; they leech all of the good away. My nightly prayers have begun to feel like something I say by rote. Where once there was faith behind those words, now that faith has been replaced with a very definite desperation. I still sing galdr, yet each time I do so, I am reminded of the two homes previously that I have tried to “galdr into existence” for us that have gone to other buyers, even as our own prospects grow ever more slim. I am spiraling ever deeper into a pit of despair, and I’m having a very hard time finding a way to climb back out of it. No longer caught up in the ebb and flow of Wyrd, it has instead become a wave which I fear will drown us all.
This morning, I pulled Uruz for my daily rune-draw. I do this every morning, asking the Gods to tell me Their intentions for me this day: how should I live; what should I do; to what should I put my energy? Immediately, the blessing for Thrud which I had been led to create weeks ago popped into my mind, and most especially the line: As rock as it aches against water. We don’t tend to think of the pain the rock endures, as it is broken apart by rushing water, until that moment when we have become that stone. As Heathens, the words “the strength of mountains” sound like a fantastic thing to have; like something for which to actively strive. That’s all well and good until one is actually asked to endure; then and only then does one realize just how tough it must be to be a mountain!
So how does one go from being “rock” back to being “water”?
Flip that switch in four steps:
Restore hope via gratitude.
Give yourself permission to believe in miracles; in infinite possibilities.
Define your ultimate possibility.
Ultimately believe in your ultimate possibility.
The first step is the restoration of hope. That’s the “thing” I lost a good grasp on, starting around June 11th, and then pretty much totally on the 22nd. As this proverbial stone has continued rolling downhill like an avalanche, things have come to feel more and more hopeless. And, as in that famous quote from the TV series Lost, “hope is a dangerous thing to lose“. Perhaps the easiest way to flip our brains from a “doom cycle” back to a “hope cycle” is via gratitude. Being grateful for the things around us provides the rational mind–that part of the brain that tends to be the “doomsayer” in the first place–with evidence that good things can and do, in fact, happen after all. I end every day, no matter how shitty, with a litany of gratitude to the Gods for every single good thing that happened throughout that day, no matter how small: everything from “thank you for that heron that flew by my window this afternoon at two o’clock” to “thank you for time with my Beloved and Kili”. So, clearly, I have a relatively decent “gratitude system” already in place, yet here I am still: a rock, instead of water.
Restoring hope should begin to pave the way for a restoration of the belief in infinite possibilities. In other words, giving oneself permission to honestly believe in miracles. Two weeks ago, I wholeheartedly did; now, notsomuch. I believe that was the true turning point for me, with going from water to rock. One can only be told so many times that something is impossible before one actually gets with the program and realizes that something is, in fact, impossible. And once we reach that point, miracles cease being a possibility. The permission to believe in them is officially revoked. Author Marianne Williamson, famous for her books on alternative spirituality, including A Course In Miracles, has this to say about giving oneself permission to believe in miracles:
“A miracle is a shift in perception from fear to love–from a belief in what is not real, to faith in that which is. That shift in perception changes everything.”
Breaking that down from a strictly Heathen perspective, believing in miracles means understanding, accepting, and (most importantly) allowing the concept that all of those infinite possibilities–all of those miracles–are not utangard, but instead, innangard. In other words, miracles aren’t something that happen to someone else out there in the big somewhere else, but are instead right there, waiting for us, within our own circle of influence. We fear what is outside our circle of influence, while we love what is inside our circle of influence. When all of those infinite possibilities becomes things which are outside of that circle of influence–when we have that “one hand clapping” feeling that I described earlier, which makes us feel very out of control–we come to fear those possibilities, rather than love them. The further we push possibility away from us, the more we come to fear it, and the more out of control we subsequently feel.
So the third step is to define your ultimate possibility. Your ultimate possibility should be the best possible outcome, based on the good things already being detailed by your personal “gratitude system“. By basing the ultimate possibility on things which are already happening within our present circle of influence, all of those infinite possibilities become innangard, rather than utangard. My ultimate possibility, therefore, would be an attainable home that is sustainable by me, even given all of our health issues, which will require me to show off my interior design skills in effectively homemaking, because that is the “part of this bargain” which is actually within my circle of influence. I cannot buy us a house; I can’t make that happen. But I can make it a home. I cannot control whether or not there are trees in our yard-to-come, but I can learn to garden and grow things inside as well as outside. Home-buying is outside my circle ofinfluence;it is utangard. Homemaking, however, is something at which I excel–something I have always longed for the opportunity to actually do–and is therefore inside; it is innangard.
The final step, then, is to believe ultimately in that ultimate possibility. Believing ultimately means that you put your heart and soul (all four parts of it!) into making that ultimate possibility an ultimate reality. In my case, that means that rather than pinning all my hopes and dreams on this specific property, or that one, I instead put all of that energy into learning and preparing to do all of the things that are congruent with my ultimate possibility. For example, if I want to be able to look out my window and see a tree, I need to start learning how to either plant one, paint one, or otherwise create one, rather than sitting around crying and moaning about “please, Gods, give me a tree!” If I’m so obsessed with having “a room with a view”, instead of pinning everything on a specific property that has that view (which could just as easily slip away as not), I need to be developing creative ways to make a room have a view.
Ultimately, Wyrd is neither shaped for us nor set in stone: it ebbs and flows and changes with our every breath and our ever-changing attitudes. When we trap ourselves in a cycle of hopelessness, then that becomes our Wyrd. Instead of running like rabbits from shadows in the dark–from those things which are outside our circle of influence–we must come to realize that such behavior simply calls our worst fears to us. By living our lives that way, we are literally bringing the worst possible Wyrdinto existence. Instead, we must focus on those things which we can control–those things which are inside our circle of influence–and take charge of those things. Be grateful for them, and then do something with them and about them. Even if it requires the strength of mountains; even if it hurts, like rock aching against water.